#It’s simply slightly more complicated because part of it for younger fans is that they are simply doing something they see everyone else do

[starryoak]

I wasn’t trying to miss the point here, I’m deeply sorry that it came across that way, but aren’t the show writers of the Harley Quinn show, Patrick Schumacker and Justin Halpern, themselves Jewish? That isn’t to say that it isn’t a deeply antisemitic decision that shouldn’t have been made, but I feel like that itself ties into the point that I thought I was articulating? The point I was trying to make pretty much was what you are saying, and I’m very sorry that it didn’t come across correctly as that is entirely on me, I tend to be very bad at articulating my thoughts in a way other people understand, and I tend to put my foot in my mouth often as a result. What I was trying to say was very much what you did; that it’s context of the character and changes you want to make themselves that make the impulse problematic or not, and that I find that unfortunate and sad, because oftentimes the impulse comes from a place of wanting to see yourself in fiction, without any malice, from people, often children, who are trying to make things that they think are better and more progressive, even if they very obviously aren’t.

That there’s a difference when it comes from adults who should know better what is and isn’t an appropriate thing to do, like in your example from the Harley Quinn show, but that the impulse of wanting to be seen and reflected in media you like is something I think everyone feels, and deserve to have an outlet for, even if they’re not in the places that people end up putting them in.

Moving this out of the tags just in case you don’t see them; I recognize that the primary problem is white fans decontextualizing things that should not be decontextualized. But what I was trying to articulate is that a huge part of the problem is that this impulse I think is one that most everyone feels and tends to indulge in; “What if this character I care deeply about was more like me”

It’s simply that white fans tend to be the ones who either don’t have any context for what is appropriate to change or not, or like in this case deliberately ignore when it’s inappropriate because they find that inconvenient for projection. It does end up being white fans being the problem. It’s simply that it’s slightly more complicated by the fact that part of why it happens for younger fans is that they are simply doing something they see everyone else do, and are just ignorant to the reasons why that is deeply inappropriate in these circumstances.

And obviously that needs to change. I just am unsure of how to get it to change without posts like these talking about why this can be deeply inappropriate response. I was just thinking that acknowledging why it happens is necessary to getting those who are ignorant to understand why it’s wrong in some cases; to understand why it can be right in other cases coming from other people.

[leitereads]

Kuroshitsuji: an analysis on "fagging" and a change of power dynamics between characters

I know how disappointed some fans are regarding the "politically correct" presentation of Ciel and the overall "fagging" culture that was common back then at elite boarding schools in the UK. From what I have heard from people slightly older than me, this was a thing that carried on into the late 90s in certain private schools. As of now, I am sorry, I don’t know anyone rich enough to ask them regarding those things.

However, what I can say about this matter is that a) this practice is can be found almost anywhere in the world (mostly in universities), b) it is about power exchange and how it leads to respecting tradition and bond with other students, c) I am part of it in my own university and d) it’s deliciously represented in Kuroshitsuji, in a way that somehow gives us a different perspective over what Ciel can and cannot do, limiting his actions, something that he, as a powerful noble, is not used to.

Fagging

In many countries and cultures cross the world, "fagging" has many different names, and many different forms. In the US you have fraternities and sororities, here in my country you have the "Praxe". In the UK you have (had?) fagging, in which consisted exactly on younger students doing most part of domestic tasks that were supposed to be made by older students. The older the students were, the more power and status they gained inside the institution, and therefore the more privileges they had. In consequence, although these fags didn’t have an easy life, they still had some sort of protection and status themselves for serving someone older. This creates an hierarchy based on age, more specifically just academic age.

Ciel, as being someone young is, of course, at the base of this hierarchical system. Someone who is used to be at the top of the hierarchical ladder is going to struggle to adapt to a new environment, one in which he simply cannot understand/agree with the traditions imposed. This will create a certain obstacle at first, because he needs to learn how to navigate in a different society so different and, at the same time, so similar to the one he belongs to: the only difference being where he stands. And we see Ciel, for the second time in his life, working himself from the the way down to the way up.

In the first time, his birth condition (well, let’s assume we are speaking about Ciel’s condition, and not o!Ciel’s one at least) gave him a kickstart in life: a manor, monetary goods, a title. In this case, he is a mere 1st year student, and he must subjugate himself to the desires (sometimes sadistic) of older students, especially Clayton at first.

Psychological Implications

It may be complicated from Ciel, even more taking in consideration how prideful he is, to swallow that pride and abide by traditions he a) doesn’t relate to b) finds useless and c) seeing himself without a lot of power to swiftly surpass those obstacles. Ciel is not there in order to live the academic traditions that are present around him, nor to make friends, of course. And, in the end, fagging and these other academic traditions open the door to just that: when people suffer together they usually stick together. This is the meaning of fagging, Praxe, and all the other academic traditions listed. And this is not what he is searching for. Which puts a little bit of strain on him, and he ultimately might think they are extremely childish and ridiculous.

Another interesting aspect of this overall power exchange here is that Sebastian is in a higher position of power than Ciel, as opposed to their base situation. This is, of course, extremely debatable, and the power that each one of them holds in their master/servant (no, I am not talking about that sort of thing… eww) is quite mutable, and, at times, one may hold more control over the other, and that is changing. Here we have a third factor contributing to that mutable power exchange: a different environment, where Sebastian’s position allows him to be seen as more respectable. And this is extremely delicious to see when he lets Ciel undergoing the initiation ritual with the bedsheets and being thrown: Sebastian is, obviously, enjoying himself at the expense of his master’s suffering, since in normal situations he simply cannot do that, at least not as frequently. To Sebastian this is cathartic, and to Ciel (Sebastian’s master) this must feel extremely insolent. Especially because Ciel is someone who likes to always be in control, having in consideration all he went through.

Undergoing this traditional upbringing will, hopefully, provide Ciel either the necessary tools regarding being more self-reliant and independent when it comes to Sebastian because, even if the demon is able to help him out with all the domestic tasks that he needs to do, who knows what will happen when Ciel loses (even if just temporarily) Sebastian one day (which, as another post explained, it might happen sooner than we think).

By being a fag and by navigating a position in which he is in a lower position, Ciel can’t find many shortcuts to success, and he will need to a) rely on his interpersonal skills, b) make connections with other students, c) be aware of what’s going on, socially, around him (read the room) and d) use his insight more than the sheer force and threats of Sebastian.

[fantastic-rambles]

Fandom: Sk8 the Infinity

Characters: Ainosuke Shindo, Tadashi Kikuchi, Kaoru Sakurayashiki (minor), Nanjo Kojiro (minor), Langa Hasegawa (minor), Reki Kyan (minor)

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3k

Summary: The popular idol Adam always demands attention and acts of affection from his manager, Tadashi, who thinks nothing of it. So Ai finally loses patience and confronts him directly. [Year of the OTP 2023 @yearoftheotpevent. August: AU of your choice (Idols AU)]

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“And that’s all for tonight! Thank you all so much for your support!”

High-pitched screams answered Adam, who blew a kiss to the packed crowd before exiting the stage along with the rest of his group. A moment later, Tadashi was in the midst of all of them, handing out towels and cold drinks to help the young men cool down after their performance. He was careful to give each of them some personalized attention to help them keep their spirits up: a few words of praise for Reki’s performance, a fresh hamburger for Langa, and a shoulder massage for Ai.

Kaoru and Kojiro had moved a little away from the others to chat quietly with each other, as usual. It was a relief that they could take care of themselves for the most part—or, rather, that Kojiro could take care of Kaoru—but Tadashi kept an eye on them anyway in case their conversation escalated into an argument. If that happened, he’d need to step in before Kaoru decided that he wouldn’t do events with Kojiro for at least a week, requiring Tadashi to rearrange both of their schedules and make apologies to the studios. They were popular to book together, just like the younger duo, but Kaoru’s temper often complicated things… though Tadashi was careful to do what he could to protect the younger man’s image.

After all, being idols meant playing a role: their fans had their own expectations for their heroes, and it was up to each of the young men to cater to those fantasies—at least, if they wanted to remain popular. They sold dreams, not reality. And if all of the girls out there found out that their beloved Cherry Blossom was a foul-mouthed punk rather than some delicate, wilting flower in need of the revitalizing effects of love, his career probably wouldn’t survive the fallout.

Honestly, Tadashi thought it all sounded exhausting and he was more than satisfied with being a mere manager, but the group seemed to enjoy their work well enough. The most authentic of them tended to be Langa and—

“Ahhhh, ‘dashi, were you watching me? Did you see me nail the encore?”

“Of course. I always watch all of your shows. You all performed exceptionally tonight.”

“Oh, who cares about the others? What about me? Praise me more!”

“You were incredible,” Tadashi hastened to reassure Ai, recognizing the start of one of his petulant moods. “You were truly dazzling. It’s no surprise that you were unanimously chosen to be the lead singer of this group. You’ve shut up all of your doubters to become one of the fastest-rising stars in the industry.”

He felt Ai straighten up beneath his hands, his chest puffing out slightly as he took in the praise. As ridiculously effusive as it was, though, Tadashi did mean it: he’d been one of those doubters before, believing that he’d simply been assigned to babysit a spoiled brat who thought he could make it in the highly competitive industry just because his father was the head of Shindo Entertainment. He’d assumed this was a dead-end job, a sort of vanity project like when wealthy husbands paid for their wives’ hobbies and boutiques that sank ever steadily into the red. Even when he’d actually met Ai, he’d thought that the young man was frivolous and immature, someone who would give up after a week of half-hearted training, if not sooner.

Instead, Ai had surprised him.

Despite hours of dance practice and singing lessons, he’d never complained once, throwing himself into it until he passed out from exhaustion. More than once, Tadashi had woken him up from a short nap before his next lesson, but Ai had never displayed any of his fatigue publicly, remaining as enthusiastic and upbeat as he’d been from the first day. He was passionate about his work, and his feelings were always transmitted directly to his fans, making him the most popular member of the group.

He’d been the one to bring Kaoru and Kojiro on board, as well. They’d been less certain about joining the entertainment industry, but what had started out as a favor to their friend had grown into a career. Then, two new, promising prospects who had been scouted by Shindo Entertainment had been added on, rounding out the group and the personalities to create the final form of their idol group. And at the center of it, as expected, was Ai.

“Tadashi, my phone’s not working.”

Tadashi looked up at Langa, the “airhead” of the group, and held a hand out, accepting his phone while his other hand moved to massage the back of Ai’s neck. Indeed, when he pressed the power button, nothing happened, though there didn’t seem to be any damage to the phone itself. Still, this wasn’t the first time that this had happened.

“When was the last time you charged it?”

“I don’t remember.”

“I should have a portable charger in my bag, over there.” Tadashi tilted his chin toward the corner, where he’d set down all of their bags, out of the way. “Can you bring it over to me?”

“Okay.”

Tadashi watched him walk away, and he sighed softly. For a while, they’d considered casting Langa as an “ice prince”-like character—and his stage name had been a product of that—but that really hadn’t worked out since he had practically no acting ability. His natural personality was popular with a subset of the group's fans, though, and he was easygoing, which was nice when Tadashi had to manage high-strung personalities like Ai and Kaoru.

“Hey Tadashi, we’re ready to go.”

Tadashi looked up at Kojiro, who had led Kaoru over, and nodded.

“Just give me another minute. But you should put on a jacket first: it’s starting to get chilly outside. It’s hot in here, but outside is a different story.”

“‘kay. C’mon, Kaoru.”

As they headed over to their bags, they crossed paths with Langa, who was coming back with Tadashi’s, and they exchanged a few words before Langa stopped in front of their manager again.

“Here.”

Tadashi accepted the bag, quickly locating the charger and plugging it into Langa’s phone. The screen flickered, and then the charging icon appeared, and Tadashi handed them both over to the young man.

“Wait five minutes, then try powering it on again. And will you ask Reki to get ready to leave?”

Langa nodded, heading over to his friend who was on his own phone, earbuds in and probably studying up on their performance or watching some other idol group. The redhead reminded Tadashi of Ai, in some ways: he was equally as passionate and hard-working as the face of the group, though he lacked Ai’s innate talent in showmanship. But he made up for it by studying hard and doing his best to keep up with the others.

“‘da-shi~~~”

“What is it, Ai?”

“Stop paying so much attention to the others. What about me?”

Tadashi wanted to point out that he’d been with Ai for almost the entirety of the time since their show had ended, but he held his tongue. It had never helped before, and it was always just easier to apologize and placate the diva.

“I’m sorry. Is there something that I can do for you, too?”

“A kiss!”

He was startled when Ai suddenly reached up and wrapped his arms around his neck, tugging him down slightly.

“If you give me a kiss—a proper kiss—then I’ll forgive you.”

Internally, Tadashi sighed. Ai would often tease him like this, though he didn’t understand why. Perhaps he enjoyed the thrill of it, the feeling of an illicit relationship. Their agency didn’t have strict rules against their talents dating unlike some others, but all of them did understand the potential complications it might bring—not only for themselves, but also their partners, when the paparazzi found out about it. Tadashi, though, was a “safe” option: he wouldn’t take it seriously and cause trouble for Ai, and Ai could play these little love games where nobody else would see and spread rumors.

Or maybe he was simply a glutton for attention. It was why he’d gotten into the industry, after all. He loved meeting his fans, performing for them, drinking in their adulation… but behind the scenes, Tadashi was the only one who would cater to his whims.

“Let me go, then?” he asked. Ai pouted, but he obeyed, letting Tadashi move around to face him before kneeling in front of him and taking his face between his hands. Carefully, he leaned in until he could press their lips together, kissing him long and slow while Kojiro whistled and Kaoru groaned.

As he drew back, Tadashi took in Ai’s expression: his face was flushed, lips slightly parted, while his eyes took on a dreamy, far-off look. Tadashi couldn’t help feeling a little proud of himself: he’d done a good job, it seemed, which would make Ai more compliant for a while. A few hours, if he was lucky.

“So are you ready to head out now?” Tadashi asked.

“Mm-hmm.”

Taking Ai’s hand in his own, Tadashi picked up his bag and led him over to where the others were waiting. The rest of them looked variously amused or exasperated by what had happened, though they'd seen it often enough that they didn’t comment on it as Tadashi slung Ai’s own bag over his shoulder and led them out through the back.

After driving them all back to the hotel and settling them into their rooms, Tadashi returned to his own room, dropping into a chair by the window and loosening his shirt collar. After he’d poured out a glass of whiskey for himself, he sipped at it slowly while he reviewed their schedules. They had an early flight out tomorrow to the next stop in their tour: as long as the plane landed on time, there’d be an hour for lunch before he had to bring Langa and Reki to their variety show appearance. After that—

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts, and he got up to check who it was. Ai stood just outside the door, wrapped in a flimsy bathrobe, his hair down and still wet from his shower, and Tadashi hastened to open the door to let him in before someone spotted him.

“Ai? Is something wrong?” he asked as he closed the door behind the young man, and Ai shook his head, his gaze on the floor.

“You should get to bed, then. We need to be up early tomorrow: you need the rest. Well, after we dry your hair. Give me a moment.”

Tadashi ducked into his bathroom to grab a towel, returning to the entryway and leading Ai over to the bed so he could sit down while Tadashi tousled his hair dry. Really, he was such a spoiled brat: Tadashi knew that the young man was more than capable of handling a task this simple, even given his upbringing, but this wasn’t the first time he’d come by Tadashi’s room to be pampered. As he worked, Ai spoke up.

“You like me, right, ‘dashi?”

“Hmm? Yes, of course,” he replied absentmindedly.

“What do you like about me?”

“What do I…? Oh, well, you work very hard even though you have innate talent, you’re genuine in almost all aspects of your life, and your appearance is quite attractive. You—”

Tadashi was startled when Ai suddenly grabbed his wrist, tugging him closer so he could plant a firm kiss on his lips while his arms wrapped around Tadashi’s neck, preventing him from pulling back.

“I love you too, Tadashi! I love how you’re always so serious about your work and everything that you do to take care of us! I love the little wrinkle on your forehead when you’re thinking, and the way you write is so elegant. And I think that you’re beautiful, too! I’ve never seen anyone with eyes as clear as yours, and your hair is so soft, and your skin is so smooth… but I don’t want anyone else to see you, which is why I never asked you to be an idol, too. You’re so smart and kind and…”

Ai continued to drone on while Tadashi stared at him, his mind trying to catch up to what the younger man was saying. Even though he was talking excitedly, almost too fast, he couldn't smell any alcohol on his breath, and he was sure that Ai didn't do any drugs: he kept a close eye on all of his charges. Was this more of his love game? Should he speak to Aiichiro about finding a girlfriend for Ai? They had more than a few girls under contract who Ai might like, and having a partner who was also in the industry would make it easier for them to get along, since they both would understand what it was like. If they arranged it properly, it could help to push up both of their careers, as well, with the free publicity that they would undoubtedly get.

“... so will you be my boyfriend, ‘dashi?”

“I understand. You’re certainly of an age that you would be interested in finding a partner. Would you like me to speak with your father to see if we can find a suitable target for your affections? Of course, if you would like a practice partner, I would be happy to offer my services, if you think it would be helpful.”

Ai’s face fell, and Tadashi observed him with some concern. He must have said something wrong, so he reviewed his words in his head, trying to identify where he’d made the mistake.

“Ah, or is it that you’ve already set your sights on someone? Or you would like to search for a partner on your own? Your schedule is quite full for the next couple weeks, but once we’ve finished with your upcoming events, I can look into social events that you might be interested in attending. There, you would have the opportunity to meet others in the entertainment industries—”

“I know who I want,” Ai interrupted, and Tadashi nodded.

“I see. Would you mind sharing her name with me? I could send her some flowers or some other small gift on your behalf. If she’s in this line of work, I’d also be happy to reach out to her manager to see if we could arrange a meeting: just a casual one first, of course, to give you the opportunity to get to know each other better so you can make sure of your compatibility. Or if there’s anything else that I can do to assist you—”

“Tadashi.”

“Yes?”

“It’s you, Tadashi. I want you.”

Ai flopped down onto the bed, dragging Tadashi after him, and rolled over until he was straddling the older man, frowning as his still-damp hair framed his face.

“I’m serious. I want you. It’s not a joke or a game or anything. I love you, ‘dashi. I’ve tried telling you this so many times, but you never understand. I want you to stop treating me like a child and see me as a man. What do I need to do to make that happen?”

Tadashi’s mind had gone blank. It was true: he’d never thought of Ai that way. How could he? He was their manager. It wouldn’t have been ethical for him to enter a relationship with any of them, even if he was interested in them romantically. Which he wasn’t. It was just a job. Certainly, he showed Ai some favoritism, but that was only to be expected given that he was the CEO’s son and the highest-earning star in the company. That was all there was to it.

But Ai’s weight shifted as he leaned forward to kiss him again, staring into his eyes, and it was like Tadashi was seeing him for the first time. He was beautiful and talented and oh-so-dazzling. He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks as Ai’s weight shifted back, sliding a little lower down Tadashi’s body, and then Ai pressed their lips together again.

“I love you, Tadashi,” he repeated, his breath whispering against Tadashi’s skin. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

The words seemed to drip into him like water, wearing down his resolve as he lay trapped beneath the beautiful young man. Once he’d gotten past his initial reluctance with regard to this job, he’d quickly grown to admire Ai. When the idol was on stage, even with the rest of his group, Tadashi often found his eyes being drawn to him alone. Ai was always charming, sometimes petulant, and occasionally a real headache… but he also glowed with youthful vitality in everything that he did.

Hesitantly, Tadashi raised a hand and laid it over Ai’s, swallowing to try to bring some moisture to his dry mouth.

“You’re sure about this, Ai? Of course, you’re free to end it whenever you like, but you want to… start a relationship with me?”

“I won’t end it,” Ai promised, lacing his fingers between Tadashi’s. “And I won’t let you, either. You’re mine, ‘dashi, do you understand that? You’re not allowed to leave me, ever. Even if you quit your job someday, or get fired, you need to stay by my side. We’ll be together forever.”

There was something almost childish about his proclamation, but he sounded sincerely earnest, just like he was at every event he showed up at. Tadashi couldn’t help smiling slightly, his lips trembling, as he nodded.

Ai’s own smile was blinding as he swooped down again for another kiss, pressing their lips together more insistently, and Tadashi finally yielded. Gently, he kissed the other man back, his free hand rising to rest against Ai’s cheek to guide him as he slowly deepened the kiss. They remained tangled together until Ai finally broke away, panting, a flush spreading over his own cheeks, and Tadashi smiled at him.

“I love you, too.”

[spine-buster]

peaceful easy feeling ft. b.boeser | one

A/N: Here’s the beginning of my new mini-series!  I hope you all enjoy it.  It will definitely be a bit of an emotional rollercoaster, so be prepared!  There will be five parts!

SUPPORT MY WRITING HERE: https://ko-fi.com/spine_buster

CONTENT WARNING: parents with disease/sickness (Parkinson’s); swearing; sex; alcohol use; lots of emotions.

                                                                   *     *     *     *     *

Brock Boeser felt like he was at some sort of Alcoholics Anonymous meeting, with everybody around the circle introducing themselves and their similar predicaments.  The group was in a big meeting room at the local community centre, and when he walked in, he saw a group of dads playing basketball in the gym.  He sort of wanted to join them instead of being here, in this room, with all these people that he didn’t know talking about what they were going to talk about, but he’d done this back in Minnesota, at his mother’s behest with his siblings, and he was going to do it here, too, in Vancouver, to make her happy and ease her mind and to make sure that he was easing his own mind.  

“Um, hello everyone.  My name is Brock Boeser.  I’m from Minnesota, but I’m living in Vancouver.  And um, I’m here with you all because my dad was diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease.”

“Hello Brock,” everyone smiled at him, and he smiled and nodded back.

“So it was your dad that was diagnosed,” the leader, a kind, older woman named Esther who had greeted him at the door and stuck with him until everybody sat down, egged on a conversation.  He knew she was doing it because he was new; everybody in this room probably already knew each other.  A part of him actually wondered if anybody knew who he was.  “When?”

“Um, he—he was diagnosed with Parkinson’s in 2010,” Brock revealed, stuttering it out.  He knew he’d have to be open at these things – open so people could empathize with him, open so he could empathize with others – but it was still tough for him to do so.  “But he—it’s—it’s not just Parkinson’s.  Two years after he was diagnosed, he was in a car accident and suffered a traumatic brain injury.  In 2017, he was diagnosed with lung cancer.  He beat it but then in June it returned to his liver and chest.  In July, he had a heart attack and his heart stopped beating for 15 minutes.  I was with him and—I—it’s—it’s a lot, as you can imagine,” he tried not to start crying right then and there.  Imagine that – first meeting with a Parkinson’s Society of BC support group and he’d bawl like a baby.

“Goodness me, Brock,” Esther said.  “He has support at home?”

“Um, well, money isn’t an issue now, but when I was growing up my mom worked three jobs to make sure we were all taken care of,” he revealed.  “I’d pitch in too wherever I could, obviously.”

“But it’s been tough for a number of years.”

Brock paused.  It had been tough for a number of years.  It had been really tough for a number of years.  He nodded his head.  “Yes ma’am.  I try to take it day by day.”

Esther nodded as well.  “I don’t know if you pray, Brock, but I know a couple of members around the circle do, and, well – you’ll be kept in all our prayers.”

Brock saw a few people nod their head.  Another older woman, probably his mom’s age, clutching a rosary; a Sikh man dressed in a casual suit; a younger woman, probably in her thirties, with short blonde hair.  He appreciated the sentiment.  He knew that people took prayer very seriously – that people suffering took prayer very seriously.  It was, realistically, one of the kindest things somebody could ever say to you: “I’m praying for you.”  “Thank you very much,” he said, nodding his head once.

***

There was an arrangement of cookies at the end of the meeting.  Even after the 90 minutes of everybody talking about their experiences and emotions, they apparently liked to stick around afterwards as well just to mingle.  It didn’t all have to be doom and gloom, he thought.  It didn’t all have to be about Parkinson’s or about sick people or losing your loved ones all the time.  Maybe some people just wanted to talk about the news.  Maybe some people just wanted to talk about sports.  The weather.  Anything.  Anything to make a connection with someone beyond something so tragic.  

After stuffing an entire Fudge-O cookie into his mouth, he looked up to see a young woman staring at him, holding her trenchcoat in her arms.  She was smiling to let him know she was friendly.  He was embarrassed because he knew she just saw him stuff an entire Fudge-O into his mouth.  “Hi,” he said, his mouth still full of cookie, the sound of his voice reflecting that fact.

“You’re Brock Boeser, right?” she asked sweetly.  “You play for the Vancouver Canucks?”

“Yeah,” Brock couldn’t help but smile.  He swallowed the rest of the cookie even though he didn’t really finish chewing it.  “That’s me.  Are you a fan?”

“My step-brothers are more so than I am,” she said.  “But I’m a fan of the team, yeah.  I’m Grace Gillespie,” she extended her hand to shake his.  “God, they’re not gonna believe me when I say I met you.  They’re gonna freak.”

Brock couldn’t help but chuckle slightly.  “Do you—I mean, do you want a picture?  I don’t mind at all.  I’ll sign an autograph on a napkin if you want me to.”

“Well…it’s a bit awkward to ask you at a Parkinson’s Society of BC meeting, but we could go to the Starbucks down the street and I could buy you a coffee.”

Brock was slightly taken aback at her forwardness.  He shouldn’t have been.  Girls came up to him all the time.  All the time.  And they were most definitely not shy.  But he wasn’t exactly expecting it to happen here, of all places.  A bar, sure.  Out with Petey or any of the other guys, absolutely.  But not here.  “Yeah…yeah sure,” he stuttered out.

“Then we should go,” Grace smiled.  She turned to look behind her.  Brock saw Esther picking up a few Oreos.  “Thank you for leading another great session, Esther,” Grace said.  

“Oh you are most welcome Miss Gillespie.  How is Hamish these days?  You didn’t speak much today.”

“He’s been doing fine lately.  His caregivers have been working around the clock for him.  They just work wonders, don’t they?”

Esther nodded.  “They are angels on Earth.  Anyways – we’ll catch up next week,” she said, leaning slightly on her leg to look beyond Grace and to Brock.  “I hope to see you here again next week, Brock.”

“Thank you, Esther.  See you next week,” he said, realizing he made the commitment before he could even realize what he was saying.

***

“I take that was your first meeting?” Grace asked as she set down the two lattes on the table against the window where Brock was waiting.  

“Was it really obvious?” Brock asked.

Grace shrugged her shoulders.  She didn’t want to make him feel self-conscious.  “It was the stuttering that gave it away, at least to me.  I know I stuttered a lot the first few times I came to these meetings.  I wasn’t the most comfortable talking about my dad’s condition to a room full of virtual strangers.  But within just a few months I realized the people in that room are the kindest, most empathetic, most amazing people that I’ve ever interacted with.  So I became a lot more open.”

Brock was transfixed by every word that Grace was saying.  “So you’ve been coming here a long time,” he said.

Grace nodded.  “My dad got diagnosed with Parkinson’s when I was fourteen.  I didn’t start coming here until I was about eighteen, though.”

Brock knew he shouldn’t ask.  He knew he shouldn’t.  But his brain had ulterior motives, and his mouth – well, his mouth listened to his brain, because it apparently needed to know.  “Is your—is your dad like my dad?” he asked.  “Does he have, like, other problems complicating things?”

Grace shook her head.  “No,” she said softly.  “But the Parkinson’s is enough for him.  I mean he was diagnosed just short of ten years ago and he’s already on puréed foods.  It’s not—I mean, you know as well as I do that it doesn’t regularly develop that fast.  But that’s…I don’t know how you do it.”

Brock didn’t know either.  Some days he didn’t.  “I just take it day by day,” he said simply, just like he said in the meeting.  “If I think about it too much…that’s when it’s bad.”

“I hear ya,” Grace said, taking a sip of her coffee.  “But let’s…not talk about this for too long.  Do you like Vancouver?  Do you find it nice?”

Brock appreciated the change in topic.  “I love it here,” he nodded his head, smiling.  “The city’s great.  The fans are great.  My teammates – I mean they’re amazing.  What do you do?”

“I’m a dance teacher at Goh Ballet – little kids and teens, mostly.”

He wasn’t expecting that.  She was drop dead gorgeous, sure – Brock wasn’t blind – but he wasn’t expecting to hear she was a dancer.  “Do you, like, dance in the real ballet?”

Grace snorted slightly at his phrasing of ‘real ballet’.  “No.  I pursued it only up until a certain point.  I was good, but uh, I stopped when my dad got diagnosed.”

“Why?  Don’t they always tell people like us to have, like, an outlet or whatever?”

“They do.  But I loved my dad more than I loved dance.  And I would have rather spent the time that I was spending on dance with him instead.”

He understood where she was coming from, and he wasn’t there to judge her.  “And your brothers you mentioned, did they help too?”

“Oh no no no.  Sorry – I should have specified.  I’m an only child.  Like, the only child between my parents.  But they divorced when I was six and when my mom re-married I gained two step-brothers, Jasper and Theo.”

“How was the divorce?” Brock found himself asking.

“You ever see footage of a nuclear bomb exploding?” Grace giggled as she asked the question.  It caused Brock to laugh too even though the analogy she was making was dreadful.  “It was awful.  The type of divorce nobody deserves, you know?  I became a pawn, basically, and my parents would only speak to each other through lawyers.  Even stuff concerning me.  It was bad.”

“That sounds horrible.”

“It was.  But it’s the only life I know,” she said.  “He was lucky my mom ended up marrying another rich guy.  I mean, my mom only marries rich men,” she giggled slightly again.  “That’s how Jasper and Theo became my step-brothers.”

“So your family has money?” Brock clarified.  “What’s it from?  Dad a lawyer or something?”

“Not exactly,” Grace said.  “My dad and his brothers own a private equity firm that started like this,” she pinched her fingers together, “and went like…” she continued, spreading her fingers and moving her hands around her like a bomb explosion.  “Gillespie Brothers Investments.  I’m sure as a Vancouver Canuck you’ve heard of them.  I mean they wanted to buy the Canucks before the Aquilinis.”

Brock hadn’t heard of them, but he now knew he’d have to do some snooping when he got home. “I haven’t heard of them.  But I mean – sounds like they were successful.”

“Three billion dollars is pretty successful to me,” Grace quipped.

“B—Billion,” Brock sputtered out.  “With a B.”

“With a B,” Grace nodded.  Brock had no idea he was sitting across from the daughter of a billionaire.  She didn’t act like a billionaire.  Not like Brock knew what billionaires acted like.  He’d never met one before in his life.  Well, besides Francesco.  “But tell me more about what you like about Vancouver.  What about the nature?  I always kind of fine a good long walk along the Seawall or through Stanley Park really clears my mind from all…this.  What about you?”

Brock smiled.  “I find the white noise of downtown clears my mind.”

***

“You want my number,” Grace said as a statement rather than a question as she and Brock exited the Starbucks.  They were kicked out.  They’d been there for so long that they’d been kicked out because they were closing.  Their coffees had gotten cold.  They hadn’t ordered new ones.  And now they found themselves on the deserted sidewalk, jackets put on hastily, and Grace came up with that.

Brock looked down at her.  They’d been able to look into each other’s soul for the past few hours.  “Of course I want your number,” he said.  There was no reason to hide it.  No reason to deny it.  No reason to have to wait until next week to see her again as they sat around in a circle in a community centre talking about their parents.

He took out his phone.  She gave him her number.  He texted his name to hers so she’d have his.  When that dance was done, she looked up at him.  “I’m really glad I met you tonight,” she said, her voice sincere.

Brock nodded.  “I’m glad I met you too.  I—I really enjoyed this.  And I mean—I needed it.”

Grace smiled, nodding her head.  “I needed it too.”

“D’you—” Brock stopped, trying not to get too far ahead of himself.  “D’you need a ride home?”

“Oh no no, my driver is right there,” she motioned her head towards a black Mercedes waiting by the curb.

Brock hadn’t noticed the car until now.  “Chauffeur?”

“Billionaire dad,” she winked.  Brock understood.  She took a few steps back before smiling one more time.  “Call me,” she said, before flipping her hair over her shoulder and walking towards the Mercedes and getting into the backseat.  Brock watched as it drove off, making a right at the end of the street.

He would definitely be calling.

[takadasaiko]

Conflict of Interest (a Superman & Lois oneshot)

FFN II AO3

Summary: His daughter’s relationship with Clark Kent has always been a conflict of interest for Sam, but never so much as it had been that day. Set after the main events of 1.12

Conflict of Interest

He had warned her. When Lois had dropped the bombshell that she'd agreed to marry Clark Kent, he'd warned her. She wasn't just marrying the bespeckled reporter that she'd fallen for - while lying to her for the first several months of their relationship and putting a bullseye on her back for the ones that followed - she was marrying Superman. Their lives would never be normal, no matter how much they wanted it to be. How much they pretended, because that's what it really was once the boys came along. Lois might know her husband's secret, but little boys that had no concept of the kind of danger they'd put their mother and themselves in? No, there was no way to tell them, and that left their parents lying to them, because their father - Lois' husband - wasn't normal. Earthquakes collapsed bridges during family dinner and supervillains didn't give a damn about PTA meetings.

Sam had hoped one of those warnings might stick all the way up to the wedding, but he'd raised a stubborn daughter. For a brief time he'd wavered back and forth on if he should assign one of his more promising up-and-comers to play liaison between Superman and the DOD. That didn't happen, though, and as he had stood on the Kent farm in full dress uniform and watched as the alien that the world had come to rely on so heavily lifted his laughing daughter up into his arms and spun her around, he had grimly started to come to terms with the fact that it never would. It was a clear conflict of interest and the military wouldn't blink twice before stripping him of all involvement with Superman if they ever found out. If they did that, though, Sam wouldn't be able to protect his little girl. To protect his family, and if he liked it or not, that included her husband.

They'd made it work, the two men finding a new and awkward balance between family and work. Sam had kept the casual meetings to a minimum. It wasn't until the boys were born that things started to get more complicated. Suddenly Lois wanted him around more. There were Christmas invites and birthdays, not to mention the once a year dinners that Martha Kent somehow thought he was required to attend. He even made it to the occasional pee wee football game or piano recital. Still, Sam was able to compartmentalize for the most part. He and Clark had lost the formal undertones of their conversations outside of the DOD and most days it was like talking to two separate people that wore the same face. So much so that Sam could almost understand how a pair of glasses somehow threw the world off his scent.

Somewhere along the way they got closer. Clark never approached him for parenting advice - Sam imagined that Lois had had a few warnings for him on that front - but there were moments when he caught the question behind the question the younger man was asking. His own father had been gone for years unless you counted some hologram something or the other that had access to the history of his home planet that apparently took on his biological father's form, and it was clear that Clark held a respect for Sam, even if there were a frustrating amount of times that they didn't see eye-to-eye on something. Personal conversations were had behind closed doors and eventually, as long as no one else was around, he became Clark even in red and blue. He was, no matter what name others referred to him as at that very moment, his son-in-law. He was family, and Sam always did whatever he thought was necessarily to protect his family. Sure, it was a conflict of interest, but one that he had told himself benefited everyone in the long run. He helped to protect his daughter's husband and, in turn, his daughter's husband helped protect the world.

He had just never expected to have to choose.

Clark Kent was many things, and one of those was steadfast in his devotion to the world that had welcomed him. He felt a responsibility, he'd told Sam time and again, and Sam believed him. That's why the four star general had thought that the worst case scenario that he'd authorized John Henry for was going to be just that. He'd been firm with Lois - give her an inch and she'd take a mile with it - and was treating it like any other threat. It wasn't until Irons was boots on the ground and Superman had laid him out like a ragdoll that it became evident that the worst case was also the reality and Sam was left with two choices: trust the man that he'd come to respect or take out the alien threat before he could destroy the very people that he'd once loved.

It couldn't be a conflict of interest. The world depended on it.

And with that, Sam had authorized Irons to put his son-in-law down like a rabid dog.

A long, loud car horn dragged him out of the horrible day's memory and Sam realized he'd simply stopped his SUV at the point he should have hung right down the dirt road leading to the Kent farm. A neighbor he was blocking down the east-bound lane made a frustrated gesture as he swerved around him and Sam steeled himself to make the turn. Well, they'd left the lights on for him. Apparently he was still an acceptable guest even if maybe not a welcomed one. It was fine. It was late enough that the household would be asleep and he could grab a quick shower and sleep for a few hours before hitting the ground running the next morning with the sun. After some rest maybe he could find the words to tell Lois… something. He was proud of her, he wished he'd had her resolve, he was sorry he put her through that. Something. Heaven knew she deserved it and he had promised things were going to be different.

Sam pulled the SUV up and parked it in front of the white paneled farmhouse before he killed the engine. His overnight bag was already in the guest room and he all but fell out of the vehicle, exhaustion snapping at his heels. He trudged up the path and was at the next-to-top step before he realized that he wasn't alone. "Clark," he greeted roughly, drawing the younger man's attention over to him from where he was leaning heavily against the railing that lined the porch.

"Sam. Hey. Get everything wrapped up?"

"We'll be wrapping up for a few more days, but we have -"

"Can it wait 'til morning?"

The question stopped Sam mid-sentence and he registered the pained expression on his son-in-law's face. A little pale, a little hunched over. He looked beyond exhausted. "You doin' alright?"

Clark forced a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "All alone in here," he promised, tapping a finger to the side of his head. "Just like the scans said."

"I know they did." Sam shifted his weight, feeling oddly uncomfortable under that blue-green gaze he'd long since become accustomed to. He loosed a long breath. "Listen, Clark…"

"If this is going to be an apology, I don't need one. I don't want one."

"I did give John Henry the green light to kill you."

"And it was the right call."

"Clark."

"In the moment, it was the right call." He grimaced and plucked his glasses from their place so that he could squeeze the bridge of his nose. There was a long, tense silence between them before he put them back, the weight not lifting off of him as he did. "He would have killed everybody we love."

"He?"

"The Kryptonian Tal-Roh tried to use me to resurrect," Clark answered softly.

Sam moved a little closer to better hear him. Not everyone on the property had super hearing. "Who was he?"

His gaze was distant, fixed on the cornfield that stretched out beyond the house he had grown up in. "A general. Zod. My father - Jor-El - knew him, but I only know the highlights. They're nothing compared to having him battering around your head even for a few hours."

"Is this someone we should be concerned about moving forward?"

"I don't think so. I think it was all or nothing. Either he won or I did."

"Glad you came out on top."

"Me too." He perked up, head swiveling towards the door like he heard something and Sam saw a shadow before his daughter became visible. She was dressed for bed in pajama pants and an oversized sweatshirt with a Smallville High crow on it. Her house shoes had quieted her steps.

"Dad," she greeted, though it half sounded like a question as she pushed through the screen door. "It's freezing out here." Well, at least it didn't sound like she was about to turn him away. She did, however, turn to Clark. "The fresh air helping your headache?"

"A little."

"No one gets away from that one, huh?" Sam murmured, thinking about the one constant response from everyone they'd spoken to the night the Kryptonian consciousnesses had been ripped from them.

Clark gave a small, mirthless chuckle. "First one I've ever had. I think it's safe to say I'm not a fan."

The attempt at a joke tugged very slightly at the corner of Sam's lips and he risked a glance back at his daughter. Lois, though, was focused in with a worried expression on Clark. The tiny smile instantly vanished. "I'll let you two get some rest."

That brought her attention back around. "Is there any update?"

"It can wait 'til morning," he echoed Clark's earlier request. "Good night."

Sam thought he heard a quiet response as he pushed through the screen door and into the house. Shower, then bed. Tomorrow would be a new day and by then he was sure he'd know how to say what needed to be said. How to convey that, despite what Clark had just said, he disagreed. He hadn't made the right call that day. He should have taken a page from Lois' book and had a little more faith in the man that had proven himself time and time again.

And he would. It was time to end the conflict of interest and choose his family.

---

Notes: I've been wanting to write a one shot touching on Sam and Clark's relationship for some time now. I have two unfinished fics, but apparently this is the one that I could finish, so here we are.

Seriously considering a second chapter that follows Clark and Lois after Sam leaves and their conversation between his return and the next morning's debrief. Anyone interested?

[vasoula]

The Peepshow

Summary: Two months after his redemption journey, Sasuke is back to Konoha and Sakura couldn’t be more happy about them spending a lot of time together. However, things take a hard turn when Sakura is assigned a special mission and she has to hide it from the rest of Team 7. Everything comes spiraling down when Sasuke finds out exactly what she has to do.

Tags: hard rated m, blank period, kinda AU-ish

Author’s notes: Please read, thank you!

Hello sasusaku fandom, it’s me ya girl, back after so many years to join the fandom once more. I have been missing this couple dearly and after going through a lot of fanarts, I stumbled upon my favorite girl and biggest inspiration strawberrycreampiefluff. She had made a mini doujinshi years ago, and I wanted to create a story about it so badly. So, I contracted her, got her blessings and created this mini monster fic you will read below (which she will hopefully recreate into a full fanart comic when she finds time - love you girl! - please support my friend’s art, it’s amazing!). This is a collab between us sort of. The first chapter is like a prologue - introduction to get the gist of things. This takes place after the last, but before sasusaku travels, kind of an alternate way of how sasusaku got together. I tried to keep the characters as close to canon as possible and this my first official full chaptered fic, so please be kind and leave comments and likes to show your opinion and support.

You can also read it on fanfiction and Ao3.

Next chapter

“Act one: Different mission objectives”

Haruno Sakura walks briskly towards the Hokage tower, her high-heeled shinobi sandals clanking against the pavement as she makes her presence known to the people who pass by. A few heads turn around, mostly males, to stare at her. She is known as one of the most beautiful women – if not the most – in Konoha. As the Fifth’s apprentice, she is working at the hospital as the top chief and she is well respected by shinobi villages all around the world for her talent in medical jutsu.

Sakura is currently dressed her hospital clothes, because her shift at the hospital just ended. She is wearing a button up white shirt that’s left slightly unbuttoned when it reaches her chest, a short black skirt and her white medical robe on top. She is heading to meet Tsunade who just asked for her to be present at her office immediately. The pink haired girl already knows what that means and what it entails.

It is a new mission.

That has to be it. It has been months since the last one, and her working hard as a medical ninja limited her chances of being sent into one. She is more than ready for it. However, she has a feeling this is only the start of bad news. Knowing her teacher, it has to be a special kind of mission. Being called so suddenly like that also gives her the heads up to guess the genre of it.

It must be a flower mission.

Yes, flower, Sakura thinks and nods to herself after waving at some people who greet her.

Flower mission is a term for female ninjas only. It is a code for a seduction mission.

Going and especially accepting a seduction mission is a big step for shinobi women. It is a very sensitive topic and it needs to be handled delicately and in secrecy. It is a powerful weapon which when used correctly, the mission will be done easily or quickly depending on the execution.

The three-man team pattern has most young girls create bonds or worse falling in love and it makes them attached in one way or another to their male teammates. That is why most ninja women have a difficulty seducing another man. The life of a ninja is usually short; you never know what could happen and the kunoichis value the idea of love. Still though, a woman’s power is strong and every kunoichi succeeds efficiently in their own little style.

The moment Sakura comes into the office, Tsunade’s head snaps up. The two women hold eye-contact for a few seconds before the younger medic closes the door behind her with a soft thud.

No one else is in the room, so Sakura guesses that whatever the fifth Hokage is about to tell her must be something of importance. She makes her way into the room and with elegant movements sits down on the chair that is positioned right in front of the desk. There are no formalities between apprentice and teacher when no one is around to watch, and since Tsunade made no sign to stop her, she also speaks first.

“Tsunade-sama, you called me.” It is not a question, but it is not a mere observation either.

The older woman sighs and puts her folded hands beneath her chin. Her eyes close for a moment and then she lifts her head upwards, giving Sakura a fond and soft look like a proud mother would give to her grown up child. A blonde strand escapes from her well-made and low ponytail and her red manicured fingers come forth to tag it back to place. An elegant move, and there is no wonder where Sakura took her beautiful ways from.

“Yes, I did,” Tsunade pauses for a second and then hastily continues, going straight to the point. There is no time for pleasantries. “I have a new mission for you.”

There is no surprise on Sakura’s face and Tsunade cannot tell if she already knew what her intentions are or she has simply masked her face with a facade of indifference. A true kunoichi right there, but then again…it could be the influence of a certain brooding male.

Before Sakura could ask more, Tsunade beat her into it and answers to her unspoken question. “It is a seduction mission.”

This time the girl reacts instantly and she blinks profusely, pink eyelashes fanning rosy cheeks repeatedly. “A-ah,” Sakura lets out a squeaky response, knowing the consequences of such mission.  

So I was right! It is a flower mission, she thinks and curses mentally. Here come the arising problems and she has not even started yet.

“I know, but believe me, I have no choice,” Tsunade put her palms atop of the desk and she pushes her chair back slightly, “This mission is specifically made for you.”

The woman knows what she is doing to her student right now, but seriously the girl is one of the best out there. Her exotic looks and endless beauty draws men like magnets to her. Besides, with her alluring ways and witty personality, she can bend even iron willed males, for example, Sasuke Uchiha.

Sakura has already made a list of problems at the back of her mind and her inner self screams in horror.

This is her first official seduction mission. How the hell is she supposed to break the news to rest of Team 7? She cannot straight go up to them and tell them. Naruto will surely react instantly and whine about it until the next decade. She has a feeling Kakashi, being trained under Tsunade, might already know something about this mission and that leaves her with one last important person to tell.

The man her heart yearns for.

After coming back from his redemption journey, Sasuke was a changed man. He was everything she had hoped for. Some parts of his character still remained the same that go back to his genin days, but she saw a new side of him that has been hidden for years, buried deep within all the hatred he harbored for most of his life. The last Uchiha has always been a cool character with a calculating thought process. The difference now was that he was free from the hatred and sins that plagued most of his life.

That is where the healing took place – right at this heart.

While he was away he helped many people during his journey across all the lands. That in return helped him find himself. He learned to love himself again and he stopped being angry at the world. He saw life from a different perspective and by the time he returned the storm inside his mind was calm once more.

Sakura’s heart flourished when he came back two months ago.

The two have been spending time together more than ever. They hang out after Sakura’s shifts at the hospital during the day either alone or with the rest of Team 7, sometimes including Sai. Other days, when their schedules are not so busy, Naruto comes and collects each one of them so they can have dinner at Ichiraku just the three of them. On special occasions, when the Hokage in training feels extra giddy, he will bring Hinata along and they will have something akin to double dates as he likes to call them.

It is an unspoken secret that the relationship between Sasuke and Sakura is a complicated one. They are at the stage where sometimes they act like they are together or other times they are on the verge of being in a relationship. Sakura knows what she is feeling that is for sure. The pure, unwavering love she feels for him is rooted deep within her and grows everyday as she watches him be happier and calmer before her eyes. They have had their moments of intimacy together before. Instances where they became close -  she remembers those intense feelings they shared through eye contact and hushed whispers when they were left alone.

The first one was after the war when Sasuke was in prison. The first time he expressed his feelings towards what had happened between them all those years. All the wrong and the ugly parts of himself he wanted to distinguish himself from.

In those quiet moments in the dark where he could not see, his eyes sealed like the criminal he was, he told her the truth. He trusted her now to reveal the ugly truth of Konoha and its elders. He divulged all the hardships his brother, Itachi Uchiha, had to endure to bring peace to the world. In a whisper, he confessed all about his clan like a dirty secret -like he was the sinner and she was the priest. And like the true healer she was, Sakura helped him see the good in him that she knew was still there and gave him disclosure. He accepted her kind words once more with a simple nod and a quiet thank you. But for Sakura, at the current time, it was more than enough. She saw the change in him. It was a small start but she would accept it. The young woman had endured harder things in the past after all.

Later that night, when she cried angry tears at the unfairness of the world, because now she knew finally about the Uchiha massacre, she knew all of them had to endure something hard in their lives and learn to live with it. But god if it did not hurt her that he was the one left suffering the most. And she just wished, she hoped, her love was enough to heal that part of himself that was trying to recover.

The second one was when he left for his redemption journey. While they had spend a few moments together before he left, nothing compares to that single experience. She knew she had to wait for him again, but this time it was not a tear jerking moment with her heart lurching in her throat. No, this time, it was her mind buzzing with all the implications his fingers left on her forehead and the fond look he was giving her.

The third one was when the Konoha 12 had their first night all together again. Of course Naruto had a hand in organizing once again. That little rascal, Sakura had thought then fondly. This guy was always trying his best to bring people together and he was doing a damn good job at it. The fact that he was able to persuade Sasuke into an outing like that was a feat itself.

Everything was going smoothly until the drinks started pouring in. Shots after shots of sake had Sakura feeling pleasantly tipsy that night, but she was not the only with that effect of alcohol on her. Somehow everyone had more than a little in their system and that did not exclude the moody male of Team 7. He was acting normal alright, Sakura would have told you, she was sure of it. But then, Ino Yamanaka, her notorious best friend was dragging her along the dance floor and she could not help but feel a hot stare at the back of her head. Goosebumps arising on her skin had her on edge. She knew then he was blatantly staring at her and he was not trying to hide it in the slightest. It was like then everyone knew what going on and her axis had sifted on its head. She could not fathom this would be the place where Sasuke would lose all his inhibitions, much less with everyone watching in anticipation his next moves. Naruto on the other hand, unbeknownst to her, was throwing just the right comments here and there, making Sasuke see Sakura from a different perspective. About time, if you had asked Naruto; he watched Sasuke analyze Sakura dancing as if she was a riddle ready to be solved.

Sasuke, at the hot age of twenty, was now a young man and finding a woman attractive was the natural course of life. However, for him these new profound feelings confused him. He did not know what he was feeling and all he wanted to do now was stare at Sakura until his eyes tired themselves out. He was ready to activate his sharingan just so he could commit that image to his memory.

That feeling in his chest was starting to bother him though and suddenly he felt all the stares on him from the intense chakra he was producing. Looking around he felt second hand embarrassment for himself, his ears getting red. Getting a shot of sake from the nearby table, Sasuke gulped down its contents and got ready to leave his position at the bar. He could not handle to keep his emotions in check any longer and this was bad. He was not ready to admit to himself what he was feeling and trying to suppress it any longer could do more harm than good. Better he left the situation right now before he put him and Sakura in a compromising position he was not ready to handle yet.

Right at that moment, Sakura decided to turn around, her dress sticking to her like a vice from all the sweat her intense dancing had caused. One look at Sasuke had time freezing. They held an intense eye contact for a few seconds, and her heart fluttered in her chest. She saw the change in him, she has seen that look before when other men had stared her way in the past. It was then she knew, tonight had been something more to him even though nothing has transpired between them yet. Maybe Sasuke was not ready to acknowledge these feelings yet, but Sakura had hope that this was the start of something new between them.

Feeling bold she started to approach him, confident in herself and brave enough thanks to the alcohol she had consumed. The moment she moved, she saw him flatter in his steps. He was about to leave and escape. The fearless Sasuke Uchiha was scared of what was transpiring between them, but she was not about to let him have his chance to escape this time. Sakura saw his jaw clenching and his hand flattering at his side from its place at the bar stool. He stared at her unblinkingly, waiting for her next move like they were about to have a fight at the training grounds.

Sakura then approached the bar like she owned the place and opened her mouth to say the most simple words known to existence.

“Hey, Sasuke”, she greeted in a whoosh, a breathless exclamation. She leaned against the bar stool and waited for the inevitable dismissal of denial.

Sakura found herself surprised however when he went rigid and leaned forward his towering body over her like he was about to whisper a dirty secret in her ear.

“You are different from the last time I remember you,” He confessed hotly, his mouth near her neck. If it was not for the obvious fact that she knew him well, any other person would have thought he was drunkenly leaning on her, but Sakura is not anybody and she understands this the way of him hiding his emotions from showing on his face in the shadows her neck provides.

What a weird way of seeking comfort from his own shyness, Sakura thought.

She idly recalled then that they were not in fact alone and Naruto was right behind them. When he started making obscene signs with his hands Sakura felt herself flush from head to toe, but the murderous glint in her eyes was apparently enough to stop Naruto’s crudeness.

“Eh, Sasuke-kun, what do you mean?”, she asked hesitantly, her hand raising and resting on Sasuke’s back in a sense of comfort. The soft material of his black shirt damp against her palm.

They were almost approaching the stage of hugging right in front of everybody.

Before they could complete the hug though, Sasuke’s head turned to the left, his cheek almost brushing against Sakura’s. The pink haired girl shyly turned her head slightly towards his direction, their faces almost touching. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the effect he still had on her and damn him if he he did not thrive on it.

He could think of all the nice things he could say to her, now it was the perfect time to take a step closer to approaching the inevitable connection they have. But his mind had other plans when the words slipped out of his mouth. In a teasing manner he was only capable of, he smirked and said, “More annoying than ever.”

He was sure she must have caught on his teasing by now. Using bitter words of the past to heal their wounds by putting another meaning to it. She was a smart woman and she could understand his actions better than anyone.

Sasuke knew she had caught on when he felt her fist punch lightly his stomach as if to punish him for insulting her.

“That is not a very nice way of complimenting someone, Sasuke-kun,” she whispered angrily, facing him completely. Any traces of wonder were gone from her emerald eyes replaced with mirth and she continued, smiling menacingly at him, “I thought I taught you better than that.”

“Hm,” Sasuke hummed in response and stood straight once again, looking down at her.

By now they had become a spectacle to their friends, the black haired male could feel Naruto almost bristling with excitement from behind him and he was not about to disappoint his friend who has been pestering him to get on with his feelings already.

“I guess we should spend more time together so I can get better at it.”

The double meaning behind his words was evident.

Sasuke Uchiha then patted Sakura Haruno’s head like it was the most natural thing in the world to do and smiled down at her gently.

His female teammate took a big breath through her nose, rosy cheeks glowing, and crossed her arms across her chest. She had him where she wanted him.

“Damn right we should!”

That was one week ago from her current position at the Hokage office. Just when she was making a great progress with seducing Sasuke, she has to go and approach another man for a mission. Talk about making matters weird between them. The worst part is the fact that she has to tell him. She wonders what his reaction is going to be considering they are not together yet. Is he going to act jealous or indifferent?

Who is she kidding? He is just going to glare her with this stupid scary look he gives in assassination missions to terrify people off the moment the words come out of her mouth and that is it.

“I haven’t finished yet,” Tsunade literally saw the thoughts displayed across Sakura’s face. It is like her life passed before her eyes, and her skin got a tad paler.

“Of course there is more,” the pink haired girl mumbles sadly while looking down, but the Hokage lets it slide.

“You will have back-up,” Tsunade says and sees with the corner of her eye Sakura sucking in a breath, “the rest of Team 7 will be with you,” and then next thing she knows the girl is chocking on air.

“W-what?” Sakura coughed out, giving her teacher a desperate look.

She feels like she is the center of the world and it is slowly closing up on her. Life suddenly looks less appealing, because good old Team 7 is back on track again with Sakura’s first seduction mission as a head start.

“Tsunade-sama, please tell me you are joking.” The pink haired medic grabs the sides of the armchair and hopes it does not break and crumble along with her composure.

The young woman also hopes her teacher is having some kind of twisted pleasure out of this because she is certainly not feeling happy with the news.

Tsunade wants to reprimand her student for losing her temper, but she understands what the girl is going through and also knows she in no better position to talk when it comes to matters like this. Still though, ears and eyes are everywhere and they must keep a low profile when in the Hokage’s office.

“Sakura,” The curvy female looks at her seriously, “Team 7 will be the back-up of this mission and that’s final.”

I am doing it for your sake, Tsunade wants to say but keeps quiet instead.

Somehow, Sakura understands where her teacher is coming from. This will be a test for both sides. It is a test for her that is for sure. A test for patience, a test for her relationship, a test for her seduction abilities both on the target and Sasuke, because let’s be honest, who is going to calm down the last Uchiha other than her?

Sakura closes her eyes, takes a calming breath through her mouth and then controls the pattern as taught by Ino’s yoga lessons. She could do it this.

The young female opens her pretty green eyes once again and then stares at Tsunade straight in eye, a determined expression on her face. The will of fire is practically seeping through her and her fiery temper is burning up again but for another cause.

“That’s the spirit,” Tsunade says proudly and hands her the scroll that has been lying on the wooden desk the whole time. “This is your target, Misty Jade.”

The first thing Sakura does when she steps into the house is to check for a specific chakra signature around the area. Sasuke pays frequent visits to her house nowadays you would think he lived in there, having keys and all, but alas.

She lets out a long sigh of relief, glad that she did not detect Sasuke’s compelling presence. Thank heavens, cost is clear. The twenty year old girl suspects that the males of Team 7 had already been called to Tsunade’s office, the second she was out of the vicinity. She mentally praises her teacher and then she decides to prepare for battle. The kunoichi briefly wonders how the hell she is supposed to deal with this. She has no clue how to handle this.

Sakura runs upstairs, heading straight to the bedroom. She slams the door open, scroll still in hand, and starts rummaging through her things in order to pack. After a few minutes of checking everything, she put all the necessary items in her mission bag. From medical supplies to energy pills to scrolls to clothes to a sleeping bag and lastly to the money she will need for the seduction necessities she has to buy. Finally finished, she sits down on the bed, crumpling the blue silky sheets in the process. Then, Sakura unrolls the scroll and reads.

Mission #B039                     Type: B-rank               Specialist: F (female)  

Stage: Pre                             Place: Village hidden in the Waterfalls

Target: Misao Takashi

Gender: Male

Age: 25 years old

Characteristics: Red hair, blue eyes and relatively tall.

Efficiency: Messenger

Information: Misao Takashi is an important messenger between two feud lords that control and lead illegal product transportations. Your mission is to seduce said messenger that has in his possession a folder with contract papers which contain info for the next meet up and also a pair of keys. This is the part one of the main ANBU mission that will follow after you succeed. Mission includes back-up. Good luck.

The kunoichi falls back on the bed with a flop, thinking how she should approach the mission. She idly scratches her scalp and tosses her body around from side to side, her long pink locks sprawled across the bed sheets moving along with her. Sakura knows what the village hidden in the Waterfalls is known for.  And if her guesses are right, a guy like him would go to a special kind of place. The men of Team 7 will also go there.

“This is just great!” Sakura shouts even though no one is in the room.

She stares up at ceiling, her mind thinking of all the possibilities and scenarios. The pink haired girl knows what to do to succeed in this mission, however hiding from Sasuke is the main problem.

With huff she stands up and starts pacing around the room while babbling nonsense and muttering profanities out loud, until the idea hits her.

“Of course,” Sakura jumps on the bed, “Tsunade-shishou is the solution!”

She lies down, calm once again, and grabs a nearby pillow, squeezing it close to her chest. The warmth it provides calms her for a second, but she resists the urge to snuggle it closer. The girl can already imagine the Uchiha’s frown when she will tell him that she will be staying at Tsunade’s for a few days in order to work on some papers that have to do with the hospital.

Sakura just hopes he will believe it for her sake and for the sake of this mission.

                                                        ❤︎    

“It’s dirty and disgusting in here,” Sasuke mutters angrily, sitting uncomfortably on the animal print armchair, “Why do we even have to do this?”

The hot pink, soft and furry material irritates him even more as his elbow barely glides on it, making it difficult for him to nurse his drink. It is too warm, too velvety.

The last Uchiha almost growls out of sheer annoyance. This mission is far too low for his standards. He cannot believe he allowed himself to be dragged in here. His pride is hurt goddammit. Yes, he may be a man, but he has never set foot in a pleasure house. Or as his best friend and ex-sensei like to call it: a strip club.

The atmosphere is suffocating him, the lights are too dim. All kinds of different and hypnotizing aromas assault his senses, making his clear mind drunk and hazy. He cannot tell if it is his alcoholic beverage that is making him feel this way or it is the misty cloud of seduction and pleasure filled nights that surround this place.

The men of Team 7 have been assigned on a mission just yesterday as a backup to an ANBU specialist. Sasuke was definitely not pleased with the news, but he could not go against the fifth Hokage’s orders as much he wanted to, so he mildly complained until he was shushed by Tsunade. So, here they are today, in the place that their target and the other shinobi are supposed to be. Sasuke Uchiha, Naruto Uzumaki and Kakashi Hatake, being expert ninjas, have already detected the target sitting in the middle of the area, near the front. And now they have to wait. If something goes wrong, only then they are allowed to interfere.

“Focus, Sasuke.” Kakashi says calmly, a white hospital mask covering his face instead of his usual ninja attire. “A mission is a mission.”

The grey haired shinobi is collected as always, and Sasuke cannot help but scowl.

As if the ridiculous place is not enough problems, they were also forced to wear formal clothes. Supposedly, they are ordinary men looking for some fun and not ninjas who are capable of killing anyone in the room within seconds. Thus, the men of Team 7 have to make it believable by dressing up fancily to blend in with crowd and to stay undistinguished.

“Well, it’s not that bad in here.” Naruto tells them with a foxy grin on his face, clearly excited to be in a place like this. A slight blush is covering his cheeks since he has been consuming a few portions of alcohol for an hour now. The blond is pleasantly tipsy and happier than usual.

“Shut up Naruto,” Sasuke turns to his left and addresses his best friend, “If Hinata found out you’re here, she would dump you.”

Sasuke is very irritated, and that results to more insults and jibs than normal. He crosses his legs, right ankle meeting left knee, just to move and do something out of spite.

“T-That’s not true!” The man immediately tries to explain, “I told her it was a mission and she was okay with it!”

Naruto’s face visibly falls, and he looks at Sasuke with his puppy dog eyes. However, before the blonde could set off, being an emotional drunk and all, Sasuke just looks at other side, ready to ignore the impending whining.

Is he even allowed to be drinking on such mission? Kakashi better do something, Sasuke thinks, complaining inside his head instead.

“Don’t fight.” Their teacher interrupts, knowing how those two are and how bad they can get when Sakura is not around to stop them.

He has even given them just enough freedom, permitting them to drink, because he knows they are the back-up of this mission and not the main person. Kakashi strongly believes that intervention will not be needed, considering this an efficient ANBU specialist sent by the Hokage herself.

So, Kakashi just sits relaxed, waits and enjoys the show.

The oldest member of Team 7 is wearing a dark grey button-up shirt, the collar slightly open and a pair of black trousers. Naruto has a similar style, except he sports a nice pair of jeans with a light blue button-up shirt that makes his gorgeous eyes stand out more. Sasuke opts for a more classic style though, completing his look with black trousers, a white button-up shirt (with the first button undone) and an onyx suit jacket to top it off.

It is an extraordinary night today since the place is filled to the brim with men of all ages and from different villages, plus, the interior design of the club is full of pretty decorations. As the shining neon letters say outside on the wooden board above the club’s name, Hustler’s Ho, it promises a night of busty tricks and naughty chicks, and of course a special guest. Sasuke didn’t pay attention to the name, it is useless information anyways.

The waitresses are all beautiful women holding silver trays with glitter and fruity scented oils applied on their bodies and every time they move under the low dimmed lights to serve the customers, their smooth skins sparkle teasingly. The atmosphere is thick with cigarette smoke, but despite that, the room somehow smells good because of the enticing scents that come off from all the perfume the females of the club have put on.

Red velvet curtains hang from the ceiling at the left side of the club and make up for entrances to the changing rooms, while the bar and the bathrooms are at the right side of it. In the center of the room is the stage where the lights shine the most since the ceiling has a lot of spotlights in all kinds of colors there. The rest of the huge area is only provided with low dimmed lights and that makes the dancers at the stage stand out more. The walls are painted a dark pink color and it gives the room a sense of obscurity and raw sexuality.

Great amount of money gets thrown at the stage as the ladies entertain the crowd with their dancing skills either on the poles or on the floor. Excited shouts of more can be heard even from where the members of Team 7 are seated at the back of the club. The dancers are barely dressed in Sasuke’s opinion; too much skin is bared for the eyes to feast. He averts his eyes, a light blush dusting his cheeks.

A dark blonde girl is currently dancing, her back turned to the pole, her hands up in the air touching the steel above her head. She is moving her lower half sexily in fluid left and right motions, her hips rolling expertly. The girl is wearing purple lingerie with her hair up in a high ponytail, and money is stuck in all kind of places from the men who put it there. She keeps it professional, but her face still expresses the hidden erotic feelings she wants to convey.

Then, all of a sudden, the music slowly quiets down and a deep male voice comes from the speakers. “Thank you dear, you were amazing as always! Please, grab your money and clear the stage.”

Sasuke silently scoffs and rolls his eyes at this. He should really stop drinking, the alcohol is making him show his irritation and that is not a good thing when on a mission. He has to keep his face impassive, bring forth a cold facade. Especially when in that said mission, Sakura is not there to calm him down and Naruto only breathes to make it worse for him with his antics. Of course, Kakashi is nonchalant as always.

The crowd gets almost completely silent, only a few murmurs can be heard now, and the unknown voice continues. “Only today, we have a special guest dancing…”

Without warning, a swift sound gains the attention of everyone inside the room. It is a whoosh of air fluttering against hard yet soft and velvet material that signals that the curtains have just been opened. The whispers get a tad bit louder at this, but get lost when the raspy voice resonates through the room once again. “Now, gentlemen, prepare to meet tonight’s special guest, a beauty and an exotic flower among the ladies…”

The sound came from the left side of the club, near the back. Heels clanking against the floor in a steady rhythm and elegant manner are the only thing that can be heard. The steps are light and slow paced. It has a nice ring to it, the continuous clicking is pleasant to the ears and everyone is holding their breath in anticipation. The males of Team 7 hear loud gasps, watching as men are getting blown away by the mere sight of this special guest. Heads are turned, all the attention clearly diverted behind. The pace has a unique air of confidence that no one can quite put their finger on. The woman has a stealthy and powerful walking. A soft tune starts playing as an intro while the woman comes closer and closer to the stage.

The dancer narrows the distance between her and the stage as she takes painfully slow steps towards it or so it seems to the eager men. The shadow that still hovers near the area where Team 7 is –thanks to the somber and tricky lighting– hides her, until finally, a curvy form starts to appear as she comes forth to where the light is. Her silver, almost dark gray, stilettos are the first things that show. A few agonizingly and torturous seconds later, long legs and fair smooth skin come into view.

Naruto reacts first, an exclamation leaving his lips. It is not a sharp inhalation of amazement, but it is a loud gasp of shock. His blue eyes widen and there are hazy no more. Cold sweat forms on his forehead, and he is feeling like someone threw cold water on him to wake him up and bring him back to the harsh reality. It is definitely not an easy feat to astound the ninja who is known as the best at surprising people.

The voice resonates through the room once again and the male starts praising the newcomer dancer, “An exotic babe, outstanding with high class skills.” The announcement is over, and the music gets steadily louder while the special guest is one step away from the stage.

She just stands still with her back on the cheering crowd for a few seconds as if to bewitch the already elated men with her beauty. The young woman is posing sensually and it compliments her already perfect body. She is captivating in every sense. Her legs are long and toned while her tights are voluptuous and her rear is curvy. Her waist is slight bent and it makes her behind stand out even more. Her back sparkles teasingly thanks to the glittery substance that has been applied on her skin everywhere on her body. She lifts her left hand up to course it through her silky long locks while her right one is resting on her inner tight in a provocative pose.

That unmistakable pink hair belongs only to one person.

Kakashi feels his mouth hanging open inside his mask. This event took a very fast turn for the worst and he does not like the ending result at all. She is the last person he could think of going up there if you had asked him about it. He closes his eyes and hums quietly awaiting for the impeding doom waiting to happen.

Sasuke reacts not a second too late and his breath hitches. A flash of light blinds him and he blinks his eyes twice in response. The lighting must be playing tricks on him, because there is no fucking way this is Sakura ready to go up there. He freezes and his face goes rigid. His calculating yet beautiful onyx eyes widen and his naturally pouty lips part slightly in shock. A wave of cool air passes by him –probably someone activated a fan to create more special effects for such a unique guest– and it makes his soft black hair flutter in the wind. An intoxicating scent fills his senses and clouds every ounce of rationality within him.

The special guest goes up the stage, turns around and Sasuke can breathe no more.

“Please welcome, Misty Jade!”

Sasuke Uchiha, for the first time in years, sees red.

[aion-rsa]

Friday Night Lights: A Non-American’s Guide to American Football

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Friday Night Lights is now back on Netflix and you have to watch it. 

Just to be clear, that isn’t a request – it’s an order. The NBC football drama is simply one of the most affecting, thrilling American TV shows of all time. Though premiering in 2006, the show can mark its lineage all the way back to a true story from the late ‘80s. In 1990, sports journalist H.G. “Buzz” Bissinger published the non-fiction book Friday Night Lights: A Town, a Team, and a Dream. The book follows the story of the 1988 Permian Panthers high school football team in Odessa, Texas as they make a run for a Texas state championship.

The book was adapted into a Peter Berg film of the same name in 2004, starring Billy Bob Thornton. The story of the Permian Panthers was dramatically rich enough to conquer two mediums already, but when a third was announced in the form of a TV series for NBC it seemed like overkill. Did the world really need more high school football drama after a successful book and movie? It turns out that the world really did.

Friday Night Lights, the TV show, further fictionalized Bissinger’s story. Odessa, Texas becomes the fictional Dillon, Texas (though the Permian Panthers logo remains a big yellow “P”). Kyle Chandler steps into the role of a new coach, the magnanimous Eric Taylor. Shot in a cinema verite-style where blocking is optional, Friday Night Lights makes the viewer feel like they are just another Dillon citizen, desperately dreaming for a state championship. Above all else, this empathetic show never speaks down to its small town characters. 

As previously stated, Friday Night Lights is a must-watch. But if you’re one of our many non-American readers (Hello, everyone! I see you out there, writing “s” in words that need “z”), the football angle may seem like a real roadblock. So let’s tear down that roadblock. American football is the most popular sport in the United States but also perhaps its most impenetrable. The rulebook is thick and its connection to American culture deep. What follows is an attempt to explain American football for non-American viewers who are hesitant to tackle the show. Hopefully this will also prove useful to existing Friday Night Lights fans who have some questions about the game. 

To simplify matters, we’ve broken our football school down into three parts: The Different Levels of American Football, which explains the sport’s place in American culture and why high school football is a big deal; The Rules of American Football, which is as succinct a distillation of how the game is played as possible; and The Strategy of American Football, which examines whether Eric Taylor is even a good coach anyway. 

The Different Levels of American Football

Football is a pervasive force in American society. The highest level of play in the country (and the world) is the National Football League in which 32 teams of well-paid professionals compete against one another. The NFL is the richest sports league in the world by revenue and its championship, the Super Bowl, is usually watched by roughly 100 million people per year. Football’s influence doesn’t begin and end with the NFL though. The NFL doesn’t have a minor league or development system, so those interested in watching younger athletes are able to do so by following the sport on the collegiate or high school level.

College football is a huge deal. Some major universities’ football stadiums can house upwards of 100,000 fans. Four-year universities and colleges across the country field their own football teams that compete against one another in 12-game seasons (before a postseason consisting of “Bowl Games” but that’s too complicated to get into right now). Football at the collegiate level contains hundreds of teams split up into different leagues based on size and different conferences based on geography (for the most part). There isn’t any promotion and relegation like in European football leagues but if an institution grows big enough they can secure an invite to a higher level.

Though the decision-makers of the sport like to pretend it’s an amateur exercise and the players are not paid, college football is really a multi-billion dollar business. In fact, college football’s governing body, the NCAA, was just spooked enough by a U.S. Supreme Court decision that it allowed its athletes to finally pursue “Name, Image, Likeness (NIL)” deals in which they are allowed to make money from personal sponsorships. 

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Then we come to the high school level of football. Longtime viewers of American teenage dramas may have a pretty good idea of what a U.S. high school is now but here’s a primer for those who don’t. High school is the highest level of free public education in the U.S. before the more academically (and financially) strenuous college system. High school follows eighth grade (which together with seventh grade usually comprises of “middle school”) and consists of freshmen (ninth graders or 14-15-year-olds), sophomores (tenth graders or 15-16-year-olds), juniors (11th graders or 16-17-year-olds), and seniors (12 graders of 17-18-year-olds).

In some areas of the country, high school football is a bigger deal than college football or even the NFL. Though this level of the sport is played by essentially children, a high school football team may be the only competitive sports enterprise within hundreds of miles for some communities. This is particularly true in the massive U.S. state of Texas. Every region of the U.S. loves football, but passion for the sport is particularly acute in the Southeast, Midwest, and Texas. West Texas, where Friday Night Lights is set, is really high school football mad. The region is distinctly rural and far removed from the state’s three big cities – Houston, Austin, and Dallas. As such, high school football is the singular cultural force that many oil-drilling West Texas communities rally around.

High school football leagues across the country differ considerably, but like in college football, schools are generally grouped together by size and funding. Public and private high schools are able to compete in the same sports conferences as long as they have similar enrollments and budgets. Typically a high school football season consists of only 10 games (football is a physically brutal sport and as such plays far fewer games per year than other sports like baseball, basketball, or soccer). The regular season is usually followed by a bracket-style playoffs culminating in a state championship. There is no country-wide tournament, which is why “winning state” is the ultimate goal in Friday Night Lights. 

The Rules of American Football

I won’t lie to you: this is going to be difficult. Explaining any sport from scratch is a tall task, let alone a sport as complicated as football. Let me attempt to do so from the ground up and please be patient. There will be some visual aids as well.

First, it’s probably helpful to know about the field that football is played on. There’s a reason why in some European markets that the sport is known as “Gridiron Football” and that’s because the field resembles a cooking utensil known as a gridiron.

Every American football field consists of 100 yards (split into two sides of 1-50 yards). At the end of each side of the field is an “endzone.” A player entering into the endzone with the football is called a “touchdown” and nets a team six points. At the back of each endzone are the goalposts – yellow tuning fork-like structures that the ball is occasionally kicked through for more points. These are akin to rugby’s goalposts but slightly differently shaped. Let’s table the whole kicking thing for now and focus strictly on the action on the field.

The goal of football is to enter into the endzone with the ball to score points and have more points at the end of the game than the other team. A football game is 60 minutes, split into four 15-minute quarters (with a lengthy halftime break after the second quarter). Eleven players take the field for each team, one side on “offense” and one side on “defense.” A coin is flipped at the beginning of each game to decide who gets to start as offense and who gets to start as defense. The team who began the game on defense will get to be the offense at the start of the second half.

The offense is charged with advancing the ball 100 yards down the field into the end zone, while the defense is tasked with stopping them by tackling the person with the football to the ground. The offense is granted four tries or “plays” to try to score. The action isn’t continuous in American football like it is in European football. After a team runs a play to attempt to advance the ball, they get a 40-second break to plot their next play. A play simply refers to the action on the field that the offense takes to get down the field. It begins with the “center” “snapping” the ball to the “quarterback” behind him and ends when the offense either scores (rare) or is foiled in some way – whether that means being tackled in bounds, stepping out of bounds, or throwing the ball out of bounds. Here is a chart of the typical football positions.

The offense’s two most reliable ways of advancing the ball downfield are either throwing it or running it. On a running play, the quarterback (Jason Street or Matt Saracen in Friday Night Lights) will receive the snap and hand it off to a running back (Smash Williams or Tim Riggins) who tries to run the ball upfield while his teammates block for him. Alternatively, the quarterback can throw the ball to an open wide receiver as long as the throw originates from behind the line of scrimmage (the area on the field where the play originated). 

Four tries to reach the end zone are rarely enough opportunities for the offense. Thankfully, that’s where “first downs” come in. If the offense advances 10 yards, their “downs” or attempts to score reset back to the full four. That’s where terms like “1st and 10” or “2nd and 7” or “4th and 1” come from. The first number refers to which “down” or attempt the offense is on (1, 2, 3, or 4) while the second number refers to how many yards they need to reach to achieve another first down. Due to penalties or a player being tackled well behind the line of scrimmage (called a “sack” or a “tackle for loss”), the number of yards needed to reach a first down can exceed 10. One time in 2012, the Washington Football Team even had a “3rd and 50”, meaning they needed to move 50 yards for a first down. 

If the offense fails to score or get a first down while on fourth down, possession of the ball is granted to the other team on the same spot that the offense failed. This is called a “turnover on downs.” The team that was previously on offense will bring their defensive unit into the game while the other team will bring their offensive unit. At the collegiate and professional level, players usually only play on one “side” of the ball – offense or defense. In high school, where the level of talent is more inconsistent, it’s not uncommon for several players to be on both the offensive and defensive units. This doesn’t come up much on Friday Night Lights though – for the most part the offensive players stay on offense and the defensive players stay on defense.

It is possible for the defense to force a turnover in other ways beyond just a turnover on downs. If the offense drops or “fumbles”’ the ball and the defense recovers it, it belongs to them. If the defense catches a ball thrown by the offense it is an “interception” and the offense suddenly becomes the defense and the defense suddenly becomes the offense. This situation factors prominently in Friday Night Light’s first episode. 

Turnovers are awful, so the offense has a couple of tools to combat them. At any point during their drive down the field, the offense can choose to “punt” the ball. This means that if they’ve reached 4th down and are unlikely to convert a first down (if it is 4th and 10 from their own 30 yardline for instance), they can choose to have a kicking specialist called a “punter” enter the field. The punter receives the snap, tosses the ball up in the air, and punts the ball far down the field to the other team to catch and try to advance. This is a surrender from the offense but at least they’re making things a bit more difficult for the other offense by pushing the new offense further down the field. Punts rarely factor into Friday Night Lights as they aren’t particularly interesting. 

Alternatively, if the offense is close to the end zone but not close enough that they’re confident they can reach it, they can attempt to kick the ball through the aforementioned goalposts for three points. A “kicker” is brought onto the field and attempts to kick the ball through the goalposts from the ground. A “holder” is allowed to hold the ball upright for the kicker but the ball must be touching the ground for the attempt to count.

Let’s delve a little further into the scoring system. We’ve mentioned that kicking the ball through the uprights is a field goal and nets three points while carrying the ball into the endzone is a touchdown and nets six points. But there are a couple other ways to score in football as well. After a touchdown is achieved, the offense is immediately granted the opportunity to score again. They must choose whether they want to kick the ball through the uprights from extremely close range (which nets one extra point) or to try to reach the end zone again from extremely close range (which nets two extra points). Additionally, if the offense is tackled in their own end zone, it nets two points for the opposing team and they receive the ball back via punt. This is called a “safety.”

To recap: 

Safety: 2 points

Field Goal: 3 points

Touchdown: 6 points (+1 for a field goal attempt, +2 for a scoring attempt).

This means that football scores can generate pretty much any result other than 1-0 or 1-1. Typically a “normal” scoring game will be somewhere between the 20-40 range in divisions of 7 or 3. A score of 35-28 is a pretty usual final football score.

Still confused? That’s understandable. Football is a fairly confusing sport at times. But hopefully you are a little better equipped to understand the action on the field in Friday Night Lights. The show certainly isn’t trying to present a complicated depiction of football. Armed with the basics, you should have a rough idea of what’s happening during all the football action. 

If you feel like you’ve mastered the basics, feel free to move on to the final section of this piece.

The Strategy of American Football

The only constant in football is change. The rules of the sport are tweaked every single year and sometimes the sport undergoes truly massive alterations. In fact, the forward pass itself (now a staple of the game) wasn’t even legal for the first few decades of football’s existence. As such, the offensive and defensive strategies of football are in a constant state of flux. 

What’s interesting to note about Friday Night Lights is how old-fashioned its depiction of football appears to be at the series’ beginning. Keep in mind that this story began with the 1988 Permian Panthers. So despite premiering and taking place in 2006, the Dillon Panthers offense looks quite antiquated at first. 

The Dillon Panthers open the series as a run-first offense in a “Wing-T” formation. Running back Brian “Smash” Williams is the cornerstone of the Panthers’ strategy because back in the ‘80s and ‘90s, athletically superior running backs were usually the most dominant force in any high school offense. The Panthers plan of attack is to have a fast tailback (colloquially called a “running back” because they begin the play in the backfield and then…run)  and a strong fullback in the backfield alongside the quarterback. The Panthers’ plan is to snap the ball, give it to the fast guy, have him follow the big blockers, then rinse and repeat.

Interestingly enough, the show uses the primitiveness of the Panthers’ offense to its advantage in later seasons. When some parents and Panthers boosters (literally just rich people that support a high school or college team) want to oust Coach Eric Taylor, they point to his inability to change with the times and create a sophisticated passing attack as one reason. Coach Taylor does eventually attempt to implement a “spread” offense. 

Spread offenses were all the rage at the high school and collegiate level in the early aughts. The “spread” strategy refers to “spreading” three to five wide receivers on the line of scrimmage to force the defense to cover them man-to-man. Defenses are always strategizing just like offenses, and by forcing the defense to spread out and guard many receivers, it takes away a lot of their more sophisticated coverage options (like double-teaming or divvying up the field into “zones” of coverage). 

In later seasons, when Coach Taylor gains access to a fast, dynamic quarterback, he incorporates a bit of the “option” into his spread offense. This is where the QB uses the spacing from the spread to scan the field, analyze certain players’ positioning on the defense, and decide to pass the ball, hand off the ball, or run the ball himself.

Based on all this, it sounds like Eric Taylor is a pretty brilliant coach, right? Well, not exactly. The internet is littered with breakdowns of Taylor’s strategy from smart football minds. Most of said articles criticize him on two big fronts. The first is his tardiness in adapting to a pass-heavy offense. The second is his absolutely abominable clock management. Since the clock counts down in American football and there is no stoppage time, managing time is a huge part of a coach’s responsibility. 

Since the show naturally wants to inject some drama into its football scenes, the Dillon Panthers as coached by Eric Taylor often have next to 0 clock awareness. This breakdown even notes than in the pilot episode, the Panthers somehow only move the ball 30 yards in five minutes of gametime. That is…pretty curious. 

Also, while it’s not uncommon for a head coach to specialize in either the defensive or offensive side of the ball, Eric Taylor’s is particularly offensive-focused. Defensive plays aren’t as exciting to depict on television, so Coach Taylor is rarely shown coaching up the defensive half of his team. That’s a pretty big blindspot when it comes to head coaching. 

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Now that you’ve read through this full breakdown of American football, give Friday Night Lights a watch or a rewatch. Who knows – you may even be a sharper football mind than Coach Taylor at this point.

The post Friday Night Lights: A Non-American’s Guide to American Football appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[mashounen2003]

Sonic opinions - 2

In large portions of every fandom, it looks like it prevails the idea that you can only take one of two positions: praising the story in every respect, including both the ideas themselves and their execution by the writers, or admitting not to like the story and not to praise any element of it at all. I think my ideas regarding the Archie-Sonic comics and the Sonic franchise in general cannot be pigeonholed into either of these two extremes.

More below the "keep reading" cut.

I loved all the world-building in Archie-Sonic, the elements the comic introduced, their many characters and the potential to tell stories about them; I also really liked much of the art and personal styles of several artists Archie-Sonic has had throughout its history, with very few exceptions (and such exceptions include Ron Lim, of course). That's why, of all the Sonic continuities, I often use the pre-reboot Archie-Sonic comic as the primary source for world-building elements and story ideas.

What really makes me feel bad about that comic, what motivates most of my criticism, is the ideas’ execution by the main writers, as well as aspects that I think are more linked to each writer as a person, the unique way in which each of them has written their stories.

Firstly, Michael Gallagher: the writer for the first few dozen issues of the comic had a terrible sense of humour, and this hurt the comic hugely since those first issues were fundamentally based on that low-quality comedy style. The characterization of the entire cast also suffered greatly from this; in Sally's case, something quite ironic happened too: Gallagher portrayed her as bossy, annoying, temperamental, usually bickering with Sonic, and now that's also how Sally is seen by many fans of the videogames’ continuity (at best). Other than this, not much more could be said about him.

Karl Bollers wrote quite decent stories with some nice comedy, with “Return to Angel Island” being his best work, one of the best stories in the entire comic and perhaps even one of the best in the franchise; but Bollers’s work was "torpedoed" by Ken Penders and then-editor Justin Gabrie, which ruined the stories’ final versions sometimes or led to elements introduced by Bollers being "retconned" and overwritten by whatever Penders smoked and decided to do when taking over. The characterization of Fiona Fox is one of the main examples, with Bollers's Fiona being a quite under-utilized character but with a great potential that would later be wasted by both Penders and Ian Flynn. Another similar case was Sally breaking up with Sonic: Bollers tried to give context to such a drastic decision by Sally and show how she was the one who was suffering the most at that time and also that both she and Sonic were partially right, but Penders and Gabrie didn't let Bollers develop this subplot properly and all we had was a quite infamous scene that unfairly made Sally one of the most hated characters. It’s also known of several plans Bollers had for future stories, and one of them was Antoine being corrupted by the Source of All and turning into a villain; this had the potential to be a good story by subverting the concept of the Source of All and making it an actual threat, but on the other hand, it’d have meant resorting once again to the resource of "this character isn’t doing anything, let's make them evil", something quite disappointing, which later would have disastrous results when Flynn did the same with Fiona a few years later. However, these plans of Bollers were just ideas, and the quality of a story created from them still depends a lot on execution. In the end, I can't say anything about how good or bad Bollers was as a writer, simply because I have no way of knowing what his stories would have been like if he had been given more freedom and had stayed as the writer longer.

There were two writers who influenced Archie-Sonic comics far more than any other writer in its history: Penders and Flynn. The first of them was a retarded pervert with an overly inflated and fragile ego. He became obsessed with the primitive, toxic ideal of "family" North-Americans have. He wrote nonsensical, contradictory stories, having already decided the end down to the last detail long before even thinking about how the story would come to that end (I also made this specific mistake a few times when I was just starting to write fanfiction, I must admit). He increased Fiona's age in order to be able to pair her with the Don Juan that Sonic had become, which also ruined Fiona's characterization forever. The issues 150s -right before being replaced by Flynn- were the worst part of Penders’s run, as Bollers was no longer there to put a stop to his madness in any way, and it was at this time when there was the most egregious case of Penders pouring into the comic his worst perversions and retarded ideas: he hinted at a sex scene in one of the most infamous cases in the history of the entire Sonic franchise, although it wasn’t infamous for the implied sex per se but rather because what happened was technically a rape by deception; to add insult to injury, the writer implicitly blamed the victim some years later when asked about it on Twitter.

I could go on talking about “Ken Perverts”, but I think that's not necessary and would be a waste of time since, as everyone here already knows, he's been the laughingstock of the entire Sonic franchise for years; @ponett even has a whole secondary blog, @thankskenpenders, mainly dedicated to this. On the other hand, there’s still another writer who has also contributed a lot and also made huge mistakes but is not criticized in the least by almost anyone, simply because he was better than Penders.

Ian Flynn usually reduced the characters to slightly oversimplified portrayals, similar to the personalities of the characters in the most recent videogames. Under his pen, Sonic was more sympathetic but his words sometimes sounded too empty and shallow, his apologies for past mistakes didn’t lead to genuine changes on his part, and sometimes he even seemed plain insensitive to all the tragedies happening around him, especially at the Mecha Sally Arc (I nickname Ian Flynn’s Sonic "Plastic Smile" for this). Admittedly, this had already happened several times with previous writers (Penders portraying Sonic as a Don Juan, as I already mentioned), and this is why I think the original Sonic from Sonic SatAM was always better for feeling more "genuine", less "empty", and more heroic and likeable as a result. Perhaps the only ones to escape the oversimplified portrayal have been Shadow and E-123 Omega, whose characterizations in Archie-Sonic were the best in the whole franchise.

Besides, Flynn had strong favouritism for Amy Rose, which only made things worse because this Amy was much more similar to the one in the videogames from Sonic Heroes onwards. Anyway, this also happened with previous writers, like when Amy wished to be younger at the cost of a chance to save Sally's mother and no one ever berated her for it.

Let’s look at the villains. Unlike the typical Eggman from the videogames, with his follies, eccentricities and other absurd aspects, the Robotnik “inherited” by the comic from Sonic SatAM was explicitly a genocidal bastard and crueller while at the same time being sane enough to realize everything he was doing (@robotnik-mun already spoke in detail about this once); however, Flynn tried to combine the two characters into the pre-reboot Archie-Sonic Eggman, and the result created some severe problems with the stories’ tone. Something derived from this was how Sonic let Eggman live and even felt sorry for his fall into madness, in addition to treating him as if they were the Sonic and Eggman from the videogames, Sonic X or Sonic Boom; it’s worth remembering this Eggman technically is a sort of reincarnation of the SatAM Robotnik (his exact nature is quite complicated and includes parallel universes, but yes, he’s supposed to be exactly the same as the SatAM Robotnik, with memories and everything) and this Sonic is supposed to have fought a bloody decade-long guerilla war against him just like his SatAM counterpart.

Scourge was turned into a massive Mary-Sue who achieved easy victories, as subtle as a huge neon sign saying "the bad guys win"; he was also an abusive manipulator towards Fiona Fox, and Flynn was unable to show that properly for fear of making his pet look no longer cool, which makes you wonder how alike Flynn and Penders might actually be in some ways. To clearly understand the horrible damage this has caused: it not only created a generation of young Sonic fans -mostly boys from the USA- who romanticize abuse either consciously or unconsciously, but also there are even women -including scholars, committed feminists and transgender people who are also activists for social justice- who either sympathize with Scourge or think Fiona made a right, wise, rational or informed decision by joining him in the story (I’ll not give names of those women, I’m not really eager to get into heated fallacious discussions about “the true meaning of Feminism”); to top it off, among the writers who started working with Ian Flynn either on IDW-Sonic or the last years of Archie-Sonic, there’s at least one person who got the job of writing official Sonic comics after gaining quite a bit of fame with a fan-comic where they used the pairing of Scourge & Fiona to inspire its readers to feel sorry... for Scourge. And speaking of Fiona specifically: the subplot of her career as a villain was ill-conceived, was built by using as a cornerstone the A-story of Issue #150 (that quite infamous and widely known story written by Penders where Scourge may or may not have raped Bunnie by deception), and was also seemingly "abandoned" as Fiona ended up merely being Scourge's new abuse victim girlfriend and her status as a traitor didn’t even have a significant emotional effect on the Freedom Fighters.

Flynn also followed something like a pattern of taking tropes from famous works and then using them when writing the comic but not actually understanding why those tropes had worked in the first place. Perhaps the prime example of this was Scourge giving Sonic the Joker's "One Bad Day" speech: it almost felt a bit like giving the same speech to the Batman of Batman vs. Superman, as Sonic had already had a whole "bad decade" and was still a hero despite it; also, Sonic's answer to that speech (telling Scourge it only takes a tiny bit of selflessness and decency for him to be a good person) wasn’t that great, not at all compared to the mildly masterful answer Batman had originally given to the Joker in The Killing Joke, and it even made Sonic look more like a bad judge of character.

Lastly, the entire Mecha Sally Arc was poorly planned, had some contradictions with itself and with previous stories, was stretched through dozens of comic issues no matter if that felt forced, and the main events and plot twists throughout the story arc were heavily based on shock-value without giving any substance to this or making it a bit more sense when putting it under scrutiny; meanwhile, Flynn always seemed to have quite a hard time when writing long story arcs, so these long stories looked like he was trying and outright failing to imitate Toriyama (someone quite known for putting together stories ad-lib according to what seemed most convenient at the time).

Despite this, it looks like those Sonic fans who are still interested in material outside of the videogames will keep buying and reading whatever Ian Flynn or one of his colleagues writes, simply because they’re better than Penders... even though it's been 15 years since Penders wrote something official about Sonic. Seriously, we should have gotten over it by now, instead of continuing to compare all material in the franchise with Penders's work, which sets the bar too low for any official content creator. Now that I think about it, Penders's work is to the North-American Sonic canon what Sonic 2006 is to the videogames: people can criticize the latest games all they want, and rightfully so, but if someone even casually mentions Sonic 2006, any Sonic game from 2010 onwards instantly becomes a masterpiece just for being marginally better than Sonic 2006; the same happens between Penders's work on pre-reboot Archie-Sonic and any other North-American Sonic comic written by Flynn after Penders left.

Right now it looks like it's also forbidden to criticize Flynn as a writer at all just because he's much nicer in his personal life and engages with fans more directly through his podcasts, or because Flynn is truly progressive while Penders claimed to be progressive and a feminist and was affiliated with the USA Democrats but his work showed how misogynistic, perverted, retarded, reactionary and downright sick he was. Also, now saying something about Flynn other than total blind admiration for him and his work, even asking for the Freedom Fighters to return in the IDW comics, has become synonymous with agreeing with those assholes who cry "Rally4Sally" or "Udon4Sonic" on Twitter: "nostalgic" fans of SatAM and Penders's work on Archie, in their 40s or 50s, deeply conservative and absurdly paranoid, who claim that those new inclusive cartoons such as Steven Universe or She-Ra "are ruining their childhood", are mad at Flynn just because he hinted Sally and Nicole may be a lesbian couple (and in a rather platonic way, not even romantic in the traditional sense), and try to justify their own warped ideas and fantasies about SatAM by ignoring any “liberal” political messages SatAM may have had at the subtext level.

[letsbenditlikebennett]

Encounters of the Strange Kind || Ariana & Frank

TIMING: Before the last full moon during the nightmares POTW PARTIES: @frankmulloy & @letsbenditlikebennett SUMMARY: Ariana goes to watch a soccer match and bug her favorite bartender, Frank. Some nightmares brought to life make for a strange afternoon. 

It wasn’t often lately that Ariana found herself with a free afternoon and as much had been preferred. Just when she felt like she was finally beginning to move forward again, Winn had to go and die on her, too. If she let herself sit in all those feelings for too long, she was almost certain she wouldn’t be able to find it in her to get up again. Moving was easier. At least that’s what she had kept telling herself, but now the erratic weather meant soccer practice was cancelled which means she wouldn’t spend the rest of her day coaching. She was far ahead on all of her projects for school and she didn’t want to bother Blanche or Grace yet again. The weather also meant a run with her dog was out of the question so she opted to drink beer and watch some soccer matches at Perfect Pint. It wasn’t the world’s best distraction, but bugging the bartender had always proven to be a good time. While the USWNT wasn’t playing, she threw on the Rapinoe jersey Athena had gotten her anyway. Something about channeling Rapinoe had always left her feeling a little tougher. Which was saying a lot because most days, she considered herself to be pretty badass.

Considering it was a weekday afternoon, Ariana found the bar wasn’t overly crowded, so she grabbed a seat in front of the women’s Olympique Lyons team’s match. While they weren’t her team, she remembered Kaden was a Lyons fan. It gave her some sort of deeper attachment to the game which meant it’d be more likely to hold her attention. She waved at Frank as she settled into her seat and gave him a wide smile. Confidence was key to no one questioning her fake ID. “How are you doing today,” she asked brightly before adding, “I’ll take a Guinness when you get a chance.” She hadn’t liked it at first, but it grew on her. She admittedly just said the first thing she looked at the first time she came here and just kept going with it. 

Frank had always considered Perfect Pint a lesser form of Soul. Less sticky, less sleazy, less were the chance of someone kicking someone else’s teeth in—or maybe that was just his shift. Maybe in his absence the patrons that gathered at the latter establishment were perfectly pleasant, either way, the Irish bar was a welcomed breath of civility before the shit-storm the evening would no doubt bring. The presence of another gancanagh added to the ease of simply being as the pub owner exercised a control over his ability that even after all these years Frank had never fully mastered. His pheromones fluctuated to a rhythm of its own make, a song Frank was not privy to and struggled still to understand. But the shadow of a smile that threatened to break his mask of perpetual indifference came at the hands of one that, legally, shouldn’t even be allowed at the bar. They both knew this— that no matter what her ID said, Ariana was not 21, not the fact that he silently enjoyed her company. No drink was strong enough to make him admit anything so personal. But more than that, if he admitted it, then it must be true, and if that was true then so was the very real possibility that she was only hanging around him because of the reason that most people were. The same reason he slid people their drinks across the bar, why he was always so generous with his distance, why he didn’t smile when he turned to meet Ariana but rather regarded that she was there—of course she was wearing a fucking Rapinoe jersey—another body to warm the bar’s seat.

“Do you have an ID for that Guinness?” Frank said, with perhaps a little too much enjoyment, after the glass was already in his hand. “I get the pub is Irish but you know that American laws still apply right?”

Something about the chatter around the bar was much more comforting than the near silence of her apartment. Ariana was glad this place was close to her new apartment and that her fake ID never seemed to be extensively questioned even though it seemed fairly obvious Frank knew she wasn’t 21 yet. Plus, they always played the soccer matches so it always gave her something engaging to do even if she didn’t have someone joining her. As Frank asked for her ID, she pouted and dramatically pulled her wallet out of one of the pockets in her cargo pants. “You know, you keep not remembering me and my very iconic blue hair, I’m gonna stop tipping… okay, that’s a lie,” she responded with a small laugh as she slid her ID across to him. She gave him a pointed look as she waited for him to set her beer down. The urge to do a triumph fist pump was resisted. Instead, she motioned her glass up in a cheers motion and took a sip before commenting, “You never told me how you were doing. You haven’t seen any weird fish lately, have you?” She’d seen a few of them floating around along with some other strange things. Still felt like a good idea to check in and make sure everyone was staying safe amidst the crazy that was White Crest. 

The threat of no tip was met with a slight upward lean to the corner of Frank’s mouth, which was more of a smile than most could say they’ve ever received from the infamously stoic bartender. The Guinness had already slid across the bar’s top to her awaiting hand before she had even pulled the ID out; the presence of the little card vaguely acknowledged though not such attention was paid to its content. “Fine,” he said, and he was fine, and was happy to leave it at fine, but of course, Ariana had a talent for catching his attention when he least expected it. Like, say, a remark about weird fishes. “This whole fucking town is weird.” Frank would be remiss to say that the amount of fog that blanketed the town was a common occurrence, not to mention the pair of bright glowing lights that peered eerily behind them. Logically, he’d sooner owe it to a pair of headlights, than anything stranger, which was rich coming from a guy with giant wings sticking out of his back. Logically, he also knew that no vehicle or trunk had lights that large, that moved so silently, seamlessly-- there was nothing mechanical about these lights. “Why? What have you seen?” A pause. The temptation was to close the distance between them, but alas (at least this time) habit dug down its heel, and so did Frank. “What have you been up to kid?”

Of course he hadn’t actually bothered to look at her ID which made Ariana laugh a bit. While Frank was never the overly talkative type, she did enjoy his mostly quiet company. It gave her something else to focus on when the game wasn’t enough to keep her thoughts from drifting somewhere darker. He was a bit of mystery though and fine almost never meant fine. She knew better than anyone because she’d put that brave face on every day for the kids and a little bit for herself. “I hate that word,” she stated plainly, “90% of the time it’s bullshit, but I’ll give you that one.” At least his response to the question about fish led her to believe he wasn’t completely clueless to the ways of this town. That made it easier for him to stay safe. “You know, you’re not wrong,” she agreed, “Some of it is good weird though, like the dog toys falling from the sky. My dog had a field day with that one. Still, probably a good idea to avoid the giant floating fish if you can.” For a moment, she could almost detect a hint of concern in his voice though he still kept his distance. She didn’t want to alarm him, so she shrugged and answered, “Honestly, I’ve seen a lot, but more recently it’s been the floating fish. Thankfully, they seem to mostly just kind of float by if you don’t bother them. I may be tough, but I’m not exactly eager to see if I can take on an oversized flying fish.” The answer to his next question was decidedly nothing good outside of school and work. Between ghost hunting, avoiding sleep, and her plans to turn Ace into a werewolf like her, she was decidedly not staying out of trouble. Not even a little bit. “Oh, you know-- work, class, typical young we-- people things. I opened up an Etsy shop, so if you need any custom woodwork or repairs, I’m your girl,” she responded hoping her answer sufficed even if she definitely left big bits of the truth out. She shifted in her seat slightly and a puzzled look crossed her face as all the TV screens in the bar went fuzzy. That was weird. It was a perfectly sunny day out so she couldn’t think of any good reason for the television picture to just go out. 

For reasons too complicated, and probably too depressing, to dissect without the supervision of his therapist, Frank had somehow convinced himself of being able to care for little else beyond that which directly affected him. Now Frank was a great many things but never the uncaring type, and while he was a talented wordsmith (when he had the energy to be) he was, as was the nature of his species, a poor liar. Even to himself. So when “fine” was met with a reaction that was far from it, his heart—he was frequently surprised to learn, or be reminded, of its existence—reared its head, and fixed a tender gaze on the younger girl. He said nothing however, feeling that it was the wrong time to press, but he would remember the minor outburst, and keep it close to heart. While Frank himself was still challenged with admitting to the existence of the strange and unnatural, despite himself being one of those strange and unnatural things, to have Ariana confess to it so readily, and so casually at that, made it concrete, and real. No, the lights were not in fact a truck in the foggy distance, it was indeed a giant floating fish. That was normal now. He was part of that normal. So what happened then when a normal person has spent his entire life believing he was not? How does he come to terms with that? The answer: he doesn’t. He instead focused his attention on anything else, on anyone else. “Right, so that sounded decidedly unconvincing. Your fake ID is more convincing than…whatever that was.” He waited for a characteristically snappy response, but when she looked up at him—no, past him, her brows knitted together at whatever the TV was showing. “What are you…?” Nothing, the TV was showing nothing, and yet she seemed entranced, or at least concerned enough to be curious. This made him concerned, and by the way the few patrons that were in the bar were whispering and mumbling to themselves and each other, it was going around.

“Jesus H,” the dish rag draped over his shoulder, Frank sought for the remote and tried to turn it off, but the battery was either flat or the TV refused to obey. Logic supported the former, and logic made him reach up to press the button on the monitor itself. That was when water started leaking from the screen. Logic offered no sound explanation for that. Somewhere within the bar came a yelp as the water from one of the leaking TVs (was he seriously admitting to that?) short-circuited the juke box. No, Frank thought decidedly, it had been two weeks since he last fed and he was too fucking tired for this shit. “Yeah, I’m not cleaning that shit up.” He tossed the towel aside, stuck his head into the kitchen and announced his early finish. “No offence but I don’t think your game is playing kid,” he said and ducked out from behind the bar. Something wasn’t right, and frankly he felt no great desire to stick around, and owed to some strange endearment he’s found in Ariana, he didn’t want her to stick around either. “I’m heading out. Finish your Guinness. Come on, I’ll walk you home.”

Normally, she would have been quick to comment on the fake ID remark. Ariana wasn’t sure just how serious he was, because would he really be serving her if he thought her ID was fake? Maybe he just didn’t give a crap which actually checked out to a degree. The water leaking from the TVs was far more pressing though. She was pretty sure electronics and water didn’t mix, so she took a step back. “TVs,” she answered as she pointed upward. How were they even doing that? She doubted there was any satisfying answer, but slowly scooted away from any electronics. After all she’d been through, she wasn’t about to go out by electrocution of all things. She took a big gulp from her glass of beer because frankly it  was warranted with the current level of insanity. So much for having a nice escape from White Crest reality. It hadn’t been all that surprise to see Frank ditch the bar. She laughed a bit and commented, “I don’t blame you. Probably dangerous back there right now anyway.” The jukebox seemed to agree with her so she was glad he was seemingly away from any spots that may cause electrical shock. 

While the TV situation was still concerning, Ariana figured she didn’t have much of a reason to stick around with both the game off and Frank gone. Beer alone wasn’t going to be enough to distract her from the whirlwind of emotions she currently didn’t feel like acknowledging. His offer to walk her home was unexpected though. She looked up to him and said, “Yeah, thanks, I’d appreciate that even if I am probably a lot tougher than you think I am.” She jokingly sized him up, but agreed her beer was worth finishing. “For sure gonna finish this bad boy. Can’t be out here wasting a perfectly good beer!” She was quick to polish off her beer. She refrained from burping as she set the glass down because as Celeste taught her growing up, it wasn’t proper table manners. Not that she truly understood why table manners were a thing humans cared about, but for the sake of blending in, she did her best to follow some sort of norm. “So we adding bodyguard to your business card now,” she joked as they left the now nightmarish scene behind. Thankfully, everyone else had also been quick to bolt, so she wasn’t too concerned for their safety. Every so often, a creepy face would flash on the screen and she muttered, “Wow, I fucking hate that.” She pointed down the block and said, “I live this way, not too far away and surprisingly decent rent. Not sure if you know the area well or not, but it really is a steal.” 

“I am sure that you are.” Frank’s lips twitched as a genesis of a smile began to take shape across his mouth, one that came very close to becoming fully formed, until he too saw the ghostly face that haunted the TV screens. Fuck. That. Many of the pub’s patrons shared the same sentiment and a steady stream of people trickled out behind them, and for the first time (and hopefully the last) Frank was glad that he had the evening shift at Soul that day. A snort escaped his guard, harsh and full, a gleam of something mirthful reflected in his eyes as he turned them toward Ariana. “Depends on how much you’re willing to pay me,” he said and was only half joking. Bartending doesn’t pay a great deal, and there were many artefacts in his piece of crap apartment, including the piece of crap apartment itself, that would attest to this. The Bend wasn’t exactly known for its New England style living, but then again, neither was Frank.

“It’s nice.” He mused, quietly observing the shops that lined the streets and the plants and bushes that trimmed the sidewalks. Frank spied what looked like a stray dog toy tangled in the leaves of one of the passing bushes. Raining dog toys. That was normal too. Another thing he had to come to terms with getting used to. Not the fact that that particular thing happened, but the possibility of something similar, and equally strange and outlandish happening again. “I never really took the time to take in the streets. I mostly just come in for work, and then go to Soul and then go home. But this street, this place, I can see you living in it.” In the same weird way that you can somehow just sense that someone does not belong in a certain place, you can also sense when someone else belonged exactly where they were-- the latter was usually a lot more pleasant to observe. Walking next to Ariana, in the street she lived, Frank came to the conclusion that she looked like she was exactly where she needed to be; a place bustling with life, and events, and possibilities...even if it was a little strange. “It’s nice.”

Ariana noted the almost smile that Frank made though she didn’t comment on it. He was seemingly gruff, but she was pretty sure he enjoyed her company. Well, at least more so than the rest of the bar’s patrons. Which was fair, she was way cooler and far more adorable. As they walked, she laughed a bit at the mention of paying him. “Thankfully, I don’t need my own bodyguard, not that I could afford one. As it turns out, coaching kids’ soccer a few times a week doesn’t pay enough for a glamorous lifestyle. Not that I want one, but building a cabin one day would still be nice. If my woodworking really takes off, I may have a job for you.” They rounded a corner and something about the sky felt off. She ignored it and added, “I should warn, I’m good at finding trouble.” To be fair to herself, trouble often found her based on her species alone, but she definitely had a knack for following her nose right into some sort of White Crest nonsense. 

It surprised Ariana that Frank hadn’t done much exploring the streets yet. While the more populated parts of town weren’t necessarily her thing, she did know the woods like the back of her hand. Or paw, depending on the day of the month. “Yeah, there’s a lot of good shops and restaurants down here. It’s a good area, I prefer the woods, but it’s nice living across the hall from one of my best friends. So thanks.” She was almost wistful for that cabin in the woods she was supposed to build with Celeste one day. Hell, she even missed the place she helped Ulfric build, but there was a sense of pride that came with having a place of her own. Plus, hiking with her school projects that were often bigger than her was a bit much. She’d been smiling softly when a strange smell hit her nose. She paused in the middle of the sidewalk and looked in the direction her nose was picking up a more animalistic smell. Before it could even register fully in her mind, a raging moose was charging them. “Shit,” she yelled out and pushed Frank out of the way as she barely dodged getting impaled by a fucking antler. “What the fuck,” she grumbled as she regained her balance and stared the moose down, letting out a low growl. 

“Me too.” Frank’s smile hiked a little higher, and there was something knowing about it, like sharing in a secret that they both had, even if it was from each other. Though he did not necessarily indulge in the more cursed aspects of his existence, he always found that it was better to take it with good humour lest he drowns himself in self-pity; the latter being a significantly worse reality.

Frank spent the rest of their walk quietly observing the younger girl, his eyes squinted in a mixture of easy amusement and sharp curiosity. She spoke, a lot, and he listened, filing away pieces of information that he found useful or interesting: her relationship with the woods, her best friend, woodwork, how the three worked together to form an idyllic picture of the life Ariana wanted for herself. The pieces of information that went untold, fueled by a detailed history, alive and well as evidence in how she spoke. It made him wistful for a future that he never imagined for himself (he never tried to), and wanted dearly for her to have—her sudden stop elicited the same reaction in him, though it was obvious that she was sensing something that he wasn’t. Something he couldn’t. He heard the rumbling of hooves on pavement before he saw it, and even then he saw very little as a force, and a very impressive one at that, pushed him out of harm’s way, very nearly knocking him off his feet were it not for the swift sweep of his wings slowing gravity just enough for him to recover his balance—the product of instinct rather than any great skill. And then a low growl, unmistakably animal, and too near for comfort. First the ghost child TV, then the moose, now if he was about to get mauled by a fucking wolf Frank was going to lose his shit. Alas, there was just Ariana, and a very angry moose carving its way through the street before disappearing around the corner. No wolves to be seen…and yet. “Ariana, are you okay?” Concern coloured his words and made his touch more gentle as he reached out to examine her for any obvious injury. “Are you hurt?” And then finally, inevitably, “only in this fucking town.”

As she reoriented herself she swore she saw a flicker of wings on Frank. Ariana blinked slowly a few times and realized it must have been a trick of the light. Not that wings would be totally off base in this town, but the rest of their surroundings still felt surreal enough that she wrote it off. There was still a small lingering suspicion that maybe Frank wasn’t quite so human either. She’d have to observe him more carefully. She brushed herself off and answered, “Yeah, I’m fine. More startled than anything.” The moose kept running and rounded a corner. Maybe she should have been more concerned, but she simply didn’t have the energy to chase a moose right now. Not in this form. She figured she could shoot Kaden a text and let animal control deal with the seemingly pissed off moose. She stood still for a moment as he looked her over and kept her demeanor calm despite the internal ‘what the fuck just happened’ vibes she had going on. “I’m not hurt. Did only narrowly dodge becoming a moose kebab, but it be like that I guess,” she said with a slight laugh. “Yeah, that was super on brand for White Crest, but hey, neither of us turned into moose-pops today, so I’ll call it a win.” She was dying to ask about the wings, but she still wasn’t entirely sure of what she saw, so she’d file that one away for later. “To be safe, let’s keep moving in case he decides to come back for round 2.” She paused briefly as she started leading the way to her apartment before she finally caved and noted, “So… you were pretty good at catching your balance there.”

Ariana’s note was like a plunged blade, spearing through the glamour that he has tried so hard to maintain. Did it fall? Did she see? She couldn’t have. Frank’s wings were not little plastic accessories that you found hanging off some rack at some halloween store. They were huge, and not something that usually elicited such a casual response...not that he’s had many experiences to draw from. Yet at her remark, he prompted his face to smooth over any evidence of emotion, trying his best to manufacture the closest imitation to nonchalance. “Oh yeah? Thanks kid,” he said before allowing an edge of gentle humor pushed into the timber of his voice, “I mean I’d be a pretty shoddy bodyguard if I’m tripping over my own damn feet.” This made sense--even if Frank’s history of fighting recorded more losses than wins. “Maybe you should consider getting into the bodyguard business. That’s some arm you’ve got.” Needless to say, had it not been for Ariana’s quick reaction, his day would have gone in a very different, most likely more painful, direction. The reminder beckoned curiosity’s head to surface through the crack’s of his apathy, and despite the strangeness of the TV, the moose, he could not erase from his memory the distinct sound of a dog’s growl.

Curiosity also prompted him to vocalise his next words, but Frank was careful with them, lest he risked sounding insane in a town known for its strangeness. “After that moose, did you, I don’t know, hear anything weird? Like a growl?” Was he suggesting that he heard the moose...growl? Perhaps. But what was the more likely event: the moose growling or Ariana growling? Then again, little ghost girls were crawling out of leaky TVs and only moments ago they were almost ran over by a rampant moose and Frank himself had a literal silver tongue and giant wings stuck to his back, Ariana growling was hardly the strangest thing that happened in that afternoon alone.

“Fair point,” Ariana responded with a laugh. A clumsy bodyguard seemed like more of a hazard than protection. At the mention of having a strong arm, she shrugged. The full moon was quickly approaching so her strength was peaking though even during the new moon she liked to think her athleticism afforded her  a bit more in the way of strength. “What can I say? My natural athletic prowess surprises yet again,” she answered with a laugh. It wasn’t entirely a lie and she was tempted to just throw out the fact she was a werewolf. She was almost positive she had seen the briefest glimpse of giant ass wings on his back when he stumbled from her push. It was unlikely he’d have anything against werewolves. She was trying to have a little bit more in the way of tact regarding this kind of thing, but was pretty much failing at that. Would there really be much harm in telling him? As stoic as he was, he seemed to have a soft spot for her. Not that she could blame him. She was adorable and she knew it. 

As Ariana started to lead the way toward her apartment again, Frank mentioned the growl and she stopped in her tracks. Of course he heard that. Sometimes her instincts were stronger than her common fucking sense. If she was being honest, it was probably more than sometimes. She sighed and explained, “That wasn’t the moose. You did hear a growl. That was me.” She was already most of the way there to telling him, might as well go for it. “I’m a werewolf, that happens sometimes.” And there it was. Did this give her the ground to ask if she saw wings or would he just think she was crazy? She could probably chalk it up to weird teenaged Twilight daydreams if anything else. She watched Frank carefully, looking for any sign of how he was taking that little bomb. 

In summation: little ghost girls were crawling out of leaking TVs, they were almost ran over by a raging moose, flying fishes were a thing, and so was raining dog toys apparently, and Ariana was a werewolf. The truth settled over Frank like a blanket and he was unpanicked and strangely unperturbed, though either would have seemed a more conventional reaction to the news. In fairness, that tends to happen when you have a tongue that is literally silver and giant wings sticking out of your back. She could have told him that she was Irish (considering how often she was at the Irish pub), and his reaction would not have differed greatly from that he had on now: raised brows, mouth slightly parted as if wanting to say something but unsure of what, and a pensiveness had settled over his eyes as he digested this new discovery. “You are…a werewolf.” 

The first time Patrick told Frank that he was a fae, and that Frank was one too, he laughed (and then punched him again, but that could also be accredited to several other factors), and though the reality of his situation seemed entirely too impossible to be logical, his father’s explanation was the only one that made sense. Frank didn’t laugh this time, but was instead preoccupied with another thought: why was she volunteering this information? He was suddenly very acutely aware of his wings, and the effort he exerted to keep them hidden—like one who was suddenly very cognizant of their own breathing, and the mechanics of that unconscious process. She did see his wings, was the first thought, followed by a question of whether he minded that she did? Was he comfortable enough to let her know of what he was, as she apparently was with her secret? Was it ever a secret? It wasn’t as if the subject came up in a lot of their conversations to begin with. “A werewolf like…Michael J. Fox, werewolf?” 

The news of her being a werewolf didn’t seem to come across as too much of a shock and Ariana was grateful for that. There was definitely some processing happening, but as much was to be expected. At least he wasn’t looking at her like she had five heads or something which meant he most likely believed her. “Yes, I’m a werewolf,” she said quietly. It wasn’t a secret, but shouting it from the rooftops would likely attract hunters that weren’t as understanding as the ones she knew. If she could help it, she’d rather not be a trophy on some asshole’s wall. She wanted to follow that statement with ‘you have wings’ because she was pretty sure she’d gotten a glimpse of them, but if she was wrong, he’d really think she was insane.  At the mention of being a Michael J. Fox werewolf, her features contorted in confusion and she paused for a moment. “Wait, what?” Her head tilted as she looked at him in earnest and said, “I have no idea what that means or who Michael J. Fox is. The gist of it is I become wolfy around the full moon, have a good sense of smell and strength, and really like red meat. Oh, and I guess I growl sometimes.” 

Well, fuck. There’s nothing quite like making an aged reference to remind you exactly of how old you are. “Michael J. Fox...like, Teen Wolf nineteen-eighty—you know what, don’t worry about it.” Although Ariana’s general description seemed to follow, more or less, the general formula of the werewolf myth Frank was familiar with, the strangest part of all of this was not that she was a werewolf but that he felt no distance between them since the discovery. No unease, or distrust; she was still exactly the Ariana he had come to know. The same Ariana who knew exactly which buttons of his to press, and the right words to say to coax a grin or a chuckle out of him, especially when he least expected it. In fact what he did feel was something more akin to relief. She wasn’t a fae but she wasn’t entirely human either—like him. A small part of Frank was almost envious of her. She was so comfortable with herself, she knew exactly what she was, and unapologetically so. She listed her traits with the familiarity and ease of a cook listing the ingredients of a well-known dish: no judgement, no prejudice, just simple facts. The same could not be said of himself. The subject of his fae heritage had always left a bitter taste in his mouth. One Frank washed down with cheap cigarettes and even cheaper alcohol, finished with a  serving of good old fashioned denial. You know, healthy things. “You didn’t have to tell me that you know,” he said, “why did you?”

No one had ever really asked Ariana that question before and it left her a bit curious. Frank definitely did not seemed bothered by her revelation or afraid of her in any way which was good. It wasn’t like she’d ever hurt him. Still, she supposed other people were a bit more tight lipped about their species than she was. The fact of the matter was that she liked Frank and she didn’t believe he’d ever do anything to hurt her. She shrugged as they rounded the corner toward her building and she answered, “I don’t know, it’s not like a big secret or anything. I mean, I don’t like broadcast it for the world to know, but given everything today, I didn’t think you’d be too shocked. Plus, pretty sure you’re not a hunter… not that hunters are automatically bad. I’m friends with a few, but still.” It dawned on her she was growing more curious about what he was so she added, “Plus, you don’t seem too shocked. Do you have like some sort of background with this stuff?” 

Frank kept his eyes forward, his expression betrayed little of his thoughts, but he could not deny the sliver of ice that slid down his spine at the mention of the word. Hunters. He didn’t know why that was. He also didn’t know why he started thinking about his father. Didn’t know why the word triggered the image of him to come to the forefront of his mind, and the fear that he saw in his eyes, or perhaps most frightening: the resignation in them. Most faes were immune to things that otherwise proved fatal to humans; difficult to kill if you didn’t know what you were doing, entirely possible if you did. Hunters would. Was that what happened to Patrick? Frank had never cared to ask, and thought little of that night since, until now. Not that hunters were automatically bad, Ariana had assured him. Frank offered her a smile (it looked off, but then again, it was Frank), though he wasn’t particularly eager to go out and test that theory either. He turned his gaze back down, and for a moment their eyes met. She knows. He lets out a sigh, his fingers raked through the side of his beard, unsure of how to put together the words he struggled to say even to himself in front of a mirror. “Er…yeah, you could say something like that. I mean not werewolves, obviously, you’d be the first, but other things.”

While it was still a mystery of how Frank knew all of this, he seemed to take it relatively with stride. At least, he wasn’t any more or less stoic than he normally was. Ariana was still curious to know if her hunch was correct, but he could tell her in his own time. She knew not everyone was as comfortable sharing their species as she was. Or maybe he was human and just didn’t try to make excuses for everything weird that happened in this town. She’d sworn she saw wings for a second there, but with everything else that happened, it was hard to tell. Either way, she offered him a warm smile as they neared her building. “Well, whoever said save the best for last was wrong then,” she joked with a smirk present on her face. She took on a more serious tone and added, “I know a lot of people here who have a bit of something extra, so if you ever find yourself in trouble or anything, let me know. Even if it’s not something you can throw a werewolf at, I usually know who to ask for help.” She stopped outside the front of her building and turned to Frank. With a small gesture, she said, “This is my stop. Keep an eye out for angry moose and let me know you make it home safe, alright?” 

The invitation was a door and Ariana had so graciously held it open for him. All warm smiles and not even a glimpse of a shadow to hint judgement or malice or a well to use the knowledge of what he was against him. But Frank’s history shackled his feet and he didn’t move but looked at her with feigned ignorance. He’d as good as closed the door himself and every part of him wondered why. Simply, it was not Ariana he wanted to hide the truth from but himself. So he could play grumpy bartender a little bit longer, supplying banter and alcohol to underage werewolves and deny the responsibility of his supernatural inheritance. It was fucking pathetic, he knew it, and he swallowed the truth with a smile as Ariana was delivered safely to her front door. Although that was perhaps more her doing than his. “I’m not going to ask who or how you know said persons, but I will keep that in mind. Personally, I hope that it never comes to that.” He mirrored the gesture back to her, a reluctant grin cracked across his face in a way only Ariana could force out of him, “yes ma’am. You stay out of trouble kiddo.” Somehow he knew, as soon as he said it, trouble and Ariana were never too far away from each other.

[artificialqueens]

Hugs, tears and electricity (Biadore) - Chaoticnachokitten

A/N: Hii^-^

This is my first fanfic in this fandom, so please leave me some feedback, positive or negative, if you want to. I wrote this because there will never be enough sickfics but I’m too shy to ask for them, so yeah. Please look at the trigger warnings as there will be discussions of eating disorders and somewhat mild self harm (no blood). Stay safe and don’t read it if anything might trigger you. This is probably set in 2015/2016 but not necessarily.

Summary: Why performing in a club while being sick is never a good idea. Biadore friendship with fluff, angst and hurt/comfort.

Adore checked her phone. She had actually slept through the whole day. It was three hours before the show would start. While it wasn’t unusual for her to sleep in, the whole day was a bit extreme, and yet she was still tired and felt off.

The gig wasn’t anything particularly fancy or really exciting even, just a local club hosting a singing/ lip sync competition. Most of the performers would be local queens as well, with the exception of her.

It had been rumored that the club was about to go bankrupt, so they decided to scrape up basically all of the money they had left to host the show and try to get one of the RuGirls to perform there. Since Adore knew the club, and some of the local queens, she had decided to accept to offer, even if the pay wasn't that great. At least it was convenient because she was currently staying in a hotel (sharing a room with Bianca because literally every room was booked, not that either of them minded) which happened to be basically next to the club.

Bianca and her hadn't been doing a lot of gigs in a while as they had both been busy with different projects, and Adore missed the feeling of being on stage, people cheering for her, the adrenaline kick, the casual making out with fans, and, of course, the occasional crowd surfing.

Now, usually Adore would only need about an hour to get ready, depending on the occasion and how she was feeling but Bianca had insisted that they’d do the final costume fitting for her custom dress as soon as possible in case any kind of alteration had to be done.

Adore sometimes wondered how Bianca and her were such amazing friends despite them being completely different, especially when it came to their drag.

While Adore could care less about what people thought of her and her gender bending, unique and sometimes completely spontaneous style of drag, or at least act like it, Bianca liked to have everything planned out and organized as soon as possible so nothing could possibly go wrong. In fact she was probably doing it right now, given the sounds on her side; Adore didn’t bother to check though, in fact she didn’t want to move at all as she still felt exhausted for some reason despite having slept through the whole day.

Why would someone plan their whole drag a day before the show would even start on their day off? Adore just shook her head fondly and closed her eyes, just for a minute, to regain some energy. It wasn’t any use though as she was woken up by the older queen what seemed like only seconds later. Right. The dress. That got her excited enough to get up, although not without difficulty.

"Oh my god, it's stunning.” Adore was gagging over the dress. It even exceeded her expectations. It wasn't just any dress. It was the most perfect custom dress made by Bianca specifically for her, which made it even better. Bianca let Adore enjoy the moment and proceeded to search for the very corset Adore had 'borrowed' from her among a few other things.

Bianca had never been able to quite bring herself to be mad at the younger queen though, it was just a corset after all, she herself had given it to the younger queen. If anything it mostly amused her because Adore seemed to be attached to it for some odd reason.

Said queen was still staring at the dress, gently touching the beautiful fabric. A lot of work had gone into it, some parts had to be made completely from scratch, and of course, the sewing hadn't been that easy either, given the materials. The fact that the dress had been designed and created specifically for Adore made it about ten times more complicated as well.

First of all, it needed to give her the ability to move as freely as possible on stage. Adore was known for her energetic life performances and occasional crowd surfing. On top of that, it still needed to be absolutely gorgeous while not looking super polished. Someone who calls themselves polish remover should probably not be forced into a long, glamorous gown ; it just wouldn't be authentic Adore anymore.

Taking all of that into consideration, Bianca had created a turquoise, off the shoulder sequin mini dress, mermaid themed of course, so Adore could still be her true self. It was decorated with small pieces of corals on the neckline (no sharp ones though, Adore is very clumsy and would probably hurt herself with them or with a long gown) and tiny little fish ornaments around the waist, arranged like a belt (just for fun and the irony). Bianca had even been thoughtful enough to create the dress in a way that the seams could be let out, just in case. It was also perfect for the upcoming evening as it would look absolutely stunning in the spotlight while not being a pain to lip sync in.

Adore was still admiring the dress when Bianca came back with the corset. Only then did she notice that something was off about Adore. Her face was really pale, except her cheeks, which were flushed pink. Kind of adorable (pun not intended), but really worrying at the same time. So maybe that’s why it had been impossible to wake her up.

Adore went to grab the corset in order to put it on, but Bianca just shook her head. Adore started giggling (which quickly turned into a cough, she really needed to quit smoking).

"At this point I can do it all by myself B. I’m like, an expert now, a real drag queen.”

Still, she removed her shirt (Bianca merch), moved closer to the older queen, and turned around.

"Oh shut up", Bianca muttered, no bite in her voice though, a smile tugging on her lips even. Adore was very special to her, and this was one of her ways to express it.

She noticed a few bruises on Adore's back. Nothing serious, but she'd quickly check on them, just to make sure putting on the corset wouldn't be any more uncomfortable than usual for the younger queen. Bianca let her fingers gently trace over the bruises. Her worry grew as she felt the heat basically radiating off of Adore.

"Does that hurt?" She managed to keep her voice as neutral and casual sounding as possible. She knew from experience that Adore would probably not admit anything, at least for now. The younger queen simply hated being sick or feeling weak, not being able to perform, and disappointing her fans.

"Uhm not really, no. Why?" Adore was slightly confused. While her body was hurting all over, especially her muscles from the fever, she had tried not to make it super obvious, and it wasn't like Bianca was making it worse. "You've got a couple of bruises. Do you think the corset will be alright?"

"Yeah, sure." Bianca couldn't see Adore's smile. Bianca was seriously worried about a bit of bruising. Those were the kind of moments that proved that people who said Bianca was cold and bitter were just wrong as they either completely ignored her kind actions or just didn't want see them. Though it wasn't like their opinion meant anything anyway.

With skilled fingers, Bianca went ahead and laced her in, noticing that it was easier to put it on compared to the last times, but then shrugged it off. The material of the corset was probably stretched out or something. At least that's what Bianca told herself to keep calm, although the worry kept growing in her chest, almost suffocating her. She forced a smile on her face, which was fairly easy for her after all those years of performing.

"Alright, all done. Let's get you in that dress." Adore nodded excitedly, and tried on her gorgeous new dress while concentrating hard on keeping her balance. Bianca zipped it up, noticing in horror that it was too loose.

She furrowed her brows in confusion. She'd been making dresses for years now, so the measurements simply could not be wrong, especially since they had been taken pretty recently. That meant Adore had managed to drop an alarming amount of weight in a really short time. Bianca could have slapped herself in that moment, for not noticing sooner. The amount of worry was almost unbearable now, blocking her airways. She tried to ignore the feeling and act rational. As much as she didn't want to make Adore to feel uncomfortable, she had to find out what was wrong with her baby. Bianca took a deep breath, forming the words in her head.

"B?", Adore asked in a confused and slightly worried tone. "Are you okay? You literally haven't said anything for minutes now, you’re freaking me out." Bianca stepped in front of the younger queen, and gestured to the bed. "Sit down, I need to talk to you."

The words came out the wrong way, Adore looked terrified and started shivering in fear. Her somewhat foggy and feverish brain was trying to find out what she had done wrong and making everything dramatic. Adore just hated disappointing or upsetting people she loved. Realizing her mistake, Bianca quickly hugged Adore, and sat her down on the bed, gently assuring her it wasn't anything too bad. Technically a lie, but Bianca was able to hide her worrying.

"Adore. As you might have noticed, your dress obviously doesn't fit. Which is weird, because I took your measurements just a short while ago. Something is wrong, and I would like to help you, okay baby?"

Adore started shivering even more, a voice in her head telling her to not say anything. She fought it with all of her strength.

"I- I'm sorry." A sob escaped her "You worked so hard on it and I- I can't do anything right!" Okay this was going in the false direction.

"Baby, I don't care about having to change something about the dress, I care about you. It is neither normal nor healthy to lose that weight that fast. Please talk to me, Adore." Adore just didn't feel ready to talk, so instead she tried to respond as maturely as possible.

"Please..can we talk after the show? I promise I will tell you everything, but I need some time to prepare myself." Bianca agreed.

"Alright baby, but please promise me to take care of yourself up there. So nothing too exhausting and if you don't feel well, cancel. Your health is the most important thing." Some tears escaped Adore's eyes. She felt loved.

“I promise I feel good enough to perform. Thank you, B." She pulled Bianca in a tight hug.

They stayed like this for a while, holding each other and feeling like everything would work out. Whatever obstacle the younger queen was facing at the moment, they would manage to fix it. Bianca pressed a kiss to Adore's forehead, frowning when she felt the heat once again, maybe even stronger than before. She let go of Adore, knowing they still needed to get her in drag. Adore's smile was precious, and Bianca couldn't help but kiss her once more, this time on the cheek.

"I'm going to do my makeup now", Adore announced, beginning to get up to go to the bathroom, where her makeup was stored. She would usually do it at the club, right before the gig, but she knew that the dressing rooms sucked in that particular club. Bianca quickly grabbed her shoulder to prevent Adore from leaving.

"Let me do it for you." Adore shook her head.

"Seriously B, you've done more than enough for me already. You're supposed to relax today." Bianca merely sighed.

"Show me your hands then." Confused, the younger queen stretched out her arms a bit, to take a look at her hands. They were trembling, and not in a normal way.

"Oh."

"Exactly. I'm doing your makeup, and that's the end of it. Unless you actually want to be a responsible adult and cancel."

Adore shook her head again. Bianca sighed, and got up to get everything she needed. Adore waited patiently, while getting mildly amused by the cursing about her stuff being messy and all over the place. Bianca came back, not even bothering to say anything. She just gave Adore her 'Really queen?' stare. At this point, she had already accepted that this was just the way the younger queen was, and nothing could change that. And, honestly, given Adore's style of drag, being organized and clean would just be plain weird.

“Wait, are those my brushes? Why are they clean?”

“Well someone just had to clean them bitch, they were literal health hazards. I don’t even know how you can even still use them.”

Adore simply shrugged. What even is the point of cleaning brushes if you’re going to use them over and over again?

"Okay, close your eyes." Adore was confused. Why in the hell would Bianca want to start with the eyes? She complied though, not questioning it. Somehow she felt like her energy had drained all at once. Bianca witnessed the sudden change immediately; it did absolutely nothing to calm her nerves. To not raise any more suspicion of Adore, she half-heartedly applied some eye primer , well knowing that Adore usually didn't even bother to use it. "Okay, now open your mouth." At this point Adore was concerned. What the hell was Bianca on and what was she doing to her face?

She opened her mouth to ask the older queen what was going on, but before she could even say anything, a cold, metal-like tasting object had been pushed in her mouth.

Damn. That had been one fast move of the older queen. Bianca gave Adore one stern look that basically told her to better keep her mouth closed, or the consequences wouldn't be pretty. Adore pouted, but kept the thermometer under her tongue. Bianca’s look softened once the thermometer beeped. The somewhat relaxed face was quickly replaced with another concerned frown, the older queen was seemingly dissatisfied with the numbers on the small device.

“Do you like, always travel with medical equipment?” A sigh followed.

“Don’t even try to change the subject now, because this is not looking good. See, your temperature’s 101. I'll get you something for it." Adore shook her head with a slight frown.

"I can't. You know how tired I get after taking that stuff. Besides I'm feeling alright, no need to worry." She smiled sweetly.

Yeah, right. Last time Adore had told Bianca not to worry, Bianca found her passed out and bleeding on the street after leaving a club with a guy the older queen had warned Adore about. Ever since then, Bianca had promised herself she wouldn't let anything like that ever happen again, even if that meant a pouting queen for a while. So needless to say, Bianca was just not convinced it would be any good for Adore to perform sick without any energy due to the lack of proper nutrition and possibly drunk on top of everything. But then again, the younger queen was an adult and could make her own (terrible) decisions.

"I'll come with you.”

"B, you really don't know what relaxing means, do you?"

"Oh yeah, 'cause knowing you'll probably collapse on stage is very relaxing, isn't it?" Bianca proceeded to roll her eyes.

"C'mon, it's just a small gig, I'll be fine."

To at least kind of calm the older queen, Adore quickly added "If you still want to talk about the..uhm..dress thing, we'll do it after the show. Promise, just please, take care of yourself for once." Cue puppy eyes, that unfortunately never really worked on the older queen. Bianca raised an eyebrow at that.

"You're telling me to take care of myself? This is simply ridiculous. And I, in fact, insist that we're going to talk about the ‘dress’ thing. So, let's just get you ready, all right?"

Making jokes seemed wrong right now, her ‘rolodex of hate’ stayed completely silent, so changing the topic would have to do the job of lighting up the mood. "What did you have in mind for today?" Adore kind of tilted her head sideways, trying really hard to remember what she had originally wanted to do. Her face was burning up and her head was a fuzzy mess.

"Uhm how about a kind of mermaid inspired design? I mean not that I would need makeup to look like that, so it's really just working with what I already got." She grinned slightly, which was nice to see. Maybe she would survive the gig after all. Bianca smiled, nodded and then went all professional.

She wanted Adore's makeup to be perfect, which, given her experience and Adore’s flawless face, wouldn’t be that hard. She was so skilled and experienced she could actually let her thoughts drift off while still doing a perfect job.

Bianca thought about Adore and her obvious problem. Of course, she already expected her to say the most obvious, but maybe, just maybe, it wasn't anything that bad. Although Adore saying she needed time before talking about it didn’t sound like it was just a small thing, hope dies last.

Once she was done with the makeup, she convinced Adore to go to the club with her, saying she needed a couple of drinks, but in reality she didn't feel good about letting Adore leave alone. Not even the amount of makeup could hide that something wasn't exactly right.

Since the younger queen could basically hear Bianca overthinking everything, she quickly got up to leave the hotel room. It didn't exactly work out as some black spots clouded her vision, and she could only prevent herself from collapsing with all of her strength while holding onto whatever furniture was next to her. Thankfully the sensation only lasted a couple of seconds, and she was able to reach the door without any further issues. She was excited for the show, the adrenaline was already kicking in, preventing her from feeling any worse. She was about to turn the doorknob when she felt a hand on her wrist gently but firmly pulling her back.

"Bitch, you're going to wear a jacket. And no, not that leather thing, don’t look at me like that. Can't have you freeze to death on top of everything else."

"Ugh, fine, mom." Bianca just rolled her eyes, and handed Adore said jacket.

It really was a cold night, nicely paired with the kind of wind that managed to make everyone feel cold, no matter the clothes. It made both of them shiver. The atmosphere between Bianca and Adore was a bit tense, simply because Bianca was obviously worried, so Adore tried to lighten the mood a bit.

“Look, there’s a shooting star!”, she exclaimed while pointing at the sky. Shit, she really is delirious. “Adore, that’s not a shooting star, it’s a just an airplane.”

“I know. I was just joking..?” Bianca wasn’t convinced whatsoever. The rest of their walk to the club was mostly silent apart from the younger queen coughing a couple of times. Bianca wanted to drag her back to the hotel, but knew that Adore would rather collapse on stage than cancel, just like almost every serious, professional drag performer.

They arrived at the club at the time Adore was supposed to, as to avoid a crowd of drunk fans expecting to meet her before the show. Usually Adore liked meeting her fans, but not in her current state and definitely not in front of a club. The location offered no security whatsoever, and, unlike in a meet and greet, there would always be disappointed people who weren’t noticed, and hateful posts the day after. On top of that it was starting to rain, and the younger queen had to shield her face with her arms to protect her paint. While she usually didn’t care about her makeup getting smudged, Bianca’s gorgeous artwork could not be destroyed under any circumstances. So, needless to say, Adore was more than happy to not having to deal with people wanting to talk to her for an hour and take tons of selfies all while standing outside in the cold rain.

The club was in worse condition than expected. Some of the illuminated letters were only occasional lighting up, one didn't work at anymore.

"Party!" One of the staff members seemed to hear that and immediately recognized them. He made his way over to the two queens, politely thanking them for coming, and then quickly showing them the backstage entrance. Technically Bianca wasn't allowed in that area because she wasn't performing, but in reality she was Bianca del Rio and the staff member could probably tell that something was wrong. In order to let them get ready, he just asked them if they needed anything.

When Adore declined, he excused himself. One of the local queens (barely 21, smudged makeup and nervous as hell) presented Adore the list so she could in which order everyone would perform. Apparently no one wanted to do the opening, so she Adore put her name on it (which made Bianca roll her eyes once more. The younger queen would probably drain all of her remaining energy just for the opening speech.)She was assigned to do the second lip sync and was third for the life singing. Not bad. She thanked the queen, and then worked on a rough outline of what she wanted to say. A few moments after the local queen had left, a loud, excited squeal could be heard outside, which made Adore chuckle slightly. Afterwards she got back to her opening speech.

Adore had never been one to plan out everything perfect, as it was too stiff and polished in her opinion. The job was easy as well. Just get the crowd excited, which would be a piece of cake. After all, she just had to yell 'Pizza' and 'Party' to make her fans go wild. Or, not even that, all she had to do was going on stage. Or referring to something iconic said on Drag Race. It was one of the perks of being well known and of course loved in the scene.

A bit of time passed, and she still hadn’t received any kind of information when exactly she should be on stage, usually some staff member would knock on her door and let her know. So when she heard the know she assumed it was time, so she quickly checked her makeup, fixed her dress and opened the door. The local queen from earlier was standing there, still looking very nervous, but also somewhat scared.

“I'm really sorry”, she started, voice trembling, pulling on the sleeves on her dress nervously

“Apparently the club is having some technical difficulties that need to be fixed. It’s honestly like every damn time. Again I’m really sorry, someone will inform you when they’ve fixed everything. It usually doesn’t take that long.”

What kind of club even is this? Adore was getting slightly annoyed, but forced herself to smile. “Alright, thanks for telling me. Oh, and there’s no need to apologize. It’s not your fault.”

As soon as the girl had left again, Adore felt the need to cry. Why did she ever agree to do this? How long would this take? The built up adrenaline was leaving her body and she was getting so exhausted just by being awake.

Bianca seemed to be able to read her mind, because before she knew it the younger queen was laying on a couch, probably the most expensive thing in this entire sad excuse for a club, head resting it the older queen’s lap, who tried to comfort her by gently stroking her head without messing up the long red wig, and telling her over and over again that everything would be okay.

At this point Bianca couldn’t even tell if it was her who in fact needed to hear those things. That sight and knowing there was nothing she could really do right now to help the younger queen hurt her heart. Adore closed her eyes, clearly trying to get some energy back, which likely wouldn’t be very effective though. What she really needed were food, medicine and plenty of rest. And somebody to take care of her, because Adore was terrible at taking care of herself when she was sick.

Around twenty minutes later, someone knocked on the door again, waking up the younger queen, this time an actual staff member, telling Adore she was supposed to go on stage in five minutes, and giving her two ear pieces, like every normal club would. He immediately left after that, to give Adore time to get ready.

As soon as he had left, Bianca looked at the younger queen with a dead serious expression.

“I can’t believe you’re actually risking your health like that.”

“Don’t act like you haven’t done the exact same thing before.” Bianca couldn’t really argue with that, and just pulled Adore into a hug.

“Please don’t die up there, people are going to assume it was me.” Adore lightly chuckled.

“I won’t. I have to go now though.”

Squeezing the older queen tightly one last time, she put on her best confident face and walk, and headed to the stage. On the outside, she probably looked fine thanks to Bianca’s makeup skills, but her head was pounding, the ear pieces felt uncomfortable and the black dots clouding her vision just wouldn’t go away. On top of that she just seemed not to be able to stop shivering to the point where her legs were ready to give out one time. Thankfully she made it to the stage without fainting. The first part would be really easy: greeting the fans.

"Hi everyone, thanks for coming tonight! I'll keep this short so we can go straight into the good stuff." And done. As predicted, the crowd was already going crazy by just seeing her. The fans were in fact cheering so loudly she had to scream to be heard, even with the microphone, which, to be honest, kind of sucked quality wise.

"Are you ready? Let's get sickening! Party!" The last word had been a little too much for her already sore throat, and she really had to fight the urge to cough.

"Those are the amazing queens that will perform tonight." She listed everyone, trying to keep it both brief and entertaining.

Afterwards, she quickly (or as quickly as she could manage) left the stage to make room for the first queen. She also needed to prepare herself for the upcoming lip sync, as she would be the second one. The competition was designed to be pretty fair, so she would only know which song she would perform on stage. Only one minute left. Bianca for some reason was nowhere in sight, so she just quickly looked in the mirror, deciding she looked fucking cool, and then made her way back to the stage.

A staff member handed her a jar with contained folded pieces of paper. She had to pick one randomly, and the chosen paper would reveal what song she’d be performing. Everyone of the performing queens would have to do that as well. It was made like that so every contestant had fair chances of winning.

Adore opened the jar and tried to get out its contents in a somewhat sexual way, making the crowd scream once again. She opened the paper and read the word printed on it. 'Vibeology'. Creativity apparently wasn't their strongest suit, but on the bright side, she would really slay this lip sync. As soon as she started to relax a bit though, her body took that as a sign that it was okay to make her feel worse. The burning of her cheeks was almost unbearable, and the costume was too hot and she just wanted it off. Why did she ever agree to do this?

The crowd was kind of confused because Adore was just staring at the paper, not saying anything after acting so excited just minutes ago. The staff started playing the music anyway. Adore's ear pieces were adjusted way too loudly, it was almost hurting her ears, definitely not helping with her already present headache. Still, she forced a grin, and started dancing, acting as unique and playful as ever, doing the cross eye, jumping around, even doing a split.

The adrenaline was pumping through her entire body, giving her the strength she needed. This was why she loved performing. Feeling the energy of the crowd always gave her one of the best highs she had ever experienced. The feeling was just so incredible.

She was so into the performance, she didn't even notice that the light was suddenly acting weird. If Adore had noticed it, she could have prevented what was about to happen. (The entire electricity was connected somehow, even her ear pieces were connected with the light) When she was about to jump into another split, the light suddenly went out completely, she felt the right ear piece heating up, and before she could do anything, the worst sound and an excruciating pain erupted from her ear, sending literal waves of pain down her entire body. The sound was like a mix of fireworks and a siren, the pain too terrible to describe it in words. Tears shot in her eyes and a scream escaped her lips as she felt her body fall to the floor, unable to move on her own, except her body was shaking in shock and pain, or even try to hide her pain. She was almost thankful when she felt the darkness wrapping her head, taking away a bit of the pain. Her eyelids fluttered shut..

(P. O. V. Bianca at the start of the lip sync.)

Bianca was already worried, and the song hadn't even started. Adore wasn't reacting to the note at all. No funny comment or literally anything (not that Bianca could see her face, she was watching through a camera backstage which was positioned on the back of the stage). She was blankly staring into space. The older queen had to stop herself from dragging Adore off stage with all her strength. When the lip sync started though, Adore went into her usual energetic, quirky self, in fact, you could barely tell she wasn't 100% alright. It honestly made Bianca wonder whether Adore did this a lot, or if she was just a good actress.

Bianca was able to relax a tiny bit, seeing that Adore was doing somewhat okay, and she couldn't help but notice how pretty the younger queen was. The messy aesthetic just worked, and really added a lot to Adore's character. The only thing that really bothered her, was the fact that the dress still didn't fit her properly, even after trying to fix it in the rather short amount of time. This sight made her chest clench painfully once again. Of course, she would be able to fix it with some more time, but she’d obviously rather have Adore healthy again.

Suddenly the light started acting crazy, the spotlights going off at completely random times and places, which was definitely not what was supposed to happen. Adore didn't seem bothered by it though, in fact, it was almost like she didn't notice it at all.

The younger queen was even getting ready to jump into a split, just as the lights went out entirely. The entire room fell silent, then Bianca could see blue sparks coming from somewhere, very possibly but hopefully not Adore. What followed was the most painful scream she had ever heard (and she had heard a lot of screaming and yelling), and a thud. The thought of what could have possibly happened made her feel sick to her stomach.

At this point, the people were totally freaking out. Bianca practically ran on stage, indeed finding an unconscious Adore. Thankfully the curtain had fallen and shielded the horrific sight from the crowd. Bianca didn’t even want to think about what would have happened if it had hit Adore. She still freaked out, but tried to force herself to act as responsible as possible in order to help the younger queen.

Trying to not worry the crowd, the staff members announced via megaphone that everyone needed to leave for now because of some technical difficulties, everything they had heard were just sound effects, everyone was safe and they would get their money back, stuff like that.

It gave Bianca the opportunity to quietly half drag half carry Adore off the stage as fast as possible. Thankfully she had remembered how to get back to the dressing room before the whole thing had happened, because it was pretty impossible to see anything, the only source of light were some LED floor spots.

It was a miracle that no one of the fans had noticed anything, well except for the scream, but the crowd was probably as shocked as she was. This club honestly sucked. The staff members managed to escort the disturbed people out with little problem, and then proceeded to work on the broken electricity.

By the time Bianca and Adore had made it back to the dressing room, the light was thankfully working again, at least in that particular room, although it was still flickering, somehow making the mood of the room even more dramatic, and frankly, irritating.

Bianca laid Adore on the only small sofa in the room. She was still unconscious. The first thing Bianca did was taking off the ear piece. It thankfully still was one piece, but it looked like something in it had exploded and electrocuted Adore in the process. Bianca cringed at the sheer thought of how painful that must have been.

She gently started shaking the younger queen, trying to be completely and utterly careful. When that didn't work, she checked Adore's pulse. It was there, but weak. Not good at all. Her next attempt was putting cold water on the younger queen's face. This did the trick, Adore gasped and opened her eyes. Bianca had never been that thankful in her entire life.

Unsurprisingly though, Adore was still in a state of shock, and started crying uncontrollably, confused, not knowing where she was or what was happening, feeling absolutely terrified and hurting all over. Bianca kept her voice quiet and gentle.

"Is it okay if I hug you?" Adore managed to give her a small nod. Usually when she was sad or hurt, touch seemed to really help the younger queen, this was the reason why Bianca had asked her this question first. Well, not one hundred percent because of that. In her vulnerable state Adore just needed to be protected right now, the older queen could absolutely not let happen anything else to her, or she’d never forgive herself.

Bianca went on her knees and just held the younger queen, and telling her she was okay and everything would be alright, hoping to make her feel just a tiny bit better. Adore calmed down almost immediately, Bianca's presence never failed to make her feel safe. Especially her scent, and the way she held her were like magic to Adore. The crying calmed down to a manageable level rather quickly, possibly because Adore didn’t have any energy left anymore. Bianca slowly let go of her, because she really needed to check whether they needed to call an ambulance. Not wanting to break all of the contact though, she held Adore's hand instead.

"Okay baby, I need to ask you a couple of things", she said softly.

"Afterwards we'll go home immediately, and we'll cuddle for the whole night, I promise", she quickly added, seeing that Adore's eyes went all glossy again.

"Is that okay?" Adore weakly nodded again.

"Okay, thank you baby. Do you hear everything I say?" A nod.

"My ear hurts so bad though, and there’s like this.. ringing that won’t go away" , Adore admitted in the saddest, tiniest voice, wincing when another bolt of pain hit her.

Bianca gently wiped away the fresh tears with her thumb and placed a comforting kiss on Adore’s forehead. That sounded not too bad given the circumstances, Bianca would just bring Adore to a doctor tomorrow as she already knew how much Adore would hate going to a hospital, and she wasn't in any life threatening state, at least it didn’t currently seem like it.

Adore for some reason thought it would be a good idea to touch her ear, hissing when the pain was so intense it made her dizzy. Bianca quickly but gently pulled the younger’s hand away and told her not to do it again.

"I'm so sorry baby. I promise you'll feel better soon. Anything else you want to tell me?" Adore had started crying quietly again.

"I feel horrible B, please just get me out of here."

"Of course baby, can you-" Adore tried to push herself into a sitting position and failed. Her ear was ringing so painfully, causing her head spin and making her want to curl up and die. There was simply too much pain and not enough strength.

"Okay no, you obviously can't. That’s okay, I'm just going to carry you outside, then we can call a cab."

Adore wanted to protest, being absolutely sure that Bianca would collapse while trying to lift her. She knew how freaking heavy she was. Maybe if she tried again she could actually walk. She simply had to. Otherwise she'd crush the older queen with her weight. Damn, why couldn’t she just be skinny?

Bianca could practically hear Adore thinking, so she put on a jacket on the younger and gently picked up her bridal style. She was very surprised, in a bad way. Adore felt so light, delicate like a single touch could break her, and Bianca could feel the bones of her spine sticking out. They were absolutely going to talk about the sudden weight loss. And she needed to give Adore some medicine as soon as possible. She was practically burning up, wincing in pain and shivering like crazy, Bianca was reminded of those abandoned kittens in terrible states, sick and almost starved to death they would sometimes show in those animal shelter documentaries. The MEOW tattoo just added to that mental picture.

The older queen used an exclusive exit to make sure no fans would see them, which was like the worst thing that could probably happen. For what seemed to be the first time this night, they were in luck and everyone seemed to be gone at this point, making everything a whole lot easier. There was a somewhat fancy button directly next to the club that would automatically call a cab to their exact location. Perhaps the only good thing the club had to offer.

Trying to push it was a real challenge, considering that she was carrying an adult person at the same time, but there was absolutely no way she would put that precious queen on the cold, dirty and wet from the continuous rain, ground. With a bit of adjustment she managed to press it. Now all she had to do was comfort Adore and try to keep her warm, at least dry from the freezing rain, which wasn’t all that easy as it seemed to only get stronger as time went by. Eventually it was pouring icy water.

The shivering got worse by the second as well although Adore felt way too hot, her body radiating heat.

Being in the cold for too long while already being sick was also less than ideal. Adore let out a soft pained sound. She was still really overwhelmed, trying to process everything that had happened. Bianca just held her closer.

“Shh, I got you. Nothing is going to happen to you anymore baby, I promise.” The rain was really pouring now, the drops were huge and icy.

The cab thankfully arrived after only a couple of minutes of waiting, and the driver didn't even question anything, which Bianca was grateful for.

During the drive Adore and Bianca held hands, Bianca gently stroking Adore's, knowing she liked that. With her free hand, she gently moved the hair out of the younger queen's face to take another look at her. She seemed to look worse by the second, skin getting as white as snow, a bizarre contrast to her now completely smudged black eye makeup and her cheeks, which were almost glowing at this point.

The fact that Adore couldn't even hold up her head properly anymore was probably the most concerning thing. The older queen gently held Adore so she wouldn’t bang her head against the car window or something. Bianca swore to herself she would never let the younger queen perform ever again when she wasn't feeling 100%. Tonight had just proved how terrible and harmful Adore's choices were.

The cab arrived at the hotel. Bianca paid the driver, and tipped him before lifting Adore out of the car and carrying her inside the hotel. Thankfully it was so late that no one except the receptionist saw them, and she was clearly just not interested. She had probably seen worse. Thankfully their room wasn’t very far away, lowering the chances of any fans seeing them.

When they had arrived in front of their room, Bianca unlocked the door, which thankfully worked with sliding in a card. Once they were in, she placed Adore on the bed, gently, making sure the younger queen wasn't wearing shoes anymore.

Adore was still shaking, letting out a tiny pained noise once again. Bianca was pretty much helpless at this point, not being sure what she should do. Getting the medication meant leaving Adore, and that was the last thing she wanted to do, but on the other hand, the younger queen really needed it as soon as possible. She gently started petting Adore's head, hoping it would comfort her just a tiny bit before gently telling her "I'm just going to get you something, I'll be back in just a few seconds.”

The saddest eyes in history and a whispered "Please don't leave me" followed.

Bianca gently kissed Adore's overheated forehead and promised her once more she'd hurry up. Thankfully being as organized as she was, she had already put everything she needed in the bathroom and didn't have to search for it. Hopefully the stuff she had would be enough to help Adore.

When she went back, she was met with the heartbreaking sight of a quietly crying mermaid curled up into a tiny ball. Bianca took the thermometer again. Then she just let her instincts take over. She wrapped her arms around the shaking ball of sadness and gently told her everything would be better soon. It took a couple of minutes before Adore had been ready to fully uncurl again as she was partly doing it because of physical pain, and as soon as she did, the thermometer was placed into her mouth again.

"103.8. Shit. We gotta get this down immediately."

Bianca was about to hand Adore the appropriate pill, when she realized that would be a mistake in her current state.

"Oh fuck, I just remembered, that’s the kind you can't take on an empty stomach, and I don't have anything else right now. And there's no way I'm leaving you."

Adore was convinced that this day couldn't get any worse. She, in fact, did have a problem with eating that had been getting worse over the past couple of weeks, and she wasn't ready to give it up. Not when she was doing so good and her weight was finally going down.

Long story short, she could cry again. Except she didn't have any energy and her stomach was cramping, probably from long suppressed hunger. She didn't care though. It didn’t matter anyway. Although she wanted nothing more than feel better and sleep, her mind didn’t allow her to simply agree.

“I ate today..earlier.” Her voice was barely a whisper. So much for trying to put up a fight.

“Adore, we literally spent the whole day together, which you spent entirely sleeping, so I would know that. I might be old, but I’m not that old yet.” Bianca rolled her eyes to disguise her worry.

Adore felt her chest tightening, a wave of feverish panic hit her.

"I- I can't", she whispered. "Please don't make me."

Adore quietly winced as another bolt of pain shot through her body. She felt her face burning while every other part of her body was freezing. Her muscles shook from pure exhaustion. Bianca was getting even more worried and tense. If Adore's temperature would rise any more, she'd have to bring her to hospital. And maybe they'd keep her there..no, that would and could not happen. Not on her watch. Adore would hate that.

She gently took Adore's hand. "Look baby, I'm not going to make you, but you need to understand that if you’re neither going to eat nor take your medication, we'll have to go to the ER because that is literally life threatening and I can't see you suffer like this any longer. So please baby, just try to." Tears escaped Bianca's beautiful eyes despite desperately trying to fight them.

Adore felt so, so guilty. She didn't want to hurt Bianca, a person she loved dearly. She'd have to try to eat, for Bianca, even if it hurt. Adore nodded.

"Alright. I'll do it."

But then she just couldn't force herself to. In fact, she was getting so worked up, she started to panic. Her chest became tight and breathing properly was therefore nearly impossible. It was getting so hard her body went full on panic mode, and she started dry heaving. Bianca reacted very quickly, asking for permission to touch Adore in a calm, collected voice. The last thing the younger queen needed was seeing how much it actually affected Bianca. When she was given the permission, she proceeded to open Adore's dress. She couldn't really take it off because of Adore's current state, but what she definitely had to get off was the cincher. Constricting the younger queen's airways it in fact had to come off immediately.

She was really surprised though, when Adore made a protesting sound. Bianca decided Adore's well being was the first priority, so she took off the cincher, already sensing what could be the issue. She still wanted to make sure the younger queen was alright.

"What's wrong baby?" Adore's head felt really weird and she couldn't quite form a coherent sentence.

"..hog body.." Adore tensed up once more and almost started hyperventilating. Not good, it would raise her temperature even more.

"Fuck. Okay baby, deep breaths for me. Great job. Now hold it." Bianca counted to three. "Okay now exhale. Well done."

She did this with the younger queen for a couple of minutes until Adore was almost fully there again. Bianca decided it was time to fully de drag the younger queen.

She started by taking off the wig, carefully setting it aside and gently pulling off the fake lashes before grabbing her fancy makeup wipes. The makeup came off immediately. Adore didn't say a word during the procedure, she was probably too exhausted. Getting off the dress was awkward because Bianca didn't think Adore could stand up long enough. She somehow got it off though, and then proceeded to put an oversized shirt on the younger queen.

She didn't want to give her anything warm as Adore was burning up already. Bianca tried to figure out what to say next as she didn't want to freak out Adore once more.

"Baby I'm sorry, but you have to eat something now." Her words were firm but gentle and caring at the same time. Adore just nodded, no energy left to fight in her.

"Why do you care so much?"

"Because I love you, you stupid bitch."

"Love you too, but there's something else.”

"I'll tell you when you're eating, deal?"

Adore sighed softly. "Deal."

Bianca unwrapped a protein bar. She just hoped it would be enough so Adore could take her medicine. Also, she would not actually give the bar to Adore. People with eating disorders could be so damn sneaky. Or well, at least the younger queen had used some questionable methods to get out of eating.

Adore was too tired to sit up, so she just put her head in Bianca's lap and closed her eyes. She just wanted this day to be fucking over.

"Open up, baby." Adore very reluctantly did as she was told. In her exhausted state, she couldn’t even bring herself to explain that she was, in fact, capable of eating on her own.

A small piece of a protein bar was put into her mouth. She tried to focus on anything else but the fact that she was eating, her mind screaming vile, disgusting things at her. Swallowing hurt as well as her throat was completely raw at this point, dry and irritated, and that combined with her body having run on empty for a while now almost made her gag. Adore winced and Bianca gently shushed her and made her drink some water.

"Tell me the other reason now, please. I need distraction.”

Bianca nodded.

"Alright. I used to know a queen."

A faint smile tugged on her lips, remembering her fondly. Bianca used this opportunity to feed Adore some more of the bar.

"One of the kindest people on earth, honestly.

I'm talking like showing up hours before a gig, helping people drag and de drag, comforting others, giving them motivational speeches, you get the point.”

“Kind of like you.”

“Oh shut up.”

“Anyway, so, the weird thing was, her dresses never seemed to fit her for more than a couple of weeks, and she never went out to eat with us. It was seriously odd, but neither of us wanted to confront her about it. We were young and immature, so we probably thought her problem would go away if we didn't acknowledge it. Well it obviously didn't. One day she was acting strange, but she was such a brilliant liar, we all thought it wasn't anything serious."

Another piece was put into the younger queen's mouth. Bianca absentmindedly stroked Adore's head.

"And then the day after she just didn't show up to the gig. We of course canceled it as we knew something wasn't alright at all. When we got inside her apartment, we found her there laying on the ground, unconscious. Her body had been eating at her heart which..well..killed her.”

A single tear made it's way down Bianca's cheek. She quickly fed Adore the last piece. Adore wanted to day something, but decided it wasn't the right timing, plus she had to fight her emotions as well. The story really hit close to home, and had actually scared her. Could that possibly happen to her as well..?  

"And that day I promised myself I can't let that happen to anyone else I care about. Not like this, and especially you. I love you so, so much and I can't lose you baby."

Adore was touched by those words and bubbly hot tears were running down her cheeks. She tried to sit up to hug Bianca but she didn't have enough strength to do so and just collapsed back. Bianca frowned.

"Don't try to move on your own right now. Do you want to sit up?" Adore gave her a nod, and Bianca gently pulled the younger queen into a sitting position, putting some pillows behind her so Adore could lean against something. They shared a relatively short but comforting hug, which pretty much used the last bit of the younger queen’s energy, but it had absolutely been worth it.

"Okay, now you really need to take something." Adore simply opened her mouth and allowed the older queen to put the pills and some awful tasting liquid in her mouth, and help her drink some water.

Adore was terribly exhausted, in pain and on top of that she now had to fight the negative voices telling her how terrible she had been for eating. The older queen immediately saw the change in the younger’s eyes. They were sparkling with tears but the color of them was darker and somehow dull as if their usual light had left them.

Bianca cupped Adore's face in her hands, being very careful about not touching her injured ear.

"Adore look at me. I'm really proud of you. I love you. Don't listen to whatever your head is telling you because it's lying. I promise you're not alone in this, I'll do everything I can to help you. I just want you to be okay."

Although Adore could not really believe those words, they felt good. She smiled. It was a tiny, but genuine smile.

"Thank you B. For everything. I love you too. So much. Thank you for not giving up on me."

“I would never.”

Adore's head dropped after her statement, a clear signal of her body needing rest. Bianca helped Adore lay down, making sure she was as comfortable as possible before switching off the light and laying down next to the younger queen, so they were facing each other. Bianca wrapped her arms around Adore who was still shivering. Usually touch helped the younger queen because it made her feel safe and made her feel like she was loved. Which she was of course. But the entire day had taken such a toll on her body and mind that some in her decided that feeling was suddenly overrated.

She couldn't feel Bianca's touch. What was wrong with her? She let out a small panicked sound, completely overwhelmed with the entire situation. Bianca could feel Adore's heartbeat get faster. She had to calm her down in any way she could. The younger queen needed rest so badly. She quickly turned on the light again.

"What's wrong? Are you in pain?"

"I-I can't feel anything anymore. H-help me.”

Adore sounded broken. She started clawing at her arms, nails digging into her skin, leaving angry red marks, a desperate attempt to just feel something, anything.

To say that this freaked Bianca out was an understatement. She quickly tried to pull away Adore's hands to keep her from hurting herself. But, of course, luck didn’t seem to be on their side. The younger queen was in such a deep state of panic her muscles locked up, leaving her unable to move. This meant that she kept hurting her skin with her nails. At this point, even Bianca felt helpless, however, she was determined to help Adore, no matter what. Taking a few deep breaths, she calmed herself down enough to think somewhat rational.

Gently, she began to rub Adore’s hands, trying to get the muscles to relax again. While the younger queen could probably not feel this, maybe her body would still respond. After a while it seemed to have worked and the younger queen’s death grip loosened.

"Don't ever do that again, baby. You're too precious to hurt yourself. We'll figure it out, I promise, but self harm is never the solution.”

Bianca suddenly remembered that applying cold things, for example cool packs, were supposed to calm you down if you put them on the inside of your wrist. It would be worth a try. Or at the very least less damaging than straight up self harm. As a drag queen she always had some of them with her, because, let's face it, drag hurts. She explained her idea to Adore and then hurried up to get said items.

The ice and its freezing sensation seemed to help a bit. Adore still wasn't able to really feel anything, but that tiny glimpse she got from the ice was enough to calm her down. She didn't really understand why this was even happening to her and that was scary.

But at the same time, knowing she didn't have to deal with all of it alone was really comforting. Bianca would be there for her at all times, just as she would be there for the older queen. They were so different, but their relationship just worked. The love they had for each other was something both of them would cherish forever, no matter what hardships they would have to face.

With that thought she finally was able to fall asleep in Bianca's embrace, just knowing she was safe, loved, protected and everything would be okay.

[skvaderarts]

Chapter Nine: Tranquility

You can check out the Masterlist Here for more links to places to read!

Chapter Nine: Tranquility

Note: I had such a good laugh reading the comments for the last chapter! SkylarMorgan1899, HunterJamie, Mallovarwen, He Who Wanders, and Aureux all made wonderful points and observations, and I can’t wait until we reach the point in the story where we start to cover the topics you mentioned. Don’t worry everyone, it’s only going to get better from here! Thanks for checking out the story.

-~-

Vergil watched the van pull off and head down the street with a note of finality to his posture. Although they had succeeded in revitalizing V, there was still much to do, and the eldest Son of Sparda couldn’t help but feel uneasy. Though he would never show it outwardly, something about this situation did not sit well with him. Despite the fact that he had very little prior experience to go on, he was confident that he could trust Nero to keep a close eye on his eldest son. And yet, there was still apprehension. But was it directed at Nero or some unknown source of anxiety? His lack of control over the situation wasn’t something he was used to, but this was something distinctly different that added to his misgivings.

He couldn’t understand how he knew it, but something was going to happen soon.

And he had no idea what to do about it. That unnerved him more than anything.

Relinquishing control over a situation was not something that Vergil was accustomed to, and this was not the environment that he would prefer to learn in, but he had no choice. His son had made a valid point when he had pointed out that they could not bring V here in his current state. He was vulnerable, and being in a building that was practically a hub for supernatural entities wasn’t a very good idea. But to have them both so far from reach should his premonitions prove true? It wasn’t ideal in the slightest.

Dante flung open the front doors of the office and headed over to his desk. As he plopped down into his trusty chair, his older twin entered the building and closed the door behind himself. The Youngest Son of Sparda used his thumb to gesture towards the door that led to the back area of the office. 

“Pretty sure I forgot to mention that the bathroom is back there. It’s across from the spare room,” Dante paused at the statement, something evidently occurring to him. A slight smirk crossed his face for a second before he continued,” Well, it was the spare room. Guess it’s yours now. Mine’s upstairs. The kitchen is around where Nero went earlier.”

Dante tilted his head in the direction Nero had gone the day before and watched Vergil’s gaze cross silently between the door and the kitchen’s general area. He then nodded slightly and approached the backroom door. After pausing for a moment, he opened it and disappeared behind it without a word. The action wasn’t aggressive or born of malcontent, and as such there was no agitation or ill will behind it. Simply silence. The younger twin kicked his feet up onto the desk as he heard a second door open and close. He hadn’t done so very loudly. It was simply a case of unreasonably good hearing on Dante’s part.

After a few minutes of total silence apart from the negligible noise made by the ceiling fans, Dante began to doze off. Just as he was passing over the cusp of consciousness, it suddenly occurred to him that it had been entirely too quiet for far too long. He pulled his legs down from the desk and stood up, uneager to find out what his identical twin was up to. He approached the backroom door and opened it to find the adjacent bathroom door closed. Across from it was the door to the bedroom on this floor, and it was slightly cracked open. Unless Vergil had slipped out of the window at the end of the hallway (which was unlikely since there were blinds attached to it), Dante was willing to guess he had gone into the bedroom.

The Youngest Son of Sparda leaned forward and pushed on the door, not considering the fact that he should have probably knocked until the door was a third of the way open. When his brother didn’t throw Yamato through the door and impale him, Dante decided to test the waters and see just how far his luck would hold. He craned his neck over to one side and peeped into the room, curious to see what Vergil could be up to that had held his normally barely contained wrath at bay for this long.

For the most part, the space was furnished very basically. A standing wardrobe sat in one corner, and a matching bed with two accompanying bedside tables spanned the space in the middle of the grey painted room. Black linen covered the bed and the somewhat dusty blinds that covered the only window in the room were closed, lending the medium-sized space a rather dark atmosphere. As his eyes settled upon the relatively dark space, Dante stopped, surprised by the sight he found before him.

Laying in the middle of the bed was Vergil.

 And he was very clearly fast asleep.

It honestly hadn’t occurred to Dante before that his brother might be tired. After all, the two of them hadn’t lived together since they were children, and the eldest of Sparda’s two sons had never been one to let his mental or physical state of mind slip through the cracks. Vergil had been awake every moment since his restoration, and that had been quite a while now. At least the better part of four days. And unlike Dante, he had never sat down and allowed himself to rest. It was as if he avoided sleeping on purpose...

Dante shook his head and backed out of the room, deciding that returning to his office was probably the best course of action he could take at the moment. He could use a nap himself. He carefully eased the door closed and ventured back down the hallway, flopping back into his favorite chair. His legs returned to their natural state on his desk and he picked up a magazine to read. He had no doubt that he would be joining Vergil shortly.

-~-

Like most living beings, V had done his fair share of things that he had come to regret later on. Hindsight is twenty-twenty, after all, and that was simply how things were. But V was now absolutely cursing his brain for its lack of functional cognitive capacity at this particularly given interval.

Not very long after Nero and Kyrie had left the room, V had gotten dressed in the spare clothes that she had brought him and he had decided to get up and explore the house. This was a decision that was complicated slightly by the fact that his head felt like it was underwater, his eyes seemed to be photosensitive, and he had barely any feeling in his body at all as of present, especially his legs. He had taken a few blind, careful steps towards the door to his bedroom, only to find that he grew progressively weaker with every step he took at an alarming rate. It had presumably taken the very last of his startlingly low energy reserves for him to stand up straight against nothing and open the door towards himself to try and step out into the foyer, because the second he did so he felt unmistakably faint. And that had been the last coherent sensation he had experienced before he careened towards the floor.

With seemingly perfect timing, Nero had come past him and managed to grab him mere moments before he would have otherwise collapsed and more than likely bashed his head against the entryway pavers. The youngest descendant of Sparda braced him against himself to keep him from falling almost lifelessly onto the ground before trying to rouse him and making no progress. Nero shook his head and knelt down further so that he could get a better grip on V before carefully lifting him and throwing him over his shoulder. He then stood up with him and reopened the door to the guest room, entering with the intention of putting him back where he belonged. As soon as he was safely back in the bed, Nero left the room and headed for the phone that hung on the wall between the kitchen and the entryway. He removed the small semi-gloss piece of paper that Magnolia had given him from his pocket and examined it carefully, gleaning everything he could from it and storing it away in his mind for later. He then dialed the number on the note and waited. After two rings or, the line picked up.

“Hello! This is Magnolia’s Aromatics and Herbalists. You seem to be calling from my personal line instead of the store line, so I assume I gave you my card?”

Nero nodded to himself. Duly noted. He needed a second line like this. Having one number made his life a bit more difficult than it probably needed to be, and that was a sentiment that he knew Dante shared due to Patty’s insistent phone calls alone. He should bring that up to him at a later date. “Hey, it’s Nero. I just had a couple of questions about-”

“Oh! Hello dear! Wonderful to hear from you,” She interjected cheerfully, not quite letting him finish, but unaware of her mistake,” Is this about your brother, then?”

“Yea it is,” He confirmed, absent-mindedly glancing back at the bedroom door,” All the stuff you said he might go through happened, and then some. I’m pretty sure he fainted when he tried to get up and walk around. And his memory seems a little patchy in a couple of places. Is that normal?”

She paused for a moment as if taking in his words before answering again. “Yes, that does tend to happen. Anything he has forgotten should return gradually along with his powers and the like. What did he forget specifically? Did he say?”

Nero considered his next question carefully before turning his attention back to the phone. He probably needed to go and check on V again before he woke up and tried to come looking for them. That hadn’t gone very well the last time. “He forgot how he died and some of the stuff right before it, I think. Also, I don’t think he really has powers like that. He was using these demon summons things and he had, like, these magic tattoos or something. But I’ve never seen him use any other kind of powers. I don’t know, I could be wrong. I don’t know how most of this kinda shit works. I just kill demons.”

Magnolia stayed silent for a long moment as she took in what Nero had just told her. Nero stared at the phone quietly, becoming more uneasy as the time passed. After a full minute of silence, he started to wonder if they had become disconnected. “Hey, are you still there?

After a brief pause, she answered. “Oh! Sorry about that. You just took me off guard, is all. You said he possessed summons that were linked to him via tattoos and that you’ve never seen him exhibit any signs of possessing demonic powers?” She seemed taken aback by the statement as if it were totally unheard of.

Nero couldn’t help but notice her change in demeanor. Had he said something he shouldn’t have? “Yea, he had two or three of them… that not good?”

She took a moment to think about what to say on the other end of the line. Nero could practically feel her thinking of a nice way to say that yes, it absolutely probably was bad. “Well, it depends entirely upon the strength of the summoner, the power of the demons, and what they require in return for their assistance,” She said in an almost matter of fact way,” Most demons require the soul of their host to form a contract, but that clearly wasn’t the case in this instance.”

The young man with the short white hair clenched his brow slightly at the statement. How did she-

“If a soul is claimed by a demon, then it goes to that demon the instant that they die. My spell wouldn’t have worked Regardless,” She said, seemingly noting that she hadn’t elaborated on that facet of her analysis,” I’m actually quite impressed. If he did maintain three demons, then he is quite strong, powers or not. Although I will have to look into the status of his abilities. A descendant of the Dark Knight Sparda with no demonic power seems entirely impossible, especially if he’s your older brother. It’s extraordinarily uncommon. Perhaps his inborn gifts are simply… dormant.”

Nero nodded to himself. That made practical sense to him. But then how had V gotten demons that tough to safeguard him? In his experience, demons didn’t normally just go along with the requests of those they deemed weaker than them, especially those of mixed blood. They were much quicker to just try and bash your skull in. Another question for another time, then. That list was growing.

“Ok, well, I’m gonna go check on him. I’ll let you know if anything happens,” Nero said as he looked towards V’s door. He could have sworn he heard something…

“Good idea. Make sure he gets plenty of rest. Food and water would be a good idea as well, although I’m not optimistic about him being able to actually keep food down,” She said reassuringly,” Don’t worry yourself sick over him. I have a good feeling about him. We can speak on this again later on when he’s in better shape. Goodbye!”

Nero thanked her and excused himself before hanging up the phone. As soon as the phone was back on the receiver, Nero headed back over to the guest room door. As he inched the door open, he caught sight of V. The longer white-haired man was still partially lying in the bed, his head and upper torso against the wall. He was breathing slightly heavy and his hair was stuck to his face with sweat. Although he seemed to be awake, his eyes were closed and he was shivering slightly. It wasn’t very hard for Nero to make the educated guess that he was probably clammy and feeling very sick. After all, due to the thunderstorm that was rolling in from the mainland, the temperature on Fortuna island was actually quite frigid, all things considered. There was no reason that he should be sweating.

There was no need for further examination. He was just going to bring V something to drink and start there. Last he had checked, most people weren’t allergic to water, sick or not. Nero went into the kitchen and poured a glass of cold water out of the picture in the fridge. Dinner wouldn’t be ready for an hour or two and there was no leftover lasagna to offer him thanks to Dante and Vergil having been there to help eat it the night before, so Nero opted to just start with the water.

He opened the door slowly to find that not much had changed since he’d stepped away a moment ago. V had opened his eyes at the very least, so Nero was sure he was awake (unless he slept with his eyes open…) and he was shivering much less. Nero walked over to him and sat the glass down on the bedside table. He took a seat next to him on the side of the bed, taking a mental note of the fact that V seemed to be watching him without moving. Nero then gestured towards the glass of water.

“The woman that helped us bring you back says you should drink that and get some rest,” Nero said as he touched the back of his hand to V’s limp arm, the uninvited contact causing him to shiver,” I’m pretty sure you have a fever or something. You're kinda clammy…”

V shifted slightly and reached for the glass, giving Nero an almost appreciative glance. He carefully lifted the glass and took a sip before pausing for a moment. He then scarfed the cold liquid down quickly, clearly more thirsty than he had previously imagined. Nero watched and scoffed to himself. “Hey, um, are you trying to make yourself sicker than you already are?”

V placed the glass back onto the bedside table and allowed himself to sink into the wall. Exhaustion was clearly evident in his posture. After a moment, a look akin to nausea settled across his face and he closed his eyes in the hopes that this would somehow cause his discomfort to subside. After several moments of heavy, uncomfortably ragged breathing, he exhaled and slowly reopened his eyes. He met Nero’s gaze, the younger of the two clearly taken aback by his brother’s rapid and violent fluctuation in health. After a moment, V sighed and closed his eyes. He was now much more stable than he had been a few moments prior. 

“...I don’t think I have ever been that thirsty in my entire life.” He said in an almost astounded tone of voice.

Nero shook his head and shrugged, trying subconsciously to shake off his discomfort. Magnolia had told him that this would pass, so he was just going to have to go with that. “I can’t imagine you have. You just drank that glass of water in a couple seconds flat.”

V nodded quietly as though he were confirming something to himself. He slowly pushed off the wall he had been propped up against and came to a sitting position, not falling forward dizzily like he had the first time he had tried to do that. The familiar look of deep thought that Nero had become so accustomed to settled back into its proper place on V’s face as he seemed to ponder something quietly to himself. The cursory action of parting his lips had just begun when his gaze left Nero and traveled to something behind him. Nero glanced over his shoulder to find Carlo standing in the doorway, his small body partially obscured by the door. His little face bore the unmistakable look of a small child who had just been caught doing something he shouldn’t have been.

It took actual effort for Nero not to snicker at the startled look on his adopted child’s face. He could only imagine that Kyrie had told him not to come in here, but the adventurous child simply couldn’t help himself. He shifted uncomfortably back and forth for a moment, his eyes moving from Nero to V. A look of confusion and intrigue crossed his face as V craned his head to one side to get a better look at the small child. Nero called over to him and gestured for him to come into the room and he did so, using both of his hands to push the door closed behind himself.

Nero scooped the small child up and sat him between himself and V. The green-eyed man gave the curly-haired little boy a curious look before the child spoke loud and clear. “Hello! I’m Carlo. Do you live here now, too? Your new.”

V was genuinely amused by the forward way that the child had introduced himself to him, if you could call his question an introduction. He nodded very slowly, trying not to aggravate his barely contained nausea and vertigo. “I’m V. Wonderful to meet you, Carlo.” 

The tiny child smiled brightly as Nero sat him down and pointed him in the direction of the front door. He hurried off, running out of the door as fast as his tiny little legs would carry him saying something about Kyrie need his help with dinner as he went. Nero nodded to himself as he stood up and grabbed the cup off of the bedside table before heading to the door. As he opened it, he turned back to V, shooting him a playful but serious look. “I’ll bring you some more water after I check-in with Kyrie. You keep your skinny ass in the bed and go back to sleep. I don’t want to catch you falling half-dead into the front hall again.”

Before V could respond to that statement, he closed the door and left. He needed to find out what Kyrie needed. V then leaned back against the wall again and closed his eyes. He would rest a moment until Nero returned. -~-

Holy hell, I am so so sorry that this is as late as it is! I meant to have this up forever ago, but I was simply exhausted and didn’t get to it in time. I’m going to bed and I’ll be immediately working on the next chapter. Sorry if this one is 300 or so words shorter than my average chapters. I think quarantine is getting to me or something because I’m so sleepy most of the time now. Again, thank you for reading, and I can’t wait to see you in the next chapter on Friday. AND IT WILL BE ON TIME! Sorry for any errors. I was tired when I was editing this.

[the-working-class-guide-to-films]

The Irishman

There’s something quite magical about watching The Irishman. It features three of the very best actors cinema has to offer; Robert De Niro, Al Pacino and Joe Pesci. Plus, one of the finest directors of all time; Martin Scorsese. All four come together for the first time, quite incredible when they’ve been in the business since the early 70′s, to create this epic gangster tale.

Frank Sheehan (De Niro) plays Frank Sheeran, a truck driver. One day he meets Russell Bufalino (Pesci), a local mob boss. They become close and strike up a good friendship and Russell takes Frank under his wing, giving him odd jobs. As he progresses and earns trust amongst the mob he is instructed to look after Jimmy Hoffa (Pacino), head of the biggest trade union in America, and a close friend of the mob that Russell is a part off. 

Like I said at the start, it’s simply magical watching these guys on screen. Acting at it’s finest. These three men have given the world of cinema so of the most memorable and iconic characters to ever grace the screen. They are the true GOAT’s of cinema and I would not be surprised if all three, and the movie itself was up for big awards this season. Watching them on screen was a pure pleasure. It would be like watching Messi, Ronaldo and Mark Noble all play football together. Magic. It’s length of around 3 and a half hours may seem like an absolute chore but it doesn’t seem that long at all. Whilst it’s not a fast-paced movie, it’s not a bore, but it definitely has that old school classic 80′s gangster feel about it that I think is slightly lost in today’s world of explosions, special effects and technology.

Speaking of technology, I thought that the de-aging aspect of it looked quite good. At first I wasn’t sure, but I don’t know if that was just because Robert De Niro looked 30 when I know he’s double that. It worked though, and casting younger actors would’ve ruined the whole thing. The risk paid off. The best thing about The Irishman is all one in the same, it’s how stripped back and real it is. The setting, the props, the acting, the simple use of technology. God technically, it’s beautiful. 

I felt at times the story got a little complicated. As with a lot of these gangster films there’s a lot of names, a lot of little sub-plots to characters and what not. I’m sure that’s my bad memory more than anything else, but I did feel at times the story got a bit confusing. I know earlier I said that the length wasn’t a chore, but I did feel that some of that could have been cut, I don’t think it will attract movie-goers who aren’t fans of these guys works.

4/5

De Niro, Pacino, Pesci and Scorsese. That’s music to a cinema lover’s ears. Watching these guys together for the first time was fantastic. What a fabulous career they have had and if this is the last film they make, they’ve certainly gone out with a bang. Cheers lads. 

man I was so pumped chatting about just these three I forgot to mention just how star-studded it was. Harvey Keitel, Stephen Graham, Anna Paquin, Ray Romano and Bobby Cannavale!

[averageficenjoyer]

“Horizon”

Genre: Smut Pairing: I.M x female Reader Summary: “Never know, you should never know what did I done today and how was it, yeah I could imagine your complication when I spit confess about the daily shit, yeah Ain't got time to spend useless things just work it I got time for ya hug me and lay me down, baby, I'll wet that” Basically this is a scenario inspired by I.M’s new mixtape “Horizon”, highly recommended as BGM for this writing! Warning: um??? Long introduction I guess??? Lol + some swear words            When Changkyun came back from world tour, he missed so many things - his bed, korean food, his friends, his parents, but most importantly, he missed you. He missed you so much, texting and facetiming you pretty much everyday between concerts, naps and flights. You missed him probably even more, your nights cold and lonely without him by his side, your mornings and evenings empty without anyone to speak to. He knew you suffered a lot, so he decided to make it up to you. He made a “little” surprise for you and booked two weeks holiday abroad on a not so popular island to make sure you could have more privacy and just focus on each other.            It was perfect. Just you, your boyfriend Changkyun, golden beach full of fine soft sand and warm azure sea sparkling under enormous hot sun. No rushing, no worrying about paparazzis, no schedule – just being together and having peaceful, lazy and fun days and nights. It could sounnd boring for some people, but for you just being able to stroll around all day while holding hands, playing in water, sunbathing and enjoying each other's presence was priceless.- How did you even find this place? It's literally heaven - you asked one day, sitting together with him on a beach after a refreshing plunge in the sea, looking at the mesmerising sunshine, your head on his shoulder, your bodies still glistering with water droplets- Well, celebrities usually try to get out of the public during vacation, so they know some pretty much deserted locations to just unwind without worrying about paparazzi or intrusive fans, so I just asked here and there. You know, your man has connections – he said simply and winked at you, making you giggle. - Yeah, I know you know a lot of people, Mr. Worldwide – you joked, nudging him gently with your elbow. - Yeah, but they all are nothing compared to you – Changkyun said without hesitation and moved his head closer to yours.            You smiled slightly and and looked into his eyes. They were dark and sparkly, looking at you with so much love and adoration that words couldn't even describe. You were the luckiest person alive to have him as a boyfriend, he was more than you could ever ask for.            You both leaned for a kiss when Changkyun's phone started ringing. He grunted, slightly annoyed. - I'm sorry – he sighed and picked up the phone – Hallo? What happened, manager? - he looked at you apologetically and stood up to come back to a tiny house nearby he rented for both of you for the vacation.            You were left alone on a beach towel. You held its edge and started rumpling it, hoping the phone call from your man's company wouldn't come with any bad news, but when Changkyun didn't come back after a few awfully long minutes, you stood up and started walking on a seaboard, still keeping an eye on your lovely cottage in case Changkyun would go out to you. *Meanwhile*            Changkyun's grip on a phone got tighter and tighter with every manager's word.

- You MUST come back the day after tomorrow – he said seriously – We got an invitation from on of the biggest TV stations in the US, they want to make a few interviews with us. - They are just interviews, we probably won't even be able to meet with monbebe. We can do it as well through facetime – he said as calmly as he could. - But they want you to sing and dance on a few broadcasts as well. It'll help with getting more recognition to the whole group. - We've already have enough recognition, we sold out our tour a few months ago, remember? Maybe let's focus on existing fans by providing bigger venues or more stops? - he couldn't help sounding petty.- The more fans you have, the more successful you are. And I'm sure you want to be successful, don't you? Also you're not the only one, what about the rest of members? Will you let them go to the US on their own, without you? They can't even speak English- Then maybe invest into interpreter, it's not my job – he growled.- Changkyun! Don't fuss around, just come for a few days and after that everyone has a monthly break- What are you talking about? We were supposed to practice for the next comeback after those 2-week vacation, most of the album is already done – he spat out, his blood boiling with anger.- Oh whatever, you're coming with us and don't even try to argue with me, I'm booking a flight ticket for you.           The younger man took a deep breath, trying to keep himself together:- Everyone needs proper rest after such a long tour. I still have severe jet lag. I'm not going anywhere. Tell them I have family issues, I'm sick or whatever. And fucking do your job and hire an interpreter – his voice scary and even lower than usual. He hung up, not waiting fot the answer, turned off his phone and laid down on a couch in a living room.           He was upset. Furious. Hurt. He didn't ask for much, did he? He always gives his 200% for Monbebe and Monsta X, they kept going so hard with korean comeback, then japanese one and then a whole world tour on 5 continents. They wrapped it up well without anyone getting injuried. It's amazing, isn't it? Everyone worked so hard, not only him, but all MX and staff members, they deserved some rest. Were a few interviews with uninformed TV hosts and journalists worth their precious time, worth flying to the US again, getting even more severe jet lag and probably having a few embarrassing situations with interviewers mispronouncing their group names or not distinguishing one member from another?            But what about the members? They are surely tired as well. But they don't have lovers who were waiting for them for so long... But they have other people who they care about. Jooheon kept facetiming his kitties pretty much everyday, Minhyuk hept talking how he'd take his younger brother on a trip because they didn't have time to spend time together after Minhyuk's brother came back from army, Shownu missed his mum's cooking a lot... They'd understand... Wouldn't they? Was he being selfish? - Changkyunnie? - your soft voice snapped him back to the reality.           He sat up and looked at you. You were standing in a doorframe in nothing but your blue swimming suit, your hair still a bit wet and messy from the sea water, last rays of sunshine peeking through clouds on a sky behind you, your body surrounded with purple-and-pink gleam from the light outside. You were beautiful. No, not beautiful. Mesmerising. Ethereal. Dazzling. You were Changkyun's. You were his everything.            Your boyfriend stood up and slowly approached you, his eyes never leaving yours. - Changkyun? What happened? - you couldn't help but started worrying, seeing his serious expression and not hearing a word from him.            He didn't answer. He just stood in front of you, his hand reaching a strand of your wet hair and tugging it behind your ear. - Nothing. Just... you are so breath-taking – he dinally spoke, his soft voice and smile waking up butterflies in your stomach – Just... just let me hug you – he didn't wait for you answer and just embraced you, nuzzling his face into a crook of your neck. - Kyun... I see something is wrong. You can tell me everything - you wrapped you hands around his torso and stroked his back gently. - It doesn't matter right now, really. You matter – he murmured, kissing your collarbone gently.            You couldn't help but shiver. His lips always did magic to your body no matter if it was just an innocent peck or a hot long french kiss. Changkyun knew that too well, so he countinued peppering a trail of kisses up to your face, your skin smelling like sun and sea. When his mouth reached your jawline, he left a few kisses on it, reaching to your ear. - Just let me love you as much as I really do – he whispered, his low tone making the ends of your hair stand up.            The next thing you felt was his lips connecting with yours. You closed your eyes and melted in a kiss immediately, encircling his neck with your arms.           You stood like that for a while, your lips dancing together, tasting each other slowly. When you felt Changkyun's tongue in your mouth, his palms started playing with  the hem of your swimming suit's top. You murmured and opened your mouth wider to let him taste you better. He murmured and took a chance, deepening a kiss. He tried to dominate you, but you liked being a bit playful so you didn't give up that easily, sucking lightly on his lower lip and grabbing his arm to stand more stably. Yet you couldn't help but gasp when his fingers wandered on your clothed nipples and teased them, making them hard - Oh, are you cold? Should I make you warmer? - he chuckled, satisfied with your reaction, and took off your top - I think it'll just make me colder – you joked, trying to still look cool. - Be patient, babe – he parted your lips and picked you up bridal style, carrying you to your bedroom bathed in pink glow coming from the sunrise.           He laid you down on a bed, climbed on top of you and took one of your nipples in his mouth, his hand playing with your other breast, his eyes never leaving yours. You whimpered, arching your back to be even closer to his heavenly lips. Your breath became uneven, mixing with your soft moans you couldn't stop because of Changkyun's bulge rubbing your croth slowly. - Kyun... Please... - you bit your lip.- Please what? - he asked playfully, switching sides on your breasts. - Please... J-Just take me already... - you stuttered, a soft shade of red attacking your cheeks. - I thought I was supposed to make you hotter tho? - he raised his eyebrow, grinding on you with a bit more force. - I'm hot. I'm really hot... Just.. do it already – you whined, grinding back on him to get any bit of friction.- Calm down, you'll get what you want in a minute – he smiled, left a hickey between your breasts and started leaving wet kisses down your stomach till he reached your swimsuit bottom. He slid it down your legs in an agonazingly slow motion, but when he spreaded your legs and dived in between them, you squealed at the sudden sensation.- Looks like you're not only hot, but also wet, hm? - he smiled at you cockily and sucked on your clit, tasting all your juices.           You moaned loudly and tangled your fingers in his soft ash grey hair, messing them completely but both of you couldn't care less. You closed your ever, feeling every little move of Changkyun's skilled mouth on your clit even more intensily. One moment his tongue was gentle and soft, massaging softly every bit of your bundle of nerves just to suck harshly on your clit, his whole mouth tightly wrapped around it. - Changkyun... Stop... I'll cum... - you panted out because you didn't want to finish that early.- That's good, isn't it? - he purred, sliding two fingers into your wet entrance. - Kyun! - you whined, but your body reacted quicker and your hips just started grinding on his palm, his lips leaving hot moist french kisses on your button and before you realised, a wave of undescribable pleasure hit you strongly, making you scream and pull harshly your boyfriend's hair. Your grip loosened as you relaxed, your clit still sensitive while Changkyun was licking off all the juices left. When he finished, he took off his swim trunks, which was his only piece of clothing and climbed on top of you again. - I love the way you smell... the way you taste... the way I make you wet so easily... - he whispered, kissing your collarbones, his crotch rubbing gently on yours – And the way you make me wet – he purred, feeling you getting wet again on his member. He knew how to make you both shy and horny at the same time. You reciprocated his moves and took his face in your hands to kiss him passionately. He kissed you back, panting gently in your mouth as he was grinding a bit more intensily. - Please... I need you – you sighed, tangling your legs around his hips and pulling him closer. - Oh really? Where? - he mumbled, still trying to be a tease even though you could feel he was rock hard. - Here – you said, grabbing his penis and positioning him right in front of your entrance and you moved your hips, finally taking him in. - Fuck, baby... - he whimpered, sliding into you slowly – Yes baby... Take it... Go take it baby... You're taking me so well – he raised to a kneeling position to have a better view on your entrance. He slowly slid in till the very and and then slowly slid out almost completely, watching your pussy taking him all so smoothly almost hypnotised by the view. He slowly sped up the pace, switching his eyes to your face.           You were messy. Small droplets of sweat started forming on your forehead, your hair sticking to it. Your eyes half open, moans escaping your lips red from intense kissing and sucking. - You're... So... Beautiful... - he panted with every thrust, one stronger than another – So... Damn... Beautiful...           His praises made you even wetter and you just moved your hips more force just to reach the climax you both desperately were looking for. He looked so damn sexy with sweaty body in front of you, his slightly toned torso still glistering in last purple bits of the light of the day, his soft grunts matching your louder and louder whimpers as he kept thrusting his hips faster and faster, his grip strong but not harmful on your thighs. - Fuck, Changkyun! - you cried out when he hit your G spot.            He immediately spread your legs even wider to allow himself a better angle. - Come on, baby... Come for me... You're doing so well... Come on, beautiful, come for me – he growled, his one hand on your clit, his fingers massaging it quickly. - Fuck yes! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, Kyun! - you screamed, reaching your climax. You clenched around his member, giving him sudden orgasm a second later, his cum filling you and intensifying your sensation.           He slid out of you and collapsed next to you, panting heavily. You laid like that for a while, trying to draw breath and gain some strength back. - I love you – he murmured finally, kissing your shoulder gently. - I know... I love you too – you turned your head to look at him and you exchanged tired but honest smiles.          He wrapped his arm around your waist gently: - Do you know you're beautiful then? - he grinned, moving closer to you. - No, but I know you're cheesy – you chuckled. - Sometimes I am. But I really mean it. I really do – he took a few strands of hair out of your face and put his hand back on your waist.            You could feel blushing again. - I love you – you faced him and snuggled into his bare chest. - Thank you. I really do. I love you too – he kissed the top of your head and you both closed eyes, slowly falling asleep.

Since it’s my first smut here, I’d be happy to hear your feedback ^^ <3 Hope the scenario did its duty lol

[ladyherenya]

Books read in July

After I read How to Find Love in a Bookshop, I searched the library’s catalogue for other titles containing “bookshop” or “bookstore”. I was curled up in bed with a bad cold at the time, which meant I ended up choosing a bunch of books whose covers or synopses would have, on a different day, put me off. And that worked out rather well!

But afterwards I felt like I didn’t get the right balance between contemporary fiction and fantasy this month.

Favourite cover: Minor Mage by T. Kingfisher.

Still reading: The Hazel Wood by Melissa Albert.

Next up: Mort by Terry Pratchett. Maybe The Queens of Innis Lear by Tessa Gratton.

(Longer reviews and ratings are on LibraryThing. And also Dreamwidth.)

– (they’ve taken away page breaks) –

Things a Map Won’t Show You: stories from Australia & Beyond, edited by Susan La Marca and Pam Macintyre: I borrowed this because I recognised some of the names involved. I liked bits and pieces of it but nothing really stood out. Maybe Peta Freestone’s “Milford Sound”, for the setting. According to the introduction, the stories and poems were chosen “with the curriculum in mind and for their appeal to Year Seven and Eight readers”. That’s a valid reason but I suspect that approach is unlikely to result in a collection that would really appeal to me, not me now and not even when I was a young teenager.

A Thousand Sisters: The Heroic Airwomen of the Soviet Union in World War II by Elizabeth Wein: This is AMAZING. It is aimed at young people, and I wondered if I’d find the writing style too simplistic, but it was just remarkably accessible. I knew bits about Russia’s history but this gave me a much more comprehensive understanding of the culture and politics these women grew up with, and how Russia came to have three regiments of airwomen at a point in time when other countries wouldn’t let women fly into war. The rest of the book is just as fascinating and surprising. Wein knows how to tell a story.

How to Find Love in a Bookshop by Veronica Henry: This is about Emilia, who inherits her father’s bookshop in a picturesque Cotswold village, and the bookshop’s customers. It doesn’t shy away from Emilia’s grief but otherwise is very much a cosy, optimistic story in which friends are made, relationships are mended, mistakes are overcome and everything turns out all right. Which definitely has its appeal. I wanted just a few more sharp edges -- or else slightly more uncertainty -- so that everyone’s happy endings felt more realistic. (I keep brainstorming ways that could have been managed.) Although I didn’t love this book, there was a lot I liked about it. 

The Masquaraders by Georgette Heyer (narrated by Ruth Sillers): This is ridiculous but still quite entertaining. Either I missed something or Heyer doesn’t really do a great job of explaining why Prudence and her brother Robin need to be in disguise, nor why they’ve decided the best way to do this is by crossdressing. The key to enjoying this book was to just roll with it. Also Prue’s romantic interest is a type Heyer writes so well: perceptive, unflappable, competent, with a sense of humour and an appreciation for level-headedness in others. Sensible people pushed into madcap adventures is something Heyer has a flair for.

The Last Unicorn by Peter S. Beagle: It’s much more dreamlike than I was expecting, in a similar vein to Patricia A. McKillip’s fantasy. I was emotionally invested only in flickers and bursts, but I appreciated the way it plays with, and comments on, fairytales. Quests may not simply be abandoned; prophecies may not be left to rot like unpicked fruit; unicorns may go unrescued for a very long time, but not forever. The happy ending cannot come in the middle of the story.

The Bookstore by Deborah Meyler: Esme, a British scholarship student studying art history at Columbia, discovers she’s pregnant and gets a job at a quirky secondhand bookshop. I would have found some of her choices -- and the book itself -- terribly frustrating, except I really liked the bookshop and Esme’s narration. I liked her quotes and references and her enthusiasm and her observations, especially those about living in New York and about the shop -- this is a story with a vivid sense of place. Esme’s naivety and optimism is both understandable and believable, and I wanted to see her finally, properly, free of her awful boyfriend. 

The “Happy Ever After Bookshop” books by Annie Darling:

The Little Bookshop of Lonely Hearts: If I hadn’t already read the second book about the Happy Ever After bookshop and liked it a lot, I probably wouldn’t have bothered reading this. The romantic interest annoyed me -- he’s not a bad match for Posy, but I’d find him infuriating in person and I didn’t want to read about him. Fortunately the book is just from Posy’s POV. I enjoyed the Britishness, and the bits about running a bookshop. I particularly liked Posy’s relationship with her younger teenaged brother, whom she has responsibility for. And I was pleased the romance bookshop stocks appropriate YA and mystery titles.

True Love at the Lonely Hearts Bookshop: I was expecting it to turn into the sort of romance which annoys me. To my delight, it did not! Verity loves her noisy family, her nosy friends, her job in a bookshop and reading romances but she believes she isn’t suited to being in a romantic relationship. She reluctantly agrees to a fake-dating situation to avoid friends trying to set her up. I loved the way this story shows Verity being an introvert, and her obvious love for Pride and Prejudice. And this has all the things I like about fake-dating without too much cringe-worthy deception.

Crazy in Love at the Lonely Hearts Bookshop: I have less in common with Nina than I do with her colleagues: she’s into make-up, tattoos and Wuthering Heights. But it was interesting seeing why she’s embraced both Wuthering Heights and her own particular style so fiercely -- she’s finding her own path, one that differs from what her conservative working class family expected. Some of the resolutions came about a bit too easily. However, I liked getting a different perspective on the bookshop, I enjoyed bits of her romance with Noah, and I share some of Nina’s fascination with the Bronte sisters.

A Winter Kiss on Rochester Mews:  Mattie runs the tearooms attached to the Happy Ever After bookshop. She is delighted about living above the bookshop, but not so impressed about her new flatmate. I’m not a fan of the crazy commercialism of Christmas, but really enjoyed reading about it here -- probably because the story recognises that not everybody loves it. And, given the weather, I was in the mood for something wintry. Other things I liked: the vivid portrayal of the challenges of working “in a customer-facing environment over Christmas”; the details about Mattie’s baking; and the intelligent commentary about romance novels and romantic relationships.

Allegra in Three Parts by Suzanne Daniel: Eleven year old Allegra lives with one grandmother, next door to the other, while her father lives in above the garage. Allegra knows her grandmothers love her, but they are very different. “Sometimes I wish they could just love me less and take what's left over and put it into liking each other a little bit more.” The initial mystery and conflict were slightly stronger than the answers and aftermath. But it’s an interesting portrayal of growing up in Sydney in the 70s, the women’s liberation movement, and of a family dealing with grief. I read it in practically one sitting.

We Rule the Night by Claire Eliza Bartlett (narrated by Chloe  Cannon): Revna’s father is a traitor. Linné’s father is a general. Revna is discovered protecting herself with illegal magic during an air-raid. Linné is discovered after three years fighting at the front disguised as a boy. They’re both sent to a new women’s Night Raiders regiment, where, if they are to survive this war, they have to learn to fly together. This is tense and captivating -- and nuanced. Magic is wondrous but also confronting, the Union is unjust but contains things worth defending, loyalties are not always predictable, difficult people can become valued friends, and not everything is neatly resolved.

The Way Past Winter by Kiran Millwood Hargrave: In the fifth year of winter, Mila and her sisters wake to find their brother has left. Sanna believes Oskar left them willingly, like their father once did, but Mila is convinced that Oskar was taken by last night’s unsettling visitors -- and is determined to rescue him. I didn’t find this as emotional and compelling as Hargrave’s previous books. I don’t know if that’s because this is a simpler narrative or because I didn’t listen to the audio book -- a good narrator adds liveliness and emotion. But Hargrave’s prose is lovely and I liked the fairytale quality this story has.

Grace After Henry by Eithne Shortall: I really enjoyed Love in Row 27, so I borrowed Shortall’s other novel. After her boyfriend dies, Grace keeps seeing him everywhere. Then she meets a man who looks unnervingly like Henry -- a long-lost relative of Henry’s she did not know about. This story is funny and touching. I didn’t expect it to be so compelling, nor make me so invested in Grace’s relationship with Henry. There’s a strong sense of history and of place -- it was interesting to read about contemporary Dublin. There are unexpected and hopeful developments in Grace’s life. But mostly, it’s just very sad.

Famous in a Small Town by Emma Mills: Sophie loves her friends, her high school’s marching band and her small town. She has an idea for how the band could raise money -- enlisting the help of a famous country singer. I liked Sophie’s deep sense of belonging and how much she cares about things. She’s very kind in a way that is realistic and realistically complicated. Her friends are very supportive, but believably so. They all have flaws and make mistakes and have their secrets. I really enjoyed this story about friendship and summer (and it was a good choice after reading something sad).

Can’t Escape Love by Alyssa Cole: I’ve tried a couple of Cole’s novels and they didn’t appeal to me -- I wouldn’t have considered this novella if I hadn't seen a positive review. It’s fun and fandom-y and diverse. Reggie contacts an old internet acquaintance after she discovers his puzzle livestreams are no longer online. I liked how it’s very clear that Reggie’s disability has a significant impact on her daily life, but has nothing to do with her current problems. And, for Gus, being autistic isn’t ever an obstacle to a relationship with Reggie. I would have liked to read more but this still satisfying.

The Orphans of Raspay, a novella in the World of the Five Gods by Lois McMaster Bujold: Penric’s ship is captured by pirates and he is thrown in a hold with a couple of young girls from Raspay. As always, I enjoyed Pen’s interactions with Desdemona. I would have enjoyed the story even more had there been more significant character interactions -- the girls aren’t quite old enough to play a very active role in escape plans but are old enough that, in terms of emotional support, they’re not very demanding. I’d like to see Pen challenged more. But this is still a solid adventure. I’m very glad that Bujold hasn’t finished telling stories about Pen and Des.

Minor Mage by T. Kingfisher (Ursula Vernon): Oliver, a twelve year old minor mage with an armadillo familiar, is sent by his village on a perilous journey to the mountains to bring back rain. There’s some dispute over whether this is a children’s book -- Vernon thought it was, her editor was adamant it wasn’t. It feelslike a children’s book to me, even when Oliver has to deal with ghuls, bandits and murderers. (There have always been children’s books which have been too dark and scary for some kids.) The tone is dryly humorous, the armadillo is a delight and I never doubted that Oliver would succeed.

[yourdreamscenarios]

When your colleague stalks you I Part 1

Characters: Jungkook / OC Genre: Angst, trigger warning Word count: 3,206

“He’s staring at you again.” Amanda muttered inside of your ear and you tried to seem subtle as you looked up from your phone to see it with your own eyes. She was right, his eyes were pointing shamelessly as you, he didn’t even take the effort anymore to look away as you caught him. A shiver ran down your spine and you tried not to seem visibly uncomfortable as you turned your body slightly away from him. There were many people inside of the waiting room, all gathered together to watch each other’s performances and wait until it was your turn to go on stage. It had been a rough week and honestly you wanted nothing more than to sink your head down on top of the table un front of you and drift off to sleep, but that was impossible. 

You didn’t want to seem impolite or as if you didn’t have any interest in the other performances. Besides, it was too noise in here, you’d never be able to find some peace here. Hitting one knee over the other you leaned your chin inside of the palm of your hand as you went back to where you had left off, but somehow your mind went on wondering and you couldn’t concentrate. Now that you were aware of the eyes that were taking you in your need to fled out of the room became even stronger. Jason had become a trainee in your company a few months ago and you had all been very excited about a new artist joining your small agency. The six of you had tried to take him under your wings, even though he was only two years younger than you and perfectly capable of taking care of himself. 

Though, you had all noticed that he had tried to get closer to you over the past few weeks. Always asking you for advice about his new songs and his lyrics, naming you as his ideal type during variety shows. He liked every single one of your Twitter posts and reblogged many of them. He would brag about your singing against his friends and always made sure he was close to you. At first you’d thought it was kind of cute, he had been like a huge fan boy from up close. But as he continued intruding your privacy and kept on bothering you, it had grown extremely annoying. He’d asked you out before and you had tried not to hurt his feelings when you had turned him down. 

You thought he knew that you had a boyfriend, it seemed as if the whole world knew. Yet, he had still seemed shaken because you had told him no. Though that didn’t seem enough to make him realize that you weren’t interested and that you didn’t appreciate his intrusiveness. He seemed to be obsessed about you and you were slowly getting towards the phase that he was simply creeping you out. The moment started to come that you wished you had never been this friendly with him in the first place. Shaking your head you made sure that your hair fell in front of your face, creating a curtain between the two of you. Why couldn’t he just leave you alone? Didn’t he see how uncomfortable he made you? 

Your fans noticed that something up between the two of you and rumors were starting to form. Some thought that you were cheating on Jungkook with him, others thought you disliked him and you were being disrespectful towards your younger colleague. When in public you always tried to act as if everything was fine and you were just casual friends hanging out. But somehow you always found yourself trying to avoid him as much as you could, and that didn’t go unnoticed. It was all so complicate, and you always seemed to be the bad guy, while you didn’t do anything wrong. “Why are you hiding?” A familiar voice asked, his fingers moving your hair out of the way so he could look at your face. 

You turned to see your boyfriend sitting down on the chair beside you, a smile showing on his face. Immediately the uneasiness you had felt a few seconds ago disappeared and you straightened up in your seat. Once Jungkook was around everything seemed to be better. The other guys waved at you in greeting from a bit further away and you could only return the gesture. “It’s so good to see you.” You said, turning your body to meet his. Your legs bumped against each other and you wished that the two of you were alone right now. There were so many things you wanted to do but just sit here. By the look inside of his eyes you could tell that he was thinking the exact same thing. Sneakily his hand crossed the distance between the two of you on the wooden table and grabbed a hold of yours. 

Silently your fingers intertwined together and if there hadn’t been so many people around you would have thrown yourself on him, but you had to control yourself. “I wanted to ask if you would like to come over tonight?” He asked innocently his thumb drawing circles on top of your hand. You hummed and pretended to be thinking about his offer. But knowing that you didn’t have a schedule tonight your answer was obvious. “To do what?” You muttered, deciding to tease him. His dark eyes scanned over your face. Some idols who passed eyed the two of you from the side, but you didn’t give them any attention. They all knew that Jungkook was your boyfriend, there was no reason to hide it and be mysterious about any of this. Besides, you wanted others to know that this talented and handsome man belonged to you. 

“Play Overwatch, and some other stuff.” He tilted his head to the side as he said it, a mischievous glint inside of his eyes. They darted down when you bit your bottom lip playfully and he shoved towards the tip of his chair, getting closer. A giggle escaped from you and you reached out to him, brushing your hand through his bright pink hair. It still stunned you how hot he looked with it. When he had first come forward with the idea of wanting to try something completely different, like dying his hair a deep shade of red. You had been hesitant about it at first, but as he had switched through several hair colors during the past few months you had grown excited about the idea. He leaned into your touch, a content sigh escaping from his lips. 

A loud clang echoed against the wall, coming from the other side of the room and you flinched, the sudden noise startling you. Your hand fell from Jungkook’s head as you saw Jason cluttering around at the further end of the space. Apparently he had dropped something and he had smothered it all over the floor. Immediately you tensed, knowing he was doing this on purpose. Each time you and Jungkook would get too close to each other while he was around he would find a way to disturb the two of you. He knew the moments you had with your boyfriend were valuable to you and that they were rare. He on the other hand didn’t seem to mind finding ways to ruin your time together in order to create a distance between the two of you. Jungkook’s look darkened as soon as it landed on the younger boy. 

He knew what was going on, you had mentioned it to him before. At first he had been jealous because of the thought that someone else liked you too, being a possible threat. But by now he knew that your feelings weren’t mutual so now he was just pissed because the boy wouldn’t leave you alone and made you feel uncomfortable. “If you want me to go talk to him you just have to tell me.” He’d told you once when he had barged into your practice room to see Jason waggling behind you. And even though you appreciated it that he wanted to do this for you, you also knew how he could be sometimes. You didn’t want him to stir anything and make things even worse. This time Jungkook looked at if he were about to march up to the other guy and shake him, but he remained still next to you. 

“He never gives up does he?” He asked and you both watched Jason clean his mess, as he obviously avoided your boyfriend’s deathly glares. A deep sigh escaped from your lips before you popped out another smile. “It’s fine. He’ll figure it out eventually.” You assured him and pouted when his members called Jungkook over. You wished you could spend some more time with him, you didn’t want him to leave yet. But you would see him tonight, you held onto that thought. He wasn’t being very subtle when he leaned over to you and you could feel your heart beat fasten when he pressed his lips down on top of your cheek. Immediately a blush started to spread across your skin because of the sudden skinship. It was clear that he was trying to show anyone else that this was his territory and he was warning them to back off. 

The question was only if Jason would ever get that message. “Don’t let him get to you. I’ll see you in a bit.” Jungkook whispered inside of your ear before setting off towards his members, ignoring the way they were sending him those teasing glances and the way they began to play around with him. You smiled at his back as he walked towards the backstage, knowing it was his turn to perform. You settled back inside of your seat, crossed your arms in front of your chest and watched closely on the screen in the corner of the room. The moments you were able to see them live were your favorites. You loved their music, and you loved their chemistry on stage. They were always so good and powerful. 

Yet, the peaceful moment didn’t last long as you felt someone take your boyfriend’s previous spot. You didn’t even have to turn your head to know who it was. Deciding that ignoring him was the best thing you could do, since you had already tried everything else you kept on staring straight ahead of yourself, pretending as if you were studying Jungkook’s dance moves with all your might. The truth was that you couldn’t concentrate on the performance with him sitting beside you. Each and every muscle inside of your body told you to get up and get far away from him. You wanted to swing around and yell at him, scream that he had to leave you the hell alone. But you couldn’t. The only thing you could do was pretend as if nothing was wrong and you were doing absolutely fine, while you were shrinking on the inside. 

The performance was almost over when all of a sudden you could hear Amanda fussing about something. “I forgot my jacket in the dressing room.” She said grumpily, causing Elena to roll her eyes beside her. Amanda always tempted to forget everything. She once forgot her passport, but had only figured that out once the six of you had already left the country. it had been great, standing at the border and not being able to enter. Yet, this time her clumsiness seemed to be your savior and you stumbled up from your seat hastily. “I’ll go get it.” You said, already turning around and walking away before she was able to do anything more than give you a surprised look. The sounds muted around you as you let the door of the waiting room fall close behind your back. A relieved sigh tore through you as you walked a small end to lean against the wall. 

The thought that someone who hadn’t been in the industry a long as you was able to scare you out of there made you feel pathetic. You shouldn’t let it get to you, but you couldn’t help it. you didn’t want to be rude, but soon there would be no other way for you to solve this. “Why did you leave?” You shrieked when a figure doomed up in front of you and you pressed your heart against your chest at the sight of Jason. How had he been able to sneak up on you like that? Not wanting to let him see the influence he had on you, you straightened your back and stared back at him. You couldn’t let it seem as if you ere scared of him, he wasn’t allowed to think he had any sort of power over you. Jungkook’s words resounded inside of your head. You couldn’t let him get to you. 

“I’m getting something for a friend. Why are you here?” You asked, trying to sound uninterested and unmoved. Yet, his proximity made you feel extremely uneasy. He didn’t seem to get that as he took another step into your direction, king you press your back against the wall. “I was following you.” He muttered, causing your heart to jolt. Silently you looked from left to right, cursing inside of yourself when you saw that the two of you were the only ones around. There was always staff running around through these corridors, except for now, it seemed. “Yeah, so I’ve noticed.” He tugged up his eyebrows at your statement and the way his lips pulled up into a cocky smile didn’t please you at all. What was wrong with this guy? Was he this bad at understanding your body language? 

“I know you like it, don’t pretend like you don’t.” He was obviously trying to sound seductive, but it only caused you to cringe. You protectively extended your hands in front of yourself when he pressed himself up against you, his weight leading into yours. “What are you doing?!” You shrieked, trying to push him off of you, but the guy was like a block, he wouldn’t move. He might look young and small, but seemed that he was stronger than he looked. Not that that made this situation any better, instead it only caused you to panic even more. “Oh come on _______________. I’ve waited so long for this. Now you can forget all about your boyfriend and finally get what you want. I’m going to make you feel so good.” His hands began to ran down towards your middle and you swore you saw black spots appear in front of your eyes as you processed his words. 

They made you feel sick. This couldn’t be happening right now. Not while your members were just in the other room. “What is wrong with you?! Get off of me!” Your voice was loud and fierce, reverberating against the walls. Digging your nails into his skin you hoped it would cause him to back off, but it only seemed to encourage him further. He laughed darkly as his hands began to pull at the hem of your shirt and you hated it that tears had begun to collect inside of your eyes. The last thing you wanted was to show weakness in front of him. He didn’t deserve to see that. The smell of his cologne made you feel nauseas and realizing that he wasn’t planning to stop you used your last resort. You screamed. 

 This seemed to startle him and he was just about to hit his hand in front of your mouth as someone roughly tackled him towards the floor. Shocked you watched him fly away from you, only to see Namjoon and Yoongi fighting to control a fuming Jungkook inside of their hold. The youngest one was almost too much for them to handle in his current state as he fought to make his way over to Jason. “I will fucking kill you! How dare you touch her! You piece of…” Struggling inside of his friend’s hold he could only think of all the things he would do to the guy on the floor as he was unable to get to him. Jason stared up at Jungkook in awe, then stumbled up from the ground and bolted, running straight towards the exit. He didn’t look back and you didn’t want him to. 

To be honest you never wanted to see his face ever again. “I will sue you! You stupid asshole! You won’t live through this!” His hair was a mess, his face still sweaty from his performance, his mic still attached around his ears. As soon as Jason disappeared out of sight and the others were sure he wouldn’t go after him they let him go. Jungkook huffed as he pulled his clothing straight, clearly fighting to regain control of himself, but then his eyes met yours. His anger disappeared like melting snow, worry filling his expression as he noticed your disheveled state. The other members seemed just as concerned, but remained in the background as they let your boyfriend take care of you. Namjoon was busy making a phone call, already notifying the police about what had just happened. 

“God, are you okay? Did he hurt you?” Jungkook asked, not sure if he was allowed to get any closer to you or not. When you opened your mouth to say something to him only a very weird and small beep came over your lips, unable to form any words. Immediately two hands grabbed a hold of you and pulled you against a broad chest, engulfing you with warmth. For a second you totally stiffened underneath his touch, but when his fingers pressed into your back reassuringly and familiarly, you slumped against him. It was only then you realized exactly how scared you had been. Your legs started shaking as you wrapped your arms around him, holding onto him for dear life. Unwillingly your mind started to wander off to what could have happened if the guys hadn’t shown up in time. The images caused a sob to break free from your chest. 

“Sshh, don’t cry. You’re safe now. He’s never going to hurt you again.” Jungkook whispered, holding up your weight when he felt your muscles were about to give out. Inside he was still filled with murderous rage, but he was also happy that nothing seriously had happened, that you were inside of his arms right now. “It’s all going to be okay.” He mumbled, pressing a kiss down on top of your hair, planning on holding you for as long as you needed him to. Jimin showed up beside you and handed him his jacket so that he could put it around your shoulders, making you feel less naked in your shirt. Looking up at them you realized how lucky you were to have them by your side. You smiled and they all relaxed visibly, knowing that you weren’t planning on breaking down in front of them. Jungkook refused to let you go as he dragged you towards their dressing room with them. “Let’s go home.” 

Part 2

BTS Masterlist

[dr-m-r-ma]

Jealousy / Lies

Part 12/20

Genre: drama, angst, romance Rating: PG-13 Group: Monsta X

In the previous chapter: Jooheon and Yoonjin have deeper conversations and when Jooheon finds out Yoonjin’s birthday through Twitter, he video calls her to say happy birthday.

Disclaimer: This is 100% fictional and my own story. It is unrelated to the actual events and real persons of Monsta X and Starship. In regards to this particular fic, I’ve created new K-Pop groups (they don’t exist) so I don’t have to study up on other people and to avoid other complications. Parts will be written in Korean with English translations. I did not major/study in English/Korean, nor was I ever strong in English/Korean grammar, so there will be grammatical mistakes. This fanfic is written in third person and past-tense for ease of writing.

“근데 왜 갑자기 오빠님이야?” (Translation: “But why are you suddenly ‘Oppa-nim?’”) I.M. asked, while suspiciously glancing between Jooheon and Yoonjin. They had just finished their second to last practice session at Yoonjin’s training room.

Yoonjin and Jooheon looked at each other before turning away shyly. I.M. raised an eyebrow and continued staring at them until Jooheon coughed and replied, “ㅇ-어, 말 놓기로 했어. 윤진씨는 아직.. 못 놓고, 그냥 오빠님이라고 부를꺼레 -- 선배님 데신.” (Translation: “O-oh yeah. I decided to talk casually to her. She still.. can’t, but she’s going to call me Oppa-nim instead of Sunbaenim.”)

I.M. glanced at Yoonjin, who nodded but stared at the ground. Tilting his head, he questioned out loud, “흠… 언제부터 그렇게 정했을까…? 나만 쏙 빼고…” (Translation: “Hmm… wonder when you guys decided that…? Leaving me out…”)

Yoonjin yelped, “그-그럼! 아이엠 오빠님이라고--” (Translation: “T-then! I’ll call you I.M. Oppa-nim--”)

“우리 동갑이잖아요. 제가 빠른 96이라서.” (Translation: “We’re the same age though. Since I’m an early ‘96.”) I.M. flatly replied. Seeing Yoonjin’s flustered expression really made him want to play a prank on Jooheon instead, so he smiled widely at Yoonjin. “그럼.. 우리 그냥 친구할까? 동갑이고 하니까.” (Translation: “Then.. should we just be friends? Since we’re the same age.”)

Jooheon pursed his lips, which revealed his dimples, and shot a glare at I.M., who completely enjoyed the moment. ‘으이구… 질투하네..’ (Translation: ‘Uh… he’s jealous…’) Yoonjin, on the other hand, profusely refused and politely said, “그렇겐 안 되죠 -- 그래도 선배님이신데!” (Translation: “I couldn’t -- you’re still a senior!”)

I.M. put up his hand at the rejection and chuckled, “그래요 그럼, 편하신대로 해요. 어차피 우리 둘이 지금 말 놓았으면 형 엄청 삐졌을 거예요.” (Translation: “Okay then, let’s do what’s more comfortable for you. If we really did talk casually now then Jooheon[-hyung] would have sulked anyway.”) A hand swiped the air near him as he bent backwards to dodge it.

“야!!” (Translation: “Hey!!”) Jooheon yelled, trying to grab I.M. Yoonjin laughed at the two, and thankfully, it seemed like she didn’t completely understand what I.M. meant. Jooheon cleared his throat before changing the subject. “아, 요즘 새 곡 만드는 중인데 한번 들어볼래?” (Translation: “Oh, I’m making a new song these days, do you want to hear?”)

“네!” (Translation: “Yes!”)

“그래.” (Translation: “Sure.”)

Yoonjin and I.M. looked at each other, and understanding Yoonjin’s confusion, I.M. said, “저도 못 들어본거에요.” (Translation: “I also haven’t heard it before.”) He flashed a questionable smile to Jooheon, who simply rolled his eyes and played the song from his phone.

The three sat down in a small triangle near the door to listen. As the beats started off the song, I.M. set aside his jokes and nodded his head to the steady beat. Jooheon nervously looked at the two, as the song that was currently playing was a completely different style from the usual Monsta X. It was a smooth and quite soft R&B song, which was opposite of their usual rough strong image. When the melody came in, I.M. nodded in approval and mumbled, “좋은데?” (Translation: “It’s good”)

Jooheon glanced at Yoonjin and was surprised to see her also nodding to the music. Her eyes were slightly glazed over, showing deep concentration, as if she was bewitched by the tune. Her arms were crossed, with her fingertips on one hand tapping against the other arm, matching to the tempo. He began to wonder if this was a good sign and opened his mouth to ask her how it was. Before he could ask, however, Yoonjin began to hum and harmonize to the melody.

“흐으으음~ 오오오~ 예” (Translation: “Hmmm~ ohhh~ yeh”)

Jooheon glanced at I.M., who also snapped out of his thoughts to stare at Yoonjin, and mouthed to the younger boy, ‘녹음해줘 녹음.’ (Translation: ‘Record it for me.’) I.M. nodded as he quietly took out his phone and recorded Yoonjin’s voice. Her voice reached high with a light feathery head voice, and then it trickled down melodically against the tune, in the most perfect way. It wasn’t how Jooheon imagined it, since he tried to make music that would mainly fit with Kihyun’s voice, but it was perfect with Yoonjin’s voice instead.

As she continued to sing along to the melody, Jooheon became more and more interested in her voice. It was different from the way she sang her songs and it was even more different from the way she sang their joint performance song. Realizing that what he had heard so far was only the tip of the iceberg, he stared at Yoonjin with wide eyes. He was fascinated by the different styles she could easily experiment with and even more so that it came naturally to her. The endless possibilities of what they could do together sparked ideas in his mind, like a bundle of sparklers going off.

“와아아아아!! 노래 진짜 잘 하던데요!” (Translation: “Waaahhh!! You’re so good at singing!”) I.M. clapped when the song ended and Yoonjin snapped out of her stupor. Jooheon also snapped out of his own thoughts, realizing he had a big fat smile on his face while staring at her.

Yoonjin hid her face with her hands and said in a muffled voice, “아.. 죄송해요… 저도 모르게 그냥 나왔어요…” (Translation: “Ah… I’m sorry… it just came out…”) Then, clasping her hands together, she leaned towards Jooheon and excitedly said, “근데 노래 진짜 좋았어요!! 저도 이런 곡 불러보고 싶은데…” (Translation: “But the song was really good!! I also want to sing a song like this…”)

Briefly looking at I.M., Jooheon cracked a smile and said, “사실은… 윤진씨 목소리가 좋아서 벌써 녹음했는데…괜찮나? 먼저 물어보고 녹음해야되는데… 너무 집중하고 잘 불러서 물어볼 타이밍 놓쳤어.” (Translation: “Actually… we already recorded your voice because it was so good… is that okay? I should have asked before recording… but I missed my timing because you were so concentrated.”)

Yoonjin gasped, covering her mouth. “헐… 진짜요?” (Translation: “omg… really?”) She looked at I.M., who sheepishly showed her his phone that was still recording. As he pressed pause, Yoonjin laughed, “뭐… 저는 괜찮은데.. 원래 기현 선배님에게 맞춰야하는거 아니에요? 제 흥얼거리는 목소리와 기현 선배님 목소리가 많이 다를텐데요…” (Translation: “Well… I’m okay… but don’t you have to match to Kihyun[-sunbaenim’s] voice? My humming voice and Kihyun[-sunbaenim’s] voice is pretty different…”)

“바꿀거지?” (Translation: “You’re gonna change it, right?”) I.M. asked.

Jooheon nodded slowly, muttering to himself, “그럼… 내 솔로곡으로 발표하면… 윤진씨 목소리 넣을수 있네!” (Translation: “Then… I’ll release it as my solo track… then I can put in her voice!”) As if a great revelation hit him, he raised his hand to Yoonjin, asking for a high-five. Despite her confused look, she hesitantly high-fived him while looking back at I.M.

I.M. simply rolled his eyes and sighed. He whined, “안 바꿀 거야?” (Translation: “You’re not going to change it?”)

It didn’t matter to Jooheon what I.M. was saying, because all he thought of as he continued high-fiving Yoonjin, was the different ways he could experiment with rapping and singing against her voice. He beamed at her, showing her his faint toothy smile and his deep wells of dimples. He could see through her eyes how excited he looked, and it almost seemed refreshing to see that look on his face again.

---------------------------------------------✿✿X✿✿ ---------------------------------------------

SeulA peeped through windows, making sure the rest of her body was well hidden by the posters taped outside. Practice should have been well over, but none of them were leaving the room. Jooheon probably knew she was nearby and wanted to make it seem like he was paying more attention to Yoonjin. She knew it would be wiser to just ignore, but she couldn’t resist the urge to find out what they were doing in the practice room.

As her eyes searched for Jooheon, she couldn’t help but frown when she found him. ‘미친…’ (Translation: ‘Crazy…’) SeulA’s eyes settled on Jooheon who looked happily at Yoonjin. They were giving each other high-fives for some reason, but the way Jooheon looked at Yoonjin made her uneasy. It made her question if he was still trying to take revenge, if he knew what he looked like currently, and if he expected her to watch him. The way his eyes twinkled and the way his dimples sank into his cheeks in a slightly different way from normal -- it was all too familiar. It was the same smile he used to give her.

--------------------------------------------- ★★★★★ ---------------------------------------------

Jooheon rapidly added the samples of Yoonjin’s voice I.M. previously recorded into the program for his new song. As he replayed the song, he couldn’t help but get the feeling that the song would be an instant hit on the charts. Playing it back and recording the program play the song, he then posted it on the fan cafe as a short teaser for the fans.

“헐...기대된답” (Translation: “omg… looking forward to it”)

“노래 찌이인짜아 좋을거같아용” (Translation: “feel like this song will be reaaaally good”)

“띵곡 필이다♡” (Translation: “feels like a masterpiece♡”)

“이목소리… 윤진인가??” (Translation: “This voice… is Yoonjin’s??”)

‘짧게 들려 줬는데 벌써 반응이 좋네!’ (Translation: ‘I only posted a short teaser and the response is already good!’) Jooheon smiled, scrolling at the fans’ excitement in their comments. Hearing her voice intertwine with bits and pieces of his rap made Jooheon smile, already thinking of more ways to showcase her voice with his songs in the future.

*Bzzt*

He looked down to find messages flowing in from his group chat with the Monsta X members.

Happy to see his members’ mostly positive feedback, Jooheon responded:

[ 2 weeks later ]

Yoonjin stretched out her arms before bowing to I.M. and Jooheon. “오늘도 감사했습니다! 마지막으로 같이 연습하는거였는데 다음주가 벌써 기대되요.” (Translation: “Thank you for today as well! Even though today is the last day of practicing together, I’m already excited for next week!”)

Jooheon smiled and said, “오늘도 잘했어. 열심히 해줘서 고마워.” (Translation: “You did well today too. Thanks for working hard.”)

“수고했어요, 윤진씨. 전 다른 스케줄이 있어서 이만 가볼게요. 다음주에 봐요!” (Translation: “Good work, Yoonjin. I have something else on my schedule so I have to leave now. See you next week!”) I.M. hurriedly rushed out. Yoonjin bowed goodbye while Jooheon looked toward the door amused.

Jooheon turned to Yoonjin and asked, “오늘 고양이들도 왔는데 보고 갈레?” (Translation: “The cats are here today -- do you want to see them before you leave?”) Just as he asked, I.M. burst back into the room.

“옛다, 고양이들.” (Translation: “Here, the cats.”) I.M. said, as he unleashed the cats onto the ground, before leaving again. He yelled a quick bye to Jooheon, “이따 봐!” (Translation: “See you later!”) and he was gone for real this time. Jooheon rolled his eyes at that, but leaned down to call Yosi and Gucci. However, he was surprised to see Yosi and Gucci run towards Yoonjin, who giggled at them running towards her instead of their owner.

She plopped down with her legs stretched out, letting Yosi climb over her legs, and picked up Gucci to cradle the cat in her arms. Gucci purred in her arms, making Yoonjin gasp. She looked up at Jooheon, and whisper-yelled, “저를 되게 좋아하나봐요!!” (Translation: “She must really like me!!”)

Jooheon pouted, momentarily put out that the cats chose Yoonjin over him. They had only seen her once on his birthday, but he couldn’t believe the cats remembered her even after almost two months had passed. His eyes widened when Yosi mewled for attention, even rolling on her back and showing her stomach. He was left empty handed in the corner while Yoonjin had her hands full trying to cradle Gucci while petting Yosi.

He sighed loudly, hoping to get some attention from the cats. Instead of the cats, Yoonjin glanced at him apologetically, making Jooheon regret sighing at all. He smiled at her, hoping she wouldn’t get the wrong idea, but she crawled over to him, making the cats follow her right away. When she got close enough, Yosi pawed at Jooheon. He instantly lit up and lifted Yosi into his arms. “요시야, 너밖에 없다!” (Translation: “Yosi, you’re the best!”)

“큭.. 하핳하하핳ㅎ” (Translation: “Pfft.. hahahaha”) Yoonjin burst out laughing, and Jooheon immediately blushed.

Burying his face into Yosi’s furry back, Jooheon mumbled, “아… 창피해…” (Translation: “Ah… embarrassing…”) He looked down at Yoonjin, who was trying to keep herself from laughing too hard. Mesmerized by her carefree laughter and the hint of cuteness coming from Gucci, he couldn’t help but stare at her from behind Yosi.

*Bzzz* *Bzzz*

Yoonjin looked up at Jooheon, and Jooheon, also surprised, quickly took out his phone from his pocket. A text from his manager alerted him to drop the cat and walk towards the door. Before opening the door and leaving, he smiled at Yoonjin and said, “매니저형이 뭐좀 봐달라고 해서 갔다 올게 -- 금방 올거니까 여기 고양이들이랑 있어!” (Translation: “My manager asked me to check something so I’ll go and come back -- I’ll be right back so you can stay here with the cats!”) With that, he ran out the door, not hearing what she had to say, and sprinted towards his manager, hoping to return soon.

‘아이씨! 30분이나 지났네!’ (Translation: ‘Damn, 30 minutes passed!’) Jooheon ran back to the practice room, hoping Yoonjin was still there and didn’t just leave the cats in the room. He peeked through the window and frowned when he didn’t even see the cats. Looking around, he made sure it was the right practice room before slowly opening the door. He poked his head inside and searched the room to find Yoonjin slouched against the mirror with both cats curled up in her lap.

His eyes widened at the sight, and he couldn’t help but take out his phone to sneak a picture. Chuckling quietly as he snapped a couple of shots, Jooheon approached her slowly. Though he was as quiet as he could be, the cats stirred awake. As soon as they saw Jooheon, they meowed at his suspicious stance. He whispered, “쉬!” (Translation: “Shh!”) but of course the cats didn’t understand him and left their nest to attack him. While they playfully swiped their paws at him, Yoonjin shifted in her sleep, shivering.

‘추위 또 타네…’ (Translation: ‘She’s feeling cold again…’) Jooheon tiptoed to Yoonjin’s side and carefully sat down next to her, making sure she wouldn’t wake up. Instantly, Yoonjin shifted closer to Jooheon, leaning her head against his shoulder. In that moment, he froze, not knowing if she was awake or not. He whispered, “깼어?” (Translation: “Are you awake?”)

Silence. He turned his head slowly, almost like a mechanical robot, and peeked down at her face. ‘아직도 자고있네.…’ (Translation: ‘Still sleeping…’) Though he knew he had a warmer body than other people’s, it was amusing to see Yoonjin react unconsciously to his body heat.

*Meow*

Jooheon looked down to see Yosi meowing at him while Gucci curled back up in Yoonjin’s lap. He stretched out his legs, letting Yosi climb up to his stomach and lay down. As he pet Yosi to sleep, he glanced back at Yoonjin. His eyes swept across, from the crown of her head to her long eyelashes. Quietly, he observed her face, noting the slightly flushed cheeks, her small and cute button nose, and her coral colored lips. As Jooheon’s gaze lingered at her lips, he quickly shook his head, as if to shake all his thoughts away. Adjusting his eyes to Yoonjin’s soft hair flowing down on her face, his eyes reached her hand at her side, in between them.

Her palm was facing up, tempting him to grasp her hand. Noticing that she was sleeping pretty deeply, Jooheon let his fingertips hover over her palm. He tensed up when his fingertips faintly touched her hand, not knowing what to do with the fuzzy feeling that overcame him. As he was trying to figure out his emotions, Yoonjin murmured softly while snuggling to Jooheon’s arm. When she tucked her head closer into the nook of his shoulder, his whole body froze again, but this time it clicked in his mind.

Smiling warmly at her sleeping face, he slid his hand over Yoonjin’s hand and interlocked his fingers over hers. He watched as her eyes fluttered open, waiting for her response nervously.

------------------------------------------- ✿✿✿✿✿ -------------------------------------------

‘엥?’ (Translation: ‘Huh?’)

Yoonjin’s eyes fluttered open, eyes blurry from sleeping too deeply, and she struggled to adjust her eyes. She took a deep breath through her nose, inhaling a light but musky scent. Startled by the scent, she turned her head and only then did she realize her face was inches away from Jooheon’s face. Instantly, she froze, becoming rigid at the close distance. Her eyes searched for answers in Jooheon’s eyes, but all they held was a sweet gaze back into her eyes. She couldn’t take her eyes off of his, as if his gaze was physically holding her still, but a warm tingling sensation sparked in her hand. She glanced down to find Jooheon’s fingers interlocked with hers. Yoonjin looked back up, even more confused than before, and her heart beat wildly when Jooheon smiled shyly.

His soft smile melted away all her confusion, but the moment Jooheon leaned forward, her heart fluttered and her mind was thrown back into chaos. His breath feathered on her lip as he gripped her hand tighter, and when Yoonjin squeezed back, he finally pressed his lips onto hers.

Her eyes shut and she could feel the fireworks going off in her head, the small campfire lighting the night, the soft waves rippling through her body, the pleasant melody playing in her ears. Was this a green light? He must have known her feelings all along, right? Needless to say, the kiss was soft, and she was captivated by the way he rubbed his thumb over her hand as he gently pressed deeper. She could feel a fever rushing up to her cheeks, but when her eyes fluttered open for a second and she saw Jooheon’s tightly closed eyes and flushed cheeks, her heart felt full.

Without breaking contact, Yoonjin turned for a more comfortable position, when she realized Gucci had woken up from her movement. Suddenly, the embarrassment of being watched by a cat overcame her and she broke away from the moment, only to be even more embarrassed when Jooheon looked at her with wide confused eyes. Yoonjin mumbled softly, “고양이가… 보고있어서…” (Translation: “The cat was… watching, so…”)

As if Gucci understood, she scampered off, waking Yosi in the process. The two cats ran off to the other side of the room, leaving Jooheon and Yoonjin alone. Jooheon chuckled at the cats, then turned to look back at Yoonjin. As soon as his soft gaze landed on her eyes again, she held her breath. Her mind started shutting down when she watched his gaze lower onto her lips, and when he cupped her cheek with his other hand, her heart tightened with part nervousness and part excitement. As Jooheon gently pulled her closer, Yoonjin squeezed his hand again, just as his soft lips reached her lips. When she reached up and held onto the hand cradling her face, their lips slowly parted and in that moment, her closed eyes saw stars gleaming brightly like jewels in the sky.

*** TBC ***

A/n: I know this  is super late and overdue... so I hope the fluff makes up for it!! Savor these moments, because... the moment is coming soon :)