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nincompoopydoo · 3 years

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DEBRIS AND MISERY

SAME OLD LOKI ; PART 6 / ?

PAIRING: Loki Laufeyson x Female!Reader WORD COUNT: 3.3k (oops) SUMMARY: You find yourself venturing deeper into finding the Loki variant on the loose with the help of Mobius and Loki while maintaining your temper around the God of mischief and fighting with your own demons. A/N: Downtime apparently lasted for more than a week. I had absolutely no motivation to write but I eventually came around. There’s alot going on in this. Please tell me what you think, what you love, hate and look forward to. Thank you so much for showing so much love to d&m. gif from this gifset by @sersi WARNINGS: Swearing. Imagery relating to death (i think?). You and Loki’s relationship fluctuating like the goddamn economy. support my writing through ko-fi💖 MASTERPOST ; MASTERLIST

Blue. Your flight suit is blue.

Your eyes sting with worry, ticking to a pair of hands buckling the straps that lay across your chest. A man secures it tightly, forcing your back against the cockpit chair. Your gaze drifts to the concentric steel rings of yellow, red, and white that stretch overhead and around you—being suspended within a 3-axis gimbal sends another churning sensation within your abdomen.

You hear a voice. It courses through the room and vibrates within your ears like fluttering echoes in a tunnel. It’s a man. He calls out your name from below.

“You ready?”

In your periphery, you see him, tall with slicked-back hair, standing with other men that adorn similar flight suits of blue. You nod, inhaling deeply as your hands reach for the controls. Suddenly, a metallic clang echoes through the room and the machine whirrs to life. The rings begin spinning in tandem, tossing your body in all directions. Your grip tightens around the controls, clicking with every push and pull as you struggle to analyze the spin. But, the machine spins faster.

Faster and faster and faster.

The machine continues to whirr. Your hands are still shifting the controls.

Faster and faster and faster.

Your eyes begin to droop, nausea taking hold of your body.

Faster and faster and faster.

You only hear your breaths; every inhale and exhale—they're loud.

Faster and faster and faster.

Too fast.

Stop.

...

Click. Click. Click.

Footsteps. Not the clicks of the controls. You hear them clicking against tile floors from afar. From darkness, your eyes meet the color brown, shiny and polished—it’s wooden. The sound of the vast building’s acoustics hum in tune with the occasional chatter and echoing thump. You recognize the ambiance and it comforts your hasty thoughts as your brain tries to wreck itself in comprehending your current surroundings.

It’s one of those dreams again. The ones that kept you awake at night since the Sakaar incident, as if reliving the memories of another life. It isn’t yours but the realism to it makes it so complex that your brain cannot even comprehend the experiences during these dreams that occur.

To see, touch, hear, smell, and taste. Do dreams exceed the limit of disconnection and logic? Are dreams to be so immersive that it feels more like a memory, an echo of the past?

Through the turmoil of parsing between what’s real and what’s not, a tap on your shoulder hauls you back to reality. You turn to see Mobius, looking ridiculously exhilarated. Behind him lingers an amused Loki, hands tugging into the pockets of his jacket. The analyst says your name with a tone of equal exuberance to his manner.

“I thought I’d find you here. Do you always sleep at the archives?”

You snort, seizing yourself up as you wipe your face with your palm in hopes of feeling slightly more awake and alive than you were before. “No. Sometimes, I sleep at my desk too.”

Exhausted and sarcastic. Typical you.

Mobius rounds the table to sit beside you, gesturing Loki to his previous spot before he got up and ran away from you without any explanation. He shoots you a smile, lips pressed together, almost hesitant to sit across from you. You watch him through narrowed eyes as you address him with folded arms. “And here you are, back here again.”

Loki cannot fight the growing grin upon his lips, knowing all too well that you're referring to how he led you into an unnecessary chase down the corridors of the TVA for the sake of his entertainment. Well, it was not unnecessary. Things were turning out to be a bore and with the sudden thought of a proposition to help with his case, it doesn’t mean he has to drag out the fun of irritating the hell out of everyone else.

And you are not a bore.

“Loki! Where the hell do you think you're going?!"

You’re outright screaming at him but his long legs only stride faster than yours could handle, slumber still clinging to your face like a thick, waxen mask. He’s so quick, weaving through tangerine hallways, skidding across the tiled floors.

He saunters down the hall with quick feet but doesn’t sprint, clever enough not to draw any attention.

He ought to answer you. Throwing a glance over his shoulder, he flashes you a cheeky smile. He swears he saw flames burning in your eyes for a moment.

As you wind another corner, you already see him making one last quick dart through the elevator doors that slide open as it dings unceremoniously. Through your wide-eyed gaze, you signal him with eyes that carry a warning.

“Don’t you dare close that fucking door.” you snarl, voice booming from down the hallway and so does the clicking of the heels of your Oxford shoes as you march towards him like you’re on the hunt for prey.

Loki jams his finger onto the button to close the doors, unable to wipe off his grin. “Don’t you trust me?” is all he says to you, sending you a wink through the closing gap of the elevator doors as he raises his palm to wave you farewell.

You decided Loki wasn’t worth the time he has already taken from your assigned paperwork. So, you returned to your desk with a trace of bitterness in your tongue while attempting to suppress the regret for actually feeling sorry for Loki. Only because you know how it is like to be alone.

That’s the thing about Loki. He gets inside your head, makes you think that for once, he may be worth not pruning. He makes you think he is capable of change, capable of compassion. He makes you think he cares from the way he looks at you with those eyes that flicker the spark of hope in you. This Loki is the same old Loki.

Well, maybe the one in Sakaar had a good chance of earning your trust. But that’s gone now.

You shift in your seat, elbows now leaning against the edge of the table. “And to answer your question, no. I do not trust you. And I never will.”

Famous last words of the variant turned analyst.

Nobody trusts you either.

Except for the grey-haired analyst with the obsession for jet skis and you never understood why. Maybe, it’s because you’re the only one who is willing to put up with his ramblings.

Mobius eyes you and Loki’s interaction as the two of you seem to fall into the rhythm of making things even more complex than it appears. It's all part of his grand plan. Mobius knows you well enough to know you are possibly enjoying Loki's company no matter how much he irritates you. And Loki, it's clear how he admires you and how you constantly surprise him every time he crosses paths with you.

“What would I ever do without your trust?” the God sneers, each articulation of every word wrapped in mockery paired with dramatically placing his hand to his heart. Your eye twitches, the spitfire of your personality ready to fire back with a probable nasty insult. Yet, Mobius places his hand on your shoulder, while the other outstretched towards Loki as if trying to keep the two of you apart.

“Okay, okay. No need to get all riled up now. We only just had a breakthrough in the case, and I’m not letting you kill each other just yet.”

Your anger seems to immediately wash away, replaced by curiosity. You blink at your colleague. “Breakthrough?”

“Yes, and it was surprisingly Loki’s theory. Now—”

“Why do I smell...sulfur?”

You cut his sentence short as a strong whiff of a reeked scent began to descend upon you, billowing in the air. You inhale deeply, brows furrowing in concentration and confusion. An overpowering scent of a decaying body, faint but strong enough to seem out of the ordinary. The archives never smell rotten, always floor polish. Mobius and Loki share a look. Mobius is the one to speak up, attempting to distract you from your sudden strong sense of smell. “Sulfur? What, like when there’s a demonic manifestation? I mean, we are in the presence of Loki—”

“You went to Pompeii, didn’t you?”

In all of the time he has spent with Mobius who had a constant laid-back and confident nature to him, he has never seen him so red in the face. As the situation unfolds, he wonders why Mobius has made it a point to hide that information with so much eagerness which now has proved to be useless. You’re not only intelligent but also quick—only in terms of the mind rather than your physical capabilities.

You can hardly run, but your brain outshines everyone else he has met in the TVA.

Mobius is now waiting for the imminent chaos and mayhem you’re about to bring. You’re going to call him insane like every other time he has suggested an out-of-the-ordinary idea. Causing a scene is one of your talents. He has his hand on your shoulder again.

“You hate Pompeii, Mobius. Why the hell would bring him—Wait.” Your eyes are wide and blinking. “You went to Pompeii. Alone. I know that from the look on your faces. Which means no reset charge...No Nexus event.” You pause, pursing your lips. Then, you avert your gaze to Loki who watches you curiously. “Are you suggesting the variant is hiding in apocalypses?”

Mobius’ laugh comes off like a puff of air. He pats you on the back like a proud uncle. “Back on the game, Agent!”

Loki is slightly impressed. Only slightly.

“Okay, you two stay here. I’ll go get the files. Great work, you two.” Mobius gestures to the both of you with an outstretched index finger, grin so wide as he scurries off. Mobius loves a good case, especially when there’s a breakthrough. And with you finally familiarizing yourself with working together with Loki, everything is finally starting to look up.

The two of you end up finding each other’s gaze and for the first time, you smile at him. It’s small but genuine.

“You know you could have told me.”

“I would have, but you don’t trust me, remember?”

You hum, raising a brow. “And running away was supposed to gain my trust?”

Loki chuckles, eyes flicking to the table. “I never said anything about gaining your trust.”

Your smile grows wider, and Loki decides how he prefers you like this—relaxed and amused.

He oddly sees his mother in you. It’s the way you look at him. Like you know him.

Right, you have met him. Once.

“What was I like? The one you met at Sakaar.”

You blink, slightly taken aback by his sudden question that hasn’t got to do with insinuating you.

“The same as you—barely tolerable,” you say tightly, heaving a sharp exhale. ”Just…a lot sadder.”

You hadn’t mentioned how he willingly helped escape your execution because a part of you still believes it all to be a lie. The TVA has your complete fidelity but ever since the Sakaar incident, your trust in the way the system works has been swayed. After years of being trapped in your mind, the question of whether your capabilities in logic have been damaged due to loneliness still begs. Judge Renslayer believes in your incompetence but you believe she hides a secret about the Time Keepers.

The three beings, creator of the TVA, personally convicted you as innocent, allowing you to maintain your job. Nothing of this makes sense.

Maybe Judge Renslayer lost all her faith in you, her second-best analyst because your Nexus event relates to Loki. The one variant that has been causing havoc to the Sacred Timeline. And this Loki, the one that seems to be very curious about your place in the TVA and the Time Keepers, is no different than the others.

You find yourself feeling an uncalled sense of sadness that dwells in your chest at the thought of leaving the only friendship you secretly wished to have maintained back at Sakaar. Before you let yourself fall into the abyss of melancholic wishful thinking, you swiftly direct the conversation elsewhere.

"I’m sorry Mobius referred to you as the devil,” you say coyly. “You really aren’t.”

Loki, who seems to catch on with the sarcastic tone of your voice, leans farther into his seat. “Really?”

A smirk returns to your face. “You're worse than the devil." He snorts, noticing the vague hint of crimson growing upon your cheeks and how your eyes seem to crinkle a little more than usual.

He finds himself swallowing under your stare, fiddling his fingers in an attempt to calm his sudden erratic heartbeat. A stutter under your now kind gaze—no one ever stares at him with a smile. "You are not the first to say that."

There’s another pause; Loki’s face is set with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. You feel a pang of guilt in your chest in remembrance of how you’re not the first to have treated him the way you did. He’s dangerous but, there’s no reason for animosity. Yet, it all boils down to the lives he has willingly taken. It doesn’t differentiate him from the rest of the TVA.

Mysterious variant.

The devil is always in the details.

Strangely, the work of the devil may prove to be useful in times of cul-de-sacs as an idea comes to mind. “I think...I think I know where you’re at right now.” Your voice is light, distracted by your now running thoughts. You’re on your feet, chair squeaking as you push it back. Your pen is in your grasp and you wave it in the air, reflecting the gears that turn at high speed within your brain.

Frankly, you’re not making any sense. Loki furrows his brows, slowly standing. “What do you mean? I’m right here—"

“No. The other one. The variant. And it has to do with gum.”

You’re still not making sense and it’s clear that in your eyes, he is invisible. You’re the only one in that frenzied mind of yours.

“What?”

You don’t answer him, feet quickly bringing you down the passageway along the vast rows of shelves that stretch along with the floor’s pristine balcony of white and the two of you are back to playing chase and run. Only this time, the roles are reversed.

Mission Haven Hills: not successful.

Really not successful. Far from successful.

You witnessed the doom of bombing the Sacred Timeline, firsthand. Employees scramble at the controls as you watch the screen that looms over the control room. What was once a single line, running along with time has now grown like a tree with fruits of chaos, caused by Nexus events scattered across time and places.

You wished the dust would settle and this was all simply a dream but you realize this was his plan all along.

Bomb the timeline. Distract the TVA.

There is one thing you know about Loki. He is moved by revenge and resentment.

As if you possess some sort of telepsychic powers, a part of you feels that danger itself is within the vicinity of the TVA. The variant is here, you just know it.

You hope Mobius is okay.

Scurrying down the winding hallways, past the hurried time hunters, and past the time theaters, you find yourself heading towards the golden doors of the Time Keepers’ chambers. In a time of uncertainty, your gut is your only source of guidance.

At the end of the hallway, you see bodies on the ground, nearly lifeless—time hunters, either unarmed or batons missing. You plucked one of the sizzling batons from the ground as you cautiously stepped around the laying bodies. You clutch it tightly to calm the blood rushing to your head, pounding along with your heartbeat as you take on the venture into the foyer of the grand chambers with secrets not wanting to be unveiled.

You round the corner, following the wooden panels for walls laid along the entrance. The glowing end of the baton within your grasp reflects off the black porcelain tiles beneath your careful feet. You hear voices, grunts, and shouting as if in combat.

Then, you see them. Loki in his variant jacket and a woman with locks of blonde and streaks of black. She adorns a headpiece of golden horns—one broken off.

Isn't Loki supposed to be at Haven Hills?

Recognizing the presence of another, the two turn to you, daggers still held to each other's throats. Loki eyes you with wide eyes, a silent plea whether to help or stand down, you’re unsure. Your gaze shifts to the woman once more who watches you with an equal resemblance to the other.

Then, it hits you. You recognize the dark emerald cloak she wears. You know exactly who she is. You just never thought it would be a she.

“You!” Your exclamation is bitter, and it’s directed towards the woman who seems to be strangely expectant of your remark as if she already knows who you are. She is L1190, a Loki variant. The one who slashed you with the TVA’s baton, scaring your left cheek. The one who hauled you through the time door and left you stranded in Sakaar for thousands of years.

You know exactly what she has done. She knows what she has done.

“You did this to me!” you gesture to the scar on your left cheek, eyes fixated solely on her, nearing the two with caution. You’re angry. Very angry. All pent-up rage begging to be set free.

Before Loki could even perceive the current situation he landed in between two women who very much want him dead, you’re already swinging the baton to her face with full force but she blocks it with her sword but slightly staggers in her step. You glare at her. She seems a little surprised. In an instant, you take a step back and go for another strike to her rib, but she blocks you again, sliding away and dodging your hit by a mere second. You growl out of frustration, seething through your teeth, and without hesitation, you strike again. The fight goes on—strike, block, strike, dodge. And with every blow, your intensity escalates, each a little harder than the one before. Loki stands there, watching, speechless and frozen.

You strike again, the baton crackling less than an inch away from her face but she dodges just in time, swinging her sword across your face. It grazes your cheek, now a gash of crimson on top of your scar, and with the sudden blow of searing pain, you lose your balance.

The variant spins into a kick that sweeps your legs out from under, knocking you hard onto the ground. The baton rolls out from your grip. Your hand flies to the gash, trickling with blood.

“Hey!”

The brawl comes to a halt. You seize yourself up from the ground, back and head aching, turning to see Judge Renslayer accompanied by two hunters, batons held up in defense position. You were about to reach for your own that was a stretch away when suddenly, you felt a hand grip you by the collar, hauling you to your knees. Her sword held to your neck.

“Come any closer and I’ll kill her.”

“Go for it.”

Your eyes are wide in shock, all anger towards the variant now turning into this churning feeling of betrayal that resides within your abdomen. Judge Renslayer doesn’t look at you, focus fixated on the two variants—it’s like you’re not even there.

The three start to charge towards you and you involuntarily shut your eyes. Then, as quick as a rattlesnake, Loki grabs the tempad hung at her waist and sends the three of you falling through the ground.

That’s the thing about Loki. He gets inside your head, makes you think that for once, he may be worth not pruning. Now, with your back landing hard on top of him, all you could think about is wanting to strangle him to death.

TAGLIST:

@lareinedususpense

@poubxlle

@mystoragehatesme

@the-maroon-panda

@kashasenpai

#loki #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki laufeyson x reader #loki x you #loki laufeyson x you #loki laufeyson imagine #loki imagine #loki series #loki spoilers #sylvie #mobius #ravonna renslayer

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mittensmorgul · 3 years

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Incoming sad rant about the spn ending. Don't read if you're not interested in reading something like that, but I literally don't know anyone in real life I can talk about this with, and I really need an outlet:

Sometimes I can put the way SPN ended out of my head and think "it's just a stupid show. I don't have to accept the finale, and the writers/network are wrong." But other times I just get gripped with really intense sadness at the disrespect that was done to my favorite characters. To the point where I'll sit still for hours a day, just wallowing in it. It ruins my whole day and mood. And then I think to myself "I'll just find some other stories that end better!" but then I get sad again, cuz I don't think I will ever love other characters as much as I love Dean and Cas, and then I spiral again thinking about all the potential this unique beautiful love story had, and how we're never going to get the closure we deserve.

I really hate that after all this time, I'm a grown ass adult getting sad over fictional characters. I know it's not that trivial, but I sometimes wish it was so I could get over it 😞

Hi hi, and first of all *socially distanced internet hugs* I’m sorry you don’t have an outlet, but you’re always welcome to chat with me (if you come off anon we can talk privately if you want. My DM’s are always open, even when it takes me a bit to reply. no one should have to feel alone in this.)

I’m actually gonna start at the bottom of your message and work my way up, because I also, as a grown-ass adult, get sad over fictional characters. And I need to emphasize that this is the *point* of fiction. A well-written and developed fictional character is *indistinguishable in our minds from an actual real human being.* The way we react to them *feels exactly the same to our brains and bodies* as how we react to real people, and that’s a testament to just how well developed Dean and Cas were in canon.

I am not a young person. I have engaged with a lot of media over my life, and have *never* felt this strongly about fictional characters before, so I understand what you mean when you struggle to think about finding another story that ended better, or struggle to think about finding other characters you might become this attached to or experience this sort of emotional investment in. And I think there is another factor you didn’t consider there: The vast majority of other media I have engaged with, I was able to relate to on a level of “oh that’s nice for them” or “wow that sucks for them.” I have never, and possibly never will again, feel so utterly invested in fictional characters, to the point where it affects my real life as much as Supernatural has. Period.

I will likely never experience *literal physical lovesickness* over two fictional characters ever again. I hadn’t ever experienced it *in my own real life* before, and yet 15.18 triggered all those symptoms in me. As an aromantic person, this was pretty shocking to me. It also says a lot about just how real these characters feel to us, and how important they have become to us. They make us feel this! This is not an accident. It’s *incredibly difficult* to create fictional characters with this range and depth of emotional connection, and yet here we are.

I think that’s the biggest evidence possibly to present in defense of the statement that THIS IS NOT JUST SOME STUPID SHOW.

Other evidence: this fandom, still going strong after 15 years. Look at every SPN convention for proof. Look at AO3, where there are more posted stories about Dean and Cas than literally any other pairing on the planet (by a not-small margin, too). If that isn’t enough evidence, we have fanart to look at as well. Look through @theroadsofararchive where at the time of this posting there are over 40,000 artworks catalogued, and more being added all the time. Same with @canonspngifs where you can search through through nearly 75,000 gifsets organized by an excellent tagging system and made by dedicated fans out of love for the thing. This is all proof that you are not alone, that so many of us care just as deeply about them as you do. Not even mentioning the people who have written hundreds of millions of words of meta, articles, and even masters theses and doctoral dissertations on Supernatural and the fandom. This is a unique thing, even within the larger fandom culture. Don’t ever let anyone tell you that your feelings for it are stupid or irrelevant or wrong.

But also don’t let anyone try to convince you that you must accept the finale as part of the story if you don’t want to. Don’t even let *yourself* believe that if you don’t want to. This show has done more to play with the themes of “what is reality” and “who gives a story meaning” and alternate universes and curses and djinn dreams to easily account for whatever the heck the finale was.

my current go-to theory: everything after Chuck’s defeat takes place in the Mockumentary Alternate Universe... it fits way too uncomfortably well... and then I just apply the fic I received in a cosmic transmission from the actual supernatural universe wrote detailing the events of what *I* hoped would transpire afterward. I know this doesn’t work for everyone, but it works for me, mostly because it *has* to. It means far too much to me not to.

You are not alone in having invested yourself into this story, and these characters. Your feelings about them are not wrong or stupid or frivolous. And the proof is everyone else who feels the same exact way, who connected to this story (and to each other through this story), and whose lives have been forever altered through this journey together. The fact that Dabb turned out to have been Chuck Junior and couldn’t see (or was prevented from showing us) what Team Free Will would’ve chosen to do with that after defeating their original creator just stands to prove to me that the finale can’t possibly be The Truth, you know?

I don’t know if any of this will help you, or provide you some small comfort right now, but maybe it will eventually. We’re all processing the loss of the show and the abject failure of story that was the finale in different ways, and I’m sure our emotional reactions will shift over time. It was just A Lot to process all in the span of a few incredibly emotional weeks-- not even mentioning how all of that emotional response was compounded by the american elections and surrounding nonsense, the general stress of enduring a global pandemic and all that entails, and *waves hands around broadly at everything else contributing to the trauma occurring in the collective of humankind right now.* We’ve all been emotionally compromised, so be kind to yourself in how you feel you’re coping with it all.

And know that no matter what, you are not alone in how you’re feeling. The grief is real, and our brains don’t care if it’s felt for fictional characters or real people. This was honestly a once in a lifetime experience for a lot of us, and not even the wtf of the finale can kill it for us if we don’t let it. I reject that particular piece of rusty rebar and choose to believe in a just and narratively coherent resolution. To do anything less feels like dishonoring the story and characters who have drawn me in and made me feel so much for them over the years. If the story itself couldn’t honor them properly, then I can choose to do so myself.

#spn 15.20 #finale what finale #seriously though none of us are alone in this #Anonymous

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fytheuntamed · 4 years

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I used to see WWX as sunshine incarnated and how it hurt me when I realized that it's mostly just fake and he's really not. I thought he was such a genuine person and when I realized that he hides so much of himself that he's not very genuine at all my heart broke a little and I needed to share my feelings. I still love him though, but it was a huge shock to me that everything I initially fell in love with was actually wrong. I hope this little ramble wasn't a bother.

Hello, anon! First off, you’re not bothering me at all; even if I can’t reply to all of them, I read and appreciate every ask I get. I’m sorry to hear you’re feeling a bit disillusioned with WWX; I know some would say he’s just a fictional character, but I think all of us here can attest to the power fictional characters have in impacting the lives of real people. Your ask made me think a lot about who WWX is, so I hope you don’t mind me sharing my own thoughts on the matter! Just a few disclaimers before I get into it: all analysis is based off of drama!WWX, as that is the adaption I know best, so keep this in mind as you read because I know his characterization varies a bit from adaption to adaption. WWX also happens to be my favorite character from the show, so this could will get long :’) I’m also going to continue on with the assumption that you’ve seen the show in its entirety!

I think one of the most important things to understand about people, fictional or real, is that we, like ogres, have layers. This is just what happens when you exist in a world where different settings with different people bring out different sides of us as dictated by societal norms. Does this make someone fake? I would say no, mainly because I think there’s a difference between acting “fake” and being fake. Anytime I speak on the phone with a stranger I automatically assume my “telephone voice,” which sounds quite different from my talking-with-friends-and-family-voice. I don’t leave such phone calls thinking to myself, “wow, I’m such a fake,” because I know that when speaking with strangers, being more polite than I would be around close friends and family is respectful. I think what it comes down to for me is, regardless of how I am presenting myself, am I staying true to my beliefs and values? This is why I think WWX is in fact very genuine, and I would also argue that it is his genuine nature (once revealed) that attracts LWJ to WWX.

Returning to the idea of people having layers, we must recognize that people are not static; we are constantly reacting to our settings and thus our moods fluctuate accordingly. WWX is sunshine incarnate, but he is also someone who has suffered a great deal over the course of his life. To expect him to smile no matter what is a cruel burden to impose on him, and I believe it is a burden he feels in canon. Because both Jiang Fengmian and Madam Yu impress upon WWX that he must keep Jiang Yanli and Jiang Cheng safe, that they are the priority, WWX feels compelled to smile and put on a strong facade so that he doesn’t crumble and fall apart, thus “failing” his adoptive parents and siblings. So while these smiles may simply be masks to hide his pain, thus not “real” smiles, they do not make WWX himself fake, but rather (imo) reinforce his genuine nature because his motives are genuine, even if his smiles may not always be.

There are also times when he smiles and acts extremely cocky in front of others, only for this facade to immediately fall away the moment he is alone/out of the public eye. One of my favorite examples of this is in episode 26 when he questions Jin Zixun about the whereabouts of Wen Ning. The entire time he is there, he exudes a cocky disregard for formality and the established hierarchy, even going so far as to say, “If I, Wei Wuxian, want to kill someone, who can stop me? Who would dare to stop me?!” Once he has the information he needs and turns to leave, however, we immediately see the cockiness fall from his face to be replaced by one of...remorse? I’ll let you guys decide for yourselves.

[gif credit]

I think it is worth noting that his facade fades once he looks at LWJ, because LWJ is one of the few people at this point in time who WWX respects, and whose opinion of WWX still holds value to WWX. And so again we see that WWX’s outward behavior does not seem to align with his inner feelings. Look at the situation that WWX is in, though. He is just one man, albeit a powerful one, going against the biggest, most powerful clans. If he shows an ounce of weakness, they’ll eat him alive. And so in order to stay true to his beliefs, WWX puts on a show. In episode 25 we also see WWX put on a show of shooting many arrows simultaneously while blindfolded. @cal3ris made an excellent post on here stating that WWX was not just doing this to show off, but that he was ensuring the temporary safety of the Wen prisoners by pulling off such a feat so as to ensure no other cultivator would attempt the challenge after him. In situations such as this one, it works in WWX’s favor that the vast majority of the cultivation world believes him to be nothing but a showoff with a big mouth. And of course, there is a part of WWX that does enjoy being in the spotlight! Especially if someone he wants to impress is watching~

At the beginning of the Gusu days flashback (ep 3), we see WWX before everything goes to hell. He’s constantly smiling, goofing around, and is a genuine gremlin of a lad. This is real! He’s a teenager in the flush of his youth, he’s with his beloved siblings, he’s smart and talented, the list goes on and on. For people who don’t know WWX, he comes off as a shallow person with no real depth who thinks of nothing but goofing around all day. For those who know WWX intimately, like Jiang Yanli and Jiang Cheng (though he’s less vocal about it), they know this is not the case. The point is, WWX doesn’t care what people think about him. He doesn’t care because he knows who he is and what he stands for. This is a huge part of who WWX is as a person: “I don’t care if they slander me, as long as I have a clear conscience.” It is also one of the defining things that connect Wangxian to one another, which brings me to the point of LWJ being someone whom WWX hates to deceive, because he greatly values LWJ’s good opinion of him. We see how much it pains WWX to put distance between himself and LWJ, but we also see that WWX is willing to do so if he believes it is for the best. In episode 20, after being reunited with Jiang Cheng and LWJ, we see WWX purposefully push LWJ away with cold precision. Once more he plays his role with practiced ease, but we see his mask fall as he watches LWJ walk away.

WWX goes from this:

[gif credit]

to this as soon as LWJ isn’t looking at him:

[gif credit]

Having just returned from the Burial Mounds, WWX is very unstable, both physically and mentally. For the past months that he’s spent in the Burial Mounds, survival has been his priority. We see this instability and the signs of PTSD manifest quite a bit throughout the Sunshot episodes. In episode 20 Jiang Cheng hugs WWX, who honestly seems at a loss as to how to respond. In episode 20 we see LWJ step towards WWX, who immediately steps back. We also see WWX shrink away from Nie Huaisang’s touch. This is incredibly telling because WWX is someone who likes physical touch and proximity. He’s constantly putting his arms around Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang and constantly puts himself in LWJ’s personal space (much to LWJ’s initial chagrin). I believe WWX’s behavior post Burial Mounds comes from a desire to protect himself from those around him as well as those around him from himself. [apt gifset here] Nothing about this WWX is fake to me. He is acting differently here because he is different. Trauma does not define a person, but it does change a person. Post Burial Mounds WWX is a different person, but he has not lost what makes him him, which is his strong commitment to his beliefs and morals. For WWX during this time, I don’t believe he has the emotional strength to relive his trauma to those closest to him, so he settles for brushing them off with excuses and yes, fake smiles. This also ties into WWX’s habit of internalizing his own struggles so as not to burden those around him. Hopefully at this point a clear pattern has revealed itself: no matter how WWX presents himself on the outside, he never compromises his beliefs.

After being resurrected in Mo Xuanyu’s body, we see a WWX who is far more reminiscent of the carefree teenager back in Gusu. We see WWX slowly heal from the traumas of his past life and we see him begin to smile again, not because he needs to, but because he can’t help it. We might be tempted to look at this WWX and think, “ah, this is the real him,” but I think this does a disservice to the complexity of his character. The point is, it’s all WWX. The pranks, the smiles that crinkle the corners of his eyes, the creativity, the cockiness, the way his laughter bursts out of his body at times and at other times comes out like a sigh or an afterthought, the way he looks out for the juniors, and both his quiet and loud rage are all what makes him who he is. Certain aspects may be muted at times, but that’s to be expected. WWX is by no means perfect, but I would say he is painfully genuine. Just think, would LWJ feel so strongly about him if he weren’t?

As I feared, this got way too long and I probably rambled and repeated myself and got off track, but it’s fine…..

#the untamed #wwx #wei wuxian #wei ying #ask #anon #Anonymous #does this count as meta? pretty sure it's just me blabbing about how valid wwx is lmao #also DUDE why is tumblr putting the read more in the ask and not where i want it???

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softjeon · 4 years

Text

In love with your dark side | Pt. 3

• Pairing: Beauty!Taehyung x Beast!Yoongi • Genre: Fluff, bit of Angst | Rating: Teen and Up | Beautyandthebeast!AU / Fairytale!AU • Words: 5k | AO3 | Gifset Trailer • Disclaimer: anxiety, mentioning of a curse

written with @cassiavioletblue

↳ Yoongi had tried not to think about what would happen if someone saw him but his mind had wandered through all of their possible reactions anyway: screaming, laughing, shock… he’s had so many horrible encounters in his mind and yet the boy in front of him didn’t react like in any of his thoughts.

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The night sky had been covered by large black rain clouds and the rain that poured from it was so hard it could almost be called hail. He looked up as the rain came down and sighed, pulling his coat a little tighter around his body, trying to keep his bag from being soaked. The street was lined with cars down both sides and most of the street was devoid of light but the few streetlamps. Taehyung hadn’t been able to afford a bigger shop in a better part of town. The crime rate in this section of the city was higher than anywhere but so far, they hadn’t cared much about his small photography shop.

There wasn’t much expensive stuff in there anyways.

The wind picked up from nowhere, but Taehyung quickly rushed down to the metro station to catch a train to the upper side. When he finally was at his destination and walking up the office building, Taehyung rubbed the rain out of his face before the excitement to see Mr. Min again replaced the ugly feeling of wet pants sticking to his body or his hair being a mess right now.

Taehyung was a very punctual person and Yoongi loved that about him because it meant that he knew exactly when the other would arrive. He could do real work before he came and when the clock ticked closer to their meeting time he would place all the important stuff aside and pretend to be busy while secretly watching the clock. This time however it was fifteen minutes past their usual time and Yoongi frowned. He had heard the rumble of thunder, but he hadn’t thought that it would keep Taehyung from coming. Luckily, it was just then that he heard the younger’s steps.

“Come in!” Taehyung always knocked and he always asked him to come in instead of opening the door (he unlocked it about ten minutes before Tae would come in so that he could keep sitting at his desk and appear busy and while Tae turned to close the door he could give him a quick once over). When he saw how drenched the younger was, actually dripping on his carpet he gasped in shock. “What happened?”

“Ehm,” Taehyung placed his bag with the camera down, somewhere where it wouldn’t anger Yoongi to see it and then shrugged off his jacket. “The rain happened. Don’t you hear it? There’s a storm going on outside. Do you think you have a towel or something for my hair?” He smiled through the wet strains of hair. Usually it was curled up a little, but with it being straightened out right now it covered his eyes.

“Why didn’t you take a cab?” He went around the table and quickly helped Tae out of his jacket. “Of course, I have a towel upstairs - and dry clothes. You’ll get pneumonia if you walk around in those clothes. It wouldn’t make a difference if you went swimming with your clothes on!”

Taehyung couldn’t help but chuckle, thankful for his help. “I would get a cab if I would have the money for it but unfortunately I can only afford the monthly ticket for the metro. But it’s fine.” He smiled at Yoongi, who looked a lot more comfortable with him being around. “Will you tell me where I can find your bathroom then?”

Yoongi blinked. Sometimes he forgot that not everyone had enough money to make uncomfortable situations more comfortable. Calling a cab was something he hadn’t wasted a second thought about back when he was still going out. “Just follow me.” Before he stepped on the stairs he turned around again, hesitating, “Please leave your shoes downstairs. And turn up your pants please. The carpet upstairs doesn’t like moisture.”

The younger had simply nodded, following Yoongi’s orders and him upstairs where he brought him clothes he could change into. He vanished into the bathroom quickly, drying his hair off with a towel before he joined back with Yoongi in his office.

It was somehow a lot familiar, as if they had done it a million times by now when in reality it wasn’t – but they clicked. In a weird way, they had much more alike than what the appearance might seem like and yet, so much that was so different about them. They were working side by side silently. Taehyung was making copies, sorting in files in alphabetical order while Yoongi was doing something that Tae thought seemed more like witchcraft.

Bringing a few files over to the chair with him, Taehyung sat down in front of his boss. “I filled in an application for a free spot at the museum of art’s today.” He blurted out with a smile, blushing lightly at his confession. Taehyung hadn’t even told Jimin, yet. “My last series would fit perfectly into the theme…but I don’t know. Lots of great artists apply.” He shrugged his shoulders as if it wouldn’t mean the world to him to have his photos placed in a museum one day.

When Taehyung came to him, Yoongi let his gaze wander over his form again. He looked different in his clothes and even though he normally swore that a well-tailored dress shirt and fitted pants could do wonders for someone visual appeal he wasn’t sure if it was true for Taehyung. The younger always wore clothes that seemed to fit in absolutely no category - and yet suited him perfectly. Like the shirt with the crazy pattern he had worn last time or the plaid pants that reminded Yoongi of the skirt his mother wore for Christmas.

It was obvious that Taehyung was really excited about this spot so because he wanted to see him happy and he didn’t see any fault in it he suggested, “Oh, that’s amazing. I’m sure they’ll see the potential in your work. Do you want me to donate to the museum in the name of the company with a side note that you’re employed there?”

It was a nice thought and yet, it left Taehyung with a heavy feeling in his stomach, so he quickly shook his head. “No, it’s really kind of you and if you want to donate in general then please do...but don’t say my name. Wouldn’t that be like blackmailing? Or using my ‘connections’? That wouldn’t be fair.” He smiled at Yoongi, still grateful for the thought of helping him. “I know it’s important to have those, to know someone that knows somebody but…,” He sighed, leaning back at his chair while pulling his knees up. “I’d rather be known for my art, for what it portrays. I want it to speak for itself. But if I get the spot, promise me to come by please. I’d love to show you.”

Taehyung let his gaze wander over Yoongi’s features, the dark veins almost reaching over his neck, his eyes seemingly darker than the night before and he wondered if he really didn’t feel any pain if this was just some weird condition no one ever heard of. He had tried to google it, but there was nothing he could find. It was strangely fascinating and beautiful, and he would have loved to trace all of them, feeling his skin under his fingertips to know if it was just as soft as he imagined it, all over his… wait what. Taehyung shook himself out of his sudden thoughts, cheeks blushing, and he quickly averted his gaze. He was getting tired - that’s all.

“Of course,” Yoongi noticed Taehyung’s gazes every now and then how the lingered a little too long or were a little too focused. He had learnt to not be too uncomfortable about it because Taehyung never made comments about his looks or flinched back when their hand’s brushed so he figured Taehyung’s interest in him was still that of a photographer: Seeing something morbid and ugly could become beautiful if you just shifted your focus a little and tried to see it in a different light. He even stopped wearing turtlenecks because he hated them and with Taehyung around he felt like he could be a little more himself.

“Come!” Taehyung almost yelled and jumped up from his chair, motioning for Yoongi to follow him as he gathered all the copies he made earlier. “You need to help me now.” Taehyung grinned brightly at him, when Yoongi just did as he said and sat down on the couch that he had in his office, although no one was waiting on there anymore or sipping on coffee. He had no customers, new offerors or anyone else here. The last one that had been in here had sealed his fate after all.

Taehyung brought everything he had done all night over and placed it onto the small coffee table and on the floor and Yoongi’s lap, before placing a coffee mug close to his boss (knowing he might need it). “You need to help me sort this as I don’t know what those mean.” He simply sat on the floor, right next to Yoongi’s feet, leaning against his legs lightly as he held up the first paper.

“What do you mean you don’t know? You don’t understand what’s in them or you don’t know how to sort them alphabetically?” He had an amused look on his face as he teased the other slightly even though he could understand. Sometimes he wasn’t sure either where to place a file like when a company’s name had changed but it made more sense to place the new files with the old ones or when he only ever got in contact with a certain person and could remember their name better than that of their tiny little company or when he just wanted to have something right beside him because he needed it so often instead of getting up and getting it from the other part of the bureau. It had made his help crazy when he had still employed someone to help him in his office. So, in this case Tae actually did help him and it wasn’t just a farce to keep him around.

“If I get the spot though,” Taehyung didn’t look up from the papers and kept placing them neatly where it was supposed to go, “Will you come and visit the museum like…” His voice sounded a little softer, almost timid and shy as he placed the file down and took another. His heart was beating fast and Taehyung felt nervous to ask. “Like we could visit it together, then I could tell you about the photos and… yeah. Only if you want to.” Taehyung was glad for the position he was in, sitting on the ground and leaning against Yoongi’s legs, where he didn’t have to face the other right now or else he would see that he was actually blushing.

Of course, he had heard Tae suggest it before, but he had been sure it was just a politeness thing. Surely Tae couldn’t think that he would actually be able to go out. “I, uhm, I can try and see if they would make an exception for us and let us in at night. Or maybe on a holiday where they would be closed.” He would need to get big sunglasses and gloves and a scarf that he could push up to his nose and a cap or a hooded jacket maybe.

Taehyung looked over his shoulder with a smile, “I don’t mind when. However, you feel most comfortable then. We’ve got to wait and see if I get the spot anyways.” He grinned at Yoongi and wrapped his arm around his legs, as he returned his attention to the task at hand. But he wasn’t able to let his thoughts wander to how it would be like to meet Yoongi somewhere else than his office.

Taehyung was sorting file after file until his eyes were burning from how tired he was. Yoongi was used to being up all night, while his rhythm had shifted but Taehyung was still working all day and now the nights had been busy with him helping his boss and he was losing sleep. A lot of it. And the past couple of days had been exhausting. So, when he gave Yoongi another folder, Taehyung leaned his head on Yoongi’s legs and sighed deeply. His eyes kept falling shut, while he was reading the same sentence over and over again until he couldn’t fight it anymore.

Yoongi stiffened up when he felt the gentle pressure of Taehyung’s head against his leg. “Taehyung?” He only got a sleepy murmur as response as the files slipped from the younger’s hand where it rested on his own thigh, sending them sliding over the floor. Yoongi frowned. “Are you… are you asleep?” There was no answer and he blinked, a little helplessly. Should he wake Taehyung up? He was pretty sure that he was crossing a hundred boundaries right now and the businessman in him was feeling that Taehyung would sue him for god-knows-what if he touched him while he was asleep. The other part in him felt sorry for Taehyung - and also a little guilty. He had pushed the thought of Taehyung working overtime somewhere in the back of his head where it didn’t spoil his happiness about having him here every night. However, he couldn’t ignore it any longer. Taehyung was exhausted. He had noticed before and choose to ignore it but the younger falling asleep right by his side was a clear sign that he had gone too far. With a sigh he figured that he could face being sued and put aside what he was holding so that he could support Taehyung’s head while he got up. “Let’s get you into bed then, shall we?”

Taehyung could feel himself getting pulled a little, mumbling sleepily. He barely registered the voice, but he knew it was Yoongi who was talking to him as he helped him up and steadied him as they stumbled towards the stairs. In Yoongi’s apartment, Taehyung could barely open his eyes, waddling tiredly wherever his boss was taking him and when he finally felt something soft beneath him, he immediately let himself fall.

He only got rid of Taehyung’s shoes as they didn’t pair well with Egyptian cotton sheets and then put a blanket over him before he left him there. Then he went back to send an email to his human resource management to tell them to find a replacement for Taehyung for tomorrow morning. He didn’t want to interrupt his sleep to wake him up during the day. And sleeping for a few more hours would do him good. He only hoped Taehyung didn’t have any other important appointments for tomorrow or would wake up in time if he had. To be sure that the other wouldn’t be angry at him he wrote a quick note and put it carefully besides the bed on the nightstand before leaving to use the recamiere to sleep. It was comfortable sleeping there which he knew because he had fallen asleep on it more than once after working for too long.

...

It was a sweet routine, something that Taehyung didn’t want to miss anymore. When he came in late at night, Yoongi was already awaiting him with a cup of hot cocoa and coffee in his own mug. They were talking, working and sorting stuff out that Yoongi needed help with. Although he had half a heart attack waking up the next morning in Yoongi’s bed (he slept like a baby though), the note had calmed his heart rapidly (he was almost glad he didn’t need to hurry to sort more mail this morning and he had only needed to figure out how to sneak out of the building without being seen). In the end he had made it somehow, only to stand in front of Yoongi’s office again.

And the day after that.

And the following days, too.

It was just nice spending the time with Yoongi, at least that’s what he told Jimin, when in reality the more time he was spending with his boss, the more he felt intrigued by him. He leaned his chin onto his hand as he watched Yoongi heating up water for some tea, as he bobbed his head to the music. “Do you dance, Mr. Min?” Taehyung asked and walked around the kitchen counter with a big grin plastered on his face.

Yoongi eyed him warily “Definitely not. Why, did something give you a different impression?” He made a step back , just to be on the safe side when Taehyung got up with a big grin on his face. “Kim Taehyung! I’m warning you!”

Taehyung didn’t care when he wrapped his arm around his boss and pulled him closer to him, swaying with the beat of the music, making Yoongi spin (with a little more work on his side). “Relax, Mr. Min. You’re always so tight up!” He placed Yoongi’s arms differently and where they actually should be in a dance position, but the other let them slip down again. But Taehyung could work with stubbornness as well, so he took both hands in his and pulled Yoongi in and out again turning him around and back again, having the time of his life.

“Heavens, you don’t know how to give up, do you?” He pulled a face while letting Tae drag him around, enjoying it too much to actually put up a fight and put a hold to it. He wasn’t lying he normally didn’t dance but being silly like this wasn’t something he had done in years and it somehow felt…freeing. Even though he would have never said that out loud. He still had a reputation to uphold.

It felt like forever as they danced and Yoongi finally seemed to relax a little more when his phone interrupted the music harshly. Usually he turned off the volume, but he was waiting for an important response for days now.

“Don’t run off, we will finish this dance!” He was still laughing, when he took the phone off the counter and looked at the message he got. It was an email, one that made his heart race a little faster at first and then it dropped again. Just like his smile.

We’re sorry to inform you – how many times had he read this sentence by now.

His art was everything to him, but it seemed like no one else saw it. Was he that stupid? Was he really not talented? He had thought about this a million times and it consumed him every time. Shutting the screen again, Taehyung put the phone aside as he felt the tears burning in the corner of his eyes. He didn’t want to cry. Not here. Not right now. Not like this.

“I didn’t get it.” Taking a deep breath, Taehyung shrugged his shoulders trying to not care, “Just something about how it didn’t fit in.”

It was clear that he spoke about the spot in the museum from the sadness that had filled his eyes and changed his entire face. In that moment Yoongi wondered how someone could feel so deep and still keep his smile because surely Tae must have been disappointed before and yet he looked like his whole world had just been crushed before his eyes. Immediately he reached out to take Taehyung's hands in his.

“They’re totally right! You don’t fit into some exhibition were pictures of similar artists are crammed into a tiny space so that museum visitors who are here for other exhibitions can take a short glance at them. You need something else, with more space, more freedom, something that’s entirely your own thing. Don’t let this get you down because they definitely aren’t worth your tears. You can be sad - but only for them because they missed out on having you in their halls, not because you feel like you’ll never get the chance to find the right audience. Because you will. Sooner or later you will find them. I promise you that.”

The younger averted his gaze onto his feet and although Yoongi’s words warmed his heart, he knew better. He’d been trying for so long now.

“I know you mean well,” His voice sounded defeated, “But maybe I’m just not made for this. Maybe my art isn’t good in the end and I should just stick to what I’m good. Sorting mail and taking pictures of families and their kids in my shop.” Taehyung let himself plop down onto the couch, making some more room for Yoongi. “Some people aren’t made for this, I guess.” His lips pursed into a slight pout as it hurt saying those words out loud. “I had imagined it so beautifully though…maybe I should stop daydreaming, then it wouldn’t hurt as much.”

“If you feel like this then I’m sure you must be right.” Yoongi gave him a sharp look. “Because if that’s what you secretly think every time you apply for an exhibition or a nice spot at a gallery people will see it, that you’re insecure, that you’re not a hundred percent sure of what you’re capable of. And so, they’ll give your place to someone who is because even though they have less talent they know how to sell themselves better. It’s on you, really. If you think you can be happy with what you have; stick to it. If not then fight for what you want.”

Taehyung had pulled his legs in and draped them over Yoongi’s as he chuckled softly. “Says the one who is hiding in his office.” He smiled at him when he reached out for his hand to intertwine their hands. “I’m insecure when it comes to my art. I’m always scared if others will like what I do or if they will say something mean. And I am trying, Mr. Min. I’m trying so much but it’s getting frustrating.” With the other hand, Taehyung began to trace a few lines on Yoongi’s hand mindlessly, “If you’re allowed to be insecure about what others think, then I am too.” He blinked when the tears threatened to fall again. “I just wished I could have shown you. You could have played the piano at the opening or…you could have met Jimin. My friend, I told you about. And…and we could have gotten out for some coffee. The good kind, the one from downtown. And I’d put lots of sugar in mine, while you drink yours black.” He shook his head and wiped over his cheeks. “It would’ve been perfect, don’t you think? Rich people like you buying crappy art from me. That’s where our worlds collide, right?” Taehyung sighed deeply, “I bet they didn’t even look at my stuff, just discarded me when they didn’t recognize my name. That’s how it works after all.” He blinked up at Yoongi with tear-filled eyes, “I’m sorry I can’t take you out on an art date, then. We’ve got to reschedule.”

He had wanted to offer to buy Tae some exhibition catalogue where they could look at it together but something else made his brain short circuit before he could speak up. “D…date?” Yoongi stumbled over his own words as he looked at Taehyung with wide eyes, all thoughts about not showing his emotions too obviously thrown out the window. Surely he must have heard wrong. Or Taehyung was joking. Or the other meant it differently like… a date between friends.

Taehyung rubbed his neck nervously, before he shyly answered. “I meant it when I said I want to show you my stuff…just you and me. I…” He gulped, trying to get rid of the lump in his throat that made it so much harder to speak. “I really like your company, Mr. Min. I thought…you’d maybe…like that, too?” He frowned at his own wording, wanting to fling himself out of the window in shame.

“You thought... I’d like to date you?” It did totally come out wrong but the thought that someone would want to date him and not just someone but handsome, young, lively Tae who could do so much better than some bitter, disfigured hide-away that couldn’t go out baffled him completely. If it were anyone else he would have thought they wanted his money or a story, but Tae had proved that his art was what was most important to him and that he didn’t want to buy himself recognition. So, he had no idea why Taehyung would do that to himself. “You can’t be serious!”

Taehyung didn’t know what had come over him and maybe he had been stuck in his head, thinking that his little nightly adventures could be a little more than just that. Yoongi was still his boss and although he was kind enough to let him in and spend time with him almost every day now, it didn’t mean he felt the same way for him. He realized that now.

“I am so sorry, I…I didn’t think, I guess. You’re still my boss of course and…this…it’s work-related and…,” Taehyung got up from the couch, hands shaking as he realized that somewhere between spending all those sleepless nights with Yoongi, feeling up his skin, getting to know the man behind the mask that he had fallen in love with him. While Yoongi was just happy for the care he was giving him, the company and the help that he needed in his office. He bowed his head in apology, trying to ignore his rapid beating heart that was telling him to stay, but he knew he was just making a mess. “I think I should go. I have overstepped your boundaries, Mr. Min. I’m sorry.” Taehyung grabbed his bag from the piano chair before he rushed towards the door.

“Wait, Taehyung!” Yoongi was on his feet in a heartbeat, running after Taehyung who was surprisingly quick for someone who’s view must still be blurry from his unshed tears. “Don’t run off now, please, just wait!” He was out of breath when he arrived at the end of the stairs but at least Taehyung was still there, even though he didn’t look at him and had his bag securely placed in front of him, his shoulders hunched forward as if he was trying to hide and make himself as small as possible. Taehyung meant what he had said. His reaction and the flash of hurt that had passed over his face had made it crystal clear. So Yoongi spoke softly - as best as he could while still being out of breath. “You can’t date me while you still call me Mr. Min. So.. call me Yoongi, please.”

Taehyung held onto his bag tightly, not really sure what to say when he simply nodded. “Okay…Yoongi,” His voice sounded rough and unsure as he stood by the door. “I’m really sorry, Mr. M-... Yoongi,” Taehyung had his eyes averted onto the ground, not able to stand his gaze. “I didn’t want to mess this night up. We can go back to how it was tomorrow. I promise, I won’t say anything anymore.”

Yoongi shook his head, smiling. “Taehyung, I don’t think you got what I meant to say. I’d like that. The art date you promised me. I’m up for it. I didn’t mean to react so taken aback when you suggested it, it was just that... I couldn’t really see why you would... you know...” He trailed off, gesturing to his marks instead. “So, it took me a moment to realize you were serious but... yeah. Please date me if you still want to.”

The younger’s eyes flickered up when Yoongi spoke just as nervously as he had only minutes before he ran off. “So, if I do get a spot…you’d let me take you out?” He asked nervously, “A-and you’re not saying this b-because you know I won’t never get a spot?”

Yoongi couldn’t help it, he broke into laughter. “Oh Tae, that’s totally not it. Because you will get your exhibition, I can promise you that.” The company had done enough charity events that had to do with art for him to know how to organize an exhibition though Tae didn’t have to know that. Not yet. “Also, I’ve got two conditions concerning our date: First I’ll let you take me out but I won’t let you pay. That’s my part. And second I want the right to buy one of your exhibition pieces. You can leave it hanging there for everyone to see but with a little sign that tells them that they have to be fast to get one of your other pieces because that one is mine already. Deal?”

He smiled softly at the thought of being able to take Yoongi out one day, maybe he would open up enough to him to be brave enough to actually visit him on opening day. He’d love that a lot. His smile grew even bigger as he walked up to Yoongi, placing his bag down.

“I take the deal.” He cocked his head aside, pushing a string of hair out of Yoongi’s face as he leaned in and placed a kiss on his cheek. Barely there, just a fleeting touch of his lips against his skin. “And why wouldn’t I want to, you’re beautiful to me.” He whispered, leaning in a little more, “Good Night, Yoongi.”

It was a good thing he let their night end like this because Yoongi was too overwhelmed to know what to do with himself. He was unbelievably happy, like something had let in the light that illuminated his whole world again. But at the same time, he was horribly, horribly scared. Because he knew how dating went. If they would not get along and their interest wouldn’t turn into a relationship then it would be different between them. And if they did get along well... then it would be just as scary. Because dating meant that they would see each other more often, maybe kiss, maybe touch… and he didn’t want Taehyung to see all of his skin. The other had told him that he thought his hands were beautiful and he could look at his eyes without flinching but being faced with the ugliness of his whole body could only be too much, even for someone as kind hearted as Taehyung.

A/N: Ohhhhh, what do you think? Will a date happen? Or will Taehyung get refused again and again and again or.............

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nowaynoee · 4 years

Text

at least i got you in my head

also on ao3

the typical clichè: very gay Maya falls in love with her very straight best friend Lola but it’s actually easier than they think.

enjoy and feedback is always appreciated!

this work is inspired by this gifset 💜

She doesn’t know exactly when her feelings for Lola started to bloom.

For what she can remember, it happened quickly and her self control got thrown out of the window. Maya did try to repress them, to convince herself that she was just a whim and that sooner or later they would go away as rapidly as they came. Truth is that after almost four years her feelings are still there, strong and apparently irremovable. The thing is that while she’s confident about her being a loud and proud lesbian, as far as she knows Lola is straight, very straight, and she’s also her best friend. What a situation.

Maya met Lola the first year of high school. They sat near each other for a while before starting a conversation and as soon as that happened they got inseparable. It’s special the bond that keep them still attached even after years and both of them felt it immediately, since the first word spoken with a hint of shyness. Maya was there for Lola when her mother died and Lola was there for Maya when she came out to her foster family and they threw her out. Coming to terms with her sexuality was easy. She always knew she is attracted to women. Let’s say that when she met Lola, well, she had another confirmation.

Maya even lived with her for a short time, while she was searching a job and another place to stay. Probably the best moments of her life. She left school at the end of the second year, soon after she started working and living alone in the tiniest flat ever. Her friendship with Lola continued, maybe even stronger than before.

As said, she can’t remember the exact moment her feeling bloomed but she can remember that little istant in which she admitted to herself that no, Lola wasn’t just her best friend.

They were having a sleepover at Maya’s apartment, the very first time Lola slept there. She mocked Maya a few times about how small it was and she was right but in a way it felt like her little nest and safe place. They laughed all night long, eat here and there and did an extreme marathon of movies wrapped in a huge blanked, side by side. Maya was about to turn off the tv when she realized Lola already fell asleep and her head was comfortably placed on her shoulder. She gazed at her: her face was relaxed, her mouth slightly open and she was breathing calmly, the warmness of it directly on Maya’s neck. Lola looked beautiful like this. Maya lost herself for god knows how much to take in all the details of her. When she came back to reality, she knew. I’m in love with you . ...

Same bed two years later, she’s still in love with Lola. It’s summer and her duvet has been replaced buy just one white sheet. Lola is under it, her hair splayed on the pillow and her eyes closed in a deep sleep. The shine caused by the sweat looks surprisingly good on her and Maya has to hold herself back from caressing her cheeks. The outline of her small body is evident under the light fabric and the little top and shorts she’s wearing doesn’t help hiding it. Maya feels like a creep when she looks at Lola like this. It’s not like she doesn’t try to not do it, she does, but when you’re in love with someone you have an hard time with that. It’s even harder to accept that nothing is going to happen and you have to let go of the hope it will. She fantasizes sometimes about confessing to her, about finally be able to kiss her and call her her girlfriend. Lola lives in her mind rent free ans she wants to punch herself for letting her in in the first place.

...

“I hate it.”

This is the third outfit Lola tries for the night and once again she’s undressing only to redress again with another pairing. Maya gives her advices through it, her already having chose what to wear for the night. She knows Lola’s room by heart but every time she’s in it she always finds something new. A photo, a drawing, posters of her favourite bands. Is on those that she centers her attention while her best friend changes clothes because the view would be too much for her gay panic.

“What do you think about this one? ╴Hey? Earth to Maya?”

She turns her gaze towards Lola immediately, realizing only then that she has zoned out once again. “It’s very much your style.” She replies with a small smile curving her lips. There’s nothing special about what her friend is wearing, it being a normal pair of black jeans and a top that cuts right before her navel, still Maya can’t take her eyes of her. “I think I’ll go with this one, then. Do you still want to do my makeup and hair?” Lola asks her and Maya nods, sitting up from the chair and leaving it to her.

She loves this part of the preparation. Firstly because she gets to do what she likes and secondly because it allows her to be close to Lola without it being awkward. Sure, they cuddle sometimes but Maya always interrupts it as soon as possible: it hurts her to have Lola cuddled to her in that way. It makes her feeling want to erupt.

“Do you remember the last urbex party we went together?” Lola asks her, bringing up her eyes to let Maya putting the kajal on the lower rim. Maya does remember it, well even. It was three months ago. “You were so mad because you spent like an hour doing my makeup and the rain smudget it like thirty minutes after we arrived.” She chuckles and suddenly stops when Maya gives her a little punch to not mess up what she’s doing. “It was one of my best works! It looked so good.” because it was on you , she wants to say but doesn’t. Instead they keep small talking until Lola’s ready and they get out of her house.

…

The party is crowded, like really crowded.

Once they arrived they met up with Jo, Max and Sekou and headed directly to the bar. They all took something to drink while Maya, as always, decided for a simple soda. Maya doesn’t like dancing that much, she definitely enjoys more listening to the loud music and laying on one of the free couches. Max and Sekou usually stay with her while Lola and Jo get crazy on the dancefloor for hours. “ ╴so, no target tonight?” Max’s voice gets her out of her thoughts, at least enough to take a look at the whole place in search of someone interesting. It’s not like Maya waited for Lola all these years, at least not apparently. She had a few night stands and one relationship even. It didn’t last that long and plus, Lola hated the girl in question. They mocked each other all the time and they were practically in an ongoing competition of who knew Maya better. Lola won each and every time.

“I don’t know.” Maya answers because she really doesn’t. There’s really no girl that attracts her that much and them being in a random club and not into a gay one makes things a little difficult for her. Better to keep some distance from straight girls, right?

“Oh, come on Maya—“ before Max can finish the sentence, Jo comes running towards where they’re seated, spreading herself in the free space they left for her. “God, I’m sweating from every pore, I swear! The drink I swallowed in one go didn’t help either, my head spins so bad right now.” She cups her face with her hands and Maya brings one of hers on her back, moving it in small circles.

“Wait — where is Lola?” Maya asks her as soon as Jo seems to feel better. “Mmh, she’s with a guy, I don’t even remember his name. He was cute though, she has taste!” Her words make her sigh, fortunately the loud music covers it. It doesn’t take to much of looking to find Lola in the crowd, pressed against the wall with a guy literally eating her face like there’s no tomorrow. Maya feels her stomach clenching and a sharp pain right where her heart is placed. The nausea hits her suddenly and she has to take a few deep breaths to swallow down the food she ate a few hours before. It’s not the first time she sees Lola with a guy, she has seen her with plenty flirts and even in a short-term relationship. This time hits different though. Maybe because it’s been three months since the last party they went to and she didn’t have to see her making out with anyone for all this time.

“I’m going out. I need some fresh air.” She blurts out, sitting up. Her head spins and tears are threatening to come out each second that passes.

“Maya, wait.” She hears Sekou say and she stops, turning around only to find that all three of her friends are looking at her with a concerned expression.

“You can’t keep going like this. You have to tell her what you feel.” He adds, signing her to sit again with them. They knew from the beginning what was going on between her and Lola. Even before Maya admitted it to herself. At first, when they tried to bring up her feelings, she brushed it off saying it was just in their head. Obviously it wasn’t. Jo, Max and Sekou mocked her about her crush for Lola for a long time when she finally told them they were right all along. Only when they realized that it wasn’t just a crush but that Maya really fell in love with Lola they stopped and tried encouraging her to tell her everything.

“I can’t, I can’t tell her what I feel. I would lose her! She doesn’t love me like that.” She said the same exact words a million times but it still hurts her to repeat them out loud. If Maya was sure that she wouldn’t lose her by confessing her feeling, she would at least think about it. The truth is that just the idea of not having her in her life is worse that having Lola just like a friend.

“It’s just what it is. I’ll get over it.” All three are rolling their eyes and Maya can tell they’re truly done with her bullshit.

“I can’t feel my legs anymore.”

Maya recognizes Lola’s voice as soon as she hears it and she finds Lola right behind her, bringing her arms around Maya’s neck and pressing herself on her back. The sitting position which Maya’s in makes Lola more comfortable and she leans in to her fully. “Are you tired?” Lola speaks in her ear to make herself be heard only by Maya. The latter nods, tilting her head up to see her friend’s face. “Guys, I don’t want to ruin your fun but tomorrow I’m working. I really need to go home.” It’s a lie , Maya thinks. She knows that Lola doesn’t work on sunday and probably the others know too but don’t say anything. They gather their things quickly, none of them too sorry to leave. During the ride home she gazes at Lola sometimes, the image of her kissing the stranger still very vivid in her head. She can’t seem to ignore it like she did in the past.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Lola whispers, their bodies tangled in a tight hug in Lola’s bed. Her best friend is caressing her hair, scratching her scalp from time to time, till she drags her finger under Maya’s chin to make her turn up her head.

Everything about this is wrong. Everything that she’s feeling is wrong but Maya can’t say it. She can’t bring herself to form the right words. Even thinking about that hurts her. Lola knows something is not right and Maya can see her questioning and concerned look. She gulps and looks away, trying to escape any further question. “It’s nothing.” She brushes it off, placing her head again on Lola’s shoulder.

“It’s not nothing if it bothers you.” Lola murmurs in her hair, her breath warm against it. She always knows when something is wrong and doesn’t leave it until Maya actually talks. It’s not the first time Maya feels like this, jealousy striking her until she almost stops breathing and shame after because they aren’t even together. She managed for a long time to swallow it down, to cry even when it all became too much, without Lola seeing it but she can’t seem to bring herself to do it now.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Maya mutters, voice so low she’s not even sure Lola heard her. “I’m sorry.” She adds after a few seconds. A tear escapes and she’s fast to dry it out but not fast enough for Lola not to notice.

“Maya…”

Her heart clenches at hearing Lola saying her name and when one tear starts to become a full on crying session, Lola just holds her tighter. Maya grabs Lola’s shirt with her fist, as a way of saying please don’t leave me as her cheeks dampens, leaving a wet stain on the fabric.

“It will all be alright Maya. I promise.” She whispers and for the first time Maya can’t bring herself to believe her.

…

It’s been a week since her breakdown in Lola’s arms. They didn’t talk about it again, Lola deciding to leave Maya her privacy and time to come to her when she’ll be ready. Except that she doesn’t know if she’ll ever be ready. During the last seven days she kept some sort of distance with Lola, trying to shake off the image of her from the last saturday. Maya even tried to go on a date to remove the said girl from her mind for at least a bunch of hours. Her date was cute, hesitant when she pressed her lips against Maya’s ones, only to start kissing her deeper when she felt her hands pinching her waist. They spent the night together and the sex was good, it served its purpose. Maya didn’t call this girl again. As soon as she left in the morning, she put the bedsheets in the washer and brought herself under the shower until the girl’s perfume wasn’t on her skin anymore.

When Jo sent her a message proposing her to go out again on saturday, she initially refused. Parties weren’t fun anymore. Jo, being the chaotic girl she is, tried again, this time asking her to do a sleepover at her house. She wanted to find an excuse but she couldn’t keep ignoring her friends and Lola. Maya’s flat is small but it can handle five people if they squeeze enough to sleep. One thing was for sure, Maya wasn’t sleeping near Lola again.

...

“Never have I ever… Kissed someone of the same sex.” Jo speaks first, getting immediately puzzled looks towards her. “Seriously Jo?” Maya jokes, laughing quietly and drinking from her cup. Max, Jo and Sekou have vodka in their cups, Lola has it too but barely drinks it and Maya can tell because she doesn’t see her swallowing down the liquid when she should be. Maya, as always, has a simple soda. “I know you did, you silly, I just wanted to know if I was the only one that didn’t. Apparently I’m not!” As soon as Jo lets out the last words, she takes a look at Lola which has her gaze on her glass and isn’t drinking. It’s late night and Maya can see she’s tired of playing this game as much as she is. Fortunately it doesn’t take long until their three friends collapse on the mattress she placed in her living room. The only two that sleep doesn’t take are Lola and Maya.

They remain in silence for what it feels like an eternity. It’s uncomfortable but at the same time it’s not if it’s even possible. They’re facing each other while sitting on Maya’s small couch but they both are keeping their eyes down, avoiding the other’s looks. The unspoken weights on them like a million bricks and neither of them is courageous enough to lift it. At least that’s what Maya thought.

“Never have I ever fell in love with my best friend.”

Lola’s voice isn’t loud but Maya hears it amplified ten times more than it actually is. The implied question leaves her surprised and makes her heart skip a beat. She snaps her head back up, her eyes locked in Lola’s ones unable to move them somewhere else now. Her lips part slightly but no sounds escapes from them. She doesn’t even have the cup in her hands anymore from where she could drink. In a way, Lola trapped her. Lola didn’t say that innocently or without thinking about it. They aren’t even playing anymore so there’s a second ending for sure.

“Why are you asking me this?” Maya ends up saying after gaining enough confidence to form a coherent sentence.

“I remember. I remember everything .”

╴╴╴

Three months ago

Lola’s body was pressed against Maya’s side, while one of her arms was lazily placed around her shoulder to steady her. She felt dizzy but she wasn’t drunk. Or at least she wasn’t anymore, the effect of alcohol slowly left her body during their long ride home. Max decided to bring them and their friends to an urbex party on the other side of the city and the traffic, especially when they were going back home, was unbearable. They had fun that night, Lola dancing as always with Jo and sometimes bringing Maya with her even if she was complaining. She felt Maya’s front against her back and she couldn’t help pressing herself even closer to her, swinging her hips at the rhythm of the music. Thanks to the non-existent distance between them, she could feel Maya holding her breath.

It’s not like Lola didn’t notice that Maya was sometimes awkward around her. She tried to ignore it for some time but not thinking about it made her do it even more. Not only about what was going on in Maya’s head, but also what was going on in hers. She was straight as far as she knew, she has always been with boys and she liked it. Lola knew that Maya was attracted to girls only and she never had a problem with it. At least until her best friend wasn’t near one of them that wasn’t her. Maya’s first relationship was with a certain Charlotte, a girl she met at work. Lola hated her from the first second she saw her and never failed to make that very known. Maya tried so hard to find a common ground between the two of them but she never succeed. She knew that Maya didn’t love Char, she could see it in her eyes. It was just a matter of time until they broke up. When they did, Lola wasn’t surprised.

What she was really surprised about was her — jealousy towards her? She couldn’t explain exactly what she felt at the time, she just realized that she wanted to be the one Maya was holding. She wanted to be the one Maya was kissing. She wanted to be the one Maya looked at. She wanted to be at Char‘s place. Her feelings were confusing and Lola didn’t try to let them out for fear of hurting Maya. She ignored them by throwing herself in the arms of random guys, having even a relationship with one of them for a few months. At the end of the day though, she always ended up in Maya’s arms thinking what would it be like to be held. Seriously held by her.

She couldn’t ignore them anymore that night, after the urbex party.

Maya helped her going up the stairs and when they arrived inside her house she splayed herself on the couch. “This party was awesome.” Lola said, placing her head on Maya’s shoulder when she sat on her side. She could hear her trying to breathe slowly and, when she brought her hand on her friend’s chest, she took the time to feel her heartbeat against her palm. “Your heart is beating so fast.” She murmured, moving her chin until it was placed on the crook of Maya’s neck. Lola knew that with her lips being so close to her skin she could feel her breath against that sensitive spot. Lola’s mind is dizzy but not on alcohol and Maya’s silence is somehow motivating her to not stop. “Maya, look at me.” It was whispered extremely low but Maya must have heard her because she turned her head on Lola’s side.

“Lola, w-what are you doing?” Maya’s voice was unsteady, breathy and insecure. Lola tilted her head up a bit, until she could make their fronts touch. Maya closed her eyes and parted her lips almost immediately but nothing happened for long. They remained like that, enjoying their closeness and the silence that filled the room again.

Suddenly, Lola couldn’t hold back anymore. She slowly got closer and closer, until their lips brushed one another. Maya let out little sigh and that’s when Lola took the opportunity to bring their lips together one for all. It wasn’t more than a simple peck, even if it lasted a bit longer than that, but it still was enough to make Lola shiver.

Yes, she was acting drunker than she was only to make this easier. Only to pretend she forgot about it just in case Maya reacted badly.

Before she was able to deepen their kiss, Maya pulled her back by placing both her hands on Lola’s shoulder. “No Lola, this isn’t right.” She marked, getting up from the couch. It took Lola a few seconds to realize what was happening and when she did a wave of regret hitted her. Tears threatened to come out but she held them back as much as she could. “I’m bringing you a blanket.” She heard Maya say but her voice seemed like it came from afar. She felt the warmness of the fabric enveloping her and her back pressed on the couch cushions.

“You’re drunk, you need to get some rest. You won’t remember anything in the morning.” And she placed a kiss on her forehead, delicate as the tone of her voice.

She wanted to scream: no, i will. Sleep took over her before she could even part her lips.

╴╴╴

“You remember that you —“

“I kissed you.” Lola mutters, letting out the words that Maya can’t seem to pronounce.

Maya is in full on panic. Lola was drunk as far as she knew but apparently not as drunk to forget the moment they shared together.

She thought about that kiss a lot in the last three months, she couldn’t get it out of her head. For the three seconds it lasted, she was the happiest person on earth. She leaned to the touch of Lola’s lips even, soft and plump just like she imagined them, and she lost herself for a moment. Her heart was ready to burst out of her chest and her body was shaking from excitement and relief. It all came crashing down when she came back to earth and realized that none of that was true and felt. Lola was out of it, she had to carry her throughout the stairs and help her to sit on the couch. Probably the kiss was nothing more than an induced action caused by the effect of alcohol. Maya obliged herself to forget about it but she just couldn’t. After their kiss, at least, she didn’t saw Lola entertaining herself with a guy for a long time. Until the last party they went to.

Now Lola is there, saying that she remembers anything and the only thing Maya wants to do is to run through the door. She doesn’t want to handle rejection. In a way, it’s better not to know and still have a minuscule hope than knowing that nothing is going to happen ever because her best friend is straight as a line.

“Let’s not talk about it, okay? It doesn’t have to mean anything. It was just a kiss.” Maybe the reverse psychology can work to get her out of the situation. Maya tries to brush it off as nothing important, as something they can forget because it didn’t have to mean anything for their future. They were still going to have a future, right?

“Just a kiss.” Lola repeats and Maya can hear almost disappointment in her voice. She doesn’t get it, though. Lola shouldn’t feel disappointed. After all, none of them talked about it after it happened and even if Lola remembered chose to not talk about it.

Lola is suddenly closer to her and she fails in the intent of backing off from her. She feels paralyzed all of the sudden and confused too. Their eyes lock again and the intensity of Lola’s gaze is almost unbearable for her poor heart. “Lola…” Maya manages to whisper when one of Lola’s hand come to rest on her cheek and, unable to think in a rational way, she places one of hers on top of her friend’s. Their forehead touch, just like they did three months ago and at this point Maya is too far gone.

Words become unnecessary when, in a surge of courage, Maya closes the distance between her and Lola. I’ll probably regret this in the morning , she has barely the time to think. Their lips meet in an innocent kiss, a soft press that is enough to send sparks all through Maya’s spine. She doesn’t dare to deepen it but in the end she doesn’t need too because Lola is doing it for her. She brings the other hand on Maya’s free cheek and uses it to move her head how she wants it. If it wasn’t for Lola’s firm hold, Maya would probably already stopped to see any sign of discomfort in Lola’s face. But her tongue is licking her bottom lip and Maya lets her in, giving up any form of resistance. It’s heavenly and it feels good but she can’t bring herself to enjoy the moment fully. She feels dirty, like she took advantage of the vulnerable moment to do what she wanted the most for years.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I-I shouldn’t have… I’m sorry.” Maya parts their lips abruptly and almost immediately she can see that Lola didn’t expect it. It took her a few seconds to open her eyes and realize that Maya wasn’t kissing her anymore. She still tastes the delicate vodka flavour of Lola’s mouth and the softness of her lips against hers. The thing is that she can’t handle all of this. She can’t handle to be kissed passionately by Lola just because she feels sorry for her and her stupid feelings she can’t ignore. If Maya could go back in time before she knew how having Lola that close to her felt, she would. Three months ago she wouldn’t have let herself lean into her friend’s touch even if she thought that she wouldn’t remember it. Lola tries to mutters something but nothing escapes from her lips but a sigh.

“I have to go.” Maya forgets for a moment that she’s in her own house and there’s nowhere she can go. The flat is so small that there’s no way to stay far from Lola how she would like to. She ends up locking herself in her little bathroom, like a baby, and drags her back on the door until she’s sitting on the pavement. Her head bumps on the wood as she tries to inhale and exhale without shaking. She wants to punch herself, again.

She hears a knock on the door and then a dragging sound on it. Lola is in the same position as she’s in. “Maya, please. Can we talk?” Lola pleads, her voice shaky. Maya wants to let her in but doing it also means making her dreams crush after almost four years. There’s no way Lola feels the same for her, she doesn’t even know what it means to be in love with someone and not being able to breathe because they’ll never be yours. There’s nothing in the world she would like more now than to be held by her, to hear her voice saying that it’ll all be alright even if it’s a lie, to feel her fingers caressing her head and making her eyes flutter in the process. But Maya can’t. Her heart is already too broken. In the end, she doesn’t answer. Instead, she closes her eyes and lets a tear run on her cheek. A tear that quickly turn into many and quiet sobs escape her mouth.

On the top of it all, she overhears Lola getting up.

…

Maya ended up passing out on her bathroom floor.

When she wakes up god knows how many hours later, it takes her a few minutes to remember what happened during the night. She feels her skin dry as the sahara and her eyes burning from all the crying she has done. The shame hits her before she can even get up and it all goes downhill from there. She looks at herself in the mirror, her face tired and sleepy, and she’s still wearing the clothes from yesterday. She doesn’t know what to do now. Lola probably run away from her after the improbable reaction she had and Maya has absolutely no intention of talking to her. After some minutes of self pity, she splashes ice cold water on her skin and washes her teeth in an attempt to remove every little particle of Lola in her mouth.

Surprisingly, she isn’t alone in her flat. The first thing she sees going out of the bathroom is Max figure fumbling with something on the table and judging from the sweet smell he’s preparing breakfast for both of them. “Morning.” She murmurs with a sleep voice. Max turns to her as soon as he hears her and a small smile curves his lips. “I made breakfast. You need to eat something.” His tone is concerned as much as his face is. There’s no way he doesn’t know what happened. Or at least, there’s no way he didn’t notice that Maya didn’t get out of the bathroom for the whole night. “I fucked everything up. You have no idea how much I fucked it up.” She admits, sitting in one of the table chairs.

“Maya, listen.” Max starts while putting in front of her a mug full of coffee. “You hid your feelings for her for four years. Do you know how much time it is? People get together, get married and divorce in even less than that.” He takes a sip from his espresso and Maya can’t help but signing. “Is this supposed to make me feel better?” She asks him, visibly annoyed. “No, this supposed to make you realize that one day it’ll happen anyway. You’re sensitive, you feel everything ten thousand times amplified. Keeping all in isn’t doing any good to you.” He knows he’s right. Maya too. Keeping her feelings to herself made her slowly spiral in an infinite vortex of what if instead of living in the present and actually making her reality go in the way she wanted it to. Maybe it is the time to get out of her comfort zone, get out of the sea of doubts that has been drowning her and finally make a move. After all, it can’t be a case it all happened.

“I’ll talk to her. I’ll tell her everything, this time for real.” She gazes at Max and finds in him nothing but an expression of support and fondness. “I hope she won’t leave me.”

“ She won’t , Maya.”

…

Two days passed since her conversation with Max.

She was still convinced that talking with Lola was the best thing to do but bringing herself to do it required a bit of work. Maya spent these days taking care of herself. After the night with Lola and breakfast with Max, she took a long bath and thought about what to say to her best friend. Sorry if I locked myself in the bathroom, I’m in love with you was lame and made shame rise up at the pit of her stomach; I’m in love with you but I know you’re straight and I didn’t know what to do, so I fantasized about you kissing me for years and when that happened I got scared made her look like a creep. Maybe it was better if Lola never knew about her fantasizing. Who can blame her though?

If she couldn’t have Lola for real, she could have her in her fantasy. Maya used to dream about her a lot, especially at the beginning when she was starting to realize that what was feeling for Lola wasn’t exactly platonic. She dreamt about them in her bed, during one of their many sleepovers, legs entangled and busy lips. The heat of their bodies pressed together no matter the outside temperature, their curves perfectly fitting in one another and their fingers intertwined in a tight hold. When she woke up in the morning, she felt extremely guilty for those images running in her head, even more if Lola was by her side sleeping peacefully. She usually went to the bathroom to wash her face and to step out of that sleep induced fantasy, until she didn’t feel bothered anymore. Even if Lola couldn’t hear her, she always whispered a little I’m sorry .

Going back to the present, Maya is torn on what practically do to talk to Lola. She thinks about going to her house and wait there until Lola let’s her in or sending her a simple message, or even going to her workplace because suddenly waiting a few more hours seems unbearable. She goes for the second option in the end, hoping that Lola won’t take too long to reply.

to Lola: hey, can we talk? i’m sorry for what i did last time, it was stupid. i panicked and i left you without a word. i’ll explain it all to you, i promise.

She sends it before she can even read it again. Not even one minute later, Lola reads it. Maya’s fingers start trembling and the hold on her phone becomes precarious as she sees Lola typing, and typing, and typing.

A few second later, Lola’s not online anymore and leaves her on read.

…

Maya doesn’t even have the strength to be sad or get angry at herself anymore. She just stares at the screen, hoping that she’ll see Lola online again, but that doesn’t happen. Million thoughts spin in her head as she lays on the couch, the very same couch they kissed two times on. It’s half past eleven and Lola left work at least five hours ago. There’s no way she didn’t have time to reply to her text. She simply didn’t want to reply. Maya understands her, really. Finding out that your very gay best friend is in love with you, getting kissed, being left out of the bathroom without an explanation and, on the top of it, being completely straight must not be easy to handle. Probably if she was in the same situation as Lola, she would have reacted the same way.

Even after all that occurred between them, Maya can’t shake off the feeling that it can’t be done. If she got to know Lola as well as she thought in these four years together, it can’t be done. Maya knows her and she’s not the type to leave unfinished business behind her.

The ring of her doorbell gets her out of her thoughts and she quickly goes to open the door. Her heart clenches when she sees who is outside her flat this late. Lola.

“Hey. Can I come in?” Lola asks out of breath. She run for sure because she’s sweating and considering the five ramps of stairs to arrive to Maya’s flat is not that improbable. Maya lets her in with a welcoming gesture and as she enters her apartment, she never looks away from her. Lola doesn’t sit, instead she stands in the middle of the room, her chest still going up and down. She brings her look up, until she meets Maya’s one and takes a long breath before talking. “I want to talk first. Please, let me.” Lola says and Maya never heard her talking with such a firm voice. She simply nods as she places herself in front of her best friend.

“I met you when I was fifteen years old and I was in a bad place back then. My mother was dying and my family was breaking right in front of my eyes. I started high school thinking that I would hate every second of it but then you sat next to me and we started talking and I immediately knew that you would ruin me for everyone else. The special connection we have is something that I’ll be forever grateful for.” Lola stops for a second, a smile curving her lips. “When my mother died you were there for me and I was there for you when you came out to your foster family. We’ve been there for each other always, you are the best friend I could aim for. The truth is, though, that there is something more to it.”

Maya feels stuck, incapable to move every single muscle. So Lola did really understand it all from the beginning, maybe even before she admitted to herself that she was in love with her. She listens carefully to Lola’s words and as she asked, lets her talk.

“I knew you were having a few night stands but one day you came to my workplace with Charlotte and I was surprised. I never saw you that physically close to anyone before, not even me and I don’t know, I felt something that I’ve never felt before. I realized only later, after fighting with Char countless of times, that I was simply jealous of her. At first I thought it was because she took away most of the time we used to spend together but after truly thinking about it — this wasn’t the reason.” She takes a big, deep breath before continuing. “I was jealous of her because I wanted to be the one you kissed. I wanted to be the one you held your hand in the street with and I wanted to be the one you cuddled back home. Three months ago I shoot my shot and I kissed you on that couch not because I was drunk, not because I wanted to have fun with you. I did it because I fucking wanted to. I had to act on what I was feeling, I couldn’t hold it back anymore for fear that you didn’t feel the same. When you rejected me I felt so bad. I thought you didn’t want me.” Her voice trembles at the last words and she gulps down the lump in her throat. “ — then the other night you kissed me first, this time a real kiss, and It never felt so right with anyone else before. I know that I always told you that I was straight, trust me I truly believed it. I tried to say to myself that maybe what I was feeling for you was just affection but Maya, it’s not. I think I’m in love with you and I’m so fucking scared I have ruined everything between us.” Lola is crying, full on sobbing even but she doesn’t bother to dry her tears from her cheeks, she just leaves them stream out freely.

Maya takes in Lola’s words and has to pinch herself to make sure she’s not dreaming. Apparently, there is a universe where hers is not an unrequited love and she’s lucky enough to live in it. For all these years she was convinced there was no possibility of her and Lola together, together as a couple. She suffered so much. All those sleepless nights, all those hurtful fantasies, all the times she wanted to tell her how she felt but couldn’t because the fear of rejection held her down each time. Maya couldn’t know, though. Lola had always maintained a very good straight facade but after hearing her words, she understands why she did it. They were both scared of losing each other and Lola was most possibly confused with her sexuality, which is not something to underestimate. Maya wants to say a million things and at the same time remains silent to enjoy this moment for a little bit more before it ends. She parts her lips in an unspoken word and from her watery eyes she can see Lola’s figure blurred.

“Please, say something.” Lola’s voice is pleading, loud in the silence of the flat.

She takes a big breath, while the words in her head start to make enough sense to be spoken out loud. “Lola, I’m in love with you since the first time I saw you. It took me some time to admit it to myself but I’m pretty sure I fell in love with you the exact moment my eyes met yours. This is so cheesy but it’s true.” Maya can’t hold back a tiny chuckle. “I spent the last four year asking myself why I fell in love with a girl I could never be with. I always saw you with guys, you told me you were straight and I never suspected the contrary. I fell in love with you anyway. You’re the best person I know, beautiful inside and out. You have no idea how many times I dreamed about you saying exactly what you just said to me, I swear. Maybe this is some law of attraction shit, I don’t know.” She takes a few steps to be finally close enough to Lola to wipe away her tears. She’s still crying but has her signature smirk on her lips. Maya leaves a kiss on her forehead and caresses her hair, bringing them back her ears.

“You better kiss me right now.” Lola whispers, an inch separating their lips. “ — and don’t even think of locking yourself in the bathroom again because I’ll fucking break that door.”

Maya lets out a little laugh but she’s quick to close the distance between them just like she did a few days ago. This time, though, none of them has any intention to separate. This kiss has nothing innocent about it. It’s passionate, a bit sloppy and their teeth clashes together but they don’t care. It’s perfect in it’s own way. Delicacy left the chat a long ago. They stumble to the bed soon after and it’s all fast and blurry from there. The very same bed where everything began, where Maya realized she was in love with Lola. Maya’s fantasies quickly were becoming a reality as they lost themself with the moonlight shining from the window.

…

The morning after, their role switched. This time was Maya feeling watched in her sleep. She slowly opens up her eyes, revealing Lola’s figure on her side, her head laying on the pillows and her eyes towards her.

“Were you watching me sleep?” Maya murmurs with a sleepy voice, shifting under the covers to get even closer to Lola. “Yes. Just like you did for the past four years with me.” Lola laughs and it’s the best sound Maya could hear this early in the morning. So for all this time Lola knew that she was glancing at her while she was asleep but never said anything. Maya’s cheeks turn red in an instant but Lola is quick at brushing off of her the embarrassment with a peck on her lips. “Is this some type of revenge then?” Maya asks jokingly, reaching out for Lola’s hip under the duvet and pinching it. “Oh, stop!” Obviously Maya doesn’t, and keeps pinching her hip and her stomach. Lola tries to get away from her, failing miserably, because Maya’s hold is strong enough to keep her exactly where she is. When they stop laughing, she sees Lola face changing, the same face she does when she wants to tell something but doesn’t know how to.

She talks after a while, hesitant. “About tonight —” Before she can continue, Maya puts her lips on hers in a reassuring kiss. “Hey. You’ve never been with a girl before, it’s normal. I won’t push you into doing anything you don’t want to do.” She whispers, placing a hand on her cheek and caressing it with her thumb. Maya remembers that even if she was sure about her sexuality since as long as she can remind, her first time with a girl was still all tentative touches and embarrassment when she didn’t know what to do. Lola was no different but honestly Maya can’t care less about sex when she is with the person she loves the most in the whole world. Plus, they have plenty of time ahead of them to experiment with each other.

“But — I do want to touch you.” Lola mutters on Maya’s lips, as her hands travel on the side of her body. Maya shivers and kisses her again, again and again.

…

They get out of bed around noon with the intent to eat something but instead they find themselves sitting on the couch again. Lola is cuddled between Maya’s legs, her back on Maya’s front and her head gently placed on her chest. She’s running her fingers through her hair like she always does, letting the brown strands wrap around and then letting them go. She knows Lola loves when she plays with her hair, it makes her feel extremely relaxed and cared for. It is also their way to tell one another that something was wrong when there are people around. One of them puts a hand on the other hair and they know. They sneaked off so many times with this technique and all of them they found themself alone in a comfortable hug. Today is different, though. The hugs and the cuddles that used to be platonic aren’t anymore and Maya doesn't have to dream about the softness of Lola’s lips.

“Hey Maya —” Lola starts, turning her head enough to see Maya’s face. “ … Now I can stop calling you my best friend, right?” She ends up asking and Maya smiles against her forehead. “You better.” She imitates Lola’s tone of last night, when she told her to kiss her. Maya lost count of how many times she pinched herself already. She always does it when Lola can’t see her because she knows she would mock her for her entire life if she saw. It’s just that she still can’t believe she gets yo have Lola like this. It feels natural with her, it feels like home, but after four years of desperate longing and gay panic when she found herself a little closer than normal to her, you can’t blame her.

“I want to tell the others about this… About us.” Lola adds, shifting from her laying position on a more comfortable one straddling Maya’s lap. Maya’s hands travel from her waist to her thighs, while she locks eyes with Lola. “I’m not sure I want to do it now, though. It’s not because I’m scared of how people will react seeing me with a girl, I want to make this clear.” She clarifies, playing with the hem of Maya’s shirt. “I want to take the time to live all of this for a while, just the two of us.” Maya couldn’t agree more. She is out and proud but has nothing against Lola needing some time to process everything privately. She doesn’t care about how Lola will decide to define herself or even if she won’t at all, the only important thing is that Lola’s happy and if she can be the person to make her happy… Well, so much better. “I’ll give you as much time as you need.” Maya smiles and Lola makes their noses brush against one another.

“Thank you.” Lola murmurs on Maya’s lips and then she cups her face with her hands, bringing them together in a delicate press. Maya doesn’t answer but she’s sure that her lingering touches on Lola’s back and both of them deepening the kiss enough to get lost in it once again is enough to reassure Lola that she isn’t going anywhere,

that she’s here to stay.

#this was cute to write #i loved writing from maya's pov might do that again #there's angst but it ends well i promise #also hayley kiyoko song is iconic i love it #this is obviously inspired to her song sleepover #mayla fic #mayla #skam france

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stevesnailbat · 4 years

Text

the fine line | steve harrington x hopper!oc

part three : test of my patience

SERIES MASTERLIST

warnings: just a lot of angst

word count: 2.7K

a/n: one part left after this!! i hope you guys have enjoyed this angst-filled rollercoaster as much as i have :) gif isn’t mine, it’s from this gifset

Driving to Steve’s house was like second nature to Jess, but she didn’t think she’d ever be doing it again. There she was, though. She was on her way to talk to the boy who broke her heart, and she felt like a fool. It wasn’t like she meant for this to happen, she didn’t mean to come crawling back to Steve, but it happened. Jess couldn’t help but think that she had done it to herself, that she had put herself into the situation by telling him that she couldn’t stop loving him. She couldn’t help herself anymore, she needed answers and if those answers weren’t what she wanted to hear, then she needed closure.

An incessant knocking on the front door of the Harrington residence was the last thing that Steve expected on a Sunday at nine in the morning. When he first heard it, he groaned softly and shoved his head under a pillow to drone out the sound. It didn’t work, though. The pounding didn’t stop for the whole minute that he laid beneath the warm covers, so he decided to answer just to get them to shut up. He wanted nothing more than to stay in his bed and sulk all day, the words that Jess had whispered to him the night before replaying in his mind as he did. He didn’t think that he’d ever be opening the front door to his house to see Jess on the other side again, but here he was.

“Steve.” she said shakily. “We need to talk.”

“Oh—uh—alright. Come on in.” he offered nervously, studying the way she still seemed so hesitant about him.

She came in without saying anything and sat on the couch, in the same spot she had sat in when she came to confront him just weeks before. This time seemed different, though. She didn’t seem to be holding any anger, but there was a certain sadness in the way she was holding herself together. Jess seemed to be on the brink of tears, but she didn’t really even know why.

“Jess.” Steve called after a moment, realizing that she had spaced out and was about to break down in front of him.

“Right—Sorry.” she said, shaking her head to snap herself back to reality. “I—I came here to talk to you about us.”

“Us?” he questioned hesitantly, unsure of what she meant. “As in?”

“Me and you, Steve. What we were.” she retorted, resentment in her voice as she used the past tense. “I’ve had my time to cope, to deal with the emotions that I was feeling. I—I know I wasn’t ready to listen when I came here that day that I found out, I was just so upset.”

“And you had every right to be upset.” he said while walking to the couch, sitting a safe distance away from her. “You still do.”

“I know I did.” Jess said with narrowed eyes, making him recoil a little further away from her. “But that doesn’t mean that I had the right to not listen to you.”

“What?” Steve asked, brow furrowed as he stared at her from afar.

“I never really let you explain the situation or let you tell your side of the story, I guess.” she shrugged. “I was just so mad at you and I couldn’t even think to let you explain what happened. I believed that you were only out to hurt me.”

“I didn’t want to hurt you, I really didn’t. I know it doesn’t seem like it, and I know I fucked up. But, I wouldn’t do this to hurt you.” he explained, words coming out a little more struggled than he’d wanted. “I didn’t know what was happening, honestly. I know that sounds like the stupidest excuse ever, it does. I hear how stupid it sounds every time I say it. But, I thought it was you. The voice, the hair, everything to drunk me was the same.”

She didn’t realize that there were tears sliding down her cheeks until one of them dripped onto her hand. She couldn’t help but believe what he was saying, he sounded so sincere. And he was, he was as truthful as he could be in the moment. The night was pretty blurry to him, but he could clearly remember how he knew he’d fucked up after he’d done it.

“When Tina barged into that bedroom.” he started painfully, unable to look up at her as she stared over at him. “I had stopped that girl, whoever the hell it actually was, from kissing me again. When we were in the living room, it was dark and loud and I swore to God that it was you. I even asked her why she wasn’t watching El—like I knew you were that night—and she just said she wanted to see me, or something like that. Then—Then she led me to the bedroom and was kissing me and I could tell—I could just fucking tell that it wasn’t you, it wasn’t your lips. I don’t remember much else but I remember her kissing me right before Tina came in, and I tried to stop her. I knew as soon as Tina came in that I had fucked up, and that I was going to lose you.”

There was something in Steve’s voice that made her fold, it made her finally break. In all of the time that they’d been apart, Jess had told herself that she was strong and that she could get over it, that it wasn’t worth her tears. Sure, she’d cried about it, but never for more than a moment. This time was different, though. Jess knew she couldn’t hold back anymore, she’d been strong for too long.

Steve didn’t know what to do when he heard the first whimper slip from her lips, he thought he was imagining it at first. Jess Hopper was the type to never cry over anything, her dad had taught her that nothing so arbitrary was worth her tears anymore, especially after everything they had gone through. But, this time, she was too broken to hold back. Seeing the tears stream down her face as a small sob wracked her body broke Steve’s heart, but he knew he deserved to have his heart broken like he’d done to her.

“Jess, I—“ he started, but the look she gave him as he opened his mouth told him that he had said enough.

“I tried to hate you. I fucking tried, I really did. I wanted to resent you for what you’ve done to me. But, I just—I just fucking couldn’t.” she said, her voice barely above a whisper as she struggled to choke down her sobs. “I wanted to believe that you were just trying to hurt me and break my heart, but I knew that wasn’t you. I knew that wasn’t the Steve Harrington that I fell in love with. I knew there was something else to the story, I was just too mad to even hear it.”

“You deserved to let me die with my truth, honestly. I didn’t deserve time to explain what happened. I shouldn’t have put myself in that situation, I don’t expect you to forgive me for this, Jess.” he said softly, moving a little closer to where she sat.

“I—I know. I’m not forgiving you, Steve.” she said softly, shaking her head at her own voice. “I just—I don’t know. There’s something that keeps bringing me back to you. I’ve tried to tell myself that you broke my heart so many times, but I can’t stop thinking about us, what we had.”

“I don’t—I don’t think I understand what you mean.” Steve said carefully, easing into his words as he spoke.

“I’m not just gonna say that I forgive you and that I’ll forget everything that happened. That’s not what this is, because I don’t believe you’ve earned that.” she started, he nodded feverishly in reply. “But, fuck, Steve. I miss you. I—I miss seeing you all the time and I miss us.”

“I know, Jess. I’ve missed you too.” he sighed, watching as she sniffled and wiped her tears from her eyes. “But, what are you trying to say?”

“I guess I’m trying to say that we can start over. I can do second chances, everyone deserves one.” she said wearily, a sad smile on her lips. “I’m trying to say that I want you in my life and—and that maybe we can work this out together.”

“I mean, if that’s what you want, Jess. I’m willing to do whatever you want.” he said, trying not to sound too excited as his heart skipped a beat. “Are you sure that’s what you want to do?”

“Yeah, I think so.” she sighed, finally looking up at him with a nervous look on her face. “Don’t make me regret my decision, Steve.”

So they tried, and tried, and tried to make things work again. Steve worked his ass off to be the best that he could be and to make sure that he didn’t slip up. They started out slow, by only seeing each other every other day and doing so in small sittings. Jess didn’t know why she decided that, but it probably had something to do with her fear of arguing with him.

Some days were better than others, that’s for sure. Steve would bring her food or take her some new place every time they’d hang out, trying to make things like they used to be. Jess seemed to be happier now, but there was still something holding her back from being the real her. Of course, Steve knew what it was, but was afraid to mention it for the sake of saving them from more arguments.

Her heart was tugging her in two directions every time they were together. She wanted to be in his arms and let him back into her life without hesitancy, but she knew she couldn’t. Steve could see the struggle hidden in her eyes whenever they were together, he always saw right through her facade. It was killing him honestly, seeing her hide her conflict from him all the time. But he’d made so much progress that he didn’t want to fuck anything up again, so he stayed quiet.

Steve stayed quiet for weeks, for as long as he could muster being in the dark. Really, she was testing his patience to see how long he could hold out without trying to comfort her; she didn’t want to talk about what happened and he knew that. The day that he decided that he was going to bring up the situation again, she had come out of the cabin with tears in her eyes. She slammed the front door shut and wiped her cheeks quickly, giving him a sad smile as she walked towards the car. A sigh of frustration escaped her lips as she swung the car door open and shut, but Steve didn’t dare to ask what was wrong yet. He was on the verge of taking back his decision to ask her about their relationship at this point.

“Steve.” she said as he pulled out of the driveway, making him snap his attention in her direction to see an all-too-sudden change of expression on her face. “Let’s go to the quarry."

“I thought we were going to that movie—“ he started.

“Fuck the movie. I want to go to the quarry, please?” she pleaded, more than a hint of desperation in her voice as she spoke. “I just wanna get away for a little bit.”

“Alright, but it’s on you if your dad gets mad about it.” he agreed teasingly, making her lip quirk up slightly.

Most of their times at the quarry were in the middle of the night and spent getting drunk or high and making out in the backseat of the BMW, but this time was different. Neither of them could stomach the thought of drinking again, not after what had happened. As much as they’d both rather be making out in the backseat of Steve’s car, they both knew they couldn’t, not after what had happened. The sun was setting when they pulled into their usual spot, it seemed like a completely different place now. Jess pulled him out of his seat and onto the hood of the car, insisting that they watched the sunset together.

The silence between them was peaceful, for once. There was no resentment and pain in the air anymore, things finally seemed to be changing for the better. They watched the sun slip behind the trees on the other side of the quarry, stars littering the sky as the moon replaced the sun. Steve could tell that Jess was thinking hard about something. He wasn’t sure if he really wanted to know what it was, but he knew that it probably had to do with him. It seemed like they were finally going to talk about what was going on, wether he wanted to or not.

“My dad and I got into a fight today.” Jess finally admitted, leaning back on the hood of the car to stare at the stars beginning to show up in the sky. “He told me that I’m making a big mistake.”

Steve’s heart sunk as she spoke, he didn’t even need her to finish her thought to know exactly what he was talking about. He was the big mistake, and he knew it. Jess was staring at the sky, trying to collect her thoughts as she held herself together. She could tell by the way that Steve was holding tension in himself, that he knew exactly what she meant. He was bracing himself for her to finally break it off, for her to finally tell him that he could go fuck himself and that she was just trying to break his heart like he had done to her. But, she knew better than to do that to him. He’d tried so hard at winning her over once again and she could tell he’d become frustrated recently with their lack of progress.

“He asked me if I thought that you deserved to be happy, if I thought that you were even worth the pain I was going through.” she started, taking a deep breath as she blinked away a few tears. “I said yes. I told him that I can’t hate you for what happened, especially after what you told me. He told me he wasn’t going to support my decision, but that he’d still let me make my own decisions, make my own mistakes.”

He only nodded and smiled weakly at her as he leaned back to prop himself onto his elbows, looking up at the stars with her. Relief started to rush through him, but he knew he couldn’t be completely relieved yet.

“I think about what things would’ve been like if this wouldn’t have happened a lot. But then I remember that that’s something we’ll never know. And that I need to stop thinking about the what if’s.” she sighed, rolling her head over to look at him. “We need to work together if this is going to work, and I’m sorry I’ve been holding back.”

“Why are you sorry, Jess?” Steve questioned, feeling her hand graze against his as she inched closer to him.

“Because I shouldn’t be so conflicted about this whole situation. I’ve been getting scolded for going back to you, but I shouldn’t be so sorry for still—“ she said, stopping herself before she could say she loved him, he hadn’t earned that privilege yet and he knew it. “I shouldn’t be so sorry for wanting to save what we had. And before I start to overthink my decisions anymore, I wanna do this.”

Before Steve could comprehend what was happening, Jess had snaked her hand around his neck and pulled him down into a kiss. It was soft and reserved, much different than any kiss the couple had ever shared. It was sad in a way, but there was hope in the air again. Their hearts were finally healing, but they were nowhere near done on their journey. That extremely fine line was getting easier to navigate now that they were on the same page, it would be easier to fall back in love again and they both knew it.

tags: @sourapplebaby @harringtown @queenofthehairharrington @charmed-asylum @hystericalmedicine @a-magey @daddystevee @sledgy14 @m-blasterrr @madiebrock @pocsimcc @karasong @heart-eye-harrington @lemonypink @jxnehxpper @igotmadskills

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lostlonelylotus · 4 years

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Another Hiatus?

straight up thinking of taking another hiatus from Tumblr...I hate to, but I’m thinking maybe this place just isn’t good for me, even after such a long time away in the first place. More under the cut, if anyone wants to read it.

So, I struggle with a lot on a daily basis. Things that I don’t even tell what few people are around me in real life, because frankly, I don’t really have anyone to tell that I think would want to help. I’ve had to end a great deal of my friendships because they were unhealthy/toxic and others ended because I’m disabled and cannot keep up with more “social” or outgoing people (which unfortunately is usually interpreted as disinterest because of constant rescheduling or inability to go out).

No one even knows that I’ve started a particularly hard round of chemotherapy that involves painful injections, because I worry that people just get sick of hearing how I’m actually doing versus the image of me they think should be real. I lie and say that I’m fine, when I’m struggling mentally and physically. Very few people know that I’m in such severe constant pain that even with strong opiates, medical cannabis, benzodiazepines and constantly watching my diet, I’m spending 12+ hours a day in bed. I never get below a 6/10 anymore. I can’t remember what anything below that feels like. My body tortures me every waking minute.

I’m back to where I started when I began treatment in 2012 and my mental health has taken a nose dive because it all just feels so futile, you know? Treatment after treatment, surgery after surgery, fighting tooth and nail to have the bare bones of a life only to fail and wind up at square one is...Hell.

Add onto that, that I can’t get a FT job (so no PTO or good health insurance) despite having multiple degrees and that I had a position lined up before COVID that might now no longer even exist when this is all over + that the Part Time job I have that I love has completely changed now that I’m work from home and I HATE these new tasks and miss my coworkers + that I live with an actively abusive family member + that I have no friends beyond surface-level acquaintances despite so much effort to try and make and keep friends + that I’ve struggled my whole life with internalization of everything...and you’ve got a walking disaster of a human being who should probably nowhere near this site.

My therapist is through the school I graduated from, so I can’t even see them, and it wouldn’t matter because our relationship has progressed too far and they just treat my visits like a social hour and we never even talk about my real problems. It’s pretty damn pathetic when your needs don’t even matter to your therapist.

In real life, I’m a doormat to people’s needs. You need a house sitter? That’s me and they’ll pay me pennies to do it. You need someone to teach your children during COVID because we’re co-distancing? You need someone to drop everything and help you? That’s me. But when I need something, anything? A cup of tea or a genuinely asked “How are you?”? Forget it.

I miss fandom. I miss the escape. I miss the discourse. I miss the photosets and the freaking out over characters. I miss fandom buddies.

My experience of fandom since I last left Tumblr maybe 2-3 years ago has been very solitary. AO3 fics that I *do* comment on or discord servers where I’m one of dozens or more of people that no one can really remember because it’s hard to try to “compete” to be heard with 5 other people who are friends that are talking in depth about parts of fandom that you are new to...that and Google bloody Images have been my fandom for the past 2 years.

It’s fucking lonely out here. I feel like a fandom cowboy, alone on a prairie, occasionally passing by other cowboys and wrangling the livestock together for a moment before heading on with a half-hearted tip of our hats. It’s more than likely the reason why I haven’t published a fic in nearly 2 years, even though I’ve completed 1 or 2 little ones. I used to write all the time, all the time. Fics, ficlets, drabbles, headcanons. Screaming into the void is so much harder than just sitting there with your eyes closed and pretending there is no void.

I got into Classic Doctor Who and back into a few “older”/smaller fandoms, and when there’s no fic to be had...your only option really is Tumblr. I was writing again (am writing again?), and the photo/gif sets and the meta had me fucking inspired for the first time in...so long. I was addicted to writing again. Wrote more in the last two weeks than I have in years. Started writing a fic that’s already longer than any I’ve ever written before.

I thought I could handle it, Tumblr helped so much before in the Golden Days of Tumblr. I became part of a huge fandom friend group on Skype back then. I had friends. I had true fandom, not this bizarre one-person-imaginings experience of fandom.

I was able to see something triggering or an opinion I disagreed with or deal with bad anons or any of the bad parts of Tumblr. I was able to see just the good, overall.

But, now, I don’t know that I can? I’m too internalizing now? Someone replies to a post with a minor disagreement and it makes me hate myself. I get a slightly disgruntled anon and I cry. People don’t tag very triggering or super stressful political items anymore, so I can’t “unplug” when I need to avoid seeing things about riots and horrendous crimes against people and so I wind up with an additional panic attack because I can’t do anything about anything.

I don’t know if the vibe of this place has changed or if I’ve become one of the dreaded and dreadful “snowflakes” who just can’t handle shit. I think both, honestly.

And it fucking sucks, okay? Because I was starting to get back into the swing of liking this place. I was starting to branch out and reconnect with folks I knew from before that were/are wonderful or make new fandom acquaintances. I had the carrot of having a collection of true fandoms in front of me. Of feeling connected in this time of horrendous isolation (both for the world and me personally).

But the stick is so much bigger than I remember. So much larger and harder; a tree trunk log instead of a twig switch. I’m not taking little love taps or slightly stinging slaps, I’m being beaten with it. By it.

I don’t know what to do. I want to keep Tumbling. I want to keep building friendships and talking about dumb fandom things. I want to reblog old gifsets and have convos in the tags. I want to share fics/art back and forth. I live for the discussions that I’m starting to have again. I live for seeing 3 bloody notes on an original post I made. I live for knowing that someone, somewhere is seeing something I wrote or made or said and likes it.

I don’t want the internalization of disagreements, of a perceived inferiority to other users, of feeling bad about myself over things that aren’t even a big deal on Tumblr but are to me. I don’t want to feel even more ‘less than’ than I already do.

I don’t want to feel extreme anxiety over the insanity of the world that I can’t escape even on here because tagging is a thing of the past and it’s apparently a major faux pas to ask for tags on triggering content, even if I fully support the matters tagged. I live the insanity okay? I’m a queer, disabled, person of color, in the small-town Midwest living in poverty. I’m not some racist who just doesn’t want to see your protest content. I’m struggling to get by.

Maybe I’ll just stop producing content? Only reblog and like? Only comb through character tags or chat with some of the fantastic people that have offered? My inspiration is declining, along with my mood.

I’d honestly contemplate a permanent hiatus (just not a deletion) if all of the fandoms that I was in had discords, but they don’t. If they do, I don’t know about them. Though, honestly, discord is not the same, and I always feel even more insignificant there. Drowned out or unimportant.

Huh. Drowned out or unimportant, that could really be the title of this pity post. Possibly the title of an autobiography, if I was ever self-indulgent enough to write one.

If you’ve read this whole thing, then wow. Thank you, because you’ve just given more of a shit about me and my feelings than anyone in a long, long time.

This post probably won’t be up long, it was honestly meant to be a pity-party cathartic release of feelings and will, no doubt, make me feel more pathetic the longer I leave it up.

#fandom #personal #I'm contemplating leaving Tumblr again #I just don't know

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admiralty-xfd · 5 years

Photo

Mulder and Scully reflect upon Valentine’s Days of the past. For the @xfilesfanficexchange. Thank you so much to @childofjobassa for the perfect gifset!

MULDER

February 14, 2015

The snow fell softly, gentle but persistent. It formed a smooth, clean blanket, a vast expanse of white completely untouched by human activity. It was actually quite beautiful, but as Fox Mulder watched through the window he only saw it as negative space. Nothingness. Emptiness.

It only served to remind him he was alone.

He knew Valentine’s Day would be hard this year, but it was even worse than he’d feared. It had been a year since Scully left him, and this particular holiday hadn’t crossed his mind much in the interim. But faced with it today, he couldn’t help but recall with alarming incredulity that he hadn’t celebrated it with Scully either of their last two years together.

Twice.

In the grand scheme of things, Valentine’s Day probably wasn’t a huge deal, but he knew it was to her, and his apparent dismissal of it was symptomatic of everything that had gone wrong between the two of them. He’d completely forgotten about it; let the day go by, ignoring it in the midst of his own personal haze, just like he’d done with Scully. With an entire year of loneliness behind them now, he'd been coming to that painful realization with shocking clarity.

Why on earth had she stuck around with him for so long? The guilt he felt was beyond measure, and the worst part of it was that this was something he could not fix. He couldn’t seek out and find the answer to this one. He couldn’t call her up and apologize for something that was a mere bullet point on the massive list of his mistakes. He couldn’t give two Valentine’s Days back to her.

He couldn’t give any days back to her.

He looked around the house they used to share, and even with his possessions scattered everywhere, it felt so empty. She had made this place a home; without her, it was just a house. It was she who had made their unremarkable house remarkable.

Evening was fast approaching, and he was getting hungry. His health had improved greatly thanks to Scully, who had arranged with one of her colleagues to keep an eye on him and monitor his moods, make sure he was taking his meds. But it was tough being stuck inside the house all the time with little reason to venture out. Sometimes the days still got away from him and he’d forget to eat.

He opened the fridge and was greeted by nothing. He didn’t want to have to wait, but the idea of bundling up and heading out into the cold in search of food was even less appealing, so he ordered a pizza from the one place that delivered all the way out here, their place, he thought wistfully, and sat down at the kitchen table to wait.

It wasn’t lost on him how much time he'd spent waiting in his relationship with Scully. Waiting for her return after she’d been abducted. Waiting for her to die as the cancer slowly eroded her body. Waiting to tell her his true feelings for her. Waiting for the world to come to a screeching halt, which it didn’t, at least not until she decided to leave him.

Waiting for her to come home.

Sitting here alone feeling sorry for himself seemed to be his only option, so that’s exactly what he did. He sat.

And waited.

1 9 9 4

“You got anything going on tonight, Scully? Hot date?” Mulder asked as he shrugged into his trench coat. She closed the file on the desk in front of her.

“No, not tonight.”

“It’s a crime,” he said, flashing her a smile. He was sure that sounded stupid. Idiot.

She smiled to herself, ever so slightly, and he wasn’t sure how to interpret it. He knew he probably shouldn't flirt with her, but he couldn't help himself. It felt harmless. It was never too overt, and almost old fashioned. Part of him believed he was subconsciously trying to repel her.

“What about you?” she asked. Her eyes were curious, that look he’d gotten so used to lately. The look that meant the impossible might actually become possible.

“Oh I do have a hot date. Plan Nine From Outer Space. Just me and the fish.”

She stood up and smiled, in his direction this time. He really liked it when she smiled. She was pretty, he knew this, although he tried hard not to think about it too much.

“Sounds like a pretty depressing Valentine’s Day to me,” she said.

He shrugged. He actually hated Valentine’s Day. When he’d been with Phoebe, she’d not-so-subtly hinted for weeks about some fancy restaurant she wanted to go to, he’d made reservations, and she hadn’t turned up. And every Valentine’s Day he’d spent with Diana had been a disappointment to her, and she hadn’t been shy about voicing that opinion.

“Never really liked it. Hallmark holiday, you know.”

“That’s what people say when they don’t have a date,” she pointed out. He wasn’t sure how correct she was, but he chuckled anyway.

“You don’t have one either,” he chided good-naturedly.

“I never said I didn’t like Valentine’s Day,” she countered with a grin. He held up his hands, conceding.

She stood, walking over to the door, and looked at him almost expectantly. For a moment he considered inviting her over, but he hesitated. It didn’t have to be a big deal if they didn’t want it to be, but how would she interpret such an invitation? It was still so early in their partnership. His mouth went dry and he realized it was because he’d been holding it open the past several seconds. He closed it. The moment passed.

“Anyway,” she continued. “I’m going over to my mom’s. It’s her first one since my dad died, and Melissa’s out with her boyfriend. I just don’t want her to be by herself, you know?”

He wanted to kick himself for not thinking of that, but at the same time he was relieved he hadn’t made an offer she’d have to refuse. He nodded with a small smile, and took her coat off the rack, holding it open for her. She turned, backing into the coat, and as he pulled it up over her shoulders he caught a whiff of her hair. He couldn’t place the scent, but it was just so… feminine. It wasn’t as if he needed reminding his partner was an attractive woman, but whenever something like this occurred he felt emotions rising up within him he couldn’t quite quantify.

She turned and grinned again. “Thanks. See you tomorrow, Mulder.”

“Bye, Scully. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“You too.”

She left and headed towards the elevator and he realized if he followed her they’d have to awkwardly say goodbye again. So he stood exactly where he was until he heard the doors close, breathing in the scent she left behind and wondering where the hell all these feelings were coming from.

He shrugged to himself. Must have been Valentine’s Day.

1 9 9 7

“Hey, Scully. What are you up to this evening?”

He almost said it. Got a hot date? He said it to her every year. He stopped himself just in time because he didn’t want to hurt her feelings. He had no idea if this would be her last Valentine’s Day.

His own feelings about the holiday had evolved over the past couple years until it was replete with meaning and intent and dangerous purpose. He was falling for his partner, as much as he’d tried to avoid it. He couldn’t just be “cute” with her anymore. Everything had gotten serious. He was in love with her and she was dying.

“Not sure, actually. I have a doctor’s appointment to go to.”

“Can I drive you?” It was immediate and forward, maybe more forward than he’d ever been. But he was feeling a stronger and stronger need to be close to her as much as possible. He feared if he wasn’t with her, she’d hide from him as she usually did. She'd confided in him about her diagnosis but still held so much inside, and he wanted to be there for her in whatever way he could be. He wanted to know what was going on with her. He wanted to know everything.

She looked hesitant, but then agreed. “Okay.”

The drive to the hospital was mostly silent, as neither of them really knew what to say. Whatever news or update she would get this afternoon, it wouldn’t be good and they both knew it. She sat still with her hands in her lap, occasionally looking out the window. Finally, she spoke.

“I don’t have one tonight, you know.”

“Have what?”

“A hot date.”

She twisted her neck to look at him and grinned, and he smiled back uncomfortably. She meant it as a joke, but what was unspoken hung in the air like pollution, swirling around both their heads. He was so confused he forgot how to breathe and rolled the window down, the chilled air cutting across his face like a thousand knives.

This one is too long for tumblr, fam... to continue reading please click here.

#txf #msr #msr fanfic #valentines day #angsty but sweet #these two are such idiots #but we love them

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panelshowsource · 5 years

Text

a note about women’s month 💘

thank you to everyone who voted in the fave female panelists poll this year! last year was a blast and this year was even better! we’ve seen more woman on tv this year — and some improved, though grossly insufficient, diversity within that — and i love celebrating that with you everyday!

last year, i wrote this:

the lack of diversity in british comedy is an alarming issue that has only recently become headline news. statistics presented by this study, based on 50 years of panel shows and over 4,700 individual episodes, are beyond disappointing for women (here is an easy-to-read graph by series & by year); similar disappointment stems from the lineups at popular comedy festivals, like edinburgh. in 2014, the head of tv at the bbc promised to end all-male comedy shows, a “step in the right direction” that hasn’t been without fear of tokenism, fair criticism as well as some naysayers. women, people of colour, lgbt peoples, those differently-abled and those all of the above and in between are just as funny as cis-identifying white men and deserve a place on our screens. watch their standup, buy their books, stream their videos, listen to their podcasts, comment on and like their content, follow their social media. this support can directly help women become more visible in british comedy.

in the last year, have you been actively conscious of supporting women in comedy? i’d like to take a moment to talk about some ways you can do that :)

➡ from feminist discourse to tales of humans & their dogs to ghost stories, these women are providing some of the most touching, stimulating, and funny reading coming out of comedy:

How to be Champion: My Autobiography by Sarah Millican

Animal: The Autobiography of a Female Body by Sara Pascoe

The Guilty Feminist: From our noble goals to our worst hypocrisies by Deborah Frances-White

The Actual One: How I Tried, and Failed, to Avoid Adulthood Forever by Isy Suttie

Cheer Up Love: Adventures in Depression with the Crab of Hate by Susan Calman

The More You Ignore Me by Jo Brand

Can't Stand Up for Sitting Down: A Memoir by Jo Brand

Look Back in Hunger: The Autobiography by Jo Brand

Born Lippy: How to Do Female by Jo Brand

Is It Just Me? by Miranda Hart

Peggy & Me by Miranda Hart

Nina Is Not OK by Shappi Khorsandi

A Beginner's Guide to Acting English: A Memoir by Shappi Khorsandi

Spectacles: A Memoir by Sue Perkins

East of Croydon: Blunderings through India and South East Asia by Sue Perkins

Once More, with Feeling: How We Tried to Make the Greatest Porn Film Ever by Victoria Coren Mitchell and Charlie Skelton

For Richer, For Poorer: A Love Affair with Poker by Victoria Coren Mitchell

Dead Funny: Horror Stories by Comedians featuring Sara Pascoe, Katy Brand, and Danielle Ward

...and that’s just to name a handful! my fingers would need a 5 min power nap if i tried typing out all of susie dent’s books 💪

➡ this is a list of a lot relevant active podcasts coming out of britain right now (though it is missing, most notably, off menu). for example, if you liked alice levine on taskmaster, why not listen to her podcast? or watch/listen her on rhlstp? this is such a fun way to get more deeply involved in the comedy of some of your favourite ladies! might i recommend isy suttie’s the things we do for love, anneka harry’s brown bread, or box set go! with nicola stephenson (the newest ep features rebecca front!)? most of these are free, or they can be found/requested at /r/notapanelshow p.s. suzi ruffell, rosie jones, tiff stevenson and more are scheduled to appear on rhlstp this season 😍

➡ here is a list of some radio programmes currently on the air. while it does look stacked with men (because it is), women do feature on so many of these series and absolutely smash it! did you know sandi toksvig hosted the news quiz for almost ten years, and its regular panelists include susan calman, rebecca front, zoe lyons, and more? or that victoria coren mitchell has hosted heresy since 2006 (because there’s nothing she can’t do)? or that sarah millican, jo brand, and sally phillips have each hosted series of the museum of curiosity? these are all on the masterpost! 👏 p.s. you can always search for and/or request more radio shows at /r/panelshow or, if they’re not panel radio shows, /r/notapanelshow :)

➡ social 👏 media 👏 determines 👏 relevancy 👏 do i agree with this system? no. is this the system entertainers are currently slaves to? yes. do you follow your favourite women on twitter, instagram, youtube, etc? one click. one like. one retweet. one reblog. here is a list of some of the comedians i follow on twitter to get you started — all of your faves are on there! when you like something they are on, tweet about it! tag them, the network, the channel, use the hashtags, post pictures! tell channels like dave or people like richard osman who your faves are, who deserves more exposure, who you want to see in the future! we’re already obsessing over how much we like these ladies anyways, so why not make that obsession even more visibile?

➡ we have a really sweet, modest community here of at least 10,000 people. this is not something i’ve ever talked about because i don’t want what i’m going to say to be misconstrued as begging for notes — that is not my concern. but you may have heard people on this site talk about something called the like/reblog ratio. a lot of creators are concerned that, apart from tumblr’s ever-evolving ludicrous algorithms murdering their visibility, people are so obsessed with their blog aesthetics that they’re not actually reblogging everything they like. here’s a couple of my gifset details, one from a nicher post and one from a more popular post:

while i appreciate any notes, numbers likes these aren’t always encouraging. i’m not here to tell you how to enjoy your spare time and interests, or to criticise people who enjoy aesthetic. i just want to point out that if you want someone to be successful, you play a direct part in promoting them and spreading their art. as the years pass, this becomes more and more true. i know how much you all love these ladies — i get messages about them every single day — but it’s a simple fact that a gifset of james acaster or noel fielding or richard ayoade or david mitchell is going to get more notes than a post about any of the women who placed in the top 5 of this poll. i am not bringing this up to this make anyone feel guilty about what they enjoy; i only hope my mentioning this encourages you to be conscientious when participating on social media, especially when your interest lies in the products of a grossly unjust industry that is taking a lot fucking time to get itself on the right track. more followers on a comedian’s twitter = more work for that comedian, because that’s simply the direction the film & tv industry is going. if your follow yields that much power, why not use it for good?

please support women. if you buy one of their books, please message me and tell me which one! if you think one of them is shining on a radio programme and we’re sleeping on her, please let me know (timestamps appreciated!)! if one starts a gofundme or patreon to start a podcast or a tour, please donate 50p and then send me the link! there is always more we can be doing and we are always underestimating what even smallest amount of support means for their bigger picture. i don’t have all the answers, but i love the feeling i get when i believe society is evolving in the right direction. rose matafeo won the edinburgh comedy award in 2018, and sarah keyworth and kiri pritchard-mclean took the top awards at the 2019 chortle awards. women are here to stay and they’re fucking killing it. because duh ❣️

if you took the time to read this, i appreciate you x

#female top 5 #p #p.s. will post the top 5 results tomorrow and then it's back to our regularly scheduled programming...!

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willel · 5 years

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Ok, what do you like about this show? Most of your posts are criticisms (I agree with most of them.) Like obviously you like this show because you have a blog about it, but you dont write much about what you like.

You can read my blog to learn what I love about this show. 8D But I’ll indulge. This month I have posted 125~ posts. Of these posts not including me adding reblogging my own posts, 18~ were negative. About 7 of them were about the fanbase being annoying not the show, and 1 of them was me stating I hate Lonnie. What a prick. I hope they all get to kick his but. That’s about 10~ out of 125~ critiquing the show.

Let’s look at July. That’s 541 posts. Of those posts... ok, that’s way too many posts for me to go through. But, most of the ‘negative’ posts are me processing what happened and trying to figure out why they were written the way they were. A logical thing to do. And I’m sure if I went through last month, again, most of the negative posts will be me being annoyed at fanbase being dumb.

Anyway, a lot of my time is spent on this secret project (not really a secret, I spill stuff about it all the time):

I’ve also spent about...... $150 this month of Stranger Things specific art commissions, all of my entertainment money to produce the kind of content I love. Actual moolah.

I have a whole Ao3 fic list dedicated to my favorite Stranger Things fics and praise the writers on this blog as soon as I finish reading their fic. I anon drop ideas in peoples inboxes all the time like the sneaky sneak I am.

I have a multitude of gifsets I make when inspiration comes to me. I’d love to do more drawing, but I’ll be honest, I’m lazy as hell.

I have a couple of theory videos in the works, I even recorded one of them but decided to redo because I suck.

I have new headcanons every day all day and discuss it publicly and privately on this blog all the time. Some I keep to myself for the secret I mentioned above.

Not to mention I reblog other peoples gifsets, headcanons, fanfictions, and art and sometimes I’m left howling in the void over peoples fantastic headcanons and ideas, I wish I could absorb them into my body.

Despite it all, I’m still hopeful season 4 will be great.

Every day that goes by, my hope that the Duffers can return to form and write interesting stuff again gets stronger and stronger. You see, I do love the characters and the show, but anyone would get agitated when you feel like they’re missing too many cool opportunities. I’m not even talking about WillEl though that was a big missed opportunity.

The first and second season introduced some pretty cool supernatural elements and fully capitalized on them when they could. I love horror movies and paranormal movies and stories and stuff, so at the end of the day, it’s the part I’m most looking forward to. Season 3 just... didn’t do it for me. They were more concerned with being gross than spooky and mysteriously dangerous. For me there’s a difference though I know it’s not the same for everyone.

Season 1 we had the Demogorgon who ran on instinct and ate whatever it could reach... except Will for some reason. It took multiple attempts to kill the thing and it introduced us to a whole new world, the Upside Down. For it to just... pop out, take someone, and they’re just gone? And to think about how it stalked Will in the Upside Down for a whole week like some kind of game? It even took its time to eat and hunt other people. It was JAWS in true monster form.

Season 2 we have the Mind Flayer stalking Will Byers, the boy previously taken last year. Our characters are left scrambling when one of their own basically turns evil. It’s a battle of minds trying to outsmart this ancient being of doom out to destroy their world. Brings up more questions. Why Will? What is the Upside Down exactly, is everything a part of it? Are there more of them or is it the ultimate being? How do they get it out of him? What is he trying to do? Oh boy, he’s so mad he got locked out. What underhanded tricks will he do next season to get revenge.

Season 3 we’ve got the Flayed, which is SUCH a cool concept. Anyone could be the monster, even the guy you’ve been hanging out with this whole time. So spooky, honestly scary. Reminds me of The Thing which is the one horror movie that really gets me on edge. Cool concept... shaky execution. They just... all became goop? We got a split second of what I wanted with Billy acting like a sweet dude and then helping Heather take her parents. After that, nothing. Just nothing. They went after Jonathan and Nancy and that’s pretty much it before it just became a big monster which wasn’t really that spooky, ya know? The smoke monster even though it wasn’t a physical threat was much spookier.

So when you see me criticizing the show, it’s because I want be one of the few voices out there telling the Duffers, “Hey, you could’ve done this a little better. Next time can you put a little more thought into it like you did before?” If all people do is sing praises... we’ll end up with another season 3. Advertisements for Coke and Burger King. Even more Mom Steve memes. Some characters going 100% OOC for the sake of a joke.

I mean, we didn’t even get a special name for the monster this season. Just “The Flayed”, which is just The Mind Flayer. I’ve started calling him Mind Flesher.

My criticism comes from a place of, “I miss the supernatural mystery we had, I hope we get more of it.” or “Why do keep putting these Coke ads in the middle of the show?? This is straight up bad don’t do this crap.” or “You’re taking this joke too far and it’s becoming annoying, please use this screen time on interactions that have more meaning because we literally didn’t get any whatsoever and these characters are supposedly close.”

#ask

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jlf23tumble · 5 years

Text

1D Day, Hour One

God only knows what this hellscape will look like on December 18, so if I’m gonna recap each hour of 1D Day, I might as well do it now, eh?? 1D Day is a gift that none of us really deserved, and yeah, it has a ton of shitty moments, but much like X Factor itself, the true gem is Louis Tomlinson and how much he runs this entire show (and lbr, the band itself), Jesus, god, do I love him.

Anyway, 1D Day aired 7 hours of live content on November 23, 2013 to promote Midnight Memories, and yes, yes, we’ve all seen the gifsets, but like anything else with this band, it’s tremendously better in context. I watched this whole thing a couple of years ago, when I first got into this fandom, but I didn’t know all of the dynamics then, so it’s extra fascinating to me now. We’ve all binged worse shit than this that took way longer, and I promise you won’t regret an hour a night for a week--but if you’d rather read my hot take, here you go, under the cut! Note: these are really shitty screengrabs, and for that, I am truly sorry.

A horrible announcer introduces the D by saying they weigh in at a collective 792 pounds, and all I can wonder is does this mean they have daily weigh-ins, why is it that specific? This focus on their weight is just gross to me. C’mon, writers, you’re better than this (j/k, you aren’t).

The three-foot bubble between Louis and Harry is established pretty early on, with Harry doing the prettiest sitting in all the land before bolting to his feet immediately because Louis happened to walk by his couch. A very real question: Was this bubble a requirement that Ben Winston constantly whispers into their headpieces, or did sbb decide, hey, let’s make it obvious that we have to CONSTANTLY adjust where we stand, even if it’s two feet away because that’s not enough room for Jesus?

There are some truly hilarious guest “stars” to announce, the first being the giant video head of David Beckham, which pops up and immediately starts speaking, so we're already off to the races with a) fuckups and b) Louis’s annoyance at said fuckups.

Liam takes a good hard look at his future:

Harry isn’t allowed to gaze at Becks, he’s off by the listening booth, which is a giant red call box because they’re Briddish, pip pip, cheerio. Unrelated, but I low-key feel like Harry's coked up or else really taking the piss with all his “LIVE BANDDDDDDD,” JERRY! JERRY! JERRY!,” etc., not to mention how fast he’s speaking, the way he grinds on the guitarist’s lap while Louis fonds at the sky, and all the yelling with arms aloft.

The best part of the rundown of the guest “stars” (or breast stars, if you’re Niall) is that we’re only in the first 10 minutes, so everyone’s giving it a go, but then we get to Mr. Simon Cowell, and Niall claps five times to stony silence (me as Harry constantly staring at Louis from three feet away):

Piers Morgan comes out to describe the “grilling” he’s going to give them later, all angry—genuinely angry—that they’re trending on twitter because they keep saying that he smells. And they don’t stop, even here, they keep yelling, “What’s that smell? You stink, etc.,” and he’s such a dick that I want to bottle this moment and spritz it around my house daily.

This mild trash talking continues, with Piers promising “tears from Piers,” but Slytherin Niall pulls the fingernail out of his mouth, smiles that sneaky smile, and says, “Yeah, but this isn’t Piers Morgan Day, is it, this is 1D Day,” and I want a transcript because there’s so much talking, but all of it trashes Piers, and god, I love my sons.

Anyway, they keep winding Piers up (Piers: “I’m going to find out what you’re most embarrassed about,” Liam: “The way you smell,” Piers, genuinely in a rage: “Don’t say that”), and he keeps talking about how he’s interviewed heads of state, etc., the implication being that this is below him, but Niall counters that Oprah and Barbara Walters have, too, and they would have much preferred Oprah, to the point where Piers admits they couldn’t afford Oprah (lmaooooooo).

We move on to Harry, spinning a twitter wheel that means they’ll follow whoever it lands on, which seems like a cute idea. I’m guessing it’s the official twitter handle?? I don’t know or actually care!

Louis can’t read the teleprompter, and he mutters later that it’s because it makes no sense rather than being too hard to actually see, but me as Niall, already yawning at the 25-minute mark (the bubble is preserved, though, whew):

I’m guessing Scott Mills is the “host” of this show because he comes out with a stick (??) and an agenda (Scott’s no Dermot…he has a face for radio, as they used to say back in the day). This whole section just features a lot of Harry and his pinned sleeves staring at Louis, and honestly relatable:

The next task is toilet paper roll stacking, with two judges from the Guinness Book of World Records on hand to see if this band of hyenas can beat the current world record and stack 28 (!!!!) rolls in 30 seconds. Two reasons to love Louis: he interrupts this idiocy to ask, “How did you two get into this, is this a full-time job you do every day?” (I was wondering the exact same thing), and this is his face for this challenge:

Sadly, they fail, and Harry’s the one who has to tell the judges, “Well, sorry for wasting your time!” with a cheery wave from the ladder. Uh oh, though, the bubble, we’re at two feet:

Much better!

This is still too close for Ben Winston’s comfort, so we split up the teams in what feels like a college course with a lot of money to run fake broadcasting drills. Zouis gets to report from the field, with some tweet rapping; the weather guy, sports guy, and lead broadcaster experience some technical difficulties, prompting Harry’s infamous, “SOMETHING’S GONE WRONG,” and we’re off to Poland:

For a production company that seems hell bent on “no homo,” there are lots of things that raise my brows, like this big “handsome” (Harry’s words) he-man who’s going to pull a “boohs” full of 1D fans over a line, so the boys have to guess how long it’s going to take him…by writing all over his mostly nude body (I’m the eye contact that Harry and Louis maintain during this):

Dude pulls the boohs successfully, so yay! Next up is Wrong Direction, the world’s worst lookalikes (HONESTLY, I’m embarrassed for everyone in this segment on Hollywood Blvd: the idiots who are “fooled” by this, the guys themselves and the low-key insult of it all, myself because this went on for way too long):

I’ll spare everyone the individual matchups because yike, but the real Wrong Direction comes to the studio, with all the guys dressed up like their matches, and the real D is polite, albeit mildly “wtf are we supposed to do about this” (me, too, Zayn). Points to Harry for at least trying to strike up some conversation: “Did you have foon, acting like us?” We’re supposed to vote for the best one on Google+ (lolololololol).

Scott takes two girls who look like they’re legit about to pass out into the red call box so they can be the first people to listen to the new album. While they listen to something none of us can hear, we get some VT (that’s “videotape,” god, I hate the whole lingo lesson we got earlier) of Spain and some fans, all of which feels like lengthy filler. I feel for the people Scott mentions as being asleep during this because there is a LOT of fill. Maybe make this shit shorter, just a suggestion!

Next up is Jamie Scott from his home somewhere in the middle of the night; he wrote most of Midnight Memories along with Louis and Liam, and he gives them an 8.5 in terms of how they did on a scale of 1-10 (and that’s AFTER Louis insults his pillows with the alphabet on them, “In case you forget”). There’s a lot of Lilo hand-shaking in celebration, and some enthusiastic clapping from Harry (a little too enthusiastic…I’m gonna imagine that someone tells him to tone it down in his earpiece because he looks around quite a bit):

A few things happen that don’t really interest me: the first listen of “Through the Dark” (this is skipped in the vid), a remote report from Radio Disney (Harry: “HOLLYWOODDDDDD!”) and a fan who wins the chance to come visit them later in the day, and then we’re back to Scott, who looks exhausted, and it’s only been 40 minutes.

All is not lost, because the next VT is the totally unnecessary yet extremely vital coverage of the D’s exercise regime. I’ve seen so many gifsets of hottttt and sweaty Lirry, but you haven’t lived until you’ve heard Niall’s American accent while he stretches: “Welcome to my workout dvd! I’ll be with you for the next 45 minutes to give you the lowdown of how I stay in shape.” PLEASE @ NIALL, DO THIS.

I really WANT to be Harry and effortlessly pump out pushups, but in reality I’m Zouis, popping some robot dance moves and drinking Red Bull. The weird shorthand throughout this is that Liam is an animal (Ziam + a whip = fire), Harry’s into flirty sexercise, Niall wants an arse like Kim K’s, Zayn’s a slender boxer, and Louis…just fucks around? Missed opp for footie Louis.

The first performance is “Story of My Life,” and we’ve all seen it before, but godDAMN, Zayn sings like an angel. Lots of technical problems in the audio, prompting quite a few Louis/Harry hand gestures, but still, in spite of it all, they sound amazing individually and together.

Even local asshole Piers Morgan is impressed, as he comes out to tell them that they were surprisingly good, along with a bunch of other neg bullshit. This is another one of those segments that it pays to watch the whole clip of, and Jesus, do I want a transcript. They head over to the couches, and Piers points at Louis and says, “You have the most reason to be nervous,” but Louis’s like, “Yeah, but I’m not,” and wow, #goals.

Everyone gets a couch, and the upshot is that Piers is a terrible egoist who thinks he’s a fantastic interviewer, but he really isn’t…all the questions are shit, and these five eat him alive. Everything he asks falls flat, and it’s so masterfully, subversively handled, from Louis’s iconic “define girlfriends” (and the underappreciated attempt by Harry to define it for Piers later: “Like in primary school, if you hold hands with a girl and you're eight, is that a girlfriend?”) to the obsession with smells (Piers asking Niall, “Why do you always smell,” claiming it’s a fan’s question, and Niall answering that it’s because he had colic as a child, so can only fart; Piers asking Zayn, “Who stinks the worst,” and Zayn saying that they all smell quite good, actually) to Piers demanding to see Zayn’s tattoo and relentlessly attacking him for it being a gun (Louis keeps interjecting that it’s a watergun, but go off I guess, paraphrasing).

But the best is always Louis. “What’s the weirdest thing a girl has done to impress you?” “Tweeted Piers Morgan.” Later, he says pointblank to Piers, “You do stink.” But then…but THEN, it’s the Four interview 1.0, only instead of Ben trying to get Louis to deny gay rumors, it’s Piers, who does it twice: “What’s the one rumor you wouldn’t want to hear about yourself?” Louis’s answer: “That I’m not good at football.” “Are you good?” “No….I just wouldn’t want it confirmed.” Piers tries AGAIN: “What’s the worst thing you’ve had to read about yourself?” but Louis turns it around and says he hates reading about one of the other boys being dead (!).

Because he’s the worst, Piers takes it to the ladies and asks how many girlfriends they’ve had and how many times they’ve kissed a girl. Harry says he’s kissed 8 ladies (which prompts a good scoff out of Zayn), and everyone else says 5 or 6, 3 or 4, etc., with Louis declaring he’s only had one proper relationship (no genders mentioned), so maybe 2 (lmaooooo). Piers gets all excited that he’s kissed more girls than this hot boyband has, and I wanna say, you’re almost there, “friend”…keep working it through.

There’s more antics w/r/t Piers, like his poor 2YO daughter crying, and him trying to blame it on Harry Styles not answering her dad’s sex questions or stupid questions about embarrassing things they’ve caught the others doing, and yeah, I don’t think they’ll get into the big ot5 gang bang on live TV, but ask anyway, I guess?

The last person to suffer sitting next to Piers is Liam, and I love him always, but especially for saying, “How’s it going there, stinky?” when Piers takes a seat to ask him why he’s so sexy. Piers tries to “joke” that the sexy question is for him, but nobody says anything, and then he asks Liam AGAIN before admitting that it’s a shitty question, so then he asks about them all wearing tight jeans, and godddddd, why does anyone let him interview anyone??

The good news is that Piers can tell he lost, so as he tells them that he thinks they’re pretty okay, actually, but, “You’ve gotta stop calling me stinky,” and you know they never will.

Scott says it might feel like much longer, but it’s only been an hour, and Zayn’s lookalike won, so we can all rest easy. This hour closes with a review of the highlights, and it’s ham-fisted and awful. Shocking!!!!

I can’t do one of these every single day, but I’ll do hour two sometime soon! Hope you enjoyed this, @justlarried, lol!

#recap #1d day #hour one #it really did feel like a full day

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mygangtome · 5 years

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Five BBCRH Things We Can’t Stop Talking About, and One We’d Really, Really Rather Not Ever Have Mentioned

You Knew This Was Coming

Okay. Okay, dear tumblr user, if I’m going to do this post, I’m going to need a drink [and someone to pay for said drink -Nell]. Hang on.

pictured: @nettlestonenell, left, and the author, right

Okay. Proceed.

There’s a lot to love about this show; the fact that we’re doing this day, thirteen years later, proves that the fans never shut up about it. But there are also things that we don’t talk about, things we deny ever happened, things that are, for whatever reason, collectively retconned. Whether it’s bad writing, or poor decisions, or a good story choice that just bums us out will always be up for debate. But what’s not up for debate is that they are incredibly angsty.

And we all know how Tumblr loves angst.

[visual representation of the above condition. - Nell]

So hey, maybe this is the thing that’ll spur you to watch it. Maybe you’ve already watched it (in which case, WHY AM I STILL WRITING THESE) and we can all remember and grieve together; a sort of collective catharsis. But let’s take this moment, on the day we remember the outlaws, to remember the ones we lost along the way.

Here be so many, many spoilers. Cue the music.

I’m Not Being Funny, But This Isn’t Funny

pictured: i’m not sure i can do funny captions for this tbh [That’s okay, I’ve stopped reading since my brain fails to recognize this event as ever having happened, and I’ve actually blacked-out -Nell]

Oh, Allan, sweetheart, you deserved better than this.

If I’m being honest, many fans refuse to admit that any part of Season 3 happened - which is a shame, as it means that you miss out on Kate and her exceptional hairstyles, and David Harewood as Tuck, and most important of all, Toby Stephens as the best, hammiest, campest Prince John ever cast - due to What Happened At The End Of Season 2. More on that later. But even those brave folks who do enjoy Season 3 shrink at What Happened To Allan.

ALLAN: None of you? … Not one of you believes me?

A young man trudges through the forest, alone and afraid and abandoned. His friends are convinced he has betrayed them, due to scheming by the new sheriff - and aren’t they quick to jump to conclusions, suddenly? Nobody will take his word that he would die rather than betray them; angry and hurt and unwilling to stay here and be punished for a crime he didn’t commit, he escapes. In his attempt to get somewhere safe, he stumbles across something that could change the course of the battle - something Robin cannot possibly know.

Nobody would blame Allan, here and now, at the end of things, if he just left. Robin doesn’t trust him - why should he help Robin?

But he doesn’t. He turns, and he runs. His first thought is of his friends.

It is also his last thought.

Arrows fly over his head from a force we do not see. One hits him in the calf. He cries out in pain and staggers, but still he runs, desperate to save the gang. Another hits him in the shoulder, and still he runs. Then finally, one final arrow hits him in the small of the back, and he falls to the ground, gasping for air.

And still he tries. He crawls on his hands and knees, dragging his dying body - though he must know it is hopeless now. He is still crawling when a pair of boots step in front of him, and he looks up into the face of his killer.

ALLAN: You?

We do not get to see the moment of his death. He gets no final speech; no chance to say goodbye. We do not even know if is the arrows that kill him, or if it is a blow from Vaisey’s sword, or some other, crueler trick. We know simply that Allan died alone, and he died bravely.

And he died in the penultimate bloody episode. [Pretty sure that’s both a literal and idiomatic use of ‘bloody’, there. - Nell]

Now, this is supposed to be a day for celebrating Robin Hood, so I’ll hold back on my anger. Suffice to say - while his death saddens me, the manner of his death and how it is treated saddens me far more.

We don’t talk about Allan’s death. [Just try making a gifset about it and watch as no one reblogs it. - Nell]

We Were Fighters, And I’m Proud

pictured: i do love this dress [And yet it sends me looking for the lint roller everytime. - Nell]

Marian is, as I’ve said before, a hero. She is as much as a hero as Robin - she has been fighting for the common folk long before Robin even thought of camping in the woods and becoming a nuisance. She is kind and brave and strong, and she is stubborn and hotheaded and reckless. She shows love to everyone, even those who hurt her. And she will never, ever back down from a fight.

It makes sense, then, that she would die the same way she lived - but that doesn’t make us any happier about it.

A man - a king - lies bleeding on the ground in Jerusalem, at the mercy of a man in black, who advances on him with sword drawn. A young woman, clad all in white, her hair loose about her shoulders, screams his name, and stops him in his tracks. She throws herself in front of the king.

MARIAN: Stop! It’s over, Guy!

GUY: Get out of the way.

MARIAN: All of this time, I’ve been fighting for England. Do you think I’m going to let you kill England?

GUY screams in anger and slashes his sword towards her. She steps back, but remains in front of the king.

GUY: GET OUT OF THE WAY.

MARIAN: (defiant) You’ll have to kill me first.

The man bellows at her; he is mad with rage, and he tells her with fire in his eyes that she needs to stand aside so he can do his job, that he’s doing this so they can be together - that she needs to be a good woman, and let the men fight. And Marian - brave, brilliant Marian - laughs. Her face lights up as she thinks of the man she loves.

pictured: i can be your hero, baby

MARIAN: I would rather die than marry you, Guy. I’m going to marry Robin Hood. I love Robin Hood.

MARIAN laughs again, quietly, and looks proud.

I love Robin Hood.

And Guy of Gisborne stabs her in the stomach.

It is not important what Guy does after that, or what happens with the King. We don’t remember that. What we remember is the sound of Robin screaming her name as he watches her fall. We remember that the first thing she says when he cradles her in his arms is ‘Where’s the King?’, because her mission is the most important thing. We remember her realisation that this is a death sentence, and the look in her eyes as she learns that Djaq cannot save her. And we remember that she tells Robin to keep fighting.

The lovers wed, there on the dry earth of that town square with tears in their eyes, and they have their first kiss as man and wife. It’s beautiful, and powerful, and devastating. And Marian pulls out the sword, screams in pain, and she dies.

And for a lot of people, so does the show. [Frankly, Robin would also agree with this sentiment. - Nell]

Again, I’m not here to preach, or to hate on this show that we love so much. But if there’s one thing we’d like to forget, every one of us, it’s that the female lead was killed - and the two male leads got a big load of angst for the next series. Whether they intended it or not, there’s a term for that, and it’s not a complimentary one. And there’s also a fair amount to be said about the fact that the BBC broadcast this pre-watershed at Christmas time, and a lot of children were devastated.

These are not the only deaths in Robin Hood. [But] They are the ones that get ignored the most, because they’re generally considered to be the most unfair - not just upsetting, but genuinely wrong for the show. [It’s a show that] massacres the cast with tremendous enthusiasm - from Roy’s death in the first few episodes to the deaths of virtually everyone* [Dan Scarlett, my Templar husband, Carter - Nell] (Guy, the Sheriff, Isabella, and even Robin himself) in the finale. But as sad as all of those (well, most of those) were, they don’t get us the same way these two do. It certainly doesn’t help that Will and Djaq, two other fan favourites, disappear along with Marian.

There’s a lot of things we’ll never shut up about with Robin Hood. There’s a reason we love it.

But there’s a reason for all the fanfic.

Happy Robin Hood Awareness Day, one and all. May the year be kinder to us all than 1193 was to the outlaws.

I’ll have that drink now. [Oh, I’d started just after reading the header... - Nell]

#bbc robin hood #robin hood #robin hood bbc #my gang to me 2019 #bbcrh #season 2 #season 3 #lady marian #alan a dale #robin/marian #submission #tw:death #lots of it #actually #interestinggin

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tinkdw · 5 years

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14x06: Toxic Love v Healthy Love

14x06 watching notes.

This episode we see our Cas stand-in (Jack) team up with Dean and ask him to explain what love is, with Dean explaining that he very much does know the difference between healthy romantic love and toxic romantic love (exposed this episode with the zombie boyfriend “don’t leave me, it’s better you be dead and stuck with me than leave to live your life” storyline which I’m sure has no correlation to Dean and Cas coming up where they may be separated but let each other go, I’m side eyeing you 14x08). With Yockey emphasising that the lesson he himself exposed last season of sibling toxic love (the witch sisters) has also been learned as Dean and Sam exhibit perfectly healthy, open, communicative sibling love.

And I mean... mirrors...if we get any more mirrors Dabb’s going to have to open up a funhouse on set.

- So the episode opens with a Cas visual reminder with Harper wearing a beige coat before she changes after that job of “remember Cas in this episode” is done into her *warning sign* red clothing. Beige trenchcoats in Vancouver are clearly in limited supply after SPN has decided to dress everyone in one for the Cas effect. Get yours now.

- “Mary and Bobby’s" well, that didn’t take long to be an established thing.

- To Jack nothing tastes right without his powers whereas to Cas nothing tastes right with his powers >....>

My theory as a firm endgame human!cas meta writer with the later addition that Jack is a mirror exposition of each of TFW’s arcs that Jack gets his power back because he wants and chooses it as a part of his identity and Cas decides to be human in opposition because of his own choices and identity feels like it’s being fed here. Excellent.

- Sam smiling at the fidget spinner gives me feels of a positive goof nature

- Jack feels guilty for not killing Michael while Dean feels guilty for enabling Michael and I have feels about them understanding each others’ guilt and not pushing each other to get over it but just being supportive.

- Sam and Dean COMMUNICATING! MARK THE CALENDAR! Dean knows Sam won’t be particularly happy about him taking Jack hunting but he doesn’t hide it, he calls Sam and lets him know. Sam in turn doesn’t forbid it but shows he is not happy with it. COMMUNICATION. Taking into account each others’ judgement but not stifling each other. I’m living. This is what I was saying about the toxic sibling relationship v healthy sibling relationship in my opener. Steve clearly has big feels about this just as we do and wow he’s done an amazing job at firstly highlighting it with mirrors and metaphors then slamming it home with text... side eyes all the current metaphors and mirrors being highlighted for *other themes*.

More under the cut...

- Lol @ the barn behind Dean in the diner while Jack fills in the Cas visual gap.

- Wait did they even explain where was Cas is?! Nope. Yockey didn’t even bother cos he knows how stupid anything will sound lmao. *Cas is *throws dart** is about right here lbr.

- Chuck Berry as Dean and Jack’s pseudos. I love it.

- DEAN TURNING THE COCK AWAY WHILE TALKING ABOUT SEX I CANNOT. WHERE ARE THE GIFSETS?! I NEED GIFSETS! I WILL REBLOG ALL THE GIFSETS! it literally goes from talking about courting, dating and specifically sex and dean gets awkward and turns away the cock. I MEAN. This ain’t even SUBTLE.

- Are we supposed to see the two women they interview as a couple, I’m not sure.

- Charlie’s story is A. sad AF B. Political AF. C. Super thematic to the show. She worked at Richard Enterprises as a nice callback to show Yockey knows his canon on OG Charlie, then her story is full of fanfic tropes an ultimately death. Now, I hate kill your gays as much as anyone but I don’t think this is what Steve’s doing here, he literally can’t have her gf alive here. Now could Charlie go off to find her in this world? That would be brilliant.

- Did dean just call sam Thelma lol

- So Jack says he has no understanding of romance despite seeing Dean and Cas doing “googly eyes” each other to death and saying he knows this means someone loves you.

So Jack is the one who doesn’t know as the Destiel romance GA stand in where they figure it out but so does he so they don’t feel stupid as there’s someone on screen who’s like oooooooh I see now! So Sam can have the role of “I knew all along I just didn’t want to force you out of your comfort zone or get involved in things that don’t concern me” just as he did with Mary/Bobby last episode and which explains all his “strictly into Dick” “maybe you’re overcompensating” “because it’s Cas” lines from previously. Brilliant. Please continue.

- “Old man” good cop bad cop with sass. Jack, I love you.

- Jack doing all the OG Hunter tricks I love it. Again Yockey telling us he knows canon and knows what he’s fucking doing. Good lad.

- Sam: “people need people, we’re social animals”. Yockey and Dabb laying down what BS it is that Sam and Dean want to be alone just the two of them nearly every episode now is just the best. Sam wants people around him, now imo he’s not necessarily telling Charlie she should stay a hunter, just that it would be a real shame for her to ostracise herself on top of a mountain with wifi all alone. He gets that, he gets the escapism after all the trauma but he wants to help her and thinks she would be better off surrounded by others, my family and friends and he’s offering this to her and well, he knows this is what helps from his own experience. He’s living this change and seeing the benefits for himself. Just. So much yes.

- I also love that Charlie’s personality is part similar to ours but also part totally different because she’s not the same. Good, thank you Yockey. She’s not a replacement for our Charlie. No matter how hard Bucklemming may try and think they “fixed” her original death. She ain’t our Charlie and they haven’t fixed it. We are grateful to have some semblance of her but you are not forgiven for your complete lack of credibility, writing skills and total problematic behaviour regarding both her and all the other things you’ve done just by giving us an AU version of Charlie.

- So Harper is evil, quelle surprise. She exposes a codependent and unhealthily toxic relationship where she preferred to kill her boyfriend and tie him to her, having him literally kill and eat others rather than just let him go and live his life. So, I will write a separate post about this because I think it is the theme of the episode but this heavily reminds me of Yockey’s witch sisters being a dark Sam and Dean mirror of toxic sibling love last seasons, emphasising their choice to be toxic or healthy, with them now exhibiting all the healthy and rejecting the toxic behaviours.

So who is Harper and her boyfriend a dark romantic love mirror of now then with them potentially soon to choose a healthy route instead in direct opposition and one of them letting the other go, hmmmm I wonder...

x Just getting this gif out again cos well I’m sorry but Cas wasn’t even in this episode or last or last last yet he’s all over them with not just human!Cas stuff here but also all the Destiel like wow... it’s impressive tbh.

- Meanwhile Dean is dishing out healthy relationship advice. Again this feels relevant to Cas’ recent admittal to Nick that he had to “eat” someone to live in a way ie possess Jimmy for his body. This feels even more like a metaphor for his giving up his grace and exposing Cas again as not this but having his own body now created by Chuck just as everyone else does. Just in case people want to continue to use this argument against him and Destiel with the necrophilia rubbish which is already totally disproved but again rears its head in a “clearly this is not the same as that” way with actual dark mirror necrophiliac toxic love going on.

- Okay so we have more blatant overt textualised metaphors with the word “metaphor” in the text with Charlie v the big fly. They really are hammering home the concept of “pay attention to metaphors and mirrors people” this season. Wowzers.

- Next week’s promo also gives us another mirror with Jack driving the impala and telling Dean “it’s like I’m you!” “no it isn’t”. Honestly, is this a memo that they have to do this every episode because I approve. Knock that memo home.

- I would also like to point out as @margarittet reminded me, the queer story in this episode (Charlie x her girlfriend) is beautiful and positive though tragic due to outside circumstances and the heterosexual story is toxic and gross with codependency, necrophilia and murder by Harper’s own choice. This isn’t to say it’s anti hetero it’s just making a point that it doesn’t matter who you love it’s what you do with it and who you are that counts.

And isn’t that a beautiful way to end this.

#spn 14x06 #spn 14x06 meta #tinks meta #watching notes #supernatural #destiel #salmon dean #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #human!cas #steve yockey #bi!dean

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softjeon · 6 years

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Through the Veil | Pt. 9

• Pairing: Yoongi x Jungkook • Genre: Angst / Fluff | demon!AU (→ Gifset Trailer) • Words: 8,5k | Co-Writer: Cat @cassiavioletblue ↳ (AO3) • Disclaimer: mentioning of alcohol and violence / death / graphic content

↳ Jungkook is pretty sure that he is a normal human being, but he is also sure that this book, he got from his grandma, is a cookbook. So when it turns out that the words he's reciting are not to cook some tasty meal but to summon something from the depth of the underworld - then maybe there are a few more suprises for him in stock. « previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter »

Jungkook let him get dragged along by the ferryman who roughly placed him into a line of people, or souls, as Jungkook realized when he looked a little closer. It seemed like what was left was only the shell off the people that had died. There were mostly old people but a few younger ones and Jungkook gulped heavily.

Persephone had told him, that the mission he was on wasn’t an easy one, but he couldn’t help but feel a little mad that she had sent him off alone. Especially now that he thought about it a little more, as he came, step by step, closer to the boat, he realized that it would be dangerous for him as well. Wouldn’t it be also very draining to be so deep in hell for a human like him? Shouldn’t that have any effects? Suddenly Jungkook gasped for air in panic as he looked around. The waves kept crashing against the boat, as they got closer and closer to the other side. Jungkook closed his eyes for a moment, trying to keep his focus on his task. All he needed to do was to find Yoongi. He didn’t know how or where, yet but he was sure he would succeed. Jungkook tried to mimic the other souls to his best ability, by sitting as still as he could, staring off into the distance, looking as unlively as he could. The heat of the air and the pain in his chest was making it harder for him to breathe, as it felt like the deeper they got the darker it got around them.

He hadn’t realized how much time went by until the boat docked on the other side. The ferryman was calling for them to get out of the boats and in line and Jungkook quickly followed. He needed to separate from the crowd, that he was sure of, or else he would end somewhere he didn’t want to be. Persephone had told him about the gate and that the souls were led through it to get to probably pay for their sins. In an unobserved moment, Jungkook quickly sneaked away and hid behind one of the many ledges that came out of the ground and peaked up. It reminded him of Yoongi’s cave and the way all the stalagmites reached up to the ceiling of it. If it wasn’t so hot and dark at the same time, Jungkook would have probably like it and stand in awe for a moment. He flinched right out of his thoughts, when a sudden loud bark made him peak over the stone. “Oh shoot,” Jungkook ‘cursed’ quietly when he saw not one, not two but three heads of a dog that stood right in the middle of the gate, where the souls walked through. He couldn’t help but admit that he was scared. Nervously he watched how the souls got through one by one, the dog carefully sniffing at them. Only when he was sure that everyone was gone through and the ferrymen were sailing back to the other side, Jungkook got out of his hiding spot.

The young human boy cleared his throat, before taking another deep breath. He stared off blankly into the distance, humming and growling like a zombie as he waddled towards the gate in hope that the dog mistook him for a soul that got lost – but unfortunately for him the three-headed dog wasn’t fooled that easily, especially if one could smell the difference between humans and souls. Jungkook froze completely, when the snout of the dog was so close to him, sniffing him up, before baring his teeth with a low growl. It most definitely was a warning – that much he got.

Quickly he backed up again, holding his hands up in a weak attempt to show the big dog that he came in peace. His heart was beating fast and Jungkook blindly ignored the pain that was getting worse and worse. Yoongi must be really hurting. He needed to come up with something quick. Another loud bark made Jungkook flinch and he could feel his hands shaking in fear.

“Think, Jungkook, think,” He said to himself as he tried to come up with a plan, when he suddenly remembered a history lesson from school. They had talked about Greek mythology and even though it was all just stories, some of it seemed to be true – now that he had seen it with his own eyes. Other gods had passed the three headed dog before, they had somehow lured the creature in, with a honey cake for example – but Jungkook didn’t have one - but he had something else. It was the only idea he had, so it was worth a try. He sighed deeply, trying to gather all his courage as he closed his eyes.

Then he simply began to sing, “That I always wonder what you’re up to, pictures I’m living through for now~” He took a step closer to the three headed dog, who looked at him curiously, listening attentively. “Trying to remember all the good times, our life was cutting through so loud~” Jungkook kept on singing and without knowing a hint of his angel magic stirred inside of him, making the dog go pliant with every tone he sang, “Memories are playing in my dull mind. I hate this part; paper hearts and I’ll hold a piece of yours~” The young boy closed his eyes as he kept on singing, his voice resonating through hell. The magic in his voice wrapped himself around the dog, calming him and making him sit, as all three heads yawned, showing off the sharp teeth, before resting it on his paws and snoring quietly. Jungkook carefully walked by, in awe about how easy it was, singing a bit longer until he deemed himself far enough. Only then he turned around, ran away and towards the palace that was stretching itself out on the horizon. It must be Hades. There was no other option.

Just when he had run half the way Jungkook stopped, his breath coming in short pants. He closed his eyes, trying to concentrate on the demon. “Where are you?” He mumbled to himself repeatedly. He wasn’t sure if Yoongi would hear him or feel him or if the bond magically told him the way. Jungkook slowly but surely was starting to panic.

Yoongi was barely conscious, slipping in and out of feverish dreams that were caused by his body lacking the magic it so desperately needed. He was burning up. The wound, the energy loss, the effects of the magic powder, it all had become too much for him. Yoongi felt so weak that even raising his arm felt like an unimaginable task.

He wondered if this was it. If he would take his last breath here. He felt sadness sweep through him like a wave, washing everything else away until the only thing left was this unbearable sadness with a tinge of regret. He hoped with all that he had that someone send by Persephone would find his body as soon as she realized that he hadn’t made it. If she got the shard anyway then maybe she would still be nice to Jungkook. And if Hoseok would stick to his promise then maybe, hopefully, he would help the angel boy to get back up to the living to go back to his everyday life. Sweet, beautiful Jungkook!

He could almost see his face in front of him. Hear him calling his name. His dream Jungkook sounded worried and he didn’t like the fearful expression in the other’s eyes so he tried to tell him that it was okay, that he wasn’t even really hurting any longer but his tongue refused to do its task. Nothing but a mumble came out. Jungkook only looked more scared. He was glad that he had touched that glittery stuff because it was nice to have Jungkook besides him even if he knew that it was impossible that he was actually here. And it was nice to know that Jungkook was safe, far, far away from this.

Jungkook felt a sudden pull in his heart, something that was aching painfully, and he blindly ran in panic. It let the memories of his own death appear and Jungkook choked on a sob, as he followed the pull mindlessly. He wanted to scream out for his demon, but he wasn’t sure if guards were around or if Hades would come back any time. Wiping away his tears, he suddenly stumbled over a little stone. He caught his own fall with his hands that bruised from the stones that ripped his skin open but Jungkook didn’t mind – there was only one thing that he cared about now. He brushed off the dirt, wanting to look up and see how far the palace was still away when he saw something – or someone. His someone.

“Yoongi!” He suddenly yelled out and scrambled on his feet when he saw someone leaning onto a stone, hunched over and eyes closed. “Oh no, please,” Jungkook rushed over to him, cupping the demon’s face right away and patting his cheek to make him wake up, “Please wake up, please be okay.” Jungkook reacted on instinct, pressing his lips onto Yoongi’s hoping it wasn’t too late.

Suddenly something pushed through the haze in his mind and he could feel Jungkook’s lips on him. He wondered how a hallucination could feel so real when the sudden rush of pure energy flushed away the haziness and the pain, the damage and the magic hallucination, leaving his mind clear and fresh and functioning as if nothing had ever happened.

He gasped for air the second Jungkook pulled away, heart hammering in his chest from how forcefully it was pushed into overdrive, the gifted magic busy to close and properly heal the wounds of claws on his chest that the hellhound had left. He needed two attempts at speaking but finally managed when he felt refreshed enough to pull himself into a more sitting position. “Oh god, you’re here, you’re real! You... oh my goddess... you are dead! You’re here because you are dead! I left you alone up there and you died because. Oh Jungkook, I shouldn’t have left you alone, I’m sorry, why did you leave your room, I tried to protect you, Jungkookie, sweet, little Kookie, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry that…,” He interrupted his sorrowful rambling when his brain caught up with what had just happened. Jungkook had fed him energy. However, he knew how to do that and wherever he had the energy from. But he couldn’t do this as a soul. Not like this. And also, the bond felt pretty much intact. Jungkook wasn’t here because he was dead. But if he hadn’t come down to hell the natural way then how exactly had he managed to come here at all?

“How on earth did you manage to reach me? And why... why would you even help me after ...,” He had left practically right after finishing screaming at each other. Jungkook couldn’t help but cry tears of happiness, smiling at Yoongi in cheer joy that he had gotten him back. “I’m not dead, you idiot,” Jungkook chuckled, “I stayed in just like you said. You think I didn’t see Hoseok being around everywhere I go? And the hellhound came back? You remember him. He kept me company. Staying in front of my door all day. I’m good – Persephone sent me here.” He caressed over Yoongi’s cheek lovingly, sniffling his nose cutely. “I’m here to help you, damn it,” Jungkook scolded Yoongi teasingly, “Stop worrying about me! You are the one hurt!” He leaned in to kiss Yoongi on his lips again, not to give him energy but just to feel him. He needed to. So badly.

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook mumbled against the demon’s lips, “I know you’ve been just taking care of me and I hadn’t realized that I was thanking you for saving me with getting myself into trouble more. I will listen to you now, I promise. No more danger.” Despite everything Yoongi closed his eyes when Jungkook's lips met his again and just enjoyed the strange feeling that it gave him to have the younger so close. It was a strange thing to be kissed for real, not in a dream that he had pushed upon him. However though, it ended way too soon when Jungkook informed him about Hades arrival. The sudden loud noise made both flinch and Jungkook pushed Yoongi back, so he would stay where he was, while he looked over the stone they were hiding behind. Hades had returned and even though Jungkook could only see his back, as he was walking with a big smile towards his palace, he was pretty damn sure it was the god himself. “Ehm…talking about danger - will Hades think that you’re waiting there at his palace? Because if so…then we should hurry and quickly go the other way,” Jungkook whispered worriedly, “And I hope no matter what Persephone wanted you to get, you didn’t leave too much chaos? So, he wouldn’t suspect anything, right?”

The adrenalin shocked him back into reality and Yoongi was up on his feet in a second. If someone would see him now they would never believe that he was on the brink of fading away just a few minutes ago. But that’s what the magic could do for him. If it ran in his blood, he was practically invincible. Except maybe for hounds and strange missions in hell that included mingling with business of the gods.

“Nah, don’t worry, everything’s fine,” Or at least everything would be fine as long as Hades wouldn’t go into his storage room. But why should he? And even if he went in there to check for stuff, there were so many things lying around Yoongi was pretty sure (or rather stupidly hoping and therefore telling himself so) that Hades wouldn’t realize that anything was missing in this chaos. Or notice that someone was in there. He hadn’t hurt the hound, the lock was back in place and as far as he knew he hadn’t left any traces - unless the blood from the shard had dripped unto the carpet. Yoongi opened his hand that was now fully healed and where only a bit of dried blood from before told that it hadn’t been like this the whole time. He was staring at the shard, that fragile little thing that could help read the angel’s book and use all the spells inside of it. Like the one to bind demons. And also, to set them free again afterwards.

Jungkook watched Yoongi closely, staying by his side in case he needed someone to hold on to – but he seemed fine. While his gaze fixated on the shard, Jungkook nervously looked around. “Come,” Jungkook wrapped his hand around Yoongi’s wrist and pulled him along, “We’ve got to go home.” He quickly bit his lip to hide the smile and walked ahead and back to where the gate was. “I don’t know if you’d be able to fly all the way over the river, we should better save the energy and get a boat,” Jungkook said quietly, “You have to apparate with two people not just yourself.” The closer they got to the gate, the louder the snores of the dog were and Jungkook was hoping that he just stayed asleep.

Yoongi almost asked what Jungkook meant with ‘home’ but he kept himself from it, just to prevent the younger to realize that soon they wouldn’t be connected any more. Instead he just nodded and followed Jungkook back to the gate because unlike him it seemed as if Jungkook knew exactly where he was going. Seeing the three headed dog sleeping at the gate was a strange sight but at least it explained one of the mysteries how Jungkook had managed to walk around in hell like this. Yoongi made sure to get in between Jungkook and the three headed dog in case it woke up. Because he could take a hound’s claws and survive it but Jungkook wouldn’t. And he wasn’t losing him! At least not like this - over the shard-and-book-way he had no control over.

Jungkook almost giggled with the way Yoongi was pushing himself in front of him, but it got stuck in his throat the second he got pressed against the gate when the dog stirred sleepily, and the demon reacted instinctively.

When the dog opened his eyes and Yoongi told Jungkook to stay still and quiet, the human boy did exactly the opposite (even though he had promised Yoongi to listen to whatever he said only moments ago). Jungkook began to sing again, hoping that it works just as perfectly as it did before. “Hoping that you won’t forget, I live through pictures as if I was right there by your side~” The magic in him woke again, following his singing voice out to its aims. If Yoongi wasn’t so busy staring down the three-headed-monster in front of him that was currently busy sniffing and snarling and deciding which one of them to rip into pieces first he would have whipped around and asked Jungkook if he was insane. He had asked him to be quiet only moments ago and Jungkook seemed determined to tell the dog exactly where they were and get them killed... Still he wasn’t as angry as he should be, not even close.

“But you’ll be good without me and if I could just give it some time, I’ll be all right~,” Jungkook kept on singing, pushing Yoongi quietly to tell him to go on.

Jungkook’s voice was so soothing, so calming. His words were like butterflies dancing around you and distracting you with beautiful colors and their gentle grace. It took Yoongi awhile to get what Jungkook was doing. It wasn’t only Yoongi who was affected by these crystal-clear notes, it was also the hound. With all its three heads. Yoongi watched in awe as the hate melted out of those big, glowing eyes and instead left only room for sleepiness and attachment. The hound seemed to like Jungkook’s voice. Jungkook had made Cerberus fall for him, the guard of the gate of hell. To be fair Yoongi couldn’t imagine resisting that honey sweet voice either. While the dog placed its heads back onto his paws they sneaked further through the gate, Yoongi keeping his eyes on the hound and his grip on Jungkook. He wanted to kiss him out of thankfulness and if it wouldn’t have effectively shut Jungkook up he would have done it right away.

Jungkook kept on singing until he deemed it safe until, only then a wide grin appeared on his face as he looked proudly at Yoongi. He let the demon pull him along and over to where the boats were. In an unobserved moment, both sneaked up to one and Jungkook quickly got in, while Yoongi untied the rope. With a bit of magic, the boat was sailing across the river and Jungkook sighed deeply, the tension falling off his shoulders.

Jungkook let his gaze wander over to Yoongi, while he managed the rudder. The waves kept crashing against the boat and Jungkook flung his arms around himself to keep warm. He could feel that Yoongi was somewhere else with his mind, looking a bit worried, so he spoke up, thinking that it was because of their fight. “Are you still mad at me?” Jungkook asked carefully, “I promise as soon as we’re back I won’t do anything anymore without your permission. I really mean it, that I am sorry. I’ll be good, I swear.” His expression was full of worry and regret, hoping that Yoongi would forgive him. He really didn’t want to fight with him anymore and just wanted him to come back.

Yoongi turned only half towards Jungkook to keep the boat on track when the younger spoke up. He had been too lost in his thoughts about what it could mean if Persephone was able to read the book now to realize how long he had been silent. Of course, it had made Jungkook worry. The younger always got nervous when there was tension. So Yoongi made sure to give him a friendly smile before he leaned over and ruffled his hair. “Don’t worry about it. I guess neither of us really meant what we said during our fight. I know that you felt caged in and I...” He sighed deeply and then decided that it didn’t really matter anymore they would probably go their separate ways soon anyway, so he might as well show weakness and tell Jungkook the truth. “I was just so worried about you that I would rather have you mad at me and alive than in danger. I couldn’t bear the thought of you being hurt or even dead when I come back. I felt so helpless thinking about you being all on your own while I was so far away and unable to come help you no matter how you felt.” Quickly, Yoongi turned back towards the water seemingly emerged in making sure that they would reach the other side quick and safe. He wasn’t sure how Jungkook would react to him acting so ‘soft’ and he wasn’t too keen on finding out.

Jungkook could feel the sudden heat rise to his cheek, making him blush hard. He was looking everywhere but Yoongi, when he mumbled his reply, “I worried about you, too. I do… a lot. Every time you’re away.” Jungkook barely glanced at Yoongi, before he turned his head looking over his shoulder as he saw the shore coming closer and closer. When they docked against the edge a bit away from the usual spots where the boats were, Jungkook quickly jumped out of it and pulled it in using all his strength.

Yoongi tried his hardest not to coo at the younger’s cuteness but then he thought about how he would have felt if Jungkook had done that a minute before, so he quickly dropped it. He did smile to himself though. Jungkook was worried about him. About him, a magically abled, horned, winged creature with claws and the ability to fight his way to almost anything. Maybe he should pretend to be offended that Jungkook thought so weakly of him and watch the angel boy get more flustered. Their arrival interrupted his plans and they quickly tied the boot to something stable enough to hold it. Hopefully one of the ferrymen would find it and not think any more if it besides that one of his colleagues had lost his way a little. It was better not to leave any traces but pulling the boat back to the others wasn’t an option because normally only the ferryman went in this direction and Jungkook and him obviously weren’t that. So, they secured the boat and then ran as fast as they could to hide behind the very next spot that would shield them from other creatures’ eyes. The heap of rocks they hid behind wasn’t big enough to stand so Yoongi sat down, gesturing for Jungkook to come closer. “Come on, I need you to get really close to me. This wasn’t a walk in the park and I want to make sure that all parts of both of us arrive.”

Jungkook nodded eagerly and got closer to him. When Yoongi shook his head and motioned for him to get even more closer, Jungkook just bluntly sat himself on the demon’s lap. “I’d like to get back in one piece,” The human boy whispered and leaned his head onto Yoongi’s shoulders, wrapping his arms around his shoulders. “I missed you,” He murmured and closed his eyes, hoping they would be back in the underworld soon. Jungkook definitely had enough drama and danger for today.

To be honest Yoongi had secretly hoped for Jungkook to do just that but he had never thought that the usually shy boy would actually do that. He turned his head to look at the younger’s expression, to see if he was flustered or if he was really so innocent that he wouldn’t know what this was doing to Yoongi. He didn’t come that far though. When he turned Jungkook felt his movement, turning his head towards him as well and Yoongi practically stared directly into his eyes. He could feel Jungkook’s breath against his own lips, a little too quick which gave away that the younger wasn’t as relaxed as he tried to appear. A little smirk stole its way on Yoongi’s lips which had Jungkook licking his lips nervously. A grave mistake. Because Yoongi’s eyes naturally followed the movement and then stayed fixated on those plush, soft, enticingly rosy lips. Way too tempting to resist. Especially with the younger sitting in his lap lice this and the fear of never seeing Jungkook again in his heart. Yoongi easily reduced the distance between them to capture Jungkook's lips with his in a gentle, loving kiss.

The younger one’s heart was beating wildly against his own chest and way too loud for his own liking that he was sure that Yoongi could hear it and feel it with how close he was. He stayed still, when Yoongi kissed him so sweetly. It felt so good. As if the other’s lips were made for him – and only him. Jungkook sighed, kissing him back, as his hand wandered up to Yoongi’s neck, deepening the kiss right away. He was desperate. Starving for the demon’s kiss. He shifted in his lap, wanting to get closer, to feel even more of the other against his own body.

Jungkook had never reacted so strongly before and it messed with his head to have the younger kissing him back like this. How should he control himself if Jungkook made it seem like he wanted this? Yoongi opened his mouth to give him entrance and then took the chance to taste Jungkook too. He had no idea if it was the angel blood in him or if it was just a Jungkook thing, but he tasted so sweet that Yoongi couldn’t get enough of it. When Jungkook shifted in his lap he groaned quietly, trying to swallow it down but failing. God, what was he doing to him? The demon gave in to what he wanted, tightening the grips around Jungkook’s waist so that he could feel Jungkook’s body closer to him, completely forgetting where they were and what he should be doing instead.

Jungkook’s hands were gripping on tight to Yoongi’s shoulders, all while he couldn’t get to separate his lips from the demon. Only when he needed to take a breath he pulled away, gazing right back at Yoongi under him, his chest heaving. “I…I really think,” His voice sounded a bit too breathless and he wasn’t sure what he was trying to say anyways, so he leaned in again, kissing Yoongi eagerly on his lips, mumbling something about how they should go back to Persephone soon – but he never stopped kissing the demon. He just didn’t want to stop.

“Right. Persephone. The shard,” Yoongi only responded in between kisses, hooked on how Jungkook’s lips tasted and how his body felt against his. He didn’t want this to end. He wanted more… so much more.

Yoongi shuddered and then got a bit of distance in between them when he remembered again that one of the reasons why Jungkook was smelling so sweet was because he had never done anything like this before. He couldn’t take that away from him. Especially not if they would part soon and Jungkook would get back his life where he could find himself some cute, harmless human where he was at no risk of being eaten or whatever else he had already stumbled upon while being in the underworld. It wasn’t his place to ruin Jungkook like this. He hesitated, before stealing one last little kiss from the younger and then changing the position of his hands, hugging him tight but innocuously. “Close your eyes,” He warned him, before he send them both back to Persephone’s palace.

Jungkook obeyed easily, holding on tight to Yoongi, when he felt the familiar pull of them apparating again. Only this time, it felt different – a little bumpy maybe and Jungkook held on tighter to the demon on instinct. Even the landing wasn’t as easy as it normally was and Jungkook tumbled over Yoongi completely, pushing him further down as he screamed out. There were thorns and branches pricking him, poking him at the sides and scratching his skin as he tried to decipher where he exactly was.

Great. Yoongi coughed when something leavy poked his nose. He should make a mental note to himself ‘never try to transport you or others to somewhere else after kissing someone who makes your heart race like that because you will end up thinking about him instead of the place you should go to and then land in some fucking thorny bush’!

He tried his best to help Jungkook get out of the green mess they were constantly caught in and then crawled out himself. “M sorry, I guess... the exhaustion,” He finished lamely, hoping that Jungkook would just believe him and not ask question on how he could still feel exhausted when he got pure energy from Persephone kissed into him. Yoongi shook his head to get rid of the hunger that thinking about being kissed by Jungkook evoked. Not the physical hunger that he had satisfied by feeding of Jungkook’s little sinful dream encounters. It was a different hunger, one that he couldn’t quite explain and that had him getting itchy and nervous around the other.

Yoongi roughly tried to get the leaves and dirt off him as best as he could before nodding towards the palace, “Let’s go. The sooner I get rid of that thing the better.” At least he had landed them somewhere close.

Jungkook followed Yoongi, staying right by his side as he dusted the dirt off his clothes. Yoongi walked straight towards the main hall, where Persephone was already waiting as he had felt the appearance of her demon. With a sheepish smile on her face, she looked the two up and down. Yoongi instantly bowed for her while Jungkook was busy picking a few leaves out of the demon’s clothes, only stopping when he gave him a side glance. “Sorry,” He mumbled and quickly bowed as well.

The goddess didn’t mind the dirtiness of their clothes at all but sent Jungkook off to take a bath anyways. This way she could talk alone with Yoongi. Only when the door was closed, Persephone reached out her hand with a knowing smirk, “I’m glad my present arrived safely. Do you have what I desire in return?”

Yoongi was tempted to tell her ‘no’ as a little payback for how close he had been to dying this time - but it was her who had saved him with the help of Jungkook, so it wouldn’t be fair to be so cold hearted now. Therefore, he reached into his pocket and gave her the shard, its edges still covered in his dried blood. “I got it. But I am not sure how long it will take Hades to notice its missing. He had a hellhound to guard the door. Maybe he will know someone was there because of the dog. And as I was the last one he saw before leaving he might rightfully think that I am the thief and…”

Persephone interrupted him casually, “Don’t worry. I made sure you are safe. He won’t remember who was with him before he met me. So if you didn’t leave a picture, or his dog can paint portraits you don’t have to fear him coming for you. He’ll probably hear about me having an angel’s book sooner or later anyway, rumors are hard to keep from spreading, and the more powerful and rare the item the sooner the news will spread. But as long as he can’t proof it he won’t say anything. That’s why I chose you. I knew you would do anything to get back to your little angel. He found you right away, didn’t he? I was worried about his lack of experience, but I guess love is stronger than anything else, isn’t that what people up their say?” She winked at him and happily turned the shard between her fingers making it gleam. Dismissing Yoongi with a wave of her hand, she let him think about her words alone – or not, if he rather decided to grumble and think that he was untouchable and would never be in love or something familiar. Persephone chuckled to herself as she retreated to her room. From the moment he had seen the both together, she knew there was more than just the magical bond between them and now with the shard, the goddess would get all the answers.

Back in his room, Jungkook was drying off his hair with a towel. He was just about to take care of the wounds on his arms, when Yoongi came in, eyeing the hellhound (that he had gotten to know on his first day in the underworld and seemed to really want to stay close to Jungkook and kept guarding his door) warily. The hellhound stared at Yoongi, cocking his head and Yoongi continued to stare back until the hound buffed a little and apparently decided that Yoongi wasn’t a threat to his newly chosen master.

“I fell before I saw you,” Jungkook answered before Yoongi could even ask further, “Stumbled over some stone and scratched my arms open.”

Yoongi opened his mouth to tell Jungkook about the shard being in Persephone’s hands now when he realized that the other was still shirtless. It was annoyingly distracting. Yoongi let his gaze wander over Jungkook’s back that was way too muscular for a soft boy like him. And way...way too perfect. Yoongi had touched Jungkook in his dreams but the urge to touch him for real now and look if his skin was as soft as it looked was overwhelming.

“Can you please put something on?” He asked before concentrating on the scratch that Jungkook had showed him, “I can heal you up after. It’s no big deal.” Jungkook blushed hard, as he reached out for his shirt before quickly pulling it over his head. It wasn’t like Yoongi had seen him shirtless before, but he had said he would be listening to him from now on.

“You don’t have to though, it’s going to heal anyways,” Jungkook said, not wanting to make fuss about some scratch wounds, “It doesn’t hu-” He got interrupted when Yoongi caught his wrists and pulled his arms towards him. Jungkook watched in awe when the demon let his hands caress over his wounds, healing them up like it was nothing.

He thanked the other quietly and sat back further onto the bed as he watched Yoongi walk around it, still dirty and with ripped clothes. Raising an eyebrow Jungkook pointed at him, “You could put on something as well. You could also just be shirtless right now!” He teased him, before cuddling into the silky blanket. “But you could also stay naked. Persephone said feeling the silk against your naked body would be the best feeling in the world,” A cheeky smile appeared on his lips, “Might as well try that before she sends us back.”

A wound wasn’t a nice excuse to touch Jungkook, but he took it anyways, letting his magic flow over his skin as gently as his touch. He had thought that this was it then and that they would both just get some rest and let their minds and bodies process the last events. Although they had managed to go to hell and back it wasn’t a piece of cake for an organism that was still alive, so they definitely needed that. But apparently the little angel boy was a bit playful and Yoongi would have let it slide - if the other hadn’t tried to tease him about the silk. Because Yoongi knew damn well how good it felt but there was no way innocent little Kookie knew.

So Yoongi turned towards him, facing him fully before he pulled his shirt over his head in one swift motion. “Oh, I know how good it feels. I’ve been here a long while, Kookie. I had sex on them before. Skin on skin also feels quite nice. But you wouldn’t happen do know that, would you?” His smirk was teasing when he leaned over to tug on the blanket that Jungkook had pulled almost up to his chin. “Besides, you’re talking about how nice it is to feel silk on your naked skin while you are fully clothed. I’d call that a little hypocrite, don’t you agree?”

Jungkook got flustered with the way Yoongi was talking right back at him and turned away a little. He couldn’t help but feel a sudden heat stirring inside of him, something that felt like – jealousy. He grumbled quietly, pulling the cushion and his legs closer, making sure that his shirt wasn’t revealing anymore skin. Jungkook reached for the end of the blanket and pulled it up again, “Well I am not a demon and can live without sin!”

Yoongi could barely hide the smirk. The younger was unbearably cute like this, getting all flustered but still trying to keep his cool facade. He knew it would be nice to just let him be now and have him feel like he had the upper hand - but oh, Yoongi had never be the one to be nice. So, he played surprised and hopped onto the bed with an innocent expression (or as good as he could fake one at least). “But how would you know that you can live without sin if you have never tried it? You should at least try the silk thing as you advertised it so well. Come on,” With a hard tug the cover was at Jungkook’s waist and before the younger knew what was happening to him Yoongi had him half out of his sleep shirt.

Jungkook was stiff like a board as he watched the demon closely. “I…maybe I have tried it already…when you were gone,” Jungkook stammered a little too obvious that he was getting nervous. It wasn’t because he didn’t want Yoongi’s touch on him – no, he absolutely loved it. But he feared what it meant, of where it could lead, that he would lose his heart in this even more than he’d liked to admit.

“Well then it won’t be a problem for you to do it again, right?” Yoongi continued as if he didn’t see through Jungkook’s lie easily. He was surprised that the younger let him do as he pleased but he enjoyed it, reveling in how pliant Jungkook was under him. When he pulled the cover down further he half expected Jungkook to flee but the younger was either too shocked or too curious to do anything about it. So Yoongi trailed his hands down Jungkook’s bare skin until he reached his waistline, playing with the hem a little before pushing it down. He kept his eyes solely fixed on Jungkook’s face, not even sneaking a single glance down. He wanted to tease not to embarrass.

When he had undressed Jungkook completely he pulled the cover back up, folding Jungkook’s clothes nicely as if he was some maid tugging Jungkook into bed. “So, now you can tell me if you really like it that much tomorrow after you’ve slept a night like this.” His smile had more than a hint of teasing in it.

Jungkook was so frozen that he almost thought Yoongi was using some magic on him. He whimpered quietly when Yoongi had undressed him just like that – as if it was nothing. His cheeks were flaring up with the heat and he almost shivered from the feel of the silky blankets against his skin. He watched Yoongi carefully and how he placed his clothes far out of his reach so the younger one couldn’t just get up right now and get them, without baring himself even more. He wasn’t sure what to do, so he only hoped that Yoongi would retreat to the bathroom, so he could pull at least his boxers on again. They only shared one blanket and most of the time cuddled closely…. Jungkook gulped heavily when the thought of Yoongi being naked as well crossed his mind. The demon didn’t do him that favor though, he only slipped out of his pants, glad that he wore underwear today (or else the little angel in his bed might have gotten a heart attack) and then slipped under the covers. “Good night, Jungkook,” He turned to watch the younger who was still lying on his bed like a plank, staring up at the ceiling as if not looking at Yoongi would make him go away. “Will you turn off the lights, please?” Yoongi had to do his best not to show that he was shaking from suppressed laughter.

Jungkook grumbled quietly, not really answering the other as he shifted away a little more, trying to keep his decency. But being the kind young man, he was, Jungkook sat up a little, holding on to the blanket tightly, as he leaned over to try and reach the switch to turn off the lights. He really shifted closer to the edge of the bed trying to manage to not fall out of bed and keep his decency with pressing the blanket onto himself.

Yoongi could have sworn that Jungkook would tell him that he wanted to sleep with the lights on tonight or ask Yoongi to do it for him because he was ‚too cold‘ or ‚too sleepy‘ but apparently Jungkook was still as dutiful as ever even if he was so embarrassed that he could barely look at Yoongi. He had to admit that this time he didn’t keep his eyes where they should be and instead had admired the long expanse of bare skin that was presented to his eyes. Jungkook had broad shoulders and when he moved Yoongi could watch the muscles shift in his back perfectly because the younger was so tense. It would have been easy to just lean forward and kiss between his shoulder blades, made him gasp in surprise. He could reach around and just trail his fingers down over Jungkook’s hips to make him shudder under his grip. He knew how Jungkook would react because he had more or less seen it in the younger’s dreams. They hadn’t gone that far but it had been close. And although Yoongi had promised himself to never take over the others dreams like that again he was very, very tempted to break his own promise. Or just do the real thing right here and now. If Jungkook liked to kiss him - and he must have or else, he wouldn’t have kissed him back like that - then maybe he enjoyed his touches too? Yoongi bit his lip, considering just leaning over and nipping at the soft skin at Jungkook's neck, turning him over on his back so that he could lean over him and … No. He tightened his jaw when he made his decision. He couldn’t toy with Jungkook like that. The younger was still innocent, he couldn't take advantage of him like that. Yoongi almost growled at himself to think such a stupidly non-demonic thought. He was probably going crazy already.

“There,” Jungkook said a little out of breath when he turned to Yoongi, who was smirking at him. He squinted his eyes in response and kept close to the edge and away from Yoongi. “I hope you know I can tell that hellhound to attack you any minute,” Jungkook threatened the demon and huffed in annoyance.

“Oh, sure, send that hellhound onto me, I'm sure he will..uhm..cuddle me to death? I haven’t even seen him bare his teeth for real. I guess you infected him with your angel virus,” The same that he himself must have caught. And which made him decide to spill the beans and make sure that he wouldn’t have a chance to give in to temptation anytime soon to visit Jungkook in his dreams again, “Besides, there’s no need to be shy about this. I’ve seen you naked already, arching up under me. You were a lot more willing in your dreams, weren’t you?”

Jungkook’s eyes had widen immediately. In his dreams? Yoongi had seen his dreams? Of course, he had! Oh wait… Jungkook suddenly whined desperately, putting his arm over his eyes to hide the shame he felt. Everything made sense now, the way Yoongi had made him drink and teased him all the time. He only had wanted to make it easier to slip into his mind. Jungkook almost laughed – there he was, thinking that his mind had sent him some dreams. Dreams that were only his. And Yoongi had fooled around with him, just like a doll. Just like he was playing with him now.

Before he had felt nervous and maybe a hint of excitement, but now there was only hurt left as Jungkook turned towards Yoongi, “Why? Why did you do that?”

His voice failed him for a second at the hurt in Jungkook's voice and the sadness that he could feel through their connection. It was as if Jungkook wasn‘t just embarrassed about it but actually.. disappointed. In him.

Yoongi really wanted to explain himself while not sounding as if he was justifying himself although it was exactly what he was trying to do: „It wasn‘t as if I had another choice. The bond was too tight back then for me to hunt and it wasn‘t like you were sinning in any way or form that I could have fed off so I decided that a little bit of lust wouldn‘t hurt, I didn‘t want to starve and you definitely didn‘t want me to starve either - or else this could have ended very differently - and so I send you dreams and you seemed to like it so I didn‘t stop until…“

Until he had gone too far and Jungkook had been scared of him.

„Until I didn‘t need it any longer because the bond.. after the visit... because I could hunt properly again,” Yoongi finished lamely, strangely scared about Jungkook‘s reaction. He liked the other, sure. But he wasn‘t stupid enough to actually think that they would stay together. It was probably better if Jungkook hated him now because it would make the separation easier. But despite all logic he hated that option. His heart constricted at the mere thought of losing his connection with Jungkook. It must be that he had just gotten used to it, that was all. It wasn‘t as if he actually had feelings for the other. It was just lust and habit and…and maybe a bit of longing. Just a little.

The younger one nodded. He could understand that Yoongi had been desperate back then, in a way Jungkook had been too. Only that he thought, that at least the dreams had been still his own, while everything else was already filled with the demon’s presence.

“It’s okay, I guess,” He mumbled quietly, “You sent me a dream on the first night here as well, right? When we were lying down on the meadow? In-between all the flowers?” Jungkook sighed and shrugged his shoulders, “That was too perfect to be one of my dreams. But you’re fine. I forgive you, because you never did something I didn’t want again. I am thankful for that.” He smiled weakly, turning his gaze to where his clothes were lying. “Could you…please?” Jungkook asked quietly, wanting to at least put his boxers back on – especially now.

Yoongi’s eyes widened. How could Jungkook forgive him like that? He had used him and almost turned his dream into a nightmare once. He had broken Jungkook’s trust and he was still doing it with keeping way too many things from him. And Jungkook listened and then reflected and then forgave him. Again, and again. That couldn’t be healthy. Where was the blazing hatred, the anger, the wrath that ate at Yoongi every time he felt betrayed or toyed with or helpless? How could similar situations lead to completely different reactions? Suddenly he felt very, very tired. And wrong. As a demon it was a nice thing to know that there was no good or bad, no rules to go by except what your god or goddess told you. You were free from guilty consciousness from feelings that confined you, from anything that could possibly hurt you. Going back to feeling was…scary. And it made Yoongi feel a lot more vulnerable than he would have liked.

He was a bit too confused to know what to do right now, “Do you want me to get them for you? Or turn around? Or sleep somewhere else?” Jungkook nodded, “Yeah could you look away for a moment?” When Yoongi immediately obeyed, he quickly got his boxers and put them back on, before getting under the cover again. He carefully placed his hand on Yoongi’s shoulder, making him turn again and Jungkook smiled, “You don’t need to sleep anywhere else. I forgave you, don’t worry. As long as you don’t feed off me anymore without my permission I am good.” Before the demon could say anything else, Jungkook took his arm and wrapped it around himself, snuggling closer to the warmth of his demon. “I missed you, so I want you to stay here,” Jungkook said and placed a hand on Yoongi’s naked chest. His fingers caressing over his soft skin.

“You…you are too good for this world, you know that?” The words slipped out before Yoongi could take them back and he hid his flaming cheeks with hiding his face half in the cushions, half in Jungkook’s hair. His sweet smell was the strongest here, close to his neck and Yoongi inhaled deeply. “You smell so sweet,” He whispered, kissing the crone of Jungkook’s head softly. It was dark, and he was emotional and if someone ever accused him of being soft he could absolutely deny it. This was only between him and Jungkook.

And Jungkook would be gone soon anyway, so it didn’t matter anymore what he did or what Jungkook knew. Their paths would be separated, and no one could hold any of them accountable for what they had done. So Yoongi held Jungkook close, whispering sweet nothings into his ear, how he liked that Jungkook could find joy in the darkest of things and stayed hopeful in the scariest of places - and that he was thankful that he had rescued him. And maybe, after Jungkook had fallen asleep in his arms already he also told him that he was thankful that he met him. And that he would let himself be bound to him again if it meant that they could be together a little longer.

A/N: And another update! Ahgrh thank you again for all your lovely comments ;; We love you guys so much! Let’s let them both have a bit of a soft time...for now...maybe not for too long ;) Don’t forget to comment on how you liked it! Your support means everything to us!

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