#and if you live in a so-called nice place you have to be ultra rich firstly | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

caiuscassiuss · 4 years

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oppa! | ot7 (I)

Description: Being raised by a caring yet distant father, a close, tight-knit family is the one thing you have craved in your short life. After your adventurer father remarries a rich woman, you’re stuck with seven new brothers. Seven very hot, very different men. This is not what you meant by family.

Arc 1: Stepbrother Introductions

Genre: OT7 x Female!Reader | Brother’s Conflict AU | stepbrother au | fluff | slice of life (For this chapter: PG 13) WC: 15k Warnings: swearing, dub-con (??). In later chapters there will be explicit mentions of depression, panic attacks, thoughts of suicide, self harm, and graphic smut.

Chapter 1: Enter the Oldest Type, Jin!

Fiddling with the charm on your phone, you looked down at the blue text bubble that spelled out the address of what might possibly be your home for the next few years.

You had googled the place as soon as you got home, expecting it to be a random apartment somewhere and boy oh boy, you were wrong. First, the house (not apartment) was on the outskirts of Seoul, on one of the hilly inclines overlooking the Han River. Second, the place where it was located was expensive.

Your eyes nearly bulged out of your head when you saw the housing prices of properties nearby on this popular real estate app. Sure, your father was a celebrity adventurer with his own cable show and so you were used to a certain amount of comfort, but this type of wealth was way beyond your league. Who was this woman that your father married, Jesus Christ?

On the Google streets view (you swear you aren’t weird), you saw the place had at least 2 gates to get through and your father hadn’t told you of any code or given you any pass to get through. You had a feeling if you tried to go in there blind, you would be immediately detained by the police.

Biting your lip, you paced on the fluffy carpet that felt like a dream. Your father was gallivanting off in some remote corner of Nigeria, so he was bound to have no cell service there. You knew no one in the family— much less how to contact them so you could meet up for a coffee or something. It would seem rude not to do something…

Your apartment doorbell buzzed throughout your apartment. Folding your arms over your chest, you shivered as you walked towards the doorway. You had turned up the Air Conditioner too high to ward off the muggy Seoul heat and now it was freezing inside your apartment.

“Hello?” you asked in to the intercom.

“Hi, is this Y/N?” a masculine voice asked at the other end.

You frowned and shifted your weight on your other leg. You don’t recall expecting any guests today.

“Excuse me?” the man asked again after you refused to respond.

“Hi, sorry, who is calling?” you said politely.

“I’m Seokjin, Seoyeon’s son. I’m your, uh, new brother?” he said haltingly, his voice raised at the end.

Gasping softly, you felt your mind pile up with questions and questions until it was spinning. How did he get here? How did you know who you are?

“Oh! Uh, yeah, please come on up.”

You pressed the button to allow the elevator to go to your location and you heard a bright “Thank you!” before the intercom shut off.

You zoomed around your apartment like a psychopath, picking up spare pieces of clothing and putting the dishes in the dishwasher. Your apartment reeked of mild depression, suppressed anxiety, and the beginnings of an unhealthy reliance on take out and that was not the first impression you wanted your newfound brother to have of you.

Putting your hands on your hips, you scanned the now clean apartment. It looked like a moderately adjusted human lived here.

Good timing indeed, as your buzzer sharply rang throughout the apartment. Taking a deep breath, you grasped the door handle and pulled it open.

Your lungs really said “Bye, sister!” and decided to quit working as soon as you saw this man. You couldn’t breath because standing in front of you was one of the most beautiful men you have ever seen in your life.

He was tall, taking up the entire doorway with his height. A dash of neatly groomed, brown hair graced the top of his small head and big eyes peered at you curiously above a strong nose and a pair of big, pouty lips the color of strawberries.

The second thing you noticed about him after his overwhelming beauty was his navy scrubs and the large badge attached to his pocket that read “Kim Seokjin; Pediatric Doctor at Seoul National University Pediatric Group”. You’ve seen people in scrubs and they were, favorably said, unflattering but on this man… he looked like he stepped out of a catalogue.

“You’re Y/N, right?”

Speechless, you nodded.

His entire face lit up with a grin. “Oh, that’s a relief. It’s fantastic to meet you, I’m Kim Seokjin. You can call me Jin though.”

Your voice decided to be nice and start working. You held out a hand and he reciprocated with a handshake. “Hi, I’m Y/N. It’s really nice to meet you. Please, do come in.”

He took off his sturdy shoes politely at the doorway and you retreated further into the hallway of your apartment.

You shivered again through your thin top and crossed your arms. God, you were going to have to raise the temperature. It felt like a fridge in here.

Jin turned around with a smile on his face before his eyes went wide. His eyes flickered down your body and quickly flickered back up to your face.

“I’m sorry if this is a bit sudden,” he started, red climbing up his neck and rising up to his cheeks. “I—” His eyes flicked down again before staying resolutely at your face, despite his very red cheeks.

Did you have a stain on your pants or something? You cast your eyes down at yourself and—

Oh.

Your very regrettable decision of turning your A/C up resulted in stiff nipples poking out from your thin top. To make matters worse, your crossed arms emphasized your breasts.

You felt yourself going red as an unflattering squeak left your mouth. Pulling a cardigan from behind the couch (there goes your good first impression), you quickly threaded your arms through the sleeves and covered your chest.

“I am so sorry—”

“It’s alright!” he said, his voice unwieldy. Jin’s eyes widened again as he realized the meaning of his words. “No! I mean— ugh,” he groaned, burying his face in his hands.

You giggled as you saw his mature composure crack in front of you.

“I must seem like a pervert,” Jin groaned. “Here I was, hoping to come off as a cool older brother, and I just,” he shook his head. “Forgive me.”

The awkwardness defused, you laughed again, ultra conscious of your chest. “Please don’t worry about it! I had hoped to make a good first impression as well but look at me! Pulling clothing out of furniture.”

He snorted and you both started laughing, filling up your once silent apartment with sound.

As the laughter died down, you offered him a seat on your couch. He gladly took the invitation, throwing in a joke about being on his feet all day.

“Yeah, I’m sorry to barge in all of the sudden. I didn’t have your contact information— only your address and I realized that you had no way to get to our house. So, here I am,” he grinned, eyes forming cute half crescents.

“I actually have to thank you for it,” you said, setting down a glass of water in front of him. “I was thinking of going to your house myself but I saw the security around it and I knew I’d probably get detained or something.”

“Well, it’s good that it all lined up so well,” Jin commented. “I better introduce myself, don’t I? I’m just a pediatric doctor with the SNU pediatric group and 26— the oldest of all of us. I was born in Gwacheon and moved to Seoul to attend university.”

You smiled softly, despite your unease at his use of the word “just”. “A pediatric doctor? That’s very nice. What made you want to be a doctor?”

Jin’s smile grew strained and you saw his broad shoulders tense up.

Feeling like you wanted to hit yourself over the head, you threw out your hands in apology. “I didn’t mean to—”

He shook his head. “Please, don’t worry about it. It’s a common question. I chose this specific profession over the OR or surgery because, as a child, I knew someone who was injured a lot and I couldn’t help them at all.” He grimaced, but pasted on a very good smile. His eyes were crinkled at the edges, his head tilted upwards, but you could see through it. “Now I can, yeah?”

“I get what you mean,” you said sympathetically. You were often sick as a child too, and it was… difficult, when your father was off scampering across half the world.

Jin straightened up in his seat and lost that faraway look in his eyes, zeroing in on you. “What about you, Y/N? You’re college-age, yeah?”

“Yes, I’m 21 and attend Yonsei University as a junior. Although it’s not as exciting as wanting to be a doctor, I want to be a counselor one day,” you told him, your eyes cast down “I want to help people.”

“That’s really admirable, Y/N. If you ever need any help getting an internship or opportunity, I know some counselors and I’d be more than happy to facilitate a meeting,” Jin smiled warmly at you.

A blush infused your cheeks. “I, ah, thank you. I actually work as an operator on Crisis hotline right now, but I’ll definitely need all the help I can get.”

“Of course! You’re my cute younger sister now.”

“I’ve never had a sibling, I’m very excited to have seven older brothers now,” you grinned.

“Yeah! About that,” he coughed awkwardly, “— are you considering moving in with us? Your father told my mother that you would be moving, but I wasn’t sure if you were completely willing?”

You nodded. “I’m considering it. I’d like to meet everyone first, however. Just to get used to your personalities.”

“Completely understandable, all seven of us can be,” he paused, “—a lot. However, if you’re up for meeting a few of us, I can take you to our house for a visit. I can drop you back and everything.”

“That’d be lovely.”

He waited patiently for you as you locked the door to your apartment, carefully watching you as you stepped into the elevator.

“Where did you park?” you asked, craning your head upwards to look at him. “I hope you weren’t forced to park on the street, it can be very expensive.”

He shook his head. “I found the visitor parking, it’s all good.”

The doctor led you through the underground parking, weaving through cars and concrete beams with ease until you stopped in front of a bright white car with a silver trident in the middle of its grill. Eyes wide, you knew what this car was. Your dad had admired Maseratis for the longest time, and this one looked to be very new.

Jin gestured to the white Maserati, looking unfairly suave in his scrubs and next to his fancy car. “Hop in.”

Next Chapter: Press [ X ] for the Mature Type, Namjoon!

Chapter 2: Enter the Mature Type, Namjoon!

Jin was a model driver, driving carefully on the streets of Seoul. He looked both ways before crossing an intersection and took slow turns. However, it amused you how he hissed at the console as it beeped to warn him if there was a car or curb too close to him.

However, as you looked out the window, the streets got quieter and the houses a whole lot bigger as you crossed into a residential part of Seoul. You were driving parallel to the Han River, and you saw many people doing water activities or boating to cool off in the hot September weather.

Jin slowed down as you entered an avenue lined by trees and you could see a guardhouse at the end of the picturesque street. However, the two of you avoided the guardhouse completely and took what was presumably the resident’s entrance, where he passed by easily with a scan of a barcode on his tire.

“Do you drive, Y/N?” Jin asked, one elbow resting casually on his open window and the other on his lap.

“No, I never really had time to learn.” More like you never had someone to teach you.

“Okay, so we’ll just need a resident pass for you,” Jin muttered to himself, eyes focused on the street.

He drove through large, green spaces with the occasional building speckling the landscape. You gripped your purse harder. Green spaces unencumbered by large buildings blocking the view were rare in Seoul, the cost of natural land so astronomically high only wealthy business people or very famous celebrities being able to afford places like this. You gulped. Their family was definitely out of your league.

The car stopped in front of a very modern looking townhouse and the garage opened, Jin driving into what seemed to be a much more expansive parking garage under the house. However, instead of boring concrete and fluorescent lighting, sandy colored marble and warm lighting lit the space as you descended through the underground.

Biting your lip as Jin backed in his car easily with just one hand steering the wheel, defined forearms catching your attention, you mentally smacked yourself. He’s your brother, for god’s sake!

You froze up as the doors started to lift up like wings on a butterfly, but relaxed. This level of wealth would definitely take some time to get used to.

He placed a warm palm on your shoulder, his fingertips reaching your collarbones, as he guided you to the entrance, up the dimly lit stairs and to a large, wooden door.

“I wish I could’ve taken you through the front door since it’s much more impressive,” he sighed, and pushed the wooden door open with a thumbprint scanner. “However, welcome to our humble abode.”

An abode it was, but humble was it not. You were only on the ground floor, but the ceilings were very high and you were surrounded by many floor-to-ceiling windows. The main theme of the building was warm marble and dark, rich wood with jewel tones interspersed between.

“Woah,” you breathed out. “You guys have a lot of space.”

“Yeah, “ Jin grimaced. “We kind of need it when some of us like to roughhouse and tend to break things.”

You laughed as he then guided you towards a spacious living room, a large window overlooking the Han River and greenery.

“Sit tight, I’ll get us something to drink,” Jin said, his voice getting fainter as he strode to a room off the massive living room.

Ankles crossed together, you peered at the large room. At first, it looked neat. Everything was in its place and perfectly coordinated by the eye of an expert designer. However, you could see the signs the place was well-lived in. The wear-and-tear of the orange and beige blanket emblazoned with an H that was thrown over the chair of the couch, the mess of wires from various gaming consoles, and even the small depressions on the pillows.

A shelf of colorful books framed the huge TV and you stood up, perusing them. You expected the books to be typical, non-offensive living room books with dust on the covers but to your surprise, the books on the shelves were well loved with their cracked spines and rounded edges. Tracing over your fingers over the books you whispered the titles to yourself.

Candide, Crime and Punishment, The Metamorphosis…

“I’m sorry, but who are you?”

A deep voice echoed behind you and you jumped in surprise. Whirling around you saw another tall man with neat ash blond hair, glasses neatly perched on his straight nose with a pair of fierce eyes peering out from behind the frames. His charcoal suit was well-fitted to his body and his build reminded you of a tiger; sinewous muscles cording his arms, back, and thighs and tensed, ready to jump into action.

A nervous smile crawled up your lips. “I’m Y/N L/N. Are you one of my new brothers?”

The man relaxed minutely but the fierceness of his eyes did not subside. “I am. I’m Kim Namjoon, it’s a pleasure to meet you Y/N.”

He strode across the room in long, confident strides and took your hand. His handshake was strong and you tightened your grip in response, narrowing your eyes at him. His right eyebrow quirked, but he said nothing as he turned his attention to the bookshelf.

“So, what caught your attention here?” He murmured, tenor voice traveling the length of your spine and stroking your sensitive skin. “Is it… this?”

He pulled out a copy of Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen, obviously less worn than the rest.

A smirk tugged at your lips. “No, not that one.”

He stared at you longer, before crossing his arms over his powerful chest. “Oh? Enlighten me, then.”

With nimble fingers, you pulled out a red, slim novel and handed it to him. You carefully tracked his reaction as he took it from your hands, face and eyes saying nothing. He ran a thumb over the agonized face on the cover, and you felt a shiver go down your arm at the sheer sensuousness of it.

“Clockwork Orange,” he breathed out. “Interesting. Are you a Lit Major?”

You continued to stare at the bookshelf, feeling his eyes boring holes into your face. “No, I’m not. I’m majoring in psychology.”

He hummed, eyes tracing the rough artwork of the novel’s cover. “I liked psychology, but at that point I was already double-majoring. I majored in philosophy and business, which are not as different than they seem.”

“Are you out of university, then?” you asked, trying to keep your tone casual.

Namjoon nodded affirmatively. “I’m 24, but I matriculated at SNU when I was 18. I run a conglomerate group now.”

Trying to keep your mouth from falling open in shock— what kind of twenty something year old owned a large business, much less a conglomerate— you nodded coolly.

“Given or made?” you questioned, an edge in your voice. Something about Namjoon made you want to test him, to prod at him constantly.

His fierce eyes turned to you and they blazed.

“Made.”

Your lips lifted upwards, minutely, until you heard a clinking of glasses.

“Y/N? Sister-dearest? I got you— oh!”

Jin stopped in shock at the sight of you two seemingly huddled together in front of the book case.

“Do you two know each other?” Jin asked, absolutely bemused, as he set down a pitcher and some glasses on the coffee table.

“We don’t,” Namjoon answered. “However,” he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, “—I can see we’ll get along nicely.”

You did not get the same impression, but you digressed. He was one of your brothers now. Another factor was that one of his biceps, even though it was hidden inside his suit jacket, looked like it could strangle you.

Jin continued to stare in suspicion, before shrugging his wide shoulders and settling down on the couch.

“So what were you chatting about then?”

“A couple of books I had on the shelf. Y/N has some interesting taste,” Namjoon commented.

Jin snorted into his water with lemon. “Oh, ew, now I have two bookworms as siblings? Reading was the worst part of university. I liked all the practical stuff.”

“Sometimes I can’t believe that rational parents would let you near their kids,” Namjoon retorted, helping himself to a glass.

“And I can’t believe some women come near you,” Seokjin replied heatedly.

The two of them stared at each other seriously before breaking out in guffaws, hiding your expression behind your glass of water. This was such a weird dynamic and it was only two of them. Well, the best you could do was adapt the situation.

Just like you always had.

Next Chapter: Press [ X ] for the Rough Type, Jungkook!

Chapter 3: Enter the Rough Type, Jungkook!

As the three of you chatted about yourselves (apparently, some of the brothers were biologically Seoyeon’s children or were adopted), Jin’s eye caught the clock behind you and his eyes widened.

“Oh dear, it’s almost 6 o’clock,” Jin fretted, leaping up from the couch. “Everyone should be arriving home soon– excuse me,” he said as he retreated into the kitchen.

“Ah, I guess that means I should get going,” you said apologetically to Namjoon, standing up and straightening your ruffled skirt.

“Please, stay for dinner,” Namjoon smiled, gesturing for you to take a seat.

“Yeah, Y/N, stay for dinner!” Jin yelled from the kitchen.

“I mean, if you’re sure…” you trailed off, hoping you could stay. You felt too lazy to cook for yourself tonight.

“Please do, we hope to see you a lot more around here,” Namjoon said, warm smiling at you.

The security system dinged, signalling a door had opened within the house. Namjoon’s ears perked up.

His eyes flew towards the doorway. “That must be Taehyung or Jungkook, coming in. They’re usually the first to arrive.”

You wondered why both of those names seemed familiar and a heavy door slammed shut.

“Jungkook-ah! Your new sister is here! Come and greet her, you punk!”

The footsteps thud to a halt at the foot of the steps and you spin around in your seat.

In the hallway, a buff man in a loose-fitting white t-shirt and grey joggers stood in front of you. In almost humorous contrast to his hulking, muscled body, the cutest face with big eyes and pouty lips you have seen peered at you.

He looked familiar to you and you bit your lip, trying to figure out where you had seen him. Oh wait! Charger guy!

“Jungkook! You’re in my Calculus class, right?”

“Yeah…” he whispered, looking at you like he saw a ghost.

“It’s so funny that you’re here. It’s nice to meet you as my brother,” you grinned at him, tilting your head to the side.

He nodded mindlessly, frozen at his spot in the hallway.

“Jungkook? Are you good?” you prodded.

Namjoon snorted as he kept on typing into his phone. “Jungkook can’t speak to girls, so he gets frozen like this from time to time. Hyung, you fix him.”

“I’m cooking, you dolt!”

“And I’m trying to earn money so I can provide the food. Go.”

Jin shot you a look, as if exclaiming “look at how I’m treated around here!”, and dusted off his hands. Striding over to a frozen Jungkook, Jin poked Jungkook’s very built chest.

Jungkook still didn’t move and Jin pursed his lips. He poked him again. “Yah! Why aren’t you working?!”

The youngest brother broke out from his trance and looked at Jin seriously.

“No.”

“Pardon?” you asked, wondering if you misheard.

“No.” Jungkook shook his mass of black, shaggy hair and ran a tattooed hand through it, looking in disbelief at the ground. “No, no, no, no, no no.”

Your slight smile is frozen on your face and you feel your shoulders tense up and, nervously, you look to Jin.

“Jungkook—“

“Fuck!” He threw his hands in the air. Jungkook pointed a finger at you, a line creasing at his forehead. “I did not sign up for this! Fuck!”

Spinning around, he marched back into the hall and you could see the powerful muscles in his back tense through his thin t-shirt.

“Well…”

Jin, with his hands rubbing his temples, sighed heavily and deflated at the counter. “God, I’m sorry about that Y/N. I don’t know why Jungkookie is acting like that; he’s normally really amiable and nice.”

You laugh softly, trying to defuse the awkward tension that had settled around the kitchen. “Jin-ssi, please don’t worry about it. It’s a huge shift in his life and some people are going to take it harder than others. It’ll take some time, but I’m sure he’ll get used to me being his sister.”

Namjoon scrutinized you with hooded eyes. “You’re very kind. I hope my brothers don’t take advantage of it.”

Your grin cracked a bit. “We’re family. I don’t mind.”

—————

Jungkook would not come down from his room, despite the hilarious mix of threats, blackmail, and aegyo Jin tried to coerce him down with.

You could hear Jin rapid-fire lecturing Jungkook outside Jungkook’s bedroom door and Namjoon sighed, his temples in his hands.

“Hyung, just give up. The kid’s being moody again.”

Jin acquiesced with ill grace, throwing in a last good “You punk!” up the stairs. He stomped down the carpeted stair well, retying his apron and set to reheat many of the things.

“See if I feed him tonight, that ungrateful brat…” Jin hissed, moodily chopping some screen onions.

Namjoon leaned towards you and beckoned your ear towards his and you obeyed, curious. His scent wafted towards you, yet was not as punchy as a normal cologne. It was subtle and musky, carrying notes of old books and bergamot. Perhaps it was a lotion?

“Jin says that all the time, but will leave him leftovers anyways,” Namjoon whispered into your ear, making you unconsciously shiver. “He’s too much of a pushover.”

You snorted as Jin came out of the kitchen with a dish in hands. “Yah, what was that, Namjoon?”

“Just commenting on how good your food is, hyung,” Namjoon replied coolly and leaning away from you.

Jin glanced suspiciously at Namjoon, before setting down the dish. You gasped, immediately getting to your feet.

“Oh, I’ve been such a rude guest! Can I help in any way? Set out the dishes or something?”

The apron-clad doctor clutched his heart, and wailed, “Look! My cute dongsaeng! Finally, a member of this household that is kind and offers to do their part!” Jin’s voice got progressively louder as he directed his voice up the stairs.

You muffled your laugh with a cough, and turned to Jin again. “Jin-ssi?”

Jin shook his head, clicking his tongue as he directed you to stay in your seat. “No, sweetheart, you’re a guest. Joonie-ah, set out the plates.”

Namjoon got up to get the plates, but as he did, his phone buzzed. Namjoon’s forehead creased as he looked at whatever was on his screen.

“Hyung, Taehyung-ah won’t be here today. Apparently his shoot on Jeju is lasting over night.”

Jin sighed, bustling around the kitchen. “How about Hoseok? Yoongi? I know Chimmy is out of the country right now.”

Taehyung, Hoseok, Yoongi, Chimmy, you memorized in your head. These were the four brothers you had yet to meet.

Namjoon snorted and put down the silverware, forks and spoons tinkling brightly. “You know Yoongi— he’s like a stray cat. He’ll be here when he wants. As for Hoseok, I think he might’ve just fallen asleep at the studio.”

“I’m sorry Y/N, I wish I could’ve introduced you to our other brothers,” Jin apologized. “Now, you’re just stuck with us two grandpas.”

You shook your head. “I’m just happy I could have dinner with you guys. Thank you for inviting me over.”

Jin watched you with a fond smile and Namjoon contemplated you carefully again.

Everything was set out and the three of you dug into Jin’s delicious food.

“Jin-ssi, this is very good. Your food tastes delicious. Did you put brown sugar into the sauce? It really rounds out the taste,” you complimented.

“I haven’t heard a compliment from these ungrateful brats about my cooking for 10 years,” Jin sighed dramatically. “Such a cute dongsaeng.”

Namjoon shook his head at Jin’s immature antics. “I might as well introduce you to Jungkook, since he elected not to do it himself.”

“You seemed to know him from university, yes?” Jin asked.

Nodding, you dabbed your mouth with a napkin. “I know of him, yes. He’s in my calculus class? Although, I feel like I might’ve had him in some of my core curriculum classes.”

“Jungkook is at Yonsei for a technology degree, although at first he was reluctant to go to university,” Namjoon revealed. “He wanted to be a Pro-Gamer and streamer full-time, but Seoyeon, Hyung, and I convinced him to get a degree.”

“He chose technology because he wants to combine his passion for gaming and technology into something in the future,” Jin continued, taking a sip of his water.

“That’s a very smart move of his,” you said politely. You wondered why Namjoon referred to his mother as ‘Seoyeon’. Maybe he was one of the adopted ones?

“That brat upstairs might look like he just screams at the monitor and works out, but he’s much more,” Namjoon reflected.

———-

When you were cleaning up, you felt bad that Jungkook hadn’t had dinner yet. That man must need like four square meals a day and tons of snacks to keep up his bulk.

“Jin-ssi, Namjoon-ssi, I’m going to deliver some food to Jungkook. He must be hungry,” you called out, scraping some of the food onto a plate.

“You don’t have too, Y/N, he usually sneaks down to get something from the fridge,” Namjoon said as he typed furiously on his phone.

“Don’t worry about it, I want to help him,” you grinned, climbing up the stairs.

Namjoon mumbled something suspiciously like, “You’re too kind for your own good” but you had already gotten to the second landing. Stopping in front of Jungkook’s door, you knocked.

“Jungkook-ssi?” you said when no one responded. “You must be a bit hungry, so I just got a plate together for you.”

Complete radio silence.

Exhaling sharply through your nostrils, you pouted and bent down to set down the plate next to his doorway.

“Well, if you change your mind, I put it next to your door. I’ll be going now!”

You strode down the hallway, making sure your footsteps trailed off. You hid behind a corner, making sure to conceal yourself completely.

After waiting a few minutes, you were sure he wasn’t going to come out but his door clicked open and Jungkook emerged in a grey-blue hoodie. He took a surreptitious glance around the hallway before his eyes found you behind the corner.

Blushing, you decided to wave at him. To your surprise, instead of scowling or ignoring you completely, Jungkook’s face turned tomato red as he hurriedly gathered up the plate and slammed his door.

You scratched your head. Maybe he was shy or something.

Next Chapter: Press [ X ] for the Bright Type, Hoseok!

Chapter 5: Enter the Bright Type, Hoseok!

“So, how were your brothers? Nice? Weird? Ugly?” Hyerim pestered as you walked by the subway.

You bit your lip. “Um, really different?”

Hyerim fixed you a look.

“Okay, so I met three out of the seven yesterday. The oldest one— his name is Seokjin, but I call him Jin— is 26 and he’s a pediatric doctor. The other one—”

“Wait, Seokjin?” Your friend squinted at you. “Does he happen to work at SNU Pediatric Group?”

Blinking, you turned to her. “Yeah? How the hell did you know that?”

Hyerim let out a half strangled scream as you stepped down the stairs of the station. You were instantly surrounded by dozens of power blue ads with a purple suit-clad man in the middle, perhaps in the middle of a hip trust, all reading Happy Birthday in aesthetic cursive.

“Hoe! He’s my brother’s fucking doctor, I can’t believe this!”

Your eyebrows nearly touched your forehead. “Shit, really?”

“Yes! Holy shit, did you not listen to me complaining to you about how hot he was? And now he’s your fucking brother? The star must’ve aligned for me! This must mean the rest of the brothers are good looking!” Hyerim squealed.

“Does Jongin not exist anymore?” you asked as you both swiped your subway passes.

“Shhh, just because I’m off the market doesn’t mean I don’t get to look,” she giggled, her pony tail swishing back and forth.

You shook your head, amused at her antics, and continued.

“Anyways, the other brother I met is some fancy-schmancy businessman. Namjoon-ssi is 25? 24? He’s older than me but graduated from college when he was just 18.”

Hyerim’s eyes took on a perverted light and she simpered underneath her hand. “Oh? Am I hearing of sugar daddy material?”

You squawked and hit her shoulder. “Hyerim, stop! These are my brothers, not matches on Tinder!”

“I don’t care, you need a boyfriend— even if it’s a secret and taboo one,” Hyerim said, pushing her hair off her shoulder.

Rolling your eyes, you sat down in a seat next to her. “Anyways, the boys invited me to dinner again tonight in hopes we’ll catch more of the boys in the house. Jin-ssi says trying to get them all in one place is like waiting for a blue moon— it’s very rare.”

“So are you going straight there or going home to change?”

Shaking your head, you gestured at a laminated white pass in your hands. “I wanted to get there early today so I can go home early. Jin-ssi drove me home last night and I don’t want him to be caught in rush hour traffic again.”

Hyerim peered at the pass in your hands. “Hannam the Hill? Hey, doesn’t Han Hyo-joo live there? The actress from Brilliant Legacy?”

Shrugging your shoulders, you leaned into the hard plastic seat. “I don’t know. Probably? All I know is that the place where they live is very ritzy and takes like two security gates to get into.”

“Okay, they’re all sugar daddy material then,” Hyerim commented. She ducked to avoid a hit over the head and you huffed, crossing your arms.

“Stop, they all do pretty well for themselves and I heard my stepmother is some fancy businesswoman from a well-to-do family. They’re just my family now.”

“The train is approaching Yangwon station. I repeat the train is approaching Yangwon station,” the bright voice announced over the intercom.

“Oh, that’s my stop,” you remembered.

“Wait, you said you met another brother. Who is he?” Hyerim asked as she patted her nose with a compact.

The train slowed to a stop and you got up.

“My other brother is Jungkook. The one from our Calculus class? The streamer?”

Smirking, you dramatically walked away and heard Hyerim’s shriek of disbelief as you stepped onto the train platform.

—————

“I’m sorry, what?” you asked the guard in disbelief.

“I’m sorry ma’am, but your visitor pass has expired,” the security guard said calmly, eyes scanning you detachedly. Like you were another crazy female.

You were going to kill Jin. Forget his awesome jajamyeon, you’ll bitch-slap both him and Namjoon into another dimension.

“Are you sure you can’t just let me in? Like, call the house or something,” you asked desperately, hands crumpling the visitor pass.

The guard looked like he desperately wanted to roll his eyes, but he picked up his corded phone.

“Building 10, yes?” he asked boredly.

“Yes.”

He waited for the call to be picked up but after several rings, no one picked up.

“Apologies ma’am, but no one appears to be at the house. If you’re done, I’d like to ask you to leave and come back later,” the man said with an air of finality, and turned back to his station and looked at the 6 monitors surrounding his desk.

Your mouth open, you were aghast at his lack of sympathy. He could’ve at least offered for you to let you wait! It was nearing sun down and the boys had invited you to dinner again, and it would be rude to be late.

You don’t even know why they needed this much security. Sure, Namjoon was the CEO of a large conglomeration but wasn’t as high profile as Samsung’s chairman or someone crazy like that. It wasn’t like one of your brothers was a high-profile celebrity, right?

Standing on the sidewalk and looking like an idiot, you decided to call one of your damn brothers. Huffing, you flipped open your phone and selected Jin’s contact. After several rings, the call picked up.

“Y/N?”

“Hi Jin-ssi, sorry to bother you right now. I’m sure you’re busy right now,” you apologized, accidentally meeting eyes with the security guard who stared at you suspiciously.

“You’re fine! Is everything alright?” Jin asked, his voice tinged by concern.

You bit your lip as the security guard raised an eyebrow and picked up his phone, his eyes not letting go of you the entire time.

“I’m trying to get to the house, but the guard told me the visitor pass expired,” you explained, breath hitching as the guard spoke rapidly into the phone.

Jin swore over the phone, the sound muffled as he moved his phone away from his face.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N, Namjoon and I were so sure it was still active. Sit tight wherever you are, I’m texting one of the boys to get you through the gate. Hoseok is about a few minutes away from you.”

“Um, I don’t mean to rush,” you said, eyes widening as the man gestured to get out of the guardhouse, “— but I think the guard is about to detain me.”

“Goddamn security,” Jin hissed. “I’m calling the guard office right now, I am so sorry.”

He hung up and the guard continued to advance towards you, and you grasped your phone a bit tighter. The summer humidity suddenly pressed into your skin, slipped between your waistband and collar to make you sweat. Your eyes flickered to the station. No one was in the guard office to take Jin’s call so you steeled for yourself for what was about to be an ugly confrontation.

“Ma’am, I firmly ask you to leave the premises before I am forced to—”

“Y/N!”

The guard and you turned in the direction of the sound, and you saw a man in a bright yellow windbreaker and black sport shorts somehow jogging towards you in socks and sandals.

“Y/N,” he said, out of breath, as he stopped in front of you and the security guard. He held out a hand as he put his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath.

“Hoseok-nim,” the guard bowed in respect, “Do you perhaps know this young lady?”

You got a good glimpse of him as he lifted his head and tennis cap. He pulled down his white mask and you saw his pointed nose, unfairly smooth skin, and sharp chin. You sobbed inwardly. Did all of your brothers miraculously get the luckiest scratch off tickets for the genetic jackpot? The man grinned at you and nodded in affirmative at the guard.

“Yes, I do,” Hoseok said, straightening up.

“I’m sorry, the young lady did not have the proper credentials to enter. My apologies.” The guard continued, speaking to Hoseok as if you did not exist.

Hoseok’s happy expression vanished and his brows furrowed. “Please, don’t apologize to me. My sister looked frightened. My brothers and I would appreciate it if you treated her a bit more politely.”

You hadn’t even noticed how frightened you were as you felt a drop of sweat roll down your temple and the shivers stop.

“I apologize, young lady,” the security guard said, taking off his cap and bowing politely. You smiled tightly and accepted with grace, gesturing for him to get up.

“That being said, we haven’t had time to get her resident pass processed. I’d like to add her to a list of visitors so a mix-up like this will not happen again,” Hoseok said seriously, staring down the security guard underneath his tennis logo cap and eccentric outfit. It almost put a smile to your lips, to see a beefy man in a suit and tie nearly cower under a boy at least half his age and centimeters shorter than him.

“Of course. Hoseok-nim, young lady,” he bowed, and the security guard scurried towards the office.

Hoseok turned towards you and his face brightened, rounded cheeks pulled upwards. “Hi Y/N, I’m so sorry for this mess,” he said, eyes shining with regret.

“I completely understand,” you placated. “You’re… Hoseok-ssi, right?”

He beamed. “Yes, I’m Hoseok. I’m 24, the middle brother. Please, call me oppa, we’re siblings now!”

He slung an arm over your shoulder and you couldn’t help but beam along with him. His bright energy was so infectious and immediately warmed you to him, drawing you into his orbit.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you replied, smile tugging at your lips. “I’m Y/N, 21 years old.”

“I’m so excited to have a cute younger sister,” Hoseok confessed as he walked you through the streets towards the house. “I was always jealous of my friends that could take care of their younger sisters, even though they acted like they were annoyed by them.”

You grinned more brightly. “Me too. I’ve been an only child all my life and having seven new brothers is very exciting to me.”

“You might want to take that back when you’ve met all of us,” Hoseok laughed. “You’ve met Jin-hyung, Namjoon-hyung, Jungkook-ah, right?”

Nodding, you spoke, “Yes, I have. Jin-ssi and Namjoon-ssi are very nice to me, but I don’t think Jungkook-ssi liked me very much…”

Hoseok waved it away. “Don’t worry, Kookie-ah doesn’t socialize well with girls. Or people. It took him ages to warm up to us after he got back from his grandparents.”

“Kookie-ah?” you asked curiously.

“Yes,” Hoseok grinned as he turned you onto a familiar street. “It’s our nickname for our youngest. He’s too cute not to tease.” Hoseok frowned as he remembered something. “Even though he is taller than me now.”

Hoseok was pretty tall himself, and you were starting to think that if you all took a family photo one day you’d look like the dwarf in the middle. Namjoon, Jin, and Jungkook just towered over you.

“On the other note, what do you do, Y/N? I’m curious about what my younger sister does.”

“I’m a university student at Yonsei, Hoseok-ssi,” you coughed, still not comfortable calling anybody oppa. “I’m studying psychology so I can be a counselor.”

“Yonsei? So my dongsaeng is a smart nut, I see,” Hoseok teased. “Did you know Jungkook before you met him as your brother?”

You shook your head. “I saw him around, but I only knew of him. What about you, Hoseok-ssi? What do you do?”

“I’m a dancer,” Hoseok announced, the house getting closer in view. “I’m part of this dance group, Neuron. We travel to perform and compete in competitions.”

“That’s awesome!” you clapped. “You must be very persistent. I tried ballet when I was younger and it was a disaster.”

“I haven’t heard that before,” Hoseok said, looking curiously at you. “Most people have told me I must be very talented or pull girls easily. But you’re right, I worked very hard.”

“What can I say?” you shrugged. “I just see through people.”

Hoseok guided you up the front steps of the doorway, fumbling through his pants to get his key. As he unlocked the front door, you heard the rumbling of a car going through the streets.

Going at least 100 kilometers per hour, a metallic blue Lamborghini skidded to a halt in front of the house. The weird doors stretched upwards and you saw both Jin and Namjoon emerge from the car.

“Y/N? Baby? Are you alright?” Jin asked worriedly, running up the front door.

“I’m good, Jin-ssi,” you comforted but he ignored it, taking your face in your hands and tilting your head to his view.

“Aish, those damn security guards!” Jin complained, clutching you to his chest and turning to Namjoon. “It’s your fault! Why did you give her that pass! She could’ve been detained! Put into cuffs like—like a criminal!” he ended dramatically.

Namjoon looked flabbergasted. “Me? You’re the one who got it!”

As the two descended into bickering, you peered at Hoseok from in between Jin’s arms. Your eyes screamed save me!

Hoeseok helpfully pried you from the still arguing doctor’s arms.

“Sorry about that, Jin is a bit protective over all of us— he practically raised us. We call him our mom sometimes,” Hoseok revealed, getting you into the house and leaving the now huffing and puffing duo on the doorsteps.

Next Chapter: Press [ X ] for the Moody Type, Taehyung!

Chapter 7: Enter the Moody Type, Taehyung!

As you entered the house, the faint strings of what might be a Daniel Caesar song flowed throughout the house.

“Oh goodie, Taehyung must be here!,” Jin clapped, setting down his keys on a hook near the door.

Namjoon snorted. “He’s the only one of us that listens to this moody shit.”

Through drought and famine, natural disaster, my baby has been around for me.

A door slammed somewhere on the ground level, and the click clack of heeled boots echoed like muffled gunshots on the marble of the house.

Kingdoms have fallen, angels be calling, none of that could ever make me leave.

Turning the corner, your heart stopped.

Leaning on the wooden doorway was the most heart-breakingly beautiful man you’ve ever laid eyes upon. His dyed ash-grey hair was messy around his face, but behind his bangs peeked half-lidded eyes shaped like tear drops. A strong nose and pink lips, like the petals of a flower, were parted open as he stared through you.

“Oh? Is this our new sister?” he said softly, his gravelly voice filling the hall.

You grinned uneasily, fighting off the urge to cover yourself with a blanket or something. It wasn’t that his gaze was improper; those mercurial eyes just seemed to look through you.

“Taehyung, meet Y/N. She is our stepfather’s daughter,” Jin said carefully, eyes flicking between you like a tennis match.

It’s not fair, you thought. His clothes shouldn’t even match. The silky sleeveless tee had a paintbrush stroke across the chest and was bunched into baggy canvas pants covered in paint. It should’ve made him look like those wacky tube inflatables near car dealerships yet he looked like he walked out of a magazine.

“It’s nice to see you, Y/N,” Taehyung nearly whispered, head tilted to the side like he was evaluating a particular interesting museum installation. He made no move to shake your hand or embrace you.

“And you too, Taehyung-ssi,” you replied, bowing politely. He inclined his head.

“Well, I better get back to my red room. My pretties are coming along nicely,” Taehyung pronounced matter-a-factly, spinning sharply around to disappear into the dimly lit hall.

Namjoon face-palmed. “Well, now it sounds like he has a kinky sex dungeon. He just sees the world a bit differently than us, that’s all. It took some time for us to interpret his words when he came to us; for example, his pretties are his photographs.” The businessman looked suddenly pensieve. “Perhaps that’s why he’s so good at what he does.”

“Oh? What does Taehyung-ssi do?” you inquired, feeling like a strong breeze had swept into the room and left as suddenly as it came. You know that feeling? Where your skin tingles in the aftermath, your lips are suddenly dry, and like you could be knocked over the lightest touch.

“He’s a magazine editor, Y/N-ah,” Hoseok grins, putting down his heavy dancer bag on the couch carelessly. “It’s this really new-age, artsy magazine with a cult following. Maybe you’ve seen it? I think he named it something cryptic like ‘V’.”

“I’ll look into it, then,” you beamed, hoping to diffuse the weird tension that had settled on your shoulders.

———-

Hoseok excused himself to take a shower and Namjoon had to take an important phone call, so it was just you and Jin left.

“Well, I know us five are at least here, and I know Jungkook is due to arrive soon from the gym. However, I don’t know if someone is going to drop by so I just leave an extra plate in the fridge just in case,” Jin said, stroking his chin.

“So, what’s on the menu today?” you asked playfully, taking a seat on the barstool.

Jin ruffled through the fridge, the fluorescent light highlighting his casual t-shirt. “Well, with what we have in the fridge, I can make some Chap-Chae and perhaps Kimchi Jjigae. However, we’d have a lot of chicken left and we need to eat it soon. Hm…”

“Jin-ssi, I know a good chicken recipe. Dakgangjeong? It’s this crispy fried chicken slathered in sweet and spicy sauce.”

The doctor frowned for a moment, leaning against the countertop.

“Is someone allergic? Or doesn’t like Chicken?” you asked worriedly, biting your lips.

Jin shook his head and chuckled. “No, everyone really likes fried chicken here. I’m just trying to remember if we have the ingredients.”

“That’s a relief, because it’s one of my favorite comfort meals.”

Opening the pantry, he bent down to look for something. “I think we do have everything here, thank goodness,” he grinned at you as he got up. “Do you cook a lot?”

“Yup, it’s my hobby,” you revealed, washing your hands at the sink. “I had to learn how to give myself food as a child.”

“Okay, awesome! You get started on the chicken and I’ll do the other dishes,” Jin said brightly, putting some ingredients on the table.

“Sounds good to me!”

You probably weren’t meant to hear it, but Jin giggled underneath his breath, “I have a sous-chef now.”

————

You put the finishing garnishes on your chicken and stepped back. The glaze looked very savory underneath the kitchen lights and dipping your finger into your glaze pot, it also tasted very good as well.

By the looks of it, Jin had finished with his two dishes. Wiping his hands with a towel, he put his hands on his hips and yelled, “Children! Get down here to eat, you punks!”

As soon as you set down your plate of chicken, a multitude of footsteps resounded throughout the house.

Namjoon strode in first, only in a white shirt and trousers, and nodded coolly at you. The man looked very attractive out of his form-fitting workwear, and you wish your gaze hadn’t lingered on his tan, exposed skin.

Hoseok and Jungkook came in second, rough-housing with each other in the doorway before taking their seats. Hoseok greeted you brightly but Jungkook stared at you without a word before averting his gaze.

Finally, V came into the dining room in a more casual outfit of an oversized shirt and lounge pants, but still exuded an air of effortless grace. He grinned at everyone and plopped down into his chair.

“Alright everyone, eat up!” Jin fussed, setting down the steaming hot bowl and plate he was somehow carrying. You trailed after him with your dish grasped with both hands, hoping you wouldn’t accidentally trip and spill your hard work over the very expensive carpet.

You had to lean over Jungkook to place your chicken in the middle and you heard a startled “eep!” from beside you.

“Jungkook-ssi, are you alright?” You asked, sitting down in your seat next to him.

He nodded wordlessly, his ears red and gaze intensely focused on his plate. Running your eyes over him, you shrugged and grabbed your chopsticks.

The whole family dug in, loud and boisterous as people argued over which cut was better and devolved into personal attacks. Something warm curled up in your chest and warmed your cheeks, hoping to constrain the ridiculous smile that threatened to split your face. Is this how family looks like?

Watching Jungkook engage Taehyung in a very one sided conversation about the benefits of eating a certain part of the meat versus the other was very different than your empty apartment and lukewarm food.

“Wah, hyung, you’ve really outdid yourself with the chicken,” Hoseok gushed as he took a big bite of your chicken. “Please make it for us more!”

Jin chuckled, and set his chopsticks down. “I didn’t make it, so you’d have to ask her if you want more.”

Namjoon, with a strange light in his eyes, gestured to the nearly empty chicken plate with his chopsticks. “You… made this?”

Nodding in affirmative, you took a sip of your cola and cleared your throat. “Yes, I hope you guys liked it.”

Jungkook choked on his water and Jin rushed over to roughly pat his back. “Breath Jungkookie, breath!”

Hoseok yelled in delight and took out his handphone. “My cute little sister made this for me? Wow, my friends are going to be so jealous!” he grinned, snapping a few nice pictures of your glazed chicken.

Jungkook recovered at this point and was trying to fend off mother-hen Jin. “Hyung, I’m fine! I swear! You don’t have to baby me!,” he whined, cheeks red. “Besides, it was probably a bone or something.”

Your oldest brother huffed and sat back roughly into his seat, muttering something about ungrateful kids, while you tried to roll Jungkook’s comment over in your head. Bone? You used boneless chicken?

Deciding to push it away from your mind, you discreetly glanced at your cell phone and realized it was nearing 8 o’clock.

“Oh dear,” you muttered, catching the attention of the men at the table. “It’s almost 8 o’clock and I need to get home to water my plants,” you fretted.

As if on cue, a crack of thunder shook the table and you heard the rain start to hound at the windows and walls.

“Well, I be-leaf they’re getting watered,” Jin commented, cleaning up the last parts of his plate.

Staring at him in disbelief, you started to giggle and soon you were clutching your stomach with how hard you were laughing.

“Did she like his shitty joke that much?” Jungkook whispered not so discreetly to Namjoon, who looked a bit weirded out himself.

“I’ve- I’ve never met a man with such awful jokes,” you laughed, wiping a tear from your eyes. “But I can’t help finding them so funny.”

The doctor aha-ed and pointed at Jungkook. “See? My jokes are so bad that they’re good!”

Snorting in disbelief, the youngest brother leaned back into his chair with his arms crossed over his built chest. “She’s our sister, she’s obligated to,” he murmurs sulkily. He sneaks a peek at you and you giggle at his adorable moodiness, to which he reddens and avoids your gaze.

Namjoon looked worriedly out the window, quickly turning on the news with his phone.

“— strong windstorms and rains are going to be surrounding Seoul overnight—”

“I can’t, in good conscience, let you go back home in this weather,” Namjoon stated, eyes flickering between you and the loud weather outside.

You hesitated. You were kind of worried for Mr. Ukyo, your cute succulent on the porch. “I—”

“Y/N, please,” Hoseok begged. “What kind of brothers would we be if we left you alone tonight? Stay in. We have a guest room with all the stuff you need.”

“I… okay. Thank you guys,” you smiled uneasily.

Hoseok laughed and patted your back as he got up to put his plate away.

“Sleepover…” Taehyung mumbled as he passed by you. On his way out the door, he gave you a boxy smile that tugged at something in your head.

Next Chapter: Press [ X ] for the Cool Type, Yoongi!

Chapter 7: Enter the Cool Type, Yoongi!

“Hi, my cute dongsaeng!” announced Hoseok as he strode into your guest room. “I come bearing gifts!”

You grinned at your exuberant brother as he danced through your doorway, having a pile of stuff in his arms.

“We usually don’t have guests over, but sometimes our mother stays at the house and now we have a bunch of, uh, woman stuff,” Hoseok coughed.

“Thank you, Hoseok-ssi,” you said, moving to sort through the items.

“Call me oppa,” Hoseok whined.

Namjoon peeked through your doorway and saw Hoseok pouting at you, and instantly wacked the back of his head.

“Yah, you literally just met her today. Let her grow more comfortable with us first,” the businessman scolded, before turning to you.

“We have some t-shirts and shorts that don’t fit Jungkook anymore but please don’t tell him that we kept his childhood items,” Namjoon shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips. “I got you a toothbrush and toothpaste, plus some face products.

“You’re really kind, I feel like I’m in a hotel,” you joked, moving to plug your phone into the wall outlet. The place felt like your hotel suite suddenly got upgraded. This guest room was bigger than your entire living room and everything was so nicely decorated, you couldn’t help but gawk like a tourist at the fancy light fixtures and furniture. Maybe if you broke a vase you’d have to work in a host club...

“Ah, really? That’s nice to hear,” Namjoon said, sitting down in an armchair near the window overlooking Seoul and the Han River. He steepled his fingers together, tilting his head at you. “However, if you moved in, this room would be yours.”

Your slight smile turned slightly downwards and Hoseok, sensing the change of mood easily, turned over and whacked Namjoon over his head.

“Who’s the one going too fast now?” Hoseok retorted, before plopping down on the chair opposite of Namjoon.

“No, no, you’re fine, Namjoon-ssi,” you acknowledged. “I just… I don’t want to intrude. Plus, the amount of testosterone in this building…” you trailed off.

“Y/N-ah, we just met you but we already know you’d be a good fit with our family,” Hoseok said, smiling softly at you. “Seriously.”

“I don’t want to seem overbearing and I know you’re very independent, but the idea of you living alone worries Jin-hyung and I,” Namjoon confessed, wringing his hands and looking towards the window. “What happens if there is any emergency? Or you got sick? It’d be hard for us to take care of you.”

Tears welled up at the edge of your vision and your mouth twitched downwards. Quickly pressing a hand to your mouth, you averted your eyes from the boys.

“Y/N-ssi, what’s wrong? Are you alright?” Namjoon asked worriedly, getting up from the armchair.

You waved him away, discreetly wiping your nose. “I-I’m fine, Namjoon-ssi. Really. I’m just really emotional all the sudden, that’s all.”

“Y/N-ah, are you sure?” Hoseok piped in concern, craning his neck to see your face.

A hand thrust some tissues in front of you and you took them gratefully, dabbing at your eyes.

“I- I just…” you sucked a breath in, and turned towards the fretful pair of brothers. You suddenly beamed at them, eyes crinkling into crescents and grin splitting your cheeks despite the visible tear tracks on your cheeks. “I’ve never had someone care for me. Thank you.”

The two boys felt their heart stutter at the surprisingly vulnerable confession from the ever-polite yet distant you. They shared a look.

We’re in trouble.

———-

The house quieted down and all the lights were turned out as the rain seemed to get louder. However, despite the busy day, you tossed and turned in the very comfy cotton sheets.

Turning on your side, you watched the rain stream down your window in awe. While the window was big, a building partially blocked your view of the Han river and the Seoul skyline. You unplugged your phone from the charger on the wall and looked at the time. 1 A.M.

For some reason, you couldn’t sleep. Perhaps it was the unfamiliar environment or the dozens of thoughts crowding your head, but you couldn’t force your head to turn off despite counting hundreds of sheep.

Letting out a frustrated groan, you untangled yourself from the sheets and set your feet on the heated marble. Padding quietly to the door, you tried your best to open and close the heavy wooden door softly.

The house seemed bigger when it was not filled by the loud voices and eclectic, varied personalities of your brothers. Clutching a throw blanket over your shoulders, you made your way down the stairwell with only the city’s lights shining through the large, floor-to-ceiling windows around the house.

Flicking the low lights on in the kitchen, you searched the many cabinets for where they kept their tea packets. You finally found a jar of chamomile tea in a corner of the pantry, turning on the tea kettle and waiting for it to boil.

Leaning against the corner, your eyes got accustomed to the dark of the living room and roved over the personal effects of the brothers. There was a large picture of all seven boys on the mantle of the fireplace with their mother sitting in the middle, however, you could not see the faces of the two brothers you had not met due to the reflection in the glass.

Could you see yourself living here? With the amiable and fussy Jin, and the mature, erudite Namjoon? Wake up every morning to see the infectiously bright Hoseok at the counter and the mercurial Taehyung floating through the house like a wraith? Even go to school with your confusing classmate, Jungkook?

The kettle whistled loudly and you took it off its burner, pouring water into a cup. Flicking off the underhead lights in the kitchen, you padded towards the living room and curled up on the outrageously soft, leather couch. Blowing on your tea, you took a sip as you gazed in wonder at the rain streaming rivers over the large, bay window.

For years, the rain had been your only friend when your father traipsed the globe. It had softly knocked at your window to check if you were okay when you were sick and playfully splashed you when you were sad. The rain sang you to sleep every night when you were young and alone, afraid of the thundering din outside.

Looking at the portrait of the seven boys, you saw a new family.

Smiling into your tea cup, your mind was made up.

A loud beep rang throughout the house and a click reached your ears. Your eyes tried to look through the darkness at the basement entrance, where a figure clad in all black emerged. Feeling a momentary panic seize your heart, your fingers tightened over your mug and you tried to think straight. This was probably your other brother, Yoongi or Chimmy.

“Oh? Who are you?” A raspy voice said, shutting the door behind him. “Are you one of my brother’s girlfriends?”

Shaking your head, you got to your feet. “No, I’m your new sister, Y/N L/N.”

The figure made an affirmative noise and removed his shoes at the massive shoe closet next to the entrance. “Ah, I see. I’m Yoongi, your second oldest brother.”

A crack of thunder shook the house and a few seconds later, bright white lightning flashed through the room and illuminated you both.

In that split second, you saw pitch black hair constrained by a headband. However, what caught your attention was his eyes. Contrasted against pale skin and fierce, arched brows, were lids shaped like the outstretched wing of a bird. He stared at you lazily before they widened minutely.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Yoongi-ssi.”

“You too,” he mumbled and bowed politely, shuffling up the stairs like a gloomy specter.

You blinked a bit at how calmly he took this into stride. Christ, were your brothers fazed by anything?

—————

“Y/N-ah. Y/N-ah, wake up!”

You groggily opened your eyes to see Jin close to your face, his brows bunched together in concern.

“Y/N-ah, are you alright? You’re on the couch.”

Straightening up you could see that you, indeed, were still on the couch. You must’ve fallen asleep while watching the rain.

“Oh, yeah, I am,” you stated, rubbing your eyes and yawning. “I must’ve fallen asleep here last night.”

Jin sat across you and looked worried. “Did something happen last night? Was the guest room not comfortable? Did—”

“Oh no, nothing like that!” you tried to say. “The sound of the rain was better here.”

He looked at you strangely but accepted it with a shrug of his shoulders. “Anyway, I’m about to make breakfast, why don’t you clean up a bit? I’ll wake up the other brothers.”

You nodded and almost stumbled trying to get off the couch, before Jin caught you with an arm. You turned your head to see his face uncomfortably close to yours.

“Careful,” he whispered, his minty breath trailing across your cheeks and his eyes roving your face.

You felt your cheeks heat up before you almost threw yourself out of his touch. “Yeah, um, thank you!” you yelled behind you before you fled to upstairs.

————

By the time you cleaned your face and put on a bra, all of the boys— in various states of consciousness— were gathered around the dining counter.

“Y/N-ah!” Hoseok said enthusiastically, obviously one of the more awake ones. He wore a pair of flowered pants that ahjummas usually wore and white, long-sleeved tee. “Yoongi came in last night, he’s our other brother.”

“We met last night, Hoseok-ah,” Yoongi mumbled into a large cup that, hilariously, was engraved with the words “Daddy-Size”. “I came home around 1 AM and saw her on the couch.”

“Oh, was everything alright?” Namjoon inquired politely, stretching his broad muscles as he yawned. Even his loungewear looked professional.

Smiling uneasily, you took a seat at the counter next to Jungkook, whose head was buried in his arm. “Yeah, couldn’t sleep and the city lights calmed me down,” you reassured.

Jungkook suddenly jerked awake next to you, alarmed eyes peeking through his messy black hair. “H-huh?”

You grinned at him. “Good morning, Jungkook-ssi.”

He mumbled a good morning in the direction of the ground before his eyes zoomed into something at your collarbone.

‘Y/N-ssi, i-is that my shirt?” he asked shyly— the first words he has directed towards you.

You looked at the oversized navy shirt, which you had tucked into the pair of denim shorts you wore yesterday. “I think? Namjoon told me it was one of your own.”

His gaze whipped to Namjoon and he started sputtering as Namjoon snickered, putting on a pair of thick-framed glasses.

Suddenly, Jin swore as he looked at his phone. “Sorry guys, but there’s an emergency at the hospital. I need to go,” he said rushedly, racing to the closest to put on a pair of tennis shoes. “Yoongi, cook for them!”

He shut the basement door with a slam and suddenly the house was silent.

“Yoongi-hyung, please,” Taehyung, who had emerged from some hallway, begged with a pout on his petal lips. His voice was extra raspy this morning.

The black-haired man grunted before hiding his face behind his coffee cup. You took that as a no.

“We’re going to starve,” Jungkook complained into Hoseok’s shoulder, who cooed and patted the muscled man cutely.

“Well, I can cook for us if you’d like? As a thank you for letting me stay over?” you said nervously. All eyes turned towards you and you gulped, not used to having all of your brothers’ attention on you.

“That’d be lovely,” Namjoon said, squinting at a novel he had produced out of nowhere.

“Aw, is our cute dongsaeng going to cook for us? I’m living the dream,” Hoseok sighed dramatically.

You snorted and got out of your seat. “I saw enough ingredients for what I want to cook, so just sit tight.”

The boys thanked you and some exited the kitchen towards the living room. You tried to remember where you saw the ingredients yesterday, but the kitchen was extremely big and had those weird cabinets where you had to push in a certain corner to open.

“Uh, where are the onions?” you asked no one in particular.

“Yoongi-hyung,” Hoseok nudged the still tired looking man. “Next to Jin, you know the kitchen the best.”

The black-haired sighed heavily and got out of his seat, leaving the “Daddy-Size cup” on the counter. He opened the fridge and bent down to a drawer you hadn’t seen. “Green onions.”

You took the bag and thanked, expecting him to leave the kitchen. “What else do you need?”

He stood there, eyes boring a hole through your face. Even as he was sleepy, he still looked like a cool older brother.

Scanning the ingredients, counting the things you had and didn’t, you turned back to him. “Um, I just need butter, tomatoes, and cheese.”

Wordlessly, he grabbed the ingredients and set it down on the counter next to you. Really expecting he’d leave, he surprised you by pulling out a chopping board and knife.

“How do you need the onions and tomatoes cut, Y/N-ssi?” he asked roughly, raspy voice causing the hair at the nape of your neck to rise. You shook your head. He’s your brother, for god’s sake!

“I need both diced, but slice some of the tomato into thin wedges for presentation,” you asked politely.

He nodded and washed both of the vegetables, before quickly and neatly dicing them with an experienced hand.

You broke the eggs and as you whisked the egg mixture with a pair of chopsticks, you decided to break the silence.

“How old are you, Yoongi-ssi?”

He didn’t pause in his slicing. “25 years old. How about you?”

“21, but turning 22 soon.”

Yoongi hummed and started on the tomatoes. “Ah, that means you’re university age then. Are you attending university right now?”

Nodding, you grabbed some salt and pepper to add flavor to the omelette. “Yeah, I’m actually attending Yonsei with Jungkook-ssi. What about you?”

“I’m a freelance producer,” he said carelessly, neatly scraping diced tomato onto a plate. “But I graduated from an arts college overseas in classical performance.”

It seemed like many of the brothers were artistically-inclined, you noted as you washed the spinach. But it amused you that this cool-looking brother of yours, with pierced ears and effortlessly stylish street clothes, could play a fancy-looking instrument.

Your step brother cleared his throat and he stepped back. “Is there anything else you need me to do?”

You looked at the finely chopped tomatoes and onions and shook your head. “No, that’s all. Thank you for helping out.”

He inclined his head and padded out of the kitchen, collapsing on the couch with his hoodie over his head.

Turning on the heat, you put the omelette mixture in the pan and waited for it to cook through. As you were gathering the other ingredients to put in the pan, a chin nestled itself onto your shoulder.

“Oh? What is this?” a deep, husky voice rumbled next to your ear.

You nearly jumped out of your skin when you saw Taehyung’s finely chiseled face so close to yours. Squeaking, you turned your attention back to the pan.

“Breakfast omelettes, Taehyung-ssi,” you replied a bit shakily, feeling the weight of his head on your shoulder and his breath puffing into your ear. “I hope you like it.”

Adjusting his bent over position, he wrapped his arms around your waist and buried his face into the crook of your neck. “I will, Y/N-ah. It’ll be delicious.”

Your face flamed and you willed the egg to cook faster, trying not to focus on how his large hands pressed warmly into your stomach.

“Hyung!” Jungkook exclaimed, barrelling out of nowhere. “Hyung, you can’t do that! Stop!”

“Oh? Why not?” the editor asked monotonously, his lips moving over the sensitive skin of your neck. You stiffened and muffled a squeal, neary getting hot oil over your fingers. Your muscled classmate tried, unsuccessfully, to tug Taehyung’s arms from your body but for some reason, Taehyung’s hold on you was ironclad.

In the midst of Jungkook screaming in the background and the shouts of your other brothers, Taehyung sighed heavily and melted into your body. “I miss this,” he murmured.

Next Chapter: Press [ X ] for the Cheeky Type, Jimin!

Chapter 8: Enter the Cheeky Type, Jimin!

Over the next few days, you slowly got used to the vibrant and varied personalities of the boys. The brothers were a rowdy bunch but they coaxed you out of your shell with unintentional hilarity and clumsy warmth. Even Jungkook, with your weird first meeting, took to accompanying you throughout school and engaging you in shy conversation. Visiting the house frequently, someone was always there to entertain you and coerce you into trying to move into the house.

However, as the days passed by, you saw neither hide nor hair of the mysterious seventh brother. None of the brothers seemed to be fazed. One day, as Namjoon drove you home, you decided to press the subject.

“Namjoon-ssi? Who is my seventh brother? I haven’t heard much of him,” you inquired shyly.

He hummed, leaning an arm casually against the window and driving between lanes with just one hand. Namjoon didn’t drive as recklessly as Jungkook, per se, but he seemed to think other cars were just nuisances on the road.

“I was wondering when you’d ask about that. Our other brother is not home a lot because he’s usually on tour,” Namjoon revealed in his deep voice. “He’s an idol.”

You gasped and looked at Namjoon in surprise. “You’re fucking with me.”

He chuckled, a chocolatey, rich sound that filled your ears and did funny things to your belly as he turned to exit the highway. “No, I’m not. Our little Chimmy is an idol.”

Taking out your phone, you opened up the web app. “Chimmy? Is that his name? Or does he have a stage name I need to find.”

Namjoon shook his head. “No, his name is Jimin. 23 years old, debuted 3 years ago.”

Smacking your head, you exclaimed, “Oh wait! I know him! I saw his birthday ads all over Seoul a few days ago. Wow, my brother is a celebrity, huh?”

Typing his name into the search bar, millions of results popped into your browser. Gorgeous, fan-taken photos filled the image section and you clicked on one.

Wow. Jimin looked ethereal on stage, in a loose, white shirt and tight, black pants as he performed some sort of strenuous dance move. His plump lips, sharp jawline, and high cheekbones were still stunning in low quality photos. You were seriously starting to think your stepmother secretly paid for them from a lab. It really wasn’t fair that you, an average 4, were now related to solid fifteens.

You clicked on a video with nearly 12 million views of him at a fanmeet event, his eyes crinkling and lips pulled up in a grin as he did aegyo for his adoring fans.

“He’s very popular, isn’t he?” you asked Namjoon rhetorically.

Namjoon snorted. “An understatement. We can’t go out in public with him unless he covers his hair and his entire face. He has security tailing him when we go to crowded places, it’s ridiculous.”

Something clicked in your head. “Ah!” you exclaimed. “That’s why you guys live there! And here I was, thinking you were all paranoid.”

His laugh filled the car again and you got a whiff of his musky cologne as he leaned over to adjust the air conditioner. “Yeah, even when we moved there a few years ago before Jimin’s popularity exploded, he had some crazy fans. Seoyeon, Jin, and I decided to choose Hannam Hill for their security.”

“You’re such good brothers,” you grinned at him. You swore you saw a hint of red beneath his collar as he cleared his throat.

“And we’re lucky we’re gaining such a good… sister.”

You tapped at your purse. “At least with my residence pass I won’t be detained now.”

The man next to you groaned and nearly facepalmed into the driver’s wheel.

“Do you have to remind me of this? I take it back, my sister sucks.”

———

Jungkook and you walked through the campus gates, finished with the Calculus class and exhausted after the test.

“Wait, shit, did I derive number eighteen right?” you fretted, your sweaty hands fiddling with your bag strap. “Oh my god now, I didn’t foil correctly!”

“Relax, Y/N, you did fine,” Jungkook snorted, no longer as painfully shy as he was when he first met you. You never did get why he had such a violent reaction to you at first, though.

“Easy for you to say, Mr. I-don’t-study-yet-I-still-get-A’s,” you huffed in annoyance, accidentally bumping shoulders with him.

He laughed and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. An ‘eep!’ escaped your mouth but you found you couldn’t protest as Jungkook looked down at you with the cutest, bunny smile you had seen.

“Relax, Y/N. It’s just one test.”

You sulked and crossed your arms, trying to push the heat in your cheeks away. Clearing your throat you ducked from underneath his arms. You thought you saw a flash of disappointment in Jungkook’s face, but you quickly linked arms with him so you could walk more comfortably. His eyes widened and he looked upwards, the tips of his ears a flaming red.

Ignoring several stares from your fellow university students, you walked to the campus parking lot where Jungkook had parked his car.

“Jungkook-ah? Which car did you drive today?” you asked, flushing a bit as you heard your own words. Imagine what the you from a few weeks ago would’ve said. What kind of rich bitch did you turn into?

“The silver one. The Mercedes,” he said casually but you knew he was beaming with pride. He had revealed to you, one day when driving home, that he bought this car with his streaming money and not with cash from his brothers or family. Jungkook was insanely protective of this car.

“Gotcha.”

Throwing your bags into the backseat, he started up the car. Feeling that it was a bit hot, you decided to roll down the window. Fumbling for a hair tie in your bag, you decided that putting your hair up would be smart.

“—gry, Y/N?”

“Huh?” you asked confusion, hair tie in your mouth.

“I just asked if you were hungry, Y/N?” he said, voice trailing off in a question as he looked up from his phone. His eyes widened at you.

“Um, not really? But if you are, I can whip us up something once we get home,” you said confidently, twisting your hair into the tie. Huh, when did you start calling it home?

“... Jungkook?”

He nervously cleared his throat as you looked at him, pulling back your hair into the tie. The tip of his ears were red and he seemed a bit flustered. Your brother fumbled with the controls, accidentally turning on the windshield wipers. Biting back a smile, you smoothed down your hair.

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

—————

The house was silent as the two of you entered. It seemed no one was in the house today, all of your brothers very busy with their respective jobs.

“I’m going to take a shower, Y/N, “ Jungkook said as he climbed up the stairwell.

You hummed affirmative as you threw your bag at the foot of the coffee table, collapsing into the comfy leather couch. Switching on the TV, you couldn’t find anything interesting so you settled on an entertainment channel.

“Thousands of fans crowded Incheon Airport’s International Terminal today…”

Snuggling into a sun spot on the couch, you nuzzled your face into a pillow. The warmth made you feel drowsy and you decided a quick nap was alright. Nodding off, you could hear the shower turn on upstairs.

“...as international Hallyu star Jimin arrived back in Korea …”

—————

“Oh? Who are you?”

You groggily opened your eyes to the high-pitched voice that was honey to your ears, an unconscious “huh?” coming out of your mouth. In your bleary vision, you saw lavender-blonde hair and pink, plump lips hovering above you.

The man snickered and you felt a smooth hand grasp your jaw to turn your head upwards. Your eyes focused and you swore you were still dreaming, because the face so close to yours could only be an angel’s. Ethereal eyes like a storm looked lazily down at you, his high cheekbones and narrow jaw highlighted by the warm light of golden hour.

“Are you a fan? You shouldn’t be here,” he scolded in a sing-song voice, clicking his tongue as he stroked a thumb over your chin.

You couldn’t think after being awoken from such a deep REM cycle and being near such an unearthly man, your thoughts jumbled and disjointed.

“Naughty, naughty girl,” he whispered, minty breath puffing against your face. “Well, if you’re here, I might as well make the most of it.”

With strength you hadn’t expected, he suddenly caged you into the couch— a leg between yours and the other on the floor, his hands trapping your hands above your heads. His silk shirt brushed against the exposed skin of your belly, making you shiver.

“H-hey!” you said, regaining your thoughts. “What the hell?”

He chuckled, a cruel edge to his voice as his face neared yours. “Oh, playing the innocent card are we?” His lips neared your ear and you froze, eyes wide as his plump lips brushed against your earlobe. “Don’t worry, baby girl, you’re pretty enough to pull it off.”

The man started to press a kiss at space between your ear and neck, and slowly started to trail down your sensitive neck. You inhaled sharply as his teeth and tongue prodded at your skin and he snickered, his voice vibrating against your skin. An involuntarily squeak left your lips as he bit playfully at your collarbone.

“H-Hyung?”

You both turned to see Jungkook, hair still wet from the shower, staring at you two in disbelief. His eyes were wide and his lips were opened in shock as he suddenly froze in the middle of the living room.

“Jungkookie!” the man said brightly, no trace of the breathy, seductive voice he had used to lull you into a trance. His limbs no longer trapped you as the lavender haired man sprang up and ran to the stock-still Jungkook.

“Aw, Jungkookie, I missed you,” the familiar yet still unknown man cooed as he clung to Jungkook’s broad shoulders. “It’s been so long,” he whined, lips pursed in a pout.

Still breathless from lavender boy’s attentions, you sat up on the couch and saw stars as the blood rushed to your head. Blinking to clear it away, you reached up to your neck to touch the spots where lavender boy had touched.

“Jungkook-ah?” you whispered, voice rough from lack of use. “Who’s this?”

Your classmate still stared at you in shock as lavender boy clung to him like a leech, cooing at Jungkook.

“Aw, is this your girlfriend, Jungkookie?” Angel boy said fretfully after a moment of silence. “I’m so sorry, I thought she was a fan! Forgive me!”

You cleared your throat nervously, righting your disheveled clothes and messy hair. “Look, I have no idea who the hell you are, but I am not Jungkook’s girlfriend nor your fan and either way, you should not be— be assaulting unsuspecting girls who just wanted to nap!”

“Who the hell am I?” Lavender boy retorted rudely, no longer seductive or cutesy as his eyes narrowed at you. “I live here, wench!”

“Well I’m about to, fool!” you sneered, crossing your arms.

“Jungkook-ie, call security as I deal with this clearly crazy lady!” The still unknown boy huffed, advancing towards you.

Jungkook finally got out of his trance and grabbed Jimin by the shoulder. “Jimin-Hyung, stop! Haven’t we talked about her in the groupchat a lot? She’s our new sister!”

Jimin froze and his eyebrows lifted minutely, whirling around to look at Jungkook. “Wait, what? We have a sister now?”

He looked at you differently, eyes scanning your figure disinterestedly. “Did Seoyeon—” he spat out the name like it was stale gum in his mouth, “—find another baby we didn’t know about? Another poor bastard like me?”

You got whiplash with how much he changed moods and started to inch away. Well, it seemed like your step brother was nothing like how he portrayed himself in the videos you had seen online about him. A frown pushed at your lips.

Jungkook pinched the bridge of his nose. “No, hyung, mom got married again to Y/N’s father. She’s our new step sister now.”

Jimin stayed silent before he turned to you again, his eyes mocking. A shit-eating smirk crawled up his lips. “Well, sister dearest, welcome to the family!”

Arc: Character Introductions Ended. Press [ X ] to continue?

A/N: If you’ve watched BroCon and you’re curious to who each person is based on, here’s the guide:

Jin (Doctor) = A mixture of Uyko and Masaomi

Namjoon (Businessman) = Natsume

Jungkook (Gamer/ Uni Student) = Yusuke

Hoseok (Dancer) = Himself lol he was supposed to be Subaru but i didn’t want to make him super angsty. Don’t worry, in this story he’ll be more than just his stage persona :)))

Taehyung (Magazine editor) = Louis

Yoongi (Producer) = mixture of Yuusuke’s tsundere-ness and Iori’s calmness

Jimin (Idol) = Fuuto with a bit of Tsubaki’s personality

Anyways, if you enjoyed it, please comment and reblog!!! I appreciate any feedback you may have, whether it be a sentence or a whole dang paragraph— I love it all :))) Please, if you’re doing okay, please help me pay for school through my Ko-Fi (link in my profile).

Arc II: Decisions and Settling In will be released in a month!! Comment if you’d like to be tagged :))

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jackdaniel69nice · 4 years

Text

Ninjago ATLA au Book 3: Earth

Books 1, Book 2

Harumi gathers her friends, Skylor and Vania to to help her find Lloyd

While in the swamp Lloyd learns from Bolobo about the connection between all living things and sees a bright flash of light and energy and two boys. He decides to follow the connection and arrives at the Walkers.

He meets Jay, an inventor and quite frankly a genius. He invites them to stay with them for awhile which is great because they’re firenation and fugitives and should stay out of big towns

When Lloyd mentions he’s searching for an earth bending master of course he points out Karlof, a strong man who’s said to be able to bend metal but his harsh treatment and cocky attitude don’t sit with Lloyd (or Kai) and Jay says he may know someone else.

They meet Cole at night. At first he’s off putting and cold (Jay said he would be, you just gotta warm up to him) and he’s suspicious of them but by Jay’s convincing he says he’ll “think about it”. Kai isn’t impressed and Cole puts him in the ground...literally.

They go into town to get supplies. They are quick to learn that the Walkers have a...reputation...here.

“Strange things go on out there girly don’t go associating with those people..”

“What do you mean?”

“Flashes of light, loud booms, quakes that shake the very mountain. It’s witchcraft.”

Unfortunately the attention had not escaped the local army and they tried to take them for “causing a public disturbance”. But Jay’s quick on his feet and leads them to a safe place, which just so happens to be Cole’s house.

Now they know Cole’s rich and dances competitively like his father, though he doesn’t seem to be happy about it. Cole takes them back through a tunnel, apparently the same one he had used yesterday to sneak out. The mysterious glowing lights guide them along. Cave of two lovers anyone ;)

They have a bit of fun talking, Cole really can be nice once he’s not so pent up. He says he’ll come by latter tonight. Jay say he wants to show them something. It’s an invention, he shows them the water wheel, a motor that generates electricity. It’s what made the lights in the tunnel and powers an assortment of other devices he has. Nya’s stoked (haha get it like to stoke the fire)

They are finished in a few days which is good because they have stayed in one place for a little to long and things are going to go sour. It turns out one of the people in the military was able to recognize Lloyd and sent for backup. An earth bending army is coming to capture them.

They meet nightly still. It’s mostly just chatting and relaxing. Of course the army ambushes them so Jay and Cole not only find out they are from the fire nation, but that Lloyd is the prince. There’s only a few moments to talk but even without much explanation Cole and Jay give them enough time to get to Ultra (is that a dragon!) and help them get away.

They have to make a decision, if they stay they’ll be arrested for treason, if they leave and go with them they will be leaving their families behind. Ed and Edna push for Jay to leave, only wanting his safety. Really they had already made their decision. They rejoin the others before they can get out of range.

It’s still not over yet though. Cole demands answers but they are able to get a hold of Ulta and start to bring them down. Cole tries his best to defend against the assailing rocks but is quickly overwhelmed. Lloyd can only watch as they fall into the arms of the earth nation army. When Cole gets injured it’s the last straw, his avatar state awakens and he decimates the army.

So now the earth nation, Cole, and Jay know the fire lord’s son is the avatar. They explain their past and struggles and how they need to defeat Garmadon before the solstice. Cole is still wary but understands their need for lying, more then they would know. Jay never really doubted them (in fact it’s really exciting, real life fire benders!) but he can’t help but wonder what’s going to become of his parents.

Other stuff happens like Morro and Wu’s traveling and the team facing off against Harumi. They meet a bunch of Pirates and Jay steals a lightning bending scroll from Captain Nadakhan (because Lloyd needs to learn duh! And maybe it will help me with some of my inventions... just a little) /

Cole’s mother died fighting in the war. They were very close and she taught him everything she knows about bending. It’s how he learns seismic-sense. Lilly always preached about about being one with the earth and nature and how important it it to give back to it just as much as you take.

Cole’s training is basically to climb a mountain and sit in a field of flowers and “listen to the earth”. They do this for days. Cole will tell stories and they’ll have a laugh. They bond a lot get to know each each other better.

But Lloyd is impatient, he doesn’t want to just sit around, people are dieing in this war and he needs to learn earth bending fast. They get in a fight. Lloyd says he doesn’t care about the stupid plants and needs to learn real earth bending. Cole decimated the entire field in an instant and leaves.

Lloyd is distraught, this place was where he got to know Cole and really become friends with him. He KNOWS this place deep down, right to his core. How it feels, how it moves, how it lives...but it’s all gone, buried under a mountain of rock and dirt. He cries and mourns, what has he done?

Jay talks to Cole who is just as upset and goes to talk to Lloyd, it’s almost night now and he still hasn’t come back. He tells Lloyd about Lilly. How the earth was something special he shared with her and was the only connection to her he has left. Cole wasn’t trying to teach him earth bending (I mean he was...), he was trying to connect to Lloyd, the same way he connected to his mother. Lloyd feels a lot worse after that but that wasn’t the point Jay was trying to make.

“If you felt that same connection he did, if you care about this place, then fix it”

“How?”

“Bend”

So he does

He works all night to remove the rubble. The next morning Cole comes back because Lloyd still didn’t come home. He finds the field, different but still familiar, has returned and a sleeping lloyd in a pile of crushed flowers. Lloyd immediately tries to apologize but Cole just wraps him up in a hug and they go back down the mountain.

They are traveling again and hear about the The Lost City of Ouroboros, a place filled with all knowledge guarded by a serpentine spirit. Obviously they check it out and discover the solar eclipse, they have an invasion plan. But with a cruel twist of fate Ultra is stolen right out from under Cole and they have to get to Ba Sing Sei on foot. Lloyd is torn up, he’s stressed, all he really wants to do is go home, for everything to back to how it used to. When they find the people who took Ultra...they never stood a chance.

They get to Ba Sing Sei and find it under attack. Using his technical know-how Jay is able to take out the drill from the inside. They get Ultra back and are eventually able to have a meeting with the earth king despite General Kozu and the Stone Army’s interference. Earth King Dareth agrees to help with the invasion plan after some coaxing.

The team temporarily splits up. Now that they arnt criminals anymore Cole and Jay are able to visit their parents. Kai and Nya receive word from the northern water tribe about possible information on what happened to their parents, Kai decides to go to the South Pole and look for them. Lloyd tries to master the Avatar state. Nya is excited to reunite with Pixal but Harumi worms her way in under the disguise of a Samurai-X warrior and takes over the Stone Army for herself.

Meanwhile Wu and Morro had opened up their own tea shop Steep Wisdom and are living pretty peacefully until Harumi captures Morro. They return to Wu telling them about Morro and Nya’s capture, they go to the crystal catacombs and the fight begins.

Lloyd finds that while he has an arsenal of elements to his call he can’t match up with Harumi’s abilities and the Stone Army. His avatar state becomes blocked once she tells him Garmadon sent her to kill him, and she does so.

Morro makes the wrong choice and sides with Harumi. He attackes Cole and Jay while Kai and Nya are busy fighting Skylor and Vania. Wu tries to stop him but he still ends up hurting Cole and knocking him out.

Jay’s weapons are shot and it’s easy to tell they’re losing, soon they will be captured. It’s a hard choice but with his friends in danger he would do anything to protect them. He uses lightning, not some little invention, real lightning bending. Who knew! (Probably you)

It gives them the edge they need for Kai and Nya to break free, they grab Lloyd and Cole and run. Wu gives them time and Nya has to use the spirit water to revive Lloyd. The earth kingdom falls.

Book 4

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croa20an · 3 years

Text

“It seems to me that many of the people who were hippies and flower children in the 60s and 70s are now ultra-conservatives. What made those people have such as huge change in their opinions and outlook?”

“My mother said they learned they couldn’t fight “The Man.” She said her generation didn’t expect that their parents and grandparents would let the government do the things they (FBI, CIA, National Guard, police) did when the kids in the US started revolting in the 1960s and 1970s.

You’ve got to remember that the 1950s-1970s was a period of global instability. The Colonial Powers of England, France, and the Netherlands struggled to recover from WWII and their colonies around the world started pushing for human rights and independence. The CIA saw communist Soviet and Chinese boogeymen in all the uprisings and supported dictators whose greed and ruthlessness could be appealed to in order to prevent “communism” from overtaking fledgling countries. Civil Rights, Human rights, democracy— these were things we supported ideologically as Americans, but in practice, our military and intelligence communities considered communism/socialism a greater risk to “American interests” than the dictators and fascism who stood between their people and democracy. The Blacks pushing for civil rights was upsetting enough, but then the Indian Rights Movement picked up, the Anti-War Movement picked up, the Black Panthers militarized, etc. Focus turned to suppressing “the kids” by hook and by crook, by kettling protestors in the streets, assassinations, and setting people up for arrest through entrapment and falsified informant reports.

Baby Boomers, hippies and flower children, saw their friends going off to Viet Nam or resisting the draft by going to jail or Canada/Mexico. They saw their friends busted for murders they didn’t commit, drugs they didn’t run. They saw them beaten in the streets, hit with fire hoses and tear gas. Some went back to nature. They moved to Vermont and Montana and Alaska. Others gave in and joined the economy. They became Alex P Keatons from Family Ties. Good little capitalist consumers. Because really, what choice did they have? Their faith in the government and their parents was shaken. They took the path laid out for them, and bucked the system when and where they could, and some, some gave in entirely, and drank the Koolaid. They became Uber-conservative because they became Believers. It beat disillusionment and poverty.

In the late 80s, freshly graduated from High School, I yelled at my mother for giving up when they’d gotten so close to changing everything. And she sat me down and told me the US History I hadn’t been taught, and that still isn’t taught, but is readily available, if you take the time to look for it.” -Kelly Graham

Source

I found this interesting. I’ve been wondering about this a lot lately, because I know the Boomer/Millennial stereotypes are BS to make people hate each other, and I know the typical answer you hear from a tumblr user, a teen, a tween, or someone with a popular social media account is completely made up out of bitterness.

But this level headed answer makes me realize something.

We, all the people alive now and in the future, regardless of “generation” or birth year, the masses who actually want the human race and the planet to survive pandemic and climate change, are going to have to be a lot more crafty if we’re going to get out of this alive. The system, the society that puts money and the rich and powerful above all, has had hundreds of years to be perfected, to be upheld perfectly. Just protesting or in-fighting won’t work. Asking people to care and shaming them or even threatening them won’t work. No modern form of government or economic system has ever worked, obviously. This needs to be action, it needs to be secret, hidden in plain sight, it needs to happen fast and it needs to happen now. Infiltration and action on all levels, we need to learn from the organized people and systems in power and we need to dissolve it from the inside and the outside including by using their own tried and true methods against them. And it has to be decentralized, no leaders, no figure heads, no manifesto, nothing. We just have to KNOW. All of us equal and wanting the same thing. Peace and safety and a planet. Leaders can be turned, smeared, framed, jailed, murdered. Labels and calling cards can be used against you. Don’t make this your identity. Live your life and have your money and home and safety and hide and plain sight but know what you want and spread the word. Not based on identity. Talk to your neighbors, no matter who they are. Talk to your coworkers, no matter who they are. Don’t give this a name, just know what you want. If we spread the word on this and don’t make it about an identity or a name or a leader or a type of government or a manifesto, they can’t use it against us, they can’t find us, and they can’t stop us. We want peace and safety and a planet, and it’s that simple. We can start taking this apart and fixing it from the inside out. That’s the only way it’s going to happen. And we have to stay focused. Don’t accept bribes. Don’t turn on people. Don’t judge people based on any aspect of their identity, or expect people with the same struggles as you to be “safe” for you. We need unity. They separate us on purpose. All of us together, we can do this fast. Don’t lose hope. Keep our secret and do the work because getting this done before they even realize it’s happening is the only way we get out of this alive. “Climate Change” is a nice way of saying we’re having more natural disasters in more places than we have in a hundred years, and it’s going to kill most of us fast. “Pandemic” is a nice way of saying most of us are going to die horribly, and there won’t be any society left, at this rate. It’s getting worse fast. Spread the word. Now or never. Fix it or we all die. The people with money and power aren’t going to change or feel pressure. They’re so high they don’t even feel anything anymore. This is all a game to them, it will be for their entire lives. We have to do it. Alone. Not through government avenues, not through pressure, not through complaining, not from the outside alone where we’re easy to smear and kill. Action. From the inside out. Unseen. No glory, just a mass of people from every kind of background and lifestyle dedicated to the same thing.

Find loopholes. Change the laws quick. Take advantage of the system to the fullest extent. Block the people destroying the world at every turn, until they give up and join us in equality and environmentalism and peace, safety and healthcare. Not through protest, not by asking, but by screwing them over with their own methods and beating them at their own game. We need to get creative to win these figurative battles and then and spread the news about these kinds of successes as much as possible. And stay dedicated, ignore the setbacks. We’re used to it. Keep going. Push through. This is our last chance. It’s this or death, and nothing left of us or anyone like us. No legacy, no peace or life, nothing.

#covid #covid virus #covid vax #covid vaccine #climate #climate collapse #climate change #antifa #anonymous #apocalypse #the world is burning

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raeynbowboi · 4 years

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Bob’s Burgers 10th Anniversary Retrospective

After ten years, Bob, Linda, and the Kids are just as delightfully wacky and endearing as they ever were, and show no signs of slowing down. So I wanted to put together an ultra mega review of the series. I’ll give an opinion on main and recurring characters, as with a cast this big, there’s been a lot of endearing characters to grace the show over the years. However, I will only be counting characters that have appeared more than once. After ten years, there’s been some real gems, and some real misfires. So, I’ll be counting down my top 10 best episodes, and the bottom 10 worst episodes. I’ll also go through as a Highlight Reel, by picking a best and worst episode of each season, as well as crowning the Best Season with the most good episodes.

Bob Belcher

Honestly, Bob was a very easy character to mess up. He’s the straight man to his wacky family’s antics. But the show does a really great job making Bob simple and lowkey without making him boring or a stick in the mud. He may be resistant to weird things, but he puts up with it anyway to make his family happy. While he’s the serious straight man, they don’t fail to give Bob his own eccentricities and quirks that make him relatable and funny in his own way. Whether he’s making things talk, getting weirdly excited about Thanksgiving, or his awkward way of speaking, Bob is genuinely a good and relatable character. It’s also nice to see that Bob is a great husband and a loving father. He and Linda argue from time to time, but they’re not trapped in a loveless marriage for the kid’s sake like most shows. And even shows where that’s not a selling point like American Dad, Bob shows more remorse for things like forgetting their anniversary than Stan does for Francine. Bob is supportive, loving, and forgiving. Which is just amazing to watch. The times when his kids really need him, he’s there for them, and he helps them through their problems. While Bob might fight with and get mad with or annoyed by his family, Bob never treats them like people he’s stuck with. Frankly, Bob blows most animated TV dads out of the water. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Stan or Francine give quiet supportive talks to Steve or Hayley ever in American Dad. Peter used to at least try to be a decent father, but now is a negligent toddler. Likewise, Homer used to be a great father who cared about his kids, but later seasons have really stepped away from the family angle the Simpsons used to have. In a sea of adult animated families that are toxic and destructive, Bob’s genuine love for his family came as a breath of fresh air.

Linda Belcher

Linda is by far the best Adult Animation TV mom there is. For one thing, she’s funnier than Francine, Lois, and Marge combined. But more importantly, she’s not the butt of the joke when it happens. I can only really remember laughing at Francine when they make dumb blonde jokes with her, but Linda’s jokes come from her character. She could have easily been the gender inverted Homer or Peter, but the writers are careful to make her gullible, trusting, and goofy without making her a moron. When the kids do something wrong, Linda busts out the tough mom act and you genuinely believe that the kids are in trouble. She’s not faking it. She’s not off in her own little world. She’s a bit of a goofy dreamer, but she’s able to be the tough disciplinarian when she needs to be. Her relationship with Bob is also better than most adult animation wives. She’s more independent than the other housewives, and even though her job is working with her husband, it never feels like it robs Linda of her own power, autonomy, and freedom. But the best thing about Linda is that I think most people can agree, she has an extremely strong and charming personality that endears us to her.

Tina Belcher

I really wish I could say I liked Tina more. She’s a creative romantic, just like me. I should love her. But her monotone deliveries and awkwardness isn’t as endearing as Bob’s. I like her better in episodes like Teen-A Witch and Broadcast Wagstaff School News where she has a bit stronger of a personality. But unfortunately, Tina is my least favorite member of the Belcher family, which isn’t to say that I hate her, she just doesn’t shine as bright as the rest of her family. She’s just not very funny or interesting on her own. But on the plus side, at least I don’t find Tina to be annoying or terrible except in the rare bad episode.

Gene Belcher

Gene is the only member of the family that can regularly get my dad to laugh, and with good reason. If he wasn’t such a well of nonsequitor punchlines, Gene would probably be the worst member of the family, but boy howdy do those random jokes pick up the slack. Gene is genuinely hilarious, even if I’d only rank him above Tina in terms of favoritism. However, I find that most Gene-centric episodes to be lackluster or below average. I think Gene’s best episode is probably Y Tu Ga-Ga Tambien, but of the best episodes, none really come to mind that specifically star Gene. Gene is really better suited for a supporting role, and his times as the star showcase why comic reliefs aren’t the main character. They’re support characters for a reason. That’s not to say Gene-centric episodes are terrible. They just tend to range from about average to bad. Though Y Tu Ga-Ga Tambien is a pretty good one.

Louise Belcher

Bob and Linda saved the best for last because Louise is the breakout star of the show. Funny, interesting, and the focus of many of the better episodes, Louise stands proudly on the first place podium with Linda in 2nd and Bob taking 3rd place. I think Louise’s strengths are especially due to her standoffish and naughty personality, which has lent itself to a lot of good character growth episodes. Season 10 Louise seems a lot more mature than Season 1 Louise. I think Louise works because while she does often have clever or sneaky solutions to problems, they don’t forget that she’s 9, so unlike Stewie, her age does present hurdles and barriers to her schemes and plans.

The Best and Worst of Bob’s Burgers

#10 WORST: Pro-Tiki/Con-Tiki (S6e15)

Why couldn’t Warren Fitzgerald just put that $100,000 into advertisements or to help Bob buy better equipment for his restaurant? My biggest issue with this episode isn’t the episode itself, it’s that the ending makes no sense. Warren wants to help Bob because he has a form of riches Warren lacks, and Bob doesn’t want a corporate sponsor to make changes to his brand. But why can’t Warren just give Bob the money to make choices he wants to make? They could stay as business partners, but Bob doesn’t have to sacrifice his personal vision for the restaurant. It’s just really frustrating when they’re both being too stupid and stubborn to see the obvious solution in front of their faces.

#10 BEST: Teen-a Witch (S7e03)

One of Tina’s best episodes, as someone who had a goth phase myself and dabbled a tiny amount in ‘witchcraft’, this episode brings back memories of high school and the desire to make the world what I wanted it to be. But on top of that, Tina with a backbone is when she really shines as a character, mostly because it means her humor isn’t being derived from her being awkward.

#9 WORST: Live and Let Fly (S9e05)

Mr. Frond embarrasses the kids, and they team up with Up-Skirt Kurt to get revenge against his sister and Mr. Frond. I’m not a fan of Kurt, so I already don’t care much about his feud with his sister, but I also just find the episode kind of boring. I don’t care about Kurt, I don’t care about his feud, and the kids call off their revenge, so that ends up not mattering either. Even Bob and Linda’s side plot is only middle-of-the-road quality for Bob’s Burgers.

#9 BEST: Wharf Horse/World Wharf II (S4e21-22)

The very first two-part episode Bob’s Burgers ever had, the season 4 finale is a great watching experience. It has some fun songs, funny character exchanges, suspenseful drama, and some heartfelt moments. It feels like a short movie, and that’s a good thing for a two-part episode to do. Even Fanny and Felix are interesting villains. But even after everything Felix did, I don’t find myself loathing him in later episodes, and that’s a hard thing to accomplish.

#8 WORST: Tina-Rannosaurus Wrecks (S3e07)

This is the only bad Tina episode where the problem isn’t Tina herself. My biggest issue with this episode is more just the subject matter. Bob lies for insurance reasons about who was driving his car, and the entire episode is just Bob and Tina digging a deeper and deeper hole for themselves. The solution to the issue is clever enough to redeem the episode somewhat, but the majority of the watching experience is just kind of an awkward dance of watching these two getting tangled up in a web of lies.

#8 BEST: The Taking of Funtime One Two Three (S9e02)

Bar none, this is the single best ‘Heist’ episode of Bob’s Burgers, and it’s kind of crazy that Bob’s Burgers has actually built a repertoire to where I can make a list of ‘heist’ episodes as an archetype. This one feels the most like an actual heist movie, and the ending is legitimately clever and unexpected. But even more than that, if you’re paying attention, you can see the twist before the characters even reveal it. That is the kind of tight writing that makes the list for best episodes.

#7 WORST: A Fish Called Tina (S10e12)

Tina spends an episode trying way too hard to make someone like her, to the point that she almost humiliates a 4th grader in public just so she can live out some fantasy. It’s really uncomfortable and sickening to watch Tina do this. This will be a recurring issue with Tina’s low-point episodes. There’s nothing fun about watching a character make a complete idiot out of themselves by coming on too strong. It even makes me groan when Kaylie shows up in another Season 10 episode because I don’t want to have to think about this awful episode.

#7 BEST: Stand By Gene (S6e12)

Something about this episode really just brings back memories of my childhood. Memories of walking through the outdoors, just exploring and wanting to find things. The characters are funny, and Bob and Linda’s relationship is put to the test. Plus, I loved that for the entire episode, you don’t know how it’ll end. It really makes this a personal favorite and one of the episodes I knew had to make it on my list.

#6 WORST: The Grand Mama-Pest Hotel (S7e13)

Linda ruins things for Tina by being an overbearing annoyance. Are you noticing a trend with Bob’s Burgers’ worst episodes? I don’t like it when good characters make complete jackasses out of themselves in the name of ‘humor’. It’s not funny. It’s annoying and makes me dislike them. Thankfully, the worst of it is only in the latter half of the 2nd act and the entire third act, but Linda’s behavior just makes me cringe and ask why they had to do Linda dirty like this? It just puts me even more squarely on the side that Tina is entirely in the right and I don’t want to deal with Lind either.

#6 BEST: Broadcast Wagstaff School News (S3e12)

From Tina at her lowest point to Tina at her best, Broadcast Wagstaff School News is my favorite episode of the first 5 seasons. Tina’s funny and engaging, Gene is absolutely shining as Little Bob, and while Louise and Linda play supporting roles in this episode, they’re still funny as well. Plus, the mystery is a good one, and this episode is even referenced in later seasons.

#5 WORST: Mazel-Tina (S4e13)

Tina ruins Tammy’s birthday and steals her party. This is Tina at rock bottom. Tina is so despicable, cruel, and selfish in this episode that it reminds me that behind that creative awkward girl is a selfish brat who doesn’t care if she hurts other people if she can live out her fantasies. If other episodes didn’t rescue Tina from being so unlikable, I probably would hate Tina as a character entirely for her behavior in this episode.

#5 BEST: The Silence of the Louise (S8e02)

Movie parodies are some of the best, and The Silence of the Louise is the queen of all the movie parodies. When Mr. Frond’s therapy dolls are mutilated, and the school staff calls off the waterpark trip until the culprit is caught, Louise teams up with psycho Millie to figure out whodunnit. This is also one of the first time Millie wasn’t strictly an antagonist, and she genuinely felt like someone who could be Louise’s friend someday.

#4 WORST: Boywatch (S8e16)

Tina ruins things for other people by coming on too strong. The only reason this is ranked higher than Mozel-Tina is because in that episode, she just wanted to be at the party, and just kind of ended up as the star of the party and let it go to her head, whereas here, she is actively ruining things for other people in pursuit of her own delusions and fantasies. Tina has no desire to be a junior lifeguard, but cute boys causes her to behave like a troublemaker. She’s entirely out of character, and her teammates’ hate for her behavior is something I agree with. I don’t want to hate the main characters, so why does this show keep pushing to make Tina a nuisance who ruins experiences for other people?

#4 BEST: The Quirkducers (S7e06)

If the Silence of the Louise is the queen of film parodies, then The Quirkducers is the king. Not only is it a clever parody of The Producers, but it also has some damn good musical numbers, especially the edited end credit version. But it’s Tina’s song at the end that stands as one of my favorites of all Bob’s Burgers’ songs.

#3 WORST: Bed & Breakfast (S1e07)

If a Fish Called Tina is bad, then Bed & Breakfast is flaming garbage. Linda turns their apartment into a Bed and Breakfast, and Linda goes berserk when the guests don’t play into her expectations. This episode verges from below average to detestable as Linda goes insane and locks people in their rooms, and Louise drives a grown man to attack workers by preying on his fear.

#3 BEST: The Hauntening (S6e03)

This is hands-down the best Halloween episode that Bob’s Burgers ever made. This show turns out some amazing holiday episodes, and this is one of the best the Belchers have to offer. I won’t dare give away anything about this episode. If you’ve seen it, you know why it’s top of the heap, and if you haven’t, then all I can say is what are you waiting for? Delayed gratification has to pay off eventually.

#2 WORST: Every Which Way But Goose (S9e14)

Tina falls in love with a goose. Who smoked crack before writing this episode, and who huffed enough paint thinner to approve this episode for production? This is the absolute dumbest concept for an episode I have ever come across. Who thought this was a good idea? I can’t even pinpoint the flaws because this entire episode is just so flawed. At least Mazel-Tina and Boywatch enrage me. This just baffles me.

#2 BEST: A Few Gurt Men (S7e11)

When Mr. Ambrose accuses Mr. Frond of stealing his yogurt from the faculty lounge, the case is brought before student court, and Louise is tasked with acting as Defense Council for Mr. Frond. One thing Bob’s Burgers does well is mysteries, and this is a good one as Louise has to figure out a way to prove Frond’s innocence. This is just an absolute personal favorite. Every character is just on point, and I get excited when the episode starts to que up.

#1 WORST: Moody Foodie (S2e07)

Did you ever want to watch the Belchers commit a felony? Then boy howdy do I have an episode for you! A picky food critic responsible for shutting down restaurants comes to Bob’s Burgers. Bob messes up the order, and a visit to the critic’s house to get him to try his burger again leads to a hostage situation with the critic tied to a chair and gagged in his own home. Words cannot describe the depth to which I hate this episode. The entire episode feels dirty and vile. I feel the need to scrub my skin raw after sitting through this episode. The instant I realize that it’s come on, I skip the the next one. I have literally only sat through this episode once. This episode disgusts me. This episode has the main character, abduct somebody in their own home. Then they take a second hostage when a mailman delivers the guy’s package. Luckily, Bob’s Burgers has a lot of good episodes to make up for this one bad egg, but this episode enrages me to the point that if the family wasn’t so charming and endearing most of the time, I might have stopped watching based just on this one episode.

#1 BEST: The Bleakening: Part 1 & 2 (S8e06-07)

The first time I saw these episodes, they played back to back without any credits in between them, and I thought it was one episode, and I didn’t even realize it was the length of two episodes. Between the amazing songs, the brain bending twists, the creative creature, the dark elements that contrast the bright lights of the holidays, and the uplifting ending, this pair of episodes stands paramount as the single greatest viewing experience that Bob’s Burgers has to offer.

Favorite Friend of the Kids: Regular-Sized Rudy

First appearing in Carpe Museum, Rudy came back in The Kids Rob a Train, where he has remained a friend of the kids since. Rudy was the first to join the kids if you don’t count Andy and Ollie who seem to dip in and back out as to whether they’re included in the friend group. Rudy was thus the first to be made a main member of the kids’ friend group.

Favorite Schoolyard Seven: Jocelyn

The Schoolyard Seven is the friend group of the three Belchers, Jimmy Jr., Zeke, Tammy, and Jocelyn. Not counting the Belchers, it was a close call between Zeke and Jocelyn. Tammy and Jimmy Jr. tend to be typecast as serving one niche thing, but Zeke and Jocelyn are often the comedic gold. However, while Zeke is more interesting of the two, I just enjoy Jocelyn too much to not give her the win. Even if Jocelyn’s humor is just a walking dumb blonde trope, like Gene, Jocelyn has a knack for funny one-liners. If the groups has another name, I’m not privy to it.

Favorite Friend of the Family: Micky

Though he’s less connected to the family now, Micky has been a friend to the Belchers since Bob Day Afternoon, and returning in Bob Fires the Kids. Since his introduction, Micky has gotten a job at Wonder Wharf, where he has remained since.

Favorite Recurring Villain: Logan Bush

First appearing in Ears-y Rider, Logan has been a fun and interesting frenemy for Louise to match wits with. In a show where most other villains are the same age as the main characters (Millie, Tammy, Chloe, Jimmy Pesto, Hugo) Logan stands out as a legitimate bully. Yet, even he was willing to work with Louise in Mother-Daughter Laser Razor, showing that there is wiggle room for the two of them to even join forces and spread havoc together.

Favorite Tina Love Interest: Duncan

Earnest if not a little awkward, Duncan seems like a sweet boy for Tina to possibly end up with. Sasha Whiteman is another character I could easily see being a good boyfriend to Tina because his quick wit and social graces make him a great foil to Tina, and he excels where Tina falls short. Zeke has a good chance to be a good boyfriend, but Tina still spits his name when she greets him, so I doubt she’d take interest in him unless something happens to change their dynamic. I liked Josh, but now that he’s said he doesn’t like her anymore and she agreed that she feels the same, I doubt we’re going to see them date further in the future.

Favorite Side Character: Nat Kinkle the Limo Driver

First appearing in Season 8 episode 8 V for Valentine-detta, I must not be the only fan of Nat’s because she made two appearances in the 10th season, in episode 1 The Ring (But Not Scary) and episode 17 Just the Trip. Currently with only 3 appearances, she’s still only a side character, but I get the feeling that like with Rudy, Courtney, Darrel and Alex before her, Nat will keep becoming a more frequent character. She just has a great vibe, and her charisma is intoxicating. She meshes great with the family, making her an absolute delight to watch.

Favorite Bit Character: Marshmallow

Although she’s appeared in multiple episodes since her introduction in Sheesh, Cab Bob, Marshmallow has never gotten much more than a couple lines, with her biggest role being in The Bleakening where she had more to say. She was also the first major LGBT+ recurring character on the show, which also made her a joy to see, whenever she returned to Bob’s Burgers.

Favorite Headcanon: Gene is Genderfluid

Gene’s jokes have been centered on his gender or sexuality since the first season finale. A joke once in a while is one thing, but ten years of the same sorts of jokes tells the sharp viewer that there’s more to it than just a running gag. With how many jokes have Gene talk about having boobs, synching his cycle, or calling himself Tina and Louise’s sister or Bob and Linda’s daughter, it’s my opinion that Gene is genderfluid, or possibly even transgender. The only reason I say genderfluid over a transgirl is because he still also addresses himself as a boy or a man as much as he does girl jokes.

Best Song: Twinkly Lights (Ms. XXX-Mas)

Not only does Toddrick Hall absolutely kill this performance, but I also love the meaning of the song about POC inclusivity and pride in the LGBT+ community. As the final song in The Bleakening, it’s one hell of a closing number, and I can’t help but dance in my seat whenever it plays. I’ve even listened to it independent from watching the show, and honor I don’t bestow on every song.

Best Episode Archetypes:

The Best Heist: The Taking of Funtime One Two Three

The Belcher kids have stolen a number of things. Chocolate, a bounce house, but the absolute creme de la creme of their heists is the procuring of the Dunebuggy from Family Funtime. When Family Funtime unplugs the macchines whenver the kids get too many tickets from them, the kids decide to pull off the heist of a century to make off with the biggest prize of the arcade: the dune buggy.

The Kids Tell An Anthology: Moms, Lies, and Videotapes

From the Gayle Tales to The Handyman Can, the kids have told a number of anthology stories, but the most impressive of the bunch is their stories of the mother’s day plays into three interesting stories. Though true to form, Gene’s is the weakest of the three, as his usually are. I don’t recall any time when his anthology was the best of the kids’, but then, Gene is not the most creative of the three children. His best story is probably in The Frond Files where his story’s world is colorful and fun to observe.

Best Musical Episode: The Bleakening

Not only do these episodes have a lot of musical numbers, but there is not a single one that doesn’t hit a home run. But more importantly, the entire episode is a musical, with each number helping to tie and bridge together the narrative, which is the entire purpose of musical numbers in a proper musical, which makes this the single best musical episode mainly because it’s the only episode that’s a true blue musical.

Best Holiday Episode: The Hauntening

With The Bleakening already taking the top spot for musical episodes, that leaves the Miss Congeniality of the holiday episodes to take the crown. I didn’t spoil anything about this episode above, and I won’t say a thing about it now. This episode is solid gold.

Best Film Parody: The Quirkducers

Not only is this episode clever in the way it uses its source material, but the family all have moments to shine despite the stars being Louise and Gene. The show also makes good use of the Schoolhouse Seven (the main group of the Belcher Kids, Jimmy and Zeke, and Tammy and Jocelyn), and each of them brings something great to the episode. It undoubtedly earned its place in the top 10, and will likely hold its place for years to come.

#bobs burgers #Bob's Burgers #belchers #the belchers #bob belcher #Linda Belcher #gene belcher #tina belcher #louise belcher #seymores bay

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normal-thoughts-official · 4 years

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Makoto plot line by Lêx?

thank you for this totally 100% spontaneous ask that you sent of your own free will, anon!

okay, so here's the thing. i dont like makoto. not really. he's annoying af and basically useless. bitch does nothing but hide behind haru cuz he's scared of everything and be blushy and soft in that spineless way, you know? like he just lets everyone push him around and treats everyone in such an unfuriatingly uniform, fake-cheery, ultra helpful way that it's his whole personality

but here's the thing! it gets sad. you know? especially considering how he, like, seems to basically live to enable haru? in all the worst ways. like it's nice of course that he helps haru with his depression but there's a point when it becomes enabling and that point is when makoto is running after haru all the time trying to solve his messes, remind him of his own damn responsibilities, and basically take care of haru's whole life so he doesn't have to. again, helping is good, but by worrying about the things haru doesn't worry about and preventing him from facing the consequences of not doing anything basically lmao he enables haru to never fucking get out of his constant stupor. also, as previously said, he's spineless, which means that he never truly goes against haru's wishes. so like. enabler. bad

which is my main beef with makoharu, which is actually the most popular ship in the fandom because ppl have no taste and also dont know how to interpret shit. tho tbh even makoharu shippers are like "i ship makoharu because makoto deserves to be happy and he wants haru!" so even they acknowledge that.... haru isn't into him lmao. but anyway

point is: they pull each other back. im not gonna say it's abusive or something cuz i don't think it is, i wouldn't even call it toxic, but it's stale in the worst kind of way. makoto enables not only haruka's depression, but also his self destructive and to some extent relationships destructive behavior, setting his growth back. and makoto lives and exists to take care of haru. he has no dreams, no goals, hell, not even INTERESTS. his whole thing is just. haru. where haru goes, he follows. and. that's it basically

which is why the fact that so many makoto stans ship makoharu is also baffling to me, because if i were a makoto fan, i'd probably hate haru, lmao. i mean, makoto is going around doing all this work for him, plus emotional labor, and haru never gives him much back really. and it's obvious that haru doesn't like makoto the same way makoto likes him, but makoto is just out there taking whatever scraps he can get, and haru just sort of. probably doesn't even notice cuz that's been their dynamic since they were kids. and makoto knows that, too. so like. if i stanned makoto. id fucking hate haru for that tbh

and honestly it's bad writing because i think the writers couldn't care less about makoto lmao and also didn't know what to do with him, which i think becomes increasingly obvious as seasons go by and he's just sort of. there. they tried to give him his own plotlines and even dreams but it never stuck. he feels like a doll most of the time. even in s1, which was widely rinharu-focused and barely had any other characters have real plotlines unless you count the one (1) episode where they try to teach rei how to swim, makoto was particularly uninteresting and underexplored and developed. like, the other characters might not have had huge importance but at least they had personalities. makoto didn't, really, unless you count "mama henning haru" and "being uwu" as a personality

but my point is: what if makoto got some real writing? what if we explored his character, and his relationship with haru, in a more critical, dimensional way?

makoto is in love with haru, i think that's indisputable. haru isn't in love with makoto, which i also think is indisputable. makoto himself knows that what haru has with rin is special and beyond what makoto and haru have, he says that, he even says that he was jealous of rin. yet he stays. even when rin comes back, and haru and rin become friends again, and it's obvious they're going to be together, makoto stays. he takes care of haru, which is some pretty damn stressful work, and does all this emotional labor for him, and haru barely gives him, like, a smile every once in a while, lmao, and again it's sad. but makoto stays. and - that's an important part to me - it doesn't seem to be because he has any hopes that haru will come around. so why

i think they're stuck in a loop, and that makoto has been in love with haru, and being not only his emotional support, but basically the one thread connecting him with the outside world (while simultaneously enabling him to continue as detached from it as he can, because he's not bringing haru out to the world, he's bringing the world to accommodate haru) for so long, he doesn't really know what else to do. also, he feels guilty about leaving haru to his own devices, even if obviously there's nothing he can do if haru won't help himself. also, he's scared of losing him, because he's been defining himself for his relationship with haru for so long, he doesn't know where else to go

i think that's supported by his relationship with other characters. like i said, makoto is annoyingly kind to everyone (if im not mistaken, the name makoto actually does mean kind) and a MASSIVE pushover. he never goes against anyone's wishes. he never really throws in what he wants. he doesn't really interfere with anyone's plans and ideas, he just sorta makes it happen. he is never annoyed, never has any quirks, is never even like, tired, you know? he lives to please other people, to the point where he has no personality, interests, or wishes beyond that

so, yeah: i think makoto is scared that, if he doesn't please other people, there's nothing else left for him. and in a way, he is right, because i don't think he would know what to do with himself if he had to look into himself and figure out what he wants out of life. so it's easier to follow others and dedicate himself to them. also, fear of loneliness is very valid, even if i dont think any of his friends would actually leave him if he weren't being their damn mom all the time. but they also let it happen, especially haru, because it's convenient, and again, homeboy barely has the energy to go to school, much less help makoto unpack all of that

but if i were writing free!, id want to explore that, because it has so much potential to be a pretty damn rich story, actually. especially as the story progresses, because one effect of rin being back and haru running the whole swimming club and trying to prepare for their race is that haru needs makoto less and less as time goes by. because he has a motivation. he cares about his grades because if he doesn't keep them up he won't be allowed to keep working in the swimming club, he cares about teaching the newbie (the rei i mentioned before) how to swim because otherwise they won't be able to run against rin in the medley race, hell, he reforms the whole entire pool that was abandoned so they have a place to train (with help, but like, he couldnt be bothered with getting up to school before). he even goes back to drawing so he can make pamphlets to attract more people to the club

and then he finds his love for swimming again, especially as a team, competitively. he finds his love for people again, for human interaction, for competition and the thrill of the sport he loves. haru finds his motivation, and he starts putting his life back on track and working towards his goals, and haru is damn capable. and that means that makoto has a lot of free time in his hands now, and haru is slipping through them, and he knows he can't really keep their relationship as he was. and he shouldn't, honestly, and i think that he's, at least, smart enough to know this

and he has a crisis, because again, he's been defining himself through haru for the longest goddamn time, im talking all the way from middle to high school here. and he doesn't know who he is. he doesn't know what he wants. he barely knows what he likes

but he's not alone either, because again, makoto is haru's best friend, and haru does like him and it's not like he's all "i found my purpose with rin now. peace out". his journey was also about finding his whole support system with his friends. through relearning how to swim in a team, he also relearned human connection and friendship. that's one of the many beauties of rinharu. they inspired each other to make their lives better, including in ways that have nothing to do with each other, and they weren't even trying to

so he has haru, but in a now radically different dynamic, and also rei and nagisa (his teammates) and gou (rin's sister and also their trainer) (rin and gou don't go to the same school for some reason). and everyone is going through a similar crisis, because it's the last year of high school. rin obviously has known that he wants to be an athlete since he was a kid, but everyone else's plans are kinda sketchy. makoto just happens to have some extra flavor in that mission - he's not just trying to figure out what he wants to do, but who he is

and fuck if i know how that would develop from there, but id really love to see makoto finding himself, honestly. i want to see his issues being addressed. the only backstory we have for him is that he's afraid of the ocean because he almost drowned at some point? i dont remember. i want to know why the fuck he's been repressing his own needs and personality so hard. i want to know what had him so scared of the world that it was easier to forget about himself and basically live through haru. i want to know what he's going to do to find himself, and the very, very painful journey of looking at himself and his own needs, and, in many ways, his own emptiness, because makoto essentially carved himself hollow. i want makoto to have dimension and depth, and be relatable and not just a dumb shell of uwuness for ppl to swoon over and want to protecc, not even because i like him, but because it could be so interesting. and relatable in so many ways. like, god damn it. if you wanna make him one of the main characters, give him a real plotline!

and i want to see him finding out that his life is better when he's a little more detached from haru and not living in an endless pursuit of a relationship, but having a network of people he loves and that has mutual support. i want to see him getting over haru, not so he can have some other romance with someone else, but so he can grow. makoto basically doesn't grow at all the whole show, and it's sad to watch, especially as everyone else grows so much

#ask #anonymous #long post #anti makoharu #anti tachibana makoto #meta #freestalgia #rinharu

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chinatea · 4 years

Text

Jikook Sexy Alien AU Part 1

Personas are a product of @satellite-jeon ‘s beautiful mind.

This is WIP and still pretty drafty, and I’ll be posting new parts to tumbler as I finish them. I’m planning 4-5 parts overall.

For my best girl @kmheart <3333 Thank you for loving this mess. <333

Warnings: Coarse language.

Jungkook doesn’t know exactly when his life took a dive from awesome to downright shitty.

And even if he did, he wouldn’t be telling that story any time soon ‘cause no one gives a rat’s arse about good ol’ boy Jungkook who scrubs pools for a living.

It didn’t start that way. In high school, he was a local superstar. The golden jock. The whole fucking trope, baby. With titties of all caliber following him everywhere. Boy did love him some pussy. Dicks, too. He loved everything to do with sex, drugs and rock’n’roll.

He believed himself invincible and it was only a matter of time before he mingled with the wrong crowd. Only back then, he thought of them as friends. His bros for life.

Well.

Now, he cleans pools - the only kind of gig he can scrounge up nowadays, what with a criminal record and whatnot - and trusts no bro.

And when he’s not cleaning pools, he’s stuck at the garage being bossed around by a dirtbag who happens to be his uncle. His uncle, Sunmu, hates his guts - one of those stupid homophobic fucks who can’t mind their own fucking business. Needless to say, no love lost.

As much as Jungkook wants to punch his stupid teeth out - what’s left of them anyhow - he needs the money and it’s not like his uncle can do much more than run his smelly farthole of a mouth. Which he does. At lengths. The dude just never shuts up. Until one day, Jungkook made him shut up - even his golden-boy patience has its limits. And the dude blew up, called the police, the neighbors came a-running, the whole nine yards.

One hell of a shitshow, that night.

So now, Jungkook has taken to bringing guys to fuck in his garage instead. Totally intentional. He knows the geezer, like the sick fuck he is, had cameras installed all over for his own perverse pleasure. So Jungkook lets him enjoy it while he can.

‘Cause once the summer ends, Jungkook will burn down his fucking shack and hit the road, because he’s this close to being done with the shitfucks that are hell bent on ruining his life.

Another day. Another mindless grind.

Luckily for him, the client has vacated the house for the day, leaving their big pool in his capable hands. A much welcome break from those rich fucks being all smug and pissy and all up in his grill about every little nothing.

Rich tits always think they know everything.

Not to mention their shitty kids running around, destroying his equipment and yapping his ear off. Or worse yet, their old haggy wives flashing their saggy tits at him - goodness gracious, does his face say he’s into wrinkled-ass pussy or something?

He thinks the fuck not.

Jungkook plops down on a deck chair and pops a can of coke open, taking a long chug. When he doesn’t have people looming over his ass, he prefers taking things slow. At his own pace. That’s what he’s all about.

As much as he could wrap things up faster and call it a day, he’s not looking forward to trudging back to the garage. Sunmu the dipshit would be there, of course, nagging at him with this shit or that and he’d rather chill out here - the house is off-limits, locked tight, but the scenery is gorgeous. The house sits on a cliff, with the pool area overlooking the city below.

It’s private and quiet and damn therapeutic. Like, he could just close his eyes and pretend it’s all his. That he’s not a broke-ass dude about to keel over any day now, but someone who is in control of his life.

And he does just that. Closes his eyes and leans back, cradling the coke to his chest like one does a lover.

Mind blank of any thought.

The sky above crackles in warning, too close for comfort. And it wakes up goosebumps along his skin as he jostles awake from his little moment of inner peace. His hands flap around, knocking his coke over - it drips all over his tank top.

Nice, Jungkook thinks.

Of-fucking-course, it must rain today of all days. He scrambles up to his feet, ready to start hauling all the gear back into his truck when IT happens.

At first, he is not even sure what IT even is. One moment, he’s one grouchy mess, spewing dozens of profanities at no one in particular while tugging at his stained top in a retarded attempt to shake the mess off. And the next-

Something, fairly massive and spherical, materializes a few inches above the pool before plunging into water like a dead weight. Jungkook can only manage an undignified squawk before the impact wave sends him flying into the thorny shrubs framing the pool.

Mother-fucker.

When he drags his ass back from the shrubs, drenched from head to toe and covered in scratches, all he knows is that his stained shirt is the least of his problems now, because this…

What the fuck is this? he thinks, staring agog at the offender, hogging the pool now.

It looks like…something.

Maybe a futuristic car or a flying vessel of some sort. He has no clue, really. What it is or where it came from, but it’s here, right in his face, obstructing his work. Like a bastard.

He’ll have to call up a tow truck or something to pluck this sucker out, which will take forever and there go his plans for Friday night out.

Jungkook walks around the pool, inspecting the strange contraption from all sides. It’s slick and round and very, very chrome. Perhaps - a submarine. Some ultra-slick technology with masking abilities. Which apparently can fly, but not very well, otherwise, how the fuck it’d ended up stuck in his pool.

Those rich fucks and their stupid malfunctioning toys, eh.

Jungkook sighs and kicks the empty coke can lying about. It flies off towards the pod, ricocheting right off its shiny cask with a sharp clank. And now he has even more trash to dredge up from the puddle bellow. What joy.

As he is about to roll over and wail in self-pity, the pod wakes up with a tremor, sending shallow ripples over the water. Jungkook freezes, frantically thinking over his choices - his gut reaction is to hightail the fuck out of here, because the thing is starting to show signs of life and it doesn’t sit well with Jungkook, not one bit.

He better scram and scram fast. Fuck the money and his uncle - especially his uncle - no one told him scrubbing pools involved close encounters of the third kind.

He makes to do just that but doesn’t make it too far as he bumps into someone, loosing his balance and sending them both to the ground. With a groan, he opens his eyes to stare at the unfortunate soul who had to bear the brunt of the fall on their- his.

It’s definitely a he. A he so stunning Jungkook’s jaw goes slack and his brain radio-silent. Meanwhile, the he doesn’t waste any time making the most of their proximity as he slithers his hands around Jungkook’s neck and presses against him in a soft sweet kiss.

A supernova goes off at the back of his skull.

It was awesome.

“Hello,” the other says, a quality to his voice that is out of this world. He must be out of this world, because how?

“I’m Jimin.”

“Hi,” Jungkook says.

A dumb grin takes over his face.

He’s tingly all over. He thinks he’s in love.

“You’re gorgeous, Jimin-ah. Will you marry me?”

“Marry?” Jimin says tentatively as if testing the word on his tongue. His lips are pretty and full, forming a perpetual pout. It’s adorable. “I can’t marry. I need to mate.”

“Oh.” That throws Jungkook for a loop, as his heart swells with emotion. “Mate who?”

“You,” Jimin smiles. “Serendipity has chosen you as the most suitable candidate within this quadrant of our galaxy. We’re compatible.”

“Wow,” Jungkook whispers. He understands jack shit, but it does feel like serendipity, doesn't it. Just a moment ago, he was one miserable son of a bitch and now…he’s the luckiest son of a bitch in the whole fucking quadrant of their galaxy.

“You do know I’m scrubbing pools for a living, right?”

He props himself up on his hands, hovering over the gorgeous Jimin and eyeing him like a candy on a stick. Jimin has pretty dainty hands. They are always in motion, feelings up Jungkook’s arm muscles, bulging all prettily just for him - this shameless little minx.

“I know everything about you,” Jimin says, his voice washing over Jungkook’s mind like a gentle summer tide.

Turns his brain all mush-mush.

“Every second of your waking moment. Every dream, every thought you’ve had. Serendipity has shown me all of it.”

Whomever this Serendipity is, Jungkook hopes it didn’t show every single thought he had. After a certain age, they’d gotten rather repetitive and tended to fixate mostly on things below the belt - which is not the image of himself he wants to project into this world.

“You’re thinking too much,” Jimin purrs, tapping his temple lightly.

His hands wind up in Jungkook’s hair, massaging the scalp and down his neck. His touches are flitting, almost shy and it kindles longing in Jungkook like never before. It tramples all of the questions budding in his head. Melting reason away. Before he knows they’re kissing again and it plays out like a dream.

He’s doing something, but he’s not really in control. It feels good. Peaceful, he’s in a safe place. Jimin’s touches are weightless and tender as he maps out his body with the very tips of his fingers.

Like he can reach everywhere - can touch anywhere.

The moment something prods his mind, gentle and soothing - akin to a light breeze caressing the leaves - Jungkook shivers. Falls under. A feeling like no other. Floating, like a little air bubble.

It’s gone as sudden as it came and Jungkook finds himself yearning.

“We can’t do it here,” Jimin says as they both move upright in sync. He grabs Jungkook’s hand. “Let’s go. Serendipity will have to stay here for now.”

“Serendipity?” Jungkook asks, shaking off the drowsiness as his brain slowly kicks back into gear. “You mean that pod thing?”

“Don’t call her ‘a thing’,” Jimin chides. “She has feelings. Quite a temper, too.”

“Damn, a she-pod with feelings”.

They’re standing now with Jimin plastered against his chest and nuzzling his mighty pec. Not awkward at all.

“She’s a ship. The most intelligent ship in the whole galaxy. Completely self-aware,” Jimin says, exploring the vastness of Jungkook’s chest with his curious palms now. Jungkook starts to notice a certain obsession here of a tactile nature, but can’t find it in himself to complain. “Be kind to her.”

“I am kind,” Jungkook says. “I’m like...wait, who are you?”

“I’m Jimin.”

“Okay,” Jungkook nods. “But what kind of Jimin are you? Where did you come from? You’re not with the Joneses here, are you?”

With the burden of rational thinking, Jungkook slumps into a realization that he has questions. And he must ask them.

“No, I’m from space,” Jimin says like it’s not big deal. “We need to go,” he commands, taking charge and dragging Jungkook along.

“Space? Wow,” Jungkook says. “That’s, ah, nice, I guess. Never been myself, what with the radiation and minus fuck-ton degrees, you know. Transportation kinda sucks, too. I don’t know if you’re aware but we’re kinda still in the stone age or whatever, but, ehm...remember when I was lying on top of you, with our private parts perfectly aligned? That was nice too, wanna, ehm, do that again?”

“Here is not safe,” Jimin says and at least, it’s not a no. “Serendipity can hide herself well enough, but it’s a matter of time before he tracks me down. And if that happens, I don’t want him to track me down right next to her.”

“Who’s he?”

“Just a man who never gives up what’s his.”

“You mean, like, ex-boyfriend?” Jungkook asks, swallowing down an annoying spike of jealousy. “Do you even have boyfriends in space?”

“I meant Serendipity, not me,” Jimin says. “And yes, we do have boyfriends up there in space. You don’t have to worry though, he’s been mated for the past five hundred years. He’s that boring.”

Jungkook lets out a low whistle.

“If his mate looks anything like you, that’s understandable.”

#jikook #jikook au #personas au

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dammitadolfnomorecake · 4 years

Text

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt.6

When Keith and Shiro left, Lance breathed a sigh of relief. Hunk’s father had to order parts from Platt city, leaving the two brother to spend the night at one of towns inns. Dropping them off, with Hunk, at Hunk’s family garage had been the first relief, the second was dropping Pidge and all her crap off at her house, and third returning home to Blue and a nice bag of blood. Stressed from his lack of sleep and house guests, Lance had drained a whole bag without thinking, something he had done since the time his Mami had had a fall at the home. She scolded him for fussing over her far too much, Lance not wanting to leave her all alone, despite the fact she was only in hospital overnight with a sprained wrist. All his Mami’s friends at her home had been jealous when he’d returned the next day with the biggest bouquet of roses he could buy. Taught to share, each little old lady was given a rose and a kiss on the cheek, more than one aiming for a cheeky kiss on the mouth. His mother all smiles and laughter over the attention he’d received. His Mami had such a great support network there, and he’d really lucked out on her care.

With his hunger quenched, next came cleaning through the house. Shiro and Keith had left their room neat, beds remade and everything else in order too, like they’d never been there to begin with. Not that he was looking, but Lance didn’t find a single strand of stray hair on their pillows. Almost as if he’d housed two ghosts for a evening. Letting his room dry out, and actively avoiding the mess, Lance cleaned through the whole first floor before finally admitting to himself he was procrastinating far too much. Stupid blood. His fatigue had melted away, now he had far too much energy, having already walked into the wall, kitchen table, kitchen counter, accidentally lifted the whole sofa in on go instead of just the end to sweep, and tripped face first over his coffee table. All his movements and actions were amplified by the blood coursing through his system, kind of like how he imagined popping Ecstasy. It was like some cosmic joke really. The worst he could expect was severe flu like symptoms if he accidentally drank bad blood, maybe a day or two of cramping then right back to being stupidly healthy. Bruises, grazes, cuts and scrapes all healed within a day or two, depending on how much blood he’d consumed. His dumb arse had fallen down the stairs before, broken his leg, and taken three whole bags of blood to heal the damn thing. He couldn’t win with his glasses on, and he couldn’t win with them off.

Doing a quick tidy through of the top floor, Lance finally faced his trashed bedroom. What he really needed was a maid... except he didn’t want a stranger in his house, and he didn’t want a stranger in his how’d he touching his things. All his bedding needed to be washed, his mattress needed to be stripped of its waterproof cover then aired once the rain stopped. Blue had had a few “accidents” on his bed, his mattress protector was an idea he could proudly claim as his own. Waking up to entrails between his sheets and seeping into his mattress wasn’t his idea of a good morning, no matter how happy Blue was over her caught mouse. He simply couldn’t find it in his heart to be mad at her, she was only doing what came naturally, and he definitely preferred the mice dead to running around messing up his stuff. Shit, maybe he should just join a coven and make a nuisance of at some other vampires lair... only, he didn’t get along with other vampires for the most part, and shacking up with a werewolf was asking for trouble. He was 44, it was well past time to put his big pants on and deal with things like an adult.

Wednesday was supposed to be a good day. He’d finished one of the family cases he was working on, his new window was installed with a nice new latch, he’d spoiled himself with a rather expensive bottle of red, and he’d assured Hunk that’d contacted Shay to confirm dinner was still on. He’d forgotten until that morning, almost spamming her to explain and apologise. Thankfully Shay was the awesome soul she was, understanding after he’d explained about his broken window.

Then it all went to shit.

Stuck on an “urgent” call, Lance had made a mistake. He’d been talking with a mother trying to get sole custody of her three children, online, offering her his business number so she could call and get some free advice. Not even five minutes in, he could already see why she was finding it difficult. No judge was grant her custody when she was more concerned about the next needle in her arm than she was about her children. On his personal phone he’d already called the police to request a wellness check after he’d explained the situation, but as he waited for a response there, he was stuck with a raving lunatic yelling in his ear about how meth didn’t make her a bad mother. She hadn’t even noticed he’d put himself on silent as he’d made the call. It wasn’t something that left him warm and fuzzy inside, he genuinely wanted to help keep families happy, with an emphasis on what was best for the children involved. This wasn’t his first making this kind of call, but it never got any easier. The mother needed help, she needed someone to reach out their hand and help her, but the system could only do what it had the budget for. He’d had a similar case nearly a decade ago where the mother had attempted to murder her children rather than share custody with the remarried father. She wound up commuting suicide, something that weighed heavily on his mind each time this kind of situation came up. It was nearly an hour later that the police showed up, Lance listening to the whole thing until it finally got too much, and he had to hang up. Snuggling up for some serious cuddles with Blue, the TV played in the background just so he didn’t feel that prang of pain... until it finally became too much. Spurring an unplanned trip over to Platt for some serious hang time with his Mami.

As always, his Mami was happy to see him. She could tell immediately something was weighing heavily on his mind, unable to even fake a smile or politeness to the other residents. Feigning exhaustion, he’d “helped” his Mami back to her room, crawling into bed with her and settling himself with his head on her chest. Sometimes he wondered if he hadn’t developed properly after being turned so young. He didn’t fit the stereotype for his age bracket, nor did he fit the stereotype for a typical 26 year old. His Mami didn’t push for an explanation, instead she stroked his hair and held him tightly. After being turned, he’d suffered screaming nightmares for months. His Mami would climb into bed with him, holding him just like she was now.

Whether she’d forgotten, because as much as Lance was loathe to admit she’d been doing that much more often of late, or whether his brother also felt the need for a spur of a moment visit, but when Luis entered the room, his brother wasn’t pleased at all to see him there. Luis had been the first to cut him off. Maybe because he was the oldest, he headed our first to carve out a life for him and his wife Lisa. Luis knew he had above normal hearing, mumbling about how he was a money draining blood sucker. A bit rich coming from a man who chucked a sook over his inheritance from their papi. For the sake of their mother, Lance just wanted to get along, Luis ultra polite in front of Mami as he fussed over her, making Lance feel he didn’t have a place by her side.

The drive back was depressing, not even his usual playlist managed to make it bearable. Rax was working at Balmeria’s, meaning he had to go in and ask for the pump to be turned on, the little shit further pissing him off as he mocked him for his down mood.

The goddamn cherry on his shit-tastic day was arriving home to find his front door wide open, with none of the lights left on. This was how people ended up murdered. He was going to end up murdered... but after the day he’d had, maybe a little bit of murder would be the best thing for everyone. At least his house was in order if he was to meet his demise... his only regret would be leaving Blue... and Hunk and Pidge... and his Mami. For a dead man, he harboured a lot of regrets over his imminent death. Saying a prayer, he wasn’t sure if God had time for his type, but he hoped that maybe he did. He’d been a good vampire, never drank human blood, never attacked a human, went to church and loved his Mami... now he was off to be murdered and his body dumped in a rolled up carpet somewhere in the back lands of Garrison. What a depressing thought. Fuck it, if he was going to die, his glasses weren’t going down with him.

Leaving his glasses beside the front door mat, Lance stepped into his doom.

“Hello?! Can you please not murder me, I’ve had a shit day!”

Someone was in his house. He could tell from the smell alone there were two somebodies. His skin has prickled with goosebumps at the first sniffs of the scent.

“Look, I already know you’re here!”

Because talking to his murderers was just how he rolled. Following the scent to the living room, he found his room trashed. Great. Just. Fucking. Great. No power to the house meant no security alarm and no security alarm meant no alarmed Pidge, meaning no forthcoming rescue. No forthcoming rescue meant at least his friends would be safe, which was one small mercy.

“We’ve got you, bloodsucker”

Lance raised an eyebrow. A fucking hunter was on his doorstep, well, not literally but he’d been good, he should have had a few more years of safety with his alias. What really made his eyebrow raise was that despite being decked head to toe in black, that voice very clearly belonged to the “Emo Edgelord” himself, sir “I’m too much of a douche to drink your coffee without protest”, Keith. Behind him clad in an equally depressing outfit was Shiro. Talk about bad fucking karma.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about”

“You’re blood sucking scum, and we’ve come to bring your reign of terror to an end”

Holy fuck, Keith must have pop-cultured hard. The kid sounded like he was straight out the lowest budget slasher movie known to man kind. Ignorance was bliss?

“I’m not quite sure I know what you’re on about...”

“Shut up!”

“Look, dude. Take a chill pill. How about we talk? Look, the names Lance. I’m a lawyer, specialising in family law”

“You mean you rip innocent families apart! You gain access to their children and bleed them dry!”

“Um, no?”

“Don’t lie to me! I know you’re kind. What happened to your friends? What did you do to Hunk and Pidge?!”

What was he supposed to have done with them...?... right. Vampire. Dah... murderer, yep, right... pffft... He could laugh at how serious Keith was being if it wasn’t for the fact that they were indeed there to murder him

“They’re at home? I dropped Hunk off with, so maybe I should be asking what you did to him?”

“Don’t you turn this back on me, you abomination”

Lance crossed his arms in offence. He’d made them breakfast, they should be a little more appreciative

“I didn’t ask to be like this”

“So you admit it!”

Shiro obviously hadn’t trained Keith about how adults used their inside voices

“Stop yelling at me! Inside voice is just fine”

“Shiro, he knows us. He’s admitted what he is. It doesn’t deserve to walk this earth!”

“Keith...”

“Fuck this!”

Again with the yelling. Poor Blue was going to be scared with all the yelling

“So we can’t sit down and discuss this?”

“As Blades of Marmora, hunters of unwanted trash, our sworn duty is to destroy beasts like you! The holiest hunters of the Vatican, your blood will stain our blades!”

“My what now?”

“We saw your fridge of blood!”

Lance was starting to feel second hand embarrassment for Keith. He took stupid to a whole other level. He had the disadvantage when it came to the house layout, he had the disadvantage of being human, and he had the disadvantage of thinking with his anger and not his head

“Hurrah. I get blood packs from Platt”

Keith let out an angry snarl, lip raised... as if that could possibly be threatening?

“I’m going to kill you, before you take more victims!”

Keith threw himself towards Lance, twin blades sliding from his from his suit into his hands, silver glinting as Keith’s hands wrapped around the handles

“Whoa! Man, wait!”

Leaping back, Lance leapt too far, snacking his back hard against the hallway wall

“Scum sucker!”

“Time out!”

“Die!”

Lance had time to think “Oh, shit!”, as he ducked and rolled, wincing as the blades were embedded into the plasterboard wall

“Dude! My house!”

Leaping backwards into the living room, Shiro seemed pretty damn content watching Keith attempt to murder him

“Shut up!”

“Or we could talk?”

Keith snarled at him again, Lance really didn’t want to hurt the idiot. He was human... with a flick of Lance’s wrist he could snap Keith’s neck by accident. Holding his hands up, he backed up

“Would you just calm down before you destroy more of my house?”

The backs of his legs hit something, Lance tripping backwards like a moron

“Whaaaa...!”

Keith lunged forward, blades coming down at Lance’s face. With the most manliness of screams, Lance flinched at his impending death

“Keith!”

Called by the man formally known as his brother, Shiro, Keith paused. Lance laying there like a moron

“Let me do this!”

“Wait a second, he’s not fighting back”

“Because he knows it’s pointless!”

Well, if it was that pointless, Keith didn’t need his blades. Wrapping his hands around the blade, he pulled both from him Keith’s grip, throwing them blindly behind him

“Excuse me, I am right here! Why...”

“Oh, shut the fuck up!”

Dumb with anger, Keith swung at his face, hitting him fairly in his open mouth.

Lance didn’t know who was more horrified. Him for being punched in the mouth, or Keith who’d cut his damn hand on Lance’s fangs. As the blood on his teeth touched his tongue, Lance’s eyes widened in horror. He’d never... he’d never drank from a human before... he... it was... so fresh... and... god, what was that fucking awful after taste?

“What the fuck?! He bit me!”

“Me?! You punched me in the mouth!”

And chipped his goddamn tooth by the feel of it. Stumbling back, Keith fell back onto his arse, hand clamped around the wrist of his bleeding left hand. Shiro rushed to his brother

“Keith! Hold on, you’re going to be okay”

“He bit me! I can’t... I can’t turn... I can’t be one of those”

“You’re going to be okay...”

Panicked enough to vomit, Keith threw up next to himself

“I don’t feel too well”

“Keith!”

Keith’s eyes rolled back, Lance spitting out the blood in his mouth in disgust

“Yuck. What the hell is that?!”

God... it tasted... like metal? But not the taste of blood... it was like he’d sucked on a fishing weight, his nose firmly wrinkled in disgust

“What did you do to him?”

“Nothing! He punched me in the mouth”

Tapping Keith’s face, Shiro tried to rouse his brother... that wasn’t his brother...?

“Keith? Keith, come on, it’s Shiro...”

So this wasn’t an act? Keith wasn’t faking everything to lure him close?

“Is... is he okay?”

“Does he fucking look okay?”

Shiro was panicked. Ripping his mask off, the man’s face was ashen. For fuck’s sake

“Take his mask off properly, let him get some air”

Shiro did as Lance said, Lance cautiously climbing off the ruins of his coffee table and edging closer. With the mask off, he could smell sickness on Keith

“Somethings wrong with him”

“You fucking bit him!”

It was hardly Lance’s fault that the Vatican couldn’t design a suit that withstood his teeth

“No... wait, his blood tasted strange. What breed is he?”

“What do you mean, “what breed?”, he’s human!”

“If he’s human, his blood wouldn’t have tasted like shit”

Shiro let out a groan, Lance shying back as Shiro started rifling through Keith’s pockets before drawing out a spent syringe

“That idiot!”

“What? What is it?”

“Silver concentrate... with mercury. He must have injected himself”

What a fucking tool. Normal, smart, people didn’t go around injecting themselves with silver! Let alone fucking mercury! The idiot had gone and poisoned himself

“Well do something!”

“I can’t! It’s in his bloodstream!”

Holy fucking shit. Nope. No way. He wasn’t having a damn hunter die in his living room

“Get out the way”

“Wha-...”

“Jesus Christ, fucking move”

Taking just a smidge or revenge, Lance tore Keith’s suit open, looking for the damn injection point. Shiro’s fingers moved to his own blade, at which Lance cast him a very disappointed look. He was obviously about to do something very goddamn stupid for sake of this dumbarse dead beat. Letting his eyes roam Keith’s body, he found the pinprick on his neck, able to see the slight amount of residue built up around the marking

“Go get me a bucket!”

“What?”

“Or a bowl! Just hurry up!”

Shiro scampered off, Lance closing his eyes and saying a prayer. He’d never fed off a living human before, and thanks to Keith, he was going to for the first time in 36 years. 44 years if he was being technical. Shit. He was nervous as hell. The one taboo he’d never broken. For this... Lance’s stomach clenched, he’d been nervous about plenty of things, but this was whole other level nerves. Every cruel thing ever directed at him for being what he was... but Keith had gone and poisoned himself. Cringing, Lance sank his teeth into Keith’s neck, the taste in his mouth was rancid, he wanted to throw it back up and his damn mouth felt tingly. Pulling back, cheeks bludging, Lance tried not to spit out the disgusting sludge in his mouth. When Shiro finally came running back in, Lance ended up spitting blood all over him and not the bowl

“You drank his blood?!”

Ignoring Shiro, Lance forced himself to bite back into Keith’s neck, he couldn’t take another mouthful after this, his mouth would burn and blister, opening sores. Drinking quickly, he pulled back, spitting into the bowl this time

“What are you doing?!”

Letting himself drop back onto his arse, Lance wiped his lips with the back of his hand. His body didn’t know what to do. Blood was supposed to be good... it was good. It was fresh... soooo fucking fresh... but revolting... and the way Keith’s flesh slid up his teeth... Clenching his fists, Lance forced a breath down to calm himself down, before spitting again. Yuck

“What did you do to my brother?!”

Shiro sounded like the worlds most disappointed father. No wonder Keith was such an arsehole, that tone went right through Lance’s heart. Being punched in the face would be kinder

“I sucked out what I could... I think I did it right... I’ve never... I’ve never even drunk from a human before in my life... I couldn’t... he... he could have died... why couldn’t we talk?”

Shiro’s expression shifted to something Lance couldn’t read... No, more like he didn’t want to read the surprise and pain all over Shiro’s face at his shocked babbling

“You...”

Lance was getting teary now, disgusted with himself. He was covered in Keith’s blood. Human blood...

“Take him to the bedroom, use whatever you need... I... can’t do this”

#vld au #klance #vampire Lance #mpreg #mentions in the future #ashrathe rose #on ao3

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crystalgirl259 · 4 years

Text

The Flame and the Dragon Ch9

Chapter 9: The Boy in the Castle

Kai's amber eyes remained fixed on the huge castle before him. The structure stood dark, curved, and magnificent with an unearthly quality that invited doom, but drew unwary travelers to it like ships to a beacon in a raging storm. The two towers boarding the main castle and the multiple spikes, towers, and spires created a jagged line against the sky. Every gargoyle, every window, every arch, and balcony is a perfect mirror of the castle in Kai's mind.

"This is.." He trailed off, the words dying in his throat; his hands gripped the iron bars of the gate so hard the rust of the iron dug into his hands. The only difference between the two castles was this one was dark and foreboding, while the one he was used to was white and rich with life. "This place was only supposed to be a dream! It can't exist." He tried to tell himself and yet there it was. A perfect dark, mirror-image of the castle he saw every time he closed his eyes.

This was where Lloyd and Nya were trapped?

Shaking his head free of the trance once his gaze fell back on Nya's coat, Kai released his grip on the gate then took a few steps back. With a mighty kick, the gates swung open with a loud screech.

"Come on Flame." He called, but the second his foot stepped through the gates a chill ran through his body, either from coldness or fear. The stallion followed, though was much more cautious in his steps and a look of trepidation in his eyes. Kai scowled to himself. Even the horse thinks coming here is a bad idea. But he ignored his own apprehensions and bolted to the entrance.

"Stay here." He told Flame, before cautious climbing up marble steps. He approached the massive doors of the enormous castle, cautiously. The decoration was more lavish than any Kai had seen. He couldn't even begin to imagine what it must've been like centuries prior without age and weather to wither its contents. Swallowing a lump of hesitation, he pulled on the door knockers. The doors open just as the gate did, and once again, the second he stepped through the doors it was like he'd entered another world.

Despite the castle's outwardly withered appearance, the inside was nothing short of magnificent.

With slight hesitation in his step, the teen took a step down the stunning red carpet. Walls of glass were at both sides of him, hazy from years of neglect and caked with dust. A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling. He could only imagine how lovely the crystals and glass looked in the sunlight. He came to another set of enormous doors, much nicer and more elaborate than the ones outside. Vines and roses were elegantly carved into the fine oak wood, climbing up the sides of the door and surrounding the stunning carving of what looked like an enormous dragon.

Kai shook his head again, forcing himself to stay focused.

The doors flung open with a mighty shove and again he found himself within the depths of the castle. His eyes widened in shock. He had never imagined the inside, nor had he ever dreamed it, but even he had to agree it was far more magnificent than he could have possibly imagined. The front hall alone was huge and alight with enormous iron and crystal chandeliers filled with burning wax candles. Brass candle holders lined the inner hallway.

The small candle flames bathed the entire front entrance in a pale glow.

A majestic marble staircase spiraled in one direction leading above the first staircase to what looked like a balcony-hallway. The hallways were like crystal-lined marble chambers that could lead anywhere. The ceiling seemed to go up and on forever like a giant cathedral. The chains holding the chandeliers vanished in the darkness. Gargoyles and statues embedded in the huge walls above him were in scattered locations. The darkness and years of dust draped the entire castle in an eerie atmosphere, but the history of the castle itself spoke more than a hundred ancient tomes.

"Hello!" Kai called, hearing his voice echo against the empty hallways. "Does anybody live here? Hello!" He called again. His own voice boomed around him, the only drop of sound among the room of silence. "I'm looking for my brother and sister! Hello!" He tried for the third time but still got no answer. Confident that the castle was indeed abandoned he turned to the left towards the first corridor. He started calling Nya and Lloyd's names, unable to shake the feeling that someone was watching him in the main hallway...

****************

"What on earth were you and Tox thinking, Jay?" The white and black-haired man in disappointment. He also had a goatee and black eyebrows that looked similar to Kai's. He wore a gray and tan robe-like attire with a leather collar and belt. Jay was currently lying on his back, atop the dining room table, since it hadn't been used in well over a century. Ronin was pacing around in front of them. Zane was in the other room talking to the castle's seamstresses to pay them any attention.

"I know! I know! I'm sorry!" Jay apologized but it was muffled by his hands covering his face. He sat up and braced himself on his arms. "Look me in the eye, Neuro, and tell me you could've left them freezing to death in the middle of a storm?" He asked as his dark blue orbs met Neuro's brilliant onyx ones. Neuro sighed, running a hand through his hair. The white and black wings he adorned in his Tengu form flexed and flapped in thought. Even long before he'd come to the castle, it was rare a single dark thought filled his mind or he wished malice on anyone.

The very thought of him leaving two innocents alone to fend for themselves and being able to cope with such a choice was nothing short of laughable.

"No, I couldn't even if I wished to." He sighed, turning his teacup in his hands. Jay slid off the table, and gulped down his cold tea in one gulp, hoping the mixture would ease the stress barraging his mind. Sadly, it did nothing.

"He shouldn't have been so harsh though; if he had only given me two seconds to explain..." The ginger-haired teen muttered as he gripped the table so hard his nails dug into the wood. Rising to his feet, Neuro placed and comforting hand on Jay's shoulder. He knew Jay blamed himself for what happened the previous night and felt guilty.

"I won't deny his decision was and is a dreadful mistake, but you know he has his reasons; he suffers more a day than any of us could ever understand." He said as Jay collapsed in a chair, and crossed his arms.

"Doesn't mean he has to be so harsh!"

"I warned you." Ronin snapped. "Didn't I warn you? I told you he'd react that way!" He exclaimed as he ran his hands through his brown hair and gripped the locks tightly. "What were you thinking, Jay! Bringing them inside is one thing, but what were you thinking! Changing their clothes, letting them sleep on the master's favorite couch, playing with the boy!" He ranted, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Well, excuse me for trying to be hospitable!" Jay retorted. Neuro sighed in annoyance, doing his best to tune out the two boy's argument, if only for his own sake and sanity...

****************

In the other room, Zane had just finished speaking with the castle's seamstresses by the time Nelson burst into the room, wild with excitement. Nelson was a young boy around Lloyd's age with light brown hair combed to the side. He was wearing a purple sweatshirt with white printed on the back and light blue pants. The seamstress was in her true form, a stunning woman with elegant waves of bleached white hair tied in a bun. Her stunning sharp emerald eyes radiated fierce independence but softened when she saw Nelson.

She always had a soft spot for the younger members of the staff.

"Where are you off to in such a rush?" She asked, sweetly.

"Harumi, Zane, you're not gonna believe this!" Nelson practically bounced with excitement. "There's a boy in the castle!"

"We're aware of that, Nelson; he's in the tower with his sister," Zane responded, without taking his eyes off the clipboard.

"Not them, Zane!" Nelson corrected. "There's another boy in the castle! He's here looking for them!"

"Are you sure?" Harumi asked, eyes wide with surprise.

"I'm positive!"

"That's enough, Nelson!" Zane scolded. "We all have work to do including you; no time for stories."

"But Zane—"

"Enough Nelson!" The yeti snapped, but before Zane could say another word, another servant burst into the room with a wide giddy grin. It was a woman with long black hair that was tied back in a tall ponytail with pale, almost grey skin and violet eyes. She wore a dark purple biker outfit. Harumi jumped in surprise at her sudden entrance.

"Ultra Violet! You'll give me a heart attack!" She scolded her wife. Though Harumi and Ultra Violet were the same age, Violet always acted so much younger.

"What is it, Ultra Violet?" Zane asked, sternly, clearly not in the mood for any more surprises since the previous night.

"THERE'S A BOY IN THE CASTLE! AN ACTUAL BOY!" She shrieked, almost bursting with happiness. Harumi's jaw hit the floor. Zane's eyes bulged out of his skull.

"I told you so!" Nelson screamed with a glare and a wide smirk...

****************

Neuro's hand clenched the teacup and plate so hard it almost shattered. He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes in frustration, unable to decide if he should yell at the two arguing boys in front of him or drag them upstairs by their ears.

"I don't care if the Master is being unfair, that's already been established! Fact is you put them in danger!" Ronin accused.

"Well excuse me for trying to be nice!" Jay retorted meeting the man's angry gaze.

"Figures, the first two people to enter this fucking place in a hundred years, and we get them both imprisoned in a tower for the rest of their lives!" The troll snarled as he turned away and started pulling at his hair in frustration. Jay growled in anger. Neuro slammed the cup down on the table.

"Silence the both of you!" He scolded them both, causing both of them to turn their heads. They knew full well of the temper that was hidden behind Neuro's polite and stoic appearance, but it was still a shock when it surfaced. "If you two do not refrain from arguing this very second, so help me God I will—"

"Nya?" An unfamiliar voice suddenly echoed nearby. All three servants froze and bolted towards the source of the voice, their anger was forgotten. A flash of red passed the dining room entrance. Jay and Ronin met eyes before throwing themselves up and gripping the side of the wall. Their eyes widened and their mouths gaped in shock.

"It's a boy!" Jay announced.

"No, ya think?" Ronin retorted, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"What is he doing here?" Neuro asked as he blinked in shock, bewilderment, and worry. A giddy smile crossed Jay's face, and he started bouncing up and down in happiness.

"I knew it! I knew it! Don't you see?" He explained dancing around a bewildered Ronin. "He's the one! The one we've been waiting for! The one who's going to break the spell!"

"Jay, we've been through this, you're optimizing again!" Ronin said extremely patiently and panicked as if he were talking to an insane asylum patient.

"And it's paid off!" Jay beamed before he suddenly bounced before dashing to catch up to their guest.

"Wait a minute! Wait a minute!" Neuro called, then cried out in shock when a purple dash crashed into him and another dove over him.

"Sorry, Neuro!" Nelson apologized over his shoulder. Tox bolted after her smaller friend in her naga form, before transforming back into her own human form without halting in her step. Before Neuro could voice a protest, several gusts of wind bolted past him, sending him to the floor again. The first one came from a small glowing pixie with purple wings and a familiar, giddy grin. She was followed by a stunning woman with long white hair, pointed ears, talons for hands and feet, and jade green feathered wings growing from her arms.

Another fairy and a purple naga followed closely behind her.

"Sorry, Neuro, we're in a rush!" The purple pixie, Ultra Violet, called over her thin, amethyst wings.

"What the hell is going on?" Neuro demanded.

"They're a boy in the castle!" The fairy paused in mid-flight to respond, before following the others. Neuro remained sitting on the floor, his jaw slacked in shock, and his eyes bulged with confusion.

"Has everyone lost their minds?"...

#The Flame and the Dragon #beauty and the beast #ninjago #ninjago zane #ninjago cole #ninjago kai #ninjago lloyd #ninjago jay #ninjago nya #ninjago ronin #ninjago harumi #ninjago nelson #ninjago fanfiction

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procancelled · 4 years

Text

It’s Hard To Be A Diamond In A Rhine Stone World 2008

Something I’ve noticed is that the majority of BOTDF songs address the listener instead of a specific person in the song. This is concerning given how sexual the songs are and how young the fanbase is.

Slash Gash Terror Crew Anthem!

- Fandom name.

- Violent

- Anthem for the fanbase is very sexual despite fanbase is young.

Bend over

Shake those titties

- Gross and demeaning

Pull over

Hello Kitty

- This is a FUCKING CHILDREN’S CARTOON CHARACTER!

Back it up like a U-Haul truck

Sock it to me

Rub my junk

- Anthem for fanbase asks them to do sexual things to Dahvie

You’re a freak… like me!

- Trying to connect to the audience and make them relate to him

Save the Rave

You can talk

You stupid tricks

- Demeaning to people who criticise him or come out with allegations against him

I’ve taken the pills

Giving into cheap thrills

- Normalising drug use

I fell in love with a girl

At the dance club

She said what! As I’m kicking

Up the party drugs

- Connecting relationships, ‘love’ and drug use

Shoot up this place

- Violent

S My D

- A whole song dedicated to Dahvie’s oral sex fixation

I’m probably gonna lick

Feel you up until you drip

- Oral sex fixation and overly sexual

Do you like my sexy hair?

- Wig, shitty, mouldy, stinky wig.

I’m not wearing any underwear

- So it’s easier to get your dick out?

- Also, this is said in a very childish tone instead of trying to sound sexual

S my D

Pop it out like lipstick

- Childish sounding when referring to his oral sex fixation

Take the bottles, pop ‘em out

- Connecting alcohol with sex

Gimme gimme more on the dance floor

- Sex in public, exhibitionism

Turn around, what the hell

Go real fast, break it down

Do it ‘til you touch the ground

Want it slick, want it sure?

- Fast semi-violent sex

Bitch I know you want some more

- Disrespectful and also sounds very rapey

So open me up like Christmas

- Childish sounding which is very gross

S my D motherfuckin’ bitches

- Disrespectful and demeaning

Suck it good

Suck it hard

Suck it right

- Demanding

- Oral sex fixation

- If you want good oral sex then maybe you shouldn’t try to get oral sex from underage virgins, most of which don’t know or understand oral sex

Ima Monster (Heart On My Sleeve)

- Yes you are

I’m banging with the b-o—t-o-dizzle

With wiffles

- What the fuck does this mean?

‘Cause I dribble like I’m rubbing on nipples

- Obsession with breasts

- Why would rubbing nipples make him dribble so much? He’s not seen boobs for the first time, he’s an adult

Gotta get out the pickle

- Childish sounding and gross

Make it rain with the ripples

Let my candy rum trickle

- Linking alcohol and sex

Get you buzzed with double triples

Getting head, in rentals

- Oral sex fixation

- Car sex again

Avoiding the parentals

- Why would adults need to avoid parents? Because an adult should be having sex/a relationship with an adult so parents aren’t an issue right? Unless this is actually because he is avoiding parents because he intents to pursue a minor

They be hatin’ us

Cause we glamourous

They be hatin’ us

Cause I’m fabulous

- Uses things like jealousy as the only reason he/the band are hated

Can’t stop me once I’ve started

- Sounds rapey as fuck

Baby got me retarded

- Slur

Chop, chop, chop you up

- Violent

Eat you like a cannibal

Spit you like an animal

- Violent

- Dismissive, uncaring and disrespectful

Slice, slice, slice you up

Cut you up, I’ll slice and dice

- Violent

Serve you up as cold as ice

- Gloating

Go ‘head girl, shake that butt

Make me freaking bust a nut

- Overly sexual

- Objectifying

Let’s get wasted, super UHW

Guess what honey, I’m a freak

I’m a freak, inside the sheets

- Links alcohol and sex

- Saying he’s a ‘freak’ is reminiscent of how he uses BDSM as an excuse

Rough, tough, naughty nurse

Rip it up, make it hurt

- Normalising rough sex to a young audience that doesn’t know much about sex

- Telling fans what he likes and what he’s like (supposedly) sexually

Don’t stop, get it, get it

Last for hours, not for minutes

- Demanding

- Yeah as if you could Dahvie

Open wide for my surprise

- Oral sex fixation

Scratch and blow for your grand prize

Smear it on your plastic face

- Rude

- Marking who he’s with sexually

Leave you with a sweeter taste

- He has told girls that his cum tastes like ice cream, young girls.

Super soaker on your chest

Let it drip down on your breasts

- Breast obsession

- At shows he would pour drinks on girls chests. He would also spit on them, mainly whichever girl he decided he wanted to have sex with

Haters make me famous

- He indoctrinates his fans to think this way so whenever they see people criticise him or talk about what he did to them they will just replay that their ‘hate’ is just making Dahvie more famous

- They aren’t haters and Dahvie is famous for all the wrong reasons

It’s Hard To Be A Diamond In A Rhine Stone World

Slash Gash Terror what?

Slash Gash Terror who?

Slash Gash Party Crew

- Violent name for fanbase

You know how we fucking do

- Telling fanbase how to act

Pull over, that ass is so phat

You makin’ me clap

- Overly sexual and demeaning

I don’t know how to act

- He really doesn’t

I do it in the front

I do it in the back

Shake it down like that

Make that booty go clap

- Overly sexual while sounding childish and not sexy in any way

Can’t knock it, I’m profit

- Money obsession

- Uses money and parents connect to the cops in his area to get out of any repercussions

I got paper to chase

I got money to make

- By scamming fans

Squish, squish on your chest

- Childish sounding

Rub those titties, super breast

- Ah yes, one single super breast, the other one is mediocre

- Breast obsession

Ah, ah lost my breath

Ultra sex you’re the best

- Overly sexual

I’m packing

- Doubt

I’m stacking

Some rated x action

Strawberry whip cream

We can be a sweet team

Bang bang choo choo train

Show me how you work that thing

- Childish sounding while being overly sexual

This is how we fucking do

In the Slash Gash Terror Crew

- Addressing fans

- Telling fans how to act

Keys To The Bakery

Haters block

- ‘Haters’ = valid critics

- Ironic since he blocks anyone who comments on his posts with the allegations against him

And snitches rock

- Does he mean rock in some kind of bad way?

- He calls anyone who confesses what he did to them as a snitch to make it sound bad so his fans go after them

Yo pass me the cup

I’ll drink till

I throw up

- Unhealthy behaviour being normalised to a fanbase where the majority can’t legally buy alcohol

I get you wetter than Hurricane Katrina

- Hurricane Katrina happened in 2005, three years before this album came out. People were still suffering.

- Hurricane Katrina caused 1,200 deaths and $125 billion in damages

- This line is said eight times in this song

Cuddle leads to trouble

When you’re up in my bubble

- Sounds incredibly rapey

I don’t chase em

I replace em

- It has been reported that over 100 people have reached out with stories about how they have been hurt by Dahvie

- If Dahvie couldn’t get what he wanted from someone he would stop contacting them

- He would also stop contact if he felt at risk of being exposed

Stackin’ hoes

Like dominoes

- Disrespectful

Make a rumour

- Constantly calls the allegations ‘rumours’ so they seem less valid, especially to people who don’t look into them further

Sense of humour

- Nothing about rape or paedophilia is funny

Entertain with my life

Make me popular over night

To be famous is so nice

- Acts as if the allegations just gain him fame. He is the literal embodiment of ‘HaTeRZ MaKE mE FaMOUs’

Reeses pieces butter cup

- Random and childish sounding

Mess with me

I’ll fuck you up

- Threatening violence

- Many victims have said he is a violent person

This is how we party up

- Saying the way he acts is normal

She licked it like a lolli pop

- Childish sounding

- Oral sex fixation

Don’t stop till you hit the spot

- Demanding

You got me crazy or maybe

Get smashed

- Linking sex and alcohol

I can’t stop

Till I pop

- Sounds rapey

- Only cares if he gets off, doesn’t care about the other person

There’s danger on the spot

- Dahvie is the danger

Got money in my hands

Mad dough! Cash flow

Got the diamonds that glow

We be popin’ Champaign

Like we won the damn game

- Obsession with being rich and flaunting that

- He hasn’t got anything now. He’s poor and lives with his parents

Mosh and Roll!

When I step in the club

Everybody shows me love

- No they don’t

- And now some places, not just clubs, won’t let him in

I’m in the business of terror

- Being honest there

More metal than Slayer

- HA! HA! HA!

- THE FUCK!?!?!?!?

I got money and hoes

- Demeaning

In different area codes

- Has victimised women in many states and even different countries

Cause haters make me famous

- This stupid narrative again

But love will make you shameless

- Dahvie doesn’t understand love and he also should feel shame

I’ll slash, gash this party bash

- Violent

Gotta get that money cash

- By scamming?

Up and down with no breaks

We as in, I’ll make you shake

- Gross and overly sexual

We’re gonna burn this town

To the ground

- Violent

I’m not a trend sweater

I’m a trend setter

- This is an actual line that is spoken

Girl you better pop an umbrella cause

You’re making me wet drip, drip

I gotta get that lick

- Oral sex fixation

For the centre of the tootsie pop

- Childish sounding

You know I can’t stop

- Sounds rapey

Shank you with my bling brass

- Violent

Stacking up on my money cash

- Obsession about money

Do You Want To Be A Superstar?

Ummm… Mic check…

One… Two… Um… Fucking twelve

- Again this is an actual line that is spoken

My fashion is so siq

- He dresses the way he does so he looks younger

My fashion will make you lick

- Oral sex fixation

Watch those panties fucking drip

- Gross and overly sexual

Scene hair weave

- Scene hair wig you mean

Scene attitude so fucking mean

- Acts like being mean is okay and normal because of being part of a certain ‘culture’

Get on the floor

Get on the whore

- Demanding and demeaning

Pull down your pants and drop your drows

- Demanding

(Like Oh My God Dahvie you’re so obscene)

- Acts like everything he does is just because he’s ‘obscene’ which is like him saying that how he treats women while he forces himself on them is BDSM

Bitch I’m the motherfucking war machine

- Violent

Don’t give a fuck just bust your grill

- Doesn’t care about being violent

Throw them hoes

- Demeaning and dismissive

Throw these motherfuckers who get too close

- Violent

Porn star bash

Porn star splash

- Porn obsession

My porn star cash

- Dahvie isn’t a porn star

Pretty damn stoned

- Linking drugs and sex

Pretty fucked up? Yeah I know

- Acts like everything he does is a big deal

Do you wanna be a super star?

Get fucked up and go real far?

- Acts like if you’re famous you are going to get ‘fucked up’

Or do you want to be a porn star?

Fuck for money and go real far

- Demeaning sex work

Wet from dreams

Wet from screams

Wet from sex and dripping with cream

- Overly sexual

HOT HOT SEX!

HOT HOT BREASTS!

HOT WHITE TIGHT SHIRTS

BUSTING OUT YOU’RE CHEST

Double D titties

Double D pretties

- Obsession with breasts

- Objectifying women

Girl got them thighs

You’re pretty damn fine

- Objectifying

I don’t give a fuck what I say

I don’t give a fuck I do it everyday

- He literally doesn’t care as long as he gets away with what he does

Yes I’m different

Yet I’m unique

- ‘Uwu I’m not like other predators’

Mess with me

I’ll grind you like meat

- Threatening violence

Let’s get wasted, super fucked

Go head girl shake that butt

- Childish sounding

- Linking sex with alcohol

(Let’s get wasted)

Make me fucking bust a nut

- Demanding

Wet Dream War Machine

Operation get crunk, I'm in love with your trunk

- Combines sex, alcohol and ‘love’

Get me fucking love drunk, baby girl I want

Drugged up like party monster, sexed up so grab the condoms

- Links drugs and sex

Boom, Boom, Boom

In my hotel room

- Raped underage girls in his hotel rooms while touring or would book a hotel room to take underage girls to

I'm the teenage bloody dream

- ‘Bloody’ is he trying to be British or violent

- He isn’t a teen and also shouldn’t be encouraging teens to want to be with him

Everybody fuck me

- No

Getcha drink on

Take your clothes off

Let’s get down and dirty

- Normalising drunk sex

- Demeaning

Mad Rad Hair

- You mean wig

I'm fenny not a faggot!

- Slur

With extensions so thick

- It’s a wig not just extensions

You can suck my dick

- Oral sex fixation

So get in my chair

Let me pimp your hair

- Used cutting hair as a way to spend time with underage girls. Arrived at a time when the parents would have to go to work so he could be alone with the underage girl

- He couldn’t cut hair. He called himself Dahvie The Elite Hair God on MySpace but he had not talent. I would think it’s the same with makeup. During this time his makeup wasn’t very heavy. It was only when Jayy joined the band and the band was more successful that his makeup got more extreme since he could afford a makeup artist, and Jayy actually can do makeup.

Let’s get wasted super fucked

- Alcohol reference

My hair is better than yours

- IT’S A WIG!

So just fuck me on the dance floor

- Demanding

- Exhibitionist

Everybody gettin' tense

Feeling up my body

- Overly sexual

I love this filthy

Life to get CRUNK ALL NIGHT!

- Linking alcohol and sex

My hair’s looking so tight

- WIG!

In case you didn't know

I'm a really big deal

- He wasn’t overly famous outside of MySpace at this point

So shut the fuck up

- Demanding and disrespectful

And take your clothes off

- Using fame to get people to have sex with him

Come' a MySpace whore

- Demeaning

- Telling his fans the kind of person he’s interested in

- Being scene was a way for him to look younger and prey on young girls

Change your name to

XXGORE

- He gave some of his victims their MySpace name

#Blood On The Dance Floor #dahvie vanity #kawaii monster #anti blood on the dance floor #anti dahvie vanity #trigger warning rape #tw: rape #botdf #anti botdf

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justsomeantifas · 6 years

Link

If nearly a decade interviewing the wealth managers for the 1% taught me anything, it is that the ultra-rich and the ultra-poor have a lot more in common than stereotypes might lead you to believe.

In conversation, wealth managers kept coming back to the flamboyant vices of their clients. It was quite unexpected, in the course of discussing tax avoidance, to hear professional service providers say things like:

“I’ve told my colleagues: ‘If I ever become like some of our clients, shoot me.’ Because they are really immoral people – too much time on their hands, and all the money means they have no limits. I was actually told by one client not to bring my wife on a trip to Monaco unless I wanted to see her get hit on by 10 guys. The local sport, he said, was picking up other men’s wives.”

The clients of this Geneva-based wealth manager also “believe that they are descended from the pharaohs, and that they were destined to inherit the earth”.

If a poor person voiced such beliefs, he or she might well be institutionalized; for those who work with the wealthy, however, such “eccentricities” are all in a day’s work. Indeed, an underappreciated irony of accelerating economic inequality has been the way it has exposed behaviors among the ultra-rich that mirror the supposed “pathologies” of the ultra-poor.

In fact, one of the London-based wealth managers I interviewed said that a willingness to accept with equanimity behavior that would be considered outrageous in others was an informal job requirement. Clients, he said, specifically chose wealth managers not just on technical competence, but on their ability to remain unscandalized by the private lives of the ultra-rich: “They [the clients] have to pick someone they want to know everything about them: about Mother’s lesbian affairs, Brother’s drug addiction, the spurned lovers bursting into the room.” Many of these clients are not employed and live off family largesse, but no one calls them lazy.

As Lane and Harburg put it in the libretto of the musical Finian’s Rainbow:

When a rich man doesn’t want to work

He’s a bon vivant, yes, he’s a bon vivant

But when a poor man doesn’t want to work

He’s a loafer, he’s a lounger

He’s a lazy good for nothing, he’s a jerk

When the wealthy are revealed to be drug addicts, philanderers, or work-shy, the response is – at most – a frisson of tabloid-level curiosity, followed by a collective shrug.

Behaviors indulged in the rich are not just condemned in the poor, but used as a justification to punish them, denying them access to resources that keep them alive, such as healthcare and food assistance. Discussion of poverty has become almost impossible without moral outrage directed at lazy “welfare queens”, “crackheads” and other drug addicts, and the “promiscuous poor” (a phrase that has cropped up again and again in discussions of public benefits over more than a century).

These disparate perceptions aren’t just evidence of hypocrisy; they are literally a matter of life and death. In the US, the widespread belief that the poor are simply lazy has led many states to impose work requirements on aid recipients –even those who have been medically classified as disabled. Limiting aid programs in this way has been shown to shorten recipients’ lives: rather than the intended consequence of pushing recipients into paid employment, the restrictions have simply left them without access to medical care or a sufficient food supply. Thus, in one of the richest counties in America, a boy living in poverty died of a toothache; there were no protests, and nothing changed.

Meanwhile, the “billionaire” in the White House starts his days at 11am – the rest of the morning is coyly termed “executive time” – and is known for his frequent holidays. “Nice work if you can get it,” quipped an opinion piece in the Washington Post.

We don’t hear much about laziness, drug addiction or promiscuity among the wealthiest members of society because – unlike Trump – most billionaires are not public figures and go to great lengths to seek privacy. Thus the motto of one London-based wealth management firm: “I want to be invisible.” This company, like many other service providers to the ultra-rich, specializes in preserving secrecy for clients. The wealthy people I studied not only had wealth managers but often dedicated staff members who killed negative stories about them in the media and kept their names off the Forbes “rich list”.

Many even present themselves as homeless – for tax purposes – despite owning multiple residences. For the ultra-rich, having no fixed residence provides major legal and financial advantages; this is exemplified by the case of the wealthy businessman who acquired eight different nationalities in order to avoid taxes on his fortune, and by the UK native I interviewed in his Dubai apartment building:

“I am not tax resident anywhere. The tax man says ‘show me a utility bill’, and the only utility bill I can present is for the house I own in Thailand, and it’s in a language that the European authorities aren’t familiar with. With all the mobility going on in the world, international marriages, governments can’t keep up with people.”

Meanwhile, the poor can end up being “resident nowhere” because no one will allow them to stay in one place for very long; as the sociologist Cristobal Young has shown, the majority of migrants are poor people. In addition, the poor are routinely evicted from housing on the slightest pretext, frequently driving them into homeless shelters – which are in turn forced to move when local homeowners engage in nimby (not in my back yard) protests. Even the design of public spaces is increasingly organized to deny the poor a place to alight, however temporarily.

It is as if the right to move around, to take up space, and to direct your own life as you see fit have become luxury goods, available to those who can pay instead of being human rights. For the rich, deviance from social norms is nearly consequence-free, to the point where outright criminality is tolerated: witness the collective shrug that greeted revelations of massive intergenerational tax fraud in the Trump family.

For the poor, however, even the most minor deviance from others’ expectations – like buying ice cream or soft drinks with food stamps – results in stigmatization, limits on their autonomy, and deprivation of basic human needs. This makes life far more nasty, brutish and short for those on the lowest rungs of the socio-economic ladder, creating a chasm of more than 20 years in life expectancy between rich and poor. This appears to some as a fully justified consequence of “personal responsibility” – the poor deserve to die because of their moral failings.

So while the behavior of the ultra-rich gets an ever-widening scope of social leeway, the lives of the poor are foreshortened in every sense. Once upon a time, they were urged to eat cake; now the cake earns them a public scolding.

#capitalism #poverty #child death #classism #class warfare #drugs mention #health care #neoliberalism #violence #income inequality #links

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gothamdetected-a · 5 years

Text

an idiots guide to gotham.

sim, i hear you say, what the hell are you doing? it’s gotham. everyone knows gotham. batman’s hometown. arkham asylum. what more is there to know?

surprisingly, a lot.

for example, did you know that the it has been described as "Manhattan below Fourteenth Street at eleven minutes past midnight on the coldest night in November." which i think is one of the coolest descriptions of an aesthetic ever. thanks dennis. anyway, there’s a lot more to this city and it’s mad confusing history than first meets the eye, so in true sim fashion, i’m here to whoop dc into shape and attempt to make sense of it all. in the immortal words of coldplay “oh take me back to the start.”

as a geography nerd, i’d like to begin way way back. like continent forming era. star wars’ a long long time ago has got nothing on this. because really, why is gotham so plagued with crime and corruption? why is it perpetually cloudy and gloomy and dark? why is this tiny patch of american coastline continually the stage for insane events while everywhere else around it seems perfectly fine and chilling.

it’s because of cthulu.

well, kind of. seriously. apparently trapped beneath the actual earth of gotham is a lovecraftian-esque being who’s been chilling for 40,000 years. yeah, bet you didn’t know that. it even takes to calling itself “doctor gotham” after long enough, but that might just be a writer taking the piss out of dr manhattan, which honestly, im here for. so there’s some ancient slumbering god just poisoning what will become gotham, with it’s “evil essence” or whatever. there is a native american tribe who lives in the area - the miagani. in a croatoan-like fashion, they mysteriously disappear one day: no one knows exactly what happened to them, but there’s speculation of black magic and an insane shaman who goes all caesar on them and tries to develop a tyrannical rule, but they seal him in a cave and flee only to be slaughtered by a neighbouring tribe/a mysterious natural disaster. already this place is giving off the Not Good Vibes.

some time later a bunch of colonists arrive, one of whom is named hiriam arkham. he tries to build a chapel, but it ends up being the site of a murder and so that idea is abandoned. the colonists later accidentally open the cave and release Deacon Blackfire (nasty shaman man), who is fairly immortal, definitely a shithead, and also becomes a batman adversary and a black lantern corp member/zombie in a few hundred years. fun. the colonists are never seen again. wonder what happened there.

so the ground keeps being corrupted and drawing the nasties to it. one of these nasties is a norwegian mercenary, captain jon logerquist, who lands there circa 1635 with his crew, feels the heeby jeebies vibe and goes ah yes. this is where i shall settle. utter weirdo. so suddenly we have a city being formed - you guessed it, gotham city, also known simply as gotham. and everything is fairly chill for a while. the city is known to be a hideout for ruffians and smugglers, has a fairly higher proportion of stabbings and burglaries, but other than it being a bit of a lawless wasteland, it’s not, you know, any stranger than other pre-civil war american towns. at some point war for independence ( 1775–1783 ) rolls through, and there’s a fairly large battle that is long and bloody and doesn’t look like is going to be won so the founding fathers decide to do something extra stupid, and summon a bat-demon. yes, literally, a bat-demon. that they think will help them turn the tides of the battle. instead they realise it can’t be controlled, panic a bit, and end up trapping it beneath gotham, nice and snuggled next to fucking cthulu’s cousin. so gotham is now especially Cursed, and also starts gathering a large number of bat colonies in it’s underground cave system, because they’re all coming to worship this demon thing or w/e.

next step is the civil war ( 1861-1865 ), and this is the first time we get a cobblepot in town - colonel nathan cobblepot to be precise. a couple of generations happen, and the town is growing into a city - at this point five of the families truly “found” gotham as a metropolitan and industrial hub, building bridges to connect the islands and forging the path to gotham as it is today. these five families are the cobblepots, the elliots, the crownes, the kanes and the waynes. these eventually become known as gotham’s oldest lineages, and it’s wealthiest, forming the future of gotham high society. however the cobblepots eventually end with penguin, and thomas elliot gets salty and becomes hush ,and the kanes and waynes decide to start dressing up as bats so it’s more like a cautionary tale than anything.

around this time (1870), ra’s al ghul builds wonder city beneath gotham’s old town, and around a naturally occurring lazarus pit under the city. wonder tower becomes a spectacle of the gotham skyline, their equivalent to the empire state or big ben. eventually the project is abandoned, especially after mysterious disappearances, rumours of madness and strange sounds of rioting emerging from the nearly completed project. also occurring in this decade is the conversion of arkham manor into the elizabeth arkham sanatorium (which would later become arkham asylum) under the then heir, amadeus arkham. elizabeth commits suicide, a serial killer murders the rest of the family, save amadeus, who then goes mad and begins dabbling in the occult and experimenting on patients, eventually becoming one himself. despite all this, arkham asylum remains open, setting the scene for this to be one of the most tragic and fucked up buildings in america.

another generation goes by and the wayne family produces solomon wayne, who will eventually become an incredibly important figure to gotham, partly because he is a judge and has a courthouse named after him and all that, but mostly because solomon wayne is the man who hires cyrus pinkney. who? you ask. literally the man responsible for gotham’s fucked up architecture. solomon wayne commissions him to create what he calls “gotham style” around 1890, and pinkney, heavily influenced by both cubist/surrealist design and the gothic revival, is the bastard who ensures everything has a gargoyle slapped on it and that gotham cathedral could literally be home to dracula. every inch of the city is covered in hidden meanings and mysticism, because, if you haven’t already guessed, pinkney was a bit nuts, but solomon wayne seems mighty pleased by this and it does actually boost gotham’s industry and cause people to relocate to it from the surrounding area. pinkney’s final piece de resistance is the statue the lady of gotham (officially named Justice opens her eyes to the world ) in the gotham harbour, yet another new york parallel.

however as a result of booming capitalism and continued gentrification, gotham develops extreme poverty, with several areas of the city, specifically around the docks, the bowery and the narrows, becoming slums. crime levels continue to rise, and many writers take inspiration from chicago and new york mobs in the 30′s and 40′s, drawing parallels and creating organised crime, mafias and gangs. families like the maronis, falcones and thornes begin to take over the city, shaking down businesses for “protection” developing protsitution and drug running rings, importing weapons etc. gotham becomes seen nationally as a dark foreboding metropolis, where the ultra-rich one percenters drink champagne in their ivory towers while the poor of the city suffer and die. city planners also take this opportunity to go absolutely nuts, and build bomb shelters, underground highways, crazy sewer systems, you name it. after all, no one cares right? it’s gotham. by the time the cold war comes to a head, the city is literally riddled with layers of alleys and tunnels and walkways, all over burdened by the watchful eyes of giant bronze statues and stone grotesques.

then, thomas and martha wayne appear, and really start trying to change the city. they develop philantrophic interests, help to create the monorail, encourage the other wealthy elite of the city to care about the rotting corpse of gotham. change is slow, but it happens. the city starts to brighten up, vaguely, and the waynes become heralded as gotham’s saviours, becoming more than a household name. of course, they get shot, in an alleyway, by joe chill, and that same night batman is born. it takes him like 20 years to actually appear in the city, but boy when he does appear, he goes ham. this isn’t a batman meta tho, so i’ll keep it light on his backstory and involvement.

batman tackles corruption in the city, purging the gcpd, bringing criminals to justice etc, all while bruce wayne makes his lauded return and begins trying to change things in the same way that his parents did - investing in the city, creating public services, developing grass roots projects in the worst affected areas of gotham. however, this city is quite literally Cursed and it all goes very wrong very quickly.

first, ra’s al ghul unleashes the clench (also known as Ebola Gulf A virus) into gotham high society, and through the contagion storyline, a LOT of gothamites die. i think it’s like 40% but don’t quote me on that. the whole city is quarantined, but batman manages to save the day! hooray! wrong. the second disaster happens in the cataclysm arc - a 7.6 richter earthquake (although in my professional opinion this should probably be measured using the mercalli scale because you have to take into account the density of population etc in the area, but whatever, dc don’t study earthquakes like i do :/). as a result of these two events happening literally within months of each other, the entire city is declared a “no man’s land” by the US government. most civilians are evacuated, it is cut off from the mainland by destroying bridges and creating a military blockade and left to literally rot. no central government is applicable, no services are available, and very quickly gangs take over, carving up the city between them. imagine the purge but never ending. that’s gotham. huntress and oracle and the remaining scraps of the gcpd try to keep some kind of order, while bruce fucks off to petition the government into not being dicks and fixing the city rather than abandoning it. eventually, he comes back, batman battles a lot of people, luthor donates enough money to save the city and gotham is rebuilt and repatriated as part of the us.

then the next big events include:

• henri ducard as ra’s al ghul tries to cover the city in fear toxin after teaming up with scarecrow. the narrows is especially targeted.

• steph accidentally starts a gang war after going through batman’s stuff unsupervised. for a while black mask rules gotham.

• hugo strange convinces the gotham city council to let him have old gotham, which he converts into arkham city. eventually wonder tower explodes and the “city” is shut down, cut off from the rest of gotham.

• scarecrow successfully releases his fear toxin over gotham via the cloudburst system. most civilians have already been evacuated, but the city is thrown into ruin and chaos.

these are just the biggest points though, and the ones which help to tie film, comics and games together. my favourite part of gotham i haven’t even talked about yet. but i’m gonna. here we go.

gotham is chronologically removed.

obviously time progresses there, but there is a immense sense of timelessness. gotham does not move on with the rest of the world. there’s a huge mash of different eras and styles. there are airships in the sky and maglev monorails on the ground, people use typewriters alongside touch screen laptops, buildings are either twisted gothic nightmares or glistening modern skyscrapers. the time frame that should be obvious from the setting is completely ambiguous. and it’s brilliant, because really it means that the time is not important. it could be set anywhere, anywhen. gotham looks almost the same in the 40s as it does in 2020, and it means that batman and these events can be slotted into pretty much any decade. batman can be born in 1939 or 1969 or 1999 and it still all works. it’s a mash up of modern expressionism and constructivism and art deco and gothic revival and surrealism and space-age futurism and industrialism and honest to god i could literally talk about this all day. but i mustnt so i shall stop now.

basically the tldr here is that i have a fetish for urban decay, gotham was fucked from day 1 due to some bullshit evil god beneath it, and literally house prices must be so low, because who the hell would want to live there.

#my metas get longer with every day #long post /#\system\directory\hidden.txt ›› META

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qqueenofhades · 5 years

Note

Ahem. As discussed, a prompt my good lady...Lucy and Flynn + fake married in Dubrovnik + the inevitable shenanigans...

Okay SO. On the plane over, there was something in the magazine about a website where tourists can go to Amsterdam and fake-marry a local for a day, so their new “spouse” can take them around the non-tourist parts of the city, and then they go their separate ways at dusk and it’s fun etc. I immediately decided that this needed a Garcy AU, for obvious reasons.

Lucy Preston wasn’t really planning on going to Croatia. In fact, she wasn’t exactly planning to go anywhere. But it’s been a rough few months to say the least – tenure meeting cancelled at Stanford, breaking up with Noah, Mom has to go back to the hospital for more tests and it isn’t looking good – and in a fit of late-night frustration, she decided to just fly somewhere over Thanksgiving break and forget about the clusterfuck that was her life for a bit. Somewhere warm, she wasn’t picky. She suggested that Amy go with her, but Amy had work and couldn’t get away, and by then, Lucy had already booked a ticket. She’s heard that Dubrovnik is beautiful, there is a university and a state archive there so she can theoretically disguise it as a research trip, and when she was running through the apparently deeply cursed Frankfurt airport to catch her connecting flight, a text popped up from Amy. Something that she thinks Lucy should try, just for shits and giggles. Some kind of app called Untourist.

Lucy took a look at it and decided that it was basically Tinder for tourists, even if the premise tried to be more classy than that. In short, you can pick a European city from the list (More Locations Coming Soon!, promises the popup), fill in some brief preference Q&As, and be matched with a local, who will fake-marry you in a ceremony complete with photos and then take you on a “honeymoon” for a day in the city. The idea is that you get to have a personal guide, explore places off the main drag – and presumably, if you hook up at the end, that’s a nice bonus, but not one that the app strictly advertises. It sees itself as promoting intercultural connections and lived experiences, rather than anything so ignominious as arranging casual sex with a hot foreigner. Apparently it got its start in Amsterdam, though, so this would not be surprising.

The split with Noah is still raw, and Lucy isn’t planning to use the app for that purpose – or indeed, at all. But after she has landed at the surprisingly tiny airport and has boarded the bus for the drive along the coast road to the city, she downloads it on a whim that she shouldn’t think through and decides it might be fun to have someone to travel with, even briefly. After she’s signed up, created a profile, and filled in her details, she is given two options to match with, and ends up going for the latter: Garcia from Dubrovnik. She thought about Marko from Zagreb, but his profile says that he’s a Dinamo Ultra, and she decided that she didn’t want to spend the day getting a crash course in the finer points of Croatian football hooliganism. Garcia it is, apparently.

Dubrovnik is insanely beautiful, with crystalline turquoise water lapping at towering medieval city walls (souvenir shops every few streets will proudly remind you that they filmed Game of Thrones here), palm trees, red-tiled roofs, old golden-stone buildings, winding side alleys, and sunlight that pours down as rich as olive oil. Since it’s November, it’s not quite as hot as in high summer, and the tourist rush is somewhat dimmed. Lucy sleeps late at her Airbnb high on a very steep side street, as the city is spread out over several hills on the side of the tall blue mountains that rise out of the water, and almost forgets that her fake wedding is today. She jumps out of bed, puts on some makeup (just because she’s not actually marrying the guy doesn’t mean she has to look completely trollish), grabs her bag, and heads down into town, following a winding alley of staircases that are probably going to be a pain to climb back up. She hopes this was a good idea. It was mostly to appease Amy, anyway. Can she cancel, or would that count as leaving Garcia at the (fake) altar?

What the hell, she’s here now, and maybe if she shows that she’s receptive to new experiences, the universe will give her a break. Lucy trots along the palm-treed square above the city walls, finds the door with the Untourist logo by the bell, and steps inside. “Dobro jutro,” she says, which is about all the Croatian she speaks, and most people have been happy to use English anyway. “I’m Lucy Preston, I have an appointment today?”

The slick Unreceptionist greets her, gives her a waiver to sign (bad experiences and/or unsatisfactory spouses are not their fault, any meeting beyond the day is done on personal terms, etc) and they await the arrival of her dashing groom-to-be. It is twelve minutes past their scheduled start time, and the Unreceptionist is making apologetic noises, when the door opens with a bit of a crash and a man who must be Garcia ducks in. He’s tall, dark, and craggy-handsome, probably in his forties, wearing aviator sunglasses, and clutching a takeaway coffee. He addresses the Unreceptionist in rapid Croatian, looks up, sees Lucy, and nods shortly. “Ah,” he says, switching to English. “Right, you’re here. Let’s go.”

“Sir,” the Unreceptionist says, looking as if he’s wondering if Garcia himself read the details and/or the release forms before signing up. “You’re supposed to…?”

“What?”

“You’re supposed to have the wedding ceremony first?”

“I’m supposed to have the what?”

At that, Lucy winces. Feeling as if this might be an opportune moment to interrupt the conversation, and wondering if it’s too late to switch to Marko from Zagreb and risk dying at an Eternal Derby game, she stands up. “Hi,” she says. “I’m Lucy Preston?”

“I know.” Garcia glances at her briefly, up and down, and then away. “What’s this about a wedding?”

“That’s the whole point of the app,” Lucy says pointedly. “Fake-married, take me to places that aren’t touristy, then at the end of the day, go our separate ways?”

Garcia looks briefly pole-axed, then seems to decide that right, well, this is on him for failing to read the terms and conditions. “Fine,” he says impatiently. “Come on, let’s get this over with.”

Lucy’s cheeks sting. Making a mental note to give him a zero of five stars on any feedback form that she might have to fill in to rate her experience today, she follows him into the back, where they are joined in a very non-legally-binding ceremony, have their photo taken (Garcia looks like this is a real funeral rather than a fake wedding) and finally are released into the wild, as Garcia (who is a good foot taller than her) strides ahead without waiting. When Lucy runs to catch up, he says, “Nobody told me there was a wedding involved.”

“Did you even read what they wanted?” Lucy’s tone is slightly waspish, but then, he isn’t exactly showering her in that supposedly famous Slavic hospitality. The sweet lady at the Airbnb was much nicer than this. “It was right there in the entire premise. If you don’t want to spend a day taking me around the city, fine, but maybe next time, try to actually – ”

“No,” Garcia says abruptly. “You’re here now. Let’s go.”

With that, he strides off toward the gate in the towering walls, down into the Stari Grad. Lucy thinks the view from up there must be spectacular, but she’s not actually going to get a chance to find out, because Garcia derides them as too touristy and refuses to pay 200 kuna to go up them. (This is something like $30, so it clearly is a lot, but the city sees no reason not to profit off all the Game of Thrones fans.) Nor does he think much of the main drag, the cathedral square, the rector’s palace, or any of the other usual sights. He says that Lucy can call him Flynn, but doesn’t explain why. She thinks it’s his last name, but honestly, she can’t be sure. He has the social skills of a broken-down dump truck.

Finally, since there isn’t much of Dubrovnik, at least the old town, that isn’t touristy, Lucy persuades Flynn to let them go up the walls, though by the face he makes at the cashier as he pays for their tickets, the poor man might be found floating face-down in the ocean later. They climb up to the winding ramparts, gazing out over the Adriatic to one side and the crowded, tiled roofs on the other, and on one steep section, Lucy loses her footing and nearly falls. She wouldn’t have gone over the edge, there are plenty of barriers, but Flynn flashes out a hand and steadies her. It’s the first remotely human or non-dickish thing he’s done, and she raises an eyebrow. “Thanks.”

Perhaps sensing by her acerbic tone that he has not been the world’s most satisfactory fake husband to date, Flynn has the grace to blush, or at least look somewhat chagrined. “I’d definitely get in trouble if you died.”

“Thanks,” Lucy says again, even more tartly. “Guess it’s a good thing for you that you have good reflexes?”

“I fought in the Homeland War.” Flynn glances away. It’s the first personal thing he’s shared about himself, in a casual, offhand way that makes it sound no more remarkable than getting milk from the store. “Come on, let’s keep moving.”

Lucy glances at him. He’s made it clear that he’s not here for the fake marriage, let alone small talk, but she paid a decent amount of money to be here with this tall idiot and he can just suffer it. “Are you from Dubrovnik?”

“I was born in Šibenik.” Flynn doesn’t break stride, obliging Lucy to trot to keep up with him. “Lived a few places around the country. It was Yugoslavia back then, though. War started in 1991.”

“I know,” Lucy says. “I mean, I’m a historian, so I was recently doing some work on 1989 and the U.S. response to the dissolution of the Iron Curtain. Technically, Yugoslavia wasn’t Soviet, right?”

“No,” Flynn says, with a sort of grim pride. “Tito and Stalin hated each other. It was…. sort of an in-between place, I suppose. We didn’t need exit visas, there was a certain amount of social freedom, and Tito liked to market it as neutral, a third country between East and West, combining the best of both and the worst of neither. Of course, he was a dictator, but supposedly a benevolent one. Most people liked him. My childhood was – ” He stops. “Well, my mother was American, anyway. Maybe that was what drew her here. Running away.”

Lucy glances up at him. She has a sense that Flynn doesn’t often talk much about his past, and decides that since they are, after all, only fake-married, she doesn’t need to pry. However, since the subject of his mother has arisen, she holds back as best she can, not wanting to dump the fraught subject of Carol Preston on a strange man who has only just met her and treated her one step above gum stuck to his shoe, but finally needs to talk about it with someone who isn’t Amy. She still isn’t sure Flynn gives a damn, but too bad for him. She mentions that it’s been hard, with the Stanford legacy and the cancer and the expectations that she would accept Noah’s proposal, and she just – well, she doesn’t know. Maybe Lucy understands a bit of Flynn’s mother, whoever she was, whyever she came here. Maybe she too was, or is, running away. Even if she has to fly all the way back to San Francisco at the end of this week, some part of her would be more than happy to fling all her responsibilities to the wind, move into some picturesque old flat in one of those tiny streets, and stay.

They descend the walls after completing their circuit, and Flynn deigns to buy her lunch at a small cafe where the menu is only in Croatian and a sign informs customers that they don’t take euros, only kuna. Lucy allows him to order something for her, and they sit there eating in semi-awkward silence. Then Flynn says, apropos of nothing, “Maria.”

“What?”

“My mother’s name.” He shrugs. “It was Maria Tompkins. She was from Houston. She moved to Yugoslavia in 1970, after the death of her first husband and son. She was traveling through Europe, I don’t know that she intended to stay here, but she met my father, so she did.”

“Oh.” Lucy wonders what it would have been like here in the seventies. Probably still beautiful, though much less developed. So Maria Tompkins fell in love, that was what made a young American woman go Red, a move that must have been regarded dimly by her friends and family back in Texas. With that sort of tragedy shadowing her past, maybe it was easier to cut all ties, to get a new passport, to learn a new language, and never look back. Lucy feels a sudden pang of sympathy with this other woman, this unknown fellow traveler, who too found herself in this corner of the world wanting to leave it all behind. Lucy has responsibilities at home, not least her job (even if they didn’t give her tenure, or at least it’s very much in academic bureaucracy limbo), her sister, her sick mother, all the encumbrances and trappings of real life. She can’t do what Maria did, no matter how much she wants to. And for some reason completely unknown to her – it certainly isn’t the pleasure of Flynn’s company – she does.

They finish lunch and head out. It’s warm enough for November that Flynn suggests they can go for a dip, though he gives her a no-clearly-not look when Lucy naively thinks this will be at Banje Beach, the main spot just south of the walls. He leads her up to the street, where they find his car and get in. It’s an Audi, and she wonders what exactly he does for a living. He has a habit of scanning their surroudings, casually flicking his gaze at passersby, in a way that she doesn’t think stems from his military service alone. In fact, she’s starting to wonder if he joined the Untourist app to case the city and/or scope out people without it being too suspicious. Maybe it’s better for everyone if she doesn’t ask about his job. He might have to suffocate her and bundle her up in a black plastic garbage bag in the boot.

Flynn, it transpires, drives like a bit of a maniac, a habit he shares with most of the other road users (especially the scooters and motorcycles). Lucy has already noticed that Croatians seem to have a rather laissez-faire attitude toward personal safety, as evidenced by their tendency to stand outside guardrails overlooking steep drops, walk the wrong way along busy highways, dart across roads in front of oncoming traffic, and jury-rig anything that isn’t actively falling apart. When she mentions this to Flynn, he shrugs. “Slavs are like that,” he says matter-of-factly. “Especially Croatians. Though if you think we’re bad, you should meet the Poles.”

Lucy laughs despite herself, since that’s the first time Flynn has loosened up to flash any bit of actual humor. Well, that’s not quite true; he is remarkably sassy, has a sarcastic comment for most occasions and especially anything involving a tourist making a fool of themselves, but this is the first time that his humor has seemed gentler, more like he’s actually enjoying himself and poking a bit of self-deprecating fun rather than lashing out at the world. They drive along the cliff road for several miles in silence, until Lucy asks, “When did you move to Dubrovnik?”

“About…” Flynn hesitates, and she senses that there’s more riding on the answer to that question than he wants to let on. “Well, I lived in Zagreb until 2014.”

“And you moved here after that?”

“More or less.” Flynn adjusts the rearview mirror, which doesn’t really need it. After a long pause he says, “My wife and daughter died in 2014. I came here for – well, I didn’t want to stay there anymore.”

“I’m….” Lucy feels taken aback, almost guilty that she’s been so derisive of his inability to read app terms and conditions, his clear aversion to the whole fake-married part. Not that they’ve really been acting like it, anyway, but still. She can imagine it wouldn’t be easy for her, if that ever happened, to stand up and play-act some stupid charade for an American tourist hiring you like a beast of burden, not when you’d had the real thing, not when it was gone. “Garcia,” she says, the first time she’s used that since he told her to call him Flynn. She has a sense that he prefers that, that Garcia is some place too personal where he doesn’t let people go, not any longer. “I’m sorry.”

He glances at her, and for a moment she thinks he’ll snap at her, but he doesn’t. He keeps his eyes on the road, navigating the tight turns with ease, until at last he says, “I’m sorry I haven’t been very much fun.”

Lucy opens her mouth by polite reflex to say that he has, and settles for a noncommital hum. Flynn seems to sense that while he might have worked his way up from zero stars, he’s still a way off from five, and parks the Audi in a pullout. They descend a narrow cliff path to the sea, he reaches out to catch her arm when her feet skid again on the pebbles, and Lucy decides she should probably warn him that she’s clumsy before she really does accidentally kill herself. But if she fell into the sea from here, she has an unaccountable sense that he’d dive in after her, no matter how odd and brusque and grumpy he is. It’s less clear whether this is because he’s starting to like her a little, or because it would be an insult to his professional competence. Maybe he’s in the Mafia.

They reach a small quay where a catamaran is tied up, Flynn strides to it and produces two life jackets, and once Lucy has climbed aboard, he swings on, undoes the ropes, and angles the sails out into the wide blue water, endless as a reflected sky. It must be a busy harbor in summer, and there’s still a decent boat traffic now: ferries, jet-skis, a few sailboats and pleasure yachts. Lucy holds on tight as Flynn carves an expert white wake. “Is this your boat, then?”

“No,” Flynn says. “But I borrow it from time to time.”

“Did you – ” Lucy gives him a very narrow stare. “Did you steal this boat?”

“No!” Flynn looks miffed that she would ask. “I know the owner, he lets me use it when I want to. What kind of man do you think I am?”

Lucy opens her mouth, starts to answer, and stops. Truth is, she isn’t sure. An hour ago she would have said a raging, self-absorbed dick with no social skills and possibly black-market employment, and parts of that are still true, but the rest, well… she can’t say exactly. He keeps letting slip these odd, vulnerable parts of him, almost in spite of himself. His past in the war, his mother running away from her old life, his dead wife and daughter, everything else. She isn’t certain what she thinks of him, exactly, but she isn’t wishing that she picked Marko from Zagreb anymore. If nothing else, Flynn is complicated, and challenging, and oddly easy to talk to, and he hasn’t told her to shut up about the family/work/life drama that she occasionally returns to venting about. Lucy thinks she’ll take that, at least.

She looks at his hands, large and sun-brown and expertly pulling and tying the knots to trim the sail, as he pulls them to a bobbing halt in the sparkling water and asks if she wants to swim. Lucy didn’t put on her bathing suit under her clothes, but she doesn’t want to go to the bother of making him drive all the way back to the Airbnb. So she strips off her shirt and jeans, and, in just her bra and underpants (hey, they’re married, even fakely), she dives in.

The water is chillier than she expected – this is the southern Mediterranean, it’s never cold no matter the season, but it is November, and she splutters and gasps as she bobs to the surface. Flynn, observing from the high-and-dry comfort of the catamaran, smirks at her, and Lucy gives him the finger. “You dick,” she shouts. “You could have warned me.”

Flynn shrugs, apparently utterly untroubled either by this accusation or by her attitude; indeed, he grins as if he appreciates this feistiness, her willingness to talk back at him and tell it like it is. Lucy spends so much time biting her tongue around absolutely everyone else that this reaction is both unexpected and deeply liberating, and once she’s swum around the catamaran a few times and adjusted to the water temperature, she takes a deep breath and dives down under the pontoons. Then she surfaces on the far side, reaches up, and just as Flynn senses danger and whips around, she grabs him by the back of the shirt and jerks him backward.

He’s wearing a life jacket, of course, so he doesn’t go too far under, but the expression on his face is worth every penny that she paid to the stupid app. He shakes his wet hair like a dog as he surfaces, and she has to say, he looks really good while doing it. “Excuse me,” he says, in a tone of deep umbrage. “Who told you that it was a good idea to start a marriage off by throwing your husband in the drink?”

“Maybe if I’m drowning you for the life insurance,” Lucy shoots back, before she can stop herself. She has no idea who this woman is, who has gone from being exasperated and shut off with Flynn to – well, she did in fact just throw him in the ocean, but there’s definitely something different about their dynamic now. It wouldn’t be a stretch to call it flirty, whether or not this is listed in Untourist’s terms and conditions (and as well established, Flynn did not read them anyway). “After all, I think we can say that you deserve it. Tragic boating accident?”

Too late, she wonders if this is a bad idea to joke about, since she doesn’t actually know how his wife and daughter died (she hopes it wasn’t that, anyway) but Flynn actually laughs, and it transforms his whole face. They spend a very enjoyable forty minutes swimming around, splashing each other, and hanging onto the side of the catamaran and letting their legs sway in the current. They’re close alongside each other as they do, Lucy is conscious of only being in her wet underwear (it’s not like he can see anything while she’s submerged, but still), and something passes between them as their eyes meet. His throat moves as he swallows, and after a moment too long, he looks away.

They climb back on the boat, Flynn looses the sail and steers them back toward land, and they disembark, Lucy once more watching for investigative purposes as he ties up. They dry off and she pulls on her damp clothes, as Flynn decorously turns his back and waits until she is done. Then they tramp up the bluff to the car (Lucy was thinking about retiring here, since it’s warm and sunny and beautiful and all that, but if she is elderly, all the climbing might be too much) and drive back toward the town center. The sun is getting low, her paid-for day is almost done, and despite the total disaster that was it starting out, Lucy is oddly reluctant for it to do so. As Flynn pulls up in front of the Untourist office, she says convulsively, “Maybe we should… I don’t know. I think they’re closed, anyway. You don’t have to drop me off here.”

Flynn glances at her, then considers it. He could offer to just take her back to her Airbnb (those streets really were not designed for sane drivers, and Lucy can see why tiny Smart cars are popular around here, but Flynn would absolutely not fit into one) and he still might. Then he says, “Well, technically, the day isn’t over. Do you suppose I could take you out for dinner?”

“You��.” Lucy coughs. “I suppose you could.”

They find parking, and walk down into the old town, as the moon is rising over the walls, the towers are floodlit, the city gleams in the cooling dusk like its nickname, the “Pearl of the Adriatic,” and they find another cafe where the clientele is mostly local. They linger late over dinner, and Flynn says that he will in fact drive her back when they’re finally done, and as she’s about to undo her seatbelt and get out, Lucy hesitates. Then she screws up her courage, leans over, and kisses him very fast on the cheek. “Thank you,” she says. “I had – I really did have a great time.”

Flynn looks as surprised as her to hear it, but somehow and shyly gratifeid as well. A fugitive smile plays at the corner of his mouth, tentative, tender. For a moment, she thinks he might be about to kiss her back for real, but he clears his throat and holds out his hand instead. “Er,” he says. “Thank you, Dr. Preston.”

Lucy hesitates, fighting her disappointment, and shakes it back. Then she steps out of the car and unlocks the door of the apartment, as he waits to see that she gets inside without random Ragusan fiends materializing from the shrubbery. Even when she does step in, the car idles a few more moments, and she glances back, wondering – or perhaps it’s only hoping – that he’s chastising himself for letting her walk away. Then the car starts again, she can see his dark figure sitting too stiff and straight at the wheel, and she watches until the taillights vanish around a steep turn, and fade into the night.

#lucy x flynn #garcy #garcy ff #croatia 2k19 #extasiswings #ask

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bentonpena · 4 years

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Tofu Freaking Rules

Tofu Freaking Rules https://bit.ly/350TvUV

We need to talk about tofu. As Beyond Meat and Impossible Burger mania sweeps the globe, the OG vegan protein is getting left behind—and I, for one, hate to see it. If you’re serious about reducing your reliance on animal products, tofu has the potential to change your diet—and life—for the better.

To some extent, I get why so many people, particularly American meat-eaters, are resistant to the entire concept of tofu. Western culture has ruthlessly (and racist-ly) slandered the humble soy-based protein for as long as we’ve known about it, so a lot of us were basically programmed from birth to think it’s garbage.

I’m begging you to reconsider. When correctly prepared, tofu is a textural marvel, running the gamut from delicate and custardy to deep-fried and crunchy. Its unmatched flavor-absorbing powers make it a total chameleon; it truly can be anything you want it to be. I’ve loved tofu my whole meat-eating life, and I’m here to convert the naysayers. Welcome to my Tofu Manifesto.

You’re probably thinking about tofu all wrong

The biggest, wrongest tofu misconception is that it’s strictly a meat substitute. Sure, it can be that if it needs to—but tofu’s closest animal protein analog is actually the egg. On their own, eggs are bland; it’s their ability to morph into a staggering array of forms and textures that makes them so special. However you like your eggs—fried crisp with lacy edges, scrambled soft with lots of butter, or cooked into a puffy, tender frittata—I’m willing to bet your preferences come down to texture rather than flavor.

The same is true for tofu, which is why I’m skeptical when people insist they don’t like how it tastes. Soft and silken tofu has a more noticeable soy milk vibe than the firm stuff, but for the most part, it adds no flavor whatsoever to a dish. Tofu only tastes as good as the sauce it’s served in—texture is basically the whole point.

It’s embarrassingly easy to make tofu taste amazing

Contrary to popular assumption, delicious tofu takes barely any work at all. In fact, all the usual hacks try way too hard: Pressing takes forever (and freezing even longer); marinating often yields profoundly mediocre results; a cornstarch dredge too easily sogs out. None of these techniques work particularly well on medium-to-soft tofu, and with the exception of marinating, they also offer absolutely nothing in the way of seasoning.

For all of these reasons and more, the salt water trick is the only tofu hack worth knowing. Hot, salty water is a tofu prep triple threat: It dehydrates firm tofu so it crisps up quickly, sets super-fragile soft tofu so it doesn’t fall apart, and seasons everything through and through. It also adds as much work to your dinner prep as boiling pasta. I’ll get into the specific techniques in a bit; for now, just know that the salt water hack promoted tofu from something I’d buy occasionally to a legit, can’t-live-without-it staple.

If you remain unmoved, I’ve collected my favorite tofu products and preparations in one place, starting with the most hater-friendly ones. This isn’t a recipe post—it’s all about the technique. (Where applicable, I’ll link to specific recipes that I used and explain how I adjusted them to work with tofu, with the hope that you’ll soon be doing the same.)

Even hardline skeptics love fried tofu puffs

Tofu puffs are cheap, delicious, deep-fried flavor sponges that need zero prep; in other words, they’re easy to love. You can toss them whole into curries and stews for a fun textural element, but I strongly recommend taking 30 seconds to slice them in half. With their honeycomb-like interiors exposed, these puffy little nuggets soak up sauce like nobody’s business—without compromising their crispiness.

To show them off, I made my favorite Maangchi recipe—cheese buldak, or fire chicken with cheese—with halved tofu puffs instead of chicken breast.

Those two ingredients are obviously nothing alike, but the swap totally works thanks to the insanely powerful sauce. Red-hot both in color and spice level, surprisingly sweet, and with enough fresh ginger and garlic to put hair on your chest, it more than picks up the slack for something as bland as chicken breast or unseasoned tofu. Having made this dish with chicken dozens of times, I have to say—I prefer the puffs. Even when saturated with sauce, they stay light and puffy, which is the perfect contrast to the ultra-chewy texture of sliced rice cakes and melted mozzarella.

Pressed tofu does (most of) the prep work for you

As the name implies, pressed tofu has already been pressed to remove most of its moisture, resulting in a pleasantly toothsome texture. You can buy it pre-seasoned with soy sauce and five spice powder, but I like it plain so I can season it however I like.

Here, I whipped up a vaguely Spam-inspired mixture of roughly 2 tablespoons each of soy sauce and sugar, plus a teaspoon of garlic powder and a few shakes of smoky hot sauce (El Yucateco Black Label Reserve for life). I added some cubed pressed tofu and let everyone hang out about 20 minutes, flipping them around halfway through. You don’t need much marinade; a shallow layer is plenty.

I then used it to bulk up a super basic batch of fried rice with ginger, garlic, carrots, and frozen peas. The cubes got nicely crispy and charred on the edges, and were just what I needed to add some substance to a huge bowl of fried carbs.

Unseasoned pressed tofu also makes great vegan “paneer:” Cube it up and marinate in lemon juice with a few pinches of salt for 30 minutes, or longer if you have the time. As with regular paneer, you can pan-fry the tofu or leave it alone; either way, you’ll be surprised at how closely the marinated tofu mimics the texture and flavor of the real thing.

Medium-to-firm tofu needs a little TLC

This range of the tofu spectrum is the most recognizable and the least immediately appealing. I mean, just look at this:

In my experience, the variations between medium, firm, and extra-firm tofu are pretty meaningless, and I use them all interchangeably. Left uncooked, they all have a texture best described as “rubbery,” with no discernible flavor at all. Their highest calling is getting crispy in a hot skillet and doused in a flavorful sauce.

All you need to make crunchy pan-fried tofu is salt water, a good nonstick pan, and all of 20-30 minutes. That’s it. Here’s my usual procedure for a standard 1-pound block.

Before I do any other ingredient prep, I bring 2-3 cups of salted water and 2 teaspoons of table salt to a strong boil in a saucepan. Then I cut the heat, slide in my tofu, and let it sit while I prepare the rest of the recipe. After 15-20 minutes, I drain off the water and either pat the tofu dry on clean towels or leave it in the colander until I need it.

To get that crispy surface going, I coat my big cast-iron skillet with a thin layer of neutral oil and heat it over medium-high. I then add the tofu, spread it into an even layer, and leave it completely alone for at least 5 minutes.

Once the edges start to brown, I flip it over and do the same on the other side.

Boom. Done. Obviously, I used crumbled tofu here—it’s my favorite—but this works just as well with cubes, slabs, triangles, or any other shape you can dream up.

Don’t sleep on crumbled tofu

I know I said that tofu isn’t a meat substitute, but crispy tofu crumbles get really fucking close. In many cases, I prefer them to meat because they hold their shape—and a surprising amount of crunch—even when simmered for a long time. Sure, they don’t give you the specific richness you get with ground pork or beef, but with the right recipe you won’t miss it at all.

Speaking of the right recipe, Bon Appétit Test Kitchen director Chris Morocco’s spicy sweet sambal pork noodles are flawless—but, despite the name, I’ve actually never made them with meat. I only had tofu the first time I made them, and they turned out so well that I’m fine with never learning how they taste with pork.

I make the recipe exactly as written, except—obviously—I leave the pork out. Instead, I fry up soaked, crumbled firm tofu in a separate skillet while the sauce simmers, then dump ‘em in and toss everything together with cooked noodles. This cuts at least 30 minutes off the cook time without compromising on anything except porkiness, which I promise won’t even register.

You can also use tofu crumbles like ground beef. I usually throw in some minced onion and garlic in once the tofu is nice and crispy, then cook it down with a little tomato paste, taco seasoning, and cheap beer if I’ve got it.

It’s not beefy, exactly, but it tastes incredible in its own right—and makes a killer vegan-friendly crunchwrap filling.

You can roast tofu, too

Maybe you’d rather not spray your stovetop with oil in the name of crispy tofu. In that case, roasted tofu is for you. The results are directly comparable to pan-frying—they just take a little longer to get there.

Start with soaked, drained tofu, preferably cut into triangles or flat slabs so they’re easy to flip. Arrange on a clean towel and let them dry out while your oven preheats to 450ºF.

If you like, cut a vegetable of your choice into similarly-sized pieces and toss them with a tablespoon or two of neutral oil; I’m using kabocha squash here.

Place a sheet pan on the lowest oven rack. After about 3 minutes, add 2-3 tablespoons of neutral oil to the pan, put it back in the oven, and heat for another minute or two. Carefully transfer the tofu and vegetables to the hot oiled pan, return to the bottom rack, and roast for at least 20 minutes. Flip everything over and roast for another 15-20 minutes, until the tofu is super crispy on both sides and the vegetables are browned and soft.

You can eat the whole shebang straight off the pan—perhaps drizzled with spicy peanut sauce or chili oil—but I added mine to a quick curry made with Maesri panang curry paste, palm sugar, and coconut milk. (Maesri is the only brand I’ve found that doesn’t use shrimp paste or fish sauce; if you usually avoid prepared curry paste for allergy or vegan reasons, give it a try.)

To be completely honest, the kabocha was a miss—the flesh was too dry, and the skin was super tough. The crispy roasted tofu, however, slapped. They can’t all be bangers; such is the nature of experimentation.

When you feel ready, silken tofu is there for you

The next stop on our tour de tofu is the most controversial, misunderstood one yet: Soft or silken tofu. Yes, it’s bland. Unseasoned coagulated soy milk isn’t going to blow your mind with super-concentrated umami or whatever. But when prepared correctly, soft tofu is more than just delicious—it’s absolutely sublime. I will go to bat for it all day long, and I would love to tell you why.

The dish that changed my mind about silken tofu came from Biwa, a now-closed izakaya-style bar in Portland. It was deceptively simple: A whole block of chilled silken tofu drizzled with sweet soy sauce and topped with bias-cut scallions, fistfuls of toasted sesame seeds, and paper-thin bonito shavings. I ordered it every time, and my friends would always be like—“Cold tofu? Why?” But if I could convince them to take a bite, they’d understand. It was like eating a deeply savory panna cotta.

Unfortunately, my dearly departed Tofu Slab is no more—and my attempts to recreate it have been so unsuccessful that I’m forced to settle for the next best thing: Salt water-soaked silken tofu mounded on hot white rice and drowned in chili oil, soy sauce, and black vinegar.

I’m not complaining. The salt water, once again, is key: It turns a cold, slimy block of tofu into a piping-hot savory custard, which is the perfect canvas for condiments. Sure, there’s not much in the way of textural contrast, but the softness is so comforting and nice that I think a crunchy element would actually defeat the purpose. It’s a delicious, balanced, reasonably nutritious meal you can throw together in the time it takes to cook a pot of rice.

Putting it all together: All-tofu mapo tofu

Neglecting to mention mapo tofu in an article about tofu is basically journalistic malpractice. The iconic Sichuanese tofu dish is rich, meaty, spicy, funky, sour, and savory all at once—and slicked with lip-numbing Sichuan peppercorn oil for good measure. It’s a top 3 dish for me; I make it all the time, usually using Maggie Zhu’s recipe from the Omnivore’s Cookbook.

Being a big vegetable fan, I’ve experimented with using minced veg—eggplant, mushrooms, and even carrots—in place of the traditional ground meat. But this time, I decided to follow my vision and make a variant I’m calling “Oops! All Tofu.” I approached this recipe just like the sambal noodles, swapping crispy tofu crumbles in for the ground pork—but this time, I also soaked some cubed soft tofu in a fresh pot of salt water while the sauce simmered away.

This was one of the most delicious things I’ve ever made. The nubbins of soft tofu were literally melt-in-your-mouth tender, while the crispy crumbles turned downright meaty as they soaked up the spicy, salty, rich sauce. It made me even more certain of all of the (correct) tofu opinions I just laid out before you and, if you’ll let it, it has the power to convert you too.

Internet via Lifehacker https://bit.ly/2VwWgKq April 24, 2020 at 12:01PM

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mimik-u · 6 years

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The Princess and the Knight (A “Flower Child” One-Shot)

A/N: Lololol, I don't quite know how to explain myself, but last night, I suddenly got the urge to write "Flower Child" Blue and Yellow's first meeting... and so I did. Muse is such a wild thing, lol. The title and minor gimmick comes from Yellow's dream in Chapter 6!

AO3

—

Just because she knew it would piss her mother off, Yellow Diamond straddled the limo seat as though she had never seen a chair before, one knee at kingdom and the other at come. A daring smile languished in her golden eyes, on her lips, and in the haughty tilt of her aquiline nose.

White Diamond, magnificent as always in a shimmering backless number, was not impressed.

“You’re being impossible,” she hissed, all politeness (all thinly veiled anger). Her mouth did not say what her shining black eyes did. The fifty-nine year old CEO had long been masterful at the art of strangling all of her emotions into a voice so saccharine that it could have spun honey.

Yellow, on the other hand, meant every word she said.

Yellow, on the other hand, had a laugh like a bark—harsh, discordant, unfiltered.

“I thought we weren’t allowed to use that word,” she taunted. “Nothing is impossible for us Diamonds and all of that aphoristic nonsense.”

“You know what I meant.”

The twenty-one year old flicked a lazy hand through her stiff coiffure, causing her mother’s nostrils to flare slightly.

“I know only what I’ve been told.”

“Smart aleck,” White said primly, her gaze sharp enough to cut yourself on.

“I learned from the best,” Yellow retorted, her natural bluntness the weapon she brought to the table in return.

At a stalemate, they collapsed into an electric silence then, refusing to look at each other. Outside the black tinted windows, the modern part of the city gave way to the old-moneyed part of the city. Squared apartments became old Grecian buildings became manicured bushes became signs on every corner that let one know that this place was historic. A renowned senator attended school here. A President signed a declaration there.

The damn street lamps were gold.

Across from her, White Diamond’s microscopic sigh demanded to be heard, tiny though it was. She pinched the bridge of her pointed nose and stared plaintively at her daughter from behind the intricate tangle of her long fingers.

“I know you’d rather not be here.”

“You’re right,” Yellow acquiesced readily. “I’d rather be working on my application for grad school.”

“But,” White continued on as though she hadn’t heard her, “this is the most lucrative social event of the season, Yellow! You’ll have the opportunity to rub shoulders with presidents and CEOs and princes and duchesses. You’ll get to prove your mettle as the incumbent heiress of Diamond Electric!”

Yellow’s face pinched itself together in the darkness. Disdain rolled off her shoulders in waves.

“You know I don’t care for any of those things, Mother. I know my own worth.” Her fists were clenched on her knees. “I know that I’m going to make a damn fine CEO one day.”

“It isn’t just about you, though,” White Diamond sighed again, and by some grand miracle, her forehead creased through all of the botox. “Crucify me for wanting the world to see who you are, too.”

Yellow looked away at this, looked out of the window.

The streetlights suffused across her face.

Orange in the hollows of her cheeks.

Gold.

“You’re my daughter, Yellow, and because of that, but also beyond that, you’re extraordinary.”

The sincerity pressed against Yellow’s skin.

It made her itch.

“Be a dear and let someone know it tonight.”

—

Blue Montgomery stood between her mother and father and tried very hard not to remember that she was a crown jewel. Pale and slender and draped in blue silk, she was a porcelain doll reconciled. And tonight, as was the lot of most porcelain dolls, she would be packaged and sold, would be auctioned off for charity.

You, sir—yes, you!—could win a lunch date with the Alistair Montgomery’s daughter if you throw money at this vaguely philanthropic cause!

Look at her!

She’s gorgeous and smart but too cold and distant to be a threat to your fragile sense of masculinity! You can call her sweet thing and then affably write her off as a heartless shrew when it’s all said and done!

She’s perfect!

The misogyny of it all was not lost on this young woman, but as she sipped champagne from a skinny flute, she desperately tried to make it so.

She was a Montgomery.

And that meant something around these parts.

At the very least, it meant that she had to perform.

So when old men came up to them and called her charming, she smiled, all teeth, and took it; they kissed her on the hand and cheek. Their hands sometimes fell from her waist to her ass.

She politely affirmed that she was Ivy League material, but dared not talk about her own ambitions lest they were too ambitious to belong to the likes of her.

She held her head high, even though the weight of the diamonds around her neck felt like a noose.

Blue Montgomery was perfect in every conceivable way.

(She was extraordinarily miserable.)

“Oh, Alistair,” Vivian Montgomery whispered cattily under her breath, “look who’s heading this way.”

As her mother quickly rearranged her haughty disdain into a socialite’s politeness, Blue followed her father’s austere gaze to the pair of people now approaching them, and was promptly surprised to find that she immediately recognized the older of the two. Even if she hadn’t been in a sweeping silvery dress, White Diamond, founder and CEO of the fastest rising company in Empire City, was unmistakable.

Nowadays, she often smiled sultrily at you from the covers of Forbes and Fortune, magazines that were the bread and butter, the Bible and Catechism of the Montgomery household. She had spiky white hair and glittering black eyes and a plump smile that was about as safe as an unsheathed knife.

Blue’s parents didn’t much care for her.

Didn’t care for anyone really who wasn’t already born with a gold pacifier in their mouth.

“White!” Vivian exclaimed as though they were all dear friends.

“Vivian! Alistair!” White Diamond gamely played along, extending her pale arms outwards for an embrace with her mother.

The two women hugged like two women who hate each tend to do—quite warmly—and as the CEO withdrew, Blue noticed that her finely manicured nails were blacker than night, pitch.

She extended one of these ink tipped hands towards her companion, whom Blue had quite forgotten to notice, so distracted by the positively peacocking White, but now, she afforded a closer look.

(“You remember my daughter Yellow, right?”)

It was rather difficult to make an impression next to the nigh ethereally striking White Diamond, but Yellow Diamond almost came close, Blue thought, studying this slender statue of a CEO’s daughter as their parents exchanged passive aggressive pleasantries about them over them.

(“My Yellow just finished an undergraduate thesis!”)

(“Our dear Blue was recently accepted into Yale for graduate school.”)

There was something almost Grecian in Yellow’s aspect, with her sharply defined jawbone and ultra straight nose. The taut muscles in her creamy neck ran smoothly into her crisply ironed button down. She wore a suit vest and matching dress pants the very color of her mother’s nails. Her hands were tucked somewhat insolently into her pockets, but a frown was tucked more subtly in the firm press of her plump lips.

These little quirks aside, she very well looked like the future CEO of Diamond Electric one day.

So Blue Montgomery did what Montgomerys do.

She performed.

“Hello,” she ventured politely. (Yellow’s golden eyes raked her appraisingly, but at least she didn’t try to grab Blue’s ass, which was a nice change in pace all things considering.) “Are you enjoying the night so far?”

(“White,” Alistair crooned and lied, “you have to come out to the estate sometime.”)

(“Of course!” White crooned and lied in courteous return. “That would be lovely.”)

“I suppose I’m compelled to say yes,” Yellow answered drolly, her gaze subtly sliding over to her mother. “And you?”

It was the honesty that was so surprising to Blue, for honesty was so rare in this picture perfect life that she lived.

She arched an eyebrow.

Something small quirked at her lips.

She made sure that her parents were still wrapped up in out-politing White before she replied.

“Likewise.”

The golden-eyed heiress only grinned.

—

As they walked away from the Montgomery trio, Yellow Diamond couldn’t quite leave one Montgomery behind.

Blue Montgomery.

Blue.

Her long, brown hair spilled across her back in silky waves. There were oceans in her delicately shaped eyes, seas in the midnight blue gown that poured down her body.

Something secretive in that little smile of hers.

Something that suggested that discovering her would be a treasure all on its own.

Of course, White Diamond, because she was White Diamond, knew instantly.

As she sashayed through the spillage of gowns and tuxedos, outshining them all, she admonished her daughter lightly.

“She’s a Montgomery,” she warned, a party ready smile still slashed across her face. “Her empire is oil, and the very same has run through her blood for generations upon generations. Her parents look down on us for being what they refer to as new money. Assuredly, she does, too.”

Alistair Montgomery was the richest oil tycoon on the East Coast.

Just like his father before him had been.

And his grandfather.

And his great-grandfather.

And—

“And you know”—White waved airily at some senator and some prince and some other important person and still found time to belabor the point—“she’s probably not inclined the way you are.”

Yellow scowled.

Deeply.

“Thanks, Mother.”

White posed for a camera just as her daughter deftly stepped out of the frame.

“I’m only trying to spare you the heartbreak, dear.”

—

Before the auction, there was a silent auction, and rich people meandered from white-clothed table to white-clothed table to bid on items such as artisanal doorknobs for ten thousands of dollars.

(Vivian Montgomery was one of these people, and surprisingly enough, her daughter was, too. Granted, she chased a different kind of stupid commodity to blow money on.)

After extracting herself from the attentions of a senator’s son—who was more interested in her cleavage than her personage—Blue found herself at a table where rare books were being auctioned. Folio copies of Jane Eyre and The Iliad and The Scarlet Letter. Signed Hemingways and first edition Joyces. A full, antiquated set of the Oxford English Dictionary.

A lover of all things literature, a delicate smile adorned the twenty-one year old’s features.

A connoisseur of Greek mythology, she found herself drawn to the folio of The Iliad.

The highest bid was currently $450.

Without the slightest hesitation, in her sweeping handwriting, Blue topped that number with $1,000.

“That seems excessive,” came a dry voice at her shoulder.

She bristled at the closeness of the voice and turned to confront it, only to find herself face to face with Yellow Diamond.

Her golden eyes were edged in playfulness.

And insolence.

And arrogance.

She looked like a shark amongst men.

Next CEO of Diamond Electric, Blue reminded herself, forcing her indignation into some semblance of a polite smile. She didn’t mean any harm.

“We’re all wealthy here,” she said, intimating a shrug with her voice (for ladies did not shrug). “Excess is the playground we thrive in.”

“I thought this whole charade was supposed to be for charity?” Yellow teased. As the night had worn on, the hairspray which had held her coiffure together had seemingly given up the ghost, leaving her golden hair to spill around her head like a crown of feathers.

“Mm”—Blue pretended to be deeply invested in the list for her beloved book again—“that’s the keyword, isn’t it, though? Charade.”

The heiress laughed.

It was a harsh, clanging sound.

It fit her like a glove.

“Charade indeed.”

—

Yellow continued asking questions, and Blue continued to answer them as they went from table to table without really looking at anything… except for each other. (They passed glances, back and forth, gold meeting blue meeting gold.)

“Why do you prefer Greek mythology so much?”

“Because it’s nice to be swept away on the wine dark sea with all kinds of flawed heroes and villains, goddesses and monsters. Their tragedies are poignant because they’re human.”

“What could you have been doing tonight besides being here?”

She sighed wistfully, the sound trailing through the air like dandelion dust. “Literally anything.”

“Is this… okay?” Yellow gestured somewhat awkwardly to the charged space between them. Perhaps the better question to have asked would have been: Am I okay being here? But one query was certainly more vulnerable than the other, and dammit, Yellow would endure so many more things before she would ever admit to vulnerability.

Blue tilted her head, and a curtain of her thick hair swept to the side, leaving her slender neck exposed. Yellow’s pulse was somewhere in the column of her throat.

“I don’t see why not.”

They continued in this manner—on and on—and would have done so all night had Mrs. Montgomery not interrupted them as they were discussing trickle-down economics in the shallow way that only twenty-something-year-old capitalists could.

Mrs. Montgomery appraised Yellow with a cold politeness before just as coldly shutting her out of the conversation.

“The auction will be starting soon,” she said, straightening Blue’s necklace. “Perhaps you should take a reprieve to freshen up in the bathroom?”

It was a question, but it was also not a question.

Yellow Diamond was well familiar with the art of the implicit command given her own mother.

“Of course, Mother,” Blue replied with a smile that never quite reached her sapphire eyes. Seemingly satisfied, Mrs. Montgomery heeled away, and Yellow leveled a frown at her companion.

“You’re going to be part of the auction?” Oh, there was certainly some horror in her voice.

A fair dash of indignation, too.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Blue snapped and then blanched when she realized she did.

It was the first time she had risen her voice all night, for she was remarkably self-possessed.

But she was also only human.

(It was kind of hot, but it was more so infuriating given what she was raising her voice for.)

Narrowing her eyes, Yellow took the bait.

“Why not?” She asked scathingly. “Pray tell why shouldn’t I be concerned that you’re about to get up on that stage and be sold like a pig for the slaughter?”

Blue looked wildly around for ears and eyes that were too obsessed with their own selves to care about the conversation two spoiled heiresses were having.

“Keep your voice down!”

“Fine,” Yellow hissed. “I’m still not impressed with what you’re about to do, though.”

Blue’s dark hair seemed to frizz around the outline of her face.

“You don’t have to be! I barely know you!”

“Hell, I don’t have to know you to know that auctioning off women is screwed up.”

Blue Montgomery recoiled where she stood, a ship upended in the sea, and it was then that Yellow knew they were on the same page.

That horror was rising in them both like storms.

“It’s just a lunch date,” she whispered.

Justifying it.

Convincing herself.

Stomaching something unimaginable.

Yellow shook her head, her mouth pressed into a thin, exacting line.

“I’ll believe that when you do.”

—

Blue Montgomery stood on the stage, swollen in white spotlight, and could not forget that she was the crown jewel of this auction. Pale and slender and draped in blue silk, she was no embroidered golf bag, nor three day vacation to a ski resort. She was something better—flesh and blood and a pipeline to Montgomery family oil. She was a porcelain doll reconciled. The auctioneer saved her for last.

“And now we have Blue Montgomery, who has so charitably agreed to go on a lunch date with the highest bidder! Give it up for our dear Alistair’s lovely, brilliant daughter!”

Applause sweltered below.

There was a hunger in the air.

“Let’s start the bidding at $50! Do we have $50? Yes, we have $50!”

The senator’s son whose eye line was permanently drawn below her face.

“Oh, sorry, son! Looks like we have $100! $150! $200!”

An older man with a walrus mustache.

He smiled up at her with all of his shiny teeth.

Blue was going to be sick.

“$300! $350! Goodness, you men are amped up! Ahaha, but there’s no question as to why! $400! $450!”

It was the senator’s son again.

“$450 going once!”

A couple of tuxedoed companions slapped congratulations on his smug back.

“$450 going twice!”

It was sickening to watch.

It was impossible to comprehend.

All of the blood drained from Blue’s face and pooled in her throat.

She was drowning in it.

Suffocating.

“Sol—hold on, lad!” The auctioneer suddenly placed his hand over his eyes as a visor against the harsh spotlight. Blue couldn’t quite make out what he was looking at, the world dancing across her eyes, swaying and blurring.

“$1,000 from the young man in the back!”

The crowd gasped. (They all liked a good drama.)

“$1,000 going once!”

Senator boy petulantly hurled himself back into his chair.

“$1,000 going twice!”

His friends promptly slapped condolences on him.

“Sold! Congratulations, sir! You’ve just landed a date with a very special lady this weekend! C’mon up and meet her!”

Tuxedos and gowns and gasps and whispers parted down the middle to let the dumbass who just spent $1,000 dollars on a date through.

Her head was held high.

Her grin could have rent the world in two.

Blue’s lips parted in a soft oh of surprise as Yellow Diamond ascended the stairs, two steps at a time.

What a dumbass, that knight in shining armor.

What a wonder.

—

Backstage, the princess awarded her savior with a softened glance.

And a thank you, quietly spoken.

Meant.

“Listen, it was either this or me punching that guy,” Yellow shrugged, quite obviously embarrassed. Even her pointed hair seemed to be in shock, standing up on end.

“Seems excessive,” Blue batted back, a wry tilt at her lips.

Yellow Diamond didn’t miss a beat.

“We’re all wealthy here,” she grinned. “Excess is the playground we thrive in.”

But then, just as quickly as she had lightened, the heiress’s face became all seriousness again, harsh angles and even harsher lines.

“I’m not going to hold you to that date, though,” she said with an emphatic shake of the head. “You’re not a damn trophy to bought and sold, Blue, and besides”—she laughed that singularly dissonant laugh again—“you’re worth way more than a thousand dollars.”

Blue thought she would have been more relieved to be freed from the obligation.

But she wasn’t.

And it confused her.

Somehow, she mustered some semblance of a smile.

“That’s very generous of you,” she murmured. “Thank you.”

Yellow Diamond dragged a self-conscious hand across the back of her neck; red popped across her sharp cheekbones in what very well may have been a blush.

They weren’t standing very far apart from each other.

There was electricity in the air.

Potential.

Blue wondered what it would be like to run her fingers through that lush, golden hair.

(And forgot to wonder why she was even wondering such a thing.)

“Anytime.”

—

“What the hell, Moms?” Pink Diamond protested, slapping her hands on the marble countertop before turning on Blue. “I grew up half of my life thinking Momma opened a trapdoor and, like, found you or something!”

“Language,” Blue only chided, but the smile softening her lips betrayed her.

(Love did.)

Leaning against the fridge, arms crossed over her chest, Yellow’s laugh was like a bark—harsh, discordant, unfiltered.

“I didn’t slay any dragons per say,” she smirked, “but you should have seen the look on pretty boy’s face when I outbid him.”

“It was quite the sight,” Blue agreed, a mischievous tilt in her dark eyebrows.

“Damn straight.” Yellow’s golden eyes shone with the memory.

Looking between her parents, Pink only laughed and clapped her hands together. The freckles scattered across her cheeks bunched up and then expanded with each humor-stricken breath.

“And so the princess and the knight…” she grinned with an inviting tip of her head towards Blue.

“And the little elfin poppet,” Blue added, reaching across the countertop to brush a smudge off her daughter’s pointed nose. (Pink always had some smudge on her face or another. Paint. Makeup. Glitter.)

“Lived their happily ever after,” Yellow rolled her eyes, like she was above their sugary nonsense, though she was quite obviously perfectly content to inhabit it all the same.

In that kitchen, Pink Diamond was seventeen years old.

By then, she had already lived out most of her life.

#bellow diamond #white diamond #pink diamond #flower child #mimik-u #s: steven universe #i'm so sleepy now

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