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readyplayerhobi · 4 years

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Flower | 12

; Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Fluff

; Word Count: 3.4k

; Synopsis: You finally decide to take a dip into the world of online dating and find the Flower dating app. One of the top matches for you proves to be a guy who looks to be your complete opposite; tattooed, pierced, a metalhead and oh…incredibly handsome. What happens when you throw caution to the wind and reach out to him?

; A/N: This one is from our lovely Hobi’s POV! He decided he wanted to take charge for a moment so...I hope you enjoy! :D please comment and send asks so we can taaalk :D

; Flower Masterpost

“FOR GODS SAKE GERALT CAN YOU JUST BLO- fuck, shit, cock sucker...ah fuck it all!” You hissed in anger, clenching the Playstation 4 controller in your hands tighter and shaking it wildly as your character, Geralt, died. It turned out that Hoseok had Witcher 3 and after binge-watching all of the Netflix Witcher show, you’d begged him to bring it over so you could play it.

Today he’d finally brought it, the small case catching his eye as he was grabbing his backpack and he’d quickly stuffed it inside. He’d promised to bring it two times already and two times he’d forgotten. Not today though, today he’d been good and remembered it.

That had been four hours ago, and you’d been gripped by the game since. In fact, you’d barely even stopped to take a drink, eyes focused intently on the screen as you fought, magicked and cursed your way free of fights in the virtual world. Needless to say, you were very enthralled by the game which in turn meant you had gotten progressively louder as you’d died from stupid things.

Not that you were dying because of anything you’d been doing of course. No, it was just your character was doing silly things like not blocking or swinging when you told him to. That was it. Hoseok had been assured by you many times at the start when he’d got a little concerned about how into the game you were getting.

That had been at the start though, and you were now so into the game, so unaware of your surroundings, that it was almost like Hoseok wasn’t actually here in the room with you. Your eyes remained glued to the screen the whole time. Which meant that you didn’t see the way he’d been pouting a little, starved of your attention as he played around on his phone aimlessly in an effort to entertain himself.

Hoseok loved watching people play games, he really did, but he was bored today. He wanted your attention; a novel concept to him as he’d never dated anyone who was more into video games than he was. Being on the other side of someone who avidly loved gaming was unusual and though he didn’t hate it...he just a bit like a child.

There was only so much playing with Kasumi he could do. And sure, he could read the book he’d found in your bookcase a few days ago or even play on your Switch while you entertain yourself, but he didn’t want that. He wanted to do something with you. He wanted to talk to you, listen to you talk and laugh with you.

He was being a brat basically, being a child about it. But despite that, he was also fully amused by your reaction to the game. This was the first time he’d ever seen you play a video game like this and the fact you became so fully immersed in it was exceptionally entertaining.

Why he was surprised about that, he didn’t really know. You most definitely had the personality of someone who would commit themselves to something 100% when they found a thing that was truly interesting to them. Just looking at the abundance of Pokémon around your apartment told him that.

But still...he wasn’t sure why he had such a strong desire for your attention. He was never normally like this with relationships, though admittedly he hadn’t had a relationship extend past three months in a while now. Not for lack of trying of course, but he’d just never quite found someone to click with.

And at the risk of sounding like an old man, at the age of 28, he wasn’t really interested in investing his time and effort into someone who he could already tell he didn’t particularly care for. Hoseok felt like there were three types of people by his age; those who had found love and were happy and content in it, those who weren’t interested in dating and were focusing on themselves and those who were in a relationship purely for the sake of it.

The first group had already started marrying and having babies, Namjoon and Jimin for example, while the second group showed no interest in any of that. Which was perfectly fine obviously. Taehyung and Yoongi were prime examples of people who had no interest and didn’t seem to show any indication of wanting to show interest.

But Hoseok didn’t want to be in the third group, dating just for the sake of dating. He’d done that for years now, had one-night-stands throughout his college years, and maybe even a few he definitely regretted in the end stages of high school. So he wanted what some of his friends had found.

And he’d found that with you, which had been beyond surprising to him. You were most definitely not who he would have picked as his first choice to date, which sounded bad but he was just being honest. He hadn’t thought that he liked girls who liked cute things, nor had he thought he’d had the temperament and patience to put up with your anxieties and stresses.

He had though, finding within himself a deep need to make you happy and experiencing enjoyment at how slow things were progressing. His friends found it wild that everything was moving at a glacial pace and that Jung Hoseok of all people was going along with it and not complaining. But he liked it, he liked discovering your little quirks and traits slowly.

It was like unwrapping a present, with each new thing he learnt about you being his present. And he loved it so much. Which meant that he enjoyed learning this new thing about you, or rather how intense you got in video games you liked.

But still...he wanted your attention.

He was like a child; a whiny and petulant toddler. He knew this, but he couldn’t stop. Almost didn’t want to.

Which is why he was slowly inching his way over to you on the couch, hoping that his slow movements would catch your attention. It was only when he was almost on top of you that he realised it wasn’t working, causing him to sigh deeply and flop back against the couch in what could politely be called a mantrum.

“Do you want me to order food? Or make food? I can make it...can’t guarantee it tastes great but I can make it.” Hoseok asked, his voice light as he questions you. And it’s like he never spoke with the quiet ‘hmm’ you give back to him.

His bottom lip pushes out once more as he opens up his takeout app, inputting your address and ordering pizza for you both. There was no need to ask what you wanted, he knew what you liked by now.

A sudden outburst of unintelligible noises from you causes him to look up with an amused quirk of his brow, watching as your face scrunched in annoyance as you shake your controller at the screen again, teeth gritted together. And suddenly, he’s not bothered that you’re not paying attention to him anymore. Not when you look that cute.

Slowly, he’s not entirely sure why he’s doing it quietly as well when you’re paying zero attention to him, he opens the camera on his phone and angles it towards you with a smile. He takes a few careful seconds to get the best angle before pressing the button, the shutter noise unnoticed by him as he checks on the photo.

Tongue sticking out of the side of his mouth slightly, he hums to himself as he opens up the photo editing app he has on his phone and begins to edit it. Shifting the exposure, contrast and more, he turns what could’ve been a boring photo into something befitting you.

“Did you just take a photo of me?” You ask suddenly, causing him to look up with wide eyes. For a moment, he’s too startled to speak before he gives a playful scowl, poking your side with a finger.

“Oh, so now you listen to me? Huh?” He teases, sticking his tongue out at you. Your eyes drop to it slightly before skittering away quickly, causing him to smile internally. Hoseok was not as immune to your glances and movements as you thought he was. He just chose not to do anything about them because he didn’t want to push you.

“I was listening...you just weren’t saying anything interesting…” The words trail off halfway through you saying them, as if you realise how offensive they could come off. Immediately your eyes widen, mouth opening in what he’s positive is an apology. He’d normally let you, knowing it would soothe your anxieties to know that you’d said sorry to him but he doesn’t care today. It didn’t bother him.

“I’m not gonna argue with you. But yeah, I took a picture. You looked cute, all focused. I never realised you become dead to the world basically when playing a game. I’ve been lonely.” Hoseok makes his eyes go big, an earnest look being matched with slightly pouting lips to give you a face of pure innocence.

It doesn’t work evidently, given the way you roll your eyes at him. But it gets a smile out of you so he considers that a win.

“Hoseok...I don’t really like my photo being taken…” You whine quietly, fingers playing with the controller nervously. Over the last four months, Hoseok had learnt to analyse your body's movements carefully. They spoke your inner thoughts more than your mouth did and he could tell that you were feeling anxious.

“Hey, hey...come here. Look at it...see I edited it! You’re gorgeous!” He turns his phone to let you see, smiling brightly at you as your eyes glance over it. Lower lip being chewed slowly, your shoulders deflate as you push it back.

“No I’m not, I look fat and ugly. I don’t have a good side.” Silence falls after that statement, Hoseok’s mind frozen in sheer disbelief at your words. He wants to sigh heavily, shout at you that you’re wrong. Every part of him wants to shake you and make you see that you’re beautiful, flaws and all.

But he doesn't because he knows you wouldn’t like it. So instead he purses his lips, smacking them and making a noise as he tries to figure out a way to tell you that actually, you’re an idiot. He doesn’t want to hurt you though, so he knows that he has to tread a fine line.

Shuffling close, he presses himself to your side and holds up the phone to you, showing the photo once more. “I want to argue you with so bad right now, but all I’ll say is...you’re wrong. I think you’re pretty, cute even. Look at that scowl, it’s adorable. And look, you’ve seen the double chin I get when I’m laid down.”

“Oh please, as if that makes you look bad. You know you’re gorgeous, look at you.” You gesture at all of him, and he sighs, wrapping his arms around you tightly and kissing you all over your face until you’re no longer whining but giggling loudly. He doesn’t stop though, making the most over exaggerated noises as he does so.

“Oh no, oh no, the travesty of having to kiss this beautiful face. Oh please, I can’t handle it. It’s such a trial for me, to have to do this. Why couldn’t they give me someone less pretty? But it’s only fair that someone with my looks gets to kiss someone like you.” He gets the words out loudly between kisses, half laughing as he does it and fully enjoying the way that you practically shriek with laughter beneath him, body shaking.

Stopping, he just watches you for a moment with a soft smile, enjoying the brightness in your eyes that has replaced the fear and self-loathing. He really wishes that he could show you how he sees you compared to how you see yourself, but he supposes he’ll just settle for showering you with affection.

“Look...seriously...I like this.” He says quietly, resting his head on your shoulder as he shows you the photo once more. You don’t say anything this time, just look at the screen quietly with your head resting against his own. “Do you want me to delete it though? I will if you want.”

“No...if you like it...I just...I don’t have pictures taken often of me. I don’t really like it because I never really think I look good. It takes at least fifteen tries to get one I find acceptable for Instagram.” Chewing his lip, he sighs as he wavers on what to do. He doesn’t want to do something that will make you unhappy, but at the same time...he loves photography. And he wants to photograph you so badly.

Proper photographs too, with his DSLR that he’ll edit with Photoshop on his laptop. He just knows that he can take photos that even you will love and he truly thinks they’ll be some of his best work yet. There’s no way he can go wrong when he has such a beautiful muse here.

“Seriously Hoseok, it’s okay. You can keep it. You have nice editing skills.” Smiling, he clicks through the menu options on his phone before he’s moving the photo slightly, setting it at the right size and centralizing it before saving it as his home screen. It’s only then that you realise what he’s done, eyes widening.

“Did you just make that your home screen?” You ask incredulously and he snorts, nodding with a grin as he shows you with pride. Carefully, he moves his app icons around until you’re no longer covered by them, letting him see you perfectly every time he unlocks his phone. He loves it.

“Yes I did, and it’s perfect. I’ve been wanting a photo of you for a while,” Glancing over at you, he smirks ever so slightly. “I know you’ve got a picture of me as your home screen. The one of me at Namjoon’s barbeque last year where I’m looking away. Jungkook took it and I had it for my Facebook profile for a while.”

The squirm you do let’s him know that you’re probably dying inside but he’s far too amused and pleased with himself over this. Honestly his chest had probably swollen three sizes in pride and ego when he’d glimpsed it the other day. There was something oddly satisfying at knowing you had him on your phone.

And now he had you.

Eyes widening suddenly, he shifts upwards to give you with a shocked look. “I just realised...we’ve never taken a selfie together! If you’re okay with that.”

“I don’t really take them often...you’ve seen my Instagram.” Snorting, he rolls his eyes and moves until he’s sitting up against you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and hugging you to him. You don’t push him away though, nor do you tell him not to take one.

“That’s a fucking travesty. You should bless the world with your face more. And you spend all that time doing that makeup!” Now it’s your turn to roll your own eyes, pushing at him lightly.

“I do that because I like it, not because I want to show off.” He opens up the camera app once more, shifting the camera to be front facing and watching as his screen fills up with your faces.

“Well you should show off. You’re really talented with it and I’m sure there’s loads of people that would like to see more of it. There’s like...a whole section of Instagram dedicated to it. I know, cos I looked after I saw your pictures. You could be like...the next NikkieTutorials or Tati Westbrook!” It’s only because of the camera facing you both that he sees your incredulous expression, brows furrowing in surprise before they morph into amusement.

“Have you been watching beauty YouTubers?” Glancing at you, he shrugs uncaringly.

“You like them, so I figured I’d see what they’re about. Not really my thing but at least I half understand what you’re talking about when you bang on about primers and toners and all that shit. Besides, I have discovered that they apparently live scandalous lives and I’m oddly entertained by all the drama even though I have no idea who they are.” Hoseok says absentmindedly, mind drifting back to all those drama videos he’d accidentally ended up watching when he fell down the YouTube rabbit hole one night.

You let out a peal of laughter, the sound bright and happy and it makes his stomach twist slightly to hear it. He likes your laughter.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe you actually watched that. So does this mean we can watch drama channels when you’re here?” Letting out a deep and bone weary sigh, he nods slowly before leaning over to kiss your cheek.

As he does so, he quickly angles the phone and snaps a photo of you both. You don’t realise what he’s done at first until he brings the screen for you to look at, grinning down at the image of you both that has been immortalised in high quality pixels.

You’re laughing still, mouth stretched into a wide smile of joy while your eyes are closed, the skin around them creased ever so slightly from happiness. His side profile is clearly evident, the gentle lighting of your room surprisingly good for this picture and his lips are pressed firmly to the soft skin of your cheek, lip ring shifted into view from the movement.

There’s no makeup on your face and you’re wearing an oversized white shirt with Kirby on it while he’s in his usual band shirt. The difference between you both is startling, but it makes his heart flutter a little oddly as he looks at it with a gentle smile.

Looking over at you, he realises that you haven’t said anything about it and he worries that you’re unhappy with the photo. Instantly, he stresses that maybe he’d done a bad thing and he’s about to apologise to you, chastened by his excitement.

But then you give him a shy smile, leaning into him and burrowing your head into the space between his neck and shoulder. “I...I actually like that. It looks...nice. Though you should probably edit it, edit my flaws and all that.”

Giving you a deadpan expression, he just pushes at your shoulder before rolling his eyes. “I’m going to forget I heard that. So...anyway.”

Despite what he said though, he does edit it and shows you what he uses and what he thinks the best edit would be. He lets you play around with the editing too, smiling as you make the photo look horrific by maxing out different sliders before letting him edit it exactly how he wants.

And then once he’s done, he goes onto Facebook and uploads it as his new profile picture.

The stunned silence from you has him looking over cautiously, taking in your shocked face which soon quickly morphs into shyness. It makes his chest hurt a little to see how you react to something as simple as him changing his profile picture to a picture of you both.

He doesn’t say anything though, recognising this as a moment that you’d need to work through it yourself. So instead, he presses his lips to your cheek once more before using his fingers to tilt your face towards his, capturing your lips with his. The movement is bordering on natural now, four months into your relationship.

“So...I ordered pizza which should be arriving soon. Think you might want to take a break?” Hoseok asks, nodding towards the screen where Geralt has been stood quietly for the last ten minutes as he’d distracted you successfully. Pursing your lips, you consider for a moment before shaking your head with a grin, picking up your controller once more.

And that’s when he realises that you had been paying attention to him the whole time. You’d just been refusing to give in to his whining. He almost says something before shaking his head with an exasperated smile, getting up when your doorbell goes off.

Well played, he thought to himself as he took the pizza boxes before standing for a few moments and watching as you became involved once more, well played indeed.

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yukisohmasmokesweed · 5 years

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chapter 84 is the best chapter of fruits basket and you can’t change my mind

chapter 84 is the chapter where we finally get the full story on yuki’s childhood. at this point in the story, yuki is doing better; he was able to admit to himself that he will “open the lid,” but that he doesn’t have to push the issue, and that he loves tohru and feels safe confiding in her. this is relevant to chap 84 because of its framing device: yuki confiding in kakeru. immediately before this yuki gets trapped in a storage closet and knocks over a bucket of paint, causing a flashback that triggers a panic attack. the fact that yuki feels comfortable and validated talking to tohru makes him feel like he can talk to kakeru as well, which is a big step for yuki, who, up until now, has been extremely private.

this is, hands down, my favorite chapter of fruits basket. it is artistically stunning, emotionally poignant, and an unbelievable insight into yuki’s character and the effects that neglect and emotional abuse can have on a person. now join me as i analyze......nearly every single page in this chapter :)

the third page of this chapter indicates something very important: that we are in yuki’s head. not just that the chapter is yuki’s point of view, which was indicated on the first page through narration, but that we are literally seeing from his eyes. the angle of the servant’s hand and the wideshot of akito are both from his sightline. in this chapter we are yuki, without the bias of kyo, akito, or ayame, the lenses we have experienced yuki’s childhood through so far.

fruits basket’s costume design is impeccable in general, but i especially love the choices in this chapter. i love the juxtaposition of akito wearing a kimono against yuki’s western suit. i wouldn’t say fruits basket is a story about east vs west, but i would say it highlights traditional values clashing with modern ones. yuki is going from his mother’s world, a character who we only see wearing western-style clothing and living in a fairly western-style house (for a sohma, anyway) to an uber-traditional setting that, for yuki, becomes a cage. it’s worth noting that the very next time we see yuki, he is wearing a formal kimono.

(akito, shigure, and ritsu are the only characters we see wearing kimono in everyday life. from a functionality standpoint, it’s because kimono are expensive, cumbersome, and in modern japan, very formal. that being said, yuki would have grown up during the lost decade, where showing off signs of wealth was frowned upon. akito seems to be the only one who wears kimono regularly during the height of the lost decade, though japan was still struggling economically into the early 2000s, when the majority of fruits basket takes place)

this little scene is one of my favorite scenes in all of fruits basket. it’s gorgeously drawn, and encapsulates what it meant to be yuki sohma before meeting tohru better than anything else in the manga.

i don’t think it’s a mistake that yuki is wearing western-style clothing here; in the page right before this one, he witnesses some servants speaking distastefully of kyo, and i doubt this is the first time he’s heard someone speak of kyo this way. even as young as he is, i think he knows that talking to kyo is taboo, especially for the rat. yuki has never been accepting of his role in sohma family’s traditions, and speaking to kyo in it of itself is a small act of rebellion. he is stepping out of line in the only ways he knows how.

the fact that kyo is an outsider is not just a metaphor here; he is physically standing outside akito’s room, excluded from the new year’s celebration inside. yuki, who in the pages previous had just had it established to him that he is not wanted by his mother,

his brother,

or the other zodiacs,

thinks maybe, maybe, this other boy who has also been thrown out and rejected by his own family could understand him.

the next page takes us out of yuki’s head for a moment to show us his reaction to kyo’s words. the low angle highlights yuki’s defensive position, shoulders slumped and hands pulled into his chest, versus kyo’s solid stance, feet shoulder width apart and hands balled into fists at his side.

in kyo’s first close-up, he is silent, just another wide-eyed child. but here, he has become the cat, pupils slitted and teeth bared, screaming the exact words yuki does not want to hear. kyo’s humanity is conditional to the other zodiacs, and for kyo, the same goes for yuki.

i am never not impressed by takaya’s ability to show emotion. it reminds me of how those big, fat, overwhelming ghibli tears look the way crying feels; that is what this expression is to me. hands curled protectively over his front, flushed and wide-eyed and at a loss for words—i know exactly what that expression feels like on the inside. it’s so intimate and immediate, and we are instantly pulled out of it by the jarring slap from his mother, a panel with no color grading, backgrounds, or faces.

yuki himself is so shocked by this that we are abruptly pulled out of his point of view, looking at his mother’s angry face through a medium shot, yuki’s own reaction obscured by her jagged dialogue.

i think kyo’s outburst makes yuki desperate; if even the cat can’t accept him, then his own estranged brother must be the only option.

the first shot on this page is from yuki’s sightline, looking up at his tall, bright brother, followed by ayame’s view of a much smaller, shadowed yuki that is partially obscured by his own panel. takaya loves using negative space, and i think it is especially poignant in this panel. the majority of this shot is negative space, the gap between yuki’s hand and ayame’s arm swallowed by the rest of the empty background.

i want to go back a few pages to talk about these panels in conjunction with the ayame page. this is the first we see of ayame in this chapter, and if you put the two pages next to each other, it is as if he is completing the action of looking over his shoulder at yuki, revealing his entire face, and then hiding it again. i also think it’s interesting that shigure is looking at yuki dead in the eyes, looking somewhat bored and somewhat amused. in a previous chapter, though, shigure does say this to ayame:

i do like that shigure seems to be the only one paying attention to what is going on with yuki at this time but also chooses to do nothing about it, instead using it as a jab at ayame.

and then, after yuki’s classmates approach him, there’s a pretty big change in tone; shojo sparkles, the silhouette of children playing against a big, wide sky, sun-dappled buildings and smiling faces. up until now the outside world has been featureless and empty; now it is detailed and nostalgic, and yuki’s face is clear and unobstructed. then:

yuki’s carefully impassive face gets cut off gradually by the panel borders

until we can’t see it at all.

the next three pages proceed the same way, his face obscured by the angle, his hair, or borders.

until, finally, we are allowed to see yuki’s face, after being rejected any form of human kindness or affection from literally any person in his life, fading into the darkness of the sohma estate, trapped inside the proverbial sliding door.

#fruits basket #yuki sohma #fruits basket meta #fruits basket spoilers #takes a huge bong rip #takes a HUGE FUCKIN BONG RIP #meta???

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nightmarenoise · 4 years

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Just comparing two cartoons I love

I understand that nobody asked in any capacity, but here I go anyway:

It feels fair to compare Ducktales 2017 to Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (2018), not only because they're only about a year apart and truly, what is a year, but also because they

1. Both use this style that looks like it jumped straight out of a comic book. Okay, it's mostly the solidly inked shadows, but it gives me, personally, comic-y vibes.

2. They have taken what's arguably the main characters (the triplets for DT, the Turtles for TMNT) and shaken the formula up a good bit. Were the triplets formerly indistinguishable and all had the exact same personality, interests and voice actor, they are now three entirely separate entities with different traits and appearances. And while the turtles had about one defining personality trait and looked basically the same, save for the color of their masks, Rise made them different species of turtle to justify giving them radically different designs and three-dimensional personalities. Both shows faced criticism for this decision from people who cannot deal with change. Despite this, in both cases, it just works and does so incredibly well.

3. The oldest bros wear red.

4. We have two middle bros associated with the color blue who are both voiced by Ben Schwartz.

5. Both shows have a focus on family, with Ducktales especially focusing on found family and Rise on brotherhood.

6. Anime references!

Ducktales has a larger cast overall, with a lot of different characters all interacting with each other and they all have the most pleasant voices I've ever heard in my entire life. It's all solidly animated, the style is consistent and the animation is fluid, the characters are diverse and they're all lovely in their own right, except for those who aren't. The writing is top notch. Everyone feels consistent despite the large cast and it's delightful to watch all those interesting people interact with each other in their own way. The show also handles its mystery elements and occasional action scenes incredibly well, building suspense and delivering laughs and gut punches without hesitation. They juggle different tones like a professional clown, except the true clown was us, the audience, all along, for ever having doubted them.

The overarching plot of Ducktales, for its first two seasons, was mostly to uncover the mystery of what had happened to the mother of the triplets and all that would entail. Mystery and mythical elements will likely continue to be afoot for season 3.

Rise works with less focal characters, we have the Turtles, Splinter and April as well as various bad guys, but more than makes up for it with a lot of animation. A lot a lot of animation and it's all high quality. There's usually so much going on on-screen that a watching it once isn't enough to catch it all. Despite that, it doesn't feel crowded or rushed. Lots of dynamic shots and incredibly-choreographed action scenes, but nothing the thoroughly solid writing has to hide behind. Even when the baddies aren't the main concern, they're still well-rounded, interesting characters with unique abilities and motivations. Although, most of the mutants are just really feral. Still a delightfully diverse cast.

The turtles on the other hand spent their first season trying to foil their various foes, from a yokai trying to mutate all of humanity, to his mutants, to dealing with random mythical stuff, to the nefarious Foot Clan trying to reassemble the Dark Armor in the shadows. It's generally a more action-driven show, but they still find the time for some heartfelt moments.

The triplets 2.0

Despite their conventiently color-coded caps, they were really mostly the same character possessing three different bodies at a time. Well, the times of eerie The Shining like-twins, except extended to triplets, are over!

We have Huey, the oldest brother, voiced by Danny Pudi. He's a gentle, intellectual soul who values red hats, science, scout badges and checklists. Huey is arguably the closest in characterization to the original triplets, with some additional neat freak sprinkled in for flavor. He tries to be the responsible older sibling and keep his brothers under control and out of trouble. He also seems to have the most fiery temper of the bunch and should clearly not be pressed to the breaking point. He's my personal favorite and I heard season 3 will bring more focus to him, which makes me elated to hear. 888/10.

Middle child Dewey, the blue one, voiced by Ben Schwartz, who will inevitably come for all the iconic blue characters. He's very clearly the middle one, because he craves attention and validation and occasionally dreams of being an only child. Dewey is the one who started the investigation into their mom's disappearance and kept it from his brothers, partially to save them from hurt, but also because he wanted to feel special. He's the most interested in going on adventures with their uncle, but can get reckless when doing so. He's a bit of a spotlight hog, who has his own talk show that nobody watches and sings his own theme song when he needs to get hyped up, or just to fill this silence. This may sound kind of negative, but rest assured, he's a good, sweet boy. The focal triplet for the first season. 500/10.

Louie, the evil triplet, a schemer and a conman. Voiced by Bobby Moynihan. The youngest of the bunch. While they call him evil, he's really far too lazy to cause serious harm, except for when it's his laziness that's causing him to take dangerous shortcuts, oops. He dreams of making a fortune, but without having to work for it and preferably without any responsibility either, thank you. He also occasionally dreams of being a spoiled fat cat. Despite his chill demeanor, he can be a bit of a crybaby and those tears are only fake 50% of the time. I feel like he likes getting babied, but mainly because that means there's less work for him to do. Season 2, which focuses more on him, reveals that he's actually quite brilliant, capable of seeing all the angles and giving him some chessmaster-like qualities. He needs to learn to use those abilities for good. 665/10.

Hi, she's Webbie! The honorary triplet, who also got a massive makeover, from annoying token girl tagalong to socially awkward, adorkable action girl. Be careful who you call ugly in middle school, indeed. Like a more ferocious Mabel Pines, she has a grappling hook and years of martial arts training under her belt. Webbie can absolutely decimate you, but won't, because she's a sweet girl. Voiced by Kate Micucci. She continues to like unicorns and the color pink, but assuredly in the most badass of ways. She helped Dewey with his quest to uncover the mystery of his missing mom, but works well with all of the triplets, with Huey taking her under his wing a bit and Louie trying to get her to chill out more. Webbie is a sweetheart and I would die for her, were it not completely unnecessary, since she's more than capable of taking care of herself. ∞/10.

A lot of the supporting cast also saw updates and changes, for instance Gyro being a genius without social skills and Fenton being an adorkable scientist, but again, they work really well. They're interesting new takes on beloved characters. Even the new additions to the cast are great. In short, I love me some birds and am excited for season 3, Disney, get your scheduling together.

The Turtles 2.14.2 - I upgraded my upgrade in the middle of the upgrade

Also, these guys have seen so many different iterations in their, what, 30+ years of existence. As someone with no prior attachment to the turtle brand, I don't have a lot to say here. Leo's not the leader in this one and Raph has more personality than being angry at Leo for being the leader. Donnie is not just a random nerd spouting technobabble and Mikey has more depth than yelling the catchphrase every now and again. Apparently, this made people upset. I don't know how to help you with that. The middle brothers exude some high chaotic energy and should not be left unsupervised, but the oldest and youngest seem fairly stable.

Raphael, the red-bandana'd alligator snapping turtle is an imposing figure. He's the oldest and therefore team leader by default. Raph has no reason to be upset at Leo, so he isn't. Despite his ferocious appearance, he's a soft guy, who likes teddies and doting on his brothers, but fears puppets. He's a bit of a knucklehead, most of his plans involve smashing things with his tonfa and he may refer to himself in the third person in the heat of the moment, but he possesses emotional intelligence, is open about his feelings and looks after his brothers. He is big and and strong, but his heart is bigger and stronger. He especially loves small animals animals, who don't usually return his feelings. RIP in F. This responsible guy is voiced by Omar Benson Miller. 300/10, very soft. Somehow both the heart and the big guy of the group.

Donatello has been upgraded from second-to-youngest to second-to-oldest, not that it makes much of a difference. His color of choice is purple and he continues in the character's tradition of being a nerd, although this time, with self-confidence. Donnie is very sure of himself and his abilities. As a spiny soft-shell turtle, he's less sure of his shell, but that's okay, he's made robotic battle shells to make up for it and his bō is the mother of all multitools. This guy can build you a tank out of a buggie and upgrade your animatronic into something to give the FNAF franchise a run for its money. He's the smartest of the four and when not focused on his phone, very focused on the mission. Due to having to deal with his bros, he can be exasperated a lot. Thinks of himself as an emotionally unavailable bad boy, even though he's just really sensitive and wants his dad or someone parent-aged to tell him they're proud of him. Theater kid. 999/10, give the middle child a hug and some coffee, you can't tell me he has a healthy sleep cycle. This sarcastic nerd is brought to you by Josh Brener.

Leonardo, Ben Schwartz's second blue character (Sonic (2020) being the third under his belt) and also his second ninja after Randy Cunningham. He's not the leader. He's still a good character. Leo has approximately 800 charisma and unwavering faith in both, his family and himself. Mostly himself though. Like Louie, season 2 revealed that he is a master of prediction and playing people like the cheap kazoo you can't tell me he doesn't have to play Darude's Sandstorm on. He dabs, he boards, he will pun you to death and back and he has an Odachi that can cut through space. Leo likes hogging the spotlight when given the chance and wants to be showered with attention and praise. Having four kids really only means twice the middle child nonsense. Leo is a red-eared slider, the original species of the TMNT, as I've been told. He's also the best at being a ninja, but usually too lazy to really apply himself. He's younger than Donnie, but tumblr suggested to read the two as twins, since they're approximately the same age, which sheds a whole new light on their dynamic and frankly, makes way too much sense. 420/10, for our memelord Leonardo.

Michelangelo, the eternally youngest of the bunch. An artiste, who puts stickers on himself, tags the lair, has a spiritual connection to his skateboard and the color orange. Mikey loves all things arts and craft, but he also tries his hands at cooking. He idolizes famous TV chefs and can do pretty much anything out of and into pizza. He's funny, without being annoying, like I feel a lot of other iterations of this character are. It's an easy pitfall for comic relief guys, but this one is more than that. If that's an issue, feel free to leave my house. Mikey is genuinely sweet and happy, optimistic and soft, but also the one brother who knows when it's time to take off the gloves and just get straight to the point. He's open about and in touch with his feelings. He's just baby. Don't treat him as one though. A lot of promo stuff says Leo has taken him under his wing, but he's had more episodes together with Donnie. Not that I'm complaining, they work very well together. Mikey and Raph are both the emotional centers of the group. Does not mind being yeeted after retracting into his shell, as box turtles may do. (Disclaimer, do not yeet actual box turtles!) His weapon of choice is a Kusari-Fundo that can turn into a fire-demon and is about as unpredictable as he is. Likes to jump and bounce around. Probably does parkour. Voiced by Brandon Mychal Smith who is audibly having a blast. 500/10, just an all around Kusari-fun guy.

For last, but certainly not least, April O'Neil, my girl, who saw an upgrade from flip-flopping love interest who was vaguely ninja-ing, but mostly damsel in distress-ing, to all-around spunky powerhouse and by God, she is glowing. Rise has her more as a big sister figure to the turtles, and I will not be told otherwise. She is independent and don't need no man, mutant or no. She has her teleporting pet, her faith in herself, her pinpoint baseball hitting skills and the a complete and utter lack of fear. Despite being a weirdness magnet, April is perfectly comfortable. She would like to be able to keep a job, maybe, but she has loving friends who respect and love her. Surprisingly good a ninja, fearless and fun. Occasionally thinks about being popular at school, but it's really not a big concern, she's not gonna throw a tantrum over it or anything. April is very chill. Not likely to be damseled. More likely to run after the turtles and clean up their messes or save them and everyone involved is fine with that.

The late 10's are really coming in to show us how dynamic and well-written female characters that aren't just "strong", but three-dimensional and relatable are done, huh?

An iconic performance by Kat Graham and ∞/10 for being the honorary better ninja non-mutant non-turtle and best big sister.

Here we have it, two older properties, having new life breathed into them to make them fresh and enjoyable. Have a new spin put on them, to better fit in with our current world. You can feel the love oozing out of every frame. At the end of the day, of course, it all boils down to taste and whether or not you like something. I gave Ducktales 2017 a go because a lot of the staff from Gravity Falls went to work on it and if you don't know me, I love me some Gravity Falls. It's a good show and I enjoy it. I recently got into Rise and while I don't know much about the people working on it, it is also a greatly enjoyable show, easily on the same level as Ducktales, if not above, yet with far less people speaking about it. Which is frankly saddening. I can only recommend the two of them wholeheartedly. If you love animation, yourself and occasionally feeling things, these are for you!

#ducktales 2017 #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt #huey duck #dewey duck #louie duck #webbie vanderquack #raphael #donatello #leonardo #michelangelo #april o'neil

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maturemenoftvandfilms · 5 years

Text

‘A Night with William Windom’

Featuring William Windom

Back in 1997, I was at the Beverly Garland Holiday Inn in North Hollywood where many celebrities from TV’s “Golden Age” taking part in autograph meet-and-greets with fans. I first spotted William Windom sitting next to former Jackie Gleason Show regular Sheila MacRae, just down from Ken Berry and Larry Storch from F Troop. You got older stars at the Hollywood Show back then because, well, they were still around.

I had just purchased a still from Mr. Windom’s debut movie To Kill a Mockingbird and he seemed surprised by my choice as most people wanted stills from Star Trek or Murder, She Wrote.

“I’m a lawyer today in large part because of that movie.” I told him.

Mr. Windom proceeded to tell me a few anecdotes about lawyers and his time on the set To Kill a Mockingbird. Eccentric and fidgety, I noticed he kept messing around with an old navy telescope gizmo, a small brass thing he kept looking through when he wasn’t being bugged for his John Hancock.

“Check this out.” He finally said to me.

I looked through it and realized that it was a trick telescope with a mirror in it so you could look directly sideways from where it appeared you were looking. Windom, married five times in his life, was scoping out the Playboy bunnies signing at a nearby table. The man knew what to bring to the show.

I told him “If that what you like” and his response was “Well what do you like?”

“Someone like you,” I found myself saying, “And if I’m honest, I had a crush on you from watching the show called The Farmer’s Daughter.” I added flirtatiously.

“WELL, we’ll fix THAT!” He replied with devilish satisfaction.

I spent about an hour with Mr. Windom over the two days and on the final day of the convention, I had a private conversation with him in a back room during his break on Sunday for almost half an hour. He genuinely enjoyed my company. I think I embarrassed him with all my adulation, because I told him he was the sole reason I had made the trip. Which wasn’t exactly the truth, but he was funny and attentive, and told me many funny stories. And during that whole time, I continued to seriously flirt with Bill. Testing his comfort level, seeing if he would bite, as it were.

The idea of possibly fucking him drove me mad with lust, but sadly it seem like it was only going to be a dream.

“Well… its been a pleasure meeting you Mr. Windom.” I said as I was about to leave.

Bill stood up, smiled a half smile at me and said, “So… you still want to suck an old man’s cock?”

And without waiting for my answer, he unzipped his fly and quickly pulled his dick out which greatly surprised me. First, because my flirting worked and second, we were alone in the room, but anyone could have walked in right then. Bill didn’t seem to care. But as I focused on his dick, all other thoughts quickly faded from my mind.

“Ain’t much now, but I’m sure you can make it hard.” Bill said, giving me a good look at his thick beautiful dick. It was pale, cut, thick and pinkish in color with a big head.

Walking up to my chair, he shoved his soft dick close to my face. I naturally opened up to taste him and he tasted good. Sweet and manly. My hands quickly wrapped around his hips, pulling him closer to my face, shoving his cock deeper into my mouth.

“That feels damn right good. I haven’t had it sucked in months.” Bill said looking straight down into my eyes.

“Swallow it all the way. I know you can do it.” He urged me on as his dick quickly hardened.

Bill’s dick was thick and was a good seven inches when it was hard. But because it wasn’t overly fat, I was able to keep swallowing his suddenly lengthening dick until I had his entire dick buried down my throat. I closed my eyes to enjoyed the smell of his crotch and the wet sounds of my lips sucking his cock. And the sensation of that cock sliding in and out of my mouth was incredible.

Just then, the door opened and someone else came in. Bill quickly pulled his cock out of my mouth and slipped it back in his pants before anyone noticed what we were doing. Then he reached in his pocket and placed his hotel room card on the edge of the table right next to me. He gave me a wink and walked out, leaving the key behind. I looked around to see if anyone had noticed, but no one had. So I grabbed the key, waited a few minutes then headed out.

By the time I got to Bill’s room, I was afraid he’d think I wasn’t’ interested, but when I entered the room, he was ready and waiting. He was in a hotel bathrobe, sitting up in bed with his rock hard cock tenting underneath. Without hesitation, I jumped on the bed and opened up his robe, exposing his fully hard cock. Bill spread his legs, took my head in his hand and guided me to his cock. I opened my mouth wide and greedily started to suck it. I looked up to Bill, his eyes were closed and head tilted back moaning softly, “Oh, good son. Keep on doing it.”

Hearing those words, I started sucking wildly on it. His breathing became really heavy as well as his moaning when suddenly Bill lift my head off his cock. The next thing I knew, I was on my back with him between my legs lifting them high in the air. Kindly, Bill put some lube on my ass that he got out of his travel bag before I felt his two fingers massaging my ass, pushing in and out to loosen me up. He suddenly stopped and I watched him centering up the tip of his cock to my asshole.

“Fuck me, Bill. Give it to me.” I found myself saying as he began pushing for the best angle in.

And Bill did just that as he rammed half his dick deep in my hole so violently that I sucked in air to keep from crying out. Then he rammed the rest of it into me, stopping only when his low hanging balls slapped against my ass.

“You like having my cock up your ass?” He suddenly asked with a hint of a smile on his face.

“Yes... Fuck me, Bill!” I told him shaking my head.

“Oh I’ll fuck you all right.” He said as he pulled his dick out of my ass until only its head remained inside. Then looking straight into my eyes, he rammed his dick back inside as far as it would go.

“Damn if you don’t have a hot ass.” He told me as he started pumping his dick in and out of me with powerful strokes that had me bucking and moaning.

Then right in the middle of the fucking, he leaned forward and kissed me! I couldn’t believe it. William Windom, who I had always had a crush, was fucking me and kissing me as passionately as I had ever been kissed. Every time I saw him on TV, I had wanted to have sex with him. Now I was doing that. I could tell he was about to cum when I noticed the strained look on his face. And as if on cue, he shot off inside me!

Oh, how I hated for him to cum. But to my surprise he continued to kiss me as though nothing had happened. I wrapped my legs around his waist to hold his cock inside me as long as possible.

After we broke our embrace, I laid there with my eyes closed as I started stroking my cock. Then I felt Bill’s hand stop me from jerking my cock off. Looking me in the eyes, he smiled, then quickly went down on my cock. I couldn’t believe he was sucking my dick? Here’s a 5 time married man, sucking on my dick and looking like he was in heaven doing it. And from the way he was doing it, I could swear he had done it before.

A minute or two of this and I was getting close to cumming when Bill suddenly pulled away. At first I thought that he had enough, but he reached for a container of lube, rubbed some on my dick and smeared some on his asshole.

I knew he hadn’t been fucked before, so I figured I would have a hell of a time getting my cock into Bill’s asshole. But I wasn't about to stop him. I just hope I wouldn’t hurt him. Suddenly, he was kneeling up over me, guiding the tip of my dick to his ass and forcing himself down on me. Slowly, he opened up to accommodate my swollen head and I heard him gasp as it slipped all the way in. Moaning deliriously, Bill squatting down further and further, until all 8 inches of me was in him.

“Oh my god, your cock feels so fucking good in me.” He said out loud.

“Oh yeah, take my cock.” I said as I then began to thrust up slowly. I was ecstatic as I thought it was time to give him the first fucking of his life.

“Yes, oh my god yes! Take me. Fuck me hard.” Bill said in a demanding voice.

This was all the invitation I needed. I started pumping slow and methodical for a good 3 minutes or so until he grew accustomed to the size of my cock. It was fascinating to feel his large body tremble with each thrust. By now he was really gasping and moaning in pure pleasure. At this point, we kind of bouncing off each other as I slammed my cock in and out of him.

‘Oh that’s the way.’ Bill said looking straight down into my eyes.

The knowledge that I was giving this hot man so much pleasure filled me with pride. Bill was really enjoying himself at this point as he was rocking onto my cock. Most of the pleasure he was feeling now was coming from his ass, rather than his cock as he was moaning and babbling incoherently. By now his asshole spasming around my probing cock. And now all I wanted to do was cum as I couldn’t take anymore. I buried my cock deep into his hole and held it there as I pumped a full load of cum into him. Burst after burst of cum coated his insides as we held our positions, gasping for breath, but satisfied.

“That’s something I have wanted to do to you ever since I found out that you were gay.” Bill confessed as he grimaced and pulled himself reluctantly up and off my still swollen dick.

“I guess both of us had fantasies fulfilled today.”

[THE END]

#William Windom #fan fiction #Windom fan fiction #actor

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readingwebcomics · 5 years

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Analyzing Questionable Content: Pages 51-100

No Faye, it only looks that way because he’s playing Final Fantasy X-2. Good God, I just realized that Final Fantasy X-2 is someone’s first experience with Final Fantasy. That’s a depressing thought. Although someone starting out the series with Final Fantasy XIII is probably way worse, now that I think about it. At least X-2 had fun.

…huh? Oh right, the comic. You sure you’d rather not listen to me write an essay on Final Fantasy, instead? I have this great point about how Final Fantasy IX has the most emotionally impactful narrative but as a game it only really clicks with long-time players of… no? Okay fine, let’s get back into QC.

The very next comic has Marten getting a tax return check for $1,100, and being the wise adult that he is, decides to spend that money on a new guitar. Tagging along, Faye brings up something that gives us new insight on her character:

And clearly didn’t bore her, considering how much of that information she retained. Here we have yet another example of a shared interest between these two, Marten clearly being into Guitars if he’s invested enough to blow a fat wad of money on it and Faye carrying around quite a bit of information on the instrument herself. I’ve made the point in the last post, but to reiterate – at this point in the comic, it’s clear these two are clicking as far as interests go. They can keep up with each other, can and have provided support for one another, and challenge one another… okay granted that last one isn’t entirely true, it’s clear Faye challenges Marten more than vice-versa, but still. There is a clear, acting relationship dynamic between these two, whether platonic or romantic. The reason why early QC works as well as it does is because these two have clear characters to them and their relationship FEELS real – they feel like people you’d know who’d really be friends – or maybe more than friends. This is Jeph’s character writing at… well I hesitate to call it at its best because to imply he peaked as early as the 53rd comic would be an insult to him as a writer, and I’m not looking to do that here.

I’m looking to do that a little bit later on in this part when we discuss Faye’s “character quirk.”

Before that however, we’re going to get a little bit on insight on Marten:

The story is elaborated on in a future comic, but here we get Marten’s backstory – traveling across the country for a girl, the relationship falling apart and leaving him stuck in this part of the country. This will go on to explain several of his character choices, including Pintsize (although that’s something we’re not going to approach until MUCH later on). It also further elaborates on Marten’s character as a whole: He doesn’t make many active actions as a whole, but when he does, it tends to shift the entire dynamic of how he lives. He decided he wanted to follow this woman across the country, and that action ended up completely upending his life. Could this be part of the reason why Marten is so passive? Does he skew towards this lifestyle because he’s been “trained” to take any kind of affirmative action as an intense, life-changing event?

While I’m not certain myself, and I have a damn good feeling Jeph wasn’t thinking that far ahead when writing Marten’s character, it’s an angle I’m willing to continue exploring as we further our journey down this comic’s history.

This comic was written in 2003. I’m half-tempted to believe Meme culture can be tracked by indie bands now. Wonder if there was any zeitgeist with neo-nazi indie bands ten or fifteen years ago then, if that theory holds true?

…I just made myself really, really sad.

Later on, Pintsize proceeds to eat a cake when he really shouldn’t – again – and we are gifted with… this lovely image.

Okay. I understand Pintsize is an AI, so it makes total sense for him to be able to be uploaded to a PC like this (ignoring for the moment modern commercial hardware can’t possibly support the resources necessary to maintain human-level sapience and ESPECIALLY not in 2003), but this is one of the freakiest fucking things I’ve seen from this comic. Mostly because at the time of writing we’re on comic 4000 and AI as a whole take an entirely different turn in the world of QC around that time, so… this is just kinda surreal to look at.

…We’ll get to AI in regards to QC’s universe later on when it becomes more relevant. Needless to say, it becomes one of the core “themes” of the comic as a whole.

The narrative reason for this turn of events is simple:

Pintsize is now in a new visually appealing model, capable of moving his joints around so he can do more than just stand around and talk!

…also one that has a horrifying government-level laser built into it! Believe it or not, this DOES become a relevant plot-point later and it’s not just for the sake of a gag. This is a great example of Jeph taking a tiny detail he may have originally written in as a joke and building off it to create conflict… although I’ll be getting more into that later on when it actually DOES become relevant.

Pintsize agrees to turn the laser off, and a few comics later Marten and Steve go to the bar to discuss their lives – specifically Marten’s love life.

Further showcasing of Marten’s passive nature and his straight-up lack of confidence.

Say goodbye to Sara everyone – for real this time, I’m fairly certain this is the very last time we ever see her. I could be mistaken, but I highly doubt it. Plus, while we don’t see it in detail we get enough information to gleam Steve as Marten’s exact opposite – charming without being overwhelming, confident without being cocky. Steve is just straight-up a cool dude, and it’s easy to see how he can easily get into relationships while Marten stays there floating along, too scared and/or passive to make the move that comes to Steve naturally.

Wait. Shit, I may have the hots for Steve. Abort, aboRT, ABOR-

I’m showing this in part to showcase the next point of conflict and also to draw attention to the new style Jeph is trying. He’ll do this throughout the run of QC, trying out brand-new styles to see what fits and what doesn’t. I’ll be including this in my comparison pictures at the very end of this post to give a clearer image of what changes and how he improves… although you can see even in this comic he’s struggling against old habits as Marten’s face in the final panel looks drastically different than in the rest, looking more akin to how he looked in older comics. That’s okay! Habits die hard, it’s worth applauding the fact that Jeph is trying. God knows I can’t draw to save my fucking life, so I’ll always support artists trying new things.

I’m mostly including this panel for two reasons: The fact that Faye’s stuck in the closet right now – if you don’t get why that’s funny, you will in about 3700 comics from now – and the way she’s talking. Do you notice something different about the “feel” of Faye’s dialogue? Keep an eye on it, I’ll try to include more panels of her talking from this point onward.

Anyway, Marten dismantles the previously established conflict by revealing he managed to get Faye’s prescription for her and got her a new pair of glasses.

Mark this as the second time Faye has actually displayed real physical aggression against Marten.

Again, depending on how much you know about AI in QC’s world from future comics this could either be a lot funnier or a hell of a lot less funny. Although… the subject of AI mortality would make for an EXTREMELY interesting plot point in more recent comics. Remind me to touch on that when we get further along.

Again: Pay attention to Faye’s dialogue in this comic, especially in that last panel. You’re noticing it, aren’t you? The fact that she sounds a little… different? Give me a little more time, I promise I’ll touch on it a little later.

Hey, guess what? It’s later!

Faye does not punch Marten whenever she says something nice about him. In fact, she has ever only assaulted Marten twice – both times for completely arbitrary reasons not related to her saying anything to or about Marten. Nor has Faye ever spoken completely without contractions, as you see she’s doing now. Later comics will go on to point out how odd it is that Faye only speaks with contractions when she’s drunk and dips into her southern accent… when we’ve seen in previous comics that she is capable of speaking with contractions and talking like a normal human being. This change has shifted the entire “feel” of every line of Faye’s dialogue, as she no longer “sounds” like the Faye we started the comic with.

These are both examples of a writing mistake that a lot of long-form regular updating writers make, be it fanfiction or daily comics – retcons. If you’re reading this, you most likely know what a retcon is. For the few of you that don’t, a retcon – short for retroactive continuity – is the practice of in later works of an ongoing series introducing a fact that changes what was previously established in previous works. This is most commonly seen in Superhero comics from Marvel and DC, but the kind of retcon I’m talking about is more common on smaller scale works, like fanfiction or unedited novels or ongoing RPs.

See, when the writer realizes they wanted to change up something, introduce a plot element that would require them to go back and change something previously to make it make sense and find that for whatever reason they can’t, they may go ahead and introduce the plot element anyway while assuring the reader that no, of course this element was always included. That’s what’s happening here – Jeph had an idea for a plot element he wants to include, realized he can’t exactly go back to older comics and change them considering it’s a regularly updated webcomic, and so decided to retcon these facts by introducing them like they’ve always been a part of things and assert their truth while continuing on.

Not that I can necessarily blame the man – in a situation like this, realizing there’s an important plot element that you want to work with but can’t due to you leaving it no room in what you’ve previously published, there’s not much else you can do besides either retconning things or accepting you can’t introduce that plot element and just move on. However, there are other ways you can work with this that abide by previously established continuity and lets you introduce a plot element you want to introduce. For example, Faye punching Marten: You could introduce it as something she feels more comfortable doing the longer she’s around him. Have more frequent comics of her following saying something nice up with a punch, let us see her actually assault him more, and draw a correlation between her getting more comfortable around him and her getting more physically aggressive – something Jeph does touch on later, so it is entirely possible to introduce this new dynamic without asserting things have happened that we clearly see haven’t happened.

…as for Faye not speaking in contractions however, that’s just stupid. It’s a gimmick for her character, plain and simple, without adding anything to her as a character. If you want something big to showcase she’s keeping herself restrained, just continue as you were, having her speak in a southern accent when she’s drunk. That works as a fun gag to attach to her character without seeming like a dumb gimmick. And I’m sorry to say… this whole “Faye doesn’t speak in contractions” thing? It’s a dumb gimmick.

Okay, now that I’ve gotten that all off my chest, let’s introduce ourselves to the new main character of QC…

This is Dora, the owner of the Coffee Shop that Faye works at. She’s a cool cat and (seemingly) supremely chill. She’s introduced as another secondary character like Steve, but will swiftly become a mainstay character and join what will become a growing ensemble cast.

Also, potential conflict is seeded when it’s revealed she’s totally crushing on Marten.

And if you doubt Faye’s assessment, let’s hear it from the woman in question herself.

Also say hello to Dora’s cat. The cat has a name, I just can’t remember it for the life of me considering the little fella joins Sara on that island eventually. But yeah, Dora DEFINITELY has the hots for Marten, sewing another potential seed for conflict later on – Marten and Faye are certainly in the “will they or won’t they?” phase, and here sits Faye’s own boss with a clear, vested interest in Marten. Will she make a move and push Faye to take action? Time will tell.

Jeph enjoys trolling his audience, and Marten is suffering because of it.

Dora goes on to establish herself in the reader’s minds by having a clear, distinct personality that bounces off Faye’s beautifully. They banter so comfortably with one another it makes it so much fun to read, which goes on to make Dora a more appealing character to the reader. The more she talks, the more you want to see her because she’s such a genuinely charismatic individual… which can further serve to establish her as a very real conflict in the potential Marten and Faye relationship. After all, what’s a greater spanner in the works of this “will they or won’t they?” relationship than a character who will gladly say “Yeah, I will” that the audience likes enough that they are completely on-board with seeing go through?

The most dangerous thing to a romcom relationship is a third wheel that a good portion of the audience prefers over the teased relationship, and that creates good drama.

(Also Sara’s name is spelled wrong but eh it’s not like she’s around to complain anyway)

…that said, Dora goes on to assure Faye that she has no intention of swiping Marten off his feet away from her when it’s clear Faye’s interested in him. Then again… the more Faye insists she’s not interested in him, the more likely it may be that Dora believes her.

True story, I found this concept so funny that in a campaign I ran a few years ago, I actually had one of the players – who was supposed to be stuck as a worker in a dreary 9-to-5 job that he’d desperately want to escape to go onto adventure – be labeled as the Office Bitch. My only regret is that I didn’t print out a real business card for his player. That either would have gotten a laugh from the table or gotten me punched.

This here is Scott, Marten’s boss. He’s a cool dude, but for reasons that will become evident later on we don’t see very much of him. At first, I thought he was going to end up being the future husband of Marten’s father – and if you haven’t read through QC yourself that sentence will probably completely catch you flat-footed – but looking it up later I found that Marten marries a man named Maurice, not Scott. I only thought they were the same person because they’re both blonde and the art style changes so much later on anyone could look like anyone else.

Actually, fun fact: I started reading QC when 2512 was the most recent comic, so before she was introduced I thought Faye and Marigold were the same person because of how drastically the art style changed and I only recognized “curvy white girl with glasses and brown hair”.

Anyway, Scott’s pretty chill and… yeah. Yeah, that’s pretty much it. He’s a chill dude to work for, and that’s probably the only reason Marten hasn’t outright quit his job yet. The worst job in the world can be made tolerable with a good boss, and the best job in the world can be made unbearable with an awful boss.

Further evidence of the lack of contractions hurting the way Faye’s voice comes across than anything else. Seriously, is it just me or does this not sound like Faye? Like, at ALL? I’m open to being told I’m wrong, just… seriously.

Aaaand here we have Steve officially having broken up with Sara. Also, it’s a small thing but like I’ve said, I’ll give Jeph credit where it’s due – that visible wince on Marten’s face is the most expressive any of his characters have been thus far. Good work man, I’m happy to see you improving with your art!

After drinking together, Marten and Faye decide to go to an all-night diner for some drunken late-night pancakes when we get this bit of information from Faye:

That is Faye, if you can figure out which of the two Martens your fist will connect with. But yeah, the fact that Faye speaks in a southern drawl while intoxicated went from a joke to actual character – she’s legitimately from Georgia and that’s her natural way of speaking. Which may raise the question to the reader, why does she repress that voice so much? Don’t worry – they touch on it in later comics. For now though, another round of applause to Jeph for slowly and organically creating new information about his characters.

Faye is clearly not telling the whole story – the lack of eye contact being a key indicator of just that. Still, we’re getting a little bit more information on her, and the fact that she kept her wording vague leaves a lot to still explore in her future. Needless to say… it was a LOT more than just her mother being over-protective that led her to moving up north.

Marten’s just kind of accepted his lot in life by this point. Although when I was first reading through these I honestly thought this was going to be the headbutt-into-crotch moment.

Once again, if you haven’t read through QC yourself that sentence made zero sense to you. I’m kind of giggling at the thought of someone reading that and doing a double-take, actually.

Finally, we have the last comic of this batch, setting up a bit of conflict for our next batch…

Wuh-oh! Marten walked in on Faye changing! One really nice detail is that you can see the scar on Faye’s chest right there in the first panel, which means Jeph had a LOT of Faye’s backstory already planned out while he was drawing this stuff. Which just leaves me to wonder… how far back did he have this planned? When Faye first showed up in the third comic? When he had her start speaking in a southern accent while drunk? When he decided to have her stop speaking in contractions? I’d love to ask him, but I know for a fact he wouldn’t give me the time of day. Oh well, either way: He’s got shit planned out, shit that we won’t see until Comic 500 or so, and that’s always good for a long-form comic like this.

Like last time, let’s do some quick comparisons between the first comic of the batch, the comic where Jeph made a clear and active effort to change the art style, and the last comic of the batch:

It looks like Jeph found a happy medium between the style he was originally going for and the newer style he tried to incorporate, keeping the relative size and position of the characters’ facial features while rounding out everyone’s faces, making things much less angular than previously. The bodies are also beginning to get some real texture to them, looking closer to real human bodies than stick figures with a shirt.

Overall, what did I think about this batch of comics? Well aside from my complaints about Faye’s lack of using contractions and the sloppy way Jeph tried to incorporate that into the narrative, I thought it was better than the first batch! Marten and Faye are getting into a comfortable rhythm with each other, and we’re falling in-line with that rhythm ourselves. We just met a new character who’s going to be a mainstay of the series and in the few comics she’s shown up in, she’s made her presence stick with the reader. Even if I didn’t know how important Dora would become, I’d be saying I’m looking forward to seeing more of her.

You know what time it is now? That’s riiiiiight! Data compilation time!

Between comics 51-100, the following characters’ proportional “screen time” as it were are as follows:

Marten: 46/50 – 92%

Faye: 45/50 – 90%

Pintsize: 12/50 – 24%

Dora: 8/50 – 16%

Steve: 6/50 – 12%

Sara: 2/50 – 4%

Scott: 2/50 – 4%

Dora’s Cat: 1/50 – 2%

And the grand total of each character’s screentime, not including non-canon or guest comics, from most to least time shown:

Marten: 91/100 – 91%

Faye: 83/100 – 83%

Pintsize: 27/100 – 27%

Steve: 14/100 – 14%

Dora: 8/100 – 8%

Sara: 7/100 – 7%

Jim: 2/100 – 2%

Scott: 2/100 – 2%

Raven: 1/100 – 1%

Dora’s Cat: 1/100 – 1%

Yes, I’m counting Dora’s cat among the statistics. I’ll change the name when I learn what the critter’s name actually is. Also, I was reminded that when the Secret Bakery becomes a thing later on in the comic there will be another character named Jim, with this particular construction worker being called Jimbo instead. I’ll change the name properly when he’s called “Jimbo” proper in the comic, don’t worry. I’ll be doing my best to keep this list from getting confusing… it’s in as much my best interest as yours seeing as I want to keep track of everyone properly.

Tune in next week when we see the exciting conclusion of this spicy “Marten happening to walk in on Faye undressing” drama! And Dora flashing someone. See you then.

#Questionable Content #Analysis #Long-form analysis #Faye #Marten #Pintsize #Dora #Steve

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choicesfanatic86 · 6 years

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Almost: Chapter 5 (Liam x MC)

DISCLAIMER: All characters belong to Pixelberry Studios, except characters unique to my story. Those belong to me. ;)

PAIRINGS: Liam x Riley (MC)

SUMMARY: Riley Lawson didn’t believe in second chances, until one night a face from her past makes a shocking reappearance in her life.

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Want to catch up? Check out my MASTER LIST

7/19/18 - Chapter 5 is here lovelies. <3 Thank you for your patience. I’ve been out of work with a very bad upper respiratory infection. I think it’s viral, and I have to let it run its course. My son and hubs are much better, but I’m still left with an awful cough. :( At least I’ve had more time to write. Silver linings, I suppose. lol.

Chapter 6 will be out in two hours! Let me know how you like it and thank you as always for your support and sweet words. <3 You all are amazing!

Chapter 5

Riley couldn’t help but shriek as she realized what was happening. Someone had the burly man that was harassing her firmly planted against the counter at the bar, and she wasn’t certain where he came from or how he had managed to catch her harasser by surprise. On one hand, she was very grateful to the kind stranger who had been the only person in a sea of people to do the decent thing and stop the guy from bothering her. On the other, she wanted to pull her savior off of the man and tell him that it wasn’t worth the trouble. The drunk man was much larger than her rescuer and she imagined that once he was able to escape his grasp, he would be none too pleased. The last thing she wanted was for this guy to end up with a black eye or much worse because he had tried to defend her. It looked as if the drunkard could have easily overpowered the man if he really wanted to. His sheer size alone gave him the upper hand, but for whatever reason, her rescuer was standing firm and holding the drunk securely against the bar. She looked around to see if any bouncers or security guards were headed in their direction to hopefully kick her harasser out of the club. Unfortunately, there was no one even remotely headed in their direction. However, a small crowd had formed around them, all eager to see what was going to happen. Her eyes turned back to the bar, the drunkard was struggling to break out of her savior’s grasp, but he wasn’t making any real progress in escaping, and he was getting angrier by the second.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” The burly man yelled, trying to take a swing at her rescuer.

“Teaching you some manners,” her savior uttered, fighting to keep the man down.

Riley felt all of the air leave her body all at once. She knew that voice. Suddenly, realization began to dawn on her. It was Liam. She stumbled back a bit, leaning against a bar stool for support. Even laced with anger and there being eight years since she had last heard it, she would be able to recognize his voice anywhere. It couldn’t be anyone but him. Riley’s mouth gaped open as she took in his features from the side. He wasn’t wearing the same clothing as he had worn at the bar. She had figured that had a lot to do with what she had done to him back there. He wasn’t wearing the bar t-shirt either. He must have stopped off along the way to change clothes before heading to the club. She swallowed thickly. She couldn’t let Liam get hurt. Liam was anything but a fighter. If the man broke out of his grasp, one punch would be all it took to knock Liam on his ass. She was fairly certain that his fiancé would not appreciate her future husband with a black eye or fat lip right before they were slated to get married. The nerves she had felt back when she first entered the club returned. She suddenly didn’t know what to do.

“Please, someone!” She started to yell hysterically. “Find security! A manager! Anybody!” Her voice wavered as she watched as the drunkard start to flail under Liam’s hold. Riley’s fears, it appeared, were baseless. Liam had the situation completely under control, and she couldn’t figure out how. He was barely breaking a sweat, despite the man being so much larger and bulkier than he was. He clearly had no problem holding his own against him. He forcefully slammed the man back down against the bar, further securing his grasp across the man’s neck. She flinched at the sudden banging noise. Liam had thrown him so hard, drinks that had been lined up on the opposite end rattled.

“The lady would like you to leave her alone,” he narrowed his eyes at the man darkly. “I’ve been watching the exchange since you first stopped her, and she’s made it clear not once . . . not twice . . .” she heard his voice grow louder and more intimidating as his face came closer and closer to the drunkard’s face. “But three times.”

Riley saw the man recoil under Liam’s intimidating gaze.

“A proper gentleman would have backed off after the first time. She said she wasn’t interested. The meaning was quite clear.”

“Well maybe it wasn’t clear,” the man countered as he pushed against Liam once more, struggling to get out of his grasp, but Liam did not relent. He merely adjusted himself so that he was angled to have more control over the man’s upper body.

“Then you’re an imbecile,” Liam said pointedly, his gaze never leaving the man’s face.

Riley felt a sense of dread wash over her. Despite Liam’s calm and collected demeanor, she knew that he wouldn’t be able to hold onto the man for much longer. Why wasn’t anyone coming to help him? Where on earth were all the security guards? There were at least half a dozen very intimidating guys stationed outside. Why wasn’t anyone in here? Where was Drake? Surely he’d be able to put a stop to all of this. She tried her best to look for him, but the crowd that surrounded them was getting larger. She could barely see past them, the other bar was completely out of sight. Why wasn’t anyone stepping in to help?

“It’s my night off . . .I was just trying to have a little fun is all,” the man rambled as he continued to flail around under Liam’s grasp.

“Not with her,” Liam fumed.

“Look I know she said she was with somebody, but a lot of sluts say that,” he stammered. “I didn’t know that she was with some psychopath, all right? So she’s yours. I get it. I’ll back off.” The drunk was starting to backpedal. He clearly hadn’t anticipated that Liam meant business and had no intention of allowing the man to harass her any further tonight. Riley’s anxiety started to wane a bit. Surely that was all that Liam needed to hear to let the man go. She noticed that Liam didn’t say anything in response. His face remained frozen in anger as he continued to hold the man firmly in place, not loosening his grip at all.

“Are you going to let me go?” The man asked, his voice cracking a little. Liam’s grip on his neck seemed to tighten instead.

“Apologize,” he said simply.

“What?” The man’s eyes widened as he started to gasp a bit.

“You owe the lady an apology,” he said quietly, but sternly.

“I ain’t apologizing to this slut who dressed like she was asking for it,” the guy muttered. “You should check what your girl wears before she leaves the house,” the man snorted.

Riley couldn’t understand if the man was dumb or intentionally trying to get a rise out of Liam. Whatever it was, he wasn’t doing himself any favors. If anything, him running his mouth was making the situation far worse. She studied Liam’s face carefully. He was livid – the way his eyebrows pulled in closely to the center of his forehead and the thin line that graced his lips were a clear enough indication that this wasn’t over. He wasn’t going to let him go until the man had indeed apologized to her. The man, on the other hand, did not seem like he planned on giving in. Riley was certain that nothing would ever lead him to believe that he did anything wrong at all. Guys like that rarely do. She’d seen in time and time again back at the bar, so much so that she had gotten accustomed to it. It wasn’t worth trying to educate him about his inappropriate behavior. It wouldn’t make a difference. In fact, if anything, it would probably rile him up even more. Already, he seemed to be getting angrier by the second, and that anger was sobering him up. Riley started to worry that if the man got just sober enough, he could easily break through Liam’s grasp and give Liam a terrible beating.

“Liam, it’s not worth it,” she said softly, her hand grazing his shoulder lightly.

For a split second, he turned away from the burly man, allowing their eyes to meet. For the first time in eight years, she felt the same electric shock sensation course through her body. She pulled her hand away from him quickly, pursing her lips. He inhaled, pulling his gaze away from her with some difficulty, before turning back to the man. “No,” he said firmly. “He owes you an apology.”

Riley could feel her eyes begin to water as she started to become even more concerned than before. She was worried for Liam. She was worried about the entire situation. What if this guy decided to press charges? How could this have spiraled downward so quickly? She should never have walked through those doors tonight. Had she stayed home and let the past stay where it belonged, none of this would have happened. Just as she was about to implore one of the bystanders to get a bouncer, Drake came rushing through the crowd, pushing his way through until he was right next to Liam. Riley felt a sense of relief as she looked into Drake’s eyes. Surely he’d be able to talk Liam down and get the situation back under control.

“Is there a problem here?” Drake said calmly. His eyes drifted from Riley to Liam to the man who was still firmly planted against the bar. When Liam didn’t answer, he grabbed Liam by the shoulder, shaking him lightly. “Liam? You good?” He asked in concern.

“Everything is fine,” he said shortly. “I was just having a nice chat with this gentleman here.”

Drake swallowed thickly. “Hey man, it looks like you were doing more than just chatting,” Drake said, looking at the man’s pained expression on his face.

“It seems that this is the only way to get him to listen,” Liam seethed out. “Riley asked him to leave her alone . . . several times . . . it seems like he couldn’t grasp the concept,” he said, his eyes darkly shooting a death glare at the man below him. “I’m still not quite sure he understands.”

“I understand!” He gasped out. The man turned to Drake with a pleading look on his face. “Your crazy ass friend won’t let me go.”

“You haven’t apologized yet,” Liam reiterated.

Drake ran his hands worriedly through his hair. “Liam, why don’t you let him go?”

“He had his hands all over Riley,” he spat out.

Drake’s eyes shifted over to her. She was still leaning against the bar stool. She was still in shock. She hadn’t realized it, but she had been cradling her arm gently. She removed her other hand, and it was then that she saw it. Red marks were strewn across her shoulder down to her forearm. The man’s handprints left clear red marks from where he had gripped her so tightly. “Lawson, you okay?” Drake asked in concern. When she hesitated, Drake turned his attention back to the man. “You did that to her?”

The man’s eyes opened a bit wider in a panic. He clearly hadn’t realized that his grip had hurt her. Riley started to wonder if she would have two angry guys to calm down instead of just Liam.

“I didn’t mean nothing . . . “ the drunk stammered.

Liam’s eyes flitted back to Riley, his gaze shifted to her arm. His eyes scanned over the darkening red marks. She could see Liam’s temper rise as his eyes darkened.

She shook her head, trying to assure them that she was fine. “I’m okay,” she said, wanting to diffuse the situation as quickly as possible. Her shoulder hurt like hell. There would definitely be bruises tomorrow, and she’d be in a lot of pain, but she wasn’t going to let it show. It would just make Liam angrier and she knew that at the rate things were going, the situation would only escalate if she made a big deal about her arm. “Please, just let him go,” she said quietly. “I’m okay . . . I promise,” she said, trying to reason with Liam. “I don’t need an apology.”

“And what if he does this to another woman this evening? What if that woman isn’t as fortunate to have someone intervene as I had?”

“I’ve already called the bouncers over, Liam. This guy is out of here regardless . . . apology or not,” Drake interrupted. “Think about the implications of getting photographed, Liam. Think about what that would mean back home,” Drake said quietly.

Riley turned her gaze to Drake, her eyes asking him what the heck he was talking about. Why would someone bother photographing this bar brawl? It’s not like he was anyone spectacular . . . or was he? She started to analyze the scene before her. She noticed Liam’s grip on the man loosen considerably with Drake’s words. Riley raised an eyebrow in curiosity, but filed it away as a question for later when things weren’t so tense.

He released the man from his grasp, throwing him back into the bar. “Perhaps it would be best if we depart as well,” Liam murmured. “This isn’t the company I’d like to keep tonight,” he said angrily taking a few steps back from the bar.

Drake’s eyes wandered as the crowd seemed to split before them. Two large men made their way toward the bar, grasping either side of the man that had been harassing Riley. They pulled him to his feet as they started to escort him along with his group of friends out of the nightclub. She couldn’t help but snort. Now they show up, she mused to herself. All the hard work was done. Where were they when he was grabbing at her arm? She sighed, trying to put it out of her mind. Liam had stepped in and that was all that mattered. He’d saved her.

“Alright . . . now that they’re taking the garbage out, I’ll go find the others, then we can get out of here,” he eyes wandered between the two of them. Liam was trying to compose himself at the bar and Riley was still a bit shaken from everything that had happened. “Liam . . . we’ll meet you outside, okay?” His eyes wandered to Riley, but she couldn’t meet his gaze. She was still taking everything that had happened in. This had definitely not been the night she had expected. Then again, she wasn’t really certain what she had expected to happen. “Lawson . . . hope to see you around . . .” Drake trailed off before heading out toward the dance floor to find the other two guys.

The crowd around them eventually began to disperse. She was so happy that it was all over. She exhaled a long sigh of relief, and steadied herself against the bar. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about that guy again, and thankfully Liam had come out of it unscathed. What a night this had been. She couldn’t really fathom that all of this was really happening. From the moment she laid eyes on him back at the bar she felt as if she had suddenly lost control of her life.

“Are you all right?” He asked suddenly, pulling her from her thoughts. His gaze was still a bit dark, and she could see that he was still struggling to control his temper.

“Y-yes,” she said softly, her head bobbing up and down quickly. “Thank you,” she murmured. “I’m not sure what would have happened if you hadn’t have stepped in,” she said honestly. She still felt a bit shaken from everything that had happened. She could feel whatever buzz was in her system waning as her body tried its best to calm itself. The truth was, as much as she wanted to come across as a badass, independent woman who could easily take care of herself, tonight had scared her. She honestly didn’t know what would have happened if Liam hadn’t have stepped in. The marks alone on her forearm were a clear indication that he had no care about hurting her. She could only imagine what he would done to her had he managed to get her alone.

“Are you okay?” She asked, taking a long, hard look at him. It looked as if he were trying to catch his breath. He was inhaling and exhaling rapidly, his chest heaving up and down. He still looked so angry despite the man and his friends having been escorted out of the club. She studied him for a moment, noticing his broad shoulders and muscular arms. That was definitely something different from the last time she had seen him. He had been a bit tall and lanky back then, and she never would have thought him as the muscular type. Now he looked as if he were someone to hit the gym several times a week. It wasn’t something that she had expected. He had always been rather studious back in Germany. He had always been a bit impulsive, at least back then, and she supposed that hadn’t changed considering his actions tonight. But a bar brawl? That was definitely not something she had ever imagined he’d jump into willingly.

“I will be,” he sighed, pulling himself away from the bar.

They stood there for what seemed like hours, when in reality, she knew it was only a few minutes. The silence lingered between them painfully. Now that the adrenaline was leaving her system, it was being replaced by the nerves she had felt when she first walked into the club. What was she supposed to say to him? It wasn’t like she was going to be able to just shoot the breeze after everything that had happened. What was she supposed to say? ‘Hey, how are you doing? So what have you been up to the last eight years? Oh and by the way, why did you rip my heart out when you left without saying goodbye when you left me?’ Yeah, that would go over real well. She sighed to herself , regretting everything that had happened tonight. The universe was screwing with her again. If she were being honest with herself, it had been screwing with her from the moment Daniel had asked her to cover his shift. That’s what started this entire mess. Maybe she should walk away . . . things were way too awkward and way too tense. Even if she mustered up the courage to confront him about Germany, who knew if he’d even give her the answers she was looking for. Nope. She could not deal with any more problems tonight. She decided to just walk away, put tonight behind her, and move on with her life.

Before she had an opportunity to pull herself away, she noticed Liam’s eyes wander off to the distance. She turned to look where his gaze had shifted. A slender woman with dark hair and chic eyeglasses was marching in their direction, and she could see his body straighten as if he were ready to engage in another fight. The woman’s gaze was firmly rooted on Liam. Riley couldn’t help but slink back against the bar as the woman approached them. It occurred to her then that this quite possibly could be Liam’s fiancé. She was pretty enough, and she certainly dressed the part. Her bodycon dress clung to her body accentuating her finer assets. She looked like a supermodel. Of course he’d get married to someone like her. She was stunning. But why would she be at his bachelor party? She bit her lip, wishing herself invisible. She definitely should have come here tonight.

The woman approached Liam immediately with her arm outstretched, brushing past Riley, ignoring her completely. “Sir, let me be the first to apologize for what happened here tonight,” her eyes centered on Liam. He swallowed thickly as he smoothed out the shirt he was wearing, a stern look plastered on his face. He didn’t move to take her hand at all. “We’d like to offer to comp your drinks for this evening.”

Riley suddenly realized that this wasn’t Liam’s fiancé; she was a representative from the club, maybe some sort of upper level manager. Her interest suddenly grew. Why on earth would they send this woman down here to apologize over a bar brawl? She knew Kismet was high end, but this seemed a bit much. Wasn’t this sort of thing expected when you mix horny guys and alcohol? That’s what bouncers were for. You have them do the dirty work. Nightclub managers don’t get involved in these sorts of things, and this couldn’t have been the first bar fight in this club. Riley doubted they went to these sorts of extremes every single time a fight happened.

“Yes, well, I appreciate the apology. But to be frank, I’d like to know where exactly your security team was when all of this occurred,” he sighed warily. “I’m quite certain that a location like this is likely flooded with cameras. Couldn’t they see that someone was in desperate need of assistance?”

The woman nodded emphatically, a look of understanding gracing her face. She still hadn’t paid any attention to Riley, not that she minded. She just found it peculiar that she was so apologetic to Liam when it was Riley who had gotten accosted. She didn’t want or need an apology, but she couldn’t’ help but wonder why the woman was so focused on appeasing Liam.

“We’re so sorry for the trouble, sir,” she reiterated. “We do have a top of the line security system as well as an exceptionally trained staff. I assure you, they are trained to identify risky situations. However, as is the nature of our business, it is often hard to determine if certain advances are considered unwanted or a part of a flirtatious exchange,” she tried to explain. “Many people do come to nightclubs in the hopes of meeting someone,” she reasoned.

“It was unwanted. Trust me. I have the marks on my arm to prove it.” Riley couldn’t help but interrupt the woman. She wasn’t going to allow this woman to suggest that perhaps Riley had been an eager and willing participant in the exchange at the bar.

The woman turned to her finally, acknowledging her with a fake smile. “Is this your fiancé?” she asked, looking Riley up and down quickly. She disregarded everything Riley just said, once again turning her attention right back to Liam.

“No,” he said tersely.

“I see,” she cleared her throat, her eyes once again giving Riley a once over. “Well, we hope that your bachelor party wasn’t soured by the experience . . . surely you’ll stay with your friends just a while longer? Perhaps take some photographs around the club? We’d love if you could share them on social media,” she said hopefully. “It’s always lovely to see our high-profile guests sharing their fun experiences online,” she added in.

Riley once again looked at the woman curiously. High profile? Liam? Perhaps her assumptions had been right. She always knew he was destined to do great things. Back in Germany, he had been the top of the program, before he had left at least. He was probably some big shot business guy overseas . . . or maybe he was some sort of foreign ambassador. He always talked about how politics ran in his family. The wheels inside of Riley’s head began to turn quickly. Who exactly was he nowadays? He was so different, yet at the same time, there was still so much about him that seemed so familiar. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but there was one thing she was fairly certain of – Liam was definitely someone pretty important.

“We really should be leaving,” Liam said curtly. “Unfortunately, the experience did sour the evening’s events,” he said disdainfully. “Perhaps you should retrain your staff and emphasize that every situation should be investigated,” he threw back at her in a condescending tone.

The woman seemed to flush a bit at his tone, but tried her best not to show it. She swallowed slowly, nodding. “We thank you for your patronage, sir. We assure you, this matter will be brought up with the owner, and we’ll be sure to take your suggestion and implement a more full-proof plan to ensure that this sort of thing doesn’t happen in the future.”

“It’s appreciated,” he responded. “Now if you’ll excuse me, we really must be going,” he said.

The woman nodded once more before excusing herself and ambling toward another part of the club to chat with some other patrons.

Without so much as another word, Liam pulled away from the bar and started to head toward the front of the club. He walked in the same direction that Drake had headed to earlier in search of the other two guys. Riley let out a long breath. This night had been so surreal. She was fairly certain that she had experienced every single emotion imaginable tonight, and she wasn’t quite sure how she should feel about any of this. She had come here tonight for answers. Answers she wasn’t so sure she wanted now. It didn’t matter anyway; that opportunity was gone. He’d left her. Again. He clearly had no intention to stick around and talk to her. He stalked off without so much as a glance back. She stood at the bar awkwardly watching him walk away. She couldn’t help but snort. At least she had seen it coming this time. She supposed she shouldn’t have expected much. She had pretty much ruined his bachelor party . . . twice now. First by dousing him with water back at the bar, then again by getting him front and center in a bar brawl. It was a wonder he hadn’t scampered away with Drake earlier. She supposed this was all the closure she would ever get.

She was still staring at his back as he pushed his way through the crowd. She didn’t know why she insisted on torturing herself by watching him. It wouldn’t change anything. She forced herself to look away, shaking her head. She couldn’t do this to herself again. She pushed herself up and away from the bar, heading toward the bathroom. She wanted to clean herself up a bit and inspect her arm.

When she looked at herself in the mirror, she wasn’t surprised to see that her appearance was just as disheveled as she had felt. Her hair was a bit frizzy and her makeup was beginning to run from all the perspiration on her face. She took a look at her arm, and the red marks she had seen earlier looked a lot worse under the harsh fluorescent lighting of the bathroom. They’d definitely be bruises tomorrow, and she wondered how she would explain it to everyone at work . . . if she still had a job. She sighed. Tonight had been one giant clusterfuck of chaos. For a moment, she allowed her mind to wander back to Liam. For a brief second she wished it had been someone else who had stepped in to help her with that guy. Then maybe her head and heart wouldn’t be so muddled with mixed emotions. She mentally kicked herself. She needed a reality check. She was fawning after a guy that without a second thought abandoned her without a single word. And he did it again tonight. If that didn’t show her his true colors, she didn’t know what would. Her nerves and anxiety suddenly turned into outright indignation. She was not going to spend another minute thinking about Liam Rys. Nope. Not today. Not tomorrow. And definitely not eight years from now. She was completely and utterly done.

She quickly tried to pull herself together, touching up her make up as best she could and flattening her hair down. She just needed to make it home, and all would be right in the world again. As she walked out of the bathroom, still a bit lost in her thoughts, she felt a hand gently touch her shoulder.

“Riley,” a voice rasped softly.

She nearly jumped out of her skin. “Jesus Christ,” she yelled, her hand flying to her chest. Her eyes shifted upward, her body relaxing a bit when she realized it was Liam. But she had seen him leave? He walked away from her and everything. She tried to push the look of surprise off of her face and compose herself. “You scared the crap out of me,” she scolded him.

“I could say the same for you,” he countered, his eyes widening. “I turned around and you were gone,” he said simply.

“You left,” she said. She narrowed her eyes in frustration. “Again, I might add,” she said a bit angrily.

He cringed. “I thought you were following behind me,” he explained. “I just assumed you were walking out after me.”

“And why would you assume that?” She frowned. “You could barely look me in the eye back there,” she motioned toward the bar. “I figured you just wanted to get away from me. That’s why you stalked off so fast,” she reasoned.

“That wasn’t it at all,” he offered. “Did you really think I’d leave you alone in this club after what happened?” His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Be logical, Riley. I hardly think it’s safe for you to stick around here or go out there by yourself,” he reasoned. “We wouldn’t want your friend making a repeat appearance on your way out later this evening,” he explained.

She didn’t want to tell him what she really thought. Of course she wouldn’t put it past him to leave her when she needed him most. He did it once before. What was so different about now? She eyed him warily. “I just figured you were eager to get back to your bachelor party,” she shrugged.

“I needed to make sure you were all right first,” he said softly, his eyes finally meeting hers. “I wouldn’t want you to run into that guy again when you’re all by yourself. I was hoping to at least walk you to a cab,” he explained.

She nodded a bit. He made a lot of sense. Damn him for being so darn chivalrous. “You’re right,” she said instead. “I guess it isn’t the smartest idea to wander around the area by myself just in case they did stick around,” she reasoned. She couldn’t help but feel a few butterflies floating around her stomach when she thought about Liam worrying about her safety, but quickly brushed it aside. Liam was doing the gentlemanly thing. He just wanted to make sure she got out of here safely. Any guy would do the same thing. That was the only reason he had come back for her. He was just being a normal, decent human being. Then why did it feel like it was so much more than that? She chided herself again. He’s getting married, she reminded herself.

He motioned for her to walk in front of him, and she stepped forward keeping a small distance between them – a distance he soon closed. His hand grazed her back lightly as he maneuvered her through the crowded club. He had barely touched her, but the electric shock that ran up her spine was enough to cause tingles to explode all throughout her body. She bit her lip trying to capture the sigh that wanted to escape her lips. She was done for. No matter how mad she was at him and how much he had hurt her, she couldn’t deny the fact that she was still very much attracted to Liam Rys, and she couldn’t help but think that much like her study abroad program eight years ago had changed her life back then, walking out of this nightclub with Liam Rys was going to change her life once more.

#choices #choices: stories you play #secondchances #trr #trr fanfic #choices trr #trr fic #Royal Romance #the royal romance #choices the royal romance #theroyalromance #the royal romance fan fic #liam x riley #liam x mc #trr au #choices fanfiction

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jacksauvage-blog · 5 years

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tw: mental illness, drug use, addiction

Basic Information

Full Name: Jean Baptiste Sauvage

Nickname(s): Jack

Age: 36

Date of Birth: August 13th

Hometown: Paris, France

Current Location: Paris, France

Ethnicity: Malaysian

Nationality: French

Gender: Cis-Male

Pronouns: He/Him

Orientation: In modern terms, Jack is the type of person who would simply call himself “queer” and be done with it. For the purposes of this, though, he is demi- to aromantic and bisexual.

Religion: Atheist with some fringe interests in the occult.

Political Affiliation: General disinterest. He grew up in that world and has no desire to rejoin it.

Occupation: Film writer and director. Formerly (and occasionally still, a stage actor).

Living Arrangements: He lives in a small second story apartment. The neighborhood is rough but rent is cheap and no one bothers him.

Language(s) Spoken: French and English, fluently. His Spanish is conversational but broken and largely forgotten and most of the phrases he remembers are elicit and sexual. He speaks key phrases in several other European languages and can ask for a drink and a cigarette anywhere in the world.

Accent: Jack’s accent can be hard to place and depends largely what language he’s speaking in. Typically, his accent has a heavy upper-class London influence, especially when he’s speaking English. His French accent is also a bit watered down by the time he spent in London and America.

Physical Appearance

Face Claim: Henry Golding

Hair Colour: Black

Eye Colour: Dark Brown

Height: 6′2″

Weight: 210

Build: Average build. He is in shape and has built strength over the years by carrying heavy filming equipment around. His muscles, though, are generally toned but not overly defined.

Tattoos: TBD

Piercings: None

Clothing Style: It is rare to see Jack dressed down. At most he is wearing a full tailored suit. At the least he’s wearing slacks and a crisp button down shirt with a suit vest.

Usual Expression: Jack’s default expression can be described as either “vacant” or “hyper-focused” depending on the angle. When he is by himself, he tends to get lost in his own thoughts and his people watching. In groups, especially after a few drinks, he finds himself much more at ease and wears the subtle hints of a relaxed smile.

Distinguishing Characteristics: Jack has a faint scar across the bridge of his nose--the result of getting mugged during his first few weeks in Brooklyn.

Health

Physical Ailments: Jack is relatively healthy with no chronic physical issues.

Neurological Conditions: Though none of this will ever be addressed, diagnosed, or treated, Jack probably has Persistent Depressive Disorder as well as a mild form of Psychosis or a mild Dissociation Disorder. This presents in infrequent but extended periods of time in which Jack disconnects from reality entirely. He tends to self-medicate and withdraw from all of his social obligations. These episodes are characterized by mild auditory and visual hallucinations, though whether this is caused by his disorder or his drug use is undetermined. Jack, however, just views these episodes as a natural part of his creative process and will never seek any type of medical or psychological intervention.

Allergies: None.

Sleeping Habits: Jack is in an almost constant state of sleep deprivation. He has trouble putting himself to bed and turning his brain off in a timely manner. This could either be a symptom or a cause of his aforementioned dissociative episodes, though it will remain unclear which. Combined with his frequent late nights out on the town, social engagements that last until well in the morning, and late night bursts if artistic inspiration, Jack’s sleeping patterns are as erratic as they are infrequent. He is always late to bed but early to rise and on a normal night he can expect to get around 3-5 hours of sleep with an hour-long nap or two somewhere in the day.

Eating Habits: Jack is not an overly picky eater, but he does tend to lean towards a healthy diet by default. He doesn’t cook in his hope (he doesn’t know how) so most of his meals are from restaurants, bars, and markets in the city. He keeps a sparse amount of food in his home, mostly alcohol and bread.

Exercise Habits: A lot of Jack’s physical exercise comes from things he does on a regular basis, rather than time set aside to devote to his fitness. He frequently moves heavy film equipment, sets up shots, hangs his own set pieces, etc. So, he gets a lot of physical exercise from what he does on a normal day. Additionally, Jack walks almost everywhere he goes.

Emotional Stability: Publicly, Jack is as stable as they come. It’s rare for anyone to see the cracks in his facade, but if people looked closely enough they’re definitely there. On a scale of 1 to 10, Jack would put himself firmly as a 9, ignoring how devastating his dissociative episodes can be for himself and anyone who happens to make contact with him during those times. Realistically, he’s probably a firm 5.

Sociability: Jack is a rather social creature by default. He enjoys spending time with others, but is highly selective of the people he chooses to surround himself with. He does not enjoy being part of a large crowd and will frequently find space to be alone if he is in a crowded venue. His personality doesn’t lend itself well to being the center of attention and he is normally fairly quick to shift that attention on to someone else. His interactions with people one-on-one take the form of in depth conversations with intensely probing questions. Jack takes an interest in people in a way that can make them feel as if he genuinely wants to know them. What they don’t know is that Jack has a bad habit of viewing people as source material rather than actual human beings.

Body Temperature: Cold-Natured.

Addictions: Yes?

Drug Use: Jack’s drug use is as erratic as his sleeping habits. He is a heavy smoker, both of cigarettes and marijuana, though these are so widely available and frequently used he would hardly consider them drugs. His vice of choice is cocaine, of which he is almost a daily user. During episodes, however, he can extend into more dangerous and illicit narcotics including heroin and mescaline.

Alcohol Use: Jack is a social drinker. He always has a well stocked bar in his apartment but rarely drinks when he’s alone.

Personality

Label: The Cinephile

Positive Traits: Charming, creative, eccentric, intellectual, passionate, diligent, curious.

Negative Traits: Arrogant, careless, detached, dishonest, unstable, unreliable, messy.

Goals/Desires: Jack’s goals tend to be career oriented. Right now, his primary focus is making his next film. Everything outside of that is secondary. He doesn’t have many goals for his personal life, his love life, his family life, etc. His short term, daily goals all revolve around stimulation of some kind. Be it intellectual, emotional, physical. He’s always looking for something to inspire and motivate him.

Fears: Jack’s primary fears are failure and, by extension, fading into obscurity. He is on top of the world right now. His most recent film was a critical success but that was nearly two years ago. His ideas for his next film are fragmented and vague, he fears that he will never be able to piece them together. He also fears loneliness. Jack is a man who, despite his efforts to get to know people, only ever emerges with surface level relationships. He has hundreds of acquaintances whom he knows very well but feels little to no emotional connection to. This is, in part, because Jack has a tendency to view people as subjects and source material rather than emotional beings with wants and needs. This is also because he feels deeply uncomfortable letting other people into his life for fear of rejection. Jack doesn’t see himself as someone who is capable of having a meaningful connection with another person. And, though he’ll never admit it, this is something that makes him very sad.

Hobbies: Aside from the obvious acting, writing, filming, Jack enjoys a number of solitary hobbies. He is a voracious reader. His favorite author is HG Wells but his favorite book is Dracula. He is also a frequent people watcher. It is not at all uncommon to find him at a back table in a crowded night club either reading or jotting down notes about the individuals around him. Additionally, Jack has a tentative interest in the occult. He is not a practitioner by any means, nor is he completely sure he believes in the whole concept. But, he owns a few books on the subject and can occasionally be found to dabble in the rituals and research of it all.

Habits: In addition to the more destructive habits mentioned in the health section, Jack’s most noticeable tick is popping his knuckles. It’s a small thing, but in a man with such a tight fist around his public image, anything that seems compulsive is noteworthy.

Favourites

Weather: Rain.

Colour: Black.

Music: I don’t think Jack has a preference for any type of music. It’s all background noise to him and not something he actively seeks out.

Movies: His own, obviously. Aside from that, he is inspired by French and German techniques as well as the rising Spanish surrealist movement.

Sport: Any sport where dashing young men break a sweat.

Beverage: Alcoholic--Scotch. Non-Alcoholic: Earl Grey Tea.

Food: Jack acquired a taste for traditional Spanish cooking and there is nothing quite like it in Paris. He is always sad.

Animal: There is a fat orange cat who has recently taken up residence on his balcony. He feeds it scraps and calls it Kit (short for Kitten because? sure why not?). Gun to his head, that dumb cat is his favorite animal.

Family

Father: Rene Sauvage (d.)

Mother: Sylvie Sauvage, 61.

Sibling(s): None

Children: None

Pet(s): None.

Family’s Financial Status: Upper-class, incredibly wealthy. Jack was cut off from the family fortune through most of his life. Recently, however, his father left him a significant sum of money in his will as an effort to make amends with his estranged son.

Extra

Zodiac Sign: Leo

MBTI: INFP

Enneagram: Type 3: The Performer

Temperament: Melancholic

Hogwarts House: Slytherine

Moral Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

Primary Vice: Pride

Primary Virtue: Diligence

Element: Fire

#(look at this thing that i did instead of working on my lesson plans for this week thumbs up emoji)#( the cinephile )#( about )

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infernalkrp · 6 years

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HERE YOU LEARN KNOWLEDGE BEGINS WITH FEAR.

STUDENT FILE. LEE, Shihyun.

PERSONAL. Lee Shihyun, born on 19/08/1999 ( age 19 ) in California, United States. Currently receiving full scholarship.

ACADEMIC. Third year. Registered in the Art Department, coursing photography and history of fine arts. Currently ranking in Beta Tier, assigned to dorm room BF-01.

SOCIAL. Participates in the Visual Arts Club, as member, and the Swimming Team, as member. Associated with the PSIC, as member.

RESTRICTED ACCESS.

CAUTION: mention of drugs, underage drinking.

HISTORY.

the lee family started developing their name in california as the family first moved there after shihyun’s father first got out of law school and opted to live by the seaside. there wasn’t a specific reason why he picked the place but he settled for the states until he had gotten married.

his wife, her mother was clouded in mystery to her but to her father, she exuded charisma and charm when he met her in high school. high school love birds? it seemed like so. however shihyun never really met her biological mother but the two once shared similar qualities back when shihyun attended high school.

her mother was a drug addict, heroine and it still seemed clear that it was the case once their daughter was born, which forced her father to call for divorce and leave her for the sake of shihyun’s safety. he called her a negligent mother and saw no possible way for her to keep seeing shihyun which had broken the woman as she might have clearly loved her child from the very beginning. her father ultimately took custody of their child.

she was raised in california until she was approximately fifteen years of age despite her father seeing it as a risk. he had also remarried not too long after his break up with his former wife but eventually that lead to shihyun assuming the same woman was that, her biological mother. things were normal for a couple of months.

before the move to korea, lee shihyun was once described as a runaway teen at the age of fifteen for approximately three days. throughout that time, she dabbled into drugs and possibly underage drinking with those older than she was and admitted that it had been the first time she had felt free in a long while. her father assumed it had been her way of rebelling but whatever happened during her time away from home, still manages to stay buried.

when the legal action against shihyun’s father and his wife managed to resurface, that was when he and shihyun were forced to move back to korea before she could even discover her real biological mother’s whereabouts. it wasn’t just her as her father was offered a permanent job as one of korea’s prominent prosecutors and district attorney. the lee family had become a distinctive family.

her father never attended amji but he had knowledge on the school, knew how famous the campus was and he was glad that it was a place that would cater to shihyun’s interests. it was one that he thought he must send his daughter to and since they had all the money in the world given his profession, it was entirely possible to give shihyun a full scholarship. shihyun was the center of his world, wants to tuck her away and keep her away from what could change her; by her being surrounded by what he thought to be a campus that could give her a new perspective.

LIMITATIONS.

it was around 10 pm on a sunday, her dorm room was open ajar while she relaxed from up top her bed unable to sleep. it was freshman year, about a month of attendance. she didn’t care whether or not there was at least one person around to possibly listen to her outburst because it didn’t happen often while usually her outbursts happen elsewhere, like the watchtower or the lake before curfew.

so she was always glad when her father manages to send her some monthly cash, which she occasionally uses to have her things paid for, like weed occasionally on the weekends which has become rare now due to high surveillance. though there was no way she was allowed to smuggle weed in amji, shihyun always had some sort of way to sneak some in without anyone noticing, less likely during school hours and hiding it inside a soap container, stashing it under her bed. shihyun didn’t completely quit like she promised but it was her only escape whenever anxiety kicked in. lying in her dorm room, substances filled her lungs as she mindlessly looked up at the ceiling from her bed.

she slowly realizes that this was an all new level of confined, caged.

her dorm walls were half covered with nothing but memories, ones that she personally took and brought from home before she got admitted to amji. she didn’t know why she did, actually. maybe there was a part of her that wanted to have something to connect back to in terms of her old life no matter how hurt she could be by it. shihyun reluctantly sat up from her bed, nonchalantly walking over towards the pictures to “reminisce” but not before discarding the cigarette from her mouth before the smell even got the chance to travel.

there was one photograph with her and her dad, from when they managed to hike all the way up a snow filled mountain when she was eight. they looked close compared to now which would ignite something inside her whenever the thought came to mind while it was hard to imagine him as a prosecutor when her father was so good at lying to her for most of her life. the feeling could hardly be described as fear but maybe it was. looking at the photograph with her and her dad ignited something inside her but the next picture seemed to have made the flames spread faster.

“you big fat liar…” shihyun actually wanted to scream, if it wasn’t for the fact that it was possible she could be the only one awake in the female dorm right now.

her father and her step-mother looked somewhat happy in that picture. shihyun used to think they were absolutely happy together and the fact that she used to feel so secure and happy herself but realized she had been stupid to think that was true. this was hardly her confronting her own feelings; she was used to hiding them as she locked herself inside her dorm room silently having a mental breakdown with no witnesses.

shihyun ripped off the photograph from the wall, letting it slowly fall on the carpet.

abandonment was one fear, especially when she was worried whether or not she’d be back on the right track with her father. did he have more lies to tell? more secrets to hide? things even started to become worse when her biological mother never returns her letters and emails anymore which left a bitter taste in her own mouth.

shihyun sat down on her bed with her head buried in her hands.

ASPIRATIONS.

the watchtower was the perfect place with the best view of the stars; no planes though because amji apparently never sees those. it was difficult when she was confined from campus, to the forest all the way to hwajang village when the world over the watchtower and below the mountains were so much more. but shihyun won’t get anything out of it by just staring, though it’s funny. shihyun found it easy to find a new perspective through a camera lens, behind a pencil on paper which lets her capture the moment.

shihyun lifted the camera that hung around her neck, snapping a quick one from above and below the tower but what immediately caught her artistic eyes weren’t just the skies full of stars but the flock of birds which just happened to fly passed by the view of her lens. shihyun was jealous of them. they could immediately fly free wherever they pleased without restriction while she was stuck on campus. it was the back light of her camera that was giving her a drop of inspiration whenever she takes the snap, there was always something mysterious that laid beyond the horizon as if shihyun felt someone looking after her.

she didn’t want to think about the potential presence of ghosts. possibly her dad, no matter how much she expressed her distrust in him.

after awhile, the birds she had seen earlier had disappeared as they might have gone home, far and far away. shihyun wishes she could be like them and it was nothing like california because at least by the time she ran off on her own, there were new places to see and new people to meet.

“dumb birds. i wish i could be like you. go anywhere i want.”

BEHAVIOR.

lee shihyun, for the most part thought she’d make a bad impression when she entered campus for the first time knowing how she can be sometimes; irritable when she was nervous about something. the tattoo that she recently just got that was somehow still secret from her father was the leading cause which was safely hidden under her thousand dollar cashmere sweater that day. even though shihyun eventually settled to attend amji, there was still no doubt that if she had a choice in the matter, she would have chosen art school instead.

her interest was more towards photography and journalism, centered around art since she had such an eye for it but later took an interest in the psic in order to find out more within the walls of amji, like working on an angle possibly for the world to see because why not? multiple suspicions lingered beyond the school and shihyun heard rumors all the time and life needs a little mystery now and again. shihyun expressed her interest in leaving amji despite it being such an elite school; struggling to stay afloat in terms of academics on her first day before she settled and it was already clear to her that the strict rules on campus didn’t exactly make it all too fun. it was bittersweet; that she wasn’t always used to being a straight a student or someone who wasn’t such a mess.

the psic weren’t exactly appreciated but that was okay, shihyun never really cared what anyone else thought and most of the student body leave them alone to their own devices anyway. while shihyun wasn’t too engrossed in the club unlike the rest of it’s members, it was more like she started off as an amateur in terms of knowledge at the beginning. still, researching the paranormal and supernatural essence of the school was still fun and it had given her something to put her time into, (sometimes) the opportunity to ditch class and it potentially gives her an angle to write about in her journalism studies which leaves her to put in a good amount of effort for the group.

shihyun is a charismatic, charming individual but she wasn’t always. shihyun was a mess, broken in some way, shape or form but managed to mend herself together for the sake of saving face, trying to stay afloat regardless of her troubled past. shihyun seems to hate half of the student body, describing most of them as snobs, posers and especially any of those residing in the council while preferring those who strives to make worthwhile changes at the school, if need be anyway. shihyun already hit most of the stages of a rebel teenager when she was a runaway but tries her best to act like nothing has changed now that everything has been swept under the rug. shihyun was like a force of nature and not exactly an angel

#inf:file #subplot: psic

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mysmesomespacechips · 6 years

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Merry Choi-mas! - Day 6

Summary: 12 days of Choi-mas: A collection of fluffy holiday-themed one-shots with the Choi twins. (AO3)

Gifts: Choi Family Fluff

by @mysmesomefluff

Saeran had no idea what he was doing. He was hunched over his laptop on the bed, speed-reading through articles on the web and furiously typing away at an open document filled with notes compiled from his research materials. It had only been about fifteen minutes since he started and the document was already nearly five pages and counting. Who knew there would be this much information to find? And so many cute pictures that he couldn’t stop scrolling through?

As he digested the bulk of information on the laptop screen, he silently prayed that his brother would not decide to take a sudden interest in his browser history. He should probably encrypt his browsing data later, just to be safe. He still had some time before Saeyoung and MC got home from their Christmas shopping date, so hopefully he would be able to quickly finish up here and figure out how to deal with his bad life choices before they return.

Just as he opened up another tab with a new article to read, he was startled by a sudden loud crashing sound to his left, quickly followed by a sharp, surprised mewl.

He snapped his head to the source of the racket, and all that greeted him was the mass destruction of his night light and digital clock, both of which were now lying dead on the ground, even though they were standing perfectly fine on his bedside table just a few minutes ago.

His eyes darted down to the dirty culprit standing next to the mess, and all it did was mewl innocently, slowly blinking its infuriatingly big and cute sky blue eyes at him.

...Like he said. Bad life decisions. And that was probably a severe understatement.

With a groan, he put his laptop aside and got off the bed, heading towards the crime scene. He noted the protruding cord on the floor that should have been connected to the night light, and guessed that it must have been accidentally tripped over. He placed the nightlight and clock back on the bedside table, relieved that neither seemed to be broken or dysfunctional after that nasty fall. Then he tucked the cord neatly behind the table so that a repeat of this wouldn’t happen. Otherwise, someone — or something — could get seriously hurt.

With that fixed, he bent down and eyed the little creature before him, observing its forward, pointy ears and erect tail. It meowed again, stepping forward to lazily rub its head against his knee. Saeran wasn’t entirely sure why, but the action made a pleasant warmth pool in his chest and he was almost certain that his heart was literally melting at the sight of it nuzzling its small furry head against his leg. The corners of his lips perked up. Slowly, he reached out to carefully pick up the little creature. Its fur was curiously soft and its body was light and fragile in his hands as he lifted it up. It made him feel like the slightest squeeze would break it.

Gently, he cradled it against his chest, with the instructions on how to carry a cat that he read about earlier running through his head repeatedly. Thankfully, the kitten didn’t struggle all that much and instead settled comfortably in the crook of his elbow, leaning into his chest. Saeran breathed out a chuckle when it started swinging its paws about. It resembled a playful infant. Well... he supposed it was technically still a baby. The sign on the box along the street that he had found it in this morning had mentioned that the kitten was barely two months old.

It had been a spur-of-the-moment decision, but given a second chance, he would have picked it up and brought it home like this again. The sight of it earlier had struck a sore spot deep inside him, and because a part of him —one that he would never be able to wash away — saw his younger self in its weakly half-opened blue eyes. Eyes that were seeking just a little warmth and love. Eyes that missed its home; eyes that were hopelessly lost.

Disgust and anger welled up within him once more on its behalf, the same emotions that had led him to pick up the box on impulse and head for home as quickly as his legs could take him. He petted the little kitten’s head, running his fingers through its soft orange, black and white spotted fur, and it purred softly at the comforting touch, which placed a sad smile on his face. It was all grimy and dirty from being left outside, and it smelled, but he could care less that it was getting his favorite sweater dirty. Saeran guessed that it had been left out for a few days already, out alone in the winter cold, no less.

The moment he brought it home, he had fetched it a small bowl of water, and it had drunk it all at lightning speed, before wolfing down the canned food that he gave it after that in a smattering of minutes. Saeran had no time to check the brand of the canned food that he found in the kitchen cabinet, nor did he bother questioning why there was cat food in the bunker in the first place — Saeyoung’s doing, probably. He could only trust and hope that his brother had picked a brand that wouldn't be bad for the kitten eating it.

Speaking of his brother... A grimace — it was an automatic reaction whenever his brother popped up in his mind now — formed on his face. He doubted Saeyoung or MC would have issues keeping the kitten at home. In fact, they would be more than enthusiastic to do so.

The only issue was...

Saeran thought back to the videos that Saeyoung posted on the messenger with him “playing” with Jumin’s cat. And how notoriously well-known he was among the other RFA members for “playing” with cats in that horrifyingly twisted manner.

His eyes met the kitten’s, and it gave him a questioning mewl.

Yup. Not happening. This kitten was absolutely not going to die in Saeyoung’s wretched hands. Not on his watch.

He would figure out how to deal with Saeyoung later. For now, there were other more pressing matters to handle.

Saeran shot a glance at his laptop, the screen stuck on an article titled, “How To Bathe A Kitten Safely”. Then he turned his gaze back to the kitten that was now staring at him with wide eyes, as if to ask him, “What’s next?”

“I hope you don’t hate water...” he muttered wryly.

Its ears merely twitched in response.

Much to his relief, the kitten didn’t seem to despise water all that much, though it gave him a couple of scratches on his arm for the anxiety he put it through. Fair enough. Saeran then quickly went to dry it with a towel, and once that was done, he wrapped it in a small blanket to take it out to warm by the space heater in the living area.

Plopping down on the couch, Saeran leaned back into the soft leather and heaved a tired sigh. He had been so stressed making sure the temperature was right and safe for the kitten earlier, but at least it looked like it was healthy enough. It was now was lying on his lap, snuggling up to the warm fabric of his clothes and angling itself towards the space heater. He ran his hand through the fur on its back in languid strokes, and it purred contentedly in response, resting its head on its little paws and closing its eyes. It then let out a yawn, sticking out its small, pink tongue as it did so. Saeran followed suit, mouth opening wide and moisture forming in his eyes as he yawned. They were both drained of energy, it seemed.

With the waves of heat in the air rolling onto his skin, and pleasant quietness filling the room, Saeran felt his eyelids growing heavier and heavier, exhaustion rapidly taking its toll on his body. The repeated strokes of his hand against soft fur became slower and more sluggish, until he succumbed to the darkness beneath his closed eyelids.

And that only lasted for a grand total of five minutes, before he was rudely awakened.

The sound of voices, footsteps and shuffling plastic bags outside the door as the pass code to the door was being entered startled Saeran awake in an instant. He jumped, causing the kitten on his lap to flinch awake too.

Crap. Saeyoung.

“Hey Saeran, guess what we bought!” Saeyoung spoke from outside, still keying in the pass code. Why he liked to create math puzzles and randomize them every day to generate different passwords was beyond him, but Saeran could not be any more grateful for that security feature at the moment.

Saeran’s first instinct was to hide, but there was no time. All Saeyoung needed to do was open the door and the kitten would fall right in his line of sight immediately. The game would be up just like that.

There was a beep, and a click as the door began to open. No time.

In his panicked state, Saeran did the only thing he could possibly think of at the moment. Swiftly, he picked the kitten up from his lap, and pulled the hem of his sweater up so he could tug it over the kitten to hide it, and covered up the new bulge in his stomach with the blanket that was used to keep the kitten warm earlier.

He barely managed all that before the front door swung open, and MC and Saeyoung both marched in with an army of big, fat plastic bags dangling on their arms.

“Saeran, you’re here! Good! I wanted to show you this!” Saeyoung scrambled to dump the bags on the floor before digging into one of them and pulling out a long brown costume and holding it out in front of him.

“It’s a reindeer onesie! There’s one for you and one for me, and MC has the Santa onesie. Let’s take a picture later!”

MC chuckled as she placed the other groceries on the dining table, relieving her sore arms of the heavy weights. “Santa’s gonna need her little helpers’ help for dinner later, by the way,” she announced, carrying the other groceries into the kitchen.

“Yes, Master!” Saeyoung saluted with a wink. He then returned his attention to his brother, thinking it a little strange for Saeran to have kept quiet for so long. Usually by now, Saeran would have dropped multiple insults or swore never to touch the onesie or something along those lines, but he had been pretty quiet for a while.

Saeyoung’s smile dropped and his eyebrows turned up the moment he registered Saeran’s rather... pinched expression. “Saeran? Is everything okay?”

“...Yeah...” Saeran managed with an unconvincing nod, his left eye squinting as he winced. “I’m... fine...” His body looked unusually stiff, and he was covered up in the Longcat blanket that had been left untouched ever since Saeyoung gave him a few months ago as his birthday gift.

“You don't seem fine,” Saeyoung stated slowly, dropping the onesie back in the plastic bag and stepping over to him. “Are you feeling okay—”

Saeran’s finger abruptly shot out to point threateningly at him. Or at least, it would have looked more threatening if it weren’t shaking like an earthquake was racking through his arm.

“D-D-Don’t come any closer!”

“What do you mean—”

“Not one step!” Saeran shouted, eyes now narrowing into a furious glare at his brother, who obediently halted in his tracks, his entire body freezing.

"Are you two fighting again?” MC emerged from the kitchen with her cheeks puffed up. “Saeran, if this is about your LOLOL figurine that Saeyoung stepped on and broke by accident yesterday—”

“MC!” Saeyoung shot her a horrified look, eyes wide with betrayal and fear. “You promised!”

“Oh,” she deflated, covering her mouth with a hand as she whispered belatedly, “I... made a mistake.”

“You what?!” Saeran’s voice went up a good few octaves and both Saeyoung and MC cringed at the shrill, high-pitched sound.

“N-N-No, this isn’t about that,” Saeyoung stammered with a shaky grin, putting his arms up in surrender and directing his gaze to MC that practically screamed, “How could you do this to me?” That did little to appease or distract his livid and still unwell-looking brother. “I was just asking Saeran whether he’s okay because he looks like a cat caught his nip nip.”

MC wrinkled her nose at the graphic description, but nonetheless stepped forward to approach Saeran, her eyebrows furrowing in concern. “Yeah... you’re right. Saeran, you don’t look so good. Do you have a cold? Why are you wrapped up like that?”

“Just... just... because...” Saeran’s voice came out strangled as something under the blanket shifted. “Please don’t come closer,” he mumbled when she approached, clearly intending to check his forehead or something similar to that.

“You’re acting weird,” she pointed out.

“I’m not.”

“Yes you are,” Saeyoung chimed in, before promptly shrinking at the daggers Saeran began shooting at him again.

“Saeran. There’s a bulge on your stomach. And your hands aren’t under the blanket.” MC’s voice was flat now, and her arms were crossed over her chest, her gaze expectant.

“Heavens, Saeran, are you pregnant?” Saeyoung breathed. “Look, the baby’s kicking!”

“Of course I’m not pregnant!” Saeran shrieked. The veins in his neck and temple now visible on his tomato-red face. “What are you, stupid? OWW!” He threw his head back, squeezed his eyes shut and winced, unable to maintain his cool composure any longer.

“Okay, seriously, what is going on, Saeran? What are you hiding under this blanket?” MC tugged on the end of the offending fabric, but Saeran desperately clutched onto the other end stubbornly keeping it over him. He wasn’t able to struggle for long though, fingers flying and releasing the cloth from his shaky grip when another wave of pain hit him from whatever it was that was causing him grief.

“What... is that?” MC asked, pointing a hesitant finger at the oddly-shaped bulge under his sweater. “Saeran, what is that?”

A small black and orange tail slipped out from the hem of his sweater. Then the tips of two triangle, pink ears peeked out from the collar of Saeran’s sweater.

Saeyoung’s jaw fell slack. “It’s... It’s...”

“Oh shit.” Saeran shut his eyes, wrapping his arms around the soft furry creature whose claws were still latched onto his nipple through his undershirt, and hunching into a defensive position.

“IT’S A KITTY!”

“Well then, I guess Christmas came early,” MC said with a smile as she sipped on a mug of hot chocolate, watching the two brothers from the couch as they sat opposite each other, cross-legged on the floor, with the calico kitten standing in between them. It was leaning very much towards Saeran, head brushing against his knee. His wary eyes remained on the older man, who in turn, was staring at the kitten with wide, moist eyes and a scarily huge grin on his face.

“Santa finally answered my prayers and got me a kitten!” Saeyoung gushed. “And she’s the cutest little baby ever!”

“A baby whom you will not touch or violate with those hands of yours, or I will personally dismember you,” Saeran warned fiercely, gently picking up the kitten and placing it on his lap, much to his brother’s disappointment.

“Don’t be like Jumin, you can trust me. I’m a cat lover! I would never do anything to hurt them!”

"No. Back off.”

MC spoke up from where she was, clearly having had enough of watching the two of them bicker like this. Thirty minutes had already passed like this. “Saeran, how about you let Saeyoung hold her? You can observe him to make sure he doesn’t do anything to hurt her, okay? I think he really wants to play with her. Just for a little while?”

Saeran blinked a couple of times in response to her motherly smile. She had said it in a very soothing and patient way, but for some reason he felt mildly offended. It almost felt like he being treated like a child who wouldn’t share his toy. His eyes shifted to his brother, whose lips were now fattened into a pout as he pressed his palms together and mouthed, “Pretty please?”

With tremendous reluctance and a long, heavy sigh for emphasis, Saeran picked the kitten off of his lap and placed it in Saeyoung’s.

There was a confused mewl from the kitten as it cocked its head up to meet the bespectacled man who looked like a carbon copy of its benefactor, though he smelled different and had a vastly different aura to him somehow. For a few moments, Saeyoung was like a statue frozen in plaster. He didn’t move, or more likely, didn’t dare to move, with something so precious and fragile in his lap.

Saeran expected Saeyoung to do something crazy like scream and grab the kitten by the paws, and was preparing to beat him up if he actually did something like that. It was why he was at a near complete loss when Saeyoung actually started to cry.

Saeran and MC could only stare at him in shock as tears slid down his cheeks, while his hand hovered over the little kitten’s body, fingers brushing lightly against its soft fur. “Sorry, I just— she’s beautiful.”

“He didn’t even cry when he saw me but he cries when he sees a kitten,” MC muttered under her breath, though a smirk was playing on her lips, indicating that she was just joking. “Saeyoung, are you okay?”

“I-I’m okay,” he replied, hastily removing his glasses to wipe his tears away. “S-Sorry, I don’t even know why I’m crying. I’m just being stupid.”

“Yeah you are,” Saeran responded with a half-hearted scoff. “If you wanted a cat that badly you could have just gotten one.”

“I couldn’t have one while working as an agent,” the older redhead laughed. “Miss Vanderwood would have killed me if he had to clean up after it. And I didn’t have time to take care of it anyway.”

“After settling down with MC and I, you could have gotten one whenever,” Saeran pointed out with an arched brow. “Why wait?”

Saeyoung pondered over the question for a while, gently petting the kitten’s head and directing his thoughtful gaze towards it as he did so. “I don’t really know... I guess part of it is because after everything that happened, I was happy. You and MC... You’re my family now, and some days I still can’t believe it. Sometimes I wake up in the mornings, thinking it was all just a dream, and that the both of you were never in my life at all.”

Saeran lowered his head slightly, casting his vision to the floor. He could relate. Waking up after a nightmare, thinking he was back in the hellish place, tied to a rope in the corner of the room waiting to get beaten, or waking up in the mornings to a quiet bunker with no one in it and thinking that he had been left behind all over again. Like everything had been nothing more than a dream, like everything he had started to allow himself to get used to again — a loving family, a supportive brother he could look up to — had cruelly disappeared in a puff of white smoke.

“When I think about how I have the both of you with me now, how we’re family and finally happy together...” Saeyoung’s lips spread into a brooding smile. “There’s nothing more that I could wish for in this lifetime. We’re not perfect or without our share of scars, but being together... It’s been such a dream, sometimes I think I’m just high on Phd Pepper. So... I guess I never really seriously thought about getting a pet cat — having a new addition to this family.”

There was a beat of appreciative silence, the air soaking up the heavy-laden, emotional words spoken. MC shifted closer to where Saeyoung was so she could rest a comforting hand on his shoulder. When he looked up to meet her eyes, her hand settled in his hair, fingers running through his soft red strands.

She opened her mouth to speak, but the kitten beat her to it with a single, adorable meow that shattered the silence in the room.

“Thank you for comforting me,” he grinned, picking it up and cradling it to his chest with no issues whatsoever. It nuzzled into his cotton shift, paws swiping at the dangling cross over his chest. The action made him break into a hearty laugh, which caused smiles to appear on Saeran and MC’s faces all at once.

“Does she have a name?” MC asked then, looking to Saeran.

The man merely shook his head. “I haven’t named it yet.” He paused then, snapping his fingers once to catch Saeyoung’s attention. “Do you want to name it?”

“Me?” Saeyoung gawked at his brother. “Why don’t you name her? You were the one who found her and brought her home.”

“I’m not good with these things,” he replied. “You look like you have more ideas on what to name a cat.”

“Hmm....” Saeyoung immediately set to thinking, a gleam shining in his golden irises. “Well for starters, there’s Honey, Buddha, Chip, Phd, Pepper, Longcat, MC—”

“You are not naming it after your filthy snacks or that ugly cat mascot,” Saeran argued hotly, which caused his brother to chuckle.

“Or me,” MC added with a warning tone in her voice.

“Of course not, I was just kidding. Learn to take a joke, guys!”

“With you the way you are, it’s hard to distinguish when you’re being serious and when you’re actually just joking,” Saeran retorted under his breath.

“Star.”

Saeran and MC both raised their brows simultaneously. “Star?” MC echoed, curiosity shining in her eyes.

“You know, like a shooting star,” Saeyoung smiled, booping the kitten on the nose. “A star that was wandering around in outer space and was brought to us by a wish. She’s a dream come true.”

“It’s a pretty name,” Saeran agreed, eyes softening at the sight of his brother and his shoulders losing the tension that had built up from all the stress of needing to protect the kitten from his brother. “I like it.”

“Star it is!” MC grinned, reaching over to pet the kitten on the head too, to which it gave a satisfied purr. “I think she likes that name too.”

"Merry Christmas, then. Good to know that you like your gift,” Saeran smiled.

“So she was a gift for me!” Saeyoung exclaimed.

“No, she’s a gift for all of us. And that means I don’t have to get you a present for Christmas anymore.”

"What? But I want a present! And why does MC still get one if I don't?” Saeyoung cried in dismay while MC giggled at the twins’ usual bantering, and all the confused kitten could do was mewl questioningly as Saeyoung proceeded to stand up and attempt to put it at the top of the Christmas tree for a celebratory photo.

(Of course, that never went through because Saeran came to Star’s prompt rescue and proceeded to ban Saeyoung from touching her for the rest of the week.)

#mystic messenger #mystic messenger fanfic #mystic messenger fanfiction #mysme #mysme fanfic #mysme fanfiction #saeran choi #choi twins #saeyoung choi #writing #merry choimas

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shellheadtmarc · 6 years

Text

and now it’s time for more notes on tony’s companion verse.

+ y’all think the bleeding edge armor is badass - remember he’s had two hundred years (with admittedly limited resources) to at least run test simulations before building new suits and scrapping old ones he knows he’ll probably never touch again down for parts and metal. you’re damn well right he’s tinkered physically on himself enough that at least coding for it is stored in the hollows of his bones. he’s never, ever actually without it. (waves at 616 continuity)

+ he just doesn’t use it often in the commonwealth at all. mostly because it would be really easy to see how super fancy power armor could easily be confused as something entirely more sinister, with the bos showing up and the institute terrorizing the commonwealth with synths. it’s there when he needs it in the chance, oh, a super mutant behemoth crests that hill over there and inducts him into the commonwealth space program, but otherwise nah.

+ again: he has what could be seen as a much slimmed down holographic pipboy. it’s not, because this is tony, but it’s a hologram so no sleeve rolling, it keeps him in contact with new york (where he’s been all this time in the remains of avengers tower), and is probably a better alternative than being seen talking to himself (jarvis) when he’s actually trying to be taken seriously. (in his case the bombs dropped just pre-im3)

+ because SCIENCE!, the arc reactor is shielding him from the ambient radiation. his dna is probably hella interesting to look at, at this point.

+ burninator the laser pistol makes its triumphant return (from his sole survivor verse) as his main non-suit weapon. it has a boosted gamma wave emitter, short barrel, comfort grip, and reflex sights (for the modding nerds in the audience). he even found a label maker god knows where and it has it right there stuck to the side. ‘burninator mk2’. because he’s actually a huge geek and even though no one gets the joke it still amuses him.

+ laser rifles are also part of his own personal arsenal, and he’ll use just about anything in a pinch, but he’s not the world’s biggest fan of heavy guns. is hell with a fat man, though. hates to have to use them and would break all of them down for scrap if he could, considering nuclear weapons did fuck all for the world. but is open-eyed enough to know that it’s a little late for that.

+ power fists are his third choice. god help everyone if he ever makes it to big mt and gets his hands on a superheated saturnine one. (god help us if he gets his hands on saturnine period)

+ the pretty boy ain’t quite so pretty now. he’s been busted in the face enough times he’s got a scar that arches over the bridge of his nose, and one that traces the line of his brow bone and eye socket on the right side. he’s got hairline scars on the left that move up at an angle from his top lip, but his facial hair covers those pretty well. he’s got other various old boo boos elsewhere (a few stab wounds, a gunshot wound, etc) that he’s now toting as scars.

+ these days his hair runs to being messy and too long, and he rarely bothers with shaping up the facial hair. he’s got bigger things to worry about at the moment than leaving people wondering if he uses a ruler and a laser when he shaves.

#;; verse info #;; i wrote my name in the sky so remember me (v; fo4 companion)#// i realized i never wrote these down in a place where they'd be easy to find again #// so here you go #// have i spent too long on his fallout verses?#// yes #// do i care?#// no

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vowel-in-thug · 7 years

Text

so @corsaircourser whose username i can’t tag right now wtf asked for “22. It’s not heavy. I’m stronger than I look.” which i immediately tweaked. also i’m fucking eating my words here because this is....a little grim. NOT angsty, but like. casual conversations about cannibalism. like if you watched the show Hannibal this would probably be considered tame. this is also my second (2nd) black sails fic with a romantic cannibalism theme which is an interesting fact about me.

set during 3x4

“It’s not heavy. I’m stronger than I look.”

Flint stands, watching Billy by the treeline. Watching the strange men behind him file out ahead, training their guns on Flint’s crew, who are still too weak and starved to do anything but blink and curse. Billy looks grim, more so than usual, with a gun pointed at his head.

Flint stands, and then, slowly, moves to stand in front of Silver.

Silver, who is still on the ground, and letting out quiet exclamations as a man with a gun approaches them. Two more men with weapons are quick to follow. Flint can’t see what Silver is doing, but he can feel him shift at his feet. He is still on the ground when the men approach.

The man in front of Flint looks at him like he’s fishing. Like Flint is just another fish caught in a net. There’s no anger, no passion, no sympathy. No wariness about what Flint or his men might do. It’s just another task -- to catch him, to kill him, like all the other fish before and all the ones after. Flink thinks this man could cut off his head and then never think of him again.

The man says something, which Flint doesn’t understand. But Flint understands the barrel of his gun. Slowly, so slowly, he lifts his hands and removes his own weapons. He tosses his pistol, his sword, and his knives into the sand. The other men scoop them up, while the man in front of Flint doesn’t even glance at them.

Flint sees out the corner of his eye Silver following suit, his own pistol striking the sand, and then the man in front of Flint glances at him.

And suddenly, the man in front of Flint becomes the man in front of Silver. He points his gun at him and says something sharply, but the way he gestures with his pistol suggests only one sentiment: get up.

Flint finally looks down. Silver’s hands are shaking, in part due to the imminent threat, but also because they’ve been starving, and sick, and when you can’t eat, you can’t sleep either. He has the iron leg on but it’s not straight, and he’s fumbling with the buckles to try and adjust it, but the faster he moves, the more his hands shake.

The man in front of Silver repeats what he said before, only louder, and gestures harder with his gun.

“Wait!” Flint steps in front of it, hands still raised. “Just wait. He just needs another moment.”

The man says something again, his face as passive as before, but the other two men approach Flint, and the man in front of Silver pulls back the hammer of his gun.

“Wait,” Flint says again, “he just needs a moment, please.”

There’s a hand around his arm and he’s never felt so frail in his whole fucking life. The hand wraps itself almost all the way around his forearm and begins to tug. Normally, Flint wouldn’t have been moved an inch, and he tries to stay still, but he is also shaking, and with one more tug the only thing that will be standing in between Silver and a gun is air, but if he struggles they’ll both be gutted like fish either way.

“Just wait, please -- “ and the man in front of Silver steps forward.

“It’s on,” Silver says breathlessly. “It’s on. Captain, help me up, quickly.” He extends his hand to Flint and it’s still shaking. Flint doesn’t need to be asked twice.

He hauls Silver up and Silver stumbles, sinking into the sand. Flint’s hand comes up on his chest to steady him, and he feels sick at the bones he can feel through his shirt. Silver grimaces in pain but says nothing.

The man in front of them says something else, a single word, and gestures again with his gun. He leads them towards where the rest of Flint’s crew are waiting by the trees, waiting for them to head into the forest.

One of his men has run away, and Flint doesn’t even entertain the notion that he might see that fellow again. None of their captors seem all that bothered by it, though, which at least means they don’t plan to take the escape attempt out on the rest of them.

Or that whatever fate awaits them is so bad that any further punishment seems pretty irrelevant.

Silver is cursing beside him as he stumbles along. Flint is terrified what might happen if he falls again, afraid of any sort of additional attention on him and his missing limb.

Silver bumps into him, not very hard at all, but Flint sees the opening and takes it. He grabs Silver’s arm roughly and throws it over his shoulders before Silver can even get his mouth open.

“Enough of this,” Flint mutters, looking straight ahead. “The time for pride would have been before we almost starved to death.”

“It’s not --” Silver sighs quietly. “You need to save up your strength for what’s to come. You don’t need the extra weight.”

Flint feels his whole body trembling under Silver already. The muscles in his neck ache sharply, like he’s being drawn and quartered. His side feels stitched at the awkward angle of his body. Silver jerks when he walks, and it pulls and presses at every healing bruise and cut on him.

“You aren’t that heavy,” Flint says. “I’m stronger than I look.”

Silver doesn’t say anything, and then he snorts softly. “You must have the strength of Goliath, then, Captain.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I’ve yet to see you look anything other than strong.”

It’s a lie, even if Silver doesn’t realize it’s a lie. Silver has seen him weeping on the floor with Gates in his arms. He has dragged Flint’s unconscious body from the depths of the sea. He has looked right into the heart of Flint and effortlessly seen how awful it is to be him. He has listened to Flint beg, in so many words, for Silver not to leave his side. They shared a cabin recently, in the days following Miranda’s death. Their entire relationship has been nothing but Flint being weak and Silver refusing to notice.

They come to a clearing of wood, and the ground drops below them. Silver steps away from Flint as they gaze out onto the expanse of the Maroon camp. It’s large and bustling and sophisticated. Flint had known they were fucked before, but now he understands just how much.

Their captors lead them down the embankment, which is rocky and steep. Flint walks in front by design, so when Silver finally trips (almost immediately), he lands right into Flint’s back. And then it’s easy to hook his arm around Silver’s tiny waist. Silver has no choice but to loop his arm back around Flint’s neck.

He’s flushed, like he might be embarrassed, and his features are twisted into a snarl.

He feels stupid to say it, but Flint asks again, “Are you alright?”

This time, Silver nods, teeth clenched, before finally spitting out, “Sand.”

“What?”

“There’s -- sand. In the boot.” Silver bits on the bottom of his lip hard enough to turn pink white. “It’s like grinding down right on the bone with each step.”

His fingernails dig sharply into Flint’s neck, in and out, like an agitated cat extending its claws. Flint doesn’t think Silver even knows he’s doing it. It’s the familiar twitch of a person in agonizing pain, unable to stop it and trying desperately to find something else to focus on, even if it’s another pain.

“It’ll be a small comfort, I suppose,” Flint says softly, turning his face so it goes right into Silver’s ear. Silver’s nails dig in again.

“What is?”

“When they decide to finally eat us,” Flint says, “there’ll be less of you to go around.”

Silver lets out a choked laugh, turning to Flint in surprise. Their faces are suddenly so very close.

“I must be honest,” Silver breaths, not looking away. “The thought had crossed my mind back on the ship. That we might have to resort to such measures. And you’re right.”

“I am?”

“It was a comfort.” Silver, of all things, smiles.

Flint looks away, even though he’d started the joke. The harsh terrain is ending soon. He can already see the edge of the river through the trees. He feels Silver panting on his cheek, as heavy as his whole weight on Flint’s frame.

Without thinking, Flint says, “No one would have eaten you on that ship.”

Silver huffs. It hits Flint’s eyelashes. “I don’t think the men like me that much to spare me if that’s the path we had found ourselves on.”

Flint doesn’t know why they’re talking about this. Maybe because they have, in some fashion, found themselves on a similar path, towards a gruesome end, and there’s nothing they can do about it now. Maybe because Silver has stopped twitching and instead is just pressing his fingertips lightly on the nape of his neck. Whatever the reason, Flint says, “I wouldn’t have let them.”

He doesn’t know why he says it, only that now, in this moment, with Silver holding Flint up as much as he’s holding Silver up -- now, he believes it. He’s not sure where the impulse comes from, but it’s there all the same. It’s the same kind of impulse that had struck him in the past, when that other sailor had insulted Miranda in that tavern, or when he’d asked Thomas’s father to leave the dinner table. He hadn’t known where or why those impulses had overcome him, then, either.

As if reading his mind, Silver says wryly, but no less quietly, “I wonder if you would have spared me before, when you were still in the dark about my role in the Urca gold.”

Flint doesn’t answer, because he also doesn’t know that either. And really, it makes no difference. He does know, however, that the only thing he’d felt upon hearing Silver’s confession was pure, unimaginable relief.

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” Silver whispers. “If you had tried to spare me -- either we would have both been the first to be eaten, or the last two left remaining. The two of us, gorged on the blood and fat of our brothers. And then, what do you think would have happened?”

They arrive at the river. There aren’t nearly enough boats for everyone, but their captors are efficient in dividing everyone up, so that their guards are never outnumbered by their prisoners. Flint is put in a boat alone with Silver, possibly because they are still supporting each other.

Silver doesn’t seem to be waiting for an answer, and in fact seems to have forgotten the whole conversation, staring out at the camp in trepidation. Even so, Flint doesn’t think Silver would like his answer, that, in that scenario on the ship, Flint would never have eaten a single man. He would have given all the meat to Silver, to keep him strong, and alive, and when there was no one left but him, he’d offer himself up for a final meal. He’d only ask that Silver start with his heart.

#black sails #black sails fanfic #silverflint #weirdly intimate non-sexual touching #everyone who loved flint helping silver walk in this episode say YEAAAHHH #i'm still living in that pre-s4 world where we just focused on how gay s3 was #anyway i saw meta about how as soon as flint found out about silver's lies in 3x3 he went right back into caretaker mode #and that's what this fic is dedicated to #hey look it's my suffering #corsaircourser

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archiveofolives · 7 years

Text

Ring of Keys and Other Stories VI

A/N/SUMMARY fun fact: i finished the first draft of soulmate/soulbond in a day. which should tell you that i feel very nice about this fic and it’s my favorite bc of that. set in yavin 4 between eadu and scarif in the canon timeline. inspiration also comes from one of my most favorite films and love stories of all the love eterne (whose influence is also in the last fic if you know where to look)

RATING/WARNINGS pg or smth idk/n/a

WORD COUNT 3,484

AO3 here

—

The hangar bay was empty. There were no technicians, no rebels, no ragtag crew standing around, screaming and shouting at each other near the cargo shuttle they’d commandeered from Eadu. After the long journey from Jedha, after the life and death situations they’d put themselves through, there being no other path to take, the silence and the emptiness were suddenly so jarring. That was the point that Baze realized that an empty hangar bay with an empty cargo ship with no soul to speak of was the picture definition of depressing.

How apt that he should choose this point in his life to philosophize when he’d pretty much lost what was equivalent to everything. His past, his home. About the only reasons why he was still standing on his own two feet were Chirrut Imwe and the rebel crew they were suddenly a part of. So did that make those idiots his friends?

Baze chuckled suddenly, but they weren’t as bad as they looked; the captain turned out to be competent, his droid the same, the girl managed to earn his respect and even the pilot hid a little fire in himself. People like that, he could learn to appreciate.

Besides, Chirrut seemed to like this dysfunctional group. People Chirrut liked, Baze could learn to like, as well. Where was Chirrut, anyway? Alliance Intelligence—or whoever it was who debriefed them—couldn’t be all that interested in the life of a blind man, could they? Unless they’d made the mistake of asking Chirrut about the Force.

The thought almost made Baze want to laugh if he just didn’t feel so stupid doing it alone where no one else could hear. He decided to wait for Chirrut outside in the hangar bay, exploring its high walls, the panels and screens, and the toys—parts, really, and tools and equipment—lying around, out in the open where they could kill a person, safety warnings be damned. When he’d run out of pipes and plates to knock his fist on, he decided to move onto the open cargo shuttle and tour himself. He was familiar with its interior of course from the days he was away from Jedha. The layout and terminals were all pretty much standard issue (he realized then that the Empire, for all its invasiveness, didn’t quite bother personalizing all their possessions) that he didn’t need more than 10 minutes to reacquaint himself to the ship.

He stepped out. Still no Chirrut. Which volume of the journals was he at now? A deep sigh escaped Baze as he wandered over to a heavy turbine on its side that must be about his height, propped atop two ridged transformers that must be big enough to contain a child each. He sat down on one of them where he could best keep an eye on the entrance to the bay. Folded himself forward to get comfortable, praying hands finding his nose and his mouth.

Before he could stop himself, he closed his eyes and started to breathe deeply. In spite of his divorce with the faith, meditation was still a large part of his life. It was a difficult habit to break, having been a part of his daily routine in the days of the Temple, and even as a skeptic, he could find some nugget of peace with himself in it. His red armor wrapped around his collar made it a little difficult to focus, but it could be managed.

Could be forgotten with the rest of the gray hangar, the echoes of footsteps, of distant commands, the fragrance of leaves, of the strange forests that surrounded them, that seemed inescapable. But there he was, floating in the void of his own emptiness, away from the world and alone…

He heard him first before he saw him, as always—like a drop of water that sent a ripple all across his senses and roused him from his deep trance. Baze felt like a statue coming to life after a long century of slumber. His eyes opened to the sound of his steps and the tip of his staff—and true enough, when he turned, he was there, smiling as he would, a female pilot at his side, all but ready to lead this blind man by the hand. Little wonder then that Chirrut should look quite happy and amused. He felt the familiar tugs of his own smile knocking on his cheeks but self-consciousness squashed that like a bug. The flush of relief was an entirely different species, though, and he permitted himself that much.

He folded his arms on his lap while he watched his friend’s progress. The woman caught sight of him, then.

“Oh your friend’s here,” she announced. She was young, idealistic by the tone of her voice.

“I know,” Chirrut assured her. Then with a theatrical whisper that was meant to be carried out to the audience, he leaned to the pilot and explained, “I can smell him from here.”

“I heard that!” Baze snapped.

The pilot looked like she was caught between laughing and blushing but she powered through. “Can you find your way from here? He’s just straight ahead.” She even pointed to Baze on the occasion that the blind man could see her.

“I can do straight ahead,” Chirrut assured her pleasantly. “Thank you, Shara.”

She waved to the sightless man and then to Baze who lifted his brow. While she hurried back the way they came, Chirrut started forward with his uneti staff held away at an angle, one end at the ground. Snakes of cables and discarded canisters and valves littered his path but he kicked away those he could and hopped over those he couldn’t. Baze watched with no expression.

Once Chirrut arrived, he stretched out a leg to mark his finish line. The younger man didn’t stop walking until it hit his tummy. A hand wrapped itself around his ankle on instinct lest he overbalanced. Chirrut’s fat cheeks restrained a laughter from within.

“You want to sit? What took you so long?” Baze asked with a frown, shifting aside while Chirrut tested the side of the transformer with one foot, and then the turbine’s frame next to it.

With hardly a breath of warning, he flew in two kicks, turned in the air and landed quite impressively on his ass. “I got lost along the way,” Chirrut answered cheerfully, staff meeting the ground with a sound tap. “It’s a big place and I took the wrong turn.”

“Mhm.”

“Did you see the giant water fountain in the middle of this base? It’s so huge, it’s big enough to fit a full-grown Hutt!”

“I’m sure.”

Chirrut clicked his tongue and frowned. “You’re no fun.”

Well, Baze was also sure of that.

He clipped Chirrut’s ear between his fingers and yanked it down. Chirrut yelped, catching his ear before it fell off. He started laughing again.

Baze shook his head, smiling slightly at the blind man. “What sort of questions did they ask you?”

“I think they were mostly concerned about whether or not I was a Jedi,” Chirrut said. He frowned after, tilting his head to one side, brows knotted in deep conversation. “Now I wonder if I should have just said yes. I think they were looking to hire me. That would have made a good income.”

“What use is a good income if you’re going to be dead before you spend it?” Baze asked, one brow up again.

Chirrut turned to return to him the same expression. “I guess you haven’t figured that out yet, have you?” Baze responded by jabbing the side of his head with a strong finger. Chirrut grinned impishly. He knew he got him there. “Well, what did they ask you?”

“They were interested about my cannons.”

“Were they looking to hire you for that?”

Baze frowned, the corners of his lips pulled low. He shrugged and said, “Who knows?”

“Well, it’s definitely not for your winning personality.”

Definitely not. Baze smirked and nudged the man beside him. “You know I’m expensive.”

“Sounds just like the thing a jobless man would say.”

This time he snickered with his cheeky partner. When he shoved him sideways next, it was with the fullest preparation of meeting Chirrut’s blocking forearm, which felt not unlike slamming into a wall, even as Chirrut was shaking with laughter. It felt good to be talking like this again—as if the entire galaxy wasn’t about to come down on them, as if they hadn’t been quite literally chased out of their own home. A home they no longer had.

It hit him then that this was the second time they’d lost a home. He couldn’t say which was worse, though. The first time had been harder, but this time, there was nothing and nowhere they could go back to. No street, no rubble, not even a piece of carpet on which to sleep.

He didn’t even know what was going to happen to them from here on out. A leaf in a storm would probably be a good analogy to their present situation. They’d survived Saw’s rebels, they’d survived the Death Star—one of the few who could say that—and they’d survived the Empire and the Alliance on Eadu. Now they were stuck here in Yavin 4 for no other reason than that they were dragged along. They had no choice. It was run or die, sink or swim.

Baze wasn’t one to panic—that had always been one of his greatest strengths even when the galaxy was already giving him every reason to tear his hair off, screaming. But he wasn’t young anymore and he wasn’t getting any younger either. This life of constantly fighting for food, shelter, survival, day in and day out…it wasn’t meant to go on forever. Just when he thought he’d finally figured it out for Chirrut and himself, here comes a death ray destroying everything they’d built. And then they were back to square one again.

He heaved out a great sigh, staring into nothingness. “How did we get here?” he asked, wearily.

He wasn’t really expecting any answer, but apparently questions were part of Chirrut’s expertise. Bless the man really for still finding reason to smile in spite of their circumstances. Head tilted a little towards his partner, he said, “It’s the consequence of being alive.”

That was true, and Baze was glad for it. Being alive meant more days of worrying and fighting but it was far better than being dead and non-existent. In fact, death and non-existence would be far worse. Baze could never do that to Chirrut—leave him alone again to fend for himself in this vast galaxy, just because this time he’d been too slow, too weak, too stupid. Just because he’d failed. Jedha had already given him too many names to pray for, sagging him under their weight. He’d heard him muttering them even in his sleep, on the flight to Eadu from the ruins of Jedha. That was enough.

“What do you think happens now?” Baze asked.

Chirrut shrugged. “Who knows? No one can tell the will of the Force, we can only follow it. The Force led us to the Holy Quarter to rescue Jyn. It brought us to Eadu for the same reason. Now we’re here.”

“So you think we’re all here just to,” Baze was the one who shrugged this time, “protect Jyn?” He nodded to the entrance to the hangar. “She looks like she gets into too much trouble for her own good, but not someone who needs a sitter. Much less two.” Besides, he was already looking after one fool who liked to fling himself headlong into battle. He wasn’t sure he needed another.

“I think we’re here for another reason,” Chirrut said, furrowing his brows, looking like he was inspecting his dangling feet. “The Force brought us to these people for a reason.”

“You saying the Force wants us to join the Alliance?” Baze’s brows flew.

“Not the Alliance,” Chirrut explained quietly. “But the rebellion.”

His meaning was plain to Baze, but the man still found enough reason to pretend that it wasn’t. In all the time they were running and fighting, he never felt that cold hand of dread wrapping itself around his heart. Funny that it should come now, when they were supposed to be safe among friends. Besides, wasn’t this what he’d been dreaming of in the past? A chance to finally bring revenge to the Empire’s doorstep.

“You think…Jyn is going to keep fighting? No matter what the council says?”

Chirrut raised his eyes to look blindly ahead of him. “I know she will.” He had seen through her heart of Kyber.

Well, that was it, wasn’t it? The truth as plain as day. Whatever it entailed, he didn’t know—but Baze knew for sure that he could finally breathe in relief. The uncertainty had lifted, and the inevitable has come. Now he knew what they were going to do. And what he was going to do.

Whatever gave him the idea, he couldn’t say. Probably some childhood tale from all those old holocrons, during the days they were still learning verses. But whatever it was, it made him glad that he kept a piece of blade in one of his many pockets, and that they’d gotten into the habit of salvaging whatever could be reused and repurposed while they still had the chance.

Baze reached back to his wavy, oily locks and carefully snipped off a finger’s width. The crisp sound drew Chirrut’s attention towards him, like a bird turning so suddenly. “What’s that?” he asked, curious.

“None of your business yet,” Baze muttered, looking for something to pin his hair in.

Chirrut nudged him with a toothy grin. “You’re my business.”

Baze eyed him incredulously. “Are you trying to look cute?” he asked. “Now’s an inappropriate time!”

“I wasn’t saying anything like that,” Chirrut said, sulking like a boy and doing well at it. He was always so good at impressions. He made a bed for his chin with his two hands on his staff and pouted at an unseen object.

Baze snorted, shaking his head and smiling slightly. Eventually, he managed to produce a synthetic red cord from one of his other pockets which he tied around one end of his lock of hair, making it easier to knot the rest in a nice and tight braid. Chirrut started humming a song soon after, tapping the heels of his shoes to the transformer in different configurations to provide the beat to his rhythm. Baze always thought that he had a good singing voice, that he could carry a tune.

He was in the middle of a second repeat of the song when Baze finally jumped off to his feet and told him, “Give me your hand.”

“In marriage?” Chirrut asked, jesting. Excitement filled his smile at the opening Baze had walked right into. He sighed, but that only caused Chirrut to grin wider. Baze couldn’t say if the blind fool would ever get tired of these jokes. He didn’t think he ought to, of course. “We’ve been through this a number of times, Baze.”

“We’ve been through this a number of times!” Baze echoed him to agree although their contexts were definitely different from each other. Chirrut held out his left hand anyway, the one without the impeller gauntlet, and Baze draped the length of his braided lock over the back of his wrist. He made a few measurements and a few quick adjustments with the cord and the end knot.

It didn’t take him long to finish the bracelet after, wrapped loosely around Chirrut’s pulse. It was his hair woven and stitched with the cord, locked with a complicated knot he’d learned from the streets. “There,” Baze said, wiping his hands on his suit and putting away the blade and the little that was left of the cord. “Now you can look.”

Look, of course, was a subjective command here. Chirrut’s idea of looking was running his finger down the plaited locks and testing its width. His brows met in intrigue. “This is…” He brought the bracelet to his nose and sniffed the familiar smell. “Your hair!”

“Mhm.”

“This means ‘til death do us part.” The gravity of which was not lost on Chirrut, who stared perfectly straight at Baze in surprise, as if his milky blue eyes had been suddenly cured.

Baze gave him a small smile. “It seems that you know what’s going to happen now, and I think I do, too—but I’m not the one who’s attuned to the Force here.”

“Baze…”

Baze scratched his head briefly, feeling the part where he’d taken his hair. “The point is,” he continued, “and I know this is a redundant symbol, but whatever happens now, what’s important to me is that you’ll always have a part of me with you.” He slid his hands onto Chirrut’s palms and let the man hold him.

Looking at his blind eyes, he said, “I just can’t bear the thought of you alone without me.”

He always loved the kind of smile that Chirrut put on every time he bared his soul and opened up his weakness. It was at once shy, at once comforting, but the entirety of it was drawn by a deity of love. “Stop being silly,” he chided him softly. “When you left, you came back—because there’s no world that can exist without you beside me. The Force brought us together. And what the Force brought together, no creature, no worldly thing can separate.”

He raised a hand and laid it lightly on the side of Baze’s face, stroking his tired skin. Baze wanted to close his eyes and pour himself into the softness but he wanted to look at Chirrut’s face, too. “Where would I be without you? Nowhere. It’s a fallacy, Baze. It simply won’t work.” His smile stretched out wider, and Baze grinned back.

They kissed, Baze pulling his chin towards him, Chirrut’s breath shuddering under his mouth, eager to pour out the same love through his lips. It was mind blowing, an embarrassment towards them, how little they’d shared a kiss since they escaped Jedha. It was no wonder they were constantly so starved for each other whenever they were alone, no matter how long they spent together or how hard they kissed. Damn the Death Star if it thought it could get in the way of all that was good to them. It may take away their home, their family and friends and past—but they would kill it first before they let it separate them permanently.

Baze pulled free with a wet smack and a heavy breath pouring out of his mouth. Chirrut was catching his own heart even as they connected their foreheads to each other.

“No matter what happens,” Baze growled, looking closely at his love, “I’ll never leave you. I promise.”

“You can’t!” Chirrut reminded him, laughing. They kissed again, hands on their cheeks, lips in perfect unity. They kissed sweetly with the bliss of a reunion after such a long parting. Nothing mattered in their little pocket of the galaxy. Not the heat, not the scent of fuel or of alien trees in the forests.

Not the hurrying footsteps and the excitable, “Mr. Malbus, Mr. Imwe!” Sadly, the shouting was an entirely different story altogether.

The end to such a perfect kiss came abruptly, flesh torn so rudely without the last negotiations for more. “I’m sorry! I didn’t know, I didn’t see!” the visitor cried.

It was a rebel at the entrance to the hangar bay, waving his hands to the Guardians while he averted his eyes, as well. Baze looked at him with immense disappointment while Chirrut sighed, head bowed low. “Y, you can forget I’m here,” he insisted stubbornly. “I, I was just looking for the captain—!”

“Didn’t your mother ever teach you how to knock?” Chirrut demanded sharply, using the voice of an angry parent. The rebel started to stammer again but that was only because he couldn’t hear Chirrut gasping for breath and see his cheeks aching from grinning. Baze groaned, ducking under a hand to hide his own mirth from the poor flustered man.

“I, I said I didn’t see it, okay? I didn’t see it!!” Which made Baze wonder what he thought he was seeing. Well, too late for that, Chirrut was already laughing uncontrollably. What a shame. And that had been a very good kiss. Probably the last they’d have in a while.

They’ll get another chance after all this is over. He swore that on all the stars above them.

“A, anyway!” The rebel persisted stubbornly, even though he was blushing like the lavas of Mustafar. “Where’s Captain Andor! They said he was looking for volunteers.”

#spiritassassin week #spiritassassin #rogue one #chirrut imwe #baze malbus #liv does sa week #seaofolives original #sa fic

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