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tears-of-themiss · 2 years

Note

Can i request something with marius where he learns that s/o gave up their passion for a paying job? Like they excel in their job and have a reputation but it’s not something they’re passionate about. I just think it’s interesting dynamic.

So this ask is literally months old and I started writing this in fucking October, but, hey, I did get around to finishing it eventually. ^^;

I fully took this as an excuse to do something entirely self indulgent so hope you don't mind.

Note: I did fall off of the ToT train for a few months so I'm sure I fucked up w some lore things and maybe some characterization idk I tried. Feel free to gently berate me if needed. Also, you can almost certainly tell but I have zero experience with anything in the white collar business world we are just gonna hand wave through it all.

And this could probably use another read through/edit, but if I refrained from posting it until I felt satisfied I would never post it. So that being said

Number One Fan | Marius von Hagen

WC: 1718

It’s a Friday night- well, it was technically Saturday at this point but- there’s something soft and indie drifting from his speaker and his partner is sprawled out on his plush and incredibly soft bed in one of his hoodies, and, god, he should be lying with them and annoying the hell out of them until they both fall asleep, but there are only so many hours in the day and he needs to paint goddammit!

It’d been an incredibly long week that had concluded with the gallery opening for this year’s Pax Art Young Champions. It was a lot of bullshit and mingling, but also a lot of beautiful artwork from up and coming artists. Which meant his brain had been going non-stop all night as he studied and admired the pieces, filling him with creative juices and lots of inspiration.

By the time they’d gotten home, he’d been dying to work on his newest piece and his beautiful, wonderful, ever-so-patient partner had only encouraged him. So he sat, in his boxers and his unbuttoned dress shirt, and he painted.

He’s mixing a new shade when their voice startles him out of his creative trace.

“Did you always want to be an artist?”

"Well, I don't know about always,” he says after a pause. “I vaguely remember wanting to be an astronaut at one point." He grins as he recalls staying up late with Giann to look through his telescope. The darkest of blue skies, the twinkling, burning white flecks of stars thousands and millions of miles away, the moon almost a spotlight on Giann as he talks animatedly of old tales, of more worlds than humans can imagine.

He deftly fights past the familiar lump in his throat. "But I fell in love with art when I was pretty young, yeah."

He hesitates and resumes painting, before speaking again.

"My mom's paintings were all over the house growing up, and I adored them. Had to learn about the business, though, so it was on the back burner until I got older, and I could really pursue it."

Until I couldn't.

It goes unsaid, but it hangs heavy in the silence that follows. Music still drones from the speaker, but they say nothing and it leaves him feeling uneasy.

"What about you? Did you always wanna be a ‘business person?’"

They snort and Marius turns to see the grin on their face. "Oh, yeah. All my life, I was dreaming about piles of paperwork and email etiquette."

"Your sarcastic comments are deeply hurtful and entirely uncalled for."

The two share a smile before they unceremoniously flop backward onto the mattress, staring blankly at the ceiling.

"I wanted to be a vet for a while. That is, until I was, like, eleven, and me and all my nerd friends decided we were all gonna write our own stories-"

An image of them as a child, sitting in a circle of friends as they all write their own tales makes Marius perk up immediately. "Please tell me you have that saved somewhere."

"Absolutely not, and for that I am forever grateful because yikes. But it did get me into writing, and got me dreaming of someday being a published author."

"So, what made you get into business, then?"

Still lying down, they raise their arms in an exaggerated shrug. “Money?”

He frowns, that answer settles in his gut, feels wrong. Was that the entire reason?

They turn their head and see something in his face that makes them keep talking.

"I mean, I love writing- I took some creative writing classes and workshops between all my requisites- but unless you're going into teaching, a Lit degree seems like a waste of money. So, I was totally lost. I didn't know what I wanted to do.

"Sometime in sophomore year, a friend of mine got me a paid internship at a small marketing firm. In the end, the boss sat me down and told me she thought I had potential. She said that I could continue to intern while working toward a degree in marketing, and, you know, it was fine, I didn't hate it- the internship or the classes- so that's what I did." They shrug once more.

Didn’t hate it.

Marius knows he is privileged, that he always has been and that not everyone has had the same opportunities as he did. But hearing it spelled out so plainly by the person he loves, that the reason they’re not following their dreams because of money?

It kills him every day- struggling to run Pax, to keep the family legacy going, to make his father- make Giann- proud, all the while knowing that he can’t truly pursue his passions. He feels exhausted all the time trying to make it all work, to make time for himself, his studies, his art.

His chest hurts.

He puts down his brush and palette, and joins them on his bed. He lies on his back next to them, mimicking their position, but studying them from the corner of his eye.

"Do you still write?"

"Sometimes.” They smile ruefully. "It's hard to find the time between work and the exhaustion that comes from work. For a few years, I barely wrote anything at all. Between school and work, and depression and writer's block, I couldn't get much out. All the ideas and creativity I had when I was a kid seemed to just... run out.

"The past two years or so have been better, though," they add, looking over at him with a soft smile. "I seem to have gotten out of that funk- knock on wood."

Marius reaches an arm back to knock on his headboard, relishes in the genuine grin that earns him.

"What if you could quit your job and focus on writing? Would you?" He throws it out casually as if he isn’t immediately willing to make that happen for them.

They laugh. "I mean that'd be nice, I guess? But I've got bills and rent and student loans, and I have to, like, pay money to exist in this world, so..."

“Well, do you still dream about getting published?"

They hum, taking a moment before responding. "I mean, yeah. Ideally. I'm not holding onto the idea of becoming a renown author anymore, though.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well, for one, that’s such an insanely rare thing- an author becoming so big, especially for any long period of time. And, two, well…” They trail off, gazing back up at the ceiling with a frown. “I’m- I don’t know if I-“ They’re exuding uncertainty.

Marius rolls over onto his side and places a comforting hand on their arm. He opens his mouth to say something dumb and comforting, but they beat him to it.

“Do you ever feel like you're not even good at the one thing you love doing?"

He’s not sure what he had been expecting them to say but it wasn’t that. And if his chest didn’t hurt before…

He barely gets a second to process before they laugh. "Fuck. That’s a stupid question to ask my boyfriend, the immeasurably talented, world-renown artist."

“Babe…” He flounders for a split second before breaking out into an exaggerated grin. “You really think I’m ‘immeasurably talented?’ Aw!”

His grin softens when he sees he’s able to get a smile out of them.

"I know it might be hard to believe, coming from someone as wonderful and talented as me,” he’s awarded with an eye roll, “but every artist has doubts. It's a cliché for a reason: you are your own worst critic." A paint flecked hand reaches over to cup at their cheek and, gods, his heart aches when they look up at him with those eyes. "Every piece I've made, I can look at and tell you at least twenty things I could've done- should've done- differently."

"I know, I know,” they look away. “But what if I'm, like, genuinely not good? What if I suck at it and it's just something I'm not meant to do?"

"Then, you do it anyway because it's something you love." He runs his thumb over their cheek, ever-so-gently. "I don't, for a second, believe that you're as bad as you think you are. But you write because it brings you joy. So, write! Don't focus on any of the expectations, don't worry about the outcome- just write.

"And, read, too! Like, tonight- I always get so inspired after going to a gallery- just feeling that creative energy and seeing the emotion and effort put into a piece makes me want to pick up a brush."

“Crap, you were painting! I didn’t mean to interrupt your painting time.”

“Nuh-uh, nope.” He shakes his head and wraps his arms around them, pulling them to his chest. He chuckles at the indignant squawk of his name, buries his face into the crook of their shoulder. “I’ll always make time for you, and I'm going to support all your endeavors, no matter what. I just want to see you happy. I'll always be your number one fan."

“Marius von Hagen, you’re gonna make me cry.”

They turn in his arms and he only catches a glimpse of watery eyes, of that face he could spend forever looking at, before they pull him into the softest of kisses.

He’s left feeling smug and energized and warm- so warm. It’s autumn leaves and hot chocolate and laughing til he can’t breathe, rib crushing hugs and breathtaking sunsets and painting in the sunlight. Everything blurred together into the bright fire of a star one million miles away, shoved into his too small body, bursting out at the seams.

Marius is so stupidly in love.

They lie together for a while, not quite listening to the music that continues to play off whatever playlist they had chosen earlier. The dreamy atmosphere- and undoubtedly ungodly hour- has him drifting off. But, still, his mind runs rampant thinking of them.

"You know, if I'm not mistaken, the Pax Art Foundation does have some writing groups..."

"Hmm... I dunno...” They murmur. “Seems a little sus. I am fucking the chairman after all."

He snorts. "It's not all scholarships, you know? There's also open groups and workshops, even some classes..."

They hum. "I'll think about it."

“Good.”

#tears of themis #tears of themis marius #marius von hagen #tot marius #lu jinghe #minific #?#i dont know what to tag this with #also i suck at titles idk what to tell yall

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tarithenurse · 3 years

Text

Spark - 25

Fandom: Enn Enn no Shōbōtai / Fire Force. Pairing: Shinmon Benimaru x fem!reader. Content: Angst, feels, danger, stubbornness. The usual. A/N: Manage to get myself pretty confused because it said I’d already posted 25 chapters on AO3 but here on Tumblr it only claimed 24...aaaand then I remembered posting the what-if directly in the story there but not here...so yeah! Feel free to ASK (or reblog) for tag – in fact: always reblog. Thanks to those who have already <3

25. Forged by fire

... Reader ...

Your brain is protesting as you wake up. No, scratch that. Your entire body is throbbing as you’re being jostled by each step of the one carrying. Benimaru. The scent and heat can only be his but it’s comforting to open the eyes and see the shock of dark hair flopping about, occasionally blocking the view of his right cheek bone. Somehow, probably with the help of Joker, you’ve been tied together, allowing your arms to hang limply over his shoulders while he supports your by wrapping his arms around your thighs. It’s not comfortable but it’s efficient.

“Wait,” Joker hisses from up ahead.

There’s very little light – barely enough to illuminate the obstacles littering the crumbled hallway – and you can’t see what has alerted the gangly man, but you feel the uncrowned king of Asakusa tense beneath you, his lungs slowly expanding as he takes in the surroundings.

“Hm. I smell it.”

Smell? Sniffing the air, you don’t pick up on anything much at first apart from Benimaru, dust; and your own need for a bath.

“Don’t worry, [Y/N], just stay calm.” He must have felt you stirring.

Nothing snappy comes to mind and it doesn’t matter because that’s when you realize that a curl of sulphurous stench is mingling with the air.

“Let me down.”

“You can’t stand on that leg,” he argues as Joker steps closer.

Already fumbling with the sash holding the two of you together, the idea of supporting the weight seems like a horrible idea. “It wasn’t an invitation to a discussion, Beni,” you growl, “I’ll hold you back if you carry me.”

“I’m not leaving you behind!” Stubbornly digging the fingers into your thighs, he’s probably stubborn enough to stick to the word.

Finally free of the restraints, you tug at his hair. “I’m only telling you to put me down for now.”

There are whispers now, low murmuring groans coming from both directions as if carried on the fumes. The lightest dust and ashes are starting to dance on the ground in spiralling patterns that clash and divide in mesmerizing patterns. They could have been fascinating to watch if it wasn’t for the temperature slowly rising.

“Do as she says, Shinmon,” Joker drawls, his eye fixed at a warm glow that has appeared in the distance.

Begrudgingly, the man sets you on the ground, careful to let you gain the balance on your good leg before letting go. It’s obvious on his face: one wrong move and he’ll sweep you off your feet. I’m so gonna use this to my benefit once we’re home. You decide to ignore the nagging sense of doubt and instead focus on the growing lights in either direction of the tunnel.

What at first was nothing more than a glow has now, beyond a doubt, taken shape of several flickering fires moving towards the same cluster of targets. Misshapen bodies cast their stretching shadows beneath the flames, obscuring dozens of shuffling feet as the pace begins to pick up. They know you’re there. They are hungry.

Glancing at the men, the darkness before them is illuminated in red and purple and the air around them is shimmering with heat.

“Let them get close.”

“Guess you’re too exhausted to think clearly, dear,” Joker chuckles but then hesitates as he sees your face, “...okay. Call it.”

... Joker ...

Smiling behind the collar, Joker recognizes the worry flashing across the other man’s face. It’s a bold plan and he isn’t sure it’s strictly necessary...but they can’t be sure what else they’ll be facing on their way out, so [Y/N]’s idea of preserving the would-be rescuers’ power for later makes sense.

“Lighten up...or not, actually,” he smiles wickedly at Shinmon, “let’s see what our girl can do, eh?”

The glare he receives from the captain is a logical response.

“[Y/N]...there’s no reason to push yourse-”

“I didn’t survive this shit just to be rescued like some fairy tale maiden.” The threatening purr combined with the half-dried blood makes her seem tantalizingly dangerous. “There’s no one to take out my revenge on, but at least I can clean up the mess I’ve made when I let the lab blow up too.”

Oh? That must be an interesting story...for later. Finding an adequate slab of broken concrete, he brushes it off and sits down. In one of the inner pockets of the coat is a pack wrapped in cellophane and he picks a cigarette from it, lighting it with a flick of his fingers. Aaah. The acrid taste fills him for a handful of seconds before it’s blown out through his nostrils together with the last hours’ worth of stress – he could almost chill for a moment if it wasn’t for Benimaru joining him by the boulder, sitting as relaxed as a statue about to crack.

“Has anyone ever told you t-”

“Shut up, Joker.”

The men relapse into silence. It’s not that the man with the hat doesn’t understand Benimaru’s sentiment: the girl’s in horrible condition and is using almost all her strength to stand, it seems. The white-clad ran from her. The image of a dying man clutching a bundle of hastily written notes is still clear in Joker’s mind. Abandoned a comrade together with a demon infernal...he didn’t think they could end it. It’s clear, though, that something did put it to rest, most likely causing the explosion at the same time. Show us what you’ve got, [Y/N).

... Benimaru ...

Like lit matches, only their heads are burning as they rush forward. At first surging for whomever is nearest until a clear shout orders them to ignore the men.

“I am what you want!”

The way the infernals all zero in on [Y/N] it really looks like she’s right and as they swarm around, pushing closer but never able to touch her, he can barely see her until he stand up on the slab of concrete.

Eye glowing bright yellow even against the infernals’ blaze, she doesn’t flinch as charred fingers scrape against the air, trying to reach her. She stands, immovable, talking calmly as if they could understand her. Maybe they can. Yes, they absolutely can and some must be accepting what she says because they stop and wait without a sound. Wait for what? A few infernals continue their struggle only to be wrapped in the arms of those standing by until finally, none of them are moving more than their dead faces.

There’s a shift in the air as [Y/N] spreads her arms, smoke and heat pushed outwards by an unseen pressure and stilling the flames of the damned.

“I’m sorry,” the woman whispers a second before tugging her fists tightly to the chest and plunging the Nether in darkness once more.

Benimaru can hear the muted sounds of clothing landing in heaps on the ground, the impact softened by dust and ashes, but the room is obscured by dark flakes filling the air to the extend that the glow from Joker’s cigarette nor the captain’s excellent vision can guarantee a view of the woman they came here for.

“Impressive,” the smoking man comments, snapping a fiery playing card out of nowhere to illuminate the space.

No one is listening to the compliment. The captain of Special Fire Force Company Seven is reaching out for the swaying figure of the woman he loves, barely making it over the heap of sooty jumpsuits in time to catch her as she collapses one more time.

“[Y/N]!” he croaks, frantically feeling for a pulse.

Eyelashes flutter for a brief second before she scrunches her face to look up at him. “Yeah yeah...I’ll let you carry me this time too.”

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seijorhi · 3 years

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Rhi, oh my God. I want to finally start posting on here instead of lurking but I literally cannot get over the anxiety of it all. It's such a downer. Whenever I start to write, it's like the screen is throwing my words back at me and being like "lmaoo, the fuck is this??? You think people are gonna like that shit?" which is very frustrating because I just want to share and gain feedback so I can make proper improvements. Have you ever felt like this? And do you have any tips on how to combat that feeling because....yikes.

(also, absolutely zero pressure on answering this. I hope this isn't an overwhelming ask or anything like that. I don't want to sound weird or anything like that.)

It’s super nerve wracking to put content out, especially when you’re just starting out. Even now, every fic I post I get worried that it’ll flop or people are gonna hate it, which is usually why I post right before I go to sleep so I won’t obsessively check for notes and sweet validation haha

I started this blog from scratch with no followers, no moots, no reputation or even presence in the fandom, nothing. The first fic I posted got three notes in the first day it was posted and I felt absolutely gutted (despite knowing all of the above).

But for someone who craves validation as much as i do I have a weirdly blasé attitude towards posting. A ‘fuck it, it’s done, it’s not my problem anymore, enjoy’ kinda thing where I’ve spent time and effort on this fic, it’s not perfect, I’m not 100% happy with it and yes it might flop and expose me for the fraud writer that I am, but someone out there might like it.

I don’t know if you’ve heard about the cake analogy? Basically you think your ‘cake’ isn’t good enough to bring out to a party because there’s already a better looking, tastier cake by an established baker there, meanwhile everyone at the party would just be psyched that they get to to try two different cakes.

Because I can guarantee you somebody will like it, and it’s worth posting just for them. I get that there’s nerves and anxiety, but just take the leap, and be patient. Tag some writers if you want them to check it out. Notes are wonderful, but also remember that at the end of the day they’re not an indication of whether or not you’re a good writer.

#ask #anon #BD rambles #long post

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robinrunsfiction · 3 years

Text

Christmas/Winter Alphabet - A is for After Dark

Pairing: Ray Toro x Gender Neutral Reader

Rating: General

Requested By: None

Word Count: ~600

Author’s Note: My friend @xxfanfiction-emo-trinityxx posted a link to @kairaiimagines ‘s Christmas Alphabet prompt list and I decided since I’m trying to get back into some good habits (like writing and working out more regularly) I’m gonna try to do at least a drabble for each prompt. I randomly assigned the subjects for each letter so hopefully everyone finds something they enjoy! Mentions of depression in this one (please don’t look in my kitchen, it really is a mess #depression)

"Ugh yes netflix, I am still watching," you groaned, picking up the remote from the floor and dismissing the obnoxious screen.

You'd barely moved from where you'd flopped down on the couch that morning. You just were not up to dealing with anything today, it all seemed so overwhelming. You glanced over your shoulder and realized how dark it had gotten. Groaning again, you buried your face against the pillow. While you couldn't bring yourself to do anything today, that didn't change the fact that you felt like crap for not doing anything all day.

As the next episode of your comfort show began, you heard your phone buzzing lightly on the floor where you'd dropped it and not bothered to retrieve it.

"Hi Ray," you answered.

"Hey babe, what are you doing?"

"Nothing," you grumbled.

Ray made a concerned noise. "Well, can I come over? I have a present for you."

"What?!" You said sitting up. "But I haven't bought your Christmas present yet!"

"This isn't a Christmas present, I'll explain when I get there."

"Are you sure you want to? Isn't it super late?"

"(YN), it's only 6 pm," your boyfriend replied, sounding a little confused, and quite concerned. “Are you having a bad depression day again?”

"Oh,” you paused looking up at the clock across the room. “I guess I lost track of time since it gets so dark out so early. And yea, I guess the depression isn’t helping.”

"Have you eaten today? Do you want me to bring dinner too?"

"Yes please," you replied softly. “I had some cereal earlier but that’s all.”

"Ok, I'll see you in a little bit," he replied.

You dragged yourself to the bathroom and brushed your hair before returning to the living room to pick up your breakfast bowl and collection of mugs and cups that had accumulated on the coffee table the last few days. As you stood evaluating all of the life choices that brought you to the massive pile of dishes in your sink and zero motivation to do anything about them, other than an overwhelming sense of self-loathing, the doorbell rang.

"Hey," Ray smiled, but the worry was evident on his face. "Can you take this?" He asked, handing you the pizza.

"Sure," you said, taking it to the coffee table as he hauled in a large box.

"Open the present first," Ray insisted.

"Ok, I guess," you said nervously. You didn't love surprises, but you trusted Ray. "Wait, what is it?" You asked when you'd peeled away the wrapping paper.

"It's a light therapy lamp. I know you said your therapist suggested one for you, and you were concerned about the cost, so I got it for you."

You looked up at Ray's smiling face, and thought you might start crying at the touching gesture. "Thank you so much!" You exclaimed, jumping up to give Ray a big hug.

"I just want you to be happy, and hopefully this will help,” he shrugged. “Do you want me to set it up for you?”

“That’d be great. I’ll go get plates and drinks for the pizza,” you said heading to the kitchen.

After some assembly, Ray had the lamp positioned behind your couch so it would shine down on the spot where you usually sat. You both enjoyed pizza, and then Ray helped you tackle the stack of dishes in the sink.

“Just so you know, I’m already feeling better,” you smiled up at your boyfriend from where you rested your head on his lap.

Ray smiled back. “That’s what I like to hear. And I love to see the smile on your face.”

“Even on the darkest nights, you help bring it back,” you said, sitting up to kiss him sweetly.

#ray toro x reader #ray toro fanfic #ray toro fanfiction #ray toro fan fiction #my chemical romance fanfic #my chemical romance fanfiction #my chemical romance fan fiction

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keelywolfe · 4 years

Text

Drabble: Cheap Thrills (baon)

Summary: Stretch can get a lot of entertainment out of a thrift store find.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established Relationship, Domestic Fluff

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

Stretch loved to pick up old books at the thrift shop. There were so many gems that might get lost at a traditional bookstore, like his trusty copy of ‘How to Teach Spanish to Dogs.’

Romance novels were cheap and plentiful, and he got them by bagful for Blue, who never much seemed interested in finding his own romance but loved reading about others. Old reference books filled with outdated information that was still interesting to read about, seeing what people used to believe, until science or society proved them wrong.

Then there were specialty finds.

Stretch wasn’t even two steps through the front door before he held up his prize, announcing happily, “look what i found!”

Edge barely looked up from his laptop, “If it has even one clown on it—"

“No clowns.” That was a prize he’d be sure to stash behind the shower curtain for maximum effect.

For once Stretch didn’t mind Edge working a little overtime at home. Kept him off his feet, gave all those healing juices a chance to settle in.

But a little distraction never hurt. Stretch flopped on the sofa and settled his head right into Edge’s lap, ignoring his exasperated sigh as he held out the book he’d found.

The cover was old and stained, but the title was still readable, ‘The Congregational Cook Book’ and in small letters beneath that, ‘edited by the ladies’ aid society of the First Congregational Church of Ebott, 1915.’

He knew his baby well. As soon as Edge stopped glaring an actually looked at the book, a flicker of interest made an appearance. He set his laptop on the coffee table, ignoring Stretch’s exaggerated sputters of suffocation as his forward lean threatened to smother him with Edge’s shirt, then took the book.

“A cookbook?”

“a really old cookbook!” Stretch enthused, “like, a century old. i thought maybe you’d like to try one it out. See how it compares to the youtube generation of cooking.”

“That does sound interesting,” Edge flipped through the book, reading aloud, “Salmon omelet, no, thank you, green tomato pickles, hot water gingerbread, hm, apple tarts. I do have apples, how does that sound?”

“baby, anything you make sounds like mana from heaven.” And at Edge’s raised brow bone, Stretch admitted, “except risotto, okay, but that’s less you than a general dislike of the genre.”

Edge nudged Stretch off his lap and stood, heading into the kitchen with book in hand. Normally, Stretch would’ve tossed him a fair thee well and let him get to it, but this time, he followed Edge through the swinging door. He was sort of curious if there were any differences in a recipe from a hundred years ago to now, and hey, science, right?

Not that he planned on helping with the cooking process, he was here strictly as an observer, and he plopped down into one of the chairs that surrounded their ‘dining room table’, “so, how much longer are we eating at the card table?”

“Not long,” Edge retrieved a large bowl from under the counter and a set of measuring cups from the cupboard before tying on an apron. “I’m working on a plan for our new kitchen layout. As soon as it’s done, I’ll have the builders get started on it.”

“uh huh, no rush, i was only curious,” Stretch propped his chin on one hand. “you do have a lot on your plate right now, babe. and there’s your whole mental health assessment you still need done.”

Really, it was sort of impressive how much Stretch could glean from slightest change in his husband’s expression. A normal person would think there was no change, but Stretch was good with languages, spent years learning Edge-ese. He knew a twist of distaste when it saw it, “Yes. There is that.”

Any other comment about it was effectively blocked by Edge’s renewed focus on the cookbook, reading the recipe aloud beneath his breath. His brow bone slowly furrowed, concentration replaced with dismay. Which…it was a cookbook, not a grimoire of early twentieth century curses. Wasn’t it?

“babe?” Stretch asked cautiously, “what is it?”

“What kind of recipe is this!” Edge exclaimed. He picked up the book and read aloud, “Eggs, oil, fresh butter or lard, sugar, baking powder, as much flour as it needs. Must be soft as an earlobe, thicker than cake.”

“uh…” Stretch scratched at the back of his skull. “and?”

“That's it. That's the entire recipe. There’s no measurements, no directions, no temperature for baking!” He slapped the book back down on the counter-top. “There are no apples listed! How can this be a recipe for apple tarts without apples? How in the name of the unknown am I supposed to gauge the softness of an earlobe when I don’t have ears?”

All great questions, except Stretch was in possession of exactly zero answers. “does seem a little speciest against those of us without earlobes.”

Edge glared at the cookbook as if by his will alone answers to his questions would come, which was why Stretch was a little surprised when Edge said abruptly, "Let me see your phone."

"yeah, sure," Stretch said, slowly handing it over. Not like he had any secrets or anything and while Edge might change his own passwords at least once a month for security reasons, he’d been using the first 6 digits of Pi since he got the phone. “why?”

“Because I left mine in the living room.” Edge tapped the screen impatiently holding it out as it began dialing out over speakerphone.

A sleepy voice answered, "'lo? Wassup, Boney Marony. "

"Jeff,” Edge said, “I’m afraid you’ll have to engage in wordplay with my husband later. Right now, I need you to come over so I can feel your ears."

A long moment of silence. "That’s very specific. Okay, I'll bite, give me five."

It was more like ten minutes, with Edge sitting impatiently across from Stretch, who was engaged in a furious game of Words With Friends on his newly retrieved phone. Until the light knock came on the front door followed by Jeff shambling into the kitchen. He looked like they’d woken him from a nap, his hair was smashed flat on one side and sticking up on the other. He scratched at his t-shirt covered belly and yawned out, "You know, before I met you guys, I never got calls like this."

“sounds to me like you needed a little more excitement in your life,” Stretch said cheerily.

Edge didn’t bother with a greeting. He limped determinedly over, stripping off his gloves as he went, and without warning began to vigorously fondle Jeff’s earlobes. Jeff squeaked out a mousy sound, his eyes wide as golf balls as he stared up at Edge.

Well. Wasn’t like Andy didn’t know why he was here.

“easy, babe,” Stretch winced, “he might need a little foreplay before you go right for the lobes.”

“I’m checking his ears, not his testicles,” Edge said curtly, even as he leaned down to peer closely at the ears in question.

That remark made Stretch and Jeff speak in unison,

“holy shit, wow, just tossing that out there, huh.”

“Okay, I’m good to help a friend out, but I am drawing the line at ball grabbing.”

Edge ignored them both. He let Jeff go and limped back to his gathered ingredients, already starting to measure them into the bowl, “Thank you, Jeff, that will be all.”

Welp, that sounded like a dismissal. Stretch climbed to his feet, jerking his head towards the door. “c’mon, andy, we can take in a flick while you’re here, if you want.”

Jeff was still a little wobbly, gingerly reaching up to touch one of his well-inspected ears as he followed Stretch out, “Do I want to know what that was all about?”

Stretch shrugged, “cooking.”

“Cooking,” Jeff repeated. He mouthed it again, soundlessly, then shook his head. “I don’t even think I want to know, plausible deniability is probably better. So, he asked for me to help, why?”

“well, how many other humans does edge know that he can call up and ask?” Stretch asked reasonably. He picked up the remote and turned on Netflix. “and don’t say your honey because we both know he’d just hang up, especially without having the proper forms filled out first.”

“Glad to be the go-to guy for illicit cooking-related bodily inspections.” Jeff joined Stretch on the sofa, settling in. “Classic Twilight Zone, huh? Good choice.”

The first episode was mostly over by the time Edge came out with a tray with a half-dozen golden-brown treats that brimmed with appley goodness. Stretch and Jeff dug in, mumbling thank you’s around their mouthfuls and Stretch was already on his second one when he noticed Edge was scribbling notes. He chewed and swallowed his current bite and asked, “what are you doing?”

“Gauging your reactions,” Edge said, still writing, “I kept a close track of the ingredient measurements that I used so that I can make changes for the second batch. Are they too dry? Is the pastry tough?”

“Tastes fine to me,” Jeff said around his mouthful.

“Crisp? Chewy? Is there enough spice?” Edge persisted. The two of them did their best to answer him around bites and finally, Edge made a satisfied sound and disappeared back into the kitchen.

“Huh,” Jeff snagged another tart. “How many batches you think he’s gonna make?”

Stretch shrugged, “i do my experiments and he does his.”

“His taste better.”

“my science isn’t the kind you lick.”

“So far it hasn’t involved you groping my ears, either,” Jeff took a bite and groaned around it, “Worth it, man, but the balls are still off-limits.”

“sounds reasonable.” Stretch snagged the last tart and sank back to watch the pig-faced doctor demanding a needle to sedate his patient, happily waiting to review batch number two.

Hey, he got a snack and a show, all for the price of a thrift store book. Now all he needed to do was sneak that clown statue into the bathroom, but eh, he might wait a while on that. This was enough entertainment for one day.

-finis-

Notes:

So, the recipe in question has been slightly modified from one in a reddit post and the poster had a couple of similar questions as Edge, although their solution wasn't the same. 😂 I couldn't resist writing how Edge would react to finding such a recipe.

The ‘The Congregational Cook Book, edited by the ladies’ aid society of the First Congregational Church, 1915.’ is real enough and I own it. Some of recipes and their measurements are very interesting in comparison to what we see now!

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #by any other name

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yikesharringrove · 4 years

Note

the fic you wrote for my last prompt was amazing, ty 😭 can you do 50 + 56 this time please? and if you want to work in dyslexic!steve too that would be awesome! 🥰

You are speaking my fuckin’ language, dyslexic Steve is my ABSOLUTE jam. Honestly, whenever I write Steve, he’s dyslexic, although sometimes it’s not mentioned because it’s not important to Harry’s journey @ jk rowling

Thank you for your request! I’m really glad you liked the other one I wrote! You’re anonymous so I don’t know which one that is but I really enjoyed writing them all! Sorry for my manic energy rn.

Something a little different, it’s modern au! This is probably nothing like what you were thinking so I’m sorry, but I kinda love it ngl.

50: Secret Admirer

56: “I don’t know if I should be flattered or offended.”

Prompt list!

Billy spent three and a half hours reading through every single tweet on the account.

There were so fucking many of them. The earliest one was timestamped from four days ago, so obviously, this person had no life outside of tweeting.

Tweeting about Billy.

He had a few personal favorites. He had retweeted them to his account, figuring may as well play it up, make a joke outta everything.

@ImHardForHargrove: sorry WHOMST gave you the RIGHT to have eyes that fuckin blue im YELLING

@ImHardForHargrove: watchin u play basketball is a religious experience y are ur arms so BIG hhnnnng

And Billy’s absolute favorite, which he pinned right at the top of his account

@ImHardForHargrove: ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass

Billy knew he looked good. Knew he turned heads wherever he went. He did that on purpose. But realizing someone at Hawkins High had set up a thirst account for him, well.

“I don’t know if I should be flattered or offended.” Billy had explained the situation to Robin, letting her go through the account on his phone. “Like, It’s kinda nice, whoever this guy is, he’s got a crush. But also like, It’s kinda creepy. Plus he’s objectifying me,” Billy was talking through his sandwich.

Robin made a face of disgust. “Why do you keep saying ‘he’? All of the girls in this fucking school are practically drooling for you.”

“Hard for Hargrove, Robin. I know you’re like, revolted by the peen and whatever but that does not excuse a lack of basic sexual education and anatomy.” She gagged at him. Honest to God, gagged. He thought she was gonna spew all over the table.

“If I ever hear you call it a peen ever again, it’s on sight Hargrove.” Heather plopped herself down next to Robin, kissing her cheek before zeroing in on Billy’s phone, still in Robin’s hand.

“Have you guys worked out who it could be yet?” Her eyes were wide at Billy.

“Billy says he thinks its a guy even though people with penises aren’t necessarily men.” Robin gave him a pointed look.

“Yeah Robin, I know that, but, I don’t know I just think it’s a guy penis-having person.”

Heather narrowed her eyes at him. “Do you actually think that, or are you just hoping in that goblin little brain of yours that this account is Steve Harrington’s.” Billy could feel the heat spread down his neck.

“Billy, I know Steve is like, the only out guy in this whole fucking town, but you can do way better than him. PLUS, I feel like it makes more sense if the person running this account wasn’t out and had to channel their gay yearning through social media.”

“First of all Robin, you have this vendetta against Steve that I don’t get. He’s a nice guy. He’s kinda dopey, kinda dumb, but he’s like, sweet and shit. Second, I’m not out, so it still could be him because he doesn’t think I would, like, accept his advances or whatever. Hence, gay internet yearning.” The chime of the bell sent them packing their lunches, Billy’s phone vibrated in Robin’s hand. She rolled her eyes when he realized he turned on notifications for the account

“Get a fucking life you loser.” She slapped the phone into his hand. He opened the new tweet with embarrassing zeal.

@ImHardForHargrove: i saw u talking with ur mouth full and it was yucky but i was still 🥺🥺

His head shot up, trying to see who would have been facing him during lunch, but the cafeteria was almost empty.

The rest of the week Billy took deliberate care of every interaction he had with anyone. Observing who was in his surroundings, and making note of everything he did and said. He took extra caution around Steve, wanting to spot any minute detail that could give away who ran the account.

The account started blowing up. People were retweeting like fucking crazy. Everywhere he went, he was being asked if he’s seen it, like he doesn’t regularly retweet the good ones. The search for the owner of the account had spread throughout the whole school. A few girls even tried to claim the account was theirs, but every time that happened the account would tweet out something to discredit whoever made the claim, proving them a liar.

Billy was starting to lose hope it was Harrington. The tweets were coming at all different times, posted whenever the person thought about it, so Billy was losing track of who was near when he said or did something. And the tweets were always about stupid stuff Billy didn’t register doing. On Wednesday night the account said

@ImHardForHargrove: hi when you chew on your pencil and it makes me 🥴 that is all thx for comin to my ted talk

Friday afternoon gave them all:

@ImHardForHargrove: walked past ur classroom and u were asleep ive never wanted to CUDDLE someone so bad in my LIFE

But Saturday, Saturday renewed all hope for Harrington Billy could possibly have. Lauren Kranz was throwing a party. It was the first real rager in a while, so everyone was there, and everyone was sloshed. Everyone but Billy, who’d agreed to be designated driver for Robin and Heather like some kinda idiot.

He was brooding on the back porch when his phone went off. The account was active, and the owner was drunk.

@ImHardForHargrove: I can seeeeee u oyt the windw I wan u 2 FUC ME. RAW DOG.

@ImHardForHargrove: srry ur so beauitiful nd THICCC

@ImHardForHargrove: I wana shoot my shot but idk if u lik bois

@ImHardForHargrove: (ys i am boi)

@ImHardForHargrove: nd i dont wana get my heart broken agin 😥

He was right about it being a guy. He was right about him being too nervous to approach him outright. His brain was screaming stevestevesteve at him. Hawkins was shook when Steve came out as bisexual in his sophomore year. He was the golden boy, a real jock. He was NOT the kind of guy people would assume queer in a small midwestern town.

He was kind of a douchebag, dumping one girl for another, sleeping with her and never calling again. But then he settled down with this guy from the University of Indianapolis for a few months until Steve caught him cheating. Apparently, he had slashed the guy’s tires. Billy was impressed.

The next year came Wheeler, who only stuck around long enough to make sure Steve was nice and whipped before she fucked off on him too. So Steve retreated. Spent more time with middle schoolers than anybody else. Didn’t want to put his heart on the line anymore until he knew it wouldn’t be stomped on. Billy could respect that.

Billy couldn’t risk being out in a town like Hawkins. Word always had a way of getting right back to his dad, and in a tiny hick town with nothing better to do than gossip, it was usually only a matter of hours before Neil heard something he didn’t like.

@ImHardForHargrove: srry 4 bad typing rn. drunk nd dysl exic ren’t a happy combo

Billy’s heart stopped. The drunken idiot was giving himself away. Maybe if he sat here staring at the account long enough, enough would be revealed he could figure it all out like a shitty drunk episode of Blue’s Clues.

He was so focused on Twitter, refreshing his feed, again and again, he didn’t notice a very drunk, and very unsteady Steve Harrington stumbling out the back door towards him. Until he crashed into his back.

“Sorry, Bill!” Billy had Steve by the shoulders trying to keep him upright. “Heyy I have a question for you.” Steve grabbed one of Billy’s hands and veered over to the table and chairs arranged neatly on the small patio. When they were sitting, Steve kept ahold of Billy’s hand.

“Hi.” Steve was smiling like a little kid. Billy was in fucking love.

“hey, Harrington. What was your question.”

“So-oo. I have this friend. A very good friend. Super close. And he has a big ol’ crush on you but he’s too scared to ask you himself because he keeps getting his heart fuckin’ broken so he wanted me to ask. Are you into guys?” It’s a miracle Billy understood any of that, every word blending into the next.

“That depends.” Billy leaned in, running his tongue along his bottom lip. He saw Steve take in a sharp breath, following the movement with his glazed eyes. He knew Steve was talking about himself, he just wanted to rile him up a little. Make him blush first. “This friend you’re talkin’ about. He’s our age? Like you’re not trying to set me up with one a’ your kids, right?” Steve physically recoiled.

“NO, you fuckin’ pedo. I’m NOT trying to set you up with a fuckin’, fuckin’ middle schooler. My friend is, uh eighteen. He’s a senior.” Unless Tommy fuckin’ H. suddenly had a penchant for dick Billy didn’t know about, Steve was 100% talking about himself.

“Well, if he’s as pretty as you are, I’d love to go out with him sometime.” Billy winked. Steve went red.

“Okay, but like, does that mean you’d go out with me? Like I’m as pretty as me, right? Because I was talking about me. Not ‘a friend’ I was talking about me. Steve.”

“Yeah, I kinda figured that out. You know, I was hoping it was you running that Twitter. Any time you’d tweet out something you wanted to do with me, I was always picturin’ doing it with you, Baby.” Billy was practically purring. “Especially all the shit you wanted me to do TO you.” Steve gave something between a whine and a groan and flopped himself onto Billy’s lap, straddling him with very little grace.

“Thank God. ‘Cause you’re so fucking hot I’d let you do anything to me. Anything, Bill.” Billy smiled softly at him.

“Then let me take you home. Let me put you in bed to sleep off all this. And let me take you to breakfast tomorrow. Something nice and greasy for your hangover tummy.” Steve was a puddle in Billy’s lap. “C’mon, Drunky, git your ass up.” Steve just giggled and muttered Drunky Skunky under his breath.

Billy sighed and stood up, hefting Steve up with him.

“Bil-ly,” Steve whined. “You’re so strong, this is so fucking hot. I gotta tweet about this.”

“Tweet it later, Sweet Thing.”

It took Billy for-fucking-ever to find Robin and Heather (they were making out in the basement with the stoners). But Steve chirped and cooed into his ear, so happy Billy could lift him and hold him like it was nothing.

The last tweet from the account was timestamped from Sunday evening.

@ImHardForHargrove: Hi this is Steve. Billy’s my boyfriend now 🥰#ThirstWorks

#I'm gonna reblog this in the morning too #Im v proud of it I want people to SEE IT #harringrove #steve harrington #steve harrington x billy hargrove #billy hargrove x steve harrington #billy hargorve #modern au #modern harringrove #yikes writes #harringrove prompts #Harringrove Prompts list #harringrove prompt fill #prompt fill #prompt fic

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kunderdogs · 4 years

Text

Making Out With VAV

Let me start off by saying I've been into VAV since June 2018 and they're coming to my city in a few months. I will fucking die when I see them okay. On an unrelated note the photos with them are like $40 each and if you want one with each member its $250 (which is more expensive than the vvip tickets!) Ugh should I get them all or do 1? I'd feel terrible if one member's line for pics was shorter than another ya know UGH I'M GOING THRU IT PLS HELP ME

I got carried away with some of the members but tried to keep it short so I'm sorry others are longer than some. ^^' I’m not even Baron biased but why does he hurt me so...I’m so sorry Lou.

Thank you to the anon who requested this. As you all can tell, I have a weakness for VAV so I love writing them. - Cookie

St. Van:

I've deadass dreamed about making out with St. Van (who hasn't? you're lying if you said you didn't). He's such a fucking tease LIKE WHY SIR?

Anyway, I can imagine making out with him is ALWAYS hot and heavy, no matter where you are.

He'd much rather make out in his room or your place, where no one can interrupt because 11/10 times it's going to escalate to new heights.

Honestly, he has no preference when it comes to a "make out style". If you want it short and sweet, he's down. Rough with lots of tongue? Sign him up!

Doesn't like much dialog when he's in the mood, he'll catch your face in his hands and open mouth kiss you so you didn't get any mixed signals.

Likes to be dominate no matter what but he likes when you're sitting on his lap.

His hands, without fail, will always be in your hair - stroking, pulling, pushing it from your face.

If it's up, NOT FOR LONG 'cause he'll take it out the ponytail

That's on hair pulling kinks

Be prepared for lots of noise.

He's a moaner and WILL moan in your mouth if you nibble his lip or try to take over the dominate role.

He'll find it so so so hot when you're rough with him - his unoccupied hand will grip your thigh and force you to connect your bodies fully and he'll definitely grind up into you, pushing your hips down into him.

There's absolutely nothing gentle about making out with St. Van.

He won't bruise you but ALMOST.

He'll give you bedroom eyes when you pull away and smirk when he notice how turned on you are.

Leaning back into the couch with his head tilted to the side and breathing just a bit hard, he'll lick his lips disrespectfully. "I like when you're on top, baby girl, but I think we should take this to the bed, hm?"

(FUCK I GTG HOW AM I GONNA LOOK THIS MAN IN THE EYES WHEN I MEET HIM? IDK LORD HELP ME)

Baron:

Ok my sweet baby Baron.

I feel like he's a low key freak.

BUT A GENTLEMAN.

The first couple of make outs are sweet and precious.

He's very loving and kind so he won't be rough with you, like never.

Is so shy the first time, but will initiate it about maybe 3 weeks in the relationship - sooner if you're flirty.

Doesn't know what the hell you're comfortable with in this new step of your relationship. Picture this:

It's been a few weeks since you two made it official, even though you went through a month of the talking phase. You were flirty, but Chungheop was still shy with you on certain things. Today, the two of you had a fun-filled day at the amusement park. He had been eyeing you with heart eyes all day and you to him as well. It was hard not to, especially when you have a boyfriend as cute as him! As you were driving back to Seoul, the rain came down in buckets but Baron didn't want to go back to the dorms just yet. With cute puppy-eyes he asked you if he could come over to hang out for a few hours. There was absolutely no way for you to resist that.

So here you were, walking back into the living room after changing out of those ridiculously tight skinny jeans and into your pajama shorts. You traded your cute blouse for one of Baron's large shirts. He was lounging on the couch, scrolling through Netflix for something to kill the time with. Nothing was particularly catching his eye though. He didn't have to wait long until you flopped directly next to him and snuggled into his side.

As he took in your attire, his heart was pounding a thousand times a minute. You were too cute! When you two mutually decided on a Rom-Com, he got bored pretty quickly and shyly kissed your cheek.

With a smile, you turned to see him gazing at you. He leaned closer to your lips and hesitated only for a second before closing the distance. Softly, slowly would mold his lips to yours. Chungheop tilted his head to the side, softly exhaling while the arm on the back of the couch comes to the back of your neck.

Won't introduce tongue but will groan when you do it first.

Heavy breathing and a whole lot of gentle caressing.

His fingers slide down your cheek to cup your jaw before trailing to your cleavage only to settle on your hip.

He won't have a tight grip, it's always light but never in the same place for very long - boy has wondering hands.

Typically they're gripping and stroking.

Will quietly groan if you deepen the kiss or start touching his skin (neck, stomach).

His lips aren't ever rough with you

He'll like to take his time tasting you.

He's a nibbler/biter so expect him to bite gently on your lips a few times.

Also he'll pull some freaky moves out of nowhere like sucking on your tongue and smile cheekily when you moan into him.

Likes to keep you on your toes so some times, just to hear you gasp in surprise, he'll throw you on the bed/couch with a playful smirk.

Overall, he’s very sweet to you. “You look so cute like that, baby.”

Ace:

A whole tease. That's it. That's the post.

Jk. But Wooyoung is a big fan of a foreplay, like this is where he thrives!

He knows how to fuck with you too, so he'll initiate the kisses and will make them so fluttering and lingering that you'll be on the verge of trying to smash his lips to yours.

He'll pull away and be like "Uh-uh don't be so impatient, baby. We got all night~"

Might even laugh a little bit if you were getting frustrated with all his teasing.

He's the type to dominate everything about making out but it's in a sensual way (?)

like not rough or aggressive at all.

Will sneak his tongue in to spice it up after a few minutes just to catch you off guard.

Tongue

LOTS AND LOTS OF IT

French kissing

With a lot of moans from him - he’s pretty vocal but he’s not nearly as loud as you

Likes to suck - on any part of skin on your body. He’s not picky

Sloppy kisses since he has less self control than you think he does

He'll pick up the pace only to slow it down again and smile when you make noises into his mouth.

Lives for the moment that you finally break under all the teasing and yank his hair.

Ace likes to catch you off guard a lot so he'll sneak up on you when you're distracted and spin you around just to give you kisses.

He's a romantic at heart so back hugs that turn into making out on the kitchen counter are very common for you two.

Wooyoung wouldn't want to make-out in public spaces but a hello and goodbye peck when he's in disguise is alright.

He'll be mortified if you were in the middle of a heated make out session, his hands slowly creeping up your shirt only for the members to burst in.

He would be soooooo red in the face lol so yeah y'all would have to be ALONE ALONE to have any real freaky time.

Ayno:

(first off, how dare I use this gif)

Has zero self control when it comes to his s/o

As mentioned previously, Ayno is an ass man

So if you want him to jump your bones, just wear a flattering pair of skinny jeans or a tight skirt

He’ll literally follow you around like a puppy

Lots of gulping, narrowed eyes stuck to your hips and ass as you walked in front of him

When it comes to making out, he’s the same way

A kiss is never just one and done

NO MA’AM, he wants all the smoke

He knows you like how his lips are so he goes in for the kill immediately

No build up

He’ll catch your wrist and spin you to face him

As soon as you notice his body pressed into you, his lips are pushing and pulling you to fold into him

Who are you to deny him that?

Doesn’t waste any time with teasing - his tongue is already putting in work

Likes to cradle your head and tilt it up to him

Wants to hear you whimper and moan breathlessly into him

Always likes to break the kiss to stare at you with an intensity that has your blood boiling

But is soooo playful

Might smirk and leave you hanging

Some times he’ll purposefully attack your mouth when you two really shouldn’t be kissing like when you went to his parent’s house

Enjoys the thrill of getting touchy when you guys could be caught any moment

A little bit of an exhibitionist

He’ll tickle you or nuzzle you to cut some of the sexual tension or say something to make you giggle as he’s pressing kisses on your cheeks

Looooves to handle you if you’d let him

REALLY loves when you handle him too!!!

That one time when you pushed him on the couch, straddled him and yanked his hair, he swore that he was in heaven.

He’ll easily submit to you if you want him too

But he’ll make you work for it

Licking your lips, neck

Yoonho will beg you to let him put hickeys on you and when you agree, he’ll jump on you that second

Jacob:

HOt, heavy, messy, passionate all the time with no build up or warning for you at all.

Jacob likes to keep you guessing so he'll initiate a make-out just about damn near everywhere and at any given time.

He honestly doesn't care whose in the room, unless it was like yours or his family.

The members and other staff?

Yeah, doesn't matter - if he wants to kiss you then he will.

If they don't wanna see it, they better leave because he won't stop unless you want him to ;)

Making out isn’t just kissing for him - it’s a prelude to the nasty-ness that’s about to come

So if you try to break the kiss to go answer your phone, he’s thoroughly offended and will drag you back to his lips

The type to walk in, no words, and catch the back of your neck with his large hand

Likes to make out with you against surfaces with him standing up

He’ll tell you he thinks it’s really hot when you wrap your legs around his waist

A bit of a size kink because he loves to corner you and pin you to the wall/bed and hover over you

You...have absolutely no complaints so...

He’s the dominate role even in making out

But just so gentle and loving that it makes you swoon

Rarely makes a sound other than breathing heavily, humming or growling

Face grabbing!!!!!

100% of the time will grind into you

Since his body is always smashed against yours, he doesn’t need to move much for you two to feel the friction

Has a habit of biting his lip and looking to the sky to grab his composure

Likes your attention on him so he’ll grab your jaw

Playful but not as Ayno

Chuckles when he accidentally tickles you but easily refocuses your attention to the matter at hand:

His tongue in your mouth

Lou:

Shy baby won’t initiate any make-outs until later in the relationship

Probably like 3-4 months into it

Doesn’t mean he doesn’t like making out

Exactly the opposite actually

Hosung loves the intimacy of making out with his partner and finds it really romantic

Is very soft about the entire thing

Nearly melts into a puddle when you kiss him out of nowhere, literal hearts in his eyes

Light pecks - just lips pressed against each other the first few seconds then he’ll slowly move and close his eyes

Hardly any freaky shit until he’s more comfortable with you

When he is comfortable, he’s still very sweet and loving but will be a bit of a tease

Likes to pull away from you and watch you chase his lips

Will play innocent when you get upset that he won’t move against you

Makes you work for it ‘cause he’s a bit of a brat

His hand kink will show during make outs

As soon as your hands touch him under his shirt, he’s a mess

Loud, deep groans and sucking his breath

Wants to watch you so he’ll love it when you’re in his lap

Lots of slow, teasing kisses until he can feel you grind into him

“Do that again.”

Knows how deep his voice can get so when he figures out it’s a turn on for you, he won’t shut up

“If you keep kissing me like that, I’ll have to take you in the room.”

“Unless you want me to strip you right here on the couch?”

“Princess, you’re eager hm? Mhm, I like that~”

You try your best to shut him up but the more you do, the more he’ll do also

He doesn’t prefer boobs over ass or vice versa but he tends to find his hands are constantly caressing your ass and waist a lot

Is hardly ever rough with you but will appreciate a few bites and sharp grips from your hands

Ziu:

Playful then turns hot and heavy.

Heejun likes to goof off so making out will start off very innocent.

You two could be just talking and laughing and he'll strike- tickling you and tackling you onto the couch.

Eventually, it'll die down and as you were giggling and telling him he was crushing you under his weight, he'd be too busy staring at you to hear you.

In a split second, he leaned down and gave you a soft kiss - something to convey what he was thinking at the moment.

He had no intentions of going past that but when he felt your arms wrap around his shoulders, thin fingers stroking the back of his neck and down his back, it sends shivers down his spine.

Ziu knows how big he is, and he is very cautious of you as well so he won't be rough with you unless there's a special reason.

Usually, his hands stay on your body, running patterns down your sides but they'll always settle on the swell of your hips or your ass.

He'll definitely man-handle you a bit - pulling you on to him, pushing you into the couch/bed.

Some times he forgets how strong he is so his kisses suddenly turn very passionate, and in turn kind of sloppy.

Open mouth kisses with lots of tongue clashing.

Likes a little bit of pain

Your nails scratching his back, yanking on his hair - as long as there’s no blood

He's pretty vocal, groaning and whispering sweet words in your ear.

Dirty talk is only for rough sex so most times he'll be just a big ball of love and sensual, lingering kisses.

Then, when you want to deepen the kiss, he'll leave you hanging out of literally nowhere and look at you like you're crazy for trying to get freaky in the dorm living room when any of his members could walk in.

"We're not doing any of what you're thinking on this couch, little lady."

Finds it hilarious how sexually frustrated he can get you though, so he'll leave you hanging a lot more than you want lol.

Will probably laugh in your face when you pout and curse him for turning you on with no intention to finish

#vav #vav reaction #vav scenario #st. van #lee geumhyuk #baron #choi chunghyeop #ace #jang wooyoung #ayno #noh yoonho #jacob #jang peng #lou #kim hosung #ziu #park heejun #didn't spell check

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wherevermyway · 4 years

Text

step out! do what you want (chapter ten)

pairings: reader/bang chan/han jisung, bang chan/han jisung side pairing: seo changbin/lee minho (referenced) rating: explicit | 18+ warnings (read please!): big fat warning for ambiguous HINTS of suicidal ideation, character deaths, mental instability, post-traumatic stress, profanity, use of firearms, graphic depictions of violence (fist fight, gunfight), blood, lots of smoking this chapter, mentions of sex, mentions of drug use, angst, drug dealer!au/organized crime!au. also, don’t drive this fast on the highway. word count: about 9,300 also on my ao3 here chapter/series navigation

chapter ten: je vois la fin avant le début | i see the end before it starts

recommended tracks: black swan by bts, can’t you see me? by tomorrow x together we go by stray kids, 777 by joji, the end/undead by hollywood undead and zero 9:36, simon says by nct 127, turn back time by wayv, begin by bts, tôt ou tard by eli rose, ew by joji, another day by stray kids. playlist can be found here.

note: I can’t believe this is almost done (thank god). I’m gonna warn you one more time: this story is dark as fuck and, if you thought chapter nine was bad, ten is also bad, and eleven is worse. eleven is going to have really triggering content (very explicitly labelled in several places) in it so please don’t hate me. I’m also turning off taglists for these last two chapters because I’m not comfortable tagging people due to the content.

disclaimer: any reference to persons in this work of fiction are purely coincidental. the characters referenced from Stray Kids are interpretations loosely based on their personalities in the group and do not represent the real people behind the personas. if this, or any of the content included in the warnings above make you uncomfortable, please stop reading now.

side note: for the love of minho’s cats, don’t mix party drugs or drugs with alcohol.

It would seem that, even though you’re back in the real world, returning to reality is proving to be difficult. Since returning to Christopher’s apartment, you’ve had a couple of panic attacks that you felt made both Christopher and Jisung questioned their relationship with you. Most of the time, things were fine, but there were moments and entire days where they treated you like you were a fragile piece of pottery with a big, neon warning label slapped on it that said “Danger! Will shatter if mishandled!” in fat, ugly, blocky, black characters.

After screaming and crying at your therapist for an hour and a half, you decided that you wanted to be alone and would take an alternative route home, sneaking out the back door so that Christopher didn’t see you as he waited out front in his car. You peeked through the glass front doors, seeing his car parked there, right on time. It was hard to make out details from so far away, but it looked like he was staring at his phone, mindlessly scrolling along.

Perfect.

You smiled to yourself as you turned away from the front door. The last time you were here, you recognized a service entrance towards the back of the building that appeared to be unlocked. Timidly, you make your way towards it and jiggle the handle. The door popped open with ease, and you walked through, quickly bolting through the alleyway and make your way towards the Mojeon bridge in Cheonggyecheon.

The walk to the bridge wasn’t very long, so you took the long way, weaving in and out of various backroads and alleyways. You loved taking in the environment of small shopping stalls and the scurrying of busy folk. What you had enjoyed the most was the ambient noises of the city life around you. It was night and day in comparison to the past five or so months had been like, trapped in the hospital, then trapped in Christopher’s apartment, leaving only to go to your thrice-weekly therapy appointments.

It made sense why you felt so lonely. Christopher had been keeping himself busy, constantly coming to bed not long before the sun came up. You knew he wasn’t purposefully avoiding you or Jisung, but something about it didn’t sit well with you, likely because it felt like he was just avoiding handling the loss of Changbin, now stuck with all of the stress of dealing with the family.

Jisung had to have been feeling it, too. Neither of them were going out on collection runs or handling deals; they had left it to Seungmin and Jeongin, as well as just sending jobs back to the hyung-nim. Jisung would occasionally spend a few late nights in the studio with Christopher, and he would always come back to bed more frustrated than he was before he went to go assist his superior.

There was one night a few weeks ago where you went to lay down early, settling into a book that you weren’t really committed to reading, but what the fuck else did you have to do, cramped up in this apartment? All three of you were tense from being cooped up inside, save for your therapy appointments. Jisung and Christopher were arguing about something, their voices travelling through the open studio door, bouncing around the open living room and kitchen, finally making its way in through the bedroom door.

It was impossible to completely make out what they were arguing about, but you really didn’t care at this point. Everything was all about hierarchy and other bureaucratic nonsense that had been completely upended with Changbin’s death. Jisung came angrily padding into the bedroom, a scowl on his face as he grumbled and flopped down on to the bed face-first. He let out a long, drawn out, frustrated groan into the blanket.

“You gonna be okay, Sungie?” You put your book on the nightstand, adjusting your position so that you’re able to run a calming hand through the younger man’s hair. “Sounded like you two were disagreeing about something again.”

Jisung huffs, then rolls over onto his back. “I'm never gonna be cut out to be a leader, am I?” He turns his head slightly to look up at you. “Chan-hyung has a hard enough time, and I never wanted to do this, but now I don’t have a choice.”

You roll your fingers through his hair, lightly scratching at his scalp, and smile at him. “You would be a good leader if you wanted be, but I think this entire situation has been stressful on everyone.”

A scoff leaves Jisung’s lips as he turns to face you full-on. “You’re starting to sound like a therapist.”

“Go figure,” you sarcastically grumble as you roll your eyes.

“You’d be good at it,” Christopher’s voice travels through the doorway, startling both you and Jisung. He walks into the room and worms his way around both of you on the bed. “I’m sorry,” he sighs out, “I’ve been so stressed this week with all of the exchanges of power and sheer amount of work that needs to be done. Jisung,” he sits up on his heels, draping his face over his junior. “I’m sorry if I made it seem like I was mad at you. There’s no excuse for that kind of behaviour and I’m sorry.”

Jisung softly smiles, grabbing Christopher’s face with both of his hands. “You can be a real jerk sometimes,” he croons softly, “but I know you don’t mean it, that you’re not taking it out on me, y’know? It’s been a long, chaotic few months. We’ve all had our moments of panic, and you’re unfairly shouldered with handling the family almost completely by yourself. “

Christopher sighs, turning his head to look at you before he grabs you by the waist and pulls you into an embrace, both of you unceremoniously flopping onto your sides. “How about I ignore all of the stuff with the family tomorrow,” he says, pulling you up against him tightly with one arm, reaching out to Jisung with the other. “We can have a day with just the three of us. Get some bad takeout, watch horrible movies, just kind of have a lazy day around the house?”

“I like that idea,” Jisung excitedly nods, then turns to look at you. “What do you think, bunny?”

You were happy with the idea, but you couldn’t find yourself to share the same level of enthusiasm that Jisung did, like you would in the Before Time, as your therapist coined it. Before, you would have jumped at the thought, with both you and Jisung likely driving Christopher somewhat mad. But now, things were just muted and toned down. Mellowed down, like food you would eat when you had the stomach flu. Everything now just emotionally felt like lukewarm, runny juk, when you were used to explosions of flavour and texture on your emotional palette.

“You okay, baby?” Christopher sits up, turning to look down at you. The expressions on his face and Jisung’s face fall flat with concern and nervousness. “Are you going to that headspace again?”

Suddenly, you come back to your senses. You couldn’t have them worry about you, after all. There was already enough, much more important stuff for them to worry about. Honestly, you were just some woman who got strung along for a wild ride, and now had to deal with something a bit more difficult than a modelling shoot being cancelled. You could handle this.

“I’m fine,” you say with a fake smile plastered on your face. That was one good thing that came naturally to you because of modelling: faking emotions well enough, for a short period of time, faking it so well that anyone would believe you. “I just got distracted with thinking about what we could do.”

Jisung flushes, clearly misinterpreting your intention. “Oh yeah,” he breathes out, “it’s been a while since the three of us…” his voice trails off as he alternates looking at you and Christopher, the blush on his face deepening as he awkwardly shifts around.

The blond-haired man rolls his eyes and scoffs. “Yeah, but,” he sighs, “that’s okay. It’ll happen naturally when we’re ready for it to happen, right?”

Luckily for you that night, the three of you were able to share an intimate moment together for the first time in literal months. It was fine and was fun, albeit muted like everything else lately, nowhere near how chaotic it was at the beginning of your relationship. At least you could get them off of your back for a little while longer.

As you reached the touristy area of Cheonggyecheon (when did you get here?), your phone buzzed twice in your pocket and pulled you from your hazy daydream. Nervously, you pull the phone out of your pocket, giving it a quick glance. Nearly all of the texts on your phone are from Christopher, unsurprisingly. There was nobody else, only Christopher and Jisung. Those were the only people you had now; everyone else either abandoned you, hated you, were outside of Korea, or had died.

16:47 | Running late? Figured you’d be done by now. 16:58 | Where are you? it's been a half hour 17:05 | seriously baby where are you?

His texts start to seem more panicked, his texting habits clearly more frantic.

It’s been over an hour since your appointment ended, and your phone won’t stop buzzing. You jam it back into your hoodie’s pocket and continue to ignore the barrage of calls from Christopher. He clearly got a hold of Jisung, because you’ve also started receiving texts and phone calls from him. A smirk creeps up on your face as you reach the Mojeon bridge. You quietly pace up to the middle of the bridge and poke your head over the railing.

It happens without even thinking. Almost mechanically, you take your phone out of your pocket and drop it down into the stream below you. It was almost ironic, honestly, that this was right above the spot where you got shot during Changbin’s funeral. It was a good area for your phone to die alongside where your sanity did.

You can’t help but cackle at yourself, earning some choice stares from passersby. There was no rhyme or reason to why you were doing this, but it felt good. The rushing water beneath the bridge was oddly calming as you stared at it over the railing. There was always something about the water that helped you feel grounded and calm. With all of this chaos around you, you needed something to stay constant.

As crazy as it sounded, the thought of jumping into the stream and letting it carry you out to the Han river did pass through your brain, but you managed to talk yourself out of it. “No,” you say aloud to yourself, “I couldn’t do that.”

The screeching of tires from the street adjacent to the walkway pulls you out of your thoughts. You turn your head towards the noise and see Christopher jump out of his car, haphazardly parked halfway on the sidewalk. He runs to you, yelling your name a couple of times, a horror-stricken expression on his face.

Your heart is about to explode out of your chest as you see him running at you. Part of your brain is telling you to run, but it would appear that your muscles have forgotten how to operate themselves.

Christopher slams into you, causing you to take a couple of steps back as you narrowly avoid being knocked down on to the concrete. His arms wrap around you so tightly, you’re afraid he’s going to pop your lungs. “Oh my god,” he cries out, “oh my god, where the hell have you been?” He puts a hand on the back of your head, gripping your hair, lifting his head to kiss yours with several small pecks, and you can feel his body twitch as he starts to cry.

“A walk,” you manage to quietly squeak out, “I wanted to go for a walk.”

Christopher pulls back, releasing you from his embrace and taking a step backwards. “A walk?” His bloodshot, glossy eyes open wide, his face red as tears streak down his face, and he shakes his head. “Why didn’t you just tell me? I would have -“

“I’m smothered,” you flatly say, not really able to allow yourself to process any emotions. “You and Jisung both have both been treating me like I’m just going to fall apart if you even look at me.” Christopher stares at you in disbelief as the pedestrians around you pointedly avoid getting close.

“Lover’s quarrel?” A hushed whisper travels on the wind.

“Youth always out here with their petty drama,” another whisper follows.

You and Christopher stand there, staring at each other for a while. He eventually runs his hands through his hair, turning to look down the stream as he wipes the tears off of his face. “A walk,” he whispers, repeating back to himself. “Smothered.” He sighs heavily and turns back to you, his brows furrowed in frustration.

“I thought you had been kidnapped, or that you ended up dead somewhere. Do you not understand that there are people out there that want us to suffer or, god forbid, kill us? You were shot right here the last time we were here, for fuck’s sake.” The tears continue to fall down his face as he puts his hands on his hips. “I don’t want you to feel like this anymore. I don’t know how to help you with that, but,” he pauses, dropping his hands from his hips as he takes a step closer to you, “if I could take away all of your pain, I would do it in an instant, even if I had to take it all on myself.” He pulls you into his chest by your hips and wraps his arms around your waist, a bit more gently this time.

“I can’t do this without you. You, me, Jisung: we’ve all gone through so much shit in the past six months and we need each other.” His phone starts ringing, but both of you deliberately ignore it. “Once we’ve dealt with Minho and Hyunjin, Jisung and I are gonna leave the family. I’ve got some connections in Australia that would make it easy for us to move there. Nobody would know us. We can get out of all of this and leave this behind. How does that sound?”

A hint of a smile creeps up on the corner of your face. “It's a good idea, Christopher, but,” you say, staring at a confused police officer standing over Christopher’s car, “you’re about to get a ticket and you might wanna deal with that first.”

“What?” Christopher gasps, pulling away from your embrace as he grabs your wrist and turns to look at the scene unfolding. “Oh, goddammit,” he whines, pulling you along as he walks towards his car. “C’mon, let’s deal with this and go home.”

The encounter with the police officer is uneventful. Christopher uses his charming charisma to talk his way out of it, even name-dropping some high-level official that he knows. Once the two of you are back in the car, he makes his way to an open parking spot and parks, pulling out his phone. He taps the screen a couple of times, and Jisung’s voice comes through the speakers of the car.

“Did you find her?” Jisung panics over the speaker, sounding as if he was nearly crying. “She isn’t answering my calls or my texts and I’m worried and I haven’t seen anything out here and I -“

“Sungie,” Christopher says, calmly, interrupting Jisung’s panicked word-vomiting, “I’ve got her, it’s okay.”

“I’m so sorry, Sungie,” you say, not really sure if he can even hear you.

“Oh my god, bunny,” he exhales, “are you okay?”

You open your mouth to say something, but Christopher interjects. “She’ll be alright. Go back home, and we can talk about it when we get back. We’ve got some things we all need to discuss.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jisung says with a deep sigh. “I love you, both of you.”

“We love you too,” Christopher smiles as he says it. He presses a button on the steering wheel, hanging up the call, then turns to you. He embraces your hand with one hand and grabs your chin with the other. “Do I need to take you back to the hospital?”

You shake your head.

“Okay, but if that changes,” he pulls you closer to him, and he rests his forehead against yours, “I need you to tell me. I can’t lose you, too. Promise me that you’ll tell me.”

“I promise,” you speak with feigned confidence. Liar.

“Good,” he tilts your head up with his hand, then gently kisses you on the lips. A repetitive chime comes from the centre console of the car, startling both of you, and Christopher rolls his eyes, letting go of your jaw and reaching out to press another button on his steering wheel. “Jisung, I swear, we’re -“

“Hyung,” Felix’s voice comes through the car’s speakers, cutting Christopher off. “Minho-hyung knows where we are. I don’t know if he’s coming here, but he knows where we are and I know he’s found out about Hyunjin and he is beyond furious.”

“Shit.” Christopher’s expression instantaneously sours and his brows furrow. “Did you call the hyung-nim?”

“Yes, hyung. He’s the one that told me. Can’t spare any extra bodies to protect us, though.”

“Alright,” Christopher tightly grabs his face and runs his thumb against his jawline. “You’ve got enough gear there? I’ll pick up Jisung and bring Seungmin and Jeongin with. We’ll be there in a little over three hours.” He lets go of your hand to grasp the gear shift, shifting out of park and into drive, merging his way into traffic.

“I do.”

“Understood. Call me if he shows up before we get there. I know there’s another group connected to the family that’s somewhere in Daegu that can probably help you out, but it’ll be the nuclear option and I don’t want to do it unless we absolutely have to.” Christopher deeply sighs, looking into the rear view mirror for a moment before focusing back on the road. “Hyung-nim’s already mad enough at us as is, but I’m not losing another brother today.”

“Will do,” Felix says with confidence, then cuts the line.

Christopher has a serious look on his face as he focuses on the traffic. He pushes yet another button on the steering wheel and tells the AI of his car to call Jisung. The trilling of the connecting line fills the car and everything feels tense.

“Hey, baby, what’s up?” Jisung’s voice comes through the speakers.

“We’ve got a problem with Felix and Hyunjin,” Christopher says calmly, but clearly concerned. “Minho knows they’re in Daegu and I’m assuming he’s on the way there.”

“Oh, shit.”

“Yeah,” Christopher grits his teeth and exhales with force. “I’m on the way to pick you up. Call Seungmin or Jeongin. Have them both meet us at the apartment, alright?”

“You got it.”

“I don’t want her to come with, but,” you hear Jisung whispering to Christopher in the studio as Jeongin and Seungmin grab a few things from the studio and bring them out to the kitchen counter.

“She ran off, Jisung,” Christopher quietly bites back, “I can’t spare any of us to stay out of this just to watch her. You know that Minho is -“

Jeongin interrupts your eavesdropping as he sits down next to you on the couch. “It’s a nice view, isn’t it?” Part of you is upset that you’re socially obligated to socialize now instead of eavesdropping, but at the same time, you didn’t want to know how much you were inconveniencing Jisung and Christopher.

“Yeah,” you honestly agree, turning your head to look out the window. “I’m not sure how Christopher managed to get a property out here, but it’s impressive.”

“It’s been a while since we’ve chatted with each other.” Jeongin turns to look at you, a slight frown tugging at his lips. “Hyung had mentioned you were having a hard time coming to terms with everything. I know we don’t really know each other well, but you can always reach out to either me or Seungmin if you need to talk to someone different for once.”

“It’s true,” Seungmin perks up from the kitchen, walking into the living room and popping a couple of grapes into his mouth before he sits on the chair opposite from you. “We’re more fun than them, anyways.”

You smile at their words, continuing to stare out at the skyline. How was it that they had gone through all of this and came out seemingly alright? Why was it just you that had difficulties coping with everything? Why did you have problems with every little thing lately, but everyone else was doing so much better than you?

Christopher and Jisung come out of the studio, both of them visibly frustrated, but Jisung at least tried to hide it as he walked into the living room. Christopher grumbles something under his breath, darting off through the kitchen and into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

“Hey,” Jisung awkwardly says as the door slams, closing his eyes tightly and sighing. “Are you all ready to go? We’re running a bit behind, so Chan-hyung is a little frustrated.” You knew that was a lie, that Jisung was just trying to keep the peace.

Seungmin lifts his eyebrows and cocks his head towards Jisung. He smirks, almost like he wants to make some sort of comment, but he shakes his head. “Yeah, I think we’re fine.” He turns to look at both you and Jeongin, then looks back to Jisung. “Hyung gonna be alright, or…?”

Jisung rolls his eyes, waving his hand dismissively in the air. “Yeah, you know how he gets. He’s just,” his eyes subconsciously dart to you, then to the floor as he stumbles over his words, “he’s got a lot to deal with right now. You know?”

Jeongin turns to look at you, gently placing his hand on your knee. “Are you ready?” You take a second to catch your breath, then timidly nod your head and he stands up. “Alright. I think we can get out of here.”

A loud clattering comes from Christopher’s room. The four of you exchange panicked glances with each other, and Jisung takes a step toward the bedroom, stopping as the door flies open. Christopher steps out of the room, now wearing a button up shirt and a thin tie, both in black. You notice he has black gloves on as he adjusts his necktie. There’s also an unlit cigarette in between his teeth, which you knew was a bad sign. He doesn’t bother looking at anyone before he grabs his car keys off of the island in the kitchen and making his way to the front door, slipping on a pair of black loafers. “Grab the shit and let’s go.”

Christopher chain-smokes for nearly the entire way to Daegu. He specifically asked you to sit in the passenger seat next to him, and you believe it’s so he could anxiously hold your hand. For the first forty or so minutes, until you get past Icheon-si, the air is so tense, nobody says anything. The bright LED of the dashboard reflects on Christopher’s face, illuminating the panic he’s trying to suppress as he takes another drag off of his third cigarette.

152km/h. That’s what you see when you turn to look at the big, bold digital letters reflected on the console. It felt much faster than you anticipated, and now you knew why, since the speed limit was 100. “You’re speeding,” you quietly say without thinking.

“Felix needs us,” Christopher says, his voice terse. “I don’t give a fuck about the speed limit. Nobody’s on the road right now.”

“Chan-hyung,” Jisung perks up from the back seat, pulling himself up with your seat to be in between you and Christopher, “you should probably slow down a little, at least. 150 is really fast.”

“Not happening.”

“Hyung,” Seungmin chimes in, “I don’t mean to overstep, but Jisung is right. We’re going to be no help if we -“

“Would all of you shut up?” Christopher shouts, letting go of your hand, flicking the end of his cigarette out of his window as he grabs another one from the open pack and the lighter in the cupholder. The speedometer slowly ticks up to 160 km/h, and the numbers change from blueish-white to yellow. “Nobody else is dying today, not if I can help it. We’ve lost too many people already. One person was enough. Changbin was enough.”

He lifts the cigarette to his mouth and his hands tremble as he flicks the black lighter a couple of times before the flame comes to life. The cigarette smoke always smelled terrible at first, until you got used to it about a minute in, but it wasn’t something you were overly fond of. Maybe once all of this was over, you could convince Christopher to stop smoking for good.

His left hand takes the cigarette from his mouth and he leans his elbow against the door, nervously rubbing his fingertips against his forehead. “Fuck,” he whispers under his breath. There’s another awkward silence as you feel Jisung let go of your seat, relaxing back into his spot. Jeongin whispers something that you can’t quite make out, and Christopher holds down a button on his steering wheel. “Call Lee Felix,” he says as the AI chirps at him.

“Calling, please wait.” the AI responds.

175 km/h. The numbers are now orange.

Christopher grips the steering wheel harder and harder the longer it takes for the call to go through. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he grumbles under his breath, eyes nervously darting between the centre console display and the road. “Fucking pick up, Felix.”

180 km/h.

“Yes, hyung?” Felix’s voice fills the car and you breathe a sigh of relief.

“Thank god, you picked up,” Christopher loosens his grip on the steering wheel just a bit, bringing the cigarette to his mouth and taking a drag from it. “Any word yet?”

“Not yet, hyung.”

“Good,” he exhales, and a cloud of smoke leaves his lips and is violently pulled out of the car through the window. “We’re on the way there, just drove past Icheon-si.”

“Icheon-si? Hyung, that’s…” Felix starts to say with a hint of concern in his voice.

“Don’t worry, I’ve been going a bit over the speed limit,” Christopher scoffs, “as it was kindly brought to my attention. Should be in Daegu in about two hours at this pace. Call me immediately if anything changes, understood?”

“Yes, hyung, but -“

“If you’re about to scold me, I highly advise against it.”

190 km/h.

There’s a momentary pause over the line. “Understood, hyung. My apologies for stepping out of line.” Felix’s voice sounds slightly dejected, but it’s barely noticeable.

“See you soon.” Christopher curtly ends the phone call by pressing the button on the steering wheel again.

200 km/h.

The display is bright red and there is a soft ding that brings Christopher’s attention to the dashboard. “Fucking shit,” he says, and the car slows back down as he moves his foot off the gas pedal. “I’ve never gone that fast before. Holy shit.”

You look at him, reaching a hand over to his hair, brushing it back behind his ear. It had gotten shaggier and curlier over the past few months, his dark roots starting to show more and more obviously as time went on, but it didn’t bother you. In fact, part of you was curious to see what his natural hair colour looked like.

“It’s going to be alright,” you softly whisper, rubbing your thumb against Christopher’s temple. He grabs your hand with his right hand and smiles.

“Thanks, baby,” he doesn’t look at you, but you know he genuinely appreciates the little ways you remind him that you care. He pulls your hand down from his face and gives it a quick kiss before he returns it to your lap, only letting go so he can hold the steering wheel when he ashes his cigarette.

145 km/h. That was tolerable.

It takes maybe an hour and a half to reach the safehouse in Daegu. The building is old, like it had been abandoned a while ago. Siding had started to peel off of the side of the building, making it look dilapidated.

“I recognize that vehicle,” Seungmin says with concern as Christopher parks the car.

“I do, too,” Jisung chimes in, and reaches for his phone. “Nothing. Have you heard from Felix?”

Christopher pulls out his phone, glancing at the screen as he turns the car off. “Shit,” he says, unbuckling his seatbelt and opening his door. “Minho just got here. Let’s go.” The five of you get out of the car, Christopher and Jisung out in front of you, hands on their pistols as Seungmin and Jeongin are on either side of you.

“Stay behind us,” Jeongin whispers as you go up the stairs of the building. “I don’t know if anyone’s told you, but Minho gets violent very quickly. He’s unpredictable; not to mention, he’s got to be exceptionally angry, given the severity of the situation. Both he and Hyunjin are good shots, so try to stay out of the way.”

You approach the top of the stairs, the sounds of shouting coming through the slightly ajar front door. Christopher throws his hand behind him, and everyone stops moving. He cranes his head around the doorframe, then walks in.

“Minho,” he says, as Jisung follows him inside. “You need to step back.” Seungmin and Jeongin follow their superiors inside, and you can’t help but poke your head into the doorway.

“Oh, of course,” Minho turns around at the sound of Christopher’s voice, laughing sarcastically. “Channie has to show up and save the day. What a hero, right? Or is it that maybe you wanted to have a little revenge on Hyunjin for taking away our Changbin?”

The way that Minho spoke made your stomach turn. Something about it made you feel like you were watching a dark psychological thriller film, like you needed to take a shower.

“We decide together,” Christopher calmly says. “Trust me, I understand how angry you are at him, I really do.” Minho takes a couple of steps towards Christopher and his eyes widen, almost like he’s ready to throw a punch at his superior. The three men around Christopher take their pistols and aim them directly at Minho as Christopher tucks his pistol back into its holster and lifts his hands up. “Changbin was my best friend. I’ve known him for almost half my life at this point. Trust me, I get it.”

Christopher turns his head, looking at Hyunjin, who wavers a bit where he stands. “I’d want to make him suffer, too,” he turns back to Minho, “but you know that Changbin wouldn’t want that.”

Minho scoffs, closing his eyes and shaking his head, tilting it down. “Yeah, I know. Changbin was always the level-headed one out of all of us when it came to the family.” He lifts his head back up and a dark expression covers his face. “Changbin isn’t here anymore, though. So, if you and the boys don’t mind,” he turns his head back towards Hyunjin, “I’m gonna get revenge with my fists.” He lifts one of his hands in the air, “Don’t shoot me, though, I’m just gonna beat some sense into him, mano a mano.”

Christopher sighs, turning his head a bit back towards the men behind him, waving his hand dismissively to indicate that the guys should holster their pistols. “Let him,” he simply says, then moves to adjust his necktie. “If it gets bad, we’ll step in.” A part of you didn’t believe that Christopher was being sincere. With how much he cared about Changbin, it was likely he wanted to see Hyunjin suffer, but didn’t want to be the one to deal with it.

“No the fuck you won’t,” Minho snaps as he walks towards Hyunjin. “Pretty boy is mine to deal with.” He grabs the collar of the younger man and shoves him up against the wall. Felix takes a couple of steps around the men, walking over to Christopher and whispering something unintelligible from this far away.

“You know this is your fault,” Hyunjin says with a cocky look on his face. “If you never fell for Changbin after Shanghai, you know we’d be at the top now.”

Minho takes one of his fists and brings it to Hyunjin’s cheek, it slamming against his cheekbone with a thump. “If you hadn’t gotten so goddamn cocky,” he grips the collar of Hyunjin’s shirt again, shoving him into the wall a little firmer, “we wouldn’t have fucked up that deal. The Triads were fucking pissed at you and that’s on you. I wouldn’t have gotten shot if it wasn’t for your shitty fucking bravado.”

Hyunjin scoffs, drawing his head back a bit and colliding it with Minho’s with a heavy thud. Minho lets go of Hyunjin’s collar and grabs his head, moaning out in pain. “Fucking hell,” he grumbles with a slight slur.

“You were such a coward. Still are,” Hyunjin says, grabbing his forehead as he knees Minho in the stomach. “Temporarily left the fucking family because your precious Binnie was so worried about you. You really thought you were just gonna leave, go somewhere and start a happy family?” He scoffs and rolls his eyes. “As if. No one makes it out of here sane or alive.”

Minho growls as he reorients himself upright. He draws his arm back and literally leaps at Hyunjin, his fist colliding against his face again. This time, however, they land on the floor and throw fists back and forth until their faces and knuckles are bloodied. “If you never got involved with that fucking Triad girl,” Minho spits blood down onto Hyunjin’s face in anger, “we would never be here. Changbin would still be alive, the two of us would be out, then you could have had it all. But you went and flew too close to the goddamn sun, you fucking traitor.” Minho pushes himself to his feet and reaches for his pistol.

A chill runs through the air as Hyunjin calmly stands up, drawing his pistol in response. “It’s not my fault,” he says coolly, then turns to glare at you. “If it wasn’t for her,” he nods in your direction, then turns back to Minho, “Changbin wouldn’t have died. All I wanted to do was to give him a little warning shot so Minji and I could get out of there. But, you know your precious Changbin. Always had to be the brave, strong hero.” He squints his eyes and cockily smirks. “You loved that about him and you know that.”

Christopher tenses, sensing the shift in tone, and he grabs his pistol, motioning for you to get back, but it’s clearly too late to intervene.

It happens in an instant, time slowing down like the time that Christopher got shot in front of you. You see Minho’s arms raise up, aiming his pistol at Hyunjin, who responds in kind by aiming his pistol at Minho. However, he’s a bit too slow.

Minho fires his gun once, square into Hyunjin’s shoulder. The younger man shrieks and recoils, but manages to fire a shot into Minho’s stomach before he collides into the ground. The older man falls forward, crashing into the floor like a rag doll. Blood flies everywhere, painting the room and the men in splatters of deep crimson.

Hyunjin weakly coughs a couple of times. “Idiot,” he groggily whispers before his head rolls away from you.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” Minho coughs out, thick blood coming up from his throat. Felix immediately moves towards Minho, but the older man shakes his head once. “Let me fucking die.” The younger man stops in his tracks, nods, then moves to Hyunjin. He pores over the long-haired man, reaching up to his throat, letting out a deep sigh, shaking his head.

Minho lazily rolls onto his back, staring up to the ceiling. “I know you never would have wanted me to get revenge,” he scoffs, more blood coming up and spilling down his cheek, “but you knew me better than that. You were always the, ah,” he coughs a couple of times, “always the wiser one out of the two of us. I might have been older, but you were smarter.” He closes his eyes and lets out a shaky sigh. “I love you so much. You made me so much better. Sorry, baby. Hope you’re there on the other side. Heh. Hope there’s an other…”

A creaky groan comes from Minho, and that’s the last noise he makes. The room falls silent and nobody moves for a while. A few tears fall down your face. Minho may have been flighty and impossible to understand sometimes, but he showed you nothing but compassion and kindness when he first met you.

“Hi, I’m Lee Minho,” the memory of his introduction replays in your head. “Changbin’s probably talked about me by now.” You remember the way he softly smiled as he offered a slight bow to you. The way he looked at Changbin while he was half-drunk and high off of ecstasy, the way he whined at Changbin and pulled him into an embrace when he was half-asleep the next day. “Cuddle me and make it better.” There was no way he was truly a bad person, not by all of his interactions with you. He just loved Changbin and didn’t know how to appropriately act about it at times.

Your knees painfully collided into the ground and you just started sobbing. Sure, Minho had moments where he was absolutely insane, but the memories you had with him physically hurt as they passed through your head.

Daegu. You were in Daegu. You probably weren’t far away from where he and Changbin were for the Colourful Daegu Festival a long time ago. How happy they must have been when they were tripping on acid and listening to music. God, how much they must have loved each other. All of the happy memories they had, only to end in pain and misery and literal fucking death.

“Don’t let Channie intimidate you,” you remember him telling you the day that Christopher came home from the hospital, not long before Changbin brought him home. You were both on the couch, aimlessly talking about life as Jisung took a nap in the bedroom.

“What do you mean?” You had asked, turning to look at Minho.

“He’s a little intense sometimes,” he continued, folding his hands together and bringing them to the back of his head. “but he cares. Once he gets close to someone, he gets protective and it’s endearing. It’s usually just a bit intense at the beginning. I mean, you saw how he got when he found out you and Sungie had been together, but he cares. and just doesn’t know how to show it sometimes.”

You cocked your head to the side and mumbled in agreement.

“I remember when he found out that Changbin and I were dating. Wow,” Minho sighed as he rolled his head up to look at the ceiling. “Man, was he pissed. He yelled and yelled and totally reamed me. ‘First, you get shot for him,’ he said to me, ‘now you’re in love with him? With my best friend?’” Minho smiled at the memory. “That’s how I knew he really cared about Binnie. He wasn’t mad at me, he was just protective of his best friend.”

“Huh,” you mumbled out, then leaned back up against the couch, staring up at the ceiling with Minho.

“He gave me his blessing eventually,” Minho continued, “but he told me that if I ever broke Binnie’s heart, he’d break my kneecaps in two and make sure nobody found me at the bottom of the ocean.”

Your eyes widened and you turned to look at Minho in terror.

Minho tilted his head towards you and smiled. “Real charmer, ain’t he? Very endearing type. He falls fast. Probably loves you already, just doesn’t know how to say it. Be ready for it to come completely out of the blue.”

You run your hands through your hair, rocking back and forth as you sob so hard that your throat started to ache. Someone takes a few steps towards you, then bends down, pulling you into their arms. “It’s okay,” Jisung’s voice whispers in your ear, “it’s gonna be okay, bunny, I promise.”

Liar. Everyone was a fucking liar.

“I’ll take care of this,” Felix quietly says to Christopher as you and Jisung sit on the middle of the staircase. “Don’t worry about it, hyung.”

“You sure?” Christopher flatly questions, his voice devoid of emotion. “I can call the hyung-nim and -“

“Hyung,” Felix presses. “Do you know how many bodies I’ve dealt with over the years? All the time in nursing school? It’s fine. It’s just another part of the job. Besides, the hyung-nim is still pretty miffed at us. Can’t imagine how happy he’s gonna be to hear that two more of us are gone.”

Christopher sighs, and you hear them slap each other on the back. “Thanks, Felix.”

“Not by blood,” Felix starts.

“By the code.” Christopher finishes their pact with a deep sigh. “I want you to come back up to Seoul when you’re, ah,” his breath hitches as he speaks, “when you’re done. Alright?”

“Understood, hyung.” Felix says. “You’re buying the drinks, though.”

Christopher lets out a strained chuckle as he comes down the stairs. “Yeah, yeah.” He slowly approaches you, sitting down on the stairs behind you and Jisung. “I’m sorry you both had to see this. I’m sorry this went so badly so fast.”

“Chan,” Jisung turns his head over his shoulder, looking up to Christopher. “Are you going to be alright driving back to Seoul tonight? There’s the other safehouse, or I can drive down to Busan; it’s only an hour or so from here.”

“No,” Christopher says, probably shaking his head like he did when he pretended he wasn’t bothered by something. “I don’t mind. Just gotta stop somewhere, get an energy drink and another pack of cigarettes and we’ll be fine.”

You lift your head up from your hands, staring off into the horizon as the sun starts to come up. It felt like you had been here for an eternity. A burning, gnawing sensation burned in your stomach as you mentally pictured Minho laying on the floor, blood spilling down his face. A cold sweat broke out over your skin and your body started to tingle everywhere.

Oh, shit.

You were going to be sick. You bolt up to your feet, running down the last couple stairs and prop yourself up against the railing as you spill the contents of your stomach on the pavement, painting the ground in a disgusting shade of green.

“Ah, baby,” Christopher whines, coming up behind you as he rubs his hand on your back, pulling your hair back in a loose fist with his other hand. “It’s gonna be okay, I promise.”

Liar. Everyone was fucking lying again.

Footsteps trail up the staircase, disappearing into the building as you hear Jisung say something to Felix. Your stomach retches again and searing acid comes up and splatters onto the ground, causing you to cough in a panic as it felt like your throat was closing. The cycle repeats itself a couple of times, and by the time you’re almost sure you’re done being sick, Jisung is on the other side of you, rubbing your lower back and handing you a cold bottle of water.

“It’s okay,” he lies, because everyone’s lying. Nothing was going to be fine. Nothing would ever be fine ever again. “When you can, take a drink of this. We can take as much time as you need.”

You snatch the bottle out of his hand with disgust, standing upright and breaking the seal of the bottle, taking a swig of its contents. The pH of stomach acid fluctuated between 1.5 and 3.5, you randomly remember from your university days. Water was neutral at 7. The way the water burned going down your throat made it feel like it was at a pH of 1.

Everything felt like battery acid. The way the stomach acid burned as it came up, the way the water felt as it went down, the way that everyone was lying to you, the way that life seemed to absolutely abhor your guts - literally and metaphorically. Even though you knew that Christopher and Jisung were doing their best at just trying to console you, their hands felt like battery acid burning into your back.

You sighed as you tilted your head up to look at the sky. The sun was coming up, but there was still a deep shade of violet far off in the distance, white spots spattered against the technicolour backdrop. A single red spot in the distance caught your eye. Huh. Wasn’t that supposed to be Mars if you saw a red star?

A red star. A red spot.

Wait a second.

Oh shit.

“Don’t we need to go to a convenience store?” You say, turning to Christopher, trying to sound as calm as possible as you do some mental calculations.

“Yeah, how come?” He responds, tilting his head in confusion.

“I’ll grab the stuff for you. I wanna grab a snack and some things to drink for the ride home.” You lie, a fake smile plastered on your face. “It’ll let you and the guys talk about family stuff for a minute without me, you know? Not like I can run away if you’re right in front of the store, right?”

Christopher’s face falls into a frown and he shakes his head. “I guess that’s fine. Jisung’s going with you, though.”

Shit.

“Chan,” Jisung says with a scoff, “I’ll just wait outside. She’ll be fine.”

Christopher glares at Jisung, then turns away, rolling his hands in the air. “Fine, fine,” he sighs, walking towards the car, “if she runs, you’re going after her.”

Jeongin gets off from the trunk of the car, shoving Seungmin’s shoulder and startling the poor man. Must’ve been nodding off. “C’mon, Seungmin,” he quietly says, “looks like we’re getting ready to go.”

“Is something wrong?” Jisung says as he steps in front of you, calculatedly avoiding your artistic addiction to the pavement. “Something doesn’t seem right.”

“It’s just a lot to process,” it’s a half-truth, really, “figured you guys could use a minute to yourselves and I could use a minute to myself.

“You’re not gonna run, are you?” Jisung sounds concerned as he tilts your chin up to look you in the eyes.

“I’m not, I promise.” For once today, you were telling the entire truth.

Jisung doesn’t really pay attention to you as you wander around inside the convenience store. You grab a couple of snack foods off the shelf, not really thinking or caring about what you grabbed, too busy focusing on the real reason you were there. You walk around the store until you reach the more household-like items. Nervously, you roll your eyes up, checking to see if Jisung was still staring off into space.

Luckily, he still wasn’t paying attention. You eye a box, snatching it off of the shelf, then spin on your heel and grab a few drinks from the cooler behind you. As you walk up to the counter, you ask the clerk for whatever stupid brand of cigarettes that Christopher smoked, trying to hide the box from Jisung’s line of vision.

The clerk eyes you with judgement and shakes her head. She rings up all of the items, saving the box for last, but you grab it from her before she can place it in the bag and you shove it in the pocket of your hoodie. She cocks her head in confusion, then decides it must be too early to really question anything. “₩21,050.” You pull out a few bills from your pocket and slip them to her. She hands you some change then asks, “need the washroom?”

You turn to look at Jisung, who’s staring at you now. “Y-yeah,” you stutter out, “lemme just give this stuff to my boyfriend real quick.”

“First door in the back, to your left. Good luck.” The clerk scoffs, then goes back to her coffee.

You take a couple steps to the door, opening it and passing the bag off to Jisung. “Gonna use the washroom, be back in a second.” He opens his mouth to say something, but follows you into the store.

“I trust you,” he lies, otherwise he wouldn’t be following you, “but you know that Chan would kill me if I didn’t follow you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you tuck one of your hands into your front pocket and open the door. “I get it, just give me a minute.” You slip through the door as Jisung stares at you in confusion.

06:32. You make a mental note of the digital display as you get back into the car and slide your seatbelt on.

“You look a little pale, baby,” Christopher says as he rubs his finger on your face. “I know today has been a lot, but are you alright? You sure you wanna go back to Seoul today?”

“I’m fine,” you lie, swallowing down some of your panic. Subconsciously, your eyes dart to the clock again. “I’m just tired. It’s been a long day. Long month. Long year.”

Jisung sighs from the back seat. “You can say that again.”

Christopher leans in to kiss your cheek, then unwraps the plastic from the pack of cigarettes in his hand. He pulls one out of the package, lifting it to his lips as he rolls down the window. “Everyone ready?”

Nobody really says anything, so Christopher shrugs his shoulders, lighting his cigarette before shifting the car into drive and making his way through the streets of Daegu. He takes in a long drag from his cigarette and lets out a sigh.

06:34.

“What a fucking year,” he says, not really expecting anyone to respond. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do if something else happens to us. I just wanna get out of the family, you know?”

Jeongin chimes in, “Yeah, I think I’m about ready to call it quits, too. Maybe go back to school and get a degree in something. Be a productive member of society instead of whatever this is.”

Seungmin laughs. “I feel you on that. Kkangpae isn’t really a marketable skill on a resume, is it? Imagine how that interview would go. Yeah, I have some good business skills, sir, but you don’t wanna know how I learned them. I can tell you how much a single dose of molly will go for on the street, though. Did I get the job? When do I start?”

The guys laugh, but you offer a polite smirk as your keep your eyes trained on the clock. 06:36. Why was it that when you wanted time to pass faster, it always seemed to go slower? Why was life so paradoxically cruel sometimes?

“Chan-hyung and I are pretty good at music,” Jisung perks up, “maybe we could become some idols or something? I’ve got the face for it.”

Christopher snorts and rolls his eyes. “Yeah, like that would ever happen. I don’t want that kind of life, sounds too busy. Besides,” he looks over at you, then back to the road, “I don’t think they’d take too kindly to the fact that I’m already dating not only one, but two, people. Really wouldn’t like the fact that one of them is another dude.”

06:38.

“Good point,” Jisung says, probably rolling his eyes. “Life is a cruel mistress, isn’t it?”

“I just don’t get it,” Seungmin says, “like, why is it anyone else’s business what people do in the space of their own homes? If it doesn’t hurt anyone, who cares?”

Jeongin scoffs. “You’re just saying that because you don’t want people to find out about your collection of -“

“Shut up!” Seungmin pleads with a whine, cutting off the younger man. “Why the hell do we live with each other again?”

06:40. Good enough.

You tilt your head to the side, pulling out the piece of plastic, pretending you’re looking at a piece of string. Your face falls when you eyes see a bright pink cross staring back at you, as if it were another way for life to slap you in the face.

“You alright?” Jisung’s voice startles you as you jam your hand back into your pocket.

“Y-yeah,” you sputter, “just thinking about how life really is cruel sometimes, you know?”

You were pregnant and you were definitely not okay with the idea of that.

“It’ll be okay, though,” you say as you stare out the window.

Everyone’s fucking lying.

a/n: surprise! i literally cried writing this chapter too. chapter eleven is probably about halfway done as i post this, so hopefully you won’t need to wait too long for it. just a heads up, there will be triggering content in the last chapter, and it will be clearly labelled. the epilogue, step out! see you in the next life will briefly cover part of the ending of chapter eleven if you’re curious but don’t want to read it. thanks for sticking around for this wild ride. can’t wait to see you next chapter.

edit: mano a mano means hand to hand, not man to man btw. just found that out lol.

#tw: suicidal ideation #tw: death #tw: mental instability #tw: mental health #tw: ptsd #tw: firearms #tw: violence #tw: blood #step out do what you want

17 notes · View notes

davidmann95 · 4 years

Note

Hey David? Why is ours such a cruel and merciless God?

mirrorfalls said: (If you don't know what I'm talking about, your inbox should be filling up with more specific deets riiiiight about now.)

cheerfullynihilistic said: THE SNYDER CUT

Anonymous said: You don’t seem to think Superman’s public rep will take another beating from the Snyder Cut coming out. Honestly I thought you’d be way more upset than you seemed on Twitter.

Anonymous said: So uhh, against all thoughts and logic the Snyder cut is being released? Maybe as a mini series? Thoughts?

Anonymous said: SNYDER CUT!

Bullies. Jocks. Guys angrily asking if we know who their father is. Assorted dudebro nerd-oppressors of America:

You have failed us. You have failed us so hard. What else do we even keep you around for if not to head this shit off at the pass? Shame on you.

Okay, so seriously: I’m actually gonna put most bitching and moaning under a cut, because I know firsthand there are as many as several non-slavering maniacs out there who dug Man of Steel and Batman V Superman: Dawn of Justice and who are simply and entirely reasonably excited that they’re getting this movie after all. I don’t feel like throwing a wall of text at them shitting all over this, so I’ll lead off with I think some fairly even-handed commentary on the real-world circumstances here, rambling speculation regarding the production, and some cautious optimism about the actual movie/s. THEN I’ll get to what I imagine most of you are here to see.

So totally in a vacuum: this is a cool, good thing. I’m the notorious theatrical Justice League-liker, but at best it was a compromised product due to the original creator - who like it or not clearly had an incredibly ambitious personal vision for these characters and their world - suffering a horrific tragedy forcing him off the project, and leaving his final stamp on blockbuster culture and a world he’d devoted years of his life to a flop with his name on it when he couldn’t even truly call it his own anymore. At worst, said tragedy was taken advantage of by suits to ditch him in the home stretch so as to try and shove out something ostensibly more marketable. But now because of a...very loyal fanbase, the man’s getting the opportunity and resources to rise like a phoenix and see at least some of his vision through in a huge way. That’s pretty remarkable.

Not in a vacuum this is fucking horrifying. I’ve already seen folks poo-poohing the reflexive fears that this will ‘set a precedent’, and they were right enough that I deleted my initial tweet on the subject because I didn’t think I could express my own opinion with any nuance in the space of 280 characters. Yeah, nerd whining definitely shaped Rise of Skywalker (another movie I enjoyed in spite of the circumstances of its creation). Hell, Sonic the Hedgehog crunched its CGI team prior to unceremoniously firing them to redesign his model thanks to outcry. That’s already a market force, and just to be clear upfront, if we can’t agree the predominant mode of operation for #ReleaseTheSnyderCut has been a toxic nerd harassment campaign when they spammed posts memorializing deceased actors and chased Diane Nelson off Twitter, we’re not gonna be able to have this conversation. And director’s cuts are you may have noticed also already a thing. But this isn’t changing direction on a project that’s already going to exist no matter what, this is turning back 3 years later on a commercial flop and dumping tens of millions of dollars into it, explicitly in response to that harassment campaign. It’s not *actually* going back and, say, remaking The Last Jedi, but by god to the naked eye it’s gonna be as good as for plenty of fanboys, and probably to some shortsighted execs as well. This is a new thing, and in this context it is a very, very bad one. Hopefully one that won’t amount to anything.

As for the movie itself: what the hell is this thing going to end up being? I assume with this sort of cashola being pumped into it we’re not getting any slapdash greenscreen or storyboarded sequences, but four hours? Is it really just going to be an expanded and revised version of what we saw in theaters, or is this including content that would have been in the originally planned Justice Leagues 2 and 3? My understanding is that those were already compressed into a single Justice League 2 before plans collapsed altogether, were they maybe filming side-by-side and this’ll be the whole shebang? If not is Snyder going to hedge his bets and end this on a clean note, or keep it ending on a cliffhanger in hopes HBO will throw another $250 million his way to keep going? Does DC want to keep going? Would they give into fan pressure on releasing after all what was widely publicized as the first film of a duology or trilogy with dangling threads if they weren’t going to be at least watching the numbers to see the feasibility of returning to this in a bigger way? Not that I think WB execs would piss into Snyder’s mouth if he were dying of thirst at this point if he simply asked to be able to do Justice League 2, but if he floated that if they instead just give him a liiiiiiiitle more money he can finally deliver unto them their very own Avengers - one that they can work on even during quarantine since it’s mostly just VFX work left - and hey if it works out he’s got a sequel or two cued up and ready to go? Maybe they look at their scattered plans and say the hell with it and end up giving this a theatrical release and sequel with Snyder holding the reigns again if this ends up a killer app; stranger things have happened, if not many, and somehow this is already happening in the first place after all. Alternatively, if this succeeds, could they go “thanks and good on ya, totally do another, but it’s gonna be an HBO exclusive so you’re only getting a hundred million, figure it out”? Would Ben Affleck return? How much reshooting will he be willing to commit to even for this? And most importantly, since this is potentially going to be serialized as six ‘episodes’, will We Got This Covered count this as another ‘win’ since their bullshit rumor mill algorithm spit out “Justice League HBO TV show” recently?

As for the project itself: I ain’t subscribing to HBOMax for this bad boy, but once it becomes more widely available I can’t claim I won’t probably watch it. It’s basically a new movie about the Justice League, and if there’s anything I WOULD wanna see Zack Snyder do in the DCU, it’s the movie finally moving past pseudo-realism (aside from some of those dopey costumes) and leaning all the way into godlike superbeings bludgeoning each other through continents. I absolutely wanna see his aesthetic take on the Green Lantern Corps, and New Genesis, and time travel, and all the other weird promises of where his movies were going to go climaxing in a ridiculous super-war across all spacetime. It’s the same reason J.G. Jones was an exciting choice for Final Crisis before he had to leave, seeing a guy known for his work in an ultra-real grungy superhero style starting there and building up to seeing his version of absolutely wild cosmic spectacle. And no, to respond to one of the initial asks, I’m not worried about the impact on Superman. Everyone seems to have accepted this is its own distinct thing whether they like it or not, I think him getting to complete his ‘arc’ will quiet down many of the folks who like to yell at every other version as retro nonsense since now they’ll be able to be smug about having had the best take rather than pining for a lost finale, and I’m not interested in further Superman movies at the moment anyway with Superman & Lois in the pipe (which I was originally paranoid would be endangered by this when rumors first started floating, but if it’s been brewing since November then if they wanted to strike that down to ‘make room’ according to their Byzantine ever-shifting rules, they would have by now). Far as I’m concerned, as long as the other DC movies get to keep doing what they’re doing during and past this - even Pattinson in his corner, however that works - then totally let Snyder work out all his Wagnerian superhero bullshit for another flick or two. If nothing else, maybe we’ll learn what the hell that diagram up there is supposed to mean. And a plea I want to clarify upfront is wholeheartedly sincere: we’re already down the rabbit hole, so let Snyder to literally whatever he wants with his non-theatrically released Justice League. Zero input or veto power from outside parties. If he wants Flash to hang dong or Superman to say fuck or Batman to learn he’s Steppenwolf’s secret dad or Cyborg to learn he needs to eat babies to fuel his machine parts, let him go for it. Whole point is this is now his thing for people who want his thing.

Okay, beneath the cut the filter comes off, so go ahead if that’s your jam.

Hahahahahahaha this is gonna be such a fuckin’ shitshow you guys, Jesus Christ.

They’re giving the dude who did BvS and wants to make an Ayn Rand adaptation someday $30 million to take another crack at this monstrosity! 30 goddamn million smackaroos for four fucking hours of by many accounts roughly the same basic movie, except now presumably with what little coherency, fun, and clean character work the theatrical cut managed to pull off excised in return for weighty staring, ponderous pseudo-philosophical musings, hackneyed symbolism, aimless mythology teasing, and Steppenwolf I understand being decapitated by Wonder Woman at the end rather than taken back to Apokolips. I didn’t even spoiler mark that shit because don’t you dare pretend you care about the fate of Steppenwolf. I won’t have it.

I used to wonder if I was indeed missing the forest for the trees with these movies, that I was so inflexible in my personal image of these characters - even though I appreciate plenty of alternate takes on them and even some stories that bend or break what I consider their ‘rules’, just not these - that I was incapable of grasping or appreciating these films on their own merits as works of art using those archetypes in wildly different ways; even I could see there were good moments and interesting ideas on display despite seemingly failing to come together. No matter how much I personally deconstructed how and why it wasn’t working, I couldn’t do it to my own satisfaction to the point of stamping out that niggling little worry with how many folks whose opinions I respect love ‘em. Until I finally remembered that the Cadmus arc of Justice League Unlimited is totally the same basic story as BvS, centrally driven by an even worse take on Superman, and that’s still one of the best superhero stories of all time. These just stink by any merits, and while I think Justice League absolutely has the potential to be the most *entertaining* of the bunch, it’s not going to magically become *good* in the eleventh hour. Not to lift up Joss Whedon of all people as some kind of savior, I’m on the record that my love for Justice League as-is is some kind of inexplicable alchemical accident, but I promise that there is not going to be one single addition to this movie that’s going to make up for the removal of “Just save one person”.

Also I’m already not looking forward to dudes tweeting “whoa, he’s splitting it up into a serialized narrative, reflective of the sequential nature of the characters’ primitive native pictorial medium! Or mayhap in ode to the pulp film adventure serials which inspired those in turn! Even the Justice League children’s cartoon for dumb babies, which was itself...made up of episodes! That’s three references in the structure of the thing alone! The man’s operating on an entirely different level!” “God, isn’t it amazing how much better he understands the source material than you”, they shall say, about a man who I understand just very confidently referred to Doomsday in his livestream as having destroyed Krypton in the comics. Again, don’t you say they won’t, just the other day I saw folks tweeting they just realized that since Jor-El wears armor over his bodysuit that technically means Superman’s whole costume is underwear which means Snyder’s totally honoring that without putting him in ugly dumb red panties so checkmate, dorks.

(Okay, in fairness, I know Snyder was saying that’s his take on what happened to the moon in the past of the movies and maybe I only misheard that he thought that also happened in the comics, and it’s trivial information anyway. Still sucks though, that seeming out-of-nowhere Jax-Ur shoutout was like the one thing I liked about that otherwise interminable Krypton sequence. And why is there a second Doomsday? You did Death of Superman already!)

And further SPOILER thoughts below on the reported plots of 2 and 3:

It’s also an amazing, perfect sort of narrative synchronicity that the hypocrisy of Man of Steel in presenting Superman as a savior would (will?) be matched by the movies also rejecting that promise long-term. In there, Jor-El’s musings on the capacity of every living thing being capable of good, the closest the film has to a singular moral statement, are proven wrong when Zod has to be put down like a mad dog, and rather than the one who’ll bring us into the sun, Kal-El’s presence draws ruin from beyond the stars to our world. And again in BvS with Doomsday. And again in Justice League 1-3, where in spite of claims by Snydercutters that it’s okay for Superman to be a really lousy take on Superman because it’s totally supposed to take several movies after putting on the costume and calling himself Superman, including his own death and resurrection, for him to really, like, become Superman, man, he remains a liability to the end. His death lures in Steppenwolf, the Kryponian matrix in his genes is Darkseid’s goal, he becomes the villain of the first act of Justice League 3 - possibly of his own free will depending on which version you’ve heard about - and at the final showdown, it’s Batman who sacrifices himself to stop Darkseid and save the world and inspire the rise of superheroism, because Batman, you see, rules, whereas Superman, stay with me here, drools. A letdown given BvS was just about the one major story of the last 30 years to unambiguously conclude Superman is better than Batman, but not a shocker. None of what I understand goes down in these - iconography from the likes of Fourth World, Crisis on Infinite Earths, Death and Return of Superman, Rock of Ages, Final Crisis, and Injustice reused but stripped of all context and thematic weight that gives it meaning (even Injustice is built on the premise of having a ‘good’ Superman to contrast the dictator); Lois being the ‘key’ because of her connections to two men, one she married and one she bears; time travel that even by the very generous suspension of disbelief applied to it in a genre like this operates by two obviously completely different sets of rules in its only two uses, and is then used to write the entire second movie of the trilogy out of continuity in the first act of the third, making one and a half of these movies pointless - is shocking. It’s just more empty notions and unfulfilled promises offered up to a fanbase staking everything on the idea that all the tampering, all the wild swings, all the meandering, it’s all building UP to something, not possibly just a dude who doesn’t understand these characters but wanting to look very clever with them before building up to one more rad punch-up. So yes, make these movies. Let what can be gleaned from them as worthwhile be revealed, leave the rest of it up for examination to be judged as it deserves and let it, finally. Finally. Be done.

#Justice League #Snyder Cut #Zack Snyder #DCEU #Worlds of DC #Superman #Man of Steel #Batman V Superman: Dawn of Justice #Superman & Lois #DCTV #Analysis #Opinion

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secret-engima · 4 years

Text

Worlds Unseen verse Drabble: Stand By You (Even in Dreams)

(here I am, writing something I have no idea what to do with. Enjoy the angst? This ends really abruptly but I didn’t know how to wrap it up. gfhgfd it was interesting to write at least. Also, potential spoilers for Horizon Zero Dawn).

...

He showed up about two days in. A silent companion walking steadily at her side even though that —he— was impossible. She was determined to ignore him at first. She didn’t know if he was born of her increasing hunger and thirst, her loneliness, or if the air was turning toxic the more damage the swarm did to the world, but he wasn’t real. He couldn’t be. So she ignored him.

Still, he walked beside her. Not speaking, not ranting or babbling or screaming, just-. Walking. Watching. He watched the world around them with sad eyes, very emotive eyes. Sometimes he almost seem to stumble over the rubble of the road. If it hadn’t been for the impossibility of it, of him, she might have believed he was real. Her imagination was too strong apparently.

But he was impossible. Dressed like something out of a post-apocalyptic movie, furs and leathers mixed with machine piping and wires, his painted face exposed to the ruined world without dying even though she knew that people needed vacuum-sealed suits now just to survive. He was impossible.

She would never admit that it felt good not to be alone. Even if her company was just a figment of her imagination.

She made it through three days of silence before she broke, “You ever gonna talk, or are you a silent hallucination?”

Blue-grey eyes, more like storm clouds than skies, shifted away from the landscape to look at her, “You didn’t seem in the mood for conversation,” he spoke, and she noted what almost sounded like a Japanese accent —odd choice brain, why not a southern accent like Travis or something?—, “so I left you alone.”

She sighed, “Well, not much else to do out here but indulge my insanity.”

“You think you’re dreaming me up.”

“Aren’t I?”

The hallucination shrugged, “I don’t know. I think that I’m dreaming you up, personally, and you believe you’ve dreamed me up. Maybe we’re both dreaming up each other. Or maybe we’re both just dreams. Does it matter?”

She mulled over that for probably longer than it deserved, “I guess not.”

...

“Where are we going?”

She looked up tiredly at the words, jolted out of the daze that had been settling into her bones by the soft voice of the impossibility following her around, “I’m trying to get home. You can leave whenever you want.”

A loose shrug, as if her words were merely a polite suggestion and not a jab at her insanity, “Are you sure you want to see it this way? It’s not going to be pretty.”

They both paused to look around at the ruined landscape. Skyscrapers smoking in the distance, roads cracked and torn apart, the entire world either burned or eaten by unstoppable metal monsters, the sky turned unnatural colors as the atmosphere was ruined ever further. No, she mentally agreed. She probably did not want to see her home this way. But still … “I have nowhere else to go. I’m a dead woman anyway. I want to die at home.”

He shrugged again, as if to say without words that it was her choice, and they kept walking.

She wondered distantly when his footsteps had started to make sound, just like real ones did.

...

“You got a name? It’s getting boring just calling you the Hallucination in my head.”

An amused glance her way, “I thought you weren’t supposed to indulge hallucinations because it would only make them worse.”

She scoffed, the sound laced with static through the speakers of her suit, “Worst case is that I die before I get home, talking to thin air. Best case is that I die at the ranch, still talking to thin air. Might as well risk it. So, do you have a name?”

He tilted his head and considered her. There was something eerie in his gaze, something too keen and too alive. Something too old. It fit the strange military uniform he was wearing today, “Bast,” he finally said, “Bast Lucis Caelum.”

“Pretentious,” she huffed, and his lips twitched like he agreed and found her opinion amusing. It was stupid to introduce herself to a hallucination of her own mind, because surely he knew everything about her already. But even so, boredom and manners made her tap her chest plate and say, “Elisabet. Elisabet Sobeck.” He stopped and stared at her with wide, startled eyes, the most open emotion she had yet seen from him. His mouth opened, then shut, then he shook his head and muttered something that sounded distinctly like “should have known” and she was intrigued despite herself, “You didn’t know who I was. Shouldn’t you know everything about me?”

He scoffed, a dry, tired noise, “No. I didn’t. I knew your voice was familiar, but I can’t- I can’t see you under that suit. I wasn’t sure. And I don’t know much about you. Not really.” A pause, a thoughtful look at the ruined horizon and the swirling dust beneath their feet, “Tell me?”

Elisabet didn’t feel much like talking about herself to, essentially, herself, but she was used to answering vague, childish questions after so long working with Gaia, and somehow she found herself talking as she hiked through the empty landscape. About herself, about her past, about her dreams. Bast listened without judgement, just occasionally made a questioning noise that let her know he was listening.

It was a relief to not feel alone in this place. Even if she knew logically she was more alone than she had ever been before in her life.

...

“If you had a daughter,” Elisabet jerked awake from her daze at the sound, blinked and tried to shake off the effects of dehydration —the suit had run out of water stims to inject into her bloodstream yesterday and she was already feeling the effects—, “what would you say to her?”

“I don’t have any children,” she retorted and tried not to sound bitter about it, “for the best, really, considering … this.” She waved a hand at the fallen buildings and smoking spires. Ruins without bodies, everything already picked clean of organic material by the swarm as it had passed by. That was probably the only reason she was still alive. This area had already been deemed empty by the swarm and it had moved on before she had … left.

“Humor me.”

She looked at her imaginary companion. He was dressed in post-apocalypse leathers and cables again, his blond hair half shaved, the other half left to flop to the side like some kind of sad not-mohawk. His weapons hadn’t changed. They were just as anime as ever. A katana at one hip, a bow on his back and a quiver of arrows on his other hip, knives peaking out from seemingly every pocket. He was watching her with something very focused and serious in his gaze. Like he could see through her suit and into her eyes. She licked dry lips beneath her visor, “It doesn’t matter. I don’t have anyone.”

He stopped walking, she stopped instinctively so as to not leave him behind. He reached out as if to grab her shoulder, paused before he could touch her and lowered his hand. Grey eyes looked dark with intent, with desperation, “If you had a daughter,” he started to repeat.

“Well I don’t!” She snapped, temper breaking free of its leash, “I’m childless! I have no daughter, I have no future! I’m talking to a hallucination! You’re a figment of my mind, why won’t you just change the subject?”

“Because this is important!” He snarled back with more ferocity than she expected. He stormed forward until they were almost touching, his nose inches from her faceplate, “This is important, Elisabet. I don’t know what’s going on, if I’m dead or dreaming or what, but I have a chance to ask this and I’m taking it!”

A fractured pause between them, tense and disbelieving on both sides. Then Bast ran a hand through his hair and stepped back, “Now please. If you had a daughter, what would you tell her?”

A pointless question. A pointless question that was painful to even think about, especially here. Especially now. She turned away and resumed walking, listened to the crunch of footsteps that couldn’t really be there as they followed her and thought about changing the subject.

And yet…

“If I had a daughter … I would tell her that I loved her. So much. I would tell her … to be brave. And curious. And kind. That- that the world has enough people out there hurting it, and that it takes a special kind of person to heal it instead. If only a little bit. I would tell her that I support her, no matter what she decided to do with her life, and that wherever she went … whatever she did, I would believe in her. Anything she wanted to be, or achieve, she could do it. I know she could.” Elisabet looked up at the sky, taking in the starscape just beginning to be visible, “I would tell her to reach for the stars, because if she wanted to, she could touch them. And no matter what happened next … I would be … so proud. I would love her, and I would… I …”

“I would tell her that I would always be proud of my baby girl.”

Bast let her fall silent after that. Politely looked away as her shoulders shook and her breath hitched inside the suit. Then, after minutes upon minutes of aching silence, he whispered, “I’ll remember that.”

And Elisabet wondered why it felt like such a relief to hear those words. Even though logically she knew that she had no child, and even if she had, they would never hear what Elisabet had to say.

...

It was getting hard to see straight. Hard to think. She wasn’t sure how long it had been since the suit ran out of nutrient stims. Just that it had, and she had kept walking. She had avoided the swarm, somehow, and now … now she was so tired. So very tired.

“Keep walking,” Bast said, and she wondered when she had stopped caring that he was a figment of her mind and instead clung to the comfort of his presence. To the steadiness of his voice even in a world eaten alive. “That’s it, isn’t it? Up ahead.”

She looked up. Cried when she saw the weathered letters of the Sobeck Ranch looking back, “Yeah. That’s it. That’s home.” She had made it. She had made it home. Crazy and dying and alone at the end of the world but … she was home. She staggered past the wrecked gate, tried not to look at the devastation. The swarm had been through here, she could tell. All the trees were gone, all the grass ripped out of the ground by the roots. The walls caved in to get to the ivy that had been growing on them. Her home was in as much ruins as the rest of the world.

But it was still here.

She sank shakily onto the old stone bench that faced the house and sighed.

This would be a good place to die.

Bast settled next to her, crouching on his haunches near the bench rather than risk touching her —he never touched her, and she wasn’t sure if that was out of respect for her boundaries or because they both knew it would break the illusion that he was ever there—. He was quiet. He had been getting a lot quieter, the longer the journey went on. The more Elisabet faded. He only spoke now to wake her up, to tell her to keep moving. But she was home now, so there was no more reason to stay awake, or to walk. This was it. This was where she was going to stay until the end.

She wondered, a little dazedly, if it would be scary for Bast. If he would fade with her consciousness, acting alive until the end, or if her brain would just get too tired to keep him around and he would wink into nothing between one heartbeat and the next. That thought scared her more than it should.

“Hey, Bast?”

“Yeah?”

She licked dry lips and shifted to be marginally more comfortable on the bench. Tilted her head back to the sky and idly rolled her little globe charm in her fingers as she whispered, “If I had a daughter … what would her name be? What … would she be like?”

The silence that followed was deep and long. So long she closed her eyes with a shaking sigh, sure that her brain had finally gotten bored with making him and left her well and truly alone. Then.

“Aloy. Her name would be Aloy. She would … look just like you. Red hair, bright green eyes that try to pick apart everything in the world around her. She would be … curious. Brave. Unstoppable. The smartest person in the room wherever she went but not … arrogant about it. Always looking for knowledge, always looking to learn. She would be … afraid of a lot of things, but she would never let it stop her. She would be very kind. Always willing to help other people in need, even when it’s risky, or when she would rather do something else. She would … look at a boy about her age that … no one wanted anything to do with because he was weird and she would hold out a hand in friendship. She would learn a foreign language just so she could talk to her new friend better, and ask questions no else thinks to ask. She would do … so many amazing things.”

Elisabet tried to picture it. Indulged in the fantasy of it, just for a little while, “What things?”

“Well,” Bast mused slowly, a note of gentle, nostalgic fondness in his voice, “there was this one time when we were eleven, and Aloy decided she wanted to surprise Rost, our … caretaker, so…”

Elisabet listened. Eyes closed, breath slowing, basking in stories of the impossible. Of children and curiosity, of teenagers and bravery. Of a daughter who was unstoppable, and curious, and kind enough to fix the world, just a little bit. She listened to Bast’s voice rise and fall in stories of hope and heartbreak and danger and kindness. Her hand slowly relaxed around her little globe charm. It would be alright to doze off just for a little while, right? To dream of these fanciful stories her own mind was telling her.

Just for a little while. Maybe … maybe she would get to see them? In her dreams if nothing else.

Just for a little bit.

Thank you, she tried to tell Bast past lips too tired to move. Thank you for staying with me, even if you aren’t really here.

Thank you for not letting me die alone.

...

Bast finished his story, one of many he had been telling, through the day and night and into the dawn again. He looked up from the pebbles he had been fiddling with, only half feeling them, as if he was touching them in a dream.

He couldn’t hear Elisabet breathing anymore.

He closed his eyes. Opened them and looked around the ruined world one more time. He could feel it, the tug in his soul that had been trying to make him wake up for a while now. He could have left days ago, followed the tug and gone back to the world of the living. But even if this was all just a dream —which it might be, or it might not, could he really judge after all the things he’d seen?—, he hadn’t wanted to leave yet. He hadn’t wanted to disappear and leave her alone.

It was the least he could do, for Aloy’s mother.

He stood up, letting the tugging sensation unravel through his soul as he stared at the unmoving figure slumped over on the stone bench, “I’ll come find you,” he whispered, “when I wake up. When this is all over. I’ll take Aloy here to meet you. Just wait for me until then, okay?”

There was no answer. He didn’t expect any.

The tugging feeling grew stronger and yanked him away, and Bast had just enough time to whisper goodbye before he opened his eyes in the real world, aching all over and with a relieved Aloy crying at his head.

“-you thinking? You almost died!”

“Sor’y, Aloy.”

“I’ll show you sorry, all those lectures on being reckless and there you go and do something stupid like that-!”

“Your Mom says hi.”

“I’m going to- what?”

Bast shook his head with a sigh. She didn’t know yet. She still had hope.

He would tell her later. When he took her to meet Elisabet, “Neverm’nd. Tell you later.” He reached up and tugged one of her braids gently, “Missed you.”

He squinted past the tears dripping onto his face as she pulled him into her lap, “I missed you too you big idiot. Don’t scare me like that again.”

“Okay.”

#Melodies and Manuscripts #Secret Engima Rambles #Worlds Unseen verse #drabble #spoilers #horizon zero dawn spoilers #horizon zero dawn fanfic

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therainroguefanfiction · 4 years

Text

⚽ Paid; Aoyama (Sportember #020)

📑 Table of Contents | ⚾ Challenge Post

Genre: Fluff, Slice of Life, Family

Word Count: 2,035

Pairing: Reader, Aoyama

World: Clean Freak! Aoyama-kun

Prompt: “I don’t get paid enough for this.”

Sport: Soccer

Author’s Note: So, I tried looking up Aoyama’s first name but couldn’t find it anywhere. With that said, I chose the first name of Haruka! If anyone knows his canon first name, please let me know! ^~^)/

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“Y/N! Come down here, will you?”

You paused the anime you were watching on your laptop, pulling yourself off of your bed before heading downstairs where your mom was standing in the kitchen, placing the beef stew into the crock pot to cook overnight. Aoyama was sitting at the table, wearing his baby blue latex gloves as he worked on his homework. “What’s up, kaa-san?”

She smiled at you over her shoulder before turning back to her task. “Your brother has a game tomorrow but it’s a bit far. Can you take him?”

You glanced over at your younger brother, who glanced up at you with a derpy expression on his face. “I don’t have any plans tomorrow so sure thing.”

“Thank you, dear. I appreciate it!” Kaa-san gave you a one arm hug, something she was unable to do with her youngest child because of his germophobia. Haruka couldn’t stand to be touched, he hated being dirty, and he refused to touch anything without his gloves, but you were his special older sibling that he adored and the only person he could handle touching him. Though, even that had its limits.

You settled down across from him. “Who are you playing against?”

“Takada academy.”

“Takada?” You mused. ‘Why does that name sound so familiar? Hmm.’ It was just on the edge of your mind, but you couldn’t bring it to the surface. ‘Meh, whatever. It’s probably not even important.’

“You should video it!” Kaa-san stated with a proud grin, setting the video camera on the table in front of you. It was one of those super expensive ones that professionals use.

“Where the hell did you even get this?” You muttered as you picked it up to inspect it. “So heavy.”

“I was interested in being a film maker for a brief period when I was in high school,” she stated, clapping her hands together as her eyes gained a faraway look.

“Right…” you leaned back in your chair, giving her a weary look. “There’s really no need for me to film. There’s gonna be a bunch of reporters there with their cameras focused on him. You can just watch their footage.”

She huffed, putting her hands on her hips and puffing out her cheeks. “Why can’t you just do this for me?”

“Because it’s a pain,” you answered honestly, letting your head fall back as you closed your eyes. “Plus, I don’t even know how to work the damn thing.”

“Language,” Haruka mumbled softly, sending you a look.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“If they don’t get good shots, I swear,” Kaa-san huffed in annoyance as she returned to the food, making you chuckle.

“Don’t worry, they always get the best shots of him. He’s a little celebrity, after all~”

“He really is, isn’t he?” She sighed dreamily. “One of my children is a star.”

“And the other?” You prompted with a raised brow.

“The other… is very protective over their baby brother and I appreciate that!”

“Gee, thanks.”

“We all have our roles to play, you know. Just because your role isn’t as glamorous doesn’t mean it isn’t important!”

“Sure, sure. What’s your role?” You wondered. “Official stew maker?”

She glared at you. “Real funny, Y/N.”

“I know, I’m a real comedian.” You stood up, stopping to ruffle your baby brother’s hair on the way to the door. “I’m going back to my room now.”

“Don’t stay up too late!”

“Okay~” You shit the door behind you, flopping onto the bed and slipping your headphones back onto your head.

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“Y/N, wake up please.”

A groan passed your lips as you squinted at the bright light shining right into your eyes and it took several blinks before your vision cleared up enough to see who had woken you up.

Haruka was standing beside the bed, his hand suspended in mid-air, clearly unable to bring himself to shake you awake. Your room was sparkling brighter than the sun because he had taken the time to clean it before waking you up, as he did every time he entered your bedroom. Unfortunately for him, you were quite the messy person, often leaving dishes in your room and empty chip bags scattered about like leaves on a windy day. He loved you dearly but he wished you would be more cleanly.

“What time is it?” You muttered, putting your hand over your face to block the light.

“Eight o’clock.”

“And what time is your game?”

“We are supposed to be there by nine-thirty.”

“Shit,” you groaned, throwing your covers off your body so you could get ready.

“Language,” he scolded softly, his brow furrowing as he watched you. “You really should take a shower…”

“I took one last night,” you tugged open the dresser drawer, pulling out a pair of casual clothes before turning back to your brother. “Out so I can change.”

“I really think you should -”

“Haruka.”

He frowned at the stern look you gave him before slowly nodding and leaving the room. He hated upsetting you almost as much as he hated being dirty and he knew that his germophobia got on your nerves, so he tried his best to overcome it around you. This was something you had definitely taken notice of and appreciated.

When you finished getting dressed and headed downstairs, you found him buttering a piece of toast, those latex gloves protecting his hands from germs.

“You need more than toast,” you frowned at his back.

He shook his head, holding it out to you. “It’s for you. Okaa-san made me breakfast before she left.”

Your lips twitched up as you accepted the toast. “Thanks little bro. You ready?”

With a nod, he peeled the gloves from his hands before setting them in the sink to be washed. The urge to wash them then and there was strong, but he managed to refrain, but not without looking back at them more than a few times. You opened the door for him, closing it and locking it behind him before heading to your car.

He stood off to the side as you unfolded the clear plastic, draping it over the front seat for him to sit on. He had told you on more than one occasion that your car seats were disgusting and that he’d rather die than sit on them. Politely, of course.

“Thank you,” he mumbled softly as he slid onto the seat.

You hummed in response, shutting his door before walking around to settle in the driver’s seat, turning the key in the ignition. No words were spoken between the two of you, settling for a comforting silence with the radio on a low setting, but that was fine with the both of you.

“Sheesh, there’s so many people here,” you muttered to yourself as you tried to finding a parking space. “I’m gonna let you out. I’ll find a spot and be there soon, okay?”

He nodded, waiting for you to come to a stop and lean over, opening his door before he got out, using his foot to close the door behind him.

Several minutes passed before you were able to snag one, putting it in park and turning off the ignition before stepping toward the field. You could hear the large crowd before you saw them and it made you cringe. People just weren’t your thing and sports fans were even worse. You just wanted to blend into the back of the crowd and mind your own business but when the coach saw you, she waved you over with a grin.

“Aoyama, over here!”

Dozens upon dozens of heads snapped toward you with stars around their heads and hearts in their eyes, expecting to see the first year that had become a soccer star but, instead, they got you, the older sibling with zero star power. The shine faded and their eyes narrowed at you, judging you to be an imposter. You could feel their piercing stares following you a you stepped through the crowd to reach the coach, who you were positive was a sadist.

“I told you to just call me Y/N,” you scowled at her, stuffing your hands into your pockets and trying to ignore the stares at your back.

“Oops, I forgot,” she grinned. “Where’s your brother?”

“Washing his hands probably.”

“Y/N, my love~!” Tsukamoto rushed toward you with his arms outstretched, lips puckered in hopes that you would kiss him.

You stepped back, sliding your foot forward so that he tripped, landing face first into the dirt. “I’m not your love, idiot.”

“How cold!”

“Y/N!” Zaizen folded his arms across his chest, giving you a stern look. “Where is your brother? He needs to be warming up!”

“Ya’ll do realize I’m not his keeper, right?” You deadpanned. “I don’t have him on a GPS system.”

“Hah? But you’re his older sibling! You should know where he’s at during all times!”

“You got a baby sister, right?”

“Yeah, so?”

“Where is she right now?” You quirked a brow, watching the different emotions crossing his face – first confusion, then embarrassment, and finally annoyance. “Yeah, I thought so.”

Ishikawa chuckled, bringing his hand to his mouth and pretending to cough when Zaizen glared at him.

Sakai took a step closer, glancing at you before quickly looking away, his cheeks dusted a bright pink. “You’re looking really pretty today, Y/N-senpai.”

“Thanks,” you offered him a soft smile and the pink darkened a few shades.

“Hey! How come you call me an idiot but you smile at him?” Tsukamoto cried, trying again to throw his arms around you but your foot to his face stopped him in his tracks.

“Because you’re an annoying idiot that doesn’t know when to quit,” you glanced the other boy, lips twitching up just a fraction. ‘Plus he’s adorable.’

“The game’s about to begin! Where the hell is Aoyama?” Zaizen huffed, angrily, eyes scanning the crowd.

“Do you mind going to look for him, Y/N-san?” Ishikawa asked you softly.

“Sure, why not.” With a shrug, you turned on your heel and headed away from the field, looking for your baby brother.

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Your eye twitched at the scene before you as you stood in the open doorway of the locker room, brain trying to process what the hell was happening but you could smell the smoke from its lack of progress.

A girl that you had never seen before was standing just inside the door without a shirt, her lacy bra on display. Gotou was standing in the middle of the room, clutching a bat lined with a bunch of bent nails and stickers of flowers. And, finally, Aoyama was scrubbing the locker room as if his life depended on it.

“I don’t get paid enough for this shit,” you sighed, bringing your hand to your face.

Aoyama didn’t look away from the locker he was scrubbing. “You’re not getting paid at all.”

“That, my dear brother, is the problem. You know your team needs you, right?”

“I’m almost done.”

“They kind of need you now, Haruka.”

He frowned, looking between you and the locker he was cleaning.

“Ah, don’t worry! I can finish this for you,” Gotou smiled brightly.

He hesitated a moment longer before slowly nodding and heading toward you. Together, the two of you headed for the baseball field.

“Do I want to know what the hell was happening back there?”

“She locked me inside so I couldn’t play. It was filthy,” his nose wrinkled in disgust.

“She what? That little – I’ll kill her!” You turned on your heel, prepared to return to the room so you could give her a piece of your mind, but Haruka’s fingers latched onto the end of your shirt.

“Don’t,” he spoke softly, tugging on it again. “She’s not worth it.”

“But -”

He pouted, making you sigh in frustration.

“Fine,” your hand came to rest between his shoulder blades, feeling his muscles tense beneath your touch. “Make sure you kick their ass, understand?”

“I will, I promise.”

With a smile, you ruffled his hair before taking the place beside the coach, feeling your heart swell as you watched your baby brother playing the sport that he loved so dearly.

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percysbluepizza · 4 years

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Oh we ARE impertinent

okay since @annabetncnase asked for it, my big ole post, UNEDITED about the Lightning Thief Musical on Broadway. good luck to anyone who attempts to read this shit

ACT 1

Prologue/Day I Got Expelled

Alright so there is big boom lightning at the very very beginning of the show because Of Course there is? But it also comes with a huge flash of light, which startled liTERALLY everyone in the audience. Very fun, good use of technical effects. First guy on is James Hayden (Luke + Some) and he opens with the line. Then KRISTEN FUCKING STOKES (whom I have grown to ADORE) and the rest of the ensemble (Sally, Claiese, and Grover) come on and have this AMAZING choreography. They’re singing and all and then these curtains (which have been up and are on my pic) get pulled away from both sides by the whole onstage cast and CHRIS runs up and does this slide thingy to the very tippy top of the stage, where he sat for a moment, then turned to the audience and started. I about screamed and I’m not joking, he’s so expressive and such a great Percy (god I’m in love with him great work). As the song progressed, I was impressed by the ability with lighting use and all these cool stage tricks to have the Mrs. Dodds and also the pen/sword thing! Jorrel plays Grover so well, he’s so empathetic and caring toward Percy and I!!! So the whole story of him getting expelled is explained and god it is so fucking sad. Percy’s voice cracks. Percy’s fucking upset clearly and doesn’t understand and ouch…. ‘So if you think you are a half-blood’ is said so gently, and then THE DANCING. Chris can dance. Like well. Very well. So during ‘THis ain’t Odyssey’s Odyssey” he did a big ole kick and danced his heart out. SO good.

Strong

So obviously there’s some talking in between the first piece and this one, and there was a scene change when the lights went out and now they’re in Percy’s apartment with his mom and Gabe. Gabe is like… god you seem him and you loathe him bc he’s played so well. Percy sprays a chan of ‘aerosol’ at one point bc Gabe smells. And Chris just captures Percy’s compassion so well… He tells his mom that she doesn’t have to stay with Gabe and doesn’t deserve that and ugh so good. There are genuine blue marshmallows. and the way they did the little fire with the fog in the bucket and Percy’s mom’s comforting him hhh.

The Minotaur/The Weirdest Dream

The transfer to this scene/piece is very quick, Grover comes running in with a trash can over his head and he asks if Percy told Sally about the field trip and she said no and it was just a big mess of miscommunication. He basically gets to the point where he says the Minotaur is after Percy and holy shit. This boy is massive. And the design of it is insane and it’s got red eyes and wow. ‘I hope you’re really a SWORD” and he fight and it’s all just great. Sally goes away, Percy kills the beast and then ‘Don’t pass out…” Poseidon is in a tank top and a open Hawaiian shirt as well as flip flops and just “oh look, a man in a Hawaiian shirt’ He takes the seashell and is just the most confused. And then they bring in Annabeth, pushing her on one of those dolly things and she’s ‘floating’ and the whole thing is a big dream. Up until she tells him “You drool when you sleep” right and the thing is… the banner for CHB unfurls and the lights come back up and all of that and just it’s a true rude awakening. Then he looked around the camp and was so confused, Annabeth (beautiful, amazing, badass Kristin) started explaining what was happening and he had no clue. She then calls for Mr. D

Another Terrible Day

I don’t think you guys realize how good Jorrel is. Maybe you do but we stan Jorrel. But he comes out dressed in not matching clothes with a bright button up (pink) and plaid shirt, suspenders. He’s angry. Percy explains that he has no clue what’s going and everything’s getting explained to him with the other demigods. The other demigods are so cute and I love them so much. And he’s yelling through a megaphone. Jorrel can do so many roles so well and he did a great job. “You’re a horse?!” also he just clops. Like it’s human legs. Clip clop bitch. With a tail.

Their Sign

Again the transition from the first song to this second one is really fast. Chiron’s comforting but god is Percy angry. I love that tbh. Chris is clearly upset and he feels for Percy. And he shows it. He’s upset and then Percy’s voice goes all soft… Love that. Luke starts being buddy-buddy and showing him that it’s gonna be alright. Supposedly.

Put You In Your Place

Fucking. Sarah. Goddamn. I can’t believe how good she is. We stan so hard. Her fit? Great. Her voice? Belted. Awesome. Annabeth truly out here though. SHe’s intimidating as fuck and she knows what she’s about. There’s so much cool battle choreo in this scene and it just looks great. There’s blocking and stabbing and it looks awesome. Also that guitar riff that she comes in with is rad. And then the bathroom thing. Great. Percy’s cornered and it clearly shows that his powers came as a last resort with stress and the way they flashed the blue lights is just great I love that so fucking much. And they’re asking about the way he figured out those powers and they’re freaked out. Cool shit. Also “The plan would have worked either way.” Holy fucking shit. Annabeth is fucking scary as hell. She gives zero fucks about Percy at the beginning

The Campfire Song

The way they made the campfire is so cool! Very techy. And I didn’t realize they’re sitting around the campfire eating dinner together as a camp. Very family much love I’m a big fan. They’re putting the food into the fire and then complaining and I love it. Percy’s so sweet trying to talk about his mom and then come back around once they tell him what’s going on. Also they have a cute dance they do together. SO unified and lovely. And then THE FUCKING SIGN COMES. Percy’s sign. The whole thing. They’re looking and he’s like “Is that a fork?” “I’m the Son of Poseidon? sweet!) Everyone freaks out when they’re sure he’s a son of Poseidon. Percy is told to go see the “Mummy in the attic” “That’s old people talk for Mom, right?” Cue the Oracle.

The Oracle

This sounds so dumb but kinda like… found the Oracle impressive. Spooky. 10/10 Also… side note… Chris plays Percy with a lot of random mannerisms and movement and it’s really quite fun to watch. Anyway the Oracle is big spooky and she’s in a huge dress and she’s pointing to him and it has all the people who are in the next scene sitting there underneath and moving the dress. Big cool. And the vocals! Sis can sing. And it’s just beautiful bc then Percy has to see Mr. D and Chiron, the first of whom wants to turn Percy into a dolphin. “Percy you have no choice.” “You’re expelling me again?” Basically Percy is getting kicked out of camp bc of his unwillingness to do the quest. And there’s the transition to Good Kid my friends.

Good Kid

Guys oh fuck. Oh shit. Chris just really came out here to kill with the vocals tonight. And My heart? He kinda does a fist thing toward what would be the Big House and walks off to sulk, starting the song and walking around being angry ugh. He climbs up the back of the stage (which is essentially scaffolding) and sits at the end to deliver the sad part of the line when everything goes piano-y and soft and essentially that’s him sitting at the docks at the lake and watching the water. Luke later finds him (“If you’re a son of Poseidon, don’t hide at the lake, that’s where everyone will look.” and talks to him about the quest, where they figure out his mom would be in the Underworld if she was anywhere. Also there’s a trident where Percy is the middle prong and the other two are blue and shine on him UGH yeah

Killer Quest

“Yeah I’ll do it!” Was delivered so well, so sweet and innocent. This kid just misses his mom. Also since when did Luke and Percy get a bro handshake? Grover shows up with a bunch of bags and says he’ll go too (Luke’s chilling in the background) and he gives him the official questing backpack. I think Luke leaves at this point to get some shoes. Annabeth is there with a bag telling him that she’s going too and that her mom will be excited and they’re all dancing together and god I’m so emotional. They dance and they all work as a team so well great work you guys. And the lights turn out with them starting their quest!

Lost

Return from intermission with a literal bang, as there are three demon triplet math teachers on the bus, with Percy on top and Grover and Annabeth inside. The driver’s screaming, they’re screaming, Percy hops off the top and then fights the fury outside and eventually… The bus explodes, with confetti raining over the audience. Awesome. The piece of paper is in Annabeth’s bag pocket actually. And Percy’s trying to be a reassuring friend to Grover, who’s freaking out, and he’s trying to keep Annabeth safe too… ugh great stuff. They move all together when they say “We’re lost in the woods” for the first time. Their priorities really become clear later in the song when they talk about what they’re wanting. Grover could not be more enthusiastic about the squirrel. Also this is the first time we see Annabeth laugh at Percy “I think that’s kind of nuts” is the line and she turns around to laugh into her hand. PURE AS HELL. Wandering aimless through the forest occurs for a minute longer until Percy decides. This point in the musical made me realize that these kids are young. Like 11 or 12. I love that. I felt that in this one. The kids go into Auntie M’s art studio. Annabeth’s asked to take a picture and she’s checking her hair in her dagger, meanwhile Percy’s getting a bad feeling now and Grover’s looking more and more intently at Uncle Ferdinand. Percy is then asked to join in. No camera you say? MEDUSA REVEAL. They do a big battle and Grover ends up picking up Percy and swinging him around to cut off Medusa’s head. Which gets thrown in her own fridge for the time being. Grover leaves.

My Grand Plan

Bitch. This was the moment I teared up a lot. She sat down and started singing and I felt. I FELT. I’m depressed as fuck at the moment and I started feeling things bc of this damn song. Kristin Stokes I love you. Anyway, she’s singing and Percy intently watches, and she’s telling the gods to Wise Up by pointing directly to the sky. SHe’s saying BITCH YOU WILL NOTICE ME. And the pain in her voice when she explains her family situation. The soft part? She’s talking directly to Percy and looking at him, telling him what’s going on. Dear god did I feel. I’m so proud of her my queen Annabeth Chase. She finishes explaining and Percy says: “No more fighting” and she says “Not between us anyway” and they shake on it. I love that. Then Percy decides to have a little fun with the gods and boxes up Medusa’s head. “THey’ll think we’re impertinent Percy.” “Oh, we are impertinent.” He writes both Annabeth and his own name on that box and ships it via the Hermes express. Grover comes back in. “While you guys were in here not solving all our problems, I found these!” “Three Amtrack tickets!?”

Drive

We boarding the train. WE singing. Life is dandy again. Percy sticks his hand in a dog cage and it bites him. They take a tractor which is scaffolding tied to a wheelchair which a guy pulls. They meet Bianca and then they meet Ares after arguing with each other. Cool guy. Also Percy looks so free and proud of himself when he’s on the back of the motorcycle “I mean, look at where I am!” He’s so PROUD holy shit. Also they all put one foot forward during the different lines god the Choreography so fucking cute dear lord. Anyway they’re going and going and they meet Bianca who’s got braids and then they move on!!! I love them! I’m proud. They take another bus. “This time we just won’t blow it up.” They’re sitting on the bus (or train not really sure) and all asleep. Percy’s dreaming now. And Annabeth and Grover are also sleeping. Each is on a chair and it’s kind of cute tbh.

The Weirdest Dream (Reprise)

Percy’s standing there in his dream and he’s very confused. This is ‘scary” and I love that. He’s standing and listening to the these people in his dream talking. Kronos is so fucking scary they literally make him scary. His voice is so deep and spooky and fuck man. Luke’s talking to him (downward, into a pit, technically on the top of the scaffolding) and he’s in a cloak and Kronos says Percy’s name and the lights flash all sorts of colors and then he’s back in his seat. Chris does a bunch of spins until he gets back to his seat and Grover’s shaking him awake, saying he was screaming. Annabeth can’t sleep either. Everyone’s on edge. Thalia’s name was mentioned in the dream and Grover sits up straighter and says he hasn’t heard that name in awhile.

Tree on the Hill

Oh shit this was so emotional. So Grover explains that he didn’t tell Percy this any sooner because he was afraid Percy might not want him to come. Big sad. But he starts the song and let me tell you I never felt like crying more. So Grover’s narrating this story and Percy’s listening on the train and above them, like with the main bridge, Annabeth, Luke and Thalia are slow mo acting out the details of the story until Thalia becomes a tree. Thalia is the same girl that plays Clarriese, and every other character almost omg. But when he’s explaining her turning into a tree, Annabeth and Luke stand behind Thalia and become the branches. So symbolic and so beautiful. Percy comforts Grover and then it’s the last stop.

DOA

THis song. At first I didn’t like it on the soundtrack. Skipped it. But goddamn what a bop. The sparkly dress, the funky tunes, the control of all of the kids so they all dance together. Also dying in a really big bathtub. Yeah. Real. The way they did the elevator with the lights moving in the background was actually super convincing and I Loved that. The dress sparkles all over and all the other background people are in cloaks are dancing too, including James who makes this beautiful jump I love it so much. But they’re all scared and cornered against the light and then have to reconvene together. They all get up from the ground frazzled and then Percy’s shoes start doing something weird. His feet start flying away from him and he’s confused and freaking out and all of a sudden they’re in front of the pit. Oh god the pit was so cool. I thought the feet were shaking and it’s so cool and and the pit literally looks like a pit. I know they’re looking into a light but it’s so scary! The shoes go down into the pit and the tartar sauce joke is made. I love this. SO scary. AND BOLT REVEAL. The line that Percy’s says “betrayed by a friend’ that accuses Annabeth after she pulls the bolt from his bag. I gasped. And then Hades comes around and he’s in a sparkly jacket and says he’ll have his friends and his mom back if he gives him the bolt and then gives them a chance to decide. Everyone walks off stage and he stands there and debates.

Son of Poseidon

Percy’s mom comes out and tells him that what belongs to the sea can always return. She does a little loop around him and he spins in a circle and follows her for a moment. He starts singing and GOD CHRIS. He’s realizing that he has the shell and all that. He blows the conch and a blue light shines on the right side of the stage, the PORTAL. They jump through the portal and they’re all excited that they survived. Standing on the beach and Percy pulled new shoes out and starts putting them on. He tells them that they’re his two best friends and he hugs them close and fuck man the original trio feels. They summon Ares. Ares comes out and he’s fucking ripped and got a pipe. A literal pipe. They start fighting and it looks like they’re losing, Annabeth lost her dagger (which was strapped to her thigh goddamn) and Grover’s down, Percy’s lost his sword. “Percy get to the ocean” He runs to the stage, Kristin and Jorrel run backstage and deliver the blowers with TP. “How about a lot of it!”He yelled and theres the music and he’s relishing the moment, Chris is just giving it his fucking all and there’s a lot going on and I just.. Was amazed beautiful. Great work cast. Ares is washed away and then Percy says: “You can escort us, back to camp.” They’re escorted back.

Last Day of Summer

Percy is standing there and he’s stunned essentially. What does he do now? He gets a letter from his mom with her newest sculpture and that she’s going to school. Annabeth passes him and talks to him about going home and she calls him Seaweed Brain. He and Luke battle when he accuses Luke of being the lightning thief. Luke fucking says yes right and then STABS HIM after trying to convince Annabeth to pick the right side (his side) and she disarms him but he takes a knife and stabs Percy. He runs away, Percy’s on the ground, Annabeth’s at his side and holding him. She’s giving him emergency ambrosia as he’s dying and he looks like he’s gone but then he comes back. She says Seaweed Brain and he says Wise girl and hugs him to her and SHIT man.

Bring on the Monsters

Percy motivates the camp. Tells them it’s real, shits getting real and they need to get ready. He’s got his sword and his fresh stab wound and he motivates them to get going, all of them sing and then Chris does his beautiful solo thing and stands in front with his sword and they’re all singing in the background. When he maintains his line on the bottom people are passing back and forth around him and touching his shoulder as they pass him and he yells excitedly back next summer at one point. And they all stand together in the back and the spotlight hits him as he says he’ll be back next summer and the guitar ends. damn.

The curtains come up and they’re all there taking bows and I love them. Main points: these boys flexible, they’re all doing kicks and all sorts of shit like that, jumping up and down and dancing as well as singing, I’m very impressed. also Chris plays Percy so well. He’s got all the things that were in my head for Percy for all the quirks and ADHD and UGH I love that. Kristin rocked my fucking world and Jorrel played every character so cleanly and had such great vocals. I love them. I love them all. The end.

If you made it to the end of this fucking long ass post send me an ask or a message bc I’m proud of you and you deserve a reward

#julz talks #tlt musical #I am very emotional and in love with every single on of them #also... I wrote this right after the show so I was just FEELING my dudes

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