#Matching her stupid high charisma but his is getting people to like you despite being weird and kinda threatening charisma

[fantastic-mr-corvid]

Wip Wednesday Thursday. Family portrait

Celia and her protege/little brother playing nice cop scary cop on some poor sod. He doesn't have a stand but he does have hell of an overprotective older sister & he's never needed anything more.

Opposite colour pallets go brrrrrrr.

The main humor is how Celia & her squad talk about the baby of the group who's a damn brat but they have to protect him, and how they don't want him involved in stuff... then he turns up and he's not sweet like honey he's sweet like artificial flavoring & the only reason you would think he's harmless is because even a wolf would look weak next to a bear.

Tldr of their relationship is they are half siblings, he's 6 years younger than her and the barstard son of someone powerful. When he's 6 n she's 12 their mother dies and he is taken by his father- who doesn't even know Celia exists. He's treated like shit by the man's wife and he people around him, so she sends him money so he can buy the cloths and textbooks he needs, getting that money from doing odd jobs for the mafia, they see eachother raely but write to each other, eventually when he's 14 he's put as part of the latest group of fresh recruits, but no-one wants him cause they see him as a spoilt brat or a lowly barstard, except Celia.

Unfortunately she's getting noticed and an up and coming pink haired prick decides he needs dirt on her to keep her under control, which ends up being the existence and safety of her dear half brother.

She raised him the best she could, there mother was sick, but only after diavollos death does she let herself call him her brother. While she's his leader he is her protege and the baby of the group, one of two that she's moulding into leaders themselves. She would do fucking anything for him and that's why her third colour is dark red- her love for him has caused the oceans of blood that stains her to her soul.

[fandomsonrequests]

unexpected friend

fandom: ATEEZ

characters: choi san

reader: fem

word count: 5.4k

summary:  fate decided to test this decade long feud between you and choi san

notes: enemies to lovers AU, toxic themes, character death, substance abuse (it’s not explicit) such as alcohol and cigarettes, heavy themes, language, violence 

You had no idea where it started— you just knew that you hated Choi San with every fiber of your being. And unsurprisingly, the feeling is mutual with you.

Maybe it started in kindergarten when he accidentally pushed you to the ground in the game of tag. You got so mad at him, saying that he meant it when he obviously didn’t, calling him stupid because “all boys are stupid.”. Or maybe it started when you knocked over his tower of building blocks as revenge. Or was it when he dipped your pigtails in paint to get back at you? Or maybe the time he spread rumors that you had cooties causing everyone to avoid you like the plague.

Whatever the reason, it spiraled into a childhood rivalry that continued as you grew older. The endless cycle of cat versus dog, taking revenge on one another, followed into grade school, where you reached your horse phase and he reached his gun dam phase. It was inevitable you’d see him again— you both lived in a fairly small town after all.

Petty actions like drawing on the other’s homework turned into stealing each other’s lunches or setting some sort of prank at each other’s seats— whatever your ten-year-old brains could think of. Your screaming matches grew even worse and at one point, you both started throwing punches. The teachers always had to watch you during breaks because eventually, you’d be on top of each other and pulling at each other’s hair.

San had an advantage of course since he took taekwondo, you always ended up as the loser. But in retaliation, you managed to convince your mother to enroll you in some other martial art to protect yourself. And when you won your first little fistfight— you always made sure to lord it over him.

“Hah, you got beat by a little girl! Not so tough now huh potato-head?”

“Shut up horse-face!”

San saw your kindness and charisma towards others as an act. It was your own way of reeling others in to be on your side, gathering some sort of army to help you gang up against him. You on the other hand managed to convince yourself that his cute little dimples and selflessness for others was a facade, You couldn’t believe how many people he’s managed to fool or turn against you. And you’ve always hated him for that. You let it fester as you go through grade school and towards middle school. That hatred you harbored for him was always lit inside you.

Your parents and his were always apologizing to each other during parent-teacher meetings or school events, having to hold you back from jumping on one another. Your dad had given up on the whole thing so he was totally useless; that left you to run to your mother for comfort. Whatever the situation was, at the end of the day, she was always on your side.

“Things will blow over soon. But please, honey, try to stay out of trouble for me?”

So when she died in your junior year of high school, you couldn’t help but feel alone. Your dad had taken to smoking to cope with the loss, marrying a woman who was in love with alcohol while bringing her two hellish twin daughters with her into your home. Things grew miserable for you at home; your dad became a pathetic pushover, letting his new wife run the household. That made you angry— how could he get over your mother so easily? How could he let himself get walked over like that? How could he ignore the way your older step-sisters trampled all over you?

How could he let all this happen?

San’s endless taunting at school didn’t help either. His harmless pranks grew worse as time passed: spray-painting some nasty words on your locker, or setting a bucket of paint on top of the gym doors since you’re always the last one to head out. You’d heed your mother’s words, always doing your best to ignore him. For a while, it had worked and he pestered you less than usual but your mom’s death and the situation at home had triggered something in you, making you snap back. You’d shove his face down into his food during lunch or knock his books down the stairwell whenever you pass by each other. You had even managed to sneak some of the insects from the lab into his gym clothes, causing him to end up with nasty rashes all over his body for a week.

Your physical fights weren’t frequent but they became more violent, with one or both of you having to go to the nurses, holding an ice pack to your busted lips while a piece of gauze was stuck up his bloodied nose. It took several students or even teachers to pull you apart because most of the time no one wanted to jump in and separate you two; it was always so messy with fists and kicks flying everywhere. There was even one point where you both had to go to the hospital for fractured bones. You were both suspended for a week.

Fortunately, things had toned down now that you both were in your final year of high school with the pressure of college and meeting requirements looming over you. Although, neither of you managed to make up. You’d still exchange some foul words but the stupid pranks and fights had simmered down. That never meant you were on good terms though.

But then fate decided to be a little shit and put you in a situation you never thought you’d find yourself in.

Your new biology teacher didn’t seem to be informed about the decade-long feud between you and San. So when she assigned the both of you as partners, you felt your heart drop to your stomach as a sick feeling crawled over you. You wanted to cry and throw up at the same time- that’s just how much you despised him. You both tried to plead with her to change partners but she was as stubborn as a mule, insisting that you two can “sort out your differences” and finish this project as a team.

And now here you were, avoiding each other’s stares despite being sat next to each other. The proximity between you two was suffocating, it made it hard to focus on the project being explained to you by your cruel teacher. Your skin tingles unpleasantly whenever either of you shifted in your seat, your arms just several centimeters away from touching each other. Many thoughts ran through your head on how you can get out of this. But you knew that you had to find some time to work on the damn thing together or else you’d flunk high school— and being stuck in community college, never being able to leave this town, was not worth hitting San at the back of the head and gloating at him.

“You have the rest of the period to plan with each other. Make sure to have your presentation set and ready for next week.” Your teacher says and sits at her desk.

The room was filled with chatter as the students started conversing with each other. Many pairs threw knowing stares at you, worried that you’d be at each other’s throats. Surprisingly you weren’t… at least not yet anyway.

For a while, neither of you said anything to each other. San simply scrolled through his phone hidden under his desk while you organized your final notes. Minutes tick by and the class slowly comes to an end. With a heavy sigh, you decided to swallow your pride and talk to the guy.

You turn to the boy, roughly shoving his knee with yours and he sends you an irritated glare. “C’mon we need to plan for this.” You deadpan, ignoring the look he gave you.

San returned the sigh and pocketed his phone, shifting to face you. “Alright then. So what’s the plan?”

“That’s what we’re supposed to be talking about, dumbass.” You mutter, growing irritated. You clench your fists together in an attempt to keep your calm before continuing. “Anyway, we’re supposed to make some model of the nerve cells then present it.”

San stays quiet for a moment before speaking up. “My sister has some spare clay and wires from her sculpting hobby. I could ask for some.”

“Great. You work on that while I work on the script.” You conclude before going back to your notes.

“Hold on- you’re gonna leave me with all of the hard work?”

“We have the same workload?? I’m making the script.”

“That’s easy- scripts can be finished within a day or something.” San shot back, finding the arrangement you had set, without his consultation by the way, as unfair.

“Then I’ll help you when I’m done. Quit whining like a bitch.” You sigh, having no energy to continue the argument with him.

“Asshat…” He mumbles under his breath, pulling out his phone to text his sister. He expected some sort of retaliation from you but you simply remained quiet. That was odd- considering that you never missed the chance to have the last word in. Maybe you just weren’t feeling it today.

Nevertheless, he ignored you, deciding that it wasn’t worth pestering you at the moment. The bell rings, signaling the end of the class, and you’re immediately up and out of your seat, stuffing your notebook into your bag and swinging it over your shoulder. It almost hits San’s cheek in the process but you were already walking out the door before he could call you out on it.

“Geez…” He huffs and keeps his own things, glaring after you while hoping that time would fly by fast so that the project was done and over with.

~~

A few days have passed by since the biology class. True enough, you’ve finished writing and even printing the script within the day the project was assigned to you. So now you were stuck helping out San with sculpting the whole model. You two would work together at the back of the library after school. Initially the librarian was hesitant about letting the two of you inside given your reputation and all. But when she saw that neither of you were at each other’s throats, surprisingly, she allowed for you to work on it in the library.

Of course you and San still had some disputes— how it’s supposed to be positioned, what shape it’s supposed to take, yadda yadda. But it had never escalated into a full blown argument because it always ended up with you taking the blow of his harsh words. That alone started to concern the boy, you’d always get back at him. But your resigned silence after every quip he threw at you started to worry him. Sure he hated your guts but San wasn’t a nasty person. He knew something was bothering you. But, he never took the initiative to ask what was bothering you; it wasn’t his problem anyway.

~~

A weekend away from Monday aka the day of your presentation. The model was almost done— it just needed a paint job. Since it was a Saturday afternoon, meaning the school was closed, neither of you were able to work at your usual spot. So San decided to just take the whole thing to your home to finish it. Of course he could finish the whole thing himself but he had a party to attend later in the evening, and he didn’t want to miss out on it.

He arrives at your home, model in one hand and a crate of paints in the other. He takes note of the absence of your dad’s and step-sister’s cars in the driveway and assumed that you were all out. He sighs in frustration, hoping that that wasn’t the case. Jogging up to the porch, the boy sets down the crate and rings the doorbell a couple of times, foot tapping against the wooden floorboards as he waits.

When there was no response after a few minutes he tried again, this time ringing the doorbell a bit more frantically. Before he could turn around and head back home after getting no response, he hears frantic footsteps scurrying inside and steps back as the door swings open. There you were, hair looking like a bird’s nest while your week-old cardigan hung off your shoulders. There were dark circles under your eyes and you looked like a hobo who had the opportunity to clean after themselves. In other words: you were a mess.

“The fuck are you doing here?” You snap the minute your hazy mind registers that San was standing at your door.

The said boy snaps out of his own trance and shoves the model in your face. “We need to finish this.”

You stare at the figure in his hand then to the crate by his foot and then to his face that displayed an expectant expression. You sigh and rub your face. “Couldn’t you have finished it yourself?”

“I’m busy later.”

Another sigh leaves you and you step back to let him in. He enters the house, leaving his shoes by the door as he looks around the place. It was a bit messier than he had expected. There were rumpled coats hanging off of the arm of the couch, a small pack of cigarettes and a few bottles of cheap beer on the coffee table. The wallpaper was starting to fade with a few faint stains here and there.

San stays quiet as he follows you through the house, seeing the small stack of dishes waiting to be washed in the sink. He turns back to look at you, finding your silence as unnerving. You only trudged up the stairs, motioning for you to follow him. He expected to see you turn down the hallway and enter one of the rooms but was quite surprised to see you stop by a frayed rope hanging from the ceiling of the hall. You reach up and tug down on it, revealing the ladder towards the attic.

“Don’t tell me you live up there,” San jabs.

“Yeah and what of it?” You grumble, sending him a tired glare over your shoulder before climbing up the ladder.

He was stunned into silence when he realized that you were serious. He bites his tongue and refrains from jeering at you, handing the box of paints to you before climbing up. Several thoughts ran through his mind— why was your room in an attic? And since when did you start smoking and drinking? Was it even yours?

His head pokes into the surprisingly clean but small room. Your bed was pressed up near the slanted wall of the roof, several polaroids of you, your few friends, and your mother plastered along it. On the opposite side was your desk and your wardrobe whose paint was starting to chip off. Several boxes, labeled and not labeled, were pushed to the corner of the room, stacked in a way for them to take up less space.

San looks to you rummaging through your desk, probably finding a brush or something. He wordlessly steps into the room and pulls the rope, closing the trapdoor beneath him. He turns to you again and before he could stop himself, he found himself blurting the question that was plaguing his mind: “What the hell happened to you?”

You turn on your heel, almost knocking over the picture frame of you and your mom. Your hand reached out to steady it before answering San. “You’re going to have to be a little more specific than that.”

“Why do you live up here?” He motioned to the whole attic space with his arm. “Don’t you have a room downstairs?”

“I do.” You simply say and take the crate of paints, pulling out the needed colors and some paper cups for you to place them in.

When you don’t elaborate, San squats down to your level on the ground and tugs the purple paint tube out your hand. “What happened to it?”

“Why do you care?” You snatch the tube back with a hiss, preparing all the things needed. “It’s none of your business…”

The boy sighs, running a hand through his dark locks. He nibbles at his cheeks, carefully going over what he wanted to say. “...look, _____,” he starts, voice surprisingly gentle. “You don’t have to tell me everything but you don’t have to keep everything in.”

You don’t answer him or make any move to acknowledge what he had said. But you were listening; part of you decided to take down your walls for just a moment and hear what he has to say. And San seemed to sense this because he continues.

“I’m not gonna say that ‘I’m here for you’ and all that crap but, there are people who're willing to listen to you. Whatever you’re going through right now, no matter how big or small it is, you don’t have to go through it alone.”

Again, you don’t respond. A moment of silence full of high strung tension passed by. It was only a few seconds but it felt longer than that— especially since you both stopped in what you were doing and stared at the ground or at each other’s hands.

You always hated San but you couldn’t help but sense the sincerity in his words. It’s kind of pathetic but at the moment, his genuinity, the softness of the way he spoke was what you were craving for. At that moment, you just wanted assurance that things will be okay and that whatever you were doing in life wasn’t useless. And the guy you seemed to hate most was offering you that.

Tears prick at your eyes and you hastily brush it away with the sleeve of your cardigan, refusing to show any weakness to your nemesis. But it was hard; once the tears started flowing it was difficult for you to stop. You play it off by finishing up in preparing the paints, suppressing any hiccups or sobs that would escape before eventually giving up and bringing your legs up to your chin, crying into your sweats. Fuck it if San sees.

You curled up into yourself, crying into your pants when you felt a gentle but hesitant hand on your shoulder. You jolt at the touch, seeing San back away quickly. His brows were furrowed in concern and his lips were pursed, almost as if he were thinking about what he was going to say.

“G-go on, gloat,” You hiccup, choking on your tears. “I look like a m-mess anyway…”

You were surprised, and a little bit embarrassed, that he didn’t follow with what you said. Instead, he reached into his pocket, pulling out a small packet of tissues and handing it over to you. He looked up to your desk, seeing your water container on your desk. He stands up to take it, shaking it to check if there was still some water in it, before placing it by your foot.

“I’m not going to lie, you are a mess,” San says before returning to his previous spot on the floor. “But I guess that’s normal when you’re having a shitty day.”

“More like a shitty life…” You mumble. You chug down the rest of your water, managing to stop your tears as you wipe them away with the tissues. You look up at the boy across you and sigh heavily. “It’s my step-mom,” you say.

“I’m sorry?”

“My step-mom. She made me move up here so that her daughters could take my room.” You explain. “My dad didn’t say anything because he’s a pushover, wasting his life away on cigarettes and the alcohol his wife buys…”

San nods slowly in understanding, finally making sense of what he saw in the living room and kitchen. That explained a lot of things: why you would always faintly smell of alcohol or nicotine a few months after your mother had died. It had honestly shocked him to hear that— your dad and step-mom always looked presentable in public. Your step-sisters were a bit more extravagant but neat nonetheless. The way they talked and carried themselves didn’t seem to indicate that they had any substance addiction.

Thinking back on it, it had also explained why you were so irate and moody almost all the time, leading to you losing some friends in high school as you fell back into yourself or into violence. It was a defense mechanism— you didn’t want to seem vulnerable because at home, you were vulnerable enough.

An idea pops into his head and he promptly stands up, momentarily making you jump from his sudden movement. You look up at him, puzzled. “What?”

“Come with me.”

“What???”

“I said get up and come with me.” San says and actually held his hand out to you.

You look at it skeptically before looking up at him, contemplating about any consequences in following him— if there were any. He wiggles his fingers, impatiently coaxing you to join him and you finally make up your mind. Might as well follow him; you had nothing to lose anyway.

You swat his hand away to get up on your own, mumbling something along the lines that you could get up yourself before straightening yourself out and placing your hands on your hips. He gives a satisfied nod and grabs his shoes to put them on. He then kicks open the trapdoor before heading back down for you to follow.

He returns to the living room with you trailing behind, still wondering where exactly he wanted you to go. When you glance at the clock you see that it’s already 5:30 in the afternoon. Your thoughts were interrupted when you felt something land by your feet. You whipped your head around to see San pointing at your shoes which he probably threw at you from the door.

“We’re heading out for a while.” He says as he exits your house. You take a moment to process what was happening when he pops his head in. “Come on slowpoke.” He ushers you.

You hastily throw on your shoes, grabbing the house keys hanging by the coat rack, and hop out of the house. You lock the door behind you and approach San who was sitting upon his notoriously loud motorbike. “Where are we going?” You ask, settling down behind him.

Your arms awkwardly flutter beside you, opting to hold onto whatever space was left on your seat. You jump in surprise when you hear and feel the engine roar to life, eliciting an amused chuckle from the boy in front of you. You glare at the back of his head, smacking his shoulder and settling yourself once more.

“Hold on tight,” San tells you as he revs up the motorbike.

“I am.” You argue and strengthen your grip on the seat, shaking the bike a little to emphasize your point.

“No you aren’t.” You feel heat rise to your face when he tutted in annoyance, taking your arms and placing them around his waist. “There you go. See? No harm done.”

You only grumble something in response, making him chuckle to himself. It was a bit strange to see you tame like this. Sure it kind of boosted his ego considering that he managed to make you flustered with just a few words and a simple action but he actually kind of liked it when you weren’t at each other’s throats. He revved up the engine again before taking off and speeding down the road.

The evening breeze is cool as it whips through your hair and brushes against you, sending small goosebumps running down your skin. A small yelp escapes you when San picks up speed, causing your grip on him to tighten. He glanced back at you for a moment before taking the turn that exits the town and towards the road uphill. It led to the small forest that overlooked the city; it was a popular place in town for hiking or camping. You remember going there to play as a kid.

The air gets chillier as you both reach a higher altitude. You unconsciously nuzzle closer to the boy in front of you in an attempt to seek some body heat. The sky grows darker, turning into a deeper blue shade as the night slowly creeps upon the town. Some stars start to peek and settle themselves in the dark blanket of the sky by the time San slows down to a stop. He had stopped by the edge of the forest, a metal railing along the opposite end to keep people or vehicles from falling off the edge.

“We’re here.” San says and looks back at you. “You can let go if you want now.”

At that, you peel yourself away from him and hop off his bike mumbling something about how cocky he was while walking over to the railings. He joins you soon after, keeping a respectable distance from you. None of you say anything at first, simply taking in the view of the city in front of you. Now know why San took you out here: to breathe and clear your mind of things; something that you didn’t know you needed at the moment.

The spot you were in allowed you to overlook the town, seeing the lights from the roads and houses down below. You could spot the water tower in the distance along with the radio tower next to it. As you survey the scene before you, you make out one house in the distance with a multitude of colored lights flashing around it.

“Looks like someone’s having a party.” You muse, finally breaking the silence.

San hums in acknowledgement. “I hope they aren’t missing me.”

It takes a moment for you to understand what he said, perking up when it made sense to you. “So that’s what you meant when you were ‘busy.’” You say as you lightly punch his arm. “You’re such an ass.”

“What? I wasn’t lying; I would’ve been busy.” He defends himself, holding his hands up in surrender.

“Yeah,” You huff. “Busy shoving your tongue down people’s throats.”

A mischievous hum. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Ew no, gross- I’ll pass.”

You share a small laugh together before settling into silence again. It was… kind of cathartic, being able to actually laugh for a long while-even if it was with your longtime nemesis. It was better than crying yourself to sleep almost every night.

You turn to lean your back against the railing, using your arms to support you as you mull over the forest.

“I used to come here a lot as a kid.” You say, managing to capture San’s attention. “Pretended to gallop along the trees like some sort of princess when I was in my horse phase… I would always come home with scraped knees. I was a clumsy kid.”

“Except when you’d throw punches at me,” San interjected, ghosting a hand over his jaw. “You sure knew how to pack a punch.”

You smile apologetically, a sheepish flush on your cheeks, and look over to him. “Well you did deliver some pretty good kicks- I needed to learn how to defend myself.”

San shrugged in agreement. “I guess,” He muses and offers you a small smile, lapsing into silence again. “You know… it’s actually kind of surprising but you aren’t so bad to talk to.”

You nibble at your lower lip at his confession, unsure of what to make of it. When you look up at him, you see that he had inched a little closer to you. He still kept a reasonable amount of space between you two but it was apparent that he wanted to get closer. He drums his fingers against the cool metal of the railing, brows furrowed as he thinks over his next words carefully.

“I’m sorry.” He blurts out. “I’m sorry for all the times I’ve been an asshole to you. I know that I’ve hurt you, not just physically, but emotionally too. And I want to apologize for that… I know, words are just words. It won’t do anything to reverse or take back what I’ve done to you then, but please, take it as a first step to making it up to you.”

San decided to meet your watery gaze, his chest clenching at the tears you were trying so hard to hold back. He holds his hand out instinctively, wanting to offer some sort of physical comfort. He stops himself midway, opting to just settle it on the rail halfway from you. “You don’t have to make a decision right here and now. You can still hate me all you want, but I promise to leave you alone from now on.”

You whimper pathetically, finally letting the tears flow down your cheeks. You felt guilt consume you at his apology. Why was he taking the blame for everything? It should be you who was saying sorry. After all,you were just as cruel as him. And thinking back on it, this feud had most likely started with you. You raise a sweater paw to wipe at your tears, sobbing into your hand.

God you were a mess.

“Don’t, don’t blame yourself… I should be apologizing too. It takes two to tango right?” You hiccup, managing to give him a shaky smile. “I could’ve chosen to ignore you or direct my anger elsewhere but I still ended up targeting you at the end of the day…”

“_______, it’s okay—“

“No it’s not.” You hiss. “I’m not just talking about what I did in high school. I’m talking about every instance I was cruel to you. It was petty, extremely childish, and just horrible overall. I don’t expect you to forgive me but I want to apologize too. I’ve made part of your life a living hell.”

You glance at his hand on the railing before holding your own out towards him. “Truce?” You offer. “We don’t have to be all buddy-buddy after this but at least we can just end this whole thing.”

San gripped your hand in a gentle but firm handshake. “Truce.” His touch lingered for

just a second before he gave a gentle squeeze and pulled away. He returned it to the previous spot on the railing.

The both of you remain for a while, just overlooking the town and reflecting on what had happened. The quiet atmosphere that you both shared suddenly didn’t seem so awkward anymore. Instead, it was filled with some tension but with a bit of comfort at the same time. It was similar to the feeling of a thorn being plucked out of your side: painful but relief that it was finally out.

You don’t expect that things would go right at once— this wasn’t like the movies or the books where everything was magically solved. You both had left some scars on each other, some that are too hard to forget or too deep to heal easily. But you two were working on it: healing and forgiving each other. It was still a long journey but it was something you were both willing to go on together.

You glance to San, seeing how relaxed he was right now. He didn’t look so annoying or so terrifying anymore. A tiny grin makes its way to your lips; never in a million years did you think you’d find solace in someone you despised so much.

“Hey San,” You call out to him, resting your hand beside his, your pinkies brushing against each other. “...thanks for this. I really needed it.”

He smiles at you, flashing his cute dimples at you. It sends a warm, tingly feeling down your spine and you couldn’t help but feel calm at that. “Glad I could help.” He momentarily pat the back of your hand, engulfing it with his larger one when you didn’t pull away.

It was late when he drove you home to finish the project. Unsurprisingly, your family was still out, probably at an event they forgot to tell you about. But you didn’t mind, you had an unexpected friend with you right now.

You smile to yourself as you wave goodbye to San from the doorway, seeing him speed down the road and into the night. He may have been the bad guy in your life but it turns out, he wasn’t such a bad guy. And you were thankful that you were able to see that because at least you knew you had someone in your corner.

[in-tua-deep]

Hufflepuff Five is so good! Are the Hargreeves lives as students as adventurous like the main crew from HP? What about the Ministry of Magic? Would they get involved if someone caught wind of the sibling’s powers that weren’t just magic?

Their lives are SO wack honestly like, they just vibe. They just are going through their magical youth being absolute feral children who don’t trust adults as far as they can throw them while trying to hide their weird funky powers and also ravenously going through magical feats like they’re going out of style

Luther is every sibling’s go-to practice partner because apparently durability extends to being like? Slightly magic resistant? Basically if you hit Luther with a spell it will only be like, maybe half power? So the siblings use him as a magical shield half the time and an experiment the other half and Luther just Suffers Through This until it all goes wrong and he ends up as a werewolf, oops

(But at least Ben is alive! Honestly the only reason Luther wasn’t straight up mauled to death was a combo of his durability, Ben’s proficiency in healing magic, and Ben managing to befriend the acromantulas)

(Luther eventually gets a sense of humor about this after long years of working on accepting himself and constantly threatens to bite his siblings or makes comments about them looking extra tasty when they irritate him)

Allison is a quidditch star, super popular and athletic as all hell. She probably ends up being the Slytherin team captain, honestly. Allison is all glamor and charisma and in her later years of hogwarts has an absolute blast. Allison is very much functional passing so she’s usually the front man to get the professors off their backs, but she also is the front man for a lot of the shit that the family sell for extra spending money. Five and Ben might make potions, but Allison rules the underground black market in slytherin with an iron fist (which gets them into shenanigans involving other kids who Owe Debts)

Diego is on the gryffindor quidditch team and so him and Allison are constantly at each other’s throats on the pitch (Allison sometimes rumors him during matches when she gets within earshot which makes all of the siblings yell at him but she maintains that he gets to use his stupid powers to score points so she should get to as well). Diego gets roped into everything because he’s super soft. He starts a lot of fights because he has vigilante genes so he serves a lot of detentions. His house tolerates him losing them points because the man is a wizard with a quaffle

(Diego and Allison actually practice a lot together, which their respective teams are like HMMMM over but they’re siblings and slytherin knows that Allison would never hesitate to knock Diego off his broom and wave cheerily as he falls to his death, and gryffindor is aware that Diego can, should, and must throw a ball directly at Allison’s dumb face if she gets too close to him because of the Cain Instinct)

(Honestly Allison and Diego do a LOT for interhouse unity, showing that you can still be ride or die for each other while also wanting greatly to kill each other uwu)

Ben is too independent for his own good, which is what gets him into trouble. He likes gardening, and he likes herbs, and sometimes he’s just GOTTA go into the forbidden forest on a full moon to gather these very specific ingredients, c’mon. He also just. Likes spending time in the forbidden forest. He’s Hagrid’s favorite student because he doesn’t bat an eye at all the weird magical creatures, bc homeboy got an eldritch horror in his navel. Ben makes friends with the acromantulas (who have a healthy respect for him after the Horror ate a few of them), patiently avoids the centaurs, and bribes the pixies into giving him their shed wings through liberal application of jam stolen from the Hogwarts kitchens. 

You know what Allison is functional passing and Ben is distinguished passing, all their teachers assume that Ben is the most put together of them but they’re WRONG. They haven’t seen Ben at two in the morning yanking Vanya out of ben because if they don’t break into greenhouse four and help those poor fucking plants the first years are tending to they’re all going to DIE and that’s not fair??? ben is single handedly going to save all those poor plants (and all those first year’s grades)

Vanya is just VIBING, he ends up coming out as trans in fourth year and gets to be roommates with Ben which is pretty sweet. If only Ben didn’t drag him into shenanigans?? All the teachers are like “ah yes Vanya, such a quiet boy not like his siblings at all” but Vanya can will should and must climb onto the roof of the astronomy tower to play his violin because He Just Likes To Be Tall. Vanya once punched a snobby ravenclaw kid in the nose and then stared them down saying “the teachers will never believe you.”

Vanya steals Luther to practice his powers with in unused classrooms the most?? he’s durable. he’ll be fine if Vanya blasts him into a wall with his powers lol

Vanya’s solution to all their problems is “do you want me to blow it up with my powers?” or “do you want me to kill them for you?” 

(All of the siblings now refuse to duel with Vanya except for Luther bc Vanya is RUTHLESS. He WILL murder his siblings (almost) given the chance. They’re all so lucky that Ben is so good at healing and carries extra vials of healing potions on his person otherwise Madame Pomfrey would be VERY CONCERNED)

Five and Klaus probably get into the most shenanigans? Klaus gets less and less afraid of ghosts the more he runs into nice ones like Fred Weasley. Fred also lovingly nurtures Klaus’s absolutely terrible sense of humor and encourages him to prank the whole school. Klaus knows ALL the secret passageways thanks to Fred, a previous owner of the Maurauder’s map, so he’s just like. Constantly in the walls. He once dropped out of the ceiling to get to transfiguration in time and nobody even commented on it because Klaus is just Like That.

(A few people see Klaus’s boney elbows and knobbley knees and thinks he’s a good target for bullying just because he’s a slytherin and interhouse awfulness absolutely it at an all time high so recently after the war. YEAH his siblings step in and put the fear of god into any bullies, but Klaus fights like a cornered raccoon.)

Five is just way too smart and curious for his own good. He likes to poke around, figure things out, and also make money. Five does people’s homework, charges them for potions or rune work, tutors, dismantles shit in the chamber of secrets, ALSO explores the secret passageways (and finds some that weren’t on the map), is lovingly bullied into Friendship Activities with his housemates, breaks into the other houses’s common rooms for funsies, and keeps getting fed by the house elves who found out he can ‘apparate’ like them (without a wand) and have apparently adopted him against his will

Five is the sibling who has his fingers in like. ALL the pies. and just constantly pops up and drags them into things. Five will be helping Klaus with potions homework then glance up and tell Diego he’s cashing in the favor he’s owed for carving runes into Diego’s knives and that Diego now gets to break into Douglas Eddington’s room to steal back Lana Delwich’s diary so that Five can trade it to Lana for her rare Solomon Babik chocolate frog card which Five can give to Barnaby Beeson in exchange for a Large Distraction of Five’s Choice and a sketchy book on ward breaking which Five needs so he can break into the headmaster’s office to get a confiscated dark magic book that has some information Five needs to alter a potion that he’s probably going to make Luther drink later

Five is the sibling who is like “Ugh, I thought I was trading for some nundu ingredients but now i have a Whole Baby Nundu in the basement :/”

Which, of course, Klaus wants to keep despite the poison breath.

“This is literally one of the most dangerous magical creatures, we are not keeping it.” Luther says, unimpressed. However, he definitely has it cradled in his arms and makes kissy faces at it when he thinks no one is looking. (Apparently baby toxic nundu breath only makes Luther sneeze, so there’s that?)

“If you guys are arrested for smuggling I am not bailing you out.” Is Allison’s only decree about the matter.

Honestly I wouldn’t be shocked if someone DID eventually find out about one of the siblings’ powers - however, they would come to entirely the wrong conclusion about them?? Because this is a world of MAGIC and so everything magical has to have a magical explanation, right???

Luther is durable as all fuck???? Uhhhhh maybe he has some like. Troll blood or giant blood something back in his family line, obviously not something he would ever want the world to know about bc of species-ism

Allison can make you do whatever you want with her words????? Maybe she’s part veela? With that charm appeal?

Five is doing. Wandless apparation?? I mean, that’s rare as FUCK but wandless magic is,,, grudgingly accepted though it’s usually only used for small or very familiar spells and not usually something as complex as apparation but OKAY just sit him down and forbid him from doing it anymore bc boy boutta be SPLICED or some shit

Klaus can. Klaus can talk to ghosts. Who are not full ghosts. Hmm. huh. Maybe it’s?? A family ability??? a super rare one? like being a metamorphagus? (What the fuck??????? what the FUCK???????)

Primarily the kids started off paranoid because they believed that their abilities indicated that they weren’t the same type of magic, and they didn’t want to be returned to their father, and then it progressed into “these abilities might make people scared of us (looking at you allison, with your imperius-ass abilites)” or “we can’t afford that kind of scrutiny or curiosity about our powers (they might find out luther is a werewolf or something idk)” and “if we are ‘desirable’ children with ‘rare abilities’ the government might try to split us up and adopt us into weird pureblood families or something OR might try to lock us up (like where would they even put Ben??)”

honestly if ben ever got found out he’d just deadpan “it’s a curse, hand me the black wormroot would you?” and be like “oh yeah it’s under control i just go vibe in the woods every so often and rip up a tree or something. I think the horror wants to be the whomping willow when it grows up actually, so just don’t get too close when i’m in the horror zone. if you can live with a murder tree on campus you can live with me on campus”

someone sees vanya fuck something up with his powers and is like ???? and Vanya is just like “accidental magic lol” 

“aren’t you... a bit... old for accidental magic...”

“accidental. magic.”

[crystaljins]

River lead me home | 01

Characters: Seokjin x Reader

Word count: 9.2k

Synopsis:  Ever since coming to the human realm when you were child, nothing seems to fit, and this was just supposed to be a simple roadtrip to help you find yourself.

Is that too much to ask for?

Spin-off to A long journey home

Rating: Teens

Notes: You guys are gonna laugh... I tried to upload this yesterday but it screwed up and only the title got posted! Naturally I deleted the post and didn’t get a chance to fix everything up, but it’s finally here! My monster of a fic !!!! Updates will be weekly. Honestly this fic took a lot to write, and it’s been 8 whole months of working on it!!! So I hope you guys enjoy it T.T If not I won’t be made though LOL (edit: @blue1928​ forgot to tag u soz)

p.s. I AM working on the HP prompts I’m just really busy this next couple of weeks LOL

Masterlist

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 FINAL

You’ve never really been particularly fearful of getting in trouble with your mother. She has always been a sweet and timid lady, the kind who would let her daughter get away with murder. And you are an adult, even if you don’t act like it, and so it’s not like your mother can do anything other than express her disappointment with your actions. 

Kim Seokjin, on the other hand, can have you quaking in your shoes with just a look. He was your nextdoor neighbour growing up, even before you all fled your home realm. He has since moved out of his parents’ home into his own apartment to pursue his dream as a doctor (and to take home as many lady friends as he likes without his parents’ knowledge), but he is still very much a stern presence in your life, even as one of your closest friends. He likely feels responsible for you, since though the two of you were young when you were driven into the human world, he is three years older. He did once refer to you as something like an untrained puppy, which you guess is very reflective of how he views you. The result of such feelings of responsibility is him trying his best to fulfill all the duties of being your legal guardian despite having no obligation to do so. The effect is him being terrifyingly stern with you, despite him being a calm, good-humoured guy with everyone else he meets.

Which is why, when you wake up in a hospital bed with your leg wrapped in a cast, you know that today is the day Kim Seokjin kills you. If the job interview that you completely messed up isn’t enough motive for him to seek you out, then the fact that you tried to stop a purse snatcher and ended up breaking your leg in the ensuing scuffle after said thief’s motorcycle fell on you most certainly is. 

In your defence, it wasn’t like you could just leave them be! Yes, you had not been back to your home realm once in the thirteen years since you and every other guardian were driven out, but at your core, you like to think you are still a Guardian. And so, as is custom, you cannot turn down a plea for help. And the young woman screaming in distress as a man on a motorcycle drove past and snatched her purse straight off her shoulder had certainly sounded like a plea for help! Really, Jin should be impressed, because the ensuing chase was something straight out of a movie, what with you in hot pursuit on your own bike (the one both your mother and Jin do not know you own). And you totally would have gotten the purse back if it wasn’t for the slight motorcycle crash. You’re not exactly sure what you hit since the events are a little blurry, but whatever it was, it ended up knocking you out and breaking your leg. 

A slight commotion breaks out at the entrance to the room and by the way onlookers swoon, you know that your time on earth is up. For the only person that can stir such a reaction upon entering a room is Kim Seokjin himself. Guardians naturally fit most of the qualifiers of what humans consider attractive, but even by Guardian standards, Jin is ridiculously handsome. Even though you find him boring and the biggest nag to walk the planet, not even you are immune to his disarming good looks. You could probably sense his aura blindfolded and your eyes are always drawn to him in a crowd and so you easily pinpoint him amongst the crowd of onlookers before he spots you. Today is his day off and so he does not wear his usual doctor’s gown. Instead a well fitted button up shirt and trousers highlights the broadness of his shoulders and the elegance of his figure as he strolls through the room as if he owns it. You recognise the style- that particular combination of button up and trousers are his date clothes. Your heart plummets when you recognise the outfit. Jin will be extra irritated about having to check on you in the hospital on his day off. Why did the paramedics have to take you here of all places? You’ve really signed your life away this time.

He pauses to smile at a nurse who passes by and she is immediately dazzled. Though he is no doubt furious with you, and is frequently irritated by your shenanigans, to the rest of the world he is charming and funny and good-tempered. You watch the exchange with curiosity- the nurse laughs at something Jin says and there’s a faint flush to her cheeks. You will probably never have such an exchange with Jin- even if he relaxed enough to make a joke in your presence, it would probably be at your expense. Jin’s taste in women is very obvious- he likes women that match him in beauty, ones that are fantastic at making you feel like a potato in comparison despite your guardian heritage, however unintentionally. Something in you twinges at the thought- you wouldn’t mind having a normal relationship with Jin. One where he smiles at you and makes jokes and actually enjoys your presence. But he’ll probably never view you like that- he’s made it very clear throughout your friendship what you are to him.

The nurse points in your direction and takes Jin’s distraction as an opportunity to trail her gaze appreciatively over his figure, settling on his profile. She must be new to the hospital if this is the first time that she is experiencing what Jin’s coworkers at the hospital describe as the “Jin effect”. Any humans (and most guardians for that matter) who meet him instantly succumb to his charisma and absurdly handsome face and find themselves desperately in love. This nurse is no exception and you decide to utilise the momentary distraction she has provided Jin when she attempts to get his number by attempting to slide off your bed and scurry away.

A tug at the back of your collar has you stiffening. If this were a movie, there would be an uneasy swell of high-tension violin as you turn your head to find Jin has grabbed the back of your shirt to stop your slow escape. He must have utilised a spot of enhanced guardian speed to be able to cross the room so quickly. The violins in your head begin to screech in terror. Jin merely smiles and it is eerily charming. His cheeks puff out and his lips curl in a way that would dazzle the average onlooker but you see the lethal intent in his eyes. You barely manage to hold back a fearful shudder.

“Nurse Jo!” He calls, and his tone is playful and sweet which contrasts directly with the venom in his dark pupils. In their depths you can foresee your death. “It seems one of our patients is trying to escape.” His tone darkens and drops on the last word and you flinch, preparing for the end.

Only it never comes, and you find Jin hoisting you up by the back of your shirt and with the help of security rushing forward they wrangle you back into bed. They do well- the average human doesn’t stand much chance against the superior strength of a guardian, and you are currently fighting for your life. But with Jin in the mix, they have you strapped to your bed in no time, forced to listen to whatever longwinded and painful lecture Jin has prepared for you

He stands at your bedside, arms folded across his chest. You mentally write your will in your mind- Taehyung can have your Nintendo switch and his girlfriend can go through your clothes and take any that she likes. Your mother gets anything worth more than $20 in your bedroom (though she might be searching for a while to find such an item, if it even exists) and Seokjin can get custody of your evil cat. Maybe it’ll scratch his stupidly handsome face up and you can get revenge from beyond the grave. 

“Are you going to tell me what happened?” Jin asks, and his voice is surprisingly calm. You look away, scratching at where the cast on your leg rubs at the skin of your shin. It’s stupid to wear the cast since with your enhanced healing abilities the break will be better by tomorrow, but the doctors of this world do not know that. 

You are not fooled by the almost friendly, interested tone to his voice- there is anger bubbling behind the mask of polite curiosity. Likely he is holding back to full force of his fury because this is his workplace.

“Well, I’d like to preface by saying I had no choice. Was I supposed to just let the robber go?” You say. You were attempting to placate him before elaborating on the full story, but it appears to have the opposite effect. Jin’s eyes bulge out of his head and his face goes that interesting shade of red that only appears when he’s very, very angry. 

“Robber? You took on a robber?” He says slowly, and you can tell it takes a few moments for the words to process. But gradually, the veins in his neck bulge and his eyes gradually widen and you wince as Jin erupts into what you like to call his “jants- Jin Rants.”. “Ya! Are you crazy? What were you thinking? What if you had been killed? I would have had to tell Auntie and then I would have had to organise your funeral because she would be inconsolable! If I even survived my parents trying to kill me for letting you die at the hands of a ROBBER of all people!” The impressive thing about a jant is the speed at which it is spat out. You are sure that professional rappers have nothing on the way Jin can spill out verses in a rage. He shoves a hand through his hair in distress and the ensuing messy look it generates is unfairly attractive- you think you see a middle-aged woman swoon in the hospital bed across from yours. Or faint. It’s hard to tell in a hospital. He continues screeching. “And then they’d PROBABLY make me MOVE BACK HOME as PUNISHMENT and there goes my social life! You could have ruined MY WHOLE LIFE, (Y/N)! What is wrong with you? Why do you always go making trouble like this?” It is those words, out of his whole rant, oddly enough, that causes you to stiffen. The implication that all you do is cause trouble. Which in a way you suppose you do. You cause your mother unnecessary worry- Jin is constantly sacrificing things to take care of you. Even your friends are constantly having to shout you meals due to your perpetual state of unemployment.

“I... couldn’t just leave it- they needed help, Jin.” You admit softly. Jin somehow hears your quiet admission over his furious jant and falls silent. He stares at you in confusion for a long moment, like he was expecting more of a fight, or some sort of annoying comeback. But the confusion is enough to subside his rage. The jant is over, with minimal damage. He drags over a chair and slumps by your bedside, once more running a hand through his hair. 

“You’re so reckless. Robber’s rarely pull stunts like that unarmed! You may have enhanced healing compared to a human, but you still die if someone stabs you! And this is your third ER trip this month!” He scolds and his tone is far gentler than before- not unlike how one might speak to a child, rather than someone a mere three years younger than him. You meekly bow your head, chastised. “How do you think auntie would feel if anything happened to you, (Y/N)? You may be a Guardian, but Guardians aren’t invincible. You, of all people, should know that.”

You flinch, feeling as though he’s slapped you. He’s clearly furious with you if he’s willing to choose such a sore spot to shame you. For the thirteen years you have been in the human realm, it has just been you and your mother. You have not been able to forget that fact for a single day. Every day you awaken afresh with the reminder that there is a third member to your family who should be there but is not. Your father’s life was lost as you all fled, and your mother had found herself widowed with a headstrong young child in a foreign and unfamiliar realm. Jin’s family have always been around to help because you haven’t exactly been an easy child to raise, but there are some burdens that no one can lift from a single parent.

 And you love your mother, and you really would do anything for your her. It’s just... you don’t want to pretend that you’re a human. For your entire time here, your guise as a human has felt like an itchy, poorly fitted jacket that you want to peel off and throw away. Humans are selfish and lazy and would leave a child on the side of the road and they’d been very quick to notice that you were different and target you for it- these are all things your father hated. To be human is to spit on the sacrifice he made for you... and yet to continue to fight it is also disregarding that he gave up his life to let you live in comfort. 

Jin, with his handsome face and ability to charm anyone he meets instantly, has never had an issue settling into the human realm, and so he’s never really understood why you cling so much to your former home realm. He knows that you’ve never truly stopped grieving the life of your father, but he cannot understand why you do not see the human world the way that he does. He had very much taken to being a human and enjoys all the perks that come with it- the technology, the fawning women, the interesting and unique cuisines... Jin adores human culture. And so, it irks him that you constantly seem to be sticking out like a sore thumb. 

“I’m sorry.” You say in a small voice and you’re so downcast that you miss the way that Jin’s face crumples with guilt. 

“Just... try to be safer in the future. This realm has its own law enforcement. We don’t need to be guardians here.” He tells you softly. Then he clears his throat awkwardly. “How was the job interview?”

It’s an act of mercy- he’s trying to save you any further misery by changing the subject. Unfortunately, you have yet to break the news to Jin; you bombed the interview. Massively. It’s not like it was even a job you were that invested in. Just a fulltime job that involved doing some admin in an office. The exact, safe, boring job your mother has dreamed of for you since coming here and the exact job Jin has been pushing you to apply for because he’s sick of his parents nagging him to lend you money or take you out for dinner or give you lifts because your car broke down and you can’t afford to fix it. But you messed it up and you hate yourself for it. Hate yourself for disappointing your mother, and, if you’re really honest with yourself, for disappointing Jin. You’re already so aware of how lowly he views you and this just makes it sting that little bit more.

But it is the exact kind of job that will slowly kill you inside. You are trying to kill the part of you deep down that longs for something more. You don’t even know what it is you want. But killing that part and settling into this world and its ways and its customs mean giving in. It means forgetting. And for thirteen entire years, you have not been able to forget. How can you, when you left a piece of yourself back there, on the battlefield where your father had lost his life for your sake? He was not even given the luxury of a grave and yet you are supposed to be comfortable and post pictures on Instagram about how happy you are and go to brunch and just enjoy life? You... you can’t do it.

“I... don’t know.” You finally say. You shrug and glance away. “It felt like it went well. We’ll see if they call me back.”

Jin visibly brightens, unaware of your lie. 

“I knew I had a good feeling about today!” He says warmly. “You’re totally going to get that job, I can feel it in my bones. Finally, my parents will get off my back!” He cheers. He probably means the last part as a joke but it’s just another sting; another reminder that Jin just sees you as a burden.

His celebration session is interrupted by an alert on his apple watch. He glances at whatever notification appear and winces. He glances at you like he’s done something wrong.

“I’ve got to go. I uh… I have a date.” He confesses. Jin is always tentative when he talks about the women he sees, like he’s anticipating some sort of reaction from you. You don’t know what reaction that would be, though, and you don’t think you’d ever feed his ego with any reaction other than a mild disgust and indifference. When you just continue to stare, he nods, more to himself than you. “I still have to sort all your paperwork to make sure you can get discharged so I probably can’t stay with you for your discharge. You don’t need a lift home, do you? I’ll probably have to drive straight there.”

Normally you would accept- though your broken bone heals faster than a human’s, it is still highly painful and inconvenient. But the thought of being in the car with Jin right now is highly unappealing. For some reason, lately when you spend time with Jin, you just feel more and more aware of how inadequate you are. You can’t help but notice the way people gravitate towards Jin. The way their eyes are constantly seeking him out or how a room brightens when he steps into it. And it’s not just his looks- it’s his everything. His demeanour, his smile, his success. He has taken to the human world like a fish to water and you just can’t. It’s not like you don’t want to. But his presence, his nagging, his constant disappointment with you… it’s a persistent, painful reminder of everything you can’t bring yourself to be. Not even for him, as much as you sincerely hate constantly disappointing him like this.

He adjusts his watch as you shake your head.

“I’ll just get the bus. I can still walk.” You say, plastering a smile on your face that hopefully seems sincere. Jin glares at you and reaches out to tap a finger against the firm plaster of your cast.

“Fine, but this stays on until tomorrow. I don’t care how fast you heal- I don’t want that leg healing crooked. Your mother will definitely notice if you suddenly have an extra bend in your shin. And no more chasing robbers- not even if it’s an old grandma with a cane being robbed. We stopped being Guardians for a reason.” He warns you. He adjusts his shirt cuffs and pulls out his phone to adjust his hair in the selfie camera before glaring at you. “I won’t tell Auntie about today because I don’t want her to worry. You can stay at mine tonight, so she doesn’t ask any questions when you hobble home in a cast.”

“Thanks.” You say and he’s oblivious to the bleak tone in your voice and the way your expression is downcast. If there’s one thing that has Jin oblivious to the rest of the world, it’s the prospect of a date. “Is the code to get in still the same?”

“I changed it to your birthday because that stupid pixie that always hangs around you worked out the code and keeps leaving my sugar open on the counter. I’m getting so many ants. I’m pretty sure he’s leaving it open for them.” Jin tells you already halfway turned around. You wisely choose not to tell Jin that you had told Jungkook the code to Jin’s apartment. Jin pauses before he can stride off. “Oh yeah. Auntie texted me- she wanted me to make sure you remember to come to dinner tomorrow and that you dress nicely. She has something important to say.”

“She could have just texted me herself.” You mumble, but Jin has already walked off, probably to sort the last of your paperwork before his date. A trail of sighing onlookers watch his departure. It just makes you scoff as you return to glaring at your cast. It itches.

You make a promise to yourself to use Jin’s kitchen scissors to remove it tomorrow so that he has at least some kind of inconvenience in his life. Nothing is more irritating than a blunt pair of kitchen scissors.

++++

Despite seeing Jin’s mother every other day, and renting the apartment directly across from her, your mother always acts like the president is coming over whenever Jin’s family comes for dinner. She pulls out the fancy glass bowls and the plates she bought with her first paycheck from the diner she was employed at when you were small. She vacuums the whole apartment and checks your room to make sure you’ve cleaned it in case Jin needs a bed to nap on after a long day at the hospital. 

She’s never quite managed to get the hang of human cuisine and since the human realm doesn’t hold the magic stores available to cook Guardian food the way that she learned, you are always the one to make dinner. You’ve never once complained because you know that on some level, this is your mother’s attempt to compensate. This is the closest you will ever get to having a community with other Guardians, and Jin’s dad is the closest thing you will ever have to a father. 

But even despite her usual frantic state whenever there’s a joint family dinner, she definitely seems more frazzled than usual. 

“Is it meant to smell like that?” She asks with a grimace, leaning in to look at the salad you’ve thrown some vinaigrette over. You glance over your shoulder from where you are checking on the food in the oven. 

“Yes, mum.” You say, standing and gently nudging her from the kitchen with a smile. “It’s vinaigrette- you liked it last time when I made it, remember? It’s why I made it tonight.” 

Your mother digs her heels into the ground before you can drive her from the kitchen and send her back to wiping the already sparkling cabinets in the living room. She turns to scrutinise you carefully. 

“Are you going to do your hair? It looks a little messy.” She frets. You raise an eyebrow. This is new. Your sweet, doting mother has never once criticised your appearance, not even when you went through that phase where you had an eyebrow piercing and dyed your hair neon green. Something is up. 

“It’s just Auntie and Uncle, right?” You say suspiciously. “They used to bathe me when we lived in magregnum, mum.” You say. Using the original term for your home realm feels foreign on your tongue and your mother’s expression shutters at the sound of her original home. 

“Well, a lot has changed since then.” She says softly. You’re about to question the strange, unfamiliar expression on your mother’s face. Something looks different about her... you squint when you recognise the shimmer of your favourite eye shadow on her lids. 

“Are you wearing makeup?” You question. Her eyes go wide, and you can’t help but notice that her lashes are curled. But her answer is interrupted by the sound of the doorbell. Your mother pales and instantly she switches back into her jittery, pre-dinner self. 

“Quickly, quickly!” She urges. “Dinner’s not ready yet!” 

You shake your head with a smile at your mother’s familiar antics. 

“It’s probably just Jin- Auntie and Uncle always make him come over earlier to help.” You call over your shoulder. You’re in a far better mood than you were yesterday, particularly after bending Jin’s kitchen scissors beyond repair during your attempts to remove the cast this morning before heading out and pretending you hadn’t been fired from your part-time job the week before. You had punched one of the senior managers for bullying the new hire. Your leg was mostly healed at that stage and Jin had told you that you could take the cast off before he left for work that morning. When you arrived back home in the afternoon, your mother had either chosen not to comment on your slight limp or had been too distracted by the stress of having dinner to notice. You are glad to have evaded her sad, disappointed eyes and the unwarranted comparisons to Jin for the day.  

After a long few moments of peace in the kitchen, you can’t help but notice the lack of an annoying presence hovering over your shoulder. Usually when Jin arrives, he makes a beeline straight for the kitchen so that he can sample whatever it is you’re making and proclaim it decent (and then try and sneak some extra portions later in the evening when he thinks you aren’t looking). The complete lack of Jin’s presence to do whatever the kitchen equivalent of back seat driving is has you pausing with a sense of unease. It is the first clue that something is up- the door opens and yet the older guardian doesn’t make an appearance. Confused, you pause midway through pouring out melted chocolate from a glass measuring cup and glance over your shoulder. 

“Minyo Dolkara,” is your mother’s tentative call and your eyes widen at the term of endearment. It is a common one back in your home realm, but your mother only uses it to comfort you when she feels you are truly upset. She is knotting her fingers anxiously together and beside her stands an unfamiliar middle-aged man. He smiles warmly at you, and your gaze lands on the arm he holds carefully around your mother’s shoulder. Your grip tightens around the handle of the measuring cup. 

“Mum?” You ask, your tone laced with confusion. “Who’s this?”

Your mother swallows nervously and glances at the man in question. 

“This is... my love.” She confesses. “Nigel. We met at my night classes and I... He...”

“I’m her fiancé.” The man, Nigel corrects. He is a friendly, round sort of man. The kind of man often seen on tv playing father to a rebellious teenage daughter in a sitcom. And his smile is warm and excited, like he’s happy to meet you. He directs that smile to your mother, and rather than look disgusted or uncomfortable, she merely beams back at him.

That’s probably what this night was for, in hindsight. And why your mother was so nervous. She planned this to introduce her new boyfriend... no, her new fiancé to you, and to Jin’s family. Dimly, in the back of your mind, you register all the unusual signs about tonight. The way she’d messaged Jin to make sure you were at the dinner despite the fact that she’s never been able to bring herself to make you do anything you don’t want to.... the way she’s been commenting on your appearance despite it never having bothered her before... how long has she kept this from you? How... how could she be seeing another man?

No words form in your mouth- instead, the face of your father hovers in your mind. After thirteen years, you can’t fully recall what he looks like and you weren’t able to bring any pictures over to the human realm with you. It has been long enough that you cannot recall his face or his voice. So, in theory, why can’t your mother meet someone new? Did you expect her to live as a widow until she died, alone and far from the home realm she grew up in? Of course, you didn’t. But for some reason, this man’s presence right now leaves a bitter sting like she’s plunged a knife into your chest.

The smile drops from Nigel’s face after a few moments of you staring blankly and his smile is replaced with concern. It takes you a while to understand it is because you have crushed the hand of the measuring cup in your tight grip. It falls to the ground and shatters, followed by a few drops of blood as red rapidly spreads over your clenched fist and lands on the ground. You haven’t used your enhanced strength in so long you almost forgot you had it. 

“Fiancé?” You echo at last and though it is your own voice, it sounds distant. Like your ears are suddenly submerged under water. You don’t know what hurts you more in that moment- the painful reminder that the world is moving on without your father... or the fact that your mum has kept such a huge secret from you for who knows how long, probably because she was scared of how you’d react. “You’re engaged?”

“(Y/N),” your mother says, taking a step forward, perhaps to comfort you. She does it tentatively, like you are a beast she needs to placate. The people in your life- at least the ones who know your true identity- often approach you like that. Slowly and hesitantly, as if they don’t know how you will react. Like you are a ticking time bomb, ready to go off and cause trouble. Which in a way, you suppose you are. Things have always been difficult with you, after all. You never settled into human schooling well and you didn’t get into a good university like Jin, and you’re always getting yourself into trouble trying to help random people off the street. And your mother, your poor placating mother, is prepared to do the same thing she always does. Apologise that you had to leave your home, that the new human world isn’t to your liking, but gently remind you that it is, in fact, your real home now.  

But you do not give her the chance to feed you the same tired lines. You’re so sick of hearing this lecture. Every time you wind up in hospital because you’ve interfered with a fight or been hit by a car trying to save a random puppy, Jin gives you the same, frustrated lecture. When you fail another interview or get fired from a new job, your mother is there to try and fail to hide her disappointment that you aren’t leading the life she’d planned for you. But not this time- this is too far. You’ve been trying to squash the part of you that is a guardian for their sake for so long now, but you cannot do it for him. For this man, this stranger, who has waltzed into your home like he owns it and announced that he’s marrying your mother. As if he has a right to just join your family. You are out the door before she or Nigel can offer a word of explanation. 

You don’t see Jin until you crash into him. He steadies you with a hand planted on either shoulder. You glance up at his face, barely registering what he looks like through the blur of tears spilling forward. For a brief moment, the sight of Jin’s face (even blurred) and the familiar set of his broad shoulders fills you with relief. Even if Jin’s always viewed you as a bit of pain, he’s always been an important person to you, always ready to provide support. But then you see the look on his face.

Jin actually winces when he sees your expression. Perhaps he is realising it’s going to be one of those nights, where he sits up on the roof with you for hours and comforts you as you spill your guts. That’s how it’s always been, after all, ever since you were a small child and would run to him when you scraped your knee instead of your own parents. You would cry and he would offer some wise words mixed in with a stern reprimand and then his parents would congratulate him for being such a good influence on you. Even when you hit high school and started to realise for the first time that Jin didn’t view you with the same adoration you viewed him, he never stopped being that person for you. The shoulder to cry on, the rock to lean on. But now, he stiffens, as if steeling himself for the explanation behind your tears and he probably already has a speech half prepared in his mind. That’s the job he delegated himself, after all. To look after you, for as long as you are alive and giving him headaches. So, if it’s always been his job to do just that, why does he look like he’s just been asked to help clean a public bathroom at the sight of you in distress? 

He... he doesn’t want to deal with you. That’s why he looks so uncomfortable. 

You feel something inside you crumple. You can’t identify what feeling it is but, in that moment, you realise something. Everyone in your life... they all view you as a burden. Your mum had delayed telling you about her boyfriend until the last possible moment because your response would be difficult to handle. Jin’s parents see you as a hopeless child that their perfect son must look after. And Jin.... well you can see from the look on his face how he views you. It reminds you of a dark day, all those years ago in high school, a memory you thought you’d pushed down, and it surfaces now, before you can push it back down like you normally do. But then you set your shoulders- you were over the things Jin had said that day, and you aren’t going to allow the way that he looks right now to be the thing that resurfaces those feelings.

You shove past him. Over the past few months, you’ve been avoiding Jin more and more as your self-esteem plummeted lower and lower but today something tips over the edge for you. You don’t know how or why it happened but at some point, Jin has stopped being the person you can turn to when things get rough. And you have just realised that he no longer wants to be that person either, which hurts far more than you ever thought it could. 

“(Y/N)!” You hear him call out to you, probably shocked that you aren’t caving immediately and telling him what’s wrong- after all, there’s probably only been one time in your life before this that you’ve done so. You ignore his call though, making a beeline for the staircase, and he does not follow you. 

The place you usually go to when misery strikes is the rooftop of your crappy apartment building. You’ve spent countless hours up on the rooftop, watching the sky. It’s oddly therapeutic- the thing you used to miss most when first moving to this realm was the stars. Back home, they sparkle different colours like precious stones scattered across black velvet. Here, the smog of humans blocks their stars from the sky. But the brightest stars are somewhat visible on clear nights and they are the closest reminder you have of home. That’s probably why you have chosen the roof as your refuge. Since beginning to take refuge here when things go bad, you’ve accumulated a small collection of old furniture from whenever your mum goes on a redecorating spree. 

What has resulted is a comfy little corner of the world you can call your own, away from everyone else. No one else seems to use this place, even if the rooftop is accessible to everyone in the complex, but that suits you just fine. It’s perfect for curling up and wallowing, much like you are desperate to do right now. There are a lot of confusing, painful emotions swirling around inside you, ones that you aren’t really sure how to deal with or process. 

You slump down against the old picnic blanket you have stretched across the floor and let your head collapse against an old cushion your mum threw out years ago and peer up at the sky. Wincing, you idly pick out pieces of glass from your hand and watch the skin seal over almost immediately as you wonder if the sky really as beautiful back home as your memory tells you it was. Or, do you just want to believe things were better in the other realm? You’re not really sure but it really would be nice to go back. Not forever- as much as you hate to admit it, your family is here now, which makes this realm your home. But you want to see the place you came from. You want to see the stars and the valleys and the rivers. The night before you and your mother fled, your father had told you that everything about Magregnum would change by the time you were old enough to go back, except the landscape. Mountains cannot move, after all. A part of you longs desperately for that- to see the things that will not change and the landscapes that could not leave your father behind. The only reminders that you aren’t just a random human washed up in the bleakness of life, but a guardian. Something special and precious. Something better than what you feel like you are.

An annoying buzzing in your ear breaks the bubble of your pondering. You blink a few times and then sigh, turning your head to the side. A small figure, no taller that the height of your handspan, stands beside you with his arms folded. Small, insect like wings flap so rapidly they are little more than flashes, catching the light of the fairy lights you’d strung across the fencing of the rooftop a few weeks ago. The figure tilts his small head to the side and at this proximity you can see the way he frowns. He always has the oddest tendency to pop up whenever you are alone and miserable and likely he is displeased to find you in such a state yet again.

“Do you ever do anything other than sulk?” The creature asks. He is a pixie, as you know from your first interaction where he had very indignantly informed you that no, he is not a cross between a mosquito and a human in-between your attempts to squash him with a fly swatter. You grimace. 

“No.” You snap, rolling onto your side to face away. Alas, the small pixie merely lifts easily into the air and sails over your face like he’s an Olympian performing high jump. He lands neatly in front of you once more and grins. 

“What happened this time?” He asks, settling down into the picnic blanket cross legged. He plants an elbow on either knee and rests his chin in his hands. The buzzing of his wings slows to a gentle flap, which allows you to discern the thin, silvery veins that lace across the delicate membranes of his wings. You’ve always secretly thought it a shame that Jungkook is just a pixie, given his handsome face and charming nature, but being a human would mean the loss of his gorgeous wings. “Did Jin ground you again?”

“He’s never grounded me before.” You snap defensively. “And even if he did, it’s not like I would listen to him. He’s not my parent.”

Jungkook shrugs, leaning back to press his weight into his hands and stretching his legs out in front of him. 

“Yes, you would.” He points out. “You always complain about Jin, but I know you always do what he says.” 

You purse your lips and sit up. Jin is one of the last people you want to talk about right now. Jungkook stands up too, launching himself into the air so that he can settle on your knee. 

“So what did Jin do this time? Change the code to his apartment again? Find out about your motorbike? Treat you to dinner?” Jungkook questions eagerly. You’ve never seen the pixie interact with another living being other than you, Jin or Taehyung (and on occasion your mother) and he had sadly informed you that he was the only one of his kind in this realm when you first met thirteen years ago. So, you have a theory that he lives out his need for drama and gossip and social interaction vicariously through you. It’s the only way to explain his constant interest in your life and the things that are making you sad. 

“It wasn’t Jin.” You finally admit, lifting your gaze once more to the sky above. “Why are you even here anyway? Did you run out of YouTube dance covers to copy?”

Jungkook nods and settles down beside you. “It’s all pointless after a while.” He says forlornly. “It’s not like humans can see me. Only guardians will ever see me dance and they don’t care. I figured I might as well talk to one sentient being before I go crazy. The moths just aren’t great conversation partners these days.” He pauses. “So, are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?”

Jungkook’s confession has your resolve crumbling. Sometimes it is easy to forget that you, Jin and Taehyung are the only people Jungkook can mix with, as a pixie in a human world. Even if humans could see him, the government would probably deport him back to the other realm the second it found out he was threatening exposure of magical beings to humans. A strange sadness on his behalf overcomes you and that is the thing that makes you willing to confess what’s bothering you. “It was... my mother.”

Jungkook is silent and when you glance down at where he is seated upon your knee, he is also gazing in wonder at the sky above. He doesn’t press further but you still somehow feel compelled to share. 

“She’s engaged.” You admit and the words feel oddly piercing amongst the soft hum of city traffic. They hang in the cool night air and suddenly the warmth of the night seems stifling rather than comfortable. 

“I thought the Q’uvar were happy when that sort of thing happened? Don’t you all have those huge festivities in your village whenever a marriage ceremony happens?” Jungkook questions. The natural way the original term for your people rolls off his tongue testifies to his origin- despite him living in the human realm, there is no doubt he comes from Magregnum, just as you do. Even when you were living in the other realm, your people would refer to themselves as guardians. Only the really old-fashioned members of your race would use the language that had slowly died out over the years as the common tongue became the norm. Not for the first time, you are curious about Jungkook and where he popped up from. Jungkook turns to look at you and tilts his tiny head. His inky black hair flops to one side with the motion. “Shouldn’t you be happy that your mother is engaged?”

The unintentional reprimand slaps you across the face and you wince. In theory, you should be thrilled that after so much difficulty and hardship settling into this realm, your mother has found a source of happiness. She has worked so hard on your behalf to make sure you grow up safe and secure in this foreign realm and so the least you can do to repay her is to be happy when she is happy. But the niggling fear that always chases you holds you back. It’s a fear of change- of the way life seems to move too fast for you to catch up. Here you are, stuck in the past when even your own mother has managed to move on and build a life for herself. 

“I should be.” You answer softly. You lift your knees and hug them close to your chest- Jungkook falls off with an indignant squawk. Moments later he rises in the air until he is eye level with you- even the buzz of his wings seems irritated. 

“Well then, why aren’t you?” He asks, but the tone of his voice implies that his patience has been lost with you. Since the moment of meeting you all those years ago, Jungkook had assigned himself as a sort of pseudo-counsellor and confidante, but it does not mean he enjoys the position. No, more often than not, he is annoyed and puzzled by your seemingly trivial problems. You kind of enjoy such an attitude though- it makes the things that feel insurmountable to you become small and insignificant. Jungkook makes you feel like problems can be overcome. This time, however, his dismissive attitude has you feeling worse. 

“Because I’m homesick.” You admit miserably. “Why does everyone seem to settle in here so well? Why am I the only one struggling? Why could everyone leave things behind so easily? How can they just pretend that they’re humans, and completely ignore the fact that they are Guardians?”

You press the palms of your hands against your eyes and release a long exhale. No one has followed you up here, after you rushed out like that. Who even knows what state your mother’s dinner is in? Hopefully she remembered to get everything out of the oven. Are they having fun without you? Is Nigel charming them, winning them over, getting them excited about the possibility of a wedding? Are they… are they really happy, in this realm? “Do you ever think about going back?” You question, after a long moment of silence. You drop your hands from your eyes.

“Sometimes.” Jungkook admits. “I wonder what it looks like now. Taehyung says it’s largely the same, it’s just the cultures and people that change.” 

You stare out across the ugly concrete buildings that the rooftop view provides you. In this realm, everything moves fast and changes quickly. In the blink of an eye, a new building can pop up down the road or an entire family can move away from their twenty-year-old restaurant and close it without any warning. Back home, you remember things being steady and unchanging. Every morning, you would rise to the same mountain ranges, to the same fringe of forest, to the same river song. The only guardian you know who has gone back is Taehyung, and he validates that impression- forests and mountains do not change. 

“I wish I had half Taehyung’s courage. I want to go back.” You confess.

Jungkook hugs his knees into his chest and mirrors your position beside you. 

“What would it achieve?” Jungkook asks curiously. You shrug, picking idly at a stray thread on your jeans. 

“Hopefully something.” You say. “I feel like I’ll never know what could happen if I don’t take the risk. I just… I feel like it’s calling me. It doesn’t want me to forget what I am. This realm doesn’t suit me because this isn’t my realm. Maybe I’ll find a place that fits over there.”

Jungkook nods sagely. A moth flaps past him and he smiles at it as it goes past.

“And what would you do once you’re there?” He questions. It does not take you long to give an answer. You’ve had this adventure mapped out in your mind since you were a miserable, homesick eleven-year-old.

“My dad used to have this phrase. “The river loves those who take the plunge.”. He’d always say it in the old tongue, and apparently it was an old guardian phrase that meant sometimes taking the risk was worth it. But apparently the phrase comes from a river to the east of our home. Dad said that the river is home to a special migrating plant, and it lights up and looks like shooting stars. They call it ‘the dancing river’. He promised to take me there, one day when the war was over.” You explain. “If rivers and mountains don’t change… then that’s that last piece of him I can find in that realm.”

“And that’s what you want to see, if you go back?” Jungkook asks. You nod and shift your position to the side of some old drawers you had rescued from your mother’s bedroom. Inside are a bunch of wrinkled old papers that you pull out and show him. 

“Taehyung always brings me back a map whenever he gets back from over there to show me how things have changed. Look.” You point at a small blue line that trickles across the painted landscape of the map. The label is written in the common tongue. “River of stars” it says in sleek cursive. You know from matching it up with an older map that the name has changed but it’s the same river your father told you about. “It’s only a five-day hike from the portal.” You point at a small mark on the map- this has Taehyung’s writing scribbled on it, marking the join between the human realm and the magical one. “I could go and just... get it out of my system. See the river. Like a road trip but in another realm.” 

Jungkook flutters over to peer at the small distance between the river in question and the portal on the map. 

“I just have to go once. Just once. And see it- see the places he loved. And then I’ll settle into this realm and get the boring job Jin and my mother want me to have and marry an equally boring human. I’ll go to her wedding and watch her pretend like my dad never existed and like I’m not a Guardian.” You tell him. “I... we didn’t even get to say good-bye, Jungkook.” 

Your voice cracks and Jungkook glances up at you in surprise. You rarely open up about your father to the pixie but he’s always curious when you do, like you’re sharing the story of an ancient war hero. Which in a way, he is. Though the war is fresh and recent in your mind, over a thousand years have passed back home, since your people roamed freely there.

“We just got word that he was dead, and we had to go, or we would be too.” You tell him, recalling the way Jin’s father had woken you two up in the middle of the night, pale as a ghost and drenched in your father’s blood. You remember running a lot that night and clinging to your mother’s hand. You had tripped and scraped your knee and you hadn’t been able to cry. And when you reached the human realm, your mother had shed a single tear and then shouldered on into your new life. No time or space to grieve. Not when there was so much uncertainty ahead. “No funeral or anything. I just... I want proof, that he was alive. I want to see the places he saw and just... I want to get a chance to say goodbye. I never even got to tell him that I love him one last time.”

Jungkook holds a hand to his chin as he ponders your words and then he looks at you. Though he is small, you can make out the dark colour of his eyes. His expression is soft and gentle. It reminds you of the look Jin used to give you when you’d come up here because the kids had made a mean comment about you not understanding their weird meme jokes or you were sad because you’d seen a kid hanging out with his father. Back before Jin had lost his patience with you, when he just got that the reason you couldn’t settle in was because of the cost it took to get to this realm safely. 

“You know it wouldn’t bring him back, right?” Jungkook asks softly. “Everything you knew about that realm faded thousands of years ago. You won’t find home there anymore than it is here. And it won’t stop your mother from getting married.”

“I know.” You answer forlornly. “But maybe things will be better if I just get to… acknowledge what I am. Even if it’s only for five days.” Jungkook stares for a long moment and then nods, his shoulders set with sudden determination. 

“Then let’s go.” He announces. You blink in surprise at his proposition. 

“Go?” You echo. He nods and straightens, planting on hand on his hip and pointing the other directly at you. 

“I am the first person to point out that you’re spoiled and selfish.” Jungkook reminds you, which has you wincing. “You don’t even know how lucky you are, to have so many people who love you. Do you know what I would give to be human? To have a friends and family like you do? And every day you spit on it. If this is what it takes for you to finally be content, then do it.” 

You frown and look away from him. 

“I don’t want to go when you put it like that.” You say, resenting the slight way your voice wobbles with hurt. You feel the slight tickle to your cheek and find Jungkook has pressed his tiny hand comfortingly to the side of your face. 

“Don’t be hurt.” He says softly. “I do know why you’re struggling.” He offers you as comfort. “And I do understand why it’s so hard. To live amongst humans every day and pretend like none of the terrible things that went down over there really happened. But in focusing on the things you’re missing, you’re missing out on the things you have.” He explains. “So, let’s go, (Y/N). Let’s go see the Dancing River and find the peace you’re looking for.”

You stare at Jungkook for a long time, before offering the slightest nod. He’s right. What’s the use of waiting and hoping and holding out for something? Why not just go and find out if seeing this river will solve any of your problems? The river loves those who take the plunge, after all.

“Let’s go, Jungkook.” You agree, with the faint hint of a smile on your face.

What you don’t see, as you converse with Jungkook, is Jin slowly closing the door to the rooftop, first aid kit in hand. He gives one last glance at the doorway, wondering if he should join you and Jungkook before shaking his head with a sigh. He turns around and makes the slow trek back downstairs with a troubled expression on his face.

[coke-and-candy]

Fashion Editorial Special: Audrey Bourgeois

Inspired by this post link by @purrincess-chat 

Lila put herself out there in the public domain, and just because Marinette’s class and teachers might be stupid enough to fall for her lies, doesn’t mean that there aren’t adults out there who are...

The question was who? Who is critical and vicious enough to do so and has a HUGE audience to say things to, and who works closely with the modeling and fashion worlds and actually knows what they’re talking about...? 

Why! Madame Audrey Bourgeois! The Queen of Fashion herself. So please put on your best Devil Wears Prada reading hats on and enjoy as Audrey takes no prisoners. 

------------

“Gabriel Agreste Losing His Mind and Sense of Taste”

By Audrey Bourgeois

Published: 9/15/20XX

It is no secret in the fashion world that since the mysterious disappearance of Emilie Agreste, famous Parisian actress, model, and wife of Gabriel Agreste—the man who had single handedly built the Gabriel brand from the ground up—the once envied designer had shut himself away from the world. Living the life of a recluse and refusing nearly any physical human interaction.

That is not to say that the man had lost his ability to design and to run his business, he just now does it all from the Agreste Manor in Paris, France. According to sources he now mostly conducts business meetings via videoconference calls and oversees the employees of this fashion empire via his ever-present and faithful assistant, Nathalie Sancoeur.  It was not until a little over a year after the disappearance of his beloved wife that Gabriel Agreste, at last, decided to grace the world with his presence. Appearing, for the first time in public, at the Gabriel Spring Fashion Show, where his own teenage son and Paris heartthrob, Adrien Agreste (age 15), was walking the catwalk modeling one of the newest spring suits and featuring a stylish bowler hat, designed by a talented and young up-in-coming designer, Marinette Dupain-Cheng (age 14).

Despite certain incidents that occurred on that day. Part of which was caused by the gross oversight Gabriel Agreste (a first sign to be sure). The show could still be considered a success and did showcase to the rest of the fashion world that Gabriel Agreste’s talent and designing abilities still reigned supreme and are still a force to be reckoned with, regardless of any personal issues he may be facing in private.

It seemed as if Gabriel was making small steps towards the acceptance in his single life.

Turns out this one moment of public interaction may have been the first cry for help.

His latest decisions in regards to just WHO represents his brand have been nothing but questionable and completely and ridiculous, utterly ridiculous.

This past season Gabriel had introduced a new face to its teen fashion line. One Lila Rossi (age 15).

At first it seemed as if this was simply a pity shoot for one of Adrien Agreste’s little schoolmates, as they both attend the same school and are in the same class.

But, alas, this was tragically not the case.

Despite her clear lack of ascetic taste, especially when it came to her own hair. Really, someone should tell that poor child that hanging two sausages on both sides of her face not onlyfails to come across as ‘trendy’ but it sends an ENTIRELY different message.

I’m both surprised and appalled her mother would leave the house with that style.

I certainly would never allow my own child to been seen like that in public.

Unfortunately, that first shoot was only the beginning as Ms. Rossi has appeared alongside fellow model, Adrien, in three more shoots and a commercial that pathetically tries, and monumentally fails, in portraying them as a young couple in love.

I have worked in fashion long enough to be able to spot what works and what does NOT a merely a glance. But one does not even need to be an INTERN to recognize that the dynamics between Adrien Agreste and Lila Rossi is so utterly ridiculous to the point a shutter of nausea courses through one’s body.

While Adrien continues to hold his own in the modeling world, despite the large shadows that both his parents cast, he is able to shine on his own merit and truly does have the looks and talent to model and act (no doubt traits he inherited from his mother). The same cannot be said for Lila Rossi.

Lila Rossi’s whole look (if you can call it that) is simply not genuine. I have worked in this industry long enough to be able to tell the diamonds apart from the rhinestones. Lila Rossi may want for people to believe that she is a diamond, but she is, without a doubt a rhinestone. Cheap, easy to produce, and a one in a billion find. Oh, sure she may have charm and charisma to carry some solo stock picture photo shoots but in order to make it in the Fashion World one requires to have a certain light and spark that stands on its own.

To put it simply, this girl has no discernable personality. Her expressions are stagnant, as if she had to practice being human, her posing leads me to believe she is merely trying to look good for the camera instead of working to display the clothing and products in their best light, and she has close to no versatility in any of the photo-shoots she has done as all of her pictures can be simply described as her in different outfits but using the exact same four expressions over and over again.

When I say the same expressions, I mean—THE EXACT SAME.

The Sophia robot emotes more human emotion than Rossi.

It is Adrien who carries the shoots and is doing the lion shares of the work while Lila Rossi does her best to APPEAR like a model. To put it simply—she is NOT.

Her hair is just one issue, but it her overall presence that just scream ‘Fake’.

A picture is worth a thousand words, and unfortunately, there are many pictures to choose from.

In the very first photo-shoot that was done with Adrien as her co-model you can easily see the disparity between the two. While Ms. Rossi seems more than happy to be in a loving embrace by one of Paris’ most eligible young bachelors, the same cannot be said for the young Agreste heir. There is an obvious tension in his body language that does not show in any of his other photo-shoots, including ones where he and another model were portraying romantic feelings for those ads. The untrained eye can see the slight curve of his spine, as if he wishes to get away but can’t, the small tension in his smile that screams, “I don’t want to be here but I have a job to do”.

My final verdict to the latest photo-shoot from the Gabriel name, that once more featured Adrien Agreste and Liar Rossi, was that is was ridiculous, completely and utterly ridiculous!

Inside sources on location where the two teens have modeled have also confirmed that there does not seem to be any natural chemistry between them and that Adrien had picked up a habit of making himself scarce until he is needed. Other sources verify that Lila Rossi seems to cling to him as much as possible. Perhaps, in the hopes that someone will confirm her own pathetic delusions of the possibly budding relationship between the two of them?

And my does this girl have a number of delusions.

Not counting the one where she THINKS she can model.

According to several interviews that this girl has given to the sub-par tabloid blog, TheLadyblog, she claims to be the best friend of the Parisian super-heroine, Ladybug. Claims to have connections to multiple high-profile celebrities such as Jagged Stone and Clara Nightingale. Going as far as to claim that Jagged Stone even wrote a song about her. Lets ignore the legal implications of a man in his early thirties writing a song about a child for a second and continue examining more of said child’s claims.

According to another interview she gave on the same trashy blog, she claimed to be involved in multiple charitable organizations and causes, citing different projects that she has ‘supposedly’ helped with and oh so humbly placed most of the successes of those projects on her shoulders.

An official statement from Gabriel has stated that the girl has multiple health issues as well and is an inspiration on her abilities to overcome those obstacles in order to model and her other so-called various charitable actions. Very, well we won’t pry into a minor’s personal health.

Her public life, however, now that she is in the public domain is fair game.

It did not take even twenty minutes of searching to find absolutely NO validity to any of her claims.

Her claims of being a close personal friend of Ladybug: FALSE

-      The timeline does not match her arrival to Paris with her family. Nor does allow for ample time to establish any sort of close friendship.

-      Ladybug herself has the sense to never reveal anything about her personal life, but a little nobody is more than happy to broadcast their ‘supposed’ friendship on a blog that could once claim to be the best source for information on Paris’ two heroes? I think not.

-      Eyewitnesses from when the girl was Akumatized into Chameleon and subsequently defeated on the Eiffel Tower stated that Lila Rossi seemed to hold animosity towards the red clad heroine.

-      Ladybug has made no statements in knowing Lila Rossi and there has been no photo documentation of the two seen together, even though Ladybug can be seen almost daily swinging around and running along Paris’ rooftops with Chat Noir.

Her claims about Jagged Stone writing a song about her because she saved his kitten on airport runway: FALSE

-      Jagged Stone has never owned a kitten according to his personal assistant, Penny Rolling, and his exclusive interview with La Mode three years ago that revealed that the only pet he ever had other than his current pet crocodile, Fang, was a dog as a child in the States.

-      A quick Internet search also reveals that Jagged Stone and Lila Rossi have never even been in the same country together until four months ago. The rock star was still on tour in America while Ms. Rossi was in Paris, France.  The date of the Ladybloginterview is time stamped long before then.

Her claims to helping inspire and help co-write Clara Nightingale’s last album: FALSE

-      Countless interviews with the pop singer, and official statements upon the release of her album, Heart of Gold, will reveal that the inspiration for said album was her grandmother in her native home country of Brazil.

-      This was also the first album that Clara had written completely on her own in order to establish her own unique flair.  

-      I personally reached out to Clara herself and confirmed that she has never, met or even HEARD of a Lila Rossi. Strange? One would think that such collaboration would ensure that one of the parties involved would at least remember the other’s name?

Her claims to travel with Prince Ali of the Kingdom of Achu for environmental charitable work: FALSE

-      Again, a quick Internet search of the Prince’s official website and bio lists all of the organizations he is involved with. All of which focus primarily on children such as the International Coalition for Equal Opportunities, the World Health Organizations vaccinations drive, and the Refugee Children’s Fund to name a few.

-      A quick call to the royal family’s publicity affairs office confirmed that Prince Ali had never been in contact with Lila Rossi and are now looking into the matter for themselves. After all, an unknown person cozying themselves up to the second in line to the throne is matter of GREAT interest to the Royal Head of Security.

Her other claims of travel to international destinations in the middle of the school year: FALSE

-      According to the Italian Embassy’s official website Mademoiselle Maria Rossi had been stationed in Paris since her arrival almost a year ago and has not left the country, other than for a few short trips back to Italy to visit family members.

Her claims in having trained in gymnastics, ballet, and figure skating and even going so far as medal in gold in all three at major competitions in Italy: FALSE

-      Again, a quick Internet search reveals all winners of the top twenty major competitions in Italy for the past fifteen years. Names, age, date, and location of the competitions are easily and readily available to the public. NOTHING about Lila Rossi winning gold in any sort of athletic competition.

Her claims of being invited to have tea with her Royal Majesty, the Queen of England: FALSE

-      Any and all of the Queen o England’s engagements are public records as well as very well documented. Surprise, surprise there is NOTHING about a Lila Rossi mentioned in any credible new source, or even a single tabloid blurb. The only thing to sustain such a claim is the word a child who actually believes that her jacket looks good in light of day.

Honestly, I could go on and on and even be able to write a whole book. This girl has told so many tall tales she makes elected officials seem honest.

So let this be clear to the world of Fashion.

Lila Rossi is nothing more than a liar.

A liar who had only as gotten as far as she did because she was lucky enough to find someone with a decent online following that was both gullible and stupid enough to post those interviews online without ever once providing additional sources to verify them or double checking those claims. It was not that difficult disclaim every single one of those interviews.

I timed myself and it did not even take me my lunch break to do so.

The very fact that this girl is supposed to be the lead female teen face of Gabriel makes me question Gabriel Agreste’s sanity. Does he honestly think that having Rossi represent his brand is the smartest thing to do?

There clearly must be something in the water in Paris if Gabriel Agreste had not even bother to run a simple background check on the girl in order to ensure that there were no skeletons in the closet that would haunt his brand. Turns out she did not have any, but she sure did purposely create them.

I have to congratulate Monsieur Agreste on this achievement though.

Never have I seen the credibility of a designer go from as set in stone, to as questionable as a ‘designer gown’ bought in a Sale-Mart so quickly. What other decisions is he making behind the scenes that will further clue us in to his mental decline. Will the next Gabriel Show feature plaid parachute pants with matching toucan bird print dress shirts?

Yes, it seems as though grief has finally come to claim another once brilliant designer if he is unable to see past the paper-thin façade that Lila Rossi believes will be able to get her through this world. All the signs are there in same hideous orange Rossi insists on wearing.

Clue number one should have been her clear lack of any substance, versatility, and talent after the first photo-shoot she appeared in. The transparent aversion his own son has shown towards a fellow classmate should have been clue number two. And finally, clue number three should have been that this girls climb to fame was all due to a tabloid blog, TheLadyblog, run by the amateur journalist of all amateurs journalists that could not even be bothered to check their sources.

Or Google for that matter…

Gabriel has been known to take certain risks in the past, but the decision to hire Lila Rossi is nothing more than a mistake.

For the sake of all of our ocular senses, both Gabriel Agreste and Lila Rossi are clearly in need of psychiatric help.

The sooner, the better.

-----

Yay, nay? What did you guys think of this little Fashion Editorial by the Queen of Fashion of the Miraculous universe. Any thoughts. This was just so much fun to write I am so doing a follow-up to this. 

[dear-yandere]

since you said you wanted more ikevamp material and I agree~ how would Napoleon, Comte, and Theo react to a darling that rebels against them and no matter what remains very defiant and fights against them for freedom? Thank you so much

Darling, you’re certainly on the right path to my heart. I will get on my knees and beg for more Comte (and Leonardo) content any day. And sorry Napoleon’s is relatively short, he’s the only suitor I can’t seem to get a good handle on yet.

tw. mentions of kidnapping, gaslighting, stalking.

Napoleon Bonaparte.

Napoleon demands fealty and loyalty, and for the most part, his sheer charisma is enough to garner that from anyone he meets. His feisty little nunuche is different, however – she is a challenge, and although he does adore a good challenge, he only has so much patience.

Napoleon strongly feels that all people are born equally and should be treated as such (according to the wiki), so he isn’t fond of treating his darling like an object in any shape or form – even as an object of obsession. Rather, he’s very reluctant to indulge in his feelings. 

Even if he does end up keeping her captive somewhere (unlikely) or simply looms over her during her stay at the mansion, if his darling truly believes that being free of him is best for her… then he’ll let her go. He’ll let her do what she wants because he doesn’t believe in restricting one’s freedom. She deserves it just as much as he does.

Comte de Saint-Germain.

Comte is perhaps the most… pragmatic about the situation, at least compared to the other two. He expected his beloved cherie to respond ill to his manipulation and jealousy – he’s lived hundreds of years after all, he knew it wouldn’t be easy; though, that also means he knows how to break a human. 

Naturally, however, he wouldn’t resort to breaking his beloved under any circumstances. He fell for his darling for a reason, not because he wanted to make her a puppet. That said, he’s fine if his cherie continually defies him and fights for her freedom – he fell in love with that spirit of hers after all. Her constant protests and insults wouldn’t break his heart in the slightest because he will always react with a level head, but he’d be lying if he claimed that hateful / fearful look in her eyes didn’t sting…

Despite being a lucid-manipulative yandere, he’s much softer in his approach to wearing darling down. Instead of gaslighting her or manipulating those around her (which he could easily do, mind you, considering the estate belongs to him), he fights her defiance with kindness. And if that still doesn’t work, then… he will just cut his losses. He knows better than to make someone love him or to cling to a woman… he’s lived for so long that letting his darling go is already inevitable, as much as he knows it will hurt…

Theodorus van Gogh.

Surprisingly, Theo isn’t as rough with a defiant darling as Napoleon is. He may snap and bark (pun intended) at his poor little knabbeltje, but he’d never hurt her, at least not intentionally. Emotions may run high and he may break something or even say hurtful words that cut deep, but he’ll always apologize – will always pull darling into an embrace (against her will) and practically beg for forgiveness with a soft, weak voice. His patience almost rivals Comte’s, not because its in his personality per se, but because Theo can’t bear to lose his darling or have someone else call her theirs.

Theo is unsurprisingly a possessive-protective. He’ll act as if he doesn’t particularly care what happens to his stupid little darling, but his actions never match his words. He’ll tell her to leave him alone then follow (stalk) her around town the same day, always keeping a watchful eye on his little pet. His excuses are lackluster, along the lines of darling being so inept and idiotic that he needs to keep an eye on her else he’ll find himself putting up Lost Dog adverts around town.

Still, if darling continues to rebel, he’ll have to seek help from his best friend Arthur and concoct a plan to break her. Unlike Comte, Theo doesn’t mind a broken darling as long as it means she’s his.

[taemin-here-blog]

hellfire. [flashback]

Sleek.

It was the only English word he could think of to describe it when he first entered. 

He’d never been in one of these places before. And if he was being completely honest, he would’ve never guessed he’d end up in one. Stripping wasn’t really all that sexy. And how much actual talent did it take to stand on a stage and grind to a rhythm?

None, he thought to himself.

Taemin  was a classically trained ballet dancer with roots in contemporary dance. Stripping required no such training and was even less respected than the ballerinas who quit on their failing career and end up performing in the scenery of a music video, not even a backup dancer to the main artist.

But yet he was here. And there he stood, head held high and eyes sweeping his surroundings, scrutinizing every little detail as his placid expression stood firm. 

He knew he shouldn’t have come. In fact, logic told him he didn’t have to be here. While his job at the local gallery’s reception desk hardly paid all the bills, he had money in his saving’s account. All the money he was supposed to spend at NYU was still there, untouched. He could live off of that for months while he planned a strategy to end up at ABT. While he easily could’ve withdrawn his living expenses out of it, Taemin always turned down the idea. What his parents gave him before he left was money he felt wasn’t really his. Already accustomed to living frugally, he wasn’t trying to live an ostentatious life. He was merely trying to find himself and prove how that pre-planned life his parents wanted for him wasn’t any better for him than following his heart and dreams. That money served as a rainy day fund.

So when he was approached while shopping in East Village, Taemin was only trying to be polite when he agreed to take the woman’s card. Yet, the more he thought about what she said, the type of money he could make, the less the nearly eighteen-year-old boy could leave it be.

“Are you lost gorgeous?”

The feminine voice made Taemin freeze for a moment. He refrained from jumping or showing just how rattled his nerves were being in a strip club of all places. 

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

It was awkward. Officially so in Taemin’s honest opinion. But the woman seated at the bar didn’t seem the least bit awkward. In fact, he could argue she looked comfortable and content despite their current exchange.

Licking at her red lipstick-lined lips, she rose out of her spot at the bar. “Let me reframe the question then,” she said.

Her green eyes were scary. They seemed to glow back at him, something he knew wasn’t possible. Her long black hair fell in inky ringlets around her face, cascading down her back and over her shoulders. With an olive skin tone, she looked like a dream, even if a bit intimidating under the current lighting. But it was the charisma dripping from her mouth and coating the air around the vicinity that made him take a medium step backward. As her gaze burned like a lit cigarette into his skin, he stood there, immobile.

“What brings a pretty thing like you to a place like this?”

Taemin blinked a couple of times before he felt his hand dig into his pocket and he fished out the coffee-stained business card. “I’m here to see Cleo.”

A perfectly manicured eyebrow arched up in surprise. “You’re here to see Cleo?” she asked, the disbelief very evident in her voice. “About what exactly?”

“About what she said a couple weeks back. Is she in by chance?”

The young boy wasn’t sure if he wanted Cleo to be available to meet with him or not. He just wasn’t sold on the idea of stripping. Even standing in this glossy palace, obviously not yet open to the public, he couldn’t be sure if he saw himself fitting in here. After all, he was a real dancer, a ballet dancer, and this was a departure from his training. Not to mention how much the atmosphere scared him. And didn’t all of the dancers have an aura like this woman’s? He wasn’t enticing nor was he someone with a personality so large it could be felt feet away.

He was just Taemin, that one Korean kid who never said anything and went about his business.

His hazel eyes shined back at the woman as she eyed him carefully. It was obvious she was sizing him up and hoping to extract something from the young face in front of her. But what Taemin lacked in charisma, he made up in being cagey and shut-off. He was virtually unreadable.

Pursing her lips slightly, she looked somewhere behind him before sighing. “She’s in. She’ll be in the changing rooms right about now,” the woman said. “But I’ll warn you: there’s nothing but naked women back there. Doors open in half an hour so everyone’s still getting ready for the night.”

After giving him directions to the dressing room, the woman took her spot at the bar once again and grinned. “You’ll definitely be what she’s looking for.”

“Excuse me?”

“Handsome, yet innocent. It’s just what she’s looking for,” she said. “Besides, there’s a rich smell to you. She’ll be pleased.”

A single nod was the only response Taemin offered before he started toward the dressing rooms. He was a mess of nerves now, more so than earlier. He was going deeper into this establishment and part of him wondered if he’d make it out of the club at this rate. The deeper he went, the more the idea of stripping became something he could toss about in his mind more easily than before. 

By the time his feet led him to a dark corridor, one labeled simply for employees but thankfully was allowed passage because he held up a tiny piece of hard paper with Cleo’s name on it, he could smell all kinds of things. The scent of a strong chemical cleaner, mingling obnoxiously with the smell of alcohol and nicotine. And then there was the distinctive notes of weed mixing toxic with sweat. 

In this dark hallway, the only visible light that kept him from bumbling into walls and flailing about was a single light at the very end of it. From that single light at the end of the hall, he could hear chatter, loud laughter and someone trying to sing along to a Beyonce song and failing to even halfway match the pitch. The closer he got, the louder the room became and it seemed no matter how much his brain told him to leave and forget talking to Cleo, his feet carried him forward.

Taking two deep breaths, he braced himself as he rounded the doorway and entered the dressing room. Fabrics of varying sizes, cuts, styles and colors were strewn everywhere. Bodies bustled from left to right and front to back as he stood there in the doorway. They were all women, not a single person a male, like him. Some of the women were completely naked as they carefully applied makeup or argued over where to find more hairspray. Had he not been gay, this might’ve been the sight any man would kill for. Dancers of varying body types crossed the room and congregated to roast one of the dancers as she tried out a new way to do her eyeliner.

It was akin to what Taemin assumed an NFL team’s locker room would look like before any given game. Everyone chatting and preparing to step out and give the audience a show they won’t soon forget. The familiarity could be felt between each dancer, even if they didn’t like each other. The comfort they must’ve felt between one another as they sat, half or fully naked.

And that’s when he was brought out of his mind.

“Are you lost?” one dancer asked. 

Her dark skin shined like onyx and he smiled at her. “Uh, no.”

“Ah, you must be here to see your mama,” she said, Taemin suddenly picking up her strong Carribbean accent. But before Taemin could refute her claim, she turned around and called out to one of the dancers. “Asami, your boy is here!”

An older woman stood, confused and looking in the direction of the woman who just addressed Taemin. She was Asian, that much the young boy could work out. She was gorgeous. Her black hair was short and framed her face well, showing off sharp cheekbones. Her dark stare zeroed in on him. “Rita, how many times do I gotta say that just because someone is Asian, does not mean I gave birth to them or we’re related?”

“How many times I gotta prove to you that Andra Day and Rihanna are two separate people?”

“Bullshit.”

Soon he was forgotten by the two women as they argued about the two singers. But he wasn’t off the hook. He was noticed by a familiar face toward the back of the room. A wide grin fixed across her face, she waved the young guy over, turning around to take a seat in front of the lit mirror.

Taemin slowly weaved his way through the crowded dressing room, apologizing to the few women he accidentally bumped because he couldn’t squeeze between them. 

Thankfully the corner of the dressing room Cleo occupied was quiet. The air around her seemed so calm, and cool and collected. Nothing like the mayhem ensuing just twenty feet away.

The way her blonde hair was slicked into a high ponytail reminded him of the very day she approached him. She was gorgeous and her posture as straight as a razor even when she was seated. Her blue eyes glanced at him through the mirror before she moved her head to the right.

“Go ahead, sit.”

Not waiting another second, Taemin swiftly moved into the seat to the right of Cleo and smiled politely. Bowing the way he was taught in the Kim household, he thanked her.

She laughed, the sound light and bubbly. He could sense she must’ve been a popular act among the numerous women crowded into this dressing room. She mirrored the attitude of the raven-haired woman he met in the main section of the club, oozing sex appeal and giving off a visceral reaction to anyone near them. Perhaps it was why he was seated here in front of this vanity mirror instead of going into his stupid gallery receptionist job like he was supposed to. Because he would’ve never walked through these front doors of his own accord. He wasn’t even straight or sexually attracted to women.

“I have to admit,” Cleo began, turning slightly in her seat so she could face Taemin, “I didn’t expect you to show up after our conversation.”

Nodding in understanding, the younger man sighed deeply, “I didn’t think I would either.”

“And if it’s even possible, you look more innocent than the last time.”

He only laughed, combing his fingers through his black locks. “Hardly.”

The knowing glance Cleo gave him was all he needed to shut up.

“I assume you’re here about what we talked about.”

There was a slight nod as Taemin sifted through his mind. How did he go about this? How did he admit that the money sounded attractive, even if he wasn’t desperate for cash at the moment? How did he explain how thirsty he was for praise and laude without sounding needy and pathetic?

Everything that left his mouth would be scrutinized and he wanted to be sure it all painted a favorable picture of himself.

As he looked up at the beautiful woman seated beside him, he nodded more confidently. “You said that a great dancer can be a legend if they worked hard enough,” he said lightly. “But in your line of work dancers become legends overnight. What did you mean by that?”

Cleo beamed at the younger male. “Just what I said,” she replied. “All it takes is one dance and your cemented in someone’s mind for a lifetime. You look like a boy who stick in someone’s mind long after that one dance.”

The look she gave him made him shrink back internally, but externally he stared back at her. Eyebrows furrowed, he shook his head. “I’m not the guy that gets noticed.”

“Don’t lie to me,” she guffawed, shaking her head. “A pretty face like that, a dancer body like yours? I’m sure you capture enough attention just walking out your front door.”

“But I don’t. No one approaches me.”

“Being noticed and being approached are two very different concepts.”

“I don’t follow.”

“Just because someone sees you and notices you doesn’t mean they’ll actually come up and say something,” she said, as if it was common knowledge. “And with your overall look, you probably intimidate people.”

“Intimidate?”

“You don’t smile much do you?”

“Well I didn’t find anything funny...”

He trailed off when she snickered at his comment. His confidence was waning and he wasn’t sure if this was his interview for a job. Was this more of a rejection? It was so hard to tell at this point.

His thick, pink lips pressed together as he stared at Cleo, waiting for her to say something. A silence grew between them and Taemin sat there while Cleo seemed content to stare at him. He could feel her eyes as they traveled over his face, between his shoulders, over his chest--her eyes were everywhere. As his eyes glimpsed at the other side of the room, the women almost fully dressed and ready for opening, something hit him. It should’ve been obvious the moment he walked into the dressing room and perhaps when the woman warned him of all the naked women that would meet him there, but it was just now settling into his consciousness.

Why did she seek him out for possible employment when this club obviously didn’t employ male dancers?

“Um, I don’t mean to be really rude when I ask this, but I’m confused,” he began, his eyes lingering on the scene before him before they slowly dragged back to Cleo who seemingly hadn’t moved even an inch from the last time he looked at her. “I don’t understand why I’m here.”

Cleo laughed. “I thought we were both figuring that out before you went silent on me.”

“No, that’s not what I was--I don’t get why you approached me. I’m not a woman.”

Slowly the woman began to piece together what the young boy was hinting at. As her eyes fluttered to the other ladies in the room, she gave an airy laugh before she shook her head. “Oh, I wasn’t seeking you out to dance here,” she corrected, looking in no hurry to explain herself. “We’ll soon be expanding this club. A sister--or brother depending on how you see it--club will be opening very soon. I’m calling it The Hellfire Club. It’s far more...upscale than this. I’ll be in charge of it and I’m scouting dancers.”

So it would be another club. Taemin gave a confused expression, his hazel eyes narrowing as he computed each nugget of information.

“It’ll be a progressive type of gentleman’s club. I need dancers like you.”

“Will it be for males in the LGBT community then?”

“It will have aspects that will cater to them yes,” she explained. “I’ll have male and female clientele and male and female dancers to fulfill as many of the clients’ needs as possible. The club is invitation only and based on a strict membership process.”

None of this meant much of anything to Taemin if he was being honest. He didn’t even know if he was actually going to take a position as a stripper. He only showed up for this to see if he would actually go through with it and to possibly hear more about what the job could offer for him. 

“You don’t look convinced,” she stated plainly, heaving a sigh as she let her spine touch the back of the chair.

Giving a tight-lipped, apologetic smile, the short dancer shook his head. “It’s not that the business doesn’t sound intriguing. I just have no idea what any of that means,” he cordially explained. “Besides, I don’t know if I’m stripper material.”

“What’s that? Stripper material?”

He shrugged. “I’m not...I don’t think my dancing style will match.”

“Honey, I’ve been where you are,” Cleo said, flicking her blue eyes over his entire outfit before staring in the mirror. “I was a trained contemporary and lyrical dancer with dreams of making it here in Manhattan, but money is king in the city that never sleeps. I’m sure you’ve realized that or else you wouldn’t have trekked all the way to West Village to meet with me.” 

Taemin didn’t refute, merely stared at her in reverent silence as she began to put away all the makeup products she used.

“I was someone’s nightingale at one time but what good was it if I couldn’t keep an apartment or barely eat a single meal in a day? So I was recruited by a mutual friend at a ballet company to dance here.” There was something so distant in her voice as she reminisced her entrance into stripping. “I thought there was no way my style would ever match the style of those women up on that stage. But nearly ten years later and I can say I’m debt-free, living comfortably on the Upper West Side.”

The young male chewed the inside of his cheek. “I don’t need the money though.”

“Then what is it you need?”

There was a moment where pure panic shook his entire body. He could feel it tightening his muscles and cutting straight through tendons and ligaments. “I don’t know,” he whispered out, his voice breaking. He was becoming scared that he wouldn’t be able to finish his thought. He wanted to cry, but he wouldn’t. He wanted to explain how needy for attention he was, but he couldn’t. But he could at least try. “All I know is that I’m lost without dancing. And ever since I showed up in Manhattan I’ve felt...empty. I need to be on a stage again, I need to...I need to--”

“Fly.”

He blinked a few times as he stared at Cleo. Was that the sensation he’d been missing since he arrived in New York? The feeling of flying? Perhaps it was. It was the only thing that could explain the feeling of his feet carrying him across a stage, the way his body moved and arched with each strum and pluck on the strings of a violin or cello.

Unable to trust his voice to reply, Taemin simply nodded.

“This job will give that back to you,” she said thoughtfully. “I’m not saying this is an easy work environment and the physical exhaustion you’ll feel in the beginning will make you question the worthiness of a job like--”

“There was a period of two years where every day I woke up in excruciating pain due to shin splint that I let go for months that turned into a stress fracture,” he explained, unintentionally cutting Cleo off. “Pain can be ignored.”

Cleo’s smile stretched, almost wolfish as she nodded her head in approval. “There was something about you,” she said, her index finger jabbing at the air as she pointed at Taemin. “You were special the moment I laid eyes on you. You’ll do just fine in a business like this.”

“So what do I do now?”

“There’s a step between this and me hiring you. You’ll have to dance for one of my financiers,” Cleo stated plainly, her body turning to check her makeup in the mirror before returning her gaze to Taemin. “He wants to know I’m hiring acceptable male dancers. Are you free Friday evening?”

“Yes,” he jumped in, not even thinking for a moment if he was actually free or not. It didn’t matter because he would make the time for something like this. Even though there was a shred of doubt that stripping could bring him the same feeling ballet could, he was willing to give it a shot. It was better than answering phones all day.

“Good, meet me back by the private lounges on the second floor, Friday at midnight,” she said. “I’ll guide you to the room where he’ll be waiting.”

He gave a short nod as he stood up. Eyes traveling back to the nearly empty dressing room, clothes still strewn all across the floor and counter tops, he gave a small smile. This didn’t seem all that different from the dressing rooms he remembered from all those years in ballet. Just less tulle and no soft pastels to speak of.

As he headed toward the door, he heard Cleo call his name. He turned around to face her as she began to pull off her oversized button-down shirt and reveal a short, tight-fitting, black dress beneath.

“Yes?”

“You will sparkle, even under the dim lights of a strip club, I can promise you that.”

[canecainkane]

Christmas Wedding Planner (2017): first 80 minutes

Okay so listen, I truly cannot cover this whole movie in one review, so I divided it up according to ridiculousness: the first 80 minutes versus the last 5 minutes, which made me shout at my TV more than any other three movies so far this holiday season.

Netflix Description: “A wedding planner's world is turned upside down when a handsome private investigator is hired to disrupt one of her biggest jobs.”

This description? Chock full o’ lies. Let me rewrite this for honesty:

“An apparently unemployed woman who wants to become a wedding planner's world is turned upside down when a ridiculously handsome private investigator is hired to investigate someone, which may disrupt one of her biggest jobs literally the only job she’s ever had as a wedding planner (which she’s doing pretty badly).” 

RATING: 

Candy Canes: w/out last five minutes: 4 out of 5; with last five minutes: 2

Confession: Despite the slew of online reviews calling this the worst Christmas movie ever made, the first 80 minutes almost fooled me. Was it silly, contrived, emotionally manipulative and predictable? Um, that’s what we mean when we say Christmas movie. But until the last five minutes clonked me over the head with a cast iron skillet of stupidity, I didn’t notice how much worse than average it was. I’m a simple woman and I was distracted by the bright, shiny production values, the weird/wonderful costumes and how goddamn glossy everyone’s perfect, perfect hair was.

Dean Cains: with hottie goggles on: 4 out of 5; goggles removed: 2

Let the record show -- I’ve been watching these movies for 25 years, and this is the first one I’ve ever seen with a male lead whom I find even remotely attractive. Slash actually kind of straight-up bangable? Is he an average or better actor? I really can’t even be objective. And triple that for Jacqueline Hudon: I’ve got a weakness for big-eyed coltish redheads. It’s like a chemical reaction. But objectively, the acting was pretty embarrassing ... especially Jocelyn Hudon who moves as compulsively as a hummingbird--twitching, simpering, fidgeting, so awkward and self-affected she’s always, like, a quarter-second away from staring directly at the camera. Whatever. I’ll still watch every Christmas movie she ever makes.

Citizen Kanes: 0 out of 5

The movie is called Christmas Wedding Planner. It was based on a Harlequin novel, and produced, mysteriously, by a company called “Brain Power Productions.” The prosecution rests, your honor.

TOTAL: 8! As long as you fall asleep five minutes before the end, and you happen to perfectly share my passion for Emma Stone-ish women & dudes who look like sexy, stubbly non-custodial parents.

Otherwise, 4. But at least it’s not a boring 4 -- it earns that 4 by being truly, magnificently terrible.

WTF Moments:

*A two-fer with these screenshots: they tell you everything you need to know about the plot AND about Jocelyn Hudon’s aggressive facial mugging. 

Actually, a three-fer: yes, that’s just a straight-up gift-wrapping ribbon tied around her neck for some reason, and no, that’s not the only ... ruffled tea saucer (??????) that’s perched precariously on Kelly Rutherford’s head throughout this movie.

*Seriously, look at this bullshit they stapled to her gloriously glossy mane:

Sorry, babe, but until you evict that garbage crab from your scalp, you don’t get to judge other people’s decisions. (I mean, goddamn, costume department.That is Ms. Lily van der Woodson whose head you are besmirching. How DARE you?)

*My husband and I were trying to solve the mystery of Hallmark’s Charisma-Defying Troupe of Chinless Wonders and my husband put forth the theory: the men aren’t meant to be aspirational. They’re supposed to be exactly handsome enough that the potato-chip chomping, yoga-pants clad Christmas movie binge-ing viewer (self included, obvs) would say: “Yeah, y’know, realistically? I could get with that guy.”

He’s an insightful man. No idea how Stephen Huszan managed to slip through the rigorous hot-but-not-too-hot inspection, but I’m not complaining.

*Also, I just realized why I was immune to the sheer obnoxiousness of Jocelyn Hudon’s acting: I was inoculated from watching Karen Gillan’s almost identical performance in “Selfie.” I simultaneously love that show and die cringe death from the grating over-stylization.

*Of course, no movie would be completely without a cast of intriguing and pivotal side characters! Look at these five quirky characters who are in multiple scenes each! Each bridesmaid has her own distinct personality trait! The hilariously anal-retentive baker! A struggling restaurateur!

Okay now FORGET ABOUT THEM FUCKING IMMEDIATELY, because that’s what the movie does. Seriously, not one of these people has a storyline that comes back. Not even the restaurateur, who is the PI’s best friend / business partner and the caterer of the title wedding. NONE of the characters (including the bride!) has a storyline that goes beyond aiding & abetting the main characters’ love story. The closest we get to a B plot is persnickety baker using Eureka lemons in his cake (the fool!).

These characters have such meager internal lives that even the bride -- the person who gets the third-most screen time -- wanders around in a luded haze, totally ignoring her own (terribly unplanned) wedding so she can chummily grill her bff/cousin/wedding planner about her hot hook-up with said bride’s ex. Which, like, I barely even liked most of my exes while I was dating them, but if a friend of mine hooked up with one of my exes at my engagement party, I would 100% give their full contact information to every Republican candidate newsletter I could dig up.

*But forget the hottie ex-snatching -- bride should be scratching Kelsey’s eyes out for how badly she’s fucking up this wedding. If four days before my wedding, the wedding planner was STARTING to make her “vision board,” I’d be on Kayak booking tickets to Vegas. Drive-thru Elvis > $$$$$ wedding planned by a woman who apparently hasn’t even heard of Pinterest.

The timeline on the planning for this -- I cannot stress enough -- super elegant high society wedding:

8 days before: Throw an engagement party for the bride and groom; talk New York Times writer into covering the wedding and sell them photo rights without a contract

7 days before: Choose the wedding dress; caterer cancels but don’t book a new one -- it’ll probably work itself out; discover the bachelorette party has to be fully re-planned

6 days before: Teach the bride to bake so she can sweatshop up gingerbread wedding favors for 200+ guests; book a new caterer who has never done a wedding before but reassures you that: “yeah,” he “can probably do that”

5 days before: The groom’s parents throw a ... pre-wedding party for all the same guests who were at the engagement party and who will be at the wedding? (Sssshh, don’t think too hard about it.) Show up late and make out with the bride’s ex.

4 days before: Create a vision board for the wedding decor.

3 days before: Eh, the wedding’s pretty much in shape. Spend the day in a white van with binoculars, spying on the groom.

2 days before: Mope on your couch.

1 day before: Whatever.

Day of: Wear your non-matching bridesmaid dress, run a few errands while everyone is already at the church, then drop a truth-bomb that nukes the wedding! Wooooo!

Career self-sabotage, thy name is Kelsey Whatever.

*Though I have to give snaps -- the day-long stakeout was ridiculous, but I was glad that Kelsey and the PI (Hunter? Duncan? Vin? Honestly, he may be hot, but he still tumbled out of the same Cosmic Gumball Machine of Interchangeable Men as the rest of these Xmas hunks) actually spent time together. So often, these couples spill coffee on each other, then meet again in a tree lot, then talk about their dead parents during a snowball fight and it’s LOVE FOREVER after forty non-consecutive minutes together. So I appreciated that they spent a full day together and we could actually see them vibing.

“A Christmas movie couple that actually spends time together!” I thought. “A couple who gets to know each other instead of just ninja-kicking into an ill-conceived relationship!”

Haaaaaaaa. 

*I grabbed this picture of random street musicians because I thought, in my first-80-minutes innocence that this was going to be the most ridiculously extra moment all movie.

But, you know, cheesy Christmas movies are like the days we live: Each one is kind of special but, let’s be honest, mostly similar to what came before. We won’t remember the vast majority of them. They’re filled with mediocre men and cool women. And you never know, going into one, whether it might unexpectedly prove to be the best or worst of your year, or even of your life.