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hintofelation99 · 3 years

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The Justice League Hangs out with Duke

Bruce: Duke, it's time we had the talk.

Duke: Uh... nope. No thank you. I'm not getting the sex talk from Batman.

Bruce: What? No! The Robin talk.

Duke: But, I'm- I'm the Signal now? Isn't it a bit late for a Robin talk?

Bruce: Son, it's never too late, not for this.

Duke: Um. Ok.

Bruce: When Dick, Jason, and Tim first started as Robins they created a tradition. A tradition that continued with Stephanie, Damian, and now you.

Duke: And that tradition is?

Bruce: Taking down the Justice League. By being annoying and slightly terrifying.

Duke: OHHHHHH. Is that why no one from the Justice League talks to me?

Bruce: Yes, yes it is. But don't worry. I made an arrangement that will allow you time alone with league members to continue the tradition. You have a week to prepare.

——————

Duke: Cass, what do I do?

Cass raises an eyebrow at Duke.

Duke: For the Robin tradition thing. I have to take down the entire Justice League in a night using creative, outlandish, and original methods. But it's already been done by Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian, and Steph. So what do I do? How can I be better than all of them.

Cass smirks: Take them down too.

Duke looking at Cass like she's crazy: What?

Cass: Take. Them. Down.

Duke: Holy shit, you are terrifying.

Cass just smiles and leaves.

-> One Week Later <-

Wonder Woman, Superman, Flash, Aquaman, Green Lantern, Black Canary, Martian Manhunter, Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian, and Steph gather in the Watchtower.

Duke: Hey guys, Batman just wanted to go through some training exercises with everyone. He'll be a little late. Harley and Ivy escaped Arkham and are trying to grow penis shaped shrubs in all the public parks. But, don't worry he asked me to go ahead and start with out him.

Green Lantern: Why are you leading this meeting?

Duke: Batman is running late and he wants me to practice leading meetings.

Green Lantern, glaring suspiciously at Duke: Are you about to do that stupid Robin tradition where you torture all of us?

Duke: What Robin tradition? Also, I'm not even a Robin? I'm the Signal.

Green Lantern continues to glare at him.

Superman: Calm down Green Lantern, the Robins never do this in front of each other.

Every League member seems to relax at this.

Duke acting confused: Uhhh, yeah. Ok, we have a few housekeeping things to do according to the list Batman left. So, I'll have everyone pair up for sparring while I handle these individually.

------

Everyone is in the training room working out or sparring. Duke approaches Tim.

Duke: Hey Tim, Bruce wanted you to look in to that Bludhaven case. Is that ok with you?

Tim: Yeah, why wouldn't it be?

Duke: Oh, I just thought it might be difficult considering what Dick did.

Tim: ...What did he do?

Duke: Wait, you haven't noticed? Oh no, I'm sorry I shouldn't have said anything.

Tim: Duke. Tell me what he did.

Duke: Well, Jason said that he replaced all your coffee with decaf.

Tim: THAT BASTARD. No wonder I've been feeling so tired! I'm going to kill him!

Duke: Wait, just stop! I heard that he hid all of it in Green Lantern's room.

Tim: Wait, why there?

Duke: Something about you being afraid of him.

Tim: WHAT?! I'm not afraid of the Green Nightlight! I'm gonna find that coffee then make Dick pay.

Duke: Oh, well cool, good luck!

------

Green Lantern: Um, what are you doing in my room?

Tim: Where is it?

Green Lantern: Where's what?

Tim: You know what I want. Give up now or face the consequences.

Green Lantern: WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?

Tim: Fine. Consequences.

------

Steph, sparring with Duke: So, what's it like being the first meta bat?

Duke: Not too bad, but I could do with out the whole 'predict the future' thing.

Steph, laughing: What? You can not see the future.

Duke: I bet you $50 I can

Steph: Your on.

Duke, makes everything around him light up and uses a weird voice: In the next thirty minutes Green Lantern will flee the Watchtower in fear. Soon after Dick will be attacked by Tim.

Steph, snorts in obvious disbelief.

Steph: That was so fake-

Green Lantern runs out of the tower looking terrified.

Steph: No way.

Tim tackles Dick and they start fighting like three year old's on the floor.

Steph, handing Duke $50: Holy shit Magic Man.

Duke makes things light up and does the voice again: Oh my god.

Steph, looking excited: What?!

Duke: The- the sushi. The sushi you brought today, it's made from-

Duke pretends to choke back a sob.

Duke: It's made from the fish who was the maid of honor at Aquaman's wedding.

Steph: HOLY SHIT.

------

Steph and Aquaman sit beside each other for lunch, she pulls out her sushi and looks at Aquaman sadly.

Steph: I am so, so sorry for your loss. But just know that her sacrifice is not in vain.

Aquaman, looks confused for a second then sees the sushi: NOPE. Not this again! I'm leaving.

Steph: Wait! I'm sorry!

Aquaman leaves as Steph tries to chase him down.

------

Jason is laughing and filming as Dick and Tim fight.

Duke, whistles: Man, imagine if that video went on YouTube.

Jason, looking confused: What?

Duke: I'm just saying if the video of Red Robin and Nightwing fighting like kids ever got on YouTube, it'd go viral. Oh and they would be so pissed!

Jason, laughs: Too bad B would kill me if I uploaded this.

Duke: Yeah, I guess so. And you can't upload it here because then Superman would get in trouble.

Jason: Why would the boy scout get in trouble?

Duke: Cause he always uses his YouTube account on the Justice League computer. So it'd look like he uploaded it and B would find out that Superman watches cat videos while he's on monitor duty.

Jason, smirking: Huh, so you're saying if I upload this on the League computer I'd piss off Bruce, Tim, and Dick and get Supes in trouble?

Duke, acting innocent: Huh, I guess so.

-> A Few Minutes Later <-

A call from Bruce comes up on the main computer.

Superman: Hey Batman, what can I do for you?

Bruce: You, Red Hood, cave now.

Jason: What? Why me?

Bruce: Because I saw that little home video you uploaded of your brothers.

Jason: What, that wasn't me!

Bruce: I could hear you laughing while you filmed.

Jason: Dammit.

Jason and Clark leave for the cave pouting like kids.

------

Duke: Hey, Black Canary?

Black Canary: Yes Duke?

Duke: I'm sorry to do this on such short notice, but I'm very worried about Dick and Tim.

Black Canary: Why?

Duke: Well, Tim keeps claiming that Dick is out to get him. Something about Dick messing with his coffee? And Dick feels like he's just being attacked for no reason and is worried about Tim's health. Is there anyway you could intervene?

Black Canary, looking sighing and looking exhausted: Usually I have three days of preparation before dealing with bats.

Duke: I know it's just-

Duke gestures to Tim and Dick rolling on the floor fighting.

Duke: They really need help.

Black Canary: Alright, I'll see what I can do.

Black Canary attempts to intervene only to get pulled into the fight. Now the three of them are tangled in a huge, confusing fight, that's filled with yelling and hair pulling.

------

Duke: Damian! Quick!

Damian: What is it Thomas.

Duke: I think somethings wrong with Dick and Tim and maybe even Black Canary. They're all fighting and won't stop! Can you help me contain them so that we can figure out what's going on?

Damian: Fine. I shall help.

Duke: Ok, just try to herd them into this containment cell.

Damian joins the fight managing to get everyone, including himself, into the containment cell. As Damian is trying to leave Duke closes the cell. Damian angrily yells and bangs on the sound proof walls.

Duke: What? Sorry, can't hear you! My hand slipped!

------

Wonder Woman: Very well done Signal.

Duke, acting innocent: Hm?

Wonder Woman: You tricked Red Robin into scaring Green Lantern away, then into fighting Nightwing. Once that fight broke out you tricked Red Hood into uploading a video to the internet using the Superman's credentials. By uploading that video he caused both himself and Superman to face Batman's wrath. You also used the fight to trick Stephanie into annoying Aquaman to the point of leaving. Then you involved Black Canary in the fight, which was her downfall. And, as a final touch, you managed to get Robin into the fight and trapped all in a containment cell. You successfully eliminated 9 foes with one trick.

Duke: You mean 11.

Wonder Woman: What?

Duke: 11. You see, I didn't trick Red Robin, I tricked Nightwing. I had a week to prepare. In that week I convinced Dick that Tim needed to cut back on the caffeine and that Dick should help by switching all of Tim's coffee with decaf. I also convinced him to hide that coffee in the watchtower, in Green Lantern's room. So that was all true.

Wonder Woman: But, that still does not make 11?

Duke: It does. Because This morning I moved the coffee. I replaced the Flashes decaf with Tim's ultra caffeinated coffee. You see Tim has it specially manufactured to increase the caffeine levels. And, while Flash doesn't usually drink his coffee in the morning, he's always running late and forgets, he does drink coffee during training breaks. Which is now. So in about five minutes we will have an incredibly caffeinated speedster in the Watchtower. And since you're the only one around right now with a chance of catching him, that's your problem.

Right as Duke finishes Flash runs by, majorly hyped up on caffeine.

Duke: Checkmate.

------

Martian Manhunter: It appears that I am the last remaining League member.

Duke: Yeah, I don't really understand this tradition but apparently every Robin ends it by picking a favorite league member.

Martian Manhunter: Out of all the League members, why have you chosen me?

Duke: Your smart and have a lot of cool powers. Also, I dunno, I hear you sometimes feel like an outsider with the league. Cause, the whole martian thing. And I know it's not the same but, sometimes I feel like an outsider with the bats, being the only meta and all.

Martian Manhunter: You have chosen me so that we may bond over our lack of connections?

Duke: Uhhhh, yeah?

Martian Manhunter: Hm. Very well, I assume that this is your “Robin Weakness”. Apparently every Robin has one.

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sjmsstuff · 3 years

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Nesta’s Control

Warnings: major NSFW, small bit of swearing

A/N: so fun story, this was an untitled document for a while and I literally almost sent it to my construction studies teacher instead of my homework. Fair to say, my heart fell out of my ass, but it’s fine because I didn’t! Anywayyy I wrote this while drunk and it’s just pure smut like get ur holy water kids because this needs it. Not the dirtiest thing I’ve ever written but definitely the dirtiest I’m prepared to put on a public forum. Bit of dirty talk, bit of wing play, lots of edging. Enjoy this 2.5k of smut x

Cassian was naturally quite controlling and demanding in bed. And Nesta adored it, cauldron, she thrives off it, but she was also well aware of the effect she had on him.

She could see it in the final throes of pleasure when that mask cracked and pure desperation broke through as he seemed to forget everything but pleasure.

She lived for those moments when the general came out to play. Now she wanted to see the General beg.

Her plan was simple, since they were mated almost a year ago, they slept in the same bed and fucked at least once a day.

Nesta intended to keep him at arms length for several days and see how it affected him, it would be hard to pull off, both pragmatically and a test to her own will. But she knew the pay off would be worth it.

Nesta picked her days wisely. This week she was teaching a new group of priestesses and leading them in Valkyrie exercises. She knew how worked up Cassian got when she was barking commands at the women.

However, she successfully evaded her mate by eating dinner with Gwyn in the library and pretending to be asleep when he entered their room later in the evening.

The next morning she ensured he was awake and watching her as she dressed. Making a show of braiding her hair, knowing how much he enjoyed pulling it, and gliding on her leathers, knowing how much he enjoyed tearing them off her.

He looked inclined to do as much but she kept her scent hidden, kissed him lightly before dancing out of the room.

Cassian was on edge all morning at training, but Nesta pretended not to notice.

Cass was called away to a meeting with Rhys that evening and returned late into the night, to find his mate again asleep in bed. Except this time the sheets were covered in the scent of her pleasure. Nesta had ensured he would be well aware of what she had been doing while he was gone. He groaned at the thought of her.

Creamy thighs spread wide as she got herself off to the thought of them together. She probably bit that plump bottom lip of hers to keep those sweet moans quiet. She probably failed and groaned aloud as she finished. Then promptly fell asleep apparently.

Cassian had never despised his brother so much.

The next morning Nesta left before Cassian could even stir, not trusting herself to be near him when he was half asleep and likely to drag her back to bed.

She could barely look at him all during training and fled to meet her sister at the river house with out even changing out of her leathers. She wouldn’t put it past Cassian to swoop out of the sky and have his wicked way with her. Though she would undoubtedly immensely enjoy it, it would be detrimental to her plan.

Feyre, noting her distraction, had questioned her but Nesta changed the subject quickly. She had grown close with Feyre over the past year but this wasn’t exactly a conversation she wanted to have with her sister.

The high lady invited her to dinner and Nesta accepted gratefully. Knowing Cassian was in the House, probably eating dinner alone made her heart ache but she would make it up to him. Tonight was his final night of torment and she would make it all worth it.

But first she needed her sister’s help.

“Feyre, can you do me favour, no questions asked?”

The high lady looked mildly concerned, “You didn’t kill Mor did you?”

“No,” Nesta chuckled. “I need you to get Cass out of the house for the next few hours”

“Why?” Feyre asked.

Nesta stayed silent but her reddened cheeks gave it all away.

“Oh cauldron it’s a sex thing, isn’t it? Never mind, don’t answer that. Yes I’ll tell him I need help with … I’ll think of something ”

Nesta was saved further embarrassment by Rhys who had arrived to escort her back to the House.

Cassian was indeed gone when Nesta arrived home and not knowing how long she had, she quickly bathed, brushed out her hair and dressed in a short red nightgown that had previously brought Cassian to his knees.

She had just settled herself in, pretending to be asleep when she felt his presence coming down the hall. Every part of her yearned to leap up and greet him at the door, preferably on all fours, but she remained where she was.

Cass entered the room and stopped short at the sight of his mate in bed, hair fanning around her and wearing a nightgown the same shade as his siphons.

Nesta knew he was too much of a gentleman to wake her up but through their bond she could tell he needed release. He stripped off his leathers and water ran from the bathing room.

Minutes later, the bed shifted next to her and her mate planted a kiss on her head, then stopped short.

She had positioned the blankets perfectly so that from this angle he had a view straight to the swell of her breasts. He groaned and Nesta felt the force of a pure warrior focused on her.

It took all of Nesta’s willpower not to move as he reached down and gripped himself. It was not uncommon for them to pleasure themselves if one woke up, however usually the other woke soon after and joined them.

It took all of Nesta’s control not to leap around and ride him into the mattress but she kept her scent hidden and thought of all the ways she would rip those groans from him.

Nesta knew he wouldn’t be sated, not by his own hand. It may have provided a temporary release but Cauldron, he would be desperate for her.

His moans were fire to her blood as he finished into his hand and stepped into the bathing room to clean up.

Nesta loosed a breath, stilling again as he came back into the room, lay down next to her and tucked her into his side. She fell asleep to thought of him driving deep into her over and over.

Nesta dressed in her tightest leathers the next morning and may shouted at her troops more than strictly necessary, but Cassian was so distracted Az dragged him to the ground twice.

When they finished for the morning Cassian took her by the arm and dragged her into the house. The scent of his arousal was intoxicating.

The second they got inside the House he had her pinned against the wall, tongue down her throat, that long, hard length pressed against her.

She almost lost it then but she was so close, just a few more minutes and this would all be worth it. She lightly shoved him back but he didn’t move just continued to grind himself against her. Their leathers sliding easily and not providing nearly enough friction.

Nesta shucked off her top, knowing he would want to see her. He leaned back to drink his fill of her breasts and she took her chance.

Nesta threw her leathers to the ground and as he leant down to mouth her tits, she ducked.

Nesta went under his arm and sprinted down the hall, laughing as she heard him tearing after her. She leapt onto the bed and turned just in time to see his frame filling the doorway, wings splayed wide, eyes wholly black.

She was going to devour him.

He tore off his jacket as he approached her, then reached for her leggings. She took her opportunity. Faster than he could react, she flipped him over, pinning him to the bed, their bare chests against each other.

Nesta grabbed his hand, tying it to the middle of the bedframe with a loose piece of fabric they kept for this exact purpose. Though usually it was Nesta tied up and aching.

She left his other hand loose, knowing he’d have need of it.

“Minx” his eyes flashed, “what are you up to, my sweet thing?”

She kissed his chest them slid his leathers off his legs, leaving him wholly naked, “something you’re going to despise and ultimately adore.”

Tanned skin, dark wings spread and glowing eyes, he looked like a dream made flesh.

A filthy dream filled with hot mouths and grasping hands.

That would come later.

For now she stepped off the bed and turned her back to him. Bending over she stripped off her leggings.

She was already soaked and from the low groan behind her, Cassian was aware of that fact.

He was gripping himself when she turned back to him. Boldly pumping, his eyes fixed on her glistening apex.

She crawled towards him and leaned up to whisper softly in his ear, “Stop now sweetheart, or you won’t touch me for another week”

It seemed to take all of Cassian’s 400 years of strength to move his hand away from his throbbing cock but he reached for Nesta instead.

She let him smooth his hand down her face to her chest and cup her breast.

He flicked her nipple and leaned forward to take it in his teeth and it was Nesta’s turn to gather her willpower.

“Not allowed touch me either, darling” she said sweetly, moving away.

Cassian’s hand tangled with the bed sheets, muscled forearm straining as she spread her legs.

Cassian gritted his teeth, transfixed as Nesta trailed a hand down her torso.

That hand blazed a path lower till it reached where she was aching most.

She dipped two fingers into herself, gathering the wetness there and swirling it around.

Cassians hand strained against its binding, cloth biting into his wrist.

“You look so good spread out like that,” she moans, fingers plunging in over and over, deeper and deeper. “I can’t help but do this every time I think about you with your cock out.”

She wasn’t sure he was breathing.

“I need to do this every time you’re near but I can’t have you in me.”

Her legs jerked, she was nearing the edge but she needed something else.

“Touch yourself” she moaned out. “pleasure yourself to the sight of me.”

He almost sagged in relief. He gripped his reddened length in one hand roughly.

Cauldron, he was hot.

She was so close and he knew it too.

“Nesta,”he growled in warning.

She was aware of how much he needed to be the reason she came, but she also didn’t care. Seeing him hard and needy like that, tugging harshly at his thick cock.

She arched suddenly and came, hard.

As she came down she saw him still gripping himself.

That wouldn’t do.

“Stop.”

By some miracle he did.

His eyes were furious as she crawled towards him, so in appeasement and congratulations, she let him suck her wet fingers.

His eyes closed and his groan ignited something deep within her.

Nesta moved, straddling him and let a drop of her release fall onto his straining cock.

Cassian’s eyes shot open and his free hand grabbed her hip attempting to pull her onto him but she dodged out of the way.

“You know the rules,” she purred, “no touching without permission. Now sit up, I need full access to your wings.”

A shudder ran through the warrior but he did as he was told.

Good boy.

Said wings rustled as he spread them out fully across the bed.

Nesta had become well acquainted with these wings over the past few months and therefore knew which tendon, vein and scars to stroke to bring Cassian to that edge.

Naturally she went straight for them.

Cassian bit back a curse, low and viscous, as Nesta stroked a finger down the inside of one tendon.

Cassian’s hips jerked involuntarily as she leaned up and sucked slightly on the base of a talon.

She let her fingers glide across the membrane and watched a roll of precum escape the tip of his cock.

Nesta couldn’t help herself. Leaning over his shoulder she caught the droplet with her finger and brought it to her mouth. Cassian’s eyes followed her with a warriors focus

“Fuck you taste good”

He looked on the edge of cumming.

Good.

She trailed her teeth lightly across the top of his left wing and an unholy groan left his mouth.

“Nes please-“ his voice broke off as her tongue flicked lightly. “Nesta please- Mother spare me- Fuck Nesta”

His hands was twisted so hard in the blanket she thought the bed clothes might rip.

He was a mess. Hair askew, mouth open, eyes closed, cock hard like some hedonistic god.

She reached up and with a flick of her wrist undid the knot, at the same time she whispered “touch me Cass”

He was on her in a second, plunging into her the next.

There was no small touches, no teasing strokes just pure, unmitigated power.

He slammed into her, driving deep each time he thrust home.

She couldn’t help but tighten at the warrior slamming into her and he groaned his approval as wetness flooded through her.

Obscene noises filled the room as his balls slapped against her.

She moaned.

He followed the sound down to her mouth.

A bruising kiss, then harsh words spoken against her mouth.

“You keep me on edge for days”

Thrust.

“Hard every time you walk past me and unable to do anything about it”

White hot pleasure racing through her.

“Not able to concentrate on anything except the memory of this”

Coiling bliss.

“The memory of you so fucking tight around me. Fuck Nesta I can hardly think, hardly breathe when you’re near me and I’m not inside you, and you don’t let me take you for nearly an entire week?”

She didn’t have words to respond, couldn’t form coherent thoughts in her mind.

“Fuck Nes, you’re so-“ he groaned, hips stuttering and she knew he was close.

She wrapped her legs fully around him and grabbed the top of his right wing.

He slammed into her, desperate for release and unleashed himself inside of her.

At the first shot of warmth she unraveled. Tension raced up her legs and she arched into Cass as he continued thrusting and emptying into her.

Wrapped around each other, as intertwined and inseparable as their souls.

He shuddered finally stilling, head against her neck.

She looped shaking arms around his shoulders, body still trembling from just how hard she came.

“Nesta?” He croaked out, somewhere below her left ear.

“Yes, my darling?”

“That was the hottest thing ever, but please never make me wait that long again”

She laughed, “careful Cass, I’ll make you wait even longer.”

He hardened again within her and round two began.

Please let me know if you want to be tagged in all my writing or the Nessian stuff

Tagging: @bookstantrash @perseusannabeth @champanheandluxxury @witchyautumnfae @nessian-trash-heap

#nessian smut #nessian fic #nessian #acosf spoiler #sjmsstuff writes #Nesta’s control #sjm fic #sjm books #sjm fandom #sjmaas #sjm #nessian fanfiction

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ladykissingfish · 3 years

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A Date with an Angel // Part Four // Zetsu and Kisame

Zetsu

“Oh — God —“, Konan gasps, panting and holding her sides. She had thought she was in better shape than this, but ... “Do you want to stop and rest for a bit?” Konan nods, feeling mildly embarrassed as she sits gingerly on a log. When Konan had been a young girl, going for walks through the woods had been one of her favorite activities. Quiet, fresh air, surrounded by birds and butterflies and flowers ... so when Zetsu asked her if she wanted to go on a “relaxing hike”, she’d agreed right away. But apparently she and Zetsu differed greatly on their ideas of what “relaxing” meant, because this was intense. The park Zetsu took her to had a variety of winding trails, and the one they were traveling up now was probably the steepest of them all, going up many deep hills and crevices. Konan was glad she’d brought more than one bottle of water in her small backpack; here she was opening her third one. “How are you not even winded?”, she asked him, as she slugged down the icy coolness. Zetsu merely smiles and takes a drink of his own water. “I do this all the time. For the stuff Nagato has us all doing, there’s really no better way to stay in shape.” Konan has to agree with that, but even without the walking, Zetsu is probably the healthiest person in the house ... and also, possibly, the strangest. He came and went at all hours of the day and night, and the others referred to him as “the spy”. He always had intel on people that Nagato was interested in, and he was a master problem solver, often resolving issues before they even had a chance to become one. He seemed to be the closest to Obito, and the two would spend hours playing chess against each other. Konan rests on her log and stares out at the scenery below, when Zetsu’s voice comes to her from the stillness: “He was a good man.” “Who?” “Yahiko.” Konan turns her head towards him, surprised. “Did you know him??” Zetsu nods. “Yeah. Met him a few times back when Nagato was putting this group together. Nagato — he was always trying to convince your boyfriend to join up. But Yahiko, you know all this just wasn’t his thing. Very peaceful guy. Talked about you so damn much I felt Iike I already knew you on the day I met you.” Konan smiled at that, then stood up. “You know he loved this too. Going for long hikes, I mean. Always tried to get me to go with. Wonder if he’d be proud of me right now — or pissed.” Zetsu laughs at that and puts his hand on Konan’s shoulder, saying, reassuringly, “Proud. Always proud.” The two continue their hike (Konan finds it a bit easier now that she’s rested and more hydrated) and they come across a small pond surrounded by flowers. “Oh!” Konan exclaims, and quickly draws her sketch book out of her pack. “I have to draw those flowers!” Zetsu looked at her, surprised. “I thought you only did Origami? I didn’t know you could draw, too.” “It’s both, kind of. I sketch out flowers that I like so I can try to fold them at home later.” When she’s done, the sun has gotten a bit lower in the sky than either had anticipated, so that hurry back to the entrance of the trails. They get there just as the sun sinks beneath the horizon, and Zetsu, taking hold of Konan’s arm, tells her to look up. She does and gasps; out in the open, and completely free from the lights of the city, the sky is flooded with what seems like millions of gold-silver sparkles. “I never knew there were so many,” Konan says in an awed voice, her eyes eating up her face. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything so beautiful in my entire life.” Zetsu just smiles, and takes the opportunity to gently kiss her forehead as he tells her, “The sky is pretty ... but you put it to shame, Konan.” They make light conversation on the car ride home, but Konan’s sleepiness from so much physical exertion catches up to her, and she’s knocked out before they pull in the driveway. Zetsu lifts her out and carries her into the house and to her room, where he gently lays her on top of her covers, before turning off her light and closing the door.

Kisame

“You don’t have to do this.” “I know that; but I don’t mind.” “You don’t think it’s embarrassing?” Kisame shook his head. “How is spending time in the water with a beautiful woman in anyway embarrassing?” Konan sighed and focused on kicking again. It was the next day, and early that morning Kisame had knocked on her door, asking her to accompany him to “his favorite place in the world.” It shouldn’t have been surprising where they ended up; Kisame was one of the most outgoing, talkative members of the house, and one of the first things he and Konan had a conversation about were the many shiny trophies that lined his room shelves. “Swim Team,” he’d said, proudly, when she asked. I joined freshman year in high school, and was captain by junior year. We went to all the tournaments; came in first 4 times in two years.” Today was rather lovely; after watching the stars with Zetsu the night before, seeing the sun come up over the waters at the beach with Kisame was very poetic. Kisame was prepared; he’d brought them towels, sunscreen, magazines, and abundant supply of drinks and snacks. While it was early, it was too chilly to even think about going in the water, but the day very quickly warmed up to the point where Kisame was stripping off his shirt and diving into the water. Konan was genuinely surprised that a man as big as Kisame, as solid and muscular, could be so smooth and graceful in the water. “You don’t want to join me?”, he’d asked, after coming up for the umpteenth time. “The water isn’t really that cold. It’s quite refreshing.” But Konan shook her head and explained, sheepishly, that she’d never learned how to swim. Kisame’s immediate response had been “Let me teach you,” and, although Konan had her misgivings, she allowed Kisame to take her hand and guide her into the water. They started off with very basic exercises, such as Kisame holding her up while she kicked and paddled, and then he explained about balance and breathing and body weight, and “If you feel yourself going under, don’t panic. Work to pull yourself back up. Fight. And you don’t have to worry, because I’ll be right here to help you.” Eventually Konan feels confident enough to swim out a ways from Kisame, and although her head is briefly pulled under the waves she takes his advice, stays calm, and fights her way out from under. Kisame pats her shoulder when she gets back to him, congratulating her. “See? Easy as pie, right?” “It’s easy when you have a great teacher.” The two take a break from the water to eat and bask in the sun. “This must be what heaven feels like,” Konan comments, turning towards where Kisame is laying on his towel beside her. Can I ask you something?” “Yeah?” “You’re so ... big, you know? I would have thought a big guy like you would be a football player, or hockey, or something like that. Why swimming?” “I guess ... because my dad was a swimmer, too,” he answers, sitting up. “It was something, maybe the ONLY something, we bonded over, right? If you think I have a lot of trophies you should see his; he’s got a whole wall of awards from junior high, high school, and college.” Konan nods, going quiet for a bit before saying, “I don’t remember my dad that well. He died when I was four. Mom ... I guess that’s why I like origami such much, because she was a sketch artist. Her specialty was flowers. My drawings are okay but folding is better. Makes sense. Is that how you feel about swimming? It just makes sense to you?” He nods, and the two spend the next half hour in a companionable quiet. Before they leave for the day, they have a lot more fun. They join on opposing sides of a children’s volleyball game, then the kids join Konan in burying Kisame up to his neck in sand. They swim a bit more, Kisame helps Konan collect seashells — before long they’re both tired, and head back home. When they get to the front door, Konan hugs Kisame (and Kisame has to bend quite a ways for her to reach him, and kisses his cheek. “I had a great day with you, Kisame.” He blushes, then asks timidly, if she’s not VERY tired, if she wants to watch a

movie with him in the living room. She agrees, and Kisame makes them popcorn and pops in The Waterboy, which he claims is his favorite movie “of all time, ever.” Halfway through the flick Itachi emerges from his room and joins them, and the three have a pleasant evening with each other.

#the akatsuki #a date with an angel #first date #konan akatsuki #konan #zetsu #kisame hoshigaki #kisakona #zetkona

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m-y-fandoms · 4 years

Text

Korekiyo Shinguuji x reader fluff

Request: Hello!! ✨ Can i request something fluffy with Korekiyo (it would be nice if it would be with his pregame version (but original is okay, too))? Maybe he's having a sleepover with reader? Thank you in advance ✨ I really like your writing. Your oneshots and imagines make my day!!

Okay I’m gonna de pregame Korekiyo like you asked! So just a tall, lanky, beautiful man with a face mask. No incest and lipstick or killing game lmao. Also I’ll make him interested in anthropology but not the Ultimate/SHSL - Admin Kokichi

“Are you sure? I really don’t want to impose…” your best friend, Korekiyo Shinguuji, stares at you from behind his black dust mask with a concerned gaze. His brows are furrowed deeply in the center.

Korekiyo had gotten into a fight last night with his legal guardian, his older sister. Apparently, it had been a nasty one, unlike anything that’s happened between them before. It gotten so bad that she kicked him out of the house, with no word of when he would be allowed back in.

“Yeah, of course, Kiyo! We are buds right? You’re my bestie! I can’t let my bestie just spend the. night alone in some hotel or sleep out in the street, now can I?”

“But Y/N-”

“Would you let me go sleep in the street if it were me?”

“No, I suppose not, but-”

“Then any argument you have in invalid. Case closed!” You closed your notebook on your desk haughtily as if to signify the end of the conversation. Korekiyo sighed, a slight blush on his cheeks as he placed his head down on his desk with anxiety.

“You’re sure your parents are okay with it?” He mumbled, his black hair cascading down his back and shoulders and splaying out around his desk.

“Well…”

“Y/N…” he warned, scolding you like a mad mother.

“They will be out of town this entire week. My dad always travels for work and my bitch of a stepmother has to stay attached to his hip like a leech at all times so-”

“Then me staying over seems highly inappropriate. I’m sure your father would-”

“Don’t make me guilt you into coming over. You’re my friend. You’re in need, and I love spending time with you! Please?” You reached over and pulled on the sleeve of his exorbitantly-priced sweater with eyes wide like a puppy dog.

“You win this time, Y/N, but if your father finds out and becomes hostile toward me, I’m going to blame you…” he joked breathily, shaking his head at his stubborn best friend. He couldn’t help but give into your every want and desire, and you often pulled him into your schemes and plans. Well...he called them schemes, but he was just a goody-two-shoes, so anything not morally immaculate or life-enriching was considered foolish to him.

“Then it’s settled.” You nearly squealed. You’d been waiting forever to have him over to your house, but he’d always declined. You’d known him for about a year, and still your humble abode had remained a mystery to him. He lived with his older sister who took care of him after their parents died, and she was extremely strict with him. He was never allowed to come over after school. You’d been to his place once or twice, but always with supervision and strictly for studying or some other educational activity. If you wanted to spend time after school, he had to lie to her about where he was going and why. Finally, you’d have your crush, your best friend over to your home.

You had to admit to yourself, you did feel a little guilty about the whole situation. You were inviting him over for mainly selfish reasons. Yes, he was your best friend and you’d never let him go without a place to stay, but there was a large part of you that just wanted the boy you liked alone and to yourself for a night or...maybe two, if this first sleepover went well. Unfortunately though, your crush on him weighed heavily on you. You felt horrible for keeping this secret of your feelings from him, because he trusted you with everything. You were so scared that letting him know that you wanted to be more than friends would ruin the close bond you two had. Yeah...it would be way too awkward to remain friends afterward if he rejected your feelings.

You both were let out after the last class of the day. Korekiyo walked you back home every single day since you’d become friends. At first, you found it a bit embarrassing, seeing as he was one of the kids from the rich neighborhoods around your school and you lived in a middle-class suburb a bit further away. Your fears about your class-difference with your best friend quickly faded as you got to know him. It became clear within weeks of hanging out that he would never judge you based on financial status, whether you lived in a trailer or a palace. That was just one of the many things you loved about him. And boy could you list a bunch…

He was intelligent, a straight-A student and teacher’s pet. He had endless wisdom and knowledge of both practical things and useless trivia. He gave the best advice, and was so passionate about both his hobbies and yours. You could talk with him forever without the topic getting dry.

His looks only enamored you to him further. He was tall and slender, with a perfectly built frame. Unlike your peers, he never got acne, and his complexion was pore-less and smooth like marble. He was pale, and his eyes stood out like flecks of gold against an ivory surface. His hair was healthier and more majestic than any female you knew. It was long, all the way down his back, and was the deepest, darkest shade of black with delicate bangs that fell across his forehead. He was absolutely gorgeous, but for some reason he still had self-esteem issues. For this reason, he always wore a dust mask over his mouth and nose that concealed his entire lower face. You could never understand why. Everyone at school either liked him or was jealous of him, and he had nothing to hide from anyone.

He tried to lie to you at first, stating that he had a weaker constitution and because of frequent illness and hospital visits, his sister made him wear it, but once you got closer, he admitted he liked hiding his face and it made him feel comfortable. He customized his masks, or commissioned them to be specially made, having embroidery on them or patchwork and sometimes shelling out for the more expensive leather or designer masks...which you didn’t even know existed until you met him.

You’d tried to convince him multiple times that he was beautiful and had nothing worth covering up, but he insisted upon wearing the masks in public at least. After knowing him for a few months, he let you see his bare face, but only at his house. And man...were you blown away. He almost...looked like a woman without the mask. But not? It was hard to explain. He was like some kind of gender-less, androgynous deity. He certainly had a strong, masculine brow and jaw, but then his lips were pert and plump and soft...soft-looking at least. They were gentle and the cupid’s bow dipped down low and rounded out. He had a wide, manly chest and slender waist, but long eyelashes. Large, veiny hands, but delicate skin and hair. He was absolutely heavenly to look at. That first time, when you’d seen him without his mask, you knew you were falling hard, and it made you sweat and your heart speed up. You were always so scared that you’d go too far or flirt by accident and he’d catch on and pull away from your friendship. It hadn’t happened yet, thankfully.

It was raining, pouring down actually, and you two rushed down the street side by side, backpacks over your heads for protection from the downpour.

“I apologize. As you know, I would usually have an umbrella but after she kicked me out last night, Miyadera has refused to let me go in and get anything that I didn’t have on my person at the time.” He was right, he was always prepared for any possibility, and his sister had now made that impossible.

“It’s fine. I read the forecast this morning. I should’ve brought one as well,” you yelled, the rain pelting you both loudly. “We really should get a car or something. We’re seniors for fuck’s sake.” We? You didn’t know why you’d said that. He was his own person and probably could afford to buy you both cars with his own pocket money.

Why did you even say that?

“Ah, but walking is better exercise! It’s good for us! Besides...Miya won’t let me buy one... you know that. She practically controls all of my funds.”

“Kiyo, you’re 18 now, get your damn money back!”

“I’m scared…” he chuckled, only half-joking. It was true, you both had turned 18 recently and were about to graduate, but his sister still treated him like a little kid. Pretty ironic, as you wouldn’t kick a little kid out onto the street on their own.

You passed his neighborhood, and he looked up at it longingly, raindrops substituting tears dripping down his cheeks. You could tell this was weighing on him. He loved his home, it was where he felt safe, and he hated fighting with his sister. She was a tough guardian, yes, but she gave up her life as a young woman in her prime to raise him.

You were approaching your street now, both of you soaked down to your socks and hoping your bags didn’t also soak through. You both had many folders of homework and electronics inside that would all be ruined if so. You reached the curb, waiting to cross into your neighborhood, when an unruly teen in his beaten-up sedan screeched by, speeding past you two carelessly. You grabbed Korekiyo’s pale, cold hand, startled by the sudden volume of the law-breaking vehicle, and you both gasped as its wheels dug into the puddle in front of you just below the curb, and splashed onto you both like a tidal wave.

“Fuckin’ asshole!” You yelled, charging forward after the car until a hand landed firmly on your shoulder, holding you back. You swore the rain would begin to evaporate and steam up into the air with how hot your skin was right now. You were royally pissed off.

“Y/N if he’s the type of man to do that, what do you think talking to him would accomplish? Also, do you really think it’s possible to catch up to a speeding vehicle on foot?” Always the voice of reason. Always so calm and mature. You usually admired that in him, but right now you were seeing red, and his dismissal of your mood made you a bit ticked off at him as well.

“But! I-gah! Aren’t you pissed? He just-”

“Got us wet? We were already wet.”

“But he did that on purpose!”

“I know. Being irate changes nothing. Come on, once we are inside I’m sure we can get warm and dry off. I’ll keep you warm,” he smiled gently behind his mask, his eyes crinkling. Your cheeks would’ve heated up had your body not already been aflame from rage. You didn’t know why you were always so flustered when he was caring toward you or touched you or even mentioned touching you. You felt gross reveling in his platonic intimacy so much. It felt like you were taking advantage of his kindness. Yes, he could keep you warm once you got home. That was normal. You two always cuddled or held hands or leaned on each other. You were just that close. But it was all just casual, as friends...right?

“Y-yeah. You can shower and I have some baggier, more comfortable clothes you can wear to hang out and sleep in. I think those should fit.” Korekiyo was taller than you and awfully skinny but you had some general sweatpants and oversized t-shirts that you were sure would fit anyone comfortably. You knew Korekiyo was used to the best and most expensive textiles and fashion, but for just hanging out at your house? It should be fine.

“That’s very kind of you, thanks.” You were sure he was thinking: how could you put me in peasant-wear, but he would never say that aloud to you. “Why do you have that awful look on your face? Did I say something to offend you, Y/N?” He took your hand in his as you reached your front door and rummaged through your bag for your house keys, Korekiyo holding his phone’s flashlight over your bag to assist you.

“No, I’m fine, Kiyo, why?” The keys jingled in the lock and you opened the door.

“You know you can’t lie to me, Y/N,” his voice dropped into a low rumble, and you got chills down your spine. He was just so...sexy without even trying.

“I just...sometimes I feel bad that you spend so much time with me or like I’m not enough, like the rest of our classmates who live in that bougie housing plan of yours...like with the clothes I’m giving you tonight. I feel like you deserve better or like...like what if those kids start to judge you one day because you’re hanging out with people that are beneath you.”

“Y/N,” he stopped you, rolling his eyes as you both dropped your soaking bags and overcoats on the floor on your living room, “You’re my ‘bestie’ as you always say,” he chuckled dryly. “Do you really think I care what clothes I’m wearing when we are alone or what any of our peers think of my friendship with you? I know you know me far better than that… where is this all coming from? You’re unusually… emotional today,” he took your hand once again, leading you to the couch, but pausing before sitting down with you. “I do not wish to soak your couch. That shower would be nice about now,” you could see the pallor of his skin, coated like wet porcelain as he shook slightly.

“Y-yes! Well okay, we have a bathroom in my parent’s master bedroom and one just in the hallway for guests and myself. You can take the master bedroom one, it’s much nicer,” you stuttered.

“Why do you insist on babying me and always thinking I need pampered or require only the finer things in life? I was born wealthy, I don’t need all of those things. I think your house is wonderful,” he gestured around him, “just like you!” He encouraged you before letting you lead him upstairs. You ran to the bathroom closet then to your room, leaving him in the dark hallway alone for just a moment. He observed the photos on your wall, the paint, the carpet. Why would he judge you for any of this?

You returned with the sleep-wear you promised and a fresh towel.

“You can go ahead and use anything in there. My dad won’t even notice. B-but... if you don’t like his soaps and shampoos let me know. I have quite the skincare and bathing collection!” You were a little proud of that fact, and he smiled at the happiness finally leaking back into your attitude.

“I’m sure it will all be fine. Thank you, Y/N.” He nodded, taking the towel and clothes from you before heading into your father’s room. You turned on your heel, fetching what you needed before taking a shower of your own in the hallway’s smaller bathroom.

You sighed, but not in relief or relaxation, letting the hot water fall over you and loosen your tense muscles. You felt just so...fucked up. Conflicted. Confused. Guilty...love-struck. You didn’t know what to do and felt extremely overwhelmed.

Tonight would be the best opportunity to tell him how you feel: alone, private, cozy and warm, cuddling up together? Yes, that was perfect...but at the same time, if he rejects you, then what? He leaves immediately and has nowhere to go? Or maybe he stays the night to be polite and there’s an awkward silence between you for the rest of your lives...what if he avoids you after school and no longer wants to go to the same university as you?! Your head was spinning.

Why am I such a coward...you thought to yourself, tears mingling with the shower water.

When you finally dried off and got dressed, Korekiyo was already waiting for you in your room, having turned on your electric blanket on your bed and sitting patiently waiting for you underneath it. His hair was damp and his mask was on your night stand. He acknowledged your entrance with a warm grin and patted the bed next to him.

“Why are you in bed? It’s only like five, I was thinking we would go downstairs and cuddle on the couch and eat something-” you approached him slowly and he cut you off.

“Goodness, Y/N, what’s wrong?” He stood to meet you, inches away and towering over you.

“Huh?” He took your chin in his hands and tilted it upwards to meet his dandelion-colored eyes.

“Your eyes are all puffed up. You’ve been crying? Why?” Wow…

“You never miss a thing, huh, Kiyo?” You tried to change the subject or lighten the mood or...anything!

“Only when it comes to you~” he hummed before leading you down the stairs and onto your couch. You dragged along behind him like a child being forced to the dentist. “Now, what’s upsetting you? You can tell me anything, you know that…” his eyes were full of concern and he but his lower lip, apprehensive.

“Kiyo, I- well….it’s just...nothing’s wrong. Let’s go get some snacks. I know you love soup dumplings with white rice~” You smiled weakly.

“First of all, that’s more of a meal than a snack, but anyway, you know you can’t lie to me, Y/N.”

“I just...I just want...this is so hard.” You sighed, voice faltering.

“What’s so hard? Me sleeping over, or your dad being gone? The rain earlier?”

“No no.... I want you here and you know I don’t miss my dad...a-and I feel much better after washing up…” your voice trailed off. He took your hand one final time that night.

And then...

“May I kiss you?” Kiyo spoke so gently, so scared and soft, like he couldn’t even believe his own words. Your eyes widened in shock.

“W-what?!” You pulled away from him, incredulous.

“I want to kiss you, Y/N. Will you allow me?” You paused for a moment, your mind reeling, but then you nodded slowly, your brain taking over and deciding it knew what was best for you.

Korekiyo leaned in, the couch squeaking a bit at the shift of weight. He clasped your chin with one hand, and guided you to him. His lips pressed gently into yours, as if he thought he might break you if he went any further. His lips were plush, surging with warmth, exactly how you’d always imagined them. After pecking you, he pulled back, looking for consent, looking for a sign that you enjoyed that, too. You nodded, getting the hint, and he pressed back onto you, a bit more liberal with his affection this time around.

“Mmm…” you moaned into the kiss as you both tilted your heads at an angle to reach deeper, and his mouth slid open. His tongue trailed against your bottom lip and you opened up without hesitation, your heart going a mile a minute. His tongue massaged yours carefully for a long moment that seemed frozen in time, and then he pulled back. You both sat staring at each other, panting a bit, until a smirk teased across the corner of his lips, and a blush appeared on his normally-concealed face. “H-how...how did you know?”

“I’ve always known…” you felt a wave of embarrassment and shame wash over you. “You’re not good at hiding it.”

“Kiyo...I’m so sorry. I know we are just friends and I shouldn’t feel this way. I just- you are...I can’t stop feeling this way.”

“Y/N...did you think I asked to kiss you out of pity…?” He saw something like realization register in your expression, and he reached out, pulling you into his chest.

“You...you feel the same?”

“Exactly the same.” You didn’t feel so guilty anymore. “And I suppose we both were just too afraid of rejection to say anything. But knowing you, I knew I would have to make the first move if I ever wanted you to myself…” he hugged you tighter with those words.

“Y-yeah, I’m sorry about that...Kiyo, I’m so sorry. I should’ve told you.”

“And I should’ve told you, but there’s no use feeling guilty. We both want this.”

“Kiyo, will you...be my boyfriend…?” You now knew his true feelings, but still felt a lump in your throat. What if he didn’t want a committed, serious relationship right now, or his sister wouldn’t allow it...?

“I want that more than anything.”

You spent the rest of the night cooking soup dumplings, then shoving your faces with the greasiest snacks money could buy and watching documentaries while snuggled into his lap on the couch. He pointed out little facts and trivia along with each documentary, his obsession for culture and anthropology unabashedly taking over.

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bomberqueen17 · 3 years

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I'm honestly surprised EBB is going to allow a story like that since one of their mods thinks writing underage fic is a felony.

Two factors to consider here-- one is that the new tack that suddenly started getting talked about after I made my post about how I wasn’t comfortable participating in the exchange is that all of those “you can’t write this” rules only meant “too graphically”, which had not been said before that (I went and looked, here’s the post, I wasn’t misreading, it literally didn’t say that) but me not psychically knowing that was what they meant is apparently “spreading misinformation”, y’know? So there are all kinds of wildly subjective things that likely are being assumed that “everyone knows to be true” about this, and one is probably something along the lines of it not counting as too explicit if it’s something condemned in the narrative, right? (I don’t know that, I’m guessing, because like all of this from the beginning, you have to know to know.) So it comes down to your intentions and whether the mods think you’re into it, basically. I guess.

I mean-- the guidelines as clarified in this post mentioned “no underage” twice-- once in the “not too graphic” category, and once in the “depictions not allowed” category, so I guess what you have to do is read the mods’ minds and figure out which of those two places they really meant to put it, and if your intentions are pure and you’re vibing on their wavelength already, you’ll get it right and your fic will be Allowed.

The other factor is that this anon may just have been trying to wind me up and isn’t actually writing a spitefic based on my outline (with bonus horrors I never imagined), so. I have other things to do so probably won’t exactly have the attention span to spare to look out for what actually does get posted in that exchange, but it could be a good exercise for someone with nothing better to do. When the fics from that exchange get posted up, see how many people found a way to write underage in an Acceptable way. It’s not an exercise I care for at all, and again, I do not have that kind of attention span, I’m really not just saying that. (But really, if someone wants to write a spitefic based on my outline, go for it, with my blessing; I’m not exactly worried about my ideas being stolen, here. A writer’s ideas are not what makes her good.)

Anyway. I remain astonished that anyone could blame me for declining to participate in an event that moves the goalposts all the goddamned time. They’ve significantly changed the guidelines since I wrote my post about it, and seem upset that I didn’t ask directly first, except I did and they assumed that was an attack, so there’s no way I could have participated without having been their friend first. Like-- it genuinely seems that’s the only way to get a question or clarification answered, is to have gone through a friend and figured out how to gently ask so nobody was upset. It’s all in-group fuckery I lack the social aptitude for, and it just stings that they’re claiming this is the “most inclusive” way to do it. (I’ve never been one of the cool kids and have never known the unspoken rules, so this is nothing new; it’s certainly not the first time something has been billed for “everybody” but I’ve been driven off with a sneer, so. I mean. I know what’s up, here, and I suppose I’m not surprised by it.)

Isn’t the point of a fandom event to like... share your love of the canon, and bond together over the things you all enjoy, and explore new outlets of your creativity, and such? The point is to build community and enjoy this hobby together.

I can post anything I want to my own AO3 anytime I want, and do, and have a wonderful readership I enjoy greatly, and I can just allow the story to dictate to me what has to happen. Why the everloving fuck would I sign up for drama? Why would I sign on to have some moderator judge by the latest Cool Kid Criteria whether my fic is pure enough to be posted? Why would I do this? There’s nothing to be gained except a great deal of aggravation, as has now been proven over and over.

So anyway I’ve just submitted my entry to F&S and if the one with the succubus turns out not to fit into any of the prompt shapes I’ll just have to bake a second cake, and might anyway-- they’re allowing treats, after all. They’ve been communicative and haven’t changed their rules at all and also their rules make sense given the canon, so. No, I don’t need to participate in exchanges, but I had been thinking it’d be a nice way to get through these dark times that have been exceptionally dark for me lately.

If you’re reading this and are baffled by all the drama, please join F&S and write me some hurt-comfort or draw me a pretty picture, I’d love something to look forward to. You don’t have to join a Discord server and cozy up to find out what their rules actually mean; they’re just using the normal ones, like AO3 does, and you can keep yourself safe by respecting the tags, like the grown-ups have been doing for years now. Signups are open until February 14th.

#sorry i'm not a cool kid #i'm not on Discord #i don't know the new unspoken rules #fandom drama #eskel big bang #fisstech and succubi #the witcher #witcher eskel #Anonymous

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serendipitous-magic · 4 years

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Why Don’t We Read: An Impromptu Essay By Me Because I’m Mad

You know how everyone is always saying “oh, I was such a big reader when I was a kid but I just don’t read books anymore, I don’t know what happened”? And how old people are always griping about “This is called a BOOK, it has no commercials and no loading screens, hardy har har har snorf har”?

What if it’s because we just don’t have time anymore?

Think about it. More and more and more of our time on earth is eaten up at our jobs just trying to survive in an economy where “minimum wage” covers maybe 1/3 of bare minimum expenses. And not only that, but we’re expected to juggle more and more and more things every single day. Long, uninterrupted hours simply... do not exist anymore.

Every day you have to not only commute to work, and then work, and then commute back, plus all the little chores and mundanities that make up every day life, cooking food and then eating food and folding laundry and cleaning and putting gas in the car and don’t forget that dentist appointment and better call Mom and if you have a lawn you have to water it and weed it and you have to figure out if you have enough to pay rent this month and you still have to call FedEx about that missing package and now you have to cook again and now there’s more laundry and so many emails to respond to and it’s been months since you washed your sheets hasn’t it and

BUT THEN

You are expected to do and be and keep up with so many things.

You’re supposed to work out, or jog, or do yoga, and you’re supposed to meditate or do a breathing exercise daily because it’s good for you, and while you’re at it, make sure that your living space looks like a magazine or an Instagram post, you need X minutes of sunshine a day to be healthy and Y minutes of exercise and Z number of steps, and you need to be an environmentalist and make sure you’re doing your part to save the planet, and you need to be constantly self improving, you need to be learning a language on Duolingo and doing projects like crocheting or writing or antiquing, you have to be completely unproblematic and constantly monitor everything you do and say and post because one tiny little thing can have the internet jumping down your throat, you’re supposed to be a nutritionist and a fitness nut and an expert on everything you talk about because society has become so black and white that saying “I don’t know” or “I didn’t know that before” is looked on as unacceptable, you’re supposed to know what’s in your coffee and where it came from, you’re supposed to be a son a daughter a sibling a parent a student a mentor but also you’re supposed to be an interior designer, a small business owner (if you do any kind of Etsy or commission thing), a revolutionary (you’d better care about every overwhelming, exhausting injustice in the world and you’d better take action against it - see below), a curator (if only of your own blog), a rhetor (you’d better damn well know how to argue or you’re screwed in this society), a teacher (because school districts don’t teach anyone shit), a negotiation expert because it is car salesmen and insurance agencies’ job to fuck you over as hard as they possibly can.

Oh and don’t forget, you’re supposed to simplify your life and live in the moment. That one’s very important.

All of this is most likely while you’re already working anywhere from 20-40+ hours per week.

Keep up with your friends on Facebook, spend time to see what they’ve been up to, spend time posting your own pictures, catch up with your Instagram and Twitter and Tumblr feed, and for fuck’s sake you’d better make sure you’re reblogging all the right things about current social events, and you’d better also be caught up on the news, which all happens and changes so fast now that communication is instantaneous, keep up with all the politics, know every new outrage and be outraged about it, keep up with the politicians, the scientists begging us to listen, the latest news about the celebrity outed as a bigot, the latest shooting, the latest bombing, the latest protest, you’d better keep up with all of that and know what’s happening in the world, every minute of every day, and oh don’t worry about having to seek the news out, it comes to you. Every little ping on your phone is a new piece of news.

And you’d better care about it all. You’d better have enough energy in your body and mind to care about all the politics and all the injustice, and be rightly outraged every single day by the state of the world and every new horror, but you’d better also care about the dying planet and the burning rainforests, the oil spill, the glacial melt, you’d better be outraged about that too and you’d better be able to act on that outrage because those are all so important, and they are, but then you also have to care about insurance companies ruining people’s lives by making it impossible to afford healthcare, and you have to care about how agricultural companies have made cruel and byzantine webs of laws to drive farms out of business and make food, a basic necessity of life, a business, and one that’s designed not to feed and nurture people but to make money. And then while we’re on the topic of money you’d better care that the top 10 richest companies in the world create 70% of the world’s pollution, and you’d better care about how billionaires could fix most of the world’s biggest problems and they simply choose not to, and how Elon Musk and Jeff Bezos and everyone like them have an amount of money and resources that no single person could ever come close to earning, and how if that wealth was fairly redistributed and recirculated into the economy then maybe minimum wage would actually earn you a living and that’s not even to mention the other systems of brutality and cruelty and injustice in society, the racism, the homophobia, the ableism, the ageism, the sexism, the -ism -ism -ism on for infinity

So you’d better buy and use reusable straws and reusable coffee cups, you’d better cut down on your CO2 emissions, you’d better take shorter showers, you’d better recycle your plastics and spend time at the store thinking about how you can buy things with less plastic wrapping, while you’re also thinking about those big agriculture companies, oh and by the way your eggs? The chickens they came from live in cages, barely being allowed to move for their entire lives, and you’d better be outraged about that too. Where do you think that milk came from? What does that cow look like? How about those peas, were they picked by someone being paid $1 an hour? Every single item on the shelf has some deep horror woven into its backstory.

You’d better sign every petition you can and you’d better reblog the right things about taking action against injustice and you’d better be vocal about it, you’d better buy your soap and your clothes from small businesses instead of supporting the big evil ones that are much easier to access and much, much cheaper (because somebody suffered, somewhere along the line, to make it that cheap), you’d better remember to save your pasta water to water your plants with instead of wasting it, you’d better make your gifts by hand (if you have the time, which you don’t), and

And then there’s the beauty industry.

You cannot go a single day without seeing something about “lose weight fast!” or “The Skinny Girl Cookbook!” or “This Weird Thing Burns Belly Fat!”, and everyone you see on screen is twig-thin or muscled, and don’t forget that you’re supposed to take the time to love yourself and practice body positivity too, oh wait no it’s too late, now body neutrality is the right thing to say and think. Every part of your face and body has some malady and you can buy a cure! Spend this much to get rid of acne, spend this much to wax your legs, buy this for wrinkles and that for stretch marks, this cream smooths out your skin to look like an eggshell instead of human flesh, that cream “fixes” those bumps on your arms that apparently aren’t allowed to exist, a basic face of makeup is at least 5 products if not 10, there are countless tutorials on how to make yourself better, because you aren’t okay as you are and you never will be as long as somebody can sell you something to “fix” yourself.

Oh, and that’s more time spent, too. Take the time to shave, to moisturize, to do your 3-step skincare routine, to slather all different kinds of goops and goos on various parts of you, take the time to pluck your eyebrows and exfoliate your feet and

Everything wants your attention, every second of every day. Because attention is money. Netflix Hulu Youtube watch this ad look at this ad Twitter Disney+ Twitter again Facebook more ads look at this ad sign up for this subscription package watch this new season of this show, watch this new movie, watch this watch this watch this watch look at this this watch this watch this look at this look at this look at this watch this watch this watch this watch this watch this watch this watch this watch this watch this watch this watch this watch this watch this watch this watch this watch this watch this watch this look over here look at this look at this look over here watch this watch this watch this watch this watch this watch this watch this watch this watch this watch this look at this

And then at the end of the day you still have to reserve time for the people in your life that are important to you, and leave time for those long conversations with your sister or time to bond with your kid or time to go on dates with your S.O.

And then you’re supposed to take time for yourself. Self care. Like social media is always saying to do. Take a bath, drink some tea, relax. If you have time.

And all of that. ALL of that. Most likely happens in the small slivers of time before and after your work day, or on the weekend in the small sliver of time before or after you fold that laundry and cook dinner and attend to your personal matters and maybe hang out with a friend if you’re lucky.

And I just described a fairly privileged, not-on-the-brink-of-poverty, not-in-and-out-of-the-hospital, not-constantly-targeted-by-violence-or-oppression life. I just described a cushy life.

Is it any fucking wonder that we all feel shattered? Like our time, even on free days with absolutely nothing scheduled, is made up of tiny pieces? Is it any wonder that it seems like nobody can sit down with a book anymore?

I’m so fucking tired.

#impromptu essay because I'm goddamn mad #long rant #sorry this blocks off your whole dash #but I don't think this one should have a read more line tbh #modern society #books #compassion fatigue #lifestyle #we need to change society but i'm afraid the inertia is too much #and the people in power who WANT it this way #are too powerful to beat #i should not be this fucking exhausted at 22

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there-must-be-a-lock · 4 years

Text

Partying and Poker Faces

Criminal Minds x Supernatural

Word Count: ~3350

Warnings: Errbody gettin drunk. Terrible zamboni puns.

A/N: No, seriously, it’s just random drunk conversations. They are ridiculous. It’s fun. Thanks to @stunudo, @fookinghelljensensthighs, @lastactiontricia and everybody else in the Slack chat who listened to me ramble and helped with Nutcracker jokes/Winchester band names. Hair clip scene inspired by this post.

Part 6 of the Rockstar AU!

The “Wayward Sons” World Tour: Pre-Tour Kickoff Party

. . .

“Okay, seriously though, my friend found all these pictures of them at Bonnaroo walking around with a girl with blue hair, right? So she did a side-by-side analysis and she swears it’s Harry Styles in a wig. Like, honest to god.”

“Who’s Harry Styles?” Spencer asks, putting his book down and rubbing his eyes as he comes out of his reading trance.

“Only the love of my life,” Penelope tells him.

“Penelope,” Emily interrupts. “You are not allowed to ask him if he’s really friends with Harry Styles.”

Penelope deflates slightly. “But -”

JJ tells her, “You are definitely not allowed to ask if you can have Harry Styles’s phone number.”

Penelope rolls her eyes. “Apparently there’s a whole group of crazies who think he and Sam are actually dating. There are conspiracy theories and everything.”

“Let’s just outlaw the subject of Harry Styles altogether,” JJ says hurriedly. “Okay?”

“Oh my God, I wouldn’t actually ask. Are you ready yet, Em?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Emily replies, glaring at her reflection. She’s been trying to even out her wings for like half an hour now. “I look like a raccoon.”

“So… normal then?” Spencer asks, with his cheekiest smile.

“Uh oh, we’ve got Sassy Spence tonight,” JJ says. She grabs Emily’s arm to tug her away from the mirror. “You’re gorgeous. Let’s go.”

“Forward, march!” Penelope orders. “To Suite 202!”

. . .

“So then Sammy asks if she’s his daughter,” Dean finishes.

Hotch and Spencer laugh; it makes Hotch look about ten years younger.

“What did she say?” Spencer asks, tucking his hair behind his ears again. With his legs crossed in his ratty Chucks, he looks too young to be drinking.

“Just said ‘I’m his wife,’ ice cold, and walked away.”

“You should’ve seen the look on Sam’s face,” Cas adds. He settles down next to Dean, handing him a fresh drink and sitting close. For a moment Dean forgets that they’re allowed to be close, that he’s not in public any more, and then he puts an arm around Cas, smiling to himself.

“What about you?” Dean asks.

“I haven’t gotten starstruck since Kurt Cobain,” Hotch answers. “But you should ask Spencer what happened when he met David Byrne.”

“Spencer, what happened when you met David Byrne?” Cas asks with a smirk.

“Well… you know how Freud talked about seeing the Acropolis for the first time? The feeling of derealization?”

“No,” Dean says, raising his eyebrows. “Should I?”

“What you have to understand is that my mom was playing me the Talking Heads while I was in the womb,” Spencer continues earnestly. “Remain In Light, mostly, because it came out that year, but — anyway. Research shows —“

“David Byrne is his Acropolis,” Hotch translates. “He didn’t speak for almost two hours after they were introduced.”

“And I get the feeling there aren’t many things that render him speechless,” Cas says dryly.

. . .

“Hey there, hot stuff,” Penelope says, and she sits in the empty spot next to Derek on the couch. She almost kicks Spencer as she does so; he’s sitting on the floor in front of the couch, hunched over one of the acoustic guitars that everybody’s been passing around.

“You know there’s another chair, right?” asks Sam, who’s sprawled out in one of the armchairs opposite their couch.

“Trust me, it’s pointless,” Derek tells him. “He hates chairs.”

“That’s not true,” Spencer says absent-mindedly, tucking his hair behind his ears. “I like the ones with wheels.”

“Wait, you play keys, right?” Sam asks, watching Spencer pluck out a quick, dexterous open-tuned thing that Penelope is pretty sure he’s improvising.

“And synths,” Spencer says, pushing his hair out of his eyes again. “But also… a little bit of everything, I guess.”

“Guitar, bass, drums, violin, cello, saxophone, clarinet,” Derek rattles off proudly. “What else? There are some weird ones.”

“Didgeridoo!” Penelope adds.

“She calls it my didgeri-don’t,” Spencer says, and it’s true; it’s her least favorite instrument, which is unfortunate because it’s one of her favorite words.“And there are a few things I built, I guess, but haven’t really named yet.”

“That’s awesome,” Sam says, looking suitably impressed.

“You need a goddamn haircut, Pretty Boy,” Derek says, as Spencer tries to get his hair out of his eyes again.

“Don’t listen to him,” Sam tells Spencer, running a hand through the shampoo-commercial situation he has on his own head. “And don’t let my brother start in on you, either.”

Penelope rummages in her purse for a second and pulls out a neon green butterfly clip. She combs some hair back from Spencer’s forehead, twists it, and secures it so that the butterfly is right on the crown of Spencer’s head.

“Thanks, that’s much better,” Spencer says, giving her a quick smile over his shoulder. Sam stifles a laugh.

“Hey,” Derek says, in an undertone. “Got any more of those?”

“I love the way your brain works,” Penelope stage-whispers back. She digs around until she has a whole handful of aggressively colorful glittery barrettes (some are shaped like flowers, some have pom-poms) and passes half to Derek. She leans down and starts to braid a little section of hair near Spencer’s temple. He doesn’t seem to notice.

. . .

“You’re new, aren’t you?” Hotch asks, as he starts mixing himself a drink. “I don’t think we met at the surprise show.”

“Jack,” the kid says, with a sweet smile. He’s all fresh-faced and earnest. Hotch has concerns.

“I’m Aaron, but everybody calls me Hotch,” he says. “What‘s your part in this whole circus?”

“I’m their guitar tech,” he chirps. “Cas is my uncle, also. He’s the one who got me the job.”

“Uh-huh. First tour?”

He nods. “I’m excited! This is going to be great.”

Hotch has a feeling this is going to be trouble.

Jack has a hand on the whiskey bottle when Hotch notices and asks, “How old are you?”

“He’s twenty,” Charlie interrupts, snatching the bottle from Jack’s hand. “Down, boy.”

Jack shrugs, not seeming particularly bothered, and wanders away with his soda.

“Good to know,” Hotch says wryly.

Charlie gives Hotch an apologetic look and says, “I feel like a spoilsport. Like, let the kid have some fun, right?”

“So you followed all the rules when you were his age?”

“Well, no, not so much, although I wasn’t into drinking so much as… um. Mild felonies.” She wrinkles her nose expressively. “But I have strict orders from Cas. He might look like a teddy bear, but Cas can be scary.”

“Felonies,” Hotch says, trying to keep a straight face. Charlie nods.

“Hacking, mostly?” she says tentatively. “There was some… environmentally focused cyber-terrorism, I guess you’d call it.”

“You should talk to Penelope, she used to do that sort of thing as well.”

Charlie looks over dubiously at Penelope, who is pulling up the hem of Derek’s shirt and showing off his abs, Vanna White style, for Sam’s benefit. Sam looks shockingly unaffected, so odds are he is straight, in which case, Rossi owes Hotch some money.

“Really. She was actually contacted by the FBI, they wanted to hire her, but.” Hotch smiles at the way Charlie’s mouth falls open. “She has a whole… sordid history. They used to call her the Black Queen.”

“Are you… what?” Charlie asks incredulously.

“I know, it’s a ridiculous name, but —”

“No, that’s — I can’t believe it,” Charlie stutters. “Really?”

Hotch raises an eyebrow. “Really. Does that mean something to you?”

Charlie shakes her head, eyes wide. “You don’t understand, she’s a legend. She’s like a frakking rockstar.”

“Excuse me?”

“No, like an actual rockstar,” Charlie insists. “Not that you’re not a rockstar, I didn’t mean — holy crap.”

“Would you like me to introduce you?” Hotch offers.

Charlie goes pale. “I don’t — um.”

“I think you’re the first person who has ever been intimidated by Penelope Garcia,” Hotch muses.

Charlie does a quick shot of whiskey before nodding. “Okay, I think I’m ready.”

. . .

“I am so fuckin’ glad I don’t have to deal with this every night,” Bobby says gruffly, with an expansive gesture at everyone in the room and their varied levels of inebriation. “We’re too old for this shit. Don’t know how you still want to go out on the road.”

“Of all the groups I’ve managed, believe it or not, this one’s the easiest.”

Bobby looks across the room to where JJ is passing around shots and Emily is talking everybody into a game of Truth or Dare, as a “bonding exercise.” Spencer is clinging to Morgan’s back like a gangly white Yoda; Morgan, who’s serenading Sam with “Wonderwall” (Sam is covering his ears and looking pained) doesn’t seem to notice his weight.

“I don’t believe it, actually,” Bobby tells Rossi, who shrugs.

“They take care of each other, really. No ego involved, with any of them, which is rare enough in this business.” Rossi pauses as Penelope shrieks; Hotch, who is standing between her and Charlie, looks vaguely alarmed, but nobody seems to be in any real danger. Rossi adds, “They may act like a bunch of assclowns sometimes, but they’re much smarter than they look. I told you, didn’t I?”

“Fair enough,” Bobby says. He’d called Rossi on a whim, looking for an opener for Dean’s surprise show and hinting about “discretion” and “liberal types,” trying not to give too much away. He’d expected Rossi to put him in touch with a friend of a friend, or something. He didn’t expect this to work out so well.

Bobby’s not used to things working out well. It’s a nice change.

“Good to see you again, anyway” Rossi says. “You’re coming out to a few more shows, right?”

“Course. I’ll be around here and there.”

“Bet you’ll miss them soon enough. I was bored stiff when I was retired,” Rossi says.

“Yeah, well, you didn’t have to get those two through their teenage years,” Bobby grouches. “Just about put me in an early grave.”

“They seem like good kids,” Rossi says. “I don’t think I’ve seen you since they were… how old?”

Bobby can’t help but smile at that. “Yeah, they’ve got good heads on their shoulders. They grew up. Just in time, too. I kept tellin’ them, success is going to change things, but I don’t think they believed me. Idjits.”

Rossi nods knowingly. “Cheers to success, then. And old friends.”

“I’ll drink to that.”

. . .

“Pastor’s son, in the church,” Emily says.

“Twins,” Dean replies smugly.

“Nice.” Emily gives him a fist-bump. “Backstage during a performance of The Nutcracker.”

“I’ll be very disappointed if there were no nut jokes.”

Emily smirks. “Well, there were no actual nuts involved, but the fairy did, in fact, taste like sugar plums.”

“Yeah, okay, not bad,” Dean says. He clinks his beer bottle against hers and they drink. “On top of a zamboni.”

“You mean zam-bone-y?”

“Thank you! Sam rolled his eyes so hard I thought they were gonna fall out when I said that.”

“The Roxy.”

“Green room? C’mon,” Dean scoffs. “Amateur hour.”

“Nope,” Emily says triumphantly. “In the crowd, during a Guns N Roses show.”

“Okay, that’s fuckin’ awesome,” Dean laughs.

“It really was.”

Dean’s eyes flick across the room, following Cas, who just deadpanned something that’s making Hotch double over with laughter. Dean’s eyes go crinkly at the corners as his smile gets even brighter — a full-on megawatt movie star smile — and his expression is so sweet and soft and utterly adoring that Emily melts a little bit.

“Gross,” she says, elbowing Dean. He elbows her right back.

“Shuddup,” he mutters.

“No more twins for you,” Emily sing-songs.

“Worth it,” Dean says firmly, and even she can’t think of anything snarky to say to that.

. . .

JJ can only understand about one in five of the words Penelope and Charlie are chattering to each other, so she gives up and leaves them to it. She’s slightly concerned they’re plotting to take over the world, or something. They don’t seem to notice her leaving.

Dean and Emily are side by side on one of the couches, both slouching, with their feet up on the coffee table and beers resting on their stomachs, giggling about something as if they’ve been lifelong friends. The whole tableau is unexpected, but not in a bad way.

There’s something about Dean that JJ just didn’t like, at first. It’s mostly that he’s too likable. In every interaction they’ve had, he’s been incredibly charismatic, warm, polite, funny… but it’s not him.

JJ is an expert at getting people to trust her without ever showing her hand. She recognizes a bluff when she sees one.

She’s been watching Dean, whenever he thinks she’s not paying attention. He lets his guard down, sometimes, when he’s with his brother or Cas, but there’s a well-disguised wall that goes up when he talks to anyone else. It’s defensive fortifications camouflaged as charm.

Apparently Emily’s shoved through whatever wall Dean usually puts up when he’s around strangers. Emily can do that to a person, though. JJ knows that better than anybody.

Emily’s clearly teasing him about something. He’s grinning, boyish and bashful and genuine, and JJ likes him a hell of a lot more, suddenly.

She heads over to join them on their couch, sliding over the armrest to sprawl halfway over Emily’s lap and cuddle in close.

“Are you two still playing Truth or Dare? This doesn’t look very daring.”

“Debauchery pissing contest,” Emily informs her.

Dean is watching her, and his walls are up again: pleasant smile slapped on his face, eyes calculating, playing it close to the chest until he figures her out.

She raises an eyebrow and prompts him: “Well? Aren’t you going to ask me?”

He looks suspicious, but he goes with it. “What’s the craziest place you’ve had sex?”

“A lady doesn’t kiss and tell,” JJ says primly, and for a second Dean’s actually thinking about taking her seriously. She rolls her eyes. “Kidding. Middle of a Guns N Roses show.”

He looks confused for a second. Then Emily and JJ high-five, and Dean barks out a laugh.

“I didn’t know you —”

He hesitates.

“Swing that way?” JJ supplies.

“Yeah, that.”

“Most people don’t, and we’re gonna keep it that way. Understood?”

Dean seems surprised by the sudden sharp edge in her voice. “Gotcha.”

“I used to think she was crazy for not coming out publicly,” Emily tells Dean, but she’s looking at JJ with a little half-smile on her face. “But now that people are starting to give a shit about us, sometimes I think she might’ve had the right idea.”

“Don’t lie, you love being an ‘inspiration to the youth,’” JJ says, with mocking finger quotes. “And you’ve been disappointing your mom for years, she’s used to it. Mine would probably have a heart attack.”

“Yeah, but the number of times I get that fucking ‘Does that mean you’re attracted to pans?’ bullshit, I swear to God…”

Dean’s looking at JJ again, but this time it’s less calculating and more admiring. He nods slowly like something just started to make sense.

“Helluva poker face,” he says approvingly.

JJ grins. “Yours isn’t too bad either.”

. . .

“I gotta ask,” Spencer says, slurred and slow. “How’d you choose the band name? The Ceiling Fires?”

Sam shrugs. “It was a recurring dream that Dean and I both used to have.”

“Weird image.” Spencer makes a face as he undoes one of the tiny braids Penelope left in his hair. “Not that — weird isn’t a bad thing. It’s memorable.”

“Yeah, I guess so. Dean called it that as a joke, to start with, I think, but...” Sam rambles. He’s right at that point of drunk where words just keep rolling off his tongue. “Feels like a long time ago. I mean, I did not in a million years think we’d end up here.”

“Linear time,” Spencer comments.

Sam waits for him to finish the thought, but apparently that’s it.

“Linear time,” he repeats agreeably. “It’s not just… time, though, you know? It’s the whole deal. Success, I guess. People listening. Expecting you to look a certain way, or… I don’t fucking know.”

Spencer nods pensively, combing his fingers through his hair again. “We did a magazine photo shoot the other day and they wouldn’t let me wear any of my own clothes. I like my clothes. And people keep asking if I’m dating anybody.”

“Yeah, I’ve been getting that question too.” Spencer doesn’t know the half of it. Sam laughs to himself, rubbing his forehead, and takes a big gulp of his drink.

Spencer pulls out another barrette with a grimace. “I mean, why would anyone care if you’re dating… who was it? Harry Styles?”

Sam chokes and spits whiskey everywhere.

“Who —” he wheezes, and has to stop to cough. “Fucking — how did you know?”

“Wait, really?”

“What?”

“Penelope said it was just a stupid rumor,” Spencer says. He’s squinting at Sam like he’s seeing double.

“Shit.” The adrenaline rush is going a long way toward sobering Sam up. He shakes his head and tries to pull himself together. “Shit. I just… shit.”

“Is that a big deal?” Spencer asks, with a mild sort of confusion. “Penelope made it sound like a joke. She called it a conspiracy theory.”

Sam stares at him, open-mouthed, before dropping his head into his hands with a groan. “Yeah, let’s just keep calling it a conspiracy theory, okay? I already owe his publicist a fucking… fruit basket, or maybe just a lot of wine.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I don’t actually know who that is,” Spencer offers. Sam laughs weakly. “No, really, I won’t tell anybody. Even Penelope. Especially Penelope.”

Sam studies him for a second. He looks earnest enough, in a boozy, unfocused way, but Sam’s learned the hard way that most people can’t be trusted.

Still, worth a try.

“If you could — yeah. Please? Just… please don’t tell anybody.”

“Believe me,” Spencer says. “I know how it goes. If you let people see the things that matter…” He trails off, his eyes sliding to a point somewhere over Sam’s shoulder, and his voice gets unexpectedly clear and fierce. “People can be vicious. I wouldn’t give them a weapon like that.”

Sam’s pretty sure he shouldn’t feel so reassured — Spencer still has a glittery butterfly clip sticking out from behind one ear — but he is, somehow.

“Thanks,” he says quietly.

Spencer shrugs, like it’s nothing, and settles the guitar in his lap again. “Anyway, here’s Wonderwall.”

“Oh hell no,” Sam grumbles, and throws a couch cushion at him.

. . .

“Okay,” Hotch says decisively. “Everybody have their room keys?”

“Aww! He’s like the world’s cutest drill sergeant,” Charlie says. Hotch scowls at her, but he has a feeling it’s not very intimidating. She just giggles.

“Rossi?” Hotch asks, looking around and doing a quick head count.

“Went to bed an hour ago to listen to the latest episode of his fucking true crime podcast,” Emily says.

Hotch frowns. “Without me? Sneaky bastard.”

“Of all the weird fucking hobbies…” JJ mutters. “Hey, Morgan, is it my turn to be the jetpack?”

“Fuck no. I am way too buzzed to be carrying any of you home tonight. You can walk.”

“I’m not sure I can, actually,” Spencer says morosely. He looks like a rag doll, sitting on the floor, propped up by the side of the couch.

“Somebody come get Schroeder,” Dean mumbles, from where he’s curled up on the couch with his head in Cas’s lap.

“We got this,” Penelope says determinedly. She grabs Spencer by the wrists and hauls him to his feet, and they lean against each other heavily, somehow managing to stay upright.

Sam opens the door for them, smiling bemusedly as they all start to trail past: Morgan first, uncharacteristically wobbly on his feet; Emily and JJ, with their hands tucked into each other’s back pockets; Spencer and Penelope, staggering dangerously; and finally, Hotch bringing up the rear.

“Thanks,” he tells Sam, and waves at the others. “See you tomorrow.”

Before the door closes behind him, Hotch hears Dean say, “It’s gonna be a fun tour.”

#criminal minds x supernatural #crossover #cm #spn #criminal minds fic #supernatural fic

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alottamoney · 3 years

Note

Lisa anon again.Thank you for for insightful answer.But - first things first- am I not a seer or what?You saw what happened with the BP debut on weVerse.WV "mistakenly" made a technical error that basically was free promotion of BP's debut .After they apologised saying "oops!" and corrected their "mistake".In short ARMY suddenly had BP in their following tag after they made their debut.They had to go to the BP page to leave manually.This is shaping out to be a very interesting turn of events considering BTS didn't/doesn't need BP for anything,whereas bp benefits all things good from this association.Lisa has been trending non-stop since her "supposed slip up" in JK's vlive.For BTS, Nothing but money can be gained from this association.They are at a stage where they should collaborate with independent Korean artists to not only uphold them,but for self enrichment as well.

To explain about my perceived after-effect of jikook,I have to talk about a key decision that V made,which is corroborated by other members as well(Suga,Jimin). Keeping his worklife and personal life separate.He considers BTS his work life.The friends are in Wooga squad,who were like unicorn to the members.If you go back in time this change came about from Fall 2018.You can see where I am going with this.

When you think about jikook,you think about jimin.I think by now it is general consensus that bighit promoted jikook to heavily promote jimin.I don't know if I can write so much here but I am trying to provide you with the short version.I believe Taekook had disagreements about bts vs them very strongly in 2018 which was about which should they focus on more.Coupled with the fact that now they were quite openly a pair in front of the members and key company people,they were under pressure not to neglect their professional commitment.I had a hunch before that Jungkook struggled with this a lot.He confirmed it for me(supplemented by My Time and his 'all of my life' cover) when he suggested a story "The herdsmen and the weaver",which is a sad love story of two people who fell in love,but due to them neglecting their chores,were banished by the king who allowed them to see each other only once a year.The king wanted to teach them a lesson. I think bunny drowned himself with work to numb the pain.While Taehyung who didn't have as much load as bunny,wanted the opposite.Jikook comes in here because jimin's schedule is almost as full as bunny's.Here,I sincerely believe, jimin exercised some behaviour regarding Taekook's relationship,which Tae didn't like,and later the members would react negatively to it too.Jimin is a strict person regarding his work ethic.Tae is an easy going intuitive person. I think Jimin was opposed to the idea of taekook in BTS's workspace due to his aforementioned work ethic.and don't forget that jikook was ongoing too,which obviously Tae would've preferred would happen with less "intensity" shall we say.I have seen angry Tae during jikook moments and I have also seen Jimin noticing that and smirking.He didn't take it seriously but it's safe to assume that Tae was serious.It's interesting that jikook could converse and have flirty talking and Tae would be fine.But the extreme physical ones would rearrange his face. On the professional front, he was not being heard and recognized which was just a mess.

With the other members it too was easy to see.They started getting irritated with jikook for 1. BTS is not only jikook.But for a time it seemed only they were the bts.The others were just there.Jikook and co. It did not suit with other members. 2. They did not like jimin in taekook situation.I remember around that time Taekook were extremely hot and cold.And from that time(late 2018- early 2019) , vmin never seemed the same.There was a time when in interviews /place where Jikook was happening,RM and Jin would look from Tae to jikook I kid you not.It wasn't about romance.But couples are gonna fight and makeup.That's the rule of the universe.If you are picking sides in fights just remember after a while they are gonna be together and you are going to feel like shit.

Relationships that changed that you cannot deny no matter how much you look at it : 1. Suga-Jimin - Suga had a real softcorner for Jimin.Extreme is the right word.But now it is not like before.Instead Suga became extremely protective of V.

2. Jin- Jimin - I don't know what happened but again Jin has bonded with Tae for some time.Jin has had a great relationship with Jimin but now it's not reflected in their demeanor.

3. Vmin- The biggest change.They are cordial with each other.But they are not bffs no matter how much they preach it.Tae has kept Jimin outside his boundary of personal life for quite some time.They are professional so it is not apparent to the newcomers.But ARMY have seen them grow up.

I struggled with one thing.Why would Jimin not think V's anger was serious being his "bff"?I have a feeling he thought of it as silly.Not going to lie I think other members thought of it too.They couldn't put themselves in V's shoes as 1.They lacked perspective of a male who was attracted to another male. 2.They lacked serious relationship experience in general.From 2019 things changed.You can sense that the members really started giving their relationship respect.I wonder how much of it is because they have started their own serious relationships.Jin is 30,RM Hobi Suga all are way older than Vminkook.Before they used to tease Taekook and thought of them as chaotic duo,but how their attitude towards them has changed!

I also think their personal romantic relationships have taught them Tae's emotion was not a silly matter.Some things you cannot help.They also think of JK as a bit immature at times but professionally he is the mature man with excellent work ethic.I think no matter what JK does, he is soft corner of every hyung.

The members now has solo successes.They are secure.But in 2018 they were suddenly getting superstardom and they weren't ready.Insecurity about their abilities made them wary.Jikook getting the forefront most of the time was not appreciated.Jimin's overly caring attitude towards bts's future also I think pissed the members off.At 30 you want to have a relationship.Someone to go back to.You cannot be like work work all the time just slaving away.Jimin would rather taekook focus on their work more.I know each people can choose how they prioritise but taekook didn't want to abide by it. The members too.I know Jimin encouraged JK about his work a lot but there is a difference between JK and Jimin here.JK wants to be independent from BTS.Not that he doesn't want to be in bts.But he wants to sing,dance the way he wants,not because he is told to.JK is trying very very hard to be independent and establish his singer-songwriter profile and he has done a marvellous job with it.In contrast Jimin focuses on BTS as a whole.The problem is BTS is 7.6 more independent mind than Jimin. Idk what is in the future so lets wait and see.

Lisa anon😊

I thought of you when the weverse incident happened. I still stick to my opinion that a Liskook collab will not be well received by the fandoms but if it does happen then I would like to hear less of how shippers are the reason Tae and Jungkook chose not to interact with each other and how BigHit facilitated the awkward co-workers by not showing them in content.

I try not to form any concrete opinions about the BTS dynamics because like I said earlier they don't reveal much and I don't believe what celebrities say in general, they have an image to maintain after all. I do like theorizing even though I call them analysis, I don't consider them true analysis as we don't know or see enough.

I too have noticed Tae being uncomfortable during certain Jikook moments. Another one of the reasons Taekook stand out to me; why care about what your estranged bandmate does and over fanservice, which is scripted, of all things. If I'm not wrong they also rehearse fanservice so it can't be the first time he's seen it unlike the audience unless Jimin is doing impromptu stuff. He could be doing it to tease and genuinely doesn't see the problem, like you said maybe they don't consider it serious because it is different from their own experience with relationships. I don't want to assume anyone had any ulterior motives, I'm sure some of them had reservations about Taekook but not beyond a point-I'm not a fan of the hyungs know/expose Taekook trope. As much drama as Taekook can provide I'm sure they had their own personal problems to deal with.

I think the problem with vminkook and to an extent the rest of BTS is that they started off at the same point of familiarity and Taekook suddenly getting “closer” might also make Jimin and the others feel left out or annoyed. For the same reason, it's possible Jimin doesn't even think he's breeching any boundaries, I don't know if that makes sense. I'm sure and like you also pointed out that most of them seem to have outgrown that.

I admit I haven't paid much attention to Jimin and Yoongi's relationship but everyone I talk to agrees that Yoongi has a soft spot for Jimin and some who have access to Korean side say that Jimin is mostly seen with Jin and Yoongi outside of work and not with Jungkook which is the popular perception. So maybe they were able to move past it.

I agree about vmin. I never really gave importance to the soulmates/bff narratives. I consider these things part of fanservice and their stage personas much like Tae fanboying over Yoongi and Hobi, Jungkook saying Namjoon is his role model, or even Jungkook saying Tae brought him out of his shell. These might not be outright lies just one-liners that make it easier for fans and for themselves. The interesting thing about vmin is that no one needs much to believe that they're bffs (even vmin shippers seem to ship them as bffs lol) No one cares that they aren't spotted together, no one is out to debunk them because their dynamics changed, and no one is upset even when they interact. Very few popular ships are as non-contentious as vmin. If I had to pick a pair that did "drift apart" then I'd pick vmin (they still seem close all said and done). Pinpointing Jikook as the cause seems too easy. Tae and Jimin seem like people who don't have much in common that could be a reason.

In terms of Tae and Jikook: Apart from the company endorsement which may have inturn promoted Jimin. I don't blame Jimin completely for what Jikook brought about. Jungkook was an equal participant in the early years of Jikook. Again "blame" is a strong word as we don't know the exact status of Taekook's relationship around the time Jikook was being promoted. I don't think Jikook do anything over-the-top, just standard kpop fanservice with the difference being that BTS is hugely popular with an international audience who might not be exposed to this type of fanservice. I don't think Jikook are attracted to each other, nothing they have said or done makes me think otherwise. Tae's discomfort seems to be disproportionate to all the possible reasons we have listed so far and he seems fine when Jungkook does fanservice with other members, he himself seems fine indulging in fanservice. Some say Jungkook isn’t too fond of Taejin fanservice (🤷🏻‍♀️). This seems to be one of those things that can be categorized under Taekook Being Weird lol Maybe we'll find out in a few years.

Lastly, I think Jimin says things the fans want to hear (all of them do). So him "relying" on BTS could just be him pandering to fans and not because of lack of ambition or personal fulfillment.

I look forward to hearing more of your thoughts. You can message me or I can answer without posting your ask if you aren’t comfortable sharing controversial opinions.💜

#taekook #vkook #bts kookv #bts jungkook #bts taehyung #bts jimin #ask me questions #vminkook

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saeyoungs-sunflower · 4 years

Text

A Piece of You: Chapter 2

Pairing: Zen x MC

Synopsis: After the death of his sister, Zen is entrusted with raising her daughter. Six years later, MC has now settled into the RFA, but she just wants to be back on the roof with the love of her life like she was two years before. But dealing with teenage years, dragged out engagements and a lot of unsaid feelings, you start to lose a piece of you. Or, perhaps, find a piece you had that had been missing the whole time.

Warnings: Only that this chapter is beefy. I’m sorry but I couldn’t find a good place to end it earlier, so it is a little longer than usual! Next chapters probably won’t be this long don’t worry haha.

Song: Leaving My Love Behind - Lewis Capaldi

⇦ Previous Chapter

***

The dense scent of coffee intertwined with the fresh air that soared through the open windows of Jaehee’s car. The radio, though quiet, was babbling away to itself — not unnoticed, but not entirely present either. The two women sat in a weighty silence.

Jaehee sighed, “I’m sorry, MC, it hurts me to say this but I just don’t think it’s going to work out the way you want it to.”

To be honest, MC knew it was coming. She had been waiting for months for those words to be said to her by someone. By anyone. But it still stung.

To an outsider looking in, Jaehee’s words would have sounded cold, cruel even. But in MC’s eyes, her honesty was the most loving gesture she could ask from her best friend. MC wanted her honesty, needed it in fact. It was going too far.

Once Jaehee had finally opened up to the idea of Zen and MC being in a relationship, their friendship skyrocketed. The two could finally bond, with all guards down. It was like they were giddy teenagers again, having sleepovers and talking about boys — or rather, talking about one boy in particular. They would discuss for hours about ‘the look he gave her during the meeting’ and how he ‘doesn’t just take any girl onto his roof’; that he was ‘obviously interested in her!’

However, more time slipped away and their evenings of gossiping turned into nights of consoling. It had been two years since Zen took MC onto his roof to watch the stars, and nothing had escalated from that. Jaehee would reassure her, tell her that Zen just needed time to raise Gi and work on his career, that they had grown apart after MC spent months helping Saeyoung get Saeran back on his feet. She would tell her they just needed to spend more time together like they used to, and things would pick up again.

But they didn’t, and it had been too long. Two years of nothing, and Jaehee couldn't bare to see MC tearing herself apart anymore. She would constantly check her reflection before turning away with a gentle frown, she would type then re-type messages before throwing her phone away from her. Her smile faded, her light dimmed. MC hid it well, but they noticed, all of them did. Of course they noticed, but only Jaehee knew the reason why. It was time to stop this and allow her to move on. She had to before she faded away completely, becoming nothing more than a shell of what she used to be; what she could have been.

After a long sigh, MC finally spoke up, “Yeah, I think you’re right.”

“He still cares deeply about you, MC, you haven’t lost him. I know he still loves you, even as much as he loves Gi, he just might not see you in the same way you see him. You love each other equally, just differently.”

“…A bit like Newton’s third law of motion?”

“Oh my God I swear if Saeyoung doesn't stop giving ‘free physics lessons’ in the messenger I’m going to kick him straight into orbit.”

The women laughed, just like they always ended up doing, no matter what life threw their way. Jaehee knew how to cheer MC up and how to make her laugh until her tears ran dry. Jaehee stopped the car in front of Zen’s house before turning to her friend and giving her hand a comforting squeeze, “I don't think it’s as bad as you think. I think you just need to put yourself out there and I’m sure someone will come along and surprise you.”

MC looked back into her eyes, not finding an ounce of dishonesty in them. She knew deep down that Jaehee was probably right, she always was. Taking a deep breath, she squeezed Jaehee’s hand in return, “Okay, I’ll try.”

***

“Hey, Gi! Look who’s here!”

Gi had the biggest grin on her face as she charged towards the door and jumped into MC’s arms, almost knocking her over from the impact. MC scooped her up and spun her around, blowing raspberries into her tummy, making the young girl squeal and wriggle in her arms.

Gi was six now, and was four when MC met her after nearly being kidnapped in Rika’s apartment. From the moment Gi saw her, she instantly took a liking for her, constantly asking Zen when “pretty MC” would next visit — which made MC an absolute blushing mess when Zen revealed this in the chatroom.

Gi had also managed to worm her way into MC’s heart and made herself at home there. MC loved that child like she was family, which she was in all fairness. The RFA was her family, and therefore anyone they loved, she loved too. She was always up to babysit her or take her on girly days out whenever she asked.

Today was a little different though.

“How’s the little madam today then? You excited for your day out with Jaehee?” MC asked, still trying to hold on to the wriggling child.

“Yay! Where are we all going?”

“Well, I’m going to watch your dad’s rehearsal whilst Jaehee takes you out for ice cream and a movie, is that okay?”

Gi watched the two women carefully, before nodding confidently, “Okay, but you have to come next time!”

MC laughed, “Fine, diva.”

“I’m not a diva! Dad’s the only diva in this house.”

“HEY!”

The three girls burst into laughter, and MC watched Zen as he feigned offence, but he was unable to control the sides of his mouth as they curled upwards. His eyes locked with MC’s, and she felt her heart stop for a split second. When was that going to stop happening? He gave her a warm smile, which she happily returned before placing Gi back on the floor, ruffling her hair.

Gi then darted to Jaehee and embraced her leg, waiting to be picked up. Jaehee chuckled before granting her request, earning a satisfied chuckle from the excitable young girl. Both Zen and MC felt a pang of affection as they waved the two goodbye, Gi’s babbling fading away the she walked hand-in-hand with Jaehee on their way into town.

MC turned to Zen who was rummaging around for his keys. She chortled at him, “How is everything? Gi doing okay at school?”

“Yeah, she’s doing pretty well actually,” Zen replied, still searching for his keys, “She’s very popular, according to her teachers. Stirring up trouble though.”

“In what way?”

He sighed, “Well there’s a group of them, apparently, and they like to wreak havoc for the teacher’s and get up to all kinds of mischief. Hiding the teacher’s supplies, little things like that. They say she’s an angel when they talk to her one-on-one, but she likes to follow this group around, copying what they’re doing. They're in the older group I think,” Zen said as he sifted through the draws, and MC could see a crease form between his eyebrows. He was worried about her.

“I’m sure she’s just enjoying herself. She’ll grow out of it, I’m sure. She’s a bright kid.”

“I know, I should have more faith in her,” now he’s patting his jean pockets, “She’s getting good grades for her work anyway. You know, when she doesn’t lose her exercise books or pencil case or whatever.”

MC chuckled, grabbing his keys from the trinket box on the windowsill, “I wonder where she gets that from,” she said, chucking the keys to Zen.

He caught them with ease, grinning at MC, “Thanks. Ready to go?”

MC smiled back, though it didn’t feel as bright, “Ready.”

She turned to the door, but felt a hand on her bicep, turning her back to him. He gave her arm a gentle squeeze and rubbed it with his thumb, “Hey, you okay? You don’t seem yourself today. Did something happen?”

MC plastered a smile on her face, beaming up at him, “Of course I’m okay! I’m just excited, that’s all.”

Zen returned the smile, although he wasn’t convinced by her answer. She slapped his arm playfully, “Come on, you. You can’t be late for your rehearsal,” she said, turning on her heal and walking out of the house.

He watched after her, wishing she would open up to him more. Just like he did with her.

Just like they used to.

***

The two walked to the theatre in a comfortable silence, the only sound heard was the leaves crunching beneath their feet and the wind rustling through the trees over them. MC closed her eyes briefly as she let the breeze caress her skin and her hair, a sense of peace washing over her.

“Thank you for coming to my rehearsal,” Zen said unexpectedly, catching MC a little off guard.

“You don’t have to thank me, I wanted to come! It feels like ages since I’ve seen you perform,” she exclaimed cheerfully, “Although, I admit the offer did come a bit out of the blue. What made you want to invite me now?”

“Well,” Zen started, scratching the back of his head, “you’ve always been so supportive of my career, more than anyone else I think…and I’m really proud of this show. I guess I wanted you to see that your belief in me wasn’t in vain, and all your support hadn’t gone to waste,” he stated, his eyes locked on the path in front of him.

MC stopped, grabbing his sleeve so he would stop and turn to her, “You don’t have to prove anything, especially not to me, you know that. As long as you’re happy, then it would have never been a waste, okay?”

Zen smiled fondly at her and let out a little chuckle, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her into his side, “And that’s why I love you.”

And with that, MC felt like a bullet had shot through her chest. Because she knew what ‘I love you’ meant when it came to Zen, and it didn’t mean what she longed for it to.

Because yes, she loved him too. Painfully, hopelessly, quietly.

Equally, but differently.

***

When they entered the theatre, MC’s eyes widened as she took in the sight before her. The theatre was really very beautiful. It was old-fashioned, but had clearly been done up recently. She could tell by the even gold paint, the vivid red seating and the perfectly polished stage where the set that she had painted stood proudly.

Art and painting had always been a huge passion of MC’s, and she would often sketch Zen when he was focussed on playing with Gi when she would visit. She accidentally left a sketchbook open at his house once, and he was dumbfounded by her skill and artistry. Unfortunately, MC was never able to make a career out of her art, and she was also way too modest to sell her artwork, so Zen made it his mission to give her as many opportunities to express her art and passion as he could, just like she helped him. The company obviously paid her for her work, but Zen couldn’t help but feel that her art deserved a place in a gallery rather than a tucked away theatre. He told her numerous times to ask V for help, but she always refused. He wondered why.

Zen chuckled at her loss for words, “It’s amazing, right? Come on, I want to introduce you to the cast and director!”

“Oh, they must be busy, I don’t want to interrupt-“

“Don’t be silly! They are so excited to meet you!”

MC frowned, confused, “Wait, really?”

“Of course! Without you I might not even still be in this company, and besides, look at your beautiful set! You’re a part of this show too, MC. Of course they’d love to meet you.”

This theatre company was actually founded by Zen and the director, and it was well known for the way it defied typical theatre conventions. They didn't do a show every night of the week with a matinee on a Wednesday and Saturday, instead they did a matinee every weekday and an evening show on Saturday. Zen said that it was partly so that he could be take care of Gi in the evenings and work whilst she was at school, but also because it meant that schools could watch their shows during school hours, as an educational trip. He was always passionate about allowing kids to fall in love with theatre like he did. And to hopefully save some like it saved him.

Giving Zen a shy smile, MC finally let him lead her backstage. The cast were genuinely very lovely, praising and thanking her for the set and for being by Zen’s side over the last two years, making MC blush fiercely. Even the director said that he had heard so much about her and was glad they finally met. Did Zen really talk about her this much? She tried not to think about it too much.

Just when she thought they had spoken to everyone, Zen took her to his dressing room that he shared with the other male lead. His name was Chul, Zen told her, and he had given her a little talk before going in.

MC laughed, “What do you mean?”

“Listen, I love Chul to bits, but he is a man after all. You can imagine what actors are like, and male leads are even worse.”

“Aren’t you also a male lead?”

“Yes, but I also have sharpie on my kitchen wall and stuffed animals scattered across my living room. Did I also mention that I live with a six year old?”

“Fair play. But seriously, Zen, it’s fine. So what if he’s a bit of a flirt?”

“He can just get carried away sometimes, and I don't want him to get any ideas. All men-“

“-are wolves. And I’m a grown woman, Zen. You don't have to protect me like that, I can handle it,” MC chuckled.

“I know babe, just…if he bothers you you have to let me know, okay?”

“Fine, dad.”

Zen made a face at that and MC laughed even more. She knew how to push his buttons. But seriously, she wasn't a teenager, she could keep her cool in front of a man. Zen knocked on the door briefly and they both entered.

“Hey, Chul, I’d like you to meet my friend, MC.”

Oh, good Lord. She definitely should have prepared herself more for this. Sitting at his dressing table was Chul. Six foot tall, brunette, buff as hell Chul, getting his makeup done for the dress rehearsal. Did I not mention that he was also shirtless? Whilst a lot of women would be drooling at this point - understandably so - MC just felt embarrassed.

Catching his attention, Chul looked over at MC and gave her a bright smile, making her heart race and her face burn. He chuckled, standing up and heading towards the door.

“Ah, the famous MC! It’s a pleasure to meet you, I’m Chul,” he offered his hand for her to shake, which she did. His grip was firm, yet soft at the same time as he stared directly into her eyes. It was intense, to say the least, and MC mentally scolded herself for how red her face must have been.

“It’s lovely to meet you too, Chul,” she replied, surprised at how smoothly the words came out of her mouth despite how flustered she was.

He kept his grip on her hand for a moment longer than necessary, making Zen strangely impatient, “Okay, great, well I have to show MC around the rest of the theatre so we’ll catch you later.”

“Of course, I need to finish getting ready anyway. I’ll catch you later, MC,” he said with a wink, returning back to his seat. MC could feel Zen’s blood boiling next to her, so she ushered him out of the room swiftly.

“He seems nice.”

“Hm.”

MC rolled her eyes at him and gave him a playful nudge, giving him the silent reassurance that he needed. Both of them continued on the tour, but inevitably Zen was called to the stage for the rehearsal to begin, leaving MC on her own.

“You can sit anywhere, babe. There’s drinks and snacks on the table over there, so help yourself. Let me know if you need anything else, okay?”

Her smile grew at his concern. He really was very sweet, “Thank you, Zen, but I’ll be absolutely fine, don’t worry. Enjoy your rehearsal, okay? I can’t wait to see you get up there!” she beamed, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze before he ran off to join the rest of the cast.

She watched him as he went, a gentle thumping in her chest and a numbness in her spirit.

***

The first couple of hours of rehearsal were truly fascinating. Despite what some may assume, whilst Zen was incredibly good-looking, his acting skills were definitely his biggest strength (apart from his parenthood, of course). MC had no doubt that he would have been successful regardless of his looks, and it frustrated her to no end that he was primarily praised for his face and body rather than his talent and hard-work. The way he could show so much emotion and character and make her feel so much through just one look was, quite honestly, extraordinary. For a moment, she forgot he was her best friend at all; she was completely absorbed in his character.

The scene they were currently rehearsing was one where Zen’s character confesses his love to the female-lead’s character — a woman stuck in an arranged marriage who longed for freedom. The scene ended in a passionate kiss, bringing MC back to reality. It sent an ache through her chest as she watched Zen fall in love with someone else. For goodness sake, MC, he was acting. He wasn’t actually in love with her. And even if he was, what would it matter? He wasn’t hers, and she wasn't his. He was free to kiss whomever he pleased.

The director called for a short break so he could discuss the scene with Zen and the female-lead, and MC took this opportunity to get a coffee and to focus her mind on something other than Zen kissing another woman. Ugh, stop being so pathetic. She had no right to be jealous. She had no right to regret what never existed.

She made her coffee and searched for the sugar, deciding that a little sweetness in her coffee might lift her spirits a little. However, even after scanning the table she couldn’t seem to find-

“Looking for this?”

MC turned her head to find Chul standing there, sugar in one hand and his own coffee in the other. She took the sugar, offering him a kind smile, “Ah, yes, thank you.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Chul watching her face closely. He frowned a little, an eyebrow raised, “Rough day?”

She chuckled, she tried her best to hide it but clearly she wasn't as good of an actor as Zen, “Nah, it’s just tiring watching other people run around and dance all day,” she joked. He laughed at that.

“What about you?”

“Well, my wife is currently over there making out with the gardener’s son so, yeah, I guess you could say it’s been a rough day,” he also joked.

Ah yes, he must have been playing the female-lead’s husband. MC looked over at the stage where the other two leads were making out again, sending a shiver down her back. Trying to conceal it, she laughed, “Arranged marriages, huh?”

“Tell me about it.”

They both chuckled before a silence fell over them as they drank their coffee, but MC couldn’t help the occasional glance at the stage. Chul turned so he was face-to-face with her, shoving one hand into his pocket, “You’re the one who painted the set, right?”

“I am indeed.”

“It’s really beautiful, you have an incredible gift,” MC could feel her face turning red again, so she turned away slightly.

“Ah, thank you, but I really don’t. I just…have a lot of practise I suppose.”

“You also have a lot of modesty,” he stated, nudging her playfully with his elbow, “we’re not used to that in this industry.”

She let out a small chuckle before sipping on her coffee again, trying to hide her smile behind the cup. Zen would be so mad if he saw them both right now.

But really, he had no reason to be mad. MC and Chul talked casually for around half an hour and it was harmless, enjoyable even. She discovered that they both actually had a lot in common. They both enjoyed painting and drawing, they had a lot of the same favourite bands, and they even went to the same high school.

“No, no way. I refuse to believe it. You were NOT the kid playing Oliver who fell off the stage during ‘Where is love?’”

“I absolutely am, and don't forget how I brought the whole set down with me.”

“I was so pissed off at you! I spent hours making that set!”

“Hey! I was seriously injured! I couldn't walk for a week after that, I’ll have you know!”

“Once a drama queen, always a drama queen.”

MC actually enjoyed laughing and joking with Chul, it felt natural somehow. She couldn't help but feel that Zen was wrong to tell her to be so cautious around him. He was sweet, and didn’t say anything suggestive or try to flirt with her once. She found it easy to talk with him, and she was even disappointed when he had to head back to the stage.

“Well, I really enjoyed our chat, MC. If I don’t catch you before you leave then I hope you get home safe. I’ll see you around,” he said leaning in for a hug which she happily returned. It was, she noted, a friendly hug. No agenda, no sneaky touches or grabs, just…comfortable.

He ran back to the stage and her eyes couldn't help but follow him. She felt a warmth inside her, mixed with a fondness and excitement after their conversation together. She hoped they could keep in contact somehow, maybe she’d ask Zen for his contact information later.

MC reached into her pocket for her phone to check the time, but she found a folded piece of paper in there too. She took it out, reading it’s contents:

I didn’t want you to feel pressured into giving me your number if I asked, so here’s mine. You’re more than welcome to ignore this if you’re uncomfortable, but I couldn’t let you get away without trying ;) If you want to contact me, I would love to talk more, if not, then no hard feelings. Take care, MC. C x

She tried to control herself, but it was no use. The corners of her mouth curled up as she read the note, and she bit her lip like she was a teenager with a crush. Sneaky bastard. She felt flattered though, and she noticed her heart thumping a little harder as she placed the note back in her pocket and took another sip of her coffee.

Sweet indeed.

***

“You were incredible, Zen!”

Zen twirled around to find MC running towards him at full speed. He caught her easily as she jumped into his open arms, “Thanks, babe. You didn’t get too bored or anything?”

“Of course not! I was at the edge of my seat the entire time! Ah, aren’t I lucky to have such a talented best friend.”

Ouch.

Wait…why exactly did that hurt? He liked that he was her best friend, didn’t he? Of course he did.

He mentally shook the thought away as he continued to hug her, his hold on her tighter than before, “Well, I’m glad you enjoyed it! I’m sorry for keeping you so long, I didn’t expect for us to run over time. Let’s get you back.”

Zen noticed MC had more of a spring in her step as they walked back to his house, and how she seemed more chatty than usual. Definitely a change from her mood that morning. Maybe she just really enjoyed the show; she always did have a soft spot for theatre.

When Zen opened his door, they both found Jaehee and Gi fast asleep on the couch. Gi was lying on Jaehee’s lap, surrounded by crayons, whilst Jaehee limply held an open children’s book. Zen looked at MC and they made eye contact, trying with all their might to suppress their laughter, both their hearts warming at the pure sight in front of them. MC moved carefully, gracefully towards the mess on the floor, “I’ll help you clean up and then we’ll wake them.”

He couldn’t help but smile as she started to pack toys away and collect crayons. She really was an angel.

About halfway through clearing, Zen noticed that she had stopped and was completely spaced out. He raised an eyebrow, “MC? Are you okay?”

“Hm? Oh, right, yeah I’m fine. Sorry, just zoned out a little.”

Again, he wasn't convinced by her answer, especially since she had been acting strange all day. He knew her very well and had never seen her like this, so he continued to push, “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

“I know. Thank you, Zen. I just…,” she paused, considering whether or not she should continue, “I just don’t want to make you mad…”

Okay, that hurt a little. He didn't want or mean to make her worry about something like that, “MC, I don’t want you to be afraid to talk to me. I promise I won’t be mad, I just want to know what’s bothering you so I can help.”

MC watched him cautiously for a moment and then sighed, she would have to tell him eventually, “It’s about…Chul.”

Instantly Zen felt the hairs on the back of his neck shoot up, his hands already twitching to make a fist, but he held back. She gave him a pointed look, “Stop freaking out, silly. It’s not a big deal, he didn’t do anything wrong. He was actually very nice to me. He just gave me his number, that’s all. I don't even think I’ll call him, I just wanted you to hear it from me before you found out on your own and decided to kick his ass,” she laughed.

Wow, was he really that overprotective? He always warned MC to be cautious and all that, but he hadn't realised it got to the point where she felt the need to reassure him when a dude gave her their number. She was an adult, after all, and a very capable one. He made a mental note to go easy on her from then on, “Ah, I see.”

“But like I said, I probably won’t call him anyway so you don't need to worry.”

He paused for a moment, watching MC closely as she continued to pile up books. This was the first time she’d talked openly with him about dating. In fact, he didn’t think she’d even been on a single date in the two years he'd known her. She did always seem reluctant, perhaps even anxious to put herself out there, especially when it came to men. But finally, there she was with the opportunity to start something with someone. Someone who, he had to admit, would take care of her. Someone who gave her a spring in her step after what felt like months of dragging herself from place to place, and he wanted that spring to stay. He considered his words carefully, “Do you like him?”

“What was that?”

“Do you like him? Would you like to call him?”

MC cleared her throat, “Uhm, well, I've only known him for a few hours and we only spoke for a short time but, he seemed sweet and I enjoyed talking to him I suppose…but, I dunno…”

Her sentence drifted off, and he looked away. She’d always been so supportive of him, it was his turn to return the favour, “Well, if you'd like to start something with him, I think you should go for it.”

Her eyes shot to his so quickly he couldn't help but laugh. Yeah, he really needed to back off on the whole ‘all men are wolves’ thing, didn’t he? He gave her a soft smile, “I mean it. If it would make you happy, I’m all for it.”

She tucked a loose piece of hair behind her hair as she smiled, the action completely mesmerising Zen. She continued to clean up, breaking Zen out of his trance. It wasn't long before everything was tidied away and the two sleeping beauties were awakened from their slumber. MC gave Gi a warm hug before she left, a sight that always made Zen’s heart ache more than he cared to admit. She moved to hug him, and he held on to her more tightly than usual, only then noticing the smell of her shampoo and how perfectly she fit into his embrace. MC pulled back, looking him dead in the eye, “About what I said earlier, you sure you’re okay with it?”

His eyes stared straight back into hers, desperate to keep her from looking away. Why did the thought of her turning away hurt him so much? “Absolutely. Go get ‘em.”

Little did he know, that that was all she needed. All she needed to give up. She was so hoping he fight a little harder, that it would be more difficult for him to accept it. She was praying he would change his mind, that he would want her to choose him instead. But Jaehee had told her to move on, and now he had told her that too. There was no way she could justify it anymore.

In the car, Jaehee placed a hand on MC’s arm, concern etched all over her face, “MC? Is everything okay?”

She’d been asked that a lot that day. Maybe she actually wasn’t.

MC smiled sadly at her, blinking away any tears that dared to fall.

“Yeah, I just need to make a call.”

***

Zen sighed as he made himself and Gi their meal, absent-mindedly stirring the pan. He felt odd, almost unwell after his conversation with MC, but he pin point why.

“Is MC getting married?” Gi said sweetly as she continued her colouring at the dining table.

Well where did that come from.

“Um, no, I don’t think so. Unless I really haven't been paying attention.”

“But she will though, won’t she? She’s gonna marry that man from your work.”

Zen laughed, “No, sweetie, they are just going spend some time together. And…hang on, were you pretending to be asleep that whole time?”

Gi ignored the question and continued colouring, “Do they love each other? Like Prince and Princess?”

Zen started plating up the food,“No, not…not at the moment anyway,” he poured himself a glass of water, suddenly slightly bothered by this conversation.

Gi sighed, clearing away her things and setting the table, “That’s a shame. I was hoping you would marry her.”

He choked on the water, looking back at Gi who sat as sweet as a peach at the table. Little terror.

“You, little miss, need to stop watching so many movies. Come on, eat your food, you squirt.”

They ate as Gi prattled on about her day with Jaehee. Zen tried to listen carefully, but his attention wandered as he considered Gi’s previous confession. Why did the thought of Gi wanting Zen to marry MC make him feel so uneasy? Anxious…excited?

Well whatever it was he was feeling, for the sake of Gi and MC, he would have to endure it by himself until it went away. Painfully, hopelessly, quietly…

Equally, identically.

***

Masterlist || Next Chapter

#if you made it to the end i salute you #this was a BEAST to write good GOD #mystic messenger fanfic #mystic messenger fanfiction #zen x mc #zen ryu #hyun ryu #mm zen #mysme zen #mystic messenger zen

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sirspud · 3 years

Text

A Vulgar First Impression of Coromon

Playing Pokémon games recently has been something akin to hiring a fairy princess to perform for your daughter’s birthday parties. The first few times she came around were fun, she made all the kids laugh and play their games, but now the princess has grown lazy, idly watching YouTube while disinterestedly mumbling the same four or five lines she’s been spouting for the past twenty-three years. But you keep hiring her regardless, even though your daughter’s trying to point out that she’s not into princesses anymore because she’s pushing 30, and you’re starting to think she might not be worth three hundred bucks a visit. And she’s starting to smell.

So as the Pokémon community sits and waits for the Diamond and Pearl remakes, because what is Pokémon if not a prolonged exercise in nostalgia bait, some indie developers have been trying their hand at doing Pokémon, but properly this time. First came along TemTem, which was, “Like Pokémon but online”, and now there’s Coromon, which is “Like Pokémon” and that’s it.

I’ll admit, I was attracted to Coromon not because of any underlying nostalgia or a want to replay Pokemon, but because the devs put out a free demo for the game, which is a rarity in this modern age of Early Access and delayed release dates. Intrigued, I decided to take a closer look, to see which warts they cut off and which ones they allowed to fester.

The game starts with our protagonist waking up in a small town with his mother about to go get his OR HER first Pokémon. So far, so standard. But where Coromon differs is that you aren’t some apple-cheeked youngster with a criminally neglectful parent, but a college kid who’s been selected for a prestigious university that studies Pokémon – sorry – “Coromon”. And incidentally, Pokémon scores the first point for having a name that actually means something. They’re monstrous creatures that can be caught in a ball and put in your pocket – “Pocket”-“Monsters”. What the fuck does Coromon mean? Because Coro only has a meaning if it’s in Italian, and I’m pretty sure these things aren’t meant to be called “Choir Monsters!”

Anyway, a dude in a wheelchair who was apparently the guy in charge gives you a magic glove and tells you about these glowing elemental orbs, which are important for some reason I wasn’t clear on, and he sends you out on a journey to collect more by finding six elemental titans and – as far as I understood the process – murdering them and stealing their essence in the name of science.

We choose our first Pokémon from a choice between the fire-type, the water-type or the… ice type? And then, we set out on our journey to fight trainers, make new friends, and shuffle about in the grass for an hour because your gobblefrog isn’t level sixty-two yet.

The first thing that struck me about Choirmon is that it really isn’t being coy with its desire to ape Pokémon. Everything, right down to the statistics of each monster, is identical to the way Pokémon does things. The types have the same names, evolving is still called evolving, it even gives you berries and other items for your monsters to hold. You can battle monsters in the wild, blundering into tall grass to scare them out of hiding and capturing them after beating them into a bloody pulp, or you can battle monsters owned by other trainers in unregulated dog fights. So it isn’t trying to be like Pokémon, it is Pokémon. It stabbed Pokémon in an alleyway, cut off its skin and is now swanning about performing a perverted Face/Off act.

Now, I love Pokémon just as much as the next guy, but I’m no deluded fanboy. Pokémon is not perfect. In fact, it’s a game with a lot of flaws. And in its desire to imitate, Collectamon inherits a lot of the same problems that Pokémon does. Using items, for example, takes up an entire turn, and while this can be forgiven in a party-based RPG, where you have other actors to make up for the guy losing a turn, you can only put out one monster at a time, and using anything other than a healing item in the thick of battle just makes you an open target.

Trying to think strategically is also a lost cause, because again, it’s fucking Pokémon. The only strategy is “use whatever the opponent is weak to” or “mash attack until one of you dies”. And while you could argue that Pokémon’s strong point is its simplicity, it does mean that winning a fight is more a matter of patience than a matter of skill.

At time of writing, I’ve been playing the demo for 7 hours. An impressive run-time for a demo, to be sure, and that’s only up to the first boss. Incidentally, it’s in that area that we meet the evil team of this game, because Pokémon had evil teams, and so must we! I don’t even understand their motivation, or who these people even are! They’re presented to us as if we already know what their deal is and why we should hate them. All I know about them is their name and the fact that they like to hang around in caves. Pitch-black ones that you navigate by wandering around aimlessly getting lost in the samey-looking environments.

Really, guys? You thought it’d be a good idea to preserve one of the shittiest areas in Pokémon? Actually, they follow it up with an even shittier level that plays like the gym leaders from the annoying puzzle gyms got together and tried to devise the most efficient backtracking machine, culminating in a game of Mastermind out of fucking nowhere.

Well, so far I’ve just been going on about how the game is the same as Pokémon. What’s different? Well, for a start, each monster has a well of stamina points that they spend to use their special abilities, limiting how many times you can use those moves before your monster has to have a little rest. So you have to weigh up whether or not you want to waste stamina using that really powerful move or whether you want to keep a steady pace with the weaker moves. Except, Pokémon already did that with each move having limited uses. So we haven’t gone anywhere. All we’ve done is paint the walls a different colour.

Erm… what else? Well, your character speaks for one thing, despite you being able to name them and customise them to your liking. I think we tried the talking player avatar thing back in Fallout 4, and it was just as unimmersive back then too. It means that you don’t really get to impose your own character on the avatar, because the avatar makes his OR HER own decisions without your input, accepting every single quest that gets handed to you without even flirting with a dialogue box because it means oh so much to them to help this random faceless NPC, whose unique name and appearance does nothing to make him feel any less forgettable.

…Ah, that’s something different. There’s a quest system. I’m not sure why. In an open world game, quest systems give the game a structure and a reason to explore the world. But, as we’ve established, Crackmon is Pokémon, and so progression is strictly linear. It’s hard to tell just how much it’ll impact the game, since it’s just a four-hour demo, but a quest system like this can easily turn into a to-do list of tedious tasks for rewards that you don’t need. One of the sidequests early on had me capture a pissweasel for some guy, only for the bloke’s mentor to smack him across the head and have him hand the pissweasel right back! This is the very definition of wasting my fucking time! The only reason I caught that pissweasel was for your quest, and I don’t want to deal with its incontinence issues!

Another way that Cloacamon tries to differentiate itself is though its Potential mechanic. Get this – whenever your pet cockcrab reaches a certain XP interval, you get to directly increase its stats by a total of 3 points, on top of the cockcrab’s normal stat increases, so you don’t have to muck around with effort values and breeding to optimise your stats. Each monster also has a “Potent” and “Perfect” form, with each form reaching these intervals sooner than the normal version of the cockcrab. So the game encourages you to abandon your monsters frequently, exchanging them for their shiny, better versions, which I would argue goes against the whole point of Pokémon. At its core, Pokémon is a game about going on a journey and creating a bond with your tag team of beasts, a bond which is impossible to form if you’re encouraged to chuck your friends in the bin the second you find their better, newer models.

I could go down my list of subtle differences, most of which are quality of life changes, like the ability to evolve mid-battle, or the ability to swap out different moves instead of permanently forgetting them, or the fact that you use HM moves yourself instead of teaching them to your Pokémon. But I’d rather finish this first impression by once again re-iterating that Cocaniumon is just Pokémon. It’s not writing any new rules, it’s not even reworking old ones, and it seems content to merely lie on its back and spin its wheels. And while you could argue that Pokémon’s formula doesn’t need to be changed, I would argue right back that not having the ambition to change has long been part of the fucking problem!

If all you want is more Pokémon but with less bullshit, then go ahead and give Coromon a try. Personally, I wasn’t motivated to continue playing past the first boss fight. Part of the problem was that I had no idea what I was ultimately working towards. Collect all the titan essences, so that we can research them! Research them for what? So we can finally uncover the mystery behind shitty Netflix sci-fi originals?

#why yes I do watch zero punctuation how could you tell #coromon #pokemon #review #comedy #first impressions #opinions #TRAGsoft #Freedom Games #that's a reference to the netflix movie The Titan by the way #god knows how many people I thought would get that

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blackfemmecharacterdependency · 4 years

Text

10. Simon’s Deal

3878 Words. Trigger Warnings for self harm and inappropriate sexual joke content. I think that’s all in this one, actually.

I feel like I need to clarify something - I am continuing this story until I finish it. But, the chapters will no longer be standalone pieces. The rest of it will be directly a sequential story that would need the previous chapters in order to make the story coherent. Thanks for understanding. Happy reading, and please, if you like what you read, let me know. If you don’t, keep it moving, Shawty. Because, I’m an artist and I’m sensitive about my shit.

Simon got up fairly early every day. He fed Samantha and let her out. She came and went as she pleased, and in the times that she returned, she would come to his window and yell. He… was probably going to have to bring her with him when he left home for good. He hated to do it. He never wanted a cat, but they had bonded over having the worst mom in common and it wasn’t her fault that the person who purchased her did so on a whim.

He had a very strict exercise regimen, breakfast schedule, and things that he did every morning before starting on his day. Whenever he left home, he usually packed what he needed, and tended to use his mother’s old car. Was he legally supposed to be driving? No. Was he teaching himself how to anyway, because he knew he would need that skill and nobody else was gonna teach him? Absolutely.

His summer had a lot of things packed into it, but he had everything plotted out in such a way that if he followed his schedule, he would still have plenty of time to rest well and even to keep up with Grace.

She was having a blast. "I asked Ghairrisahn if I could smell her hair to tell my friend how it smells and she gave me a piece of it! I collected YOU a gift, this time!"

"You… have… some of her hair for me???" He asked excitedly.

"She pulled it out of her hairbrush! She says that it isn't even the first time. Her hair and her feet are apparently people's favorite parts." Grace held up a little baggy with curly hair in it. "I'll keep it safe for you. In the meantime, she smells like… geranium, bergamot, frankincense and myrrh."

"I… what?"

"Geranium, bergamot, frankincense and myrrh. Those are her go to essential oils, so everything she wears is one or a combination of those and no other scents, ever, so that she doesn't smell TOO strong. But, it's nice. I actually smell her hair for myself, now. Since she’s got all these oils on her body, I just say that I’m doing it for wellness."

"So jealous," he said, with a smile. “I saw that you gave her a lipstick print. She’s Apex now!”

“She said that she’s been a fan of my videos!” She sighed, "I wish you were here."

"Me too. I miss you."

"Are you holding up okay?"

Actually, my mom had the most violent outburst whenever I tried to get her into my grandmother's car and Samantha has been gone for far longer than usual. I don't know if she's coming back, I don’t even know if she’s alive…

"I'm fine," he said and saw an incoming call… from Mr. Monroe? "I...I've gotta go."

"I'm calling you tomorrow!"

"Yes, Ma'am." she hung up and he smiled, "Mr. Monroe! I didn't plan on hearing from you..."

Simon was at his journalism workshop whenever Shana sat next to him. He raised an eyebrow and rolled his eyes. "Problem?" She asked, turning to look right at him.

"Girl, leave me alone."

"Why are you so rude? Have I ever actually done you something, or do you just hate everybody that doesn't worship your girlfriend?"

"What difference does it make?" He and Grace never corrected people on the girlfriend bit. It was easier that way. They'd have to explain why they're so close and always together and never dating anyone else… like they couldn't JUST be friends?

"You stole from me. I'd like to know why."

"I've never stolen anything in my life. Your dad, on the other hand…"

She gasped and he could tell from the look on her face that was a low blow. She looked like she was going to cry. "Wow. You're just as ugly as she is. I actually thought you were the nice one."

"You are the only person who's said that. Therefore, I'm going to presume that you're lying," he said, with a slight blush. People didn't often say that he was nice at all, and especially not when choices were between him and Grace - the professional people pleaser and part time peacekeeper. The number of times that she had to keep him from cracking something over somebody’s head alone was enough to warrant at least a collective “unfriendly.”

"Doesn't matter now. You're a complete asshole." He laughed at the bold declaration. It had been a while since someone dared to insult him, much less straight up call him out of his name. He didn't know if he had ever really noticed Shana before this moment. But… she and Grace had similar features. He'd heard her referred to as "Chemical Grace" before, because she straightened her hair and wore a lot of makeup and stuff (and was the only other Black girl besides a a handful of biracial ones).

But, honestly… if Grace contoured her face, had straight hair, maybe less full lips and high cheekbones, the two of them looked a lot the same… to the point that Simon's imagination insisted that they were related.

Oooh… what if Mr. Monroe had a torrid affair once upon a time and had this daughter some months before Grace? That would explain their enmity too!

"What are you looking at?" She asked, annoyed.

"You and Grace look like you could be sisters."

She glared at him, "I don't know if you think that we all look alike or if you just miss that dragon for whatever reason, (because you're a weirdo for genuinely liking her in the first place), but if you ever say anything that insulting to me again, all bets are off. I'm going to fuck you up, Simon."

"It was a compliment. Grace is the prettiest girl in school and you're like… a close second, on the grounds that you look like less organic her.."

"Please shut up. Why are you talking to me? Are you even allowed to do that?" She rolled her eyes, but he noticed that her skin tone changed just a little bit. He knew that look too. She was blushing. He caught Grace doing so a time or two. It didn’t look the same as whenever he did, for sure, but he definitely noticed. He smirked and texted Grace. She would be in rehearsals, but she’d see it afterwards.

“Chemical Grace thinks I’m cute. (Smirk emoji)”

A few short minutes later she replied, “Nothing else to do. Gotta set yourself on fire, bruh.”

He laughed and Shana looked over, but he just gave her a hard stare until she looked away, annoyed that she had even turned towards him.

They were going to have to work together in journalism club, but he had always been surrounded by people he didn’t too much care for. At the time, he couldn’t imagine the amount of time that they might have to work together, with her being the managing editor and him being the copy editor (and photo/graphics editor, until someone else stepped up for that).

"I still can't figure out if she's lucky or cursed to have you, but I'm sure hoping for the latter," Shana said as they walked out of the workshop, practically shoulder to shoulder. He just smirked. Her insults were… kinda fun for him.

He had a couple of weeks between his engagements. Grace wanted him to fly out to meet her and fly back in a couple of weeks. She just needed him to agree and she would make sure that the tickets were purchased. He never minded accepting things from her before, but since she’d left him, things felt off for him.

He wasn’t sure if it was because he was still a little bit hurt that she decided to go on the tour. It was a chance of a lifetime. He wouldn’t have wanted her to turn it down… but he did want that. He wanted her to be nearby and available, so that when he wasn't busy, he could have her to himself to recover from everything.

That was no reason that he couldn’t go meet Ghairrisahn and see her shows for free for two weeks, though. So, he went!

Grace danced backup for some numbers and under the spotlight a couple of times too. Ghairrisahn praised her on the mic, hyped her up during her performances, thanked her by name at the end of each show, with the band and other important creators, and seemed to genuinely appreciate her.

For Simon, it was like watching a shooting star go in reverse. Like… when he met her, she was beautiful, but just sitting in a crater, and he dug her out and she shot up and was flying into the night's sky. Beautiful to behold, but also… he doesn't know why he's not with her - Why they weren't one anymore. He doesn't know why she's so out of his reach now.

They clung to that old dynamic, for a few years that it wasn't working, and now, they were shooting in different directions. Where could he possibly want to go if Grace wasn't going with him? Why was it so easy for her now to go where she was going, without him? She used to… she used to wait for him. She used to shine a little less, if only to give him a moment to catch up. She used to care…

That's unfair. She still cares. She's just having fun and she deserves some fun… even if she never would have made it this far without your support. You built her a fan base from a bunch of snobby kids who wanted high school cool points into a public figure with a massive Internet presence. You took the photos that landed her a lucrative business deal at age 14. You turned her parents' heads in her direction every chance you got, just so she could be noticed by them and get a sparkle in her eyes. She owes you everything… and she won't even look at you as anything other than her favorite accessory. Something she never wants to leave home without, but if she does, she could just smile and keep dancing…

He didn't realize that he was shaking until one of Grace's team members asked him if he was okay. He nodded and then went to find some place to be alone. He took off his hoodie and pulled a dull pen from his pocket. His thoughts were racing and his emotions were such an overwhelming cluster of negativity rushing about that he almost felt immobilized by the onslaught. He sat down, lifted his arm and began to sketch. The pen scratched him, lifting the line on his skin, with minimal blood, but a few specks. He drew tally marks. There were a few older faded ones that he had counted.

Whenever he felt hurt or weak or scared… things he couldn't say he felt. Whenever those feelings became too much. Grace had told him, "You just have gotta try to count up the good things about stuff."

"And how am I supposed to do that whenever my mind can't focus on anything but the bad stuff I'm going through?"

She made an "I don't know" sound, with the shrug of her shoulders, closed her compact mirror, looked at him with the warmest smile and said, "But, you're the smartest guy I know. You'll figure out a way to get on the path to thinking positive when your brain is mean to you." She smiled and a bird landed on her shoulder. She was petrified. "Oh my God… get… get this thing off of me Simon!" He swatted it and when it began to fly, she screamed, dropped her bag and ran. He laughed at the image as he picked up her stuff, but for that brief moment that she smiled, with an agent of nature perched on her shoulder, he got his moment of clarity. He found his way. It was her. It had been her.

Whenever he felt this way, he would center himself with a little bit of pain and just make a little mark of the good things about her that he could think of.

He hadn't done this (over her) in a while. Usually, she was the alternative medicine for hurt that his mom caused. Grace didn't hurt him very often, and the times that she did, he always made a tally to represent that she would never try to hurt him on purpose.

That's where he began his new tally of marks. 1 She's not hurting me on purpose. 2 She doesn't know that I'm hurt and I'm not going to tell her because she needs this. 3 I'm proud of her. 4 At least I get to come along. 5 She tried to bring me with her and I had to decline. 6 She never would have left me behind on purpose. 7 It was my choice and she respected that. 8 She still loves me because she wanted me here as soon as I had time. 9 We're still the Apex…

"Simon, are you in here? They told me that you rushed off and you didn't look too good?" 10 She came to check on me as soon as she heard I wasn't okay…

"Yeah. I just got overheated…" he said, pulling his hoodie back over himself.

"That's why I don't understand why you always wear a hoodie! It's summer and you sweat a lot! You're gonna make the bus musty."

"I'm gonna get washed up!" He opened the door and there she was, sweaty and musty herself, with full concern on her glowing features. She glanced at the pen and he put it away. "Fell outta my pocket," he said and covered the back of his neck with his hand, laughing nervously.

She doubted him for a moment. He saw the flicker of it in her eyes, but she smiled anyway, wrapped an arm around his back and pulled him along with her, "Come on, Your Ripeness." Simon wrapped an arm around her as well. He didn't feel any more distress. He wasn't overwhelmed or sad or angry. He had gotten “back on his positive path after his brain was mean to him.” He kissed her on the temple and she smiled and blushed. "What was that for?"

"For always being my best friend."

She tugged him down to kiss his temple too… since that's what they were doing tonight, she guessed. She winked at him and mused, "Back at cha, Gray Eyes." He melted against her and rested his head on the top of hers. Grace was… confused, but she just stood there, with his arms tightly wrapped around her. She didn't understand his sudden need to be affectionate, but she didn't want to interrupt it either.

His last night on the tour, after everyone was asleep, they snuck away, just to explore and spend time alone.

"So, guess what your dad and me discussed…"

"Ugh. You've been talking to my dad, still?"

"Um.. of course. Why wouldn't I?"

"Because I'm not even there. What could you two possibly have to even talk about?"

"We have a lot to talk about! I'm very mature for my age and I have a good head on my shoulders."

"You head-butted someone yesterday," she reminded him.

"And I barely flinched. My head is that good...Wait…" she was already laughing at the slip of the tongue. He groaned. She was never gonna let him live that one down. "Let me finish!" He whined, laughing at himself.

"You gotta stop chillin' with my dad, Dude. He's not just an adult, but he's one of the ones that we know can't be trusted."

Mr. Monroe had been very helpful to Simon during the time while Grace was away and his parents were out of reach. Bit like a mentor, but not as warm. They did discuss Grace at times, but mostly the man had been getting him in contact with the right people to help him sort out getting emancipated and for assistance with the home front while there weren't other adults there. They didn't have heart to hearts and stuff, but he was definitely an ally, in Simon's eyes. "He's… not so bad, I think. He just doesn't understand you. But, he loves you. I mean.. I think he does. The way you made them sound is worse than they are. At least they aren't like my parents…"

She frowned. "I don't like it. It's weird that you're taking up for him, too. What have you got a crush on my dad or something?"

"… Did you seriously ask me that?"

"You're going on about how great and misunderstood he is, and I've never seen you date anybody. Maybe that's what you like. Old rich dudes that can be your sugar daddy." She stuck her tongue out and twerked a little.

He laughed, "I am by no means above doing what I gotta do with your dad, if it gets me ahead, but I think your mom would kill me."

Grace laughed, "I would help her!"

"Help her? How dead do you think I would need to be? Shouldn't one of you kill him too? He's the adult in this scenario! Besides, your mom wouldn't need any help. That woman could probably kill a gorilla with her bare hands."

"Well, she's always said that she can do anything she sets her mind to with the right pair of shoes." They both laughed about the image of Mrs. Monroe killing a gorilla with a pair of pumps on. Grace thought, she's WEARING the shoes, not using them and Simon thought that she definitely had in her to stab a beast to death with a high heel.

"Talk about red bottoms," Simon said, trying to stop laughing at all of their add-ons.

"What's wrong with us? We're making jokes about my dad molesting you for money and my mom killing gorillas while staying fashionable."

"I think it poses the question, what's wrong with them?"

"Hmph. According to you, nothing."

"Not nothing, Grayyeeece… they just aren't as bad as a lot of other parents. Some of them never should have had kids."

The tone was uncomfortable for her. Like, him talking about his parents never having kids made her feel like he was indirectly saying that he didn't like being alive and that couldn't be discussed. She wouldn't be able to handle a conversation like that.

She smiled and said, "Anyways, what did you and your sugar daddy discuss?"

Now, Simon's face lit up again and he smiled, "Okay, so get this… We were discussing my busy schedule and everything I have ahead of me next year and he started to candidly speak about your social media and the tour…" she groaned. She knew that her father didn't consider what she did real art. "And somehow, he got it into his mind that you'll need a man to take care of you, a hard-working one with more realistic goals…" she fumed.

Need? A man? To take care?? Of me???

"Long story short, your dad offered to pay my college tuition, to any school that I want to go to in exchange for wooing you and being your stable man."

She stared at him, expecting some type of twist. The gotcha or whatever. He laughed, but seemed serious. "My dad wants to pay you to try to be my boyfriend?"

"Technically, his word was to 'tame' you."

"TAME???"

"He thinks that you've blindly rushed into wild dreams and that you need a smart, strong boy to help you stabilize."

"Ugh!!! You know, he ruined my mom's career with that same line of thinking! And she had to live vicariously through me. I can't BELIEVE that he'd pay YOU for that job!" She was furious.

Simon looked offended, "Why'd you say it like that?"

"You're my friend. He expects you to just screw me over and play with my mind for some money."

"It's not THAT simple. For… an education that I work really hard to get, but still may have to settle on a scholarship that might not cover everything. An education that, if I had it, I could finally make something of myself in this world. It wasn't like he offered me a cartoon bag of cash. He offered me a future that I deeply want and need. Nothing cheap or meaningless.."

She intertwined their fingers, "Okay. Then… you'll get that."

"What do you mean?"

"He wants to give you college in exchange for making me your girlfriend, then he's about to pay for your college."

"Are you suggesting that we officially openly pretend to be a couple instead of leaving it to mystery?"

"I'm suggesting that my father deserves for you to take every dime he's willing to pay you to manipulate me."

"I don't think that you realize that what he wants me to do is change you, and even if we could get one over on him, the act would have to last through my college career…"

"We've unofficially been a couple in people's eyes for almost that long already."

"No we haven't!"

"I am making you a counter offer. It's the very same deal as my dad's, but in this one, we stay the same, but he pays you anyway! So… be my partner, already." She held out her hand to him and he tentatively accepted it and shook it. She smiled. "We'll have to pace it, if he's expecting you to woo me. Gonna have to be a soft entrance and he'll have to notice a gradual shift."

He nodded in agreement. He knew that they were speaking about a fake relationship, but he still felt butterflies fluttering in his gut thinking about it. Being Grace's boyfriend… even if pretend… for years… There was no way that they could pull that off… but, what if it led to something? What if he could woo her, for real? Have her for real?

"Let's go be seen," she said.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm an internet personality. If people spot us out and about this time of night, they'll talk about it. If we seem like we're trying to be secretive, they'll post about it." She took his hand and pulled him along.

"We'll have to set some ground rules for this couple project…" he said.

She laughed, "You can set whatever rules you want. I'm doing everything that I've normally done, but I'll be letting my parents think you're my boyfriend so that you can go to school or whatever."

"It's risky. What about affection? What about if one of us finds somebody else that we like?"

"You like somebody?"

"No. I'm just thinking about the complications to this ruse."

"You're a war buff… Just think about it like a secret identity that you have to commit to for an espionage assignment. The fate of your future depends on it, so in a way, it's a mission of life and death." His eyes twinkled at her and she smirked. He loved when she began to try to speak his language.

"I understand now," he said.

#If They Didn't Get on the Train #AU Infinity Train #Infinity Train #Nesha Fanfiction #Infinity Train Fanfiction #fics

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mamichigo · 5 years

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This goes to the anon who wanted to know more about the bonds between the pillars in the modern au! I hope you’re ready for the monstrosity that is this post

Drinking buddies club: Rengoku and Giyuu, being co-workers, also drink together on Fridays. The first few times, Rengoku had to basically drag Giyuu into it, and he went begrudgingly, but with time Giyuu found that he actually enjoys their outings. Expanding his social circle didn't seem like a bad idea either.

They're often joined by Sanemi and Iguro, who are friends with Rengoku. Those two have a complicated relationship with Giyuu, but they don't straight up hate his guts; they just love to pick on and antagonize him for the hell of it. Also, Sanemi and Iguro feed off each other’s bastard energy, so they get caught in bastard loop that instantly kills everyone in a 100km radius (except for Rengoku, who’s immune to bastardness, and Giyuu, who does not give a fuck and is just happy he has friends).

The ex-schoolmates squad: Rengoku, Sanemi, Iguro and Kanroji all went to the same high school. Sanemi and Iguro were third years and in the same class, while Rengoku was a second year and Kanroji was a first year.

Rengoku was literally the only one Sanemi talked to properly and got along with, differently from everybody else, with whom Sanemi picked fights at least once. Kanroji knew Sanemi and talked to him, but she was so sweet and nice that he didn't know what to do about that, so he avoided her like the plague.

Rengoku and Kanroji were both in the volleyball team/club. They went to a bunch of competitions together, and were quite the powerful duo. Kanroji still admires Rengoku, and Rengoku still looks out for Kanroji. He regularly meets up with her for lunch to catch up and make sure she's doing alright.

Iguro didn't interact with Rengoku and Sanemi until after he graduated from high school. In fact, he didn't interact with anyone besides Kanroji. He hated everyone and hated school, and Kanroji was the only one able to reach out to him. You may see it as a "lol emo phase" thing, but it was actually very detrimental to his mental health, since Iguro had (and still has) a tendency to self isolate. Kanroji is helping him work on it.

The school kids: Tokitou, being 14, is still in middle school, and Giyuu and Rengoku are his teachers. Rengoku is the only PE teacher that can get Tokitou to actually work by offering exercises he's interested in, even if he's doing something completely different from the other kids. Also, if Rengoku makes a goal for Tokitou, he'll work harder on his task (Tokitou isn't good at putting in effort without a goal in mind).

Giyuu just generally doesn't bother him, even when Tokitou is clearly spacing out or doodling on his notes. He knows Tokitou will get a high grade anyways, plus he isn't bothering anyone, so Giyuu doesn't care.

Tokitou also knows Shinobu through Kanao! Kanao and Genya study in one high school, while Tanjirou, Zenitsu and Inosuke go to another. They're a big friend group, which started with Shinobu introducing Tanjirou to Kanao, then it was a matter of "here, meet a friend of my friend" until they were all close to each other.

(Also: Senjurou and Nezuko attend the same school as Tokitou, but they're from another class.)

The neighbors: Kanroji lives across the street from Shinobu's house. She introduced herself when she first moved into the neighborhood and instantly got attached to all the girls in the house. She likes to come over to chat, and always brings sweets with her, while either Shinobu or Kanae provide the tea. She loves all the kids with all her heart (Kanao, the triplets and Aoi), but has a particularly soft spot for Aoi, and will sulk whenever Aoi goes back home. Kanroji also likes to check up on Shinobu and try to cheer her up, knowing that Shinobu overworks herself way too much.

Iguro will sometimes come along, even though he's terrible with kids and even worse at conversation. No one is sure why, but apparently he likes being around Shinobu (he has admitted to Kanroji that he appreciates the strength of her resolve and how she never forces him to talk).

The dancing duo: Kanroji and Uzui teach at the same dancing school, often doing joint classes. Uzui thinks Kanroji is amusing, and they often strike up conversation during warm-up in between classes. They have a whole "the cousin of my friend's crush told me that" thing going on. As in, Shinobu hears about what's going on with everyone else from Rengoku, Iguro and the butterfly sisters, and then she relays it all to Uzui. He doesn't know half these people (he only met Iguro and Rengoku), but he's wholly invested in their lives.

The savior and the saved: Himejima was the one who supported the Kochous after their parents' death in a car accident, even more so after Kanao joined them. Kanae had to work part-time while also studying to help her sisters, and Himejima pitched in however much they needed to make it through the month. He often bought them gifts since they couldn't afford them themselves. Thanks to his and Kanae's effort, Shinobu never had to work while studying, allowing her to pursue her dreams.

Shinobu decided to be a nurse because she was inspired by Himejima. She saw how much he did not only for them, but for others too, and decided she wanted to be like that too. Shinobu is proud to say she works under his guidance at the hospital.

Himejima was also the nurse responsible for taking care of Sanemi’s mother. She got very sick around the time he graduated from high school, and her condition was worsened by stress from working herself to death to support Genya and Sanemi. Knowing Sanemi needed a good job to take care of the hospital bills and make sure Genya could have a good life, Himejima made use of his connections to assure Sanemi would get a high paying office job. Though his mother passed away years later, Sanemi is still grateful for what Himejima did, and nowadays he bakes his favorite cookies (his mother’s recipe) to send to Himejima twice a month.

The ex office workers: Sanemi and Kanae had very similar lives. Both lost their supporting family, were helped by Himejima, got a job at the same office to support their sibling(s), then left the job to follow their dream after they were more financially stable. Even now, both working very different jobs (Sanemi as a baker, Kanae as a florist), they relate deeply to each other's story and struggles, so they have quite the tight bond. They text each other quite often.

(Obviously, Shinobu is acquainted with both Sanemi and Genya, and has been in contact with them for years.)

#tomioka giyuu #rengoku kyoujurou #shinazugawa sanemi #iguro obanai #tokitou muichirou #kanroji mitsuri #kochou shinobu #himejima gyoumei #uzui tengen #hashira #kny #so many people......#modern au #long post #pillar day

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hoothootmotherf-ckers · 5 years

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So what the fuck is the Animus Bell?

Yeah, I know I’m like two years late to this. But I’ve been writing these concepts into my fics lately, and I’ve had some ideas, so I figured I’d make one nice cohesive post about it here. Yeah, I know there are probably simpler, out-of-narrative answers to these things, but shhhhh. I’m having fun.

So what do we actually know about the Animus Bell?

It was created by Barry Bluejeans.

He apparently never told anyone what it did, because Lucretia didn’t know. Yeah, maybe he just didn’t tell her specifically? But they were living in each others pockets for a century and she made a point to document everything, so odds are good no one knew.

The liches were using it to power Wonderland, somehow.

Its school of magic is Necromancy.

And its one known magic ability: it could yeet someone’s soul out of their body.

That is... not a lot to go on. A lot of this is going to be my own speculation, but there’s a couple other things that I think are really important for this.

Barry is listed as the IPRE’s “science expert” at the press briefing, and is repeatedly mentioned as the “science officer.” At the end of the Century, he’s also the one who understands the Light of Creation the best; he’s the one who explains how and why to make the Relics.

All Relics were made of fragments of the Light of Creation, which also has very vaguely described powers, but it involves Bonds. Which are a real, tangible force of energy that’s also never described that well.

Edward and Lydia know some weird shit; how did they know about Kalen or Merle’s kids or any of that?

They also seem to have been using the Animus Bell to draw on people’s emotions, specifically suffering but they could’ve used whatever.

Wonderland is always played in teams.

So, my theory:

The Animus Bell manipulates and can destroy Bonds.

I keep getting stuck on one thing - why didn’t Barry tell anyone? Like, he’s a scientist who is always extremely down to talk about science, and then he makes one of the most powerful items in existence... and doesn’t tell anyone what it does. There’s a few options in my mind. Maybe he was afraid of what they would do with it. Which okay, I get why he might not want the general public to know what a superpowered magical object could do, but his family? He knows they wouldn’t use it for evil. Maybe he thought they would tell other people? But that still doesn’t sit right with me.

So, what I tend to to lean toward: Barry was ashamed. For some reason, he didn’t want his family to know what he had made, he thought they would judge him or something. Add together the fact that his family loves him pretty unconditionally, and Barry would never make something like super absolutely evil on purpose, I’m leaning toward the idea that Barry fucked up. The Animus Bell didn’t turn out quite the way he intended.

I think his intent was probably something that could create or reinforce Bonds. That would be good, that would help people. He’s spent a hundred years relying on the strength of Bonds, extra support would be amazing after terrifying years like the Judges and Lucretia’s time alone.

But I don’t think it just did that. I mean, all the Relics were more powerful than they expected - Lup never intended to make something that could burn entire cities, or Taako something that could reduce them to candy in an instant. I think the Animus Bell ended up stronger than intended too. I think it could create bonds- but I also think it could manipulate and even destroy them.

So now this overpowered magical item is in the hands of two very evil liches, and we get to another question. Why is Wonderland a team exercise? Wouldn’t people suffer more if they had to go through it alone? But everyone we’ve seen - THB, Sterling and Co, Lucretia and Cam - they’ve been in groups.

The Wonderland liches are parasites, and they’re somehow stealing emotional energy from the people who go through their terrifying hell gauntlet. I think they’re using the Bell to steal that energy from Bonds. Working in teams means a set of interpersonal relationships, at least some amount of bonding within a group, especially a group that’s placed under some serious stress. And because we’re working in a world where Bonds are actual literal things, that’s a nice tangible source of magical energy.

I think the Animus Bell allowed liches to grab on to Bonds and steal energy from them. They already could sort of do that, but once they got the Bell, they refined their whole setup. And yeah, there’s the possession/word of mouth advertising aspect which I’ll get to in a minute, but I don’t think that’s all of it. I think using the Bell allowed them to fuck with Bonds way more efficiently.

Because here’s another thing - Edward and Lydia knew which buttons to push. They knew that to hit Merle hard they should ask for the memories of his children being born, or to fuck with Magnus by erasing Kalen. How the fuck do they know that? They’re not reading minds or they would have caught on to Barry and Magnus’s escape plan. I think they’re reading Bonds.

Assuming Bonds are affected by the Voidfishing, and interpersonal relationships from the Century are currently not very visible, Merle’s strongest bonds are with his kids. He loves them so much, he’s so proud of them, they are why he’s trying to be a better person. If the liches can see that, and see what those bonds are, then they know how to hit him hard.

Magnus, on the other hand... his strongest bonds are gone, broken, destroyed. I don’t know if Bonds leave any sort of fragments after death, or if they’re still there in some way. But if Edward and Lydia could see his emotional bonds to Julia and Steven - well they’d be fucking crazy to try to convince him to give up either of them, that’s a no go. But they can ask for Kalen, because they can see that those bonds were damaged by him.

And here’s one more thing - they specifically don’t hurt Taako that way. Taako “everyone is dust” Taaco, who has made a point to develop very few interpersonal bonds on Faerun. They physically hurt him plenty, they drop a fucking washing machine on him, but the only emotional pain they give him is losing his appearance. Which is still directly tied to him - or, depending on what the liches know and what some theories posit, potentially one of the few things still linking him to Lup, his formerly strongest Bond.

So that takes us to the end of Suffering Game, to the really cool Arms Outstretched moment, and to the one time we actually see the Animus Bell used. Edward uses it to knock Magnus’s soul out of his body and replace it with his own. (Griffin: “Right. And ‘possessing’ is not the right word. ‘Cause Magnus isn’t in there anymore. Edward is– Edward is Magnus right now.”) It’s also implied that this is not the first time he’s done this, that any “survivors” of Wonderland are actually possessed and used to advertise. And I think this is breaking bonds.

It’s not the Bonds I’ve been talking about, it’s not connecting two people, but it’s still a bond. There is a Bond connecting Magnus to his body. And more abstractly, there is a Bond connecting Magnus to the Material Plane. And Edward broke it, and used it to attach himself instead to Magnus’s body. This ties in with the Necromancy aspect of the Animus Bell, too - it can break the Bonds connecting a person to life. Or reconnect them as the user sees fit.

I’d also argue that Bond energy could be what allowed the crazy calvinball Arms Outstretched scene to work. That the energy connecting Magnus to Merle and Taako was enough to replace the energy that should have been connecting him to the Material Plane. We didn’t know anything about Bonds at the time, but in hindsight it kind of makes sense.

So, yeah - this is a lot of conjecture, and sure, Griffin probably didn’t intend a lot of this, but it does kind of make sense, doesn’t it?

#taz #the adventure zone #barry bluejeans #taz balance #suffering game #long post

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aurification · 4 years

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you're the sun, you're the day. the light that guides me.

WORD COUNT: 4115 WHO: @txdkxrd, rani carter, skeets, mentions of darkseid WHEN: two weeks ago WHAT: time travel gone wrong leaves the carter family stranded in an alternate universe NOTES: speech in bold is rani and italics is skeets TRIGGERS: mentions of war, death, depression

MICHAEL CARTER: Nothing has felt right since his best friend died. Michael has experienced tragedy before and saw it with his own eyes as cities burned and innocence is lost. Nothing could have prepared him for the day Ted would die. Maybe his way of coping with the grief wasn’t healthy, his sister tried to make him understand why his actions were inappropriate. He would travel into the past for only a few hours at a time to spend time with Ted. Who was too smart to be fooled by seeing a version of Booster with more experience than they remember.

Four years ago Darkseid invaded the planet Daxam in the 31ST CENTURY and Michael tried to stop the war but there wasn’t much that could be done except help the Daxamites try and evacuate or get to shelter. He ended up bringing a young child back to Earth with him. Rip wasn’t much thrilled by having a nine-year-old Daxamite living with them now but informed Booster that he was a father now. It took some time to wrap his head around this but quickly became thrilled about having a daughter. Rani seemed to really look up to him and that never changed over the years.

Now, Michael may keep up on being in shape but doesn’t shave as often anymore. He puts too much thought into taking care of his daughter who just turned thirteen a few months ago. Michelle gifted her niece an old Goldstar uniform for emergencies only. Jaime and Skeets didn’t think it was a good idea but far as birthdays go it couldn’t have been better. The ache of Ted being gone for so long still lives within him but it doesn’t seem like a loss that you can ever get over. He tells Rani all about their adventures and what kind of man Blue Beetle is like. He talks about how they would have gotten along well because Rani is a little genius and likes helping out around the lab when Rip is home. He thinks that Ted and Rani could have had a special relationship by bonding over coming up with new inventions. Which always never made sense to Michael, only wanting to know how something works not how you build it. He was the only one who regularly took care of his headstone too.

Something goes wrong though and Skeets informs Booster that Rani followed them dressed in her newly acquired Goldstar uniform.

“I can help you, dad! You can’t keep doing this on your own!” She would tell him, always trying to get Michael to let her be his sidekick but he never budges. He doesn’t want Rani being put in danger but that’s what happens. The creature finally found them and crashes through part of the building in it’s path. He doesn’t have time to try patching into his comms to see where Batman is. He does what any parent would do and focuses on getting Rani out of the situation. He uses his time-travel circuitry to get the three of them out of there and to be somewhere safer. The safest place he could think of and hasn’t been in years. His best friend’s lab. Both Michael and his daughter pull off their goggles which are dangling around their necks as Skeets hovers over their head.

<Sir, you might want to turn around.>

“Not now, Skeets.”

<It’s most urgent.>

Booster signs, turning to see what the big deal is. Rani hides behind her father’s tall stature unsure what to expect. Apparently in his moment of panic they were resorted to an entirely different timeline. The year is the same but something leaves the blonde speechless. Ted walking into the lab and Michael feels his eyes water but tries to pull himself together before they’re noticed. “Teddy...” He says finally when their gazes meet.

Rani steps out from behind Booster, in just as much shock. The teenager tugs on his arm knowing how this must feel for him. “Dad?” She asks while looking between the two adults.

TED KORD: Teddy had a lot to be getting on with these days but his mind occasionally drifted back to Booster. He’d been his best friend back in the days of the JLI; they’d bonded over being the jokers of the team, both seeing the value in each other that was rarely seen by other people. Of course, even the best team ups couldn’t last forever and Teddy was one of the few who understood the amount of work Booster did keeping timelines in check and there was a reason he couldn’t tell anyone about it. In fact, the only reason Teddy had put it together in a combination of tiny clues from talking with Booster and his own smarts. So when Booster left he didn’t question it, no matter how much he missed his best friend he knew life needed to go on. So, for years, it had. The ban came into effect and Booster wasn’t there. So, Teddy poured all his knowledge and time into Kord Inc. and pulled his somewhat mediocre company out of a rut and made it a real world competitor on par with several branches of Wayne Enterprises and Stark Industries. He’d also found Jaime and taken the boy under his wing in El Paso; he was a good kid and damn if Teddy didn’t think he’d be so much better than he ever was and probably save the damn world many times over.

It was hella busy and of course he’d poured that same obsessiveness into his own health as well. Sure doctors told him that his heart couldn’t be fixed and didn’t warrant a translate, yet, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t make himself as healthy as possible. So he dieted, constantly, and worked out (too much) to try and help himself out. Truth be told he was in better shape than he’d ever been in his life (BMI readouts and body measurements didn’t lie). But he still looked in the mirror and saw many imperfections, too many of them. Ones that made him pale in comparison to folks like Batman, Superman and Wonder Woman. He couldn’t help but wonder why they’d even invited him into the Avenging League. Not that he was complaining! Getting involved with them reminded him of why he’d loved getting into the hero game. So he’d pulled the worst Blue Beetle out of the closet and back into the field. He couldn’t wear the spandex again though. Seven years away from it had clued him into how, well… unappealing it could look. The spandex hood certainly did him no favours. The description ’human condom’ had been used by some particularly uncharitable news reporters.

His new costume was much simpler, it consisted of some fitted cargo pants with several pockets, his own utility belt, a skin-tight t-shirt with the beetle emblem, fingerless gloves and his trademark orange goggles, he’d not been able to give them up. And that was how he was currently dressed in The Bug monitoring the city, with NOVA now pushed out it was much easier to do. He was shocked when an alert triggered that had been programmed to detect one missing best friend: it had been years since it went off. Booster. And he wasn’t far!

He synched the tracker to the tech in his gloves and jogged out of the Bug to the outskirts of the city, only about ten minutes so he wasn’t out of breath when he arrived (take that crappy heart) and when he arrived Skeets was already trying to tell Booster he was here. Teddy smirked and waved at the little robot who bobbed up and down in response. Then Booster was finally turning to see him and wow that’s a beard. He grinned, why was Booster looking so dumbstruck, “Were you expecting Guy instead?” He asked with a chuckle, but then the teenager spoke and what did she say!? DAD!? “Boos… Who’s the teenage girl?” He asked with a raised brow.

MICHAEL CARTER: It was no secret that Michael changed after Ted died. He continued exercising regularly but allowed his facial hair to grow out to a very visible blonde beard and mustache. Which isn’t something that he ever decided to do before but the traumatic loss of his best friend made him stop caring about being clean shaven. Booster let himself go in at least one regard — but over time began trimming it to at least pretend that he has it together. His daughter doesn’t know anything different. There are pictures of him without it but has never seen it with her own eyes before. Another thing that Michael stopped taking care of was his suit. It had always been Ted who did repairs and sewed the fabric back together. Rip started taking it upon himself to fix the Booster Gold suit and that’s something they never talked about it. Something unspoken because maybe Rip knew Ted wouldn’t want Booster to do that to himself.

Small reminders were all over the place and surrounded him after it was revealed that Kord Industries had been left to him. Some people didn’t understand why — Michael included since he doesn’t know anything about running a business. He didn’t want to let Ted down since he must have believed in him to make the decision and be confident in it. Booster worked hard on making sure the company would continue to thrive even if he left to travel through the time stream. Keeping his memory alive is important and maybe that’s why Jaime ended up being taken under his wing. The kid was important to Ted — considering that Jaime is his legacy after all. The blonde might not be the mentor the teenager wanted but was the only one left to teach him in a way that would make his best friend proud.

Despite having all this responsibility Michael never quite got over the loss. Michelle might argue that going into the past to observe a time when Ted is alive wasn’t healthy. She always told him that won’t help him move forward and maybe she was right. He stopped after Rani came into his life because he needed to set a good example. It was never in his plan to become a father but sometimes the universe gives you what it thinks you need.

After crash landing and destroying his time travel device in the process, Booster planned on sitting his daughter down to try making her understand why it wasn’t the time for being a hero. He wants her to have a normal life, after everything they’ve both been through one of them deserves it. Rani is young and no thirteen year old should be fighting monsters and crime. If anything happened to her too ... that might completely break him. The already shattered pieces scattering across the floor in a way that would be impossible to piece back together. This thought is forgotten after the Ted of this universe walked in. He just stares, not caring that this one is younger ... only that he’s still alive.

Everyone’s voices pulls him out of his thoughts, needing to explain himself. This Ted’s Booster must not have any children which is interesting. He doesn’t see another version of himself around but keeps it in mind for later. Michael doesn’t joke as often, maybe grown up a little and locked away part of his personality after his own Ted died. “When has anyone wanted to be alone in a room with Guy?” The tug on his arm from Rani reminds him, and looks between the two of them. He doesn’t know how long they’ll be here but it’s going to be a while. It wouldn’t be easy fixing technology from the future and maybe he wants to be selfish by spending time with his best friend. The blonde takes a step forward, an arm wrapping around Rani as they approach Ted. He never thought that this would happen and needs to try not getting choked up about it. “Teddy. This is my daughter, Rani.” She smiles and waves at him. ”It’s nice to meet you!” Although there’s more to that story that can be triggering for the teenager so he sends her off with Skeets to look around to give the adults some privacy. Michael watches her for a moment before turning back to Ted.

“She’s a Daxamite. Darkseid invaded her planet four years ago and killed her parents. She was only nine at the time and didn’t have anyone else. I wasn’t going to leave her alone ... I couldn’t save everyone but I saved her. I adopted her soon after bringing her to Earth. She’s a sweet kid and so smart. I know what you’re thinking ... I’m the last person who should be a father. I try to do right by her.” Michael sighs for a moment as he explains. Rani however is in the background hovering in the air next to Skeets with her legs crossed.

Booster scratches at his beard for a moment. “My sister gave her an old Goldstar suit as a birthday gift and ever since Rani keeps trying to convince me to let her be my sidekick. I just want her to focus on being a normal teenager ... normal as one can be with the powers similar to Superman anyway.” He pauses for a moment. “She showed up when I was helping deal with something in New York with a few members of the Justice League. I tried getting her out of there but ... my device brought us here instead. It got broken in the process so we’re stuck. I’m not sure what to do, Teddy.” He doesn’t have any money and nowhere to go. He can’t ask Ted to give him anything because it wouldn’t be fair, would it? He has his own Booster probably waiting for him somewhere.

TED KORD: Teddy was struck by Booster’s new look. It wasn’t that he looked bad (not that it was his place to comment unless he was trying to get a rise out of the other guy) but Booster had always been so fastidious about his appearance and that had included making sure he was clean shaven twenty four seven. Teddy was pretty sure he’d only even seen him with a fine five o’clock shadow like twice and both times it had been because they were on a mission that went over a day. So he couldn’t help but clock it and spend a few moments taking it in. It made him look… older.

Maybe he was older? He couldn’t be sure how much time Booster spent away (a day for him could be years for the other and vice-versa after all). The retort, while on point seemed to take a little bit too long and lack a lot of Booster’s usual zeal, enough to have Teddy frowning and wondering what’d happened to his friend. “No one ever.” He responded with a small smile, though the concern was probably easy to read on his face. Both would’ve continued but the teenager with him caught Teddy’s attention again and seeing how she clung to Booster was yet another surprise.

D-DAUGHTER!? Teddy was pretty sure that short circuited his mind for a good five seconds, his eyes wide staring at the pair and trying to catalogue similarities in facial structure, mannerisms and other indicators. She was too old! Even if Booster was a little older he wasn’t THAT old! Eventually he manages to raise an arm weakly and offer a “Nice to meet you too Rani.” In return. Not the best of greetings but he was trying to deal with a pretty earth-shattering revelation here!

“Oh my god you pulled a Batman.” He said quietly, not wanting Rani to hear, his eyes still fixed on the girl floating in the air with Skeets who offered Teddy a little flicker of his lights before turning back to the girl and doing as Booster said to occupy her. “You’re a father.” He repeated, “You. A parent. Of a super powered teenager.” He took a deep breath, “Okay. Okay… Okay, this is a thing that’s happened.” And Booster clearly loves her, that much is easy for even him to see.

“Michelle? Boos… how long have you been away for?” She was nine, that girl had to be in her teens so at least four years. What the hell!? “Oh sure yea, wanting a powered kid to be normal, that works out well.” He deadpanned, finally getting a sense of himself back. Fortunately, Booster telling him the predicament he’s in flicks his ‘look after Booster Gold’ switch on and he can somewhat function again. “Well the solution to that’s simple.” He smiled, “You and Rani can stay with me. I’ve got an apartment in the city and The Bug too, we’ll fix up your tech and help get you and Rani back to wherever you gotta be in the time stream. I’m not about to let you both go when you’re in a bind. You my bud.” He clapped Booster on the shoulder, having to reach up to do it. “Plus, your suits a mess man, you gotta take better care of it. I’ll fix it up for you when we get to my place.”

“Rani!” He called to the kid, taking charge of the situation, “You and Booster… Your dad are gonna stay with me for a little while, okay? Skeets, the Bug’ll give you the details and I’ve got a changing bay for you in there too.” He’d made one in case Skeets ever needed a nap in the Bug, even machines gotta catch their Z’s. “C’mon I bet you’re both hungry. I’ll order some food, you can both have the good stuff and I’ll have a crappy salad. Rani and you need to shower too, you’re both looking a little… less than clean. She can borrow some of my clothes and I brought some of yours with me when I moved up here.” It had felt wrong not to bring his ‘Booster Draw’ to Star City with him.

“Don’t worry man. This’ll be fine.” He grinned up at Booster, “So long as no one’s died, it can be fixed.”

MICHAEL CARTER: The beard originally manifested from his depression roughly seven years ago after all the memorial services that they held for his best friend. He couldn’t bring himself to care about being clean-shaven anymore when the grief felt so suffocating. He usually took so much care of his appearance — styling his hair a certain way, skincare treatments, and the obvious task of shaving any facial hair that grew overnight. He continued to lift weights as any kind of distraction but that would end up being only temporary. The sorrow always came back twice as strong. Eventually over the months Michelle would sit him down and express her worries. He couldn’t continue going on sabotaging himself and traveling back in time to see Ted from a distance. He never interacted with him but instead treated it as a way to replay memories. It wasn’t healthy but Michael missed his best friend. Nobody seemed to understand how unfair it was to have the ability to change an outcome but be told, ’no this is the way it has to be.’ His sister stuck around so Michael wouldn’t be alone and maybe that makes all the difference. He might have spiraled more if it weren’t for that. There was quite a lot of drinking after it settled in that the universe won’t let him save the Ted Kord from his universe. When Rani came into his life it thrilled Michelle to have a niece. They were a little family and can’t imagine how worried she must be when they disappeared.

There was shock written all over both of their faces. He always dreamt of what this moment would feel like. Those first few years were spent leaving his door unlocked waiting for Ted to walk in with some grand excuse for his absence. Maybe they would laugh about it but that never happened. Instead Michael needed to learn how to exist in a world without him. It doesn’t ever get easier, he thought that was bullshit but figured out how to live with it. He became a mentor for the first time in his life which had been interesting, never trained anyone before. He would respect Ted’s last wishes and become the new GOLD AND BLUE with Jaime.

He could tell immediately that the other version of himself wasn’t a father since the reveal resulted in such a surprised reaction. Maybe nobody would expect him of all people to raise a child but ended up being a natural without even realizing it at first. Her planet had been invaded, parents murdered, and having nowhere else to go. Michael wasn’t going to leave her alone, not when she was holding his hand every second they tried to flee from Darkseid. “I know! I can’t believe I’m a knockoff Batman now.” He jokes softly, despite the fact it’s not completely true due to how different the two heroes are. “It was unexpected but the best thing to ever happen to me, Teddy. She’s thirteen now … and I’m just trying to be the kind of father Rani deserves.” Michael knows that he isn’t perfect but wouldn’t change anything about the situation.

The offer live with him makes him feel happy but the hand on his shoulder is all a confirmation that Ted is really here. He wasn’t disappearing before his eyes and it takes all of his willpower not to start tearing up. The blonde just wishes it were possible to express how much he missed him without making this weird. “You really wouldn’t mind? It would help us out since we really need something stable right now. I have to warn you …” The safety of his daughter comes before anything else. “While the power sets of Daxamites and Kryptonians are identical … their weaknesses aren’t. She becomes severely weak when coming in contact with lead instead of kryptonite.” What he has come to understand is that this could be fatal in some instances. “There’s no cure created for it yet.” He mentions that so Ted has the information too if they’re living together but knows any version of his best friend might take it upon himself to try looking into it. Maybe it also makes him emotional knowing that after seven long years his suit will be repaired from the best one for the job once again. Nobody ever sewed it back together quite like Beetle does. “Thanks … you know me, can’t sew to save my life.” Which is followed by a light chuckle as well.

Rani comes back over to join the adults, smiling brightly as Skeets isn’t too far behind. “Sleepover! Can we order pizza?” Her feet landing on the ground at this point while looking up at the two adults in the room. “Only a salad? Eat pizza with us!” She insists, not quite understanding the reason behind Ted not wanting to eat something greasy.

<You are always good to me, Mr. Kord. I look forward to catching up with the Bug.> Skeets responds with as much enthusiasm as one can expect from a robot.

The blonde just stands back admiring what was happening, getting a little emotional at the sight. He spent many sleepless nights daydreaming about this and now it’s real. He takes a step forward, trying not to get choked up and ruin the moment. “We could use a shower. I’m still covered in some alien guck.” He makes a disgusted face for a moment, sticking his tongue out instead as an attempt at bringing out his humorous side. The banter that’s always exchanged with Blue Beetle is one of a kind. Although the words that come out of his mouth next leaves Booster’s smile fading again.

“Y-yeah. I’m sure this will be —” He turns around for a moment, pulling his visor off his face to wipe away some tears that can’t be held back. The reminder that his best friend died and thee was nothing that can be done to fix it. Thee’s a second chance standing in front of him but that can’t erase the trauma from that loss. He can’t do this here, not now. He puts visor back on and faces everyone again. “Sorry, something was in my eye.” You’re a good actor so this lie wouldn’t raise any red flags.

“So … you know any good pizza places?”

#CONVO // TED #001 // TED #death tw #war tw #depression tw

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mbti-notes · 4 years

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(1/8) Yayy, I love Fleabag and I love your blog and everything you write, so I hope you're up for a discussion of your typings (and I hope all the asks come through). Agree about Fleabag, the Godmother and Harry's (his frequent breakups with Fleabag seemed INFJ door slams, but his endgame points to Si) typings. Boo and Fleabag seemed to have been the sort of BFFs who matched because their personalities were quite similar... What made you conclude ESFP rather than ENFP? Same goes for Martin...

Boo’s interests are all concrete, her thinking is always immediate and short-term, Ni grip was apparent in her hasty death.

Same goes for Martin. While I see signs of tertiary Fe in his deliberate manipulation of Claire and pleasure at bringing Fleabag down, and also the overall recklessness of unhealthy EPs, I couldn’t be sure whether he was Se or Ne dom.

I see no evidence of dominant Ne nor inferior Si but many vulgarities and desires that are indicative of unhealthy Se.

What about the Bank Manager? My memory of series one is fuzzy, but he makes an effort to work things out with Fleabag (and women in general) even if he judges too quickly, which could point at aux/tert Te-Fi, I guess.

He is honest and straightforward, no pretension, but severely limited in his perspective. His moral reasoning ability is rather rudimentary, which makes F unlikely. His life is in a deep rut and he is drawn to Fleabag because she is his opposite and helps spark his lower function development. She comes to symbolize the key to understanding his failures and frustrations (both in terms of how he treats women and his lack of function development), therefore, helping her succeed is also helping himself find his own way. He’s reconciling who he is by reckoning with his past mistakes through Fleabag.

The Father clearly struggles with expressing his feelings. He wants to communicate better with Fleabag, but he understands and prefers Claire (a T), so probably IxTx, perhaps Ti-Fe if we consider the main issues presented in the story plus the fact that he quickly fell for Godmother, a Fe dom? I’d like to know your reasoning for him. Anyway, I’d typed Claire and the Priest as ISTJ and ENFJ respectively, and these ones I was sure to have gotten right. xSTJ was clear for Claire, and episode 203 was the one that cemented her as ISTJ for me. She is constantly anxious and full of routines and rituals and micromanages everything, from actions to looks to even jokes, implying a lot of overthinking (I); she clashes with Fleabag because she’s insecure about the possibility of not being as interesting and funny as Fleabag (tertiary Fi). Also, she tries to pretend that she enjoyed the night, that her marriage is going well and that she thinks Fleabag kissed Martin rather than the opposite because of Si’s need to maintain security and stability and not lose what she’s conquered. By accepting her individuality, her feelings and the possibility of something better for herself, she takes action to improve her life, which implied much needed extraverted development. Also, most ESTJs I’ve met, despite being control freaks privately, are more adaptable and relaxed as well, especially in public (higher Te-Ne).

The show centers around Fleabag’s dysfunction. In Si grip, Fleabag tries to pinpoint Boo’s death (and her own hand in causing it) as the “point of origin” but her problems go far deeper than that, all the way back to her family relationships. Everyone in the family is equally messed up despite appearances. The show doesn’t go very far into the historical causes of their collective dysfunction, but it does a good job of illustrating the dysfunctional patterns as they exist in the present. The characters are largely products of old family patterns, therefore, it’s hard to understand each member individually without the context of their collective family dynamic.

A very common family dynamic involves projecting all of the family’s history of dysfunction onto the “weakest link”, aka, the black sheep. The black sheep is usually “chosen” according to their so-called inferiority for failing to live up to the family’s unspoken values, then they are routinely criticized and shamed for being something that is perceived as contrary to the family’s survival and well-being. Over time, this dynamic places an unspoken duty/expectation onto the black sheep, namely that they should always be “the one that ruins everything” whenever the family requires a scapegoat to deflect responsibility for dysfunctional behavior. Fleabag is obviously the black sheep, so everyone uses her as the punchline (for easing tension), the punching bag (for displacing their frustration), and the punch down (for a cheap win during power struggles).

As a defense mechanism, Fleabag believes that she is actually the superior member of the family because she’s “clever” enough to see through people’s fakery or hypocrisy. Despite the concrete proof of her own life being a total mess, she likes to think of herself as being more self-aware than others, i.e., she implicitly blames her life failures on the fact that she can’t fake it or lie to herself like everyone else. However, she doesn’t realize that playing the black sheep role is her form of self-deception. She is deeply caught up in a logical contradiction of knowing she is less than but also believing herself better than, and we see this over and over again in her asides to the audience. By exercising crude power in exposing other people’s fakery, she doesn’t have to look at her own and expose herself, and this plays perfectly into the family pattern that always ends up ricocheting back onto her. Whenever she exposes anything resembling the truth of the family’s dysfunction, regardless of whether she does it kindly or maliciously, she is roundly blamed for “acting out”, being “cruel”, “screwing up”, “ruining everything”, etc etc. The family immediately comes together to activate the scapegoating pattern and, in the end, nothing changes and the pattern repeats the next time they get together. Her twisted way of “caring” for her family is to play the black sheep, and their twisted way of “bonding” is to collectively reinforce their status as not the black sheep.

When people treat you like a black sheep long enough, you believe it and it becomes your identity, and playing this role so well leads her to blow up all of her relationships outside of the family. In accumulating many failed relationships, it’s very easy to slide into settling for less or settling for what you think you deserve, and she has been trained over a lifetime to feel less than deserving. As a defense mechanism, she’s romantically attracted to people who aren’t capable of knowing who she really is, which in turn gives her justification for blowing up each relationship as they are always shallow and meaningless anyway. But this automatic and destructive pattern hits rock bottom when she destroys the only person who’s managed to really know her. She then gradually becomes more aware that she’s repeating unconscious conditioning and could perhaps choose otherwise, but ingrained patterns are hard to change without help and guidance, which eventually invites the influence of the priest.

You might think that their father bears the brunt of the blame for the family being so dysfunctional, but he has plenty of his own unresolved issues that make him more like a child than a parent. The show does not offer any explanation for him but everyone has a history. It seems that he has always been emotionally absent and socially inept in that he allowed their mother to do all of the parenting and caregiving. He is not aggressive, obsessive, or controlling as you would expect for unhealthy TJs, rather, he is detached, distant, avoidant, and indifferent. When you talk to him face-to-face, there is some natural warmth there, but once you are out of his sight, you are out of his mind. You know that he loves you in his way, you know that he tries to empathize, but you also know that he utterly fails to understand anything about you no matter how hard either side tries to bridge the gap. It’s hard to fault him for what is clearly a “disability”? Because of his ineptitude, he traps himself in a codependent relationship with his shadow opposite type, a narcissistic person who calls all the shots in the relationship so that he never has to lift a finger, i.e., he never ever has to bear moral responsibility for anything, and taken to an absurd conclusion, he lives in a pitiful state of learned helplessness. You never have to feel bad if you never do anything, right? Wrong, he is still guilty of sins of omission, and for that he’s never able to truly be at ease no matter what he does to shed away every difficulty. Ideally, a good stepmom takes care of the step-kids, but he was not lucky enough to snag one, so he must accede to the bad stepmom’s judgment or else, heaven forbid, he loses his easy life by having to take responsibility for the girls on his own.

Unhealthy TPs need uptight Js to help them keep life in order, but they often prefer Ps for their amusing company. The father does not “prefer” Claire for what/who she is, rather, he merely appreciates that she doesn’t make any trouble for him, which he wants to believe absolves him of blame. He can say, “See, I have one good daughter, so it’s not my fault that the other one is bad”. There are many parallels between Claire and her father in how they approach relationships very passively and helplessly. Deep down, his heart actually prefers Fleabag for the fact that she more closely resembles her mother and the fact that she is braver than him and challenges him (to be better). He wishes to have a better relationship with her, similar to what he must’ve had with her mother, but he’s unfortunately incapable of containing the dysfunction that bad parenting and unresolved grief has wrought upon her.

You say that Claire should be more flexible if tertiary Ne, but why would you expect her to have any healthy functions? She clearly suffers inferior grip quite often and thus cannot use any of her functions optimally. Every SJ with unhealthy Si-Ne uses micromanagement of routines/rituals as a crutch, so this is true for both dominant and auxiliary Si - your claim here only proves SJ. She’s just as fucked up as Fleabag is, only she is better at repressing her feelings, and for this alone, ISTJ is very unlikely. ISTJs are introverts and they prefer to give up and be at peace rather than double and triple down on stupid behavior in the manner that Claire often does. Her main problem in life is that everything she does to “manage” situations results in her betraying herself in some way, which is strongly indicative of infantile Fi. I disagree that stubbornness is her fatal flaw ala Si-Fi loop; if that were the case, she’d be more than happy to give up everything to Fi loop and disappear into the background. She would also never ever go near Fleabag nor trust her with anything due to the fact that she has already encountered countless past experiences of Fleabag blowing up situations in awful and unpredictable ways. ISTJs are at their least forgiving and never forget whenever it comes to delegating important tasks.

I argue that what gets Claire truly upset is not being unprepared for “all negative possibilities in the abstract” but rather the possibility of LOSING FACE, i.e., being publicly humiliated and exposed as the uncool simpering hypocrite that she is, which is indicative of deep-seated fear of Fi (she envies Fleabag for her “cool” factor for this reason). Unhealthy Te doms, falling apart internally, are still capable of maintaining functionality in external life far longer than other types. She suffers from serious grip problems but still manages to perform her duties at home and at work, which simply wouldn’t be possible for Ne grip. With Fi grip, she instantly switches to very ugly self-pity and irrationally self-protective behavior when threatened by anything. Her instinct upon feeling the vulnerability of exposure is to go on and on and on about how “successful” she is, which usually includes a few rounds of punching down at everyone in an attempt to disown her bad decision making. ISTJs are rarely capable of bullshitting themselves to that extreme; they are more likely to react with humility and even resignation when presented with incontrovertible proof of their failures (see: Bank Manager).

Claire was probably expected to be “the responsible one” (aka elder/caregiver sibling archetype) because there was no one else to take responsibility. However, at this point in her life, she has achieved enough career success to be independent from the family. The fact that she can’t help herself from enacting her old role speaks to the lack of self-insight that is characteristic of inferior Fi, i.e., as much as she complains about hating the pressures and headaches of being “the responsible one”, she unconsciously LOVES it because it grants her a superior position in the family. She’s not willing to give up the pain because she’s not willing to give up the payoff, and this internal love-hate contradiction is what makes her relationship with Fleabag dysfunctional despite the love and affection they have for each other. I don’t think ISTJs are able to bear such obvious internal contradiction and still manage to claim integrity. ISTJs find it much more painful, if not impossible, to pretend and posture for the sake of appearances, because they are supremely stubborn people when it comes to preserving their subjective sense of integrity. By contrast, inferior Fi makes it very easy to ignore subjective integrity and choose destructive methods of obtaining feelings of power and superiority, hence she ends up betraying her own well-being all the time.

As for the Priest, we both agree on him being a Fe dom. What made me choose Ni rather than Si is that he admitted to have been quite a different person in the past by alluding to his many sexual experiences, probably a hint of Se as well. But then he met God and everything took a 180 for him (N, not S), implying that he was uncomfortably adrift for a while and needed a sense of meaning and a clear vision of his path ahead to feel whole (Ni). Also, PWB has said that Fleabag was drawn to the Priest because he has an established sense of purpose, which she’s been looking for, which highlights their P vs J and Ne vs Ni differences. You could argue that he was drawn to her because of tertiary Ne, but I don’t see signs of Si’s typical grounded outlook (he uses a lot of abstractions to explain his ideas) or typical adherence to traditions (the path to his faith wasn’t primarily through this motivation as it happens to many) or typical narrow-mindedness (quite the opposite, he used to be quite open to experiences due to Fe+Se). Oh, and I forgot to mention, the Priest can read and understand Fleabag so well that he even gets to enter her internal world and listen to her personal thoughts. To be able to understand people with this level of depth is, of course, more natural for xNFJs rather than xSFJs, who help people on a more practical level (Fe+Ni v Fe+Si).

I think your understanding of Si is still quite stereotypical. ESFJs have a common pattern of using Ne to “find themselves” only to end up lost because what they’re really doing is Ne loop. ESFJs tend to grow up feeling very pressured to be rule abiders and it is common for them to go through a rebellious stage a bit later in life compared to other types, once the pressure finally reaches a breaking point. After swinging from the painful oppression of “rule observant” behavior in youth to the painful failures of “rule breaking” behavior in young adulthood, they eventually boomerang back to old touchstones, i.e., they ground themselves by rediscovering comfort in the known. IIRC, the priest felt lost and eventually revisited religion for guidance, he made the beliefs his own rather than blindly following dogma, and he chose to commit his life to doing good because HE genuinely wanted to, not because family/society told him to. A healthy ESFJ establishes a stronger sense of self once they reconcile with the past and make “rule following” more palatable by turning it into a personal choice (rather than feeling obligated to constantly self-sacrifice). I disagree that he “transformed” from one person into a completely different one, I think it’s more accurate to say that he had no idea who he was and got increasingly lost until he discovered himself by looking backward and making sense of his past experience.

Religion is an abstract concept, there’s no avoiding abstract discussions about religious beliefs when you’re debating a non-believer, especially when that non-believer is Ne dom. Ne is tertiary and people often use tertiary functions for relief, therefore, ESFJs tend to enjoy abstract discussions, especially of the Ne variety that is full of humor and playfulness, exactly like the kind that he gets with Fleabag. I dare you to try joking around with a “true believer” ENFJ. Their beliefs are deadly serious to them, so they show far less patience for sacrilegious play (unless, for some reason, they have developed an irrational fear of being criticized as dogmatic and pretend to be open-minded). Also, why would an *N*FJ be shocked and alarmed or seem resistant to using intuition to “read” people? Why would their intuition seem so painfully accidental? NFJs generally LIKE using intuition and do it naturally as part of who they are, they embrace it and feel more confident the more they are in touch with it.

Ns tend to speak in abstractions but not everyone who speaks in abstractions is N, similarly, every NJ needs a sense of purpose but not everyone who seeks a purpose is NJ -> beware this logical fallacy: “every cat has four legs but not every four-legged creature is a cat”. NJs need a purpose for materializing their personal potential, SJs seek a purpose for the sake of grounding themselves in something unshakable within - you point out the behavior without grasping the true motivation. When ESFJs develop Si well, they recognize that what makes them happy is to be of service, to be a positive contributor to their community, to be a reliable source of help and comfort to those in need. He is not a charismatic and boastful preacher of the ENFJ sort, rather, he sees himself as a humble servant who uses reliable traditional beliefs to help ground people who feel lost in hectic modern life, using his own past experience as the starting point. The fact that he has the strength to end the relationship with Fleabag before it becomes negative and destructive is a testament to Si steadfastness and how strongly the rules matter to him (Ns are very masterful at rationalizing that the rules don’t apply to them, and that’s often how they end up in bad places). Why would you expect him to display all sorts of negative signs of Si if he is meant to be the positive moral guidance for the show? And wouldn’t it make sense for him to use his well-developed Si to reveal to Fleabag the true extent of her dysfunctional Si? Would an ENFJ instinctively know better than an ESFJ how to remedy Si specific identity dysfunction?

Can you please allow us to submit things to you? In the case of long asks like mine, it helps to avoid any part not getting sent.

I have considered this before but I’m not sure I want to do that.

#fleabag #fiction #fictional depictions #enfp #estj #esfj #ask

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