#but in fact they’re /both/ parting ways with each other.. and maybe it’s come closure he needs too

[candydos]

I’m gonna seriously cry when anne and sprig say goodbye. for real. no jokes here.

#amphibia #I had a whole brain spill about how sprig is probably really clingy to people he likes because of his parents going… poof #and the end of all in had him slowly coming around to the fact that he’s going to have to let another good thing go #but I feel like he’s still in conflict because man he’s 11 they’re fighting the moon like clearly this is the way things will be forever! #silly wacky adventures just him and their party of 4 #but HP’s showing more signs and age and Polly’s developing her own interests.. with Anne leaving.. where does that leave him? yknow? #sure he has ivy and Maddie too but they also have their own things with their families #I don’t know where I’m going with this but it’s so sad and I’m sure he’ll figure it out he’s a good kid #but at least this time he has the proper chance to say goodbye unlike last time.. Anne’s not /just/ leaving him #but in fact they’re /both/ parting ways with each other.. and maybe it’s come closure he needs too #WAH emo over frogs at 2pm in the afternoon #candy laments

[aloofdaffodil]

Apparently, now that i have began i cannot stop sharing my thoughts about certain fics so, let’s talk again about After The Overdrive, this time covering Himeko's point of view.

In this fic, Himeko doesn’t quite hate Kafka, but she doesn’t intend to having something to do with the stellaron hunter anymore, mostly because all Himeko has is her convictions and principles, and without them she would crumble down.

It’s stated that their downfall as a couple came when the navigator caught Kafka red handed in a pretty fucked up and bloody situation, which then lead them to a heavy discussion where Kafka, did not stop lying to Himeko, holding back a lot of truth, the best was part ways.

Himeko later kept hearing all of Kafka's actions and all in the name of destiny, so a part of her, as we see in canon, is on Herta's side: The stellaron hunters are a bunch of lunatics and thus cannot be trusted, she of out people knows it too well.

And because she knows Kafka and her antics, Himeko is very cautious to consider help her, always consulting the crew opinions and giving us hints that, the posterior interactions she had with kafka after the breakup were ruthless and thus, she isn’t sure of coming alone…

But she definitely wants to go and help Kafka, even when she isn’t sure it’ll work, even knowing that maybe she could end up being used for something, Himeko doesn’t throw herself at the danger but embraces it ready for anything as always.

She is over kafka but has doubts, because Kafka never gave her a correct closure to their love, and a part of her is afraid of still having feelings for Kafka that might ruined her again.

But no, they’re both adults and somehow have figured out their emotions, they can assure they don’t love each other anymore but, cannot tell the world they won’t fall in love again if they start to be a recurring thought in the other's mind.

After the Overdrive, is so interesting to me because, Kafka and Himeko, want to fix things, don’t want to leave their chapter as a bitter one even when finding each other infuriating but in fact, prefer to maintain the distance and a little bit of drama, somehow calm with the acceptance that the universe will brought them together again at the correct time as it once did for them.

Considering this i might write a wip on my list so i can add another chap to this fic.

#daffodil's stuff #himeko #kafka #kafhime #hsr #fanfic

[wallymaddieandcharley]

This is going to be long. Contains Maddie & Charley, Maddie/Wally, Charley/Wally. because they all care about each other and deserve happiness together

(These are just my thoughts (there are a lot of thoughts), but I will turn them into a fic when I get the chance. and just an fyi: I started writing this after episode 6 but before we got episode 7&8)

Wally is bi (and so is Maddie but that doesn’t matter right now). it took him a while to come to terms with it because of when he grew up. it was only after meeting Charley, and the two of them started to trust each other, that Wally really let himself think about it. because he knew he liked girls: there was a cheerleader that he was supposed to go to the homecoming dance with. it wasn’t anything serious, but maybe it could’ve been if he hadn’t died on the field. after years and years of friendship with Charley, learning about the LGTBQ+ community from here, and watching how some things (but not everything) got better, he starts to accept that part of him.

Charley and Wally have had a few little moments that could be brushed off. Wally, while more comfortable with his sexuality, isn’t ready for the jump. Charley is just glad to have a friend to talk to. He gets along with the others, but Wally is probably his best friend.

They’re all teenagers, so things happen. The lines start blurring between Charley and Wally. Charley is tentative to ever initiate anything, knowing how hard it is to come to terms with the fact that you’re different. He doesn’t want to push Wally too far and loose whatever is building. Not when, for the first time since Emilio, he might get the chance at a real relationship.

They’re still brand new, new enough that only Rhonda knows, when Maddie arrives on the scene. Charley is assigned to greet her, try and get her to come to group. And he likes her, as a person. She can be brash and one-track minded, but she’s honest, real. She’s also the first one since Rhonda to be murdered, and the only one with gaps in her memory. For the first few days after she joined them, he’s the only one from their group that sees her. He’s her first friend of the ghosts.

Things change when Maddie first comes to group. She’s already had a run-in with Wally, and she’s unimpressed. The only one she even semi-trusts is Charley. Her trust in him only grows as he finds out Simon can see her.

The thing is, that isn’t the only thing that changes. The relationship between Charley and Wally changes, too. Wally knows Charley is hiding something from him, and he doesn’t know what. Wally also can’t help the ways his eyes are drawn to Maddie. Part of him hates it, hates that when he’s starting to feel comfortable with himself, she arrives. The other part of him, a lot smaller, but still there, wishes he could just give in and focus on her. It would be easier. And he hates that part of himself too, because he cares about Charley.

And Charley sees this. He sees the way Wally is being drawn into Maddie’s orbit. He knows Wally has a big heart and just wants to help, but he also recognizes that look in his eyes. It helps that Maddie is too focused on her death to notice the small things about Wally.

Charley doesn’t know what to do. He wants both his friends to be happy, and part of him will always long for closure with Emilio. He wonders if taking a step back will make a difference. But the three of them always end up together. Sometimes they’re not alone, and Rhonda is there, too. But as Maddie opens up and gets a little more used to being dead, they get closer.

Maddie is aware that of the ghosts, Charley is her closest friends. She likes him, and when she realizes she can help him with Emilio (through Simon), she vows to help. She asks Wally (who reminds her of a golden retriever) if he thinks it would be a good idea. She doesn’t know when the feelings she has toward Xavier go from being hurt and angry and heartbroken, to hurt and angry and annoyance. She’s pretty sure he didn’t kill her, but he cheated on her, so she’s not above using him to find clues.

It’s Charley who initiates the conversations with both Wally and Maddie, separately. He starts with Wally. They have years more of history, and their (still new and unlabeled) relationship makes things both easier and harder. They’re friends first, before anything else.

Wally feels guilty. His sexuality is a lot easier to accept now. He’s grown a lot as a person, and it’s nice to be open about that part of himself, at least with Charley and Rhonda. He hasn’t come out to anyone else except the two of them. But he promised himself to be honest to Charley. So he tells him that yes, he’s been drawn to Maddie, and how he’s confused and torn about that. How he still likes Charley, a lot. He doesn’t get how you can like two people at the same time, because isn’t that like cheating? And he doesn’t want to do that. (when he hears about the untrue stereotype that bi people are more likely to cheat, it hurts even more.) Charley is grateful that he’s being honest, and he does admit hearing that hurts a little. But he tells wally that he likes Maddie, too, as a person/ghost. That maybe they can figure something out so everyone can be happy. Because Charley is worried that if he clings too tight, he’ll loose both of them anyways. Might as well try and find something that makes them all happy.

Maddie denies everything at first, and Charley gets why. She’s so focused on what happened to her that she’s not thinking a lot about her developing relationships with the ghosts. Her friendship with Charley is the one she notices the most, and then her growing friendship with Dawn. But subconsciously she’s definitely noticed Wally. He’s so different from Xavier, in a good way. She thinks he’s sweet, and she knows he just wants to help his friends, all of them. She really starts to see him during the homecoming game. When he takes his jersey off and sits next to his mom. It’s around then that she clocks what’s going on between Charley and Wally. She didn’t see it earlier because she wasn’t looking, but now it feels obvious. But she doesn’t want to hurt either of them, or mess up the progress she knows that both of them had to have made.

She still helps Charley out with Emilio, because she knows how much he needs it. She knows Wally wants to help him, too, but she’s the one who has a connection to the human world.

When Wally asks her to the dance, she hesitates. Pauses, until he adds the “as friends.” Because she will not be the one to hurt Charley. She knows that the pause before Wally added the disclaimer means something, but she doesn’t think about it. Not yet. But she says yes. She likes Wally, as a person, and she’s glad to see him a little more free, free from the game that killed him.

She immediately tracks down Charley once the game is over. They sit in silence for a few minutes on the roof before she starts talking. She finds herself telling him more than she thought she would, finds herself trusting him more than she thought he would. He’s her best friend in the ghost world.

They talk long into the night. They know at some point they need to sit down and talk with Wally, all three of them. However, they come up with a solution. There’s a lot about modern relationships that are so different from what Charley and Wally knew from growing up. Maddie knows about how gender and sexuality had evolved, about different types of relationships. She mentions polyamory as a potential option.

When Wally joins their conversation, he’s oddly quiet at first. He is mind is racing, and he’s feeling hopeful. He might be able to be with both Charley and Maddie. But it also doubles the risk if it goes wrong. He doesn’t know what he’d do if he lost both Maddie and Charley.

When they ask him what’s wrong, gentle voices and wide eyes, he’s powerless to lie to them. They’re both important to him. He cares about them, a lot.

They reassure him that they care about him. That they care about each other, and they don’t want to hurt each other. Maddie doesn’t want to hurt Charley or Wally. Charley doesn’t want to hurt Maddie or Wally. Maddie takes it upon herself to be the rational one. They have so much more history with each other, and she’s the newer one. She can bring a somewhat neutral view to this.

They decide to all go together to the dance. But they decide that each pair will have their own time together. Maddie and Charley to bond more as friends. Wally with each of them to further those relationships. Charley was also going to use the dance to try and gain some closure with Emilio.

He does gain some closure. He sits and watches Emilio read and react to the letter. Charley knows that Emilio will always be his greatest what if, his first love. He’s always going to miss what could’ve been. But he has another chance to be happy now. He wants to take it.

Maddie and Wally do have their little moments from canon. The corsage, the kiss. Wally and Charley have their first dance together. It’s good, it feels right. They all find that they’re good with the arrangement they decided to try that night. Maddie was the one to provide them with the term: polyamory. Because they’re all aware of each other’s feelings, and are okay with it, Wally and Maddie can date, and so can Wally and Charley. Maddie and Charley become best friends. There are things to learn as they navigate this new part of their lives (especially as each relationship develops at a different pace), amongst trying to figure out what happened to Maddie, but it’s worth it. They’re worth it.

side note: Wally calls Charley “Char” and Maddie “Mads” when he’s feeling especially sappy, which is often. he’s definitely the most outwardly affectionate when it’s just two of them, or all three of them around. he’s not sure about being out to anyone else besides Rhonda (and dawn because she just seems to know everything somehow)

#school spirits #maddie nears #wally clark #charley school spirits #wally clark x maddie nears #charley x wally clark #Maddie nears & Charley

[melvinthedepressedrobot]

tfw u start doubting the happy ending u gave a character - yes I am smacking Alphonse with the Angst Stick again

(long ass OC ramblings ahead)

idk part of me is like

learn to make visual novels or smth then you can have it both ways

shroedinger’s tragedy

but on a more serious level... tragedy has become such an ingrained part of Alphonse

he started out as a comedic character, believe it or not

but I guess as I matured, so did he, and the seriousness of his situation sank in

and whilst yeah I have a p solid idea for the happy ending

would it really be satisfying?

and that’s not me doubting my abilities, I do think that yes I could make it satisfying if I sat down and wrote the damn thing but

would I be satisfied?

I have absolutely felt the sadistic joy of a melevolent deity, relishing in the hopelessness of his situation, how even if there is hope for him, he could potentially never see it and one day Edwin could decide he knows too much and just get rid of him

on the one hand.... Jasper comes home, they bond over their shared traumas, find out about Edwin’s plot, take the bastard down, burning the house down and giving the two space to start over together

on the other.... Edwin finding out they’re onto him and counter-planning, letting them have their false sense of security, using the fact that he knows Alphonse almost entirely inside and out, his connections and his literal years of perfecting the art of cruelty and death against them, toying with them like a cat until he gets bored and decides that they need to be out of the way for good

that’s just off the top of my head, mind; I know i’d probably need to sit and really plan it out to keep consistent themes, since at the moment it’s centred around building a community to heal with and getting out of abusive situations, whereas if I went full tragedy with it... I feel like there would need to be a better point, y’know?

and it’s not just a narrative dilemma, but a moral one - am I doing a disservice to the community if I bury these gays, particularly if they’re being murdered by another gay?

on some level I think the whole reason I’m so awful to Alphonse is... the hopelessness I can feel wrt my own trauma - all I could do for years was just keep my head down as best I could, keep going, hope it never got too bad, and that’s reflected in him, and maybe the part of me that wants to have that tragic ending is the lack of closure that I’ve always wanted

for me it just.... fizzled out, I left the environment, I’ve never confronted anybody about it, and I wonder if I want Alphonse to fail because trying and failing feels more satisfying on some level than getting out and being stuck with the aftershocks of all that trauma

cause, the way the story is at present? he doesn’t get the closure, not really - he and Jasper have the opportunity to kill Edwin, but instead they choose to save each other and leave him to burn

and it occured to me the other week that... that doesn’t necessarily mean happily ever after - they’re both severely traumatised young men and even if they can rebuild, there will be relapses into bad habits, there will still be scrutiny from the rest of the world; Jasper has no family, will have no heir, Alphonse is a foreigner, and both will probably be forever tied by the outside world to the awful things that happened to them

maybe all three of them need to die

maybe instead of turning back and leaving Edwin to his own ruin, they take the chance for that closure, even if it means not getting out alive, because at least they were together and at least they knew they fought and they won

i don’t have an answer yet, it’s something i will have to ruminate on (and perhaps talk to my therapist about, cripes)

or hey, maybe I’ll pull a Clue and have a whole bunch of endings, why not?

#Jamie's chitchat #some cws #abuse mention #death mention #discussion of trauma and effects of PTSD #basically if u see me bring up Alphonse and ur sensitive to that stuff #just look away #i will not be upset #blorbos from my brain

[paintedrecs]

I just finished watching Castlevania. Well...part of it, anyway, but that's context for a different post. I'm probably going to line up a few posts on this topic. For now, I'd like to begin at the end.

Endings are a tricky thing. They mean different things to different people. It can be tragedy. Closure. Celebration. Or, in the case of this show...all of the above, in the most unexpectedly beautiful, breathtaking ways.

HECTOR & LENORE

The final episode opens with Hector and Lenore, two characters about whose relationship I've been fairly skeptical. I have...a lot of thoughts about Season 3, absolutely none of them positive. But Season 4 gives us a quiet conversation where these two actually take the time to talk through their mistakes - acknowledging the hurt, and discussing their plans for the future. 

A future that Lenore can't enter by Hector's side. Sometimes love isn't enough: not when you don't fit in this world anymore. Not when the two of you weren't meant to be together - not like this. Not forever.

There's something inherently tragic in a human loving a vampire. As Hector says, his voice quiet, his acceptance already settling into place: "Recently, I've been caused to know the value...and the beauty...of things that live longer than I do." 

It's his farewell. He only makes a small attempt to keep Lenore with him - to hold her back. But in the end, it's her future. Her choice. And she's entering the sunlight without him.

Why is this exchange between two side characters so important? Because it frames what follows. It poses the question: What now? When the battle is done, and the turmoil of a world at war is no longer holding you together, what comes next? 

And will anyone remain at your side?

TREVOR & ALUCARD

To my complete and utter shock - as someone who was expecting nothing from the final season - Alucard finds the most extraordinary answer to these questions, while holding the most surprising person in his arms - refusing to let go. Not now that he finally has Trevor back. 

And when Trevor asks him why he seems so "weirdly happy," Alucard says the line that gave this episode - the show's finale - its title.

It's been a strange ride, in so many ways, for everyone involved. But unlike Lenore, Alucard has no intention of giving up. For a while, when he was lonely and devastated and broken in his father's castle, maybe he would have chosen that same path. But now? Now...he's happy.

And while he may not know what's next, he knows who he wants to be there with him. Every single step of the way.

LISA & VLAD

And here's where this season exceeded my absolute wildest expectations. Trevor and Alucard even talking to each other again was something I'd hardly dared to hope I'd see, much less this quiet, intimate conversation between just the two of them bringing the main characters' story to a close.

But it doesn't end there. Not yet. Because after the fade to black, with Alucard still holding Trevor up - supporting him, caring for him - we discover that there's another human/vampire pair running through a rain-soaked night, finding shelter in a warmly lit room where they, too, can sit and talk.

Where they, too, can build a more hopeful future together.

Thanks to...the sort of ridiculous plot elements of this season, Vlad and Lisa are back from the dead. They have a brand new lease on life, and an endless array of options for how to spend it. They haven't ironed out all the details yet - this is still bewildering and maybe even a little bit frightening. You're not meant to get second chances, not like this.

But they're going to grab onto this new future with both hands. They're not letting go of it - or each other. And they'll...travel, maybe. Like they weren't able to the first time around. If they'd done that before...if Vlad hadn't left Lisa alone on that fateful day...maybe things wouldn't have ended so horribly.

Tonight, they're not thinking about that. They're thinking about what comes next.

The destination doesn't really matter. The fact that it's the two of them - together - is what counts.

But there is one place they can't go. Not yet.

Alucard - Adrian, their son - has been through far too much. He's had to grieve both his parents: twice. He's spent too much time framing his life around theirs - or around their absence, his world battered and broken and twisted into new shapes by his sorrow. 

He deserves the chance to build his own life now, on his own terms. He should have the opportunity to find his own happiness.

What Adrian's parents don't realize is...he already has.

#castlevania #trevorcard #alutrev #trevor belmont #alucard #adrian tepes #hector #lenore #hector/lenore #dracula #vlad tepes #lisa tepes #vlad/lisa #dracula/lisa #my meta #castlevania season 4 #castlevania spoilers

[cogentranting]

Major MAJOR Spoilers for Eternals

Okay more Eternals thoughts in a bit, but here’s my argument for why Ikaris should be in Eternals 2 despite having literally thrown himself into the sun

First of all, before I get to the WHY, let’s cover the HOW. I see this as pretty easy. There are other ways it could happen because... it’s a superhero movie and one of the more out there ones at that. Death is whatever we want it to be. But I would say have Arishem bring him back. He could do this either because he wants to preserve his most loyal soldier, or because he wants to judge Ikaris for his defection right at the end, and isn’t gonna let him off the hook so easy by just killing himself. And he could do it by either: A) tractor beaming Ikaris out of danger at the last minute. We didn’t SEE Ikaris get incinerated (not saying that’s proof that he didn’t, because obviously Marvel isn’t gonna show that, but just that there is a narrow window of opportunity there)  B) Just like. Magically bringing him back. Can Celestials do this? No clue. Why not?  C) Making essentially a NEW Ikaris (since all the Eternals are basically synthetic anyway) but giving him Ikaris’ memories. They made a very explicit point about those memories of past planets being stored somewhere and it didn’t have much relevance in this movie, so it seems like a set up to be important down the line. This version might preclude Ikaris having his memories from Earth, but wouldn’t necessarily-- there’s enough vagueness surrounding how the memories are there in the first place that they could do what they wanted with it. But you could also do a version where Ikaris is pulling on past versions of himself and doesn’t actually have the memories that we saw in this first movie. And then maybe give him his other memories back somehow partway through the movie. 

Now. WHY should they bring him back?

1. Because I like Richard Madden and his accent and he’s very handsome. I won’t deny that that’s part of it. If they’re gonna make me sit through Harry Styles and whatever accent he’s attempting, they gotta pay me back in Richard Madden. 

2. I love the idea of this couple that has just been together for millennia and adore each other. Especially if you added in an idea that on every mission on the different planets, they’d fallen for each other? Like this soulmates over thousands and thousands of years thing? Excellent. BUT then with this sequel you could add in a lovers to enemies to lovers thing. And THAT sounds so fun. Please. I crave the epic romance.  (Note: Druig and Makkari are very cute and I’m very excited about them having a romance in the sequel-- and Marvel better give it to me-- but they are a different KIND of romance, and I would love to have both Druig/Makkari and Ikaris/Sersi) 

3. Ikaris coming back would force Sersi to actually make decisions about her feelings for him. In this movie she didn’t really have to because she was basically in crisis mode the entire time dealing with the plot stuff. So even before Ikaris’s betrayal was made known, she didn’t have to decide if she would take him back or if she even wanted to  or any of that (they had the moment in the desert right before the reveal where it seemed like she was leaning that way, but we don’t really know) and she certainly didn’t get a chance to deal with the fact that the man she loved murdered a member of their family, or the fact that he ultimately stopped because of her. Let Sersi wrestle through all of that. This could maybe happen with him dead, but it seems like it would be pushed aside and just never get real closure. 

4. Ikaris would have deal with what he’s done (this is one reason I lean away from any method of bringing him back that takes away his memories for more than a short time). I think that the only way that Ikaris was able to mentally handle what he was doing was by holding on to the idea that after the Emergence, Arishem would wipe his memory, and he wouldn’t have to live with it. He wouldn’t remember killing Ajak or hurting the team or any of that. Which is why when the Emergence didn’t happen and therefore his memory didn’t get reset, he immediately couldn’t live with it and Javerted himself into the sun.  Bringing him back would be interesting because he’d have to deal with the paradigm shift he experienced at the end of the movie. He’s in a place where he betrayed everyone he loves, but he also didn’t follow through and stick with his ideals. He wasn’t Arishem’s perfect soldier the way he’d always been but he also wasn’t the family member the team needed. So in bringing him back, he’d have to work through that, figure out what he actually believes in, confront why he did what he did, and work toward redemption. which is more interesting than just killing him. 

5. It also is more interesting to force the rest of the team to figure out how to deal with Ikaris. And as they’re once again fairly united, it would give a source of conflict to their family dynamic, if as Ikaris is seeking redemption, some are more willing to forgive and forget than others. Kingo was more sympathetic to Ikaris’s beliefs whereas Druig and Ikaris were at odds for a long long time and Ikaris actually tried to kill Druig. The core of Eternals is their family dynamic, and dealing with this traitor and how they’re going to relate to him from now on is more interesting than killing him off. 

6. It opens up the opportunity for a more dynamic version of Ikaris. Ikaris comes off very stiff and closed off for most of the movie. But we see glimpses of his much more emotional side. Ikaris is singularly focused on being the perfect soldier, perfect weapon for Arishem. So he keeps his feelings locked down tight. Even his feelings for Sersi, which Ajak has to give him explicit permission to pursue. But in scenes like where he reacts to having killed Ajak or when he’s letting himself be upset with Druig, or especially his final goodbye to Sersi, we see the emotion that he keeps bottled up. So if he was back in Eternals 2 as a more broken version of himself, one much more erratic because he can no longer hide in that shell of being the perfect soldier, we’d get to see all that emotion. 

7. I think his fight scenes are cool. He’s like Superman or Cyclops if they actually had interesting action scenes. 

8. He’d add an interesting additional layer to what the ending seemed to set up as the main plot for Eternals 2. It seems like we’ve got the three captured ones working to either sway Arishem or escape (Sersi, Kingo and Phastos) and the three free eternals (Thena, Druig and Makkari +Harry Styles and his horrifying cgi gremlin friend) working to save them. It would spice things up to throw in a wildcard to either team in the form of a really unstable untrustworthy Ikaris (I would lean toward adding him to the captured team because it makes numbers more even; it makes more sense if Arishem is the one who brought them back; and they’re the team that needs drama since as it stands Sersi, Kingo and Phastos get along fine and the B team already has Harry to be a wildcard). 

#eternals #eternals spoilers #ikaris #as a note b and c could also be used to bring back ajak and gilgamesh if they were so inclined but i think both of those are less likely #but I'd be fine if they did #especially gilgamesh #and if you don't like ikaris and don't want him back that's fine but i don't want to hear about it #mcu

[chenxhen]

I'm not gonna go as far to say that Portwell is a plot device, but they're definitely not endgame. They certainly like each other a lot, and are very cute together, but so many things point to their relationship having a bad ending.

1. This is Gina's first relationship.

Gina is young. She's still finding herself, and her place in East High, like Tim said in his interviews. I think Gina's going to learn a lot in her first relationship. She'll learn to let people in, and it will give her the confidence she needs as she moves forward, and meet new people or old people 👀. EJ is obviously quite experienced in dating, and that experience will allow Gina to go into deeper relationships in the future.

2. EJ is leaving.

A lot of people use this argument, but I'm going to look at it in a different angle. The way I see it, it's not really about Gina needing someone to stay, it's more about the fact that their relationship won't have enough time to develop before EJ has to leave for college. Again, this is Gina's first relationship, and she'll need time to understand what it means to date someone, and for the relationship to stabilize. Maybe they could try long distance, but seeing your boyfriend or girlfriend everyday in high school is very different from being in a relationship outside of that. With EJ busy with college, and Gina being a high school junior, they'll find it hard to make time for each other, and this might make Gina feel insecure in the relationship. It will inevitably end in them breaking up for each other's best interests.

3. Their connection isn't as deep as the one Gina has with Ricky.

Right off the bat in season 1, Gina and Ricky gravitated toward each other, and understood each other without question. Gina and EJ don't have that. I view their relationship as a simple crush. They have cute moments together, and it's very sweet, but we've never seen Gina confide in EJ about things. The couch scene was very much EJ focused, and even then, they couldn't find a common ground. They were able to support each other, but it's very clear that Gina doesn't feel like she can talk about her issues with EJ. We saw how even with Jack, she was able to talk more openly, and express herself more. All Gina and EJ have had so far are little jokes, and sweet moments, nothing deep enough to solidify a strong relationship. I think that it will be inevitable for Gina to confide in Ricky and vice versa eventually down the road. They're able to support each other with understanding. They find comfort in each other and I think that's extremely important. Gina needed someone to like her back, and she got that with EJ, but it's quite one sided, and although Gina likes EJ, it's just not the same.

4. Gina and Ricky haven't gotten closure.

It's great that Gina is moving on, but the fact that she hasn't been able to get closure with Ricky is going to be a roadblock in her relationship with EJ. She can't keep on ignoring him. There's definitely going to be a point where EJ isn't there, and she's going to need someone to confide in. Sure she can talk to Ashlyn or Nini, but only Ricky knows her entire story, and where she's coming from. This entire season, they haven't had anyone to confide in, because Gina chose to ignore Ricky, and Ricky took that as a sign to take a step back and let Gina breathe. But because of this, they've both been quite miserable, and we see them struggling on their own, especially Ricky. It might even be Ricky who goes to Gina for advice, allowing old feelings to resurface.

All in all, I'm excited to see where Gina and EJ's relationship will lead. They're very cute together, and I'm sure EJ will try his best to treat Gina well, but there will be something missing, and just as things are in the right place, everything will change (another thing Tim mentioned in his interview).

Also, I think Ricky and Lily's relationship, will catapult Ricky into finally understanding that there is only one Gina. Lily is obviously very similar to season 1 Gina, but only on the surface. She was just more straightforward with her confession, which made it easier for Ricky to understand her intentions. He's going to realize very quickly that he was wrong about Lily, because her stealing the harness can't be kept a secret for very long. Once that happens, he'll see what he missed out on with Gina, and because I think Portwell will last a little longer, their relationship will definitely cause some jealousy on Ricky's part. At that point, he'll have fully moved on from Nini, which will open his eyes up more.

I think all of this matches up to the things that Tim said in his interviews quite well. Ricky and Gina will always be in each other's minds, no matter how far back they are in there. Their feelings, and the things that happened between them in season 1 will have to be acknowledged, and when that happens, they will inevitably find themselves attracted to each other again.

I'm hoping that the summer season allows them to explore these stories in depth, coming to an end when Ricky and Gina finally are at the same place in their own journeys.

#ricky gina #rina #ricky and gina #portwell #ricky x gina #hsmtmts #hsm the series #ricky bowen #gina porter #ej caswell

[kinncman]

A LIST OF PLOTLESS TOWN RP-FRIENDLY CHARACTER IDEAS & CONNECTIONS INSPIRED BY MOVIES! (PART 1)

click here for part two.

i collected a couple of plot ideas from some of the movies i thought had interesting stories or characters that i hope can help you with your applications / character connections. please note that a lot of these are, by no means, the actual plots of the films and are only inspired by them. i’ve taken the liberty of making a couple of edits for them to be ‘plotless town rp-friendly’. also, i would’ve separated them by category (platonic, romantic, familial, etc.) but tbh a lot of these can be taken in any way so feel free to put your own spin on them, too, or even make combinations!

trigger warnings: nothing too specific, but there are light mentions of death, road accident, infidelity, illness, injury, drug addiction.

now, without further ado:

BAY OF ANGELS  // muse a met muse b on a vacation several years ago, brought together because they were both from the same home country and realized that they were traveling to run away from something. muse a came to learn that this wasn’t muse b’s first rodeo, and where this was the first time that muse a had tried to run away from their problems, muse b had been running for most of their life. muse b initially wished to emulate the same free-spirited, high-risk-high-reward principles that muse a lived by. however, muse b started to display totally erratic behavior that prompted muse a to question whether they were making the right choices. eventually, they went home. jump to present day where they meet again in their home country— muse b has toned down somewhat due to a traumatic event (a hard lesson to learn for them) meanwhile, muse a’s life remains the same cycle of events they can’t seem to break free from.

CLEO FROM 5 TO 7 // muse a suspects they are sick but refuses to go to the doctor to have it checked. most of their days are plagued with this feeling of doom enshrouding them, causing them to have a general distaste for life. they meet muse b who has profoundly positive disposition towards life. their company helps muse a to come to terms with the fact that perhaps their illness is something they should deal with. with muse b’s help, muse a starts to find meaning in death.

HAPPY OLD YEAR // muse a left town / the country for college, leaving behind all their friends and family, cutting all ties in a heartbeat, only to come back several years later a completely changed person who subscribes to the idea of minimalism and wants to get rid of all the clutter in their life, material or otherwise. this brings them to reconnect with muse b (and a variety of other muses if the mun wishes) when they find their old belongings and return them in order to be ‘minimalist’ and get rid of all the garbage in their home, which means getting rid of memories, too. however, muse b, who has now moved on from muse a and is with someone else, isn’t too pleased with having muse a back in their life. muse a is desperate to find the closure that muse b isn’t giving them, primarily because muse b knows that muse a is after starting over on a clean slate only to clear their conscience and not to make amends.

YI-YI: A ONE AND A TWO // muse a and muse b were each other’s first and greatest loves but are currently married to other people. when they are reunited through a chance encounter, they decide that it’s better to have each other in their lives as friends than not at all. they realize they still do have feelings for each other but because of their spouses, know that they can never be anything else other than friends. thus begins a journey of trying to bring their old selves back into the light as new people.

MIKEY AND NICKY // muse a and muse b are best friends since childhood. muse a is neurotic, childish, and wildly impulsive, and often has to depend on muse b to get them out of trouble only to show very little gratitude for it, much to muse b’s chagrin. in fact, muse b often finds themself thrown under the bus in muse a’s favor, though it’s not entirely muse a’s fault: muse b is an enabler. however, muse b can’t quite seem to quit muse a (either because they love the feeling of being needed and there’s no one who needs them more than muse a or maybe they’ve been in love with muse a since childhood— or both) until a certain event causes muse b to question whether they are healthy for each other at all.

IN THE MOOD FOR LOVE // muse a and muse b are neighbors, both living with their significant others. both muse a and muse b often see each other in the hallways or share an elevator up to their apartment when they come home from work. maybe they even carpool sometimes. however, they spare very little in the way of words until one day, muse a breaks down while drunk and admits that they think their partner is cheating on them. in an attempt to comfort them, muse b reveals that they think the same thing of their own partner. desperate for answers, they conduct an investigation until they realize that their partners are cheating on them with each other. muse a and muse b become each other’s support system, as they try to coach each other through an impending breakup all the while realizing that they might be developing feelings for each other and must now choose between indulging their feelings or deny themselves the hypocrisy.

TAKE THIS WALTZ // muse a meets muse b on a trip out of town and they instantly connect. they share the same flight back home and even a cab ride from the airport. however, they soon realize that muse b is muse a’s new neighbor, which makes things plenty awkward considering how a) they’ve been borderline flirty the whole time and b) muse a is married to someone who they now consider to be far less interesting in comparison to muse b. regardless, once they’ve recognized a mutual attraction with each other, muse a demands for muse b to keep their distance, only to keep running into each other everywhere, much to muse a’s chagrin.

LAST LIFE IN THE UNIVERSE // muse a is witness to a terrible road accident involving a pedestrian. muse a takes the pedestrian and their sibling, muse b to the hospital where muse b’s sibling is declared dead on arrival. despite being total strangers, muse a stays with muse b through the entire process. eventually, muse a takes muse b home but muse a refuses to let muse b leave, claiming they don’t want to be left alone in the house that they previously shared with their now deceased sibling. having money troubles of their own and on the brink of an eviction, muse a ends up staying with muse b not just for the night but for the week until they get comfortable enough with each other that muse b invites muse a to officially live with them to help with their financial problems, but mostly because they don’t know how to handle their grief alone.

THE FALL // muse a is in an outpatient physical rehabilitation facility after suffering from a near-fatal injury when they meet muse b. the pair are polar opposites in terms of their attitudes towards recovery: where muse a is more hopeful, muse b only throws pity parties for themself considering that this injury might prevent them from fully getting back to doing what they love. despite this, the two form an unlikely bond where muse b is completely enthralled with muse a, who tells them stories about their travels and their career and all the amazing things they’ve done, without realizing until they’re in too deep that they are all fabricated versions of the truth and muse b falls for every single one of them. what started as little white lies becomes a source of anxiety for muse a when the lies just get bigger and bigger.

COLUMBUS // muse a is a young, aspiring [insert career here] but to pursue this passion, they must leave their hometown, which they have constantly been refusing to do despite the numerous opportunities having been presented to them on account of the fear that no one else is going to take care of their mother (who, in the movie, is a recovering drug addict but it can be for any reason or relative in this case). muse b’s father is a well-known [insert career that muse a wants here] and is in town to hold a lecture/exhibit/performance/etc etc depending on the career, but then he suffers from a stroke. muse b, despite being estranged from their father for having been scrutinized by the man for most of their life, is forced to come to town and take care of him being their closest living relative. they meet muse a by chance, only to learn shortly after that they are a huge fan of muse b’s parent’s work. having spent their whole life in this town, muse a becomes muse b’s tour guide of sorts, while inadvertently helping each other come to terms with their relationship with their parents and how they can be kinder to themselves.

SECRET SUNSHINE // after their spouse’s passing, muse a moves from the big city to their spouse’s much, much smaller hometown so they can raise their child there. they meet all of the important figures of their spouse’s childhood including muse b, a local shopkeeper and an old friend of their spouse’s, who, despite muse a’s reluctance, helps them adjust to small town life. the pair eventually closer to each other and muse a to their spouse as they find out more about who they were before they met.

THIS IS WHERE I LEAVE YOU // (originally lgbtqia+ and written about older characters with grown children, but make of this plot what u will, tbh) muse a and muse b are best friends. both married, both with grown kids. muse a’s spouse died a long time ago so they’ve had plenty of time to help muse b take care of their spouse in the couple of months leading to that spouse’s death. in the process, the pair have grown intimate (with muse b’s spouse’s knowledge— in fact, they encouraged muse a to ‘take care’ of muse b in the event of their passing and wouldn’t trust anyone else to do so) but haven’t told their families yet in fear of what they might think of them given their age and how they’re basically uncles/aunts to each other’s children.

#rpc #rph #rp help #writing help #plot ideas #inspo #*

[sylvies-chen]

Can you do 64 or 67 for brettsey please?

Prompt 64 can be found here!!

67. “If you don’t want to talk about it then say so. Don’t lie and pretend to be fine when you clearly aren’t.”

Matt should have seen this coming.

His mom's not exactly young. He doesn't know where she's been or how she's been doing these past few years, frankly. He's had no record of whether she's been staying healthy-- through no fault of his own, seeing as how his mom's always been less than reliable since getting out of prison. Hell, even before getting arrested she'd been letting him and Christie down in smaller ways.

So when he gets the call that Nancy Casey has passed away from a heart attack at the ripe age of 68, he thinks it's just one more way in which his mother has let him down; one more member of the Casey family carrying their overwhelming amount of secrets to the grave.

He should feel sad, he knows that, but all he feels is numbness and a slight annoyance at having to deal with the funeral and all her belongings.

Her belongings aren't actually all that numerous, he realizes soon enough, which he assumes is a perk of being so flakey. All he gets is a box of things. He doesn't know what things, exactly. He'd gone to her place, shoved everything he could find into a cardboard box without paying attention to any of it, and left before he had the change to boil over with rage at all the things she'd kept from him and Christie-- the apartment included.

He should book time off or something. Or maybe visit her grave. He hasn't been there since the funeral a week ago (at which he, Sylvie, and Christie had pretty much been the sole attendants), maybe it'd do him some good in theory. But right now, every normal way of grieving flies out the door for him. He feels himself reverting back to the Casey family tradition: internalizing your feelings and keeping them secret until the day you die. Literally. It's not fun, not pleasant, and certainly not healthy. But in some weird way, it feels like his own way of honouring his mother, so he doesn't fight it. He should, but he doesn't.

Until Sylvie notices, and manages to tear down his walls in one fowl, beautifully agonizing swoop.

She picks up on it pretty quickly. He drifts off a lot during shift, he looks even more serious than usual, and he refuses to talk about it all that much whenever she asks how he's feeling-- which isn't for lack of trying, but how the hell can he put every complex little emotion he's feeling into words? Doing that will take time.

She's over to the loft one night, petting gently at his hair with her legs sprawled across his lap as they mindlessly watch TV, when she notices the box of his mom's things collecting dust by the by the basketball machine. Stella and Severide are out and Sylvie knows he's not paying attention to what's on anyway, so she turns the TV off. It manages to get his attention and he looks to her, confused.

Her attention isn't on him though, only on the box. Its flaps are taped shut at the top, his mom's name in black sharpie fading slowly. "You still haven't opened the box of your mom’s stuff?"

"No," he admits.

“Matt…” she sighs, taking her legs off his lap to sit upright on the couch. “You’ve been retreating into yourself ever since your mom passed away. Please don’t shut me out. I’m here, you know that, right?”

“I do. But Sylvie, I’m fine,” he insists. “My mom knew exactly what she wanted in life once she got out of prison and I wasn’t exaclty a part of that. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen her, I probably don’t know half of what’s in that box anyway. She hid her new life from me and Christie. She’s just next in a long line of people in my family who’ve taken their secrets to the grave, that’s all.”

“If you don’t want to talk about it then say so. Don’t lie and pretend to be fine when you clearly aren’t.”

Her tone is sympathetic but has a slight edge to it. She wants him to open up, he knows that. That’s, along with the surprising frustration in her eye, is enough to make Matt want to. So he tries.

“I want to,” he assures her. “But there’s nothing to say. She was gone before, and she’s gone now. It’s just more permanent now.”

“But don’t you think opening that box will give you some— I don’t know… closure?”

“I know it probably will, but I've been busy with contracting work and the firehouse has been busy and... I don't know, it just slipped my mind."

She gives him a look as if to say she doesn't buy it for a second, only it turns quickly into a look of sympathy. Because it always does. Sylvie, through thick and thin, good and bad, just always understands him. That goes both ways, which makes it even better, but it also means he knows exactly what she's thinking right now.

"What's keeping you from doing it now then?"

"Now?" His eyebrows shoot up in surprise, his arm stretching out against the back edge of the couch and rubbing at her far shoulder. "Well for one, I'm having a relaxing night with you, and I'd rather not ruin that with memories of my less than reliable mother. And second, I just... I'm...."

Matt finds himself choking on his words, unable to admit to himself the one word he's looking for. He doesn’t know where this sudden seriousness comes from, this abrupt inability to keep things in. It’s like an old habit, and normally those die hard. Except Sylvie’s lifting a gentle hand to caress his face, is giving him that warm and comforting look, and he knows exactly why it’s hard.

It’s hard because it’s her. It’s Sylvie, and trying to internalize things around her at this point is pointless— even if he wanted to. And he doesn’t want to. He’s stripped of all his walls when he’s around her and honestly, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Scared?” She finishes his sentence for him, giving him an expectant look.

He nods, because yes. Matt Casey, a firefighter who’s faced blazing fires and near-death experiences, is scared of opening a tiny little box. It takes a lot for him to admit that but he’s with her, which makes it ten times easier. “Yeah,” he confirms. “I know it sounds silly, but I can’t bring myself to look at all the things from her life that she left me and Christie out of. I’m scared I’ll look in there and realize just how much of a stranger she was to me— and of how much I miss her anyway.”

Sylvie exhales quietly, eyeing him achingly for a moment while she gnaws at her lip the way she only does when she’s thinking hard. Then, she gives his knee a comforting squeeze before standing up. He shifts on the couch, elbows moving to his knees as he scrunches his brow in a pensive and painful train of thought of his own. He thinks Sylvie is just getting a glass of water or a tissue or something else, honestly. But when he looks up from his brooding, he sees her over by the basketball machine, picking up the box and bringing it over.

“Here,” she says, placing it on the table in front of them and sitting back down in her spot next to him. Their legs press together, leaving no space between them on the couch.

“No,” he shakes his head as he responds. “No, I can’t do it.”

“You can,” Sylvie assures him. “We can do it. Together. You don’t have to go through any of this alone, Matt. So if you have to sit here for a minute before opening it, or ten minutes, or an hour even, then you can do that. I’ll be here the entire time.”

Her eyes twinkle kindly at him and Matt swears, in that moment, that he’s the luckiest man alive. Something about everything she just told him strikes him harder than usual, acting as a sharp and wonderful reminder that they’re meant for each other.

“I am so in love with you,” he utters softly.

Sylvie lets out a quiet giggle, moving to hold his hand and lace their fingers together. “I love you too.”

She presses a tender kiss to his cheek as he sucks in a sharp breath, his attention now turning to the box in front of them. The box looks back at him, almost as if challenging him. Only now, miraculously, it seems more manageable to him. It’s still scary, still carries a lot of emotional weight for Matt. But he feels Sylvie’s hand in his and it gives him the strength to do this.

He lets go of Sylvie’s hand for a moment to tear the flaps of the box open. His hand finds hers again as soon as its done, relying on her for more strength as he moves to peer inside the box.

His heart stops.

With his spare hand, he pulls out the first thing in the box, at the very top— the very thing that made his heart stop. Nothing else in the box matters now, he thinks. Because sitting there, in the palm of his hand, is a picture of him, Christie, and his mom. Nancy Casey sits in the center of the picture, with Matt and Christie at her sides. He remembers the day well; it was his fourteenth birthday, after all. There’s a cake in front of them in the picture to prove it. Matt doesn’t ever remember looking and feeling so young. Admittedly, he doesn’t remember being that happy around his family either. Normally, birthdays were sort of a mess for him, a constant struggle of battling with his father over how they should celebrate it that alwaus left Matt grumpy and hurt. But in the picture, his mom’s hand is tickling his side, as well as Christie’s, and the moment captures the exact moment that he and Christie reflexively lean into her chest from the laughter. His mom’s smile is bright and wide— something he rarely saw around his household.

They were happy once. They were a family, no matter how messed up everything got between them. Maybe Nancy Casey wasn’t such a stranger to him after all. That fact alone sends those million complicated little emotions swirling around in his chest.

Only this time, he doesn’t bury them. This time, they all come pouring out at once and the dam breaks. He doesn’t know when the tears started, but they flow now with a painful ease.

Sylvie lets go of his hand and pulls him in, holding onto him tight and close as his head rests on her chest. He feels tears of her own drip on the back of his head as she strokes his hair gently. He so rarely cries like this and yet now that he’s started— now that he has someone like Sylvie who lets him be vulnerable— he doesn’t think he’ll ever stop.

Only she tightens his grip on him, whispers soothing hushes and gentle reassurances that everything will be okay, and he knows that he’ll stop soon enough.

#y’all enough with the angsty hurt/comfort prompts PLEASEE my emotions can’t take it lol 😭 #fanfic prompts #abby writes #prompt requests #abby.answers #brettsey #sylvie brett #matt casey

[honsoolie]

don’t rush | 04

pairing: Yoongi/reader

genre: slight enemies to lovers, college au, fluff, smut, classical pianist!yoongi, violinist!reader, they’re both actually really into each other but won’t admit it

warnings: excessive amounts of pining, explicit smut, fingering, oral sex (m receiving), dirty talk, semi-public sex, mutual masturbation 

words: 10.3k

rating: +18

summary: You know, when Min Yoongi’s face isn’t screwed into an accusatory scowl, he looks exactly like the kind of guy you’d have no trouble falling in love with. Or, the conservatory au where Yoongi helps you get over your stage fright. In more ways than one.

a/n: thank you for waiting... if you've stuck around this long :") i've tried so hard for the past couple months to condense this story into the original length (3 chapters) but i've gotten attached and i'm afraid that this will turn into a longfic at the rate i'm going. so after this chapter, i'll be sure to post lots of drabbles of the scenes i couldn't fit in!! thank you so much for the wild ride, and without further ado, i present to you don't rush 04. 

start from the beginning?

You can’t bring yourself to fault Yoongi for what happened that morning. You also can’t bring yourself to say that it was your fault either–or even that there may be a single person to blame. 

24 hours of radio silence. No good morning text, no morning after–or really, afternoon after–text. Nothing. 

The thing about silence–absolute silence, with the exception the low hum of the air-con, or the distant sounds of a city, or footsteps from the room above you–is how slowly it passes. Maybe that’s why you’re a music student, spending all your time filling the silence with your own music. 

Silence is such an empty space–and can breed such bored thoughts. And where else for your mind to wander but Yoongi? 

It’s not that you were waiting for a text from him, it’s just that… you were half-expecting a text from him. Like he owed it to you. Even if none of this had ever happened, he would have texted you good morning by now. 

At least in your head, it seems fair that the onus is on Yoongi to text first. After all, he was the one who dragged you tightly by the wrist back to his apartment. He pushed you down on his couch, and in a very roundabout way, made you late for class. 

It’s not that you let this whole affair happen to you, but he started it. So it’s his job to text first. That’s the excuse you use, for not being brave enough to do it instead. 

It honestly feels a little pathetic that most of your thoughts outside of music and school are occupied by Min Yoongi. Even now, weeks after you’ve started talking to him, even mere thoughts of him elicit physical reactions from you. 

Your heart rate picking up, skin flushing where your neck meets your collarbone… maybe you’re allergic to Min Yoongi.  

It’s hard for your mind not to run wild with conclusions and assumptions after what happened between the two of you, even if a day hasn’t elapsed yet.  

Why hadn’t he texted? Does he do this often? Did he hate it? Did he ghost me, and now I’m never going to hear from him again? Should I text him first? Why is this so hard? 

Why do I care so much? 

The worst part is, you can’t turn it off. The thoughts follow you throughout the day, a weight sitting on your shoulders as you flit from class to class, building to building, rehearsal to rehearsal. Once the sun dips below the horizon, you’ve almost completed the process of resigning yourself to never knowing the answers to any of your questions. 

You make a note to yourself that you might start grieving the loss of any sort of closure–other than what Yoongi had given you the day before. All evenings this semester have been relegated to the confines of the practice room, so that’s where you head next after chamber music rehearsals end. Finally, the Bach partita has a purpose in your life other than plaguing your waking dreams–something to focus on other than Yoongi. But for God’s sake, it sounds pathetic when it’s put like that. 

Your. Life. Doesn’t. Revolve. Around. Min. Yoongi. You tell yourself, punctuating each word as you march down the stairwell in the music building. You clutch your violin case to your body, seeking warmth in the cold plastic. 

The universe likes to play tricks on people, and its language is irony. Yoongi taught you that lesson, the hard way. 

So it almost makes sense that the next time you encounter Yoongi is when you collide head-on with Yoongi’s smooth chest as you speed-walk through the doorway once you’re at the foot of the stairs. Just as you dreaded (and knew was going to happen anyway), your cheeks light up, some light from deep within you turning on. You kick yourself for the fact that your entire body perks up in his existence, erasing the cold and the tiredness from the night before. 

“Oh–I didn’t expect to see you here.” At the very least, Yoongi doesn’t look like he hates you. Or is disgusted by you. If anything, he looks a bit coy. If you could let yourself believe it, there might even be the warmth of fondness in his eyes, and even more incredulously, maybe the hard edge of guilt. 

“Didn’t expect? Yoongi, I’m here more than my own room.” You laugh despite the thoughts that have been trailing you all day, sounding something like cherry blossoms floating on the new breeze that spring has brought. You feel like you’ve forgiven him for something that he didn’t do, even if he hasn’t said anything yet. 

Just seeing him makes you feel better, the devil in the back of your head whispers. 

“Right, right.” His answering laughter is familiar. Even now, ever after everything, he still has the audacity to smooth his hands over your shoulders, make sure you’re intact and okay. “Violin okay? You okay?” 

You try not to let his scant touches send a shiver down your spine, just so you don’t give him that satisfaction, but you fail all the same. You manage a nod, but can barely bring yourself to look in his eyes. But is it for fear of seeing that warm tenderness again, or something else? 

“So…” With no prompting from you, Yoongi slides a fingertip underneath your chin. It feels simultaneously casual and momentous, and you’re not sure which one you prefer. 

Is this really happening right now? 

He looks deep into your eyes, taking inventory of something that you’re too self-conscious to think about right now. 

Of course, you’re self-conscious. You bump into your hookup a day after the fact, now that it’s nighttime in the practice rooms on the second floor of the music building. Both of you should be somewhere else, anywhere else, preferably drunk. How could it not be awkward, and how could you not feel self-conscious? 

His eyes flick lower, to your lips, and you avert your gaze. Yoongi’s hand returns to his side, and he coughs. 

“Sooo…” You say, digging your foot through the carpet, the warmth of his hands lingering on your skin. You play with the buckles on your violin case, just to give your hands something to do. You hope he says something first, because you’re sure as hell not going to do it. 

“Got something to say?” There’s a hint of a laugh in his words. He coughs again. 

“I thought you were going to say something,” You say, still not looking at him. It’s all you can do to not shrink away. In the dim lighting of the mouth of the hallway, there’s no way he can see your blush, but you turn away all the same. 

He’s smiling like he knows something you don’t, or maybe like he’s purged the last thirty-six hours from his memory. “Let’s not be strangers, come on. Are you busy?” 

“Not… particularly.” You commit to the words before you can finish the thought. 

“Can you do me a favor?” Right. So he wants something from you. Of course, of course he wants something from you. 

“What kind of favor?” 

“I was going to print something downstairs, but now that you’re here, can you listen to my piece? I need a second opinion.” He sighs, as if remembering something sweet. “It’s time I made it even, right? I’ve kept you waiting for long enough.” He smiles, just barely, and yet it feels like a gift. 

So that’s it. It’s confirmed. This is officially Not a Thing, you consign yourself to the fact. It’d be a lie to say that you aren’t a little bit relieved. At least you have an answer. 

There’s no need for a great step forward that’s necessary. No more awkward conversations like these, no admitting of feelings, let alone reciprocation of feelings. 

Nothing has to change between the two of you. Isn’t that what you wanted? 

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” You say, like it shouldn’t have been a question in the first place. You hate that even despite his silence on the matter, you’re running back to his side. You hate that you’re happy that he still wants anything to do with you. You ignore the empty kind of ache in your chest, too hollow and too full at the same time. 

You follow him down the narrow hallway, past the couch where it all began, and into the practice room. Of course, Yoongi’s already booked the only one isn’t a dingy cesspool. 

He pats the space next to him on the piano bench, beckoning you closer. 

“Sit down, don’t stand the whole time.” 

“Don’t you need the space?” 

“No, no, it’s okay. Come here.” If it’s even possible, your face burns even hotter when you sit down next to him, shoulders brushing just so. It’s harder to forget about the fact that you are hopelessly crushing on Min Yoongi when you’re literally touching him again. 

It reminds you of all his touches from before, because it was good. The sex was good. If it had been awkward and fumbling, if Min Yoongi hadn’t been able to push you over the edge with only his mouth and that look in his eye, you would be a lot more inclined to leave those memories in the past. 

You don’t need to relive the memory over and over, an endless reel. And yet, glimpses, flashes, disjointed stills of that morning still follow you everywhere. But you look at him now, silently flipping through the marked pages on his score, and now you see more than just a good lay. Looking at him now, in his natural state, you’ve fallen down the rabbit hole, you’re whipped, there’s no chance for you.  

“I don’t have it memorized yet, please don’t judge me.” You try not to think about the way he had pulled you closer by your hips. You try not to think about what you might have thought was lovesickness in his eyes. You try not to think of the timbre of his voice, when he told you to come for him. You try not to think about that. 

“Really, a pianist who can’t memorize his pieces? Sacreligious.” The delivery of your jibe falls flat. You steady the ricketing breath in your lungs. You’re nervous, and tired. Accepting that your Min Yoongi has absolutely no interest in you other than when he needs you for something isn’t easy, you know. 

“Oh come oooon y/n, this is something I’m learning this semester.” He pouts, just like he had before the both of you had fallen into this nebulous mess of feelings. Or maybe, it’s all one-sided and you’re the only one feeling like things have gotten messy. 

You poke him in the side, which you regret immediately after doing so. “I’m just joking. Show me your piece. Are you warmed up?” Yoongi turns pink, again. 

You remember the pink dusting his cheeks when he was–right, you’re supposed to be forgetting that ever happened. 

He runs his tongue along his lower lip, everything moving in slow motion. Your head is swimming. 

Well, maybe things aren’t moving in slow motion, and it’s the proximity to Min Yoongi that’s making time distort. “Yes, yes, yes, I’m fine. Are you ready to listen?” 

“Yeah. Go ahead.” 

Yoongi hovers his hands over the keys. He does that pianist thing you’ve always loved, where he pauses before the keys, preparing to play. 

He leans in slowly, sinking his hands down, pulling out a sound so sweet and, so, so solemn. This is a different Yoongi than the one thirty seconds ago. 

You realize somewhat belatedly that the fluorescent lights, the same ones that erase any sort of proper time telling in windowless rooms like these, still make Yoongi look good. The light bounces off of him just right, his cheekbones casting a gentle shadow on the sloped panes of his face. Like the rest of him, there’s no harsh angles, just soft gentle slopes that feel like home. Like comfort. Your gut twists in yearning. The hollow of his cheekbone is the perfect place to kiss, you ponder. 

Things should be easier now. All of it was a mistake. It’s in the past. It seems that Yoongi doesn’t seem to care at all. It should be forgotten about. Things, in theory, should be easier now. You should be able to carry on as you’ve always been able to. The path of least resistance, right?

He pauses, and begins what must be the main theme, cascading sixteenth-notes that sound about as tumultuous and troubled as you feel. 

He looks like he’s about to cry. Sure, you’ve seen sleepy Yoongi, cranky Yoongi, even a little bit of earnest, pleading Yoongi. But whoever is in front of you is entirely different. He’s approaching the main theme again, hands jumping over the keys as if they were hot irons. You can see all the versions of him laid out before you. Younger Yoongi, hands too small to reach the tenths written in his score. Hungover Yoongi that shuffles into class a couple minutes late, remnants of a late night out drinking written all over his face. The Yoongi that holds your hands between his and tells you that everything is going to be okay. 

When he reaches the final cadence, he doesn’t look at you immediately, still trained on the keys. His hands are still placed in the final chord, lifting them off slowly so the sound doesn’t quite fade away yet. The both of you stay like that, in the aftermath of what he just played. You hear the click as he takes his foot off the pedal. The tension that he was churning out doesn’t fade away when the sound stops. If anything, it gets worse. Blood rushes to your cheeks, the room warmer than it was before. 

“So… that’s what I’ve been working on so far. I, uh, hope you liked it.” It’s shocking how that compelling spirit from just minutes ago dissipates into thin air. He looks vulnerable, naked despite the fact that he’s fully clothed. 

“You’ve been holding out on me, Min Yoongi.” You laugh in disbelief, blinking away tears. God, you are so fucked. Sure, you’ve heard him play before, practicing with him. But you’re not practicing with him now, you’re watching. You’ve become the audience, and the dynamic has changed once again. 

There’s been many a night where you googled his previous performances and competitions on Youtube, but this doesn’t compare. Not in the slightest. So this is what all your teachers were talking about when they were lecturing you about the importance of stage presence. 

“Uh, wow. Wow.” You’re still tearing up, no matter how much you try to will it away. 

You’re not even really sure why you’re tearing up or why you can’t stop. It’s usually difficult for music to elicit such a visceral reaction from you. Goosebumps, sure. That very specific thrill down your spine when you hear music that isn’t so much as something that you hear, but feel in your blood, thumping, alive, real. 

But tears, no. That doesn’t happen.

It feels like your body is reacting to something that isn’t tangible, that you can’t see with your eyes or hear with your ears. Like there’s something else in the room that you can’t quite register. Like you’re crying despite yourself. 

You desperately want to kiss him. You want to pull him close and breathe in his familar scent and feel him pull you closer. It feels like the only appropriate thing to do, rather than just say “wow” over and over, in that stupid longing voice because you don’t what else to say. This is too overwhelming. More overwhelming than what it feels like when he finally puts his hands on you. 

It’s the only thing you want to do. You can’t imagine the night ending in any other way. It seems like it was prewritten in the stars, like the universe came together to stitch this scene together. Like it was fate for you to find him here, long after the sun disappeared over the horizon, practicing just like you were.

But you can’t, so you hug him. Like an absolute idiot. 

You regret it as soon as your arms circle around his shoulders. Yoongi stiffens, as if startled, as if he wasn’t expecting the hug either. Then his hand come to awkwardly pat the space between your shoulder blades, as if this couldn’t get any worse. This feels like a consolation prize. 

He can’t see your face nestled against his shoulder, but you cringe. 

You feel the vibration of his laughter against you, his shoulders shaking, “You liked it that much?” You can feel the way his voice resonates in his chest, and like everything else about this ordeal, it’s overwhelming. 

“Yeah,” You pull back away from him, relieved that the moment is over, “Yeah, I liked it. Winter Wind, right?” 

“Yeah, fitting for this fucking weather.” 

You laugh. “Look, thanks. But I gotta go, it’s getting late and I have a paper due tonight. Thank you, again. It’s really good.” You pick up your case, “You have good start, but keep practicing. Can’t stop until you have it memorized, ha.” You try to force a laugh. 

You hope you don’t look like you’re fleeing the scene. (Except you are. You leave the building without even practicing. But you don’t tell him that.) 

As you stream down the steps leading to the music building, the cool night air blotting away the swelling tears in your eyes, there’s something else that takes up residence in your heart: jealousy, and initiative. 

You envy the lucky bitch that ends up with Min Yoongi. And if Yoongi won’t talk about it, then you will. You won’t let him drag you around on a whim without a real answer. You can’t bring yourself to wait any longer. 

~

Min Yoongi doesn’t like you back. 

At least, that’s what he tries to tell himself before he goes to sleep, as if lying to himself might make sleep come more easily. 

The truth is, you are Min Yoongi’s favorite bedtime story. Like many other nights before, Yoongi falls asleep thinking of you, hashing and rehashing all the little details and inside jokes and past conversations. It’s a small comfort during this semester, thoughts of you keeping him warm. 

Tonight, Yoongi is replaying the conversation from earlier, the way he saw you nervously rubbed at the tough calluses on your left hand while he was playing for you, out of the corner of his eye. It made Yoongi want to make you smile, laugh at his bad jokes, and maybe, if you’d let him, gasp against his lips. It’s been less than a day since he saw you and yet he misses your laugh. 

That morning after class, you had sat up, blinking away the sun filtering through his shades, or maybe trying to clear the post-orgasm fog. Post- orgasms fog. Then you mumbled something about being late for class, a thin layer of sweat shining down to your chest. 

You had thanked him, then laughed at the misstep. God, you were so dorky that you thanked him. How was he ever supposed to resist you? 

How had the two of you come so far? 

 And the guiltiest indulgences Yoongi would allow himself in the middle of the night were the things he hadn’t experienced with you. Like a kiss. He hasn’t gotten a chance to do that, not yet. Maybe not ever. Would it be chaste? Slow and romantic? Or would it be impassioned and angry? 

Yoongi is particularly fond of the image of taking you to the jazz cafe a little ways away from campus. Would you wear a dress, once the weather warms up a little bit? What kind of coffee would you order? Do you even like jazz? What would it feel like to feel your hand slotted against his? 

He definitely wasn’t been thinking about pushing you up against the mirror in the practice room and seeing if the soundproof padding was actually properly installed. Or about that morning after classes, and those little mewling noises you made to urge him on. You were so desperate. It was cute, to say the least. 

But Yoongi wasn’t trying to think about that right now. He was thinking more about your unwavering diligence. Or the merriment in your eyes despite the tired shadows that hung beneath them. Or the way you didn’t back down from the way that he was obviously flirting with him, fighting fire with fire.

How much longer can the both of you live in denial, waiting for the other to make a tentative step forward? 

The more he thinks about it–about you–the less he can comfortably stay in his little bubble of denial. Denial can only get him so far. He tells himself that whatever relationship between the two of you is inevitable, and someone is going to do something eventually, and that’s why he’s not making a move just yet. 

Much of your relationship (or lack thereof) has been stepwise progression, slow steps. Graduating slowly from classmate to study partners to friends and closer, still. And now Yoongi had made this great leap and it felt like the both of you were lost amid the signals and the truths neither of you knew how to broach. 

And no matter how brave he is on stage, it’s nothing compared to being up close and personal with you. Cheesily enough, it’s easy enough to show a crowd what he’s been working on for months, but with you, he has to improvise. 

Truth be told, Yoongi knew he was being idealistic. The space that you two existed in had become precious to him, and he didn’t want to do anything to upset the balance, until now. There’s no easy way to make this all go away. Both of you were in too deep now. 

He saw the way you sighed into his touch, the way your eyes would go unfocused when he said something that was even remotely flirtatious, then then snap back to reality, as if you were reminding yourself of something. He knew you wouldn’t do anything any time soon. The past evening had shown him that. 

  And how was he supposed to admit his feelings for you… when he could hardly admit them to himself, in the privacy of his own room? 

And now, how could Yoongi make sense of anything? Every quiet moment carried the ghost of your voice. Every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was the way you had squeezed your eyes shut when he brought you to rapture. Even when you’re not with him, you’re filling up his senses. His thoughts. 

Am I in love with my friend? Are we friends because we’re in love? Am I feeling like this because of the way she says my name? Am I feeling like this because of the way she touches me? 

So those are all the reasons. To not talk to you. To talk to you. God, how the fuck was Yoongi supposed to know? 

~

You (5:03pm): hey, I think we should talk soon 

 The minutes tick by. Does the time always pass this slowly, you think to yourself. Your hand hovers over your phone keyboard. 

Fuck… what have I done. 

 You (5:15pm): that sounds sooo scary lol no pressure okay? 

 You grow desperate in the wake of his silence. Have you ruined it all?  

 Yoongi (5:30pm) yeah 

Yoongi (5:31pm): sorry I was practicing 

Yoongi (5:31pm): wasn’t looking at my phone  

Yoongi (5:31pm): let’s talk then 

Yoongi (5:32pm): where are you? 

 You find yourself at his apartment once again, the closed door spelling out all the possibilities in front of you. At least give him the benefit of the doubt, something reasons inside of you, but something darker says, think of what he’s put you through.  

Think of what you’ve put yourself through, you finally think. You’ve stood outside long enough. You’ve overwrought this, alone, long enough. 

Each knock that you rap against the door sounds like another nail in the coffin, but you still cling onto the last dregs of hope left in you. 

The door opens immediately, a rush of warm air enveloping you from outside. “Hey,” Yoongi says, shyly, almost demure in his lounge clothes and undone hair. 

You want to take him apart. 

“Hey,” You mirror, and try to pretend like Min Yoongi hasn’t stolen the breath out of you for what seems like the thousandth time. You hate that he has this effect on you. With nothing but a simple greeting, it seems like you’ve forgiven him for all your grief already. You try to push that feeling further down, trying to stay objective. 

Yoongi leads you to his couch. “Here… sit down. It’s cold outside, I made tea,” He says, padding into the kitchen. He doesn’t say anything else, but it looks like he knows exactly what you want to talk about. There’s something in the little tick in his jaw that tells you he’s just as sure as you are, but you’re tired of guessing. Your eyes are blurring from looking in between the lines for so long. 

There’s a big difference between overt facts and implied certainties. Fact: You and Yoongi are friends who study together, and now, ex-hookups. Implied: There’s something more there, something between friend and one-time hookup. 

“Um, what did you want to talk about?” Yoongi says, setting down a steaming mug in front of you. You don’t reach for it. 

“I–” You steel yourself for the words to tumble out of your mouth, but you lose your nerve. You had prepared a whole monologue on the walk to his apartment, but it doesn’t seem right now. You sigh, loosening the tension in your shoulders. “I wanted to talk about… about the last time I was at your apartment.” You hope it’s enough for him to get your point, and you hope that he’ll be honest and direct. He owes at least that much to you. 

“What about last time? Like specifically, what about last time?” Yoongi says, not flippantly. Please, you silently plead, please… just say something good.  

“Yoongi,” You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for what’s to come, “What happens now? What does it mean? Please, just be honest.” When you hear your voice leave your body, you can hear how pained you sound. It wasn’t something you intended. You match his gaze and his eyes are like mirrors. “Yoongi… whatever you say, I won’t be angry. I just–I just want to know how you feel.” Your voice trembles. You hope you don’t sound as pathetic and humiliated as you feel, the scorned hookup. 

Worse yet, the scorned hookup who didn’t get the hint the first time. 

“No, no. You deserve the truth.” He sets his mug on the table, and you bristle at the fact that he doesn’t use a coaster. “I’ll, um, tell you my side of the story. Just to be clear I’m not like, mad at you, or anything like that. I’m also not the type to fuck and go… even though it looks like that. And I’m not like, going to ghost you or anything. Unless you want me to do that. In that case,” Yoongi runs a hand through his hair, lingering on the nape of his neck, “I’ll do that.”  

“Can you do something for me, y/n? Can you just–” Yoongi holds his hands out in front of him, and he clasps his hands between yours. He always knows exactly how to comfort you, even now. 

He sighs. “I wasn’t… expecting everything to happen like this. y/n, I… Just let me think about what to say for a second. But I promise, you’ll get the explanation you’re owed.” Another deep breath in. Another deep breath out. 

You sit like that for what seems like a long, stretched out moment, your hands clasped in Yoongi’s, his brow furrowed. 

“Why didn’t you say something yesterday?” You burst out. 

Yoongi clears his throat. “Okay, look. I have… a lot of… okay, I just, I wasn’t sure how to go about this whole thing. And that morning in class, I rushed everything and after that I wasn’t sure how to approach you. Then when I saw you in the music building afterward, I just wanted to talk to you… to make sure you were okay. I saw you and I blanked. I didn’t know what to say, and I didn’t know what to do without making it weird. That’s a shitty reason, but I blanked and didn’t know what to say. I’m sorry.” 

“So,” You blink, frustrated, confused, flushed hot with embarrassment and maybe a little bit of arousal, “Okay,” You say. At least you’re getting somewhere. “So… why did it happen? Why… why did we…” 

Your eyes sting, and you breathe deeply, as if you might run out of words. “Was it all in my head?” 

Yoongi’s clammy hands tighten around yours, as if he’s afraid you’ll leave. 

“No,” Yoongi exhales, “No, it wasn’t.” 

Your body is running hot and cold. It feels like something in the air has been punctured, all the tension, all the doubts, rushing away. Something new rushes in. 

“I spent all this time guessing and wondering and hoping. I ran myself ragged with all my thinking. It’s not your fault, mostly, but I’m so tired. Of guessing.” 

He smiles. Well, smirks, in that Yoongi fashion that makes it feel like the top of your head is spinning. “Stop thinking so much then.” 

“It was–” Yoongi’s voice breaks, rips in half. “It was a mistake,” Yoongi lies. You know he’s lying. You can tell from the way his eyes are looking everywhere on your face but your eyes. You can tell from the way that he wrings his hands, like he’s reading a pre-written apology from behind the camera. “I’m so, so confused about everything. This isn’t going the way I thought it would–not that–it’s just my words aren’t coming out like I thought they would. I’m sorry. I don’t mean it like a bad thing.” 

Yoongi sighs, “I thought this would be easier.” And when you look at him again, you can see the pink on his cheeks. And how dilated his pupils are, and the decreasing proximity between his lips and your lips, because again Yoongi is still death-gripping your hands in his. If you could let yourself entertain the idea, he might be pulling you closer.  

“You’re going to need to be more specific,” You say. You lean away from him, hoping that the energy in the room will simmer down if you’re not centimeters away from falling into his arms. You need to hear him talk more, say everything, explain himself. You can’t leave this room without knowing more, you won’t be satisfied with anything but the truth and the full truth. You really don’t have the energy to wait more. 

“Well, even before everything–” And this is where Yoongi waves his hands in the air, gesticulating wildly. He doesn’t elaborate, although you suppose “before the almost-handjob in class and the whole mouth-fucking each other on your couch” is a bit of a mouthful. 

“Even before everything– I knew you liked me. Like, you can’t even be surprised that I knew. Because you were really obvious. Like so obvious. But yeah. I knew, and I thought it was cute, and it was super flattering.” 

You open your mouth for a response, but you concede that he’s right. You flush ever hotter. 

Yoongi’s voice drops a little lower, like he’s telling you a secret, “And it was so fun to mess with you. Like, I could make this cute fucking girl blush and giggle and squirm and it was all because of me, how can I not be flattered? How can I not want to spend more time with you, push all your buttons? I figured you’d eventually do something about it. But you never did, no matter how much I pushed it with you. I wanted you to make the first move. But we started getting closer, and I thought maybe you were never going to do anything about it. Like we agreed to be friends, but on the inside we both liked each other? I didn’t want that to happen, but I was too scared to just go and ask you out. So I was getting frustrated. So that morning, I was just messing around with you again. I wanted to annoy you during class, I wasn’t expecting anything to come out of it. But you–I guess you were frustrated too, because you called me on my bluff. And then, you know, one thing leads to another and we’re somehow at my apartment, which I barely remember how we got there in one piece before–” Yoongi stops, breathless and something tender sparkling in his eyes. His hands aren’t gripping you like you might run away, just resting on the tops of your knees. Reminding you that he’s there. 

“And now, in the present, I’m just confused? Did I like you before or after we…” He trails off, bashful still, even now. “Or do I feel like this now because we were together? And does that even matter now, because I like you regardless?”

All the blood has rushed away from your chest. It feels like someone has knocked all the air from you but also as if a winch has tightened ever-so around your heart. 

“Let’s take it slow, if that’s something you want. Nobody…” You grapple for something to say, after that hell of a fucking lovesick speech, “Nobody said that you needed all the answers now. Don’t rush.” You take his hands back into yours. 

The weight of it all hits you slowly, in successive waves. You don’t have to filter anything out, never have to make yourself feel appropriate for him. When you practice with him, study with him, eat with him… all the quiet spaces and body-wracking laughter just feel like a perfect fit. Nothing out of place. There’s never a conversation topic or something to stray away from, other than circumventing the feelings you have for him. Even then, it’s not like Yoongi pretends like the attraction isn’t there. He doesn’t skirt around it, avoid it like taboo conversation. It really only serves to amplify your conversations, a red thread pulled taut underneath everything else. 

And now, you can give into that? You can show him how you really feel, and there’s just one less thing to hide? 

“You know, you’re not blameless. I was super stressed out at the time, and with the Bach Festival and midterms and everything I guess… you gave me the opportunity to lessen that a little, so. I know, I know. It’s a shitty excuse. But I wanted things with you and with the way that things converged, it seemed like–” 

“Serendipity?”  

“A bit like that, yes.” You tighten your hands around his, and he pulls you a little closer. You’re leaning over his lap now. 

You can’t choose whether to look into his eyes or at his lips. It looks like Yoongi has the same problem. He pulls you imperceptibly closer. 

“Can I kiss you? If that’s not rushing, of course.” 

“Yeah. Yes, please.” You soften yourself into his lap, Yoongi pulling you closer by the shoulders, sliding down to rest on your arms. You relish in the sensation, knowing it’s something that you can enjoy with a reassured heart now. 

He plants a closed kiss against your lips, and somehow that makes your heart flutter more than anything else he’s ever done before. The pads of his fingertips are soft and gentle against your arms, pulling you closer by the bicep. 

“I like you… I like you a lot…” Yoongi whispers against your lips, laughing at the confession. So sweet, so soft. 

“I like you too…” You whisper, kissing back. Slow, chaste, if a bit restrained. The realization hits you again, slowly, like an ocean wave washing over wet sand. 

Yoongi likes you back. Yoongi wants you back. You laugh at how absurd it sounds, even in your own head, nipping at his lip. “Say it again, Yoongi.” 

“I like you…” Yoongi sounds coy. 

You smile against him, “Say it again,” You gasp, pushing him back on the couch, gentle but firm, “I like you too, in case you didn’t know.” You can’t help but laugh. Not at the absurdity at the situation, but just out of happy shock. 

“y/n, I like you…” Yoongi chuckles, deep in his chest, looking up at you. His hair falls out of his eyes. 

“Do you know how happy it makes me, to hear you say that?” 

You’re honestly surprised that you don’t have whiplash. Whiplash from the weeks of tension and denial, feeling like you would never get this relief, but now you have a whole new set of problems. Dating Min Yoongi. 

~

This whole “taking it slow” thing is fucking bullshit. The past couple weeks have been one long sustained effort, some kind of marathon in testing the waters, drawing back and then pushing forward. 

Maybe you spoke too soon. You have to admit that the slow build, chaste romantic courtship is nice . 

The study dates are more than nice. The coffee shop dates feel almost luxurious, expensive in time in the same way that the actual coffee is cheap. 

Actually, all of this is a lot nicer than having to guess his every intention, the message between the lines. But you already know what it’s like to have Min Yoongi. 

In fact, things have been largely the same for the past couple weeks, except now you can feel the weight of his flirtatious jokes. You can now confidently say that Yoongi says what he means. The more time you spend with Yoongi, the more liberated you feel in letting yourself delight in the feeling of being allowed to show your feelings for him, and having them be duly reciprocated. 

After the confessional evening the both of you had, Yoongi had agreed to take it slow. In your lovesick state, you probably would have said yes to anything that Min Yoongi put on the table. Which is probably why you agreed to the whole courtship thing. 

“y/n… think about it like this! If we take our time then when the time finally comes… to… uh, you know, then it’ll be so much more gratifying. And I want to be with you more, like this,” Yoongi says, as you lean against his chest, feeling it rise and fall with his words. 

“Delayed gratification, have you ever heard of that?” Yoongi had said, smiling wider than you’d ever seen. 

“Although from my experience with you, I think you like instant gratification more,” He said, a touch darker. Your memory blurs now, because that was about the time he started tickling you relentlessly. And then kissing you relentlessly.  

And at the time, you had agreed. The delayed gratification would make everything better, make the world a little more rose-colored than before. 

You don’t want to push his boundaries, he doesn’t want to push yours, but now it’s begun nearly feels both of you are so afraid of each other that you haven’t touched each other in what seems like fucking forever–and it’s reached a boiling point, from what you can gather this evening. 

The newfound tension between the two of you is new, maybe a day or two at most, but annoying nonetheless. 

 “Y/n, how many times have I told you? Stop rushing. Do you need me to count your part out? One, two, three, four.” He punctuates every count with a clap in your face, and a sneer to boot. 

Yoongi has been especially volatile this evening. His normal jokes and jabs at you fall just short of endearing. Your initial approach at remedying the situation by focusing on the music at hand has only seemed to make things worse, and you’ve given in to your slowly-growing temper. 

“I am fucking counting, and I’m not the one playing fucking half notes, okay? How about you just focus on making the harmony, I don’t know, harmonious ?” You lower your violin, face screwing up in anger, only you don’t know how much of it is joking anymore. 

You don’t know how much longer you can take this kind of tension in the air. It feels angry and red and biting, but you can’t help it. The stale air-conditioned air in the practice room only seems to make your face warmer and warmer as time passes. 

All this tension, and no release. That’s what music is all about. The build-up of musical intensity, the expectation and anticipation for resolution. It’s like you’ve been stuck on the same chord of a cadence, waiting for a release that feels like it isn’t coming anytime soon. 

You take a deep breath, the frustration tightening in your chest. “From measure eighty-four, and take the fucking repeat this time. Let’s just move onto the next section after this, we’ll just come back to it later.” 

You fight the urge to huff and sigh, knowing it would only earn you a comment from Yoongi about being, as he had put it, ‘wound up.’ Yeah, no shit, you’re wound up. Wound up is putting it lightly. Just last week Yoongi had made a mess of you at his apartment, teasing you apart and then stopping just short of an orgasm. And he said the same thing last week too: delayed gratification. 

You try again, cueing him in with a sharp breath and the uptake of your bow. 

And again, and again, and again. 

“This isn’t working.” You set your violin on the soft lining of your case and rub your temples, resting your upper body on the body of the piano. You swipe the back of your hand across your face, breathing in the clean smell of the hand soap from Yoongi’s apartment bathroom, from when you were there a couple hours ago. Warm. Brown sugar. It feels like his embrace–if only you’d ever feel it again. 

God, why did you let him push all your buttons? All evening–ever since the two of you left his apartment to come to the practice rooms–he’s been acting like this. You know it has something to do with you, another game. But you don’t have the energy to divine his ulterior motive, whatever it is. You shut your eyes to provide some reprieve from the strain of staring at the same phrase that you have been stuck on for what has felt like an eternity.

“Yeah, this isn’t fucking working,” He says. It reminds you of the way he talked to you when you found him practicing in the early morning that one Tuesday. You only open your eyes when you hear him get up from his bench. 

Min Yoongi is standing too close to you. His eyes are on your lips and not your eyes. Even in the dim light of the practice room, you can see how dilated his pupils are. 

You meet his eyes. “You’re ridiculous,” he says, more breathless than he’d like to admit, “You’re provoking me. Why?” 

“Who said I was trying to do that? I think you,” You point a finger at his chest, looking into his eyes, “Are provoking me.” You try to sound as petulant as possible, and it works. 

Yoongi’s lips meet yours before you can even take your hands off of him. 

In the best sense of the word, you are cornered. Backed up against the piano, enclosed by his arms. He slips his hands up underneath the cotton of your sweatshirt, pulling you flush against him. His cool fingertips grazing the small of your back have you gasping against his soft lips. 

“Tell me, why are you provoking me?” 

“I, well-” You don’t continue with an excuse, because you’re finally getting what you want. What you both want. 

He presses on. “Gonna answer my question, or are you just gonna keep being a little brat?”  He wedges his thigh between your legs, closer to where you need him most. You stifle a moan, it’s too soon to be making those kinds of sounds, but you grind down on him anyway. “What?” He laughs, the sound sitting deep in his chest. “Aren’t you going to say something?” 

You try to focus on the possessiveness in the way that he holds you by the waist, so you’re not thinking about how weak your knees are. 

He sighs, as if in disappointment. Only you’re not sure who it’s directed towards. 

“If I touch you right now, will you be wet?” He laughs. “I don’t even have to guess.” The ghost of his breath fans against your upper lip. “Is this what you want? Do you, do you, want to keep going?” Yoongi stops his ministrations. When you meet his eyes, both of you breathless, you can see the inquiring concern in his eyes again. 

“Yes, yes, don’t stop,” you say, trying, and failing, not to sound frantic, “Only if you’ll see it through to the end this time,” You bite. 

He laughs, devoid of mirth. “You say that like it’s not hard for me, either.” His hands trail down your torso to rest at the waist of your jeans. You don’t want to pseudo-argue with him anymore, so you just whine a little from the back of your throat, hoping he’ll get the point. 

You don’t want him to think that this isn’t what you want, because truth be told, it is exactly what you want. Your hands come to meet his when you reach to undo the button. 

“You know exactly what to do.” He laughs, lighter this time. He’s laughing like he’s not mad at you. He helps undo your jeans, pushing them and your panties just past your thighs. You gasp when he starts rubbing gentle circles on your clit. His fingers slip against your wet, slippery pussy. 

Yoongi is everywhere. He’s crowding your space against the wall, hand down your pants, the other holding your neck in place. It’s getting overwhelming with his beautiful hand rubbing little circles on your clit. So simple, and yet it feels like you’re breaking apart underneath him. It’s getting harder and harder to bite back the moans, stay in control. 

“You know, these rooms are soundproof. Let me hear you,” He murmurs, pulling you closer. “Stop hiding from me.” 

Yoongi shifts his attention from your wet cunt to the collar of your shirt. “What’s this? Getting busy without me?” Yoongi brushes his free hand over the circular dark mark coloring the crook of your jaw. You’re starting to get impatient with all this teasing, how much more can you take? 

“Haven’t you ever heard of a violin hickey?” You spit, grinding down on his hand, but it’s not enough. God, it really has been too long since he last touched you. He never stops the gentle advance he makes on your clit, never faster, never slower. Just barely enough. “We were just practicing, it gets darker when I play.” You try to explain yourself, as if that might make him show mercy later on. 

“You’re not in any position to talk back right now, don’t forget that.” He leaves open-mouthed kisses down your neck, sucking gently. “I’ll just help you add to your little collection.” Your eyes roll back, unable to help yourself. It’s been so long since anyone has touched you. It’s been so long since anyone has held you so closely. 

Your desperation is beginning to show. With every movement of his hands, Yoongi starts to lessen his touch, your hips dogging his hand. You come to the realization that you’re not above begging to get what you want. He doesn’t even have to ask. 

He continues his gentle assault on your clit. “Do you know what these mirrors are for? They’re for checking your posture as you practice, but I guess this is just a different kind of practice.” He turns you around, your hips digging into the wood panelling of the piano. You’re confronted by your own fucked-out reflection, flushed and panting. You’re still mostly clothed, and yet you look debaucherous, like some ancient painting of a study into the nuances of female pleasure. “Look at you. All messy. And for what? I’ve barely touched you.” 

The frustration is too much, reaching a boiling point. “Please, I swear to God.” You bury your hands in your head, wiping away frustrated tears. Your legs are trembling now, now that Yoongi is only using one of his arms to brace you against him. 

“Please, what?” He digs his nails into the soft skin of your hip, and you can’t help but like it. He lowers his head so it’s level with your ear, sultry, low. “Use your words.” 

“Can’t you just, just-” Again, you buck your hips against his hand, as if that might make him get the point, only for him to nip at your inner thigh with his hand. 

“Don’t rush me, babe.” Babe. Min Yoongi is calling you babe. Is the universe playing some trick on you? 

He takes advantage of your position and leverages his knee on the inside of yours, spreading your legs further. “That’s it, just take it. Take it.” Finally, he takes pity on you and slips a finger inside. He earns an answering gasp. You can tell he means business, because he doesn’t take it slow, he doesn’t let you adjust, going directly at that spot inside of you that makes you keen for him. 

You struggle to stay upright, eyes rolling back. Your fingers scrabble along the dark wood of the piano, struggling to find purchase. 

“Fuck, Yoongi…” 

“So needy, look at you, so fucking needy...” He drives his point home further by adding a second finger. 

“I’m sooooo sorry… how can I ever make it up to you…?” Even despite the mind-bending pleasure and the prospect of Min Yoongi blowing your back out this evening, you roll your eyes. 

“What if someone hears?” Your point is lost when Yoongi changes the angle of his hand, and you break off into a ragged whimper. It’s loud enough to make you embarrassed to have made that sound in the presence of another person.  

“Oh, so you care about that now?” “What about that one time in class,” Yoongi all but pants in your ear, digging his nails into your thigh, “That you were being a desperate little cocktease?” 

You don’t answer, shame stoking the embers in your belly, driving lower and lower. You hate, and love, that he can make you feel like this with only some stern wording and a firm hand. Because it feels that good. Because you like him that much. 

“What then, hmm?” Yoongi doesn’t wait for a response however, before he’s yanking your jeans and panties further down your thighs. “Do me a favor. Touch yourself for me. Show me.” 

“Why?” 

“Wanna see you all messy for me,” Yoongi says, voice silky soft, liquid sex. He guides your hand down to your pussy, and god, you realize just how embarrassingly wet you are for such little foreplay. “Please?” He presses his chest flush to your back, leaning his forehead into the crook of your neck. 

You oblige him. You’re wet to the point where it’s difficult to find purchase against your clit. “Okay… but you have to forgive me.” 

“Forgive you for what?” 

“For being needy…” You say, sweetly. 

“Sure. I’ll forgive anything you do if you do this every time.” He says it like it’s a matter of fact. 

You giggle, like a lovesick idiot. At the very least, you’re glad that Yoongi can make you laugh even when you’re half-play-fighting, half-on-the-verge-of-having-sex-in-your-favorite-practice room. 

The vibrations of your laughter traveling through your body have you moving in new, novel ways against your own hand, and you break off into a moan. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Yoongi murmurs, voice barely above a scratchy whisper. He sounds genuine, and the tenderness of the moment isn’t lost to you, even despite your pleasure. At least now that you’re touching yourself, you don’t have to suffer the patient wrath of Yoongi and can touch yourself the way that you see fit. 

You feel his free hand nudge against the back of your thigh and when you look, he’s dragging the heel of his hand across his pants. 

Fuck. Fuck, you are so wrecked for Min Yoongi. 

“No, you too,” you say, “Show me too.” 

Yoongi moves away from you, pushing his waistband past his hips. He’s gripping his cock in one hand. He’s reaching for your waist again, his hand traveling up to grasp your throat. He jerks your head back. “Look, look at yourself.” 

The combined sensation of his hand on your neck and own hand on your pussy is too much. Your eyes water. “Yoongi,” You gasp, “I’m going to come.” 

“No, not yet. Not yet.” He wrenches your hand away, and the sudden lack of touch is almost cruel. 

You buck against him, his back to you. “Please, please let me come, I can’t–you can’t do this again, fuck,” Your desperation comes out in whines, all shame lost. 

“Be patient, come here.” He turns you around again, your back against the wood of the piano. And you’re looking into his eyes, dark and filled with something like lust. Min Yoongi wants you. You reach up to brush his hair out of his eyes. 

Yoongi’s on your clit again, drawing light circles, testing the wetness before slipping a finger inside again. “I wanna hear you,” He says, adding another finger, more tenacity behind his strokes. He rocks his thumb against your clit. “I wasn’t asking.” 

Up until now you’ve been biting your lip, muffling your cries as best as you can. You look up at him again, drawing up your courage. You feel exposed–how can you not, half-naked in the practice room, when you’re not completely confident that the soundproof padding on the walls can contain the sounds of your rapture. 

“You-you fuck me so good Yoongi–” And you keen, just because he asked you to. 

He stops in his fucking tracks. Again. 

“Well. You fuck me so well. You can’t describe a verb with an adjective. God, I really shouldn’t let you come…” 

“Oh my God, are you really going to do this right now.” You bear down on his hand with your hips again, seeking more friction. “Please… please, I can’t wait anymore.” You can hardly finish your sentence, as Yoongi fucks into you with a particularly hard thrust. You’re finding it difficult to keep your eyes open, instead opting to rest your head on his shoulder. 

God, he smells so good. Like fresh laundry and the melting snow outside, warm and human and reassuring. 

You can feel his smile ghosting over your neck as he leans down to suck another mark into your collarbone. “Yes, yes, I am.” 

“I’m–I’m getting close again,” You say, fisting your hands in his shirt, “Just, ah–” It takes you by surprise, crashing over you. You squeeze your eyes shut and try to stay upright, pulling Yoongi against you. You can feel his satisfied smile, as he pants against the curve of your neck, hot and heady and everything you need. 

“Good?” He asks, after your breathing has calmed, even though you know that he knows that he’s done more than a good job. 

“Okay, okay, enough bragging,” You half-laugh, half-scoff, pulling your pants up past your hips again. 

“I wasn’t bragging,” He whines. It’s endearing, and you pepper his face with kisses before you get to business again. 

You sink to your knees before him, and his expression immediately softens. You try to bridge the gap between the two of you, placing the palm of your hand on his thigh. Asking for permission. 

“Are you sure?” He says, but the expression in his eyes saying something to the effect of “I really hope you’re sure.”  

“Yes, I’m sure,” You say, smiling as you tease the head of his cock with your parted lips. You replace his hand with yours. It’s barely any contact, really, but Yoongi closes his eyes in pleasure nonetheless, head tilted back. Normally, in any other situation like this, you’d be at least a little bit nervous. Or shy, hoping that Yoongi keeps his eyes closed so he’s not looking at you. But the absolute deprivation you’ve felt for the past couple weeks is enough for you to not care. 

You sink lower, in the wake of remembering how pent up and frustrated you’ve felt for the past couple weeks. You even, at least try to, bat your eyelashes at him. But like you guessed (or had hoped), his eyes are squeezed shut. You try not to delight in the sudden change of power too much, but it’s impossible not to. 

He tightens his grip on the back of your neck, groaning. “You’re so good to me.” You take him further in your mouth, eager to please. Eager to hear him make more of those sounds. Eager to take this further. 

You try your best to make it slick, flattening your tongue against him. You’re a little out of practice, after months of being alone, but Yoongi doesn’t seem to notice. And if he does, he’s still enjoying himself. Thoroughly. 

“Fuck, fuck,” He gasps, in hushed whispers. 

“What a mouth on you…” Yoongi moves stray hairs out of your face, surprisingly tender given the lewdness of the situation. The sounds of your mouth fill the practice room, although hopefully not loud enough to expose your vulnerable position. You truly hope that the soundproof padding lining the walls works as advertised. 

“Ah–ah wait, I’m getting close, wait–ah, y/n, fuck,” He rasps. You don’t let up quite yet, letting him sit in that in-between space between ‘on the edge’ and ‘letting go’. His free hand makes a weak fist against his leg. 

Someone knocks on the door. Your first thought is that it may be security wrapping up rounds for the night. 

Your eyes widen in shock as you stand upright and zip up your jeans. The surge from adrenaline at the prospect of getting caught in the act makes your head pulse and spin. Your heart seems to have fallen from the left side of your chest all the way into the pit of your stomach. 

It’s hard to remember how aroused you were, not thirty seconds ago. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” For someone who was quite literally about to be balls-deep inside you, Yoongi tucks his dick back inside his pants with a surprising amount of tact and speed. 

Yoongi is fixing his hair in the practice mirror as you cross the room at the piano bench, pulling out your phone to make it look like the two of you were just dawdling or taking a practice break. 

Maybe twenty seconds have elapsed since the first knock at the door, which you reason might be a reasonable time for someone to stop practicing, and walk to the door to answer it. You hope it might seem reasonable. 

You can feel the pulse in your neck moving as Yoongi opens the door. You train your eyes on your phone screen, as if that might make you more nonchalant.  

“Hey, Yoongi-hyung.” The voice at the door is youthful, and energetic. You can even hear the smile in his voice. “I didn’t know you were here this late. I was looking for you!” You finally muster up the courage to stop staring at your phone, your eyes venturing to the other side of the room. 

It’s… Jungkook?  

Jungkook, as in, the only bassoonist in the department, Jungkook? 

Jungkook must have had the same idea as you, because he looks over at you at the same time you do. 

His smile falters, albeit briefly. Whatever replaces it is something akin to a smirk. A knowing smirk. An accusatory smirk. A proud smirk. 

“Hyung, who’s that?”

#armywriterssupport #btsgoldnet #yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #bts smut #yoongi fanfic #yoongi scenarios #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #min yoongi x reader #bts x reader

[bipercabeth]

“Something’s wrong, I can tell” for percabeth 💖🔪

(in which we ignore the fact that hoo exists)

Annabeth’s alarm clock blinks 5:00 PM on her bedside table, the bright red casting a glow over her dark dorm room. Her blinds are drawn back, but uselessly so. The sun hides behind rain clouds that drown the city in their gloom. And so the turn of spring is more limp than victory march, or maybe it just walks to a cadence Annabeth can’t hear. The moment her feet hit the floor this morning, it felt like she was stepping out of time. 

The darkness presses in heavily on Annabeth, like maybe it’s her fault the sun rose wrong today. The girl with a plan for everything can’t even rouse herself out of bed. Afternoon collapses into early evening, and the weight of the lost day pins Annabeth below her comforter. Alone in a twin bed, the way it way built to be. Even after nearly a decade of sleeping in a cabin with all her siblings, that’s all Annabeth has ever really been: alone, the way she was built to be. 

Sneakers scuff the carpeted hallway, stopping when they reach Annabeth’s door. A key scrapes the lock without a knock, which is how she knows it’s Percy on the other side. 

Light from the hallway follows him in, and both of them blink as their eyes adjust. Annabeth is blind for a moment, able only to focus on Percy’s silhouette. Even in the lowlight, she can see the way concern softens his brow and stiffens his hands. 

“Baby...” he says, a nickname that has become a common occurrence in their seven months of dating. This is the first time it has failed to warm Annabeth’s chest. “What’s wrong?” 

Annabeth tries—she really does—to sit up and wipe the tear tracks from her cheeks, but her nose is snotty and half her hair falls out of its scrunchie from being upright for the first time all day. Her voice cracks when she says, “M’fine.” 

Percy just crosses the room and turns on her desk lamp, giving the place a soft yellow glow. He looks like the sun sweeping away the shadows of a dim day. With gentle hands, he undoes Annabeth’s scrunchie and coaxes her curls into a bun that will hold in the wake of her wallowing. Annabeth leans her head back into his stomach to look at him upside down, at which point he holds her cheeks and breaks her with a gentle, “Something’s wrong, I can tell.” 

She just gapes at him uselessly, because isn’t the lack of words the very core of this pain? All the power of Athena’s wisdom, Daedalus’s laptop, and Annabeth’s own mind, and she cannot string together a sentence about Luke Castellan that rings true. 

He was a hero. Naive. 

He was a monster. Calloused. 

He loved me. 

Well, aside from that, which is the only thing she knows to be true. 

Percy senses the tectonic shift within Annabeth and holds her tight, laying her back on the mattress and tucking himself in behind her. His arms wrap around her like he can prevent the earthquake, but all that tension can only do one thing: snap. 

Luke loved her. It’s the one thing she knows. None of it makes sense if he never loved her. She has to make it make sense. 

Most days her brain buries the ache. Annabeth is a runner; she is good at lacing up her shoes and hitting the road, but her feet cannot carry her far enough. She is the house she’s running away from. Luke’s influence is a painful design that fuels self-hatred and frustration, but the bones were good. At its core, the house was built with love, the kind you want to share with family. Before her fearlessness and fire were her own, they were his. Luke was the first person to put a weapon in her hand, and Annabeth is nothing if not a warrior. He made her to be the exact thing she needed to be to survive him.

Seven months after his death, and sometimes a day goes by where Annabeth doesn’t think about it. Some days are too full of Percy’s sunshine smile for the sky to dream of dimming. Other days—ones she keeps to herself—the thought of Luke shines in the rose-tinted lens of nostalgia. And then there are days like today where she is rendered immobile by the mere memory of him.

Closure is a sick and twisted joke. Luke’s love for Annabeth saved his soul and the world, just the way she wanted. All the pain and suffering of the past four years was worth it. She was right to believe in him. So why does the burden still burn into her shoulders? 

Percy presses his lips to the back of Annabeth’s neck, drawing her back to the present. His arm rests underneath her neck and wraps around her shoulders while the other falls over and around her torso, linking their fingers over her heart. He’s grown considerably since the summer, a fact that bothers Annabeth until moments like this where the width of his shoulders eclipses her own. It almost fools her into thinking he can protect her from this. 

“Easy.” His voice is low, whispered into her neck. “You’re okay. Just breathe with me, alright? I’ve got you.” 

Each swell of Percy’s chest coaches Annabeth through her own. Inhale. Hold. Feel his hands squeeze each second. Exhale. Listen to him whisper affirmations like prayers into her skin. Repeat. 

It takes a while, but Annabeth’s heart slows.

Percy’s voice resonates again her back. “What happened?”

This, she thinks, is the hardest part. Annabeth doesn’t have an empathy link like Percy and Grover, nor does she have someone with shared experience to speak to. In her struggle with Luke, she is truly alone.

“It’s not fair,” she manages, breath hitching.

“What isn’t?”

“That he—“ A stray tear leaks onto her pillow. Percy’s lips linger on her shoulder, patient and steady and everything Luke couldn’t be. Annabeth sobs, a mortifying sound, and she’s glad Percy can’t see her face as she presses it into her cold pillowcase. The stain of fallen tears waits for her, inviting her back into old pain. “That he loved me. It’s not fair that he loved me.”

Though he tries to hide it, Percy’s body goes rigid. They have fought about this on Annabeth’s rose-tinted days or whenever someone brings up Luke’s legacy, be it as hero, pawn, or monster. Part of Percy will always be the twelve year old boy who was betrayed by Luke, and part of Annabeth will always be the seven year old girl who found a family with him.

“Love isn’t always enough,” Percy says, and she can hear the tension in his jaw. Bless him though, he tries for her. “It’s not your fault he couldn’t do a single damn thing about it.”

He pulls her into his chest and lays his head on her shoulder, keeping her from falling off the bed while her body shakes. She withers at the realization that she can’t offer him anything in return, not even a promise that she’ll take his words to heart.

Luke did something about it: he died. He became the hero Annabeth saw in him after years of struggling, and then he left her again.

But he kept his promise. 

Annabeth’s chest aches as it always does when she thinks about Luke, it just runs a bit deeper today. It was in his nature to cut to the bone. 

“I just don’t want to feel like this anymore.” She sounds every bit the small, bitter runaway. 

The cold of the pillow is replaced by Percy wiping away her tears and dabbing at her nose with the sleeve of his hoodie. “What can I do? Tell me how to help.” 

“Just stay with me.” She leans into his palm, kisses his wrist. “Hold me a little longer.” 

“As long as you need,” Percy promises, dropping kisses along the line of her neck, her jaw, her cheek. “But I need you to look at me.” 

They untangle their limbs for Annabeth to flop onto Percy’s chest. His arms wrap back around her, this time firm around her waist while his free hand slides to her neck, his thumb under her jaw to hold her gaze. His eyes blaze with the fierce love she is still learning to accept, the one that burns to protect. 

“I love you so much,” he says, his voice aching as though it almost hurts. “And if I could take this away, I would. You don’t deserve it. I know we don’t... That he...” Percy frowns, then tightens his grip on her. “I know I don’t get it. I know. But I’m still here, you know? I don’t want you to be alone. Ever.�� 

The gears in Annabeth’s brain take a moment process, and her response comes out in a breathless, “I love you.” The phrase is warm, as it always is, like the sun shining through the rain on her window. Loving Percy turns the light on in every room she enters. The rest of her words fall short, though they’re honest. “I don’t know what to say.” 

Percy’s thumb swipes across her cheek. “Me neither. We’ll figure it out together, yeah?” 

She throws herself into the crook of his neck, knocking the air from his lungs. He just softens and holds the back of her head while tracing circles on her hoodie—steady, sweet, supporting. He holds her tight and kisses her temple with the same tenderness she presses into his collarbone: a small attempt at reciprocity, but a meaningful one nonetheless. They’re trying, which is all they can do. 

#hey babes here’s some luke themed h/c with a side of spooning #truly ​an annie seeking missile #my percabeth #drabbles #my fic #ayesha tag #annie tag #bc anything mentioning luke goes there #iris messages #autumnmuses

[sineala]

A Few Thoughts About Hurt/Comfort

I have been asked this month to make a post about hurt/comfort in Avengers comics. And I love h/c -- I actually have a massive number of WIPs right now that are h/c -- so I am very happy to talk about it! Anyway, this is not really all that planned out and this mostly turned into an excursus on Tony Stark's pain. I'm sure you're all surprised.

Like pretty much everyone else, I'm sure, I have found that everything lately has been... pretty tough. And the coping mechanism that really got me through last year and this year was reading and writing a lot of h/c, on the theory that, however lousy a day I'm having, I can absolutely make sure that Tony Stark has a worse one. And then I can make sure he gets hugs. Wish fulfillment? Why, yes. (Once at Hallmark I was trying to find a "get well soon" card, forgot what it was called, and described it to my wife as "a hurt/comfort card.") I think Marvel Comics -- the Avengers side, in particular -- is an interesting canon for h/c for a lot of reasons. Though, honestly, if you asked me to recommend you, a hurt/comfort fan, a new fandom, I would probably just hand you some Starsky & Hutch DVDs. Go watch "The Fix" and get back to me later. If you like that, there's way more where that came from. But there's still lots to love in Marvel! Superhero comics are really a goldmine as far as the hurt side of h/c. Because superheroes, and you probably have noticed this, get hurt a lot. They get hurt repeatedly, in fantastical ways that are probably impossible in real life both physically and emotionally (at least, I don't think anyone's invented mind control yet), and even the heroes without superhuman healing powers tend to get physically hurt a whole lot worse than actual people can take. Currently in Iron Man comics, Tony has a broken back and is dealing with this by locking himself into the armor as a backboard and injecting himself with massive doses of painkillers. He's busy! He's got stuff to do! He doesn't have time to lie around and heal! So, basically, if you name a kind of pain that you would like to see happen to a character, it's probably happened to superheroes. Multiple times. The downside, though, is that comics do not really deliver that well when it comes to the comfort part of h/c. They could. It's not inherent to the medium that they don't. But because of the serial nature of comics and also the fact the primary audience is dudes who want to read about people in spandex punching each other, a lot of the time they don't really feel the need to provide closure and write about people dealing with any of the hurt. (Raise your hand if you're still annoyed with the end of Hickman's Avengers run.) But at the same time, I think that's a quality that makes Avengers ripe for h/c fanfic. Because, generally speaking, fandom likes to provide the things that canon doesn't, and fandom is more than happy to provide the comfort. If you enjoy canonical h/c in comics, I think you really can't go wrong with Iron Man. One of the big innovations of modern Marvel Comics was the concept that heroes would also suffer from relatable human problems, and in practice what this means is that a lot of heroes start with a fully-loaded angst-ridden backstory and origin story, ripe for h/c. So Tony starts out by incurring a heart injury that he fully expects is going to kill him, which he responds to by vowing he won't get close to anyone so they won't be sad when he dies, and throughout the early Silver Age is constantly on the brink of death as his heart nearly gives out on him practically every issue. And then even after his heart gets (mostly) better, there are various plots involving his armor being detrimental to his health and him choosing to fight on anyway. It's hard for me to think of another superhero hitting that particular variety of h/c in exactly the same way. Sure, superheroes risk their lives constantly, because this is how superhero comics work, but Tony is the only one I can think of who is this constantly this badly off, physically. Like, think of all the other heroes who have had a continual solo presence as fan favorites across Marvel history -- Captain America, Thor, Spider-Man, Wolverine, maybe even Deadpool. You know what those guys all have? Healing factors! For the most part, they are not running around continually on the verge of death, and while there are certainly memorable arcs involving several of them being severely injured and/or dead, you really have to work at it. It's not their constant state of affairs, whereas Tony is the kind of superhero who shows up to a fight already bleeding out under his armor. Yeah, I know Extremis gave him a healing factor. But he didn't have it very long, and also he did some extremely dangerous things while he did have it; I'm pretty sure I've never seen Wolverine saying that he'll just solve a problem by cutting off his own foot. So, anyway, yeah, there are a bunch of good arcs involving h/c for Tony. If you're looking for physical injury, he has a whole bunch of heart problems over the years, gets several new hearts, then ruins his brain, et cetera. That level of hurt is basically the background pain of Tony's life; every so often, his heart will get damaged or he'll have to live in the armor or the armor will be killing him, et cetera. If you're looking for more unusual trauma, I am, as always, going to rec Manhunt, a relatively obscure arc in late v3 (IM v3 #65-69) in which Tony has an extremely bad week. His tech is stolen and used to bomb a building. Then he gets shot in the chest. Then while he's at the hospital a nurse tries and fails to poison him, and she then tries to beat him to death. Then he checks himself out of the hospital and a helicopter shoots missiles at him. Then he becomes a fugitive from justice. And then, oh, yeah, he has to fight the Mandarin. It is... a lot. (Volume 3 of Iron Man is pretty good as far as h/c possibilities. You've got a lot of physical pain, Carol's drinking arc, the Sentient Armor, both DreamVision arcs, and Manhunt. Manhunt is finally supposed to be out in trade this month, by the way.) There are of course the drinking arcs, which probably count as their own type of hurt. But if you haven't read the second drinking arc (IM #160-200), please do. Marvel likes to up the stakes on events (Fear Itself, Secret Empire) by making Tony drink, and it does work, I think. I feel like I've spoken at length about Tony's drinking elsewhere so I don't really want to rehash it all here. And then there's the emotional pain. Angst and drama is something that happens to a whole bunch of characters, yes, especially in comics, but somehow Tony seems to end up with possibly more than his fair share of it. Fandom likes to make a lot of Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, so much so that you might think, if you didn't know canon, that this was just fandom running with a throwaway mention of Tony's terrible childhood and making it worse. But, no, canon really does go there with a reasonable amount of frequency. Howard's actual first appearance is in a flashback where he's ordering teenage Tony to break up with his girlfriend because she's the daughter of one of Howard's business rivals. And then we get into the verbal abuse, and the physical abuse, and the time Howard made Tony take his first drink, and the part where Howard was a demon in hell who Tony fought while he insulted him. And more! Currently, in canon, Howard is alive again and is in league with Mephisto for the express purpose of ruining Tony's life. Also when Tony was a baby, Howard tried to trade him to Dracula. I think you can make an argument that fandom is actually showing restraint when compared to canon. Tony also has a whole lot of Terrible Exes whose presence and/or former presence in Tony's life can be used for a lot of hurt. If you've read any amount of fanfic, you probably know that the exes who get the most play in fandom are Sunset Bain and Tiberius Stone -- not that Tony and Ty were ever canonically a couple, of course, but fandom is definitely enamored of this idea. Ty and Sunset both have relatively similar interactions with Tony in canon, in that they are both liars and emotional abusers, heavy on the gaslighting, with the purpose of becoming more successful than Tony. They both also attempt to murder Tony, although this is after he figures out they're evil, at least. (Yes, I know, this is not how either of them usually appear in AUs.) Tony also has a bunch of exes who also have just straight-up tried to murder or otherwise hurt him, sometimes while they are dating, and sometimes before Tony dates them: Whitney Frost, Indries Moomji, Kathy Dare, and Maya Hansen come to mind. There are probably more I'm not thinking of! But, yes, if you want to write about a guy in a series of terrible relationships, please consider Iron Man comics. If mind control is one of your favorite flavors of hurt, Tony's pretty good for that too. We all know about The Crossing. I suppose when I say "mind control" I mostly mean "armor control" because there are an awful lot of plots where someone else makes Tony's armor do whatever they want it to do and Tony is along for the ride -- Demon in a Bottle, Sentient Armor, and Execute Program are the first things that come to mind. There is also a fairly obscure What If that is What If Iron Man Lost The Armor Wars in which Justin Hammer apparently really wants Tony in a mind control collar to take off all his clothes and lounge around in his underwear. No, really. I think a lot of pain for Tony often revolves around his issues with control, generally -- his alcoholism comes into play here again. The entire aftermath of Civil War is also notable for its propensity to hurt Tony over and over and over. Is he stoically soldiering on through his grief after Steve dies? Hell, no! He cries, like, six separate times. He 100% blames himself for Steve's death. It's great. Everybody loves The Confession and the funeral in Fallen Son, but one of my personal favorites is Avengers/Invaders, in which Tony is confronted with a time-traveling Steve from WWII and in order not to screw up the timeline, he can't tell Steve he knows him. He is clearly not coping well. He shuts himself in a room with a giant wall of pictures of Steve! Also there's a part where he has to try to convince Steve he can trust him and he ends up having to tie Steve to a chair to talk to him, and Steve looks at him and asks, "Who did you kill to get where you are?" and I feel like that is probably one of the worst moments in Tony's life. No wonder he gave himself amnesia. So now we might want to ask, okay, but why is hurting Tony in fanfiction so much fun? I mean, I can tell you why I think it's fun. I can't speak for anyone else. One reason is that he is very emotional and very affected by everything he does. Sometimes you will see people complaining that the heroes of m/m fanfic cry too much and this is not realistic. This is not a problem if you're writing Tony! He can cry as much as you want and it's perfectly in character. I don't think it would be as fun to hurt him if he didn't express so much of his pain. But he does. He also feels guilty, and for me that's a very satisfying character element. If he were well-adjusted and didn't blame himself for so many things, it wouldn't be nearly as fun as watching him blame himself for everyone whose death he thinks he is responsible for, whether or not he is. And then he just keeps going, and it's, y'know, nice to watch him be resilient, too. So, I guess, I think hurting him is interesting because it's easy to hurt him, his weak points are pretty obvious, and he reacts a lot. Steve doesn't hurt quite as much as Tony does, in canon. It's certainly possible to hurt him -- I mean, they did actually kill him after Civil War, after all -- but I don't think the canonical patterns of hurting him are as numerous. Obviously deseruming Steve is a fairly popular go-to in terms of physical hurt; he's been deserumed at least three times that I know of. I think's easy to see the appeal there of taking a character who is fairly physically resilient and making him... much less so. Certainly Marvel seems to see the appeal. But other than that I don't think he has any other really common way to get physically injured. Unlike Tony, whose origin story is basically "oh no, I've acquired a disability," Steve's origin story is "I drank a serum that cured all my disabilities." Which, I mean, great wish fulfillment but there's not really as much there to poke at. Pretty much all of Steve's pain is emotional, but, unlike Tony, his pain isn't often specifically in response to someone directly, purposefully hurting him. Hickman's Avengers run is a big exception, yes. His pain seems to come up most often as a kind of situational angst. He feels like a man out of time. He feels out of touch with the modern era, with people his own age. He feels guilt because he feels responsible for Bucky's death. He feels like he can't trust the government and therefore he can't be Captain America. He worries that he doesn't know how to have a normal life. And, yes, these are deep and important worries but it's different than, like, Indries Moomji dumping Tony with the intent to make him sad enough to start drinking. Very few of Steve's villains want to personally ruin Steve's entire life the way Tony's villains do; mostly they just want to do things like bring back the Nazis. In terms of Steve's potential for h/c, I think Steve is harder to hurt than Tony is. Physically, he is definitely harder to hurt. You can deserum him, sure, but unless you want everything you write to be a deseruming fic you're probably not going to want to do that more than a couple of times. And if you want to hurt him physically while he has the serum, you have to hurt him hard. Usually past the point where a regular human would ever survive it. He's also harder to break, emotionally, than Tony is -- which means it's very satisfying when you can get him to break, but this is a guy who's only cried twice (that I remember) in canon. So if you want to get him to cry, you really, really have to wreck him, and he doesn't have as many obvious weak spots. He also doesn't generally sit around blaming himself for things that aren't his fault, and the whole "stewing in guilt" genre of plots for him basically came down to "he was sad that he thought Bucky's death was his fault," and that's really the biggest regret he seems to have, and also Bucky's not dead anymore. The Steve/Tony relationship itself, I would think, is also appealing to h/c fans because canon provides a lot of ways for them to hurt each other. Some people only ship pairings who would never, y'know, take turns beating each other half to death in major event comics. (And for a lot of Marvel Comics history, that was also Steve & Tony, so if you want them to be BFFs who have never fought, you can just set your fic earlier.) They have definitely hurt each other both physically and emotionally, so if you're looking for something easy and satisfying as a h/c fan, you can just read or write something where they... make up. What about Marvel characters other than Steve and Tony? Surely some of them are angsty, yes? Well, yes, but also it depends on the particular flavor of angst that you like. If you like the way Tony hurts, you may very well enjoy Doctor Strange comics, because they have a very similar attitude towards life -- they are both former alcoholics whose origin stories involve physical disabilities, who routinely make tactical decisions that negatively affect their continued existence and/or happiness a whole lot. It's very much an "I must suffer alone in the dark and no one will ever know what I am doing to save the world but it's the right thing to do" sort of vibe. Like, you can read comics where Strange is lying in hell with two broken legs, hallucinating that Clea has finally come to save him. Strange's biggest fear, akin to Tony's control issues, is basically that one day he's going to be an asshole again, so he's out there trying as hard as he can to do good. Also, if you like tentacles, he has all of them. I mean that. Carol also occasionally hits similar angst spots, and her drinking arc is great. A lot of people like Natasha, too; I have read zero Black Widow comics but I get the impression many people enjoy her brand of angst. The mutant metaphor is a little different in terms of overall vibe, but some people really like it as a source of angst -- the whole "protecting a world who hates and fears them" thing. It may not work for you, but if you like your hurt to include things like systemic oppression, go pick up some X-Men comics. Start with something like God Loves Man Kills. I feel like I liked this sort of thing a lot more as a teenager but that I kind of aged out of liking the mutants quite so much. It's also worth mentioning that not everything that hits the spot in one universe will be the same in the others, and I'm mentioning this because I feel like I have to say something about MCU Bucky. MCU fandom seems to get a lot of mileage out of Bucky's guilt about being the Winter Soldier, everything he was forced to do, et cetera. I have definitely read my share of those fics, and FATWS sure went right for that angst too. But as far as I can tell, he doesn't hit the same way at all in 616. And I like him a lot in 616; I'm always pleased when he shows up on a team. (He was so good in Strikeforce. Everyone was so good in Strikeforce.) But the thing is, 616 Bucky is, basically, phenomenally well-adjusted, given everything he's gone through, and I'm including the time he wrestled a bear in a gulag. He gets over having been the Winter Soldier, and now he's just, y'know, a guy with a cool arm who likes to bring guns to every fight to horrify his teammates, and he snarks at Clint. If you're looking for that angst, that is really not him these days. He's all better. So pretty much all that is canon. So what do we do in fandom for h/c? Well, as far as I can tell, a decent amount of it is canon-based or very canon-close -- there are a whole lot of stories exploring the angst of Civil War or Hickman's Avengers run. Tony's drinking comes up a fair amount, and if one of Tony's Evil Exes comes back to haunt him, it's pretty much only Tiberius Stone. I don't think I've read a lot of fic with Steve getting deserumed; it doesn't seem as popular in fandom as in canon. When Steve gets hurt, he tends to just get physically whumped pretty hard, and there's a fair amount of that for Tony too, but of course Steve can take more. There's also a thriving, uh, subgenre of pain involving Hydra Steve doing terrible things to Tony, presumably the terrible things he would have wanted to do to Tony in canon if Tony had had a flesh body. There's the usual kinds of h/c setups that appear in basically every fandom as well -- sickfic, whump, dub-con/non-con. You get the idea. But since fandom in general likes to take specific inspiration from canon, there's a lot of fic where the hurt tends to resemble things that happen more in canon. Like, I feel like comics fic probably has more tentacle fic and more mind control than canons that don't come pre-stocked with those. Probably everybody has a whole lot of "tied up by bad guys," though. And then, of course, fandom brings the comfort that canon does not. This is true in pretty much every fandom -- I mean, you aren't going to find a lot of actual canons where Character A saves Character B from mortal peril and then there's gay sex -- but, like I was saying, comics don't provide a lot of closure before it's onto the next thing. Usually with a different creative team, who has no interest in wrapping up anything from the last team. Steve and Tony talked about the incursions exactly once after Secret Wars and nobody mentioned the part where Steve spent several months trying to hunt Tony down and kill him. Tony is never going to remember the events of Civil War. Hydra Steve died ignominiously in a fire and no one has ever talked about him again. Honestly, if you're looking for a way to get some comfort in your fanfic, picking an event, any event, and just having the characters talk about it will be way more than any of them get in canon. I feel like honestly that can often be a pretty satisfying to read. And even though comics canon physically hurts characters pretty often and pretty badly, they also often skip right past the recovery. Maybe you'll get one page of a character in a hospital bed at the end of the story arc. Maybe you won't. Demon in a Bottle has one splash page of Tony going through alcohol withdrawal and then he's all better. I think Manhunt skips to Tony getting out of the hospital at the end. That's just not a story that they want to tell very often. The second drinking arc is notable in that it devotes almost as many issues to Tony's recovery as it does to getting him to rock-bottom. Similarly, Steve is done with his Nomad angst way way faster than you probably think he is (though The Captain does go in for a fair number of issues). So one of the things we often want to do in fandom is focus on all the bits that canon skips over, both in the "why did no one ever mention this story arc ever again" way and the "wow, so how long are they in the hospital after that" way. That's really all I can think of about h/c! I'm off to write some more of it!

#posts i actually wrote

[everythingsinred]

Let's Talk About NatsuMikan: The Anime (pt. 1)

I could go on and on about these two and I think I will, just because I don’t often see people talk about the analysis behind them. The meta I have seen about them has included a perspective that equaled the anime and the manga and I don’t think that’s an accurate way of viewing their relationship.

The anime is a different species than the manga, something that frequently happens during the adaptation from page to screen. Since they’re so different, I’ll analyze them separately.

There's going to be many parts to this so I'll keep a table of contents right here so people can more easily navigate (though you can also read through the "let's talk about natsumikan: the anime" tag on my blog):

Anime Analysis

Part 1: Exposition & Episode 7

Part 2: Episodes 8, 9, 10, & 11

Part 3: Episodes 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, & 17

Part 4: Episodes 18 & 19

Part 5: Episodes 20, 21, & 22

Part 6: Episodes 23, 24, 25, & 26 & Conclusion

The anime makes changes, as anime adaptations often do. The most outstanding changes are appearance related, as Natsume now has brown eyes instead of red, in addition to other characters who have hue-shifted eyes and hair. But there are also story changes, and I’ll be focusing on the changes that occur, specifically in regards to Natsume and Mikan and their relationship.

For one, their relationship starts evolving much earlier in the anime. I think it’s pretty undeniable that in the anime, Natsume started liking Mikan at the end of the dodgeball game. That scene never happened in the manga, but in the anime, it’s a crucial step in making sure nothing seems too sudden or forced.

The anime is 26 episodes long. If Natsume only starts liking Mikan after she saves him during the Reo Arc, then we’re already halfway through the show when positive feelings between the two appear. On the other hand, the feelings develop more slowly in the manga because there’s more time to properly develop the relationship in a more drawn out way.

My analysis will start with the anime, because it’s shorter and easier to discuss.

Exposition

It’s impossible to say that the anime was completely loyal to the manga. It very frequently couldn’t be, because it needed to fill in time in episodes or give closure early before the manga even addressed it (Natsume’s backstory in the anime, for instance, is vaguely referred to and implies deviation from the manga).

The most obvious difference between the manga and the anime from the get-go is visual. Not only do they have differing art styles (I don’t dislike the anime style but Higuchi Tachibana’s art style is so distinct and unmistakable while the anime’s isn’t so unique), but the setting is also different.

While the manga started in the depth of winter, the anime starts off in summer/fall. It always struck me as odd that while the first page of the manga has Mikan running after Hotaru in full winter-wear, the anime starts off warm and idyllic. You could almost think of that as a general warning for the difference between the anime and the manga. After all, while the anime has a reputation for being a cutesy and upbeat story about friendship and magical powers, the manga is much darker and discusses many morbid and depressing themes that can and WILL fuck you up. Warm vs. cold seems like an accurate difference, though I don’t think that was intentional.

We see way more of the village life in the anime, including Mikan’s efforts to keep the school from closing. This is a welcome change because Mikan’s passion to keep the school open is nothing compared to her friendship with Hotaru, and even after the school is saved, she runs away to see her friend, even if it means she goes to another school. The manga doesn’t imply that Mikan knew already about the school’s fate, and since she is always so preoccupied with Hotaru anyway, we don’t really get the impression that she cares very much. To Anime!Mikan, Hotaru is more important than saving the school, something she was so passionate about she rallied to get signatures. It’s an extra scene to prove just how much Hotaru matters to Mikan, and to show even more how selfless Hotaru was to go to Alice Academy, since she knew how much the school mattered to Mikan.

“Sign my petition to get a Gakuen Alice anime reboot!!!”

My boy Natsume is only introduced properly in the second episode, when we actually see his face and he speaks. His appearance is different from the manga’s too. I’m not sure if this was to appeal to a younger audience or what, but Natsume’s eyes are changed to brown instead of their iconic red, something that was always my biggest peeve about the anime adaptation. His hair is also somewhat purplish instead of entirely grey/black and, although this does bother me a lot less than the eyes, I wonder why they made this change when other characters have black hair. It might have been to differentiate him from Hotaru, another main character with black hair, though I’ve never had issue in the manga telling them apart.

His first interaction with Mikan is a lot more pleasant in the anime than in the manga, although that’s not really saying anything. Mikan’s skirt simply falls off and Natsume draws attention to it, rather than the unpleasant events that took place in the manga. This different event makes it a lot easier to support a relationship between the two of them right off the bat. They are still antagonistic but it’s not as terrible as it is in the manga. This makes it easier to establish romantic feelings earlier on, and might have been changed in order to achieve just that, or possibly also to appeal to a younger audience. Maybe both? Who knows.

“You can’t sit with us!”

With Natsume presented the way he is in the anime, it’s easier to make the claim that he’s simply a good guy who acts the way he does to protect people. And it’s true! He is! But he is also so much more. In the manga, he’s a more complicated character. Although he is a good person, he still requires character development, which is something he does go through, and something I’ll talk about more in his meta analysis later.

Most of the events at the beginning of the anime parallel the events of the manga. Mikan goes to Alice Academy at the same time of year, Natsume shows up with an explosion, Mikan has to go through the Northern Woods, she discovers her powers in her fight with Natsume, etc. Some of the continuation from episode to episode is different than the transitions between chapter to chapter, there’s extra scenes inserted to fill up time, and some of the exposition seems strangely presented (in the anime, Mikan finds out more about the school when she finds Narumi and Iinchou waiting for her at a tea party, which is…. Super weird…), but all in all the information and events are mainly the same. The big differences start with the dodgeball episode.

“Look how happy she is. Makes me wanna barf.”

Episode 7 vs. Chapter 9

I love the dodgeball episode. I feel like for the most part, the anime does deviation from the manga pretty well. With the last arc as an exception, I generally enjoy their changes and additions to the plot. The anime has to be different, has to progress at a different pace, has to introduce topics at different times. They have an episode to fill, and less time to build relationships. Natsume and Mikan are both different characters in the anime but it’s very subtle and has to happen due to the fact that the anime is shorter and seems more designed for younger audiences, in addition to wrapping up before the manga could explore more of the story.

Anyway, let’s talk about the dodgeball episode. AGAIN THIS DOES NOT HAPPEN IN THE MANGA THE SAME WAY so when discussing NatsuMikan as a concept, the anime events cannot be treated the same as the manga events. A lot of people maybe forget that the manga is very different than the anime when it comes to this episode. I see the two media conflated in plenty of fanfics, where seventeen year old NatsuMikan reflect on the dodgeball game from their youth that changed everything, and I get it because the anime version of the dodgeball game is cute! It's shippy! It's fun! But it doesn't happen in the manga the same way.

There's a similar trope with the sakura tree, which I can only remember from the anime, and yet it's such a fundamental aspect of NM fanfic it might as well have played a vital role in both anime and manga. Nothing wrong with any of this, of course. I'm just making it clear that my analysis will cover the two media as separate for the sake of a cohesive essay. Separating them in fanfic is far less important.

This look could probably kill someone. I’m surprised Mikan is still alive, TBH.

The chapter’s focus is Mikan starting to feel more at home in Class B, making friends with her once-hostile classmates, but the episode is more preoccupied with Natsume and Mikan’s perspectives on each other. While in the manga, the game ends with a tie and Mikan accidentally hits Hotaru in the face with the ball, the anime draws out the game to fill an episode and to introduce an evolution in the way Natsume sees Mikan. The first part of the anime episode is Mikan introducing her friends to her new senpai, Tsubasa. After she invites her friends, we see Natsume glowering at her and promptly ditching the next class, saying to Ruka that he can’t stand being in the same class as her. This addition to the plot already foreshadows that their relationship will change in some way by the end of the episode.

Tsubasa tells a frustrated Mikan that if she wants Natsume to be less unpleasant, he’d need to release some of his toxic energy. Thus, the sporty Mikan introduces the concept of dodgeball to the unwelcoming class. When they finally agree, Natsume gives one condition: that they play with the notorious Alice Ball, which is powered by the thrower’s alice (a detail absent from the manga). This Alice Ball is particularly terrifying with the threat of Natsume’s dangerous fire alice. Mikan also needs to get more people on her team, another aspect absent from the manga. While in the manga, Mikan only had her few friends on her team (including a wandering Ruka) and this ended up playing to her advantage, the anime has a humorous plot of Mikan tracking players down for her team, including a fake mustache she makes with her pigtails (she’s so cute, I love her), paying Hotaru to be on her team, and blackmailing Ruka to participate. This was mainly to fill time, but it makes the dodgeball game more important as well.

In the manga, we don’t see how the game ends, just that the teams tied and that everyone in class is having fun and bonding. In the anime, more emphasis is put on the “Mikan vs. Natsume” aspect, so a tie like the manga’s would be anticlimactic. Thus, the anime concludes the dodgeball game with Mikan and Natsume being the only kids left on the court, and Natsume not using his alice when he throws the Alice Ball. Even Hotaru leaving the game is something she does out of boredom instead of injury, further separating the other characters from the plot. It’s about Natsume and Mikan, and everyone else is mostly a side character. (Though Ruka also plays a vital role to this episode AND chapter, and it’s at this point that I think he started developing real feelings for Mikan as well. So when it comes to the anime, he and Natsume fall for Mikan around the same time, but in the manga, Ruka likes her first and the “he liked her first” argument for Natsume vanishes, though he never had that “advantage” to begin with.)

“Thank you!”

Natsume wins (something that shocked me at twelve years old) and is ready to walk away with his handy “tch” and all but Mikan thanks him for not using his alice and he goes off on her, demanding to know why she’s still smiling despite her loss. She says she’s happy that he had fun and was involved with the rest of class for once, and that in a way that means she wins. For Anime!Natsumikan, this is it. This is the turning point. “I just wanted you to be happy and have fun,” is what Mikan might as well be saying. “Really, this was all for you!” It’s sweet and it’s thoughtful and I don’t think Natsume ever imagined he’d be on the receiving end of her kindness, especially after all their beef. Manga!Mikan would probably not say these things to him, even if she meant them, for the sole reason that Mikan is stubborn and holds onto her pride, especially when it comes to her early relationship with Natsume, but Anime!Mikan is much more forgiving and much more willing to extend an olive branch, like in the dance episode. In any case, Natsume starts falling right then, and it’s obvious too, because he is pissed, and even more angry because he’s not even mad at her. He’s angry with himself for his change of opinion. This is the girl he was fully content to hate forever and yet here he was, starting to like her. Not ideal.

This scene, something so crucial to the development of Anime!Natsumikan, is completely absent from the manga. In the manga, Natsume still dislikes her by the end of the game although he does have fun.

He's not angry, just disappointed. In himself.

I’m not going to say one is better when it comes to starting up NatsuMikan because they’re very different creatures and I actually thoroughly enjoy both.

Anyway, the NatsuMikan after episode 7 is almost the same as in the manga, but the events carry a different weight since we know Natsume likes Mikan now (even if he would never admit it).

Summary

I hope this first part was interesting, and that it introduced the idea of Anime!NatsuMikan as being a little different from the manga's version. Yes, it is more or less the same story, but with so many thematic and plot changes, they take a different form as well, in a perhaps more subtle way, kind of like a slightly canon divergent fanfic. Fanfic where Natsume starts liking Mikan a bit earlier on in the story.

Next Part ->

#gakuen alice #alice academy #natsumikan #hyuuga natsume #natsume hyuuga #sakura mikan #mikan sakura #meta #my meta #ga #meta analysis #mine #ga meta #ga meta: anime nm #let's talk about natsumikan: anime #im trying to create a system from one post so let's see how it goes #ive never posted media analysis like this but im very excited to bc ive always wanted to analyze these kids <3 #unfortunately due to tumblrs image post limit of 10 i had to split this into MANY parts #im a visual person and i know others are too #if these images are not sufficient then i would rec maybe rewatching the eps after reading or maybe just skipping through the eps #u might some find some changes and themes of note as well to add and that would be super fun! #ga meta: nm #let's talk about natsumikan

[petrichoravellichor]

Title: A New Kind of Life

Wordcount: ~10k

Rating: T

Summary: What if, when Sam and Dean break into the Empty, Cas isn’t the only one they save? A post-15x19 fix-it fic in which Crowley gets a second shot at the redemption (and family) he deserves.

(Read on Ao3)

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

Chapter 1 (of 5) (Ch. 2, Ch. 3, Chs. 4 & 5)

“Crowley! Wake up, you son of a bitch, wake up!”

Crowley opens his eyes to Dean shaking him hard by the shoulders. Which is strange: the last thing Crowley remembers, he was dying, alone and forgotten in a parallel universe.

He isn’t there anymore. Instead, Dean is kneeling over him in a dome of golden light beyond which everything is dark, and for a brief, absurd moment he’ll chastise himself for later, Crowley thinks he’s somehow ended up in Heaven.

Then he glances past Dean and sees Sam with an exhausted-looking Castiel slumped against him; next to them is a younger man Crowley doesn’t recognize, but his eyes are molten gold, the same color as the dome surrounding them all. The amount of raw power emanating from the golden-eyed man makes every one of Crowley’s hairs stand on end, and not in a good way.

No, definitely not his idea of Heaven.

Crowley snaps his gaze back to Dean. “What—” he begins, but Dean cuts him off, hauling him to his feet.

“No time for questions!” Dean yells, and it’s only then that Crowley registers the roar coming from beyond the dome: it’s as though they’re standing in the eye of a hurricane as all around them things blow apart. “Come on, we gotta go!”

And then they’re all running, the dome of light moving with them like a shield as wispy black wraiths crash and burn against its perimeter and somewhere unseen, a hideous voice howls in rage.

*****

Once they’re safely back in the Bunker war room, Dean takes hold of Castiel and, along with the golden-eyed man—whose irises have faded to a soft, concerned blue—ushers him off in the direction of the infirmary, promising gruffly as he goes that he and Crowley will talk later.

Patience, however, is a virtue, and Crowley isn’t feeling particularly virtuous—especially not after seeing how tenderly Dean and Castiel looked at each other as Dean wrapped an arm around the angel’s waist and led him from the room. The sight had left a bitter taste in Crowley’s mouth, one he does his best to ignore. There will be time for that later; right now, he needs answers, and he’s not waiting on Dean in order to get them.

He crosses his arms and fixes Sam with an expectant glare. “All right, Moose,” he says, "out with it: what in God’s name is going on?”

Sam snorts, looking tired. “Um, yeah, about that...” He gestures towards the map table, then heads over to the liquor cabinet. “You...might wanna sit down.”

Crowley arches a brow, but he does as Sam suggests. Sam joins him a moment later and, after pouring them each a drink, spends the better part of the next hour telling Crowley all that’s transpired in the three years—three years—Crowley’s been dead.

Which is, it turns out, rather a lot.

Lucifer’s spawn survived his birth and is none other than the golden-eyed man Crowley saw when he woke up; his name is Jack, and for all intents and purposes, he considers Castiel to be his father.

An alternate version of Michael got a hold of Dean for a while, until Jack killed Michael at the cost of his soul, then, in a soulless rage, killed Mary.

God killed Jack. All Hell broke loose. Rowena, who’d apparently survived Lucifer’s last attempt to kill her, died to fix it and was now Queen of Hell.

Billie brought Jack back to kill God. Dean tried to kill Billie, so Billie tried to kill him. Castiel managed to take Billie out by admitting his love for Dean, at which point the Empty took Castiel—

Of course, thinks Crowley, the bitter taste in his mouth returning with a vengeance. Of. Bloody. Course...

The brothers had stormed the Empty not for him, but for Castiel. Good, noble, righteous Castiel, the wayward Angel of Thursday who’s been hopelessly in love with Dean for longer than Crowley has known him...and whom, it seems, Dean has finally admitted to loving back. Sam and Dean had saved Castiel because they loved him, because Dean loved him, but Crowley...They’d probably only rescued him because they’d figured they owed him for saving their denim-clad arses that day at the lake.

Now, as Crowley half-listens to Sam talk about defeating God, he glowers down at the map table and wishes they hadn’t bothered bringing him back at all, because it’s one thing to die unloved; it’s another to have to live that way. Crowley’s done both, and he knows which he prefers. At least in the Empty, he’d been at peace.

“Crowley? Hey, you okay?”

He looks up to see Sam regarding him from under a furrowed brow. Bollocks...

“Naturally,” Crowley says, leaning back in his chair with a dismissive smile. “That’s quite a tale, Moose. It sounds like you and Squirrel have outdone yourselves these past few years, even managed to pull one over on God; bravo. I’m sure Lucifer’s spawn will make a spectacular replacement: he is, after all, three.”

Sam’s eyes harden. “Jack’s nothing like Lucifer; he’s good, and he’s got us to help him, and Amara—”

“Oh, Amara! Now there’s a recipe for success if I’ve ever heard one: God’s evil sister and her Satanic great-nephew with billions of raw souls at their disposal. How could that possibly go wrong?” Crowley scoffs, shaking his head. “Honestly, there’s just no learning with you lot, is there? You just keep humming the same damn tune, then acting surprised when the notes turn sour, and it never even occurs to you to pick. A new. Bloody. Song.”

The frown on Sam’s face intensifies. “This is different. Jack, Amara, they’re on our side, and now that Rowena’s in charge of Hell—”

Crowley snorts. “Right. Care to wager on how long that lasts?” Then, at the look of sudden wariness on Sam’s face, he rolls his eyes. “Calm down, Moose; that wasn’t me plotting a coup. I have no plans to try and take back the crown.”

“You don’t?”

“Why on earth would I?” Crowley takes a sip of brandy, grimacing slightly at the flavor—for all the changes the past few years have wrought, the Winchesters’ abominable taste in liquor remains tragically consistent. “Perhaps you’ve forgotten, but I hated Hell as much as the blasted place hated me. If Mother thinks she can do better, she can have it.”

They sit without speaking for a moment; then Sam clears his throat. “You know,” he says quietly, “Rowena regrets how things ended between the two of you.”

Crowley stiffens, a stab of anger piercing his gut. “No, she doesn’t.”

“She does,” Sam insists, and how anyone can look so stupidly earnest is beyond Crowley’s ability to comprehend. “She told us so.”

Crowley scoffs. “And you believed her?” he demands, left hand closing into a fist at his side. “You know, for the longest time, I thought you were the smart one.”

Sam sighs. “Crowley...Look, I’m not saying Rowena’s perfect—”

“She’s quite literally the Queen of Hell, Moose.” Crowley manages to keep his voice level, but his fingernails are digging into his palm. “I’d say that’s about as far from perfect as anyone can get.”

“—but I think you two should talk.”

Crowley’s hand starts to bleed.

“I mean it,” continues Sam, when Crowley says nothing. “When I was a kid, my dad...he wasn’t there the way he should’ve been, and we fought a lot, and there were times I felt like I hated him, but when he died...”

A multitude of emotions flicker across Sam’s face in rapid succession, too fast for Crowley to name them all, but the final one, the one Sam looks back at him with, is regret. “When he died,” Sam continues, “I didn’t care about any of that. And maybe I should have. I know I should have. Believe me, I tried. But I just...kept coming back to the fact that what I was feeling, the good and the bad, I’d never get to actually say it to him, and if he was somehow sorry for the bad, that was something I’d never get to hear.”

Crowley’s anger flares white hot; his hidden palm is slick with blood. “If you have a point,” he growls, “I’d encourage you to come out with it.”

“My point,” says Sam, curtly, “is that you actually have a chance at some closure, and I think you should take it. For your own sake.”

Crowley clenches his jaw, looks away. “For my own sake,” he echoes, softly. As if his and Sam’s pain is the same. As if Rowena is capable of causing anything but. “Tell me, Moose: since when do you or your imbecile of a brother actually give a damn about my own sake?”

He raises his gaze to stare coldly at Sam who, for the first time since they sat down, seems at a genuine loss for words. Crowley snaps his glass down on the table and stands. “Thought as much.”

He shoves his hands in his coat pockets and turns to go—where, exactly, he has no idea—only to nearly crash headlong into Dean, and suddenly, Crowley’s anger turns to outright fury, because at the end of the day, it didn’t matter.

It didn’t matter that Crowley had gone up against Hell and his mother and even his own better judgment for Dean more times than he could count.

It didn’t matter that the two of them had shared a bed when Dean was a demon, doing extraordinary things to triplets that Crowley would have kicked out in a heartbeat if he’d thought he could get away with it.

It didn’t matter that Crowley had sacrificed his life to save Dean and Sam and the whole bloody world.

None of it mattered, because for all the times Crowley had chosen Dean, Dean had never once chosen him. Then again, Crowley thinks, maybe it’s his own fault for expecting any different, his due comeuppance for stupidly believing he deserved to be loved. It doesn’t matter; he knows better now.

“Hello, Dean,” he snarls. “Come to look in on me now that you’ve seen to your angel? Well you needn’t have bothered; I was just leaving.”

Dean frowns, crossing his arms. “The hell do you mean, you’re leaving?”

“I mean get out of my way.”

“No.”

“And why not?” Crowley demands, voice rising. “Am I your prisoner? I’ve already told your oaf of a brother that I’ve no interest in causing any sort of trouble in Hell, so if that’s what this is about, then you can just—”

“Damn it, Crowley,” snaps Dean, “no, that’s not what this is about; it’s about where are you even gonna go. You got a place somewhere we don’t know about?”

“I’ll find one.”

“Or,” Dean counters, “you could cut the crap and just stay here.”

That catches Crowley off guard, but only for a moment; he gives Dean a hard look, determined not to let the surprise show on his face. “And why on earth would I want to do that?”

“Because you know it’s the smart thing to do,” says Dean, face impassive, “and last I checked, you were an asshole, not an idiot.”

And it’s not that Crowley doesn't know full well that running off half-cocked into a world whose dynamics have fundamentally changed is naive at best and suicidal at worst—that isn’t what makes him nearly scream in rage, because he knows it’s patently true. No, the infuriating thing, the truly mortifying thing, is that Dean knows him well enough to know that he knows it, and that if Crowley does leave, he’s only going to prove Dean right.

The thought is more than Crowley can bear; still, if he doesn’t get out of this room right now, he’s going to start shouting—at Dean, at himself, at everything. There are other, less crowded places in this godforsaken Bunker, and it’s past time he went and found one. He’s not going to give Dean the satisfaction of watching him break.

Crowley pulls his fury tight and close, stepping forward into Dean’s space and glaring up at him with every bit of defiance he can muster. “Funny,” he sneers, “because last I checked, you were both.”

And he vanishes before Dean can respond.

*****

Crowley finds an unoccupied room at the far end of the hall and decides to claim it as his own for the time being. He bolts the door and turns to collapse onto the bed...only to freeze dead in his tracks.

His mother is standing in the corner. As Crowley gapes, Rowena takes a step forward, face pale and incredulous. “Fergus?” she whispers. “Gods, is it really you?”

Her voice snaps Crowley out of his shock, and he narrows his eyes. “Mother,” he growls, the word like poison in his mouth. “What do you want?”

“Sam told me they were going to try and get you back,” Rowena says softly, eyes roving over Crowley’s face as though seeing him for the first time, “and I wanted...I needed to see if they’d done it, if you were all right.”

Crowley glares, making a mental note to have a word with Sam about this particular indiscretion. “Well, you’ve seen me. Now get out.”

Rowena recoils, and if Crowley didn’t know any better, he’d swear his words actually hurt her. “You’re angry,” she says. “You’re angry, and you’ve every right to be, but if you’d just let me explain—”

“Explain what?” Crowley snaps. He clenches both hands into fists, ignoring the burn in his left palm. “What could you possibly have to say to me that I’d want to hear? You hate me, remember?”

“I love you—”

Crowley barks out a laugh. “Really? Have you forgotten the last time we saw each other? You left on a bus after you sent my son to his death, all because you wanted to watch me ‘suffer the loss of a child’, of my child!” He stumbles towards her, half-blind with rage. “Tell me, Mother: did losing me bring you any suffering, or were you just sad you weren’t there to collect three pigs in exchange?”

Rowena looks as though she’s been slapped. “Of course I suffered! Do you have any idea what I went through trying to get you back? I faced Death herself; I begged her to return you to me, but she wouldn’t do it! Ask Sam, ask Dean!”

“They’ve already told me,” Crowley grinds out. “It doesn’t matter.”

“How can you say that?” Rowena is crying now, tears rolling freely down her face. “Of course it matters! I did it because I missed you, because I love you!”

“You’ve never loved me a day in your life.”

“That isn’t true! I did love you; I do!” Rowena takes another step forward and reaches out a hand. “If you could just find it in your heart to forgive me—”

“Forgive you?” Crowley snarls, and it’s all he can do not to spit in her face. “You don’t get to ask for my forgiveness, not after any one thing you’ve put me through, not after everything! What was it you said to me that day at the bus station, your parting words? ‘Who better than me to crush your shriveled heart’? At least I had a heart, once; you never did.”

“Fergus—”

And Crowley explodes. “GET OUT!” he screams, seizing the lamp off the bedside table and hurling it at his mother with all his might...only to watch as it flies right through her and crashes into the wall.

And then Rowena’s gone, just like she always is, and Crowley’s alone, just like he always is. He stands in the middle of the room and stares hollowly into empty space. “Astral projection,” he says, quietly; it always had been one of his mother’s favorite tricks. “Of course.”

He spends the rest of the night warding the room as many ways as he knows how, determined not to let his mother or anyone else get the drop on him again.

#crowley #spn crowley #fergus macleod #crowley macleod #crowley fic #spn #supernatural #supernatural fix-it fic #spn fix-it fic #fanfiction #a new kind of life #my writing #here we gooooo!!!

[bigfan-fanfic]

Currently listening to Adele rn specifically her 21 album and I just see those songs are Ollie’s and Batdad’s story

I hope you appreciate that instead of doing college coursework, I listened to and analyzed a whole crapton of Adele lmao. I'm really a fan of how songs can be interpreted different ways, so you'll see this in my interpretation of how it fits into the story and my idea of the visuals that come to mind.

Rolling in the Deep - Ensemble number, Batdad, Ollie, Bruce, Selina, Talia, Clark: This story is a messy one, and there's a lot of emotion and hurt here. We've got everyone singing, our main triangle of Batdad, Ollie, and Bruce, along with Selina and Talia who have each been with Bruce and Clark who has pined and longed for both Batdad and Bruce without making a move. Amazing harmonies with Selina, Talia, and Clark singing backup, Batdad, Ollie, and Bruce singing alternating lines until everyone is singing together, voices interweaving in and out of focus. I imagine just this whole thing stripped down, like everyone standing in a circle, nothing else but them in separate spotlights. Maybe for effect it goes acapella at the end and they all stomp and clap to provide a beat.

Rumour Has It - Batdad, Talia (in flashback): Definitely the response from Batdad to finding out Selina and Bruce, but then we also have it as a flashback where Talia sings it to Bruce, threatening to drive a wedge between him and Batdad by telling him about them. I definitely see some kind of tango movement, with Batdad and Talia moving around Bruce, pushing him and forcing him to look at them, always being on opposite sides of him and never acknowledging the other. Maybe in the music video section, the flashback and modern portions blend seamlessly together, switching back and forth between obstructions put between the viewer and the action. The point of this being to show how Bruce is always concerned with how Batdad sees him, but he underestimates him and lies to him, tries to keep him in the dark.

Turning Tables - Ollie and Clark: Because I do want everyone to have somewhat of a happy ending, even Bruce, I'm establishing/suggesting Clark as the future lover of Bruce. But basically this song is Ollie pining over Batdad and trying to get over him despite never having made an emotional pure connection with any other person, and Clark struggling with the fact that he feels things for both men and knows he can't make a move on either. Ollie in a Gotham hotel overlooking the city, looking at Wayne Manor from afar, and Clark floating above watching Gotham from afar.

Don't You Remember - Ollie (flashback) and Bruce (now): This is Bruce and Ollie's feelings for Batdad in song form. Ollie is remembering being with Batdad for moments throughout them knowing each other and regretting never making a move, and Bruce is simply regretting ruining all that he's had with Batdad. Ollie sings the bridge of the song alone, with Bruce singing the final chorus alone, them both singing the last line with uncertainty. Just lots of flashbacks with singing over it - while Ollie sings, just lots of scenes between him and Batdad in golden light - maybe he sings it to Batdad in flashback as they lie together that first time, and Bruce sings it from the Batcave in darkness.

Set Fire to the Rain - Batdad, Talia, Selina, Clark (to Bruce): This is the song for everyone who has loved Bruce. Batdad and Selina harmonize on several lines, while Talia and Clark sing together on others - they alternate lines between the two pairs. We're not shaming Selina here so we're placing emphasis on her feeling used and lied to by Bruce, only knowing at the time he was Batman and not married. It takes place in Wayne Manor, and at points, all four singers are present with Bruce standing impassively in the center, at others, it's one at a time with Bruce reacting appropriately, a flashback of the scene. She feels immense guilt knowing she's been party to breaking up a marriage (and knowing it'll only hurt Gotham in general) and her lines are sung at Bruce angrily, throwing things and pointing accusingly. Talia sings imploringly, because to her, Batdad is holding Bruce back, keeping him from her and his true potential. Her song is her trying to convince him to leave Batdad for someone who can REALLY understand him. She's the most physical, touching Bruce, grabbing him. Batdad is the most subdued, not even looking at Bruce during his flashback, just singing resigned and disappointed. Clark's version of the song is longing, from afar, wishing he could be a part of the relationship or at least confess. In his flashback, he sings, and Bruce doesn't even notice.

He Won't Go - Batdad, Ollie - Batdad in flashback convincing himself to remain with Bruce, convincing himself that he won't go because he loves Bruce and shouldn't leave him. And Ollie still trying to get over Batdad... until somewhere mid-song it shifts, and suddenly Batdad goes to Ollie, and they're singing together, promising to make each other stronger and to never leave each other or stray. Batdad wandering Gotham in early morning or sometime in the early evening (interspersed with Batdad walking towards Bruce who sits in the dark), Ollie at a bar, during the first part of the song, until Batdad arrives at Ollie's hotel and they both go to Ollie's room and hold each other, maybe softly sway together to the beat of the song at the end, smiling.

Take It All - Bruce and Batdad: Bruce is reflecting on what he's done, and how he's treated Batdad, while Batdad is reflecting on his marriage. The song starts out bitter and accusing with Batdad singing to Bruce, but then it shifts to Bruce singing instead, giving Batdad closure and giving him his blessing to go and find something better, assuring him he'll always love him.

I'll Be Waiting - Ollie (flashback and now), Batdad (flashback and now): We see Ollie young and holding Batdad, promising that he'll wait for Batdad no matter how long it takes. And we see Batdad young, singing as he waits for Bruce to return from that initial training trip, slowly becoming more overworked and anxious over the years. And then everything lightens up once more as Batdad and Ollie dance together, and then Ollie proposes to him.

One and Only - Ollie, Bruce(in flashback): Ollie is singing this to Batdad, interspersed with shots of them being married and having their first dance together, the whole League in attendance. Basically just some fluff as Ollie can't quite believe he has the man of his dreams with him and promises devotion to him. The bridge of the song has young Bruce singing backup, symbolizing him helping Batdad let go of his past and move on.

Lovesong - Batdad, Ollie: Just them singing together, loving, and living life together.

Someone Like You- Batdad, Bruce, Ollie: We end on a happy, somewhat wistful note of hope - everyone is a little regretful of the choices they made in their shared past, but Ollie and Batdad have found love, Bruce wishes them well and is back to being Batdad's oldest and dearest friend, and everyone tries to move forward. Maybe at the end Bruce sits down to dinner with Clark and smiles a little.

[devilsskettle]

okay i want to shut up about fear street more than anyone else wants me to shut up about fear street but i just thought of another reason why it drives me up the wall thinking about how underutilized and underwritten ziggy is in the 1994 part of the plot line: in a movie series where one of the main themes is cyclical forms of violence and trauma, where there’s a focus on characters resolving the conflicts of their narrative parallels from the past, even if the writers didn’t expect the audience to identify with/care about ziggy as an adult, she is a representation for our protagonists of their potential futures.

for sam, this is pretty clear, since it’s the narrative reason why they go to her in the first place (seeing the witch and temporarily dying, she represents the hope that there’s a way to break the curse).

for josh, she is a perfect parallel to the stakes for him of trying to save sam - losing his older sister as she sacrifices herself to try to save the people she loves. i was actually surprised that these characters didn’t sympathize and identify with each other more, like in the mall scene when josh is like “too many people have died i’m not going to let them take my sister too!” and ziggy and martin just stand there like. okay i guess. that was such a weird writing choice to me lol i was like why wasn’t that a moment for ziggy to identify with him as someone who lost a sister like this. make it make sense. (also i’ve seen some people say that in interviews, it’s been said that cindy and alice are meant to parallel the relationship between sam and deena, so i think that would situate ziggy and josh as playing comparable roles in each plot line as well).

for deena, i think she’s the most apt reflection of her potential future out of all three main characters. first of all, they’re the most similar in terms of personality: cynical social outcasts convinced the world is fucked who actually care a lot more than they let on. and again, she is living the consequences of what the stakes are of trying to break this curse. the main risk for deena isn’t that she might die, it’s that everyone she cares about will die and she’ll be trapped alone in a town she hates, just like ziggy. 

this would also mean that adult ziggy would play a similar role to the kids in 1994 as nurse lane did for her in 1978. like. god. do you ever think about how nurse lane was the one person who was nice to her and cared about her, and ziggy was the only person who noticed that something was wrong and she was the only one who didn’t write her off as crazy and violent like her daughter when she attacked tommy and instead actually sympathized with her, but no one believed nurse lane, and then no one believed ziggy about what really happened during the camp nightwing massacre, and how they both had to live not only with the loss of their loved ones but also the doubt and mockery of everyone in town who thought they were just crazy. anyway. ziggy similarly is the only adult in town (other than, eventually, martin) who believes and is willing to help the kids in 1994 at the expense of her own safety, just like nurse lane tried her best to protect the kids at camp at the expense of her own reputation (and if she had succeeded in killing tommy before he became the nightwing killer, she would probably have spent the rest of her life in jail or a mental institution, which she had to have known - so she also was willing to sacrifice her freedom, and as ziggy puts it, ruin her own life. god i am sad about this)

oh and also the motivation of ziggy to help these kids in the first place (we assume) comes from a place of self identification with them and trying to save them in the same way she wishes she could’ve saved her younger self and her sister. so like. i want to see that play out in part 3 if that’s the intended interpretation 

so going back to the focus on resolving the conflicts of their narrative parallels from the past, the kids do this for ziggy, cindy, and alice as much as they do it for sarah fire and hannah miller. sam does this…. just by surviving lol, josh does this by not only believing in the curse but also unrelentingly telling others the truth about it (and miss queenofairanddarkness actually seems to believe him), and deena does this by breaking the damn curse and (presumably) becoming less cynical and self-defeatist in her world perspective. and ziggy does this for nurse lane, effectively warning the kids about the dangers of the curse and helping them fight it, where nurse lane was unable to stop the events of camp nightwing, and (as we see at the end) giving her closure about the death of her daughter. she also, i think, plays the same kind of parallel role to sarah fier as deena does in different ways, both as a social outcast who is scapegoated for other people’s wrongdoings as well as her relationship with nick reflecting the relationship between sarah and solomon. like deena and sam, she also is connected by sarah by bleeding on her bones and seeing (some of) the truth about the curse 

anyway. all this is to say that these movies had the potential to do this effectively, and i’m not even saying that they should’ve set aside a huge amount of time from the plot to explore this concept, but there’s small, easy changes and additions that i think could’ve been made that wouldn’t ultimately change anything about the movies but would’ve made such an impact on the overall quality of the writing. first of all, there’s this big time jump from ziggy’s story to the 1994 “present” which is fine and expected and i wouldn’t expect them to try to include a whole lot about what her life is like in between, but we don’t know anything about her present day life, except that she has a dog and a lot of clocks and that she might be an alcoholic. we don’t even know what her job is. we have no idea what she’s been doing for 16 years. it takes maybe two extra minutes at the beginning of her introduction in part 2 to show a little bit more of her daily life, or a line or two to give us an idea of what that might look like. for character development/relationship building purposes, she needs to actually have a conversation with other people lol. she shares how much silent screen time with martin in part 3? another criminally underutilized character but don’t even get me started.

even in the 1978 plot line, her character is established almost entirely by tell-not-show; everyone is like oh she’s trouble! she’s a creep she’s a weirdo! but we see very little of her actually getting up to trouble or doing anything out of the norm (all of the characters in 1978 suffer from this writing problem, to be fair). then in the 1994 part of part 3, the way that they show her reactions to what’s happening is through flashback to her in 1978, and first of all it’s like. we just saw that we know what happened. second, it’s lazy writing! we see nothing new from her basically the entire movie. (i’m specifically thinking about the part where she learns that nick is behind the curse - cut to a series of flashbacks - moving on with the plot. then at the mall, when she sees the tree - cut to a flashback of the camp nightwing - deena comes up to her: “this is it.” “yup.” and she walks away and leaves deena to her own flashback to her sarah fier vision. and that’s the full extent of either of their emotional reactions to that moment. missed opportunity imo. and sure, maybe that’s the character - she’s not a people person lol - but you can write characters who are closed off and blunt while still being interesting and emotionally compelling and not basically stock characters. 1978 ziggy and deena are actually both examples of this so i’m mainly disappointed because i know they could’ve done better lol) 

anyway. i’m not saying they needed to derail the main plot to make ziggy the main character or anything, i’m just saying that with better pacing and attention to her as a character, i think these movies could’ve had the depth and emotional resonance they were aiming for and in fact it would strengthen the themes that are central to the main plot and the protagonists without having to change anything major, making a small shift that could’ve made these movies go from mediocre and forgettable to actually pretty damn good. anyway netflix call me i have ideas for you <3

#okay i know i know it's not that deep or whatever but. it could've been. #fear street #ziggy berman