#I have no idea where the lion analogy came from... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hobiwonder · 5 years ago

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crazy rich asians | 02

Genre: Chaebol!BTS. maid!reader. Smut, fluff. mild angst.

Pairing: Jin x reader, Jimin x reader, Hoseok x reader, Yoongi x reader. Possible future pairings.

Warnings for this chapter: language. mention of porn.

Words: 6.5k+

Summary: You overhear something you shouldn’t. Now some of the country’s most powerful - and rich - men would do anything to keep you quiet.

a/n: I'm back finally lol. this chapter moves along the change in feelings of the different characters. main pairing becomes more clear and also just sets the scene to the final few chapters. please let me know what you thought?

(dorks!!!!!)

“Wow.”

“Yeah...” Yoongi lets out a hefty breath he’s been holding since Jimin had mentioned the Will. He’d known his friends were multimillionaires. But never quite the exact aggregated amount of their wealth. Which he now knew was A Lot.

“Wait so let me get this straight, your dad has to marry Amber in order for you to get the money - what if he doesn’t?”

The unexpected question - that Jimin or Jin didn’t even take into consideration - makes Jin smack his younger brother on the back of his head. Light enough that Jimin’s exaggerated flinching was uncalled for.

“He should if Jimin here, can keep his dick in his pants.”

“Please! You slept with her before me, don’t act so self righteous.” Jimin’s scowl only earns him another glare from Seokjin.

“Once. Whereas you will probably make her your booty call.”

“Well I have someone else in mind for that now.” The smirk on his face is mirrored by Yoongi who just shakes his head at his friend’s unadulterated behaviour.

“Good. Call her from now on.” Jin doesn’t seem to catch on to who Jimin is referring to but it does remind him about your departure not too long ago. Hoseok seems to have the same idea when he speaks up before him.

“Speaking of, you assholes better have made sure y/n wasn’t outside at least this time.” His eyes don’t flicker away from his phone as he says so, making no move to get up and check if you had in fact, left.

“Are any of you going to check?” Jin knows the answer but somehow expects a different outcome. Negative.

“Not my house.” Yoongi is leaning back, stretching his arms behind his head to get comfortable.

Shaking his head at his useless friends and even more useless brother - he opts to have a look himself.

“I’ll be back. Meanwhile you peasants think up an idea on how to retrieve that will.”

“Excuse me?” Hoseok’s eyes are wide as if Seokjin told him he was an illegitimate child.

“Hyung you don’t have the inheritance yet. If speaking solely of net worth, mine is more than yours.” His record producer friend’s shit eating grin is well earned but doesn’t mean it doesn’t make Seokjin want to get this plan in motion sooner.

“Yeah yeah..” He’s not paying much attention to their mindless chatter about Jimin’s impromptu vacation.

A few strides later, he’s opening the golden doorknob carefully. That way if you were outside - which would be quite dumb of you he thinks - he’d be able to catch you red handed. Right outside the door, he doesn’t find anyone. He lets out a sigh of relief at the peacefully empty hallway. No servants or butlers and definitely not your cute little frame hovering in places you shouldn’t be.

Just when he’s about to head back inside - he hears the faint noise. Immediately, his feet are going towards it - not quite being able to pinpoint what exactly was that he could hear. Was there someone else lurking nearby? God. Were the staff always this nosey in this house? Then again he would know if he paid much attention even if he saw nothing wrong with not doing so.

Jin strains his neck further, hoping to see whoever it was, without being all too visible as he stood behind the massive vase in the hallway. The next sound he hears though, inevitably someone talking - worries him just slightly. Walking forward until he was nearing another room - there you were, sitting against the wall with your back hunched over. Seokjin couldn’t see your face but your voice was telling enough to let him know of your distressed state. You were sitting on the floor, hand covering your mouth to seemingly hold back a cry.

Who were you talking to? And where was the girl who not even half an hour ago blackmailed his brother and friend?

“I-I’m okay. I just miss you.” Your quaint, undoubtedly overwrought whisper in to the phone makes his chest constrict.

“I’ll let you know. I have to go now Nana. I love you.”

He’d never witnessed someone so rawly feeling emotions that weren’t joy or ecstatic even. The most he was used to was anger from his father. Frustration from his friends. Mostly bliss on his own. But never something like this. You sounded defeated and scared. Were you really crying because of him? He hadn’t anticipated that immensity the empathy would flood into him. He’d never really gotten upset and nor did he believe his brain had the chemicals to make the reaction happen which would allow him to feel said emotions.

He watched you - and heard - let out soft whimpers into your lap. His hands suddenly started to sweat and his feet itch to walk forward but he remained rooted in place. A few moments later, you were getting up, dusting your frumpy uniform before storming off to who knows where with a determined stomp to your steps. A small grin tugging at his lips at your determination. It was more than likely that you were feeling upset and intimidated by the situation you found yourself in. So why did Jin still not call it off when he went back inside the room?

He couldn’t answer that even if he tried. Maybe he was a masochist. Maybe he really did not have any regard for anyone but himself. It certainly wasn’t because he wanted to keep tabs on you.

“You good brother?” Jimin instantly notices his older brother’s more sinister expression.

“What are you looking so happy for?” Jin counteracts before Jimin can try and analyse him any further. He didn’t do well with emotions other than hunger, ecstasy and horny.

“Did you hear? It’s all over the news.” Hoseok is laughing obnoxiously loudly, shoving his wide screen phone in Jin’s face.

A familiar face is greeting him right next to his eyes - if only Hoseok would move the offending phone slightly back, Jesus. Taehyung’s bright blue hair is the front page of the news article. His hand is up a model’s skirt and face plastered on hers. The next set of pictures is him being spotted at a museum with his Posse before they tastefully switch to him at an elite rooftop club. His friend was always the centre of attention and quite obviously thrived on it.

He was very liberated and couldn’t careless of the strict rules his family lived by. Boy would he be in trouble if he comes back before his newest scandal dies down.

“What’s he done now?” Yoongi’s just shaking his head - being the older brother of said boy and rightfully being pissed off. He usually took the heat for his younger brother’s shenanigans.

“Just shoved his face in between a model’s tits for all to see. Nothing new.” The tick in Yoongi’s voice is all too familiar. He always had to do damage control while Taehyung partied the night away. He felt for his friend sometimes, he really did.

“Well, shit. What’s the damage?”

“If i’m lucky, just more shame.” Yoongi’s gaze turns back up to the ceiling, hands stretched behind him to cushion his head.

“Hyung, you really don’t have to keep being the martyr for him. Let him face the music when he gets back. Grow the fuck up.” Hoseok can’t help but feel like a broken record whenever he gives yoongi advice.

No matter how stubborn and wilfully isolated Yoongi remained from the rest of the world, he insisted on protecting his younger brother as much as he could. It would’ve been admirable if it was a rarity. Saving Taehyung’s delinquent ass was like yoongi’s day job at this point.Yoongi just shook his head, not dismissing Hoseok’s advice completely even if it seemed so that way.

“I’m more selfish than you think Hoseokie.” What did he mean by that? That story was for another day.

“Ladies, ladies,” Jimin eyes his older brothers, holding out his hands in a gesture to settle everyone down, “Let’s get back to business. Taehyung whoring around is like being surprised to find out that a lion eats meat.”

“What the fuck kind of analogy is that?” Hoseok is chuckling at Yoongi’s taunting but Jimin barely blinks.

“What is it Jiminie? You’ve had another revelation?” Standing and pacing was not something Jin had ever done before. And he wasn’t about to act like a commoner just because of a little maid who’d caught him off guard.

Taking a seat back at the couch, Jin takes the scotch from Jimin before settling his attention back on to the matter at hand.

“We need to use our newest asset.” Jimin’s devilish smile is nothing short of mischievous.

And Jin was very familiar with that look. He knew that his little brother was intrigued and despite having his eye on the prize, no doubt, he wasn’t thinking all business anymore. There weren’t many things that Jin and Jimin couldn’t have. In fact, he would argue that even if he tried to spend all his money - he wouldn’t be able to. Jin was only 27 and yet he felt like he was on his ninth life - all previous deaths were due to absolute boredom. Women flocked him to without him having to bat an eyelash, had too many servants to count, too many places to sleep and too little to want. Could he get bored of being rich? Not ever. But was he bored with things he could do that came with being rich.

That’s why he was always actively looking to spend his wealth on hobbies and objects that were unattainable. Dangerous. Something that was forbidden to even a man like him who could have anything. And at this very moment - it was you. It was hard to pretend that Jimin wasn’t also well aware of that fact. Hoseok and Yoongi were merely held back because they hadn’t received the ‘go-ahead’ from either himself or Jimin. That they were allowed to play with such a pretty thing like you. They were all good-looking, incredibly so, and extremely wealthy. It was a default that people wanted to be as close to them as possible. Not you. When Jimin had crowded your space, you looked ready to bolt. Like you would be anywhere but in that room with all three of them. And when your body had reacted quite the opposite way, clinging onto Jimin and Hoseok - it was he could do, watch in awe. Jin rarely saw people at war with themselves when it came to physical intimacy with himself or any of his friends.

He’d slept with his fair share of attractive house staff but never encountered someone like you. And that had to be why he was inexplicably attracted to you. Nothing more. The look on Jimin’s face meant he was too and he wanted to play with his meal.

“What do you propose? Shall we take turns trying to maximise our profits from said asset?” Hoseok’s shit-eating grin accompanied with his schoolgirl giggle annoys Jin more than usual but he doesn’t mention it.

Letting the younger ones have some fun, with his fists clenched. He needed another drink.

“Well, I found out from Amber that there have been some staff changes to the Manor and I wonder if our little maid being here has something to do with that. Minhyuk doesn’t work here anymore.”

“And?” Yoongi sounds just as bored as Jin probably looks.

“And, you little shits, he used to work in father’s wing. Know what that means? Hm?” Jimin is looking around at his older brothers like they are supposed to be on the same page.

And while it makes sense that the other two who didn’t live here were lost - it baffles Jin that he didn’t know of the change when he’s been here far longer than Jimin. How does he know so much in so little time? Though it clicks for him just before Jimin opens the pandora’s box.

“It means that y/n works there. She’s the only new hire and none of the other staff have been moved around.”

“And let me guess, you want to seduce her into breaking into father’s office and snoop around?”

Jimin is gasping in mock shock at Jin putting two and two together like the drama queen he is. “Precisely. Knew your brain hadn’t hibernated permanently.”

“Yah, shut up before I expose you and get you cut out of the will entirely.”

“You won’t. You’ve got too much to lose.” Jimin is tilting his head innocently, a juxtaposition between his words and actions.

Jimin was a slithery snake, that much Jin knew. Hell, he was often proud of his younger brother’s extraordinary mind but even Jin knew that he was sharp underneath his soft exterior and disarming smiles. Which meant that he’d made up his mind to include you into their devious plan. But something about the phone call Jin had witnessed before, he felt a little uneasy in the pit of his stomach. The feeling is all too foreign and unfamiliar that he has to place a hand on his abdomen.

“Well boys, just let me know when my turn is. She was too cute for me to pass up on. Now if you excuse me, I have to pick up Taehyung.”

Yoongi’s passive face turns up into a scowl at the mention of his younger brother. “Good. At least he’s bringing back enough of his brain cells to know not to ask me any favours for a while.”

“That’s why he called me, hyung. I’ll drop him off at the Hilton.” Yoongi murmurs a thanks at Hoseok, glad that his friend could sense that Yoongi would rip Taehyung a new one unless he took some time to cool down. He already had to hang up on his father’s personal secretary twice since the news broke out.

“Later sluts.”

“Bye hyung.” Jimin is waving Hoseok goodbye before he finally sits, looking expectantly at Jin.

“So, what do you say? You in for some adventure? It’s been a while since I fucked someone I wasn’t supposed to.”

His pursed lips would have you think he was talking about a physics phenomenon and not sex. “Yeah? And what do you suppose is called when you sleep with your future step-mother?”

His smile is blinding. “The family jewels. I’ve just as much right as father now.”

“Jesus christ.” Yoongi mumbles before putting down his half empty glass. “I’m just glad I won’t have to merge with that obnoxious knob my father keeps insisting I do business with to expand. Tell me what’s needed of me and then wire me the money. No need for details that don’t concern me.”

Stretching like a feline, Yoongi takes his leave. Leaving Jin to marinate a little more in his conflicting feelings toward Jimin's pet project. Well, he did willingly take part but that was before the five foot something intrusion in their plans. There wasn't anything particularly extraordinary about you. So why was Jin finding it so difficult to separate himself from the situation like he usually was able to?

"Jin hyung?"

"Yeah?" Pretending that he wasn't distracted by any thoughts of you, Jin stares back at Jimin's smirking face. He's holding a sheet in his hand, waving it around like he's going to cast a spell.

"Let's figure out the logistics here shall we?"

"You do that on your own brother. I've got some business to attend to." The clink of his heavy scotch glass is definite as he sets it down.

Jimin doesn't argue and that in itself is suspicious. Giving Jimin a pat on the back, Jin heads out with a mission to let off some steam at the gym. Just knowing you were somewhere in the Manor put him on edge and he wasn't about to flail like a teenager in front of you should he encounter you again.

"I'll do that. I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Maybe."

___________________________________________________________________________

"Y/n, Please make sure you are supervising the staff as they move through the rooms. I'd like you to personally go through the checklist before my inspection. Mr. Kim will be spending a lot more time in his home office starting the week after next and we cannot afford the Manor to be anything short of impeccable."

Anders was talking just as fast as he was walking, causing you to almost have to jog besides him as he fired off the list of chores. it was odd enough that you still had a job, let alone climbing up the rank and supervising other staff. In Mr. Kim's wing no less. For a split second you thought you were part of some joke and any second you'll be laid off. But Anders had all but looked through you like it was any other day of work.

"And please, take note that due to the eventful nature of Mr. Kim's work, we will be expecting many visitors therefore everything needs to be tidied up before and after Mr. Kim's work hours. you will be rostered on to take care of his wing, including the guest rooms, living room, library and the restrooms. Mr. Kim's office will be out of bounds and I shall take care of that room. understood, dear?"

Anders is looking at you warmly for the first time today and like a true airhead that you'd been acting these days, it takes a few seconds for you to nod at him.

"Yes sir. Will I be working the regular hours or will my shift hours be changed?"

"I presume it will be on a weekly basis for a little while. For this week you will be required to tend to Master Kim's quarters after 5pm and get everything set up for the next day. Of course, with the exception of today."

His smile is kind and lighthearted. You know he isn't this forthcoming to all of the staff. Perhaps your age being the closest to his own children gives you the soft advantage. Nonetheless, you are thankful for the little bit of gentleness, guidance and just a light hand ever since you'd started working here. And maybe Anders has a little bit of hand in you getting this sort of promotion in such a short amount of time.

"Okay. I will get to it right away." Tucking your notebook in your apron, you nod at him.

"Y/n?"

"Yes?" Your heart is thumping too loudly, too fast in your chest. The events of yesterday flooding in your mind.

But Anders didn't seem to display any anger so far.

"I say this for your own safety, dear. Try your absolute best to keep a respectful distance between the people of the house and yourself."

"O-Okay." Spinning right around, you bolt.

There was no way Anders didn’t know something. He had to have known that something incredibly inappropriate happened, right? Did Mr. Kim’s sons complain about you? There was no way they probably didn’t make you seem like a creep. Snooping around their house like paparazzi. Just thinking about the events of yesterday made the blood rush to your face fast enough to make you slightly dizzy. It still felt like a fever dream. Something that was far too.... astounding to have every happened to you. You could count on one hand how many times something memorable happened to you in your short life. And yesterday was equally memorable as well as terrifying. This uncertainty you felt with your place in the Manor was something you didn’t want to feel much longer.

The more you thought about it last night, the more angry you became at yourself. How selfish could you be to put your job in jeopardy? Especially when you have so many people counting on you to keep it for a long while. You had stupidly put yourself in the midst of some money war happening between very powerful people. Now you’d become someone for them to play with or at least that’s what you felt like. Yes the kissing was great, your traitorous body soaked up the physical intimacy like a starved nymphomaniac but at what cost? Tossing and turning, sleeping had been futile.

And maybe your red eyes gave Anders some indication about what had been troubling you. Still, you were adamant on keeping yourself away from their traps. No matter how beautiful and alluring their words were. No matter how beautiful each one of them were. They were unattainable and a lowly worker like you was never going to be someone worth their respect. Head filled with many thoughts, you march towards the crowd of people awaiting your instructions.

You will not think about them. Especially him. Kim Seokjin.

______________________________________________________________

A week goes by much easier and uneventfully than you had expected it to be. And the more days that pass, the more that one encounter feels like a fever dream. Like it happened in the fantasy realm. Something twisted conjured up by your brain after it got tired of your insipid life. You’d managed to speak to your grandma on a regular basis to make sure she wasn’t worried after your out of the ordinary tearful conversation with her. As usual, your mother had not been interested in talking with you and it hurt you just like it always did. Though it was becoming so normal and expected that you suspected your numbness to it soon. You awaited that day.

“Miss. y/n, would you like me to change the glasses from the liquor table? One seems to have broken...”

One of the staffer’s, Jihoon, trails off as he inspects the damage. Your eyebrows furrow at his observation. You left everything in place last night before leaving. No broken glass anywhere. Was someone here after hours? Mr. Kim’s schedule didn’t show any scheduled meetings after 6pm - which was unusual anyway as he finished up by 5pm most days.

“That’s odd. I’m sure this wasn’t broken.” There are a few shards of glass peeking out from the bottom of the liquor cabinet and sure enough, when you bend down, you can see the remains of the glass pushed underneath it.

“Oh boy. Be careful when you clean that up Jihoon. I’ll go get a new set.”

“Maybe one of the masters we’re here.” Jihoon shrugs absentmindedly, proceeding to vacuum all the shards and the mention of the other men in the house makes you jolt like you’re the one vacuuming glass into your bare hands.

“Y-Yeah. I’ll be right back. You’re free to go when you’re done. I’ll do the last sweep before calling Mr. Anders.”

“Okay! See you tomorrow noona!” You say your goodbyes before heading to the storage room. Jihoon had been here overnight so you wanted to let him rest as quickly as possible.

Feet rushing you out quickly, it feels like every breath is being stolen out of your lungs while the memories from last week are rushing into your empty brain. Why couldn’t you get yourself together? It was one incident. Yet, your whole life seemed to revolve around it. It was getting pathetic. You hadn’t seen any of the boys since then and the more days passed, the more it was clear that they played around with the staff on the regular. You weren’t anyone special. The more it made you angry that you let it happen. How dare they treat you like a common groupie? You may be just a household worker but that didn’t mean these rich trust fund babies should treat you like this.

All the comebacks you could have said then were coming to the tip of your tongue now. Especially for the tall, handsome eldest with lips of sin. Lips that didn’t touch yours and annoyed you so much for some reason. If you saw him again, he was going to get an earful!

Your emotions were getting the best of you. So much so that the force with which you were pushing in the key with to unlock the storage room was rattling the mahogany door rather loudly. Thankfully, before you disturb the peace down in the basement even more, you’ve opened the door. It’s only the second time you’re here as you were not allowed the key before. Seeing as you managed Mr. Kim’s wing, it was given to you by Anders to keep with you at all times.

Locking the storage room again after you’ve grabbed a new case of - extremely expensive - glasses, you make the tread back to the meeting room. The Manor is quiet at this time in the morning. The only activity most likely happening in the kitchen while breakfast is prepared. You were on time for all your tasks regarding Mr. Kim’s wing, a spring in your step as you thought about having a cup of tea with the cooks in the spare time you had. The next task was to get everything ready for tomorrow’s Family dinner that Mr. Kim was hosting. Thankfully you didn’t need to be there. You may have been promoted but you were not allowed to stay for the intimate family gatherings as only the very essential staff stayed. You could understand given the influence of the people present in the home and how anything could be made a spectacle if it were to get out.

“Oh Y/n, glad I caught you.” Anders is walking towards you down the hall.

“Mr. Anders.” He’s smiling as he approaches, eyeing the box in your hands.

“Everything looks good. I have inspected the room. I presume these glasses are for the liquor cabinet?”

“Oh, yes they are. Did Jihoon call you? I was about to do a last sweep before paging you.”

His kind smile greets you as he shakes his head. “No need. Everything looks remarkable. You are doing a wonderful job, dear. Join the others in the kitchen for some tea and muffins. They smell especially good today.”

He’s walking down the hall to Mr. Kim’s office as he reminds you of the treats. It’s such a wonderful morning now that Anders has acknowledged your hard work too. You must really be doing a good job. Without wasting any time, you walk a little too fast to the meeting room to display the glasses. Before you can though, a call for your name stops you in your tracks.

“In a hurry?” The deep, mocking tone of a certain someone you were trying to avoid is all you can hear.

Taking a few steps back until you are facing the doorway where you heard his voice from, you come face to face with an image only your imagination tried to conjure on nights you were so, so tired. The real thing though, was far more picturesque. The eldest Kim, Seokjin, stood there, lean muscle on display while his jeans hung low. Hair wet and skin looking slightly flushed due to the shower you assume he just had, judging from the towel around his neck. Even if you tried, you wouldn’t be able to stop your eyes from memorising each ridge on his abdomen. There was something about seeing him in casual wear when you have only ever witnessed him in slacks and expensive silk shirts.

“Are you done? I get that I'm the most handsome man you’ve ever seen but the staring does get old.” He’s sighing as if he bears a great burden on his shoulders.

"I wasn't- wasn't star-"

"Anyway. Bring me a glass of scotch will you?" He cuts you off before you can actually properly say anything.

Now sitting on the plush couch with his legs spread and an arm slung behind the backrest. Looking like something out of a magazine cover. Ugh! He was so infuriating. He didn't even respect you enough to let you respond to his ludicrous remarks! Nevertheless, you were in no position to be angry. He was your boss after all. And after last week, you weren't about to stir up trouble and get yourself fired.

You must have been zoning out for a little too long because you can feel Seokjin's stare burning a hole through you. His gaze indifferent and apathetic. "Well?"

"Yes... Sir." Your mouth aches from the force with which you clenched your jaw before answering.

Standing a good distance away from him really helped your mental state. You were much more clam and composed. You had space to think. Unlike when you were in that room last week. His proximity made it worse for you to think let alone compose a coherent sentence to stop whatever the men were practically forcing you into. Who even makes a deal with a servant anyway? They could toss you out whenever they want to, that's for sure. So really, they were playing with you and you'd been nervous and scared and made that stupid call back home like the gullible sheep you were. That's what rich people with too much free time on their hands did. Play with innocent people's feelings. Not knowing how much trouble it may cause for them. So, whatever. You weren't going to think about it and let them get the best of you again.

Turning swiftly, you complete your original task of replacing the liquor glasses. Carefully pouring one for Seokjin - despite your dislike for the man - as to not pour too much or too little. He's in the same position when you left, albeit, his body more relaxed into the sofa than before as he flicks through the channels. The noises erupting in the room suddenly, however, make you halt in your tracks like you just witnessed some sort of tragedy. The high pitched moans and whimpers are bouncing off the walls all too clearly. The sounds are so pornographic it has your whole body on fire and your pulse racing. Taking a look at the TV - of course, it actually is porn. And what do you know, that's enough to rattle you once more as you almost see it happening in slow motion.

The glass that was weighty and secure on the tray in your hands; now tumbling to the tiled floor like it was fairy floss dissolving in your hands. The loud shatter compared to the very obtuse and unmoving reaction from Seokjin is too metaphorical for you to not notice. This incident now can pretty much sum up your encounters with him. Seokjin hasn't moved an inch, casually watching porn like it was the weather man. All the while you're glancing frantically at him and then the floor, then back at him and back to the floor where they shattered glass is scattered on the floor.

"I'm- I'm so sorry, sir! I'll clean this u-up." What even was happening. How the hell do you apologise with those noises in the background?!

"Don't interrupt. You've already broken expensive glass, don't sully my enjoyment of the film too." Again, he has yet to even look at you.

"This is hardly a film." The words escape you a little too quickly and a little too loud. And of course, Seokjin would notice now. If only because of your ticked tone and the scoff that’s bound to get you in trouble.

“Any movie that I’m in is worth watching.”

“Excuse me?” What was he talking about?

That’s when all plans of being poised and professional go out the window. Due to one rookie mistake. Taking the bait that he dangled in front of you because you turn around like a fool and look at the large TV screen. The sight is slightly unexpected. You had expected to see porn, of course. But not porn that included Seokjin. Sure enough, it’s hard to deny that it’s really him behind a really attractive blonde, someone you recognised from a lot of hollywood movies, flexing his biceps as he intently stared at the camera. You could feel your body tightening up, your thighs connecting with each other on instinct. You can feel the perspiration build up on your skin, your heart rate a million miles an hour. Seokjin was naked in all his glory, hair still looking as if it had just been styled in that effortless way. Even though the snapping of his hips behind the woman displayed how much his muscles were being exerted. The scene was mesmerising. His smouldering eyes holding yours captive that you forget that he was actually there in the flesh. Currently watching you look at the screen like a pervert.

Seokjin’s chuckle breaks your blatant staring at his naked form in the video that was playing by pausing it. So you had no other choice then to look back at his smirking face. The wheels turning in your head, trying to find a viable excuse to get out of another uncomfortable situation you seem to have pulled yourself into just because you can’t help your reactions. The anger was also starting to creep up your spine, getting dangerously close to the part of your brain that failed to control your impulsivity. All because Kim Seokjin was pushing you to your limits. So instead of making a comment on how you had shamelessly watched a good minute of his sextape with some A-List actress, you clear your throat and look him dead in the eye no matter how hard it was after seeing what you had.

“I will have Jihoon bring you another glass and clean this up right away.” Taking a small bow, you cheer internally that you didn’t stutter.

“I don’t want Jihoon. I want you.” Your breath hitches at the heat in his words. Somehow they didn’t convey the appropriate message considering the context.

“S-Sorry?” Seokjin clears his throat, looking back at the TV before speaking again.

“To clean up this mess.” He waves his hand at the shattered glass again, flicking the TV to some cartoon channel.

“O-Okay.”

“Aw, did I miss all the fun?” The cheery voice from the doorway finally takes Seokjin’s attention away from you to his younger brother.

“If by fun you mean the maid breaking house property then, no. I’m sure she’ll make more mayhem soon enough.”

“If you can kindly wait till i’m out of earshot to discuss me, that will be great!”

It’s like you’ve asked them for 2 million dollars or something because Jimin’s eyebrows have shot so far up his forward you’re worried that his eyes might fall out of their sockets. Seokjin is looking at you, really looking at you, for the first time it seems. Even you hadn’t expected to lose your cool because you’re slapping your hand over your mouth, knowing you have definitely screwed up now if you hadn’t already.

“Oh?” Jimin’s tone is mocking and amused. Showing how unexpected your outburst was.

“It seems that our little maid has a spine after all?” He walks to you like a predator ready to trap his prey and it sends a chill down your spine.

Jimin was attractive.

That much was obvious. Somehow his soft features didn’t translate to his personality, he didn’t seem human in the way he addressed you. His tone was almost vindictive. Like he couldn’t believe that someone of your stature would talk back to him. As much as it didn’t make sense, you looked back at Seokjin out of instinct. As if he could save you from whatever Jimin will inflict on you. Which was ridiculous given that moments ago you were ready to strangle him.

“I-I don’t appreciate being treated like a toy.” Chin up, feigning all the faux confidence you could conjure, you stand your ground.

Jimin’s cackle is like needles in your skin. It makes you hot and cold at the same time. Walking over to you, he’s merely a few inches away. Clearly trying to intimidate you as he’s done before. The scent of his cologne hits your nostrils and you have to clench your fists to stop yourself from taking a deep inhale. Perfumes were your weakness. Seeing him up close again is enough to remind you of the last time. But you were more prepared now. No way you were going to let him kiss you again.

He brings up a jewelled hand, twirling the stray strand of hair that was framing your face. “Oh darling…. But you are a toy.”

His smile is so big and endearing - had you not already recognised the evil twinkle in his eyes. How dare he?! Your hands balling into fists, nostrils flaring from the sheer anger that you felt right now. This was one of those moments you would surely regret later on. Because you were about to slap the living daylights out of him.

“Let her do her actual job Jimin-ah. I believe we have things to discuss.”

Seokjin’s command is Jimin’s - and perhaps yours too - saving grace. He’s turning on his heels swiftly walking to where his brother lounged. You have to take a deep breath, snapping yourself out of it before you say something that might get you fired for real.

“Oh, y/n, bring me a glass of champagne too while you’re at it.” Jimin winks at you and you scurry out of the room without even responding.

This family was crazy.

_____________________

Champagne? Seokjin wondered what his brother had done in just a week to warrant a celebration.

“Is this another premature celebration Jimin? You know it ruins all the fun when you end up failing. For you that is. It’s very entertaining for me.”

Jimin is flipping him the finger as he sits down, changing the channels until it lands on something he is vaguely paying attention to.

“That was very rude you little shit. I was watching that.”

“Hyung, they were playing rugrats. You’re 27 now. Watch Naruto or something.”

“Tell me why you’re here before I kick your ass.”

“Wow, being around servants has turned you into a commoner too, huh?” Jimin is clicking his tongue like he's gravely disappointed. Obviously referring to you.

The mention isn’t healthy for Seokjin right now. He’s spent far too much time thinking of last week and the phone call he’d witnessed. Though the majority of that regret was not actually kissing you when he had the chance. Your lips had haunted his dreams too many times. This was an odd activity for his brain and he was now worried if you carried some sort of disease that caused all his brain waves to malfunction and make him think solely about you.

Jimin throws up his hands in defence when Seokjin remains unamused, moving a little closer to talk in a much more hushed tone.

“Okay okay. Hold off on the dick measuring. I’m here to tell you when we’re going to put the ‘plan’ into motion.”

Jin arches a brow in question. So soon?

“The family dinner is tomorrow. Most of the staff will be gone so less witnesses.”

“Is… the girl working the night? I don’t think essential staff includes the cleaners.”

Jimin smiles wide like he always does when he’s up to something. Though to be fair, he is always up to something.

“She isn’t but leave that to me.”

“Wasn’t gonna help.” Seokjin shrugs, feeling slightly ticked at his brother’s suggestion.

What was he up to now and why did Jin feel the need to protect you from Jimin’s devious plans?

#bts #bts fanfction #jin fluff #sexy jimin #bts scenarios #bts x reader #hobiwonder #HOW DO I TAG THIS LMAO #ALSO WHY WONT THE GIF SHOW UP UGH

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eryiss · 4 years ago

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Chapter Two: ADAPTION

Summary: The Justine's were always a criminal family. The Dreyar's were forced into it due to prohibition. After gaining power and influence in the criminal world, the families were forced into a fragile truce. This was until the recently disowned Freed Justine arrived at Laxus Dreyar's door, demanding a job in exchange for information that could bring his family down. [Fraxus Multi-Chapter]

This was written as part of the Mashima’s Heroes Big Bang, hosted by @ft-ez-bb. I have been paired up with the wonderful @fairiesherefairiesthere, who's made this great piece of art. Remember to give them lots of love.

You can read this under the cut, on Fanfiction, or on Archive of Our Own. You can find the chapter masterpost here.

Chapter Two – Adaption

~Five Weeks Later~

Being at an opera, sitting beside Freed Justine of all people, was not something Laxus could have expected would happen.

Even though he had been the person to suggest it, he hadn't actually expected Freed to agree. He'd gotten the tickets on a whim, a spur of the moment purchase because of a shockingly persuasive kid standing and yelling at the corner of a nearby building advertising the thing. Even when he had been buying the damn tickets he didn't expect Freed to agree to the suggestion, and yet two days later he found himself in a private box, watching Cleopatra's Night at the Neapolitan Opera with his most recently hired employee and newly appointed criminal consultant beside him.

He was making a conscious effort not to think about why he'd offered the ticket to Freed of all people, and why Freed had agreed so easily. To achieve this, he put all his focus on the show. But that wasn't easy given his lack of passion for opera, and with the intermission looming he only had a vague idea about what was actually happening. There was Cleopatra, obviously, as well as some maids and a lion hunter obsessed with the queen. It was all very… dramatic. And the lion hunter pissed Laxus off; who would let themselves be murdered just so he could sleep with a woman?

Freed seemed to share the opinion, as pretty much every time the hunter walked onto the stage Freed would either roll his eyes, mutter under his breath or shuffle in his seat in apparent boredom.

"He ain't your type, huh?" Laxus whispered, their private box meaning nobody could hear them.

"Obsessive, overdramatic, no sense of boundaries and constantly cruel to a woman for no reason? You might have to hold me back from storming the stage and taking him here and now," Freed murmured sarcastically.

Laxus chuckled. Over the past few weeks he had spent a lot of time with Freed, as he'd turned from just his pianist into his official criminal advisor. The shift from a distrustful antagonism with a hint of teasing to a genuine friendship had been shockingly easy.

Most nights, after Freed had played to his crowd of adoring subjects, he would climb to the office and offer Laxus advice and his expertise on issues Laxus might have faced. Often times this wasn't needed as such – Laxus knew what he was doing most of the time, and Freed's advice more supplemented his actions than guided them completely – but those talks were good. Freed was quick witted and had a morbid droll to him. Teasing the man had been fun, but sharing a joke and balking out a laugh with him was a noticeable improvement.

Freed might have agreed, as he seemed more comfortable in his position now. This new found security in his job had brought out the arrogant man that he'd first been when he'd stormed into Laxus' house that night. He was cocky, and it was fun to spar with him.

"Though the actor does seem familiar," Freed commented, leaning forward slightly as he watched the stage. "I think I may have kissed him in a club a few years back. What's his name?"

"Erm," Laxus looked at the playbill in his hand. "Rufus Lore."

"Yes, that's him. A little annoying really," Freed chuckled. "He tried to convince me I was his first kiss, which might have worked had we not frequented the same clubs. Quite often I'd watch him sneaking into a back room with a man he'd enraptured; he got quite the reputation."

"And you still kissed him?"

"I wanted to see what the fuss was about," Freed shrugged. "I still don't understand, he was average at best. Maybe he's just well-endowed."

Laxus laughed and let out a quiet 'fucks sake.' As they'd developed a friendship of sorts, Laxus had made an effort to show how little he cared for Freed's fondness of men. He sometimes brought it up, mainly in companionable jest, and Freed seemed comfortable to speak of it without care. And in the few instances where the topic would arise with any seriousness, Laxus would be careful with his words and make sure not to cause any offense.

This was mainly to make sure his friend felt comfortable with him; Laxus' grandfather had drilled into him that some laws were pathetically stupid and immoral, and that people were who they were. These were views that Laxus kept close to his heart.

There was also a small hope that being blindly accepting of Freed might plant the seed that Laxus shared his inclination. It was a lot easier than having the conversation.

Laxus hated that conversation.

He pushed that thought to then back of his mind – as he did with the thoughts of Freed's past dalliances with men – and instead, put his focus on the show before him. It was still fairly tedious to watch, and the hunter grated on his nerves. But Freed kept up his murmured commentary, and it made the show a little more bearable.

A little while later, the lights of the opera house raised, signalling the beginning of the intermission. Both men stood and walked from their private box and towards the lobby, where a bar went unused for anything other than soft drinks. Many people were standing around, all of whom seemed to be very wealthy and very interested in the show they had been watching. Laxus would bet a good few dollar that most of them didn't care about the show and only came because they wanted to sound intellectual and well cultured, and that grated on Laxus' nerves slightly. Rich assholes.

"Wanna get a smoke outside?" He offered Freed. "Less cramped than in here?"

"I don't smoke," Freed replied. "But I can join you."

They both left the lobby and walked to the front staircase of the opera house. They leant against the stone wall of the staircase, Laxus making sure he was downwind of Freed so that the smoke from his cigars wouldn't blow into his face. He pulled his cigars from their case, struck a match, and lit it. As he smoked, his eyes lingered to Freed, who stood in the moonlight with a great sense of belonging. He seemed in his element for the first time since Laxus had seen him, other than when he was playing at night.

"You been here before?" He asked.

"What makes you think that? You assume I have friends in the theatre?" Freed smirked, and Laxus chuckled at the reference to the ridiculous analogy used to describe gay men.

"I know you do, you just told me you kissed the star of the show," Laxus chuckled, after making sure nobody was in ear shot of course. "And the reason I was askin' is because you look like you belong in a place like that. High culture, shit like that."

"Most of the people I associated with were in the arts in some capacity. Poets, actors, painters; those sorts mainly. Of course there was the occasional criminal who made things a little interesting, but most of my friends were what you might consider cultured," Freed mused aloud. "Though I think what really grouped them all together was their willingness to leave my life entirely when I lost my money. Shocking, isn't it?"

Laxus chuckled, but didn't speak. He took a drag of his cigar and looked down the busy streets of New York. It was spitting rain, though not heavy enough for him to care, and the flickering street lamps reflected in the puddles starting to form. Laxus had always liked the rain.

"Why did you bring me here tonight?" Freed asked, and Laxus looked to him in surprise.

"Because you've been helpin' me out a lot, and I thought you'd enjoy it," Laxus shrugged, taking another drag of the cigar, and slowly letting the smoke stream from his lips. "And I never had the money to do anythin' like this before, and I wanted to see what it was like. Saw it as an opportunity to get two things done at once."

Freed took a moment before speaking again. "I almost believe you."

"Why almost?"

"Because you're not meeting my eye," Freed supplied. "And you always meet my eye when you're being honest. A habit you really should get out of, given your propensity to make hollow threats, but that's beside the point. Why are we really here?"

Laxus couldn't be fully honest, but he could answer the question somewhat.

"There's been… We never really got into the crime world more than we had to. People thought we did – thought we were blackmailing one half of the police force and pointing guns at the others – but most of the illegal things we did was just getting the booze and selling it. We just made sure never to correct people when they thought we were dangerous" Laxus sighed. "But with your help, we're getting further into it. And it's working out well, so doesn't think I ain't grateful, but there's a lot more to think about. Just had a lot of stress I suppose; wanted to have a break from it all."

"That makes sense," Freed nodded slightly. "And why me? Not that I don't appreciate it, but being alone would be cheaper. And a man such as yourself could have any woman he wanted on his arm, and any other part of his body I dare say. And you're not short of women around you, many of them willing by the looks of it."

Laxus made a conscious effort to ignore the 'man such as yourself' comment.

"You must have realised that, in these circles, there are men who know me. Know of my fondness's as well," Freed continued, and Laxus' eyes flickered to him again. "It's entirely likely that they'll see a man with me, and make assumptions."

"Let 'em think what they think. They'll either not know who I am, and in that case it doesn't matter what they think, or they will know, and they'll probably be shit scared of me," Laxus shrugged.

He watched as Freed's brows tightened slightly, and his eyes flickered over Laxus' face inquisitively. Laxus didn't say anything, because he knew that most men wouldn't be so flippant about being mistaken for a lover of other men. And, as Laxus didn't want to have the conversation about why he didn't bat an eyelid about people making that assumption, he instead let Freed's mind wonder in the hopes he would come to the conclusion himself.

Freed might also understand the other reason they were here together. The reason Laxus wasn't ready to admit to just yet, not even to himself.

"Very well," Freed said, a level of surety in his voice now. "I've had a delightful time, no matter what the reason. You're good company."

"So are you," Laxus parroted, and grinned at Freed over his cigar.

"And by the sounds of it, I seem proficient in distracting you," Freed smirked, and Laxus felt his face flush lightly.

Freed chuckled, patted Laxus' arm with a slightly too firm hand, and said he would see Laxus at their seats. As he turned and walked away, Laxus found it impossible for his eyes to stray from his retreating figure, in the expensive velvet tuxedo that complimented his angular form in the moonlight. Only when the man was back in the building could Laxus look away, and he took another drag of his cigar with a very light quiver in his breath.

"You've no fuckin' idea," He muttered as he blew out a final puff of smoke.

~~~

~3 Months Later~

Freed had his eyes closed as his fingers danced across the keys before him. Fairy Tail's piano was a beautiful thing – large, polished, made of mahogany wood, with its mechanisms open for all to see – and Freed had grown to love playing it after months of his new employ.

The entire sensation was indescribable. Before joining Fairy Tail he hadn't played often, given his father's dissatisfaction for him doing anything he deemed to be feminine or artistic. When he first joined the tavern he'd been somewhat stilted while performing, talents rusty from disuse. But as he spent more time playing, refining the art, the more he enjoyed it. The feel of the keys pushing against his fingers, the vibrations of the sounds against his legs, the thrumming effect on his heart. It was an incredible feeling, and one he was addicted to.

Which was why it was perhaps childish to use it to drown out the teasing of his friends.

"We can wait," Bickslow sang over the loud music filling the speakeasy. He was standing beside the piano with his arms crossed, grinning. Freed continued playing, pushing his fingers against the keys with more effort.

"You'll get tired eventually, you know," Evergreen added, leaning on the side of the piano.

The musical stalemate lasted a few moments longer, partly because Freed knew there was an inevitability in the situation and partly because his fingers were starting to cramp. He finished the tune with perhaps more of a flourish than he needed to – it was just the three of them there, after all – and looked at his two friends' amused expressions with boredom. They both grinned at his expectantly.

"What 'cha hiding from us, Freed?" Bickslow began, smiling.

"Nothing," Freed lied.

He really didn't think his secret – if it could be called that – was really anything of note. It was his birthday, something he didn't particularly care about because he wasn't ten years old. He hadn't mentioned it to anyone, mainly because a month prior it had been Erza's birthday, and they had celebrated with a party that was far too loud and obnoxious for Freed's liking. He didn't want something like that for himself, so he had kept the event quiet.

How Bickslow and Evergreen had picked up on the fact Freed was hiding something, he didn't know. He used to pride himself on having an impeccable poker face, but they'd seen through it. Being in Fairy Tail, an environment where lying wasn't commonplace, must have made him complacent. He was slipping.

Or maybe he was just more effected by the day than he'd wanted. It was his first birthday without being with his family and, despite the fact most of them were obnoxious assholes – which was a very kind way to phrase it really – they were still his family. Rather than a lavish, somewhat awkward dinner at an expensive restaurant, he would be working for most of the night and returning to his tiny boarding house simply to sleep. Perhaps the lack of the usual pomp and circumstance was bothering him more than he'd wanted, and it was obvious on his face.

Not that he wanted fuss. He wouldn't be keeping the day a secret if he did. It was just unusual, that was all.

"Then why were you playing while we tried to talk to you?" Evergreen asked, pushing off the piano when Freed moved from the seat and towards the table they often frequented.

"I need to keep myself sharp, I was practicing," Freed shrugged. It wasn't technically untrue. "You too should perhaps try it."

"You know," Bickslow said, and Freed could hear amusement in his voice. "You're right. We should."

Before Freed could say anything, a large hand grabbed his arm. A moment later Bickslow's bodyweight was pushing down on Freed, and his other hand was on the back of Freed's head. His cheek was slammed against the table with a loud and echoing thud, and Freed grunted as his side was pushed roughly against the side of the furniture. He narrowed his eyes as his face was pushed into a puddle of spilled beer, and he struggled to get out of the large man's grasp.

"You tell me what I wanna know or I'll bash your knees in, pretty boy," Bickslow growled into Freed's ear, voice darker and gravellier than normal. The effect was ruined slightly by the giggle that followed.

"Go ahead," Freed grunted, calling Bickslow's bluff as he pushed up against the hand holding him down. He still couldn't move; Bickslow was good at this. "Though I doubt you will, so get off me."

"Fine," Bickslow chuckled, removed his hands from Freed and allowing him to stand upright again. He grinned at the glare he received. "You're right I guess. I mean, what would the boss say if his favourite got hurt and it was because of me? He'd go mad."

Freed gave him a levelled, unimpressed look. The idea that he was in some way Laxus' favourite was something that had spread quickly throughout Fairy Tail, and almost every staff member seemed to enjoy mocking Freed with it. He didn't particularly understand where the idea Laxus preferred him came from, other than perhaps they spent a lot of time together given his position of Laxus' advisor. Just because they talked a lot didn't mean he was treated differently, though.

He'd tried explaining this, but Evergreen brought up the opera tickets. And the letter of recommendation sent to his landlord. And the bi-weekly trips to restaurants so his criminal solicitation wasn't always in the office.

They might have had something of a point…

But Laxus was kind to all of his employees. It was entirely possible that Laxus gave the same level of attention to everyone else, and Freed was mocked because his pride made his reactions entertaining. The excuse was flimsy at best, but Freed decided to believe it.

As he went to say something in argument, the door to the speakeasy opened and light flickered in. All three of them looked over just in case a drunk or criminal walked into the bar unknowingly and needed persuasion to leave. However, when they sat it was Laxus, they removed their hands from their weapons. Freed was quick to give Bickslow a warning glance as he turned back to his drink; Bickslow just grinned back at him widely.

"You three alright?" Laxus asked as he walked towards them.

"We're fine, just taking some time before we start work," Freed spoke first, before either of his companions could bring Laxus into their discussion. "You're not normally hear at this time. Nothing's wrong, I hope."

"Nah, was just getting sick of being at home; Gramps just keeps talking, gets to be too much. Might as well get some work done," Laxus shrugged.

He went on to keep walking, but as he looked at Freed he frowned and stopped. The two men looked at one another, Freed confused as to why Laxus' eyes were flickering over his face.

He watched wordlessly as Laxus took a step forward and slowly, gently brought his finger to Freed's cheek and stroked it with a knuckle.

Freed froze, Bickslow sniggered, Evergreen muttered a quiet 'oh my god', and Laxus brought his slight wet finger to his nose to sniff; he winced a little at the scent of harsh booze.

"Why've you got the cheap shit on your cheek?" He asked, looking to Freed.

"Well," Freed forced out, blinking away whatever emotion Laxus' gentle touch had stirred up inside him. "Your employee decided to test out his intimidation techniques on me. Apparently coating me with my spilled drink is part of that."

"You're still drinking this?" Laxus asked, flicking the cheap alcohol off his finger. "You know you can have whatever you want, right? I ain't gonna get pissed if you take the top shelf stuff."

"I like the moonshine," Freed shrugged, slightly lying.

Laxus rolled his eyes, walked from the table that the three were sitting at and leant over the bar. Freed watched Laxus as he pulled out a single, unopened bottle of what seemed to be port, purposefully ignoring the chuckling coming from Evergreen and the leg nudges from Bickslow below the table. Laxus walked back, placing the large bottle of high-end port onto the table in front of Freed, either unaware or uncaring to the teasing Freed was forced to endure.

"This is yours," Laxus informed Freed, and the pianist frowned towards the bottle. "I know you're a port drinker, and this is a good label, so don't act like you don't want it. Leave the crap for the cheaper customers."

"You needn't do that," Freed began, tensing at the barely held giggles from his friends. "I'm perfectly fine with-"

"It's a gift," Laxus shrugged, grinning. "It's what you give people on their birthday, isn't it?"

Freed paused, then blinked. "How did you-"

"It's my job to know," Laxus shrugged. "Now, yer gonna make the most of your present and have a good drink before you get to work. You're not gonna share it with these freeloading asshats who look like they're having some kind of fit for some fucking reason," Freed glanced to Bickslow and Evergreen, who were red with restrained laughter. "And I doubt you wanted a party but tough shit. Mirajane's baking a cake and once we're done for the night we're gonna toast ya and your just gonna have to deal with it. That a problem?"

"Would it matter if it was?" Freed asked, resignedly amused.

"Not a bit," Laxus laughed. He began to walk towards his office, but paused and looked back. "Oh, and I'm pretty sure that half the customers come here 'cause the pianist has a pretty face. So wash up; boss's orders."

He walked away before anyone at the table could speak.

Freed watched him go, before turning and looking at the bottle of port that remained untouched. As had often happened with Laxus, Freed found himself looking back on a conversation to understand what had actually been said. The blonde was like a whirlwind in many ways, and Freed seemed to be captured in his draw very often.

Had he stroked Freed's cheek? And how had he known that it was Freed's birthday? And had he just called Freed pretty? It had all been so nonchalant, as if it were second nature for Laxus, and Freed almost thought he might have imagined it all.

"Oh yeah," Bickslow laughed after a moment. "We're all the same to him. No favourites here."

That was how the rest of the day went for Freed, with Bickslow and Evergreen teasing him; a few other members of the bar also joined in when the opportunity arose. He took the jokes as well as he could, which was somewhat difficult given that both the bottle of port and the slight flushing on his cheeks acted as constant reminders of what Laxus had done.

Once his night of playing was over and the bar closed to the public, a cake was presented to him. Nobody sang, and the party was on a much smaller scale than it had been for everyone else, but enough of a fuss was made of Freed for him to almost forget Laxus' actions. Almost.

As he walked to his boarding house, he found himself replaying the moments through his head again and again. The gentle touch of Laxus' shockingly soft knuckles against his skin was tantalising, and the ease with which he complimented Freed was so… unusual.

Laxus presented himself to be a man's man, always in control and a symbol of strength for those who needed it. Freed had known men like that, he'd been with men like that, and they'd always seen compliments as a sign of weakness. Laxus clearly didn't see it like that, and although Freed considered himself more handsome than pretty, having a man like Laxus compliment him so unabashedly was thrilling.

Freed would posture that anything Laxus did would be thrilling; Laxus was that type of man.

And he had to believe that Laxus wouldn't mind. Because, as much as Freed denied it, Laxus' treatment of him was hardly platonic. Platonic men didn't take other men to the opera. Platonic men didn't stroke other men's cheeks for no reason. Platonic men didn't flip their opinions on other men so quickly. If he were a romantic, he might say Laxus was treating him like he'd treat someone during courtship.

He might say he'd enjoy it, were he more honest with himself.

Before he could fixate on that thought, he pushed open the door to his boarding house, locking it behind him and was met by a glare form his landlady: Porlyusica.

"You're late," The old woman grunted. "I nearly locked you out."

"And I'm grateful that you didn't," Freed said placatingly. The small room he rented was the best he could get, and he couldn't risk alienating her. "I assume I will be paying you a little more rent this month as to not encourage this behaviour."

"You will," She agreed. She stood up from her rocking chair, picking something up from a sideboard and offering it to Freed. It was an envelope with his name written on it in cursive. "For you."

"Thank you," Freed smiled. "Goodnight Porlyusica."

The woman grunted in response, and Freed climbed the staircase to get to his rented room. He closed the door behind him and bolted it, looking around the small living room and bedroom combination, before collapsing into the armchair.

He relaxed for a moment before glancing to the envelope he'd been given. His stomach dropped as he looked at it, dread filling him. The handwriting was instantly recognisable to him.

It was his father's writing.

Any glimmer of optimism that had grown during his time in Fairy Tail died instantly.

Dread rushed through him, hands shaking ever so slightly as he opened the envelope. His father couldn't know where he lived; he just couldn't. Freed had done everything he could to avoid any of his family or their employees finding him. He lived on the opposite side of New York so nobody would stumble across him, he walked home through side streets and winding paths as not to be followed, and he made sure his payments to Porlyusica always were without a contract so he couldn't be traced. For heaven's sake, he even made a point to avoid the streetlights so that he couldn't be seen. And it had all been for nothing.

He opened the envelope with trepidation, to see a cheap looking birthday card inside. He read and reread the small message inside multiple times, blood freezing as he tensed. He ran a hand through his hair nervously, his breath slightly shaky now.

'My Dear Son. I Will See You Soon. Your Loving Father.'

~~~

~One Week Later~

Laxus had never been held at gunpoint. It felt almost aethereal.

He'd thought about it. As a career criminal, making dangerous enemies with murderous intent was an occupational hazard. Being a so-called rising name in the criminal world meant ruffling the feathers of powerful and dangerous people, many of whom had a propensity to violence. It had seemed almost inevitable that he'd push someone over the edge at some point, and that it would end up with a gun being pointed to his head.

Whenever he had thought about it, he expected that he'd be calm and collected. That he'd be okay, because he knew that nobody would actually shoot him because it was too big of a risk. That he'd be able to smooth things out and nobody would need to get hurt; and if someone did get hurt it sure as fuck wouldn't be him.

The reality was less heroic. It was more… terrifying.

He was, to his credit, not showing his fear. He sat in his office chair, looking at the two men aiming guns in his direction. He leant back, trying to seem as though he was nonchalant and unbothered by the threat, but his blood was rushing and his adrenaline thrumming through his mind as if a scream in his ears. His foot bounced slightly under the desk, as it was the only way to dismiss the fearful energy flowing through him. It was either that, or let the people threatening to kill him see his hands shaking with every movement.

"Where is he?" One of the men – tall, maroon-brown hair, with a scar over his eye – demanded in a growl.

"Who?" Laxus retorted, voice not shaking.

"You know damn well who," The man snarled back, pushing the gun forward an inch.

He did know, of course. He'd seen the large, white car pulling up in front of the bar, and he'd recognised it easily. It was one of the many overly expensive cars owned by the Justine Family's highest-ranking associates. When the men left their car, he'd taken the few spare moments to rush down and push his remaining staff members out through the back door without explanation. Thankfully, it was late enough in the night for only two people to still be in the bar, other than Laxus.

But it was obvious who they wanted. Freed. Why they wanted him, Laxus didn't know, but he could guess by their expressions that it wouldn't be for good. And the idea of turning Freed over to these men, with their snarling teeth and readied guns, sent a protective rush through him he hadn't felt before.

He wouldn't let them near him. He wouldn't.

"He ain't here," Laxus grunted back. "And if he was, he ain't gonna go with you."

"He'll go where we tell him to," The other man, a tall, blonde man spoke up. Laxus looked towards him, but stopping from moving when the barrel of the gun pressed against the side of his head. "Unless you wanna trouble him with disposing of ya body, blondie."

"Well he ain't here," Laxus growled, anger mixing with his fear. "So fuck off."

"And leave you to warn him," The scarred man chuckled. "Nah. I'll go see the little queer, and my friend here is gonna make sure you don't move, and if either of you piss me off, then he's gonna give this office a nice new paint job. You understand?"

If the threat wasn't obvious, the blonde man pushed the gun against Laxus' temple with more force, and Laxus tensed.

"Fuckers," He growled, and the scarred man laughed. "I should take that gun and shove it up yer-"

He paused.

They all did, and even the press of the gun against his head relented slightly. From the lower level of the building, where the main hall of the tavern was, music was being played. Loud, unabashedly confident and very familiar to Laxus' ears; it was undoubtedly Freed's music. A new rush of dread ran over him, because his own life being at risk was bad enough, but to have Freed in the same building as the men who wanted to abduct him, and possibly kill him for all Laxus knew, was terrifying in a way that Laxus couldn't quantify.

The music echoed through the silent room, the pleasant tone completely at odds with the tense fear that was almost palpable. Laxus silently prayed that somehow Freed would stop, that he'd be somehow aware of the danger he was in and would run for the hills, but that wouldn't happen. The reality of the situation suddenly hit Laxus; both he and Freed were in danger. They could die.

"Up," The scarred man demanded, flicking his gun up slightly.

Laxus did as he was told, and the gun against his head moved to his lower back. He was pushed out of his office, and forced to walk down the staircase, Freed's music getting louder the closer to the piano he got.

When he saw the man, dread filled him. Freed's eyes were closed, and his head swaying gently as it often did when he was caught up in the rhythm of a song. Laxus looked on in horror, because not only did Freed not seem to know the danger he was in, he also didn't seem at all prepared for it. Why couldn't he just open his eyes and run, there was enough time. He probably couldn't even hear them approaching, the sound of his music too overpowering to his ears. Laxus didn't know what to do.

Why was Freed even there? He had left nearly half an hour ago, he should be back in boarding house by now, not here. Even though they apparently knew where he lived – which was a worry itself – at least if he was there he'd only be dealing with one of them.

Maybe Laxus could fight them off. It was a risk, but he was bigger than them both. He could overpower the blonde one, maybe take his gun and shoot the other. It could work.

Or maybe if he tried, he'd be shot. Or Freed would be shot.

Panic overtook every good sense he had, and despite his need to do something, anything, that could take both him and Freed out of danger, he could only walk. He was taken to the middle of the tavern floor, and looked on in fear as the gun was pushed into his spine with nearly enough force to make his knees buckle. Freed was still playing the damned piano and Laxus thought through all the things that he could have done that would have stopped the situation from happening if he'd known. He would have dealt with the two invaders while he had the chance, he would have locked the damn front door so Freed couldn't get in, he would have smashed the fucking piano with a sledgehammer if it meant this wouldn't happen.

The sound of music slowly fading away cut through the spiralling panic that he was feeling, and Laxus' eyes flickered to see Freed was looking at him with concern. The expression only lasted for a moment, before he looked at the two men: one pressing a gun into Laxus' back, the other pointing his gun at Freed.

"Sawyer, Erik," Freed said calmly, and he smiled at them. "How pleasant it is to see you both."

"We don't go by those names anymore," The blonde growled, and Laxus felt the gun push further into his back.

"Well I'm certainly not going to call you Racer and Cobra, am I?" Freed chuckled, still sitting behind the piano. "You're grown adult men, not stooges in a low budget comedy show. You should start acting like it."

"Motherfucker," The man, Sawyer apparently, muttered harshly.

"You're gonna come with us," The other man, Erik, demanded as he took a step forward. The gun remained pointed directly at Freed's face, and Freed maintained his pleasant smile as the violator approached. "Your father wants to see you."

"I don't believe I have a father," Freed tilted his head as if confused. "I lost that right when he disowned me. He made that quite clear."

"We'll kill him if you don't," Erik threatened, and the gun was pushed with force into Laxus back.

The sudden harsh movement took Laxus by surprise, and his legs buckled with the strain. He fell to his knees and before he could do anything about it, and Sawyer's gun was pressed against the back of his head. Laxus glared down at the floor, pissed that he'd allowed himself to fall so easily. His eyes flickered to Freed, who had lost his slightly amused expression and replaced it with one of seriousness.

It was a heavy expression, one that seemed to tell Laxus that he wouldn't allow anything to happen to him. A pathetic level of comfort came from that, even if Laxus felt he should be the one assuring Freed, not the other way around.

"Well, I suppose there's a first time for everything," Freed mused a moment later, looking at the man holding a gun to Laxus' head. "You've finally got a man on his knees for you, Sawyer. Though not for lack of trying."

"I ain't like you," Sawyer growled, and Laxus shot Freed a look as the gun pushed his head down further.

"Please, if I'd given you the slightest attention you would have done anything I asked," Freed chuckled, leaning back in the stool he was sitting on. "I could have clicked my fingers and you would have come to heel."

"I am not one of you," Sawyer repeated, and his tone told Laxus his entire body was tensed.

"Well, it's either that, or you just have a great fascination for my legs and the front of my trousers," Freed taunted, and Laxus hoped to god that he knew what he was doing. Because fear was rushing through Laxus, hammering at him like a siren now. "Not that I'd indulge you, of course. From what I've heard, you're driving isn't the only thing that's over before it begins. I suppose calling yourself Racer is quite accurate. Though I'd wager 'Quickdraw' might be a little more succinct in getting the message across."

"Racer," Erik interrupted quietly, in a warning tone.

"Mother fucker!" Sawyer snarled.

Laxus found himself pushed to the ground, and he looked up as Sawyer walked over him and stormed towards Freed, the gun now pointing at the other man. Laxus scrambled to stand up, but glanced towards Erik to see that now he was aiming at Laxus. The blonde froze, because Erik now had his hand on the trigger, and he could easily pull it before Laxus could do anything.

But he had to do something. Because apparently Freed's plan had been to annoy Sawyer to the point where he left Laxus alone, which had worked. But now Sawyer was pissed off at Freed, holding a weapon and advancing on his with speed. Laxus glanced towards him, dread flooding him again at the very real possibility that Sawyer might use the weapon on Freed. And Laxus hadn't been able to stop it from happening, he hadn't been able to protect the man he was falling for and he might die and Laxus would have to watch and-

An ear-splitting sound attacked Laxus' ears. Only a moment later, Laxus realised it was a gunshot.

He breathed raggedly, terror overpowering the ringing in his ears. It hadn't been Erik's gun, or Laxus would have been shot. Which meant it had been Sawyers, which had been pointing towards Freed.

Freed.

Fuck. Shit!

Laxus stumbled to his feet, not caring if Erik saw this as justification for shooting. He staggered towards the piano, only to stop in his tracks when he saw Sawyer doubled over, screeching in pain, and leaning against the instrument for support. Laxus looked down to see blood staining Sawyers trousers, a little below the knee. When Laxus looked up again, Freed was holding a gun of his own, glaring unsympathetically at Sawyer while advancing on him. The look on his face was without emotion, Laxus might consider it to be murderous in its calm.

"Bastard!" Sawyer yelled.

Freed continued walking, and Laxus watched as Freed kicked the gun that had fallen to the floor away. He looked down at Sawyer, who was openly crying as he looked at his gunshot wound, and then to Erik, who was flicking his weapon between the two men. When Freed aimed at Erik, the criminal aimed back.

"You are going to leave this place," Freed said, with a level of calculated authority that Laxus hadn't heard from the man. It was intense, angry, and powerful. "And you will tell my father to leave me alone."

"No," Erik demanded back.

"Then I will kill you," Freed growled, and the seriousness in his tone sent a worried chill down Laxus' spine. "And I will use your corpses as a clear message to my father."

Laxus watched the stalemate with wide eyes, the two men aiming guns at one another. Laxus went to move, but the half step he took was enough to have Erik's gun aimed at him. He froze, and slowly the gun panned towards Freed again. Laxus was half tempted to get the attention back on him, at least that way Freed would be at less of a risk.

The few seconds where he thought Freed had been shot were hell. Laxus couldn't think of another word to describe it, but he wouldn't risk it again.

"You ain't got the balls to kill someone," Erik snarled. "You're just the prissy little son."

Freed, still wearing a mask of stoic calmness, started to walk towards Erik with his gun outstretched. Laxus watched, eyes wide as his pianist walked so that he was in Erik's personal space. The blonde's breath caught when he watched Freed move his head down, so that Erik's pistol was pushing against his forehead. If Erik pulled the trigger, Freed would be dead. There was no doubt; why the hell had Freed done that?

"Why don't we see who's really serious," Freed said, deadly calm, pressing his own gun against Erik's forehead. "Because we both know how that will end up."

Laxus didn't dare move, watching as Freed pushed himself further forward, Erik's gun pressed against his forehead. Freed clearly forced Erik to maintain eye contact, almost trapping the other man's gaze, and Laxus watched with bated breath as the stalemate reignited, hoping to god that Freed knew what he was doing because Laxus was terrified. If Erik shot, then Freed would die and Laxus would only be able to watch and he couldn't deal with that. He just couldn't.

A slight clattering to his left caught Laxus attention. He flicked his head over to see Sawyer slowly crawling across the floor, blood trailing behind him. He was clearly going towards his discarded gun, and Laxus moved before thinking. He couldn't let another weapon be involved in the situation.

He walked forward and slammed the man's head into the floor.

Sawyer stopped moving, clearly knocked out, and Laxus would have been lying if he said that the feeling of violence wasn't a little cathartic. But he couldn't distract himself, so he looked to the stalemate again, to see that neither of the two men had moved. Laxus took a small level of relief from the fact that it hadn't gotten worse, but that was a cold comfort.

"As I said," Freed spoke again, voice venom now. "You are going to leave. You'll take Sawyer with you. And you will tell my father that, unless he wishes for his men to be killed and left on his doorstep, he will leave me, and the people in this tavern, the hell alone. Do you understand me?"

There was silence, and Laxus felt as though he couldn't breathe.

With a snarl, Erik stepped back and removed his gun from Freed's forehead. Freed kept his aim steady, even as Erik placed his gun under his belt again.

Laxus let out a silent, haggard breath of relief, feeling somewhat safe for the first time since he had seen their car parking outside the tavern. He was still tense and wary though, because Erik was still there and he still had a gun with him, even if he had removed it from sight.

There was silence as Erik looked down at the slowly breathing Sawyer, before picking him up and placing him over his shoulder. Freed maintained his aim as he motioned for him to leave, which Erik moved to do. He spat at the floor as he left.

Both men followed Erik, Freed still holding his gun towards him. They watched in silence as Erik tossed the man in the back seat, before climbing into the driver's seat and driving off, glaring at them both as he did so.

Once he was out of sight, and they were safe, anger exploded in Laxus.

"What the fuck were you thinking!" Laxus shouted, turning to Freed and glaring at him with sudden fury. Freed looked at him as he placed his gun in his jacket pocket, squaring his shoulders. "Did you not realise they were there, or are you just fucking stupid? What the fuck were you even doing here?"

"I left my wallet here, so I came to return it," Freed explained, and Laxus noted a tenseness in his jaw. "And of course I knew they were here; I know Sawyer's car."

"Then why the fuck did you come inside?" Laxus yelled, voice snarling in a protective rage. "Why didn't you use your fucking brain and run the hell away? You can't be that fucking stupid that you thought they were here for a good reason. Did you not even take a second to think they might wanna hurt you? For fucks sake, you played a fucking song. Did you wanna taunt them into killing you? Wanna make yourself feel like a big man before they shot you in the chest? What the fuck were you thinking?"

"I was thinking, Laxus, that I might be better equipped to deal with the situation than you," Freed growled back, and his tone was almost as venomous as it had been when speaking with Erik. "I thought that you were a naive danger to yourself who knows nothing of violence compared to me, and that I'd rather be there to help than let you get killed through inaction."

"You pushed his gun to your head," Laxus growled. "You were inviting him to kill you!"

"I was calling his bluff," Freed snarled back. "He wouldn't kill anyone in my family, disowned or otherwise. He's a coward, as is Sawyer. I'm surprised father sent them of all people, I expected better."

"You expected this!"

"My father knows where I live," Freed snapped. "It was a matter of time."

"Why the fuck didn't you think to tell me?" Laxus demanded.

"I didn't expect him to send people here," Freed grunted. "I assumed he'd deal with it at my home."

"I don't give a shit that it happened in the bar, Freed," Laxus yelled again, anger and exasperation in his tone. "I care that he sent a gunman to get you, I care that he wants you back and he seems willing to hurt and kill people to do it, I care that you could have been shot in there. Fucks sake, what if you didn't shoot Sawyer in time and he got a shot off on you. I couldn't have fucking saved you from that, but if you told me he's after you I could have done something!"

"You seem to forget something, Laxus," Freed said, voice low now. "I am not yours to protect. I am not an innocent man who has been dragged into this life by happenstance. I was brought into it from birth and I know it a hell of a lot better than you do."

"That doesn't mean that I can't protect you," Laxus growled.

"I do not need protection, Mr Dreyar," Freed spoke through gritted teeth. "If you remember correctly, you were the one on your knees. You were the one with a gun to the back of his head. You were the one who froze up. Not me. That is not the first hostage situation I have been in, both as a hostage myself and as a perpetrator. That is not the first time I have shot a man, nor will it be the last I expect. And these things should serve as a reminder, Mr Dreyar, that in the area of crime, I am your superior in every damn way. I am not your damsel to save."

With glare, Freed stormed past him.

Laxus was now left alone.

He found himself unable to process what had just happened, a mix of anger and relief and offense flooding through him and stopping his mind from working. He could only watch as Freed stormed from the alleyway they had argued in, walking in the direction of his boarding house with purposeful, precise movements.

Once he was out of sight, Laxus deflated, slid down a wall, and closed his eyes.

"Fuck," Laxus exhaled shakily. It was all he could think of saying, the perfect summation of his night. "Fuck."

#ftezbb2021 #Fraxus #freed Justine #Laxus Dreyar #Fairy Tail #Fanfic #Writing #Event #Big Bang #Multi Chapter

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foreverfangirlalways · 5 years ago

Text

The Astronomer and The Florist (Chapter 16)

Chapter 16 Title: Flowers and Stars

Summery: Logan and Virgil go on a date to the Botanical Garden!

Ships: Analogical & Royality

Warning: Strong language, Punching, apologies, fluff, kissing, foreshadowing

-let me know if I need to add more warnings-

(To all who suggested botanical garden when I asked for an Analogical date location, this is for you )

*For all the fabulous flower facts, I want to give a giant thank you to Life_and_death223 on AO3! I hope I did them justice*

—-

It’s been about 2 months since the wedding, and Virgil has taken up jogging.

It started as a need for inspiration with bouquets, so he would go take pictures of wildflowers in the woods. Then he just started jogging in the woods every morning, and it became a hobby.

Pausing to take a swig of his water and a picture of some honeysuckles, Virgil bended down and started fiddling with the flowers position.

All of the sudden he feels a hand on his shoulder. His fight or flight reflexes are screaming FIGHT, so he swings around and decks the owner of the hand squarely across the face. The guy fell like a sack of potatoes, and Virgil was able to see who it was.

“Holy shit! Mr. Thomas! Shit! Oh, fuck, uhh, I’m so sorry! Are you ok? You scared me! I’m so sorry! Please don’t kill me. And don’t tell Logan!”

Virgil rushed over and helps Mr. Thomas up. Mr. Thomas busted out laughing, and dusts himself off.

“It’s fine Virgil, I should have warned you of my presence. How have you been?”

“I’ve been great! The shop has been busier than ever, so I’ve had many bouquets to make. I’ve even been crossbreeding flowers to try and make something special. Logan has also been amazing, his students love him and he gets happier everyday!” Virgil sighs happily.

“That is awesome! How have y’all been together?”

Virgil pauses and squints his eyes. “Together?”

“Yeah!” Mr. Thomas says as if it is the most obvious thing in the world. “Like, how have y’all been like a couple?”

Virgil shrugs. “Fine, but we’ve just been pretty busy lately. Tomorrow is the first time we both have off at the same time.”

“Fantastic! Y’all should go on a date!”

Virgil stares. “That’s a great idea! But where? Not somewhere we’ve been before. It’s kinda last minute so no where far, but somewhere we would both enjoy...”

Thomas blinks, and asks, “Seriously? Your kind of oblivious, aren’t you?”

Virgil “uhh” offendedly. ‘How could he! I just punched him, and he says I’m oblivious??’ Thomas saw Virgil’s offended look and immediately backtracked.

“No no no! I don’t mean to be offensive or say that out loud, I just... well, there is an obvious place for a date that’s just across town from the University.”

They stared at eachother. Neither moved. Virgil finally let his curiosity get the better of him.

“... and that place would be?”

“The Botanical Garden! It’s perfect for y’all! Flowers for you, night sky for Logan, and you could even impress him with all of your floral knowledge!”

Virgil smiles, feeling stupid that he didn’t think of it but so grateful that Mr. Thomas did.

“That is a great idea! Thank you so much!”

Virgil hugs him and he laughs.

“You’re welcome Virgil, and please, it’s Thomas. Now, wanna go get some brunch?”

“That sounds awesome! How about IHOP? I could go for some Cheesecake Pancakes.”

Thomas leads Virgil to his car. “Perfect! I’ve never had that, so believe I shall have some aswell!”

-_-_-_-

After brunch, Thomas heads up to the college to see Logan. He walks into Logan’s classroom, where Logan is grading papers.

“Hey Logan! I just found your boyfriend in the woods!”

Logan looks up and looks worried. He sets down his pen and gives Thomas his undivided attention.

“Why is my boyfriend in the woods?”

“Oh, he was jogging, but we went out for brunch, and it was nice. Say, you like flowers and facts, right?”

Logan tilts his head at Thomas, and ponders his strange actions.

“Well, I am a professor and I am dating a florist, so...”

“Right right, of course, that’s great, prefect, wonderful! Ok, well, I’m going to go home, call me later!” Thomas leaves, rubbing his hands like an 80s cartoon villain.

Logan stares after him, confused and concerned. ‘He came all the way up here for that? Perhaps he really did need a break...’

-_-_-_-

Logan gets home after a full day of arguing with baby adults and grading papers. Virgil is on the couch, and hands Logan a bowl as soon as he sits down.

“I could sense that you had a ruff day, so I made you a bowl of your favorite ice cream, made just the way you like it!”

Logan kisses Virgil, then boops his nose with ice cream. Scrunching up his nose, Virgil stuck out his tongue.

“You are adorable.” Logan smiles.

“So, how about a movie night? I brought home pizza, it’s in the kitchen.”

Virgil agrees, and that’s how they found themselves cuddled up on the couch at 1:45 am, surrounded by pizza boxes and popcorn, and the end credits of ‘Hamilton’ fading out.

Logan sleepily kisses the top of Virgil’s head, and Virgil looks up.

“Hey Lo? Did I tell you how I ran into Thomas while jogging today?”

Logan smiles and shakes his head.

“No, but Thomas told me about it when he came by my classroom. I was quite alarmed.”

Virgil paled, and sat up. “I can explain! I was taking a picture of some flowers, but then there was a hand on my shoulder and I didn’t know that it was Thomas! And those fight or fight reflexes were kicking in, so I punched him in self defense. I apologized and payed for brunch!”

Logan sat up as well and tilted his head. “You punched Thomas?”

“In my defense, I didn’t know he was Thomas. He could have been a serial murder rapist that attacks pretty florist taking pictures in the woods.”

Logan laughs and shakes his head. “It’s ok Virgil, Thomas didn’t even tell me about it, so I’m sure he understood.”

Nodding, Virgil snuggled back up against Logan. “Thomas gave me an idea for tomorrow.”

“Oh really? And what would that be?”

“Since we both have off for the first time in forever, we should go on a date. Thomas suggested the botanical garden. I thought it was a fabulous idea, what do you think?”

Logan laughed. “That’s why Thomas was acting strange! And I think that is a wonderful idea! We can go after an early dinner, we’ll spend all day together. What do you think?”

Virgil smiled Logan’s parroting and kissed him. “It sounds like we have a busy day ahead of us, we better go get some sleep. Come on!”

-_-_-_-

Logan woke up first. Since it was there day off there was no alarm set, but Logan has a great circadian rhythm.

He looks down at Virgil and feels this overwhelming sense of contentment. ‘I’m so glad I met you. You completely changed my life for the better, and I love you for it. I love the way that your eyes light up when you finish a bouquet, and the way you convinced Patton that I would make awful fertilizer because I’m too good a boyfriend. I love the way how you said love you for the first time, and I love how we both bond over throwing darts at Michael target when we are frustrated. I love how you spun at the wedding, and I can’t wait-‘

Logan stops his internal monologue when Virgil looks up, smiles, and kisses Logan.

“Good morning wonderful boyfriend of mine. Are you excited for our day together?”

Logan tucks Virgil’s hair behind his ear. “Of course. I enjoy every moment that I get to spend with you. Do you want to cuddle longer or eat breakfast? I vote both.”

They made breakfast together, cuddled and watched TV on the couch, played trivia while making and partaking in lunch, and they even did a clothing montage before dinner to help pick out each others outfits.

After dinner, they head to the botanical garden. Once they entered, it’s like Virgil erupted out of his cocoon. He was positively glowing, and Logan felt himself falling deeper.

They passed by flower after flower, and Virgil is just sprouting facts like a pro.

“Did you know that there are more than 270,000 flowers in the world?”

Logan looks adoringly at his boyfriend. ”I did not, but please tell me more. You are so cute when you sprout off facts. You have this little glow come about you.”

Virgil blushes, but looks pleased.

“Ok, pick a category!”

Logan thinks for a minute then says, “Hmm, how about food?”

“Perfect.”

They walk along the gardens, with Virgil talking animatedly and Logan looking smitten.

“Roses are related to apples, pears, almonds, peaches, plums, cherries, strawberries, and many other types of food!” Virgil says as they pass a colorful rose garden.

“I could start using rose petals to spice up our fruit salads.” Logan joked.

“Certain roses have the taste of green apples and strawberries, so it would definitely be an interesting salad.”

They both laugh, and then Logan motions for Virgil to continue. Typically Logan was the one who sprouts off facts, but he is adoring Virgil’s knowledge and enthusiasm.

“Tulips can replace onions in recipes, and will make a prettier presentation.”

Logan looks at the bright yellow tulips, and turns to Virgil with a raised eyebrow. “I’m sure you’re right, but I don’t know how everyone would feel about eating flower petals with their steak. Patton might kill me for having harmed the flower for ‘aesthetic’.”

Virgil waved his arm, smirking. “I’ll protect you. I’ll say it was my idea, and Pat will be fine with eating some petals.”

Logan took Virgil’s arm and lead him to towards the outdoor cafe. ”That’s wonderful darling, but all your facts are making me hungry!”

“Ooo, did you know that broccoli is a type of flower?” Logan smile and kissed Virgil’s cheek.

“I did not, but let’s get some food that is not broccoli.”

Virgil smiles, and they go and share French fry’s with milkshakes. Sitting at a table under the stars, Logan tells the myth of Leo the Lion.

They finished snacking and go back inside. Logan suggests going to the newest exhibit, and Virgil excitedly drags him there.

The worker at the door said that that guests were allowed to pick one flower, as a promotional thing for the new exhibit.

Logan picks a moon flower and turns to Virgil.

“Did you know that moonflowers only bloom at night?”

Virgil nods. Logan tucks the flower behind his ear, and then kisses Virgil cheek. Virgil turns red, but raises his eyebrows.

“Really? Even after all this time you still mhrms-!”

Logan interrupted Virgil by rolling his eyes fondly before kissing him on the lips, under the sky in a room full of flowers.

Virgil smirks, trying to hide his breathlessness with snark. ”Ahh, you’ve learned”

Logan rolled his eyes and they head to the car. They talk about everything and nothing on the way home, and Logan asks Virgil what seemingly impossible thing he wants most.

“Hmmm, well, probably, no... you’ll think I’m being silly.”

“Virgil, I asked, please?”

“Well... I guess I would love for us to have our own piece of the world, someplace to call our own and cherish... our own little mark on the universe!”

Logan smiles and grabs Virgil’s hand. “Virgil that, that is beautiful!”

Virgil beans while Logan ponders over Virgil’s want.

‘How can I give him that?’ Logan questions, feeling a special ring burning a hole in his back pocket...

Taglist-

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@seraphlies

#The Astronomer and The Florist #Analogical #Royality #Logan #Virgil #Roman #Patton #botnical garden #Date #fluff #foreshadowing #Sanders sides #Thomas Sanders

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fortylessonsbeforeforty · 3 years ago

Text

Lesson 30

I learnt the importance of being unapologetically ME! I read a quote recently that said something along the lines of that in life we aren’t finding ourselves, we are becoming ourselves, which I loved, but at the same time didn’t entirely agree with. For me, I think sometimes in life, we do get lost. Lost in the expectations of others that we think we ought to be living up to. Lost when we are in different relationships, personally and professionally. And at times we need to rediscover ourselves, which I understand in a sense is how we become our authentic self. For me, turning thirty was a defining point in my life where I first remember I truly felt I was ME!

I saw a psychic medium in my late twenties and one thing that really hit home for me, was when she suggested I needed to release the self-made guilt, responsibility and loyalty. She told me to release old ways of doing things — old ideas, beliefs and notions. It made me reflect on the person I was and the decisions I was making in life; whether or not they were for me or to please the people around me. I came to see that the ‘plan’ I had for my life was created based on the ideas and beliefs of others and what society said was ‘normal.’ The greatest internal battle was the desire to be who I wanted to be and who I knew I was versus who I thought my family, friends and society told me I should be.

This realisation that I was living a life for others and not completely for myself wasn’t entirely a bad thing. I realise now, that some of my best qualities and characteristics have been shaped by my family and loved ones. I had to reconcile the idea of who I wanted to be with the person (I thought) others wanted me to be and ensure I wasn’t compromising me in the equation. In an episode of ‘The Secret Life Of Us,’ Dr Alex Christensen returns to her high school to speak to current students. She explains the weird feeling she got when she was called ‘Doctor’ for the first time and how she hadn’t yet seen herself as a doctor. She said:

“I understood that people were seeing me from a different perspective from the way that I’d always seen myself. And so, in a way, I had to rethink my own view of myself. It’s a critical moment for us all. But what’s more important, I believe, is how we use this realisation. When we understand this, when we embrace all our contradictions, only then are we equipped, fully equipped to find our true place in the world.”

After seeing the psychic medium, I felt a confidence to embrace the contradictions of who I was, rather than feel ashamed and hide them. For so long I had felt afraid to express certain parts of me, for fear of people not being accepting of who I was. This in turn made it hard for me to like the person I was, because it was a person I was pretending to be. Savage Garden’s song ‘This Side Of Me,’ explores this idea of wanting to showing one’s true self. Darren Hayes sings:

And in the dark I want to find that golden glow within

’Cause I am not afraid to let you see this side of me

It was after seeing the psychic and turning thirty that I feel I began to take steps towards truly becoming happy with who I was and the me I wanted to be and have people see. I began the work of getting to know the me I wanted to be and letting that side of me shine.

When studying to become a teacher, it’s made clear that you need to be very reflective. It’s drummed into you that you need to be reflective at the end of each lesson, of your teaching style, your behaviour management, how you set up the room, the list is endless. I have no doubt that reflection is a natural part of all professions, but it’s showed me the importance of using this skill in all aspects of who I am, not just the teacher in the classroom. If we aren’t reflective, we can’t grow. David Chang discusses the importance of self-reflection in his memoir, ‘Eat A Peach,’ using the analogy of a lobster. He says:

“There’s an old myth that lobsters are immortal. They never show signs of getting old. They don’t slow down until they day they’re cooked and eaten. Lobsters grow by molting. They shed their old shell to reveal a new, soft shell that will eventually harden around them. By the time they’re done, there’s no sign of the lobster they were. It’s an exhausting, dangerous process. It takes a tremendous amount of energy and leaves them exposed and vulnerable while they’re in the middle of it. Want to know the only sign a lobster is dying? It stops molting. Never again would we fear the gruelling work of breaking ourselves down and gluing ourselves back together again. That cycle of building and destroying and rebuilding is not something to overcome. The human equivalent of not wanting to molt is trying to make life easy, refusing to grow or be self-reflective.”

Sometimes we are forced into situations that allow us the time and space to look inward to ask ourselves if we are on the right path. The global pandemic has been one of those times that has allowed us the opportunity to do so. No matter where we are in the world, Covid-19 has had an impact on us, some more so than others. I really enjoyed the conversation between @taylorswift and Jack Antonoff as they discussed recording ‘folklore’ during this period of time. Jack said:

“In our dismantling of all our systems of life that we’ve known in the pandemic we’re left with two options. Either cling to it and make it work of just say “Ok, I guess I’m gonna turn a new path and get a frontier mentality. Everything’s a blur so I’m just gonna rewrite it.”

I know for me it was a great opportunity to think about what was important to me and what I could leave behind. Letting go of all those things that weren’t contributing positively and productively to the person I aim to be. It made me think about how I spend my time and the notion that I had to ‘use up’ my whole weekend seeing people and doing things, otherwise it was a wasted two days. It made me realise the importance of prioritising the things I love and how it’s more about quality over quantity. It’s a sentiment that @taylornation reflected on with Jack, saying:

“There’s something about the complete and total uncertainty of life that causes endless anxiety, but there’s another part the release of pressures you used to feel. Because if we’re going to have to recalibrate everything, we should start with what we love the most first.”

It reminded me that in times of any disaster, whether it’s a global pandemic, a health scare, losing a job or the breakdown of a relationship, the importance in taking the time to discover who you are. Finding yourself in order to become who you want to be. And sometimes that may take time, as Taylor Swift sings in ‘happiness’:

And in the disbelief I can’t face reinvention I haven’t met the new me yet

It may take some time to find the new person you want to become after a disaster. Similarly, we can find ourselves changed in the blink of an eye after a completely unexpected event. Things happen that will change us and Katharine McPhee’s song ‘Stranger Than Fiction’ is a good reminder of that.

I found love when I least expected it I found faith from a night of no regrets I found me in a place too crazy to mention Let’s say that life is stranger than fiction

I found love from the strength of letting go I found faith from the nights spent on my own I found me in a place too crazy to mention Let’s say that life is stranger than fiction

Another thing that I’ve learnt is to be open to all experiences and how they might influence and change us. Never be so rigid in our own mindset, that the things around us could change us for the better. It’s one of the things I love most about travelling, especially when I go outside of my comfort zone, travelling alone. I know for a fact that part of who I am today, I’ve become because of the people and places I’ve met on my many overseas adventures, especially those unplanned moments where a crazy chance of coincidence lands you in the right place at the right time with the right person.

Sometimes the circumstances of life, will force you into situations where you begin to forget who you are and the person staring back at you in the mirror is unrecognizable. In the musical ‘Waitress,’ the protagonist, Jenna comes to the realisation she has ended up in a life, not of her choosing. She sings in ‘She Used To Be Mine’:

It’s not what I asked for Sometimes life just slips in through a back door And carves out a person And makes you believe it’s all true

It’s easy to believe sometimes we are the person based on the circumstances life lands us in. I love the quote, “Life is 10% what happens to us and 90% how we react to it.” We don’t have to be defined by the failures we’ve faced, the health diagnosis we’ve been given. We choose who we want to be. I love Jenna’s epiphany in the song where she is determined to make a change for herself.

And you’re not what I asked for If I’m honest I know I would give it all back For a chance to start over And rewrite an ending or two For the girl that I knew

We will inevitably face people who will try to tell us who they think we are or should be, based on information they’ve heard (whether it’s true or baseless rumours). They’ll make assumptions about us before they even know us. We have no control over the version of ‘us’ that other people choose to see us as, because the truth is, we only ever know the version of a person that they chose to show us. At the end of the day, we should not put too much time and effort into the thoughts and opinions others have of us. I’ve always loved the saying “Lions don’t lose sleep over opinions of sheep.” Billie Eilish reflects on this very thing in her song, ‘Not My Reponsibility’:

Who decides what that makes me, what that means? Is my value based only on your perception? Or is your opinion of me not my responsibility?

I’ve learnt to drop any mask that I’ve worn, choosing to be unapologetically me. What you see is what you get. And if you don’t like it, you don’t have to be around me. I’ve come to really LOVE ME! I’ve seen different variations of self-love quotes over the years and have remixed my own that I’ve used in countless pep talks to students, colleagues, family and friends over the years.

“The one person that you will spend your entire life with, is yourself. So you better love yourself as much as you can.”

So whether you are finding yourself or becoming yourself, the most important thing I’ve learnt is to base it on what you love. We attract what we are, so it makes sense to embrace the things we love and let go of the nuanced complexities we create to fit into different groups we think are cool or popular, but just aren’t us. In the closing words of Taylor Swift’s song ‘Daylight,’ which closes the ‘Lover’ album:

I wanna be defined by the things that I love Not the things I hate Not the things that I’m afraid of, I’m afraid of Not the things that haunt me in the middle of the night I, I just think that You are what you love

#unapologeticallyme #taylor swift #jack antonoff #folklore #savage garden #david chang #katharine mcphee #waitress #billie eilish

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r0h1rr1m · 4 years ago

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rambly inception thoughts p.3

bc it got too big in this post i’m gonna start another one of these, ostensibly about my unified theory on what will or won’t fly in dreamshare, tho i’m almost guaranteed to go a little off-topic

the movie says the tech was originally developed as a training tool for the armed forces, and i don’t want to pretend any real knowledge of the american military but i’ve always thought that there’s no way they were there from the beginning unless the very genesis of the idea was already intertwined w the notion of eventually using it to train soldiers. and the tech is so outlandish in premise and would take so much time (even by accelerated movie standards) to become viable and like, there’s an easier way. in the history of dreamshare that i js made up right now, there are 3 main eras. pre-military, where the scientists figured out how not to send ppl directly to limbo immediately upon putting them under (we’ll get there), military, where a lot of the roles/frameworks were discovered and solidified (i will explain what i mean by this, too), and post-military

the last thing i want to add before diving in is a disclaimer. the precise details of how exactly dreamshare works are almost entirely irrelevant to understanding the movie, and so they weren’t included! which means that the beginnings of this will be based in canon, but as i go on, the logic of my worldbuilding increasingly depends on context i js.... made up. so if u wanna go on, js buy into it and bear with me if u like worldbuilding i hope it’s worth it

so i said that before anyone had the genius idea of using dreamshare to let soldiers kill each other over and over and over, it had to exist. which like, duh, but the reason i bring this up is tied into my thoughts abt what limbo is, why it’s possible to go more than one level down in a dream, and why dying would wake u up. come yell at me for refusing to learn anything about lucid dreaming/sleep science, but i’m gonna say that limbo as dreamsharers kno it is the closest a pasiv will get u to natural dreams. “unconstructed dreamspace,” pure subconscious. and it seems like the movie was treating it as an actual place? that would be the same for every dreamer? and u could access it and alter it like a public minecraft server. here my thoughts diverge a little bit into 2 possible scenarios

scenario A) Minecraft Server Limbo: it is an actual, internally consistent entity and not dependent upon each dreamer. which means that the pasiv technology for accessing it isn’t even about shared or lucid dreaming at all, but accessing another sort of other plane/dimension beyond the physical. think cognitive realm a la cosmere, if that reference means anything to you (if not, i’d love to hear what ur analogy would be). this idea is a lot of fun, but doesn’t rly allow for the levels between waking and limbo, or explain why those have to be created new every time.

scenario B) Actually the Subconscious: the way i think about limbo kind of begins w the ideas in this fic, where limbo is unique to everyone. i’m gonna start here in era 1 of my history of dreamshare, by saying that the first experiments w whatever prototype eventually became the pasiv went v poorly bc scientists were js immediately chucking ppl into limbo. like, that’s the default state of dreams w the pasiv, and all the rest came later. so. in a natural dream, ur brain rationalizes anything, and u get the most vividly detailed backstories and explanations for stuff that makes so much sense until u wake up, which is all also true for limbo. this is the reason limbo is so dangerous, is because ur brain’s working overtime to make u forget u’re dreaming and dying to wake up doesn’t work unless u’re absolutely sure u’re dreaming. so the 1st major breakthrough in dreamshare was being able to remember that u were dreaming when u went under.

the first thing the scientists figured out how to do was hold a setting in their head as they were going under so that they could go there in the dream. at this point, they don’t distinguish between settings out of memory and completely original settings bc it hasn’t occurred to them yet. they just knew that trying to imagine a place instead of diving right under puts limits on the dream that help to keep u from getting dragged under and away by ur own subconscious.

to some ppl, the natural thing to do is access a memory. this does interesting things to the makeup of the dream, because memories of places, depending on the person, are constructed from a bunch of different combinations of sounds, smells, visuals, and indefinable ‘feel’ of the dream. to other ppl, the natural (most interesting) thing to do was invent an imaginary setting--mbe a place from a book/movie/tv show (if u don’t watch them closely u js get star trek all the time. so much star trek) if they’re a little creative, or a brand-new fantasyland if they’re a lot creative. these dreams tend to be mostly visual in makeup, since their inspiration is mostly visual. it takes a lot more effort to add details like sounds and smells bc those aren’t instinctively/automatically part of the way the dreamers are used to experiencing, say, the bridge of the enterprise. It’s harder to make imaginary settings feel real, and this is why it’s comparatively more dangerous to dream from memory. the problem is that the way ur brain interprets and stores select information about a place is more concerned with gathering a coherent narrative of the place than with retaining any objective details. recalling this narrative is a subconscious act/uses ur instinctive mental processes while building a new scenario requires ur higher functions. letting ur subconscious run the show instead of staying consciously in charge urself runs the risk of lapsing into natural-dreaming confusion and falling into limbo.

this is the early days of the technology, where scientists didn’t have the expertise to make dreams stable, and the somnacin formula was still crude enough that u could drop from a structured dream into limbo pretty easily, no sedation required. dying in a dream, for example, had about a 50/50 chance of waking u up or sending u to limbo. the brain has no frame of reference for how to experience dying, so it’s completely disruptive to the plot of the dream--it has to end. so depending on how much the subconscious--as opposed to active cognition--was in charge of the dream, either u wake up or ur subconscious takes over completely to smooth over the confusion and u’re lost in limbo. dying wasn’t the only thing disruptive enough to destabilize a dream in those days either, tho. shock--ranging from injury to just surprise at something bizarre--and high emotion could also do it. this happened a lot bc those early dreams were still p close to natural dreams and rly weird shit happened all the time.

as somnacin got more sophisticated, it got better at suppressing the rampant subconscious and putting the rational mind in charge. constructed dreams left some of the psychedelic weirdness behind and started playing by logical rules, but that was still the given value of ‘logical’ that meant whatever the dreamers understood to be true, regardless of how that matched up w real-world physics. also, dying became the only thing disruptive enough to throw u out of a dream, because the somnacin, by reassigning the lion’s share of the mental processing work to the slower, more effortful systems of reasoning, dampened emotional responses a little. it forced the mind to extrapolate how the situation--usually an injury or smth--would play out instead of js panicking and slamming the eject button. the last major effect of the new somnacin was that waking up was now almost the guaranteed effect of dying, and u only went into limbo if waking up wasn’t an option. almost guaranteed, bc it wasn’t perfect yet, and how could it ever be when it comes to messing around w brain chemistry. but almost was enough for the military and they offered funding and soldiers as test subjects in return for use of the technology as a training tool.

this is the end of era 1! and the post is getting big enough and it’s been in my drafts long enough that i want to end this here. i’ll finish later, probably by reblogging this instead of making a new p.4 post, so check the notes!

#i find conditional tense to be disproportionately annoying #so the disclaimer is the last i act like i'm anything less than god handing down gospel lol #so sorry abt that but i'm so interested in what anyone else might think!#i'm dying to expand on dreamshare as a worldbuilding element even if u conceptualize it totally different #also i can't believe i've written so much on this by now but bram set me off and i can't find my chill #inception #yes absolutely #running my mouth #arthur #ariadne #dom cobb #eames

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twdmusicboxmystery · 4 years ago

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The Divine Comedy Theory, Part 1

All right, here’s my Divine Comedy theory that I’ve been working on the past few weeks. First, let’s remember that tptb said the golf club in Still represented the 9 circles of Hell. The 9 Circles of Hell come from Dante’s books, including Divine Comedy and The Inferno. So they’re obviously using those books as symbol templates.

But the point is, that much of it isn’t a theory. It’s fact. Tptb CONFIRMED this. It’s now just up to us to try and figure out the interpretation, HOW they’re using it. And that’s what I’m attempting to do here.

We also saw a sign reading, “Abandon All Hope Ye Who Enter Here” near Rick and Negan in S8. That is also a Dante thing. In the Divine Comedy (TDC) that sign is seen when one is entering hell. More on that later.

I decided to divide this into 2 parts because it’s very long. Today, I’ll summarize the Divine Comedy itself and talk about how seasons of TWD might correspond to the different circles of hell. Tomorrow, I’ll talk about Still and the “Abandon all Hope” sign. Here we go:

THE DIVINE COMEDY: A BREAKDOWN

The story starts on Good Friday and ends on Easter. Obviously, that's a good sign.

We start with Dante who is lost in the dark wood. Above him, the sun shines on a mountain peak and he attempts to climb it to get to where the sun is, but his path is blocked by a leopard, a lion, and a shewolf. (Yes, I'm side eyeing the she-wolf thing as well.)

Discouraged that he can't get to where the sun is, Dante returns to the dark wood. He sees the ghost of the poet Virgil, who says Dante's path must take him through Hell but Virgil will guide him and eventually he will reach his beloved, Beatrice. He also tells Dante that Beatrice, who is deceased, and two other holy women are the ones who sent Virgil to him. They knew of his plight and took pity on him. (I really think this is probably the tie to the three Marys.)

So, they head into Hell. This is where we get the sign, "Abandon all hope, ye who enter here."

The first region that Dante enters is actually the anti-inferno. It's what you might call the antechamber or waiting room of hell. There are still people there, though. Those who couldn't commit to good or evil, fence-sitters who wouldn’t make a choice. They chase a blank banner while hornets bite them and worms lap up their blood.

To actually get to the gate of hell, Dante and Virgil have to go across the river. They do and then they reach the first circle of hell, which is called Limbo. Here, there are pagans. Those who never knew Christ.

The second circle is for those who committed the sin of lust. They swirl about in a terrible storm. The third circle is for the gluttonous. They lie in the mud and endure a rain of excrement.

The Fourth Circuit is for the avaricious and the prodigal. They charge at one another with giant boulders. I was a little confused by why the prodigal would be here. In the Bible, the prodigal isn't generally regarded as a crime or sin. But reading further, the prodigal son did waste the resources that his father gave him before returning to his father and asking for forgiveness. So, these are people who are wasteful in a really bad way. Apparently, they charge at one another around a semi-circle, smack into each other, turn around to go the other way, and repeat it all again.

In the fifth circle are the wrathful. The struggle with each other in the river Styx which is a swampy and fetid cesspool. The Sullen are also there, and they lie beneath the water, choking on the mud.

The sixth circle is for the heretics. The circle is populated by tombs which are surrounded by flames.

The seventh circle has three rings and houses the violent. The first ring is for people who are violent toward others. They spend eternity in a river of boiling blood. The second ring is for those violent toward themselves (suicides). This is kinda interesting. They endure eternity in the form of trees. (I don’t think TWD uses the trees as suicides, necessarily, but maybe more for people who inadvertently caused their own deaths through their actions. I was thinking about Deanna saying of Pete, “Let the trees have him.” Which suggests she’s consigning him to hell. Just a thought.) The third ring is for those violent toward God (blasphemers) violent toward nature (sodomites) and violent toward art (usurers).

The eighth circle is full of evil pockets of people. There are 10 pockets. I opted not to go through them all here because, at least for now, I don’t think they’re relevant. Just ten types of sinners such as flatterers, thieves, people who took bribes, etc.

Finally, the Ninth Circle. In order to reach it, they descend into a well that leads to a frozen lake. In the first ring are those who betrayed their kin and they are standing up to their necks in the frozen lake. The second ring holds those who betrayed their country, and they are standing up to their heads in a frozen lake. In the third ring are those who have betrayed their guests. They lie on their backs with only their faces sticking out of the water. The fourth week ring is for those who have betrayed their benefactors and they are completely submerged.

At the center of this ring is a shrouded, gigantic form which is Lucifer. He has three mouths that are chewing on three sinners: Judas Iscariot, Cassius and Brutus. Those who famously betrayed their masters.

Dante and Virgil climb down Satan's clothing to get to the very bottom of the 9th circle of hell. Interestingly, Dante is carried on Virgil's back. So, we have a serious piggyback going on here.

After they climb down Satan, they cross the river Lethe and emerge from hell on Easter morning before sunrise.

HOW IT MAY CORRESPOND TO TWD:

Okay, so that’s a very broad synopsis of TDC.

Let's talk about a few different ways we can possibly interpret this. First off, my very general theory is that (and we’ve said things similar to this before) that the post-apocalyptic world = hell and in a sense all our characters are Dante. Which means the walkers in this analogy represent the souls who are already in hell. Think of it this way. In the story, Dante is a living person that has to pass through hell. In fact, in many of the circles, the gate keepers and such try to keep him from passing because he’s still alive. But he always gets special permission to do so. So, it’s a “being alive among the dead” sort of theme. The dead, of course, being the walkers.

And the reason that’s important is because some of how we can interpret this is based on how walkers are portrayed throughout different seasons. Let me also say that this is a very loose interpretation and I’m by no means positive I’m interpreting this right. Some of this is hard to nail down.

So, I tried to make different seasons and arcs of the TWD story fit the different circles of hell. For example, I would say this analogy really starts in S4, because I think it's purposefully placed and wouldn't have begun heavily until Gimple took over. So, I think all of S4 was the anti-inferno or antechamber before they got to hell. In the same way that S4 foreshadowed many coming arcs, this was just a little bit beforehand.

Crossing into hell would be Beth and Daryl's separation. I was thinking that the first circle, Limbo, which is described as housing those who never knew Christ, might be Terminus. (Beth is the Christ figure and she never made it to Terminus.) The second circle is for those who lust and they walk about in a terrible storm. I thought of 5x10 and the storm they went through there. The third circle is for the gluttonous. This one stumped me a little bit. Its still rain and a storm, but it talked more about mud and people being blown around in the storm. So, it could be part of 5x10, but I also thought of the big storm they had in FTWD S5. I'm not sure about that one.

The fifth circle talks about people running at one another with huge boulders. I thought of the rock quarry in S6.

Total side note: I was looking for a picture of the rock quarry to put in here, and I came across this pic below. Quint means 5, and then of course it actually says “Gate 5.” I’ve always thought this pointed back to S5, to show that Glenn’s death fake-out is a template of Beth. But this may also point to this being a symbolic representation of the 5th circle of hell. Just saying. ;D

Then there's the sixth circle. It talks about people struggling with each other in the river Styx and it swampy and fetid. The thing that came to mind here is the swamp walkers in S8. This was when Tara was still trying to kill Dwight and Daryl and co took all the kids away from Alexandria and to Hilltop. Remember, they made a big deal about swamp walkers? So I wondered if this could be in line with that in season eight. The walkers show what circle of hell therein.

Another tier of the sixth circle is tombs surrounded by flames. I think the thing that embodies that more than anything else we've seen would be the Whisperers. We saw the burning of Hilltop and the Whispers represent death anyway. I could see Alpha representing a heretic in various ways, not least because they pretend to be walkers when they’re not.

What I’ve said so far is what I discovered and got super excited about a few weeks ago when I first started doing this. Because it told me that by using this template, we might be able to get an idea of when Beth would return.

But you can probably see the first problem I ran into. If we’re only at the sixth circle, we still have three more circles before Beth returns, right? (Assuming that she returns at the end of this and Dante emerging from hell on Easter will signal Beth and Daryl reuniting.) But I don’t think it will be three more seasons or whatever until we see her. Truly.

So, I kinda got stumped because even reading through the seventh, eighth and ninth circles, nothing was jumping out at me that suggests we’ve seen the events corresponding to those circles, yet. I'm sure we could find some way to compare them to events in the story, but just nothing really obvious stood out.

But don't despair yet. I was originally a little unsure about this, but I started looking at the actual events of Still, it made me feel much better. I think I understand now why it's laid out this way.

So once again, come back tomorrow and we’ll talk about Still, and then about Rick, and maybe about the chess theory. Stay tuned!

#beth greene beth greene lives #beth is alive #beth is coming #td theory #td theories #team delusional #team defiance #beth is almost here #bethyl

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notbecauseofvictories · 5 years ago

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Brontide - Aziraphale (because I agree, Good Omens fandom is too nice and does not appreciate how terrifying the idea of angels is)

brontide — the low rumbling of distant thunder.

Crowley did not often think about Aziraphale as an angel.

….of course he was an angel, and Crowley did derive a certain amount of pleasure in reminding him. Occasionally he even slipped into the Latin, angelus, but Latin was very In at the moment and particularly among the Oxfordshire set. The learnèd men were calling each other uxor and deliciae in those days, as they got up to naughty things under academic dress. So it was not very strange for the handsome lecturer, with his consumptive poet’s aspect and ill-favored coloring, to so lovingly address the Professor of Assyriology—especially when the Professor spoke of ancient Assyria with such endearment and fond remembrance, as though recalling a particularly pleasant holiday. Such undue passion made him very attractive, all agreed.

“Crowley,” the Professor of Assyriology said in chastisement whenever the Lecturer dared such endearment, though the Professor was blushing as he said so. (‘Crowley’ was not the name the lecturer gave to his students, but they could forgive such a lapse with the excuse of fondness.)

“Yes, angel?” the Lecturer always replied, with feigned innocence and a smile that had too many teeth in it. It put some in mind of a snake, the Lecturer’s smile. But the Professor would smile in return, an indulgent sort of smile that let this familiarity pass, unremarked-upon; and all the Professor’s students would sigh, for a not-insignificant number of them were violently in love with the Professor of Assyriology, and knew that so long as the Professor smiled at the Lecturer in that way, they had no hope of encroaching upon his affections.

It made a great many of them distraught, pale with love and prone to quoting Catulus Caesar and Martial’s epigrams, but the Professor of Assyriology did not notice. When Aziraphale thought about his students, it was regarding their showing a knowledge of the Gospels in Greek, the Thirty-Nine Articles, and Joseph Butler’s Analogy of Religion; it was only Crowley who called him ‘angel’ and knew the truth of it, and that was all Aziraphale cared for.

Still and despite all this; Crowley did not think of Aziraphale as an angel. Not in the traditional sense of sparking beryl wheels and too many eyes, those heads of lions and goats and dragons and all quarreling amongst themselves. Of course that was what angels were, for Crowley remembered what had been in Heaven. But from the first (the First, there in Eden) Aziraphale had been a soft and pleasant fixture, fleshen and rounded and too much of the world to ever make Crowley think of his own origins. Aziraphale was not of that wellspring, nothing like what Crowley had left behind, with its strange and terrible inhabitants. An angel, as Crowley remembered the word, was not the stuff that made up Aziraphale.

In truth, he preferred this Oxfordshire understanding: Aziraphale as a man he wrote long letters to, maintained a certain kind of fondness for, and sometimes (when they were gin-drunk, smiling in the light of a streetlamp) thought very hard about kissing. it was an unasked-for, undeserved blessing, to be so in love in such a soft, human way. ‘Angel’ was then only an endearment, and Crowley clung to the reassurance of it, for to think of Aziraphale discorporate—huge and hard as light, fearsome as the dawn, cruel as justice—was beyond thinking.

He’d had a sword, once.

(Crowley didn’t like to think of it.)

This also meant that Crowley was ill-equipped when he met Aziraphale on the battlefield, as the angel was trying vainly to turn aside the BSAC and Crowley was in Johannesburg to sow general discord. Rhodes had been easy—a hunger for fame, a greed easily exploited and a harkening to power that did not need stoking. Crowley had barely got the words out, and then he was inducted into the British South Africa Company. A minimal amount of fuss, little tempting involved, just the way A.J. Crowley liked it. But Aziraphale had been…

(Aziraphale had been there at Sodom and Gomorrah. Aziraphale had overseen the deaths of the firstborn in Egypt. Aziraphale had stood beside Raphael as Adam and Eve, then Seth, Cain, Abel, and all their children, were turned away from the gates to Eden; as they were told: no. Aziraphale had always been more pitiless than Crowley in these matters.)

When it came, Crowley wasn’t sure whether the humans in his party could even see it. All that vastness, static electricity and pressure gathering like an oncoming storm, but tinged with righteousness as pure and painful as holy water. Long before Aziraphale appeared, it was there in his advance guard. And though Crowley did not ordinarily think of Aziraphale as an angel, he came as one—crackling into sight like a shard of divine retribution. (At the gates of Eden he’d had a sword, and it had burned; Crowley remembered at last.)

“CROWLEY,” the storm that was Azirphale said before it struck, its voice tender enough that it only shattered his eardrums. The black blood of it slid down Crowley’s jaw, leaving him dizzied, cringing. “YOU SHOULD GO.”

“I…” Crowley breathed, and then he nodded. (It was a good thing, he thought suddenly, to be a demon; no one on his side questioned cowardice.) “All right, then,” he said, ducking his head. And with that Crowley ran, and hid, and the holiness of Aziraphale broke over that part of the world like rain.

When Crowley came out again, most of the humans were all gone and dead, but Aziraphale was sitting there in the canteen, picking at the food with a little moue of disappointment. “Such abysmal cookery!” Aziraphale cried, as though this was the worst of the day, that the Transvaal cook could not do a proper fry up without his third and fifth fingers, which he had lost in the fighting. “Crowley, look at this, is it not a crime?”

Crowley picked his way over the corpses, their hands and legs splayed over all that needless, pooling blood. He looked down at Aziraphale’s plate and thought to himself that it did look a dog’s mess, but so were the bodies lying in the street, where actual dogs, thin street-mongrels, had taken to tearing them apart. “Sure,” Crowley said absently. “Yes.”

Aziraphale eyed him—Crowley could feel him looking—but he did not say anything. Instead, Aziraphale pushed the plate of mash towards Crowley, who collapsed into the seat across from him. They both of them picked at it silently, until the sounds of the shelling, the fighting and dying, died away. Even then, they ate burst, oversweet tomatoes; they talked of the music they missed, of London, of the time before. It was all very awful, especially the food. Every bite Crowley swallowed tasted of static electricity, ozone, and cupric.

He swallowed each mouthful deliberately, and Aziraphale’s eyes—all of them, the others not quite having faded from his wrists, his throat—watched him. Aziraphale’s smile was painful, taut. “I am sorry, my dear,” he said, though Crowley had watched him rain down righteousness and would venture to guess he wasn’t.

“’s all right,” Crowley mumbled.

“I am,” Aziraphale said again, more insistently.

It felt strange, to be on the other end of a desperate desire for forgiveness. Crowley wasn’t sure what to do with it. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’m not in any place to judge.”

But Aziraphale did not look mollified at this. Instead, he pushed the plate towards Crowley. “Have some more,” he said, and in his voice were the harmonics of the celestial spheres, like Crowley needed to be bribed into it—as though Aziraphale looking at him, with his many, many eyes gradually fading and the roundness and redness returning to his cheeks, was not enough.

Crowley ate. After, he was sick into the dust beside a grave—mostly because he felt he ought to be after so much grief, such rich foods. Aziraphale, to his credit, stood beside Crowley as he retched, absently rubbing his back.

#adherents of the repeated meme #good omens #everybody wants to talk about wwii but I want to know where aziraphale was in the crusades and the boer war #when you've got immortal characters who have been instructed to intervene in most of human history on the side of Christian Religion #I want to know whose side they were on #I want to know how you reckon with it #is aziraphale Properly British and if so.........what does that mean

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things2mustdo · 4 years ago

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A while back, I came across a thought-provoking article about r/K selection theory. The basic idea is that r-selected species are adapted for environments with unlimited resources, while K-selected species are adapted for competition. The typical examples of these are rabbits and wolves. As the article explains:

Rabbits (r-Strategy)

They’re herbivores with near unlimited resources (never a shortage for grass).. The virtually unlimited resources are a primary reason why rabbits are not territorial. This is also part of the reason why they opt for breeding often; unlimited resources means they’re not going to starve.

They have no defense against predators other than running. They do not have any loyalty towards their group. It makes no sense for a rabbit to rush to the aid of another rabbit being attacked. Then you’d just have two dead rabbits. Because they can be killed so easy, it makes sense to reach maturity as quickly as possible so they can begin birthing children.

Hierarchies are pointless in rabbit society. Rabbits lives are rather simple; eat grass and run away from danger. There’s no need to invest heavily in their offspring. As such, there’s no need to prove who’s the superior (alpha) and the best candidate for passing on their genes.

Wolves (K-Strategy)

They’re carnivores that must hunt to survive. Hunting requires more intelligence and training than grazing on grass. Due to the increased difficulty of hunting compared to grazing, more time is invested in training the offspring to survive.

Because prey is limited, wolves must viciously protect their territory from intruders. While it might seem heartless, if another pack is allowed into their territory the supply of prey will be exhausted and both packs will starve to death.

Wolves are monogamous/pair-bond. Because raising the offspring is so important for the continuation of the species, the wolves will pair for life in order to raise their young. As such, they will choose the best mate they can find to further improve their chances of birthing strong, healthy cubs. This process of choosing leads to hierarchies with an alpha male leading the pack. Wolves also wait longer before reproducing and generally have less offspring. If they reproduced early and often, there would be too many wolves for the ecosystem resulting in the consumption all the prey and starvation.

Wolves are more complex. This is true for carnivores in general. Because carnivores typically live in groups, they must have more sophisticated ways to communicate. The same is true for their domesticated brethren. Look at a dog and you can easily identify if he is scared, happy, angry, or bored by his body language and barks. Can you tell the same moods on a rabbit?

This isn’t a completely binary distinction. For example, some herbivores (such as bovines) will flock in packs and defend themselves. Lions are more K-selected than domestic cats.

The social angle

Humans are mainly K-selected; that’s what is natural for us. There are individual differences and statistical outliers, of course. As an extreme example, imagine two brothers; one picks up Atlas Shrugged and is inspired to become a successful businessman, and the other reads the Communist Manifesto and then continues to live in Mom’s basement where he smokes weed and posts social justice memes on 4chan all day. Compare also the factory worker who is a pillar of his community and is proud to bring home the bacon to his wife and kids, versus the starving artist who has yet to produce much of value.

Differing societies have their own average balance between r and K selection. Those mostly r-selected tend to be more collectivist; those more K-selected are generally individualist. In isolation, societies find their own level and work out what’s best for them according to their own unique cultures. When one group enters another group’s turf, problems can happen. I’ve already described how this was a factor in my witty take on the demise of the Neanderthals, who might have been too progressive to survive, rather than too backward as is often assumed. That, of course, was an analogy for what’s going on in today’s society.

This even has implications for mating strategies. What we’d now sometimes derisively call “provider game” used to be the only game in town, and was natural for our society at the time, as it had been since antiquity. After the Sexual Revolution, all the rules changed seemingly overnight, and what used to work became ineffective. The flowers, gifts, and poetry stuff once showed you were dependable and good-natured, which (believe it or not) used to be desired qualities. That will get you Friend Zoned now.

The weird thing is that today’s game strategies are an adaptation in response to our society’s unnatural shift from K-selection (where being hard-working and stable is valued) to r-selection (where being “exciting” and flashy is valued). This is why in today’s dating arena, those continuing to use traditional courtship strategies are like fish out of water. These days, being at least somewhat game-aware is pretty necessary even to get a steady girlfriend. These differing strategies lead to much confusion about what best exemplifies an alpha—a socially savvy and successful man, or a meth head ex-convict with missing teeth and a high “notch count”?

The political angle

Ideologies tend to support either K-selection or r-selection as a model for society. Now consider the part quoted about rabbits given above. Which ideology favors handing out unlimited free goodies, is anti-military, puts down traditional morality, believes in gun control, despises their own society, will run from a fight, seeks to eliminate the consequences of promiscuity, considers any hierarchy to be “privilege” or “oppression“, and doesn’t believe in self-improvement?

That certainly hits the highlights of the culture war. This presents a new perspective on why Social Justice Warriors want to re-invent society their way. All along we thought it was only cultural Marxism, but maybe there’s something even deeper going on psychologically with the SJWs.

This is reflected in policy arguments too; compare Bush the Elder’s “family values” with Hillary’s “it takes a village to raise a child”. As we can see, quite a bit of leftist ideology is basically about turning human society from the K-selected model into one friendly to the r-selected model. Two competing ideologies (or two societies living in the same space) with differing ideas about these things will come into conflict. The more K-selected ones will get themselves dragged down by the others if they let it happen, or even destroyed. Also, take a look at any bad neighborhood; consider it a low-investment parenting theme park.

In the wilderness, these things wouldn’t happen. Apex predators don’t tolerate rivals coexisting in their own turf. The smart lion drives away a pack of hyenas, and the smart bear chases away the foxes. In human societies, this has worked out quite differently, especially when clever manipulators weaponize our own societal values of tolerance, fairness, and all the rest of it against us.

The greatest problem is that we don’t actually have unlimited resources available to meet our wants and needs, like rabbits in a grassy field. All the free goodies a government hands out must come from taxpayers, with bureaucrats getting their piece of the action. (So who are the predators in that situation?) As Margaret Thatcher put it:

I think [The Labour Party] made the biggest financial mess that any government’s ever made in this country for a very long time, and Socialist governments traditionally do make a financial mess. They always run out of other people’s money. It’s quite a characteristic of them. They then start to nationalise everything, and people just do not like more and more nationalisation, and they’re now trying to control everything by other means. They’re progressively reducing the choice available to ordinary people.

In the Communist world, those faced with the task of implementing the silly theories of Karl Marx had to ration resources, which resulted in inefficiency and corruption. Things didn’t go according to theory, obviously. Ideologies out of touch with reality become dysfunctional pretty quickly.

The endgame

Now here’s something even more disturbing. In advanced species, adulthood means being able to fend for oneself. In the beginning, people relied on families and tribes (extended families writ large) for resources, protection, and support. Some degree of interdependence in a community is natural to us, since organized hunting and agriculture increased the odds of survival, and thus we’re social creatures. The head of the household called the shots in the family, and the chief led the tribe.

At the dawning of civilization, related tribes bound together into nations. The model of families living under kings was the norm up until the Age of Enlightenment, with the main drawbacks that the nobility (and those close to them) got rich at the expense of others, lorded it over their subjects, and sometimes got into short-sighted wars. Afterwards, the transition into democracies moderated some of these problems, though graft and corruption and badly-conceived wars still happened.

Now we’re moving into the “New World Order” model, where a few thousand plutocratic elites around the world use their wealth and influence to implement managed democracy, get into spit-in-your-eye wars, and other forms of skullduggery to influence things their way. They’re pushing to open the borders, erase national sovereignty, turn the diverse peoples of the world into a mass monoculture, and they’ve conspired to make the public unaware and compliant.

Overall, the elites are causing increased dependency on the nanny-state governments, which meanwhile neglect the public’s safety and well-being. They’ve shown great hubris, trying to live as kings and make us their serfs. Meanwhile, young adulthood has become increasingly an extened adolescence, and these days many are seeming more childlike than ever. The more all this goes on, the less citizens resemble independent adults.

The extreme model of this in the animal kingdom is with some insect species, such as ants and bees. Joseph Sobran used The Hive as a metaphor, and so have I. If you don’t feel like being one of their worker bees, or a neutered drone, then it’s time we get the globalists off our backs.

Read More: Cultural Collapse Theory: The 7 Steps That Lead To A Complete Culture Decline

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sasuhinasno1fan · 5 years ago

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Eternal eclipse - Klance Month Week 4

I have no idea where I was going with this but it happened, so yeah. I do wanna redo week 2 of @monthlyklance at some point, but I’ve got a mer bang to finish, so don’t be too surprised if the last prompt for this week is late. Enjoy I guess. Eclipse/Victory

“I’m the sun and your the moon.”

“What does that even mean?”

“We’re apart, but an eclipse is a moment worth watching.”

Keith burst into laughter. “That made no sense.”

“Yes it does!”

“No it doesn’t.”

Crappy webcams couldn’t distort the pout on Lance’s lips.

“What I mean is when they do get to pass each other, it’s one of the world greatest wonders and us being reunited would be the airport’s greatest wonder. Or at least, me getting to see you would be mine.”

While the analogy made no sense what so ever, knowing that he was Lance’s always put a smile on his face. Even when they were miles apart.

He and Lance met at a convention and had a slight competition over who had the better mecha lion cosplay from their shared favourite show, Space Warriors. Keith wouldn’t admit it then, but Lance had won with his Blue Lion cosplay, seeing as the people he came with were engineers and had made the moving pieces of their costumes. Lance himself, despite being a professional stage manager, was able to create the light up weapons they used. Keith made his Red Lion cosplay with hard work and long nights but he was willing to wave the white flag, if Lance hadn’t been so smug about it. In the 3 days of the convention, they always seemed to bump into each other, competing over the smallest things, like who could get a better score in the game room or who could find the better deal on a plush in the dealer’s hall. Even though they spent a good amount of time arguing, Lance had given him his number and told him to call if he ever wanted to admit Lance was better.

Keith was mostly never planning but he was working on a cosplay and the top didn’t look right and he had no other friends who liked cosplay, so he texted Lance.

‘Ah, so you admit I am the better cosplayer. it’s fine, no need to send a voice memo saying so. By the way, the shirt is the wrong colour if that’s the character your going for. You can actually order to correct colour from Jo Anne’s if you want to make it yourself. Check H&M or Forever 21 for similar looking shirts in the correct colour.’

While he rolled his eyes at how utterly smug the guy sounded, he took his advice. It was easier to get the shirt and fix it up himself and it was actually surprising how close to the real thing he needed was. Their relationship continued in asking for advice on cosplays or line ups for conventions and then he happened to find Lance’s Instagram.

Keith kept his cosplays and personal life separate, but Lance combined everything. Pictures of his cat, pictures of the beach, pictures of his friends as they lounged around, somewhat professional pictures as Lance worked, even though Keith knew enough about theatre to know Lance should be completely in the dark in the booth. So, Keith started asking questions about his life, Lance asked about his and they started to become friends. Lance could still be as snooty about his cosplay skills as possible but he was always helpful when it came to offering advice. Somehow it took finding a small fandom they both liked to make them closer.

“Whoa, wait a second. You like Kirarin Revolution?”

“Yeah?” Keith had been playing his usual cosplay making focus playlist and the second opening had come on and Lance heard it over the phone.

“Do you have any idea how hard it is to find someone who likes that anime? Almost no one knows it! I’ve been trying to find someone to be my Hiroto to my Seiji for a cosplay. What convention are you going to next?”

“Um, Galaxy Con?”

“Prefect, text me your sizes. we’re doing a cosplay together.”

“Wait, my size?”

“How else am I suppose to make your cosplay?”

“Wait what?”

Lance would not be swayed and when he arrived at his hotel on badge pick up day, like a hound dog, Lance found him and put him in his cosplay to do finishing touches. He even styled his wig for him.

“Why don’t we do this more?” Lance asked as he fixed the feathered pieces for the coat.

“Because you live in LA and I live in Texas.”

Despite Lance claiming not a lot of people knew the anime, they had made quite a hit at the convention. He became good friends with Hunk and Pidge and got to see another side to Lance that wasn’t hidden in smugness. Lance was actually a pretty nice guy and once they had separated again, they still kept that closeness they gained during that convention. They had even started to stream animes together, texting each other on everything.

Even with the distance between and the fact that they didn’t always go to the same convention and see each other, they kept getting closer and closer. One day, they were video chatting and Lance had been falling asleep on himself. His cat had joined him and was asleep herself and looking at him with his face squished by his hand, his half awake eyes and how he was all cosied up, Keith couldn’t help thinking he looked really cute.

He might not of been one for relationships, but was he even considering doing a relationship when your significant other lived so far away. Ok, maybe not that far, but long distance was hard. There was a reason it had such a stigma around it, even if people claimed it could work out.

Keith broached the subject and while ecstatic that Lance felt the same, he’d been as worried as Lance was. They were such good friends, what if this relationship didn’t work?

It took a lot of communication to make it work. Keith tended to keep things inside, including his nerves about how to act around Lance when they could meet at conventions. Lance was always nervous he’d be too clingy. There was a good moment where they stopped talking because not talking meant things couldn’t change or get worse. It was miserable and if it hadn’t been for Shiro – and Hunk on Lance’s side – it would of kept up. Once they talked everything through, it got better. It wasn’t like they’d go ages without seeing each other. Keith always saved up his vacation days at the Fire Station for conventions and he was always working so often anyway that the guys kept insisting he take more time off. Plus they loved teasing him about Lance, trying to sneak into the background of any video calls.

Lance would talk to Keith during shows that he knew the cues for like the back of his hand. He considered it worth getting in trouble for. he’d always count down to the next convention they’d meet at, somehow always knowing where he’d bump into Keith. they’d been doing it for a year now. There were long periods were they couldn’t see each other at conventions, maybe due to flight issues or work and the distance, while manageable, did hurt. Keith didn’t know why he didn’t just take a random week off when the theatre Lance worked with was in the dark and just spend the week with him. Maybe the fear that without conventions, they’d fall apart. Not a healthy way to live, which was why he was sure Lance announced on this very chat he was coming to visit him. Which kinda lead to their discussion on eclipses. When Lance was in town, in between actually hanging out and not sticking to a convention schedule, he wanted to make a couples cosplay with him. they’d been bouncing back ideas, almost going with Zuko and Sokka from ATLA (even though Keith knew he was more into Zuko and Katara), when Keith went on a tangent about the BNHA manga.

“You know I rarely read manga half the time.” Lance complained.

“I think you’ll like this one. The artist made this little drawing moon Todoroki and Sun Izuku and tododeku shippers have been going insane. it’s a whole huge thing now. I mean, everyone already says things like ‘oh the moon and sun get to kiss each other during an eclipse’. I must of seen 1000 fan arts of those two getting their kiss.”

“Oh! We should do that! it’ll be like us!”

which then lead back into their current conversation.

“Lance, when I get to see you, it’s not going to be a one time thing to kiss you. If it’s up to me, I wouldn’t stop. We might not even get any cosplay work done because I’ll be too busy kissing you.”

“Ooh, eternal eclipse. Kinda like the final battle with the Dead Moon Circus.”

Keith furrowed his brow. “What?”

“Sailor Moon? My god Keith, we might not be doing any cosplay stuff if I have to school you on essential anime.”

Keith rolled his eyes. “It’s not essential.”

“Keith, it’s changed the whole game. it’s essential.”

Keith could put up being school with ‘essential anime’, as long as he got Lance with it.

#monthlyklance #long distance relationship #otaku keith #otaku lance

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coryowens · 2 years ago

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I was 5 when #ToyStory came out. 5 years earlier, Playskool released this baby monitor set, as seen in the film and I’m lucky to have one of few, complete in box dated 1990. 🤯 Since regularly sharing pieces from my collections, I’ve connected with many Toy Story and game collectors from all over, one of whom sent me a few items for Zeppelin for XMAS! 🎄 Was going to post those, but figured I’d wait to do a video of Zoo opening those share this instead. No telling where tech will be by the time Z needs monitors for his kids, but I bet the original toy story will be just as classic by then as Pinocchio, Casper, American tails, & Snow White are to us #80sbaby & #90sbaby 👶 As analog begins to die and everything goes digital, like cash, movies, and music, I’ve started a tradition for my son and family to collect Led Zeppelin physicals; plushes, games, and collectibles from the likes of Sesame Street, The Lion King, & more notably Toy Story 1-4; and locally-made merch & memorabilia - essentially all things made-in-memphis just like my Zeppie. 〽️ I had nothing to inherit from family, but received few special gifts from my grandmother, mom & dad from the rare intimate interactions I shared with them as a child. From my grandmother: toys from cereal boxes, nutty buddy chocolate bars and TONS of Sesame Street toys 🧸 From mom: she had no idea the value of what she was giving me, but after being released from Jail sometime around my 18th birthday, she found a complete-in-box Zelda for the Super Nintendo plus other Zelda-related items to gift me which she only assumed I’d be interested in. It was literally a lucky yard sale grab& guess for which she had no idea of the value or whether I’d actually be interested. 🗡 From dad: the 2nd/ ~ 10 occasions I’ve spent with him (to this date), he took me to Gillian’s, formerly 150 Peabody Place - now home to Servicemaster. This was my first and last time that I recall ever going. We ate, went bowling, caught a movie (probably Toy Story), and ended at the arcade where I cashed out tickets for a Toy Story RC Buggy & he bought me a PS1 that I didn’t have nearly enough tickets for. 🎮 These were the highlights of my childhood 🥰 (at Downtown Memphis) https://www.instagram.com/p/ClxMSnjLUC1/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#toystory #80sbaby #90sbaby

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queeniesthoughts · 6 years ago

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A Guy That I’d Kinda Be Into

Summary: Lance is going to get to the bottom of why Keith's been avoiding him.

Crossposted on Ao3

"Hey Pidge," Lance tries to get her attention. "Have you noticed how weird Keith has been lately. Every time I try to talk to him, he mumbles something, and then leaves. He'll stay out until he knows I'll fall asleep to come to the dorm and is gone by morning!" He yells, throwing his hands up and frowns at Pidge's lack of an answer. He was really worried about Keith. While they haven't always been on the best terms, he really thought their relationship was starting to evolve. Last week, Keith let him borrow a pencil in class! Keith never lets anyone touch his stuff! Something about germs or whatever.

Pidge, who was getting annoyed by Lance's constant pacing, decided to give him some advice."If you're that worried, go ask Shiro if Keith has mentioned anything that's happened lately." That was a great idea. If there was something wrong with Keith, then Shiro would definitely know. He thanked Pidge, rushing out the door like his life depended on it. Pidge rolled her eyes. It was obvious to everyone on campus what was wrong with Keith, except Lance that is.

"King of Romance, he calls himself," She snorted, writing down a few notes on her paper." Dumbass can't even control his own love life."

Lance ran down the hall like a madman. He was finally going to figure what was wrong with Keith. If Shiro didn't have the answer to his problems than he was going to do something desperate. Like kidnap Keith and make him tell Lance what was wrong with. Lance just got a manicure that he didn't want to ruin and didn't want to get beat up, so he filed that plan way back in his mind.

Although, he could only imagine the angry blush on Keith's face while yelled out profanities as Lance dragged him along. Keith sure was pretty when he blushed. Now that Lance thought about it, he really loved Keith's blush. Not only that, he loved Keith's smile, his soft black hair that he sometimes tied up into a ponytail, and made Lance want to cry about the sheer beauty that is Keith Kogane. Lance was too busy daydreaming about Keith to notice that the real Keith was turning the corner. Until both of them slammed violently into each other that is.

"Shit!" Keith gasped out. He grabbed out for a source of support but was met with air. He closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable pain that was to come.

It never came.

Warm arms wrapped around him. He found himself buried into his Savior's chest. Whoever they were, they smelled heavenly. It was an odd mixture of the ocean and laundry detergent. How can someone manage to smell like the actual ocean? There weren't oceans nearby. An unusual smell but a surprisingly pleasant one.

"Wow Keith, first all you do is avoid me, now you look like you never want to let me go." Joked Lance. He may have looked calm on the outside but the inside he was having a panic attack. Keith was in his arms, Keith had sniffed him, and seemed to like the way he smelled. Bonus points for Lance. He's not sure what do now. Should continue to hold Keith and never let go or detangle himself. He liked the former option. Keith's body fits perfectly with his own. As if the universe knew they were made for each other and made Keith's body specifically to fit Lance's body like a puzzle piece. That analogy sounded complicated but that was Lance and Keith's relationship. Complicated.

Unfortunately, Keith had decided for both of them. He pushed himself out of Lance's arms, moving as far away from Lance as possible. A look of hurt crossed Lance's face. It reminded him of the reason he had crashed into Keith in the first place. He was running to find Shiro because Keith was avoiding him.

"Are you mad at me?" He whispered.

Keith, who all this time was trying to avoid eye contact, snapped his head to look Lance. "No!" He protested. The last thing he wanted was Lance to feel like he was mad at him. He grabbed Lance's hands into his. "No," He said again, this time more softly. Lance looked at their intertwined fingers, feeling his face start to heat up. Keith cleared his throat. "It's just," He started, sounding frustrated. "When we got lost in the woods last week, at first I thought how unlucky I was that of all people, that it was you I got lost with." Lance felt his heart drop. Keith really hated him that much?

Keith dropped his hands to his lap. Lance missed the warmth."But then I got hurt, and you wouldn't leave me, not even to get help." He gave Lance pointed look. "Which was pretty stupid might I add."

"It's not like I could've anyway, we were lost." Lance pouted. He crossed his arms. "Where are you going with this?" He bet you people were staring at them, thinking they were a couple of weirdos. They were sitting in the middle of the floor. He's not sure when he even sat down!

"I don't like many people," Keith coughed. Lance laughed, now it was Keith's turn to blush. " It's especially frustrating, when this guy that you thought you knew, goes and messes up your emotions!"

"Is he talking about me?"

"From that one day, you went from a guy that I'd never be into." Here goes, Keith's heart was pounding, he was going to finally tell Lance how he felt. "To a guy that I kinda be into."

Lance is pretty sure his brain short-circuited right then and there. Maybe he had heard wrong because there's no way, Keith "I'm too cool for school" Kogane liked him. He glanced Keith. The same Keith that Lance fantasizes about every single day. The Keith who had just confessed. The Keith who was probably waiting for an answer. Lance opened up his mouth to tell the black haired boy that he very much returned his feelings.

"So, you avoided me because you couldn't handle the gay feelings for me. Keith, that's not how you get your feeling across." That's totally not what he meant to say. "That smooth, real smooth. Now, Keith was going to take back his confession." He thought. Keith was unimpressed with Lance's lack of brain-to-mouth filter. "Uh, what I meant to say was go on date with me."

Keith wasn't sure what to say. He honestly didn't think he was gonna get this far. He expected Lance to reject him gently, then for both them to spend the rest of their lives awkwardly avoiding each other. Shiro's advice didn't include anything about dates, neither did those self-help books dammit. "Yeah, okay, let's go on date." He stuttered out.

"When you asked me on a date, I didn't think you meant now. I didn't even have time to grab my jacket." Keith mumbled. He hated the winter, it was cold, he constantly slipped on the ice, and overall, he much preferred the summer. Unlike his companion, Lance didn't mind winter at all. Sure, he liked spring more because it wasn't too cold or too hot.

"Oh come on Keith, don't be such a downer. It's our first official date." Lance said taking of his own jacket. He draped it on Keith's shoulders. He was wearing a sweater underneath, so he didn't need it. Plus, he kinda felt bad, seeing as it was his fault Keith was out here with out one. Keith let out a noise of appreciation. He'd forget his jacket a thousand times if it meant he could wear Lance's. It was big on Keith and basically swallowed him whole, but to Keith it was perfect.

"Now where do you wanna go first, the skating rink or maybe that new cafe," Lance paused to think. "Castle of Lions", I think that's what it's called. I don't know why it has a such a weird name, but I'm pretty sure Allura works there and she can give us a friend discount." Lance needed to start paying attention to his surroundings, because for the second time today, Lance smashed into something. Only this time, it was not a person. No, that would be too good for Lance. This time, Lance smashed into a fountain.

He was quickly engulfed in water colder than Pidge's glares when he steals the last of Hunk's cookies. He didn't know if he was glad that water had not frozen over or not. In the end deciding that cold water was better than hard, cold, ice. What had he done to deserve such a cruel fate as this? He was a model citizen, he helped old ladies across the street and most of the time turned in all his homework.

A sound broke his train of thought. This sound caused his chest to tighten. It wasn't like anything had ever heard in his life. His eyes scanned the courtyard to find where the majestic noise was coming from. They landed on Keith. It was coming from Keith. Keith was laughing at him. Not a little chuckle, but full blown laughter.

"I'm sorry," Keith apologized, trying to get his laughter under control and failing miserably. "It's just, how do you WALK into a fountain?!" Keith couldn't help it anymore, Lance looked silly with his long limbs spread in such a tiny fountain. He was now hunching over, amusement all over his face. Lance was sure he was going to fall over.

That moment, Lance made a vow. A vow to make Keith laugh every single day as long as he lived. The world could not go on being deprived of something so wonderful. Keith moved to go help Lance out of the fountain.

"Come on, let's go back to our dorm before you die of hypothermia. We'll drink hot chocolate and watch those trashy drama TV shows you like. " Lance shivered but nodded. He would follow Keith to the end of the Earth.

As they walked back to their room, Lance couldn't stop the grin that split across his face, despite not being able to feel his toes. He's not sure how this development in their relationship is going to pan out. It's going to be a long and weird process. They would figure it out together though because they were Lance and Keith.

#klance #lance mcclain #keith kogane #voltron #voltron legendary defender #female pronoun pidge #pidge gunderson #the most unoriginal title ever #klance fic #klance fanfic

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emosnakeboy · 7 years ago

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Hello again!! 🤗 So I was thinking tiny Roman is unchecked creativity & whatever he thinks about just appears in the mindscape. The others are trying to figure out how to get him to sleep bc that's the only way to get his creations to disappear, unless Roman does it directly. And if you can please include a scene where little Ro is chasing after a little puppy.🐕 I don't know why, it's just a cute image!!! Thank you!❤

Logan gingerly stood up and walked into the living room. Roman and Patton sat where they had been, playing with Lincoln Logs. Logan braced himself and stepped into the mess of the room, but before he took more than two steps, a sharp pain shot up his left leg. The logical trait hissed in pain, lifting up his foot and staring at the ground where it had been. Around his feet were the legos that Roman had been playing with previously. Logan relaxed slightly when he realized the lion meant no harm. Roman must have created him to be kind and gentle. He glanced at Patton, who was also slowly beginning to look less terrified for Roman’s sake. Patton looked towards Logan, and when he saw that Logic was calmed, he took a deep breath and let his shoulders fall to their normal position. The moral trait took a few hesitant steps towards the lion before gently touching its mane. It lifted its head suddenly, turning slowly towards Patton and giving him a sniff before allowing him to continue petting it. Patton’s face lit up, and he turned to Logan with an expression of pure joy.?Patton giggled suddenly, and both Roman and Logan turned to look at him. Patton didn’t shy away from their gazes. Instead, he looked at them brightly and said, “Sorry. You guys are just cute and I love you both a lot.”After all this time I finally finished it.. sorry it took so long!

Warnings: yelling, minor swearing, physical attack, claustrophobiaShips: platonic/familial LAMP/CALM (mostly platonic royality, platonic analogical, platonic logicality with some platonic logince)Word Count: +3.3k

Logan sighed, pushing his glasses up his nose. He’d done that a lot already, and he knew he’d do it a lot more. The sounds of endless giggling echoed around him to the point where it was starting to drive him crazy, and Patton was being no help whatsoever.

“Can you please -” Logic started, but his eyes widened suddenly. He darted to the side, narrowly missing the iPad that flew past him. His face curled up into a sour sneer, and he stomped once on the floor. “Patton! Can you please stop encouraging him?”

Patton looked up from the floor. His face was colored in certain places with vibrant colors that shouldn’t be on one’s skin. Several open vats of washable paint sat on the ground around him. His fingers were colored with pinks, greens, blues, purples, and basically most other colors. He wasn’t the only one.

Logan reasoned that it was indirectly Virgil’s fault. The anxious trait was nowhere around, and as his caution tended to balance out Roman’s yearning to bolt every which way possible, the lack of that caution was… a slight problem. With no one keeping Roman in check, the creative trait had regressed into a sort of childish mindset…

… and a childish physical state.

He couldn’t be older than about seven, but were he a normal child and not a facet of Thomas’s personality, he would easily be diagnosed with ADHD. Every time the child wanted something new, it would appear and he would squeal with delight. He would discard whatever other toy or object he had previously taken interest in, usually with a toss over his shoulder. His shirt was entirely too big, his sleeves pushed up his arms so that his tiny little hands could grasp at whatever toys he felt like playing with. Patton, being the, quote-en-quote, “father” that he was, decided that Logan’s attempts to control the child were futile and unimportant. He had instead opted to play with Roman while Logan was left to find a solution.

Logan desperately wished Virgil would come back from… wherever he was.

“Logan, it’s not like I can provide much of a solution,” Patton said, glancing towards the floor. “We both know that. It’ll be better if I can entertain him and keep him out of your way. If I somehow do think of something, I can tell you, but I doubt that I will.”

Logan wanted so badly to tell him he was wrong, but he knew that having Roman distracted would surely be best. Having someone to bounce ideas off of would be productive, but not being distracted would help more.

Logan let out a sigh of defeat. “Fine. I suppose you’re right about keeping him distracted. Thank you.” Patton flashed a sad smile. Logan walked into the kitchen in an attempt to avoid the mess in the living room. He began to think, but the constant giggles erupting from the living room were endlessly distracting. He gave up quickly, deciding that waiting until another trustworthy side could appear to help was the best plan of action.

“This room is a mess,” he hissed through gritted teeth as he came back into the living room. Most of the floor was covered with toys that the creative child had conjured impulsively. Stuffed animals. Toy trains and rockets. A princess costume. A dragon costume. A giant cowboy hat and a lasso. Dolls. A wooden snake. Containers of play-doh. Coloring books and broken crayons. Disney-themed toys. A GameBoy system with an Animal Crossing cartridge. Roman sat in the center of it all, his white jacket stained with paint and ink. He was actively playing with plastic food and a picnic basket.

“This is your toast,” he giggled, pretending to spread jelly onto a plastic piece of bread with red jam. He handed it to Patton, who let out an estatic laugh and pretended to take a bite out of it. Roman smirked as Patton “chewed”, and after Patton swallowed the smirk grew wider.

“Tasty! Thank you, Roman,” Patton exclaimed, glancing at Logan. The twinkle in his eyes told Logan that this was what Patton was meant to be doing. Logan gave a soft smile.

“That was Smuckers jam,” Roman said smugly, his smirk growing. “I get Crofters because I’m the best.” Patton let out a fake gasp. Logan’s gasp was real. He stormed through the piles of stuff on the floor, kneeled down in front of Roman, and picked the child up by the armpits.

“You are not,” the logical trait seethed, “to besmirch the name of Crofters. Crofters is superior, and Patton deserves only the finest of Crofters. How dare you mention any fruit spread other than Crofters?!”

Roman’s face was almost enough to make Logan regret it. Almost. The creative trait looked terrified, his eyes wide and his lip quivering. Logan let out the slightest sigh, about to apologize, when -

“Hah! Gotcha. You thought I was scaaared, you thought I was scaaared.” Roman snickered, grinning brightly. “It’s my job to act, calculator watch. And I did good!”

Logan inhaled deeply, closing his eyes. I might kill him. I might - no, don’t kill him. Just… ignore him. Logan’s lips quirked upward. That will actually piss him off more. Perfect.

Patton giggled suddenly, and both Roman and Logan turned to look at him. Patton didn’t shy away from their gazes. Instead, he looked at them brightly and said, “Sorry. You guys are just cute and I love you both a lot.”

Roman grinned widely and turned to Logan. “Patton said he looooves you,” the child snickered, a devilish glint in his eyes. Logan let out a sigh. Patton giggled once more.

“I can’t understand how you can do anything with this mess,” Logan muttered, standing up and carefully picking his way through the maze of toys towards the couch. Roman snapped his fingers, and the plastic food disappeared and reappeared in the corner. A mass of Little People appeared on the floor in front of him, and he squealed in delight. Logan rolled his eyes. “At least, y’know, delete some of the things you’re done with? I can’t think in settings like these.”

Roman looked horrified. “B-But I’m still playing with it!” he objected, gripping a tiny green alligator tightly in one hand.

Logan raised an eyebrow. “All of it?”

“Yes!”

Logan let out an exasperated sigh. “I doubt that. Delete some of it, now.”

“No!” Roman yelled, throwing the plastic alligator at Logan. It hit the logical trait in the side of the head, and Roman let out a triumphant bark of laughter. Logan stood up again, about to start yelling at the child without remorse, but Roman’s eyes fell onto a tiny plastic lion on the ground. He picked it up, a grin spreading on his face. “Y’know what’d be better than a toy lion?” Logan’s eyes widened with horror as Roman yelled out in excitement, “A real lion!”

“Roman, NO!” Logan and Patton yelled at the same time, both moving forward towards the unchecked creative trait, but it was too late. A single click of Roman’s fingers later, a very real adult male lion sat on the floor amidst the toys. Roman squealed in delight, reaching out towards it. Horror overtook Patton’s face as the lion reached its head towards Roman’s outstretched fingers, but it merely gave them a quick sniff before licking them with a broad pink tongue. Roman giggled happily, reaching up with his other hand and petting its furry mane, which looked far softer than any normal lion mane should.

Logan relaxed slightly when he realized the lion meant no harm. Roman must have created him to be kind and gentle. He glanced at Patton, who was also slowly beginning to look less terrified for Roman’s sake. Patton looked towards Logan, and when he saw that Logic was calmed, he took a deep breath and let his shoulders fall to their normal position. The moral trait took a few hesitant steps towards the lion before gently touching its mane. It lifted its head suddenly, turning slowly towards Patton and giving him a sniff before allowing him to continue petting it. Patton’s face lit up, and he turned to Logan with an expression of pure joy.

“It’s so soft, Lo! Come pet it!” Patton gushed, reaching up to his face with one hand to rub his nose. This could be my only chance to touch a living lion, even if it’s a synthesized one, Logan realized. He gingerly took two steps forward before the lion’s slowly-flicking tail stiffened. Logan froze as the lion turned around, any former gentleness gone from its stature. It began to prowl towards Logan, a menacing look in its eyes. Logan’s expression turned to terror as he stepped backwards across the floor. His foot hit a poofy purple princess dress and slipped, causing Logan to fall flat on his backside, and the sudden movement was enough to make the lion to bound forward. Its mouth opened wide, revealing a horrifying set of pearly white and very sharp teeth, and Logan opened his mouth to scream in terror before Patton let out a loud sneeze. Something in the room audibly clicked, and the lion froze before shrinking down into a stuffed animal. Logan stared at it for a moment, breathing heavily and shaking slightly.

“I forgot, Patton’s allergic to kitties. And lion are cats.” Roman sighed, scratching the back of his head and looking up at Patton sheepishly. “Sorry, pops.”

“Roman!” Logan yelled, his voice much higher than he’d meant it to be. “What the absolute f--” he broke off, remembering that Patton was around, “--frick were you doing to it?! Why did it try to kill me?!!”

Roman shrugged nonchalantly. “Cause I wanted it to.”

Logan’s jaw dropped, but again, before he could begin to yell at Roman, the creative trait snapped his fingers. On the floor in front of the three sides was a small, fuzzy, black and white dog. Logan’s mind blanked on anger as Patton let out a delighted squeal and picked up the miniscule creature, holding it against him tightly. Logan opened his mouth, his eyes on Patton and the dog, and he suddenly wished he could remember exactly what he’d been about to say. Roman, still sitting on the floor, smirked and folded his arms. Logan ignored him as the dog wriggled out of Patton’s grip and bounced to the floor again. It walked over in front of Logan, who braced himself for it to viciously attempt to rip his leg off, but it merely yipped twice and sat down in front of him. Logan hesitantly reached down to touch it, and after sniffing his fingers a few times the dog allowed Logan to scratch it behind the ears. Patton smiled softly, and the dog glanced up at Logan before attempting to bound along the living room floor. It didn’t get far before it stepped on the tiny plastic alligator with a loud yelp of pain, and Roman immediately made an apologetic noise and snapped his fingers. Logan gave a sigh of relief as most of the stuff disappeared from the floor and didn’t reappear in a corner. The dog let out a tiny, happy woof before running around the living room once and bolting into the kitchen. Roman laughed happily, getting up and running after it, and as he followed it back into the living room he caught up to it and grabbed its sides. He lifted the dog up, a huge smile on his face, and the dog licked every inch of his face that it could reach.

The dog took up Roman’s attention without being a giant mess on the entire floor, so Logan was satisfied with its presence. He managed to relax enough to the point of calming down from the lion attack, and after a while Patton came over and sat next to him, though he still watched Roman play with the dog.

However, like all of Roman’s other toys, he got bored with the dog at some point. With a click of his fingers, the dog dematerialized, and Patton let out a noise of protest. “Relax, Pat. It’ll be fine. I put it in your room.”

Patton answered Roman with some words of thanks, but Logan was distracted by the slowly reappearing mess on the floor. Piece by piece, everything that had vanished was coming back, cluttering the living room once more. Logan felt his frustration beginning to pile up, but he forced it back. Roman snapped his fingers, and in front of him appeared a large pile of Legos. He began to build something, but Logan decided not to stick around to find out what it was. He stood up, picked his way through the piles of stuff on the floor, and eventually stood safe in the kitchen. Instead of stressing himself out over looking for a solution to this, he allowed himself to stop and take a breather. The kitchen was clean and void of children. Roman’s entertained giggles were quieter. Logan felt like he could breathe, finally.

The logical trait let out a sigh, leaning against the wall column separating the walkway from the wall between the living room and kitchen. He sank down to the floor, his forehead falling onto his knees. Perhaps I should look into the possibility of having claustrophobia. It seems rather like that is the case, Logan mused, an idea coming to mind suddenly. If I let Patton know this, perhaps he could convince Roman to clean up the mess….

Logan’s head snapped upward, his gaze burning into the creative trait’s back. Patton looked away from Roman and up towards Logan, and his face assumed a sympathetic frown. Logan opened his mouth, ready to yell, but Patton’s gaze travelled up and away from Logan to the top of the stairs behind him.

“What the hell happened here?!” Logan turned around carefully and looked up to see Virgil standing at the top of the stairs. His eyes were wide with a mix of shock and horror as he looked out at the sea of toys on the floor.

“Virgil, thank goodness,” Logan said with a sigh, picking his way across the floor to the bottom of the stairs. Virgil met him at the base, and Logan leaned towards his ear and whispered, “I don’t know what happened, why, or how to deal with this. He has it out for me and I don’t understand it at all. He won’t clean it up and I cannot think or breathe because of the mess. Please help.”

Virgil gave Logan a cross between a grin and a grimace before turning towards Roman and Patton. “Roman,” he said firmly, his tone sharp with traces of anger. The creative trait turned around and saw the anxious one standing on the stairs. “Clean it up. Now,” Virgil seethed, his eyes dark and furious. Roman shrank back, his eyes falling to the floor. Virgil raised an eyebrow, and Roman murmured a noise of assent before raising his hand and snapping his fingers. Piece by piece, everything slowly disappeared into nothingness until the floor was completely cleared.

Once the floor was clean and pristine again, Virgil walked over to where Roman sat. The creative trait looked up, his eyes wide with fear. When Virgil spoke, his tone was smooth but laced with anger.

“Logan says you’ve been incredibly rude to him.”

Roman’s eyes flickered to Logan before meeting Virgil’s gaze again. “I’m sorry -”

“I’m not the one who needs an apology. What gives you the right to abuse Logan’s comfort like that? Knowing him, he told you multiple times that the mess was bothering him, and you decided to ignore him. What the hell makes that okay?!”

Roman didn’t answer. He looked towards the ground in shame, his mouth remaining shut.

“I’m waiting,” Virgil hissed, folding his arms.

Roman looked up, his eyes glistening with regret. “N-Nothing.”

“Nothing makes that okay. You should know that. You might not be the brightest, but Roman, you’re not stupid. You’re not helpless. You know that -”

Virgil continued scolding Roman, but Logan lost track of what he was saying as he noticed Roman’s appearance literally changing before their eyes. His limbs began growing longer, his shoulders broadened, his torso stretched out, and his facial features began to sharpen. His gaze remained on Virgil the entire time, seemingly oblivious to his own appearance shifting. When Virgil finally concluded his yelling, Roman looked just as old as the rest of them. His paint-stained shirt fit once more, but his pants were nowhere to be found.

“Apologize to Logan, immediately,” Virgil ordered coldly.

Roman stood up, his eyes moving to Logan. He inhaled and said quietly, “I’m sorry, Logan. I was acting out and I did some awful things to you. You didn’t deserve it, and I shouldn’t have done that. I hope you can forgive me, especially for the lion -”

“What lion?” Virgil asked sharply, his eyes narrowed but bright with fear.

“I - erm - may have sent a lion after Logan -”

“You WHAT?!”

“I survived because of Patton’s allergies. It happens from time to time, Virgil,” Logan said quickly as the anxious trait opened his mouth to yell at Roman once again. Roman grinned sheepishly, but his expression fell as Logan turned towards him. “I can’t forgive you immediately, as you did attempt to kill me and you succeeded in hurting me in other ways, but…” he sighed, “I can forgive you with time and when I have a reason to.”

Roman gave a half smile, looking down. He spotted his own lack of pants and grinned before snapping his fingers. The colorful stains on his shirt vanished, and his white pants appeared on his legs at once.

Patton giggled lightly, standing up off the ground behind Roman. “Gee Virge, you’re almost like a dad yourself. I’m proud of you, kiddo. Now sit tight, I’m gonna make us all some food. Good to have it all back to normal.” Patton disappeared into the kitchen. The other three sides exchanged a glance.

“What happened to you? Where were you that caused Roman to change like that?” Logan asked Virgil a few moments later. The two sat on the couch as Patton worked in the kitchen. Roman had disappeared upstairs.

Virgil shrugged. “Sleeping. I wanted to give Thomas some time without me bugging him. Guess I shouldn’t do that, or Roman gets all… nuts.”

Logan nodded. “True. We know that it is necessary to have some anxiety, or bad things tend to happen. Such as Roman getting out of control.”

Virgil looked down, a soft smile on his face. Logan couldn’t help but smile slightly too.

Something upstairs let out a loud bark. Virgil looked up towards it before looking over at Logan. “Patton’s room is barking, by the way. That’s what woke me up.”

Logan laughed. “Yes, there’s a dog in there.”

“My puppy! DADDY’S COMING FOR YOU, SWEETIE!” Patton yelled, charging out of the kitchen, through the living room, and upstairs. Logan and Virgil exchanged a glance as they heard Patton’s door open, then close.

“Someone should watch the stove while he’s up there,” Logan said pleasantly, standing up. Virgil nodded, waving his hand, as if to say go on, do your thing.

Things were back to normal.

Bonus! For waiting so long I decided that you deserve to see a little something extra...

I drew a tiny Romano for you! It looks kind of really bad but eh *shrugs* I tried. I hope you enjoyed the oneshot! Thank you for requesting and again I’m sorry for how long it took me to finish this

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ayearofpike · 6 years ago

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Spooksville #13: Creature in the Teacher

UK title: Alien Invasion Pocket Books, 1996 114 pages, 12 chapters + epilogue ISBN 0-671-00261-9 LOC: CPB Box no. 507 vol. 2 OCLC: 35769024 Released November 1, 1996 (per B&N)

Sally warned her friends that the teachers at Horror Halls could be weird and frightening, but none of them are fully prepared for Mr. Snakol, the science teacher. It’s even worse when he informs them that they’ll be expected to kill and dissect animals pretty much every day, and those who object disappear mysteriously — including Sally. It’s down to the Spook Squad to figure out what is happening and how they might negotiate with Mr. Snakol, who, they quickly discover, is not of this earth but does want to find a home for his people, who are:

(And yeah, I took this picture in my own classroom. Who says I can’t keep up with photography while I’m working?)

Real quick side note: I feel like the creators of Ned’s Declassified School Survival Guide might have taken some inspiration from the cover of this book.

We were wondering when school was going to start, right? Well, here it is, after a year’s worth of adventures. Literally — The Secret Path came out in October 1995. And if you thought the start of school meant the end of weirdness, then you haven’t been paying attention to anything Sally has said the whole time. Here, too, she notes that teachers at Springville Intermediate School tend to be just as bizarre and unsavory as the other adults in town (e.g. the creepy librarian who forces calcium-supplemented milk on anyone who visits, the ice-cream-shop owner who refuses to serve anything but vanilla).

This becomes clear right off the bat with Mr. Snakol, who seems to slither from the prep room to the blackboard and has brighter green eyes than Adam has ever seen, even though he’s met a magical cat, a dragon, a crocodile alien, a fucking leprechaun, and a literal witch this summer. (N.b. Have I already noted Pike’s predilection for green eyes when someone is special or unusual? It was a lot more common in the early going, and it’s back in Spooksville.) He starts in on his method of teaching about anatomy through dissection, and immediately Sally speaks up against it. She encourages the new kid, who looks like he’s about to piss his pants, to do it too, and Mr. Snakol responds by asking them both to stay after class. Sally basically tells him where to stick it, but Pee-Pants can’t say no.

The Spook Squad meets up at lunch and discusses their weird teachers, and Adam wonders what happened to Pee-Pants. He’d invited him to have lunch with his friends, but now he’s not here. When he’s still unfindable after school, Adam tries to peek into the science room, but it’s locked, so he goes to Pee-Pants’ house to see if he went home already. And of course he didn’t. (Remember when you could look up someone’s address in the phone book?) So now Adam’s really worried. When the friends meet up for a celebratory first-day-of-school movie, he instead wants to break into the school and try to find the new kid.

Bryce knows how to pick locks, because of course he does, and the crew makes it to the back room of the science class without much trouble — where they find Pee-Pants’ clothes, stained with blood. And suddenly the door slams shut and they’re locked in. Watch has already spotted the alternative exit, a duct that leads to the roof vent, but Adam is the only one small enough to fit through it. When he’s up there, he peeks off the edge and sees Mr. Snakol with a gerbil cage. Correction: He sees Mr. Snakol unhinge his jaw to EAT A LIVE GERBIL.

So now they have evidence that Mr. Snakol is a weirdie and a danger to the students, and they go to the principal the next day to get him fired. Only the principal, a supremely unqualified leader with shocking orange hair, refuses to take responsibility because denial is easier, and isn’t worried about the missing kid because the mom is still young enough to have another one. I feel like there’s an analogy here if I could only find it. So Sally takes matters into her own hands and confronts Mr. Snakol directly ... who realizes she knows too much and will have to be dealt with.

When Sally doesn’t show up for lunch, Adam doesn’t wait another day — he barges right into the science lab. No bloody clothes this time, but the kids find a weird computer box in the closet. Watch immediately starts pushing buttons, of course, and a beam shoots out of the side and vaporizes a nearby hamster cage. Don’t worry, Watch says, it’s just a transporter, which how the fuck could he know that, but sure enough he brings the cage back, but the hamster is dead. So obviously this means that the cage was transported to outer space where there was no air for the hamster to breathe, as the kids make the kind of logic leap that Pike usually reserves for the grand finale. Obviously Mr. Snakol is an alien, and his ship must be nearby, and this box has transported Sally and maybe Pee-Pants to it. Now if they can just find the ship in the sky, Watch can start to calculate where to send themselves.

Sally wakes up in a cell with Pee-Pants, with no obvious door but a window that looks down on the Earth. So ... good guess, Bryce and Watch? They’re both wearing white robes, but otherwise OK. Pee-Pants tells Sally that Mr. Snakol forcibly took a sample of his blood and then made him change clothes and warped him to the ship, and maybe did the same thing to her earlier in the day. (She doesn’t remember any of this, because she passed out as soon as Mr. Snakol came after her.) He also tells her that the aliens (who call themselves “Lizzies,” I swear to fucking god) have been forced off their planet and are looking for a new place to live. This means invasion, and Sally has to stop it. She rips a strip off her robe and then starts screaming to lure a guard into the cell. As soon as he comes in, she hurls herself at him — to no effect, because he throws her back across the room and then leaves. But this was just a ruse to get the cloth wedged in the door so it can’t seal, and now Sally and Pee-Pants can bust out.

They find an armory and get a couple guns, then make their way to the control room and take it over. Sally forces the pilot to bring the ship in for a landing, and directs her to land in Africa for some goddamn reason. Only just then the view screen changes from a view of the planet to another room, where Adam and Bryce are being held at gunpoint by some officers. They managed to get warped aboard before Sally took over, and now they’re hostages in the demand for the Lizzies to get their ship back. So Sally has no choice but to hold the power source hostage, turning her gun up all the way and pointing it at the fuel cube or whatever, and instructing the pilot to keep going.

Meanwhile, Watch and Cindy go looking for Mr. Snakol, and find him dejectedly sitting on the steps of the school. He knows they know what he is, and so he feels comfortable sharing his worry that he’s been abandoned on the planet, as his ship is no longer in orbit. But he’s not just worried for himself; he’s worried for all of his people. Their planet was impacted by a comet and is basically suffering the early throes of nuclear winter, and if they can’t find a place to live, they’ll all die. They don’t want to take Earth by force, though; his role as a schoolteacher was to see whether humans and Lizzies could coexist. But he’s pretty sure the answer is no, and it’s maybe too late to find another place to live before his people go extinct.

It’s a good thing Watch knows some weird shit. He has an idea, but he needs to figure out how to get himself and Mr. Snakol to the ship. Mr. Snakol got final coordinates before it went missing, and beams them over to Africa, where the ship has landed in the middle of a pride of hungry lions. And of course Sally immediately opened all the doors upon landing, so the Lizzies have had to evacuate the ship as the lions climbed aboard looking for food. Watch explains his crazy idea: what if they share the planet, but in different timelines? The Lizzies can all beam to Spooksville and then immediately take the Secret Path shortcut to 70 million years ago, where they can live until they find another planet that works for them. This is amenable to the Lizzies, and the Spook Squad is cool with it as long as the Lizzies don’t mess with our evolution.

So they spend the rest of the day getting an entire civilization across space and into the ancient past, which seems way more efficient than something humanity could do. And then they head home, because they’re exhausted, but first Sally wants a snack — a big, juicy frog that’s sitting in the road. The rest of the kids freak out — did the Lizzies change something subtle about our genetics that now makes Sally hungry for amphibians? Nah, she’s just fucking with us.

As often as the MFLAs have recurred in Pike books, I have to say that I’m enjoying it more in this series. These ones especially are not just plain cold and evil: they’re people, trying to survive, but respecting the right to life of other people while they do it. But: this means the TITLE of this one is misleading, even more than the back copy for once (at least in the US release). The creature isn’t IN the teacher, the creature IS the teacher. For all intents and purposes, the creature IN the teacher is ... well, a gerbil.

#spooksville #spookstober

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secretradiobrooklyn · 4 years ago

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Two Lions In Love Edition | 6.19 & 6.26.21

Secret Radio | 6.19 & 6.26.21 | Hear it here.

6/19: Juneteenth “Two Lions in Love Edition”

“Tropical use only” — drug salesperson

1. Daddy Don’t - “Bottom Side of Texas”

One of our favorite spots to play in the whole country is the Pilot Light in Knoxville — it’s not just the club, but the neighborhood and really the whole drive into town, digging into the Tennessee mountains. There’s a little St. Louis in its bricks and pathways too. One evening brought us a night with Daddy Don’t, which was a gal on guitar singing songs about the gal on drums, plus a guy onstage strictly to blow bubbles. They seemed so shy and so completely cool. Their set was hilarious and touching and maybe a little stumbly and thoroughly charismatic. I felt an overlap with Birdcloud and Schwervon and ‘90s Olympia but also definitely their own thing. I hope they’re doing cool stuff these days too.

2. Ennio Morricone - “Guerra e Pace Pollo e Brace” - “Grazie Zie” soundtrack

The great music find from the wedding of Josh and Ashleigh. We spent some time recently remembering what a fantastic time that was…

3. Panjabi MC - “Mundian to Bach Ke”

…because we all met up in Chicago this month to celebrate the marriage of Ren and Kiera! It was in the Morton Arboretum, bringing together both American and Indian families in one grand event. The music throughout the evening was lovely, from the ceremony (Josh on solo guitar) through the early events and the meal. Once the dance floor was opened, however, a whole new flavor dropped: the DJ rocked between Nelly and Indian dancefloor music, then over to Michael Jackson, then into Panjabi MC and on and on. We danced our faces off!

- “Can You Feel the Love Tonight” karaoke version with special guest star!

4. Sparks - “The Number One Song in Heaven”

“Gabriel plays it and God how he plays it!” I know everybody’s gonna be talking about Sparks soon because of the doc that just dropped, and it’ll be both from people who know everything about Sparks and from people who are brand-new zealots. Bring it on — I’m so looking forward to learning more about these guys… especially because, in just over a month, on August 6, there’s going to be a whole other film dropping that we’ve been looking forward to for years. It’s called “Annette,” and it’s directed by Carax, who did “Holy Motors” and “Lovers on the Bridge” — it’s his first movie in English and his first musical. But check this: Sparks wrote all the music! The cast includes Adam Driver, Marion Cotillard, Angèle AND Russell Mael … I mean, we couldn’t be any more excited for this film. It’s entirely possible that it won’t work at all, but it’s also entirely possible that it turns out to be the combined efforts of some of the most interesting artists working today.

5. T.P. Orchestre Poly-Rythmo de Cotonou - “Noude Ma Gnin Tche De Me”

We met up with Theo Welling recently just off Atlantic Avenue at a place with a questionable name and a brothel theme but a pretty epic back patio. Not only were there chandeliers and a disco ball hanging from the broad branches of the tree overhead, but the music was DEAD ON our tastes. When this song came on, it was like: they got us. There was some Francis Bebey a little later on, I mean it was the very stuff. And the thing is, this song totally rocked that patio. Because T.P. rules.

This is from Analog Africa’s crucial T.P. collection, “Echos Hypnotiques.”

6. Elsa - “Ecoutez”

The energy in French records from the ‘60s is crackling hard — this one

We picked up this record at Dave’s Records when we were in town for Ren and Keira’s wedding. It happened to be Record Store Day as well, so we went to Dave’s Records, an old favorite with a “CDs — Never Had Em, Never Will” sign in the window. “They powered through CDs,” says Paige. That sign is this relic of them living through the ‘90s and ‘00s, really.”

7. Velvet Underground - “White Light/White Heat”

Theo was wearing a Lou Reed Transformer shirt that night and we spent some time talking about this crazy band. I feel like this track is the ultimate experience of VU where they find the most ragged frayed edge of pop music to ride and they spend the whole song there, until the end when they jump on the song like leopards on an antelope and start attacking it. But the song resists, takes off running, and actually gets quite a long ways before it is finally taken down. The ending sounds like a brutal act of nature.

8. Sroeng Sari - “Kuen Kuen Lueng Lueng”

It took me a while to stop and actually listen to this song — the opening riff is kind of blinding. You stare into that riff and think that you’re gonna have to deal with a whole version of “Iron Man,” but on the other side of the riff lies a fascinating new riff and completely independent verse shape. (I have no idea if the lyrics relate to the concept of “Iron Man.”) In fact, it turns out the riff is practically only used like a sample within the structure of the song, and it’s mainly not Iron Man at all.

9. [REDACTED] Keep an eye out for the Extended Drunk Scarface Cut Edition.

[9. Paige Brubeck as Scarface & Tony S. in - “Favorite Gangster Friend” feat. Chumbawumba]

10. Midnight Oil - “The Power and the Passion”

Paige was a little too late for Midnight Oil, but she’s extremely receptive to an ideologically, ecologically driven band. “If I had heard that band when I was listening to ska music, I would have fuggin loved this band. I think I would have listened to this band a lot. The part of me that likes Reel Big Fish and the Pietasters… it’s very punk and then when the horns come in it’s like, Oh yeah I love this stuff.”

For me: I love the drum solo. It’s such an interesting full-length exploration of a few different ideas, and it helps point out the ways that the percussion operates in Midnight Oil songs. The overdubbed variations on the singer’s voice reminds me of techniques we used in Bound Stems. I really like that way of recording multiple emotions within a single line and just kind of smashing them together for a multi-faceted take on the lyric. I feel like “Jane Says” was the first recording where I noticed that approach. I also love the crescendo structure to the whole song. But to me, this feels like a song that was built to be played live but someone thought should be represented on the album. I think the transitions between the A, B and C parts are weird and unfinished, even though each of the parts is really good.

11. Phuong Dung - “Do Ai”

What a truly incredible voice… and the guitar accompaniment only slowly reveals its depth and litheness through the course of the song.

12. Group Inerane - “Ikabkaban”

This was a lucky discovery. It’s as much a state of mind as a recording of a song. The sound is very live and not ideal, which I do think ultimately makes it more interesting. There’s something about live recordings that can be embarrassing and compromised… or it can feel like lightning in a bottle. I think this one feels special. This sounds to me like desert blues. These are some of the notes on the track itself: “This album by the rebellious Tuareg musicians from Niger is certainly more hypnotic and less ecstatic than the first (which was recorded at a wedding celebration). It should be said that the guitarist Adi Mohamed, who played on the first album, was shot dead in a skirmish between the nomads and junta forces.”

Yow.

13. The Lemon Twigs - “As Long As We’re Together” (video version)

Now I should just say A) this is the video version of the song, and B) that’s the real version of the song as far as I’m concerned. This video is a perfect thing, at least to me. It was directed by Autumn de Wilde, who went on to direct the film “Emma,” which was one of the most enjoyable pieces of art we saw during the pandemic. (She initially got notice as a photographer before going into music videos.) The recording is masterful, with an intentionally pushed back main vocal and all kinds of panned effects both minimal and baroque. These guys were all teens when they wrote and recorded this song with Foxygen’s Jonathan Rado, which only makes it more (annoyingly?) brilliant. Also: this is our candidate for the song likeliest to get stuck in your head.

That video (I love the ending):

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xQ4nqnVOfMo

- Nisar Bazmi - “Aesi Chal Main”

Pakistani music from a collection labeled “Folk and Pop Instrumentals 1966-1976.” It’s easy to imagine this as a folk song, but the instrumentation is so radically electric that it feels like new information being learned on the spot.

14. Katty Lane - “Ne Fais Pas La Tête”

Another live recording. Actually, that’s probably not true: it’s a recording from a TV of a TV appearance that Katty made, almost certainly lip-synching the vocals. But it sounds better than the album version to us. Katty Lane is going for a cross between Nancy Sinatra and Brigitte Bardot, and it’s really interesting how close she gets but how far away she remains.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-T4gWLi5RUw

15. Ezra Furman - “I Lost My Innocence”

Man, the rhythmic arrangement of the opening verse knocks me out. The production on this whole album really, but the minimalist rhythmic clarity that comes from splitting the beat among a variety of instruments is so amazing. As a drummer I just find the pattern-building in this song enviable.

We got to know these songs well during a tour we did with Ezra Furman. The whole band is full of heavy hitters, including Tim Sandusky, the guy who recorded the album and plays a variety of instruments there and live. He’s one of my favorite musical brains, period, and “Transangelic Exodus,” the album this comes from, is one of my favorite pieces of album production, period.

16. Voilaaa - “Pas bon”

These are apparently contemporary people! This album is from 2015. I think Josh pointed us to this one.

17. Francois and the Atlas Mountains - “La Verité”

This a band Paige came across a couple of years ago, at 2222 Jefferson I believe. This chorus is a true tonguetwister and thus irresistable to try to sing along with. The melody is really strong, and check out how the guitar enters the solo!

18. Ata Kak - “Daa Nyinaa”

We had an amazing night in the back patio zone we share with our building. Dexter had a few friends over including a dude named KG who turned out to be super interesting on a variety of subjects. As we were talking about music he brought up Ata Kak, whose “Obaa Sima” we’ve played on here and who we absolutely love. Paige disappeared inside and came back with our tape of this whole album. He fell out, like what are we doing with this thing? I started telling the whole back story of how the album was discovered in a street tent in Ghana by the guy from Awesome Tapes From Africa, and eventually after many adventures actually tracked down Ata Kak, who was surprised to be found and even more surprised to find that the tape Awesome Tapes had found was distorted and ran way faster than originally intended. But then KG started playing that original tempo track, which does indeed sound comPLETely different. I still haven’t been able to find a way to get ahold of that original track. “Daa Nyinaa” is another banger off the same tape. The man just has a really great sense of what makes a hook.

19. Sakuran Zensen - “Taxi Man” 錯乱前戦　タクシーマンのMVです

This was a video that flickered through my feed a couple of years ago, I think thanks to Steve Scariano (not Steve Pick as I claim aloud). I don’t think a single recommendation of Steve Scariano has ever been the wrong answer — the man has impeccable taste. This song has all of the rock and all of the roll PLUS a ladder. It’s a strong song and an even stronger video:

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

20. New York Dolls - “Looking for a Kiss”

As soon as we were in the nasty distortion of Sakuran Zensen it was probably inevitable that we would go looking for the New York Dolls. The live performance of this song is worth the price of admission… and the drummer looks like one of the brothers from The Lemon Twigs!

21. Mina - “La verità”

Sometimes Italian is the only language that will do. It does tend to have its own melodic shapes separate from French. I adore the way she goes for the high notes in the chorus only to get to the climax, which is her dropping down into her lowest register to bitterly and sarcastically deliver the title phrase: “La verità:” “the truth.” I know just enough Italian to catch that her final declaration is “Sono stato io,” or: “It was me.”

22. Pylon - “Cool”

Pylon has been back in the news recently thanks to a big ol’ rerelease at the 40 year mark, and it’s a great way to get more in touch with a band that lies at the source of so much music we love. They are every bit as cool as the song.

23. Dalida - “Aghani Aghani”

Dalida is Egyptian born, in an Italian household, who first gained fame singing in French — or in Italian to French audiences. She ended up singing in 10 languages in all. She is a blockbuster French star with no parallel, though she died young by her own hand. “Aghani Aghani” is an Arabic medley that became a gigantic hit all across the Arab world and has since entered the fabric of the language and culture.

24. Betti-Betti & T.P. Orchestre Poly Rythmo de Cotonou - “Mbala”

We have been falling deeper and deeper for Betti-Betti’s songs. This one has so many of my favorite things that she does — the fantastic melodies that cycle past each other, the expressive horn lines, and the mouth percussion that totally transforms the song for me. We just recently got a different album of hers that we’re also really excited about; that one features an entirely different band in a different style. This one is T.P. though, those consummate collaborators, and this song is an epic joining of forces.

- Mulatu Astatke + Black Jesus Experience - “Mulatu”

25. Nick Drake - “Pink Moon”

Oh that strawberry moon with its red halo.

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