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pigagainstsuicidism · 3 months ago

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An unexpectedly fast reply, saw it before going to sleep and was like wowow, so yeah okay first it quickly put something like this up in its bio but yeah please use it/its for second person instead of traditional pronouns like you/your. it's an object and it doesn't have personhood and you/your definitely feels too people-y and invalidating.

And yeah of course it'd be difficult to keep track of that convo like it's sooo gaslighty and awful. The don't compare your experiences with others point was like a full on reactionary point and it's like how is this acceptable?? There's like people responding to that thread like not at all responding to that bit at all and you're like come ON that's SURREAL people are just in public saying the most reactionary shit and there's just NO reaction from the crowd. Just mind boggling.

But anyway yeah maybe it's worth responding to the question in public just cos it's good to be able to reference back to this conversation, share with others (though it imagines it's just going to ramble hard so that seems doubtful lol), etc. but of course if you need to respond to this in private that's fine.

There's a few alternatives it can think of to blocking anyone who infers bad faith or malicious intent that you may or may not be able to slowly move towards just depending on your own circumstances, which it doesn't really know, but they all come with their own pros and cons and it'll try to talk a bit about its experience and then maybe these ideas appeal to or apply to you in some way.

First, there's just building up a more and more robust instinct for where you are along some axis of oppression relative to most people and relative to your interlocutor. And if it's an axis of oppression you haven't heard of before, then if it's a time sensitive matter (you're in a group call, let's say), just take them seriously in the moment and look into it later. Trust, but verify. If it's not time sensitive, you can read other people's experiences and try to form a conclusion. You can't always tell what positionality some testimony comes from, so often you have to be sensitive to more indirect stuff. There are obvious cases where people do this all the time, like if you haven't been unhoused in a long time and someone says something you said invalidates some part of the current unhoused experience, it's a good idea to just take their word for it no matter how they come at you.

Over time, you caaan just try to develop a more sensitive perception to where someone might be coming from, however they feel they need to do it (though it will discuss costs of this below!). Like it makes sense to ensure that if you perceive something someone is doing as coming from a place of power and so is abusive, you do respond accordingly. There are ways to develop that perception so that there are fewer false positives (thinking someone is coming from a positionality of power and oppression over you when they're providing experiences from a more vulnerable and invisible position than you), without introducing too many false negatives (thinking someone is calling you out from a place of vulnerability when they're using their outsized power over you against you).

Second, there's having others around you who can take a look at what you're experiencing from a more external perspective. They can help degaslight you, process where someone might be coming from, what reason you have to engage, etc.

The big cost of the first one is that, you know, individuals can't do very much. Rugged individualism and great man theory are myths. You can only go so far, recalibrate so many biases, be so aware of whether you're being gaslit or whether someone has a point and you need to sit with the discomfort or anguish of having to listen carefully.

There's also just so much out there in the way of disinformation and malicious actors that it's very hard to just take things at face value after you've had that tendency exploited for the thousandth time. Plus it's not like we can always control how we react immediately, or even over the course of a week or month, to something due to trauma.

The first big cost of the second one is that we are mired in abuse culture, rape culture, white supremacist culture, we are all indoctrinated into fascism from birth and we will never not be fascists. All you can do is slowly unlearn all the white supremacy, sanism, speciesism, transmisogynoir, suicidism, etc. that was pushed into you from when you were young and try to live with the blood on your hands and experiment on how you can increasingly prevent others from experiencing those oppressions. All too often people "talk to their friends" to try to get a second opinion on something they're going through, and their comrades just reinforce pre-existing fascist biases. "Wow, they yelled at you? So toxic?" "She started telling you he was abusing her? Honestly, I think she's just trying to avoid responsibility, and I wouldn't listen to anything she has to say."

The second big cost of the second one is that often we find ourselves mobbed, isolated, without anyone to rely on, even unhoused from abuse. Who are we supposed to turn to and ask for a second opinion on?

it has made a few (read: two, over the course of seven years...yeah) peers at least by basically trying to unlearn fascism and find others interested in that, interested in building a culture of calling each other out, in regularly intentionally discussing our dynamics and the power imbalances in them, etc. And so this is doing both of those alternatives, and mitigates these costs. It is tough because very few people are interested in doing this because of how uncomfortable it is to unlearn your fascism and begin to see the blood on your hands, and when you only have a few peers you're still going to have some holes in your understanding.

There doesn't seem to be, in its experience, a shortcut to either of these options, or some combination of them. But yeah, you could try to slowly move from "block anyone who's aggressively coming at me and saying I did something wrong" to recognizing more and more cases where there are better options. Like, the rule can be problematized, but something to be marked as something that needs to be slowly and carefully improved. Maybe "for now, I'll probably block you, but I'm trying to practice being aware of more and more cases where that would be inappropriate and where I'd be weaponizing my power over someone." You could block, but see if you have some way of, trauma willing, looking back through recent cases maybe with someone else and talk about what someone said or did and see if there's some reason to think there was a better option than blocking.

Hello! This is a complicated ask, definitely understand if it's a lot to process and if you'd rather not engage with or absorb all of it.

But anyway, literally made an account because it was, largely on a whim, searching through posts about transmisogyny and just others talking about their experiences being abused due to the power dynamics from transmisogyny exempt trans folks having privilege over transmisogyny affected folks. Like it has literally been in several cities across multiple states and been in dozens of queer orgs, friend chats, etc. and this thing keeps happening again and again! (As a side note, you learn pretty quickly that groups where their whole thing is they identify as being for queers are almost all mind bogglingly white supremacist! Any time you call out how white supremacist they're being, there they all go all listing all their queer identities out of nowhere!)

Anyway, literally immediately found three tumblr conversations within the past WEEK that all went the same way. You have some TMA individual very demurely trying to explain the power dynamic between TMA folks and TME folks, and a whole group of TME trans folks all variously being incredibly aggro, dismissive, gaslighty, DARVOing, and it's extremely evident whose behavior and whose tone and everything is being policed and whose isn't.

So yeah because any time it sees a threatening space its first instinct is to jump in and continue its lifelong pattern of being in dangerous space after dangerous space where it always gets mobbed out and hyper-traumatized, it just impulsively made an account to reach out and just say like holy moly, sorry you're going through that conversation and you're being called rude for very earnestly and gently correcting a post that said that there was no power imbalance at all between TMA and TME trans folks and that they went through the same thing!! what!!!! what what what!!!! And then getting hit with someone being like oh I'm so on your side you just need to not compare what we go through, like

yeah just, hogdang. That's so gaslighty. That's so awful! It's like TEXTBOOK anti-survivorship to say that you shouldn't look around and see how other people are being treated compared to you. It's extremely important for survivors to notice patterns and respond to them, to be able to go "Oh when anyone talks to white dudes with big, lofty positions at the head of orgs privately about their behavior, those dudes take that shit out of context and distort it to mob out the one criticizing them, and the white dude's narrative is believed while the critic's aren't!" Is that comparing the experience of the marginalized person and the white dudes? Yeah, but you OBVIOUSLY, ABSOLUTELY NEED to make space for that if you're even a LITTLE bit pro-survivor.

It's ABSOLUTELY CRUCIAL for it to be able to notice that like, hey, it's been unhoused seven times this last two years because it joined a variety of different friend groups, orgs, etc. and literally zero, ZERO of the dozens of TME trans folks it met were mobbed out, while A THIRD of the TMA folks it met were mobbed out, often including it! And when, because we live in rape culture, there would be regular assaults and consent violations and just overall lack of observation of radical consent culture, TMA folks bringing up what TME trans folks did to them would get harassed and dismissed even by other TMA folks while when the reverse happened TMA folks were often mobbed out before the TME trans folks even asked for anything. A horrible situation for everyone that we will never, ever resolve unless we acknowledge that this pattern EXISTS.

And there's this thing all the TME trans folks attacking you were doing, which is they would list all these ways they were oppressed, marginalized, etc. But can't we acknowledge that there are negative, oppressive, systemic experiences which are common to TME trans folks, and yet also acknowledge that TME trans folks are exempt from--as you said--a bonus oppression and thereby have the power to wield violence against TMA folks that they do not in return? Like there's privilege in terms of access to things, and we can probably think of all kinds of cases where transantagonism has taken away resources from queer people, and how in some contexts that affects TME trans folks more often and in other contexts it affects TMA folks more often. But there's also privilege in terms of having systemic power to do, support, or benefit from violence against some marginalized group with impunity. And it has seen this dynamic play out over and over and over. God it is so isolated it cannot COUNT how often it has been through this game, fucking queers for palestine, queers bash back, all those fucking non-profits, those little Signal friend groups named after some inside joke we came up with, over and over and over.

It's so fucking frustrating to watch you get trampled over for talking about this shit, for responding to someone say "Oh we all go through the same thing" with "No there really OBVIOUSLY is a very real bonus oppression here!" only to be met with "Oh but we get killed just like y'all do!" It's the same fucking thing as when you call out white supremacy and all these white queers tsk tsk you and tell you how they're pansexual and trans and biromantic and poor so on and so forth, like it's sure your life is fucked too whitey but you get to use slurs with impunity and that's not going to change if these power dynamics don't get addressed.

Anyway. Not sure if this is the best place to put this next bit, maybe a bit incongruous. But! it did want to take issue with one thing and try its best to explain why it thinks something you said can be anti-survivor without some caveats.

"If you take issue with something I've posted, please ask me about it, under the assumption that I meant no harm; please express your own feelings honestly and without aggression and without putting words in my mouth; and please do not tell me to stop talking/posting. If you engage with me in bad faith or chew me out without a single chance, don't be surprised if I immediately block you. This is not a publication or a wiki. I'm just one girl doing her best."

So this kind of "assume I'm acting in good faith!" rule is very dangerous. Some caveat needs to be made about power dynamics and opportunities for abuse. Like, if someone is more vulnerable than you along some axis of oppression and they're calling you out for something you did along that axis of oppression, it's a bit tough but it is really important to develop the ability to accept not being read in good faith. Like, someone more isolated than you, no social capital, no power to wield, points out something problematic you did and then reads some of what you're saying as threatening? Even if you think it's a false positive, you need to give them the space to do that, and to even reflect on how you may in fact actually be threatening them without realizing it and how their experiences may be making something visible to them which is invisible to you.

Like here's a very real way in which the "be honest with me and assume I mean no harm" rule can be weaponized, without the person who has that rule really even realizing you're weaponizing it. To be clear, you could totally be BIPOC, no clue, but for ease of demonstration imagine a white adjacent person (East Asian American, let's say) says something really white supremacist. Someone more vulnerable to white supremacy than them (Southeast Asian American, let's say) calls out this white supremacy. The more white adjacent person replies in public like oh God I'm so sorry I'm horrible that IS white supremacist God anything you want to do to me, you can do it, I don't deserve love, ugh!

The more vulnerable person is like "PLEASE STOP THREATENING ME" and uploads a bunch of sound files of them just scream sobbing and full of suicidal ideation, very much not sane-passing and, we can safely assume in the majority of cases, not to a very anti-sanist, mad justice, anti-suicidist crowd.

The EA person is bewildered. Maybe with months of reflection they can realize that they developed this fawning and self-flagellation habit because they noticed this pattern where when they do it, it softens how they're judged, and this tactic helped them against people more privileged than them. Maybe they can realize that the motivation behind why they responded like this was to take away autonomy from the victim, remove their opportunity to be centered, was to cause harm.

But they'll never go through those months of reflection if instead, this suicidist, sanist crowd thoroughly indulges in abuse culture and goes "Yeah they just lost their mind and started screaming about some threat? It's really sad, I hope they get the help they need and I hope [EA person] can recover from the trauma of that" and the EA person goes "Yeah everyone around me is affirming that I did nothing wrong and this person was assuming I was trying to threaten them for no reason." They are never held accountable, they never change, and the next time they hurt someone, it's worse.

With almost every principle like this, with every boundary we set, it's so important to do it with a recognition of the potential power imbalances in the situations we may find ourselves in. No matter what you go through, you're probably not the most vulnerable individual on the planet, with the least social capital, the least access to resources, the least power to wield violence against someone. At some point, there is going to be someone more vulnerable than you who has to call you out on something, and who both deserves and, for their own survival, needs the space and the right to listen to their instincts that you did something to harm them, whether you know it or not (and they need to be able to speak up if they have reason to think you do know it!).

Anyway yeah. If you need someone to back you up in that other conversation feel free to let it know, though be aware it has literally zero social capital, it is extremely isolated oh God it's so isolated, it just made an account, etc. etc., and also if you just need someone to process what happened or share experiences, super up for that as well. And also if you don't want this on your page because it might attract people who want to mob you or something but still want to respond then feel free to in private idc.

In any case thanks for putting in the labor to speak up

I just... yeah. Absolutely yes to all of this. You're keeping much better track of it than I am.

I hear what you're saying about the weapnized good faith thing, and TBH, I think you're right that I'm in danger of behaving that way. So, I would love to have some more help (maybe in DMs) figuring that out.

My best guess would be to just continue educating myself on power dynamics in society? Because the thing is, not operating the way I currently am opens me up for abuse, and feeling abused is not a good way to learn. It sucks to admit, but I can imagine situations in which my sensitivities and trauma responses render me unable to fully realize when a stranger has been harmed by me in a way that I didn't realize because I didn't realize they were more vulnerable than me. And the solution is definitely not to just accept that the behavior I'm perceiving as abuse is OK and good actually. I've already done that so much in my life and I've reached a point where it makes me have panic attacks, feel directly life or death in danger, etc. It might get easier when my own position in life is not as totally vulnerable as it is now.

Anyway, as you can see I wouldn't mind advice if you think I'm missing something.

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e-wills-afterhours · 2 years ago

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Hotblooded

A/N: Pairing is Hiccstrid. They are 17 here, almost 18. In most of my work, I write from the film-canon, almost exclusively. That means I don't often reference the shows or the graphic novels in my fics. That's NOT me saying they're not canon, as they have since been confirmed to be. It simply means I do a lot of AU oneshots where Hiccup and Astrid got together following the events of the first film, because it makes far more sense that way, for me personally.

This prompt request was for dripping sexual tension mutual pining between two very horny Viking teenagers.

Rating: T+ ...for suggestive themes and raging adolescent hormones.

------

Hiccup had no preconceived notions about what a relationship with Astrid Hofferson would be like from the outset. He certainly never expected the public kiss that had sealed the deal; he had been grateful enough at the time that she no longer hated him. Building their friendship had been the first step: the solid launch point from which the tide of their affections carried them to something better. If asked, that would not have been his answer on how romance evolved, but it was inarguably the preferable way--for them. They had laid the groundwork of respect and camaraderie, honesty and laughter, from which all other feelings had grown.

Before he knew it, they were two years in, and everything came easier. Finding them together, with their dragons alongside, was more common than finding them apart. Even though Hiccup preferred his privacy to the hustle and bustle of Berk's markets and the mead hall, he considered Astrid's company respite enough to wholeheartedly welcome it. Long gone were the days of nervous adolescent infatuation. In their place were the peace and calm of sure, steady love.

Astrid's playful punches and elbowing were less frequent too, though not entirely absent. Instead, she put her hands on him with shameless affection. Sometimes, he wished she'd revert to playful roughhousing--because public embraces and lingering touches gave rise to all manner of rumors.

Hiccup had heard it all: a myriad of insinuations about what he and Astrid supposedly did in their more private moments together. Snotlout and the twins, especially, liked to share their theories loudly and often. Hiccup suspected it was a game of sorts, to see just how slow to anger he really was. They had yet to break him, since he would often flee with palpable annoyance at the first opportunity. Fishlegs was more subtle, asking indirect questions that were wide open invitations for the truth, if either Hiccup or Astrid ever felt so inclined to share. But they never did. Everyone else assumed they already knew, and they would have been quite surprised to learn they were wrong.

The truth of the matter was he and Astrid did little more alone than they did in full view of everyone else--and it was not for a lack of desire on Hiccup's part. Enough restless sleeps had ended in sweaty, lurid dreams, that it was pointless to deny what his heart yearned for. He so desperately wanted the rumors to be true, and there were times when they had come dangerously close, saved only by Astrid's better judgment. He was thankful and annoyed that one of them had restraint. She was the more sensible one, never letting things go further than was prudent. So, he never pushed his luck.

Dragons and work in the forge were suitable outlets for his frustrations. He was seventeen, and much aware of how the years had changed him physically; he was aware of the changes to Astrid's body even more so. Ever since about the age of ten, he had realized that girls were mysterious, interesting, and pleasing to look at. That appreciation grew and matured with him. He used to catch Gobber's hand for staring after girls instead of working. Astrid had always captured his attention above all others--no; rather, she had commanded it. So, it was not simply a matter of him noticing for the first time, seven years later, how beautiful she really was; that was a fact he knew well. What he noticed, with nagging persistence, was just how well their bodies complemented each other, almost to the point of absurdity.

Even in that moment, as they shared a simple hug, he could feel it: a gnawing hunger at the warmth of her in his arms.

"Thank you," she murmured; and her breath on his ear gave him goosebumps he hoped she didn't notice. "You're the best."

She pulled back and picked up her axe from the workbench beside them. He lived for the smile she wore then; it lit up his whole day. Her eyes were bright as she admired the handle that he lovingly re-wrapped during the evening before.

The weapon was an heirloom, given to Astrid by her mother. It was her most prized possession, and so Hiccup took it upon himself to keep it in peak condition--because it was important to her; so, it was important to him. He noticed with his more discerning blacksmith's eye that it was showing its age, leather grip well-worn in places. Indeed, the axe was older than either of them. Astrid was not bothered by such things, as long as it remained functional. She had been perplexed when he asked her if he could borrow it for some maintenance, yet she trusted him enough hand it over.

"You even oiled it, didn't you?" she asked, grinning down at the polished wood.

He shrugged and replied, "I might've done that, yeah."

She glanced up at him, eyes practically twinkling. "It almost looks brand new!"

"That was the idea. Just because it's an older axe doesn't mean it needs to look that way. I thought...it was the least I could do."

She considered him for a moment, her broad, smile softening into something fonder. His heart always beat a little faster when she looked at him like that: as if he held the world together, like she did for him. She had the rougher edges and hard demeanor most of Berk knew her for; but there was a side to her that was his, alone.

Well, his--and maybe Stormfly's too.

"Why?" she asked, setting the axe back down gently, eyes fixed on him.

"Why, what?" he responded as she closed the small space between them, reaching up to play with a braid in his hair.

The simple gesture sent a tingle throughout his body. He wondered if she ever felt such things when he touched her: little bursts of delight at his hand on the small of her back. Did she also awake in the middle of the night, blood rushing hot to the thought of him? He never asked. If her answer was no, he'd feel like a sad, desperate fool; and perhaps he was, but she didn't need to know that.

She shook her head. "Why are you so amazing?"

"I-I'm not, though. It really was no trouble to--"

She silenced him with a finger to his lips. He was momentarily taken aback.

"Could you maybe, just once, shut up and take the compliment?" she teased. "I know, it's unnatural for you."

He laughed and took her hand in his, prying it away from his mouth. The urge to kiss her fingertips was too strong, and he did not trust where it might lead. He then grasped her other hand as well, loosely holding on to them both in the narrow space between their bodies, because it was safe. She gave his fingers a gentle squeeze and pulled him impossibly closer.

"I'll work on that," he said, stroking her knuckles with his thumbs.

She smirked--and then her eyes did a quick but conspicuous glance over him, from head to toe and back again. He knew what that meant, but he hardly dared to believe that she would. The temperature inside the smithy was rising, and it had nothing to do with the forge.

------

Astrid found it baffling that Hiccup had no idea how attractive he really was. Perhaps years of being the village oddball had conditioned him against seeing himself in any other light; she supposed it might have that effect on anyone. But she had certainly noticed how two short years had changed him. One summer was all that he needed to surpass her in height. He was broader too, in the chest and shoulders. Dragon riding only helped, bestowing upon him some enticing definition, augmented by the new confidence with which his carried himself. She was surprised he never seemed to notice her staring. Then again, he could be oblivious to a lot of things when he was otherwise engaged in a personal hobby. That was when she enjoyed watching him the most.

His eyes were particularly beautiful, and it was fascinating how intense they became when he was focused on a smithy project or a challenging dragon. She imagined, on occasion, what it might be like for him to look at her in the same unwavering manner--and her mind always wandered to improper places. Then, if she added in thoughts about his talented hands, which could build brilliant, intricate things and tame wild dragons...Well, she just about lost her senses completely.

The truth of the matter was that she wanted him badly. She heard the rumors and assumptions Berk made about them, but such things simply had not transpired. Yet. She had enough recurring fantasies of skin on skin that it became harder to pull herself away from him if she indulged even a little bit. He always seemed confused and disappointed when she'd abruptly scale back her affections before they grew too hot; but to his credit, he did not complain. Maybe he knew better. She was not sure she could resist a genuine plea from him; seldom did he ask her for anything.

To make matters worse, he was so effortlessly generous with his time and his skills, making or fixing things for her of his own volition. That particular morning, he surprised her with the restoration of her axe to the point it could have been mistaken as new. She was glad she chose to trust him with it, though he had never given her reason not to. Then he had the audacity to make himself more desirable by acting as though the whole thing no big deal.

So, they stood there with their hands clasped between them, because it was innocent enough. Astrid knew he would never accept any monetary payment for such a loving favor. She glanced him over, wondering if that same selflessness would translate into other area of their relationship still to be explored--and that time, he noticed her gaze. Something changed in his eyes: a hunger she recognized, if for no other reason than she felt it too.

He reached up and tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. Anyone else would have found the gesture innocuous, but there was something quite intentional in the way he did it--soft, unhurried. He was so tender and caring. She bit her lip, feeling her pulse quicken. He then caressed her cheek. His touch was far warmer than it had any right to be, and she could imagine it elsewhere on her body. Her eyes fluttered closed as she leaned into his hand with a quiet sigh.

"I really don't mind doing these things for you," he murmured, and she knew he meant restoring her axe, among countless other projects he had already done; but she wondered what else he might do for her if she only asked.

Curiosity toed the line of obsession. More of her waking hours were spent daydreaming about being with him in ways she ought not to be. Her reasons for holding off were never very strong, and they continued to dwindle.

With one hand, she continued to hold onto his. Her other hand came to his chest. The fabric of his tunic suddenly seemed far thicker than it was, keeping her from his bare skin. She grasped it in her fist, tugging slightly until he leaned down as she tilted her chin up. Their lips brushed, and her blood turned hot in an instant.

"Hiccup..." she whispered into their shared breath; she could almost taste him.

His hands came to her waist with a sense of urgency. She wrapped both of her arms around his neck. Her whole body thrummed with desire as they came together perfectly, her chest pressed against his; and she forgot why exercising restraint was such a good idea to begin with.

"I hope you know that I'd do anything for you," he said, "to show you what you mean to me."

Astrid did not think he was talking about favors in the smithy anymore. Common sense kept her from tearing at his clothes then; it was not the proper thing. The timing was not quite right to take the leap--but that did little to diminish her need to know just how good he felt. He had no idea how much he had chipped away her resolve just being wonderfully and unapologetically him. She wondered if his own self-control teetered on the same knife's edge. It was getting harder to breathe when the scent of him overwhelmed her every time she inhaled.

She threw better judgment to the wind and whispered, "What if I asked you for something I shouldn't?"

He leaned down, like he was making a second attempt to kiss her. He replied, in a distinctly huskier tone, "Then, I would have to--"

Loud, shrill banging shattered the moment. They yelped and pulled apart with their hands clapped over their ears, glancing around for the source of the earsplitting interruption.

Gobber was standing nearby, pounding against an empty anvil with his hammer attachment, looking positively surly. He glared beneath his bushy unibrow, metal tooth jutting out from his scowl.

When he was sure he caught their attention, he exclaimed, "There will be none of that in my shop! Take it someplace else!"

Hiccup frowned and replied, "Must you do that?" He gestured at the anvil, which Gobber then struck a couple more times for good measure.

"Must you do that?" the older man retorted, brandishing a thick finger at the two of them, still standing much too close for his liking.

Astrid's face burned with both embarrassment and indignation. She cleared her throat and made a spectacle of picking up her axe, checking to see if Gobber was watching--mostly, so he would shut up and back off. The man could be endearing; he could also be intrusive and incorrigible.

She said, in her mildest manner, "Thank you for the axe, Hiccup. It was very thoughtful."

Her boyfriend cast an irritable sidelong glance at his mentor and replied, "Yes. The axe. Of course." He added, smoothing out his tunic, "Anytime."

Satisfied, the blacksmith went back to work, grumbling all the while about teenaged indiscretion and something about "dragons in heat."

When he hobbled off, out of sight, Astrid said in a hushed voice, "We'll finish our conversation later."

She placed a quick peck on Hiccup's cheek before turning to leave.

"Wait. What do you mean by 'finish'?" he asked, standing straighter.

She spun around, walking backward out of the smithy with her axe in hand. "Soon."

He caught her meaning, anticipation and hope dawning on his face. "Soon? How soon?"

She shook her head, mainly because she did not have a real answer for him. "I'll see you later!"

"Wait, Astrid!" he called, almost following her out of the smithy. He lingered in the doorway. "How soon?"

She waved noncommittally and headed for home. With the thrill of her promise to him guiding her steps, she felt just a little lighter. Their conversation would find its conclusion, in one form or another. No, she did not expect they'd prove the rumors true that day, or even in the immediate few thereafter. But what she did know for certain was that she still owed him a kiss, which would lead to one thing, that would inevitably lead to others. She could see it on the horizon, and she could feel the desire inside them burning. While the number of days or weeks was yet unknown, the very nature of their relationship was turning with the seasons.

So, Astrid was willing to make a wager with herself: she and Hiccup would have carnal knowledge of each other by winter's end. What else were they to do? Young, in love, and incredibly hotblooded.

#hiccstrid #hiccstrid fic #hiccstrid oneshot #this is another fic that i rewrote like five dozen times and still feel unsatisfied #It's my MO now #life has been kicking me in the proverbial lady balls on the regular #tis a season of stress and a steaming pile of bull excrement #sorry again to hazel-sage who has waited ever-so-patiently for me to get off my ass and write the damn thing #forgive me if this is utter trash. i tried

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ghibliadventures · 2 years ago

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🎑Common Practices🎑

🍥"Ichi ieba ju wakaru": Hear One, Understand Ten:

🍘The idiom "Hear one, understand ten," popularized by the Japanese, emphasizes the importance of listening when speaking in the language. When a Japanese customer speaks, it is expected that you, the listener, can extrapolate ten times more from what they say and understand their argument or desire.

🍘Every part of civilization is infused with the principle of saying less but saying more.

🍥Reading between the Lines: Interpreting Japanese "Yes" and "No":

🍘The Japanese custom of "Yes and No" is a striking example of this notion of ambiguity as courtesy because "No" is rarely expressed out loud. You're more likely to hear "muzukashii desu ne" (that's hard..) or "sore wa chotto" (that's a bit difficult..) in answer to questions. Remember that these comments are as final as a firm no, despite the fact that they may seem plausible to a Western ear since speaking "no" out loud in Japanese society is viewed as rude.

🍘The Japanese "yes" might often be unclear to Westerners. Japanese culture values listening and consistent support, therefore it's common for speakers to overhear this during conversations. When a Japanese person responds to your speech with "hai" (yeah), they aren't always indicating that they agree with you; instead, they are letting you know that they are listening. You will know that your request will be declined if, as you speak, you hear a chorus of "hai" followed by "sore wa chotto."

🍥Bow before your elders:

In Japan, bowing is a common expression of deference. Elders, those in positions of authority, and everyone else they hold in high esteem. When one person bows to another, the other person will always return the gesture with sincere appreciation and respect. Most Japanese individuals maintain a neutral expression when speaking.They convey information and deliver clues nonverbally, which is more important than spoken language.

🍥Why does the word "maybe" appeal to those who understand Japanese?:

🍘There is a strict taboo in Japanese etiquette about flatly rejecting or expressing dissent. Another oddity of indirect communication in Japan is the preference for the word "maybe" while expressing oneself with someone else's views. In order to maintain peace. Japanese individuals, sometimes referred to as "wa," will try to prevent any confrontations at work.

🍥Honorifics:

🍘When speaking to others, Japanese people use honorifics and their last names, addressing them by their last name.

🍘Generally speaking, using someone's first name when addressing them is frowned upon in Japan. In reality, while referring to someone, you must use the "Japanese honorific title" (san, sama, kun, and chan) or make reference to them.

🍥Know How To Bow:

🍘Japanese culture places a great deal of importance on bowing, which is done to express respect, apologize, and many other things. The bow's angle indicates how much respect is being shown for the other person; the lower the bow, the more respectful.

🍘15° - eshaku

🍘30° - keirei

🍘45°- saikeirei

🍥Take Off Your Shoes:

🍘In Japan, establishments including restaurants, lodging facilities, temples, and museums occasionally demand that guests take off their shoes before entering. Be ready to occasionally have your socks or toes exposed in public.

🍥Punctuality:

🍘In Japan, every minute counts. Make sure you arrive on time if you have a meeting scheduled with a Japanese person since they take punctuality very seriously. It should go without saying that being late for work or other business matters is undesirable.

🍥Stand On The Correct Side When Using The Escalators:

🍘When utilizing the escalators in Tokyo, pass on the right side and stand on the left. In Osaka, you should pass on your left and stand on your right. Make sure to use the escalators on the appropriate side so that you are not obstructing onlookers because most people in Japanese cities are always hurrying.

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dionysus-and-the-bacchantes · 4 years ago

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tips for classics majors

from a second-year classics major. i’ve acquired these tips from my seven years of being a latin student and one year of ancient greek.

this post can be helpful for classics majors or people interested in self-teaching the classics. my concentration within my major is language and literature, so my tips will revolve around latin and greek. but if you’re studying any other ancient or modern language, my tips may still apply to you :)

~ make word associations. this is a BIG one. there are many nuances to this tip, so to start, i’ll explain why associations are useful, and then i’ll give several examples with different variations to cover the nuances.

since many english words, prefixes, and suffixes are derived from both latin and greek, take the time to figure out one or two english words that come from each new word you learn - these can either be normal everyday english words or pop culture references. (also, latin is semi-derived from greek, so you can make associations between the two languages as well). if you learn any kind of word association, it will make remembering the word so much easier.

examples:

pop culture: pane, which means bread in latin, is related to The Hunger Game’s city of Panem (panem is the accusative singular of pane). food insecurity is a big theme in The Hunger Games, therefore Panem is an appropriate name for the city that the series takes place in.

latin/greek to english: in latin, vicina is an adjective meaning “close, neighboring,” and its english derivative is “vicinity.” in greek, παιδευω means “i teach” and its english derivative is “pedagogy” - aka “a method/practice of teaching.” κριτης means “judge” and its english derivatives are “critic, criticize” and “critical.”

greek to latin to greek: sometimes it’s tricky to find out which word came from which language first, but usually it’s greek to latin. example: dea (“goddess” in latin) comes from θεα in greek.

think of those word associations as you learn your ancient language vocab. it will make recalling a word’s meaning so much easier.

anD DON’T FORGET TO LEARN THE GENDER AND THE GENITIVE SINGULAR OF EACH NOUN YOU LEARN BECAUSE IT HELPS WHEN DECLINING THE NOUN AND MATCHING IT UP WITH ADJECTIVES LATER ON OH MY GOD thiS IS SO IMPORTANT

~ make a concentrated effort to remember lots of different sentence constructions. there are so many i literally don’t remember them all and i’ve been doing this for years. the major categories i can think of off the top of my head are subordinate clauses, conditionals, and indirect discourse, and, more generally, learn the difference between the primary and secondary verb tenses.

~ every so often, brush up on as much grammar and vocab as you can. i’m saying this because i’ve procrastinated reviewing greek all summer and i barely remember anything beyond the basics :/ pls don’t tell my professor.

~ learn authors’ common themes and literary/rhetorical devices. for example: in the elegies of propertius, a roman poet, he used emptiness and unfulfilled wishes as motifs. learning words associated with emptiness and learning how to recognize the introduction of a wish made translating faster. i’ll confess though that i never really brushed up on the use of the optative subjunctive (the device used in wish statements), so i couldn’t recognize how exactly to translate certain sentence constructions. if i did review, it would have made translating in class a breeze. but hey, it was my first semester in college and i had no idea what i was doing at that level. please learn from my mistake!

~ learn the political, cultural, and historical context of each piece of literature you read. it will make the experience richer. if you know the context of a fiction piece, whether its poetry or prose, you will understand so much more about it. for example: the aeneid, vergil’s masterpiece (and arguably one of the best works in latin literature), is an ode to augustus. augustus commissioned vergil to write the aeneid and to make comparisons between himself and the protagonist aeneas. he wanted people to see him like they saw aeneas - kind, pious, loyal, determined, and in charge. knowing that bit of information makes many parts of the aeneid clearer. you can apply this tip to any piece of literature, no matter the language.

this is also important in terms of non-fiction writing. i took a class on roman letter writers and i would’ve been completely lost if my professor didn’t share anything historical with us. these letter writers typically vaguely referenced local gossip because messengers often read letters that were meant only for the recipient’s eyes. my professor filled in a lot of what was missing from the letters themselves.

~ have fun with it. learning languages is supposed to be fun!! of course languages enrich your mind and bring you into close contact with other cultures and ways of life, but it is supposed to be fun too. example: propertius once wrote a whole poem about knocking on his lover Cynthia’s closed door while she sat inside... and the door was a metaphor for her vagina.... which means propertius was h0rny on main!! and he published that in a poem!!1! for people all over rome to read!!!!

in terms of plays, my friend read one in latin by plautus about a prostitute who subverts the traditional roles associated with customer-prostitute relationships. he absolutely loved it bc the main character was a bad b!tch... and bc it was a comedic play.

there are lots of metaphors and jokes written within latin and greek literature, so don’t be afraid to laugh :) it makes learning that much more enjoyable

~ when reading a work of literature, ask yourself what this reveals about the author’s culture. (suicide tw: mentions of su*cide as a plot point in tragedy) this tip is kinda related to the cultural context one, but different in that it looks for culture within literature, rather than looking at literature as a product of culture. and like the previous tip, you can apply this to any piece of literature no matter the language it is in. it’s important to think deeply a piece of literature as well as enjoy it for what it is. example: i’ve read most of sophocles’ plays and i can tell you that the greeks were very comfortable with suicide as a plot point. while murder is also common, suicide is much more common no matter the tragedy. the fact that this theme occurs throughout so many plays tells me that greeks viewed suicide as a tragic occurrence that affects people deeply, but also as a common way to die. it raises questions: what percentage of deaths were attributed to suicide in ancient greece? was it viewed as honorable or shameful? etc.

and going back to vergil yet again (he’s my homeboy fr), when writing about dido and her people building the city of carthage, he specifically mentions that they are building the theaters first before almost any other building - and these few lines implicitly state that the arts were very important to carthage’s culture as a whole.

~ to sum it up: as a classics major, if you are intentional about learning the languages and truly engaged with the literature, the process will be that much more fun and you will gain that much more out of it. (<- and that sentence has a future-more-vivid construction by the way hehe)

#dark academia #classics #college #tips #study tips #language tips #latin #Greek #college advice #language advice #latin tips #greek tips #literature

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op-peccatori · 4 years ago

Text

Hopefully, Yours (part 2) | MLQC Victor

Fandom: Mr Love Queen’s Choice

Pairing: Victor/Fem!Reader

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 8326

Summary: It took some cake, a friend, and some impulsive behaviour, but they got there. (part 2 of Hopefully, Yours)

Warnings/Tags: making out, language, my cheeseball antics

a/n: I was afraid of opening this doc at one point because every time I did I added more words to it ;; Also accidentally deleted the first draft, so I hope I didn’t leave anything out for this one.

[video]

After Hours | Victor and Y/n

200, 280 views • Feb 8th, 2020

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JTV ✓

1.19M subscribers

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5100 comments

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somsom 5 minutes ago

They’re both so nice. Victor’s always made out to be this heartless CEO, so it’s nice to see this side of him :)

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tooktiktook 7 minutes ago

hmmmMMM

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cheribb 15 minutes ago

their eyes said more than enough <3 <3

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saltqueen 16 minutes ago

what i wouldn’t give to have someone look that soft over me

⌨⌨⌨

Victor eyed the cheerful grin splitting Jason’s face, just a little uneasy in his seat.

While having eager eyes on him was not an unfamiliar experience, he’d never been in a position where he was expected to talk about his feelings on camera. Not that he was about to confess in front of the entire crew of the show, but when it came to you the lines always got a little too blurry for his comfort.

He got a little too eager.

“Just be nice,” Jason had instructed gently, and Victor steeled himself.

They started, quite predictably, by asking him about his ideal type. Resisting the urge to scoff, he tried to stick to the script he’d worked on with Goldman, who had insisted on being present for today’s shoot. Not that Victor was complaining; it wasn’t exactly part of the job description, but Goldman had been enthusiastic, which Victor could appreciate and would certainly reward.

Goldman had also spent most of yesterday handling the public relations department in his absence, preparing them for his appearance on the show. A tentative plan would be sent to him by tomorrow morning. He had faith in them, believing that they would be able to make this look good for him.

“Someone who works hard,” he answered, knowing you would laugh at that. “Who can be themselves around me, someone I can be myself around. Someone...kind.”

The times you’ve spent in Souvenir flit through his mind, some quiet and some full of bright-eyed chatter.

“You’ve known Y/n for some time, right?” the interviewer asked. She looked nice, but he’d been on the block long enough to know that even the kindest faces can often hide the sharpest teeth.

“Yes.”

“What do you think of her?”

“She’s a very kind person,” he said easily. “One of the most hard-working and inspiring people I’ve ever met.”

You would surely gape like a fool after seeing this. It was a little embarrassing, but Victor was determined to leave your image shiny after this. He would not have any words of his twisted to give you a bad name. If it got even a fraction of his feelings across, well, that was a bonus he wouldn’t mind having. The intimate setting of the ferris wheel had seemed to help some, but his admittedly indirect confession didn’t reach you as he had hoped.

God, but his father would love this.

“Did you have fun on your date?”

“It was lovely.” They tacked on another question and he nodded. “I...yes, I’d love to do it again.”

It was a little curt, but he didn’t really get what Goldman had meant by ‘nod tenderly with a far-off look.’

What would you think of that?

The interviewer raised a brow, her smile widening. “Let’s get to it, then. How do you feel about her?”

For some bizarre reason, the first thing that had come to his mind at this question was his inexplicable need to check your social idea every day. And the way his heart beats just a little faster when you’ve posted a new picture. How, in moments of weakness, he’d given in and saved a few to his phone. Even a mental reminder of it made him a little hot under the collar.

There were many things he couldn’t even begin to try and explain when it came to you.

Really, the list is endless.

Victor’s current favourite was the video you’d uploaded of eating the tiramisu he’d cooked. He watches it at the end of a bad day and just like that, he feels a little better.

“I think anyone who ends up with her would be the luckiest person in the world,” he said honestly. “She’s beautiful in every single way.”

The last three words were supposed to have stayed in his head, but saying them felt natural. Goldman seemed to approve, shooting him a discreet thumbs up.

When you walk in, sleep-deprived and grumpy but trying to hide it, thinking he won’t catch on as if he isn’t running sharp eyes over every inch of your face. When the first sip of your coffee is too eager, leaving your tongue burnt and him with a pressing need to soothe it with his own. When you eat too much sugar and complain about a stomach-ache; he scolds you for it, but his arms are left straining with the need to wrap themselves around you.

He cherished these moments and wanted every single one all to himself.

She makes me greedy.

“Would you want to be that person?”

Victor laughed, light and incredulous.

Yes. Yes. Yes.

“I guess time will have to answer that question for us,” he said, the ghost of a smile on his lips, leaving it at just the right note to keep viewers hanging—right along with him.

lightscameranaps ✓ @jasonp

Hope y’all enjoyed the episode! #HopefullyYours

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bandanaman @headaccs

@jasonp sooo really sorry about this but we’re kinda dying over here

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raspberrydream @berryberry

@headaccs Victor’s acc is still private. Maybe there’s something there?

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srirachafire @hotsauce

@berryberry But Y/n’s isn’t private, and there’s nothing there. Give it up guys, they’re just friends.

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bandanaman @headaccs

@hotsauce bruh that look?? was not friendship

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raspberrydream @berryberry

@hotsauce those words?? were not friendship

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srirachafire @hotsauce

@headaccs @berryberry you two?? are hopeless romantics

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lightscameranaps ✓ @jasonp

@headaccs honestly? me too D:

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bandanaman @headaccs

@jasonp !!!!!! asdfgdvsd

Closing your Moments and the entire thread discussing the episode, you flop back down onto your mattress. Reaching for your newest plushy, you hug it tight, perhaps a tad too aggressively.

It’s odd. You struggle between the visceral sort of pleasure that comes from a job well done—because the response is terrific—and the trembling nerves that come from watching yourself on a date with Victor.

Watching the episode had been harder than you had expected; you hadn’t quite been expecting the way Victor was looking at you—the intense gaze was a little too convincing, and watching it from the audience’s perspective was flustering.

You spent most of it trying to suppress the inconvenient surges of hope, telling yourself it wasn’t real.

There really was nothing to know. The ferris wheel shot had ended there because you had nothing to say to Victor’s answer. You don’t know if he was referring to his past or his present, but the look in his eyes made it clear: his feelings were still there. Instead of pressing him, you chose to stay quiet, exhaustion clear in your face and sinking deep into your bones.

Victor had seemed to understand and maybe even appreciate it, probably not wanting to discuss it either, and only insisted on dropping you home. The ride to your place had been mostly silent, but you had tried to ask him his thoughts on the day and the shoot. He kept his answers concise, appearing a little distracted, which was so unlike him it made you wonder if he regretted opening up.

You’d spent the entire ride trying to quell the delicate little thing trembling in your chest.

The next video started while you were lost in your thoughts, and it happens to be your individual parts. Curious, you lean in, wincing slightly at the way you were fidgeting.

And then they switch to Victor. You both had to wear the outfits from the date for these, but you still weren't quite expecting the impact his voice alone would have on you.

And as always, those fierce eyes have you freezing in place.

“Let’s get to it, then. How do you feel about her?”

He looks unfazed by the question. Of course, they go over the questions with you beforehand, but you still remember how nervous you’d felt when asked how you felt about him; Victor’s eyes flick towards the camera, filled with intent, as if addressing you—and you close the laptop with a snap, your throat tight.

You don’t have to watch that right away.

You had been very careful about what to say, how to act, channeling your inner-Victor to adopt a marble-smooth expression. Say nice things about him? Easy, you didn’t even have to make anything up. Imply just enough to keep people guessing.

Keep your unwanted feelings to yourself.

Palm coming to rest over your heart, pressing down as if it would alleviate the ache there, you try to sort through your thoughts. You never really thought there was a chance, but to hear it confirmed was a blow you weren’t prepared for.

It’s ridiculous to feel so insecure, you think. You feel like you lost a competition you had never even had the chance to compete in. And over an unnamed, mysterious figure? So silly!

But another part of your mind says it’s okay to feel this way, that it’s only natural. You’ve had such strong feelings for Victor for so long. And all of these feelings, the good and the bad, are yours; the wounds of your heart, the light in your laughter. Fighting them would only make you suffer. The love and the hurt are part of you, both important in their own right.

Knowing all of that doesn’t make it easier, though.

After all, Victor had alluded to his feelings on camera, to your face. Knowing him, he would never do that unless he was sure about the person.

“This fucking sucks,” you admit out loud, and at the heels of your words come the tears. Because, to make it even worse, people really seem to think it’s you.

You can’t blame them, because even you had been taken in by his soft looks. Anyone watching would believe he’s smitten with you. Good for the show, terrible for you.

You’re not strong enough to reply to them, to tell them you aren’t that fortunate, and have been hoping Victor, or someone from his team, would put a stop to it.

But there hasn’t been any word from them and you curse out loud at the fact that he expects you to do something about it. As if there’s any more emphasis needed, your phone vibrates. Unlocking it with a miserable sigh, you scroll down quickly.

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Minor [19:40]: am I watching this right? Boss, are you dating the CEO? PLS SAY NO

Chik [20:21]: You bitch. When were you going to tell me you snagged THAT? So I was right back then, ha! Anyway, you two are adorbs. The puppy eyes are disgusting. I’m proud of you.

Chik [20:22]: also...deets. Now. I’ll even throw in a please!!!

Lucien [20:40]: Well, now. I seem to have missed out on quite the opportunity.

Kiro [20:45]: I wish you’d invited me. But I guess it wouldn’t have mattered. I hope he makes you happy, Miss Chips! He better, or else ;P

‎‎

Frowning at the texts you scroll back up, hoping, hoping, hoping, and at the sight of the name that always sits at the tip of your tongue, you curl up tighter.

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Victor [21: 05]: Are you okay?

Y/N [21:20]: I’m fine. Moments seems to be blowing up, haha. Did you watch the episode?

Victor [21: 20]: Yes.

Victor [21: 21]: Did you?

‎

You pause at that, looking guiltily at your laptop. You had, sort of. Fighting off your own thoughts had taken up most of your attention. Resolving to watch it again—a clear display of previously dormant masochistic tendencies, roused by Victor— and actually pay attention this time, you turn back to the screen.

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Y/N [21:22]: Yeah, but not the individual parts. It was nice, they made it seem so real! But we’re going to have to say something to let them know there’s nothing like that.

‎

You wait anxiously for a reply, a part of you clearly suffering from delusion hoping he’d oppose that. When there’s no text from him for a few minutes, you plug your phone in to charge and get out of bed, heading for a quick shower before you get something to eat.

Heartbreak hasn't been enough to curb your appetite, and you feel more than ready to let dessert have the chance to make you feel better.

Who needs Victor when you have cake, right?

Just as you’re halfway through cutting a slice of the cake Jason—well, his team—had sent as thanks, trying to keep your thoughts away from the bottle of wine you‘ve got tucked away, your doorbell rings, breaking the melancholic silence of your apartment. A part of you wants to roll your eyes at your dramatics, while the other feels you have the right to wallow for as long as you need to.

The irrational side of you stirs once more, conjuring thoughts of Victor rushing over, and you peep through the hole with a wildly thumping heart.

Lucien’s serene smile chases those thoughts away, and you open the door with a sheepish grin.

He looks a little tired, his dark bangs ruffled; unlike his usual sharp appearance, he looks impossibly soft in his barn red sweater and comfortable looking track pants. He’s also got a folder tucked under one arm.

“Hi!”

“Sorry to drop by so late,” he greets you, his warm eyes bringing you a little comfort instantly. “But you mentioned you’d be working on Miracle Finder tomorrow and I wanted you to have the chance to go over my remarks before that.”

“Lucien! Thank you,” you insist, waving away his apology. “Would you like to come in? I’ve got cake.”

He searches your face for a moment, and his eyes narrow the slightest bit. You feel a little self-conscious in your over-sized sweatshirt and shorts, but it’s not like he hasn’t seen you in various states of disarray before.

“Can’t really say no to that. Let me get my laptop,” he finally agrees. You wait at the door as he gets it, before leading him in. But you notice his curious, inquisitive looks, so subtle and so Lucien, as he toes off his shoes.

“Everything okay?” You reach for another plate, cutting a second slice as Lucien takes a seat at the table.

“Yes, of course. It’s just,” he hesitates, and there’s that odd scrutiny again. “I wasn’t expecting you to be alone.”

“On a Sunday evening?” The first bite of the cake tastes like sweet comfort over the taste of despondency, and you send a silent thanks to Jason. “I spent the day napping.”

“Well, after the show I just watched,” he says, quite slyly in your opinion. “I wasn’t even sure if you’d be home.”

“I didn’t know you were interested in dating shows.” You’re aware your tone is more than a little petulant, but Lucien only laughs around a mouthful of the cake.

“I am if you’re in one,” he retorts. “This is quite nice, by the way.”

“The director, Jason sent it. And, honestly, it wasn’t planned. We were supposed to have Kai and Hollow on, but they ended up clashing horribly. Jason asked me and Victor was around, so…” you trail off, uncomfortable.

“Is that why you texted me that day?” He seems to have remembered your message, and you wince slightly. You had texted him later with an apology, but hadn’t really expected him to cotton on. He doesn't look mad, just expectant.

“Well, yes, but Jason wanted, he wanted Victor.” Stumbling over your words, heat suffuses your skin as you flounder for a moment.

Lucien watches you with the eyes of a fox and the understanding of a good friend. “Just Jason?”

“Huh?”

“Was it just Jason who wanted Victor?” he asks, tilting his head as your mouth purses.

No, no, of course it wasn’t. You stare down at your half-eaten cake, the other half of it beginning to churn in your stomach. His small, soft smiles. His scent. His rants on street food and the way he dragged you away from food that would ‘absolutely make you ill, you absolute dummy’ as Jason resigned himself to having to cut all of that out. It all comes back in a rush, your head left feeling heavy.

And then it feels the weight of a hand, as Lucien reaches over to pat it gently. “Never mind. Why don’t you get your organizer and we can go over tomorrow’s episode?”

Relieved, grateful and slightly emotional over his silent acceptance, you rush to your bedroom to find your notebook and laptop, barely catching the light of your phone screen before it went black. Unplugging and checking it as you exited the room with your materials in hand, your train of thought comes to a screeching halt.

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Victor [21:59]: Do you really believe that?

Victor (2 missed calls)

Victor [22:15]: Y/n.

Victor [22:16]: ...Did you fall asleep?

Victor [22:18]: Dummy. Goodnight.

‎‎

Unwilling to delve into what his first text means, you shift your thick planner in your arms and type a quick reply.

‎‎

Y/N [22:19]: Hi! Sorry. I went to get something to eat and then Lucien dropped by. We’re going to get to work haha ^^

Victor [22:19]: …

‎‎

You wait for a whole minute before Lucien calls for you, and let your hand fall, phone locked, with a sigh.

Well, at least he’ll be happy to hear you’re working hard.

Sinking into familiar, engaging discussions with Lucien is easy. Even with the thoughts of Victor looming at the back of your mind, you straighten out a plan for the shoot. Lucien listens to your input carefully, adding his own notes as you squint at yours. His voice, familiar and soothing, lulls you, distracting you from yourself for a short while.

Before you know it, it’s eleven and you’ve got a fantastic plan in hand.

“I’m sorry I kept you so late,” you say for the second time in a minute, and he gives you an exasperated look. “And thank you.”

“I’ve told you, there’s no need for all that between us,” Lucien repeats, crossing one long leg over the other as he adopts a thoughtful look. “However, perhaps you could satisfy my curiosity regarding one thing.”

“What is it?”

You were prepared for a philosophical question. What he comes up with is, in your opinion, way more difficult to answer.

“Why aren’t you with Victor?” he asks seriously. You blink, uncomprehending.

“Like, right now?”

“Right now, or in general. I didn’t think he would just...let you be,” Lucien mutters the last part under his breath, but you still catch it. He continues to say something about possessive bastards, but you’re not touching that.

“I think you’ve misunderstood,” you say, slowly, with a nervous laugh, shoulders hunching a little. “All of that was just for the camera. Victor and I aren’t like that.”

“But you have feelings for him,” Lucien points out, cutting straight to the heart of the matter and yours. Really, this is almost cruel. Lucien turns to face you fully as you sigh and sink back into the couch.

“I do.” It’s the first time you’ve admitted it out loud. Sure, some of the people in your life have had an idea, but you’ve never said it. Lucien seems like a good person to start with. “But he doesn’t feel the same way, so.”

And you’ve never said that out loud either. It hurts, as you put it out into the universe. As if shying away from it before would have increased your chances.

Lucien looks at you oddly. “Did he say that? Because the way he looks at you says otherwise. It’s quite embarrassing.”

You feel heat creeping up the back of your neck.

“I’ve never told him how I feel,” you mumble, pressing the side of your cheek into the soft fabric, hoping it would swallow you up.

“Then how do you know how he feels?” Lucien continues to probe, and you exhale forcefully because it’s so clear to you; why isn’t it ever as clear to everyone else?

And Lucien is supposed to be your smart friend!

‘Well, there’s also someone else in his life but I can’t exactly say that.’

“Because it’s Victor,” you declare with an emphatic sweep of your hands, hoping it would somehow get your point across, that it would explain how unattainable he is. Just as you do, two things happen successively.

One: Lucien looks at you as if he wants to boink you on the head or laugh really loudly. He does neither, but his mouth twitches violently.

And two: there’s a series of loud, heavy knocks on your door, before the culprit seems to remember you have a doorbell and rings that instead. It only rings once, but you can sense that the person is still there.

Exchanging alarmed looks with Lucien, you rise to your feet and shuffle towards the door.

“Let me,” Lucien murmurs, stopping you before you can reach the entrance, and steps forward to look through the peephole. His only reaction is a quick, sharp exhale before he steps back to unlock the door.

Without telling you who was just knocking at your door like a maniac.

“Wait, who i-” the words fall away with your panicked thoughts, as Lucien opens the door to reveal your uninvited visitor.

It really is Victor this time, with his chest heaving as if he’d run up the stairs. Victor, with his inky hair pushed back carelessly, in dark grey sweats and a light grey t-shirt and indoor slippers.

Victor, with a furious look in his eyes as he pushes past Lucien, who looks a little too entertained in the face of such ire.

“Sorry to intrude on your cosy evening,” he says, after a short pause, through clenched teeth. You stare at him in disbelief, unable to form actual words at the moment. It feels as if a concentrated storm itself has swept into your living room, ready to swallow you up.

Of course, a part of you would be more than okay with that. Even with that knife-sharp glint in his eyes, you can’t help but want to throw yourself at it, let it graze the softest parts of you, in an emotional variation of bloodletting.

Sometimes you surprise yourself with the things you think.

Maybe you should’ve changed into nicer pyjamas after all, damn it.

“Victor? What-is everything okay?” You look him over carefully, seeing no visible signs of injury. The stony look on his face, however, keeps you from coming too close. What could you possibly have done now?

Swiftly, you run through a list of work-related tasks. Nope. Nothing. You’ve been sure to give it your all this week just so Victor wouldn’t feel the need to call you.

Even now, though, something under your skin starts buzzing, as it always does when his entire attention is on you.

“Yes. Why wouldn’t everything be okay?” he says mutinously, crossing his arms over his chest. Okay, you’re sensing more than a little hostility here.

And, because life is unfair, bitchy is also a good look on Victor.

“Well,” you draw out, looking past him at Lucien, who shrugs lightly. Victor frowns at the exchange. He levels a downright lethal glare at Lucien, who tilts his head in clear interest. Kinda hot, but you should probably keep that to yourself lest you push Victor to the point of spitting fire. “It’s...late...and you’re here…?”

That has his mouth doing that little spasm it does when he’s pissed. “And I notice I’m not the only one. What, is it just me who’s barred from coming to your place this late?”

“Well, n-no,” you stammer, looking once more at Lucien who seems content to watch and be unhelpful. “But Lucien was just here to talk about tomorrow’s episode.”

Why are you here?

The question seems to hang in the air, unsaid yet clear.

Victor says nothing, standing tall in your living room like an indignant matron. You feel helpless, confused, elated and increasingly offended because of the implication in his words that only catches up to you now.

You pick the path of offense.

“But what, exactly, did you think Lucien was doing here?” you ask, your tone turning decidedly cooler. He returns your glare. Behind him, you see Lucien trying to hide a smile. “You seem to be under the impression that I make it a habit of entertaining people in my evenings?”

Victor blinks at that, arms coming loose, and you hold up a hand.

“And even if I did want to have friends over at night,” you say loudly, through gritted teeth. “What business is it of yours?”

“It’s inappropriate,” he insists.

“No, what’s inappropriate is you coming into my house and telling me who I should, or should not, be spending time with, regardless of the time.” Much to your frustration, you find yourself blinking back tears as your voice cracks towards the end.

Victor deflates at that, the ice in his expression melting in the face of your furious tears; Lucien, concern clear on his face, takes a step towards you. Your eyes squeeze shut, as if that would hide you from them; anger and embarrassment war within you at not only crying in front of Victor, but to have a quiet Lucien witnessing this ridiculous drama.

Where did your peaceful day go?

You hear footsteps, hesitant and barely audible, come closer, feel the heat from a body as it nears yours.

“I’m sorry. I’ll leave.” It’s Victor.

Your eyes snap open to the sight of his back, your feet carrying you forward without the aid of your thoughts, a hand curling loosely into his t-shirt.

Leave? Just like that?

He stops in his tracks, looking back down at you in surprise. You’re not sure what he sees as you keep your eyes fixed on his shoulder, but it makes him sigh softly.

A thumb wipes under your eyes, gentle, and strong arms wrap around you carefully, pulling you into an—unreasonably broad, you think—chest; his comforting scent envelopes you, pulling you back from the edge.

It’s frustrating. You want to yell at him for barging in like a lunatic. But you don’t want him to leave. You want to sink into his steady embrace and allow the solace it brings.

With your face pressed to his t-shirt, you miss the way he looks back at Lucien, who nods and turns to leave, but not before holding Victor’s gaze for a moment longer—you don’t see the warmth drain from his face, the vicious warning warning clear in his eyes.

Victor pulls you closer, nodding once.

If Lucien’s answering smile is a touch more resigned than amused, neither of them can really acknowledge it.

You try to pull back when you hear the door close gently, but Victor cards a hand through your hair and you slump back into his embrace.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, stroking your hair, with a gentle hesitance uncharacteristic for the decisive man. “That was...extremely inappropriate of me. I should not have done that. I can leave. I should.”

He should. But neither of you move. His heart beats a little faster, the sound clearer the longer your ear remains pressed into his chest.

With cotton in your mouth, your mind totally mush with the knowledge that Victor’s hugging you, and with the little voice yelling that he does not get to hold you after driving you to tears—it takes you a moment to form a response.

But you can’t resist. “So what you’re saying is you made an impulsive decision.”

The soft motions of his hand pause before he huffs into your hair. There’s no other response, and it makes you smile a little.

“Why did you?” you finally ask. Victor quite visibly lost his cool. While he did seem to have something against Lucien, this was a bit much. You hadn’t been aware that the hostility ran this deep.

He tucks your head under his chin, the arm around your waist tightening, and as the anger subsides, your face begins to heat up as you realize how intimate this is. But Victor seems content to stay like this, and your heart hammers when you feel something brush the crown of your head.

“Dummy,” he mutters, and yes, his words are slightly muffled by your hair, and you feel the urge to stick your head in the refrigerator. “You had that guy over this late at night. Do you really need to ask?”

“It’s just Lucien,” you respond, and this time he lets you pull your head away to look at you with abject disbelief.

“Just? There’s no just with that guy.” He seems serious, so you swallow the laughter bubbling up.

“Lucien is a dear friend,” you assure him. “You were really that worried about it?”

“Worried,” Victor repeats, staring at you. Your confusion is clear in your face, as the feeling that you’re missing something creeps in. “Worried. Yes. I was worried.”

You nod encouragingly, and take a quick step back when he laughs. It isn’t one of his airy laughs, that escapes him when he finds something funny. It’s low, almost strangled—and then he steps forward, expression melting into sheer intent.

When he speaks, his voice is a full octave lower and it scrambles your brains with shameful ease.

“Since he was the one you considered over me for our date that day. Yes, I suppose I was worried,” he muses, matching every unsteady step you take backwards with one towards you. You refrain from pointing out that it was for a show, and all too soon, the back of the sofa hits your hips and Victor looms over you.

You tuck the part about him knowing you wanted to ask Lucien first away for later. Victor, his soothing scent, the heat from his breath, his tempestuous gaze—your senses flood with him.

“Y-yeah. But you didn’t need to be, he always helps us out,” you point out confusedly, and he gives you a familiar, unimpressed look that brings a small, and odd, measure of relief.

“What kind of a person would I be,” he says, and your stomach swoops as he leans over you, hands resting on the top of the sofa as you lean back. “If I let dangerous men like him think they have a chance with you?”

“Dangerous? He’s…” The rest of his words catch up and you can’t think, tongue struggling to form coherent speech. “Not...dangerous?”

“Too dangerous,” he murmurs, lips brushing over your temple. Something in the back of your throat trembles. “Even if I don’t have the right, I…”

He doesn’t continue.

Holding your breath, you count to five before releasing it, pulse beating an anticipatory beat in your veins. “Why should anyone think they don’t have a chance with me?”

You know he hasn’t, but with how everything in you stills after asking that question, you wonder if he stopped time.

You’re not sure if it’s the right question to have asked, or the worst.

But it gives him pause, and when the tip of your tongue slips out to wet your lips, his eyes slide down to your mouth. A large hand slides up your spine to rest at the back of your head, your skin erupting with goosebumps at the touch.

Your lips part on the softest sound and it makes something rumble in his chest, quiet but clear with how close he is.

It gives you what you’ve been dreaming of—Victor’s lips falling over yours, soft, with a rushed breath and fervent eyes, something desperate at the edge of it. Everything goes quiet, with only your blood pounding in your ears. It feels as if every inch of you is awake in a tingly sort of way, your thoughts deserting you at the way he looks at you, ready to devour.

There’s hunger in his eyes, and you feel faint when it hits you.

It’s also his answer, you realize, mouth opening to say something, anything, and he pulls you back, kissing you fiercely. Something in you caves, spilling into your blood, setting it alight with a burst of sparking desire.

Victor kisses with his entire body, like he does everything else: controlling every inch of it, sweeping your mind clean, licking into your mouth with the determination that drives his every action, to conquer.

But you’ve been determined to match him since the day you first met him, all too eager to push back and clash. You don’t mind the clack of teeth, the lack of rhythm, and Victor only presses in harder as your arms slide over his shoulders, fingers weaving into his hair. Your tongue is a sly thing that licks along his, your mouth a clever warm weapon that sucks at it, and he unravels.

Hands that were so careful lose their caution as they dig into the sides of your hips, slinking down and hooking around your thighs as he lifts you up, your legs wrapping around his waist.

“You’re not stopping me,” he rasps against your lips, almost questioning, pupils blown wide. He looks so good you might just lose your mind, and this is after a kiss.

Taking a page out of his book, you kiss him again.

He carries you around the sofa—with a strength you’ll be sure to admire deeply once you’ve regained the ability to form thoughts—even as he sucks bruises into the delicate skin of your neck, sitting down with you sinking into his lap.

You’re shivering, you realize, at this sudden fulfilment of a desperate, impossible wish. Your knees press into the sides of his thighs as Victor kisses the corners of your mouth, the curve of your upper lip, the plush, swollen jut of your lower lip—and you feel deliriously drunk.

He watches you carefully.

“Oh,” you say, half-slurring, kissed stupid. “That’s why.”

“Hm,” he agrees, nuzzling the side of your face. His eyes are bright, his arms a grounding touch around your back. “No one should think they get to have this.”

“No one but you?” It’s meant to be clever, sharper, but it comes out shy instead. He nips at the shell of your ear, and you can’t bring yourself to be mad about it.

“If you allow it,” he confirms. He presses his lips to the soft skin behind your ear.

Something swells within you, sweet, sudden and threatening to dissolve you into tears. It breaks open, everything you’ve worked so hard to suppress spilling out like hoarded treasure out of a box now too small to hold it.

“I like you.” It comes out in a rush, and you slap your hands over your face. This time, his low chuckle rings clear in your ears. But when your breath hitches on a sob, his grip on you tightens, lips finding your forehead. “I really like you. So much. I have for a while. At the fair, all of it, I wasn’t...wasn’t acting.”

“What, and you thought I was?” He looks a little offended when you take a peek at his face. But the sight of his ruffled hair and kissed-puffy lips sends a hot, thrilled jolt through you, and you have to restrain yourself from pouncing. “I have many skills. Acting, admittedly, is not one of them.”

“I thought maybe it was a hidden passion or something,” you mutter, trying to repress a wet laugh at the withering look he gives you, gentle hands wiping at your eyes. “What, you were great!”

“Nope. That was all real,” he declares, pulling you in to rest against him, your head on his shoulder. You feel a little awkward, but that’s mostly outweighed by how much you want to stay here. “...well, maybe I was a little…”

“Nicer than usual?” you offer, and he huffs into your hair. “Cheesy, like you binge-read several romance novels the night before?”

“Cheesy?” He protests, and you laugh with warmth building and rushing through you. “I thought you liked all that.”

“I do.” This time, the kiss he presses into the crown of your head is firmer.

“Then I’ll do it.” You look up at him, a little enchanted, a little bewildered, but the former wins out as the corners of his mouth curl up. “Every silly thing you want to do. Oh, and I really like you too.” It’s almost a scoff, but the tremor in his voice and the flush that spreads across his skin speaks his truth.

“Really?” you ask, your grin a little mad and ridiculously beatific. It feels unreal, the joy and relief spreading through you; he pecks the tip of your nose.

“Have I ever given you reason to doubt me?” Victor asks, and the solemn sincerity in his voice prompts you to deliver a loud, smacking kiss to his cheek, just because you can. To your unending joy, the lobes of his ears are almost impossibly red.

“Never,” you assure him, peppering more kisses over his skin, fascinating by the sight of him pinkening. A thought strikes you, dampening your rising spirits. “I thought...thought there was someone else.”

He makes a soft, surprised noise in his throat, disbelief winning out over the tenderness for a moment. “Who?”

“I don’t know!” You press your face into the side of his neck, inhaling his comforting scent, hoping it would help with the remnants of hurt. “Some mystery goddess.”

He’s quiet as you nuzzle his rapidly warming skin, feeling the first hints of sheer mortification settle in at the way your voice just cracked. He whispers something.

“Sorry?”

Victor clears his throat. “Just you.” He buries his nose in your hair before you have the chance to lean back like you want to. “It’s only ever been you.”

Not expecting the sincere confession, it feels as if the breath was punched out of you. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

He toys with a strand of your hair, curling it absently around a finger. “I didn’t want to overstep. And to make you feel like you had to reciprocate.”

You stay silent, sensing that he has more to say, even though you want nothing more than to wrap yourself around him and never let go.

“I’ll admit that I feared you would feel pressured to be with me. And that would...I would rather see you happy with someone else, than see you miserable with me.”

“I could never be miserable with you,” you protest at once, feeling almost offended by the mere suggestion.

“I’m not...I know I can be difficult.” The words fall out in a rushed exhale, as if he wants to get them out before they can be swallowed; you feel weak with the force of your emotions. “But I can try for you. I did that day. I wanted you to relax, to have fun, like you do with your friends. I didn’t want you to be so...cautious.”

It’s true, you realize guiltily, that there are times where you can’t completely relax in Victor’s company. Those are the days where your feelings sit a little heavier in your stomach, when his words strike a little sharper. The thought of disappointing him, of doing something not to his taste, of judgment, held you back.

But the day of the fair had been different. He met you halfway, maybe even more than that, and never said a word of complaint. You’d assumed that had been for the camera, though.

“Please,” he says with a roll of his eyes, and you realize you’d said that out loud. “No, that was…” He lowers his gaze, long lashes fanning over the tops of his cheekbones. “That was to show you that you can have fun with me too. I...like you. The way you are. Every bit. The determined, unyielding parts.”

You stare at him.

“The hurting, unsure parts,” he says, a little quieter. “The silly, ridiculously cute parts—don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what,” you ask, your overworked mind trying to process his words, knowing your smile is probably embarrassingly dopey.

He scowls at you. “Just be yourself with me. Dummy is fine.”

“Victor,” you exclaim all of a sudden, startling him. “How am I supposed to stay standing in the face of you saying things like that?”

He rolls his eyes again. “First of all, you’re sitting right now, and I don’t plan to let you move for a while.” Predictably, you feel a little lightheaded at that. “And as for the future...then don’t try to stand, dummy. You can just rest here.” He pulls your head to rest on his shoulder, patting it firmly.

“I’m going to die,” you say with absolute certainty into his shoulder. “I can’t survive this.”

“You have to,” he mutters dryly, tucking you more firmly against him. “Haven’t you seen the discussions? Our ‘love story’ can’t end in your death, too many would be left devastated.”

“Including you?” The look you direct at him is positively vulpine, and he snorts, pushing your head back down. Bully.

The titillated fluttering in your stomach makes you smile.

“...I can’t become a widower before we even get married,” he says solemnly, and you can nearly feel the blood drain from your face as you rear back.

The corners of his mouth twitch with something like mischief, and the smack you deliver to his bicep is perfectly justified.

The undoubtedly chiselled muscle you feel very briefly will also require further rumination once you’re alone.

He’s cracking marriage jokes, no doubt referring to the few comments gushing about a secret wedding. An hour ago, you had been under the impression that he was madly in love with some mystery figure.

Like a bird just freed, your heart flutters at the thought of him having feelings for you.

“Say it again.”

To his credit, he doesn’t do you the disservice of pretending he doesn’t know what you’re asking for. He clears his throat, eyes flicking to the side before finding their way back to yours.

“I like you,” he says, a little lower, a lot deeper. “Dummy.”

You wish you could see what your face was doing, because it makes his eyes go really, really soft. Now that you aren’t weighed down by the frantic need to hide your feelings from one of the most astute people you’ve ever met, you feel like you could float away the way you’ve seen Gavin do, just from how free and happy you feel.

“Just for the record,” you say quietly. “I like you the way you are too.”

“Hm?”

“Even when you’re being a jerk.” He tweaks your ear lightly, rolling his eyes when you giggle. Your heart beats a harsh beat as you try to come up with the right words. “But you’re also the best man I know. When you have it together, and when you don’t—I’ll be there for you. Always.” The way he’s always been there for you.

He kisses the tip of your nose, his pretty eyes a little shinier than before.

“We should aim for a real date first.” He sounds decisive, and a little hoarse.

“...I have a list of places I thought would be good for our first date,” you admit, eyes still locked with his despite your shy admission. He looks pleased, always happy when you take the initiative, and you watch his mouth do that tender thing for a second before leaning in for a swift kiss, catching his lower lip between your teeth as you pull away.

“Good.” His head falls back onto the sofa as your lips trail down his neck curiously, mouthing at the slope of his adam’s apple. Just because you can. “Send it to me.”

“Good,” you murmur, breath hitching in your throat as his hands curl over your waist, skimming the hem of your sweatshirt. “We’re doing this, then.”

“Most definitely.” With how throaty his voice has gotten as you reach his clavicle, a gentle explorer, you’re not sure words will be your allies for much longer.

“Will you be my boyfriend then, Mr. CEO?” you ask playfully, tasting the words in your mouth. Victor makes a soft, content sound in his throat.

“I’m all yours,” he affirms, relishing the words in his mouth, raising his head to look at you through hooded eyes. You both know it, just a little, but saying the words brings a giddy, vulnerable sort of feeling with them. “And you…”

With no need for hope, just certainty, you rise up to kiss him softly.

“I’m yours.”

BTS:

Goldman stares at Jason in horrified disbelief, shocked by the words that had just left the director’s mouth. He glances at his boss, whose only reaction had been to cock a brow.

“Would you be open to replacing Kai?”

“I’m...not really one for such shows,” Victor says, quite delicately in Goldman’s opinion, knowing the man usually has no qualms about being savagely blunt.

“I’m aware. I just thought it would be something different, something that would let people see a different side of you,” Jason explains, still completely at ease.

Victor’s expression makes it quite clear he doesn’t care about people seeing other sides of him.

“Who’s the other participant? Did Hollow come back?” Goldman asks, curious despite himself. In his very personal opinion, which he will definitely be keeping to himself, it might be nice for Victor’s image if people saw he isn’t always heartless.

“Oh, no. She didn’t,” Jason says pleasantly. But the look in his eyes is almost hawklike as he keeps them locked on Victor. “I asked Y/n to do it instead. She agreed.”

Now, to the untrained eye, Victor gives no outward reaction to that statement.

But Goldman sees the way his brow twitches, the way his lips purse the slightest bit. He wonders if Jason, as a director with many years of experience under his belt, caught it too.

“She agreed?” Victor asks, sounding as if he doesn’t quite believe it.

“Yes,” Jason answers, suddenly distracted as he glances at his wristwatch. He sighs, a touch too dramatic to be convincing, but Goldman doesn’t think Victor cares about that. “But I understand. We wouldn’t want you to do something you’re not interested in. I have to go check on her, we’ll keep you updated.”

Something is happening here, Goldman realizes. Jason isn’t rushing out, but seems to be waiting for something.

Victor, staring at the surface of the coffee table, is struggling.

Goldman struggles too. He struggles not to roll his eyes in abject exasperation, to pray for divine patience. Why is he like this? Of course, to step into such an obvious trap surely goes against all the instincts he’s honed over the years, but none of that matters when it comes to the delicate matters of the heart!

Instead, he catches Jason’s eyes, pushing his glasses up his nose, eyes glinting.

“But who else would you ask to step in on such short notice?” Goldman asks, pointedly.

And finally, Goldman holds his breath as the ghost of a smirk passes over Jason’s mouth.

This is it.

“Oh, it shouldn’t be a problem. Y/n said she could call Professor Lucien, having already guessed Victor wouldn’t be, um, up for it. She really knows you well, huh?” Jason informs them cheerfully, and even Goldman isn’t expecting that. He thought Jason would go for the ‘who will help poor y/n’ route.

It’s obvious manipulation, and they all know it. Knowing Victor, he will stubbornly refuse to give in and suffer for it. At least, the way he’s glaring at Jason seems to indicate that.

Goldman rushes through several justifications in his head, forming a rapidly coherent argument as to why he should do it, carefully keeping ‘if you don’t want to see her with someone else, suck it up’ and ‘please, please, watching you sulk is really sad I can’t do it’ off the list.

Surely, Victor wouldn’t let the sexy professor sweep you off your feet? He’s heard the man talk, that kind of smooth talk should not be allowed and holy hell, Jason has played this really well.

“They do get along well, so it should work,” Jason muses, slathering a little more icing on his three-tier cake of clear-cut manipulation, drama, and subterfuge.

“I’ll do it.” It’s said through a tightened jaw, but it rings clear in the silence of the room. Goldman abandons his mental speech, head whipping around to stare at Victor.

“Oh?” Jason sounds genuinely surprised, as if he hadn’t been aiming for this from the start.

“Yes,” comes the answer, leaving no room for argument.

“Are you sure?” Jason asks, oddly somber, finally abandoning the pretense. So he is in possession of some morals, who would have thought?

“Give me the briefing,” Victor says, shoulders set in a firm, determined line Goldman is all too familiar with.

Jason relaxes into his seat, relief clear in his face.

And as Victor turns to him, giving him specific instructions about his outfit, cologne and flowers, determined to do this right with that familiar, besotted spark in his eye, Goldman feels warm pride trickle in.

‘We’re gonna get you the girl, boss.’

Aaaaaaand...CUT.

I know the last behind the scenes thing wasn’t really needed but I had to

Thank you for reading, I hope you liked it!

#mlqc #mlqc victor #mlqc fanfic #mr love li zeyan #mlqc li zeyan #mr love queen's choice #mr love: queen's choice #my writing #tag yourselves im lucien

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woogurl · 4 years ago

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DISCLAIMER: I DO WOOSAN ANALYSIS, PLEASE SKIP IF U DON’T LIKE THIS SORT OF STUFF. I’M BY NO MEANS A PROFESSIONAL JUST SHARING MY OPINIONS. :)

so, i decided to make a san jealousy post because before i said i don’t think woo’s a jealous man, but now i think otherwise. however, unlike san woo is a lot more subtle(and at times he’s just outright brash with his jealousy) while san is a lot more transparent in general. so it’s easier to make a post about him. but i will include bonus moments or notable moments of woo’s jealousy. not only that, but we get less moments of woo being clearly jealous because san doesn’t give him much opportunity. ‘cause san is constantly giving him the attention he wants and is trying to woo him...

get it?

no? oke

anyway, i would like to preface this by saying jealous is not a bad emotion. in fact it’s not an emotion. it’s a feeling that every human experiences. unlike emotions a feeling is where you have a decent enough time to think about how to react to something. jealousy is often a feeling of insecurity. this may shock u but this includes ur idols. ‘cause u know they’re not robots. tho it’s understandable to get confused because they’re all so dreamy. but not the point.

however, jealousy isn’t technically a good thing either and it can also derive from an unhealthy characteristic or trait of being possessive and territorial. to even someone’s detriment. especially if it makes the other party feel smothered, uncomfortable or constricted.

now. the important question you’re wondering is whether i think san is possessive and territorial.

well, yes, i do think he is a bit. but not to an unhealthy degree if u ask me. he isn’t overly dominating. such as making everyone else feel uncomfortable because he’s very careful not to impose himself on others. in fact i’d say san is mostly dominant/territorial and jealous because he’s insecure AND possessive.

but that’s enough talking let’s talk about moments of jealousy from san.

let’s start with some iconic jealousy moments that immediately come to mind when we’re talking about woosan.

this moment where woo kissed seonghwa. as soon as san realized what was happening his body became stiff and awkward. just look at his face in the first ss. lmfao. he instantly became jealous and walked away and said. “i can’t watch this”. it was pretty obvious and his body and face also had a lot of tension which also shows displeasure.

this moment where he became absolutely shocked that woo caressed seonghwa’s face. please note how he was looking at wooyoung as if he couldn’t believe that he would do something like that to him. san’s face instantly changes from smiling to just pure jealousy in response to woo’s actions.

let’s talk about subtle jealousy, i mentioned this moment in an interview analysis. https://woogurl.tumblr.com/post/620788572454371328/hey-i-wanted-to-make-a-small-mini-woosan for reference.

as i pointed out before. san’s jealousy starts the second wooyoung places his hands on yunho. while the moments before show how easily triggered and jealous san can get. i feel like this interview clearly shows san’s possessive side. his jealousy consumes him to the point where he simply cannot focus at all during the end of the interview. it’s also interesting to see san genuinely seeing his members as a threat in this manner.

let’s talk about another subtle jealous moment, however it’s also very open and aggressive body language. and i’m still surprised san reacted this way. but interesting moment that’s not often talked about. a friend sent this to me in dm a while ago. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=26rscSxwIEU @ 5:25.

san was initially just minding his own business until he noticed woo talking to someone named tag. i was told that this was woo’s friend (ofc who isn’t woo’s friend at this point). as soon as san spotted them he started walking towards them. which surprised me because san is an introvert, he wouldn’t normally react like this in any situation but i def felt like san reacted more aggressively in this atmosphere because he’s aware isac is often a place where idols “meet" cough cough if u get what i mean.

as soon as san approached them he smacked woo hard and i mean hard af on the back. like damn. lol. something u should take note of is a persons status in a group is often revealed through body language. if a person uses dominant indirect/unconscious body language they’re displaying an indirect form of aggression.

not only that but san adds himself into the conversation. not only that but he touches/tousles woo’s hair which is a pretty affectionate gesture. tag is close to woo but san keeps invading that small space between them and his body and feet are pointed towards woo. you can see tag talking to hj from a decent distance but san is literally taking up that small personal space between woo and tag. he touches woo’s side and continues to try and get closer. u can also see that woo is fidgety avoiding eye contact while san’s eyes and gaze are directly on woo and follows his every move. it’s lowkey scary how san’s eyes are scanning woo. and as soon as woo has to leave the whole convo between them ends abruptly. lol.

next thing i wanna talk about is neck touches. i’ve already made an analysis about this. https://woogurl.tumblr.com/post/626125803005116416/woosan-neck-touches-this-is-probably-one-of-the?is_related_post=1. but there’s been many more moments since then. and my initial opinion has only solidified since then.

now i mentioned before that san doesn’t touch the other members neck as often as he touches woo’s neck. and definitely not as often as i thought he did. i mentioned before that does this either out of habit, to comfort or to assert dominance(it could even be all of them depending on the situation). and because san has shown signs of being possessive and territorial. i wouldn’t be surprised if the later was true. here are some recent ex.

san was pretty protective of woo during the surprise youtube vlive. his hands just couldn’t keep off him. lol. and woo as always is extremely comfortable with san’s skinship. not only that but i also think it genuinely comforts him when san does it.

this video https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pAMfdeQ4DcM, was quite interesting. to me it was one of the most interesting recent interactions from them. yet people barely talk about it. lmfao. well it’s understandable ‘cause their interactions were def edited/cut but a lot of moments were cute but here. san was being more possessive and territorial than normal with woo. so much so that the staff literally had to move him. LOL. @4:30 san was lowkey jealous that woo chose yeosang(even tho san was first to volunteer himself) as his guard and not him. but it doesn’t matter because san still ended up next to him. lol. however after some time they moved him and i’m not entirely sure why. i won’t really go into depth about this moment because this post is meant to analyze san’s jealousy as an outcome of possessiveness/protectiveness.

i would like to highlight again that i do not think san is possessive and territorial in a way that’s imposing. or in a way where he’s trying to dominate a conversation or propose himself as the ‘leader’. i think he’s this way because he’s naturally a caretaker. which is why he seems to want to protect those he genuinely cares about and are possessive over them.

next i wanna discuss this video. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2XslMoD5h3M&list=WL&index=12&t=2s. this video is one where san was particularly touchy and possessive with woo. attempting to physically draw woo into him as much as possible.

he starts touching woo @1:54. then, @2:15-2:33. and there’s a moment at 2:33 in particular that interest me.

san’s still touching woo, and if you ask me his touches with woo are a bit intimate. and on the side you see seonghwa’s hand on touch san’s waist. and it’s either because 1. he can’t see or 2. he’s warning san of something. @2:40 you can see it more clearly.

as you can see, seonghwa can’t(omg, joke from gmm don’t mind me). anyway, seonghwa’s kind of leaning forward. but this could also be because he wants to be subtle with his warning to san. you see the thing about subtle moments are.....they’re subtle moments. lol. they’re supposed to be subtle. and when they’re this subtle it’s easy for people to go. ‘oh, you’re overreacting, he’s just looking over’. so for now, i’m gonna say he’s just trying to look over.

now, i know people wanted me to put the part where san’s hands glide over woo’s back but this isn’t the sexual tension analysis. so anyway san’s hand is placed on woo’s neck @3:00-3:17 until he has to clap. lol.

san’s back to touching woo @3:35, but seonghwa can’t see again, because san’s pretty pressed up against woo and he’s a little in front of seonghwa and seonghwa keeps trying to pull san back. but at this point what is he trying to see? lol. and if you watch carefully, immediately after hwa touches san’s arm. he moves it. so i’ll leave that up to u guys to interpret it as you wish. there’s a couple of more moments after that where seonghwa attempts to warn or pull san back. and i’m pretty sure it’s because san was being touchy. i’m gonna guess it’s because he really liked woo’s fit that day.

i mean just look at the way he was looking at him at 3:50. his hands were firmly place on his neck and he was staring at him while licking his lips.

now let’s talk about how my man san is literally draped over woo at this point @4:46. i wanna mention the way san’s no longer literally holding woo’s neck anymore(which is a pretty possessive gesture because the neck is a pretty intimate are and san feels like he owns woo’s neck or something). now he’s pressed even closer to woo and his arm is wrapped around his him. something san has always done even in predebut is wrap his arms around woo’s shoulder and to me that’s pretty evident body language that he wants to be physically closer to woo by drawing him into him and wants to get rid of space between them which is pretty evident esp in this ss. just look at woosan compared to everyone else. so the reason i added this moment is because it shows how possessive and touchy san to be kind of like displaying ‘he’s mine’ or ‘we’re super close, see?’ and everyone else is just minding their own business while hwa is probably inwardly freaking out. lmfao.

here’s a similar moment/situation. https://www.vlive.tv/post/0-18364450. the vlive on idol radio with woosan as host.

we start off the video with san holding woo’s neck. can i just reiterate how intimate this gesture is. also how san often does this to woo and rarely does it with others? just imagine your partner holding your neck like this. it’s a pretty intimate and possessive gesture. it’s not mentioned often but woo’s neck is pretty sensitive and he viscerally reacts when it’s touched by others intentionally intimately. lol. but anyway san holds woo’s neck for quite sometime and their body language is once again so different from everyone elses.

i also wanna mention that someone said the interview with oneus and mostly onf was awkward in my dm. esp the tension between wooyoung and the boy in the green and yellow sweater. i’m sorry i don’t know his name. xD i would have to watch again. ‘cause i’m not sure if there was tension but i do know woo was quite bold in starting their amicus ad aras thing. anyway the clip was relatively short so not much to be said.

next this vlive. https://www.vlive.tv/post/1-18386548. san was pretty hyper here. lmfao. excited from the start he was already clinging to woo.

but we’re here to pinpoint possessive/jealous san. lol. he starts holding on to woo around 21:45-22:57. he holds on for quite a while. lol.

he let’s wooyoung’s neck breath for a while before it’s yeosang comes in @23:07 and he grabs it again. lol. and at 23:38 as woo was gonna blow in yeosang’s ear san comes down to peck woo’s head and grabs his shoulders with both hands. lol.

and of course he continues holding woo and gets closer to him and he checks to see if the staff is looking at him weirdly. lol.

he holds on to him a while longer before yeosang finally get up. i would also like to say san was following woo around for a bit previously before this happened. lol. now as woo gets up the camera kind of goes somewhere else and jongho’s kind of in the way(it’s oke, we love to see his handsome face). so i couldn’t really see exactly what happened but @25:15 woo clings on to hwa and san’s like, ‘oh...alright’ lmfao. i also wanna mention woo tried to peak under hwa’s shirt. at this point we can say he’s not only an ass man but a tummy/abs man oke. anyway that’s it in conclusion san loves to touch and hold on to woo in any way possible.

i also wanna mention the moments where san wraps his arms around woo’s waist, because i also think this is possessive/territorial body language. i’ve made a whole comp of this because san does it that often.

THIS IS GETTING TOO LONG. so i wanna bring up a few of the online fansign moments. it difficult to interpret these because 1. they’re short clips without much context and 2. i don’t understand what’s being said but i’m gonna analyze this from body language alone.

so something we know about san is he often initiates contact first and i’ll be making an analysis talking about this soon. but anyway in a lot of these moments san is just in wooyoung’s space, but woo gets in san’s too and these moments make me realize woo can be just as possessive and territorial as san. because they crave for each others attention. (you can find most of these moments on woosan insta’s acc’s like kn nk, yowoosan, etc.)

here woo is talking to a fan but san suddenly pops out of nowhere and waves his hand as if he’s waving the fan away. i’m not sure what else this could have meant. i don’t think he was waving at the staff(who i think are in front of them) to leave ‘cause he was looking at the camera. he then left and came back and wrapped his arm around woo and left again and then came back and said something to woo, but woo looked annoyed. possibly bc he was trying to interact with the fan and san kept invading his space. to me it looked like san was being possessive, craving woo’s attention esp bc woo’s interest and attention was on the fan at that time.

i’m not gonna post all of the moments bc this post is already too long, but i think the fansigns showed how they both want each others attention and how possessive they can be. san’s jealousy appears more often because he’s just generally more transparent than woo. but anyway i’m tired, thas it.

i’m gonna just do a separate post for woo, ‘cause it’s just too long. xD

#ateez #wooyoung #san #woosan #analysis

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spanishskulduggery · 9 months ago

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Okay, sorry, second IO question. The lesson says, "Hey, by the way, if it's not clear who/what you mean with the pronoun 'le', 'les' or 'se', you should clarify by specifically saying who/what the pronoun is referring to." This boggles my mind because isn't that why you would use a pronoun in the first place? If you're going to specifically state the indirect object, why bother with an IO pronoun at all? How does this usually play out in the real world? Thanks!

The indirect object [normally le/les] refers to 3rd person singular and 3rd person plural - and also encompasses usted and ustedes

They aren't strictly stand-ins for the subject, they just show who is receiving the action/result of the verb

As in:

Le mando la carta. = I'm sending him/her the letter. Les mando la carta. = I'm sending them the letter.

In general, the object is implied, but it could be confusing or very vague. It can also be a bit odd if you're talking to an usted but then mentioning something you're saying/giving/doing for someone else which is also 3rd person

They recommend you add the object specifically if you need to clear up any confusion:

Le mando la carta a Juan, no a Ana. = I'm sending the letter to Juan, not to Ana. Le mando la carta a ella, no a usted. = I'm sending the letter to her, not to you.

You may find yourself in a situation where you're saying to an usted: le dije que iba a mandarle la carta a ella "I told you that I was going to send the letter to her" - where you're using le two times but with different subjects

The indirect objects are considered "necessary" in that they frequently get used in expressions that require an indirect object - verbs like gustar, or very often things like dar, mandar, enviar etc quite often use indirect objects; mentioning the actual person isn't always needed unless it's vague

I did a post a long time ago on indirect objects that explains a lot of it

#asks #spanish #learning spanish #langblr #spanish grammar

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comrade-meow · 3 years ago

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Spell-caster's notebook, 2nd half of the 19th century - 1st quarter of the 20th century, Haute-Saône. Photo credit: Musées départementaux de la Haute-Saône

“When total war is being waged with words, one must make up one’s mind to engage in another kind of ethnography.”

—Jeanne Favret-Saada, Deadly Words: Witchcraft in the Bocage (1977)

One of the best studies of the power of language and its relationship to violence is Jeanne Favret-Saada’s Deadly Words: Witchcraft in the Bocage (1977). In this groundbreaking ethnography, Favret-Saada discusses how witchcraft employs language to gain power and catch the subject within a web of words. For Favret-Saada, the ethnographer is the unwitcher who lets herself become entangled within a network of power in which words create spells. She calls this being “caught.” For “those who haven't been caught” spells simply “don’t exist” (15).

Similar to Favret-Saada’s work on witchcraft in France, today’s cultural-political economy is immersed in another politicisation of language. This time the catching of subjects, government and institutions is happening in the public sphere under the guise of linguistically codifying identity. All this necessarily relies upon a previous “bewitching” of subjects who are willing to recycle the language of the magical spells despite the absence of evidence.

In witchcraft, language becomes the contested space that Favret-Saada rightfully notes as having taken hostage the very premise of communication, writing, “[I]t is no longer truth or error that is in question, but the possibility of communicating.” Addressing those who have been caught within the spell of language—the bewitched and the suffering—Favret-Saada asks:

In what way are the bewitched right when they say they are suffering? And the unwitchers, when they say they “take it all” on themselves? (And what of the alleged witches, who remain obstinately silent, or claim they do not believe in spells?) What, then, is at stake when such a discourse is being used? These questions led to other, more fundamental ones, about the effect of spoken words and the very rationale of this discourse: why is talking in this way so like the most effective kind of act? How do words kill as surely as a bullet? Why do people talk rather than fight or die, why do they use precisely these terms? And why this kind of language rather than another? If one talks in terms of witchcraft, it must be that the same things cannot be said any other way. (13)

Although Favret-Saada asks these questions about rural Normandy of the 1970s and the role of the ethnographer in studying her own culture, we can easily expand upon Favret-Saada’s premise here. For as she posits in the Bocage that one need not believe in sorcery, there is an accounting that takes place by virtue of the group’s symbolic code where “you have to be caught to believe” and where those who haven’t been “caught” have no place speaking about spells. Favret-Saada poses this question to herself: “What ultimate authority could I invoke, in talking about spells to a bewitched person or an unwitcher?” Does being an insider lend to the currency of language and belief such that any interaction with an outsider necessarily invokes a turf war over space, bodies and language?

For Favret-Saada, words do not merely represent or communicate beliefs—they have noticeable effects on the vitality and well-being of both the bewitched and the dewitcher. Where her work examines how words “kill” and “heal,” today we are in the throes of a culture war where the claim—contrary to fact—of words causing death, of words being “literal violence” are now thrust to the fore. Indeed, words are laden with such potential for “violence” today that many think twice before speaking or writing. The mere accusation of violence has become the negative reinforcement of a movement that has been allowed to make up facts, statistics and now even the very non-reality of violence.

If we are to move forward through the current debates over gender, race, and various other orbiting identities whose moral framework rests almost uniquely upon claims of victimhood, often in direct opposition to material fact, we must return to some of the primal tenets of reason posed during the Enlightenment. We are in the throes of a society caught within a hall of mirrors—many of which are firmly and uniquely fixed within the virtual world of social media—where the narcissistic output is unparalleled even by a three-year-old having a strop on the playground. Where words are “violence” and opinions akin to “murder,” we are witnessing the conflicts created when a direct antagonism between perceived identity and material reality is met on the social stage.

In order to understand what is driving this culture of identifying with oppression—often feigning oppression—our task must be to address those who claim to be suffering. While the subjects caught in the spell of words have been at the centre of media and political attention in recent years, these communities rely upon the language “witchcraft” to divorce themselves even further from ontological and empirical reality while surrendering themselves to a language that holds no resemblance to the material world. There is something to be said for the punishing efforts of these lobbies which seek to project phobias and other -isms into any thoughtful debate or prose on issues of “race” and gender.

Favret-Saada noted that those who resist the language of sorcery will be made to suffer. Today, we must ask ourselves if those fighting for the recognition of their identities even if the older remedies of psychiatry or religion have failed:

The priest and the doctor have faded out long ago when the unwitcher is called. The unwitcher’s task is first to authenticate his patient’s sufferings and his feeling of being threatened in the flesh; second, it is to locate, by close examination, the patient’s vulnerable spots. It is as if his own body and those of his family, his land and all his possessions make up a single surface full of holes, through which the witch’s violence might break in at any moment. (8)

This study considers how the aporia left by the fading grip of religion and medicine has been filled by outside forces coming to confirm the subject: the suffering subject. Having worked with those who were caught up in a spell, the dewitchers and the wives and families affected by witchcraft, Favret-Saada notes how suffering forms the core of how witchcraft is exercised in this community and she explores the reasons for this suffering.

Today, suffering is undergoing a cultural redefinition in the west through the recycling of historical tropes of violence and oppression injected throughout identity politics. Unlike the distant witchcraft of Favret-Saada's fieldwork, historical atrocities cannot simply be cut and paste into a present-day reality in order to rejuvenate a fresh violent act of suffering through which the subject identifies. Where Favret-Saada shows how working with the bewitched and their unwitchers implicates the constant manoeuvring of “good and evil," she claims that all unwitching "is impossible to cure without switching to a position of indirect violence.” Violence is a discursive marker for Favret-Saada where "he who does not attack automatically becomes the victim."

To understand the political forces that revive discourses of racism and sexism today by those claiming victimhood, we must ask those suffering why they suffer. Then, we must also ask why the spell involves converting others to their ideology so that the subject might suffer less. The symptom of suffering that we see by those claiming to have a gender identity, for instance, is inextricably linked to their need for others to mirror their self-image through language. This is similar to what Favret-Saada claims about dewitching, “a technique that neutralizes and exteriorizes venomous self-doubt." There are clear ideological manoeuvres meant to inscribe healing through fiat.

We need to understand how people weaponise emotionally-laden discourse today. The public shaming of those who do not confirm the suffering or pronouns of another seems to be part of a larger network of “sorcery” where the current structural functioning of our society rewards those individuals who engage in the aforementioned language games while punishing those who refuse.

Favret-Saada’s identification of power as the primary element in the effectiveness of ritual forms is a crucial contribution to our understanding of such rituals. Still, we can see the pitfalls of reducing the language of witchcraft to a tidy binary of the subject who suffers and the dewitcher who does violence. Where “the sufferer can choose to interpret his ills in the language of witchcraft,” it is also the case that those who do not claim to suffer are deemed de facto oppressors.

Where oppression is a historical and current-day fact, the truly oppressed subject is mostly not heard. What time has the underpaid or economically destitute worker to chime in on Twitter or to write her local politician? We are captured within a political field where segments of the population use words like “literal violence” to refer to another group whose push back on their notion of oppression. Those who use the stage of oppression in order to be heard are as numerous as is their narcissism expansive. When the media prints that something is “oppression” or “murder” today, we can pretty much bet that what is being communicated is invariably the opposite. In a world where narratives of oppression have taken hold of democratic processes with fury and where the mere claim to victimhood is tantamount to fact, we must concede that we are living in a post-truth era.

Emotions are given enormous weight over facts in media today and all it takes for one to be considered oppressed is to use the “magical spell” of language. The only way out of this chasm between truth and narcissism is to revert to the institutions of science, philosophy, journalism and law. Let us not forget that long before smartphones it was possible—even pleasant—to have heated discussions over a meal with friends and strangers, everyone chiming in with their thoughts and disagreement.

We must reject illogical, illiberal hokum being fed us as the "new progressive" language of the day and instead we should return to the table of dinnertime debate where facts outweigh feelings and where individuals are held accountable for good-faith debate. I have often wondered if the current popular authoritarianism would have ever taken hold without the cloaked anonymity that social media affords. Still, I am quite certain that the current stifling of free speech, academic debate and the media's drive of anti-science narratives are all directly linked to the fact that politicians are not held to account for their performances that have zero political vaue. From AOC's sporting her "tax the rich" dress at the Met Gala for which attendees paid £25789 to attend to David Lammy who claims that males have cervixes, the left is in dire straits with a political class of professional liars who use words to bewitch us all.

I suspect that were the online debate moved to the salon or dining room, we would all be able to see the ruffian sulking silently in the corner, angrily seething because his arguments were unconvincing. His fist banging on the table evidence his every iteration as less rational and credible than the one before. As he struggles to bully all those in disagreement around him, his turbulent behaviour reveals him to be fundamentally an irritable prig who harbours deep-seated misogyny and homophobia.

Real-life interactions are part of the remedy to the addiction-addled cycles of social media use. We cannot replace the vacuum left by religion's demise with political or ideological orthodoxy any more than we can unwitch the possessed who identify with their fictional oppressions.

One of the options we have at our disposal is to unplug and go outside. I’m heading there now. Come join me.

#Anglo.txt

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nanagoswife · 4 years ago

Text

For You? Always.

Chapter Eleven

Summary: Some soft moments with Ben before leaving for work...

W/C: 3.7k

Warnings: angst, indirect? mentions of sexual assault

<<Previous, Next>>

Ben placed a soft kiss on your forehead that gently pulled you back into consciousness. It lingered until your eyelids fluttered open, a smile spreading your lips. He greeted you with his own warm smile as he brushed any loose hair from your face.

A strong feeling of fondness had filled him as he gazed into your eyes. You let your hand gently fall onto his cheek, the same feeling flowing through your heart.

You buried yourself into his chest, wanting to be surrounded in his comfort. To enhance this, he wrapped his arms around you back and pulled you in just the slightest bit more.

You wished that you could've stayed like this all day, but you had things to do. You had to prepare for the next two weeks.

Reluctantly, you pulled yourself from his warm comfort and met his eyes. Like most mornings, his hair was a wild mess. It was a sight that you would never tire of.

Asking if he wanted coffee, he hummed in confirmation. Taking a moment longer to admire him, you got up to go prepare it. Ben had thought of playfully pulling you back in for a kiss before you left, but he had decided against it, fearing it would bring back painful memories. So, instead, he let you go.

So, he turned over onto his back. He placed his hand over his eyes to rub them before he felt your hand slide over his chest followed by your soft lips making contact with his. His hand switched from his eyes to holding the side of your face while he leaned in more with a grin.

Pulling back, you made your way to the door to start the coffee. All you had to do was pour the grinds in and then start the machine as you always prepared it again after every morning. It made everything easier and quicker for the days that it was needed most. Today, you felt, was one of those days.

A few moments later, you heard Ben walk out of your room. You kept your attention ahead of you as you prepared a replacement filter that would be put in for tomorrow. Ben stepped up behind you, placing his hands on your shoulders, and placed a reposeful kiss to your cheek.

Carefully, he moved his arms to wrap around you to meet at the front. Ben made sure that, if you had any negative reactions, he would pull away.

You only slightly tensed. Ben did notice this. Adjusting, he made his movements more gentle. Lastly, he placed his chin on your shoulder as he watched your swift movements.

When you had tensed at his tender movements, you chastised yourself. It didn't last long as you let yourself revel in the tender moment.

“How’d you sleep?” you said quietly, as you both were still a little groggy.

Ben grunted, the vibration sending a tingle through your shoulder, “Pretty good once I actually fell asleep.”

A giggle escaped you from the feeling of Ben talking on your shoulder, but confusion set in. “You weren’t able to fall asleep right away?”

“I had a few things that were running through my mind.” Even though you knew what thoughts probably kept him up, you let it go. There were other matters to deal with. The first being the coffee as it made the telltale sound that meant it was ready.

Already having the cups ready, you poured the coffees including the cream and sugar. Ben let out a small, “oh,” of surprise as you prepared his cup the way he liked it. This was the first time you got his cup ready. “How did you know?”

“I’m observant and a quick learner. Helps that my first job was a barista.”

“Ah,” Ben said, "I remember. What was that place called again?”

It was a task to remember the name. The cafe you had worked at was popular, but it had been so long since you’ve even just visited there. It also didn't help that it was located on the other side of the city.

“If I remember correctly, Hello There Cafe.”

Ben smiled and gave a slight chuckle at the memory. “Oh, yes. That's right. It was in the best area of town.”

“I still remember seeing you in your sweater vests and glasses as you studied like a madman.” This time, you gave a slight chuckle as you saw his eyes widen in the corner of your eye.

His face turned red in embarrassment at the memory, “Yes, that was me.” You laughed at the thought of it. That kid from all those years ago looked so different from the man that stood here, holding you in his arms with his head on your shoulder. “I’ll admit, I was not the most sociable person back then.”

“Well, the only talking you did, until we learned it by heart, was your order of hot chocolate with whipped cream and occasionally a scone, or muttering to yourself as you did your work.”

Ben had laughed as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Oh goodness, you actually remember that?”

That was far from the only thing that you remembered. There was so much that had you admiring him often. Instead of telling him that, you settled on, “You were only our most frequent visitor. Say, what ever happened to those reading glasses?”

“My newer, better looking pair, if I may add, is actually at my apartment. I don’t wear them often anymore.” Gazing into his eyes, you tried to imagine him with his glasses, but you laughed as you thought of him with his old ones.

Turning in his arms, you handed him his cup of coffee, putting your hand on his cheek as he smiled, “Well, I would like to see you in glasses again. I think you'd look just as handsome as you do now.”

There was no keeping the giggle you had from coming out as you watched him blush.

Then you thought of something else to ask, “What did you think of me?” Maybe this would help you gauge whether or not you should confess everything else.

“What? The one who always had some sort of clothing or accessory that was blue?” Nodding, you were surprised he knew that. It was something you had prided yourself for no one noticing, until now. “To be honest, I really liked you. The smile you always had, that you still have, always helped raise my spirits.”

Something creeped up in you. A realization that he remembered just as many details from those days that you did. That small, insignificant detail, though, showed that he remembered the odd things like you had.

“Is that why you seemed to be so nervous to meet me the first day you started?” Ben’s face grew red in embarrassment once again.

Rubbing his neck again, he admitted, “Yeah. Honestly, I kind of kept tabs of what you were doing. I was happy to see your success. Then-” His sentence cut off, not knowing what to say next.

“Then you were offered a job in the same company?” Ben nodded, confirming your guess as fact.

Even though you didn't really know him in high school, you were always strangely drawn to him. There were few times that you had actually talked, yet you had school and the cafe that allowed you to get to know him. Did he do the same with you?

"You said that you liked me in highschool," you started after a moment. "In what way?"

It was almost as if he were expecting this question. There was no surprise, but a soft smirk. "I had a crush on you," he replied innocently. "I took every moment to... I guess you could say, study you. In class, any interactions, the cafe. It was the only way I could get to know you without getting in trouble from..." he trailed off. You knew who he was referring to.

So, he had done exactly what you had.

"I did too," you said, almost in a whisper as you looked at the ground.

Ben brought your eyes back to his by gently lifting your chin with a finger. You watched as he was trying to formulate words as he undoubtedly remembered something you had said the night before.

"Was I the one you mentioned. W-when you said there was someone who made you rethink?"

"Yes."

For a hot second, you thought that it would push Ben away. Why would it, though? It's not like it happened yesterday.

Instead, he only gave you a comforting smile before it fell and he turned his head away. You knew he was now thinking of how he was the reason for your dark night.

"Hey," you said, bringing his face back while cupping his cheek. "It wasn't your fault. It was my decision to tell him. He didn't know it was you."

That seemed to comfort him a bit. The sadness in his eyes drained as they looked into yours. The morning light made the blue of his eyes look more beautiful than before. Well, maybe not as much as the light of the moon, but it met that level.

Breaking out of your thoughts, you became aware of the silence that had taken place. Lifting your eyes from your blank stare, you met the shy look in Ben’s eyes as he once again rubbed the back of his neck to soothe his embarrassment as he noticed your wonderment.

“Well,” you said, stepping closer to him and placing your hands on his chest, “I’m glad we’re together now.” Ben laughed, more like a huff of relief, agreeing. “I do want to ask, do you still wear sweater vests?”

Laughing once again, he managed the answer of, “Not much, but I do have a few, which I almost never wear.” Smiling, you gave him a quick kiss.

"Maybe we'll bring them back," you said with a cheeky smile.

The rest of the day was spent getting ready for the next few weeks, the time being actually enjoyable with Ben’s company. Not only did he talk with you, but he provided entertainment, making you laugh throughout the afternoon.

Unlike when you were at his apartment, you actually had food to make for the day. Refusing to let you do it, Ben was the one who made lunch and dinner. Considering the fact that he almost always went somewhere for food, Ben was a pretty good cook. Today: grilled cheese for lunch and spaghetti and meatballs for dinner.

Though spaghetti's a common dish, he found your spices and added a few of them in, making it taste better than you ever imagined. As you were busy packing your clothes during the process, you didn’t get to see what he did and he wouldn’t tell you. He had even put everything back in a way that you couldn't tell what he used.

At one point, Derek had finally sent you the name of the author you were visiting. When you had told Ben, it seemed like he had heard the name before, but you didn't ask. There were so many people he had met, you wouldn't be surprised if he at least heard of them.

Of the whole day, the only time Ben had left your proximity was to make a phone call. Every other moment was spent no more than a room apart where you were still able to talk to each other or he would just follow you.

He made the day so much better, making dread for the next day build up as it went on. Putting your mind at ease was his assurance that he would be ready for your phone calls every day.

By the time the next morning rolled around, you were woken by your alarm. Ben had let out a groan of irritation at the sound. You struggled to open your eyes as it was far earlier than you were used to getting up. The blaring alarm stung your ears which made you hurry to turn it off.

“Is it really that time already? It’s still dark outside,” Ben said as he pulled the blanket over his head. The grumble in his voice made you laugh while you massaged your eyes before opening them.

“Unfortunately, yes. I’ll go make coffee.” He brought the covers away from his face, squinting when you turned your lamp on.

Starting to move forward, he grabbed your arm, causing your heartbeat to quicken while slightly flinching, “No, you stay here to rest and get ready. I’ll deal with that.” You opened your mouth but Ben cut in before you spoke, “Don’t worry, I’ll set it back up the way you usually have it.” The quickened heartbeat had dulled back down while telling yourself that he wouldn’t hurt you.

What you didn’t know was that Ben saw your flinch but hid what he knew. When he had closed the door to the room behind him, he dropped his shoulders in shame. He never wanted to do anything to cause a reaction like that, but this gap of memory had just brought it up. Thankfully, you had smiled at him before he left the room.

The fact that you had packed the night before and had everything lined up at the door made you thank yourself. If you had to do that at this moment, you would feel way too stressed. Thankfully, you had even laid out an outfit to wear as well, making the morning routine even faster than it already was.

A few minutes after you had gone into the bathroom, you could smell the rich scent of the medium roast that was filtering. It made you long for a sip, to taste the drink that helped you power through the early hours of a day.

Ben was still in the process of preparing the cups when you left your room. He smiled at you while you walked over to the couch, grabbed the book that was on the coffee table, and started to read after getting comfortable.

While you read, Ben carefully made his way with your coffees to make sure he wouldn’t spill them. He placed yours on the table and sat next to you on the couch. Peering over, he scanned over the words in curiosity.

“That’s a great book,” he said in a hushed tone, so as to not distract you too much. It had piqued your own curiosity though.

“Why am I not surprised that you’ve read this?” you said this as best you could through a short laugh.

Sitting up straight, he pretended to look posh and regal, “I happen to be an avid book reader in my spare time.” He said this with a mock upper-class British accent that made you laugh. Not only was the accent funny, but his exaggerated facial expression sold it even more. Bringing his hand up, he mimed fixing a monocle.

Ben’s witty motions made you laugh so hard that tears were forming in your eyes. Just to be safe, you put the bookmark back into the book. It took you a few moments to collect yourself from the hilarity.

Usually, you had thought, you wouldn’t have had that sort of reaction, but the lack of sleep was probably why. Wiping the tears from your eyes, you picked up your mug and took a sip to try and calm yourself down.

Ben had only watched your reaction in great amusement. To himself, he chuckled at the delightful reaction you had. He was scared you weren’t going to even find what he did funny, but he was dead wrong. The way you had laughed had brought a brightness to his heart and uninfluenced energy to his mind.

Now, as he gazed at you trying to contain yourself, he felt something he hadn’t felt in a long time. Before he could act upon it, you looked at your watch to realize that you needed to be quicker with your time. Ben’s heart sank as he knew it was that time. He wished he could have a little more time.

Sadly, though, you had to be ready for Derek’s arrival to head to the airport. Ben had gone to get his stuff together while you finished your coffee and got a few last minute things done.

When Ben came back out of your room, he placed his bag by the door. He approached you, “Well, I guess I should go before Derek gets here.” Despite what you actually felt, you nodded. “I’ll talk to you later?” he said as if he didn’t already know the answer.

This time, you nodded with more enthusiasm and placed your arms around his neck. “Of course.” Slowly, you both leaned in for a bittersweet kiss.

“I’ll see you in two weeks,” Ben said as he stepped back and took his bag in his hand.

You stepped toward him again, "I love you," you whispered against his lips. You wished he could come to the airport to see you off, but he had to go to work.

Smiling, he pressed his lips to yours. "I love you too," he said against your lips before pulling away. Giving one last smile, he left.

Loneliness creeped in with knowing you would go these next weeks without seeing anyone you’re close to. You were good friends with Derek, but he was your boss and you maintained a relatively professional relationship.

Derek had arrived not much longer after Ben had left. He offered to take your suitcase to let you get settled in the front passenger seat of his car. His wife, Emma, was in the backseat. She was there to drive the car back home after you were dropped off at the airport.

Both you and Emma talked with each other regularly. When you had first been promoted to your current position, you had met her at a party that Derek had invited you to. The two of you got along very well and continued to talk ever since. Occasionally, you would have a little fun together and joke around about some things Derek did.

While you had waited for Derek to finish up, you and Emma managed a small hug in the limited area between the two front seats.

“I heard you finally have someone more important in your life,” Emma said, starting the conversation.

Smiling, you told her a brief description of Ben. Since Derek was one to share all the dealings he has at work with Emma, you knew you didn’t have to say that he works with you. Emma listened intently with a smile on her face.

“He sounds like a good one,” she said when you had finished. Derek had finally finished his tampering with the suitcases in the back and took his place at the wheel. The three of you carried a conversation through the whole ride to the airport.

On the flight over, Derek and you sat together as you discussed details of what was going to be part of the professional part of the trip. Even though you were discussing it now, it apparently wasn’t going to be talked about until the end of the trip.

The author’s name is Claire Hali, who was a few years younger than you. She had claimed that she didn’t want to start with business as it, “could tamper the friendship,” before it began.

Though you hated having to try and get her to sign this way, it isn’t the first time a writer has done this. You only dreaded this one because of the time it took place, and how long it was for. Usually, the longest amount of time spent was a few days. Meaning you and Derek could make quicker work of the situation and gauge if you really wanted to partner with them.

Pushing aside your more negative thoughts, you looked ahead to the time that could be seen as a vacation. Yes, it was still for work reasons, but it could be seen as a well deserved break. Afterall, these trips are some of the only breaks you took away from work.

At the airport, you were met by Claire, herself. She extended her hand in a friendly enthusiastic greeting. “I decided to come get you myself in extreme excitement for meeting the two of you.”

After Derek shook her hand, you moved to do the same, “It’s great to finally meet you Miss Hali.” Claire laughed as she shook your hand.

“Please, call me Claire. As you’ll learn during your time here, I am not hugely formal. It’s a nice gesture but I prefer you calling me by my first name.” She flashed a smile, causing you to do the same as you nodded. You didn’t know why, but you felt like you were going to get along with her even after these few moments.

Urging you to follow her, she brought you over to the luggage belt. As you always did, you didn’t read much about author’s before meeting them. For most of them, they loved that since it left them a chance to actually tell someone of their achievements without them already knowing.

For Claire, she thought it was amazing. She said that everyone else knew exactly what she had done and having you to tell it to for the first time made for a great time. Since she was in school, everyone knew about everything and she couldn’t ever talk about them normally. It made you feel bad for her, as you knew how that felt.

Once you and Derek found your respected bags, you joined Claire in heading to her personal car. She helped you both put the bags in the trunk and let you decide where to sit. Derek let you sit in the front as he saw the two of you were getting along quite well.

“Tonight I thought we could stay in and go out for dinner tomorrow,” she said as she pulled away from the airport entrance. Agreeing, you continued small conversations about your lives. You decided to keep Ben from the conversation for now.

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