#LIMITATIONS OF HAPPINESS . I WAS SO HAPPY. THIS YEAR HAS BEEN UTTERLY MISERABLE FOR ME AND I HAVE NOT BEEN THIS DEPRESSED SINCE HIGH SCHOOL

[lipt-97]

came back just to post these. okay bye

[kdramabrainrotstation]

Vincenzo + Hancenzo + "Did you mean to forget me?"

Hanseo watches the exchange with a heaviness in his heart that he hasn't felt in a very long time. He knows exactly why that is, but he doesn't quite understand it all at the same time. He should be happy that everything worked out, shouldn't he? It's definitely good to be alive, and he is for the most part pain-free nowadays, but...well, it's more complicated than that.

In Vincenzo's defense, it has been a good couple of years since everything that happened the last time he was in Korea for more than a few moments. Hanseo knows from hearing Chayoung say it that he's visited, but on a very limited schedule. Which means that also in Vincenzo's defense, he's a criminal and has to stay under the radar.

It makes sense. Really, it does. But now that Vincenzo is here again and visiting with everyone, Hanseo just...doesn't see where he himself belongs. Vincenzo connects so fluidly and so naturally with everyone else that Hanseo feels as if he doesn't stand a chance.

No...it's more than that. Hanseo is trying desperately not to let it get to him, but it's not working. Over the course of Vincenzo's time away, the man has been on Hanseo's mind constantly. Vincenzo, at the time, had been the only thing Hanseo had left. He had been the last voice Hanseo had heard on the night he'd thought he was going to die.

It's not like Hanseo thought Vincenzo would come flying in and greeting him with big hugs and tears in his eyes or anything, either. It's more like...the man hasn't acknowledged him much at all. They've locked eyes, but Vincenzo has been too busy getting swept up by everyone staying at the Plaza.

Maybe he doesn't mean it like that. Hanseo knows he's not the only person who missed Vincenzo, so maybe it's more like he hasn't had the chance to talk to him. But they've passed enough drinks around that Hanseo thinks Vincenzo has completely and utterly forgotten he's here. He'd backed up to give Vincenzo his space, and he's been patiently waiting for him ever since.

But Vincenzo never comes. He and the others push all the tables in the restaurant together and sit down for a round of Mafia. Hanseo watches from a seat in the back as they continue drinking and carrying on, playing their game. His heart and stomach sink lower. He feels sick.

Even after having escaped his brother, Hanseo still doesn't feel free. He hasn't even after knowing Hanseok was dead. It's because loneliness has filtered in and consumed the empty spaces that were cleared up when fear disappeared. It doesn't feel any better. It feels miserable. Sometimes, Hanseo wonders if he'd be happier not being alive.

He gets up and walks toward the open doorway, turning once more to give the group one last glance. A sigh escapes him, and as he turns to leave, he thinks that maybe he sees Vincenzo's gaze turn up toward him.

Still, he goes. He starts down the hallway and tucks his hands into his pockets, his gaze heavy and sullen. He's so lost in thought that he doesn't hear his own footsteps echoing through the dark halls of the plaza.

But he does, however, hear someone else's footsteps. They're coming at him fast, in a dead sprint, and Hanseo can't even turn around in time to acknowledge them before the form of the person cuts past him and moves to stop directly in front of him. Just like that, Hanseo is staring straight into the eyes of none other than Vincenzo Cassano.

Who looks very, uncharacteristically, genuinely shocked. He's gaping at Hanseo, panting, scanning him up and down, as if he can't believe what he's seeing.

"...Jang Hanseo."

Hanseo frowns and the words slip out before he can try and control himself. "Did you mean to forget me?"

It's Vincenzo's turn to frown, before his head cocks to the side. "...I don't understand."

Hanseo thinks he should be furious at that statement. What's not to understand? Hanseo feels left out, and as he'd just voiced, forgotten. But at the same time, Vincenzo doesn't look like his confusion has anything to do with that or the question Hanseo just asked him. He keeps looking him up and down like something's wrong.

Hanseo relaxes a little there. He's more concerned about why Vincenzo can't stop staring now.

"...Hyung...?"

Vincenzo's gaze snaps up and locks with Hanseo's at that, and he seems to compose himself. For a split second, he almost looks like the hardcore mafioso Hanseo had grown to admire so deeply. But he still looks perplexed...and maybe even a bit fearful. It's Hanseo's turn to not understand.

"You..." Vincenzo reaches forward with one hand as he speaks, aiming straight for Hanseo's torso. Hanseo doubles back, shocked by the sudden gesture. Vincenzo freezes, attempts to maintain calm, and then approaches once more. "...there's no way."

Hanseo is more afraid of the look on Vincenzo's face than anything. He looks so unlike himself. Even more so than the man who had been partying with everyone in the restaurant. He looks almost frightened, and maybe Hanseo's eyes are playing tricks on him, but it looks as if there's moisture in Vincenzo's stare. He backs up more as Vincenzo reaches out again, and when he feels his back hit one of the walls alongside the hallway, he inhales sharply and looks down at the hand drawing closer.

And he and Vincenzo watch together in horror as Vincenzo's hand passes right through his middle and flattens against the wall behind him.

It's funny, how everything suddenly makes sense there. Hanseo has paid the plaza multiple visits ever since his brother's death. He's greeted them, tried to strike up conversation with them, even attempted to spend whole afternoons with them, and they've all just...acted as if he wasn't there. Hanseo had taken it as a form of punishment, honestly--felt as if they were ignoring him because of everything that happened. Hanseo, on their side or not, would have to do a lot to earn their trust. But now that he knows they probably couldn't see him...it hurts.

How in the hell does a dead person not even know they're dead?

"You don't understand," Vincenzo finally says, his voice a valiant effort at composed, but not quite there. "I watched you die."

Hanseo glances down, and he thinks for a second that he can almost see the blood welling up on his front again. He doesn't know why on earth Vincenzo can see him but nobody else can, but he knows in that very moment that he's never been forgotten. Vincenzo looks as close to devastated as Hanseo has ever seen him right now.

As Vincenzo speaks up once more, Hanseo breaks down and cries.

"I never forgot you. I just didn't expect to see you."

[fairycosmos]

your post reminded me of this conspiracy theory (again: CONSPIRACY so i feel it is my duty to express as an anon that i do NOT believe this, only that it is “entertaining” to read) that the world really did end in 2012 and we saw the decline of culture, music, etc. Like not everything “feels” the same as way back in 2012 and me too, honestly, felt like 2012 was a peak year in remembering everything cause i still do remember VIVIDLY myself in those years. that’s how the theory goes generally - that we were also left alone here in earth with a bubble so we’re all just slowly rotting and declining. also makes me think of you’re post that we’re in hell. if not, probably in limbo and purgatory…at least for the unfortunate and poor of us (me included rip)

the way i would not be at all surprised if it turned out to be true LOL like ofc it's conspiracy theory levels of thinking but listen. my reality has not been the same since 2012 and that's proof enough for me <3 for real though i know it's just the changing times/late stage capitalism advancing/growing up - but there's definitely been like, major cultural shifts every few years in the past decade and 2012 was a big one. and i know a lot of us were children in 2012, so it probably seems like more of a significant difference from our limited perspectives, but honestly -- there's just something in the air that died. for real. and it's not like i was even all that happy back then either. like i specifically remember sitting in class looking at the date ending in 2012 and feeling utterly miserable, but there was something intangible about the flavour of things, the general feeling of where we were headed. i'm pretty sure it's solely nostalgia, maybe combined with a little ignorance on my part, but living in 2022 feels like we're circling the drain in comparison.

it's interesting and sad LOL - i think to an extent we ARE just rotting and declining (and having meaningful experiences in that process, but i digress) and the 2012 thing is just a cool interpretation of that. also omg that post! u remember! that's ahhh sweet <3 when i'm doing badly, i often get the feeling that we're in hell, even though i know it's overdramatic thinking caused by mental illness, and wildly untrue. lately i've been reading up a lot about the vague idea of samsara and scaring myself into thinking we're energy for malicious fourth dimensional beings and that's why our atoms endlessly reincarnate and suffer, to be this endless source of satiation for "them" lol. so i guess that's more hellish thinking. very unfortunate and poor and limbo-like of us! my rational mind doesn'  believe it, and it's like u said about the 2012 idea - it's just more of a theory - but when i'm spiralling it gets me for real. i guess we don't really know either way and in the mean time there are tiny positives to enjoy on a daily basis even if the bigger picture is bleak, and bleaker than it was at the perceived end of the world in 2012 lol, but i suppose it is what it is

[imaginejamesandsirius]

Hey i love your stories! Can you please write a fanfic where after Lily rejects James yet again, Sirius starts to give James hints that he is into him. Also make Harry time travel to the past while all this is happening. And Harry witnesses a cute Prongsfoot or Jirius or Starbucks. And learns the truth about himself that us parents are James Potter and Sirius Black ?

((A/N: Trans Sirius-- with a brief mention of a trans pregnancy since most of this fic takes place in Hogwarts))

Sirius rubbed a hand in circles against James's back for comfort. Or at least, he hoped it was comforting him, but he wasn't sure if it was having the intended effect. "It's not that bad, mate," Sirius said.

"She looked at me like she wanted nothing more than for me to drop dead," James muttered.

Sirius swallowed and plucked up some courage-- he was always in short supply of it when it came to James. "That's what I mean. She's not interested. Maybe it's time for you to... try with someone else. Someone that already knows you and likes you for it."

"Mm. Yeah," James said, sounding resigned, "maybe." He looked over at Sirius with a small, sad smile. "What happened to 'don't worry about it, Prongs, she'll come around'?"

"You're miserable like this," Sirius said. "If chasing after her is going to make you this sad, I don't care if you end up happily married with five kids, ten years from now. I would rather you be happy now, and only get more happy in the next ten years, rather than be utterly miserable in the beginning."

James laughed, and his smile lost the sadness. "Thanks, Padfoot."

That was more progress than he'd had in the last year. He smiled back.

*

"You make it sound like there's someone just waiting to date me," James said. They were laid out on the Quidditch Pitch, looking up at the cloudy sky. They'd started by pointing out the clouds that they found shapes in, then they started making up elaborate lies for what they saw, then the conversation-- as it so often did when they were talking without direction-- turned to Lily. From there, James admitted that he thought Sirius was right about not trying to date her anymore, and Sirius told him that he would have better opportunities in the future.

"Maybe there is," Sirius said, feeling like his throat had something stuck in it. "Have you taken a look around lately? You're great, and I'm sure someone has noticed that-"

"Mister Potter!"

They both sat up. Professor McGonagall was striding towards them, so they scrambled to their feet. "We're allowed to be out here," James said, sounding both defensive and confused. They weren't going to get in trouble, were they? It wasn't after hours, and the Quidditch Pitch wasn't off limits.

"You need to come with me, immediately."

"I didn't do anything wrong for once," James said, sounding more confused than ever. Sirius felt much the same.

"You are not in trouble," she said, sounding frustrated. "There's a matter the Headmaster needs to see you about."

James started forward, and Sirius did too.

"Your presence is not required, Mister Black," she said.

Sirius stopped in his tracks, blinking at her. Where James went, he went. The professors hardly bothered to give them separate detentions anymore, since they knew there was no point in it. He shared a look with James, and they both shrugged. James left with Professor McGonagall, and Sirius sank back onto the pitch.

Well. Sod everything. He felt like he'd been about to make some progress. James barely thought about other people as a romantic option, and he certainly didn't think of Sirius that way. He'd been about to broach it as a possibility. A very minor possibility. Barely a nudge in the right direction.

He knew what would happen if he told James flat out that he was interested in him: panic and rejection. James would panic when he heard that Sirius fancied him because he hadn't expected it, and when James heard something he didn't expect of this magnitude, he'd run away. James only ran when it was family. His parents. Sirius. Nobody else. Sirius wasn't quite sure when he became part of 'family' and not simply 'best mate', and he didn't know if it excluded him from being a possible partner or not. Once James started thinking about other people, it would be easier to see if he stood half a chance.

*

Harry could never remember seeing his parents. He'd known them when he was a baby, obviously, but that had been it. The complete beginning and end of his time with them. He didn't have any memories. All he had were the photos that Hagrid had kindly given him, and the handful of stories that people had told him. The pictures were great. Harry could look through them a dozen times and not be bored. The stories were barely existent. They were tidbits more than anything else. 'Your father loved Quidditch' and 'your mother was clever'. They weren't full stories about a prank his father had done, or something his mother had done while she was Head Girl. No stories. Just personality traits. He wanted... more. More memories for his parents that were long gone.

He wanted to feel some sort of connection to them. He hadn't meant for that to be taken to an entirely new level, but he should hardly be surprised that his magic had led him to it. Led him directly to his parents at Hogwarts, while they were in sixth year.

"I didn't mean for this to happen," Harry said apologetically to Professor Dumbledore, but he couldn't take his eyes off his father. He was only a couple years younger here than he was in the most recent photos Harry had of him. It was strange to think that only a few years from now, the teenager in front of him would be a father. Harry tried to imagine himself doing that, and he couldn't.

"I'm your father?" James asked numbly.

"Yeah," Harry said, adding a nod unnecessarily.

"Who's your mother?"

"Lily Evans."

James's eyes went wide. "Evans? That's- that's not possible. She won't give me the time of day."

"I've been told that you start getting on in the next year or two."

"Told?" Professor McGonagall asked, and Harry hesitated.

"I'm not sure I should say," he hedged.

"Mister Potter," Professor Dumbledore said, and Harry looked over automatically, but the Headmaster was talking to his father. "Could you wait outside for a minute?"

For a second, it looked like he was going to refuse. A small part of Harry hoped that he would, that he'd demand to spend as much time with his future son as he could. But the moment passed and he gave a short nod before leaving the room.

*

"He's my kid from the future!" James hissed into the mirror.

Sirius's eyes went wide. He looked as shocked as James had felt. "What?"

"That's not all. He said that his mum is Evans!"

"What?"

"Apparently we start getting on in the next year or so. He didn't get to tell me more before they made leave the room, but can you imagine? Me and Evans? It was starting to feel like a fantasy, but- I guess we make it."

"Yeah."

He was so excited that he didn't notice how subdued Sirius was. "Merlin, Pads, it's incredible! I can't wait to get to know him. He'll love you. I bet you haven't changed a bit," he said, grinning.

"Ha, yeah, sounds like me."

James heard footsteps on the stairway. "Got to go."

"B-"

He tapped the mirror to end the connection before Sirius could finish getting the word out. He'd apologise for it later, if Sirius was feeling peeved. He shoved the mirror back in his robes. Some of the professors knew that they had them, but there was no reason to wave it around under their noses and risk it being confiscated.

*

By some stroke of fate, Harry got to be alone with Sirius. It made him feel more comfortable than anyone else. He didn't know why, because it's not like Sirius as a teenager was anything like Sirius as an adult. He didn't have the weight of Azkaban on him. He had none of the death, none of the experiences from war. Not to say that he was innocent and carefree here. His parents were utter rubbish, and he'd already run away to live with Harry's father and grandparents.

He was so different that at times, it seemed like he was a different person altogether, but his laugh was the same. When he laughed, Harry knew that he was the same person underneath it all.

It just... made him feel better to be around him.

"Missing home?" Sirius asked. They'd been told to stay inside. Naturally, Sirius had suggested they go out to the Great Lake. Harry had never done it before; it wasn't safe for him, not in his time with who he was. It was beautiful though, with the night sky clear and reflecting on the surface.

"No," Harry said. 

Sirius raised an eyebrow in doubt.

"Missing my friends."

"Ah. I can understand that." Sirius retrieved a pack of smokes from his pocket. He tapped one out into his hand and offered it to Harry.

He hesitated before accepting it. "I've never had one before," he admitted, figuring that it was obvious in the way he was holding it.

"Too afraid your parents will catch you?" Sirius asked with a grin, like the idea of Harry not wanting to get in trouble with his parents was very amusing to him.

"Not really. More like... who would have offered one to me? I'm barely passing my classes with how busy I am."

"Busy with what?" Sirius asked. He didn't think it was a question that was like walking into a minefield, but it was.

"Can't say," Harry said. "How do I light this?"

Sirius snorted, but not unkindly. He flicked out a finger, a flame dancing above his skin. It reminded Harry of when he'd met Remus on the train to Hogwarts in third year and he'd been holding fire above his palm as easy as anything. He lit the end of Harry's cigarette. "Don't try to take too much at once. Small puffs until you get used to it."

Harry smoked the whole thing, chatting back and forth with Sirius. Mostly it was Sirius laughing at him and Harry asking for advice on how to hold it and asking if it was supposed to taste this bad-- the answer was yes.

"So do we get on?" Sirius asked, after he'd vanished the butts and they were just sitting by the lakeside again with nothing to do. "In your time?"

"I'm not supposed to say," Harry said, clamming up.

"Oh, c'mon. It's not the end of the bloody universe if you tell me that I do alright as a godfather. You must like me at least a little bit, if you're spending time with me now. Or I guess you could be running away from your lovebird parents with the eyes they're making at each other," he added, sounding too bitter about it considering he was talking to their son. A son who, as far as he could tell, loved his parents very dearly, even if he wasn't allowed to give any sort of details or stories.

"Do you not like them together?" Harry asked.

"Hard to dislike something you've never seen," he grumbled. "You know who you remind me of?" he asked suddenly.

"My dad?" Harry replied wryly.

"I was going to say my younger brother, actually. Regulus."

"You have a brother? I mean, I knew that you did, but. Well, you've barely mentioned him before."

"Hm," Sirius said shortly. He'd kind of hoped that Regulus left their parents too. In the future, that is. Evidently, it was a hope that never panned out. "Well. That's who you remind me of," he said, throwing on a grin that he didn't feel but looked fine enough. "The hair might be Potter, but your face screams Black."

Harry laughed. "I've never heard that one before. I'll have to remember it when I get back. Ron will get a kick out of it."

"That your best mate?"

"Yeah. He's been with me through everything. Most everything," Harry amended, because there had been that spat during the beginning of the Triwizard Tournament.

"I take it that's an 'everything' I don't get to know about?"

"Yeah."

"I hope I handle it well while it's happening then. Since I know you come out of it alright," he said, nudging Harry with his elbow.

Harry grinned knowingly.

"Ugh, don't tell me I become a swot in my old age," Sirius groaned.

"Not at all. You're just protective."

"That makes sense. You're James's kid, after all. And you do have this air about you that says you need looking after."

"And so you offered me a smoke?"

"I've always been a rebel, even to my own instincts," Sirius said loftily.

Harry laughed again.

They quieted, and a chill wind stirred their hair.

"I've always wondered-" Harry started to say, then stopped himself.

"What?"

"I'm not supposed to ask questions that give you hints about my time. No matter how much I might want to know the answer," he tacked on with a mutter.

"Couldn't you ask me when you get back?"

"Like you'd tell me if I did. You're so evasive sometimes."

"I'm evasive, but what I'm more of right now is curious. Ask me what you wanted to know, and we'll keep it between us. I won't even tell James, and if you remember us from your time, I'm sure you realise what a unique offer this is."

Harry only gave a small smile. "You sure?"

"I don't know if you noticed that I didn't promise to answer," Sirius said with a smirk.

"Oh come on. I'm asking something I'm not supposed to ask, and you won't promise your favourite godson an answer?"

"I don't remember you being my favourite godson yet."

Harry put his hands together in a pleading fashion.

"Merlin, you look like Regulus. He used to use that face on me back before Hogwarts." And it had always worked. "Fine, what did you want to ask?"

"Do you fancy someone? As far as I know, you've never dated or- been interested in anyone."

Sirius clapped a hand on Harry's back. "Sorry to have to disappoint you, Prongslet." He got to his feet and stretched his arms over his head. Wow. As if it wasn't enough to know that he didn't end up with James, he had to learn that he never moved on. He stood on the sidelines and pined uselessly. Great. "I'm going back inside, and I get the feeling not to leave you alone."

Harry gave a faint smile. He knew that he'd overstepped, but there was no taking it back. Sirius didn't seem to be too upset with him, so he'd be grateful for that much at least. "Probably for the best."

*

"You feeling alright?" Sirius asked quietly. Everybody else was asleep. If they were smart, they would've casted a silencing spell around their curtains, but there was never any guarantee. Besides, Sirius didn't know if that etiquette was the same in Harry's time as it was here.

Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall had agreed to let Harry stay in their dormitory with them (if none of them minded, which, of course, they didn't). The house elves had brought up an extra bed for Harry to sleep in, so they didn't even have to come up with new sleeping arrangements.

"I thought you'd be over the moon that you and Evans end up together," he continued, when James didn't jump at the opportunity to tell him what was wrong.

"Yeah, I thought so too," James whispered back. "And I was at first."

"Then what's wrong?"

He reached up and ruffled his hair. He knew that Evans didn't like it when he did that, so he'd started stopping himself from doing it when they were out in the corridors or in class. "I'd been thinking about what you were saying. About moving on and dating someone else. Or at least looking at someone else. It had started to sound fun, y'know? Besides, she's a prefect and... tightlaced. I don't really know how much fun we'd have together." He breathed in, then out, sounding tired. Tired beyond the fact that it was late and in spite of there being no classes today, it had been a long day. "I guess it works out," he said, but he didn't sound convinced.

"It's just me here," Sirius reminded him, bumping their shoulders together.

"Lily's great, right? She's beautiful and smart, and she's definitely the catch of the school. I'd be totally lucky to date her. I was just really starting to believe that we weren't right for each other. I guess it's not sitting right because I was starting to accept that it was never going to happen. And- okay don't tell Harry this, but I don't think he looks that much like her."

Sirius nodded. "I was thinking the same thing."

"Right?" James said, invigorated by Sirius agreeing with him. "He looks like you!" He wasn't so excited that he didn't remember to keep his voice down, but the route he went made Sirius frown a little.

Yes, he'd thought that Harry looked a bit like Regulus, but he'd figured that was him projecting protective instincts and misplaced family feelings or whatever the fuck. "You think?"

"Are you kidding? You have the same smile."

"Oh well in that case, there's no one I'd rather raise a kid with," Sirius said, too honest but able to make it a joke with a smile and another nudge to James.

"Me either," James said, nudging him back with a grin.

Harry silently watched the exchange. He wanted to feel some sort of sadness or betrayal that James didn't want to be with his mother, but... well, he was starting to suspect that maybe Lily wasn't his mother. Lily hadn't looked very much in the photos like Aunt Petunia, but there had been a familial resemblance. He'd even been able to link it between Lily and Dudley, no matter how much he's sometimes wished he could unsee it.

He'd spent hours trying to find his own similarities to his family, and he'd never managed it. Not with Lily or the Dursley's, at least. Everyone said that he looked like James, and it was an easy connection to make. Mrs. Weasley had taken a picture of him with Sirius once, and every time he looked at it, he'd felt like he finally had someone he could call family. There were a lot of Black family members, weren't there? Maybe someone in his family tree was Harry's mother. It sounded ridiculous to say on its own, but it made more sense to him than Lily did right now.

He'd try to get some sleep tonight. He wasn't sure how well that would work, but in the morning, he'd see if he could learn more. He was supposed to go back to Professor Dumbledore's office in the morning to see if they could learn more about how to get him back to his own time. If anyone would know how to check who his real parents were, it would be the Headmaster.

His father and godfather had gone to bed a while ago, and there was only the sound of breathing to fill the otherwise silent room. He would've preferred if there was someone talking. Not necessarily Sirius, just somebody. He didn't usually have this problem. Ron had a tendency to talk in his sleep. They usually weren't fully formed words, just syllables that never went anywhere. He hadn't realised how much he'd gotten used to it in the Hogwarts dormitory until now, when it was gone.

He'd been pretty confident in his plan until then, feeling alone in the quiet of the room with people that barely knew him. Also that cigarette he'd smoked made him feel icky, and he didn't think it had gotten out of his system yet.

He wasn't sure there was anything to test. Everyone had believed him the second he said he was James Potter's son. When he'd said that his other parent was Lily, they had paused and looked closer at him before deciding to move on with their questions. He'd thought, originally, that it was because they couldn't believe James and Lily got together. Now he wasn't sure. In fact, he was sure that that had nothing to do with it. It's because he didn't look like her.

The only one that had accepted it straight away was James, and he'd changed his mind later, thinking that Harry didn't look that much like Lily. And with the way he'd been talking to Sirius, Harry wouldn't be surprised if Sirius was his other parent. Well, that's a lie. He'd be very surprised. Mostly because there wouldn't have been any reason for Sirius to keep it from him. Even if they'd had a good reason to tell the lie to begin with, there wouldn't have been any point by the time Sirius and Harry finally met.

None of this made any sense, and the people in this time couldn't even answer his questions; none of them knew why they would've lied, or the circumstances surrounding the things they could've possibly lied about.

He rolled onto his other side and sighed. Why couldn't his life ever be simple? He'd always thought that he knew his parents were, and he was pretty sure he'd been wrong about that. Did he have any proof? No, not yet, but he didn't really have proof that he was Lily's son, either. Everyone said it, but what did that mean in a world where he'd somehow been entered into the Triwizard Tournament under a fourth school that didn't exist, had magic that he hadn't known about for the first ten years of his life, and had time traveled decades, something he'd been told in no uncertain terms was impossible.

He woke up the next day, half expecting to find that he'd gone back to his own time without doing anything.

He sat up and looked around. Nope. Peter was doing his tie in the mirror, and Remus was walking around like a zombie. He glanced towards the other two beds and saw that their curtains were still drawn.

*

Harry went back to the future. He said gave goodbyes to everyone, but with Sirius, he hugged him tight like he never wanted to go. "I know it doesn't mean anything to you right now," he said quietly, as he was holding on, "but I love you. And I'm not mad." He'd given Sirius a squeeze before letting go, followed by a sad smile, and then he turned to go into the Headmaster's office.

Sirius didn't know how to feel about that as a goodbye. Sure, he didn't know Harry that well, so the preface of 'doesn't mean anything to you right now' made sense, but why had he been so sad about it? And for that matter, Sirius already knew that Harry was his godson. The love was pretty heavily implied. What did he mean about not being mad? What would he have been mad about? Maybe that's what he'd meant about Sirius not understanding right now. Of course, if that was true, then it didn't make sense why he'd said 'I love you' first. Maybe he'd done it because he felt it was more important than him not being mad. None of it made any sense to him.

He was sure he'd understand. It would only take ten years or so.

*

Well, it didn't take ten years, but Sirius finally figured it out. When he got pregnant. Pregnant and vulnerable, and in the middle of a war.

He was pregnant, and Lily looked him straight in the eye and said, "We'll tell everyone it's me."

"What?" he asked, numb and not wanting to jump to the wrong conclusion.

"You and James have been hiding your relationship because it's not safe. This won't be any better, and you'll need help. We can tell everyone that I'm the one who's pregnant, that way you're safe. When the war ends, we can be honest, but for now..."

This is why Harry had thought his other parent was Lily. They'd told everyone that she was. Something must have happened to make it where they couldn't tell the truth. Some part of the spell gone wrong or summat, and that was enough to make Sirius hesitate, but not enough to make him say anything other than, "If you're sure," because Harry did live long enough to be a teenager this way, and that wasn't guaranteed if he said no.

When he told James what Lily offered, all he did was hold Sirius and kiss his head. "If you're sure," he said, and Sirius laughed a little. He wasn't sure about this, but what other choice did they have? “Whatever you need to do to feel safe, we’ll do it. Anything for you, love, you know that.”

[seiya-starsniper]

and if I get burned, at least we were electrified - Chapter 3

Link on AO3 [here]

Chapter Summary: Time for a Dreamling reunion! And a guest appearance by Johanna, because I love her to pieces, and someone needs to keep Hob in check while The Corinthian is away.

The Corinthian has been gone for almost a year. 

Hob had taken a week off work after the blond had left to process. He hadn't been able to stay in his flat that whole week, opting instead to crash at Johanna’s. Everything in the flat reminded him of The Corinthian, who hadn't even bothered to pack a bag, just vanished into thin air. Johanna had forced him to start categorizing all her magical artifacts after two days, and Hob was all too happy to have something to take his mind off things.

Afterwards, between travel shutdowns, his university absolutely falling to madness trying to transition to online, and an uptick in supernatural activity (pandemics don’t stop supernatural beings, who knew) so vast that Johanna had asked for his help on a few jobs, Hob hadn’t been able to even go look for The Corinthian even though he had a very good idea of where he was. Or well, at least, what country he was in.

Hob had tried calling, texting, hell he even rang up the witch coven in Edmonton asking if they knew a summoning spell to get him to come back, all to no avail. Johanna didn’t know anything either. She had never even heard of a nightmare walking around the earth prior to The Corinthian. 

“You know mate,” Johanna says now, sympathetic, over their fourth round of drinks. She’d practically had to drag him out of the flat tonight. “I hate to say I told you so but…” she doesn’t finish her sentence. Hob knows what she means. Johanna had not reacted kindly to Hob moving The Corinthian into his flat. She’d cursed him and called him every name under the sun and had told him she wouldn’t come to an idiot’s funeral. She'd said the relationship wouldn't last a year before The Corinthian would get bored, gut him, and leave him.

She had come around, Hob remembered. Eventually. Reluctantly.

Two years after The Corinthian had moved into his flat, Hob and the blond had been tracking a suspected child serial killer. It hadn’t taken long for them to locate the killer’s hiding spot in an old crumbling castle, and on the night they moved to confront him, Hob had been surprised to run into Johanna right outside.

"What the hell, get the fuck off my turf mate," Johanna had said when she spotted them. 

The Corinthian growled in response, and Hob heard it come through all three mouths, which meant he really didn’t like her and that complicated matters.

“Johanna, lovely to see you as always, mind filling me in on why you're here?” Hob asked, trying to lighten the situation.

“Why are you here, I thought the bastard only ate human eyes-,”

“Oh, I like any and all types of eyes, in fact I'll bet the eyes of a Constantine would taste divine,” The Corinthian responded and Hob knew enough about the Corinthian to recognize he was trying discreetly to reach for the knife in his jacket. He stuck out his hand to stop him.

“Ok whoa whoa, Cory, first off, no, Johanna's off limits, not only is she not a criminal, she's also my friend ,” Hob said, gripping the Corinthian’s wrist to show he was serious.

“Your friend who taught you how to blow me up too, if I recall,” The Corinthian noted, a sour tone in his voice, but he didn’t struggle so Hob took that as a good sign.

“Yeah, pity none of it stuck.” Johanna retorted.

“I'll make your death stick you fucking-”

“All right, all right, you're both super scary, that's great,” Hob interrupted before they could get fully off topic with their juvenile antics. “Now, Johanna, there is a child in there that I have been asked to retrieve. His mum's worried sick and the Yard is just spinning their wheels. As much as I'm glad to see you, you being here worries me. Could you tell me why?”

Johanna had softened instantly, then looked utterly miserable at the news.

“The thing in there's an ogre. I'm sorry Hob, I don't think the kid's still alive,” she said sadly.

The reveal broke Hob's heart. Still, he didn't want to give up hope.

“Let us come in with you then," he'd said. Johanna gave them an offended look at the idea she might need help.

"I know, I know." Hob continued. "You're a big girl and you've been doing this for a while, but Cory and I aren't fragile, far from it, so there’s no need to worry about us, even if we do get hurt. Plus, I want to at least find something, if only to bring closure to his mum.” Hob pleaded. He really did not want to return to the woman empty-handed. Johanna looked like she wanted to argue, then decided against it and after a quick rundown, the three of them went inside together.

The resulting fight had been messy. Turns out, there was a whole family of ogres in the crumbling castle. Johanna had been able to take down two before the third had broken her right hand. Hob and The Corinthian had disemboweled it thoroughly in revenge.

In the end, Johanna was right, there was no living child in the castle that they could find, only scattered bones and discarded clothes. Hob would have to break the bad news to the distraught mother. He did manage to locate a jacket that matched the one of the photographs the woman had given him. Proof that her child had been here and gone. There was no need to look for anything else.

The Corinthian easily sensed the dour mood between Johanna and Hob, and had gone off to go eat the three pairs of ogre eyes in private once he’d separated them from their owners. 

He’d come back a short time later in a considerably brighter mood, which Hob found a bit inappropriate, but he reminded himself that The Corinthian was who he was, and he’d probably had a good meal, so at least there was that. They'd have a talk about proper human passing behavior later.

“I know where a whole lot of other ogres are!” The Corinthian bragged. "And a whole lot of children, who are very much, Not Dead. ” Hob could practically hear the capital letters in the blond’s voice, and he raised his head so fast he was pretty sure he gave himself whiplash. He swore he heard Johanna let out a surprised gasp.

Well. The Corinthian now had their full attention.

“Also, I forgot how delicious non-human eyes are, I’ve changed my mind, we should absolutely meet like this more often, Constantine, I would love to get some Fey eyes next time.” The Corinthian continued. “In fact-”

"Cory, where are the damn children?" Hob snarled. The Corinthian's returning feral grin meant he was playing coy on purpose.

"Oh, there’s a hidden dungeon right downstairs.” The blonde shrugged, as if the news didn’t change absolutely everything about the night. “About 30 or so of them. Apparently there’s going to be some sort of family reunion in the next couple of days, so all those kidnappings were prep work for the big feast!" The Corinthian spread his arms wide for emphasis. 

"But you know how ogres are, they like their food fresh so they’ve been trying to plump up the kids with all sorts of garbage to make ‘em taste sweeter." 

“So wait, what you’re saying is-” Hob’s hope is so fragile, but could it be? They didn’t know how many children had been taken, but thirty was quite a lot, so maybe-

"Well, there were definitely some children who were eaten the last few days, just as snacks, mostly homeless orphans, but the one we were looking for is right downstairs Hob!" The Corinthian then turned to Johanna and gave her a conspiratorial grin. "And the rest of the ogres have no idea their hosts are dead so…"

Johanna’s answering devilish grin once she realized the implications had fit right at home with The Corinthian’s. They looked like a pair of naughty children who'd just gotten away with stealing sweets under the adult's noses. Johanna would receive a massive payment for taking out an entire orge's nest and Hob would be able to reunite a single mother with her only child. 

"You've got a little something on your face, love," Hob said later, once they’d left the castle and arranged for the kids to be picked up. He leaned in to swipe the fluid from the blond's face but as soon as he began pulling his hand away, The Corinthian took it instead and licked up Hob’s fingers as if he were licking the blood off one of his own knives. Slowly. With intent. He stared right into Hob’s eyes while doing it too.

"You two are disgusting! " Johanna had yelled before storming off. Hob would’ve thought to chase after her to at least say goodbye, or try to coordinate getting rid of the rest of the ogre nest, but his brain had short-circuited entirely. 

He had never driven home so fast before. The Corinthian had distracted him the whole 25 minute drive.

Hob’s immediately snapped out of his reverie and back to the present by Johanna,“Penny for your thoughts?” 

“Just thinking about the ogre nest,” Hob answers. No need to elaborate past that. Certainly no need to tell Johanna the details of what happened afterwards.

Johanna grimaces like it's a bad memory. It probably was. Even with the happy surprise of finding all those children alive, her hand had taken at least a month to heal. 

“Why are you thinking about- oh you fucking sop. Disgusting, the both of you were that night.” Johanna downs the rest of her beer.

“Look I know the eyeball munching thing takes a bit to get used to but-”

“I wasn't talking about that, although honestly, the eyeball thing is not erotic no matter how many times you try to explain it, you're just a freak.” Johanna interrupts. 

“What was so disgusting then?” Hob asks, curious. He knows his tastes have always been, perhaps, on the other side of eclectic, especially in the last century, but Johanna has had plenty of non-human dalliances herself, he’d have thought she’d have been more open minded about things.  “He made sure he was out of sight when he ate all their eyes, when we thought all those kids were dead. The epitome of politeness, if you ask me.”

“You really don't know? God the thing doesn't even have eyes-”

“He's not a thing Johanna-”

“But anyone could tell he was so far gone for you, it was nauseating. He looked at you like you were the only thing worth looking at in the whole damn universe. And you were doing the exact same thing back at him. Like a goddamn romance novel from Hell.”

As much as she's insulting him, Hob knows she's also trying to reassure him. He's thought about their last night nonstop, turning it over and over in his head. He still doesn’t have any answers for why the blonde left the way he did.

“I just don't know why he left,” Hob groans, frustrated with the line of thought. “Especially after I gave-” Hob stops suddenly, realizing he hasn’t told Johanna what happened that night. He wasn't ready for her judgment on his actions back then, and he’s not sure he’s ready now, but it may be too late to back out now. 

“…after you what Hob?” Yep, no backing out now. She’d been trying to get this story out of him for a while, and now that he thinks about it, the drinks were probably a means to multiple ends. 

“Well I mean….we had this job go terribly pear shaped,” Hob starts, praying that he can focus on the minutiae of the botched job and get Johanna lost in the details.

“ What. Did. You.��Do . Hob?” No chance of bullshitting his way out of the conversation now.

“I lost an eye, all right!” Hob admits. “And you know I can grow those things back like grapes, and the eye was still perfectly intact so I just thought…”

“You gave him YOUR EYE?” Johanna practically yells. Well now the whole bar is staring at them, and Hob can tell a few of them are checking to see if he still has both eyes. He really should have just insisted on taking her to the private back room he’d built for his business meetings, but Johanna just plopped down at the bar when they’d come downstairs, wanting to be as close to the beer taps as possible. 

“I didn’t want it to go to waste!” Hob frantically tries to whisper, then tries and fails to put his hand over Johanna's mouth. 

Johanna looks heavenward, as if that will somehow provide answers. Or a pity smiting to escape this conversation, Hob's not entirely sure.

Finally, she sighs.

“Look…” she tries. “Maybe he just got overwhelmed. Has to process things alone before he can come back. You've got a whole lot of memories in that noggin of yours, and he probably got spooked by something,” but Hob knows neither of them believe it. Still.

“It felt like a final goodbye, but you're not wrong,” Hob concedes. “I don't know what he saw, but whatever it was definitely spooked him. I wish he would've just asked me instead of running off. I couldn’t even go after him with all the shutdowns happening right after, and he still won’t pick up my calls. I'd be off there chasing him down now if I could take the time off from classes.”

There's silence for a beat. Then, "S'not just the job keeping you here though, innit?" Johanna slurs.

“What do you mean?”

“Your Stranger. The one who gave you all this,” she gestures at him. “You're still waiting for him, aren't you? It's why you won't leave the UK for anything, travel restrictions be damned. You could do video lectures from anywhere now too, but you’re here waiting for a man who you’re not even sure still wants to see you.”

“Hey now, that’s not fair, I still have other duties to attend to here too! Plus I wouldn’t even know where to start looking for Cory,” Hob tries to defend himself. 

“Yeah, but that's not the point , Hob. The point is you're waiting on some guy to show up to this pub and maybe you stopped waiting every week with your blond man around but now that he’s gone and left you, you're right back at it waiting for a different man who left you like a lovesick fool.” She points at him. “You, my friend, have got a problem. ”

Hob downs the rest of his whiskey instead of answering. 

—

When Hob heads upstairs to his flat, warmed from both the whiskey and Johanna's company, he runs his fingers over the sigil The Corinthian had carved into his bed shortly after he'd begun living with Hob. He smiles ruefully at the memory. It was the first time The Corinthian had opened up to him about what kind of supernatural entity he was.

Hob had spent the better part of the last century living with either restless, dreamless sleep, or with nightmares that shook him so much he'd wake up screaming. It had been a long time since he'd had any other type of dream. His condition started around the time the Sleepy Sickness started, and Hob had been glad he hadn’t fallen prey to some of the more severe conditions, such as no sleep at all, or a perpetual sleep. Hob had made it a habit to avoid doctors and it would’ve been rather hard to explain himself not aging while in either of those states.

It didn’t take long after moving in for The Corinthian to offer up his services to alleviate Hob of his troubles. Turns out, the Quora article was right after all. 

"So, what, you're a nightmare and doing this will help stop me having bad dreams?" Hob had asked as he watched The Corinthian inspect his bed for the perfect spot to carve.

"It'll keep the others of my kind away, yes. I haven't been back in an age, but I know most of the other nightmares have gone absolutely feral in our creator's absence.” The Corinthian grinned, as if the knowledge greatly pleased him. It probably did. 

“The creator who tried to kill you? The one who went missing, and that’s why we have the Sleepy Sickness?” Hob asked and The Corinthian nodded. 

“The one and only. I’m sure the realm’s a bit of a mess, but the other nightmares should still leave you alone once I put my mark here, if they know what's good for them." Hob swears The Corinthian’s grin grew even more feral.

"And what exactly is this mark?" Hob tapped at the symbol The Corinthian had put on paper to show him what he’d be carving. “A protection spell of some kind?”

"It's my name,” The Corinthian replied. “My true name, from when I was first born into existence. It means that I’ve claimed you as my dreamer, and you’re mine."

Hob's breath stuttered in his lungs. He'd wondered if The Corinthian could tell the effect the sentence had on him. It was the closest the blond had come so far to saying what Hob meant to him. Hob already knew at that point that he was falling for the nightmare, and this certainly wasn’t helping his case.

"Go on then," he said, possibly a little (a lot) more breathily than he meant to. "Carve your name into my bedpost. Show everyone that I'm yours."

The Corinthian had also cut his name into Hob’s chest, right beneath his collarbone (for extra insurance, he said) later that night, right after he had sunk his hips down onto Hob’s cock. The twin sensations of pain and pleasure had nearly driven him over the edge, and Hob had needed to grab the base of himself to stop himself from coming too early. The Corinthian, little shit that he was, took that as a challenge.

The wound had healed of course, but Hob still feels the mark there, like a ghost. He had kept the paper drawing in a folder too, because he was sentimental. He wonders, not for the first time, if he’s able to be tattooed, but he’d always been too afraid to go into a shop in the event the tattoo doesn’t take with the way his skin heals, and he’d have to explain himself. For now, the mark on his bed will have to do. 

The nightmares stopped entirely after that night. Hob's still not sure how exactly the whole naming, claiming, thing works, but he's started praying to it at night, wishing for The Corinthian to stay safe wherever he was, but mostly wishing he would just come home.

–

Almost two years after The Corinthian leaves, The Stranger walks into The New Inn and stands in front of Hob's table.

It's the first time in a long time Hob forgets about The Corinthian. All he can do is stare at the ethereal being in front of him and think finally.

"You're late," Hob says, and realizes he's smiling. It's been so long since he last smiled genuinely that it feels both foreign and comforting at once. 

What he doesn’t expect next is to see his own smile returned. Even if he had the most expensive and high quality camera known to man on hand, Hob doesn’t think any piece of mere human technology could capture the brilliance.

“It seems I owe you an apology,” his Stranger says. “I've always heard it impolite to keep one's friends waiting.”

Friends. His Stranger had called him his friend. He's acknowledged their bond, their companionship. Maybe a little bit later than Hob had been hoping for, but it was worth the wait. His friend was worth all the time in the world. 

Hob’s centennial companion pulls out the chair in front of the table and sits down across from him. He hasn’t stopped smiling. Neither has Hob. 

Time passes like that for a while. It’s not awkward, there’s no tension, just pure contentment to look at each other for the first time in 133 years. If Hob didn’t know any better, he’d think he’d think he’d died without his knowledge and gone to heaven. 

“Hi dear, can I get you anything?” The waitress’s sunny question shakes them both out of their trance.

“Anything my friend wants, my treat Anna,” Hob says before the other man can answer. 

“I thank you, Hob,” his friend answers then turns to Anna, his smile more muted now, but not any less dazzling. “A glass of dry red wine please, the oldest vintage you have available.”

“You and your wine.” Hob laughs when Anna leaves. He recalls that wine, usually a red, would be the only thing his friend would ever order at their meetings. Some things just never changed. 

“It is, admittedly, one of my favorite inventions by humans,” the dark haired man replies, then purses his lips. “And I have been without it for quite some time.”

“Have you now?” Hob asks, sensing a story. “Well then, you can have all the red wine we have here, I don’t mind.”

“We?”

“Ah yeah, this place, The New Inn? It’s mine.” Hob admits. “I don’t really get too involved in the operations side of things anymore, but I tend the bar from time to time when there’s no classes. I know you probably saw, but the old White Horse was going to be turned into flats by some reprehensible folks, and I’ve had enough wealth accumulated over the years that I was able to stop the whole operation in its tracks. Couldn’t keep the damn place open though, so I decided to build on the land right by it instead.”

“You…built a pub? So that we could continue to have a place to meet?” The other man asks, astonished.

“Of course! Isn’t that what friends are for?” Hob replies. He really hopes he hadn’t read the whole thing wrong and his friend doesn’t walk out on him again for presuming things. It’s only now just occurring to Hob that building an entire pub for someone, even a not entirely human entity, is a bit much.

Of all the reactions the Stranger could have had though, the absolute last one Hob expects is tears.

“Even after I was forced to miss our last meeting. Without knowing if I had abandoned you or not, you still kept your faith in me? Enough that you built a place so that I may take sanctuary after my imprisonment?” The Stranger's voice is filled with unbridled emotion as more tears freely spill down his cheeks.

Imprisonment? Well now. Hob has a whole lot of questions, but first and foremost, he had a friend to comfort. He reaches across the table and takes the man’s hand in his own. Squeezes it for good measure. It’s the first time they’ve ever touched in 700 years and it feels electric , more so when his friend begins to run a hesitant thumb along his. 

“My friend,” Hob says after a brief silence. “I would build you thousands of sanctuaries across the world, no, across the entire universe, if I meant that I could meet you at each one and offer you a place to rest.”

Hob decides to take a chance. To be bold. He’s already gotten more than he could have ever hoped for, what’s one more risk?

He reaches over with his other hand to wipe the tears from his friend’s face. The other man looks shocked, as if he hadn’t realized he were crying. No, more like he had forgotten. What had filled his friend so full of grief for so long that he could no longer comprehend his own tears? 

“I know it’s customary for me to update you on everything I’ve been up to in the last hundred years.” Hob says. “But I think I’d like to know what’s happened to you instead, if you’re willing to tell me. However much or little,” he adds, reassuringly.

His friend is quiet for a long time, expression contemplative. Anna comes back with the wine, raises her eyebrows, but blessedly, does not mention the emotional moment fraught between them.

“I’ll come back with the rest of the bottle in a little bit, just holler when you’d like it, all right?” she says and in a flash she’s gone, leaving them to their privacy.

The Stranger still hasn’t let go of his hand, and does not appear to want to. He instead uses his free hand to pick up the glass Anna had left so he can sip at his wine. After a few minutes, he sighs and begins to speak.

“Do you remember, in 1789, when we had spoken about how beings such as us could be hurt, or captured?” the Stranger asks solemnly.

Hob remembers. He nods and squeezes their hands together, prompting the man to continue.

“In 1916, a man named Roderick Burgess had sought to capture my sister, Death, in an attempt to resurrect his son lost in battle.” the Stranger says. “His spell entrapped me instead. He then used more magic to bind me within the basement of his estate, and I lay there for more than 100 years. Roderick demanded many things from me, his son alive again, riches, immortality, all of which were not things that I could give, nor would I have wanted to, if I could.”

There is so much in that first bit that Hob doesn’t know where to start. He goes with the most pressing question he has.

“But I thought Roderick died in the 1930s! Why couldn’t you escape then?” Hob remembers now, with a sinking feeling, that there were plenty of rumors about Roderick Burgess having trapped the Devil in his basement. He wishes he’d looked into it more, wishes he could’ve found his friend earlier and broken him out of that awful prison.

“Roderick did die, in 1926 actually, and his son had offered me freedom, if only I would not hurt him and his lover in revenge for my capture.” his friend confirms. “The son was young when his father took me, but he was nearly an adult when he murdered my raven companion, Jessamy, on the order of his father. I could not forgive him for that." His Stranger now grips Hob's hand at the memory, pained anger crossing his face. Hob wants to wipe away that expression too.

"My anger and pride kept me imprisoned for an additional 96 years, until finally, in their old age and near death, his paramour took pity on me and broke the enchantment imprisoning me.”  

“Jesus Christ,” Hob breathes. “Was there no one you could call to for help? What about your sister, did she know you were trapped?” There is absolutely no way someone could defy Death of all things, especially if someone trapped her own brother. Hob makes a mental note to ask about the whole family tree later.

“My siblings all knew of my capture, and yet none of us are allowed to intervene in each other's affairs, unless asked. It is another thing my pride has cost me. I need only ask their help and any one of them would have come for me. Instead, I chose silence.”

“But that’s not fair! I know you’re not human and so you have different rules than me, but amongst us humans, we give help to our families even when it’s not asked for! Sometimes, especially when it’s not asked!” Hob argues.

“It is the way of the Endless, Hob.” the Stranger says with a finality that tells Hob the subject is closed. Hob wants to continue to press, but he asks instead,

“Endless, so that’s what you are then?”

“Yes. There are seven of us in total. And I must apologize once again for keeping you waiting on another thing for the last few hundred years. My name.” 

Hob feels his heart stutter in his chest. 

“I have been called many things over the years. My most recent name in human tongues has been Morpheus.”

Morpheus. It's a regal sounding name, fit for a king. Hob’s just getting used to the idea of it in his head when Morpheus speaks again.

“But as my friend, you may call me by my truest name, Dream.”

Dream. What a beautiful name. All of his names are beautiful, Hob imagines, and he’d like to learn them all. 

“Well, Dream, my friend, can I buy you a drink and a meal then?” Hob asks, squeezing their hands together again. “I'll catch you up on all that you've missed.”

“I would be happy with anything you are willing to offer me, my friend,” Dream replies.

–

They get the rest of the wine, and Hob some food. Dream does not order anything for himself, content to partake in whatever Hob is willing to share, which is everything. He unfortunately has to relinquish his hand from Dream’s to eat, but they freely reach for one another when the moments allow. It is far from the regal meal he had offered to his friend in 1589, and yet, Hob thinks it tastes better. 

Hob is now telling Dream stories about the last hundred years. It’s been quite possibly the most interesting century he’s lived through so far. 

He shies away from anything related to The Corinthian. Hob had been a mercenary in his past life, killing for other people's money, so he knows Dream won't judge him, may even commend him for trying to do some good for people who slip through the flawed justice system. But explaining Cory is a story all on its own, and the memories are still too fresh and painful, especially with how things were left off (Hob still refuses to admit they've ended). Still, the blond was such an integral part of life in the last ten, no, twelve years . Hob is still counting the two years The Corinthian has been gone. 

“Hob?” Dream’s voice snaps him out of his self-pity inner monologue. Hob forgot what he had been talking about, but he knows he needs to get back to more light hearted topics before he ends up crying at the table himself. 

“Sorry about that, don't know what came over me!”

“You've become melancholy despite describing a happy memory,” Dream observes.

“Ah yeah, well.” Hob decides to open up, just a little. "I went through a break up not too long ago. Well it's been almost two years now, but we were together almost ten years before that." It's not much, but even admitting that The Corinthian left him out loud to someone else feels like tearing open a not yet healed scar.

“Ten years is not an insignificant amount of time, especially for mortals. It is understandable why you would be distraught,” Dream says. This time, it is the Endless who squeezes Hob's hand in reassurance.

“Yeah, I still miss him too." Hob says. “Didn't even get a proper goodbye, one day everything's perfect and then he just up and left.” He tries not to choke on those last few words, but it's more difficult than he'd like to admit.

“Him?” Dream asks. Right, Hob's only ever had female partners to speak of whenever they met once a century.

“Oh yeah, another fun 20th century thing I discovered, turns out I'm bisexual!” Hob declared proudly.

It really hadn't been that much of a discovery, nor had it come in the 20th century. Rather, it had been in 1789 when Hob had realized he may have inappropriate feelings for the man sitting across the table from him. 

He had tried to gently bring up the topic in 1889, prefacing things with friendship first so as not to alarm his companion, but Dream had reacted so poorly to being regarded as a friend that Hob hadn't even gotten the chance to be romantically rejected.

And then Dream hadn't shown up in 1989 and had broken Hob's heart.

Hob is glad to know Dream didn’t abandon him on purpose, and he’s even more glad he waited for him and built them a new place to meet. But his heart is still too raw to even think about trying to start something with Dream, not when he's just gotten him back, not when his heart still belongs somewhere in America.

“But enough about me and my poor broken heart, let me tell you about the internet!”

Dream looks like he wants to press, but instead gracefully accepts the subject change and allows Hob to enlighten him about YouTube, memes, and Netflix. 

–

At some point in the night, Hob catches sight of a breaking story on BBC, on one of the pub’s televisions. A British tourist had been found on a beach in Florida. His eyes are missing. The story then goes into the mysterious resurgence of killings by The Corinthian in the United States. It seems like there’s been a murder at least once a month, if not more, in the last two years.

Fucking hell Cory, what are you doing?, Hob thinks despairingly.

“What are you looking at?” Dream asks, curious.

“Terrible news mostly, sorry about that, I’m going to ask them to change the channel.” Hob says. He can’t stomach looking at this. Before he’s able to get up, though, Dream turns to look at the television screen behind him and his entire demeanor changes.

Hob feels as if all the air in the room has suddenly disappeared. If there were ever a reminder for the immortal that his oldest friend is not human, this is it.

"The Corinthian," he hisses, venom dripping on every syllable.

“Wait a minute, you know him?!” Hob asks, and his mind suddenly spins a thousand conclusions.

The Corinthian told Hob that he was a nightmare. His creator, the one who had tried to kill him, was a king, who presided over the realm of dreams and nightmares and he…

Hob suddenly has a flashback to ancient Greek history, the old poems, the name Morpheus…

Morpheus. Dream.

Dream is The Corinthian’s creator. The one who had tried to unmake him…in 1916…almost a hundred years ago.

Fuck.  

Dream continues, unaware of Hob's panic. “The Corinthian is a wayward creation of mine. I was in the middle of unmaking him for some grievous crimes when I was captured by Roderick. I also have my suspicions that he provided advice to Roderick on how to keep me contained.”  

Suspicions that Hob knows to be true. The Corinthian had told him once that he'd gone to visit his creator's captors to make sure he wouldn't get free. Hob feels wretched for not pushing The Corinthian more on who exactly his creator was but the blond had always been so cagey about his origins, and Hob had learned from his 1889 meeting with Dream not to push too many boundaries on supernatural entities. As far as he was concerned, The Corinthian was a survivor of a cruel, uncaring master and Hob was just glad to have him in his life. He's not sure how to reconcile the image The Corinthian painted of his creator with his centennial companion who certainly has a temper, but was anything but cold and unfeeling.

Dream stands suddenly, only barely managing to not knock his chair to the floor.

“I apologize, Hob, for cutting our time short, but I must reign him in before more are cut down by his selfishness.”

“Wait Drea-”

But Morpheus is already gone. It's so sudden, so familiar, that Hob realizes he's an idiot for not noticing it before.

Shit shit shit, Hob thinks.

He pulls out his phone and dials a number he still knows by heart despite not hearing from it in almost two years. 

The number you have dialed has been disconnected. The operator automatically answers.

SHIT!

All Hob can do now is wait, and hope that his lover and his old friend don’t tear themselves apart. He’s not sure whose side he’d even choose.

[butteraway]

when time runs out | iv

⋆ summary:  A young girl has fallen deeply ill with an unknown disease in her, so with all her free time spent in an empty hospital room, she spends it online playing video games. That's until she meets her cousins friends, one spiking her interest with his extremely vulgare language.

pairing: bakugou katsuki x reader

word count: 2.5k

warnings: none

authors note: I wanna say im so sorry for lying to yall about that extra chapter KJDFFF😭😭 ALSO @chibiiichann I APOLOGIZE FOR SPAMMING YOU WHENEVER I REPLIED TO YOU💀 A DIFFERENT ACC WOULD POP UP BUT THE FIRST CHAPTER WAS AN INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER EXPLAINING THE OC'S CONDITION JFJDJD

"HAHA! I GOTCHU NOW LOSER!" Y/N smashed the buttons on her controller, basically on the edge of her bed. A grunt was heard through her headphones, then a loud bang with laughing in the background. Y/N felt her stomach turn at the sound of this, feeling a little left out, but smiled nonetheless.

"HOW'D YOU EVEN DO THAT?!! YOU’RE DOING SOME HACKING MY GUY!" Denki yelled through the laughing in the background, hands pulling at his hair. He seriously couldn't believe it!

"I'm not! I just wanted to show Sero I'm way better at this game than you are. And turns out I am!" Y/N let out a loud laugh, falling backwards onto her pillow. After finding out that 'Tape Dispenser' went to her cousin’s school by hearing his voice in the back of Denki's room, she got to learn more about this Sero dude. She already knew this after their last game a few nights ago, but he was so chill. It was still insane for her to find out that her cousin and online friend went to the same hero school. The coincidences in this world. Y/N thought as she grinned.

"It's okay Kaminari, you still lasted a long time! But you did get brutally beat by Y/N at the end though..." Sero said, trying to raise Denki's low spirits, but only succeeded in making him more miserable. Rustling was heard through Y/N's headphones, making it obvious that there was movement happening.

"You don't understand Sero! THIS IS THE ONLY GAME I COULD FULLY BEAT THIS GIRL IN!" Denki shook Sero by the shoulders, quickly doing the action. Cackling was heard through the speakers while the girl wiped a tear from her eye. Sero laughed along, as he was pushed to the ground by Denki. His arms were crossed as he looked away, upset that Y/N managed to finally beat him in every game they played.

"It's okay Denki, not everyone can be as good as me!" Y/N exclaimed, getting up from her bed to start taping specific parts of her room. Kaminari continued to complain about his defeat to Sero, who only chuckled in response. As she finished taping the bottom of the walls, Y/N sat back on her bed, sighing in content.

"So, how are you? I'm doing terribly after being utterly destroyed by you, by the way." Said Kaminari, opening his water bottle and taking large gulps from it. Y/N felt her face light up as she remembered to tell Kaminari of her future activity.

"Bro, you won't believe this! So, basically, they're actually letting me paint my room! All by myself! How fricking cool is that?!" The girl laughed out loud, jumping on her bed in excitement. Kaminari's eyes widen, in surprise and slight fear, sitting up and taking in the new information.

"Wait, really? But isn't that like extremely dangerous? Cuz of the chemicals and what not??" He tried his best to keep his voice leveled, not noticing Sero look at him weirdly. That guy had no idea what was happening.

"Well, they said that they were gonna do something to the paint so it won't hurt me or anything, I don't know what, but-" Y/N was cut off by an extremely confused Sero. "Wait wait wait, hold on. I don't understand what's happening. How can paint harm you? Besides like...eating it. And what do you mean by 'finally getting to paint your room?’ Silence was the only answer he got. Sero gulped in embarrassment, thinking he asked a really personal question.

"Um, it's nothing du-" A loud 'shhhhhhh' was heard from Y/N, who let out a shaky breath. She never really told anyone, it's not like she could either way, being confined in the hospital room for a long time. She pushed a loose strand of her away from her face, preparing herself to tell Sero.

"Well, the reason is because I basically live in a hospital. I can't go outside, or have 'unpurified' air, as the doctors like to say, meaning my interactions with people and the outside world are extremely limited. That means anything that's not cleared of dust and germs, I guess, can be extremely harmful for me? As pathetic as it sounds, it could actually kill me, haha." It was quiet as Sero took in the information, a large wave of emotions crashing on him. A person shouldn't have to be locked in a room for the rest of their life. Especially someone who is such a sweet person like Y/N.

"I-I'm so sorry to hear that Y/N. If you don't mind me asking, how...how long have you been in the hospital?" The young girl answered with a quick 'Two years', and that's when Sero felt his stomach twist uncomfortably. Kaminari abruptly got up and headed towards his door.

"I'm gonna get something to eat, you want something dude?" Kaminari's voice was low and trembling. It didn't take a genius to see that the blonde haired boy needed some time alone. "No thanks." Kaminari let out a hum, quickly exiting his room and closing the door shut. Sero heard the loud sniffs that slowly faded away, as he hung his head down.

"Hey, you good Sero? That was probably a lot to take in, sorry." Sero shook his head, letting a sad smile adorn his face. "It's fine, really. I actually feel honored that you're comfortable telling me. Feels like we're getting closer, to be honest." He smiled happily, meaning every word he said. And Y/N knew that. "Ha, we are though!" The air was tense, despite the two teenagers being in different rooms.

Y/N went to clear her throat, but was interrupted when a light knock echoed throughout her room. "Someone there?" Sero asked, noticing her silence and hearing the very faint knocking.

"Yeah, um Sero, I'll call you guys later, my doctor wants to talk." Y/N quickly replied, seeing Receen open the door and walk in with his thin suit on. Sero let out an ok and they hang up. Y/N finally took in how the doctor looked, noticeable eye bags under his blue-grey eyes, from lack of sleep. His dark hair slightly tousled, probably from putting on the protective helmet that came with the suit, and a small smile on his welcoming face. And a large container of paint in his left hand. Her eyes immediately lit up.

"What’s up doc? I see you have something in your hand, can I see it closer?" The small girl asked, getting up and making a grabbing motion with her hands. Receen chuckled, lifting up the paint for Y/N to see. Even if he were to hand her the container, she wouldn't be able to hold. She was just too weak. Said girl let out a high pitch 'OOOO ' in excitement.

"I'm not sure if you wanted more, but we managed to get you your favorite color! This should be enough to paint the room, you can even put a second layer if you want." Receen walked over to where Y/N put all the equipment, opening the container of paint. And with a low grunt from him, the lid was opened. Y/N watched with amazement as the doctor poured the soft looking paint into a tray. She picked up a roller near her, and drowned the roller in paint, the white fluff getting covered in color.

The two began painting, Y/N's hand shaking every now and then. After painting half the room, they sat in silence, resting for a while. Receen seemed to be tense, though Y/N didn't seem to notice since she was too happy to speak. Receen let out a breath, breaking the silence, causing Y/N to look towards him.

"I didn't get to ask you how you were, did I Y/N? How are you?" Said girl let a beaming smile spread on her face, causing Receen to slightly squint his eyes from the intensity of her smile. "Honestly, I haven't felt this happy in a very long time! I actually still can't believe you guys really let me do this! Thank you so much!"

Receen gave her a small smile while rubbing the back of his neck. "It's not a problem, you could’ve asked sooner and gotten this done a long time ago. You've been here for two years, so please don't be afraid of asking for things!" At the mention of her time spent in the hospital, Y/N lowered her head, causing Receen to wince. Well, might as well tell her. The doctor cleared his throat and began to talk.

"Y/N, as you are aware, I, along with many other doctors and scientists, have been working hard for you to be able to go outside again. To see your family, hug them, be a normal kid again." There was a pause and that alone caught Y/N's attention. She looked up at him. "There is a way for you to finally do that, Y/N."

Shock evident on the girl's face, she abruptly stood up and faced the doctor. There was absolutely no way anyone could have found a cure for someone like her. Someone who had an incurable sickness. Someone who was too sick, to even have medicine. He's lying. Y/N narrowed her eyes at the grown man sitting in front of her.

"With all due respect Doctor, I highly doubt that ​​that's possible. Cuz, y'know? I basically have an incurable disease? I mean, like, even if you did manage to find a way for me to leave this place, how do you even know it's gonna work? I don't think you've tried this medicine since no one in recorded hospital documents in the past have had people like that checked in before-"

"How do you even know that?"

"-so how do you truly know it'll work?" Y/N quickly finished, completely ignoring his statement. Receen sighed, scratching his head. "We live in a world where quirks exist. Would you believe me if I told you centuries ago that the human race would evolve to have super powers? It's kind of like that, but not really." Y/N eyed him suspiciously. He's avoiding the question.

Receen looked straight at the girl standing in front of him. He felt slightly intimidated by her piercing gaze. He quickly looked away and got up, towering over Y/N's small frame. Then he smiled. "Y/N, you are a very sweet girl, no doubt about it. I know how much you want to get out of here, and I want to help you. My team has created this almost perfect pill, especially suited for your sickness. I know you're very cautious, just like your mother, but I can only reassure you, that these are your ticket out of here." He pulled out the bottle from his protective suit, shaking it in front of [Y/N].

Her eyes widened as she restrained herself from reaching out and snatching the bottle. Her eyes slightly narrowed as she pulled herself together. Crossing her arms and slightly tilting her upwards, she looked into the doctor's bright eyes. "There's always a catch when it comes to these kinds of things. What's the price if I take these? My lifespan shortens, I only have five hours to go outside, it drugs me or something?"

"I'm hurt you think I would just give you these without setting out the consequences." There was a slight glint in his eyes before it quickly disappeared. Y/N hummed, urging the doctor to continue.

"There are exactly 15 pills in here. And consuming just one of these bad boys right here, would allow you to go outside! Though, time is very important when taking these. You'd have 10 hours before the pills effects wear off. These would dull your hypersensitive senses, but not to a point where you can't feel, smell or do anything. No no, it'd just be like how you were before. You'd feel slightly dizzy and be a little itchy, but besides that, nothing too extreme. It just dulls all your body senses down." Receen gave Y/N a small smile. She looked a little weary, unsure if what he said was true. She looked at the bottle then back to Doctor Receen, fingers twitching every now and then. Breathing in and letting it out slowly, Y/N stared straight into the doctor's eyes.

If I take these, I can finally go out. I can hug mom and dad, I can be around Denki again. I can meet Sero face to face and feel the grass again! I can be... happy again. But if these don't actually work, I'd immediately die on the spot. I'd be able to go outside though. Aah, so much going outside, I can meet new people! I don't wanna spend the rest of my days slowly rotting away in here anyway.

"So Y/N, are you going to take them or let all our time go to waste?"

Sero looked at his hands solemnly, thinking about what Y/N had told him. He swallowed the lump forming in his throat, then lightly slapped his cheeks to stop the wave of emotions from spilling out.

"Yo, you good dude? It's not everyday I see someone willingly slapping themselves." Kaminari chuckled, walking in and closing the door with his foot as he carried a soda bottle and a bag of chips towards the boy sitting on his bed. Sero grinned, feeling the sadness of everything wash away.

"Yeah, I'm perfectly fine. But what about you though? After we had that conversation, you were, well, umm... kind of out of it." Kaminari froze, letting a dejected smile appear on his face. Dragging a hand down his face, he let out a sorrowful laugh.

"She's my best friend. My first real, true friend. She's basically my sister at this point. So when she collapsed that day, I felt my whole world crashing down. She is the sweetest, the most kindest, person I have ever met. She never let me degrade myself, alway cheered me up when people called me stupid." Kaminari rubbed his eyes, opening the bag of chips and plopping one of them into his mouth.

"It hasn't been the same ever since she left, her parents barely come over anymore, and they're always so sad whenever I see them. My own parents aren't the same either, they treated her like their own daughter. I can't even begin to imagine how Y/N feels about this all. She was the top in our grade, highest scores in our test. No one could compare to her. M-my heart breaks for her. She lost everything." Sero let that information sink in, thinking about how she was before. He smiled as he saw Kaminari's shoulders begin to shake. He cares so much for her.

He put his hand on his shoulder, watching Kaminari slowly lift his face towards him. "Come here you emotional ball of feelings." Being the friendly guy he is, Sero gave the sobbing boy a hug, cuz hugs fix everything.

"No homo though bro." And with that, they both laughed out loud, continuing their bro day.

[charlieconwayy]

D3: The Mighty Ducks (1996) is the best Ducks movie and a flawless coming of age movie

It’s no secret that The Mighty Ducks are a beloved trilogy. The three films spawned a professional NHL team named in their honor, 2021 sequel series, as well as many knockoff films released in the 1990s. But with any movie series, fans tend to rank the films and have passionate opinions on which is the best. For most Ducks fans, the answer is simple: D2. It has the Bash Brothers, Team USA dominating, the iconic “Ducks Fly Together” scene and two Queen songs. What’s not to love? But upon a rewatch of the trilogy, I came to realize that it’s not D2, or even the original, that is the best in the series.

It’s the criminally underrated 1996 D3 that for me, is the most mature and has the most heart. Perhaps it’s that the Ducks are now old enough to carry their own weight on screen. Perhaps it’s that the film takes a look at trauma, specifically trauma in teenagers, and how that manifests itself. Perhaps it’s that the film is maybe ahead of its time, in the way it discusses classism, racism and sexism. There is so much about this overly hated film that makes it the best Ducks movie and a perfect coming of age film.

The movie starts presumably a few years following the Ducks’ win against Iceland. They all look noticeably older - definitely older than the middle schoolers we left behind in 1994 - and all of the male Ducks’ voices have dropped a few octaves. Gordon Bombay, played by Emilio Estevez, is presenting the team (except for unfortunately, Jesse Hall, a leader among the Ducks who would’ve made for a strong presence in this mature film, as well as Portman, but we’ll get to him later) with scholarships to his alma mater, Eden Hall, a preparatory high school in Minnesota. Charlie Conway, played by a young, pre-Dawson’s Creek Joshua Jackson, is the Ducks’ captain and unspoken leader. There’s been much debate over the years over whether or not Charlie is the true captain of the Ducks. Adam Banks, played by Vincent Larusso, is far and away better than practically every Duck combined. Fulton Reed, played by Elden Henson, has shown more maturity and leadership at this point. It’s probably true that the Ducks as a team think that Charlie is Captain because of Bombay’s favoritism towards him (and his mother), but I think that this film makes it abundantly clear why Charlie is the captain. 

D3 is Charlie’s story. We see that in the opening scene, when Bombay tells Charlie he will not be following the team to Eden Hall, accepting a job instead in California. We learned in the original Mighty Ducks film, that Charlie and his mother left a bad situation in Charlie’s father when Charlie was very young. We also hear about Charlie’s mother, Casey’s marriage to a new man in the D2, who we can assume from what Jan says, that Charlie doesn’t like. We see in that first film, Charlie’s reaction to Bombay announcing that he is leaving the Ducks after the two of them have formed a bond. It is very clear that Charlie deals with abandonment issues, stemming from trauma in his early childhood. Charlie freaks out when a D3 Bombay announces the same thing, and storms off. 

Change is the biggest theme in D3. We see how change affects each of the Ducks, even those who don’t get many lines. Some, like Russ Tyler, played by SNL’s Kenan Thompson, think it’s a good thing. All of the Ducks don’t come from good neighborhoods and we assume that most of them don’t have the best home lives, especially when Charlie tells their new coach, Orion, played by Jeffrey Nordling, that the Ducks are the only good thing that any of them have had. Going to a preparatory school should be a good thing for them. But for most of them, it’s not. The new Ducks (who by the way, three of which are people of color, and one of which, is a woman) are immediately told that “their kind” is not welcome at Eden Hall. The Varsity team claim that they feel this way because the captain’s younger brother was not admitted onto the JV team because of the Ducks’ scholarships, but it’s very clear what they really mean. Russ commented that he’s the only black person on the whole campus earlier, and he, Luis Mendoza (The Sandlot’s Mike Vitar) and Ken Wu (Justin Wong) are the only people of color we see in the film. Change takes a toll on each member of the team. We see it the most in Charlie, but we also hear from Fulton on how the separation from his best friend, Dean Portman (Aaron Lohr), who decided not to enroll at Eden Hall, is taking a toll on him. Connie (Margerite Moreau) and Guy (Garrette Henson) have presumably broken up, as the two small scenes we get of them, they are arguing. It’s a transition period, one that the first year of high school often is. But it’s also a look on how a rich, white privileged world is vastly different than the one that the Ducks are used to. 

Coach Orion seems like a hardass, especially when he tells Charlie at their first practice that he will no longer be “Captain Duck” (as coined by D2’s Gunnar Stahl, played by Scott Whyte, who now plays the level-headed Varsity goalie Scooter). This, to the Ducks, is a line in the sand. Ever since Bombay turned District 5 into the Ducks four years previous, Charlie has been their captain. They’re in a whole new environment, where the man who gave them so much happiness and so many friendships isn’t, and their “little Duck tricks” won’t work anymore. Orion thinks Charlie is a showoff, and perhaps he is. This Charlie is vastly different than the sweet, shy Charlie we see in D1 and D2. But this Charlie is older, has just been abandoned by a man he considered a father, and is being harassed on a daily basis for being, as Varsity Captain Reilly puts it, “white trash.” I find it hard to believe sometimes that fans can look at Charlie from the outside, and not see who he is on the inside. All of Charlie’s closest relationships that we see portrayed in this movie, are with women. His mother (who he, as a teenage boy, says “I love you” to in the final scene of the movie), his teammates, Connie and Julie, who he gets a lot more screentime with, and with new love interest, Linda (Margot Finley).

I think now is a great time to talk about the shockingly impressive way all of the female characters are portrayed in this series, particularly this movie, especially for a 90s sports film. Connie has always been a leader on and off the ice. She’s in a relationship with Guy, but it’s not her only character trait. Dubbed “the Velvet Hammer” by Averman (Matt Doherty), she stands up for herself, and for her shy teammates (she literally shoves Peter Mark - a character cut out of D2 and D3 for good reason - in D1 when he insults Charlie) and stands up to the entire Varsity team despite them telling her that they hope they can “fight” with her later. Julie “The Cat” Gaffney (Columbe Jacobsen) is the second best player on the Ducks, despite the little ice time (thanks, Bombay) we see her have. She is the first person to tell of the Varsity, telling Captain Reilly that his little brother “just wasn’t good enough.” She’s a huge facilitator in the fire ant prank and despite the very weird and out of character game she had against the Blake Bears, shows that she deserves the number one goalie slot that Reilly gives her - despite what Goldberg, and the obvious underlying sexism there, have to say. I’ve also always been very impressed with Charlie’s mother, Casey (Heidi Kling). Although she has a romance with Bombay in D1, she makes it clear from the get go that her first priority is Charlie. We know that she took the two of them away from an abusive situation, and she’s a goddamn hero for that. Her scenes in D3 are limited, but they always show her chastising Charlie’s antics and encouraging him to stay in school. It goes unsaid, but it’s clear that she knows that he’s not going to get an education this good in the problematic public school system. But according to Linda, Charlie’s love interest, the private school system is no better. The first time we see Linda, she is protesting the “outdated” Warriors team name. This was in a 1996 kids movie, no less. She holds her own against Charlie, calling him out when he’s wrong. No one aside from Charlie, and maybe Fulton, get much screentime or lines aside from Bombay and Orion, but her presence and the point of her character is clear - not every rich person agrees with the horrible things that wealthy people do. 

Back to the plot.

When the Ducks receive their positions, they learn that Banks, as a freshman, has made Varsity. From an outside perspective, they seems obvious. Banks is the best player we see in any of the films, definitely miles better than the losers on Varsity, so it seems obvious that he would be promoted. But Banks is unhappy with this. Adam Banks is a fan favorite character, definitely due to the sweet, understated performance by Larusso, but we don’t see much of him. From what we do see of him though, he underwent a huge character arc from D1 to now. In D1, Banks goes against his father’s protests and joins the Ducks, claiming that he “just wants to play hockey.” Here in D3, we see that Banks is utterly miserable despite playing with some of the best players in the state, purely because he’s not with his friends. At the end of the film, he makes the (questionable) decision to rejoin the Ducks and go against the Varsity. But Varsity seems to feel that Banks fits in with them, for obvious reasons. He’s the only Duck who comes from an affluent background, and he’s definitely the most clean cut. Captain Reilly is visibly angry in the final showdown with the Ducks that they no longer have Banks on their side, as if he’s betrayed “his kind.”

The turning point of the film comes when after Charlie has quit the freshman team (no longer the Ducks), Hans, a father figure to the Ducks and Bombay, suddenly passes away. It’s an insanely dark moment for a Disney film, especially when Bombay returns to the funeral and reminds the Ducks that it was “Hans who taught them to fly” and Charlie storms off, crying. I think Joshua Jackson, in the Ducks films, as well as in Dawson’s Creek, is phenomenally good at portraying teenagers who wouldn’t normally be seen as leading men. Who let their emotions overtake them, who have anger issues, who deal with familial problems. Characters like that in leading roles were almost unheard of in the 90s, and in the upcoming scenes, it reminds us why this side of Charlie that we’ve seen throughout the movie is not the only side of Charlie.

Bombay takes Charlie to the rink to see Orion skating with his disabled daughter, who was injured in a car accident. He reveals to Charlie that Orion quit the NHL to take care of her, and this immediately changes Charlie’s opinion of him, but he’s still unconvinced about rejoining the team. The next scene is without question, the greatest and most important scene of the trilogy. The last two films spent way too much time telling us how great of a person Bombay was, how he was the Minnesota Miracle Man,despite us seeing so little of that onscreen. We see him making mistake after mistake, hurting the team, being an unjustified dick to those around him. But this scene more than makes up for all of that. I’ve put the quote from this scene below.

Bombay: I was like you, Charlie. When I played hockey, I was a total hot shot. I tried to take control of every game. I wound up quitting. So I tried the law. I ruled the courtroom, but inside, I’m a mess. Start drinking. Man, I was going down. But then this great thing happened, maybe the best thing ever - I got arrested and sentenced to community service. And there you were - Charlie and the Ducks. And as hard as I fought it, there you were. You gave me a life, Charlie, and I want to say thank you. I told Orion about all of this when I talked to him about taking over. I told him that you were the heart of the team and that you would learn something from each other. I told him that you were the real Minnesota Miracle Man. 

Charlie: You did?

Bombay: I did. So be that man, Charlie. Be that man.

It’s a callback to D2, when Jan tells Bombay “Be that man, Gordon. Be that man.” This scene is flawless. Every good thing that has happened to the Ducks, came because of Charlie’s heart. It came because of that game when Charlie refused to cheat, and made Bombay see his wrongs. It came because of when Bombay first tried to quit the team, and seeing how hurt Charlie was, agreed to stay. It was Charlie who stepped out of the game against Iceland so that Banks could play. It was Charlie who found them Russ. Giving the credit to a young, emotionally unstable teenager, rather than their Emilio Estevez, hotshot Bombay, is the best thing this series ever did.

This movie, in my opinion, is nearly flawless. Every moment has been planned to make the same point - change sucks. Especially when you’re a teenager. Even more so when you’re a teenager with trauma.

[tanadrin]

I suppose because politics is what means I have no future of any kind left, so it's hard to be silly about it. And I seem to have landed myself in a sector of social media filled with people who are very smug about how smart and nihilistic they are, and I hate all of you with the hatred that only a miserable, powerless person can feel.

I don’t buy it. Unless you are quite literally scheduled to be executed at dawn, “no future of any kind left” because of politics is catastrophizing. People in very dire circumstances the world over often manage to build some kind of life for themselves; it may not be the life they want, and the suffering they endure because of the circumstances they are limited by should not be dismissed, but to say that someone in such adverse conditions has no future is to infantalize them and deny them the agency they do have to shape their life to some extent.

And this is an insight I’ve found important when dealing with depression in myself: even if one’s catastrophizing is not irrational (say, you’re a queer person stuck in an extremely homophobic environment, at minimum for the next 5-10 years), that does not mean it is useful. To put it another way: circumstance might justifiably make you angry and sad and frustrated. That may be rational. Deciding, in the face of that anger and sadness and frustration, to surrender to it is not rational.

So--assuming that you are not a political dissident due to be executed, nor suffering from a terminal illness which somehow for political reasons cannot be cured (if either of these things are true, you have my sincere condolences)--I have to say, this ask reeks of someone who’s depressed. If you are depressed, you will always be able to come up with reasons why happiness is unattainable for you, due to circumstances entirely out of your control. This is not a crazy thing to think, because if you are depressed and not treating that depression, most if not all the things you try to do will not solve your unhappiness because they are usually orthogonal to what is making you unhappy. Your very ability to accurately imagine future happy states and what might bring them about is suppressed by depression; for instance, you might, if you are depressed and you know it, rationally understand that exercise often helps with your depression, but be unable to motivate yourself to exercise because the intuitive link between if I do X I will feel better is broken by an internal forecasting system that refuses to spit out predictions other than “nothing I do will help with anything.”

A depressed state is not a psychotic break--it doesn’t cause you to lose touch with reality--but I think depressed people would sometimes benefit from treating it like one, because it does subvert your ability to accurately model the world, and therefore you can’t trust your own ability to reason or intuit about certain topics. I have both experienced this from the inside, and seen it from the outside: friends whose depression causes them to believe they are unlovable, and thus that nobody loves them, even when told (and shown) repeatedly that they are very much loved, and very important to the people around them.

In fact, you remind me of this post: depressed and anxious people who notice politics is depressing and anxiety-inducing, and that depressing and anxiety-inducing problems confront the world and society, and therefore conclude that their depression and anxiety are a rational and reasonable response to the world. But that doesn’t follow at all! A lot of responses to a depressing and anxiety-inducing environment are more useful that shutting down and withdrawing, or letting yourself be paralyzed; and even if there are negative external factors in the world affecting your life, if you have nothing in your life that is a sufficient source of joy to offset these things at least somewhat, then you have problems sufficiently severe that I don’t think your depression or anxiety can be laid at the feet of the world at large alone; more likely, you’re dealing with shitty personal circumstances, and these are far more likely to be tractable to your individual capacities than, like, all of climate change. And if you do have some sources of joy in your life, you can cultivate those further.

To put it another way: humans are very bad at reasoning about things on large scales or over large timelines. One reason we’re slow to solve problems like climate change is that we tend to be pretty blasé about remote and impersonal problems, which is actually often useful as well--because it means we’re capable of adjusting our hedonic barometer to create joy even in catastrophic circumstances. If you are constantly worried about big issues like climate change or the Trump presidency to the point where you can never do that, then the conclusion you should draw isn’t that you’re a uniquely rational human being with a uniquely accurate worldview, it’s that your brain is broken and you should not trust your intuitition.

Emotional states are not rational models of the world. They are tools our brain uses to motivate certain kinds of action. They probably have their origin in our social evolution, but this means they are extremely untrustworthy when it comes to complex, large-scale, philosophical, or impersonal issues, because these are not scenarios our brains evolved to handle before the advent of high-population, highly-stratified societies.

Now, I realize it’s hard to convince someone they are depressed and/or should seek treatment by rational argument (lord knows I’ve tried in the past!), because after all, if we were being perfectly rational, we would not feel depressed. We wouldn’t feel anything; again, emotions are contingent tools, not highly rationalized responses to the world! So I won’t belabor this point any longer. Instead, now I’m going to get annoyed with you.

Because here’s the other thing depressed people do--and I have done myself. They see people who are not depressed, whose hedonic barometers are functioning normally, and capable of experiencing joy even in arguably (or inarguably!) shitty circumstances, and they get mad at them. How dare you be capable of laughing at a joke, or sharing a meme, or having a nice day, when everything is so bad!

This is a common response, not only from depression, but also I think from grief, or fear, or trauma, or lots of other things. But it’s bullshit. I’m sorry, but you don’t get to demand that everyone feel your suffering as acutely as they feel their own. You don’t get to demand that just because you’re a pessimistic ball of frustration and anger that everyone else be, too. You get to--and ought to--demand that people treat you with empathy and respect, but that doesn’t mean they don’t get to make jokes about topics you find depressing as hell. Yes, even topics that personally affect you, and may not personally affect them (though, of course, a lot of times people assume the person making the joke isn’t personally affected by the topic, when in reality they are and the joke is a way of relieving stress and coping with frustration).

That calvin and hobbes meme I reblogged is an extremely generic political compass meme; the only relevance it has to the world today, I suppose, is acknowledging that, like, politics is a thing that exists. If you’re upset by that--how dare people laugh at politics, the source of all my problems--you’re being a dick.

And this leads my to my final point, which is this: while we are all of us owed compassion, we also owe others compassion. And people caught up in their own anxiety and depression and anger often don’t see the way their emotional states impose costs on the people around them. They often treat the people around them badly--worse, at any rate, than they normally would--and react defensively if this is pointed out to them.

I’ve done this. I have friends who have done this. I get it. It doesn’t make someone a horrible person! It doesn’t meant they deserve to feel the way they do. But it does create the second half of a twofold moral obligation. You see, I believe that the, call it “utilitarian selfishness” view, is essentially correct: if all humans are of similar moral worth (they are), and you can only help one person (often true), and that person is yourself, it is no less moral to help yourself than it is to help someone else. This is usually framed as a grant of permission: “you are allowed to be selfish sometimes.” But it’s also an obligation: “you should not be a dick--even to yourself.” You have a positive obligation to care about your own suffering! And you have a positive obligation to try to reduce the costs your suffering--your bad mood, your depression, your anxiety--imposes on the people around you.

Because I’m not a smug nihilist. I actually believe, with embarrassing intensity, in a large number of abstract principles. And while I believe circumstance or injustice can conspire to make people feel miserable and powerless, and I have the utmost sympathy for you feeling that way, no one is so omnipotent as to be able to truly excise our power to do something with our life that is rewarding to us, no matter how modest. Your subjective feeling of misery is not license to be a dick to people, or to misrepresent them or their motivations. And if reading my tumblr (or anyone else’s) makes you miserable, you have a positive moral obligation to stop, because you’re being a dick to yourself, which is no more justifiable than being a dick to me. And being a dick to me because you don’t like my Tumblr, because you’re miserable and I’m not, is pants-on-head stupid.

I, too, have been so convinced of my misery and powerlessness, and so utterly convinced of my inability to make improvements in my life, that I have yielded utterly to the feeling of myself as a despised, helpless, wretched thing. You can spend years in that state. A lifetime, even. I suppose it relieves you from the burden of having to try, which is a tiny shred of comfort when the climb up the hill seems so steep. But I have found that in the long run it brings no other relief; there’s no regression to the mean, just an endless prolongation of misery. It required some courage, and not a little determination, to try to climb out of that pit. Sometimes you struggle. Sometimes you fall back in. Sometimes it’s easier to believe there’s nothing beyond that place of unhappiness. But there is, and you can get there, and the choice of whether or not to reach it lies only with you.

[gemsofgreece]

Hello, may I request some comedy/light drama etc. recs from the golden age of Greek TV?

Okay, then *cracks knuckles*

(For anyone who didn’t read the first answered ask, the “golden age” of Greek TV is 1990 - 2010)

I don’t know if you are the Anon who had asked the 2010 onward shows because they didn’t mind the subtitles. If you definitely need subtitles, I am afraid there are only two shows you can watch right now:

Είσαι το Ταίρι Μου (You’re My Soulmate)

Romantic comedy / light drama (2001 - 2002). Vicky and Stella are two very different friends who are Greek immigrants in Australia. Vicky is stunning and men go crazy for her but she has many insecurities. Stella is not conventionally attractive but she allows nothing to bring her down. They both fall for the same handsome rich Greek, Nikos. It’s no brainer who wins - Nikos is a womanizer and falls immediately for Vicky. The interesting part is what happens next - when Vicky’s insecurities make her come up with a crazy plan / prank that will unleash hell over these three, Nikos’ entire family and a couple of friends living in Athens and change their lives forever...and everyone will then get what they deserve... or what they are brave enough to claim. Overall just a hilarious and clever comedy, with great acting and memorable characters you end up loving and an ending that isn’t a cliche. Here’s the link to watch with english subtitles.

Στο Παρά Πέντε (In the Nick of Time)

Mystery / Crime Comedy / Light drama (2005 - 2007) One of the two most famous Greek comedies. Five totally different people happen to be witnesses to the murder of a politician. Before he dies, the politician asks them to find who did it and take revenge for this and other crimes they have committed.  These five unassuming people become friends and start solving the mystery together like hilariously amateur detectives. In time, they will find out that there’s something more that unites them besides their friendship...and maybe not everything happens accidentally. Here’s the link to watch with english subtitles. This one is being subtitled right now.

So bad news: only two shows with English subtitles. Good news: They are the best of the best, so no problem.

But if subtitles are not necessary, let’s proceed with the rest I love in no particular order:

10 Λεπτά Κήρυγμα (10 Minutes of Scolding)

Comedy (2000 - 2003). The life of Leonidas Alivizatos, an untamed only child with divorced parents. The story is basically the endless ways Leonidas find to escape the limitations his parents put to him and the shenanigans he does with his best friend Telis and his girlfriend Marilena that drive his family crazy. Fun fact: My generation, we all had at some point a crush on Leonidas...right?

Singles

Romantic Dramedy (2004 - 2008). The show has four seasons although it’s the first one that mostly had a lasting impression on me. The story revolves around the social, professional and romantic lives of six young single people: Maro, a sensitive hopeless romantic, Rania, an angry cynic who hates relationships, Lila, a sex crazed cheerful woman, Orestes, an average I’d say young man who has his eyes on Maro though, Arthuros, Orestes’ best friend and a socially awkward man with a dark family past and  Loukas, a divorced father who seems to be quite the catch. There’s something special about the first season, it had an atmosphere, a style that I loved. The music was great too. I still remember the episode with the Reaper nightmares and that green light. In the following seasons, half of the cast changed.  Y’all Greeks here do you remember the title song? I love it.

Δεληγιάννειο Παρθεναγωγείο (Deligiannis School for Girls)

Comedy, Drama (2007 - 2008). Summer 1939. The events of the series evolve at the last period of the Greek Regime, the Greco-Italian War and the Nazi Invasion of Greece. Mimis Metaxas in the headmaster of the School and trapped in a miserable marriage. His father-in-law invites Agape, his niece, to teach at the school. Mimis falls desperately in love with Agape but of course he keeps it a secret. Agape is a free-spirited woman and it is soon clear that she is a Communist (or at least leaning toward left ideals) and Mimis tries to balance his job as the Headmaster of the school, his sad marriage, his love and the historical events happening in the country with his need to keep Agape protected at all costs and under full secrecy.

Κωνσταντίνου και Ελένης (Constantine and Helen’s)

Comedy (1998 - 2000). Okay, this is officially the best Greek comedy to date. After it ended in 2000, it has been on TV repeatedly and continuously to this day. For twenty years non-stop. It still  has bigger viewership than new current shows. An old aristocratic childless man writes two wills right before his death in which he gives his big residence. The one will is for Constantine, his aloof and conservative nephew who is a professor of Byzantine History in the University. The other will is for Helen, the only daughter of his beloved poor gardener who is a potty mouthed waitress. Constantine and Helen arrive at the house the same day and they are both determined to inherit the house and they can’t wait until the court date. The story revolves around everything they do to get rid of each other and their friends who are just as crazy as they are. There’s an interesting story about this show: they had done some tests and pilots and they were convinced that nobody was going to watch their show so the show became low budget and the actors were free to go batshit crazy. This ended up creating this hilarious masterpiece that is being rewatched by million Greeks to this day.

Οι Μεν και οι Δε (Them and the others)

Comedy (1993 - 1996). Dionysis Dagas, a famous lawyer who defends criminals lives with his wife Vana, an aristocratic lazy woman, in their apartment in Kolonaki. In the apartment right next to them Timos and Nana Stamatis come to live, unemployed and a jewelry artist respectively. Timos and Nana attempt numerous times to take money from frugal Dionysis and in general a big war starts between them as snobby Dagas are the exact opposite of the hippy Stamatis.

Σαββατογεννημένες (Born on Saturday)

Comedy (2003 - 2004). A sexist and all around horrible man named Savvas wins 7 million Euros at the lottery and as he learns it he has a car crash and loses his memory. His three ex-wives, the Greek language teacher Keti, the actress Bia and the tourist shop owner Soula, all very different and hating the guts of each other and Savvas, team up to find the lottery ticket before Savvas' memory recovers. But in order to achieve that, they have to act a lot and they have to take care of incapacitated Savvas themselves.

Το Καφέ της Χαράς (Chara's cafe)

Romantic comedy (2003 - 2006 and 2019 - now). Chara Chaska, an Athenian unmarried mother decides to start anew and takes her daughter with her to go live somewhere close to nature. They go to a village in Mountainous Arcadia, named Kolokotronitsi. What Chara doesn't know is that the village is extremely traditional and backwards and governed by the conservative and misogynist mayor Periandros Popotas. Popotas and the villagers will start a big war against the newcomer, especially when they find out she wants to open a modern lounge cafe and is not married. Chara has only few supporters there but soon she will also have the interest of her biggest enemy. The show has been revived since last year, as the continuation of what happens many years later but I haven't been watching.

Dolce Vita

Romantic comedy (1995 - 1997). Christina Markatou is the mature rich widow of a tomato factory owner and now she runs it on her own. Christina visits her daughter Dorita in Italy where she studies and upon her return to Greece she unexpectedly has a one night stand with young Antonis Kaloudis. What they both don't know is that Antonis is Dorita's fiance and travels to Greece to meet her family. After the initial shock, Antonis realises he prefers the mother but Christina tries to resist. The love though is too strong. Christina begins seeing Antonis, full of regrets and self-loathing, and tries to hide the affair from her daughter, the nosy housemaid Aspasia and the absolute terror that her mother-in-law is, Olga Markatou. Is there any chance for happiness?

Εγκλήματα (Crimes)

Black comedy (1998 - 2000). Alekos and Flora have always been in love but never got together and got married to evil Soso and kindly Achilles respectively instead. Alekos finds Flora and they start an affair. Soso finds out about the affair quickly and tries repeatedly to kill Alekos. All the crazy things that happen start from all of Soso's murderous attempts and affect the lives of the aforementioned as well as their close relatives who are as crazy as the main characters. Will Soso achieve her biggest ambition to become utterly evil and kill Alekos and whomever else stands in her way?

Σ' αγαπώ, μ' αγαπάς (I love you, you love me)

Domestic comedy (2000 - 2002). The hilariously realistic life of a couple, Dimitra and Thodoris (the actors play with their real names). The actors had such great chemistry that they were chosen as the voice actors for Greek Marlin and Dory in Finding Nemo (also with great success).

So, these are my favourites but there are many others I like or that are very popular but not my cup of tea. Any other Greek is welcome to recommend their own faves.

[ziracona]

so can u tell us a little about ur characterization of Lisa?? What's she like inside and outside of trials? Does she have a lot of lucidity, what were her relationships with others like, would she ever get better, do you think? ( im SAD.) Just. What's she like!! Also, same for Sally? Oh! And I'm rly enjoying two songs by Meg Myers which maybe you'll like? Running up that hill (Cover) and Desire. Maybe check em out? :3 - Sleepy

Sure!

My Lisa is from a bit before the archives for her placed her (early 1970s), because I wrote ILM back when there was no date given for many killers or survivors, so I just hoped they were historically accurate with the things they did mention & went through a fairly exhaustive list of drained swamps in the Southern US & paddleboat makes & placed her according to that data (it’s been a bit so I don’t remember the exact date without looking up my notes) in the 1920s-1930s, I believe? And in her early 20s, since she’s described as a girl & young woman, which DbD usually does only for characters in their early 20s. (Which I’d still assume is her age, bc even though her archives, if you go by them, have her in her teens, they’re not connected to the events of her disappearance/definitely happened before them.)

In trials, Lisa has like 0 lucidity. I talk about this some in chapter notes, so I’ll try to give a quick overview instead but sry if I restart myself. She’s so starved that any time she sees a living being, she is just completely overcome with hunger and can’t do anything but operate on it. Very scary. Feral. Like being attacked by a starving animal. She’s super out of it, and is completely wild and violent and has no control, only the need to eat. Outside of trials, if no one is around, she’s lucid again, but will remember trials and what she did to people, and spends that time in horror and despair. She’s tried to kill herself before, because the last thing she ever wanted was to become the thing she swore vengeance on (the Entity’s a real cruel motherfucker. Did the same to Rin, to Philip, to everyone it could. Likes to really twist decent people into what they would most despair to be), but in the realm, she’s stuck as it. She’s not really aware for trials, but remembers them with decent clarity, and is in constant agony over what she’s done. Unfortunately, suicide does not take in the realm, and every one of her attempts failed, just like her attempts to maim or tie herself up so she wouldn’t be able to hurt people did. She’s horribly alone and despairing, and also in physical agony. She’s at the worst end of what a human can be at as far as emaciation and starvation while still being alive goes, and that’s physically awful. It fucks up your brain chemistry too, and everything is just really fucking miserable all the time. It hurts to move, it hurts to breathe, your breath smells tastes like rotten fruit but in a way that’s so much worth than that can sound. She’s so hungry, her addons are things like dragonfly wings consumed to give her extra stamina. That’s the kind of bare sliver of relief she ever gets. God, poor Lisa’s life is hell. She’s completely heartbroken and isolated and almost dead. As far as relationships go, she didn’t have any for a long time. No one can really interact with her, because she goes feral at the sight of food. She’s kinda utterly alone. But briefly, when Alex, Philip, Vigo, Benedict, and Sally were a group, she kind of got stumbled into, and after a kind of nasty first encounter, was able to regain lucidity around other people, and had a truly sweet and memorable and invaluable bit of time with love and friends and other people. She was kind of in love with Sally, who did her hair for her and was really kind to her, and Sally liked her too. They were close. Lisa was close with all of them. But when things ended the way they did, the Entity took that away. Lisa remembers it, but she could never get them or it back, and was cast aside and left behind until the end of ILM, when she finally got peace and found happiness in finally getting to be at rest in the arms of a friend. Overal, she’s a fairly young and wide-eyed, bright, cautious, fun and sweet girl by nature, now massively traumatized and hopeless and broken, but still with a truly incredible amount of that kind nature retained. She would have really loved reading fantasy novels aloud and exploring the worlds of lore and history, travelling, seeing other cultures and geographic features and animals. Enjoys fashion too, and has a heart for designing and making cool, personal and cultural and symbolic tied designs, and would have been both great at that and loved it if she’d lived long enough. (Shoutout to @artianaiolanthe who inspired the fashion take & it is so suited to her I love it). A little shy, but an extrovert at heart under it, just a nervous one. Loved people. Liked climbing trees and fording brooks and baking bread and throwing rocks and baseballs to knock a target out of a tree and win a prize at little town fairs. Didn’t get the length or quality of life she was owed, and it’s just not fair or okay at all. Liked to watch the stars.

As far as getting better goes, mentally, totally. If they could get her out of the realm or break the Entity’s connection, she’d immediately stop killing. She has never done it of her own free will. She’s a sweet small town kid who was just trying to live her life. As far as physically goes though, Lisa is in one of the worst possible spots. Unlike say Amanda, who was on death’s door but healed by the Entity, or the Legion, who weren’t injured at all, Lisa was on death’s door and like Adiris, did not get healed. Just preserved in that near-death state and forced to work in it. Honestly, it’s possible she could survive long enough to get to a hospital and be saved, but at best, she’d probably live another year. When you starve, your body begins to catabolize/eat your own tissue to save itself, starting with fat, and ending with muscles and organs, which, when it reaches the heart, kills you. Lisa was so close to dead, the organ damage was probably awful, and would leave her with complications that would take her very young. The most likely thing, since she was saved literally seconds before death, would be for her to step outside the realm and immediately die. However, it’s possible she got lucky on body damage and could be saved—kinda up to interpretation—and if say, she was around for Quentin’s Vigil going healing batshit, and got some organs repaired that way, she’d have a real shot. (I also am sad. Lisa was actually the only determinate character in ILM to me/that I wasn’t sure the ending for, and while I am very happy with what ended up being her closure, I also would like to see her live for even more love and peace TuT. Lol, if I ever end up doing my goddamn four fate route fics like I’ve joked now a truly dangerous number of times about doing [>.> me @ me] then maybe she will get a variety of lives in the end). I’m glad you wanted to know! I really like and pity her. This poor kid really did nothing wrong, much like Rin, and just got eternally tortured for asking for help and justice against the monsters who took her life so violently. Fuck Brittany. (Read: the Entity.)

Ahhhh Sally. My sweet, sweet girl. Uhhh, not sure which of the Lisa questions you meant for her too, so I’ll try to speed-answer them all? Sally’s intelligent and understanding and thoughtful, patient, polite, almost elegant despite how impoverished she spent most of her life—she just tries to act like a lady and treat people with as much respect and esteem as she can (unless they suck lol). She’s also very mentally damaged and not there though, and has extremely unstable mood swings, especially into despair. Her relationships with the other killers were limited. She talked to & was on polite terms with any who would talk to her and not be condescending or a dick so openly she’d pick up on it (so like, on cordial terms with Evan, Herman, Caleb if she’d been there that long, but not like, Kenneth or Freddy or someone who wouldn’t bother to put up an act). But mostly, after figuring out she wasn’t really of any use to them, they quit communicating with her. Sally has been extremely isolated since shortly after being taken. She believes that the survivors are innocent and suffering and knows that they don’t deserve the hunt, but has no way to stop the whole system, and has been convinced by the Entity that if she does a good job and earns moris, the ones she strangles to death get to stay dead instead of coming back after death to suffer endlessly again, so she works very dedicatedly and slowly trying to earn kills to save them. It took her physical eyes when it got her and lets her see through it’s powers, and uses that to randomize what survivors look like in her memory so she doesn’t catch wise it’s the same people over and over and she’s not saving them at all. It’s extremely tragic. God it’s one of the most cruel Entity tricks, which is saying a lot. Poor gentle woman is Sisyphus pushing a boulder up a hill day after day year after year and she doesn’t even know how hopeless and meaningless it all is. : (

When the Vigo-Philip-Alex-Benedict team was going, though, she met and attacked, then was convinced to instead befriend them, and quickly became very attached and well liked by them. Met Lisa while with the group, and became extremely fond of her and loving towards her and was truly, truly happy for a brief period of time. Still remembers her, even as lost as all her memories are. Not her name, but what she looked like to Sally, and how her hair felt, and how nice it was. Sally would have considered everyone in that group a dear friend, and in ILM, Philip most definitely becomes her deepest, closest, and best friend, just like she does to him. She’s a very faithful woman to her soul. Loved her family, loved her husband and mourned him, worked as hard as she could. Cared for her patients, and did her best in that hell until the Entity slowly whittled away at her sanity until it broke her mind and left her convinced the only way to end their pain would be to give them death, and she had to do it to save them. Sally loves little pretty things and neatness and collections. Flowers, bows and ribbons, china and colored glass. She would have treasured gifts like decorative holiday cards and carved animal figures and left them on her mantle or carefully tucked in lovingly organized and decorated books she could open to revisit the memory. Likes dresses and skirts and the way the wind feels. Hopeful and very enduring. Loving. Had a mom heart, and will never really get entirely over the loss of her children, but is strong and kind and will find new love that makes life still worth living in other people. Will remember both kindness and cruelty a long, long time. Loved Quentin from the second he gave her flowers (Dwight: Quentin, why did the entity let you have three moms? Quentin: Because I fucking earned it >:[“ [author’s note: he did. God that poor kid...]). Loved Kate from the day she sat with her in a hospital and held her hand. Is like that. Remembers small kindness and treasures them.

Sally could definitely recover. Not all the way probably, physically or mentally, but by far enough to be complete and happy and realized and who she wants. She never meant to hurt people, so she really just needs some stability, and I think she finds that with her new family. I mean, it is a lot to adjust to. It’s been like nearly 100 years. The Entiry broke her mind, and she’s got some damage that just probably can’t ever be fixed, but a lot can be, with drugs and treatments and therapy and kindness and a good support system, and honestly, the biggest things she needs are people to keep her memories together and herself present, and influences to protect her from being manipulated and controlled now that she’s so suggestible and easy to hurt, and she’s got that. I am 100% certain that while some things—the scatteredness, the ease of slipping into other moods especially deep sadness, the different way of thinking altogether—never leave her, she gets better in the most important ways and is truly happy and quite functional and what she wants to be. While there’s no way (yet anyway lol. Cybernetics that good when?) to give her new eyes since the Entity ripped hers out, and she’s blind now, and can’t be changed, her seeing eye dog does a great job for her, and she’s very happy and adjusts well. She has a lot of friends to be her eyes, and learns to lean into what she can do and has a quite fulfilling and blissful life outside the realm in ILM.

Also: thanks for the recs! I’m going on a run soon, and I’ll add those to my iPod and give ‘em a listen if I can. Hope this answered what you wanted to know! ^u^

[crowbarstodd]

Course Of Nature (4)

Chapter Summary: *banging pots together* DAMINETTE! DAMINETTE! Word Count: 3,272 Rating: G Paring: DAMINETTE!

Prologue | One | Two | Three | Four | Five |

Rena Rogue gagged as soon as she opened an aging door, hands covering her nose and mouth as she took a large step back. “This place stinks!”

Marinette felt inclined to agree with Rena Rogue, nose wrinkling as a foul stench invaded her nostrils, so strong her eyes stung from unshed tears. “You’ll have to get used to it,” Marinette said regretfully, “we’ll be spending some time here.”

Rena moaned, edging inside carefully, nose still pinched between two fingers.

The little off-white townhouse they’d been sent to investigate in Paris’ nineteenth arrondissement was almost charming at first sight. It sat trapped between a high fence marking the end of the street, and a baby-pink, connecting unit with a strip of green at the front only just large enough to fit a few common elder hedges.

The place itself was only slightly overrun by weeds, not enough to appear unseemly, which was probably why it was left alone by most of the unsuspecting neighbours. Marinette herself would have overlooked it completely had it not been for the large mold stain on the bottom right side of the door, and the putrid stench that coated the home. Oh, and the mission sent by Batman and Master Fu.

The inside was drowned in dust and rust, and none of the lights would turn on, so she and Rena resigned themselves to exploring the place with the limited light their torches provided.

“This is literally the worst villain hideout. Unhygienic and unaesthetic is what this place is,” Rena griped, searching through shelves for anything that looked mildly useful.

“There’s no proof this was a hideout. Just that Queen Bee sent a package here about two months ago.”

Rena stopped in her tracks. “Queen Bee? Like, Chloe?”

“No, like the politician.”

“Are you being sarcastic?”

Marinette sighed, tilting her head to the sky, eyes shut. “I thought Chat gave you a debrief?”

“Sure, but he didn’t use any names. Just said that another villain sent a package probably for Hawkmoth.”

Wily cat, making her do all the annoying jobs. She’d get him neutered the next time she saw him. “Queen Bee is a corrupt Bialyan leader, part of the light.”

“So not Chloe?”

“Not Chloe,” Marinette confirmed.

“What do we call Chloe then?”

Tired of the conversation, and without any real answers to give, Marinette returned to searching the room for clues. “Call her whatever you want, Rena.”

“Bitch it is!”

“No.”

She zoned out Rena’s following playful whinges, focused on the wooden desk that sat alone in the otherwise empty room connected to the living room that Rena was investigating.

With careful hands she pulled the drawer of the desk open, worrying her lip as her heart pumped with excitement. Where else would one keep a package but their desk?

It was empty.

Disappointed, she shut it closed, only to hear Rena’s resounding shriek.

The living room was a mess of white.

An upturned milk bottle appeared to have fallen from atop the cupboard above the stove. It must have been balancing precariously already, relying on the shut door for stability, and tipping over when Rena pulled the cupboard open.

She stood in the center of the kitchen, an orange lighthouse in a sea of white, utterly drenched, and completely miserable.

In her hands, Marinette spotted something promising.

“Is that a USB?”

“Are you okay Rena? That sucks for you Rena, but don’t worry too much about it,” Rena muttered, peeved.

Marinette scratched the back of her head and let out an awkward laugh. “Sorry. You alright, Rena?”

“I’m drenched in milk, LB. But I found a USB and I managed to keep it dry.”

Marinette cheered under her breath, getting closer to inspect the gadget. It was a simple single-toned grey stick, made by LexCorp. “Only four gigabytes?” She mused aloud, expecting something more monumental.

Rena paid her no mind, wringing her hair over the sink, and yelping when the water that poured out of it was brown in colour. “Ugh, I should have just let Chat take this mission,” Rena grumbled. “Might have even enjoyed the milk.”

Marinette shrugged, a lazy smile painting her face. “I don’t think anyone’d enjoy an unexpected milk-bath, Rena, even silly kitty’s like him.”

Rena shook her leg clean, watching with wry eyes as droplets splashed onto the floor. “You always call him Kitty or Chaton,” Rena commented. “It’s kind of cute.”

If it was Carapace saying it, Marinette wouldn’t have batted an eye, but Rena was sort of pushy, and undeniably not-so-secretly interested in Ladybug’s (love) life. Marinate could see the teasing glint in Rena’s eyes and hear the mischief in her voice, enough to get what she was suggesting.

“Yes I do,” Marinette agreed. “Because we’re partners.”

“You don’t have nicknames for me!”

Marinette raised a brow. “You’re not my partner,” she sung.

Rena pouted, jutting her bottom lip out dramatically enough that for a second, Marinette saw her mask disappear and make way for her best friend who she knew was behind it. She’d never say it aloud, lest it encourage her friend’s more dangerous habits (running headfirst into attacks without a mask or protection) but Alya’s determination and vivacity had always been qualities that Marinette admired. That, and how lush her thick locks always seemed to be.

“What about your new partner then? Lark?”

Marinette snorted. Guess Alya held some second-hand anger on her boyfriend’s behalf after all. “You mean Robin?”

Rena rolled her eyes, waving a dismissive hand in the air. “Yeah sure, Robin.”

“What about him?”

“Well if not Chat, then?” Rena trailed off, but Marinette was sharp enough to know what she’d been suggesting.

Involuntarily, her cheeks burst bright red. Memories of last night that she’d tried so hard to forget — moonlight, a surprising confession, and lips —nope! She shook the thoughts out of her head, bringing her hands to her cheeks in an attempt to cool them down.

“Oh my god! Girl!”

“N-no!” Marinette stuttered out, adamant to explain things before Rena got the complete wrong idea. “It’s not like that! I don’t like Robin! Not even in a friend way!”

“Clearly not in the friend way! Girl, does he know?”

Stupid Robin. Stupid dumb Robin and his stupid dumb lips and their stupid dumb conversation and the terrible, awful, cringe-inducing, stupid-dumb ending to last night! “No! Alya!”

“What happened to no secret identities on the field? I don’t even know yours so you’ve got an advantage there.”

“I don’t think that’s the point, Rena.”

“You’re right,” she agreed. “The point is are you gonna tell him?”

“No, there’s nothing romantic happening at all!”

Knowing better than to push when Marinette was sure she looked ready to explode, Rena simply wiggled her brows cheekily and returned to searching for hints. “Okay LB,” she said as she passed, patting Marinette on the shoulders almost patronisingly.

Marinette had to bite her lip to prevent a scream.

Perusing the little unit was much less eventful than either of the two girls expected, and in the end, they found nothing of use apart from the single USB stick that Rena had risked milk-dousing for.

“Literally the worst hour of my life,” Rena commented, inhaling deeply when they finally locked the rotting door behind them. “Never again.”

“You okay to get the USB to Master Fu by yourself?”

“Sure thing Ladybug. You go ahead and get your Z’s, you’ve got patrol tomorrow night as well.”

Marinette moaned at the reminder. Damn, and she was getting excited to make a new dress-shirt too.

—————————————

School the next day was interesting, to say the least. The class was abuzz, all gravitating around Chloe’s desk where she was sat bragging (no surprise there) about some celebrities her dad’s hotel was hosting.

“The Waynes are ridiculously famous and important,” the blonde said, leaning back against her chair as if she didn’t care at all. (She cared very much, and wasn’t as good an actress as she thought she was, Marinette noted.) “Bruce Wayne is like, the most eligible bachelor, and he brought three of his sons with him!”

“Three?” Marinette mumbled under her breath, taking her seat beside Alya. “Why does she say it like he has more?”

“He has five,” Alya supplied helpfully, flashing her a smile in greeting.

Soon enough Alya’s head was down, and her chemistry notes were out, but it was obvious that she was paying more attention to what Chloe was saying than what was on her page, but a tad too prideful to admit to herself that Chloe had anything of particular worth to say.

Chloe’s voice was loud enough that Marinette could join her friend in pretending to overhear, rather than listen to the blonde. “They’re going to be staying at my daddy’s hotel for two weeks,” she boasted.

“Wow Chloe, that’s so cool!” Rose awed. Even from the other side of the room, Marinette could stars forming in her eyes. It was like Prince Ali all over again. “I’d love to meet them! I heard the Wayne foundation helps hundreds of people every year, and that Dick Grayson is nice to everyone!”

She nudged Alya lightly with her elbow. “Dick Grayson?”

“Eldest son, I think.” Was Alya’s simple reply.

Chloe sneered, “someone like him would want nothing to do with you.”

“Well, I’m going to say hi anyway!” Rose replied hotly, learning from last time. Her chest puffed out in pride, leaving her to look like a bright pink penguin, but Marinette was happy for her. It looked like she wasn’t going to let Chloe talk her down anymore.

Chloe opened her mouth, probably to dish out an insult, but straightened as if remembering something important. “Fine,” she said instead. “Do what you want.”

Alya raised a brow and made a face that looked to a cross between impressed and disbelieving.

In a weird way, Marinette felt almost proud. Sure, each awful word out of Chloe’s mouth gave her some sort of vindication (who doesn’t love being right?) that always lead to her feeling guilty, but every time Chloe acted politely, against Marinette’s expectations, she was being influenced by Ladybug. There was something humbling about seeing her impact on the small scale, however minute it was.

“Will you all come with me?” Rose asked, wide eyes directed at the girls of the class.

Don’t look, Marinette urged herself. The moment she looked into Rose’s big Bambi eyes she’d be gone, and however much she loved Rose she needed to go to bed before patrol that night.

“Please?”

“Sure thing, Rose!” Alya agreed. “Marinette and I’d be happy to come.”

Raising her head to refute Alya, Marinette found herself staring right into Rose’s baby blues. Crap. “Yeah Rose, I’d love to come!”

Marinette’s mouth moved faster than her mind, and by the time she’d realised what she had done it was far too late. Rose had already turned to ask Alix.

God, if only Rose was a tablespoon less cute.

(“You’re going to see Dick Grayson? Can I come? I love Dick Grayson!

“Sure, Kim!”)

—————————————

Dick Grayson really was nice to everyone he met, and it didn’t take long for Marinette to understand why all of Paris seemed to swoon over him.

He was charming, had eyes bluer than blue, and a smile that looked so familiar, Marinette could have sworn she’d seen it directed at her before. Really truly, he was great. But all she could focus on was the screaming that was happening somewhere further down the hotel that nobody else seemed to care about.

Marinette inched backwards until she was out of sight, bolting down the nearest corridor, following the sound the best she could.

Tikki peeked out from inside her bag, gazing at her with questioning eyes. “Are you sure you don’t want to transform, Marinette? It doesn’t sound very good.”

“I just wanna check first, Tikki. It might not be an attack.”

It wasn’t one. What she’d mistaken for innocent lives threatened by some Akumatised being was, in fact, two boys screaming at each other in the hotel hallway. Or rather, one boy screaming as the other responded, just as heated, but not as loud.

“You will regret this, Drake!” The shorter boy seethed at the other, who stood across from him, clearly unimpressed, back slouched and left hand in his corduroy pants.

The taller one, Drake, raised his hands in apparent frustration. “It’s a room. You’ll just have to settle with sharing with Jason.”

“I had the room with Grayson first. Return it immediately!”

“You sound like a brat.”

The shorter boy huffed, launching a well-aimed kick at the taller boy’s head, which he somehow managed to block, hand still in his pocket. “Your attack will be returned tenfold,” the shorter one announced, leaving ‘Drake’ alone at last. Marinette squeaked as he walked in her direction, slipping around the corner as his eyes narrowed.

He didn’t seem to care though, walking out of the hotel without another look back.

Concerned about a potential Akuma victim, she trailed after him.

She felt childish to have been lulled in such an obviously false sense of comfort, but she was genuinely surprised when he disappeared from her sight after exiting the hotel, only to reappear behind her. He had one hand around both her wrists, keeping her from fighting back with her arms.

“What business do you have following me?”

Marinette spluttered, struggling not to let her eyes dart to her bag in concern as she felt Tikki’s concerned shudder. “I was just making sure you were okay!” Marinette insisted. “I just didn’t want you to get akumatised!”

He let go of her wrists, but his eyes were still in slits, and his knees were bent as if ready to bolt at any given chance. “Explain yourself,” he demanded.

He was pretty snooty if Marinette was being honest, but she supposed she’d be paranoid too if someone was following her. “If you get too upset, Hawkmoth will be able to use you to destroy the city,” Marinette explained, omitting some important parts about certain Miraculous’. It was weird he didn’t know any of this yet. “Are you new here or something?”

The boy sniffed in disdain. “My family landed here this morning.”

This morning…

Marinette gave his outfit a quick once-over.

Black skinny jeans; Givenchy, black shoes; Armani, Burberry jacket, and Wayne-Tech watch. Wayne tech phone peeking out from his pocket too… Rose was going to be so jealous.

(His target-brand Nightwing t-shirt confused her, though.)

“You must be a Wayne!” Marinate exclaimed, extending her hand to greet him. “I’m Marinette.”

He looked at her hand with a raised brow.

He didn’t move until her face shifted into a glare. “Damian.”

He was a little rough around the edges, but he was also mad, and she wouldn’t be Ladybug if she left some innocent person alone to be akumatised. “Nice to meet you, Damian. Do you like ice-cream?”

“I’m not fond of sweets.”

“I’ll find something for you.”

She grabbed his wrist, ready to tug him along, when he snatched his hand right out of her grip. “Unhand me!” He bellowed, looking angry again. Marinate wanted to slap a hand on her forehead, feeling idiotic for upsetting him even further.

“I’m not going to do anything weird, I promise. I just want to take you to my family’s bakery, get you some tea or something to calm you down.”

He looked on the verge of protest, but she must have said something right because he deflated soon after. “Some tea would be acceptable.”

They sat across from each other on the table nearest to the front window, seats comfortably cushioned with little round pillows that were decorated with flowers; one of Marinette’s own creations.

The bakery was one of her favourite places in the world. Little personal splashes made the place warm, from the cushions she’d made, the three small tables on the right side of the bakery for inside dining that she’d suggested herself, and the small red stain on the underside of the front counter that she’d created by spilling dye while making red-velvet cupcakes. She and her mom had spent almost an hour trying to remove any traces of it, but that little mark, shaped like a coma, was far more stubborn than either of them.  

He liked rice tea, she learned. Rice tea and plum dacqouise.

Well, he never said he liked plum dacquoise, but he clearly didn't dislike plum dacquoise. Her dad had asked if he’d like anything else with his tea, and when he looked to her for suggestions, there was one thing she couldn’t not recommend.

“I’d like the Marinette,” he’d said, voice frank. Her heart had pounded at how the sentence sounded, but she didn’t correct him or mention it in case it’d embarrass him. He wasn’t a native speaker after all, so it was impressive enough he could maintain a conversation and order all on his own.

“It’s my favourite cake,” she informed him after his first bite. He replied with a ‘hn.’

Easy silence befell them as Damian sipped his tea, looking out the window with slight interest. She was eating his cake, well her cake that he bought, content to sit in silence, appreciating how he simply nodded her way when he caught her, not too miffed at her eating his food. “Did you come here for a holiday?” She asked, striking up a conversation.

He tilted his head to the side, thinking. The bright lights seemed to highlight his jawline perfectly, because Marinette couldn’t stop her eyes from trailing downward. “For business mostly, but I suppose Gra— my brother might consider this a holiday.”

“Must be nice to have so many siblings.”

Damian huffed, folding his arms the way Alya’s younger sisters did when they heard something they didn’t like. “They’re not my siblings.”

“You just said you had a brother though?”

Damian spluttered, mouth moving as he protested mutely, unable to come up with a convincing response. “It’s not fun,” he said instead, replying to her initial comment.

Marinette smiled behind her hands at his petulant behaviour, not yet brave enough, or close enough to him to laugh at him to his face. “I wouldn’t know,” she shrugged. “I’m an only child.”

“I was too, once.” Damian’s eyes had a misty quality to them that Marinette wasn’t sure she wanted to touch on. Instead, she latched on to what felt like the only tangible part of what he said.

“Are you adopted?”

Damian all but hissed, leaning over the table to exclaim his response. “I’m the blood heir! The rest of them were adopted!”

She leaned back into her seat, surprised by his outburst.

Prepared to spend the rest of the hour suffering in heavy silence, Marinette was almost grateful to see a large, thorn breaking through the bakery window, engraving itself deep into the floor.

It shook the building down to its foundations, leaving the counter and the cakes it displayed utterly obliterated. Marinette coughed, inhaling a lungful of dust and debris caused by the projectile, wheezing out a breath. Her heart thrummed as she readied herself for a battle.

“I have to go!” She and Damian said in sync. She let him leave, expecting his worry for his family, and preoccupied with planning how to get to the Akuma.

Marinette let out a quiet “sorry,” as she trapped her parents in the back room, locking the door on them so they would be safe without noticing her absence.

“Tikki, spots on!”

End Notes: hhhhhhhhh so this is actually only half of my original plan for chapter 4 so I guess you can expect chapter five soon. I was so excited for the fight but chapter 4 got so long and I felt that the fight deserved it’s own chapter and I didn’t want too many events in one chapter because it’d feel too cluttered oh man.

But also! Daminette!!!!! 

Classic Bruce gets there secret identities to arrive later than their hero ones to avoid suspicion. We got our first peek at Tim, and a mention of Jason. If anyone’s wondering why Chloe only mentioned three sons,,, Jason’s legally dead so ye theres that. 

Daminette!!! They met!!!!!!!!! For those curious, his acceptance of tea was thanks to his appreciation of Alfred. Daminette!!! 

Things to look forward to next chapter: Akuma fight!!! Addressing the ‘Queen Bee’ situation completely, kind of addressing what happened the night damian stormed of jealous and MORE maridami goodness. (Is it obvious how much I love chapter 5 and how much I wanna get it DONE?

Tag List:

@just-rant-and-write-fic-idea @kceedraws @mystery-5-5 @2sunchild2 @i-like-fairytail-and-stuff @treebrosha @mooshoon @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @aarushi-03 @ladylb @crazylittlemunchkin @kurogaya913 @ki117h3dr4g0n @xxmadamjinxx @sidefrienda @7-sage-7 @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @felicityroth @tritaledkitsune @constancetruggle @creator-josie @theatreandcomicfreak @northernbluetongue @yin-390

Feel free to ask to be tagged/untagged!

[lunar-rose-academy]

How 2 RP - Part 1.5 (A little extra)

Hey everyone! Masao here~ Welcome to part 1.5, a little extra for you all, where i interview a experienced RPer, who shares their story, and give their own tips for RP. I thought it would be nice to hear from someone that has more experience then i do.

Today, we talk with:

@captainkurosolaire

​​A very good friend of mine who was actually one of my very first RP friends back in the days of Heavensward. Kuro was one of the first groups i joined, called Goldbrand. A pirate group that mostly focused on hunting Relics and the like. I learned a lot about RP from him, and made me really enjoy writing stories. He is also a very awesome dude and very humble. I hope our little interview helps you get motivated to RP, and to set that first step into the fantastic world of FFXIV!

My first question for Kuro was:

When you started RP, how did you start? Did you have a lot of help? Kuro: I started 6 years ago in XIV RP. I've been LARPing, I've built my own scuffed tabletop game with me and a bud, I've done WoW RP (Didn't click with me due to bad introduction to it.) As an only child, I've always had nothing but the highest of imagination's and I've always been tethered to create and build.I had tons of help. I wouldn't be here in the community without one of my ex's who drove me into it. I was a cuck. They shaped me and saw that, I was passionately nerdy about this stuff and always directed me towards this but, I was a shy bean and in a cocoon thought I’d fail or be a burden. After they parted with me for being naive and needing to harden me with heartbreak, I took a gamble for myself. Leaped in after a person named Sei took me in, I created Captain off just his glamour alone and then built off the tiny sketches with what I had in solo and overtime.Started from Gilgamesh, then went to Balmung. This was the era when Quicksands a majority of the time was filled with ERP and anything on the outskirts, were the more serious players and you had to go looking. I made a character fit and based around Quicksands and centered around the atmosphere. It felt fitting. So I went brash from being the most introvert by playing the most opposite to me. To not only challenge myself, but to force me to learn more. This overall was more productive of aiding in my conquest for building my Tabletop game, at first, it was mainly for that...Then eventually as my reputation was mainly ERP but somehow my F-list had some actual character-depth, I expanded and branched off. I was told by my Kahn'a my practical Yoshi P and lore guide. Some helpful hints and after that they practically set me up for transitioning out of just being a smut writer, even though I had a story behind each thing, I wanted to transition out. Then I met Verrine, Mishi, Thorcatte, Sun’ra, These people really put the ground-works into my story alongside Kahn'a, everywhere I turned, every person I met, they were inspirations, they were aiding me in RPing and feeling like this is my home, this is the land of the nerds and I owe them everything for letting me find this haven.Eventually another friend told me basically, why not just DM(Dungeon Master). Since I had contacts, I had the RP and creativity for it. They pointed me in that direction. Wasn't until I met my longest and really huge gratitude of an RPer in Ayla, who eventually inspired and led me into not only you. But bringing in many others who I eventually found as crew.I owe a tremendous amount to Ayla... Without a shadow of a doubt. Kahn'a too, but I could say literally, I owe everyone, four-hundred people in my head right now. From I've ever contacted or came into RP or even plotted none of their experiences have ever gone to waste. They each gave me a presence of passion. I transitioned off; led a huge DM group that was mainly done because you reached back out after I hit a downward spiral. After I left everything behind and ruined nearly all of it and lost my mojo.You rose me back like the phoenix, I eventually created a plot so massive that I could DM for like thirty individual people with the right support and people, did I fail in being a community leader or dealing with drama and involving everyone with my health and limited energy? You're damn straight. -- I failed utterly horrendously!  However -- It wasn't entirety wasn't in vain, people found their little groups and pockets in that, they met their meshes. Which objectively, that's all that matters as someone who organizes those to bring people together and in.After that... I transitioned into Tumblr more after being encouraged by people like Fair-Fae from afar, to Sei. Then worked on drumming to the beats given. To every person, even the ones that are angry emoji in the background-- I love em' their passion rubs into me and it breathes of air, gives me wings better than red-bull advertises! As someone who's dealing with an inoperable and bed-ridden rare disease, I've never been or felt more alive.I owe so much to people, and it's why I've stuck around for six years now and continue to batter up against the foul. This is why, I want to raise, boost, encourage, and rally others to be shared so they find in match-making their RP partners, and despite... I know my writing style hasn't ever been everyone's flavor, I never have ever thought of ever wanting someone not to find happiness. I couldn't give up RP at this stage. My next question would be, If you could give a tip to someone who just wanted to start to get into RP, what would you say to them? Kuro:  Know this. Getting into RP is a joke. It's really easy, you possess already every tool to be a tremendous RPer! Much better than I and I ever will be.

Short version: Just communicate. RP It's merely a Dance that can be positively enchanting, magical! -- I don't care what anyone says. ~ It's a partnership, you've got to find the people who keep up with pace and momentum, or blend with your style. You won't always find that and it's not a bad thing if that can't work. Some characters don't connect, some are opposite but they can still work. That's because it requires, one additional thing that requires: a pillar of effort. Don't let yourself be overwhelmed. Looking from the outside this game I've heard and seen, It's intimidatingly daunting. It's a lot to get into. Though this game? It's unoriginal. There isn't anything you can't create in this game, you have science, you've got alchemy, you've got magic. This game is literally called Fantasy in the title, this game has yanked and pulled off all the foundations of RL concepts, other fantasy tropes, religions, and renamed them and splashes over paint. You can do the same... Anything can be explained, I don't care what it is. People are fundamentally not grown as the exact same, I'm not personally here to be a clone trooper. Now If I want to play that, I can even do that respectively.* Look around the game visually, see if you think it can be done with the setting and place, build yourself something anything, you've got a whole box of legos don’t step on them. It’s proven constantly your creativity can be endless the more you play over time, or invest, put yourself out there. Go look into some guides, pull from a book, or google anything you’re thinking about. Again: People have styles they're different. You may appeal to being an NPC, you may like to be extended into Lore, you may not like all the fantasy, that's more than reasonable, it's all valid... There are people that feel you, they're waiting for YOU. Then you'll find people who are open-minded, you'll find people like me, I was in RP's with aliens, voidsents, normal people, WoL, like I've witnessed a lot. Listen to them, let them explain, and most often they fit. If you're too close-minded to accept then you don't need to worry you’ve already decided they’re not you, or your taste, leave them to their devices let them have their happiness, and go back to the scour. Don’t try harassing or bothering something that’s not there or ever will work. Wastes time and misery and drama isn’t worth unless it’s within stories, trust me. See for me... I’ve seen it all. People saying aetherfeeders and vampires didn't exist they cried on the forums and held a tantrum you had people say for years -- then boom RDM storyline and Stormblood came out debunked. Submarines weren’t things prior to SB despite we’ve got Garlean’s over here casually making Gundam’s. Their careers are over they played themselves -- this game is still continuing and always will if you're waiting for official confirmation from a -book- then you're going to be miserable, you're living off the backbone of a book meant to 'guide' and be resourceful in extension not to weaponize it and be a prick to people who don’t follow strictly the same ethic as you’ve so randomly chosen for yourself in standards, I hate to burst bubbles, but you’re never going to be 100% accurate, never ever. You didn’t create this game -- or it, therefore you can’t be anything but a replicator you’re just stuck either limiting your pieces or taking from an entire tub of building material. You aren't playing the book, you're playing the game. That's the real cannon, you literally visually see everything that's going to happen, you can bend it with predictions and logistical math. See XIV, they bend-over concepts of the real and made them fit or pried. I don't just bend lore… I bend it over. Why would there ever be anything that cannot be created? It's just how you interpret it, there are lazy ways to explain things, then there are thorough and detailed methods to get to the same realization of what you want to create that'll work and fit like puzzles to slots this story could’ve foretold. If done correctly more often then not XIV will follow suit in the same thing an expansion later if you stick to your wings, I’ve done it numerous times it feels like XIV has followed copied my test and then tried not to make it look obvious its because stories we’ve brazenly written together in deep-thinking. When my character is tagged IC that's it. Everything he witnesses or sees, I'm not refuting it. That's my chosen though, I see Quicksands and there's no way that place on my Balmung Shard and experiences is it clean, is it lead properly, or the official’s high representatives who totally are just fine with letting a Voidsent blow up the city-state. My character witnessed that, it’s set in stone. Though that's the option and you should always find what makes you comfortable, who makes you comfortable and consider that above all else. Often or not, everyone uses RP as an escape just as they play games. Don't sacrifice, don't lose yourself or not give self-love for what makes you passionate, don’t neglect yourself in taking control of being empowered and attaining friendships, fun, or treating yourself to something new to possibly take something lovely out of finding RP can be and make it all positive for yourself. Myself? I’m inspired by every person new and old who’s been in this game. I love it, do I bleed for it as my canvas? By the Twelve you know it! I’m only ever going to write stories and continue to build and grow, to learn. To do anything to give back. When a passion gives you life, you show that thankfulness by blazing that flame. My last question would be: Is there anything else you wanted to add or say to people? Kuro:  Nope. Rest boils to the decisions you pave yourself and if you want to take the plunge. Just know you're worthy, valid, and this place isn't and never will be one batch or selective, It’s not too late ever there’s no expiration to get into RP, there’s a reason RP last longer than the lifespan of the game’s even when they’ve hit the lowest of lows in dry content, there’s always been unity. If there's one thing this community does well it’s looking after one another.And If they fail to deliver. I know there are people like me who'd rather raise up then pound down.You got this, champs. And that was my interview with Kuro. Looking at his answers, there is a lot that i can agree with. The community of FFXIV is a very great one. If one person is down or needs help, the FFXIV community is the first one to jump up and help with what they can. Hence, its why i made this! To help you, reading this. Just remember, that there are always people out there that are willing to help you. And a person such as Kuro, and of course, myself, will do whatever we can to help those in need. Thank you all so much for the support, and i hope you all have a good day. Also! If you are a RPer, and you would like to be interviewed too, let me know! Send me a message over here on Tumblr, or add me on discord: Masao#2913. And feel free to ask anything related to RP, or even FFXIV. Hope you all are looking forward to the next one~

[omg-baeyoung-baeran]

Maybe I Should Resign: Chapter 2

Not a single person inside the company got past the thorough investigation, yet all the results they got were negative. It was as if the document just suddenly disappeared on its own without a trace. The only evidence in hand proving it was truly stolen was the loop video they found a week ago, resulting in several employees getting fired due to their inexcusable poor performance.

Jumin twirled the pen around his fingers. “Things have not been going on smoothly, I presume?” He stared at the fidgeting man sitting across him.

“We apologize, Mr. Han, but this thief is well-prepared and is quite knowledgeable in hacking to have accessed the system. The only thing we can suggest now is investigation of those who visited the company and those employees that have left the company, from the time the chairman placed it in drawer 7 until the date the document was found missing.”

A suffocating aura surrounded the miserable man while an intimidating silence filled the entire room. Anyone who was familiar with the chairman and his son knew how the latter hated inconvenience with a passion. Jumin Han may be a patient man, but issues extending beyond his expected time of resolve have always been aggravating to his tolerance.

Heaving a sigh of resignation, he waved the employee away. “I want it done three days from now. Provide me a list of possible suspects. Those who get cleared must be reconfirmed thrice, and I expect a complete report about the suspects Tuesday next week. Is everything clear?”

“Yes, Mr. Han.”

As the man’s retreating figure exited the door, his attention shifted to the cat stamp on his desk, staring at him with its big, cartoon-like golden eyes. Things had been hectic lately that he forgot he placed it there. “How fortunate… toys have no worries,” he said, lids drooping from exhaustion.

But what is life to be lifeless?

Unlike objects, he gets to experience life as a social being, and it is freedom which gives life a pleasant taste. It is natural for men to seek freedom when they are under extreme limiting control,  since they are blessed with free will; however, it is unnatural for men to seek too much liberation for it causes chaos. There is such a thing as greed for freedom, but there is no such thing as peaceful freedom without restraint; balance is important.

He considered himself to be fairly balanced….

But what is this strange yearning?

“I must be missing Elizabeth the Third.” He rested his cheek on the back of his hand, grabbing the cat stamp with his other and stamping it on a scratch paper. To his surprise, the cat opened its mouth—a message rolling out of its tongue.

“You’re special! Stay happy!”

He scoffed. It was undeniable. The message was just cringeworthy.

Still, for some reason, a small smile made its way to his lips.

0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0

She was a person of mistake. From touching the iron—when her mother told her not to during her younger days—to quitting a job because of a huge mistake–quitting the job itself was a huge mistake too. Apparently, even smaller jobs do not come easily as well. A long, devastated sigh escaped her pinkish lips.

“I’m sorry, Grandmother, to leave you this soon… but I don’t want to burden you when I’m jobless,” she sobbed dramatically, earning her a chuckle from the elder woman.

“Don’t be sorry now. Your mother needs you at home for sure, so you’re actually doing her a favour coming back.”

“But I need to earn for the family.”

“I know, my dear. But it seems like fate is leading you back home. Everything will eventually pass just as this problem of yours. You’ve gone through so many difficulties before, so why not believe you’ll overcome this too in time?”

Hannah pouted at her grandmother. “I just want to be able to provide enough for my family… I want them to live comfortably,” she grumbled, “Mom has already made a lot of sacrifices for us, and I just want to be able to provide for them, so she could get the chance to use her money and time to spend it on things she wants.”

“Your mother is spending her money and time on things she loves… or rather ‘people’ she loves.”

This made her look up from the ground and gaze at her grandmother’s gentle eyes. She may not have the luck to enjoy luxurious things in life, but she has the luxury of a loving family… and to her, that is more special than what all precious stones can offer. With teary eyes, Hannah stood up from the couch and gave her a loving embrace.

“I’ll miss you.” Those words left her with a smack on the head.

“I’m old but don’t talk like I’m running out of time!”

She left to go back home to her little town the following day…

...unaware of the man in black who came to visit the humble abode later.

Coming back home, she felt the wind brushing against her cheeks; the memories of her past greeted her along with it. It was a small town, so people were fairly acquainted with one another. It would have been pleasant to know everyone in the neighbourhood, but because of the small population, gossips tend to spread like wildfire. Everyone was into each other’s business, and it can be utterly frustrating. 

“Sister!” Two kids called from afar, one with chin-length blonde hair and blue eyes, while the other having red hair and green eyes. Before she could even prepare for it, two small bodies crashed against her, their laughter filling her ears.

“We missed you!” Sana, the blonde, squealed and wrapped her arms more tightly around her waist.

“Hey! Sis can’t breathe!” Riri, the redhead, pulled their younger sister away from the breathless brunette. “She just arrived and you’re already killing her.”

The two kids continued to bicker in front of her, but what caught her eye was their approaching mother slowly making her way towards them.

“Sana, Riri, come here and let your sister rest inside. You can disturb her when she has fully settled.”

The whines from the two made her giggle. They had not changed since the last time she was home. She ruffled their hair and led them back into their home, their mother walking closely behind.

People turned their heads to their direction, accompanied by whispers she could barely hear. It was an attention a family with different appearances would garner. She thought she might get used to it, though they were proving it to be difficult.

A crestfallen look marred her face. “Sorry, Mom,” she started, “I lost my job.”

There was a pause. Hannah hung her head down, too ashamed to face her mother who was already struggling to make ends meet.

They continued to walk but no one dared to speak, until her mother let out a heavy sigh.

“I don’t know why you’re wearing such a long face. I’m just happy you safely returned home and well. You can always get another job, Hun. Always have hope." The older woman placed a comforting hand on her daughter’s back. “We’ve been struggling for a long time, but look at us… we’re still alive till this day. That should be enough to give us hope, don’t you think?”

Hannah reluctantly nodded, wrapping her arm around her mother’s waist.

0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0

“She’s not there?”

“Yes. The address written is a temporary address when she was working here, Mr. Han.”

“Where is her current location?”

He scrutinized the photo on the top right corner of the file. The lady in the photo had long brown hair and ash brown eyes. Her skin held a pale complexion but vibrant with life. He cannot recall a time he ever saw her around, but he can vaguely remember the HR manager presenting him details concerning the new recruits back then.

“Odd,” he remarked. “She left just a few days prior to the time we discovered that the document was missing.”

“We will perform the inspection today if you wish.”

He raised his hand which silenced the man before him. “No,” he commanded, his tone holding absolute certainty. “I will personally handle this. You’ve been away from your task for too long. Return to your stations.”

Just like that, they were dismissed.

0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0

Hannah paused, then rested her palms against her back. She bent backwards, going lower until she heard a few pops. Five hours of having her back hunched forward put considerable strain on her bones that she sometimes considered herself as a 24-year old with the back pain of a 90-year old.

Washing other people’s laundry traditionally is so damn hard… I wish we had a washing machine to do this.

From the corner of her eye, four middle-aged women were gathered together, tirelessly speaking in hushed tones among themselves.

“I sometimes pity that girl.”

“What’s there to pity? It’s justified karma!” The woman huffed, fanning herself with a piece of cardboard. “You see, if her mother wasn’t such a tramp who slept around with men, then their lives would not be like that.”

“You’re right. Poor girls… suffering because of their whore of a mother.”

Knuckles slowly turned white as she furiously scrubbed the cloth between her fists, even when the stains had faded and all. She vowed to never curse out loud as it would set a bad example for Sana and Riri.

“I heard she got pregnant with her eldest...  Ha… Han... what’s her name again?”

“Hannah!”

“Ah, yes! She got pregnant with Hannah when she was still in high school.”

“Really?” The woman’s face contorted into a grimace.

“Mm-hmm! That’s why she never finished high school!”

Damn you all.

“Her daughter seems to be following in her footsteps, though. She never finished school too, no?”

Excuse you! Get your facts straight! I graduated from high school but I didn’t go to college!

With Sana and Riri not around, she could scream profanities that would put even the most vulgar mouths to shame.

“And they even have different fathers!” 

Jeez. Why bother whispering when I could hear every insult?

“A pretty face won’t hide her utter lack of breeding.”

A little louder! I don’t think the people in the back heard you!

Her imagination showed her the best way to swat the wet cloth on to their faces, yet she chose to clench her jaw instead and hunched lower, twisting the wet shirt with all her might. The onslaught of tears that threatened to spill stung her eyes and slowly blurred her vision.

No. Not in front of them.

For the next hour, Hannah had to turn a blind eye to their gossip, lest she be fired due to misdemeanor. She shifted her attention from them to the next batch of laundry on her left.

Why do they keep assuming the worst out of us? They don’t know the whole story!

When they finally exited the place, Hannah released the shirt with much force back in the basin, the impact causing the frothy water to splatter against her face.

A small whimper escaped from her mouth, yet she managed to hold back her tears.

She hated her small town; she hated everyone in it. If it were not for her family, she would never set foot in that place ever again. But alas, the world would be unbalanced if everyone got what they wanted.

0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0

“I’m home!”

As soon as Hannah announced her arrival, she placed her slippers on the indiscernible shoe rack. She was careful not to step on the holes where wooden floorboards used to be. So far, its state was the same as the last time she visited. There was nothing to be cautious about.

After all, she had every crooked floorboard committed to memory—

“Ah!” she screeched, her heart stopping from the unforeseen mishap. “SANA! RIRI! WHAT’S THIS?”

“It was Riri!”

Hannah sucked in a huge breath and bellowed, “RIRI!”

Just in time, Riri got out of the bathroom. “Oh, sis, welcome home.”

“Yeah, it was a very warm welcome. Care to explain this?” She pulled her foot out and pointed at the hole where it just fell into.

“Sorry, it gave off when I threw my socks there.” The young redhead scratched her cheek. “I think the wood was ready to shatter anyway. Even the weight of a spirit can break that part of the floor.”

As much as Hannah loved her younger sisters, they could sometimes get on her nerves.

Well, we wouldn’t be sisters if no one annoyed each other.

0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0

“Hannah, you’re done already?”

“Yeah,” she answered after drinking a bottle of fresh milk she got for free from the old lady she often helped crossing the streets. “Want this? I’m already full.”

Upon offering the partly-consumed bottle of milk, Riri and Sana jumped from glee, only to argue who was getting a bigger portion from it.

Honestly, she could greedily gulp that milk on her own, but fresh milk rarely comes into their lives. Whenever she got the chance to be lucky, she felt responsible to share the things she gained with her sisters… no matter how small the portion was left for her. They were helpless children in a twisted world.

It’s not that she never saw the brighter side—she and her family were together and in good health; they at least had food on the table… that should be enough, right?

Right?

Tomorrow would be the same as any other day; her mother would rise earlier than the roosters’ crows, prepare breakfast, bathe, then go to work.

Working 12 hours a day with only a cracker and bottle of water to get her through…

… Hannah could not help but feel they deserved more.

I don’t need to be filthy rich. Just an average life would do!

0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0

Another day, another muscle sore….

Something was not right.

High-pitched shouts and boisterous laughters roused Hannah from her shallow slumber. She grabbed the pillow underneath her head, then pressed it over her ear to block out the noise, but to no avail.

What is it now?

She sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, then got out of bed. Sluggishly, she dragged herself out of the bedroom.

As she got out, the suspicious feeling that something was off came once again. She was not greeted by the usual scene of Riri and Sana running around.

Her eyes scanned the shabby living room, then stopped at the front door that was left ajar.

Taking brisk steps towards it, she could make out not only her sisters’ voices…

“Go away! Or I’ll call my sister!”

“Oohh, I’m scared! You hear that? She’ll call her sister!” 

She pulled the door wide open, “Sana! Riri!”

Their mockery came into an abrupt halt when she entered the scene.

Riri stood in front of a crying Sana, shielding her from a group of grown men.

She felt a vein pop upon seeing the shameless display of immaturity, “Stop that!”

Upon seeing their eldest sister, Sana sniffled, rubbing her eyes as she ran towards her.

“Sana!” Hannah crouched to the young blonde’s height. “Are you alright? Did they do something to you?” She took Sana’s arms and scanned her for any injury. 

Fortunately, Sana was physically unharmed.

Gritting her teeth, Hannah stood and glared at the group of grown men acting like 10-year olds.

An insult to 10-year olds all over the world. Being middle-class does not give you the right to step on us!

“Have you lost your minds? She’s just a child! If it’s a fight you want, then sorry. We can’t entertain you.” She faced her two sisters, resting her hands against their backs and urging them towards the front door. “Sana, Riri, let’s go back inside.”

“Aaw, you won’t entertain us? But that’s what your slutty mother does, right? Right?”

The buffoons roared with laughter, nudging and high-fiving each other as though they were a bunch of elementary schoolboys.

Calm down, Hannah. They’ll eventually go tired. Don’t stoop down to their level.

“Stop pretending to be a good girl! You’re just like your mother, I bet!”

Hannah ignored them, lightly pushing Sana and Riri into their house. “Get inside.”

“Aaw, but we were having so much fun! Let them stay! I’m sure your sisters would grow up to be just like you two! Ah, can’t wait ‘til they turn 18—”

“Shut up!”

She snapped her head at their direction. They could hurl insults at her all day, but she will never allow anyone to to treat her family like trash, especially her baby sisters.

“Shut up?” The burliest of the group stepped forward. “Why? I was only speaking the truth! You know what they say—the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

She glared daggers at him. “Is that the best you can do? Did you pay your goons to laugh at your dumb joke? Either that or you guys need to work on your sense of humour.”

His face inched closer to hers. She turned her face away from him, nose scrunching as the warmth of his sour breath hit her face. The calloused finger caressing her skin churned her stomach, prompting her to slap his finger away.

The rumours about him were true—he does not take rejection well.

He cupped her chin, pressing his fingers harder against her cheeks. “Well, at least you’re pretty. You want money, right? Right?” Nails dirtied with grime dug themselves deeper into her skin, she was sure it would leave a mark.

The ruckus brought about a crowd of familiar faces surrounding them.

“Come to my house and I’ll give you anything you want, eh? How does that sound?” He leered her up and down, slowly licking his lips as his gaze lingered longer at her chest.

Fed up and fueled by restrained anger, she swatted his hand away and struck his cheek with a deafening slap. “Don’t touch me. And never come near our house again, do you understand?”

His nostrils flared as he rubbed his cheek. “YOU!” he glowered. Sharply sucking in air through gritted teeth, he raised his fist to hit her but was stopped by one of his companions.

“LET GO!” After prying his hand away from their hold, he elbowed the weaker-looking man’s gut, causing him to double over in pain.

“Who the heck do you think you are? No woman would ever put up with you! Want to know why you’re still single, huh?” she taunted, holding her chin up and placing her hands on her hips. “Because no one’s insane enough to settle for you!”

Her charged spiel was met with crumpled bills thrown at her face.

“Want more? Here!”

They showered her with paper bills and coins of varying values.

Although this sort of humiliation was not a rare occurrence, it never failed to rile her up.

She picked some of them up, and threw it back at them.“ I don’t need your money! Why would I, when… when,” she stammered. When what? She needed to act fast to get them off her case. 

Then, an idea dawned on her along with the next words her brain scurried to form.

“When?” one man asked.

“Shh, shh, don’t disturb her. She’s thinking about the money.”

“Your money?” she scoffed. “Please! Why would I need it when I have a suitor worth more than all of you combined?”

“Whooooaaa, really? Prove it!”

She expected to be met with disbelief. All she needed was a convincing lie to get them to believe her.

Whispers of incredulity broke the stillness in the air which ironically intensified the situation.

“You seriously believe her? The suitor is obviously a druggie!”

“No, he’s not! H-he’s none other than the heir of… of… C&R!”

Shi… of all the companies you had to say, it had to be C&R!

“Did you hear that? The heir of C&R? This bitch is delusional!”

“I’ve never seen the heir. Is he handsome?”

“None of us has internet, Sweetie.”

Word spread fast, as not even seconds later, the crowd was growing larger.

Hannah wanted to smack herself, not mentally but physically. 

Way to go, Hannah! You just had to make things worse… should I call Seven? He is rich and has many cars after all. Ah, but I shouldn’t bother him with these trivial matters.

The heavens must have pitied her and answered her prayers, as she caught sight of a slick black car parked by from a distance.

They were too busy gossiping and throwing insults at her that they had not noticed where her line of vision ended.

A serious-looking middle-aged man in black suit got out of the driver’s seat. He circled the car until he reached the back door.

Hannah kept her eyes peeled open as the chauffeur opened the backseat door.

Bingo.

A tall, well-built man with unkempt black hair stepped out of the car. He scanned his surroundings, a perplexed expression on his face as he whispered something to his chauffeur, who then gave a slight nod in reply.

The man looked to be in his late 20s, and his whole existence screamed that he was not a resident of their village. 

I found my new suitor.

“Oh, silly me, I almost forgot!” She lightly smacked her head. “I forgot he was going to visit me! He’s right there, see!” She jumped up and waved her arms at the unknown man.

The strange action caught his attention as he was meticulously folding his long sleeves.

“Hehe, be right back!”

Hannah rushed towards him, aware that the small crowd was staring at her retreating figure.

Then she finally reached him. Instead of introducing herself, she tiptoed, tugging the collar of his sleeve to bring him to her height and whispered, “Please, please, please do me a favour and just pretend to be the heir of C&R! It’s very important! PLEASE!”

There was a slight quirk of his brow as he responded with outright bewilderment, “But I am the heir of C&R.”

Overjoyed, Hannah clapped her hands together and cheered, “Perfect! Just like a natural! Now let’s go!”

“Wait—”

Ignoring his confused face, she linked her arms with his and gleefully dragged him towards the flabbergasted crowd.

They have no idea how the heir looks like anyway!

Once she reached them, she made an exaggerated gesture to introduce the saviour of her current predicament.

“This is my suitor! The heir,” she threw that word with much emphasis, smirking as she savoured the baffled looks on their faces, “of C&R International Company!”

She could take a guess of what went on in their heads: How was Hannah able to snag such a handsome rich man? I wish I was her right now! She’s got to be kidding?!

Having been taught to think twice when unexpectedly faced by conflict, Jumin carefully analyzed the situation, noting every detail he could gather. She doesn’t seem to know me… and neither do these people. His piercing glare landed on the grown men, and this made them flinch from where they stood. But perhaps they know.

“S-Sir… we apologize for causing Ms. Hannah trouble. W-we will be leaving now!”

Oh, shit… he’s such a good actor. He hasn’t said a word at all, but he managed to fool them! Hannah’s eyes darted between the classy-looking man and the direction where the men just ran off.

“Are you alright, Hannah? Did they hurt you?” The woman she worked for the other day came up beside her.

She gave her the side-eye. If memory serves her right, these people had always thrown their knives at her back.

“At least you’re alright,” the lady said before facing the ‘heir of C&R’.  “Hello, Mister! I’m Jung Mina!”

“Oho, now you’re behaved?” Hannah’s lip curled at her sudden shift of behaviour. The quintessential social climber. “Scatter along now! Can’t you see you’re making him uncomfortable?”

 When the crowd dispersed and went their own way, Hannah sighed in relief. Peace, at last.

Before she could forget her saviour, she turned to look at him then bowed politely. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this ruckus. I really am!” She straightened her posture. “Why don’t I bring you to the market? My treat! It’s usually not crowded around this time of day.”

“I’m not here for such matters—”

“Nonsense! At least let me treat you for the trouble! If it wasn’t for you, we wouldn’t have a peaceful day. That happens only once in a blue moon, so please let me show you my gratitude!” She took his hand and pulled him along with her. 

And with an audible sigh, he followed.

0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0

He’s like a kid on his first exploration.

She tried to stifle her laughter as she watched him attempt to conceal his awe at the surroundings. He looked so fascinated that she felt bad to disturb his musings. His eyes were darting from place to place, but she noticed how they would linger on anything cat-related, especially on white ones with blue eyes.

“So this is the commoners’ mall. It is outdoors?”

“I guess you can say that? I mean, it’s called a ‘market’.”

“Everything here is cheap… are they all safe?”

“Not everything—but most are safe! Sometimes it’s cheap because they manufacture it themselves. Others buy it by bulk directly from the manufacturers. Most items are knockoffs too, not everyone can afford the real thing; although, I don’t understand why people would waste money on expensive bags or watches. If I were them, as long as a bag works or a watch works, it doesn’t have to be… you know… pricey.”

The sudden halt in their footsteps caught his attention. When she turned to look at him, he couldn’t help noticing the glint of mirth that her brown eyes gave off.

“Do you love cats?”

He blinked twice. How was she able to tell?

She chuckled at his stiff nod. For a rich man like him, she surely did not feel intimidated by his vibe. “Here, let me buy this for you—no refusing!” she demanded, her hand reaching to an oversized blue pajama set with cat prints on it. She raised the shirt to his chest, checking if the size fitted him.

His head tilted ever so slightly to the side as he scanned the top’s design. “I have never worn anything like this.”

“Huh? Then what do you wear when you sleep?”

“I wear outfits that are convenient for immediate departure in case of an emergency.”

She scrunched her nose. “I… guess it’s improper to ask further,” she said whilst her eyebrow rose behind her frame. “Maybe I should get you more.”

“There is no need.” When he made a move to bring out his wallet, Hannah immediately stopped him, grabbing his wrist and placing it back to his side.

“No, I will be paying! Don’t pay for anything today.”

The next thing he knew, they were sauntering all over the place with ease. It was not difficult to maneuver around the small crowd given the friendly weather they were under. The sky was perfectly cloudy and the cool breeze was pleasing to his skin. This was not the “appointment” he was expecting to encounter when he came to visit the small town.

Still, with all his frankness, it was a surprise he was willing to spend the day in.

Unconsciously, Jumin let out a soft chuckle.

“Don’t tell me you have never tried this?” she exclaimed in pure disbelief, her hands shaking both paper bags in her hands. 

“My nutritionist strongly opposes junk food, and he has been my nutritionist since my childhood; therefore, I never once touched this… fries.”

“It’s not just your regular fries; this is ‘Shook Shook Fries’. A taste of this is a must!”

“It is unhealthful….”

“It’s not like you’re gonna eat this everydaaay,” she dragged for added humour, “just have it from time to time.”

The moment he tasted it, he knew he was missing a lot of things in life.

There it was again, that satisfying sound of her laughter… she was doing it again.

“It’s good, isn’t it?”

He stared at her genuine smile for the third time that day. Was it the third? Maybe fourth? Fifth? His sharp memory could not tell. Have I really been too preoccupied?

His attention shifted back to the young woman waving her hand close to his face… 

...and to the next food she was putting on his palm.

“I’m betting my head you’ve never tried this too. Make sure you have this for breakfast with egg tomorrow!”

0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0

Just as it started, their wandering ended with Hannah paying for the long cat plush pillow.

“I feel like a boyfriend spoiling his girlfriend around.”

“Is that bad?” came his monotonous voice.

“Nope! I had fun. Sorry I wasn’t able to treat you much, but this is all I can offer,” she said sullenly. “I hope you enjoyed it though.”

It was silent for a while, until he could visibly see his car slowly approaching them from a distance.

“Oh! Isn’t that your car? Why don’t you leave now and get some rest?”

She continued to blabber about how he should go home and that she would be fine going home by herself. While she was busy gesturing over the car—her back turned to him—he lifted his hand high in the air to catch the driver’s attention. With one twirl of his finger, the car stopped proceeding before it turned and drove away.

“H-Hey! Why is it leaving?” 

“Perhaps my driver forgot something.”

“What? But what about you?”

For a split second, she thought she was imagining things. She saw the corner of his lips quirked up as he shrugged his shoulders.

“I guess I’ll walk you home.” Even though his eyes were as dark as the night that was coming, they were warm like the first ray of sunlight in the cold early morning.

However, her face was probably warmer than his gaze.

The very same night, someone unusually had difficulty falling asleep after realizing something really important.

“I forgot to ask his name!”

0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~0 ~ 0

“Yes, make sure all their bills are paid for the entire year. Tell them to contact my assistant if the amount is inadequate.”

“Understood.”

“You may leave.”

Jaehee could not tell which was more perplexing, seeing her boss using a long cat plush pillow or the rustling sound the fries were making inside the paper bag he was shaking.

“Mr. Han, I don’t think your nutritionist will… appreciate that.”

He simply hummed in response.

“Have you ever tried this ‘Shivering Fries’?”

“It’s ‘Shook Shook Fries’, Mr. Han, and I have had it several times. Will this be your first?”

“How bold of you to assume I’ve never had this.”

She swore she felt her energy evacuate her body at that comment. At least I’m paid more than enough to handle this. “My apologies. You just don’t seem to be the type to eat that kind of food.”

There he was, in all his glory, smirking at himself for who knows what reason. She had always found him annoying; but today, he was different on an exasperating level. 

Jaehee swore once more that his next words had successfully snapped a vein in the back of her head.

“I am quite a commoner at heart. And can someone buy me this ‘hotdog’ with egg?”

0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0

Hey guuuys, hope you enjoyed this! Since this is kind of a sideline project and this isn't our super focus, Chapter 3 is unsure as of yet!

Anyway, thank you for reading! Love you guys ohohohoho

[catholicdaredevil]

Self Hate - A Tony Stark One Shot

Pairing: Tony Stark x Reader

Words: 1736

Notes: I wrote this for a friend as a self indulgent fic for her when she was going through a lot of issues with seeing her own self worth in terms of the way she feels about her body. While I’ve switched her name out, it does still list physical attributes specific to her including but not limited to scars from when she got her appendix out. So I definitely understand this might be a difficult reader insert given the specificity but I wanted to share it anyways! This has themes that could be upsetting since they deal with body image issues so make sure to take care of yourself even as far as reading this and don’t upset yourself. Remember that you are strong, capable and fucking worth it. I love you all and if you need anything just shoot me a message. I am accepting requests but obviously they aren’t really coming out well so it’s just a waiting game but you’re still welcome to send them in!

You stared intently at your own reflection in the bathroom mirror in your underwear as the list in your head grew- you constantly ran through this list on a daily basis. The list of things about your body you didn’t like, the list of things you’d change given half the chance, the list of things that made you miserable when you thought about them. Unfortunately you were always thinking about them, as your hands ran across your chest down to your stomach. Too much. Over your thighs and hips. Too much. To your ass and back. Too much. Your brain felt foggy with all the pathetic thoughts of how you would never be worthy of anything, any love or affection, let alone happiness. 

“Hey baby I know that look,” arms snaked around your waist and Tony set his head on your shoulder, meeting your gaze in the mirror. He chastised you with his eyes and you sighed loudly, feeling your body relax as the breath left your chest. “That’s your ‘I hate myself’ look.”

Turning to look him in the eyes you scoffed loudly at his bold to-the-point attitude he held, letting your hands meet behind his neck. “Bold of you to talk about having an ‘I hate myself’ look Tony.” 

Tony’s head fell back in laughter, holding you tightly to him, his smile was so bright when he looked back at you. He’d been doing so well lately with everything. It had taken years for him to get where he was, therapy, medicine, breakdowns, progress and relapses were all along his path. He credited his strength and patience to get better entirely on you; on your love and support and he vowed to do the same to help you. He leaned in to kiss you gently, his lips moving to kiss across your cheek and continued as he spun you back to look at yourself, his lips ending right under your ear. 

“Maybe one day I was but now I am a shining beacon of what could be.” It made your head hurt with how hard you rolled your eyes and he chuckled lowly into your ear, his breath tickling and warm. “Y/N, baby, you are my entire world. You are the brightest light in my life, you are drop dead gorgeous and the love of my existence.”

Hot tears built in your eyes and spilled out to run down your face as he spoke, one of his rough calloused thumbs wiping them as they fell. The soft pink of your lips slightly parted you could taste the salt as tears slipped into your mouth. 

“I-‘m okay Tony, it’s-justa bad day. I don’t wanna look at myself anymore today.” Hiccuping out a sob at the sight of his face falling in pain, you felt bad that now that his mental health was in check you began to crumble in your own. 

Sure he never complained but you knew it added stress; stress he didn’t need, stress you didn’t want him to have. Yet he remained relentlessly kind, unwaveringly loving, attentive to every detail he could be. It made you feel sick with guilt, you couldn’t understand how he felt you worth all his time and effort. Him, Tony Stark, playboy, billionaire, philanthropist, doting on just you. You couldn’t see what he saw in you, couldn’t fathom that it was different than what you so often saw in yourself. Too much. 

Tony felt exactly the same but in a completely different way. He couldn’t wrap his head around how you didn’t see what he did, he couldn’t begin to understand what you saw wrong with yourself when you looked in the mirror. Looking at you was one of his greatest joys, not just because you were attractive, no it was so much more. When he looked at you, he saw unadulterated love. Behind the sparkle of your eyes was every time you had said ‘I love you’, was every single moment you held his head in your lap, your fingers carding through his soft chocolate hair and had let him cry, clutching you to him. He couldn’t grasp that you didn’t see the love he had for you, when him seeing yours was the light that brought him out of such darkness. That your legs that you thought were too this or that, were what held you up every day, carried you around, carried you to him. Every part of you that you hated to look at, were the parts that he found running through his mind ever possible hour of the day and night, the parts that he could run his hands over, fingertips softly brushing across the planes of your soft skin. Feeling the ridges of scars, stretch marks, bumps and bruises everything that added up and equaled the one thing he cared about more than anything. You. 

Tony was never a religious man, and within that never understood how they siphoned time into only two categories; before Christ and after. Well, never understood before you came into his life and cleaned out the cobwebs in the darkest parts of his mind to bring light, laughter and love. Now every moment of his life could be described as such that had confused him for so long: before and after. He could remember the day he first met you, heard your laugh fill the room as you walked in with someone who at the time simply looked blurred compared to the ethereal glow that seemed to surround you. Your deep voice like velvet as you spoke, a grin plastered to your face and at that moment while he thought at the time that he didn’t deserve it; he knew he had to have you in his life in any way possible. All of this adding up to him being so utterly in love with you it drove him crazy at times, but he wouldn’t give it up for anything. 

“We can cover every mirror in the world if that makes you feel better baby, but nothing will change the fact that you are the most incredible human being I’ve ever met and that I am wildly in awe of every tiny thing you do. Every breath you take is a miracle, every time our eyes meet I am cured of every dark thought in my mind, when your hand so much as brushes against mine my heart stops just to be restarted by your smile. Y/N I am not a man of words, I’ve always been better with my hands everyone knows this, but you. You make me want to write sonnets and plays about your beauty, about your kindness and generosity, about the way it feels to be so fucking loved for once in my life. For once I can feel loved, I feel your love for me radiating off of you and god damn it if I don’t love you with every atom of my fucking being.” Tony’s eyes locked with yours as you both still faced the mirrored wall of your shared bathroom, his strong hands holding you tight without trapping you. You sobbed silently into your hands, ragged breaths ripping from your chest. Tony pressed soft kisses to your hot cheeks and turned you to look at him once more, in his eyes the tenderness they always held just for you. 

“I love you.” He whispered, his large hands held your cheeks, thumbs like windshield wipers back and forth across your face to wipe tears from their path. 

“I’m so sorry- I love you so much,” The words barely audible but enough to pull a smile out of Tony. His hands drifted from holding your face to down your shoulders, fingertips running down your sides to grip onto your hips with such fervor it made you shiver. 

“You have nothing to apologize for, you’re my girl, I’ll always be here.” His lips pressed against yours and the love that poured out of them was overwhelming. You felt maybe an ounce of the love he had for it and it was more than you had ever thought was possible to be loved yet here he was. Defying all of your negative thoughts and expectations; loving you with every piece of him and making sure you knew it everyday of your life.

“Do you really mean all that?”

“Yes of course. Can I show you something?” Your head lifted to look at his face before nodding and he slowly spun you around one final time to face your reflection. “Every piece of you, is you. Your hair, always smells like coconut and mango and I could recognize you anywhere with my eyes closed and hands behind by back just by the smell of your shampoo I swear it’s so ingrained in my brain.

Your eyes that hold all of that love you keep just for me, are so sharp and I can hear you chastise me when I get out of hand with one single glance. Down to your cute little nose, that always does- well that,” he poked your nose all scrunched up before continuing, “Every time I compliment you. Like it’s a bad smell or something. Your mouth, god your mouth Y/N. Fuck it kills me, you literally unravel me with nothing but your mouth at times and I don’t just mean when you’re sucking my dick. The way it quirks up just slightly when I make a shitty joke, like you don’t want to encourage me but still think it’s funny. Or when you’re talking about something you’re passionate about and every single word is laced with a smile so wide I feel like I could get lost in it. All the way down past your cute little scar from when you got your appendix out to your fucking toes, there’s not a single part of you I would change.”

You took in a shaky breath to try and stabilize the way your heart was pounding as he pressed gentle kisses behind your ear. 

“I love you, more than you'll ever know, really. Now, do you wanna go lay in bed and watch Game of Thrones and order pizza?” His breath tickled against your skin and you nodded. Tony picked you up bridal style and carted you off to bed, where he spent the next three hours continuing to shower you in love because well, he loved you.

Tags: @hootyhoobuckaroo​ @tokoyamisstuff​ @5aftermidnight​ @vinyloider​ @tropicalcap​ @spiider--boy​

[overthinkingkdrama]

Jona’s 5 Worst Dramas of 2019

A couple words about this list. I’m making this for fun. If a drama you love ended up on this list, it doesn’t mean that I hate you or I think you’re stupid or have terrible taste. But these are dramas that inspired strong negative reactions in me for one reason or another, whether that be disappointment, rage or disgust.

I’ve only included dramas that finished airing in 2019 in my selection process. If you have some dramas that hated, feel free to share them in the replies or send me an ask. It’s fun to complain about things for some reason.

Also, I have included major SPOILERS in a couple of these. So read at your own peril.

Dishonorable Mention: Melting Me Softly

I sincerely tried to limit myself to only dramas that I--for whatever misguided reasons--finished in their entirety for this list. Mainly because I don’t think it’s fair to brand something as the “worst” of anything without actually giving the thing a fair shake. That’s the only reason Melting Me Softly isn’t higher on this list. But I felt that it wasn’t right to leave it off entirely, if for no other reason then out of respect for the fallen Ji Chang Wook stans out there who lost their lives trying to make it through this trash fire. Somebody needs to stand up for those brave soldiers, out their gifing trash dramas while people like me are safe and sound on our couches, watching the tag like it’s a train wreck.

I made it through only two episodes of this drama, and despite my goodwill toward the majority of the cast, they were two of the most bafflingly bad hours of television that I forced myself to sit through this year. From what I could tell while side-eyeing the drama on tumblr and twitter it didn’t improve much over the course of the run. There were a couple steamy kisses that I enjoyed in clip form, but I don’t think it would have been worth the brain cells lost to sit through any more than that.

Bottom Line: Painfully unfunny, overwhelmingly expositional with no character development, confusing pacing and sloppy editing. Two episodes was two too many.

5. When the Devil Calls Your Name

It pains me to put this on the list because it was just last year that a Jung Kyung Ho, Park Sung Woong collaboration (Life on Mars) ended up in my top 5. And giving credit where it’s due, the two male leads seem to have a great deal of fun working together and I believe that all the actors gave this drama everything they could and sincerely tried to make it work. That’s one of the things I like about Jung Kyung Ho, he picks unique, risky projects that either pay off in a big way or fall flat on their faces (like the amateurishly written and edited Missing 9) Unfortunately, this script just too messy and too bizarre to work. Ha Rip as has a deeply frustrating character arc. He’s such a self-centered jerk for the vast majority of the drama, which is fine for a Faust type story if it’s written with conviction, but every time you think he’s started to turn a corner or grown as a person he reverts back to his old ways. The writing and tone are whiplash inducing. Plus the vague “soul mates” relationship between Ha Rip and Kim Yi Kyung seemed to want to have it both ways, flipping between implied romantic potential and a father/daughter dynamic, which made me quite uncomfortable.

Bottom Line: This drama’s bizarre mythology and world building barely makes any sense at all, but at least they’re easier to follow than the character development. Attempted something unique, but couldn’t pull it off. The OST is super dope though.

4. Love in Sadness

When I watched the first teasers I got the distinct impression that this wasn’t going to be a good drama, or at best it was going to be a guilty pleasure, but at the time when I started it I was hungry for a melo and there wasn’t much airing to hold my attention so I started it on impulse. I think in this case I got what I deserved for continuing to watch something I didn’t think was very good.

The first few episodes were actually pretty gripping and intriguingly dark, but that petered of quickly and the drama became and infuriating wheel spinning exercise with barely any perceptible plot development from episode to episode. The protagonists in this are all so stupid that in the final few episodes the female lead gets kidnapped not once, but multiple times because she keeps meeting her unstable husband alone. Plus nobody in this drama seems to know how to call the police when a madman is waving around a gun. It probably wouldn’t have made me so very mad except that in the last few episodes the writer became unaccountably preoccupied with how sad the psychotic, wife-beating husband’s family life was and how lonely and pathetic his life was when he wasn’t allowed to stalk, assault, and psychologically terrorize his wife. Seriously, in the last leg of the drama the villain is the only character who gets any character development at all. The drama pulls out all the stops to try to make use feel sorry for him. It’s disgusting.

Bottom Line: When a drama about a woman trying to escape domestic violence becomes completely preoccupied with painting the abuser as tragically misunderstood, you’ve got some serious problems.

3. The Lies Within

If it wasn't for the last two episodes this drama would not be on this list, but that isn't because it was in any way an exceptional drama, or that it otherwise would have ended up on my best list. Without the last two episodes The Lies Within is a merely adequate thriller, somewhat heightened by the brutal nature of the premise. I picked this show up largely to fill the void that was left by WATCHER and it was more or less successful, plus it helped that I liked the cast. However even at the beginning this drama I felt like it had some pretty glaring tone problems. There were parts of the drama that were standard OCN dark and gritty thriller, and there were other parts that felt like a campy police sitcom. The humor, when it does crop up in this drama always feels super out of place. But then that last big twist happened and man...I can't remember the last time a drama made me that angry or cratered quite so hard with a twist.

[And this is where I spoil the HELL out of this drama...]

Before this drama decided to go all M. Night Shyamalan in it’s last two episodes, there seemed to be at least one, if not two really reasonable candidates for the kidnapper. Actually all the ground work they’d done up to that point would seem to have pointed to Young Min and if he had turned out to be the perpetrator, I would have completely bought it. Instead they decided to blow everyone’s mind by making the kidnapped husband complicit in his own kidnapping and dismemberment. Which might seem like a shocking twist until you think about it for even half a second.

What it winds up doing on a narrative level it makes everything the characters have done to investigate this series of crimes up to this point feel pointless, resulting in a huge anticlimax. It makes the ambiguous figure of Seo Hui’s husband not only hopelessly stupid, but also cruel and unsympathetic. Because he thought somehow simply sharing the information with her would put her in more danger than threatening and psychologically terrorizing her into investigating the very people he was theoretically trying to protect her from. The explanation that he was already terminally ill doesn’t to anything to mitigate the stupidity of his plan for me. Seriously, you couldn’t think of any solution aside from cutting bits off yourself and sending them to your wife in the mail? I could rant about this ending at length, but I’m going to try to stop here.

Bottom Line: As far as I’m concerned, if you choose to sacrifice the emotional and narrative coherence of your story for a cheap and dirty twist to surprise the audience, you deserve every ranty review you get.

2. Love Affairs in the Afternoon

I’m really not sure what possessed me to watch this drama to begin with. That I continued to watch it is on me. The fact that I watched it despite hating the shallow characters, the thin story and the abortive message at the core of the drama is simply a lapse of judgement for which I shouldn’t be forgiven. Why did I do it despite not having a single nice thing to say about this show? Well, there are two reasons. I was curious to see if they would do anything compelling with one or two of the characters, (specifically the serial adulteress housewife an the broody artist) and I was surreptitiously watching this drama at work and it was really easy to follow the plot while only actually keeping my eyes on the screen about half the time. I watched the last episode before the subs were available and had no trouble understanding what was going. Which could be a sign that my Korean is improving, but is more likely a sign that the writing was so predictable and simplistic that you could follow it if you didn’t speak the language at all.

[Spoilers beyond this point.]

It’s my understanding that in the Jdrama that this is based on all of the characters basically wreck their lives and end up miserable, pointing toward the emptiness of the lives of these people who try to find fulfillment through extra-marital affairs. If that’s how this drama had ended, I still wouldn’t have enjoyed the execution but I could have respected the intent. But in this watered down Kdrama-fied version all the couples’ issues are resolved in the whitewash of a last episode time skip that makes the suffering and bullshit that led up to it feel completely pointless.

Bottom Line: Maybe this level of trashy, uninspired tripe would be somewhat justified if the chemistry between the leads had been better, but somehow they even managed to screw that up. The leads are just bad, vacuous people, a fact which is rendered all the more unforgivable by them being utterly bland. Everybody needed to divorce, nobody deserved to end up happy. Please be wiser than me and avoid this one.

1. Memories of the Alhambra

Initially, I was on the fence about even producing a “Worst List” this year, because in the past few years I’ve tried to be better about dropping dramas the moment they start to disappoint me, rather than hanging on to them and winding up burning myself out. I wasn’t sure if I’d have enough material to write this list, or at least not enough material to make it worth reading. Then I remembered that Memories of the Alhambra finished airing in January of this year (2019 was impossibly long, wasn’t it?) and I thought, “Aha, I can make this work.” I knew at once this drama was going to be the shitty tinfoil star atop my Christmas tree of suck.

I’ve already written a full review of this drama, where I got about as mean as I felt I could reasonably be. You can go read that if you like, I’m not going to retread all my many complaints here. What I will say is that Memories of the Alhambra took my mixed-to-favorable opinion of the writer, Song Jae Jung, and turned it to a negative one. She’s someone who clearly has a lot of interesting high concept ideas, but the execution is just not there. You can hook an audience with a concept, but you have to keep them with craft and structure. 

Maybe the industry can be blamed for that. Maybe she just has a hard time ending her stories, or maybe writing on a deadline doesn’t agree with her. Whatever the reason, I can no longer trust her to deliver a satisfying story. And that’s deeply saddening to me, because Queen In Hyun’s Man is in my top 10 favorite dramas.

To be front-to-back terrible is one thing. The joke’s at least half on me for bothering. But to have potential, to have an interesting hook, a budget, a cast, but then to be either unwilling or unable to live up to that potential feels like a con. That’s how I felt about his drama, like I had been willfully deceived by special effects and flashy editing, all orchestrated to disguise a narratively bankrupt, unsatisfying drama.

Bottom Line:  Is Memories of the Alhambra objectively the worst drama on this list? No, it’s not. Is it the most disappointing? Absolutely, it is. And that’s the more heinous crime, in my opinion.  And that’s why it’s my worst drama of 2019.

[inthegroundontime]

Title: Scar Tissue On My Heart Rating: K+ Pairings: Rudyard/Victor, Rudyard/Cordelia Summary: Calliope asks her father about love and gets more of an answer than she ever anticipated.

“Dad,” Calliope asks, sitting cross-legged on Rudyard’s bed without invitation. “How d’you know if you’re in love?”

Rudyard lowers his book and crosses his outstretched legs, staring at his daughter’s big, dark eyes. She looks more and more like him every day, which really means she looks more and more like Antigone, which is utterly unnerving. Twenty-five years ago, he remembers asking Antigone the same question in this same room. He’d invited her in, secret-like, and looked around.

“I’m sure you wonder why I’ve gathered you all here,” he’d said very seriously, hands behind his back, surveying the small crowd he’d gathered.

“It’s me and a couple of house mice,” Antigone said. “Hardly a gathering.”

Rudyard ignored her. 

“The reason I’ve gathered you all here is this: how do you know if you’re in love?”

“Is this a philosophical question or is this because that Trevor boy smiled at you this morning?”

“Possibly both.” A pause. “He does have a nice smile, doesn’t he?”

Rudyard sighs and Calliope snaps her fingers in his face. He blinks and realizes that he is no longer ten, not talking to his sister, and as of yet, hasn’t answered his daughter’s question. Hesitating, he decides to try his favorite parenting trick: answering a question with a question.

“Why do you want to know? Are you in love?”

Calliope shrugs. 

“I raided Aunt Antigone’s library again.”

“Now, look here, young lady-”

“I don’t think her books have it right,” she continues. “I don’t think you just know by just looking at somebody that they’re right for you. Aunt Antigone says it’s ‘escapism’, whatever that means.”

“Hmm.”

“Did you love Mum very much?”

“Yes, of course, I did.”

“You never talk about her.”

“I do!”

“Do not!”

“Do too!”

There had been another time Rudyard asked his sister’s advice about love, fifteen years after he’d fallen in love with Victor Trevor. Cordelia Roach had moved to Piffling to open a music shop after their previous music seller was crushed to death by a bass drum. Rudyard had reluctantly gone to her to fix a broken mandolin string. He’d been restringing the instrument himself for some years since being evicted from the old music shop and it was only at Antigone’s insistence that he approached Cordelia.

“This mandolin is in excellent condition,” Cordelia had marveled. “Eighteenth-century?” 

“Early nineteenth,” Rudyard corrected. “It’s been in my family since 1810.”

“What do you do to keep it so playable?”

Rudyard had regaled her with stories of mandolin care. Most people wouldn’t have even feigned interest in such things - especially as said by Rudyard Funn - but Cordelia had listened as she restrung his mandolin with careful, precise hands. When she smiled at him, Rudyard had paid her as quickly as he could before running out of her shop and calling another meeting.

“Am I allowed to fall in love again?” he’d asked, throwing the mortuary door open. “Antigone-”

His voice broke and he talked about the precision with which Cordelia worked and the gentle slope of her shoulders and the smile on her face that wasn’t at all forced and Antigone set down the hand of the corpse whose nails she was painting to grip Rudyard’s shoulders.

“I wouldn’t call that ‘love’, Rudyard,” she said. “But you should ask her out.”

“I could never.”

He didn’t have to. After hanging around the music shop for three weeks and six days, Cordelia asked him out. A year later, when he was sure he could call that “love”, they got married. Calliope had been a very planned, very wanted child, who arrived punctually. The only thing about his second love that hadn’t gone to plan was Cordelia’s death. It made it difficult to reflect on the good times without pain - especially since those good times had been all too brief. What he remembered most was not performing the service nor his own grief, but the reverent awe with which Calliope, solemn-eyed and far too young, treated the entire funeral with and her following fascination with the family business. It was easier to focus on that.

It is easier to know for certain that he loves his daughter and is loved by her. 

“Now, look here, I loved your mother very much,” he says quietly. “You’re about as stubborn as she was - and as kind.”

“I think you’re the stubborn one,” Calliope says. 

“She would have said the same thing.” 

“Was she your first love?” 

Rudyard lays his book flat on his stomach. He wants to answer this question carefully. He can’t afford to shatter Calliope’s vision of her mother or of love. He has to answer carefully. And yet, before he can stop himself, his voice grows soft and wistful -

“No,” he says. 

“Aunt Antigone says your first love was scheduling,”  Calliope says. 

“Yes,” Rudyard murmurs. “Wait. What?”

“You know, you’ve always loved a good schedule…”

“Scheduling wasn’t my first love,” Rudyard says. “Scheduling is a way of life.”

“Right. But… it wasn’t Mum?”

“Er - ah - no, as a matter of fact. Does that disappoint you?”

Calliope shrugged and shifted to lay on her stomach. Scooting up by Rudyard, she looks at him without a trace of heartbreak. Rudyard holds his breath anyway. He drums his fingers on his book and rolls over to face his daughter. 

“Tell me about her,” Calliope says.

“His name was Victor,” Rudyard says. Calliope nods approvingly as if that sentence alone explained several unasked questions. Relaxing into a smile, Rudyard sets his book aside and nestles against his pillow. “Victor Trevor. He was… He was my best friend when we were children. His family used to hire your grandparents for funerals and they would come to Piffling every couple years and he and I would spend a few days exploring the island and making memories and when we were older, we used to write to each other. He was such a kind soul, cleverer than me by far, and he used to look at me like he needed me and until, well, you, no one ever looked at me like they needed me. He had a knack for making me feel special, even when everyone else thought I was simply weird. He used to make me laugh and he was the only person I could trust with anything - Aunt Antigone included.” 

“You say ‘was’ like something happened. Where is he buried?”

“Oh… Oh, no, I don’t know- I mean, that is, he was very much alive when we last spoke. He… We had to move on with our lives. People grow apart and all that…”

“Dad…”

“We were teenagers and you have to understand, his parents weren’t the accepting sort. They encouraged him to get engaged and that was the end of that. I didn’t meet your mother for another, oh, eight years or so? It took that long to be able to love someone again.”

“But how did you know you loved him?” Calliope wheedles. 

“A hundred ways. I couldn’t stop thinking about him, for one. Whenever something happened - good or bad - he was the first person I wanted to tell. And when he- when he left me, even though I was angry and hurt, I knew what I wanted mattered less than his safety. I think that’s really when you know you love somebody: when their needs are more important than your own.”

Silence descends upon father and daughter. Though neither is the physically affectionate sort, Calliope scrunches nearer to her father, wrapping her arms around his middle and hugging him tightly. He stifles a sob. There are only a handful of people he loves these days. The person he loves best clings to him now and he cards his fingers through her fine, black hair. His chest aches like it might explode. 

“You still love him, don’t you?” Calliope mumbles into his shirt. “I can feel your heartbeat.”

“You have to understand, I still loved - love - your mother, too. It’s just… different.” A pause. “I know this won’t make you happy to hear, but you never recover from your first love. It’s like scar tissue in your heart.”

“Scar tissue is beautiful,” Calliope says. “It adds character.”

“I should really stop letting you spend so much time in the mortuary,” Rudyard says with a grimace. “But, yes, exactly. It adds character. I wouldn’t be me without Victor. I wouldn’t have been able to love your mother and you wouldn’t be here. And that would be the real tragedy. Even more than losing…”

“Him? Her?”

“Them both.” Rudyard sighs. “Can we please talk about your crush now?” 

“Oh,” Calliope says, pulling away. “It’s just Evelyn from Bassoon Patrol. She plays the third bassoon and she has the cutest freckles, but it’s nothing like that, so I don’t suppose it’s love. I’m actually relieved. It sounds miserable when you describe it.”

Rudyard laughs wetly. It is miserable, isn’t it? Love, in his limited experience always ends in losses. He doesn’t want Calliope to lose anyone or anything she holds dear. He wants to protect her from everything that might scar her tender heart. But then again, she is tougher than he ever was - something she gets from her mother or perhaps from imitating Antigone so studiously. She’s a marvel.

And, really, even though he loved Cordelia and will never stop loving Victor, isn’t it wonderful that of all the loves of his life, the one that stays is his daughter? 

“When you do fall in love,” Rudyard says, “tell me all about it. Falling in love is miserable, but misery does love company…”

“Yeah, but shouldn’t I ask Aunt Antigone or Georgie? You know, girl stuff and all that?”

“Maybe,” Rudyard concedes. “I just don’t want you to go through it alone. Going through a first love alone is torture.” 

“You’re not really selling the concept,” Calliope says, sliding off the bed. She walks towards the door and then, pausing, says, “When you aren’t feeling so weepy, you should tell me more about them both - about Mum and about Victor. They must have been amazing people for you to love them.”

Rudyard props himself up on the bed, nodding. 

“They were,” he promises. “And, I will.”

Satisfied, Calliope slips out the door and Rudyard watches the space she’s vacated for a long, quiet moment before laying back down. He hopes that Calliope won’t hold him to his promise, but knows his daughter well enough to keep from hoping too much. She is his daughter, after all. She will hold him to every promise and demand answers soon enough. For now, Rudyard shuts his eyes and revisits favorite haunts in his mind’s eye, imagining Cordelia’s hand in his left hand and VIctor’s in his right.