#another episode of 'is this a crush or is it just joy at human connection

[whateverisbeautiful]

♥️ Ranking Richonne

#22: He Needs You (S4E11)

Rick and Michonne are two highly competent individuals and yet they still have this beautiful need for each other. In every sense. It was clear early in their relationship when Michonne told Rick, "Either way you need me" during the season 3 msf. It was clear in No Way Out, the iconic episode just before Richonne became canon, when Michonne saw Rick walk out into that horde and urgently said he needs my help. And it was made especially clear that Rick and Michonne need each other in this season 4 moment right here...

In those two s3 and s6 examples, it was Michonne being aware that Rick needs her, but in this beautiful scene in the great episode that is Claimed, it’s Rick revealing he too is aware of how much he needs Michonne.

And he needs her in the most vulnerable and important way because, even as early as season 4, Rick knew he needed Michonne when it came to his most cherished connection in the world - his son. 

Now, this scene holds a lot of personal significance to me in my own journey of falling in love with Richonne because when I finally emerged from the sunken place and realized Rick and Michonne had actually been falling in love for seasons, this was the first pre-canon scene I went back and rewatched post-canon. And truly my eyes were just wide open to the fact that this romantic relationship was a long time coming. 

All I had to do was see this scene to be a believer that Richonne was in the works early and that these two didn’t just love and respect each other but also were very clearly physically attracted to each other and drawn to each other in a special way.

This moment is so important because it’s Rick and Michonne acknowledging their need for each other and essentially agreeing to parent together from here on out. 

So I already love seeing the scene beforehand with Carl and Michonne bonding at the table and laughing over stories of soy milk. And then seeing them both saddened by the mention of Judith is heartbreaking. But I’m so glad Michonne and Carl had each other to relate to and process with, as they do so movingly throughout this entire episode. 

And I’m not the only one glad Michonne and Carl have each other - cuz in the next scene, Rick expresses exactly that. 

Michonne enters the kitchen where Rick is going through drawers, and one thing that lovely man is always going to do is thank Michonne so the first thing he says is "thank you." I love that Rick is so willing to express gratitude for Michonne’s presence in his and Carl's life.

After Rick and Carl’s hard times in the After episode, it was feeling like those boys might need divine intervention to truly heal…cue the ever-so-divine Michonne reentering their lives. 😌

Rick is such a good dad for real, and I love that he’s thanking her for getting Carl to laugh and then gets vulnerable that he almost forgot what that sounded like. It's one of those early ways of Rick letting Michonne see a more human side of himself. And truly to be able to give a kid joy in that world - I know Rick feels like Michonne is invaluable for many reasons, but for that especially. 

Also it's sad seeing how absolutely bruised and battered Rick is after that brawl with the Governor. And the crazy thing is he'd be looking worse than this or straight up dead had Michonne not saved his life and killed the Governor. That's another reason why it's fitting for the first thing Rick says to Michonne post-prison to be "thank you." In a lot of ways, he's still here because of her. And the way Rick and Carl bring Michonne back to herself, she's still here because of them too. 🥰

Also watching this back…the way Michonne is reacting as she listens to him tho. 🤭 I just have to note again - Sis likes him, y’all. Like this is truly the crush era for both of them cuz her energy in this scene is giving “he gives me butterflies” a bit idk. Like she’s always composed of course, but Rick brings out a different subtle nervous energy to her. And she brings out the same in him, and I love to see it in this phase of their relationship. 

Rick continues to be very honest with Michonne when he tells her that he can’t be Carl's father and best friend. And then the best part is Rick outright telling Michonne, "He needs you." Carl needs Michonne. 🥹 It's true tho. And Carl's dad, who knows his son best, knows this to be true.

This moment already was so moving but packs an even bigger punch now that we know Carl will so sincerely tell Michonne that she’s his best friend on his deathbed. And she'll confirm that he's hers too. 😭

And I love that, even here in season 4, just one season after meeting her - Rick knows not just that Carl enjoys Michonne but really needs Michonne. It’s another huge moment of one being vulnerable with her and also entrusting her with this knowledge that she’s super important both to Carl and to him. Because really if Carl needs her, then Rick absolutely knows he himself needs her too, and I love that he didn’t shy away from telling her this.

It’s cool that this time last season they were strangers, and now here Rick and Michonne are in this house looking like a whole family and talking about needing each other. And it’s also great how this is the two of them talking in the early stages of parenting their kids when they will later go on to have a baby too. What a journey. 🥰

I love that Michonne gets to tap back into her mother side with Carl back in her life. She tried to shut that part of herself off after losing little Andre but it’s still so clearly in her, and it’s beautiful the way Carl (and Judith in that moving scene when Michonne cries holding baby Judith in the prison) brought that out of her again.

It’s also really sweet that Rick acknowledges that’s a lot to throw at her. Rick was thrown into being a single dad so suddenly in season 3, and while going through his own trauma and pain, he still tries so hard to be a good dad to Carl. And even knowing he needs Michonne in Carl's life, he still doesn’t want to overwhelm her with it, especially cuz he knows she’s the independent go-out-on-my-own-to-hunt-down-crazy-governors type.

I noticed that even early pre-canon Rick seemed to be mindful of what Michonne wanted and needed, especially because deep down he didn’t want to lose her.  And I love that as Rick and Michonne's love story continued to unfold, he'd learn he never has to worry about losing her because she's with him always. 😊

So Rick says, "if you ever feel like you need a break..." but Michonne makes it clear that she’s here to stay when she speaks for the first time in the scene and assuredly says, "I’m done taking breaks."

I love how even tho Michonne didn’t talk a ton in the early seasons whenever she did speak it was just powerful and impactful. And you know she means it when she says this. She loves these Grimes boys and she’s not leaving them anymore.

This really is the season they become family and parents together without ever looking back. I love that Michonne gets this confirmation that she’s needed and valued and gets to give Rick this confirmation that so is he, and she's in it with them for the long haul.

Rick nods and then they have those signature lingering looks. Then Michonne asks what the plan is and if this place is home. That’s always very telling to me because it shows she’d be willing to establish a long-term home with them. #family.

I really feel like if both of them had found different members of tf they might be thinking more urgently about finding others, but when the three of them found each other, they found who they most needed and who they could really stop and build a fulfilling life with if they wanted.

Rick says, "Let’s just stay here while we figure it out," and then they have this quiet long moment of just staring at each other again. That clear sexual tension makes them fidgety a little bit. 😋 And like, why are these stares between them always so long? 🤭 #HereForIt.

I love this era where Rick and Michonne so clearly make each other feel a type of way in a way no one else could and they think they're being subtle about it when they're not lol. Like I know the direct quote from both their minds in this house is, “You’re about as fine as can be and now I’m really out here in an apocalypse catching feelings.” Lol, they just be mesmerized with each other and can’t help it.

Tell me both their expressions in this scene aren't a little bit or a lotta bit giving...

And also I think Rick knows that he’s suggesting he wants her to stay put with them for an indefinite amount of time and is a little nervous about if Michonne would be willing to do that with them, hence his expression. 

Michonne shows she is willing to settle in here with them when she nods and says she’ll get the supplies they need with Carl, and Rick quickly offers to go. You know these Get Things Done Grimes are always willing to go get things done. Rick and Michonne have always had that in common.

But they’ve also always had it in common to look out for the other, and so Michonne reminds Rick that he was unconscious the other day, which 😢. Like hearing that made me think dang Rick was really fighting for his life with these injuries and still trying to be a good dad and thoughtful toward Michonne while even in and out of consciousness. Real one.

Rick says, "I'm awake today" as if being full unconscious the day before is old news lol. He's like...

But Michonne then expresses her and Carl's need for Rick when she says, "We need you strong." Again I love that they need each other, and they know it and voice it.

And I especially love that Michonne so soothingly tells him to "Just rest. One more day." Cuz truly resting is a rare luxury in that world, but Michonne really can give Rick that luxury.

As much as Rick and Michonne are go-getters, they’ve also shown they're good at reminding the other to take a break, and that’s so refreshing, needed, and important. We got us a balanced couple, y'all. 👌🏽

Michonne speaks to Rick so compassionately, it reminds me of how she speaks and looks at him when she tells him he gets a few more days in their honeymoon ep Say Yes. (Also, this s4 scene shows they’ve been giving each other the heart eyes for the longest.) And you know Rick is going to listen and agree after she tells him to rest.

Michonne walks out of the kitchen, and seeing Rick turn and watch her go...that was my first moment of realizing oh he’s been checking her out for seasons. It’s great. (and it made his hand placement at the end of their canon ep make a lot of sense lol)

Lingering on this shot of him watching her walk gives such an indicator of attraction to me. Cuz yes Rick has an overall appreciation for her, of course, but he could’ve been appreciative while continuing to look out the window like he just was lol. That turn around and attentively watching her go was cuz Rick likes what he’s seeing. Always has. 😌

And I bet Michonne's walk would be on the list of things Rick loves about her, just like Rick’s walk is on the list of things she loves about him. 

Both of their energy in this season 4 scene just screams that whatever they have between them is not just platonic. And they’re just such parents in this ep. I love that the next scene is Rick again sending Carl out on a run alone with Michonne. He seriously trusts her to have done this twice now so early in their relationship, both in this ep and in Clear.

And when Rick says, "follow her lead" to Carl, and Michonne winks at Rick, letting him know she’ll make sure their kid is taken care of and gets something to eat on their run - issa whole mom and dad. 🤗

Rick, Michonne, and Carl really did find their truest home within each other, and in this ep, you can see how true that is. So I love this episode for really establishing Richonne as parents together and solidifying the lovely Grimes 2.0.

And it's great how Rick and Michonne’s deep need for each other so beautifully evolved into deep romantic love for each other too, as their family tree grew even more with the adorable addition of RJ. 🤗

Richonne's journey from Rick telling Michonne their son Carl needs her in season 4 to them having a son of their own in season 9, just goes to show we stan a ship with an abundance of riches. Boundlessly blessed, y'all. 😌

#richonne #top 30 #number 22 #rick x michonne #reveling in richonne #twd 4.11 #twd towl #the ones who live

[mauxanhduong]

made a guy laugh today in my history class. i’m in love

#/j #another episode of 'is this a crush or is it just joy at human connection?' #not trek #xuân says stuff

[theonewiththefanfics]

Give You Hell (one-shot)

Synopsis: When you’re in a relationship with someone famous while being famous it can be difficult. But not for the Reader and Harry, yet when her past comes knocking, she’ll make sure to know where she stands.

Pairing: Harry Styles x fem!Reader

Genre: fluff, some minor angst, like microscopic 

Warnings: swearing, reference to past abusive relationship, but nothing explicit.

Word count: 3428

100% inspired by ‘All American Rejects’’ ‘Gives You Hell’

Dating someone famous while being famous yourself had pros and cons, much like everything in life. The cons mostly came from the outside, not from the inside. It was the opinions of others, thinking what they said mattered, the scrutiny of the press, hoping one of them would mess up, and they could run some bullshit article just so their numbers could go up, without a second thought of how the people involved felt, and it was some jealous fans who didn’t seem to comprehend the people they admired were actual human beings with feelings and thoughts and emotions and autonomy. But other than that, Y/N’s and Harry’s relationship was just like any other. Save for when their emotions bubbled over, millions of people heard them in songs.        They’d met at the iconic yellow-suit-Harry Brit awards. She’d been right next to Hugh Jackman opening the show, a red glittering bodysuit with a black and gold ring-master jacket, a top hat adorning her head as she dominated the stage. If Harry had been sloshed at that point (much like he was later on, but who was Y/N to say, given how most of the night was a blur for her), he would’ve absolutely started drooling at the sight of her, and he was one of the thousands who stood up, hollering and clapping as she and Hugh ended their performance.

       Much to his dismay though, Y/N wasn’t one of the people assigned to sit by his table, instead, she was a couple of rows behind, whispering something into Billie Eilish’s ear, the two erupting into uncontrollable laughter.        He felt like a creep as he tried to catch every possible glimpse of Y/N, her smile making his heart race. She’d been on his radar for a while, had even thought about asking her to collaborate on a song for ‘Fine Line’, but at the end of the day, it was an album of personal discovery (and when one of his producers told him Y/N was halfway across the world in the middle of Norwegian woods for the next half-year working on her own music, he didn’t want to be a bother). But seeing her then, Harry wondered why he hadn’t reached out on his own, especially after at the after-party Lizzo had dragged Y/N to him and introduced the two.        The following day, pictures of them dancing together, drinks in hands and drunken grins on their faces would sweep the web, sparking millions of rumours, but, at that moment, they didn’t care, nor did they care about what was written because as Harry twirled Y/N under his arm, as much as the connection was there, that night they went their separate ways. Even when they were drunk, they understood that about the other person, and wouldn’t accept anything else, but a sober and coherent ‘yes’.        Sometime midday the next day, Harry reached out to Y/N through a DM on Instagram checking in on how she was doing, which then turned into a six-hour FaceTime call.        “What do you mean you’ve never had a hangover?!”        Y/N laughed at Harry’s almost offended expression. “I mean I’ve never had a hangover. I’ve never thrown up while drunk or after being drunk, my head’s never hurt – nothing. I mean I’m tired, but that’s because I’m still on New York time and got to bed at like five AM.”        “You… are something else.”        She wiggled her eyebrows. “Is that something else something good?”        Y/N didn’t know, but when Harry saw her eyes sparkle, his heart skipped a beat, and he immediately knew – she was it. “The best.”        “Well…” she bit her lip. “If I’m the best, would it be too forward of me to ask you out for a coffee?”        What Harry didn’t know was that when she saw him smile as if those were the best news in the world, her heart skipped as well, and she knew he was the one.        “Only if it’s my treat.”        “But I was the one who asked you out.”        “Yes, but you can pay for the second date.”        Holding in her squeals of joy was tough, but she raised her eyebrow, giving Harry a sly smirk. “Already so confident there’ll be a second date?”        Harry scoffed. “And a wedding!”        Seeing Y/N throw back her head as she laughed, made all sorts of butterflies fly through his stomach.        “Okay, Styles. I’ll take your word for it.”        Three months into the relationship, the two were booked to appear on The Graham Norton show together, which was also the first time they’d appear officially as a couple at a work/outing kind of a setting since the rumours started floating, and a picture of Harry kissing Y/N outside of a hotel room had sort of confirmed that.        “So, you two.” Graham pointed between Y/N and Harry with his cards. “Have started to date? Not to say anything Harry, but Y/N… I didn’t think boy-bands were your type.”        That made her lean over in laughter as Harry gave everyone a shocked face, before slumping back and pouting, nudging Y/N with his knee. “That’s not funny.”        “I mean it kind of is.”        “She was twelve when she swore off boy-bands.” Graham nodded, taking a sip of his wine. “Isn’t that what you said last time you were here?”        “Hey, it’s been ten years since I said that!” Y/N laughed. “Cut me some slack. All the people I was crushing on are married anyway… with kids… and could probably be my dads… I have issues, don’t I?”        Everyone exploded into giggles while Harry shook his head, chuckling.        “Love you with all of your issues.” He nudged her shoulder, and she nudged right back, taking a sip of her drink.        “Yeah, give it a couple of months. You’ll regret your words.”        The thing was Y/N was so wrong, and she’d never been happier to be so wrong. Each morning they were together, Harry woke up to her showering him with kisses or vice versa. As private as Harry was, his Instagram stories were now filled with pictures and small videos of them, of Y/N’s face half-covered by a blanket, glasses crooked as she smushed her cheek to his chest and watched a movie, or her eating breakfast while re-watching old Bones and Castle episodes with captions like ‘dunno how she keeps the food down’ and ‘she swears it’s just for research’, while her feed was full of candid Harry photos or her rummaging through his closet and showing everyone his immaculate style, and giving tips how others can recreate it (also she may or may not just use that as a reason to steal his clothes).        Generally, people loved it, and their love for one another. It was refreshing to see them enjoy each other’s company, and not be afraid to do so, especially now, given how it was a couple of days before Y/N ended her tour in New York in Madison Square Garden, to which Harry had specifically flown out for despite being in the middle of filming for ‘The Little Mermaid’. Three AM blinked on the clock, as the two finally drifted off to sleep after five hours of a passionate reunion when her phone dinged, indicating a message had arrived.        “Turn it off,” Harry grumbled into the skin of Y/N’s back. “’S too early.”        She hummed in agreement, furrowing her brows as her palm blindly searched for the offending device, and she squinted her eyes as the light burned her retinas before widening in shock at the message.        Harry felt her body go rigid, and he pressed a kiss to her neck. “Everythin’ alright, lovie?”        “Uh – “ she stuttered, trying to process the words on the screen. “Uh, yeah. Yes, everything’s fine. Just… some last-minute changes for the show. They want something really big for the ending, and some of the propositions are just…”        She could feel a smile stretch across Harry’s mouth. “Extravagant?”        “You could say that, yeah.”        “Sounds like it’s gonna be one hell of a show. Not that the others weren’t.”        Y/N switched the phone off wiping away the message first and then turned to cuddle into Harry’s chest. “It most certainly will.”        For the next two days, she was an anxious ball of mess, as her crew got everything ready, and her and her band rehearsed relentlessly before she asked all of them to gather at the studio to add a song to the setlist.        “It’s gonna be a couple more hours, Hazza,” Y/N murmured into the phone as Harry had called in to check on her. “ ‘M sorry. You don’t have to wait up for me. I know you’re still adjusting to New York time.”        “ ‘S alright,” he slurred, clearly already falling asleep but determined not to. “Can’t sleep without you anyway.”        At those words, Y/N’s heart did that stupid flipping thing it’d been doing ever since Harry entered her life to stay, and a shy grin blossomed on her lips. “You’re exhausted, sweetheart. But I’ll tell you what - if you do go to bed, I’ll be sure to wake you up with a kiss when I get back.”        “You promise?” She could hear the smile on his face.        “Swear it.”        “Alright, lovie. I’ll be waiting to cash in on that kiss.”        “I’ll run to give it to you as soon as I can. G’night.”        “See ya’ in a bit.”        Y/N let out a shudder as she heard the call disconnect. She entered back inside the studio and clapped her hands, drawing the attention of her producers and band members. “Where were we?”

***

       The hour before a show was always nerve-wracking for Y/N. It’s when the adrenaline truly started to rush, when her feet and palms got all tingly, and her ears and cheeks heated up. It was when their warm-up band exploded on stage, and the crowd got pumped up. But the best moment that night by far was right when she was about to run out, Harry had pulled her back by the wrist and kissed the living daylights out of her.        “You’re gonna kill it tonight,” he muttered against her lips, words skimming her mouth and making her smile as bright as the sun. She seemed to do that a lot around him. It’s why he now dedicated Golden to her every time he sang it.        “Thank you. For being here.”        Harry flicked her nose. “Always. Now go. People are waiting.”        When Y/N finally appeared on stage, pretty much glowing as brightly as the stage lights, her fans went wild, and even more so when she jumped, starting off the show. The whole time, her gaze flitted to backstage just to get a glimpse of Harry, and whenever she did, she saw him dancing, singing along, filming her having fun and some clips of himself as well, going absolutely ham to her songs.        As the night was moving towards the end, usually, she’d feel euphoria from giving a great performance, after hearing thousands of people sing her songs in unison, now Y/N felt closer to throwing up and fainting.        “So uh…” She pushed back strands of sweaty hair, hollers of people echoing in her head. “This is a very special show tonight. Umm… this is the first concert my boyfriend’s come t - .” She didn’t even get to finish the sentence before the cheers of the people interrupted her, deafening the girl even with the earplugs.        “But umm… it’s also a special show because two days ago someone reached out to me, and uh… he… well, he was as important of a person once the same way Harry is right now, and he wrote this.”        Y/N went over to where the piano chair was, lifted it and fished out her phone from it, revealing the message that’d been basically haunting her nights and days since receiving it.        “Breaking up with you was the biggest mistake I ever made.” To her own surprise, her voice was steady and sure, unlike her hands which were trembling like leaves in a storm. “I know you look happy and in love, but I know it’s not true. I’ve known you for five years, I know how to see through the mask you put on every day just to make sure others are happy while you yourself suffer an inauthentic life. But you do deserve to be happy. And I’ll be waiting for you if you decide to give us a chance again. I’ll be at your concert in Madison Square.” She looked out into the crowd. “You wrote a song once for me. If you sing it, that’s how I’ll know you feel the same.”        By the time she got to the end, there were no more shouts or screams, but confused murmurs. Y/N let out a shuddering breath, hoping that she could manage to do what she wanted, and everything didn’t fall apart. “The thing is, I’d like for Harry to come on stage, please.”        She could see the fear in his eyes as he jogged to stand next to her, but he disguised it with an overenthusiastic smile as he waved over towards the raging sea of people. He’d seen the message, had seen her reread it more than fifty times by that point, and as sure as he was in their relationship, when someone who held such importance, no matter if good or not, in someone’s life came knocking again, you could never be too sure what would happen. Harry didn’t want to say anything, believing if it was important enough, she’d tell him. Guess that was it.        “So, uh…” Y/N pulled Harry’s arms over her shoulders and grasped onto them, grounding them both. “This is for you.” Y/N looked over into the crowd before glancing over her shoulder, Y/E/C eyes meeting Harry’s wavering green ones. “And you,” she whispered so that only he could hear. “Hope you know I mean everything.”        As the cords started playing, she felt Harry unwarp his arms from where she’d been holding them over her shoulders and a smile erupted on her face.        “I wake up every evening,” Y/N sang, “with a big smile on my face, and it never feels out of place.”        “And you’re still probably workin’,” Harry’s voice joined in, grin as wide as the Cheshire cat’s, as he now had a microphone in hand, the other placing earplugs in his own ears, “at a nine-to-five pace… I wonder how bad that tastes.”        “When you see my face hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell,” the two harmonized, Y/N’s eyes locked onto the masses, imagining the face of her ex-boyfriend who had the audacity to send that message.        “When you walk my way, hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell.” Harry was looking at the crowd as well, now fully understanding the message and the person behind it, and although he lived by ‘treat people with kindness’, he couldn’t help but gloat at the fact he got to sing with the love of his life on stage, and basically serenade a break-up song to a person who didn’t know how to appreciate what he’d had.        Y/N cocked her head to the side. “Now, where’s your picket fence, love, and where’s that shiny car? It didn’t ever get you far. You’ve never seemed so tense, love. I’ve never seen you fall so hard. Do you know where you are?” It was hard not to smile, knowing where she was and who she was with. Harry threw an arm over Y/N’s shoulders as she sang, giving a mock sad look, while Harry pouted. “And truth be told, I miss you… And truth be told, I’m lying!”        “When you see my face hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell! When you walk my way, hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell! When you find a gal that’s worth a damn and treats you well.” Y/N pointed towards where she imagined her ex was standing. “Then she’s the fool, you’re just as well, hope it gives you hell! Hope it gives you hell!” For a split second, the music slowed down, guitar strumming in the air, as Harry pulled Y/N by the palm and towards his chest.        When the next lyrics came out of his mouth, he knew them to be true as he sang them to the man, he’d heard Y/N talk about, to the man who thought everything he’d done to her, every horrible word and deed was justified, to the man who thought breaking someone else down was the only way to bring themselves up. “Now tomorrow you’ll be thinking to yourself, where did it all go wrong, but the list goes on and on.”        “And truth be told, she misses you,” Harry hummed, Y/N letting out a large laugh, holding onto his bicep, as he slightly changed the lyrics. “And truth be told, she’s lying! When you see her face, hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell! When you walk her way, hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell!  When you find a gal that’s worth a damn and treats you well.” Harry sighed, shrugging his shoulders. “Then she’s the fool you’re just as well hope it gives you hell.”        “Now you’ll never see,” Y/N took over the song. “What you’ve done to me.” She placed a hand over her heart. “You can take back your memories, they’re no good to me. And here’s all your lies, you can look me in the eyes, with that sad, sad look that you wear so well.” She dragged her finger down her cheek, giving a pout while Harry mimicked her stance before turning the mic to the audience.        “When you see my face, hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell,” the crowd sang back with such vigour, Y/N was sure the whole ground was shaking just from their voices, and the clapping and stomping to the drum rhythm would bring the whole world down. “When you walk my way, hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell! When you find a gal that’s worth a damn and treats you well, then she’s the fool you’re just as well, hope it gives you hell!”        The two were jumping around the stage like madmen, adrenaline filling their veins. “When you see my face hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell!” “Hope it gives you hell!” Everyone else repeated.        “When you walk my way, hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell!” “Hope it gives you hell!”        “When you sing this song and sing along, well you’ll never tell. Then you’re the fool, I’m just as well, hope it gives you hell!” Y/N grinned once more, placing her hand over her heart, meaning every word – she was just as well. She had amazing friends, a career that’d flourished, and a person who loved her more than words could describe.        “When you hear this song, I hope that it will give you hell!” Harry crooned down the mic, knowing their happiness would, Y/N’s happiness would give him hell. And he enjoyed it, knowing how good her life was.        “You can sing along I hope that it puts you through hell!” Her voice became the only sound as the last word echoed around everyone, her chest heaving up and down from the exertion, from all of the emotions running through her body as well as the overwhelming feeling of not only having Harry watch her perform but to end up performing with him.        When his hands wrapped around her body, it startled her out from the daze, and the popping confetti startled her even more, as the rest of her band joined the two to take their bows, grins on all of their faces while they did so.        “Not the song you thought I’d sing, is it?” Y/N laughed into the mic, Harry’s arms tightening around her waist. “There’s a reason I blocked your number, let alone you from my life. Don’t think I won’t do it again.”        “But I would like to say thank you, to the asshole in question,” Harry said, making Y/N’s forehead scrunched up. “You let go of the best person ever; you had the honour of calling yourself her boyfriend, but instead, you chose to walk away. So, thank you for that. Because now I’ll have that honour and pleasure for the rest of our lives.”        Yeah. It was one hell of a show.

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Everything tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @dalilx @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife​ @ollyoxenfrees​ @bnhvrdy​ @tvwhoresblog​ @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl​ @sj-thefan​ @teenwolflover28 @lestersglitterglue​ @im-squished​

Harry Styles tags: @sarcasticallywitty15​ @breezykpop​ @girlboss99​ @harrystylesdoesntknowiexist​ @alliyjane​ @sirtommyholland​

A/N: I love ‘All American Rejects’ and have been listening to ‘Gives You Hell’ non stop. It’s the best break-up song ever, and you won’t convince me otherwise. 

P.S. my tags are always open :)

P.S.S. please don’t repost my work on other platforms without my explicit written permission. reblogs are fine :)

#Harry Styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x reader smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles fandom #1d fan fiction #1d #one direction #one direction imagine #harry styles angst #eroda #harry styles eroda #all american rejects #give you hell #gives you hell

[kryzobi-wan]

Dancing in the Dark

"What kind of monster was he, to wish for beauty?"

---

Just a whole lotta touch-starved, lonely Ben Solo feeling a lot of feels when the Force decides to connect him to Rey <3 Completely self-indulgent Reylo angst and fluff. Plus a little slow dancing 🥲

Read on AO3 | Read on FFN

Ben Solo had learned what it meant to be lonely. Growing up surrounded by droids instead of family taught a kid that particular lesson pretty quickly. Still, that aching longing for human connection never quite left him, even after so many years of immersing himself in the cool, unfeeling darkness in hopes that it would drown out that part of himself. He had everything he had ever wanted, he tried to convince himself. Power, control, strength… it should have been enough.

But that flicker of light—of warmth—within him that he never could quite get rid of felt like the piercing, burning bite of a lightsaber wound on his flesh. If the light was supposed to bring comfort and peace, then why did its presence hurt so much?

After his solitary childhood and early adulthood, it shouldn’t have been possible to feel any more lonely than he already did. Then she had come crashing into his life, entangling their respective destinies in a mess of unacceptable feelings and emotions, and leaving Kylo more unbalanced than he had ever been since joining the First Order. Her light had illuminated the truth of every crude approximation of connection Kylo had forged over the years in his chosen place of belonging. Where once the officers of the First Order, the Knights of Ren, even Hux, had provided some semblance of stability and companionship, he now saw them for what they were: hollow, resentful beings who couldn’t care less if he lived or if he died.

For a few brief moments he had thought that Rey might fill the gaping hole this realization left in the very depths of his soul. How naïve that had been. Now she had left him, scorned him, and he was truly on his own, with not even the sickening but constant presence of Snoke to keep him company.

Weeks passed. Hux had finally stopped reprimanding Kylo for his failure on Crait, and in fact hadn’t spoken to him in days, leaving him without even that sense of consistency. In the quiet isolation of his chambers, the weight of his father’s death at his hand finally settled firmly on his shoulders. With Snoke gone, his recollection of that fateful moment came with a different kind of clarity that was most unwelcome. This kind of introspection was dangerous, and he did his best not to entertain it. But he was weak. His thoughts involuntarily drifted to those peaceful moments in his childhood—as rare as they were—where for just one moment he thought his parents might really care, that he wasn’t truly alone. The ache of soured happiness came attached with those memories, now that he had been disillusioned from their lies.

Looking at him now, it was hard to believe that he had once believed in the beauty of the galaxy. Ben—Kylo—remembered a time when the stars seemed brighter, the air more pure and refreshing. When he could feel the bubbling of joy and frivolity in his chest, giving him the sensation of weightlessness as he passed through life ignorant of how truly alone he was.

Oh, how he longed for that beauty.

He had always been drawn to such things. The artful strokes of calligraphy, flowing from the tip of his pen. The feeling of soft, green grass between his fingers, and the touch of cold, crisp water on his toes. The gentle lilt of music playing somewhere in the distance, the tune floating through his bedroom window as he closed his eyes in sleep.

What kind of monster was he, to wish for beauty?

There was no such thing. Kylo Ren could never be worthy of it. Every beautiful thing he touched met its end sooner or later. He was poison to it, so fundamentally contrary to everything it stood for that it could be corrupted by his mere presence.

Perhaps it was a good thing that Rey had closed their connection. Since that moment on Crait when she looked down on him in his defeat, he had only seen her a handful of times, and only long enough for her to scowl at him and shut him out.

So he was alone. As usual.

Wandering the halls of the new flagship star destroyer, Kylo was acutely aware of this fact. Some days were worse than others, but this was bad as it got. Something inside him was begging for someone—anyone—to see him. To remind him that he wasn’t just some ghostly apparition with no corporeal form.

Not a single passing trooper or officer acknowledged him.

Perhaps it was his own fault. After all, you can’t have both the fear of your subordinates and the good opinion of them. He had chosen what made sense for the leader of an army, and he refused to consider any other option. He was the Supreme Leader of the First Order. He did what he had to do.

As it turns out, it’s lonely to be the one on top of the pyramid.

Kylo passed by a group of stormtroopers, his cape billowing behind him. They seemed to be celebrating something, perhaps one of them had received a promotion or passed a particularly difficult round of training. They patted each other on the back, excitedly chattering in low whispers about whatever it was that spurred this reaction. Despite the armor and helmets, he could see the camaraderie they shared. They were happy.

That was enough to trigger another episode.

They were coming more frequently now. It was different than his bursts of anger and violence, where he could reach some sort of catharsis by tearing apart his immediate surroundings with the slash of his fiery weapon. This kind of attack did quite the opposite, causing him to shut down completely, barely able to move or speak until he could manage to calm himself down to an acceptable level. His breathing quickened and he was forced to grab onto the wall to stabilize himself.

Kylo sucked in a deep breath as he willed the prickling of tears in his eyes to go away. He felt exposed without his mask. His traitorous expressive face betrayed every emotion that he felt, leaving him vulnerable. He couldn’t let his subordinates see this weakness, or he’d be ousted by a mutiny before the end of the day cycle. No, he had to get away before he went catatonic. Stumbling and suddenly dizzy, Kylo made his way toward his chambers. The lights on the walls and ceiling swirled in his vision like the flash of stars through hyperspace, and it was all he could do to remain upright as he burst into his quarters and shut the door behind him. Immediately upon entering, he ripped his cape and the outer layer of his tunic off, feeling suffocated by them. Removing his heavy boots, he focused on the chill of the cold durasteel floors seeping through his dark socks, connecting him to his surroundings.

With a flick of his wrist, he turned out the lights and collapsed onto the nearest chair, resting his head atop his knees, and clasping his hands behind his head as he tried his best to stop trembling. He allowed the quiet darkness to envelop him like a blanket, hiding the tears as they streamed from his eyes.

Whenever this happened, it felt as if the air around him was pressing inwards as it slowly crushed him. He needed something real, something physical to ground him. No matter how tightly he clutched at his own body, how much he pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes in an effort to stem the flow of tears, it was not enough. The pain radiated outward from himself. It was as if he were a bomb threatening to explode at any moment, at which point he would cease to exist entirely. He could be floating in the lifeless vacuum of space for all that he felt. There was nothing to hold him together.

Completely and utterly alone.

He was well-practiced by now in self-treating these sudden attacks. It may take several minutes, but eventually he would be able to breathe out one last shuddering breath and still the shaking in his shoulders and knees. The floor stilled beneath him, and he no longer felt like his screams were trapped inside his body, begging to be let out.

All he felt in the wake of an episode like this, was numb.

He stared tiredly at the floor, now propping his head up on his hands as exhaustion flooded his body.

It was frustrating, feeling so out of control of one’s emotions. Despite the fact that his master was now dead and gone, he could still feel the disappointment he would have had in his apprentice. The words Snoke would have said echoed through his mind.

Pathetic. Weak. You are too unstable. The darkness will reject you. Your emotions cause you to fail. Everyone who ever claimed to care about you threw you away like garbage, but you can’t stop needing them.

Perhaps he had been projecting a little when he said those last words to Rey.

As if his thoughts had caused it, he suddenly felt the familiar shift in the Force that signaled the start of a connection. The rumbling sounds of his ship faded into a comfortable silence that was, for once, welcome in the aftermath of his anxiety attack.

He breathed out a sigh of relief before opening his bleary eyes and lifting his head slightly to peer about his room. She was nowhere to be seen.

Just as he was about to stand to go look for her, Rey appeared in his doorway, looking irritated and disappointed as usual as her eyes settled on him. She promptly turned with a huff and disappeared from view as fast as she had come, though the connection remained open.

“Rey, wait,” Ben (because he was always Ben during these connections) called out to her before she could shut him out. He stood abruptly, rushing to stand in the doorway. She stilled, her back to him and apparently awaiting his next words before she decided to leave him anyway or not. “Please don’t go,” he hated how fragile the words sounded as they escaped his lips.

Rey let out a tired breath. “I can’t do this anymore.”

Panic began to rise in Ben’s stomach again as he felt Rey start to force the connection closed. “Stay! Please, just for a few more moments,” he said desperately. He was starting to feel dizzy again. He wanted to pretend just for a little while that he wasn’t alone. Once he regained his stability, she could leave if she wanted. He just needed someone for a few minutes to keep him from falling apart.

As if she could sense this, she turned to face him, setting her jaw firmly as she stared at him with caution behind her eyes. Relief flooded his veins, and before he could stop himself, he reached out with one hand and clutched Rey’s arm, using it to keep himself upright. She didn’t move a muscle, though she stared at him as if she wanted nothing more than to step away from him. He bowed his head, breathing deep, calming breaths in and out.

“Thank you,” he said softly after a moment.

Rey nodded once but said nothing. Her silence had become the usual ever since Crait, and as much as it pained him, he was grateful that this time she at least acknowledged his existence.

Once upon a time, she had told him he wasn’t alone. That had meant everything to him, even if it didn’t mean the same things to her. He just wanted to feel like he did in that moment. When they had touched hands, he felt a flutter of happiness and a spark of hope that he never thought he’d feel again. He saw a flash of beauty, like something had peeled back the dark shroud that obscured his view of the galaxy. For the briefest of moments, he thought he could be happy with her. That neither of them would ever have to be alone for the rest of their days.

Ben’s eyes flashed up to where his gloved hand met her skin, and the hairs on the back of his neck prickled, a chill running up his spine. He lost himself in the feel of human contact, nearly becoming overwhelmed by the sensation after so long without it. Perhaps the only thing keeping him from completely breaking down was that layer of leather still between them.

Slowly, as if he were not even in control of his own movements, his other hand gingerly brushed against the same arm, inspecting the fresh scar there. His hands were trembling as they traced the contours of her arm, down, down, down to her hand where they stopped, cradling her fingers with the softest touch.

“Ben?” Rey finally spoke, breaking him out of his entranced state. He looked up to her, tears pooling in his eyes once more. His hand instinctively tightened around hers.

“Will you dance with me?”

His words were unexpected. There was something about being there, with her, that made him wish more than ever for the things of beauty in this galaxy. They seemed to have reached a temporary truce, considering the fact that Rey hadn’t ripped her hand away from his yet. He couldn’t help himself.

“What?” Rey asked incredulously. She looked at him as if he had grown a second head. Ben began to feel the tug of her hand against his, hesitating but wanting to let go.

“I just—” Ben stepped closer, patting her hand lightly with one of his and bowing his head again to look only at their hands rather than her face. He shook his head in disappointment with himself as it became clear that he didn’t have the words to articulate what he was trying to say.

I need you, he finished in his mind, but Rey seemed to hear it loud and clear. Her eyes softened, though a hint of hesitation remained.

“Okay.”

Ben’s gaze snapped back to hers, his mouth parted slightly in surprise that she had actually said yes. Something like nervousness or excitement fluttered in his stomach, leaving him momentarily breathless.

He nodded, speechless and blurry-eyed, and dropped her hand long enough only to remove his dark gloves, casting them carelessly on the floor. When he stepped into her space again, the corners of his trembling lips teased the smallest hint of a smile, which was reflected in his widened, somehow younger-looking eyes.

Slowly, in his disbelief that this was really happening, Ben scooped up each of her hands in his own, clutching them to his sweater-clad chest. There was no music, but the beating of their hearts seemed to be amplified in the space that stretched between them and their bond. It was the only sound they could hear, aside from the shaky breaths each was breathing in anticipation for this new closeness, this tender moment.

Rey moved one hand to Ben’s shoulder, allowing him to wrap his arm around her. His palm splayed across her back, reveling in the feeling of her textured taupe-colored wrappings on his fingertips. Electricity sparked where their hands met, and he saw it again. A vision of beauty. Togetherness. The rightness of it all.

He pulled her in close, resting his cheek against her silky brown hair and closing his eyes to soak in the peacefulness of the moment as they began to sway. Fresh tears trailed down his cheek, mingling with her hair. She hesitantly leaned her head into his chest and brought her hand up to the hair at the nape of his neck, stroking it comfortingly. It was almost as if she knew exactly what he was feeling, exactly why he had asked her to stay. Could she really see through him that easily? Or was the bond stronger than they thought? If so, what could that mean?

He knew who she was. She was a nobody, right? Then why did she feel like everything to him?

Oh, he was in so much trouble.

They danced, in the calming darkness of the night. Peace washed over Ben Solo, evening his breathing to quiet, content breaths. There were so many things he wanted to say; confessions he needed to get off his chest, apologies, explanations… but nothing could get past the lump in his throat. Instead, he contented himself with looking out the viewport behind Rey, taking in the majesty of the stars beyond. Long ago, he had lost the sense of wonder and awe he used to feel when immersed in the view of open space. The endless black expanse began to feel empty and cold. It reflected his own loneliness back at him.

How had he missed the numerous stars and planets that dotted the sky? They shone brightly, their warmth reminding him that there would always be life, hope, and a future—beyond.

Skywalker… Ben heard an unfamiliar voice, gravelly but laced with amusement. Still looking to the horizon…

The world around them had disappeared. The two swayed and twirled amidst the infinite vastness of space, and Ben felt weightless, like they were floating through the galaxy without a single worry or care. There was no Resistance, no First Order, no Jedi, and no Sith. There was only Rey, and the stars that illuminated her glistening eyes.

That same sense of awe, the hope and contentment of his boyhood innocence, filled his heart with every brush of her hand against his, every time their eyes met, the beating of her heart next to his own…

Rey pulled back a few inches, enough that she could tilt her head back to study his face. The hand he was holding in his dropped before she placed it on his other shoulder, her hands firmly but gently gripping them. If Ben were told that her touch was the one thing keeping him from shattering into a billion pieces, literallyholding him together, he would believe it without question. Her fingers tangled in the loose fabric of his thin sweater, rubbing soft circles over his skin. It was a comfort he was not used to, a balm for the crawling discomfort of starvation from human contact which he had felt for so long.

His eyes fluttered closed and he could scarcely breathe. They continued to sway as Ben moved his free hand up to Rey’s face, experimentally trailing his fingertips over her skin with a touch so light, she might not have even noticed had she not been so in tune with what he was feeling.

When he opened his eyes again, he observed her image through his lashes, unbothered by the sadness or pity she held for him in her eyes. He did not care what thoughts or emotions kept her here, he was just glad that she was.

In his exploration of the contours of her face, his hand brushed against a stray piece of her hair, drawing his intense focus away from her soft skin. He held it lightly between his thumb and forefinger in fascination and wonder, tousling it gently before following the path of her hair to the three buns at the back, which he threaded between his fingers.

Following his lead, Rey cupped a hand over his jaw, setting his nervous system ablaze. It was almost too much to handle. His head dipped forward until his forehead was practically touching hers, all the while they continued to sway. Their breaths mingled in the space between them, mere inches separating their lips from each other’s.

Before the situation could slip any further out of Ben’s control than it already had, Rey pulled back, her body stilling as she stared at him as if in study. His arms felt suddenly empty, but the sharp pain of loneliness from earlier had faded to a dull ache. He no longer felt like he was at risk of imploding, which was a relief to his tormented soul.

Eyes meeting hers, he silently conveyed his gratefulness for what she had done, finding words to be insufficient. He worked his jaw absentmindedly as his gaze flicked over her features, trying to gauge what she might be thinking in that beautiful mind of hers.

Without warning, she rushed forward and enveloped him in her arms, wrapping them around his neck and holding him tightly. The embrace was as short as it was sudden, but it was like heaven coming down to him. He had barely managed to reciprocate the action before she released him and stepped back, seemingly unsure of what to say.

Her voice came back in little more than a whisper, and he thought he saw a tear escape from the corner of her eye. “I understand,” was all she said, her jaw firmly set in that look of determination that Ben was so used to seeing.

And maybe she did.

Of all the people in the universe, Rey would know the heartache of loneliness better than anyone. All those years alone, waiting for the return of those who could never come back… Maybe she needed this as much as he did.

Rey stared intently into his eyes, and it felt like she was able to see directly into his soul. She nodded, perhaps in answer to his line of thinking. Perhaps it was just a gesture to reassure Ben that everything would be okay. Either way, he felt a part of himself melt away under the influence of her light, leaving him with a sense of peace unlike anything he’d ever felt.

With that, she closed her eyes and bowed her head, disappearing without consequence.

Ben breathed out a breath that he didn’t realize he had been holding, stumbling backwards to his couch to think. The ghost of her touch on his skin remained, and it brought him a lasting comfort.

He should have felt scared, or worried, that his mortal enemy knew his vulnerabilities and sorrows so intimately, but he wasn’t. He had shared with her a moment of beauty and of happiness, and something about it told him it would be a significant turning point in the story of the Jedi Killer and the Last Jedi.

As he drifted off to sleep that night, he could have sworn that he felt her gentle touch on his forehead, brushing through his dark wavy hair in comforting strokes. Tender words of encouragement graced his ears, and whether they were real or imagined, he took them to heart.

He dreamed.

Of the cool, still waters of a lake.

The light of the moon reflecting on its glassy surface.

The velvety blackness of the night sky,

Decorated with the pinpricks of diamonds glittering from above.

And the mountains,

Standing strong and steadfast in the distance,

A friendly shadow on the horizon.

He dreamed.

The woman in his arms,

Illuminating the world around her,

Her light shining like the sun,

Her smile a warm glow that nurtured his soul.

And he danced.

-.-.-

Comments greatly appreciated! I hope you all enjoyed! Much love, Reylos <3

#Reylo #reylo fic #reylo fanfiction #star wars #star wars tlj #post star wars tlj #ben solo #touch starved ben solo #kylo ren #ben solo x rey #ben solo cries a lot #rey #rey nobody #rey from nowhere #rey from jakku #pov ben solo #reylo dancing #my fanfic

[scriptaed]

Ink Nemesis Finale

Genre: Angst/Fluff || paparazzi!au; fake dating!au;

Pairing: Reader x Yoongi

Length: 9.1k;

Synopsis: As an aspiring writer drowning under the public’s radar, a click of the pen is all you need to accept your supervisor’s offer to co-write an article for the SS - Secrets Spilled, a regular section of your company’s weekly tabloid; but fabricated stories and invasive details aren’t all that you write when you discover Min Yoongi’s dirty little secret. 

A/N: First off, I want to thank everyone who read/reads this series. This may not be my most “popular” work, but it’s one that I will always be proud of. If it weren’t for you guys who always encouraged me to write whatever I wanted to write, I would most certainly not be here writing today. A whole two years since I started this series and there are still some of you patiently waiting for an update. I’m floored. This message and this finale are all that I can give you but I hope you know your care for me as a human and not a robot who happens to write means more to me than words can express. Whenever I feel myself straying from my real reasons for writing, I will recall this fic and all the messages of support you guys sent me... and for those who have no idea what I’m saying: the feelings the mc goes through in this fic is a reflection of my own. Words were my only way of spilling my heart when I went through a hard time last year, so this series is my form of an open book that explains why I took a break. If you still have no idea what I’m saying: enjoy the finale! c:

 Life has its own twisted ways with irony. One minute, allies would swear allegiance to your fickle heart; and in another minute, you would be trembling in horror, for your arch nemesis had infiltrated your walls under their own wicked disguise. For better or for worse, the most betraying and hard-hitting realization dawns upon you one storm too late… maybe, and just perhaps maybe, friends and foes are merely two sides of the same coin, plotting and pulling the strings behind the scenes that would prove to be your final downfall; and if there’s anything you’ve despised the most in life, it would be the eerily identical lessons both your greatest allies and enemies have incessantly and irrevocably ingrained within you.

One, time can heal even the deepest of wounds and the nastiest of scars. 

...but they don’t know the depth and length of which your gaping wounds run. Enemies don’t know the scars that transcend through time and the way it lurks at every corner and creeps into your veins, until the time when you finally notice is one epiphany too late and the trauma has already rooted itself into your daily life for perpetuity. No one but you can really gauge how long it would take for you to recover from your falls—or if you ever would, that is. Because right now, sitting here with a flesh wound in a gaping heart, you could only attest to this: pain ages like fine wine.

Two, people can recognize their mistakes and change for the better. 

…or at least that’s what optimists like to tell themselves; but the reality is, in your cold albeit truthful experience, people can only change to an extent. You were still bitter, you were still self-serving, you were still every bit of that wicked woman whom had spoiled your relationships and woken you with cold sweat in the middle of your nightmares-come-reality. Surely, the woman had been forcefully tranquilized under your hands, but her tracks remain like crimson stains on the purest of snowfalls. You can feel it every so often. From time to time, you can feel her peeping one of those bewitched, scarlet eyes of hers, threatening to awaken if it weren’t for your honed abilities to quell the scorching fire. She remains in you, an innate and inevitable part of you, but your chains around her neck keep her tethered and you from another episode. 

So how exactly, you would like to inquire from both friends and foes, have you changed? 

Evidently not much—that, you can answer, for your days of woe remain painfully prevalent even as you sit here, one year into a nightmare that you just can’t seem to awake from, mulling over how differently things would have played out between you and him, wondering what he was doing and what he had immersed himself into this time around, and pondering for days over whether he ever sat down in a chair and stared off into the distance as you do now, wondering over you? 

Because you can still see the glaring television screen reflecting off your bloodshot, strained eyes in the midst of the pitch black bedroom, even as your head rolls back onto the chair and your stare meets the grotesque white-blue lights lining the office ceiling. You can still feel your heart wince—once at the sight of him and twice at the mention of his name. His cold hands that once brushed against yours and the serenity of his dark eyes that once gazed into your soul still manage to warm you, even from this distance, even after all this time. His absence is like a gaping wound, looming over you like vengeful apparitions that taunt you throughout the day. The ache in your chest is sheer proof of the truth you’ve always denied but can’t seem to let go. 

Recently, you’ve found yourself dubious over the disguise of your next enemy. The twisting pain you had once suffered had long submerged into a pool of longing, a bittersweet melody that has you reminiscing over the past that you could never relive. He made you face your deepest fears. He was the aftermath of your own reflection, a living proof that you could survive the hellish consequences that came with the search and capture of success. He assumed the guardian he wished he could have had during his own struggles, shielding you from paths that would lead to dead ends amidst the forks in the road. His curt methods were burdensome and grueling to your heart, but in retrospect and even during that moment in time, something in you knew he meant well. He always did. 

Because even through all the struggle he had put you through, be it unwanted fame, attention, and self-reflection, you could only remember the magical days when sparks flew between you two and your heart raced itself into trouble as you swore to yourself he was the one. Because even now, you still long for his touch, for his voice, for anything that could convey to you that he was still here.

Even if he isn’t.

In the mean time, Solji has been the sole remaining connection you’ve had to the outside world. Only a week had passed after your downfall, when you were so sure no one would return and no one cared enough for your wellbeing, when your self-proclaimed friends proved to be merely colleagues by obligation and your short-lived rocky friendship with Xiao Lin became one beyond salvation, when your heart crushed and your soul shattered in the silence of the one whomst should have been the one brewing the loudest storms, the one you had once declared your lover, Solji was the one to demolish the locks to your gates, even as you so incessantly refused to comply. 

Weeks into the aftermath, Solji brought you food and water, but most crucially, a shoulder to cry on. You had initially denied her aiding hand out of utter shame. Who were you to ask for help from the very person whose trust you had broken? Who were you, after pointing an accusing finger at for betraying your trust, to accept her help? Solji was the last person you should have questioned. Moreover, she never should have been in the list in the first place and her unconditional loyalty, even as you lifelessly watched her clean your room as you lay in your stench of a bed, was clear proof to that attestment—and that glaring truth only humiliates you further. 

It took weeks, nearly two months, for you to willingly begin recuperation. The process was slow and damn difficult. Your motivation was lacking, because at that point you figured what was the point when everyone hated you including yourself? But the one person who held the last glimmer of hope in a time when you could no longer see the end of the tunnel was Solji. 

Day by day, you found one more reason to get up in the morning. Week by week, you found yourself longing for self-indulgence, whether it be channeled through food or hobbies. It took well over two months for the time to arrive when you finally find yourself seated at your desk, staring at your favorite fountain pen and piles of paper that you recognize the reflection in the mirror. 

A writer—your identity, your passion, your reason for being. 

But even if you longed for the day when you could write to your heart’s desire, when you relish in the strikes and crosses and strokes of the pen scraping with certainty and conviction against the paper, and when you could heave a sigh of content at the universe you created in the palms of your head after hours upon hours of concentration whilst in an unbreakable zone, you could no longer relive those days without the clouds that loomed over your conscience. 

Guilt—writing was your ally turned foe, what had once been your media for self expression had manifested into a ruthless weapon for retaliation against those who wronged you. 

Fear—writing brought you the highest joys, but the thought of having to relive the experience of its loss once again freezes your soul. 

Shame—writing was your knife, words were your blades, and before you knew it, you were the villain of your greatest tales, sneering in satisfaction at your beloved’s blood that stains your hands and salivating wickedly at the gaping hole left in his heart as he gazes at you in utter betrayal under the hands of his own love. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to write anymore. 

You just couldn’t write anymore.

Solji had suggested fleeing the barred prison that was your apartment, where every corner laid a fragment of a cherished memory that only furthered your pain, and taking refuge elsewhere. As expected in hindsight and surprisingly in your previously hazed mindset, Solji’s advice was just one more step toward recovery. Nine months away from home were enough for your getaway where you would no longer clutch your chest at every reminder and thought of the incident. Nine months away were enough for you to finally reflect on your mistakes head on. Nine months were enough for you to lock yourself in your apartment and dive head-first into your long-lived passion for the remainder of the year.

...but even after all the trials and tribulations, nine months weren’t enough to forget him.

Drowned by your recollection of the whirlwind that was last year, your mind finally shrieks for help as you rise to the water’s surface only to find yourself twirling around and around in a dizzying cycle. The cold white lights of the office was blinding, freezing even. The soul of every living being in the room must have been drained to power these accursed lights, you surmise so surely, willing to bet your life on it… not that it’s exactly a bad thing. 

For one, at least you could revel in the fact that you were no longer subject to the torture that your fake colleagues are at the moment. And for another, said colleagues had left you unscathed as you had ventured into the depths of the building. Maybe they had forgotten you. Maybe they never really cared for you unless they could instigate some reaction from you that they once so cruelly found amusement in. Or maybe you just didn’t give enough of a damn anymore to care what they thought—that… that brings a smile to your face. 

Just one more fucking sign of liberation. 

Heels come tapping against the floor and you whip upright to face your beloved friend. You hadn’t seen Solji in over a month since you had last locked yourself in your room in the name of literature. Blood rushes from your head under the hands of gravity and a sense of queasy twirls descend into your stomach. 

“Oh, Y/N, you’re here,” Solji coos, smiling as she spins you around on her chair, “how are you doing? And yes, I already know your answer after all these years of witnessing your bad writing habits, but I’m still going to ask out of courtesy. Are you eating well? Sleeping enough?”

“Well, as you know, I’m somewhat sleep deprived, somewhat self-gratified, not nearly satisfied, but…  at the very least I’m alive, even if my eyes burn and my lips chap,” you pause after the two of you share a short-lived laugh, eyes sinking to the floor before you muster the courage to point a thumb over your shoulder and at the computer screen behind you, “so, um, what’s this about?”

An uncomfortable silence stills the air when Solji arches a brow only to let in an inaudible gasp as she peers at the computer screen behind you.  

“Oh, Y/N, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to find out like this. I called you over to tell you properly, but I guess you beat me to the chase,” Solji prims lopsidedly. 

Her hesitation to proceed manifests in the hitch of her intaking breaths, probably mulling over her next words as she observes every emotion that flickers across your face—a tinge of betrayal, mostly disappointment, perhaps even a bit belligerent, but most of all, hopeful. A puff of air leaves her when she notices the light at the end of your tunnel vision eyes, eyes widening as she crosses her chest. That being said, it still amuses you how often she’d tip-toe around the incident last year, for fear of catalyzing another mental breakdown. 

“You see, after seeing how much... negativity the SS brought you last year… and after realizing how far this site has strayed from my initial intentions of supporting an upcoming boy group and how it’s turned into this monster of a toxic tabloid, just hunting down these poor boys like they’re animals at a zoo, I made the final decision to close it down.”

After you had treated Yoongi like an animal for your own gain—the thought still stings you with guilt. Solji had advised you that time would heal the pain just a month in the aftermath of the storm, but now that you’re finally here, one year later, you find yourself caged in the eye of the storm. 

“Oh, no. It’s toxic, no doubt about that,” you nod absentmindedly just as you’ve always done, disregarding the split second of a wince. Numbness has been the only effective coping mechanism since he left. “It was a good decision.”

This is your fault. Solji’s first piece of work, first treasures she had the gratification of grooming and growing into prized jewels envied by all, like the children that were your every written work, now put to eternal slumber because of your mishandled outbreak. 

“This decision was inevitable, Y/N,” she speaks softly but firmly, reminding you like she has dozens of times in the past year, “the SS is innately toxic and I’m going to put an end to it. It’s not your fault. Remember that, Y/N.”

Blinking blankly at her, you take a deep breath and sigh heavily—but the weights on your shoulder remain ever the more prevalent. “It’s hard to tell myself that when the person I need to hear it from the most despises my guts, but yeah, I’ll try.”

“Don’t say that…” Solji murmurs, swiftly striding forward to take your hands into her own soft ones. Squatting down, she meets you at eye-level. “Has—” she hesitates in the midst of her tracks “—he, not contacted you at all?” 

She avoids his name at all costs but that only makes you more aware of the pain that gnaws at your chest.

“Who? Oh, Yoongi? No, he’s probably too busy doing what celebrities do, you know? TV appearances, award ceremonies, and all that... ” you feign nonchalance that elicits a look of concern from your motherly friend. Shaking your head, you shrug; but just as quickly as your shoulders rise, your shoulders descend, seemingly monumentally heavier, as dejection dawns upon every inch of you. A familiar feeling of despair returns and all purpose to compose yourself leaks from the fading smile stitched to your lips… because what’s the point of pretending anymore? Swallowing the smidge of pride you had left, you let your eyes fall to the floor just as your spirit has. Your words come out meekly—you’re not even sure if you were speaking, for all you could sense is the slight slur of your tongue and tips of your grazing lips. “No… he hasn’t, no.” 

“He hasn’t called you since he left? Or even texted you?” 

Her voice crescendos under the hands of her wrath; but to you, her anger is an afterthought, a shadow to her deduction, because hearing her put your worst realizations into words, as if forcing you to acknowledge the harsh reality, hurts you the most. You don’t want to give up. It’s foolish. You don’t even deserve this privilege. But still. You don’t want to let go. 

After all, despite all the harassment and bombardment from feverish fans and news outlets, isn’t that the reason why you begrudgingly kept your phone number? Foolishly and helplessly waiting for his and his name to light up your screen someday? 

Clutching your phone tightly in your grips until it turns a numbish white, it takes all the strength in you to shake your head, “no, I haven’t heard anything from him since.”

You knew this would happen. What else did you deserve after betraying him. He already had trouble expressing himself outside the music realm; and yet, after he had so faithfully entrusted you with his secrets and vulnerability, you reminded him of all the reasons why he had hid from the world in the first place. This is what you deserve: radio silence.

But you just don’t think you can voice it out to Solji. 

Not without cracking your voice and tumbling into an unstable mess, that is. 

Observing your slow descent, Solji hastily squeezes your hand with a voice that rings of the only cheer you’ve heard in months. “Hey, what about that message we worked on putting together?”

“I don’t know,” you mutter. “I’m too scared to check.”

“...Y/N, I’m sure he’ll come around,” she finally manages to say after a long pause. 

The more she says that, the harder it becomes to believe. At this point, you find no resolve to refute her utterly gullible implications. Pressing your lips into a thin line and routinely nodding your head, you look off into the distance beside you, waiting uncomfortably for her to untether you from her vigilance. As a seasoned professional around you, your lack of eye contact speaks volumes to her and the looming clouds seemingly spread its wings onto your friend. How cruel is it that happiness is limited, yet guilt seems to be boundless? You know you’re being a drag to your friend, so why does she even bother? It only makes you guiltier. 

Her smile, on the other hand, has other plans, as it shoos the gray shadows away and out of her cubicle just as her hand on your shoulder brings light to your vision—and suddenly, as you peer up to find those vibrant, orange locks and cheek-raised smile of hers, it’s almost as if someone had swapped your icy cold, blue filters for a warmer, more welcoming gold. It’s relieving, really, to have someone there for you unconditionally. 

“And if he doesn’t, then I guess it’s his loss and my gain. I get to have you all to myself!” she chimes likened to a kid with her favorite toy, and before you know it, she has you by the hands and pulls you to your feet as wind is knocked from your lungs. “C’mon, let’s go get something from your favorite coffee shop down the street, yeah?”

Your mind runs blank for a second but your lips return her smile, as if by second nature. 

“...yeah,” you hum as she guides you through the labyrinth of cubicles and a gust of wind refreshes your hazy state. 

The familiar irking honks and running engines blast you back into reality, a reality in which you had once lived on the daily just a year ago. Writing was your hobby, your everything, and yet, it crippled you, pained you, betrayed you. Sometimes the things you hold closest are the most dangerous of all and you learned that the hard way; but as Solji squeezes your hand and tosses her head back to check that you were in fact still present and somewhat well, her hair twirling in the wind and her eyes forming crescents, your heart welcomes you home once again. If holding her close would endanger you to further heartbreak down the road, you know she’s worth every ache. 

“Hey, Solji?”

“Hm?” she twirls around once you two reach the crosswalk and await for the green light. After noticing the glimmer in your softened eyes that watch her with utter admiration, she shudders with a scoff. “What now? You want me to pay for you drink, too?”

“No,” you pout, hooking your arms to her own crossed ones and swaying her side to side. “I just wanted to thank you.” 

“What is this about?” you can feel her cringing through her titters. “Why are you suddenly acting like this? I thought you were still in the dumps!” 

“I am! But not as much now that you’re with me,” you coo, clearly amused enough by her reaction that you almost convince yourself to rub a cheek against her face; but instead, you choose to cradle your head into the crook of her neck. 

“You silly girl,” she scolds, slapping the top of your head before settling into a soothing pat. ��I’ll always be there for you.”

“Really?” you lift your head like a pleasantly surprised child and she frowns amusedly at the smile on your face. “You promise?”

“Promise? I need to promise you?” she gapes, baffled enough to slap you once again on the head. “Who else stayed by your side even after you abandoned them? Huh? I don’t see anyone! Tell me where—”

“—oh, there is one!” you exclaim and Solji whips her neck only to find you pointing at her right between her eyes. “She’s right here!” 

Your usual antics elicits a groan and a roll of the eyes from her. The lights turn green and you nearly trip over your feet trying to catch up to her sudden acceleration as she attempts to flee your side, ironically contrary to her latest proclamations. “Well,” she scolds lightly akin to a lecturing friend who worries over you like a mother, striding confidently and pridefully through the streets with your arms hooked around hers, “as long as you know who’s really there for you and who’s not.”

“I know, I know,” your remarks exude of sheer blissful gratitude as you lay your head against her shoulders and smile giddily to yourself. “Looove you, mom.”

“Ugh,” she scrunches her shoulders, “please don’t do that ever again.”

Hands buried in your pocket and bare face exposed to the cold winds of winter, the thumps of your fuzzied heart is enough for you to acknowledge that you are alive. 

“Do what?” you quip. “Love you?”

Arm in arm with the widest smile that stretches from ear to ear, you swear your heart has at long last awakened once again; for at this very moment, you can finally feel. 

“Stop!” 

Perhaps you aren’t completely well. 

But you are alive and you know you still will be far down the road.

And for now? 

That’s more than enough.

-

The stirring of the alcohol settles in the back of your throat, your mind still slightly hazed as your friend plops you onto the couch and you could do nothing but flash a goofy grin at her frown.

“Soljiii, let’s get another drink,” you drawl. “You promised we would go bar hopping!” 

“Yes, you somehow convinced stupid me into taking you to a bar instead of a cafe, we bought you one drink, and now we hopped back to your apartment! See? Bar hopping,” she perks both hands up like a bunny, laughing at the scowl on your face. “You’re finally starting to feel better. I don’t want you to drink too much too soon. Ease your way back into it, alright?”

“I-I’m not even,” you pause because what exactly were you trying to say again—oh, right, “I’m not even that tipsy.”

Your friend narrows her eyes at you as she gathers her purse and coat. “...uhuh, well I prepped a bottle of water for you in the kitchen just in case. I’m almost late for my meeting, so I gotta go now. Call me if you need anything!” she shuffles to your door, throwing one last glance over her shoulder before departing. “And don’t go out on your own until you feel better, okay?” 

“Psh—” the door slams “—what am I? A baby?”  

Perhaps it’s the alcohol that runs through your veins or perhaps it’s the adrenaline after the first girl’s night out in a year, but nothing in you agrees to being locked within the confines of your cramped apartment. You need to distract yourself from wallowing in the dark, especially in your apartment, otherwise you’d face an all-too-predictable spiral into an abyss of self-pity. Jumping to your feet and stumbling toward the door, you hum a familiar tune that soothes the heart which aches in the wake of a high stuck in the deafening silence. You haven’t been able to pinpoint the origins of the tune that had pulled you through the sleepless nights and nightmarish days, but as you draw the door closed until just a crack between your doorframe and its lock remains, just enough for you to peak through at the disarranged sheets of your bed, and just long enough for you to gaze longingly at the two figures that lay in your bed eye-to-eye and arm-in-arm in a comfortable silence, an answer arrives and your heart is left with an unsettling stir.

The melancholic stain remains deeply rooted in tonight’s atmosphere and its intention to stay cements throughout the torturously lengthy night. You don’t realize it until you enter your elevator and press for the first floor that you notice the wall you had braced your heart with at every corner of your life. At some point in the last year, you had subconsciously defended yourself from the doleful memories that would reign your next few weeping nights. 

Because as you stand here in the elevator, eyes stuck to the closed gray doors and thoughts feigned to be preoccupied elsewhere, it’s impossible not to notice the couple that had once stood by you. With your hands tangled in his hair and his arms wrapped over your waist, pushing you against the wall before pressing for the doors to close and returning his hands to slide to the small of your back, you can still feel his thumbs rubbing circles into your hips. The electricity that sparked like fire between his lips and yours, the hastiness of his every touch that begged for the privacy of your room, and the worrying ache over spotting the daughter of a CEO that was drowned out by the waves of yearning and buried into the back of your mind like an extended dynamite persists to haunt you to this day. 

Because as you make your way out of the apartment and down the streets of the neighborhood, the gray hues of a sky shrouded by gloomy clouds on a winter evening seeps into the backdrop, fading into nonexistence just as quickly as speckles of sapphire blue bedazzled by gleaming stars paint night as day. There, just a block down from your apartment, the steps of your foot patter against the sidewalk, slowly and reluctantly, as if to prolong a moment beyond time’s capabilities. Your surroundings whirl around you in a blur and before you could desperately grasp for a break, you’re brought back into a fragment in time when he had taken initiative and held your hands in his for the first time, intertwining your fingers and guiding you home. Silently under the starry night, he declared his love for you. Electrified by the spur of the magical moment, you had confessed your greatest epiphany of falling in love. 

Because as you pass by your neighborhood and night returns to day, you can’t help but stare through the windows of a closed restaurant where Yoongi had once taken you on that one revisited night. You can still remember how he had insisted on taking you out, despite its risks and the potential dent in his career that you had ultimately caused in the end. You can recall staring at his hands on the table and hesitating to touch them but remaining curious nonetheless. There, next to that specific table in the corner of the store, he had lowered his walls and entrusted you with his heart. Music was his passion just as ink was your companion, but on that one fateful night, he was willing to share his greatest friend likened to handing the ultimate weapon to who would turn out to be his greatest foe—you. 

It seems as though the omnipotent universe finds amusement in your pain, for every corner down the street, you find it screaming at you to remember… to reminisce… to wallow in the pain that incessantly evolves and somehow paves its way into existence once again, just as you had nearly ridden yourself of the parasite. 

“Hey, isn’t that Y/N?”

You’re snapped back into reality when you hear someone whispering about. 

“Y/N, who?”

“You know,” a pair of girls point at you with masks over their lips, joining a frenzied crowd down the street, “the girl who dated Yoongi right before news broke out over him and that CEO’s daughter!”

The girl’s next reply is like a punch to the gut, “they broke up though, right?”

“Oh,” her friend scoffs, hooking an arm over the other and pulling her toward the havoc that was the crowd, “definitely.”

Right, you recall to yourself as you pull the neckline of your sweater over your nose, this was why you never walked outside anymore. The spotlight Yoongi’s fame had put on you never seemed to fade after all these months. You aren’t exactly surprised, though; because as a black car pulls up the sidewalk and the crowd descends into chaos, time slows, air stills, and you’re warped back in another episode of deja vu. Watching people scream by the grand entry of the boys, standing afar off to the side of the mayhem with a garment to conceal your identity, it’s almost as if you’re just another character in a tape put on replay. 

Not all fans are what they claim to be. 

They don’t care for your well-being. They only care if your actions served them under the right conditions set by their own selfish demands.

One day, you could be their whole world. 

Another day, you could be no one. 

His fans are no exception, a fact all too evident as you stare off into the distance where people collided and thrashed violently against one another all in hopes of screaming incomprehensible strings of words at the glamorous idols that suffered from the chaos that ensues. Cameras flashing, questions flying, and microphones shoved into their personal space, the scene is all too familiar to the night when you first met Yoongi and the news of your dating scandal shook the entire universe. 

“Whoa!” a girl yelps and you whip your head up only to find yourself collapsing onto the floor. Wind knocks out of your lungs and you heave for air, wincing at the stinging pain that vibrates from your bottom up. The girl, standing above you, spits, “hey, can you stand here in the middle of everything? You’re blocking our way.”

“Are you kidding me? You’re—”

“—oh, it’s you,” the girl gasps and a group of surrounding girls turn to stare at you in bewilderment. “Why are you here? Didn’t Yoongi dump your ass years ago? Or are you here to beg for him back?” 

“Wha—

—it’s okay, take a deep breath, you tell yourself even as you can feel yourself gradually descending into relapse. The darkness that settles into your grim composure and the bitterness that looms over you escapes your grasp as the enemy in you broke free. You have to control yourself. You can’t cause a commotion after all the trouble you’ve brought to Yoongi. The media had seemed to have finally forgotten his scandal between you and him, despite the numerous times his agency refuted the claims. How much unwanted attention would your presence here divert from what truly matters: his music? 

You’re ashamed of your actions. You’re ashamed of your feelings. Really, you’re ashamed of you.

Head hanging low and teeth gritting tight, you keep your glare to the ground and out of sight. The girls only snicker at you as others looked back with pity written over their faces before turning their backs on you once again and actively choosing to ignore the situation. One breath in, one breath out. It’s almost as if you have to remind yourself the simplest things, otherwise you’d freeze in motion and cause unnecessary attention.

But is it too late?

A series of gasps ripple throughout the crowd just as you dust the rubble off your hands. A hushed silence befalls your surroundings, as if by the crafts of magic. A familiar pace of footsteps echo in your riveting heart. 

One step. Thump. Don’t walk toward me. 

Hesitantly lifting your inspecting eyes form the red scratches against your palm, your heart stills by the boy who makes his way toward you. 

Another step. Thump. Don’t save me. 

Akin to flowers that bloom along a wizard’s path, the crowd parts amidst the silence as he walks with confident, swift strides, head down, and eyes locked on you. The power of his gaze is enough to fade the stinging pain and your liberated heart feels as light as the clouds of which your mind remains hazed by. No one mattered at this point, for tunnel vision had overtaken the both of you and everyone except you and him was but a blur. 

One final step. Thump. I don’t deserve to be saved. 

And it’s at this moment that an epiphany dawns upon you. You still long for his enigmatic mien, a stark contrast to his delicate touch and his gentle words that he had so curtly and unabashedly spoken with truth. He had always known what was best for you, for he, too, had undergone the lowest of the lows and the highest of the highs. You always knew that, even if you denied his help and went through the effort to voice your refusal in an attempt to aggravate the man. And despite all your tantrums and flails and screams, he remains here, patient and forgiving and understanding, waiting for the day you realize he was indeed nothing but a loyal friend betrothed to your heart. 

Because here you are, wounded and tossed aside. Having hurt and been hurt, this was nothing but fair play. You deserve this… but justice isn’t a matter of concern to him. You were his utmost concern. You hurt him, more so than anyone else in this crowd, but the look in those ocean-like eyes that painted more words than those who would simply undermine it as apathetic told you his love is unconditional. 

You were ashamed of yourself. 

He should have been ashamed of you. 

Yet here he is, holding his hand out for you and you only; and before you know it, you’re grasping onto the light at the end of the tunnel. 

“Y/N, are you—”

“—sorry,” you blurt, yanking your hand back and hastily turning around. Shuffling forward, the ruckus that ensues behind you drowns underwater. You’re not even sure if Yoongi hears you mumble, “I have to go.”

“Y/N! Wait, Y/N!” you hear Yoongi call out several times but your feet remain persistent on its trek elsewhere, that is, until your heart melts at the familiar touch of a cold hand that clutches your wrist. Freezing in your tracks, you gulp. He pants in between his words, “Y/N, where are you going?” 

“What are you doing?” you ask with your back on him. 

“Following my heart,” he answers plainly. “What else have I ever done—”

“—I mean,” you cut, biting your bottom lip, “I mean, why are you here? Why did you do that in front of all your fans? What’re they going to say?” 

“They can say whatever they want.”

Shutting your eyes, you take a shaky breath in and retract your hands from his, though not too roughly as to retain your frail heartstrings. “I don’t know why you’re acting like this.” 

“You know damn well why,” he deadpans. “Y/N, please, at least look at me.” 

You can hear the hissing crowd encroaching from afar. 

“I don’t want to—”

“—I’ve missed you damn it.”

You wish he wouldn’t say that, it only makes it harder on you.

“Well,” you muster the courage to utter, even if your heart shatters as you do so, “I don’t.” 

Every step forward plucks at your strings. Every distance furthered between you and him subtracted from the ticking bomb within you. It’s only a matter of time until you could no longer uphold your lie. So you make a run for it. 

Forward, you chant to yourself, keep running until he’s forced to give up and return to the world where he truly belongs… and that’s exactly what you do. You run and you run and eventually you find yourself falling into yet another inevitable trap of the universe. Standing in front of the doors to a concert hall, a place you used to call home before the memories of the night shared between you and him haunted its every corner, you scan around for any passersby. 

You should return home. It’s your safest bet. Plus, did the janitor really not change the lock after all these years? 

Click.

The key slides perfectly into the lock; and even through all the protests your defense mechanism puts on, it’s only inevitable that your heart overtakes your body and you’re already slipping through the slit and leaving the world shut outside behind you. 

Alas, the rows upon rows of burgundy velvet chairs, balconies upon balconies that line the walls, and the dim lighting across the room that plays a stark contrast to the golden lights focused on the stage, everything screams home to you. Even if you can still see him sitting down beside you on the front row, turning to smile that damn half-smile of his, your heart is content over a dream nearly turned reality just minutes prior. The boy of the past beckons for you and you follow him up the stage with a smile on your face. His ghost leads you before the piano, seating yourself onto a cushioned black bench and a set of white keys streaked with black. 

Here, on the stage, the lights are blinding. The audience is blacked out and you can no longer see too far off into the distance. From here, you figure you must appear dazzling—perfect, even; but you know you’re flawed, maybe the golden glow that reflects against the polished wooden floor and onto you makes it hard to believe, but you know you’re human. Up here, the grand piano is the only thing that keeps you focused on the task at hand. 

Is this the sight Yoongi faces every day?

Is this the mundane sight he faced on that night? Or did he see you watching him with those sparkles in your eyes that reflected the star on stage? Did he smile that night, performing whilst observing his sole audience member with utter adoration and a heart on his sleeves? 

The sparks of that night makes its grand entrance, even as an unsettling realization dawns upon you—because the thing is, you don’t remember, you can’t remember if you were busy taking advantage of his vulnerability.

Three notes—you play the familiar notes that had lulled you to sleep throughout the trying year. The tune brings a bittersweet smile to your lips that tugs at your chest. The truth is, you miss him. You didn’t want to turn him away but you couldn’t be selfish any longer. Even so, you miss him. You want to hold him right here, right now. 

“I see you still remember that little performance I put on for you.”

Whipping around, your eyes widen when you find him standing before you. Decked out in a classic black and white suit, with a loosened tie, tousled hair, and hands buried in his pockets, as if he wasn’t sprinting just a minute before, he approaches you slowly. 

“I don’t,” you mumble a lie, turning your back on him and lowering your eyes to the keys in shame, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Yoongi chuckles and you can feel his vibrations against your back as he leans forward to hold your hands in a delicate grasp. “I see you’re also still not very honest with yourself,” he muses when you relax under his touch. His hands guide you to the keys—and you don’t know why, but you let him. 

With his fingertips over yours and the top of your hands grazing against his rough palms, the complete song is like an entire symphony compared to the three notes you played earlier. Everything is almost a carbon copy of that magical night, except here he is, holding you in his arms, and here you are, head against his chest as you count the rhythm of his quickening heart. The tune, too, has evolved from the melancholic melody from before.

“...is this the same song?” you can barely utter.

“Oh, so you do remember,” he remarks and you can practically hear him smirk. “The song I played for you was supposed to be the hook for one of my tracks.”

“It sounds different though. It sounds… happier.”

“Does it?” he chortles, still gliding your hands across the piano. “I revised it after that night. I wanted it to be an accurate reflection of me. Simply put, it was too sad, too lonesome. This is more fitting.” 

And now…? How is this an accurate reflection of him? If anything, your betrayal should have been the most lonesome act of all… unless he found someone new. 

The thought has something gnawing in you as your hands fall from the keys and back into your lap. The music stops and silence follows. The deafening confessions exchanged between his heart and yours are all you can hear echoing in the vast room. 

“...why are you still treating me so well?” you finally mutter. His silence only spurs you further into an unexplained fury as you raise your voice. “Don’t you hate me...? Don’t you hate me for lying to you, for taking advantage of you, for breaking your trust when you had so meticulously told me not to?!”

Even in a time like this, Yoongi remains composed as he always does, silently putting his thoughts into words that would eventually quell your fire. 

“I didn’t hate you. I was mad and it hurt like hell for months on end, but I don’t hate you,” he states firmly. “You know I’ve never been one with words, but hell, Y/N, I’ve missed you.”

“Why did your company tell everyone we were through without giving me a single warning, then?” you shake your head in a fruitless attempt to still your racing heart. “Why didn’t you text me back? Why didn’t you call?”

“I did text,” he confesses and you freeze. “I didn’t text you, but I told Solji to take care of you. That’s the most I could do while retaining our break. It was for the better... but if you were waiting for my call, then why didn’t you call?” 

“Well,” you pause, taken aback, “you said you wanted a break. I knew I hurt you too much. I couldn’t just be selfish again and force you to be reminded of me after you had requested me not to.” 

“...is that why you never told anyone Ink Nemesis was really just an aspiring writer in disguise?” 

Silence.

How does he know that? 

No one would have arrived at that conclusion. It just doesn’t make sense.

How does he always read right through you?

“No,” you shake your head profusely. “That doesn’t even make sense. I’m a selfish person, you know that. I didn’t tell anyone so that I wouldn’t tarnish my reputation. I could still go out in public if no one knew I was the one who released those photos. I could still establish my career as a writer if no one knew I was Ink Nemesis—”

“—because you were selfless and because you changed after recognizing how much you hurt me, you decided your confession would only tarnish my reputation,” he surmises a little too accurately, “even if that meant you would have to be plagued with guilt that you’re still trying to carry to your grave.” 

Bulls-eye.

“It… it doesn’t matter anymore,” you bite your bottom lip, hoping anything would stop you from speaking the truth. “Everything happened so long ago. It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“Good. I don’t want it to hurt anymore,” he places both hands on you and you comply as he turns you around to face him. Bangs hanging over his eyes as he leans downwards, your heart jumps at the soft edges of his that you had so yearned to see in flesh again. He speaks lowly but surely, “but isn’t there anything still left from back then?”

You still love him.

Meekly answering, you utter, “...no.” 

“Really? I’m the only one reliving this hellish nightmare on replay, reminiscing over our undeniable chemistry because—and I swear on my life—I would never be able to find someone who understood me like you?” he lays his heart out on the table. “Am I really the only one who feels these sparks?”

Peering up at him to meet his gaze, you can make out the sincerity of his face where the shadows of the blinding lights above falls gracefully. The surrealism of it all takes you out of the race. Even if you were to lie, he would see right through you. 

“...no,” you gulp, lowering your head to conceal the waterworks that make its way to your eyes, “no, you’re not.” 

“I never trusted anyone more than you, Y/N. You know I gave you my entire heart, right?” he speaks sternly. “So is there anything else you want to say to me?” 

“I’m... sorry, Yoongi. I never wanted to hurt you—” the words you’ve been wanting to say come to you naturally, as if rehearsed thousands of times “—I know it doesn’t matter now, but I won’t ever hurt you again. Ever.”

“Why?” he utters, fingers on your chin and tilting your head back until your gaze meets his. Yoongi’s eyes soften for a second at the sight of the warm tears streaming down your cheeks, lifting another hand to gently wipe the drops away. His touch is electricity against your bare skin. 

“Because I love you.”

Yoongi smiles that lopsided smile of his, fruitlessly stifling the chortles that escape before uttering one last time “then it does matter, love” and locking his lips with yours. 

That, in itself, is enough to tell you he’s forgiven you.

And now, you can finally forgive yourself.

-

“First of all,” you clear your throat hesitantly, leaning forward into the microphone that squeaks, “I would like to thank you all for coming to this press conference. Although Yoongi and I have already settled things privately, I would like to publicly apologize for my malicious actions against Min Yoongi of BTS. Two years ago I was in an unstable position and I was willing to accept any job just to make a living and persist to chase my goals as an aspiring writer. I know me coming out as Ink Nemesis is not enough of a rectification for my actions, and I understand why certain networks have refused to attend tonight’s press conference, so I want to take this time to thank those who have. I promise I will do my best to answer any question with utmost truth.” 

Dozens of cameras flash in the room filled with reporters and previous fans of the works on your blog. Surprisingly, you can’t even count the number of heads in the cramped room, even if certain fans, both his and yours, had boycotted the press for your first upcoming novel. It takes everything in you not to squint at the blinding lights, because if there’s anything your relationship with Min Yoongi has taught you in the past year, it would be that the media tears you apart over the most trifling matters.

“So, um…” you mumble, shifting in your seat, “we can begin the Q&A.” 

No one speaks but the flashes and clicks persist throughout the silence. Your eyes flicker across the crowd only to find Yoongi’s intent gaze under the rim of his bucket hat with ease. His eyes widen slightly at your call for help before he blinks blankly, looks around, and kicks the chair of the closest reporter to him. 

“Oh!” the bespectacled man raises his hand, jumping at the sudden vibration. 

You lean into the microphone, “yes?”

“Seeing as you have mentioned your humble beginnings as a blog writer, could you explain why you took pleasure in writing via a blog and not through an agency?” 

“Ah, that’s a good question,” you purse your lips. “Actually, I think there are many perks to writing on a blog that many don’t consider, both readers and writers alike. Through a blog, readers can comment on any part of a chapter. Specific feedback, especially the ones that quote certain excerpts of my work, can be really helpful in my progression as a writer. Not to mention, their reception helps motivate me as I write later chapters in the series. I think it’s pretty cool that readers can send messages to their favorite writers and writers can have a personal connection with the very people who support their livelihood.” 

Another man raises his hand, “and what about the cons to running an online blog?”

“Hm, where do I start?” you laugh along with the crowd. “First off, I have to figure out how to even run a blog. I have to design my website, I have to edit my own work, I have to create a cover that looks somewhat presentable, and most of all, I don’t even get paid! The algorithm always changes, so the attention your works receive might not be an accurate representation of its quality.”

“Can you elaborate on how to assess the quality of your work?”

“Well, that’s a difficult one to answer. Sometimes numbers such as likes, reblogs, and comments are a good indication of how many people have read your work, but not everyone leaves any notes. Sometimes people are busy on the days you post and sometimes people just don’t see or aren’t interested in your cover or synopsis.” 

“How does it feel when your work is not received well in terms of numbers and what do you do to proceed? Does the reception change the direction of your work?”

“Honestly, it’s pretty dejecting when you spend hours on something and no one responds. That’s how it is in life, though,” you shrug. “In fact, there was a time on my blog when one of my works received all the attention, whereas another one of my works went completely under the radar. It was pretty despairing to see the stark contrast.”

“And why is that?”

“Why?” you pause. “Well, I have to say I’m a very competitive person. I’ve always wanted to be the best at what I do and I hated that my own work was stifling my growth. I wanted to grow as a writer, and somewhere along the way, numbers became my definition of success and quality. When I noticed that the numbers were falling on something that I was so proud of, I was disappointed. Relying on numbers is a realistic but grave mistake. Nowadays, I could care less about the numbers. Of course, a part of me still cares and I still would love a reasonable amount of notes—” you laugh “—but getting over the misconception that numbers are equivalent to quality helped me in my return to fiction. Honestly, people who rely on numbers are missing out on a lot of amazing works. Trust me.”

“What would you tell your past self right before you shut down your blog?” 

“I guess,” you have to pause and think, “I guess I would tell her to go ahead and do it. I would tell her she had so much to live, so much that she was missing out on life because she gave so much of her time and heart on her blog. I would tell her that when the time comes, inevitably, she would write again because she wants to and not because of anything else.” 

“Why did you really take down your works?” 

“Ah—” how should you go about this topic that even you want to avoid “—it has to do with my reasoning before. I’m a competitive person and I was disappointed in myself. Certain readers only responded when I updated one of my works, some people even unfollowed me whenever I posted something else, but they were never there when I voiced my struggles or needed help from public disputes. I know it sounds silly and I really shouldn’t hold it against them, but it felt like no one cared about me until I served them. My creativity was stifled. Everything added up and I just didn’t want to have anything to do with my blog. Honestly, I was putting too much pressure on myself. I was conceited and it was dumb of me to have such a toxic perspective. Other writers wrote beautiful works, regardless of whether they had higher and lower number of notes, but I couldn’t help comparing myself to them. It’s embarrassing to say this out loud now, really, but that’s the truth. I think it’s a truth that echoes with many online writers.” 

The crowd nods their heads and people start scribbling onto their notepad. Several hands raised in the crowd but you can barely see anyone amidst the flashes, so you toss a finger up somewhere in the air. 

“How are you and Yoongi doing right now and how did he respond when you posted the picture of him on his affair?” 

An audible gasp echoes in the room as you frown, brows furrowed and mouth hung agape at the unrelated question. The reporters stiffen, because surely, it’s a question they’ve all thought of asking but had the decency to refrain from. Trying your best to retain Yoongi’s hidden spot amongst the crowd, you keep your eyes on the reporter. 

“I’m sorry but that’s something only him and I should be concerned over. Him and I are doing just fine, thank you,” you smile when you spot Yoongi giving you a nod with an affirmative smile that says that’s my girl. 

A loud series of coughs saves the tense silence that follows. Everyone’s eyes dart to the very front right row, and when a light focuses on the reporter and their identity is revealed amidst the blackened platform below your stage, you can’t help but smile fondly at her. 

After years of silence, it seems the grudge has finally been settled by her attendance, and thereby support, of your first press conference. 

“Moving onto more important and relevant topics,” Xiao Lin settles the notepad into her lap, devoting all of her attention to you with a grin, “will you ever return to your writing blog? In other words, will you post your old works again?”

“Well, I have returned to my writing blog every once in a while,” you hum. “I’m no longer the same person as I was before, but I’m also not ashamed of who I was and the works that I wrote in the past. When I return, I will return on my own accord and my own terms. I’ll leave you with that.” 

“And…” she scribbles something onto her notepad before looking up, “what will be the name of your upcoming novel?”

A stagnant silence floods the room that waits with bated breath as you lean into the desk and prolong the suspension. Smiling to Yoongi, head lifted and chin high, you speak proudly into the microphone. Alas, when the answer leaves your lips, a hushed gasp intermixed with a collective plaudit arises, for your proclamation is merely the first signal for the end of a beginning.

“Ink Nemesis.” 

-

are you ready for it?

#bts x reader #bts x you #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts angst #bts fluff #yoongi angst #yoongi fluff #suga angst #suga fluff #suga x reader #suga x fluff #yoongi x reader #yoongi x fluff #bts scenario #suga fanfic #bts fanfic #yoongi fanfic #bts imagine #bts fanfiction #yoongi fanfiction #suga fanfiction #HOLY !!!!! #AFTER 2 WHOLE YEARS!!!!!! #FINALLY!!!!!!

[vyther16]

dolls with diamonds stuffed inside

Chapter 1

whumptober 2020 theme 5: where do you think you’re going; prompt 3: rescue

Content warnings: mentions of past torture, noncholance towards character’s own possible death and probable incoming torture, threats of torture and death, self-depricating talk, emotional manipulation, Yan Bingyun is not in a good headspace for this

edits october 12 2020: all instances of daoren changed to the correct daren; Shen-xiaojie’s name corrected to her novel canon name

Glossary for ppl like my mum:

Ge-- older brother, informal. 

Daren-- lord. 

Gongzi-- young master, or a slightly more diminutive form of lord

xiaojie-- lady (lit. little big sister; used as lady in this context)

xiao-- little

This lifts nearly all dialogue from episode 38 and 39 of Joy of Life, found on youtube

—start—

Yan Bingyun blinks when the door opens, but doesn’t look up. Whoever it is, they’ll hurt him. He doesn’t much care for who it is. He tries to listen to the conversation they have, but the wounds from today’s first visitor have yet to stop bleeding. He’s tired. He isn’t going to get out. Listening for secrets that won’t be of use after an escape that won’t happen is pointless, so Yan Bingyun doesn’t bother to do so.

“Yan Bingyun,” the man who was speaking before says. Something waves in front of his face, but Yan Bingyun doesn’t open his eyes to see what it is. “I’m Fan Xian. You blocked me on my way to the capital,” the man adds. “Do you remember?”

Yan Bingyun opens his eyes, slowly. He remembers well enough to ascertain that the man before him is indeed Fan Xian, though how Fan Xian has come to be in BeiQi is unclear.

Then Fan Xian is pulling aside his robes, clucking his tongue at the gashes from earlier. “This wound is new,” Fan Xian says, “Just now?” he asks, and Yan Bingyun wants to talk back, but he’s tired.

Fan Xian brings up the war, brings up DaQing, thanks him for spying, and Yan Bingyun reminds himself why he’s doing this, why he’s allowing them to strip away his humanity little by little. Everything is for DaQing.

“I’m the envoy to take you home,” Fan Xian says. Yan Bingyun looks at him, sees an odd, almost earnest expression in his eyes, finds his own lips curving up into a bitter smile against his will.

“You serve BeiQi,” he says, a simple statement of fact, because that’s the most obvious answer. Fan Xian has been at the capital for such a short time, the only way he could have made it so high is if he betrayed their country, betrayed DaQing.

Fan Xian’s expression goes wide-eyed for a moment, like he can’t believe Yan Bingyun doesn’t believe him. “You think I’m lying?”

“You became an envoy in just a short time?” He braces himself for hurt.

“He is the real envoy of DaQing,” Shen W-Shen-xiaojie bursts out. “He’s here to save you!”

Yan Bingyun glances at her. “Why did he hold you hostage, if he’s the envoy?”

“Shen Zhong won’t release you,” Fan Xian says. Of course not. Yan Bingyun hasn’t given up the information Shen Zhong wants yet.

Yan Bingyun fails to see the logic in this so-called rescue, if Fan Xian really is the envoy. “So you came here by yourself. How could you find me so easily under Shen Zhong’s supervision?”

He knows he’s kept in some out of the way place, that the BeiQi emperor doesn’t even know where he is. If Fan Xian is the DaQing envoy, he shouldn’t have been able to find Yan Bingyun.

Fan Xian sounds so affronted when he protests this point. “Be careful of your words, I’m smarter than him!”

Yan Bingyun huffs out a laugh. He doubts that very much. “There are many spies from DaQing here. Pretend to rescue me, and gain my trust. By the time I feel safe and contact other spies, you will arrest us all,” he says. “Is this Shen Zhong’s plan?” It’s the most obvious trap, and Fan Xian has to know that it wouldn’t have worked. He will give points for creativity. It’s different from what he’s come to expect from Shen Zhong, but not different enough that he can’t recognize it for what it is: another one of the man’s twisted mind games.

“Damn it,” Fan Xian says, and then “Persecution mania.”

Yan Bingyun doesn’t know what that is. He says as much.

Fan Xian pulls out one of his hairpins and grabs at the chains around Yan Bingyun’s ankles. “I will tell you all about my promotion after we get out and go back.”

“If you didn’t lie,” Yan Bingyun says, not actually entertaining the thought, but wanting to see how well thought out Fan Xian’s trap really is, “you should tell me how we will get out. Shen Zhong won’t let me leave easily.” Not without the names Yan Bingyun refuses to give up. DaQing has worked too hard to get their spies into place for Yan Bingyun to break at the thought of a rescue that isn’t even real.

It seems Fan Xian has an answer prepared for even this question, though he heaves out a put-upon sigh to give it. “I have a subordinate named Wang Qinian.”

Yan Bingyun’s eyes snap to Fan Xian. “Wang Qinian? The counting clerk from the first ministry?” He’s with BeiQi now too? Yan Bingyun knows the man is easily tempted into doing things for money, but he’d never thought that Wang Qinian could be tempted to treason.

“He works for me now,” Fan Xian says, like Yan Bingyun hasn’t already figured it out. “I asked him to find help before I came here.”

Yan Bingyun wants to laugh. This whole sham is ridiculous. Where would Fan Xian find help in BeiQi to help break out an enemy spy if he isn’t also with BeiQi? He says as much to Fan Xian.

The other man just rolls his eyes, grabbing the shackle around Yan Bingyun’s wrist. “Now I know why they gave you such a heavy penalty,” he says, picking the lock on Yan Bingyun’s right wrist. “Xiao-Yan-gongzi, your personality is not adorable at all.” Yan Bingyun takes a deep breath so that he doesn’t wince when Fan Xian pushes at his wrist roughly. He hasn’t let himself think of the life he left behind in DaQing. He hasn’t thought about it since he crossed the border, really, despite how content he’d been with his lot then. He would give it all up again for DaQing. Everything is for DaQing.

“Be careful,” Shen W--xiaojie snaps, swiping at Fan Xian’s arm.

“Sorry,” Fan Xian says, not sounding sorry at all. “I forgot your wound.” He picks the last cuff, then adds, “also, I must take back my words. You’re adorable for someone,” as he stands up.

Yan Bingyun’s gaze flickers down. He wants, desperately, to be able to give Shen Wan’er what she deserves. He is not used to wanting things. Especially things he cannot have, things he does not deserve. Shen Wan’er deserves someone better than him, and he cannot betray DaQing for the younger sister of BeiQi’s imperial guard chief.

It’s easier to lie to her, to crush her hope and his along with it, than it is to entertain the thought of her leaving behind her brother and her country to come with him, because there is no way he could stay with her, no matter how much he wants it. DaQing comes before any personal desires. Everything is for DaQing.

“I’ve made it very clear. I got close to you before to get military intelligence through your connection to your brother.” That is not a lie, not really. He’d just managed to fall in love during the process. “I never had feelings for you.” That is a lie, but he’s never going to tell her that, nor anyone else. If he repeats it enough, he may even begin to believe it himself.

Yan Bingyun sees the momentary flash of heartbreak in her eyes before Shen W--Shen-xiaojie steadies herself with a deep breath. “Don’t talk too much,” she warns. “You’re weak now.”

She doesn’t believe him yet, but she needs to. Being close to him will result in scorn and suspicion and likely death for her. “I’ve been lying to you,” he repeats.

“I know,” she replies. “I wanted to hate you,” she adds, like it’s a shameful secret. “But when I saw you getting injured, it broke my heart.”

Yan Bingyun knows. The days when Shen Zhong would bring in his sister in the hopes of using her against Yan Bingyun had been the worst days, not because the physical pain was any worse, but because Shen Wan’er would beg for him to give up the names and for her brother to stop hurting him within the same breath. She would sob until she passed out, and Shen Zhong would blame it on him, as if Yan Bingyun had wanted her there in the first place.

“Stupid woman,” he says, because if he doesn’t he’ll say something he’ll regret, something that gives away how much lying he’s done to make her stop loving him, even when it doesn’t work, even when she insists on loving him still, on bringing him bandages and medicine for the wounds her brother inflicts every day, as if she could heal each broken bone and bloodied gash with love alone.

It doesn’t work even now, because Shen-xiaojie stands up and says she’ll get him some water and walks to the kitchen area of his prison. Yan Bingyun watches her go, but his eyes flick back to Fan Xian as he returns.

“She’s not stupid,” Fan Xian says, “she loves you too much,” and Yan Bingyun knows that, knows that she’s likely one of the smartest women he’s ever met, but that does not mean that she cannot be dumb in this regard, in loving a man who cannot love her back.

When Yan Bingyun doesn’t give him a response, Fan Xian flaps his hand dismissively and returns to the front space. Yan Bingyun stays where he is until Fan Xian comes back over. “Come sit at the table, you’ll be able to drink your water better there.”

Yan Bingyun forces himself to his feet, not letting any of the pain he feels show on his face. He forces his hands to be steady, forces his legs to move, and when he near-collapses at the table, he sits perfectly straight again, pretending for the sake of what little dignity he has left that he intended to sit right then instead of lowering himself down more easily. It’s odd, moving without the shackles at his wrists and ankles. He can feel their phantom weight, as ever-present as the fire in his chest and the ache in his back.

There’s a commotion outside, but then Shen W-xiaojie kneels next to him with a cup and an apology. “There’s no hot water in here,” she says, like Yan Bingyun didn’t already know that. “Just take it for now.”

Yan Bingyun doesn’t thank her, but he does take the water. Then he tries again to make her stop. “Your brother and I won’t stop until we kill each other,” he says. “If you let me go, have you considered the consequences?” He knows he’s arguing to be kept prisoner for longer, but Shen-xiaojie won’t be forced to choose between the man she loves, however misguided she may be in that love, and the man who raised her.

“If you kill my brother one day,” Shen-xiaojie says, “kill me as well.”

Yan Bingyun doesn’t have a chance to respond before Fan Xian butts in. “Shen-xiaojie did you such a big favor,” he says. I know, Yan Bingyun doesn’t say. I’m trying to save her. “Why must you be so heartless to her? And guys, can we discuss this after we get back to my place? There’s hot water.” he adds, like it’s a selling point.

The door slams open before either one of them can respond. Fan Xian shoots to his feet and Shen-xiaojie snatches up her knife to run over to him. Yan Bingyun doesn’t react as Shen Zhong walks into the room.

“Hold me,” Shen W-xiaojie says, pulling Fan Xian’s arm around herself and putting the knife into his hands. The blade is facing out, away from her neck as she starts what would be a very good act if Fan Xian were going along with it. “Ge! They won’t let me go unless they get out!”

Yan Bingyun looks away as Fan Xian puts the knife down.

Shen Zhong turns and shuts the door. He walks to the center of the room, silent. Dangerous. Yan Bingyun feels his heartbeat speed up, though he doesn’t let it show. Weakness will be exploited, and Fan Xian has already left him unbalanced, which was likely their plan all along.

“How silly you are,” Shen Zhong reprimands his sister. “They’re spies from the enemy state!” He points at Fan Xian for emphasis. Yan Bingyun swallows, looking away again. Maybe it will finally sink in. Maybe she’ll leave him behind.

“I…I was threatened,” she tries to protest, but it’s weak, and Shen Zhong easily plows over it.

“I’m not stupid!” he shouts. He looks at the floor for a minute, resettles himself, then looks back up at the three of them. “Fan-daren,” he says, calmer. “Well done!” He chuckles, a sound that has the hairs on the back of Yan Bingyun’s neck standing on edge.

Fan Xian grins. “You come in alone. Aren’t you worried about being threatened by me?”

Shen Zhong returns Fan Xian’s smirk. “I’ve placed an order. If you threaten them with me, arrows will fly in like clouds. I will be shot too.”

“Ge!” Shen-xiaojie protests.

Fan Xian laughs. It sounds forced. “Why, Shen-daren, you have to return Yan Bingyun to us sooner or later. Now I’ve found him. Why don’t you let me take him away?”

Shen Zhong purses his lips. “Alright. As long as he gives me the name list of the spies in Shangjing, I’ll let him go immediately.”

Fan Xian takes a deep breath in, looking over at Yan Bingyun. “Let’s tell him?” he asks, like he’s suggesting they have sweet buns with dinner. Yan Bingyun doesn’t even have it in him to be surprised at the betrayal. He’s tired.

He considers for a moment, realizes they’re going to hurt him no matter what he answers, and decides to have a last bit of fun before he can no longer think from pain.

“Alright,” he says. Fan Xian looks shocked.

Shen Zhong’s expectant look turns pleased and he sits down on the table in front of Yan Bingyun, an obvious power play.

Yan Bingyun tilts his head towards him. “All of those ministers of the Sixth Bureau are our spies in BeiQi. You kill them all, so you’re building a peace and ridding the state of evil.” He faces forward as Shen Zhong processes the blatant lie he’s just been told.

Yan Bingyun doesn’t react as Shen Zhong flips the tables except to smile, faintly.

“Listen!” Shen Zhong shouts at his sister. “Listen to what he’s saying!”

Shen-xiaojie looks down at the floor. “I was caught by them,” she says, but it’s clear she’s only saying it because she has nothing else she could say.

Yan Bingyun takes one last deep breath, not letting it shudder the way it wants to, and braces himself for pain.

Shen Zhong straightens his robe. “Fan-daren, you may go now,” he says, gesturing at the door.

Fan Xian points at Yan Bingyun. “I must take him with me,” he replies.

“Not now,” Shen Zhong returns.

“It isn’t a request,” Fan Xian says.

Shen Zhong cocks his head. “Then, none of you can go today. Guards!”

The door bursts open, the city guards filling into a loose semi-circle around them.

Fan Xian folds his hands behind his back. “If you do something to me here, aren’t you afraid it’ll cause a new national war?”

Shen Zhong takes a sword from the nearest guard and lays it against Fan Xian’s throat. “Who knows you’re here? Fan-daren disappeared. We searched for him, and finally found his body. I was upset, so I promised to find the murderer to avenge you.”

Shen-xiaojie hisses out “Hold me!” grabbing Fan Xian’s arm and putting the knife back into his hand. Yan Bingyun isn’t exactly sure what it is she’s trying to accomplish. From his face, it’s clear Fan Xian doesn’t either.

“Start,” Shen Zhong orders, but before the guards can make it a full step forward, there’s a shout for Shen-daren in the courtyard. A guard whispers something into Shen Zhong’s ear that makes his glare even worse.

Fan Xian smirks in return. “Guys, wait a moment. My helper is here now,” he says, handing Shen-xiaojie back her knife, heedless of Shen Zhong’s sword at his neck.

Yan Bingyun isn't sure who his helper could be, given that even Shen Zhong defers to this person at least partially.

He says as much, and Fan Xian smirks again. “I’m popular,” he snarks.

Yan Bingyun thinks, not for the first time, that if this rescue is truly real, it is the worst rescue that he could have imagined. He ignores Fan Xian quietly reassuring Shen-xiaojie, straining his ears to instead listen for Shen Zhong’s conversation with Fan Xian’s mysterious helper.

He doesn’t quite catch everything, but he hears “Saintess,” and knows that Fan Xian must be with BeiQi now, if only because there’s no way Haitang Duoduo would deign to help anyone from DaQing.

Saintess’s reply is just as garbled, but he catches “Let them.” He realizes that this is likely a test of Shen Zhong’s loyalty to the Empress Dowager.

Shen Zhong’s reply is still quiet, but he assumes it’s him refusing to let Yan Bingyun go.

Then Saintess says “His Majesty’s order.” Yan Bingyun already knows that it’s a bad idea to have said that. Shen Zhong serves the Empress Dowager, not the Emperor. Shen Zhong must reply, because Saintess raises her voice. “It’s the empress dowager’s order as well,” she calls.

There’s a pause, some more muffled words, and then Shen Zhong calls to let them go.

Fan Xian grins. “I told you I was here to rescue you,” he says, clapping his hands together like a child. “Let’s go, Saintess will have prepared a carriage for us.” He leans down in front of Yan Bingyun. “I saw you collapse into this spot earlier; don’t pretend like you can walk on your own. Now c’mon, up you go.” He grabs Yan Bingyun’s forearms, clasping tight enough to have leverage but loose enough that it doesn’t truly hurt, and pulls him to his feet. Yan Bingyun hides his wince. Weakness will be exploited, after all.

Fan Xian stops at the door, turning to look at Shen-xiaojie. “Thank you for your help today,” he calls, and the ghost of a smile flickers across her face.

Haitang Duoduo is leaning against a carriage when Yan Bingyun and Fan Xian leave the courtyard. “There’s space enough for three in there. I’ll take you to your hotel.”

Fan Xian nods. “Thank you,” he says as he helps Yan Bingyun climb into the carriage.

Yan Bingyun doesn’t let himself think about how this is the first time that he’s been outside of the confines of that house since he was captured. He doesn’t let himself believe that this is real. He can’t let his guard down, because letting his guard down means he’ll be hurt. Letting his guard down means he gets caught, and it means that BeiQi tries even harder to bleed information from him.

So he doesn’t let himself believe this is real, even as the sounds of city life wash through the thin carriage walls, even as Fan Xian leans against the side of the carriage, even as his chest burns and his limbs ache. He doesn’t let himself relax, doesn’t let himself lose his posture, because if he loses his posture, he admits that he’s safe, and he isn’t safe. He doubts he’ll ever be safe again.

—fin—

—author notes—

Yan Bingyun’s head was kind of hard to get into at first, but then I sat down and watched this scene, pausing every time the subtitles changed and writing down exactly what they said, and then writing Yan Bingyun’s internal dialogue about it, and it went much easier. By doing that, I wrote this entire thing in the span of one afternoon/evening. The only reason it took that long is because the pizza for dinner came halfway through and i decided pizza was more important than Yan Bingyun’s internal angst

chapter 2 will come out on the 7th, for and if ao3 gets its act together, this should be posted there too. The link will be in the reblog to my main.

Personal side note you can skip, but I edited this during my 2 ½  hour long government classes where my teacher lectures for over half the class about a subject that we already took both notes and a quiz over, so if I didn’t edit, I would have fallen asleep, and he already has his eye on me bc I don’t stand for the pledge of allegiance, so that just wasn’t happening. Also, I wrote this a literal month in advance, and it is the most edited piece of writing I have ever made in my entire life, including things that are worth large percentages of my grade.

reblogs>likes

#whumptober2020 #no. 5 #prompt 3 #rescue #Joy of Life #qing yu nian #yan bingyun #shen zhong #fan xian #shen-xiaojie #lady shen #fic #fanfiction #tw: #torture #self-deprication #emotional manipulation

[call-me-merlyn]

I found a list of my favorite things you ever said to me. I cried in a way that I haven’t since I was a small child- broken by my parents’ words, mistakes, and anger. I curled my knees to myself and remembered that I can do hard things. I started to wonder where we went wrong. Because my feelings for you never changed. But then I realized that was never the issue. These words I read now ring as true today as they did over the four years you wrote them. But I want them back. I want you back. I want pragmatism and growth. I want to talk about the hard things and work them through. But I can’t tell you that. I can’t tell you anything because you don’t want to hear it. Because you’re hurt and you want space. So if you stumble upon this blog- the one I told you not to look at all those years ago- I will let a few snippets of your words remind you. Mind you, these are 12 out of about 30.

1. Baby. I want the future with you. It just hit me so hard. I want the visions I have. I want us and I don't see that changing. We are the most beautiful couple I have ever encountered. Not just because we're both convinced the other is drop dead gorgeous, but because I see such magnificent potential in us, together. We are that rare couple that could actually have the dream life that everyone wants and fears is impossible or that they don't deserve it. Health, happiness, adventures, perfect children, successful careers, growth and excitement, cuddles, intellectual stimulation, respect for each other, kisses that leave us breathless, freedom, good friends that we both care about, a lovely home, a dorky dog or five, all the sex we can handle, our families coming together wonderfully, and true fucking love. I want it all with you and I believe that we can have it with all my heart. Ugh I want it and I'm so excited to build towards the future we want. With you. Every damn day, one day at a time.

2. Morning love. To build a home? I'll always like yours more. I'm binging your music this morning. Speaking of songs that make me cry. Night in shining armor? I love that whole analogy. Your words are one of my favorite things about you. I love the music that spills from your lips, whether you're singing or laughing or reading or teasing me. It's all heavenly music to my ears. I'm so proud to be your person, your once and future someone. I love you so much. The dark times have passed baby, you brought the light back into my life.

3. This one's hard to explain. I've never met someone who is such a clean harmony. Your identity, your character, is a beautiful, pure chord. Every interaction I have with you I hear that resonance, and the notes weave together perfectly. That chord resonates with who I am on such a deep level, and I could hear it from the very first moment we interacted. I want to listen to that chord every day, to hear it form your melody, day in and day out. Puzzle out it's layers and listen to you add more. And to play my own song to match yours, to create our own wonderful song in this life.

4. You elicit feeling so well with words, sometimes it makes me feel inadequate

The way you express yourself so effortlessly

Because I've always prided myself on communicating verbally

But it comes pretty effortlessly to me too

Especially when I talk about you

I know I keep coming back to this, I'm sorry

But it resonates so strongly with me

To imagine you as a song, chord, or melody

The way your music weaves with mine

Haunting, ethereal, and divine

You make my eyes and heart shine

With love and affection, at my most painful times

When I can't feel it about myself

You come to my house and put happy memories upon my shelf

I want to show you how much you mean to me

So that you will always see

You are my light

And in the middle of the night

When I roll over and feel your breath

On my neck, I don't fear death

Because a life next to you is a life worth living

The love I have for you is a love worth giving

5. I was watching How I Met Your Mother, and to be honest that show really means a lot to me. I'm not sure why I bonded it with it so hard, it feels kind of silly in retrospect, but I did. In the episode, the main character runs into the girl who left him at the altar for another man, and they talk about true love and who you choose to be with. And the guy has an open moment about his yearning for that special connection that people find so rarely. That spark between people that's so unique and magical when it occurs. The song Careful by Michelle Featherstone plays in the background. I'm sure you've heard it, and it just pulled at my heartstrings. Maybe listen to it as you read this? Bc I am as I write. It makes me think of you. I've said it before, and the words fall flat, but I'm so damn grateful for you. Every piece of you. The fractals, the perfectly formed little moments of unadulterated Merlyn, that come together to form this perfectly cohesive being of fucking light. You know me. And I don't like to admit that I falter, or that I need help from anyone. It goes against what I've been trained to be by my father, my experiences, and my own cynical nature. Before you walked into my life...I wasn't entirely happy. I was missing something. I could feel it. And it made me ache. I went looking for it everywhere, even though I wasn't sure what it would look like when I found it. But I knew how it would feel. And you... you rescued me. From my own damn self. I'm prone to loneliness for a number of reasons. I'm solitary. I like to be independent. I'm proud. I can be harsh and judgmental. I get exhausted by humanity. I can be very sensitive when I'm vulnerable, and I don't like to give more than a handful of people the power to touch my heart. But since you walked into my life? I don't have to look anymore. I have never felt such constantly genuine, gentle, fierce, and unselfish support from anyone. Not from my parents, not from friends, my cousins, my lovers. No one has ever looked at me the way you do. No one has ever been so unyieldingly loving. Every time I have trusted you with more of my heart and my self, you do your absolute best to make me feel valued and loved. No matter how that best manifested, I have always felt your effort. You are always careful with my heart. I used to carry around this utter, soul crushing feeling that I missed someone. Someone vital. But there was no one to miss. And I didn't know where to direct that desire for connection. I got lonely because I wanted someones company...that I didn't know. But since I met you, I haven't felt that even once. I have only rarely felt lonely, and even in those moments, it was because I fucking missed YOU. Your laugh, your touch, our connection. And that's such a revelation to me. To know the face of the person I feel I've been missing all this time. It's been you. I love you, Merlyn. You are an unparalleled treasure to me.

6. God damn it Merlyn, I have so much love for you. I'm so lucky to have you, the thought of losing you is a nightmare. I want late night quesadillas and then to push each other to eat right. I want to scoff at each other's baby names until we get to ones we both love. I want to be your shoulder to lean on, cry on, or try to dislocate with a kimura. I want yours to be the same for me (maybe without the kimura bit?) I want to sing duets with you and write stories on lazy Sunday afternoons. I want to make you grin and I want to make you bite your lip. I want to hear your breathing every night when I go to sleep. I want to put Tristan on my shoulders, have a debate with Chris, try to get your cat to like me. I want you to cuddle into me and let me hold you at night even when I get hot because you're the most precious fucking thing in the world to me. I want you to train with my dad and shop with my mom. I want to get drinks with your mom and laugh at your dad's dirty jokes. I want to travel with you, go jet skiing on tropical islands and throw snowballs at each other in the mountains. I want to walk around crowded cities with you until I get too anxious but you tell me to chill out and stop being such a baby about it. I want to hear my daughter call you mother. I want to see you spin like you did when I first walked you home. Nothing brings me more joy than the thought of sharing the little moments, the big moments, and everything in between with you. Nothing is worth jeopardizing that future for me. I love you with all that I am. Count on it.

7. I just read all your words top to bottom and they hit me hard. I've been looking at them as bits and pieces. One day, one note at a time, not a tapestry. All together in one sitting, I can just feel where your heart was, and maybe still is. I hope it still is in some ways, because I've never been loved like how you love me. Not with such admiration or surety. I've never been wanted the way you want me. It makes me feel simultaneously unworthy and determined to live up to your love. It breaks me to feel the pain in your pen strokes. I want to wrap you up in my arms and fend away anything that would ever make you cry. I hate myself sometimes for making you cry. It breaks me every time, a corruption of my purpose. Every time, to read the simple words "today was hard..." It rips me apart. I love, live to see you smile. To laugh with you. To make music with you, whatever the form. I'm sorry for all the pain I've ever caused you, my darling. It's never my intention. You are my most precious gift, and words fall short of expressing the breadth and complexity of my feelings for you. They boil down to what you've written over and over again though: I want this life with you. I want all the complications, all the routine days, all the late night phone calls, and the adventures. I want to walk around knowing we have the same last name. I want you. Endlessly I want you. I wish I could pull a fragment of that feeling out of my chest and give it to you just so that you'd understand. God I miss you. I love you. You are my partner, and I hope that stays true for the rest of our lives. I can't say it enough. You are everything to me. I want you to express every part of you, never stop, because I love them all. Every mellifluous note in your melodies, every word of poetry in your fascinating mind, every fierce moment on the mat, every tear that falls in your fragile, vulnerable moments. I want to be there. To give you love and to be the best partner I can be. For you. God I can never say enough

8. Kay I'm heading to bed so gonna write this out. It's difficult. Love defies definition by its very nature. Which is a paradoxical statement right out the gate but whatever. I started writing my response in a philosophical approach but it didn't feel right. There's no need to ramble about Forms or essence or any of that philosophy mumbo jumbo. All that matters is how you opened my eyes. I used to think that love was about passion above and to the detriment of everything else. I used to think that love and pain were joined at the hip, inseparable. I used to fear that love was a curse, a burden, a surrender. I used to think that to fall for someone was a trap, and that you were taking a terrible gamble by giving someone the power to destroy you. I used to think that relationships were ropes and that love was a noose. I used to think that love was jealous, demanding, forceful, combative. I used to think that love was sporadic and messy. I used to think that there was no true, sustainable happiness to be found. You've turned it all around. Hell, you've upended the board and thrown away the rulebook. You've shown me that love is a balance of passion and choice, that they should play off each other build each other up. One is useless without the other. Passion will burn you out, but so too can you drown going through the motions. I've been through both. You're the only one that has struck the balance with me. You've shown me that the only necessary pains from love are the growing pains. I've been given and dealt horrible wounds, been through wars. Our relationship is the only one in which both parties can put their weapons down. You've shown me that love is a tank of oxygen when you're drowning, a shoulder to lean on, an investment. Trusting you with my heart has liberated and empowered me. I believe that trusting me with yours has done the same for you. We use that understanding of each other to lend strength, to give joy, to protect. You've shown me that relationships are lanterns and that love is the sun. You lit up my world. You've shown me that love is generous, thoughtful, gentle, supportive. You've shown me that it's steady and pure. You've shown me that happily ever after isn't just in storybooks. It's attainable. We have an obligation to chase it. We've been given a gift. And I will be grateful for it for the rest of my life. I will cherish it. I will cherish you. You've given me everything. You are my true love. Goodnight I hope you sleep well

9. Darling, gorge yourself on my love

I pray to God that it’s enough

To fill you up and keep us above

The water line of that rising slough

Darling, gorge yourself on my heart

I pray to God it’s what you need

Ignore the pain in the darker part

Come home again to me to feed

Darling, gorge yourself on my mind

I pray to God it’s what you want

Those angry echoes you may find

Don’t let them drive you from this haunt

Darling gorge yourself on me

I pray to God I’m what you crave

I know I’m flawed but I can be

The one who saves you, the one you save

Oh darling, I’ll gorge myself on you

On your mind and body, heart and soul

So darling, gorge yourself on me too

To keep us human, keep us whole

10. I want us to be tethered by the sea, to back each other to the hilt, to paint the walls red with love, to get lost in the light. Baby I promise I will take true care of you, tell you that some things last, and know you better than your piano. Because you found me. You came out of nowhere, you made me fall in love with a single touch, and this ain't a haunted house no more. I can't take my mind off of you. Only you can help me to forget the terror that comes and goes in waves. You keep me warm, and I know that all will be well and we'll be just fine. So don't give up love. Three more months, flyin your way home to me. We'll be inches apart and even closer at heart. So send me your location, cause I'm jealous of the wind that ripples through your clothes. Put your eyes on me, and I know a place that we can get away. Say you won't let go, tell me it's real, and let's go somewhere only we know. We won't need to take our clothes off to have a good time, but I'll get the lights and you lock the door, cuz we won't leave that room til we both feel more. Cause I see it all without the lights. No one will ever see you the way my eyes do. You are something to behold. Elegant and bold, you are unforgettable. You are the fire and the flood. Last night I woke the fuck up, realized I never wanted anything so much as to drown in your love. If you could read my mind love, what a tale my thoughts could tell. I feel life for the very first time: love in my arms and the sun in my eyes. Ohh I fall apart, and I can't help falling in love with you. I still can't believe that I found love where it wasn't supposed to be. Right in front of me. At (college). I made a fumbling play for your heart, and the act struck a spark. I want to be with you for the rest of my life and beyond. No grave can hold my body down. I'll crawl home to you and go straight into your arms. I'm in love with all that you are.

11. You always wonder about the future. What makes you different from the others. There are infinite answers, but some of the biggest ones are that..you make me understand and feel things that people always say but never mean. Until you, I've never truly wanted all of someone. And I mean it when I say I want ALL of you. I am in love with every inch of you, every word that comes out of your mouth, every little habit, every quirk. I have wanted every piece of you in every moment that I've known you without fail. I have never adored anyone or anything so much. You are perfection to me. In the truest sense of the word baby. You make the cliches make sense. You make them feel not cliche. It's incredible. You make sense in my bones. I am so in love with you. I can picture nothing more glorious than a life with you. That's how I know you're the one. Because it's obvious. And when it's right, it should just he obvious. Easiest choice in the world.

12 Goodnight ____. I hope you sleep well. I really enjoyed hanging out and listening to you play tonight. I know you were half joking about how I should be paying you compliments, but your music abilities really are such a gift. It always makes me happy when you use them. You get this energy about you that’s so wonderful to see. I’m listening to your soundcloud stuff again now. Been a while since I’ve done that, haven’t had access to the account for a bit. I wish you had more of your stuff on here. It’s all so lovely. It always makes me think about us. You don’t seem to care for it much, but especially To My Future Someone. I hope I live up to all you dreamt I’d be when you wrote those words. I hope to the gods I’m the one you sang about. Because you are everything I ever wanted in a true love, and more. Things that I didn’t even know I needed. You’ve made me a kinder, much more grateful man. And a happier soul. You deserve the best in this world, and I’ll always do my utmost to be him. I’m so in love with you. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, my light. Sweet dreams.

When did the thought of losing me stop being a nightmare? Because the hurt was never more than this. Never more than this love. You said in another snippet that you’d do anything to be the person I built a home with; you’d do your best to be the my person and to never hurt me. But you don’t want to be with me. And you chose your nightmare over your dreams. And I still choose you. I still chose you every second of every fucking day. It was my nightmare too and I’m living it.

But, I’m changing. I’m harder now. The tears don’t fall quite as easily as they used to. And at least I know who I am now. I am a warrior. I am beautiful. I am strong. I am new. Don’t think 8 weeks can change someone?? Come see me again. I’ll show you exactly who I’m not anymore. The only thing that hasn’t changed is my love for you.

And if you want to lose these words and this love, so be it. I won’t fight you. I won’t fear you or that anymore. I don’t want to be the only one fighting. I can’t. And I won’t be afraid of my worst nightmares because they have come true and even though I pray I won’t lose you, nothing in this life is certain. If you don’t want to fight, I will be someone else’s light someday. And I will shine unashamed; unabashed; strong and sure. I will bring beautiful children, music, and love into the world. But until then, I’ll be my own light, and set my darkness aflame every morning, just as I have since the day you left. After all, there’s not much darkness left anymore.

#journalentry #long reads #personal entry

[differentnutpeace]

Invincible Season-Finale Recap: My Father the Hero

We knew it was going to be bad. Mark Grayson was never going to turn his back on humanity, and when his father asks him to do that so they can conquer Earth, Mark responds by doing everything he can to stop him. And it’s not enough. Not even close. “Where I Really Come From” is one of the most harrowing episodes of superhero TV ever produced, with half of its runtime dedicated to a fight that matches extreme, spectacular violence with a devastating emotional conflict. It’s a very satisfying season finale that highlights how well Invincible develops its core relationships, and the action wouldn’t have the same impact if there wasn’t such a deep sense of loss behind each punch.  หวย บอล เกมส์ คาสิโนออนไลน์

One Great StoryThe one story you shouldn’t miss, selected by New York editors

The betrayal Mark and Debbie feel only intensifies as Nolan reveals his actual origin story, his intentions for Earth, and his true feelings about not just humanity, but his family. Debbie is little more than a pet, a companion that temporarily joins Nolan during this miniscule period of his millennia-long life. Mark would have been the same if his powers didn’t kick in, but he is Viltrumite so he matters. Viltrum isn’t the benevolent savior Nolan painted it out to be, but a militarized empire that wants to prove its supremacy over the entire universe. Survival of the fittest is the guiding principle of Viltrumite civilization, and they became an unstoppable intergalactic empire by wiping out the weakest from their society, cutting their population in half.

The Viltrumite slaughter sequence emphasizes the ruthless frenzy of this culling process, showing a variety of Viltrumite killings in quick succession. They are completely desensitized to the most brutal violence against their own people, so when it comes to conquering others, there’s absolutely nothing Viltrumites won’t do. I expected waves of blood and punches that shake mountains, but there’s an extra layer of sadistic psychological torture in this family feud. Nolan needs to convince his son that humans are worthless and expendable, so he keeps killing them in ways that will scar Mark for a long time.

When Invincible saves a fighter pilot after his dad flies through his jet, Omni-Man meets them on the ground and crushes the pilot’s head with his hand, getting brain all over his son’s face. When the battle moves to Chicago, a punch from Omni-Man turns Invincible into a human wrecking ball, crashing through buildings and a busy city street, killing anyone who is unlucky enough to be in his way. Mark tries to save a mother and her daughter inside a collapsing building, but he’s not strong enough and they’re both crushed in the rubble. We’re back in the war zone mode of episode two, and Mark’s father is the person responsible for all the carnage.

The most savage moment comes in the Chicago subway, when Omni-Man grabs Invincible by the head and charges through a subway train, ripping people apart with his son’s flailing limbs. It’s deeply disturbing seeing Mark’s body used as a weapon by his own father, but this is what the Viltrumite people do. Viltrumite can only exist if they’re willing to give up their bodies to the empire, and the penalty for breaking rank is execution. Viltrum’s philosophy isn’t all that different from a significant swath of humanity who believes in their inherent superiority and doesn’t want to jeopardize that by helping people who are struggling. Empathy opens the door to assistance, which leads to people becoming stronger, and strength is a threat. For his entire life, Nolan has been told that others are less than him so that he can be the best soldier possible, and now he wants to force that worldview on his son.

After knocking Mark’s teeth out, Nolan has a flashback to a vital moment in his understanding of humanity, when he and Debbie watched Mark play baseball as a child. Nolan feels like he’s wasting his time watching this stupid game, especially when he could have a much better view from the air. This is clearly a situation Debbie has been in before and she puts on a teacher voice as she gives him another lesson in humanity, explaining how parents find comfort in their children because they remind them of life’s joys, which can be easy to forget when the weight of the world bogs them down. Nolan finally understands it when Mark hits the baseball and slides into home plate, and it’s telling that Nolan only connects with humanity when Mark is victorious. What would have happened if Mark struck out, or if he didn’t make it to home plate before the ball?

This memory sparks some compassion in Nolan, and he stops thinking like a Viltrumite conqueror and looks at his beaten, bloodied son through the eyes of a father who is directly responsible for his child’s suffering. He stops punching, but he tries a different tactic: yell at his son and try to convince him that, in the grand scheme of a life that will go on for thousands of years, his relationships with the humans he knows now will mean nothing. It’s not a successful tactic, and emphasizing the loss Mark will feel in the future ends up backfiring as Mark shows his father what he’s lost right now. It’s too much for Nolan to take, and he flies off into space, burning off the mix of his son’s blood and countless human casualties as he moves through the atmosphere.

The back half of the episode focuses on the fallout of Omni-Man and Invincible’s fight. Mark spends two weeks healing while his mother has a very justified emotional breakdown, and the Guardians decide that it’s finally time to wash off that big blood stain in their headquarters. Debbie and Mark’s anonymity is preserved via a cover story about Nolan dying when the neighbor’s house exploded, but Detective Amber puts it all together and rushes to Mark’s side when he gets back home. No one can comprehend the trauma Mark has been through, but his friends know that he needs them by his side. The quartet of Mark, Amber, Will, and Eve really comes together in this episode, and now that everyone knows everyone’s secret identities, there are much stronger ties between them all.

A news report reveals the world’s response as people wonder how the man they trusted to protect them could hurt them so badly, and there’s definite social commentary in there about the corruption of those in positions of authority. And Viltrum’s not the only militarized force to worry about. Toward the end of the episode, we find out that the U.S. government has put chemicals in tap water that prevent people from seeing specific frequencies of light. And the GDA has an entire army of cyborg soldiers created by a mad scientist. There’s plenty of shady stuff happening on Earth too, and I’m curious to see if Mark’s disdain for Viltrumite authority will cause him to look at the GDA through a new lens.

The episode ends with a lot of set up for the second season, which was confirmed this week along with a third. Allen the Alien returns to announce that the coalition of planets is trying to assemble an army big enough to take on the Viltrumites, and Mark is a cosmic asset as the only Viltrumite who won’t fight with his people. This narrative alone is enough to drive an entire season given that it would take Mark (and friends?) to the far reaches of the universe, but there are a lot more story seeds planted during a montage set to The Hives’ “Hate To Say I Told You So,” a music choice that does a lot to shift the tone away from the crushing sadness of the last 40 minutes.

As distressing as this show can get, it still has an exuberant spirit that makes it fun to watch, and this montage is a reminder of that. Invincible’s first season did excellent work creating a rich superhero universe with many different corners to explore, and this montage promises even bigger things to come. But that’s not the final note of the season. Writer Robert Kirkman understands that a huge part of Invincible’s appeal is the contrast between superhero spectacle and the mundane aspects of human life, so when Allen asks Mark what’s next, he goes to his top priority: finish high school. The beat reinforces that Mark is about to enter another major transitional period of his life after graduation, pulling the character back down to Earth as he chats with an alien on the moon.

[mocacheezy]

(forgot to actualy post this when I first wrote it, anyways, rechecked the info with the help of wiki, so have my thoughts on TFA Megatron (S1))

So I finished the first season of Transformers Animated, and let me just… Let me just EXPRESS my feelings for TFA S1 Megatron and the shit that happens to him:

So Megatron has the Allspark in his sight after so many many years of searching. It’s on a tiny Autobot repair ship, shouldn’t be a problem to get it right? Except while fighting the Autobots a bomb planted on him (by Starscream, he should see this coming) detonates. He survives that with damage to his right arm, gets inside the ship and is facing off against 5 autobots (clearly repair crew, and not in sync) in no gravity. One of them manages to cut his arm off, he is down by an arm, big deal, ‘tis but a scratch, he’s fine.

… No like seriously, this doesn’t stop him. He ALMOST GETS THE ALLSPARK!

Except that the leader of this troublesome repair crew kicks him off ship, causing him to crash on Earth. The only thing intact is his head (that Sumdac finds). Is he dead? Is he in a coma? Whatever it is, Sumdac tinkers with what he found.

50 years later, Megatron wakes up, can’t move, can’t do anything really because he is literaly a HEAD (ᵃˡˢᵒ ʷʰⁱˡᵉ ⁿᵒᵗ ʳᵉˡᵃᵗᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵃⁿᵗ ᶠᵘˡˡʸ,ⁱ ˡᵒᵛᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵉᵖⁱˢᵒᵈᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵇᵘˡᵏʰᵉᵃᵈ “ˡᵒˢⁱⁿᵍ” ʰⁱˢ ᵇᵒᵈʸ…ᵖᵘᵗˢ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵍˢ ⁱⁿᵗᵒ ᵖᵉʳˢᵖᵉᶜᵗⁱᵛᵉ), sees that Starscream was the one who tried to kill him and almost suceeded (or did he suceed? Again, not 100% clear on the function of that Key… It heals, it upgrades, it gives life and sentience… Did it REVIVE Megatron or did it just wake him up?)

And what does he do?

I MEAN LOOK AT THIS?!

He is LITERALY ONLY A HEAD, WITH SO MANY OF PARTS EXPOSED OR WIRES HOOKED UP TO SUMDACS MACHINES.

MACHINES THAT HE CAN’T USE, BECAUSE THEY ARE TOO PRIMITIVE.

AND DESPITE ALL THAT!

THIS GLORIOUS FUCKER!

STARTS PLANNING RIGHT AWAY! HE KNOWS THE SITUATION IS BAD AND HE BIDES HIS TIME!

He eventualy risks what little… Advantage? Is being locked away in the dark an advantage? When there’s autobots around being hailed as heroes, yea I think it might be though Megatron wouldn’t admit it… I think? Not outloud that’s for sure

Anyways, he risks it with exposing himself to Sumdac.

And then proceeds to deceive Sumdac! Like, Sumdac is smart. I actualy did need to take a step back and go “damn this poor man really is way over his head”, because on the first glance it seems really dumb to fall for a lie like that.

(I actualy would love to talk about the Professor in the future, especialy by just looking at him as a character on his own… BUT THIS IS MEGS SPOTLIGHT SO *yeets away for another time*)

AND MEGATRON IS NOT 100% GOOD AT THIS “I am an Autobot” THING. He lashes out! He is impatient, he is angry to the point of wrecking the lab with the energy surges and there are moments when Sumdac doubts that he himself can fix this mess he made, especialy with how angry this “Autobot” is.

But SOMEHOW, this glorious FUCK manages to turn most of the damage those outbursts cause into very convincing explanations for his reactions, WHILE also pretending to be useful and “helping”.  

He can see almost everything from where he is, once he masters the connections with the cameras and etc. in the tower and things across the city. He deflects or “explains” why his plans included flamethrowers for amusement bots, and, let me say this again! 

HE IS ONLY A HEAD AT THIS POINT IN THE SERIES!

A HEAD!

He is pretty limited with what he can do HIMSELF! Sumdac is not an ally, he is more of an enemy that isn’t aware of the power he holds over Megatron.

And he is doing everything FAR too slow.

That everything being mainly, getting Megs a body.

AND WHAT’S EVEN BETTER?!

There are so many robots around, all of them reverse enginered from Megatron himself, and none of them are of use to him. And when he DOES manage to get them to listen, something always interferes (Dinobots were a semi sucess, Soundwave rebelled, but did end up wearing a con badge (and boy was it eerie to hear Soundwave say ‘machines supperior to humans’ and how they will be all destroyed… Great episode that one) ). 

So the robots of this planet are useless to him. He has to try and find a way to manipulate human criminals to do his bidding, getting him the materials Sumdac apparently can’t get without raising suspicion. Not that it’s hard, but they are useless as well, especialy with the Autobots meddling, so that also fails. 

And there is always that Key. That he can’t just ask for, but can’t get no matter how he tries. And by god, does he try.

His only real, longe term-ish line of self defense at the moment is Sumdac and his guilt over using a friend of the Heroic Autobots…

AND THEN!

HIS DECEPTICONS ARRIVE!

And he isn’t even sure if he can trust them, given that his Second In Command blew him to pieces. So he has to gamble and hope for the best with Lugnut.

Which is clearly tiring because, as much of devout follower as Lugnut is (the fanfics are all spot on, writers of TFA Fandom amazing job portraying this mass of devotion), it gets annoying real fast when you are trying to get things done and really need to get a body asap, and the only one you can count on is determined to sing praises to you everytime you give an order.

Not even THAT seems to bring him any closer to his goal. And then Sumdac finds what remained of his body.

Pretty good for 50 years of weather exposure, eh?

BUT it seems he will have to keep waiting, because the blizzard that is raging outside causes a blackout, so the Tower is using the backup generator, so Sumdac declairs a delay in repairs.

Megatron alternates between bluster and sweet-talk to try to get his way, but it’s no use. Megatron attempts to call Lugnut again for assistance.

(Source: tfwiki)

From the looks of it, he came back online at the begining/end of fall, so he’s been,

pretending to be an Autobot (one who is a friend of bots he knows very little about, the ones who caused him to become like this in the first place)

 pretending to be useful and helpful to Sumdac in exchange for attempted repairs (all of which have failed)

keeping his temper in check (good thing he can save the slip ups with quick thinking…)  

for about… 3 or 4 months?

And no way to leave the lab?

With Sumdac as his only company?

Probably also in discomfort given THAT HE IS HOOKED UP LIKE THAT?!

With his ghoulish hand in sight that was/is CLEARLY being used as a chair for an organic?

… Yea. Imagine doing all that, being this close to finaly making progress, and instead being told “Weather bad, no can’t do, wait a while longer”.

So if Sumdac fears enough for the safety of his planet, he’ll surely work faster right? That seems to work somewhat…

Then comes Starscream.

The absolutely last Decepticon Megatron needs right now. So Megatron has to pretend he doesn’t know Starscream tried to kill him. With Starscream CLEARLY planning to kill him for good this time.

He is a head, what can he do?

We can soon see Megatron can take great joy in punishing that fragger, with limited resources he has, while Sumdac finaly works on his body.

The only fun perk of being a “friend of the Autobots” so far.

And then Blitzwing and Lugnut arrive. I swear, I was sure with all the talk Lugnut was doing, there was no way Megatron will actualy get that body.

Good thing they got the Key and that Sumdac didn’t think/wasn’t able to put in any override codes or sound the alarms.

What followed was a gorgeous villain reanimation/reconstruction scene and I loved every second of it. I mean, just look at this. 

So, Megatron finaly has a fresh new body.

(gorgeous fucker)

He fights the Autobots, (if I start talking about the details, this post will never end), defeats them and does a magnificent job of offlining his SIC.

(Like, I love TFA Starscream. I really do. This purple bastard is a joy to watch, but given what he did, seeing him get offlined in such a dramatic, yet quick and efficient way(and knowing he comes back anyway)… Let’s just say, I was very pleased.)

The “Fuck you Starscream, Die 1.0” however, lets the Autobots escape and the chase begins.

Here I would like to thank the animators for giving both Bots and Cons gorgeous Magical girl-esque transformation scenes, because they are all beautiful BUT MEGATRON, HOLY HELL, I AM LOVING THAT HELICOPTER!

And they are back on the Ark, fighting in much the same way they were the first time, 

But Megatron has no apparent weaknesses, except perhaps being cluttered with little shards of Optimus Prime after he finishes beating on the Autobot. Their one-sided fight carries them into the hold of the ship, where Megatron succeeds in acquiring the AllSpark… 

Megatron manages to GET THE ALLSPARK! 

SO MANY YEARS OF FIGHTING AND SEARCHING, AND HE HAS IT!

And he puts it in his spark chamber. Or in front of it.

…

Megatron. You just put an anchient artifact in your chest.

I… Listen, this is a step above Megan and his SpaceCocaineStraightToSpark Nonesense, BUT ALRIGHT!

I GUESS IT IS “SAFER” THAN HOLDING IT IN YOUR HANDS WHILE FIGHTING AND GLOATING.

Before he can celebrate, he is temporarily downed by Isaac, who knows enough about Megatron’s circuitry to disable his equilibrium sensors—

(”well fuck you too Sumdac”, I mutter to myself) 

but although he drops the AllSpark Key in his stumble, the tyrant isn’t down for long. Megatron is about to finish Prime, when Sari hurls Prime the Key…

the kid Megatron could easily crush when she was standing infront of the Allspark (BUT HE DIDN’T!) throws the key to Optimus.

…

Who proceeds to jam it into the Allspark.

…

In your chest Megatron.

…

Where your own spark is, Megatron.

For the Lord of Decepticons and quite an old fellow, who I’ve just sung praise to, that was so dumb…

A destabilized Megatron flees the ship before the AllSpark explodes inside his chest, dispersing its energy throughout the atmosphere.

HE BLOWS UP! AGAIN!

This time his body is mostly in one piece, and he has Sumdac as a hostage but…

This Megatron does not have luck on his side.

He really does not.

The only reason he is still functioning is, that he is too stubborn to give up and die. 

The whole “TooStubbornToDie” does seem to be a Megatron trademark, and makes me love his character even more.

TFA Megs. S1 and I already love him so much. 

To finish up this rant of mine…

Someone get him a damn blanket and force him TO TAKE A DAMN BREAK! REST YOU STUBBORN FOOL! 

#Moca screeches #Moca watches #transformers animated #tfa megatron #seriously dude please take 5 minutes off #Long post #For some reason the read more is not cooperating

[darkestwolfx]

Up from the Depths P.1 - Re-Review #32

Now, just to stick my personal opinion in here... we’re about to get to two of my all time favourite episodes. The amount of references to Jeff, and the purpose for IR - there’s just golden moments everywhere you look. So let’s have a look at some of them.

“What is it, John?”

“You’re gonna’ want to see this.”

“The TV-21! No, it can’t be...”

Well, it is (or we wouldn’t have an episode)!

“Is that what I think it is?”

“It’s the TV-21!”

“Is anyone gonna’ clue me in here?”

“It’s the TV-21!”

“That is not helping!”

Don’t worry, Alan, I’ll try and catch you up. But that just serves as another well-placed reminder of all the things Alan (and Kayo) is too young to remember about IR.

The fact Jeff etched his name onto the ship does not surprise me. It goes towards showing how proud he was of it, and completely fits in with everything we are told about him by Grandma (once again, wonderfully well placed comments).

Now, the TV-21, is given to us as “the first Thunderbird”, the fastest ship (at the moment), and Jeff’s pride and joy. There’s a nice little reference to Jeff’s previous careers as well, with the fact they’ve added the ‘Colonel’. Nice touch.

But of course, of all the places to crash land, it had to be in the Mariana’s Trench. I mean, there is a reason why it’s “the world’s last unmapped ocean”, according to the crew. It’s a pretty dangerous place. If you want to read about it, feel free, National Geographic have some incredibly interesting articles on what they theorise could be down there based on their limited exploration. But what we do know, is that it’s actually a very hostile seascape, and that the marine life which inhabits it seems to have evolved drastically to cope. I think that if we are ever able to understand it, we will know a lot more towards global warming and the mutations of animals. But I hate swimming. Water’s not my area. I prefer to research land mammals and leave my colleagues with the wet-weather adventures.

Anyhow, I think it’s totally awesome that Virgil was playing the piano and that Scott was sat at Jeff’s desk in the opening for this episode too. It’s always nice to see little throwbacks to this very human family.

So let’s discuss the origins of TV-21 for a moment. Before it was a Thunderbird, it was a comic series! And it’s original name was ‘TV Century 21′ which was eventually shortened to TV21. It had various mergers, which featured additions to the name, but TV21 stuck for the majority of issues. It was a weekly comic published by City Magazines, beginning around 1965. It’s content was... drum roll... the sci-fi TV series created by Gerry and Sylvia Anderson’s company: Century 21 Productions - thus where the comics name originated from, the TV being added to clarify where the material was coming from and hopefully encourage people to watch and read both in tandem.

The comic often had newspaper front pages, dedicated to the fictional news stories of the multiple Anderson worlds, e.g. Thunderbirds, Captain Scarlet, Stingray.

Some really well known artists of the time worked on the comics, which only serves to increase their value. In our current day, the original ‘TV Century 21′ editions (Issues 1 - 154) are really hard to find, and so they sell/auction for incredibly high prices when one can be found - like much of the Anderson’s work which made it’s way into print. It does also mean that the first half of this great comic series is practically lost to the world.

Which is a big shame, because it was in many of these first issues (with their print time colliding with the original air slot of ‘Thunderbirds’) featured many episode-story related additions. For instance;

The supposed capture of ‘The Hood’ - which might have gone someway to explaining his disappearance during Series 2 of the show.

An addition to the US Army’s story line from ‘Pit of Peril’.

An addition to the events of ‘Sun Probe’, as well as an in-depth story on Thunderbird Three investigating the connection between the sun and natural disasters (better known now as global warming). My dad still has his copy of this edition, and I have no plans on selling it. It’s ironic that it features the only story line relevant to my current career. Hey, maybe there is such a thing as fate over coincidence (as ‘Doctor Who’ does suggest).

A special story for Thunderbirds Two and Four, upon which it is rumoured that the opening rescue of the ‘Thunderbirds’ (2004 film) was based upon. I personally think this was one of the best stories for the pair, and I’m disappointed it never appeared in an episode (as such). There were also rumours that this story was an expansion of the TOS episode ‘Atlantic Inferno’, but those were never confirmed and all suggestions ever made pointed towards it being a completely separate idea. There are interesting similarities in places though, so it’s worth consideration.

An expansion to Thunderbird Two’s ‘disappearance’, after the events of ‘Terror in New York City’, which covered the rumours spiraling during the time Thunderbird Two was out of operation, and some of the missions which were undertaken during said time.

And one of the few Fireflash related stories to feature outside of the TOS TV episodes. It was also one of the comic editions which fans come to know as ‘Thunderbirds meets Doctor Who’. At the time, both shows were scoring some of the highest viewings, and so I suppose these crossover editions only made sense. Many of the early editions featured such crossovers, including 2 other issues which I’ve posted above.

When we actually get to 2065, there’s going to be a bit of confusion over dates - the comics (set still in the futurist time - ever encroaching for us) were released on the corresponding dates, but with the year still set a hundred forward, e.g. 1965 was 2065, but the 13th March was the 13th March.

Right, enough of my geek-worthy knowledge on comics, and back to the episode. I mean, look at Scott’s face. He’s definitely had enough of my comic-based ramblings.

“Begging your forgiveness, Your Mongrel-ship.” 

I think the fact that Parker serves Sherbet tea (with one sugar) it’s just classic.

“I believe ‘wild goose chase’ were the words they used.”

“Well, as it happens, Parker loves a good chase. Parker, bring the car around would you? That’s right Sherbet. ‘On the double’.”

“hOn the double, hit his. Taking horders from ha mut, never though hI’d see the day.”

He does it anyway though - dedication right there,

Well now, time to visit the ocean. Did anyone else think the Deep Ocean Surveyor looked a bit... wrong? I had bad feelings about that thing from the start.

“This ship sure is a weird looking thing.”

Yeah, thanks for the back up there Gordon. Should have kept a closer eye on that one, although I do completely understand why they got so distracted and don’t blame them for it.

I love how Scott - Mr in command and always right - turns straight towards the TV-21 as soon as he knows they’re no injuries to worry about and that the DOS is all okay. Wasn’t he the one saying there was a rescue to prioritise only minutes ago?

“Gordon, what about the TV-21? Have they found part of the wreck?”

“Stand by, Scott, I’ll take a closer look. Just gotta’ clear some debris. It’s not just part of the wreck, it’s the whole thing!”

That is actually quite surprising! You know, something surviving like that. Good craftsmanship is all I can say.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UvltZMDOK5g

I can’t describe this scene any better than the scene itself, so I’m just gonna’ leave it there for you to re-watch at your own leisure. The faces are pictures!

“Why’s everyone making such a big deal about a wrecked plane? I don’t even remember it!”

“The TV-21 was Dad’s baby. The first ever super Mach-20 ship. It was the prototype to Thunderbird One. Dad invested everything into, but The Hood sabotaged it in flight. Dad had to abandon the plane somewhere over the Maraina Trench rather than let The Hood get his hands on it. I remember it broke Dad’s heart. I always thought it was smashed and lost in the deep.”

And there we have a link to that Hood-Jeff backstory (which the writer’s then conveniently shoved into a like ten-fifteen second explanation of ‘I am a bad guy because’, but hey, we’re not quite there yet!) that kinda gets forgotten.

“Cor!”

“I believe the word you’re looking for is Bingo. Well done Bertie.”

“Very smart of you to track that signal John.”

“We got lucky.”

You don’t have to be so modest you know John.

“It seems The Hood may be up to his old tricks.”

“I’ve seen engineering like this before. It’s the work of The Mechanic.”

“Oh no! That’s The Mechanic’s ship! Thunderbird Four, get out of there!”

“Too late.”

Yeah... it might have been good to notice that a little bit sooner.

Now, someone has some serious anger issues! I mean, I now he wants them out of the way (and later on that’s he’s being controlled), but that was seriously uncalled for!

“You better come up with something fast. Thunderbird Four’s hull integrity is failing. You’re getting crushed!”

Thanks Virgil, we can see that, unfortunately. This is another of those moments where - even though I know how it ends - I have a little panic.

“Hull integrity at 28%. Gordon what are you doing?”

“The airlock’s jammed. I can’t get the door open.”

“Then make a new door! But do it fast, you don’t have long. Hull at 7%. Gordon, get out now! Thunderbird Four is offline.”

“What happened?”

“Thunderbird Four's been rendered in operative.”

“Gordon!”

“I’m here. I’m okay. But Thunderbird Four’s a little... ur... beat up.”

This is a little like that moment in ‘EOS’, where I think our collective hearts stopped.

I know Gordon left the sub to try and free it, but it was actually a good thing that he did, else he probably would have been crushed, which wouldn't have been good. He was caught a little in the blast anyway, so I’m surprised he was a well-able to continue as he was.

But back to those serious anger issues - The Mechanic, you need to learn that once you have damaged someone’s ship past the piloting level, you don’t need to then snap it in two - that is just downright mean, not to mention unnecessary!

Poor Thunderbird Four. I seriously thought at the time that it wasn’t going to be recoverable. Look at Gordon’s poor little face.

The determination to get the TV-21 back as well was just wonderful.

“Not possible, only Thunderbird Four can survive the pressure. We need to come up with something extraordinary and fast.”

“We can use the TV-21!”

“It’s been sitting on the bottom of the ocean for years. Do you think it will still work?”

“Absolutely. I build things to last.”

“Gordon, we need you to get on board the TV-21.”

“I always wanted to fly Dad’s plane.”

Of course he did.

Now this was a sight to behold. Look at him!

“I can’t believe we used to wear these things.”

This was such a lovely little throw back moment.

“You could try the Jeff Tracy fix. After all, it is Dad’s plane.”

“FAB. This is TV-21. We have lift off.”

And hell did that work!

Rescue count: 35

I mean, let’s just momentarily forget that this part ends with The Mechanic making a grand come back and stealing it.

“To The Mechanic, let me tell you who you’re dealing with. We’re International Rescue; you can’t push us around, you cant tell us what to do, and you absolutely, positively can’t take our stuff!”

“No, let me tell you who you’re dealing with. I’m The Mechanic. I take what I want, from who I want, whenever I want it.”

Yeah... shivers.

Let’s just remember Gordon’s great moment getting to pilot it.

“So tell me, what is it like flying Dad’s plane?”

“It was awesome.”

See, that’s a nicer ending.

#Thunderbirds are go #TAG #Up from the Depths #Part 1 #Darkestwolfx #Re-Review Series #Gordon Tracy #John Tracy #Scott Tracy #Virgil Tracy #jeff tracy #alan tracy #tv-21 #Grandma Tracy #The Mechanic #deep Ocean Surveyor #IR #International Rescue #Gerry Anderson #Slyvia Anderson #Thunderbird Four

[monstaxardeur]

sunshine - ii

Warnings: Angst

Your hands brushed over the surface of your old sketchbooks, other books and diaries lay stacked up around you as you sat on the wooden vinyl flooring of your room, the sunlight poured through the lace curtains letting in a gentle summer breeze. Your mind recalled all the times people asked to see your work…it was strange how none of their words of praise affected you…you were never satisfied. How many times had you stepped out of the house, ventured into the woods, maybe spent an evening at the coffee shop hoping your ink could be of satisfactory when it splayed on the paper before you.

A silent tear trickled down your cheek and the rest followed as you hugged your knees sniffling softly by yourself in your empty room with boxes that lay open, there was a lot of unpacking left to do but it was hard….it was difficult to move on like this. This little home was all you had now and it was going to be littered with bittersweet memories that you could never let go, those you never wanted to let go..~

You had lost the touch, it was long gone, every time you picked up your pencil or paint brush or anything to create art….nothing came out..no..nothing came out the way you wanted, it was as if you hadn’t learned anything at all, as if you forgot the basics, the fundamentals, all of it kept withering away like dried off petals falling off a flower. You wept every time and eventually let go of the idea and penned down your emotions instead and then stacked them locked up in some long forgotten box, never reading them.

He squinted his eyes at times to read through the smudged ink, his fingers following the letters as some of the things written were hard to decipher, like poetry of endless metaphors that another human may not be able to relate to. His soft blonde fringes covered his eyes as he furrowed his brows…he’d reached the last page but he was sure there must have been more. Putting aside the rusty file he rummaged through the boxes, but it was a mess of scattered belongings, books, trinkets, diaries, photo albums etc. None of them could help him figure out which written piece belonged to which timeline.

After rummaging through a few more paper stashes he had found, he sighed giving up, gently putting them back away knowing very well he’s not suppose to be doing this but curiosity had gotten the best of him. He wasn’t all that happy knowing he’d been reading through someones personal writings, though his thoughts stopped at the sight of a photo album, it looked oddly familiar. He picked it up and noticed it was custom designed for polaroids of all sizes, it was cute with lots of stickers on it. But of course, you’d been looking everywhere for it, he remembered you describing it as you sulked about losing it. He noticed it was empty though except for the first page and he wasn’t sure how to react when he saw its contents….

The picture, the only picture that graced the albums first page…was his, a candid of him looking up at the trees as the sunlight filtered through creating patterns of shadows on his face. His heart swelled with a warm feeling of love seeping through him, his cheeks turned red. He slowly closed the album and kept it on your bedside.

‘you are my blue~’

‘you are my blue~’

You hummed along to the song, it was your favorite these days, quite a contrast to your love for the summer which was always yellows & oranges but of course it also meant clear ‘blue’ skies and crystal clear ‘blue’ water.

“My little blue bird, what makes you sing this blue song?” Hana inquired as he held two warm cups of hot coco in his hands and sat down next to you by the little table in front of the tv.

You only smiled at the cute nicknames he called you and sighed again as if defeated, you couldn’t bring yourself to pick from the wide array of collection of Disney and Don Bluth classics that lay before your.

“Ah I see your dilemma.” Hana spoke chuckling and placed a hand under his chin as if to think. You turned to see what he’d suggest while taking a sip of your warm coco and saw as he got up smiling, ‘ah I know just the thing’ he thought. He rummaged through his bagpack and came back to your side with a little brown bag that had a dvd stores sign.

“I would have packed it nicely as a gift but since you’re so down this should make you happy, I hope it does.” He ran his hands through his hair nervously as you opened the bag and what you saw made your eyes gleam with joy.

“Digimon season dvd’s…all the ones I was looking for..” you spoke and you couldn’t contain your feelings you’d been going on and on about wanting these, they were a connection to your childhood that you’d been wanting to relive. You hugged Hana and he was a little taken aback at your affection but he was overjoyed, to him it was as if a cat had returned the love he’d been throwing its way and he hugged back in a bear hug rocking a little, giving you reassurance. He knew you were going through some inner struggles but never voiced them, you never burdened anyone with them and tried to find solace in your new home.

As the ending song played for the sixth time, you had your head in Hana’s lap over a plush cushion and you had drifted off to sweet little dreamland and Hana who had been watching the show with more anticipation noticed suddenly how his dear friend was snoozing. He smiled softly not wanting to disturb you at all and reached for his hoodie ever so gently as to not wake you and laid it on you. You shifted a little curling up more and Hana couldn’t help but observe smaller details about you like how soft your hair was to his touch, or the way you tucked your feet under another pillow, the steady rise and fall of your form in your comforting sleep.

Unable to hold back, Hana leaned down to swiftly press his lips over your head. He swallowed a lump in his throat though, he didn’t know why he did that…he was sure there was no romance, he was sure of it or was he? He knew he never imagined anything beyond friendship with you but then why was he feeling this way. He started to care so much, he went out of his way at times for you, he felt protective of you as if he just wanted to hold you in his arms and hide you, to comfort you and tell you that..'it was going to be okay'~

Hana sighed turning off the tv and flipped through the channels but his mind was clouded by the same thoughts. He knew though he had some place in your heart, some place special perhaps? Your photo album couldn’t lie nor could all the times he found you trying to sketch him but per your say you failed every time & was just doodling for art block. He could however never decipher if you liked him like a crush or were you just genuinely feeling the way he did…mixed and stuck. But what if it was both and neither of you could distinguish anything?

Hana:

二人の間　通り過ぎた風は　どこから寂しさを運んできたの

泣いたりしたそのあとの空は　やけに透き通っていたりしたんだ

(futari no aida toorisugita kaze wa doko kara sabishisa o hakondekita no

naitari shita sono ato no sora wa yake ni sukitootteitari shitanda)

Marnie:

Speeches that my father gave me would always make me despair

Somehow, I feel a warmth and comfort today

Your ever kind heart, the way you smile, and even how you find your dreams

I knew nothing, so honestly, I’ve always copied you ~

Fireflies danced between the green underneath both your feet as you two sang softly holding hands rocking them back and forth. The night was beautiful, summer nights with chilly wind breezes were dreamy..~

Two little daisies strolled along to forget the world’s worries and just be happy in the moment~

-loading next episode…

#monsta x #minhyuk #monsta x imagines #monsta x scenarios #sunshine #writing for healing

[craftygoateeprincess]

ITInktober Day 5: Stutter

A/N: I swear ots a coincidence, but another TW for rape, sorry guys, these all take place at around that point in Ellies life is all xD

It was not a creature of what a human would call sentimentality. Not really. Yet the small daisy chain itched at the creature's wrist as it went through the business of cleaning up the well house it called a home of what it kept trying to convince itself was ‘worthless garbage’. By the time it had moved (not disposed of) the seemingly endless daisy chains littering the basement it felt numb.

Two hundred and twenty-eight. That was the number of daisy chains Ellie had left. Had they been done in a rush, a manic episode of greif and rage? Or had they been spread out like a remembrance, mourning for her lost friend? Could the creature still walk away knowing it had been wrong, knowing that the girl might still remember after all this time?

No, the question was answered before it could even be asked, he had to see her, even if they didn’t speak, or she hated him, the creature needed to become pennywise the dancing clown once more and see what became of his favorite little human pet…..and then however things would be, the creature would let be, but walking away yet was not an option. The heart the creature didn’t even biologically have ached and demanded he sees this….connection through to the end.

The house that had so often appeared to the creature in dreams was no longer as the creature remembered it. Different people roamed the halls, the girls' room was replaced with a nursery, and her scent was nowhere to be found. She had left, the creature decided, she had made those daisy chains in some guilt fueled goodbye and left this place behind. So too did the creature leave, unaware where to even go, just letting emotions that should be so foreign to a monster well up in ITs’ gut like toxic sludge. 

That’s when the creature heard the familiar sound of train tracks and looking up came the sight that took the breath of the creature away. A girl so changed yet so familiar sat among the daisies, contentedly sewing them into a chain with her fingers. Without even thinking, as if her mere presence blew life back into the act he somersaulted into her view.

“P- P- P-”

“P- P- P-” he mocked. “Pennywise! Ha- ha!” that shocked look on her face only fueled pennywise, as the creature forgot it’s real identity, just being near her, her voice, her expressions, she had breathed life into what was once nothing more than a mask and form to lure children in.

But something was wrong, her stuttering, it wasn't that of fear or surprise. It was all too reminiscent of a boy whose life he had tormented last cycle, each syllable forced and hard fought by a mind that knew what it wanted but a body that couldn't make it, for one reason or another. She shook her head and dug her nails in the dirt, nearly crushing the half made daisy chain in her hands. It caught him off guard, there were so many reactions that he had expected: fear, rage, confusion, joy. But frustration and a stutter was not one of them.

"Speak Ellie," he prompted with a quirk of his brow as he settled crosslegged in the field before her, it seemed to get her attention as their eyes met once more, he felt a smile tug at his lips as he reached out to remove the daisy chain from her death grip, but the second their hands met, whatever hesitence remained in that gaze snapped and she bodily threw herself against the creature, causing him (by instinct alone surely) to wrap her tightly in his arms.

"I-I Eeeeh ever since, e-ever since dad," she was the kid in female form, stuttering and straining to say the words and failing. The creature hardly knew what to say, his fingers instinctively brushing back her bangs. While normally stuttering tended to amuse him, or at worst annoy him, when Ellie did it, all he could feel was concern.

The delectable scent of fear that rolled off of her in waves did nothing to help that concern. Ellie feared only one thing, and that thing should be long dead by now.

"Your father is dead by now, surely, don't tell me that old coot still has ya scared," he teased as he ruffled her hair, but even as she smiled there was a sadness to her eyes he didn't like seeing. It reminded the creature of a dream it had during its long rest, a dream that now felt more like a vision of the future.

"Rape,"

For once she didn't stutter and for once the creature had no questions. It knew who the unknown 'he' was, knew all along the despicable human maggot would be a danger to Ellie, the creature should have just eaten the creature long ago, if it had, perhaps his friend would not be like this.

But it was because she was his friend, because he cared, that he had wanted her to stay with that man, so he knew where to find her, and look where that selfishness had gotten him.

It was not unfamiliar with the tenderer pleasures Earth had to offer, nor was it immune to its tortures. Hate. Pain. Guilt. Guilt. Guilt. 

"I'll kill him," the words were out of his mouth, spat really, before he could think over their implications. But the creature wanted to kill him in that moment, wanted to put his guilt and rage and hunger onto anyone but himself.

Before he could react, before he could stop her, or tighten his grip, Ellie wrapped her no longer tiny arms around his neck, her lips ghosting his ear like they always did when sharing a secret, and my oh my the secrets she had to share.

"Y-you p-p-promise me you would l looove meeeeh, e-even if….even if i avenged myself, r-right?"

The creature didn't need to ask, It knew, and for a moment somehow it saw the man, broken and bloody and very much dead. And oh how it loved her in that moment, more than all the others. But right now, it needed to be pennywise the clown, not IT, she needed her old friend, but perhaps one day, perhaps she could see the creature that had come to love her in its strange, alien way.

"Well then, I suppose now all we need to do is fix that stutter of yours,"

#stephen king #pennywise the dancing clown #slashers #pennywise x reader #itinktober #inktober2019 #inktober #triggering content #content warning #noncon tw

[wearingmywings]

Destiel Meta - an outsider’s perspective

I’ve been reading meta for about a year, but now I wanted to add my own post regarding it.

I don’t really see things when I first watch episodes, I don’t get mirrors or parallels or pay attention to background details like wallpaper or neon signs or anything like that. I’m not good at analyzing things or interpreting it, not in literature nor film, I don’t do something in this area professionally or studied it. 

However, there are some things that jumped out so much that even I thought “Hey, that’s something!”.

Part 1: Mirrors

Seriously, mirrors? You’re telling me that it’s a known method to present mirrors to characters, that they can be used in subtle or totally obvious forms, and they can tell you a lot about the character that’s being mirrored just by existing? Wow that’s so cool!

14x300: In the first scenes when my friend yelled “Look! they look like Dean and Cas!”, I wasn’t 100% sure if that’s what was going on, but oh boi at the end of the episode it was crystal fucking clear. Three people next to each other, the one on the right taller than the others, one is wearing a jacket resembling a trench coat, one is wearing plaid. Trenchcoatjacket and Plaid are holding hands.

We noticed Plaid’s crush on Trenchcoatjacket the whole episode, it was so obvious! Hm, what else was there in resemblance? I remember the taller kid was pretty nerdy, and Plaid stole the Impala at one point, so it’s pretty clear we have Sam and Dean here, which leaves Cas for the last person, and it fits so well! Thats awesome!!

Apart from “Lebanon”, the episode ‘Mint Condition’ basically taught me how they use mirrors and that I should pay attention to them right now. They pointed out who was Sam and Dean, then resumed with the plot and I sat there thinking “Oh!”.

My friend explained to me how the ghost of that episode relates to John Winchester, and honestly if you follow the train of thought about mirrors that the episode presented to you, it’s pretty easy to get there.

Dreamhunter: The confirmed ship with two girls, ah yes! Again, I don‘t really pick up on visual cues or background stuff, but when Kaia said to Claire “I’ll go with you,” I had flashbacks to the season 11 finale immediately. I mean, using the exact same dilagoue? But alright, maybe they’re gonna keep playing it as a cute subtextual crush or how you call it, because neither of them says “You’re my crush”, so-

Oh, wait, Kaia was also stabbed in front of Claire who screamed “Noo!!”, that’s another striking resemblance. Hm.

Oh, Dreamhunter is confirmed to be a couple thing? Neat! So does that mean all the DeanCas stuff is romantic? Because y’all used the same dialogue and plot.

Part 2: Dean’s pining (season 11)

To be fully honest here, I didn’t understand season 11. At all. I didn’t get the whole Amara thing, why was everyone talking about pining? Dean told us that it wasn’t about desire with him and Amara, just a weird fixation, but still, the lady in the senior home told Dean that he “was pining for somebody else”. That makes no sense!

Unless it’s true? Dean didn’t pine for Amara, he tells us that, but everyone’s still talking about pining, therefore the topic of pining is important. Dean x Amara wasn’t romantic, that’s clear from what Dean told us and how he behaved, so no pining.

The only person left he could pine for is Cas. The dude who let in Lucifer, who Dean’s worried about, who Amara touches and she knows where Dean is? That’s..interesting. I’m still kinda confused, but some things are clearer now. No romance between Dean & Amara, but pining is still a theme, and only Cas makes sense. Got it.

Part 3: Cas’ endgame as being human

I wanted to include this because I’ve had this headcanon for years, then saw the meta community talk about it, and honestly there’s one scene to watch and it’d be clear that Cas wants to be human.

“We need grace-” “He can have mine”. 14x08

Alright dude, you’re so eager and ready to throw away your grace? Okidoki.

To go back in time, everyone always had these TED talks about how Cas loves humanity and loves humans and human things, that he feels stuff (season 4 yall, it’s been a while), that he compliments Hannah with things that “are human”. He doesn’t get along with other angels because they’re different than him, or they don’t understand his love and devotion for humans. He spends pretty much all his time on earth, around humans, because he loves them, and one in particular.

To quote Metatron, “He’s in love with humanity”. Do I need to add more? No? Fantastic, because this post is long enough already.

Part 4: Random things in no particular order

Episode 12x12, because come on. Some people took the gifs of Cas’ deathbed confession and connected them to the shots before, showing you where everyone’s standing, who Cas is looking at, and it’s so bloody clear. Don’t get me started on the singular vs plural “i love you” because I literally don’t have to, it’s right there.

“I could go with you”- season 11 finale. Cas, ready to die to accompany Dean on the suicide mission to save the world. He wants to ease Dean’s fear and be there for him until the very end, without hesitation. Castiel really fucking loves Dean Winchester. Wow.

That’s it I think? Those are the top things that jumped into my face when I watch the show, things I didn’t have to read other people’s thoughts on to understand what’s happening. :)

To finish this up I want to say something about meta writers. I didn’t start out reading meta, I didn’t really care for details and background stuff and took the show as I saw it, which is why I shipped Destiel immediately because there were enough things so blatantly obvious to me that I just had to. Then I found @tinkdw, then @bluestar86, @dotthings, @occamshipper, @postmodernmulticoloredcloak and all the other bloody amazing meta writers, and boom! A whole new world!

I started a series rewatch, read the posts for the episodes or seasons, paid more attention and there was so much to see and notice! It gave me joy in watching SPN in a time where I was kind of burned out because I had just discovered the bad side of the fandom and was a bit hopeless, for my OTP and the show itself. It gave me friends, and interesting conversations, but more importantly: These people helped me be realistic about episodes, upcoming episodes and PR stuff. “PR is not showrunning” was a strange concept to me before they showed me what it meant, and I vividly remember being in tears before all this after some PR material promised amazing things but failed to deliver.

These people are so good at predicting what’s going to happen because they read the fine print and understand it, pack it up and show it to us who either can’t read the fine print or dont notice it. They help fans to control (?) their expectations, to soften blind excitement over promo shots or interviews with people who have either no clue what they’re talking about (Jensen bby, i love you but what are you even saying?) or are purposefully exaggerating things.

They saved me from so much disappointment, they improved my fandom experience and changed my feelings for the show and how I watch it. There are so many interesting things to discover, things that confirm theories and explain plot points. I haven’t been disappointed in a new episode because of PR or rumors since I’ve met them, except ep 300 but that’s...a whole other thing. They were right about that too, though, and I didn’t listen. Catch me crying at four am because of it.

I love those people immensely, and I’m so thankful for them. They take the time to write all these essays about the show, all you have to do is read them.

A toast to meta writers! Consider this your personal love letter.

Kisses,

Jana

#destiel meta #Destiel #pr is not showrunning

[canvaswolfdoll]

CanvasWatches: Nichijou

They said it couldn’t be done! My resolve almost faltered! But here it is: KyoAni’s[1] Nichijou dubbed and in my hands!

Nichijou is so well regarded, and the scant clips I’ve watched such high quality, I ordered the Blu-ray collection sight unseen. Which, historically, I’ve done only for acclaimed films, and even that’s rare.[2]

I was not disappointed. It quickly replaced Lucky Star[3] and Azumanga Daioh[4] as my favorite slice of life comedy series.

The animation is great, the comedy on point, and the characters and (dubbed) performances are charming and very likeable.

Now, like a fool, I’ve set myself to analyze a comedy… woo-hoo…

Spoilers. Just go watch the show now.

Nichijou is super charming.

It has strong comedy, but there’s also plenty of segments that make you smile and kind of enjoy that life exists, and friendships such as those depicted are capable by horrible humans.

I’ve never been struck by the visceral appeal of Moe before. I’ve watched K-On (which is a fine series), Lucky Star (good comedy, if steeped in its era), and have dabbled in the media here and there, but Nichijou is the first series where I felt the charm.

In the latter half of the series, there’s a recurring segment which is dedicated to sweet, small moments that you expected to be subverted (due to the rest of the segments) but is played straight and just makes you smile.

But it’s also really, really funny, in a well written, logical progression sort of way.

A good quick example is that of the Go-Soccer club, which begins as a funny background detail of posters advertising it being seen around campus. Then a few incidental characters discuss it in the background. Then, we get a segment featuring the two members and we learn its founder formed the club as a place to goof off and play simple playground games. So which is a decent punchline to a running background gag.

Then a new member comes along who is a champion Go-Soccer player hoping to continue the hobby in his high school years. Then we learn one of the teachers also is an enthusiast of the sport that apparently exists, but is resistant to be the club advisor.

Then we witness a few bits of the game being played, and it’s a confusing, Calvinball experience that will never be explained.

The entire show is built like this. A premise is introduced, expanded upon, exaggerated, and the silliest options taken when possible without seeming forced (within the context of a comedy world anyways). And there’s also lasting changes in the details. A gag changes windows for the focal classroom into stained glass, and those windows remain as such for the rest of the series.

But the real strength of the series isn’t finding joy in small miracles or escalation of events, but how interconnected everyone is and how those connections make life better.

At the start of the series, most of the cast have tangential relationships, but the segments stand alone with their own sub-casts. The main trio (Yuuko, Mio, and Mai) work off one another and have their classmates in the background, and those classmates sometimes get their own focus segments, but the segments are fleeting and seem to run off their own internal narrative, unconcerned with others. Slowly, over time, we learn new relationships that put new spins on past segments.

Mio gets a job at a stand, and her supervisor’s impossible and ethereal standards gets the better of her. Then that supervisor is revealed to be the father of one of her classmates, who is being crushed on by the friend of a girl who has a tsundere relationship with a boy Mio also has a crush on.

Also, Mio’s sister is a kendo mentor figure to the tsundere girl.

These relationships are all static. They existed before the series began, but were revealed when it would be funny.

The one exception is the Shinonome lab cast: a grade school aged prodigy, the robot she built, and later a cat they adopt. The cat’s adoption is the first time a relationship is formed on-screen, and is the straight man the duo needs for the first half of the series. The three are rather reclusive, with Nano the robot sometimes going grocery shopping, but they never have meaningful interactions.

But the series is about how everyone connects with everyone eventually, and the bridge is built when Nano is allowed to attend class and join the school-girl trio as a fourth friend.

The final episode puts a pin in this with a segment of Yuuko stumbling through the school to ask Nano is they can visit her house. We watch the full journey as every trip and small mistake Yuuko makes improves the lives around her in a small way.

It’s a really good series and… I don’t know, it’s a comedy, those are impossible to analyse! It’s fun, good natured, and is family friendly! Watch it.

In conclusion, a segment about a deer wandering onto the school’s campus.

---

[1] After the tragic arson attack of Kyoto Animation, I’ve decided I should probably put a little more effort into highlighting the specific studios and people who put the work in. [2] I probably should add A Silent Voice to my physical collection. Also by Kyoto Animation, by the way. [3] Also Kyoto Animation. [4] J.C.Staff! Not everything’s KyoAni! This studio has also done the second season of One Punch Man, Revolutionary Girl Utena, and a bunch of middling tier adaptations that some seem to appreciate but not particularly loudly.

#CamvasWatches #nichijou #CanvasReviews #anime

[stevenuniversallyreviews]

Episode 109: Last One Out of Beach City

“What if I told you that the world was gonna end, and you had fifteen minutes to spend with me or your friends?”

Steven and the Stevens and Hit the Diamond are my two favorite episodes of Steven Universe for reasons I’ve written about at length, but beyond encapsulating the essence of the series and characters and all that, it should be noted that they’re just plain fun. Last One Out of Beach City is smaller in scale, zeroing in on one of the show’s earliest defined relationships and basking in its evolution from a feud to a deep friendship, so it’s harder to use as a stand-in for the show as a whole. But even if it isn’t my third-favorite episode of the series, it stands hand in hand with my top two when it comes to the charm factor.

Last One Out of Beach City is a delight from start to finish. Jesse Zuke’s legendary “Bad Pearl” sketch comes to life in the best way imaginable, and Deedee Magno Hall solidifies her place as my MVP of a killer lineup of voice actors. Actual human being Mike Krol gets tossed into this alternate universe like it was nothing. Crimes are committed. Swears are censored by screeching tires. Juice is spat. Cups, spilt.

This is the promise of Zuke’n’Florido’s brilliant opening sequence of Beta fulfilled: Steven and some Gems hanging out not for half an episode, but an entire one. It’s got sight gags aplenty, supplementing some of the best comedy writing in the series, mixed with the soul-warming joy of watching characters we love getting along. So lest I just turn this review into gushing about individual jokes and lines and moments, let’s dive into why each character we see is terrific, starting with the scofflaw herself.

Last One Out of Beach City does for Pearl what Back to the Moon does for Amethyst and Mindful Education does for Garnet: we see the result of her character growth in Act II, and even if the Mystery Girl looks a lot like Rose, it’s still a huge step forward for our lady of perpetual mourning to develop a crush on someone new (and to be so low-key polite to Greg). The romantic subplot alone could drive an episode, but Pearl gets so many more hats than “girl with a crush” here: she’s a nerd, a badass, a criminal, and a middle-aged mom all at once. She vacillates between genuinely cool and desperately uncool until she fuses these extremes together to become a confident square; it’s perhaps Deedee Magno Hall’s best Pearlformance that doesn’t include singing, and that’s saying a lot. Between her voice acting, the lines themselves (“This is why we buckle up”), and the sheer sense of catharsis from seeing her choosing to move forward with her life, this is my favorite Pearl episode. And that’s saying a lot.

Pearl has always had a weird relationship with humanity. She's distant from modern culture compared to Amethyst, and her misunderstandings about human stuff is often played for laughs, but she’s also a crack car mechanic and is enamored with human concepts like knighthood. She’s not completely removed from society, but chooses not to engage unless something in particular catches her fancy. So it’s fascinating to see her associating moving forward with performing more human activities; she’s embracing Earth as it is, not as it was when the Gem War was raging, and she’s not letting lingering envy from Rose’s love of humans like Greg get in her way.

The reason this works so well is that it’s clearly performative, rather than an actual sudden personality shift. She’s still a homebody who likes puzzles and hanging out with her kid. She’s still snooty, both with her friends (dismissing the idea that anyone could be nostalgic for something as “new” as suburbs) and with her crush (“By the way, I saved your planet and your species and you're welcome”). And she’s still nervous as all get-out, but brave enough to push forward anyway.

Pearl’s maternal nature isn’t ignored, but used as fuel for her attempt at rebirth. There’s a huge difference between an awkward person putting themselves out there for the first time and a semi-retired hellraiser who, after settling into a comfortable groove, seeks to relive her glory days. She’s been dwelling on the negative for so long that she feels out of touch with her adventurous side, to the point where wearing pants and drinking juice is adventurous, but because we know Pearl so well by now we can actually appreciate how big of a deal these minor accomplishments are for her.

While it’s refreshing to see Pearl moving on from Rose, it’s perhaps even greater to see how far her relationship with Amethyst has come. While their longstanding rivalry softened during the Week of Sardonyx, we haven’t gotten them alone together since, and it just feels so nice to see Amethyst ribbing Pearl with that extra burst of sisterly affection, and Pearl loosening up enough to not take every slight personally.

As with Pearl, Amethyst works here because her personality hasn’t been erased; again, she’s still ragging on Pearl. The plot gets rolling because of Amethyst’s well-established fascination with humanity, and Pearl’s decision to see the show is prompted in part by wanting to impress Amethyst, something she never would’ve cared about in Season 1. And for all her teasing, Amethyst encourages Pearl every step of the way, not just out of solidarity but because she’s legitimately impressed.

And in a world where Pearl and Amethyst are egging each other on, Steven has to step up and be practical. I appreciate that his sense of responsibility and realism doesn’t make him a jerk or a brat, but more of a peer than ever among his fellow Crystal Gems. When pointing out the pink-haired elephant in the room, he’s not condemning or teasing Pearl: he’s just clearing the tension, and showing that he’s more aware of the situation than a younger Steven might have been. In this episode, Steven is the friend who looks for a gas station when his buds are freaking out about running out of fuel.

By now Steven feels comfortable with his place in the team, and with his relationships with Amethyst and Pearl as individuals. A version of this episode placed earlier in the series might’ve been about Pearl and Amethyst fighting for his attention, or Steven vying for attention from either of them, but by now he’s happy to do a puzzle with Pearl and to go to a concert with Amethyst, and there’s zero conflict. Immaturity shouldn’t be a go-to character beat anymore, and I love that Steven is acting his age.

Mystery Girl turns out to be more of a device than a character, as we never see her again. But I honestly think that’s fine; what matters is that Pearl is willing to put herself out there, and the result isn’t a new relationship with a new love interest but a new relationship with humanity. The Pearl of Bismuth Casual, hanging out with a posse of human friends and showing off her Gem powers with glee, owes everything to the Pearl of Last One Out of Beach City, and thus everything to Mystery Girl. Perhaps they had a thing at some point. Perhaps they still do have a thing. We don’t know, because Pearl has new hobbies outside of being a Crystal Gem, and that’s the victory.

An in terms of the show’s greater plot, if our new friend never gave Pearl her number, Pearl never would’ve gotten a phone, so A Single Pale Rose never would’ve happened. Perhaps one day he would’ve learned the truth, but certainly not before Yellow and Blue Diamond arrived to wage war on the planet. So thanks for saving the world, Mystery Girl!

The use of music from our universe lends Last One Out of Beach City a uniquely realistic tone compared to the rest of the series; perhaps any such music would do the trick, but a garage rocker is an apt choice for setting a grounded mood. We get a glimpse of Greg’s life outside of being a dad, as he socializes not only with Amethyst but Barb and Vidalia. The car chase lurches to reality when we learn that Pearl doesn’t have a driver’s license, and explicit references are made to the DMV and Pearl’s citizenship. It’s like knowing Steven’s exact age, or having Greg break his leg in Ocean Gem instead of getting a nondescript injury, or hearing Dr. Maheswaran describe PTSD using terms like “cortisol”: these concrete details make these characters feel more like real people. And considering this is a character-centric episode in a show where characters are pretty much always at the center anyway, that realism gives us a deeper connection to what our heroes are going through.

Pearl is by no means a teenager, and the critical element of reclaiming her mojo muddles direct comparisons to a teen protagonist, but the emotional honesty of Last One Out of Beach City makes me feel nostalgic, and not just for the suburbs. Driving around, not quite following the rules, and bouts of chasing meaning when you’re not as interested in traditional adolescent social activities? Those were my teenage years. I don’t always miss them, but this episode brings out the best of my memories.

There’s really not much else to say. I could spend another few paragraphs incoherently gushing about the writing and the animation and the voice work, but I promise the time you’d spend reading that would be better spent rewatching the episode. While I maintain my comparison to Beta, Last One Out of Beach City does stand in opposition to Peridot’s first Meep Morp: it has no functional purpose, it just makes me feel good.

Future Vision!

I already brought up how Mystery Girl’s number prompts A Single Pale Rose, but that episode itself shows that Pearl’s a lot slicker than she thought she was. That’s a lot of codes!

I’ve never been to this…how do you say…school?

Not sure why we get a Halloween-themed promo for an episode that has nothing to do with Halloween and aired in early September, but this is me not complaining about that. (Apparently it’s actually a reference to a Japanese tradition but I don’t watch enough anime to know more about that.)

We’re the one, we’re the ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR!

It’s not my third favorite, but this episode is really high up there. The cream of the crop are episodes that give me the purest emotional reactions: Mirror Gem nails dread, Lion 3 and Alone Together embody two different kinds of wonder, and Steven and the Stevens, Hit the Diamond, and Last One Out of Beach City just make me unspeakably happy.

Top Twenty

Steven and the Stevens

Hit the Diamond

Mirror Gem

Lion 3: Straight to Video

Alone Together

Last One Out of Beach City

The Return

Jailbreak

The Answer

Mindful Education

Sworn to the Sword

Rose’s Scabbard

Earthlings

Mr. Greg

Coach Steven

Giant Woman

Beach City Drift

Winter Forecast

Bismuth

When It Rains

Love ‘em

Laser Light Cannon

Bubble Buddies

Tiger Millionaire

Lion 2: The Movie

Rose’s Room

An Indirect Kiss

Ocean Gem

Space Race

Garnet’s Universe

Warp Tour

The Test

Future Vision

On the Run

Maximum Capacity

Marble Madness

Political Power

Full Disclosure

Joy Ride

Keeping It Together

We Need to Talk

Chille Tid

Cry for Help

Keystone Motel

Catch and Release

Back to the Barn

Steven’s Birthday

It Could’ve Been Great

Message Received

Log Date 7 15 2

Same Old World

The New Lars

Monster Reunion

Alone at Sea

Crack the Whip

Beta

Back to the Moon

Kindergarten Kid

Buddy’s Book

Like ‘em

Gem Glow

Frybo

Arcade Mania

So Many Birthdays

Lars and the Cool Kids

Onion Trade

Steven the Sword Fighter

Beach Party

Monster Buddies

Keep Beach City Weird

Watermelon Steven

The Message

Open Book

Story for Steven

Shirt Club

Love Letters

Reformed

Rising Tides, Crashing Tides

Onion Friend

Historical Friction

Friend Ship

Nightmare Hospital

Too Far

Barn Mates

Steven Floats

Drop Beat Dad

Too Short to Ride

Restaurant Wars

Kiki’s Pizza Delivery Service

Greg the Babysitter

Gem Hunt

Steven vs. Amethyst

Bubbled

Enh

Cheeseburger Backpack

Together Breakfast

Cat Fingers

Serious Steven

Steven’s Lion

Joking Victim

Secret Team

Say Uncle

Super Watermelon Island

Gem Drill

Know Your Fusion

Future Boy Zoltron

No Thanks!

     5. Horror Club      4. Fusion Cuisine      3. House Guest      2. Sadie’s Song      1. Island Adventure

#last one out of beach city #steven universe #su #steven universally #review

[jean-and-ali-liveblogs]

CYM’s Final Posts

Ali: So, this whole scene was the greatest bit of animation I watched in a long long time. And it’s not because it was really pretty, not because it was so astounding and even breath taking, and it’s not even because it was so full of joy and love that it’s even hard to put it into words.

It’s because of this whole journey that got us there. It started of quite innocently. Steven kept hearing about how great, loving, good and perfect his mother was, saw how much everybody missed her, and he just wanted to be like her. And I think that’s quite normal, isn’t it? If you have a good parent or if you never meet them, but you are told they were a pretty much living embodiment of perfection, you are going to want to be like them. I remember myself when I was like 10yo, and I looked up to my mother, who was hardworking and determined, but at the same time possesed sense of humor and extremely open mind and told myself “I am gonna be just like her when I grow up”. 

The problem was that for Steven it quickly started to have a dark turn. When he convinced himself more and more that everybody blames him for her being gone. When more secrets and hidden half-truths started coming out and it started to look like maybe Rose wasn’t this paragon of good and hope that everybody seems to make her out to be. When it started to feel that it’s not him who wants to be like her, but rather everybody around him expecting him to fill the void she left behind. Even though nobody ever said that out-right, it felt like that to Steven.

Even though Steven didn’t talk about all of this too often, it eventually became blatantly clear that the shadow of his mother hanging over him was extremely detrimental to him. Especially after he reached the conclusion that he doesn’t want to be like her, that he wants to be, well, whatever he wants to be, and not just follow in her footsteps. 

When White was messing with Steven, it was one of the most painful things to watch, maybe even in this whole series. I could barely stand a second of it. He wasn’t even sure himself anymore! What if Pink really isn’t gone? What if he is just her with amnesion? It was like if all those years of doubts and struggle crashed on him, and it was first and the last time when I just wanted to be able to rip out White’s gem and grind it to dust. I mean, my god, in that scene, when Steven says “I am not my mother”, you can pretty much touch his hesitation and doubt. It’s so real, so palpable that it feels like a massive junk of ground hanging over him, ready to crush him at any second.

So then, it was the most amazing, the most wonderful, the most relieving moment to hear him say this. After all those years. After this whole journey of uncovering who Rose really was, who Steven wants to be, after all the pain, heartbreak, doubts, to have him say that one line “I’ve always been me”, with such joy, relief and wonder. 

Honestly, it was the best way ever to resolve this. Nobody just told him he is not his mother. Nobody assured him. He saw for himself. He told himself that he is, well, himself. There is no place for doubt there, no place to question it ever again. Steven is Steven, and that’s all he is and all he needs to be. I love this so damn much. 

There is one a tiny bit funny thing in all this. This whole situation, this realisation, it’s a reason to celebrate. A reason to be happy and relieved. And you know what? We learned that a character who was generally a Good Guy (Well, “Girl”) is really and truly dead. And all I can feel about it is immense joy, and not because I despite Rose or something, but because I care that much about Steven and his mental well-being. And feeling joy in the face of knowing that Rose is truly gone doesn’t feel wrong at any level. That feels quite new for a cartoon. 

After some time passed after watching this, I remembered that thing Rose said on the video tape. 

“I'm going to become half of you. And I need you to know that every moment you love being yourself, that's me, loving you and loving being you. “

It was a lovely message and generally a great and amazing thing to say to your child, but at the same time it always rubbed me little bit  wrong way. While I knew that Rose meant it in all the good ways, at times it felt like taking away Steven’s own agency to love himself and love being himself. 

Uh, I can’t think of any good metaphor for this, but like... Imagine your are in a relationship. And your partner loves you more than life itself. And you can feel it at every second of your existence. And that’s awesome! That’s great! But what about you loving you? You can’t be happy with somebody, if you are not happy with yourself. 

Okay, that’s shitty metaphor for this situation, but what I am getting at is: What if - after the joy of seeing his mother for the first time and hearing her loving words for him - it put more doubts into Steven’s head? “What if everytime I appreciate myself or like something I did, it’s actually not me being happy about myself but some scraps of Rose feeling that for me?” . It could as well lead him to repressing all kinds of positive feelings he could have for himself.

So I am so happy that now it’s: 

“You are two halfs of a one being. And you know that every moment you love being yourself, that’s you, loving you and loving being you”

I mean, god damn it, this is like the greatest message in all times! Of course it’s amazing for Steven, to finally know that he is only himself and also that he found self-love and self-respect in the process. He is going to feel so much better now! But I myself didn’t sleep for like two days after this episode, mulling over this. Thinking and realizing  how important this is. It hit me like a tons of bricks. AND IT ACTUALLY DID SOMETHING! I feel like I am actually trying now. I told myself times and times again that I should not hate myself. That I am at least a decent person. And it always felt like hollow words in my head. But now? I feel like I am actually trying now. And maybe I don’t love myself yet. And maybe I am even far away from even liking myself. But now I have this character, Steven, who I care about as if he is a real person, who is important to me and who pretty much bathed in self-love and self-respect in the most pure forms in front of my eyes. I can’t ignore that anymore. 

AND I FEEL LIKE NO CARTOON BEFORE DONE THIS FOR ME!

There were always strong message of how important family is. Or that you should love your friends. Or about forgiveness, or kindness and so many other awesome things that people need to be told about.

But then SU turned around and went “Yea, of course it’s great to love your family and love your friends, but WHAT ABOUT LOVING YOUSELF?”

How great is that? 

From other things, I was told that this scene was animated by James Baxter, who is a Disney animator. And oh my god, what an awesome idea. It didn’t even feel out of place! When I was watching, sure I noticed that suddently frames per second went up, everything became extremely smooth and the way characters moved or emoted changed too, but it didn’t create any confussion or dissonance. 

It just felt right for a moment like that to be a masterpiece of animation. It made everything so much powerful, so much more emotional and touching. And there is part of me that wants to say “I wish whole show looked like this!”, but another part of me deeply hopes that the show will never look that good, so this can forever stay it’s own special and perfect moment. 

And god damn it, even the way Connie backs away is totally amazing. It’s suddently so expressionate, and so... full! I don’t know what there is about that little backtracking, but I rewatched that one second like 50 times. I love how there is even a tiny movement of her shoulders as she walks. 

I already talked a lot about Gem Steven, but it caught a bit of my interest how he is the first one to start the “dance”. Well, there is really not much choice, since Human Steven is pretty much too weak to move, but I just wonder what exactly sparkled the reaction.

I mean, he doesn’t just smile, he looks at HSteven and goes into very expressionate and emotional motion. So I wonder if it’s like... due to getting into psychical contact with HSteven, GSteven already has some of the connection back and can “siphon” the feelings of him.

Or is it that GSteven - even though he is a lot like a machine - cares about being Steven and loves being Steven just as much as the other half, so even though he can’t really feel feelings or express them about other things, Steven is  that one thing he can feel things towards. 

I prefer second option. 

#su #steven universe #AliEp156 #AliEp156P4 #CymFinalPosts #that got long #sorry!