#and then at some point i learned this poor chicken is suicidal

[rock-reblogs]

ID: a chicken walking across a road with a cartoon thinking bubble reading "I have my reasons" /end ID

[warrioreowynofrohan]

The Tenant of Wildfell Hall - Chapter 38, “The Injured Man”

This chapter - the one where Lord Lowborough learns about Annabella and Huntingdon’s affair - is extremely interesting to me in relation to some of the things I learned in an undergrad history on Britain. (CW: Discussion of sucide.)

Starting in the 1700s, and continuing into the period when The Tenant of Wildfell Hall was written, there was a strong push among the growing middle classes for moral reform, and one of the things it targeted were vices that were specifically seen as common ones of the upper class: gambling, drunkenness, duelling, and suicide. The last one seems strange to the modern eye, but one element of its context was the image of the aristocrat who got badly into debt through the first three vices and killed themselves to escape disgrace (‘disgrace’ meaning ‘behaviour considered unfitting to the upper class’, like having to do work to earn money), to which the middle class were in effect responding “what, so you think an honest day’s work is literally a fate worth than death?”) The rest of the objection to it was the same as the objection to duelling: that both treated the balue of human life lightly. This was a sharp turn away from the older upper-class culture: the idea of suicide in dire straits as a virtue went back to Ancient Rome (and earlier, but I think Ancient Rome was the big reference point), and duelling had long been considered a necessary hallmark of the honourable man.

Lord Lowborough’s part in The Tenant of Wildfell Hall (which is deeply within the 1800s-British tradition of moral-didactic literature) is that of a man who has been tempted by all of these vices (as well as by drug abuse), succumbed to some, but ultimately refused all of them, and this chapter is the culmination of that. Earlier in the book Huntington laughingly tells of his friend’s earlier struggles and temptations, and how Huntington and the rest of their club urged him on in them and tempted him back whenever he attempted to quit: how Lowborough was first financially ruined by his gambling addiction, and then (in a striking example of addiction displacement) turned first to alcohol and then, as a displacement of alcohol, to laudanum to numb his unhappiness. He had ultimately managed to quit both, and married Annabella in hopes that marriage and domestic happiness could keep him on the straight and narrow. And he does actually stick with quitting them.

This chapter is the conclusion of that, and stands out for how different it is from the treatment of duelling in other (relatively) contemporary novels. In Sense and Sensibility, there’s a mention of Colonel Brandon fighting a duel with Willoughby over Willoughby’s seduction and abandoment of his ward; Elinor Dashwood does not exactly approve, but neither does she strongly object, and it narratively adds a certain romantic and dramatic gloss to Colonel Brandon. It is not treated as a vice, but as a difference between female/male and civilian/soldier values (and moderated by the fact that it waa apparently a matter of form, and Brandon was not trying to kill him, as indicated by the lack of injury):

“we met by appointment, he to defend, I to punish his conduct. We returned unwounded, and the meeting, therefore, never got abroad.”

Elinor sighed over the fancied necessity of this; but to a man and a soldier, she presumed not to censure it.

In Jane Eyre, Rochester also mentions, in the past, having a duel with the man who had been sleeping with his mistress Céline Varens. As with Colonel Brandon, this isn’t regarded as praiseworthy, but it does give him a more dramatic figure.

“Next morning I had the pleasure of encountering him; left a bullet in one of his poor etiolated arms, feeble as the wing of a chicken in the pip, and thought I had done with the whole crew.”

In contrast, The Tenant of Wildfell Hall has Helen effusively praise Lowborough for refusing to fight a duel, in the teeth of his friends’ condemnation of that decision as weak and cowardly. It’s not mildly tut-tutting at duelling: it’s flipping the aristocratic script by presenting refusal to duel under circumstances that would normally prompt one as actively morally courageous.

[The first speaker is Hattersley, one of Lowborough and Huntingdon’s friends.]

“If you’ve the heart of a man, it would be the very ticket for you. It’s just this, my lad,” he continued, rather lowering his voice, but not enough to prevent me from hearing every word he said, though the half-closed door stood between us: “I think you’re an ill-used man—nay, now, don’t flare up—I don’t want to offend you: it’s only my rough way of talking. I must speak right out, you know, or else not at all; and I’m come—stop now! let me explain—I’m come to offer you my services, for though Huntingdon is my friend, he’s a devilish scamp, as we all know, and I’ll be your friend for the nonce. [This is Hattersley offering to be his second in a duel.] I know what it is you want, to make matters straight: it’s just to exchange a shot with him, and then you’ll feel yourself all right again; and if an accident happens—why, that’ll be all right too, I daresay, to a desperate fellow like you. Come now, give me your hand, and don’t look so black upon it. Name time and place, and I’ll manage the rest.”

“That,” answered the more low, deliberate voice of Lord Lowborough, “is just the remedy my own heart—or the devil within it, suggested—to meet him, and not to sever without blood. Whether I or he should fall, or both, it would be an inexpressible relief to me, if—”

“Just so! Well then—”

“No!” exclaimed his lordship, with deep, determined emphasis. “Though I hate him from my heart, and should rejoice at any calamity that could befall him—I’ll leave him to God; and though I abhor my own life, I’ll leave that, too, to Him that gave it.”

“But you see, in this case,” pleaded Hattersley—

“I’ll not hear you!” exclaimed his companion, hastily turning away. “Not another word! I’ve enough to do against the fiend within me.”

“Then you’re a white-livered fool, and I wash my hands of you,” grumbled the tempter, as he swung himself round and departed.

“Right, right, Lord Lowborough,” cried I, darting out and clasping his burning hand, as he was moving away to the stairs. “I begin to think the world is not worthy of you!”

Lowborough’s rejection of duelling is also a rejection of suicide (“and though I abhor my own life, I’ll leave that to Him that gave it”), and this rejection in spite of strong temptation is further emphasized:

I lay awake the greater part of [the night] listening to his heavy step pacing monotonously up and down his dressing-room, which was nearest my chamber. Once I heard him pause and throw something out of the window with a passionate ejaculation; and in the morning, after they were gone, a keen-bladed clasp-knife was found on the grass-plot below; a razor, likewise, was snapped in two and thrust deep into the cinders of the grate, but partially corroded by the decaying embers. So strong had been the temptation to end his miserable life, so determined his resolution to resist it.

Helen’s internal thoughts give further praise of Lowborough, and condemn the social values that make being cheated on a greater source of shame and condemnation for a man than cheating is:

"That man," I thought, "is an object of scorn to his friends and the nice-judging world. The false wife and the treacherous friend who have wronged him are not so despised and degraded as he; and his refusal to avenge his wrongs has removed him yet farther beyond the range of sympathy, and blackened his name with a deeper disgrace. He knows this; and it doubles his burden of woe. He sees the injustice of it, but he cannot bear up against it; he lacks that sustaining power of self-esteem which leads a man, exulting in his own integrity, to defy the malice of traducing foes and give them scorn for scorn—or, better still, which raises him above earth's foul and turbulent vapours, to repose in Heaven's eternal sunshine. He knows that God is just, but cannot see His justice now: he knows this life is short, and yet death seems insufferably far away; he believes there is a future state, but so absorbing is the agony of this that he cannot realize its rapturous repose. He can but bow his head to the storm, and cling, blindly, despairingly, to what he knows to be right. Like the shipwrecked mariner cleaving to a raft, blinded, deafened, bewildered, he feels the waves sweep over him, and sees no prospect of escape; and yet he knows he has no hope but this, and still, while life and sense remain, concentrates all his energies to keep it. Oh, that I had a friend's right to comfort him, and tell him that I never esteemed him so highly as I do this night!"

I feel that Anne Brontë was trying to make women’s rights - specifically, the right to 1) be treated as morally and intellectually equal to men, and not as either angels to inspire or delicate flowersto be preserved; 2) be taught the dangers of a bad marriage fully and frankly in order to avoid them; 3) leave an abusive marriage, and to have forms of abuse other than physical abuse recognized as abuse, and to keep custody of their children on leaving such a marriage; and 4) have some way of earning a respectable independent living upon leaving such a marriage - an integrated part of the wider moral reform movement, and both those threads are strongly present throughout her book. (In some respects this succeeded, at least insofar as the suffrage movement and the temperance movement were very closely tied together. It’s not always remembered enough that a huge element of the temperance movement was the right to not have your husband be drunk all the time (often leading to violence) and waste all your money.)

[waitmyturtles]

Last Twilight, episode 1: reflections

TW: suicide

ALLLLLLLLRIGHT! Aof Noppharnach began our year with Moonlight Chicken; interjected it with Our Skyy 2 x Bad Buddy x A Tale of Thousand Stars, and bookends it with Last Twilight. I've got my cha yen ready (not too sweet), here we go, Last Twilight, episode 1.

Some quick notes on random stuff first, then themes I'm picking up on:

1) Yes, we had to have Doc Jimmy start a new series with a new fight, huh (and always in these bowling shirt/jackets, too)

2) Ajahn Pichai with the gold chain, sheeeet! (Listen. It's my OGMMTVC Bad Buddy Meta Month. Just about everyone working on this show on the screenwriting and directing team are BBS alums. The comparisons will be unavoidable!)

3) Why do I know Sea Tawinan? It’s not because I watched Vice Versa (I stayed away), but because he was great in a small role in 55:15 Never Too Late, AND, more importantly, homeboy wore an off-shoulder Fendi sweater WITH a blazer (CLAP EMOJIS) to some GMMTV event, which warmed my couture cockles. Much respect for the taste! (Poor @lurkingshan has had to literally hear about my fashion obsession with this get-up MULTIPLE TIMES, sorry Shan, palms together!)

4) Of the few episodes of Midnight Museum and UMG that I watched earlier this year, I was not impressed with Namtan Tipnaree, but I appreciate that she's starting off quite strong and moodily here. (Also, UMG's script did literally no human being any justice.)

@twig-tea has gathered the ragged and burnt out (oh, is that just me, lmao) Ephemerality Squad from the Only Friends meta circle to join them in a Last Twilight Liminality.... what should we call ourselves, the Liminality League? The Liminality Legion? Someone choose! Anyway, I am super down, and ready to start chewing on some themes. Twig captured the big theme of liminality, of time purgatory, and I totally agree with what you've gotten down in your post, Twig.

In the preview episode for this series, Before Last Twilight, we learn that Day has 180 days -- six months -- of vision left. At the same time, Mhok has 180 days -- six months -- to earn enough money to buy back his late sister's car.

In addition to liminality/time purgatory (this is only my coinage, btw, a way in which I can understand the moment in life this show is capturing), we clearly have a theme of cars and movement. Mhok is a mechanic. He wants to keep his late sister's car. The Bimmer that Night is driving is Day's car. Mhok has to get Day home on the back of a motorcycle as Night had to drive away while Day was wandering in the middle of the road. A car can move backwards only very temporarily, and will HAVE to move forwards at any point in time in order to get to another location (..... unless you're a driver from New Jersey, ayooo!). The car belonging to the late Rung is very much in purgatory at the moment.

We have a theme of sibling rivalry between Day and Night. Day was the success of the family, knows it, and hangs it over Night's head. And we have a theme of opposites. Day, Night, blind, seeing. I can play badminton, I cannot play badminton.

(BY THE WAY! We know we'll be reading more into badminton, AND in the rivalry of Day and Night, AND in the rivalry of Sea and Mark in this series, yes? Mark Pakin and Sea Tawinan are both national-level Thai badminton players who chose acting as their careers. They're facing off in some GMMTV BL sports tournament at the end of the year. I hope it's slightly aggressive! In Before Last Twilight, Sea actually made reference to his rivalry with Mark. Ooooh, TESTY!)

While I'm watching closely the tension between Day and Night, I'm also watching for the stress and pressure that caring for Day will put on Mhok, as well as Night and his and Day's mother. As many of us are watching Last Twilight very closely for accuracy and authenticity in reflecting the experience of a disabled person in an unaccommodating environment; I'm also looking to this show to hopefully capture stories of caregiver stress, which is an incredibly real and important phenomenon (relevant articles here and here).

As I always, always harken to in my posts: behavioral change is very real, and very difficult -- especially when behavioral change is forced upon an individual AND/OR a group, all of which contain very different emotional constructions. Day and Night's forced behavioral change, based on Day's vision condition, has very naturally and automatically caused stress in the group dynamic of Day's family system, as we saw in the outburst in Day's car. I wonder how Mhok will deal with that stress, and how he'll manage his own stress vis à vis caring for Day.

Last theme for now, and then some concluding thoughts. Mhok's emotional distance from his sister's suicide. He can't bring himself to connect with it directly.

I'm eating this up. It's certainly Mhok's way of grieving at the moment. He's also talking with his ex-girlfriend in both of these scenes. There's emotional space between him and Rung, between him and Porjai. And certainly there's simmering and unresolved anger as well -- honestly, the whole emotional circle. But Mhok, at this point, is not toeing the line of getting close to those emotions, and is engaging with the memory of his sister with distance, which is bound to be addressed vis à vis his connection with Day.

There's a lot of anger, a lot of regret, a lot of avoidance, a lot of dancing around the honest truth. Mhok and Day are likely conduits of emotional openness and steadiness to each other; we will see how it plays out.

What do I think of JimmySea? I'm not you're average Wai hater -- I really liked Jimmy as Wai in Bad Buddy. Because I didn't watch Vice Versa, I honestly don't know what I think about him in a lead role. So I am going in REAL fresh, knowing nothing about JimmySea's chemistry, and I like what I'm seeing so far, particularly with Jimmy's emotional control. I appreciate having seen a bit of the work they did together in Before Last Twilight to get to this series premiere.

Aof has done this before: he's recognized potential in pairings (specifically in Dark Blue Kiss with TayNew and Still 2gether with BrightWin) to come up with fabulous shows. So I have trust that he knows what he's doing with JimmySea. Let's see. I really like this so far, but Only Friends did indeed burn me out to a crisp, so I'm allowing myself the slightest touch of hesitancy as I get into a new and big GMMTV show.

[tuliptyper]

Oddly Specific Thomas Hewitt hcs;

TW mention for canon typical violence/cannibalism but also mentions of mental illness, suicide, bullying and general poor mental health. also nasty gross nail gunk

also these are long and wordy and not proofread sorry hehe

- neurodivergent, probably ADHD but it manifests in a way that he constantly second guesses his diagnosis bc people say he doesnt 'act like it' (projection? huh? idk her)

- dry asf hands because he cleans them a lot because he doesnt like feeling dirty but doesnt have much time to wash his face/shower. he hates his nails bc he doesnt know how to get the gunk out and accidentally stabbed his nail bed tryna clean them with a tooth pick

- loves his mama but he wishes she understood him better. growing up mute and being bullied by pretty much everyone, hes grown so fragile without even knowing it. sometimes he wishes he could peer into his mothers mind and tell her how he truly feels.

- i think he has some sort of relationship with self punishment. not really sh in the typical sense but he feels he deserves to be overworked to the point of sickness, he doesnt like to rest or treat himself. he gets tense when things are peaceful for too long and he feels the need to bully himself relentlessly. its awful :(

- living in an environment where hes essentially the breadwinner, bodyguard AND punching bag with no refuge to run to is incredibly hard. if it weren't for the guilt and his dedication to his family, he..well...i think you can guess the rest. (someone go get this guy some prozac)

- if he was introduced to them, hed love fairy tales. even though he was pulled from school and had very litle encouragement to persue his hobbies aside from sewing, hes a curious man who enjoys learning. fairy tales give him insight into past culture (and they also satiate his desire for romance. sigh ❤❤) ((call him your prince, he would actually get light headed from all the butterflies))

- should he ever get a taste of freedom, be it a particularly good experience with some strangers or seeing some pretty scenery on the road, he will chase that high Forever. he craves normalcy in its most wholesome form; saying hello to coworkers, picking up groceries, maybe taking his dog out for a walk and getting take out when hes tired. Hoyt knows this somewhat and makes sure tommy doesnt persue that desire with some nasty words and manipulation. ((literally grab his hand, run away into town and dont come back. discreetly send a check to mama with a small house on her name a few blocks down and leave the other old coots to rot))

- i gotta agree with the metalhead hc, he would love stupid ass nu-metal! dad metal, if you will. 2000s era heavy rock and anything with some angry lyrics. hates headbanging though, simply bc he loses his balance more than hed like to admit and also knots are fucking annoying to comb out with his curly hair. BUT ALSO his guilty pleasure music would be really sweet piano music or film soundtracks,,,its his inner romantic

- Thomas has like...hot dad personality..HEAR ME OUT omfg he finds puns funny, twirls his keys like a DAD and DIYs everything. he makes a lot of furniture, clothes and miscellaneous trinkets in his spare time. he needs an etsy shop ASAP

- but also hes such cute goth boyfriend material omg, he'd let you play with his hair, even braid or dye a strand if youre lucky! matching outfits kill him because he loves being yours. your hot goth husband. hell, he'll wear the bedazzled 'His/Hers' t shirt you got from the flea market, at least it fits him!

- dont send him to the gym, hes either the reason membership sales skyrocket or skydive ( they either see him and think 'i want to be him' or 'ill never be him' LMAO). unintentionally, hes a menace at the gym bc hes just generally so strong from all the physical labor back at the farm house

- i think he'd go vegetarian aside from those ready to eat rotisserie chickens you get from the supermarket (listen...i smash a whole chicken with a side of rice and corn like nobody's fuckin business)

[kkusuka]

If your taking any imagine requests, If you can may I request some headcanons of Katsuki, Izuku, Kirishima and Mirio with a Hispanic/Latina foreign exchange student s/o who has the same as powers El Diablo from “Suicide Squad”? And is for the most part soft, chill, calls them cute Spanish nicknames like “Mi Amor/My love”, “Mi Tesoro/My treasure” or “Corazón/sweetheart” and even makes Mexican food for them to try out but if someone talks shit about them, she gets so mad that she starts speaking and cursing in her native tongue at whoever is shit talking them and is ready to throw hands? (Now I imagine monoma shit talking Katsuki, Izuku and Kirishima and they’re s/o is calling him Spanish profanities and wants to beat his ass, it’s a lot funnier in my head)

<3

I only did three because I think it was getting kind of repetitive, I'm sorry!  

a/n: this person and dabi would be a power couple, don't @  me

--

Katsuki Bakugou

He’s the king of matching your energy.

The first thing I thought of when you said shit-talking was the both of you blowing up on the poor soul who disrespected you.

But other than that, he has no idea what you’re saying when you speak Spanish

He can guess when you’re yelling at someone, angry can only make so many words, but in everyday life; he’s clueless

He’s not going to ask you what anything means, you’ll have to take that upon yourself before he tries to use google translate.

Now, I am a firm believer that he is book smart and not much past that

So when you reveal your quirk, and it’s awfully similar to his-- honestly he was less than happy

His first reaction is to fight you, but his second is to find out what the hell you’re calling him

(again please keep him away from google translate)

And imagine his shock when he finds you you’ve been calling sim sparky this whole time, not happy

He also listens when you talk about your home country, never directly asking questions but he knows more about latin america every day

And im not saying he forced Denki to ask a question for him, but Denki did it

He’s also the classic trying to learn your language and completely messing it up

Like accidentally calling you a rock, or telling you you’re as pretty as a chicken

All that really matters is he’s trying and he likes fighting alongside you.

Izuku Midoriya

He was really nervous to talk to you

An in his defense you did just randomly show up in the middle of the year with a crazy powerful quirk

And that’s how he approached you, something about a quirk analysis

Then you were haiving weekly study sessions and game nights, so he isnt too sure about how that happened

But he isnt angry at it; the exact opposite actually

The first time he heard you speaking spanish was on the phone, and fro then on he’s been trying to learn it so you don't have to translate everything in your head before saying it in japanese.

He was not as good at it as he thought, but you helped him out a bit

Small conversations about everyday life turned into him trying to speak it daily

(he is fairing very well, and is actually a very quick learner)

Since you always been really nice to him and really only got frustrated, never angry, he really didn’t know what to expect

Well he surely didnt expect and angry, streaming girlfriends, the poor league of villains had no idea what was coming

In all honestly, it was kind of cool to see your attitude match your quirk

(and he was super proud that he knew what some of those words meant)

Bby just wants to make you happy

Kirishima Eijiro

I’m gonna say it right now: when he found out you spoke spanish, he called you a spanish nickname first

And with that, the flood gates opened

He’s defiantly interested in you in general

It was kinds crazy to him the you Todoroki and Bakugou could all have such similar quirk but completely different personalities

You were a breath of fresh air compared to the other two

That’s probably why he gravitated towards you so much

You guys have nighs where you just play around with your quirks

Like kirishima trying to cut a whole watermelon with only his hardened fist

Or you trying to boil a pot of water in record time

But the funniest things are when you say things in spanish when you forget the japanese and he has to try and guess what you mean when you point to the counter full of spices

But all in all, he was really sure that you were the calm couple

The one that balances out the other class couples

But then you had a paring session with Bakugou, and he must have said something the ticked you off because now you were in a full screaming match with the blond

And you were saying some crazy stuff

Not that he could really tell though, it was a mix of spanish and japanese, the occasional english word thrown in

And to his shock, you walked back to him like nothing even happen, smile and all

He did ask what some of those words meant but you just laughed and said he never has to worry

tags: @bakugos-cumsock @rinsangel

[smiting-finger]

alive, and back on my usual nonsense

So after getting preoccupied with other things and temporarily falling off the face of the planet (for like an entire year ಥωಥ), I was thinking about the kdrama Mr. Queen (which I've been meaning to watch), and the Chinese novel it was based on (太子妃升职记, which I read a few years ago and very much enjoyed), and this popped out--

Wei Wuxian’s first thought is that there seem to be an awful lot of female voices around, for a bedroom inhabited by two men. Did he drink too much last night? It wouldn’t be the first time he’s overindulged on a trip to the town and woken up in a strange place the next morning, but that kind of problem has been cropping up a lot less frequently now that he has Lan Zhan around to ferry him home.

(Sometimes literally, on his back. His broad, strong--)

But perhaps Lan Zhan had gotten drunk, too? In which case, Wei Wuxian should consider them lucky to have woken up surrounded by people, rather than chickens, rabbits or, notably, on one occasion, mounds of resentful cabbages.

The chatter around him continues, pitched high with youth and - is that anxiety? It's interspersed with the odd interjection from what sounds like one (calmer, if more exasperated) older woman and a man. Probably not a nunnery, he decides. Perhaps the back rooms of a pleasure house? Although, if that’s the case, this amount of excitement over a mere two men is honestly a little excessive.

He reaches out tentatively, but pats all the way across the mattress to the edge without finding his usual bedfellow. A much less tentative venture towards the other side produces similar results.

Hm.

Wei Wuxian cracks open an eye and heaves himself upright, absent-mindedly scratching at his (unusually soft - as much as he hates to admit it, maybe Nie Huaisang has a point about drinking less and training more) side and squinting into the too-bright light until the person-shaped blur in front of him sharpens into focus.

“Niang niang!” a complete stranger cries tearfully, clutching at the sleeve of his other arm. “You’re awake! Thank Heavens, you’re awake! Physician Liu, quick, quick!”

A cushion is produced from somewhere and thrust expectantly between Wei Wuxian and the elderly man sitting at his bedside.

He sighs. It’s probably not worth fighting.

Wei Wuxian smacks his upturned wrist onto the unusually lavish brocade and is only a little surprised when it’s covered by a cloth before the physician reaches to take it.

(Do they think he’s diseased?)

((Is he diseased?!))

(((Is that why Lan Zhan isn’t here?)))

He looks at the row of young girls (+ 1 matron) kneeling along the wall to his left, dressed identically to the first and also now beginning to prostrate themselves and wail about “Niang niang!” and blessings and deserving to die.

Not a pleasure house, then.

He looks around at the rest of the richly-furnished room and its intricately-carved wooden furniture, the wealth of jade carvings and the obscene amount of gold that's gilding … everything (so shiny). The opulence of it all would put even Jin Guangshan to shame.

So, not a nunnery either.

He looks down at the small hands, delicate wrists and - he clutches one abruptly just to make sure his eyes aren’t deceiving him - breasts of the body that he certainly was not inhabiting yesterday.

“Well,” he says aloud, unable to stop himself from wincing at the high, soft voice that emerges despite fully expecting it. “It’s not the first time this has happened.”

===

Two days, one diagnosis of shock-induced memory loss and some discreet enquiries (as well as some indiscreet enquiries) later, this is what he knows about his situation:

He’s the main consort (unfavoured) of the crown prince of whatever place he’s landed in;

Three days ago, following a disagreement with one Consort Yun (favoured, main competitor for husband’s affections);

In the course of this disagreement, both women somehow fell into a palace lake and mostly-drowned;

Consort Yun (admittedly quite pretty) was revived at the scene, but Wei Wuxian took a full day to “miraculously” recover;

Angered by the unseemly behaviour of her daughters-in-law, particularly upon learning that the Crown Princess’s first act upon waking was to stumble upon a chance meeting between the Crown Prince and Consort Yun in one of the pleasure gardens and bodily throw herself between them (a tactical error on Wei Wuxian’s part. He’d been trying to throw himself over the battlements to freedom, but he’d gotten lost and scaled the wrong wall), the Empress (Crown Prince’s political opponent, not particularly fond of either consort) grounded both of them to their respective residences for a month, with no visitors allowed.

Which brings him to his current position, feeding the fish in his personal pond as an excuse to be alone. Not truly alone - he shoots a pointed glance at the maids watching anxiously from the other side of the courtyard - because he’s apparently a “suicide risk” now (and honestly, yes, he’d meant to throw himself off that roof, but he hadn’t meant to die - it’s simply that this new body’s cultivation level is not what he’s come to expect even from Mo Xuanyu’s modest abilities), but alone enough to start planning his next move.

Direct escape is out - he didn’t have a plan for what to do once he’d gotten out anyway, and honestly he’s better-resourced for finding out how he got here in the Palace than anywhere else, so it’s no great loss.

“What do you think, Master Fish?” Wei Wuxian asks a gold and black spotted koi with particularly sage-looking whiskers. “Shall I just stay here for the time being?”

It’s not a terrible place to be for the time being, he must admit, throwing more food into the water and watching the fish swarm. Being grounded, he’s at no risk from the Crown Prince’s amorous attentions for a month (a salute of gratitude to the Empress for the inadvertent protection). And thanks to Consort Yun and her voluptuous figure (and if the Crown Prince is more partial to that than the Zhao Feiyan style of willowy fragility that Wei Wuxian seems to have inherited, who can honestly blame him?), he’s at no great risk from them after that, either (a salute of gratitude to the unknowing sister-in-arms, taking one - and hopefully a great many more after that - for the team).

According to his maid (sleeve-clutcher extraordinaire, who even now is boring two holes into his skull with her woeful gaze from across the way while he does nothing more suspicious than scatter another handful of feed towards some latercomer fish), the body he’s inhabiting comes from a powerful military lineage. In particular, her father is (was?) a powerful general who currently commands more than half the nation’s military forces and has the absolute trust of the Emperor. So that more or less keeps him safe from the machinations of the majority of the nest of vipers in this palatial cesspit.

That just leaves the Empress, who - if his servants and the smuggled letters from the Original Goods’s mother (a salute of gratitude to the worthy woman for spelling it out so that even such an interloper as he can understand) are anything to go by - would definitely kill him to damage the Crown Prince’s political standing or throw any sort of roadblock in the way of him from becoming Emperor.

Less immediately - if his secret informants are anything to go by (a salute of gratitude to the resourceful host for cultivating such a valuable resource if not her dantian) - it also leaves the Crown Prince, who, upon cementing his power as Emperor, would also definitely kill his current Crown Princess in order to wedge his beloved Consort Yun into the Empress role.

Really, the only road to any sort of security for someone in his position is to raise the next Imperial heir, outlive the Original Goods’s faithless husband and become the Empress Dowager.

Hopefully Wei Wuxian will be long gone by then, but if leaving means the Original Goods will return (from … Mo Xuanyu’s body? The Ether? Or???) - well, he doesn’t want to repay her hospitality by leaving her house in a mess, so to speak. So he’ll try to set her on that career path, if he can.

But that’s an aspirational goal. First, he has to not-die before he can find out how to get himself home.

And find out how to get himself home.

If getting himself home is even possible.

Wei Wuxian dumps the rest of the fish food in the water and yells.

(It startles the maids, the fish and the poor eunuch the Crown Prince has sent as a spy into falling out of the tree he’s been hiding in and into the prickly bushes below.)

===

The problem with “staying for the time being” is … well, how interminably boring it is. The approved list of hobbies for an Imperial consort seems to consist of: eating (but not too much), sleeping (but not too much), embroidery (which he can’t do), reading (but only texts on female virtue and the occasional terrible novel), playing music (but not the flute), conversing with his maids (who are very sweet, but are all like, 12) and walking in the gardens (which he’s not allowed to do).

Honestly, it’s no wonder all the consorts turn to scheming and murder.

It only takes a week of confinement for him to snap and sneak himself out for a nighttime adventure, setting off to explore the grounds and see … a night-blooming flower, a ghost, a rat, he’ll take pretty much anything at this point.

In the end, he finds none of these things, but the walking is still pretty nice, and he even hears the faint sounds of a guqin wafting over from one of the other consorts’ residences. (He should probably learn who lives where at some point, but it’s not exactly a priority. What’s he going to do with the information when he can only visit during the nighttime? Peep?) When Wei Wuxian wanders closer, the notes resolve themselves into the familiar strains of Flowing Waters, and his breath catches on a sudden surge of longing to hear the same song, played by a different set of fingers.

(First played on a familiar guqin and then, later, accompanied by soft humming between soft, worn sheets, played across the edges of Wei Wuxian’s ribs, along the dip of his spine, and finally lower, into--)

((Is Lan Zhan thinking about him?))

(((Is Lan Zhan looking for him?)))

Stumbling blindly on, he’s so caught up in missing Lan Zhan that he misses the first few stanzas of the next piece, and it isn’t until the music starts to rise in a familiar refrain that he freezes.

He knows that song.

He’s one of the only two people who know that song, which is in fact how he got caught out the last time he found himself in a farce of an identity charade, by the only other person who knows that song, who must be - who must be -

Lan Zhan, his blood sings in his ears as he takes off in a dead run towards the source of the playing. Up ahead of him, small courtyard glows softly with the light of the only burning lamp in their vicinity. Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan-

He scrambles up the wall with the ease of a lifetime’s practice, using bloody-minded determination to make up for the lack of muscle memory.

“Lan Zhan,” he yelps, forgetting to whisper in his excitement as he flings himself over the top and into the branches of a convenient, wall-side tree. “Lan Zhan, it’s me, I-”

This is, naturally, when his foot slips. He manages to catch hold of a branch, but his tender hands and puny wrists, unused to holding up anything heavier than a chicken leg, fail to maintain their hold through his weight, and he tumbles down the trunk into a sad puddle of fabric on the ground.

“Lan Zhan,” he gasps, fighting to untangle himself from the ridiculous train that, admittedly, made a considerable contribution to cushioning his fall. He clambers up onto his hands and knees--

--and looks straight into the wide-eyed stare of Consort Yun.

===

“I cannot believe,” Wei Wuxian growls, palming the ample softness of one exposed breast with one hand, while shoving the other deeper into the many (too many) layers of fabric between them and between Lan Zhan’s splayed legs, “that after everything that’s happened, you’re still taller than me.”

Lan Zhan huffs a laugh that turns quickly into a moan, and Wei Wuxian swallows it, smothers Lan Zhan’s gasping breaths with his own parted lips and sucks them greedily down even as he coaxes out more with twisting fingers here, another tug to Lan Zhan’s poor, abused nipple there.

He slides his fingers back between slick folds and then upwards again, pushing in and out in a few languid strokes before curling them to make Lan Zhan arch harder against the wall behind him, tilt his head back and expose a beautifully vulnerable stretch of neck to Wei Wuxian's teeth.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan murmurs, and his voice is different, the shape of his lips is different, but the way Wei Wuxian’s name fits inside his mouth (tender, beloved), the way he tucks the flyaway strands of hair behind Wei Wuxian’s ear, the look in his eyes when their gazes meet (warm, open, knowing) are the same, same, same.

===

===

I am entirely too lazy to write the rest of it, but afterwards they regroup and it turns out LWJ has been in this world for exactly one more day than WWX, having woken up in Consort Yun’s body when she was “revived”. Consort Yun is the daughter of a high-ranking Minister in the Treasury or something, so Lan Zhan been using his new position as the daughter of a ~scholarly family~ to build a reputation for being really into Buddhist scripture, and eventually he’s going to request to be allowed to go to a nearby Temple to attain some virtuous brownie points for the Imperial family via prayer as his penitence.

That there’s also an elderly monk living there who’s got a reputation for being super good with the divine mysteries and spiritual lore about curses and whatnot is totally immaterial, if Lan Zhan happens to run into that guy, it’ll be a total coincidence, yeah.

So WWX also starts on the divine penitence route, and if everyone thinks it’s because the Crown Princess refuses to be outdone by Consort Yun, then even better, and two weeks into confinement they wear the Empress down into letting them make the trip, and when they get there, turns out the monk is Nie Huaisang.

(NHS: “OH THANK GOD, I’ve done the research but the lynchpin of this mess is definitely somewhere in the Palace and I could not for the life of me figure out a way to get in.”

WWX: “That's nice, but seriously, how come you got to stay a man?”

NHS: “My friend, I may be a man, but my balls are currently swinging somewhere around my ankles.”

WWX: “...show me.”

And LWJ is like “NO.” except WWX can tell by the look in his eye that he sort of wants to see, too).

So they return to the Palace and WWX whirls into one of their morning audiences with the Empress, distraught about a ~dream from the ancestors~ where they warned him about disrupted ley lines or accumulated resentment or an offended minor god that needs investigation by someone, and “How convenient, because we met just the guy!” And the Empress looks like she was Done Five Years Ago, but the Empress Dowager, who’s old and doddery, is like “oh no, you must bring him!” and the Empress mutters “to fucking what, offend some major gods and really do the job properly?” and that’s how they find out the Empress is Jiang Cheng.

In the meantime, the confinement edict expires and WWX+LWJ are allowed to return to their regular programming, which means that as the legal wife, WWX can continuously summon LWJ to his residence for increasingly tenuous and spurious reasons. The best thing is, it’s not even out of character for the Crown Princess, who used to regularly summon Consort Yun to subject her to not-so-veiled barbs and petty torments. So WWX summons LWJ, and then immediately expels both their entourages from the room, instructing that no one is to enter on pain of death.

So LWJ’s maids are gnashing their teeth helplessly while all sorts of piteous moans, pained gasps and the occasional scream emanate from behind the closed door, and when their mistress finally emerges there are no marks on her body, but she’s weak-kneed and having trouble walking straight, so who knows what kind of terrible tortures the Crown Princess has visited upon her.

The Crown Prince obviously hears about this, so he bursts in one day without warning, only to find the two sitting together, the Crown princess’s arms around Consort Yun’s waist, her cheek pillowed on one heaving bosom, and although she’s smiling besottedly at him now, he could have sworn that he felt killing intent being directed at him only a second ago? And to tell the truth, he’s not really in love Consort Yun either, it’s all an act to keep the two consorts (and their families) pitted in a power struggle against each other until he can finally outmanoeuvre the Empress and cement his position as heir to the throne (and also to protect his actual favourite, a third consort who’s a nondescript nobody with no political backing). So the fact that “It was all a misunderstanding, we’re friends now,” his Crown Princess says sweetly (and did she … rub her cheek against his Consort’s chest? Must be his imagination) is not the worst thing (at least neither of them/their families can be enlisted by the Empress in support of her son, and if they’re caught up with Being Besties, then at least they’re not bullying his actual favourite), but for some reason he still feels kind of … threatened? Like someone’s making moves on his wife, which is absurd because they’re both his wives, but the vibes he gets from the first one in particular are kind of … off?

In any case, the crew solve the mystery, find the lynchpin object (which turns out to be a jade dildo belonging to one of the Emperor’s favoured consorts because of course it is), and wake up in their real bodies, in their real world, to a very apologetic hermit-inventor-cultivator whose property they stumbled onto while pursuing a resentful beast. Turns out they triggered the glamour/enchantment/psychic maze world he created as a security system because, “I just didn’t want to risk people getting into my stuff, you know? I’ve got some things that could be very dangerous in the wrong hands”. WWX is like “oh yeah, for sure” and JC is like “WHAT DO YOU MEAN FOR SURE? HOW IS THIS AN UNDERSTANDABLE RESPONSE, IF YOU’RE AFRAID PEOPLE WILL TOUCH YOUR SHIT THEN JUST ENCHANT SOME FUCKING WARRIOR GOLEMS LIKE EVERYBODY ELSE.”

[vinatintasupernovita]

Not historical figures but GO x Great Comet crossover, War meets Helene and Pollution/Pestilence meets Balaga. What chaos ensues? War would duel Pierre, I know it already (and maybe Anatole too). And omg Death hanging around Natasha after her attempted suicide and kind of looking after her? "Natasha you can do better than him. Trust me I literally know everything."

No but I know for a fact War is beating up Anatole like guns thrown out she’s got fists and he can’t run that fast. She’s absolutely dueling Pierre maybe in a “respect your wife you dickhead” way maybe in a “man lighten the fuck up and have a good time this’ll be fun” sort of way. either way she’s missing on purpose to make a point bc if she didn’t.. there’d be a funeral. Also she and Dolokhov got war stories (badumtss) to tell while like playing chicken w their guns

Pollution has tried drag racing (cart racing?) with Balaga and Pestilence went along for the ride- He learned how awful it is to vomit for the first time after that. Also Balaga totally won, but Pollution came in close even when one of their cart’s wheels like rotted off bc Pollution.

Pestilence likes to torment old man Bolkonsky bc he’s a dick and tormenting the elderly is funny when they’re dicks but he does it under the guise that he was some fellow dignitary and everytime he visits Bolkonsky comes down w something. He’s always kind to Mary, who he knows that bastard father of hers runs ragged- he can see it in her eyes. Mary has to admit, out of all of their guests, “Duke Wyn of House.. which house is it now again?” as she calls him, has to be one of the nicest they have. Even if her father thinks otherwise.

Helené and War... GOD almighty the flirting. They’d flirt a lot a lot. (I actually think Helene and Famine would be really good friends cus they’re both high society types but Helene would absolutely be like “full disclosure, your sisters hot, is 1812 bro code invoked?” and even if Famine said yes, that’s not stopping War nor Helene.)

also my brain thought was War was definitely dressing in like suits and shit at this time period so i immediately went:

Helene: your sister’s gnc af

Famine: YOURE INSANE

And YES! Natasha, poor sweet incredibly naive Natasha sits with Death a lot during her recovery. They’re somber and quiet but after the adventure she’s had she prefers that. She talks and they listen a lot of the times. She feels like she’s let everyone down for being foolish and even worse she’s so heart broken because she lost the man she really loved all because she couldn’t see through another man’s deception and hurt her family in the process. She feels as if she’s doomed the family name and everyone would see her as a disgrace or an embarrassment now. More so, she feels like that reputation will live with her now, and bc its 1812 the societal expectations hang over her, so maybe she’ll never find another man who truly cared about her. Maybe she never did in the first place.

And Death, who’s presence was rarely ever considered comforting, would just sit and listen as they wrapped a starry wing around her and when she was finally done talking they’d tell her that she’d be just fine. It wasn’t her fault someone tried to take advantage of her and her family knew that- even if the whole situation was messy. But she’ll be ok and she will be loved. They’re Death, they’d know.

And Natasha just has this weak smile when she looks up at them but one full of hope all the same.

[captainsimagines]

Titanic || H.S

Part Five || “No Me Queda Mas”

Disclaimer: I do not own the pictures I use for title cards. Obviously. 

Warnings: This book contains mature themes and discussions, such as gun violence, emotional and physical abuse, attempted suicide, mentions of blood, character deaths, heavy sexual content, and reference to the real maritime disaster of the 1912 cruise liner Titanic.

“Exactly. But if you jump, I’m gonna have to jump in there after you.“

         Both Harry and Drake were up by seven in the morning, energetic and absolutely starving. They made sure to dress as quietly as they could, careful not to wake their other two roommates. They were men of the same age, around their late twenties, heading to the states to escape religious persecution. They had arrived later that day after they had picked up the remaining passengers from Ireland, both men talkative and equally as excited to start a new life. The four men chatted into the deep hours of the night and discussed a variety of topics. Perhaps the funnest topic they covered was women.

The two men were traveling with their girlfriends and since they were not legally married, they had to bunk in separate living quarters. Except their boyfriends had splurged what money they could to give them the best comfort as possible, and Harry learned their girlfriends were staying as second-class passengers. Drake made the joke about how first and second class weren’t all that different, and that these boys were living every poor man’s dream of being with a woman of practical royalty.

“They scream louder than any woman.”

“What do you mean?” Harry questioned.

“I mean,” Drake nudged his shoulder playfully, “they’re so touch-deprived that they practically melt from any man’s touch.”

“Man, shut the hell up!”

Everyone continued to joke and tease, and Harry wondered if that was indeed true. He had only been with two other women before - his first when he was seventeen and a woman he thought he loved at the age of twenty-four. He prided himself on the noises he caused, but he didn’t quite understand what Drake meant. Did upper-class women really not experience pleasure as often as women in love? Did upper-class women even fall in love? Do upper-class men not know how to perform? He understood the point of the joke, and although slightly misogynistic, Harry pondered on the societal gossip that sometimes proved true. It wasn’t like he was ever going to experience it to compare.

He and Drake tip-toed outside their room and locked it behind them. Breakfast was available until ten, but they wanted first dibs on the freshest stuff there.

It was a buffet style breakfast. They stacked their trays up high, first come - first serve, with buttered bread, sugar cookies, chicken noodle soup, and milk.

“They’re holding out on us. I saw them lugging buckets of grapes and strawberries up to first-class.”

Harry chuckled and sipped his milk, “Because they’re first-class.”

“Either way, this bread is delicious.”

And over breakfast they chatted about their past trips, skills, family, and aspirations. If it was possible, Drake spoke more than Harry. Once a conversation reached its end, Drake would easily glide into a new one. It was quite refreshing to speak to someone who didn’t shut you down or didn’t know how to carry a conversation. Harry paused Drake, however, when he mentioned that he was a trained carpenter.

“You build things?”

“Buildings. I build buildings.”

Harry shoved him, “That’s what I meant!”

Drake laughed along, “Yeah, my father was a carpenter. I built my Montana ranch from the ground up with my own two hands.”

Harry felt like meeting Drake was fate. Now he didn’t have to grovel and beg some New York carpenter to oversee the construction of a London business. If Drake agreed to help Harry build his bakery, he would at least trust the process more. A few sips of soup and some sugar cookies later and Harry considered Drake a closer friend than those he met on the playground.

“I have a proposition.”

“Well, Mr. Capitalist, I’m all ears.”

Harry grinned, “Would you like to help me build my family’s bakery? I would pay you generously and provide you housing during your extended stay in New York.”

Drake mimicked the act of deep thought, leaning forward and swishing around his cup of milk. “Hmm, a generous offer.”

“Or do you have to be back in Montana immediately?”

Please don’t. Please don’t. Please don’t.

“My brother has the ranch covered. I can write to him and let him know I’ll be bringing in a little extra cash.”

Harry jumped in his seat like an excited child, “Is that a ‘yes’?”

Drake chuckled and tried not to spill his milk as Harry shook his shoulders excitedly.

Drake was around five years older than Harry, thirty-two and thriving, so it made sense that he had this feeling of being an older brother to Harry. He was actually the youngest of his siblings, having older brothers at his side since birth. It was a blessing, and in a weird twist of plot, he felt like an attentive older brother sat here at breakfast. The way Harry’s bright smile lit up any room and the way he acted as if everything happened for a reason - he was almost tempted to give this kid the rest of his sugar cookies.

“Sure, man. I trust you’ll pay me.”

Harry nodded and while overflowing with joy, he slid his sketchbook in front of Drake and began reviewing the first couple sketches of the type of building he had in mind.

     You had been kept up late by your mother’s final walk-through of your stay room, complaining there were not enough towels and not enough space for your accessories on the bedside table. She acknowledged the vastness of the ship and its wonderful hospitality, but there was always something wrong in her mind. And all you could do was nod your head as you sat impatiently in the side chair as she worked the midnight crew through each fix.

So excuse your slow responses and tiny yawns at breakfast. The tables were beginning to clear out, with many still entering for early tea or a late meal. The breeze passed through the open doors and nipped at your cheeks, waking you up slightly from the boring chatter.

As the others spoke, you couldn’t help but think about yesterday and what weird a kiss you and Cal had shared. Was it supposed to feel good? You knew Cal had other women before as he was turning thirty-six just a week after your scheduled wedding. He was never so playful, especially not in front of waiting staff, so you pondered what that change in attitude could possibly mean. Or perhaps you were thinking too much, and he really just had a lapse in judgement.

You could make out talk about the weather, America’s current stock market, and ideas about what the cooks were going to prepare later today. Speak on topics that never interested you and never will interest you carried on for a few more minutes before everyone began ordering their second course. You pulled a cigarette and its holder from your handbag, expertly placed the cigarette inside the silver and inhaled the cooled, mellowed smoke. It woke you up instantly, also calming any nerves from the night before.

You didn’t like when Cal smoked and dusted your flooring, but the presence of a holder made all the difference. No mess, no stains on your fingers - just tranquility.

Your mother cleared her throat quietly as to only alert you, watching the other occupants of your table carry on with their conversation. She unfolded her napkin and placed it carefully across her lap. “You know I don’t like when you do that in public.”

Instead of rolling your eyes at her absurd worry, you inhaled the smoke deeply and exhaled across her view, clouding her face in your personal stress release. It was a power move, a move that you were allowed to execute since she was in control of literally every other aspect of your life. A little smoke shouldn’t anger her as much as it did, but any ounce of independence you still displayed could be interpreted as plain disobedience. And disobedience of your own family meant it resulted in disobedience within a marriage. But before you could establish dominance in one area of your life - your own body - Cal reached over to pull the cigarette from its holder and extinguished it on one of the side plates. You narrowed your eyes, ashamed of the control he proved he had.

“She knows,” Cal chuckled, ignoring your look of embarrassment and instead calling over the waiter who was making his rounds.

A woman you had met briefly yesterday as she boarded from Ireland, Molly, was invited to sit at your breakfast table by one of the men here, yet you couldn’t remember which one. She was a small woman, dressed in a comfortable dress that didn’t quite match the occasion of a late breakfast, but she wore it proudly. She was sweet, strong-willed, and almost always proved louder than anyone else in the room. You liked her personality as it was entirely different from everyone else you had ever met. Although your mother called her “new money” with a nasty grimace on her face, you only saw her for what she was - independent and vocal.

But here you were now, being dehumanized in front of practical strangers, and you looked up to see Molly’s surprised expression. She lowered her arm to extinguish her own cigarette on her ashtray. To continue smoking freely after you had been refused your tiny refuge seemed wrong, improper even. But you didn’t acknowledge her action, ears perking up as Cal restated your breakfast order.

“We’ll both have the lamb, rare, with very little mint sauce.”

You absolutely hated lamb. Any type of meat, really, and the thought of having to stuff it down so you wouldn’t starve maddened you.

“You like lamb, right Sweetpea?”

You plastered a thin, wide smile as you turned to your fiancé, your face almost comical and proving so as Cal took it as a real ‘yes’.

By now your little squabble had gained attention from all at your table. Molly began laughing loudly to cut through the tension, raising her water glass to take a quick sip.

“You gonna cut and chew her meat there too, huh Cal?”

Your mother turned to her sharply but Molly was unmoved, deciding to change the subject to something more interesting. Cal interlocked his fingers together and rested his hands above his belt buckle, looking across the table at Molly with a more calm look compared to your mother, but still hardened with displeasure.

“Say, who thought of the name ‘Titanic’? Was it you, Bruce?” Molly asked.

Bruce Ismay, the chairman of the White Star Line, seemed ecstatic to receive questions about the ship. As of that month, it was his greatest accomplishment and current world wonder, his newborn creation that deserved any and all praise given. He nodded happily and swallowed the piece of fruit hurriedly to answer Molly’s question.

“Yes, yes,” he answered, cleaning his mouth with a napkin. “Mr. Andrews here built her from the ground up!”

Thomas Andrews, a shipbuilder and main architect for Titanic, was shy with any compliment he received, deciding to accept the praise quickly and return the attention back to Ismay. “But the idea was all Mr. Ismay’s! He envisioned a liner so grand in scale...”

You began to drown the conversation out. Cal insisted on dining with specific groups of people. From your point of view, it worked almost like a ranking. Ismay and Andrews were certainly important people on this ship and had first hand experience with such social circles, but they were no John Jacob Astor. The most Cal and your mother did was share morning greetings with Astor, who dined with his wife in a more private section of the same dining hall. Cal had always maintained your titles of royalty, saying that only a few dollars here and there separated you from a higher connection. And at dinner time your group expanded, including around ten others who were just as respectable.

“I wanted to convey sheer size with her name! And size means stability, luxury, and above all, strength,” Ismay spoke.

You sucked in a low breath, ready to make a select few laugh and others seethe. “Do you know of Dr. Freud, Mr. Ismay?”

Mr. Ismay turned to you in silent astonishment, surprised by the first complete sentence you had spoken all breakfast. But he smiled and shook his head ‘no’ at the name. You felt your mother reach her hand under the table to cup your arm.

“His opinion about the male preoccupation with size might be of particular interest to you.”

Your mother’s fingernails dug deep into your forearm. “What has gotten into you?”

But Molly and Mr. Andrews enjoyed your comment, laughing under their breaths.

You smiled sweetly and tore your arm away from your mother, standing and excusing yourself from the table. Both Mr. Ismay and Mr. Andrews stood out of respect for your departure. You exited the room to walk out on deck.

Cal took in slow breaths to steady his rising anger, avoiding other’s eyes so that they wouldn’t notice the effect you had on him. But Molly, with her rapid wit and steady toughness, wouldn’t let Cal live this down.

“She’s a pistol, Cal. Hope you can handle her!”

Cal crinkled his eyes and chuckled as to brush off your misbehavior. “I might just have to mind what she reads from now on, don’t I?”

Mr. Ismay sat down and readjusted his tie. “Freud, who is he? Is he a passenger?”

     It was bullshit that third-class passengers were barred from touring certain areas of the ship. All Harry wanted was a better view of the ship’s structure so he could outline it. He mainly drew portraits but he had promised his mother he would show her his drawings of the best parts of the ship, like the grand staircase, fashion, the giant steam funnels, even the food. But third-class passengers weren’t allowed in first-class areas without the proper approval, having to eat from a choice of about four foods each day and reduced to simply imagining what the giant clock looked like.

So Harry doodled anything he found interesting - the dogs who traveled down to third-class to take a shit, the coast of Ireland as Titanic sailed past, and third-class passengers with their children, card games, and instruments. He was currently drawing a man holding his daughter up against the railing to see the water, focusing on the detail of their clothing and their happy expressions. Drake watched Harry work his magic, grinning every single time Harry drew the next precise detail accurately. It wasn’t exactly common knowledge, but Drake swore that every human wanted to have this specific talent. Anyone who disagreed wasn’t human.

“I can’t believe you got the eyes right,” Drake scoffed, inhaling smoke from his reduced cigarette.

Harry grinned at the comment, smudging the charcoal over the two foreheads to create the shading. Looking from the models to his paper, he completed another detail that impressed his friend. He was almost finished, brushing his index finger over certain parts. Drake greeted some friends he met at last night’s dinner as they walked past and rested in the surrounding benches. He motioned them over to Harry’s work.

Drake nodded in approval at all the compliments Harry received, “Do you make any money off your drawings?”

It’s quite possibly every artist’s worst nightmare, to scribble incorrectly over a good drawing, completely ruining the fine detail it took too long to accomplish. But as Harry’s pencil scraped over that crumpled piece of paper, the air around him and the water under him spoke to his artistic desires, telling him to wreak havoc on his flimsy sheet and to never stop. The somewhat endless black line did indeed stop once it reached the edge and to the fabric of his tan pants, leaving a light but visible charcoal mesh on his only pair. His eyes, as well as his clouded mind, ignored his major mistake and instead focused on the yellow fabric that begged to flap higher in the cool, ocean breeze.

His eyes traveled through every detail- the white lace clinging to the base yellow, the pearls hugging your waistline and wrapping around your backside to function as buttons, the baroque beauty of your neck and the lace wrapped around it, your brown skin glistening underneath the sun, and your red lips sculpted into a memorable pout - all of it entered Harry’s viewpoint in what seemed like forever but only took a mere second. One glorious second for Harry to stumble into a world he knew he could never abandon. The curl in your hair, the frown on your face, the gentle nature of your grip on the forbidden first-class railing - all of it a disastrous craving that would for sure develop into a blister on the lip if Harry didn’t get a smell of your lavish locks and accidentally brush the tip of his nose against the priceless diamonds draped through each curl, or get a taste of the red syrup staining your plump lips and accidentally bite it a little too hard to muster a moan of pleasure rich women kill to produce, or get to feel the touch of your fingertips against his palms, his face, his chest, his back as you left streaks of bright red. These prohibited images knocked against the padded confines of his thick skull and he felt like he completely violated the law with such an absurd idea.

But as you furrowed your eyebrows and focused on another focal point - Harry himself - he felt as if every inch of your being was worth being imprisoned for. His forbidden sweet creature.

You stared at the stranger briefly before looking back at the waves beyond the bow of the ship. Yet, you continued to feel his powerful gaze. You didn’t feel uncomfortable with his locked stare, but you wondered if he was possessed, spiraling through a trance that you had become a victim of. Was his gaze good or bad? Was he seriously entranced or judging your physique? Walking away would break the spell, but you stayed glued to the railing for some reason, watching the waves make way for Titanic’s many entrances.

You heard the voice in your head instruct your view to stay on the water, but you disobeyed for once, unaware of such a lovely decision until you locked eyes with your third-class admirer. You have always gotten attention from anyone you encountered, both pleasant and unpleasant, but attention nonetheless. And the waves of this particular admiration traveled through the misty breeze and onto your blushed cheeks, pinching them with a silent yelp, a plea, an almost beggarly request for your consideration. So you obliged its want, gazing across the third-class gatherings to the man sitting on one of the few benches on deck, surrounded by confused and teasing passengers who looked between you and him, wondering if you were going to break first from the rare situation. A situation that many never considered legitimate, possible, or even appropriate. But the lot of you were on the blue waves and the bubbly foam and the impressive craft of a thousand good Irishmen that welcomed the rare and extraordinary.

He was attractive - his short hair dancing in the air one curl at a time, his broad form rising to sit up straight when he realized you were also admiring him, and his eyes never blinking as to not miss anything you might do. And he had this magnetic pull, almost as if he was screaming at you to come down and speak with him. You felt somewhat disgusted with yourself, imagining a normal conversation with a normal person, a very handsome person, whose gaze alone made you feel a tingle at your fingertips and caused a tiny grin to break on your face. It wasn’t appropriate to be thinking of another man this way when you had never felt this way for the man you were to marry. And yesterday’s kiss did not equate to the powerful senses you were currently experiencing.

You hoped he didn’t see your grin, but Harry did. He caught it instantly, his heart pounding and his hands instructing him to quickly sketch the curve.

By now Drake was waving a hand over Harry’s face to see if that broke off his view, but Harry simply leaned forward, unaware of the obstruction and oh so enchanted by that tiny grin you hadn’t dropped.

“Oh, forget it, Harry! It’s like angels flying out your ass to get next to the likes of her.”

To be seen, thought of, recognized as a human being and not glossed over as some extra - the recognition of plain existence excited you to new extremes. And just as your mind told you to unlock the first-class gate and venture over to your admirer, real life interrupted in the form of Cal’s tamed grip on your upper arm.

You dropped your gaze quickly, hoping Cal did not realize your original viewpoint, and looked down at the unwanted physical connection between you.

"Why must you defy your mother’s orders and misbehave in front of friends?”

You pulled yourself away from his tightening grip. “I have already received this lecture from my own mother. I do not need to hear it again.”

Cal let out a low chuckle, “Then why must you not listen? You embarrassed me.”

You fought the urge to yell and relay yet another disapproving tone. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I’m not feeling well this morning.”

And with that fake apology, Cal hummed in sympathy and tugged you in for a short hug. “Why didn’t you just say so? It could have saved us the humiliation.”

You sucked in a harsh breath at his choice of words to avoid the frustrated tears, pulling away and patting his chest as you excused yourself to your stay room. He groaned as he suspected he had done something else wrong, but did not dare to follow you this time.

Drake shook his head in discontent, “A man like that should be grateful to have a woman like her.”

Other passengers shared their agreement, whistling and all. They teased Harry and shoved him playfully, congratulating him for the impossible. And as you walked from Harry’s eyesight back into the ship, he rejoined the conversation briefly before he began a simple illustration of your eyes.

Drake sat back down on the same bench as Harry as all the chatter died down, looking over at Harry’s paper. He rolled his eyes and smiled.

“She really did a number on you, huh? I’m all for going after the unreachable but this is truly unreachable, boy-yo.”

Harry stopped his tracing to look up at Drake, “I know… but she saw me, too.”

Drake furrowed his eyebrows, wondering if Harry was simply awestruck or serious. And with a slight chuckle of disbelief, Drake muttered, “that she did.”

A moment passed before Drake spoke again, deciding on letting Harry live in his little fantasy for the rest of the day. He tapped Harry’s stack of papers with his index finger. “I’m sure you’ll do her justice.”

And Harry did.

     If you stood in the middle of the room and screamed at the top of your lungs, you were certain no one would even look up. Because besides your impressive attitude you were known for, your problems seemed minuscule compared to others. No one seemed to piece together why you were the way you were, opting for society’s sexist explanations instead of simply asking you.

Just a few hours ago you were seen and not looked over quickly - you felt appreciated and noticed. Now, even in a room with hundreds of people and many sat at the same table as you, you weren’t even acknowledged. Perhaps it was because you never spoke - you couldn’t blame them for not noticing you then. But then again, when you did speak and Cal silenced or interrupted you, discrediting even opinions, no one minded.

They were the same endless parties, the same narrow people, and the same mindless chatter. Like they flipped a switch each night and wiped their slate clean, ready for the same routine the very next day with no complaints at all. And it frightened you that this would remain your routine, the same routine you had already lived for twenty-two years, with no way out and no ‘off’ button.

You felt as if you were floating away, heavy and lightweight at the same time, feeling yourself blink every few minutes. Your eyes focused on one point - the ashtray in the middle of the rounded table, even as people from surrounding tables came to greet your mother and Cal. You kept track of time by the impressive height of the gray ash, some landing outside the tray and onto plates. It grew higher… and higher… and your food was barely picked at, Cal was reaching over you every so often to tap his cigarette on the tray, and your mother was on her fourth glass of champagne.

They didn’t see that you weren’t eating. How does someone not notice that someone isn’t eating at a dinner?

You reached over for your champagne glass, your hand shaking slightly as you downed the rest of it. Everyone’s voices were becoming silent, like you were covering both ears or going deaf, and as Cal reached over to give you a kiss on the cheek, your eyes were suddenly heavy.

“Please, excuse me, Cal. I need to run to our room really quickly.”

Cal paused his conversation with Astor to turn to you. “Are you alright? Would you like me to escort you to the cabin?”

And you smiled, “I’ll be fine.”

It was a really nice gesture, but in Cal’s mind it was simple chivalry.

You stood up, your feet sore and the nerves bunching together throughout your legs. The laughter seemed to grow as you exited, and now those nerves shocked you into running.

You barged into your stay room, ignoring the obvious worry the staff gave you, their questions of tea or more blankets flying over your head. You simply speed-walked past them, hiding your face behind your curls so they would not see your very real tears, staining the powder on your cheeks and leaving visible streaks lighter than your natural color. You leaned back on the door and tried to drown out the drunken laughs and loud violins. Controlling your breathing was easy at first until you opened your eyes and saw a mass explosion of gold, the intricate designs of each piece of cloth, the carvings in the wood encasing your mirror, your freshly made bed that Cal had jokingly suggested he’d crawl into late at night. You swallowed the itch in your throat, walking to the make-up table to drop the pins you began tearing from your hair. One-by-one you let each curl fall to your shoulder, their lost weight causing your headband of diamonds to fall to the floor. You silently deliberated what the name of your maid was, cursing yourself for forgetting when she had so nicely introduced herself last night. But then her name slid from your tongue, and you almost cried from the sudden joy.

“Trudy?” you called, starting to hyperventilate. “Trudy?”

You reached behind you to unbutton your dress, but your shoulders just wouldn’t bend far enough. Suffocated, you clawed at the loose hanging jewels instead, pinching and stretching the skin on your back that you could reach.

“Trudy!” you began to choke on your breath, yelling louder each time you called the maid. So you tugged and ripped the silver necklace from your neck, threw your jewelry box across the room, and tossed a few perfume bottles you had packed so delicately against the wall.

“I can’t... I can’t,” you cried, knees partially crumbling beneath you as you leaned against the chair. You lifted your head to witness your disheveled look, hair a mess and mascara smudged just below your water line. Lips quivering, an intense wave of self-pity and self-hatred drowning your thoughts, exclaiming the few words that actually made it through your sore skull. You listened to them, repeated and mean, basically ordering you to listen and to follow.

“Ya no queda mas.”

There is nothing left.

You were indeed a follower - and you were going to oblige.

And so you abandoned everything, opening your room door and running through the crowded hallway full of oblivious passengers who swam in the bliss of a full stomach and buzzed fingertips and toes.

You ran across the deck to the stern of the ship, careless as to who or what you toppled along the way. Of course everyone took an interest, calling out to see if you needed assistance. But as you left their eyesight, their worry diminished and they assumed someone else would offer a hand. One right after the other, they allowed you to cross their paths and leave it in an instant.

Harry lay on a third-class bench, staring up at the starry night. With a cigarette in one hand and the other stuffed away warmly in his coat pocket, he wondered just exactly where in the hell that damn ‘Big Dipper’ was. Or the little one. Hell, any constellation for that matter. He loved watching the night sky, but the city smog hid most of the stars. Now, with only the steam from the funnels blocking his view, he focused on every star individually, losing track of them as time passed, each one beginning to look the same in size but different in brightness. They formed all kinds of shapes in Harry’s mind, but he could not find those documented ones the astronomers raved on about.

He could have sworn he saw the rectangular shape slightly, its handle coming into existence as the sound of sobbing arrived and left in a flash. He lifted himself up, cigarette hanging from his pink lips and eyebrows scrunched in confusion. He watched as you continued running, pausing to catch your breath at one of the benches.

He recognized that beautiful brown skin anywhere.

His feet hit the deck floor immediately once he saw that you weren’t stopping, instead walking towards the stern railing and looking over into the water. He jogged lightly, careful not to make much noise as you contemplated such a drastic decision. Perhaps you were going to change your mind, step away, take a deep breath and go back to your endless desserts and musical concerts. But he quickly hid behind a pole when you checked to see if anyone had followed you, slightly disappointed in the fact that no one did, and stepped onto the railing and swung a leg over.

“Fuck,” Harry whispered, his mind racing and thinking of a way to calmly and safely get you back onto the deck without frightening you. If he were to jump out now, you were for sure going to let go.

You turned around once more and back toward the water, this small gesture of goodbye to the ship and all on it finally settling within you. The waves were dark, not light blue like they were during the daytime. And they sounded louder and more angry, taunting you instead of offering tranquility. The thought of jumping when the sun was out danced around in your head, a more vibrant suicide seeming better suited for your needs.

But maybe you deserved to die in the dark with no other sound besides the unnerving crashing of water and massive propellers in a never ending motion of slicing. You thought about Cal and almost immediately recoiled, the last thought before you died an unhappy thought and not at all what you wanted it to be. Perhaps your mother or your father. Trudy. No one seemed to properly fit, so you settled on the image of your famed racehorse as you leaned away from the railing, hanging off and ready to fall. Your racehorse, dark brown and majestic, waiting for you to come home.

“Don’t do it.”

You gripped the railing tight, unaware that your initial hold was so loose, and you were moments away from leaving your misery behind.

You whipped your head to see who had followed you, stunned that this person was not from the first-class - the class that prides themselves on their selflessness and courage. He was from the third - the class that truly embodied all things selfless and are crucified for it.

“Stay back,” you begged, raising one hand up as if to physically stop him, but you quickly regretted it as you felt the tough winds push you ever so slightly. “Please don’t come near me.”

Harry contemplated his next move, inhaling some final smoke from his cigarette and stepped closer. He showed you the cigarette, stepping towards the railing to throw it overboard.

It was smart, you thought. He was going to come closer, you knew that. But to do it so discreetly as to not scare you - you were kind of grateful.

“Please just leave me alone,” you sobbed, looking back down to the rushing water. “I’ll let go.”

Harry stood dumbfounded, hands in his pockets and worry etched into his face. He remained calm, however, trusting in himself to sweet talk you back over the railing.

He cleared his throat, “No, you won’t.”

You scoffed, newly formed tears threatening to leave your eyes. “What?”

“You won’t do it.”

This time you looked up to the starry sky to gain clearance in thought but were intrigued nonetheless. Either you could snap at him and jump, or you could listen and come back over the railing. All you wanted to do now was sleep, as your head began feeling heavier by the second.

“What are you going on about? Don’t presume to tell me what I will or will not do! You don’t know me.”

Harry cleared his throat awkwardly, still trying to calm the situation down as easily as he could. But as your hands turned whiter as your grip strengthened and your voice began to crack, Harry knew he had to convince you this was not the answer.

He didn’t quite understand it - wanting to end your life at such a young age. By the look of your clothes and make-up, Harry could tell you had most material things the people in third-class would kill for. But there were sparkly tears on your waterline, contradicting the image of glory and wealth you so effortlessly portrayed, and the sounds of crashing waves waiting to gobble you up - the sense of you, the mere idea of that glory and wealth, - it absolutely bombarded any quick wit or joke Harry’s mouth was thinking of spitting. All rational from here on out.

“I’m sorry,” Harry spoke, bringing his hands up to breathe warm air into them. “I just don’t want you to experience the dip, is all.”

You stayed silent, staring at him as he stared at you.

“You know the water’s freezing. If you were to survive the fall, the cold would probably hurt more.”

Now your bottom lip quivered and the sudden realization of how cold the night air actually was hit you at that exact moment, and you internally begged for the stranger to step closer. “How cold?”

Harry shrugged, still trying his best to remain casual. “Most likely a couple degrees over.”

You stared at the black abyss beneath you, “I bet that would hurt.”

Harry chuckled lowly, taking the risk and stepping closer to you that a simple turn of the head was enough to see his whole face. And it dawned on you, swiftly and surely, that this was the boy who could not seem to stop staring at you earlier. He was much more handsome up close, and his voice was the final piece of the puzzle. “Exactly. But if you jump, I’m gonna have to jump in there after you.”

You laughed dryly, “You’re crazy. Absurd. The fall alone would kill you.”

Harry smirked to himself, focused on the way your wavy hair flew in all directions. He was getting you to speak more. He was buying time. So, he removed his jacket and warm vest to prove his statement.

“Yeah, it would hurt,” Harry shrugged, finally stepping close enough to hang across the railing with you. He glanced down to your shivering feet, fearful that the heels would unlock themselves and send you free falling. “Trust me, you don’t want to do this-”

“And how do you know that? Maybe I want to… die.” It resonated as a question in both your minds, the sinking sensation overwhelming your chest.

“We all die someday. I think the best part is not knowing when.”

You observed the boy’s face, studying his expression to somehow gain a better explanation as to what he possibly meant. You swallowed more tears, this time speaking in a low whisper.

“I can easily predict when.”

Harry actually felt his stomach clench.

You continued, “It’s probably already planned, with as many as two-hundred guests in attendance, and an open bar.”

Harry shifted his weight from his right foot to his left, his eyes never leaving yours. “It’s difficult to respond to that.”

You gave him a small smile, “I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

Whether you meant that in a sincere or disrespectful way, Harry was hurt by the comment nonetheless.

“I know you’re angry, but trust me,” he redirected, an attempt to forget suicidal intentions and reasons and focus on the actual present moment itself. “Water that cold, like right down there… it hits you like a thousand knives stabbing you all over your body. You can’t breathe, can’t think-”

You closed your eyes, eyebrows scrunched and suddenly so very cold. “Okay, please stop.”

Harry watched as your skin produced goosebumps and your grip tightened even more. It was a sign of victory, he thought. “I’m just hoping you’ll save me the swim by coming back over the railing.”

You sighed deeply, the air you expelled turning into the cold breeze itself, mixing with the shaky breaths of the one person on this whole damn ship to hear your screams. And you didn’t even physically cry out.

“Come back with me. Trust me, you don’t wanna do this.”

You reached your arm over to prepare for the turn, but instead of gripping the railing like you expected, a warm hand gripped yours instead, tightly, and his thumb immediately began rubbing your knuckles in a soothing motion. He helped you turn back toward the ship, hands now gripping both of yours.

He smiled up at you, his eyes almost watering from the unnoticed stress that was building within him. You grinned slightly, giving a small shrug of the shoulders as the silence broke.

“I don’t want to go back.”

Harry grasped your hands tighter, “Hey, me neither. Do you know how many rats welcomed me in my cabin yesterday?”

You laughed (somewhere between a laugh and a snort), forgetting momentarily that the two of you were standing in dangerous positions exchanging quiet words.

“Thank you.”

“It’s no problem. I’m Harry Styles.”

“I’m-”

“An absolute blooming rose.”

Your eyes widened momentarily, the moment passing with an awareness of peace from the sudden declaration of recorded beauty. You told him your real name anyway, absolutely loving the way it sounded in a british accent, his british accent, but the ‘blooming rose’ reference remained number one. There, with your body still on the wrong side of the ship and his hands now clutching your upper arm and elbow to begin pulling you over - there you were actually content with your current life.

“Up you go.”

You raised one leg to step up a rail, unaware that the beaded lace part of your dress was longer than the rest. It caused a severe slip, and before you knew what was happening, you were falling. You screamed, one hand barely catching the railing and the other arm suffering Harry’s grip and digging nails.

“Harry!”

Harry cried out in distress, almost going over himself. He locked his feet to the ground and against the ship, thighs pressed against the railing, and attempted to pull you up.

“C’mon, you can do it! You gotta climb, too!”

You followed his instructions, trying to climb the railing like a ladder with your free hand. But as you got higher and your legs remained swinging mindlessly against the wet ship, you slipped lower.

“Help me! Help me, please!” you yelled, to Harry and to anyone else who would hear, the ocean now loud with the outrage of your absence.

Harry could feel his heart exploding from the adrenaline spiking as he looked down at your terrified face, relying solely on him to save your life. The whole time he spoke with you he was frightened of the possibility of you letting go or accidentally falling, but now that he could visibly see that you most certainly did not want to die this way, he was mortified.

“I got you, okay?” Harry waited to shout again until you looked back up to him. “I got you.”

You nodded the best you could, the tears still dripping from your eyes and nose, determined to hear his frightened voice.

“I won’t let go! I promise. Now, pull yourself up!”

It took everything in you to support your own body weight with a corset strangling you at the same time, but you gripped the rails and then Harry’s shoulder. The corset made it more difficult to breathe, but you compiled the last pinches of energy and strength within you and aided Harry in your rescue. You groaned as your knees stabbed into the top bar, but the feeling of Harry’s arms wrapping around your waist to pull you over fully eradicated that pain. You two toppled over onto the safe deck, rolling over each other with a loud thud. Harry stayed glued to your waist while you gripped the deck with your nails.

In such a climactic moment, the two of you didn’t notice three members of the crew running toward you with no clue as to what just occurred.

“What’s all this?”

Your dress had ripped slightly, and due to your bedroom tantrum and the high winds, your hair was in absolute disorder. You had no coat on, tears streamed down your face, and a third-class man was hovering over your trembling body. And the crew failed to detect the similar shaking of Harry’s large frame or his scared expression, instead pointing a finger at him and labeling him the guilty party.

“Don’t you move an inch,” a crew member warned, stepping toward Harry and dragging him away from you. Two of the men swooped in to scoop you up, checking for signs of harm.

Your frantic eyes searched for Harry, but he was already looking at you, slightly disappointed and eager to prove himself innocent without throwing you into the cold water himself by revealing the truth.

- 

Finally, they have met lol. xxMoni

[kim-lexie]

‘start up’: week-by-week playback

here is a week-by-week playback of events from ‘start up’ and my unfiltered feelings. hope you enjoy! if you want to see somewhat cohesive thoughts on ‘start up’ check out my official review. here :) 

*spoiler alert*

ep 1

ladies and gents it’s going to be a good one. i loved being able to see this backstory to lay all the groundwork for the future of the drama.

his story is devastating as a young individual unable to make his way into the world and then making a way to find it isn’t how he expected and lost a real thing he had with the relationship with the her grandmother. but the redemption when he goes to see her again.

her family becoming broken. her sister severing the relationship and chalking it up to being ‘oh i made the better choice’. and her father dying while getting her chicken and trying to get an investment to not let his daughter go hungry and to bring his family together.

to him making up a character that got her through hard times. and then trying to find him again. this is going to be great. and i know i’m going to be devastated bc she fell in love with the other man to begin with, and now she will see this new person.

soooooo much happened and i’m clearly not ready.

ep 2

why? why do we lie? we know nothing good will come of it. if anything this jipyeong is who she loves. but why lie? literally you can own up to it and start over boo.

disappointed in our sweet grandma for lying to dalmi for so long.

her sister is awful. and so is this ‘mother’.

this man just wanted to start up his start up but he was like nah don’t want to help you even though i need you. feel in love with the girl in the letters and showed up bc of the goodness of his heart. hope he doesn’t get lost in the fantasy of it.

their business, samsan tech, is going to be wild and great and he missed his opportunity.

ep 3

her mother saying she is the same as her dad not having a plan is so wack, and makes me want her to slap her.

aren’t you curious? why aren’t you asking why i am like this? because that is my concept the quiet good looking type. i can’t with him hahaha

i love that he asked about the music box. i wish it was really him that wrote the letters, because this will be heartbreaking when she finds out.

‘it wouldn’t be bad to sail off without a map even if we got lost, if it’s with you.’

this kid, dosan, is too funny.

i cannot believe her ‘father’ just throw her under the bus and had her oppa takes over the Korean branch of her company that she formed.

dang it. girl quits her job because he started his own company

they got first place. is that enough inkling for you?!?!?

they both like her. but only one of them will admit his feelings so he will win in the end. i’m so excited to see all of their relationships develop.

the cringe level of the edit of her winning her award. i cannot even. they’re charming everyone loves it.

ep 4

him learning how to be a hot shot ceo. i can’t. the placemats he is struggling.

his friend breaking the 3rd wall and telling us how dosan drives away all the ladies in university.

poor guy the only things she likes about him aren’t him at all but jipyeong.

she is going to be their ceo isn’t she. bc he said that he can’t be ceo. she’d kill it. what a queen.

yes boo! there it is we know who you’re going to pick. bc she wants them to recruit you not the other way around.

ep 5

this was a stellar episode. from both teams using the same data set and coming up with wildly different ideas to samsan tech almost crashing down. but setting a fire to dosan to do better and be more ambitious. i’m so excited.

our girl killed her presentation yes queen. you got this. the fact that the boys created a whole new software. these folks would be crazy to not invest.

this alex guy really believes in them i’m excited to see if there will be rivalry between the two hot shot ceo’s

the fact that her grandma doesn’t regret not sending her to college but rather regrets not meeting him earlier to support and encourage him made me cry.

ep 6

this was a great episode. so much happened in the development of their little company. disorder and disagreements led to stronger relations within the company.

i love how she picked the mentor. like yup i know alex is the biggest deal since slice bread but you’re our homie.

the fact that dosan was ready to come clean about the letters but overheard the grandmother get a sad report from the doctors and wanted to protect her and her granddaughter. so sad.

ep 7

i really need more than a second male lead for this man. i can’t stand the way he looks at her. he loves her and is trying so hard to shut off his heart to her.

i love the bickering between the two male leads. like seriously hilarious.

i love the sweet relationship that nam dosan will now have with her grandmother. and i love the idea concept he had for their business. a beautiful heart behind the machine.

dosan standing up for her and standing against this horrible man out to exploit their talent.  

this ending scene i can’t. they’re cute too. and precious.

he kept the plant and is going to give it nutrients to keep it well. please do the same with your relationship with her honey.

ep 8

i really love jipyeong and need them together.

i cannot with their ceo step dad. like isn’t this too much.

i want the boss lady at sandbox to know that dalmi is the sandbox girl!!!

ep 9

the wind turned into a heavy storm that destroyed his self esteem. he feels himself falling apart bc of his secret.

she was attacked!

‘i made a wrong turn and stumbled upon fireworks’ nam dosan.

he brought them to the beach after reading that review of wanting to see more beauty that the world has to offer. i need him to own up to his feelings and make a move.

don’t lie bro we know you like dalmi. and of course it’s raining. bc that’s how it is.

we still get a scene with them running through the rain the chul-san and yong-san.

my heart is crumbling into a million pieces. jipyeong’s there and dosan isn’t. what are we going to do. this ain’t the moment of revelation we wanted.

ep 10

jipyeong is so great. 10 out of 10.

i don’t know what it is but i really am not about dosan’s character for some reason. i really just want jipyeong to be honest from the start and he could have ended up with her.

my heart. our dalmi.

‘i wanted to be the person you wanted. but it was too hard to bear.’

‘the person i want. i don’t know who that is.’

is the sibling of the member that died in their group?

do-san can’t leave his boys!!

‘does my dream have to be success. can’t it be a person?’

he just confesses to liking her while he was mixing their noodles. i can’t with him. love that he’s finally being honest. now it’s all up to dalmi.

everyone encouraging her before she has to promote their company. she did this. she is the ceo. she’s got this.

what the even?!? jipyeong was the one that was harsh to him. and it led his brother to commit suicide. oh no. and now they’re in the elevator together what’s going to happen?!?!

now she has two plan b?!? one from the investor and one from dosan and the big tech company.

they both confessed to the nice lady at the bar. hahaha i love these epilogue moments.

ep 11

yong-san’s brother story is so sad.

his dad standing up for the present he desperately wants to keep. and being the bridge for innovation.

their software worked on alex’s scheme!!!

and they won demo day.

oh no but alex isn’t as great as we thought he was...

chul-san and sa-ha are dating. i cannot even. this is the best!!!

they’re such a good team. brainstorming after their win. they cannot disband them.

i thought our man was going to get to them

in time to stop them from signing. but he didn’t.

ep 12

bro. alex is awful i hate this man.

the moments between. hjp and mrs. choi you are brilliant and heart breaking. i really want them to continue to grow into a better person and end up with dalmi.

why y’all got to fight why is dosan doing this. bro you’re not getting any brownie points by being like this dude.

i really love this side story with chulsan and saha. they’re cute. well we can share the vanilla latte. cute!!!!  

chulsan made her a video of numbers to help her fall asleep. he’s too cute i want her to admit that she likes him. ahhhhhhhhh

the fact that they ended up going and we’ll have a three year gap errrrks me. like our boy jhp is going to finally start making moves and dosan is going to run in and save the day. like bro you’re a mess.

i hope they were able to save the app for her grandmother.

her applying to her sisters company i’m excited.

ep 13

lolol they used his cousin for the commercial and injae looks sooo cute. frozen inspired.

i love how she had /iced vanilla latte lover’ as chul-san’s contact name and the vlogs!!!

hjp our man saved her from the insurance guy.

now they all play go stop together!!!!

she tucked him in and he gets to stay

youngsil calling him out to just swing the bat and don’t hesitate or he’ll lose. is this foreshadowing our man losing dalmi?!?

they finally got to eat at the bbq restaurant that was below their original building

frick my life. why is his timing always wack.

at least chulson and saha can sail.

the whole gang is back together!

it was the twins that hacked it wasn’t it?!?

he stopped him. come on baby.

ep 14

i love his man listening to her cry. hiding her because she didn’t want her staff to see. and telling her to chill until she is ready. i love this man.

that’s right honey. don’t answer that phone move on.

their little photoshoot was faboulous, them as RGB

yes queen. she went to confront her family. and be like boo you thought i didn’t chance. honey you’re in for it.

her mother wanting to pay back her mother-in-law for raising her daughter in her steed.

dosan turned her down her offer to be their AI specialists at her company.

i love that his father saved the baseball.

me finally accepting my ship won’t sail when their girl walked 5 hours in the woods to get to dosan.

yong-san apologizing for saying that jhp killed his brother. they both are apologizing.

they all end up joining her company!!!!

ep 15

their self driving car passed the test. they’re too cute in their celebration.

she doesn’t want to lose her team again if they lose their bid.

sa ha is finally falling for chulsan. he’s so precious. him being like oh wait you’re asking me out.

of course it would be this trip getting stuck in an elevator together.

sailing off without a map. never will regret it. -dosan

injae absolved her adoption after seeing her grandmother.

he tired to out so all their memories with that one thing alone his big hands. hahah oh do san.

my hjp finally let go. he took his losses and kept the money tree and letters. it isn’t enough honey boo.

stop feeling inferior to me. work on your self esteem and look at dalmi again. then you’ll know who she really likes. with those hands alone, you beat our memories. -hjp

because it’s you. you’re the reason. that’s it. -dalmi on liking dosan

i really don’t like them together. but whatever i shall not have my way in this. it’s fine hjp is mine.

i love the sisters together. they’re precious talking about the sandbox girl.

is this article going to frick up their bid?!? but it was his hackers that did it the twins!!!

is hjp going to save the day?!?

ep 16

dalmi and dosan are a dream team. and they just served that reporter one great tell all.

i still can’t process bc i love hjp.

i feel like it hit mrs. choi when they were all talking dosan and dalmi when are finally saw dosan after a few years that her good boy would feel alone. TT

‘don’t become any lonelier jipyeong...’ their relationship makes me cry. i love that

i can’t everyone saying what they’ll do if they win. PROPOSE. say who their boyfriend is?!?!

i’m excited to see this start up to connect orphanages with a sponsor to help them in that transition. it’s a perfect fit for him. ‘i like your voice’, because it sounds like young-sil the voice of the app/help device. he’s going to personally invest and help them with their business plan. and then sponser kids!!! he is seriously a dream.

chulsan and saha are too cute. i love that she introduced him as her boyfriend. he was not expecting that. she finally found someone who she’s been looking for!

was that their goodbye? he isn’t the dosan from the letters? huh?

in jae is such a queen serving those papers to her dad at the q and a session, that no one showed up to. 

them all crying in their old rooftop office. they’re such dorks i love them

his father took the sign to replace it with the one from the math competition.

dalmi and injae’s relationship is too precious.

he’s going to invest in their company. and dosan accepted hjp’s investment.

i want to change the world. follow your dream.

i liked this one.

i wonder if they won.......oh the epilogue!!!

they got married. and they kept the baseball. chul-san and saha revealed they were a couple. chul-san shaved his hair! i loved that we saw it all though pictures on their desk!! that was a creative way to fit everything in!

shareholders meeting!!! the gang taking over the world!

[lightisdays2k]

Day 3: High School

Burning Phoenix here with Day 3: High School AU. This one is much shorter and more subtle, but I hope you all enjoy it all the same.

Noctis usually enjoyed stopping by the arcade after school has ended. But these days, he found himself preferring the calm and cozy quiet of a certain café. At least, that was what he told himself and the others. The other reasons would be how good the menu was; the coffee—both hot and cold—and the pastries…

Of course Noctis did find something else rather alluring, besides the peppermint mocha. And he had an eye on that reason.

Lightning could feel his eyes on her again. She had noticed Noctis coming in rather often these days; usually she would see him head off down to where the arcades were, and he would sometimes be followed by one of his friends. While Lightning herself would head to her job after school.

“Looks like you have an admirer.”

She sighed and looked over to the young woman tending the counter. Lebreau smirked at her and winked; for some odd reason, she seemed to think Noctis was coming to the NORA café just to see Lightning.

“Shouldn’t you be focusing on work rather than trying to start a gossip chain?” Lightning frowned as she picked up another order and placed them on her tray.

“I am working. And so are you; therefore I can and will remind you that you do indeed have an admirer. I can tell he likes the food and drinks, but his mind is clearly elsewhere. Namely anywhere you are.” Lebreau teased.

Lightning just rolled her eyes. “You’re seeing things. Maybe you need those glasses after all.”

Without another word, she continued with her work and Lebreau pouted playfully. She was not going to let that sour puss’s temper get her down; she knew a smitten guy when she saw it. And that Caelum kid was smitten.

He would steal glances at Lightning and sometimes just blatantly watch her, only to look away if Lightning should turn in his general direction, and not necessarily notice him. Sometimes he would opened his mouth and move slightly as if he wanted to say something to her, only to back down before he even started.

The poor buy was obviously the shy type, even though his outer appearance screamed ‘tall, dark, and handsome’. Or at least, ‘two-inches-taller-than-Lightning’. If he did not act soon, he’d surely regret it and still not make a move. Men.

“Hey Lebreau, shouldn’t you be manning the counter instead of daydreaming?” Yuj said, snapping his co-worker out of her daydream.

“I am working! I’m working on a way to get that boy to actually grow the balls to talk to good ol’ Rosebush!” She protested.

Yuj gave her a look. “Matchmaking isn’t in the job description…”

The brunette scoffed. “Oh hush, you! What do you know about feelings and potential romances?”

“I know they shouldn’t be forced, or forced down people’s throats. I know that two people have to actually get to know each other and learn to get along and interact like…well, people!” Yuj listed down, unaware of Lebreau’s growing grin that was borderline devious.

“Well it looks like you do know a thing or two! In that case, welcome aboard! You can help me with Lightning’s little admirer!”

Yuj did a double-take. “What? No way am I getting involved in your schemes!”

“First of all; it’s not a scheme. And secondly; why not?” Lebreau frowned at him, placing her hands to her hips in disapproval.

“Because I’m not suicidal; I value my life. I’m not gonna risk getting pummelled by Lightning Farron if she catches us interfering with her love life! And some guy’s love life.” Yuj exclaimed. He then cleared his throat and waved apologetically, when the nearest costumers turned their heads to look at him strangely.

The female barista huffed indignantly. “We’re not going to be interfering! We’re simply going allow things to continue on naturally and happen naturally. And all we’ll really be doing is giving them a little push in the right direction.

“… That’s still interfering.”

As the two bickered, Lightning just did her best to ignore them and continue with her serving the customers and keeping things going. Whatever it was Lebreau and Yuj were arguing about, they should leave until their break or once work was done.

Noctis watched her intently, mentally kicking himself for always chickening out whenever he made an attempt to try and talk to her. He couldn’t even get one word out; he’d freeze up.

“Come on. Just walk up to her,” He muttered to himself. “Walk up to her and ask her ‘Hey Lightning can we go out for dinner or something…’ No, that’s stupid…”

“Need anything?” Lightning’s voice asked from above.

Noctis nearly jumped and looked up too Lightning standing by his table, her expression neutral. He had to admit she looked good in a uniform; even a uniform of a café. His face flushed slightly but he cleared his throat.

“Uh…another peppermint mocha…?”

“Was that a question, or did you really want another peppermint mocha?” Lightning questioned, giving him a look.

Noctis coughed. “You always treat your customers this way?”

“Only if they kept coming over and looking as if they were spacing out constantly,” She retorted lightly.

His eyes widened and he glanced away. She noticed him coming in often? This was either really good, or really bad. And he wanted to be a good thing rather than the bad. But how to get the ball into his court?

A thump on his table snapped him from his thoughts and he saw a grande-sized peppermint mocha being placed in front of him. His usual order. Noctis glanced up at Lightning.

“You were spacing out again, so I got your drink. Didn’t think you’d stay stuck in your head for that long. And the process to make this takes a while, especially with more than one customer needing their orders.” Her deadpan stare told him she was serious.

“Had no idea.” He admitted and sighed. “Thanks.”

Lightning did not move and just stood there. “Why do you keep coming here?”

Noctis, having started on his drink, choked and coughed as the liquid and whipped cream caught in his throat. “Ah…! I…what…?”

Seeing that he was a little out of focus in the head, Lightning sighed in defeat. “Listen, I’m off work in a few minutes. Mind sticking around for a bit?”

“Wha— I mean… Yeah, sure. I guess. I got time.” He shrugged, trying to keep his cool. Hopefully she didn’t want to just punch him in the face for looking like a fool.

But he did do as she requested and sat in his usual seat until Lightning would come back out, her work uniform now changed to casual clothing. She had her bag over her shoulder as she approached Noctis again.

“Alright, come on. Let’s take a walk,” She said, nodding her head over to the door.

From the counter, Yuj and Lebreau watched the scene with quiet surprise. Though Yuj was glad that he was proven right in his sureness of things working out on their own. Unfortunately for him, this only spurred Lebreau on even more.

“See? They won’t need a ‘push’. They’re doing fine on your own!” Yuj exclaimed.

Lebreau chuckled. “Nah! They would totally need it! Maybe not now, but maybe later! And you’re gonna help along with this!”

“No I’m not! I didn’t agree to anything!”

Of course their bickering went on, even while the two continued their work.

Out of the café’s range, Noctis found himself trying to find the right words to start off their conversation. Whatever that might be. He wanted to say something, anything! But most importantly, he wanted to ask her out on a date. Or at the very least, hopefully become friends rather than just simple classmates.

He struggled with himself internally and Lightning glanced at him. She was not sure if Noctis was aware of the amusing expressions he was making. That boy was so deep inside his own head, it was a wonder he did not bump into anything during their walk.

Deciding that she would need to take matters in her own hands.

“Mind telling me what got you so interested in Café NORA?”

Noctis looked confused. “Is it a crime to frequent a café and enjoy the food and drinks?”

Lightning raised an eyebrow. “You seriously expect me to believe that’s the only reason? You always run off with your friends to the arcades, and suddenly you suddenly decide a cozy little café is your scene? If that is the case, why aren’t your friends with you?”

Damn. She had she been aware of all that the entire time?

“Well…I thought a change of scene once in a while would be good. I mean I did end up liking the coffee and all. And the food’s good too…” He admitted.

“But…?” She coaxed.

“Come on Noct, this is your chance. Just say it already, damn it!” He scolded himself. “I thought of… Maybe…”

Lightning sighed. “Maybe…what? Get to the point.”

He looked so damn nervous, even if he did not notice he was being a little bit obvious with his expressions. It made him look slightly constipated. It was both amusing and a little irritating; he was choking up so much to the point that it was clear he would never be able to spit words out. Lightning she was wrong about that.

“I kinda kept wanting to talk to you,” Noctis admitted. “Something important.”

That was a start at least. Though Lightning wasn’t fond of beating around the bush. “What for? We go to the same school, you could’ve approached me then, or after. Work keeps me busy, and I can’t just idle around talking to a classmate.”

Noctis winced. “Because…it’s kinda…private.”

“Fine. What was it you wanted to talk to me about?”

Noctis almost forgot how to breathe. Lightning patiently waited as he struggled with himself internally while trying to form whatever words he was attempting to get out. Hopefully he would not take all day until the sun went down and it was the day after.

Finally, his shoulders seemed to slump over in defeat. “I…wanted to…ask you out on a date! Ugh! You can punch me if you want.”

There was a long silence when Noctis braced himself for an impact to hit his face. When none came, he lifted his head to look at Lightning. She was giving him a blunt look, a hand on her hip. That sort of reaction was not something he had been expecting.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” She said after a moment.

“What…?” He was taken aback.

Lightning smirk. “Was it so hard to say that?”

Noctis rubbed the back of his neck. “Kinda…”

“To answer you; sure. Why not. As long as you know a good steakhouse. That’s my condition,” Lightning said. Her tone had a teasing tinge to it.

It was still hard to believe but Noctis had to smile. She actually accepted his invitation for a date? Was he daydreaming or did he really get lucky. Either way, he was thankful. He had admired Lightning for a while; she was tough to get to know, but he did also see the good side to her.

For her part, Lightning had taken notice of Noctis as well. He may not be a shining example of…anything, really. But he was a good student with good grades. He was also polite and sometimes shy, though he seemed to have this habit of trying to seem unaffected, and cool. Trying to keep up an image.

But when Lightning was around, he seemed to forget himself. Even when he tried to keep his cool image. Something made her rather curious about him. Why not take the chance to know him? Right?

Noctis was still smiling and his hand hesitantly reached for hers.

Lightning moved away ever so slightly. “One step at a time, Princess.” She actually gave him a gentle smile.

“Right. Yeah, we can do that,” Noctis agreed. He still felt happy that he may be able to spent time with Lightning properly, even outside of school grounds. Hopefully they could learn more of each other as they went along.

Of course when they returned to Café NORA after school, once it was it Lightning’s next day of work, it was both at the same time. At that point, Lightning had allowed Noctis to take a hold of their hand in public, and though Noctis himself was not showy about it, he still felt pleased with himself. And for that, she was thankful that he was not some show-off.

Lebreau had been surprised, of course, and Yuj felt smug and reminded his colleague that he did mention how neither Noctis nor Lightning needed a push in the ‘right direction’. Yet, ever the stubborn romantic, Lebreau still denied a push was not needed.

For her part, Lightning ignored the gaping looks she got from her co-workers and went to the back to change into her work uniform, and Noctis went to his usual seat at the café.

He had given his friends another excuse as to why he couldn’t join them again. But this time his excuse was no longer some fib he concocted. He did not have to; Lightning had practically walked up to him and had bluntly announced her involvement with Noctis.

Surprisingly, his friends let him go easily. Probably planning on teasing him later, but were also happy to cheer for him in the background. Finally; he had been able to confront his crush with his affections.

Lebreau approached his table and grinned. “So…Noctis, was it?”

He looked up at her. “Uh, yeah?”

“How do you feel about having a part-time job here…?”

[introvertguide]

The Bridge on the River Kwai (1957); AFI #36

The film most recently under review was the British class, The Bridge on the River Kwai (1957). I know that this is almost an entirely British production and the American co-lead in this film is an add-on, but is on the AFI top 100. Also, it’s a darn good film that portrays the blindness that comes with pride and power. In a war setting, this blindness can cost lives and we sometimes forget what the fight is for (sometimes it is nothing). The movie won seven Oscars for Best Picture, Best Actor, Best Director, Best Screenplay, Best Cinematography, Best Editing, and Best Scoring. The film also swept the Golden Globes and the BAFTAs (the movie won Best British Film at the latter). The struggle for power between a British officer and a Japanese internment camp officer is the driving force for almost the entire movie and the psychological chess match is fascinating. Everything else feels kind of like filler, but that might just be me. Before I opine any further, let’s look at the plot, which is always proceeded by:

SPOILER ALERT!!! THIS IS A CLASSIC FILM WELL KNOWN THROUGHOUT NORTH AMERICA AND WESTERN EUROPE BUT I STILL HAVE TO PUT UP A WARNING!!! I THINK EVERYONE KNOWS THE ENDING, BUT I WILL STILL GET COMPLAINTS IF I DON’T SAY SOMETHING!!! ENJOY THE SYNOPSIS!!!

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In 1943, POWs arrive at a Japanese prison camp in Burma. Two prisoners talk about a recently dead prisoner, giving the idea that many have perished and nobody even remembers their names. The Allied prisoners march from the train into camp whistling the famous Colonel Bogey March and line up at attention in front of their own officers including Lieutenant Colonel Nicholson (Sir Alec Guinness). On arrival to the quartering area, the Japanese commander, Colonel Saito (Sessue Hayakawa), says that all prisoners, no matter rank, will work to construct the railway from Bangkok to Rangoon. 

Nicholson says that his men will work, but the Geneva convention says that officers are exempt from manual labor. That evening, Nicholson meets the other prisoners. The rounds include an American Lieutenant Commander named Shears (William Holden) as well as the ranking British medical officer, Major Clipton (James Donald). In conversation, Nicholson tells Shears that there will be no escape attempt since his group had been ordered to surrender and escape would be defiance to his superiors. This adherence to “proper military behavior,” even at the expensive of self perseverance, is a major theme throughout the film.

At the morning assembly before work began, Nicholson again refuses to have his officers perform manual labor. Saito threatens to have the group executed, but Major Clipton steps in and says there are too many witnesses and Saito will face charges for murder after the war. As punishment, Saito decides to leave the officers all day in the jungle heat. At the end of the day, the officers are put in a cramped punishment hut while Nicholson is put into a very small iron box named “the oven.”

While the British officers are being punished, Shears and two others make an escape attempt. Shears gets away but the other two are killed. He wanders off and finds a Siamese village where he is nursed back to health and then travels to the British colony of Ceylon. 

Shears gets away but the officers are detained for what is described as a month later in the film. The prisoners won’t work and constantly sabotage the bridge project in protest of having their officers locked away. Saito realizes that he will have to commit suicide if he does not complete the bridge (as impossible as it seems to be), so he finally gives in and releases Nicholson and his officers saying they don’t have to complete manual labor. It was a win of principle and it is strange to see all of the soldiers cheering their officers even though the release will not give them more time or any help. “Yay, our superiors are allowed to do nothing and take credit for the work!! Hooray!!”

Much to the chagrin of his soldiers, Nicholson chastises the men for the poor job that they are done. The officer feels that soldiers need to take pride in their work to maintain morale, even if it means helping the enemy. The officers do a thorough overhaul of the bridge plans and move the construction downstream. They also increase the expected completion rate to try and finish before the deadline. Nicholson thinks it will be an example of British ingenuity and strength if they can complete the project on time...while helping the enemy.

Looking back at the condition of the American in a Ceylon hospital, we learn that the officer stole his rank and impersonated someone else in order to get better treatment at the camp. We know that this did not work out, but it is still treason and could earn Shears serious punishment. A British officer said that the American Navy was aware of this and transferred Shears to the British military for a special mission to destroy the bridge that is being built at the camp. Shears has no choice, but is allowed to volunteer for the mission to save face (which he does).

Shears is going to have to move fast, because Nicholson pushes his men (as well as other local workers) to complete the project. He even has Saito’s men pitching in an attempt to allow the commandant to save face. They are able to complete the entire bridge in only 3 months, just in time to allow the Japanese military to transport officers and dignitaries safely through the jungle. Nicholson proudly puts up a sign commemorating the bridge's construction by the British Army, from February to May 1943.

Shears is able to parachute into the jungle, commando style, the day before the first train is scheduled to cross the bridge. Four men are in the group (make that three because one didn’t survive the jump) that land and get to a Siamese village. The 3 men are aided by the local chief and some of the village women. The group go under the cover of darkness and plant explosives on the bridge supports below the water line. The group waits until the next day to try and blow up the bridge and the dignitaries at the same time.

A problem arises at daybreak when the level of the river goes down and exposes the wire connecting the explosives and the detonator. This is spotted by Nicholson and he is so wrapped up in honor and duty that he point it out to Saito. The two officers take a group of Japanese soldiers over to investigate what is going on in the riverbank. It appears that Nicholson has forgotten what side he is on amongst the fervor to complete his pet project in the name of the British military. 

One of the commandoes breaks cover and kills Saito while Nicholson actually yells for help to keep the team from the detonator. He is killed and Shears runs out to try and hit the detonator but is shot and killed as well. Nicholson sees Shears and realizes what he has done. A mortar round from the last commando in the brush injuries Nicholson and he has just enough energy to fall on the plunger for the detonator to blow up the bridge just as the train is crossing. The medical officer, Clipton, watches the proceedings and mutters to himself “Madness!” Roll credits.

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I harp on the movie for not being American, yet still on the AFI top 100. I will admit here that there is a large portion of the film that is designated to the adventures of Major Shear that feels quite like an American story. The thing is, it doesn’t feel like he has a character arc at all. On the other hand, neither does Nicholson until the last 5 minutes of a movie that is over 2.5 hours long. He has the character direction of a candy cane. 

I will get into the great parts of the film, but one more complaint is the pace of the film. It is really boring at times. The characters are established early on in the movie and don’t really change, so they do exactly what you would expect them to do. The only twist at all is literally in the last five minutes. That last five minutes is phenomenal, but you sure have to be patient to get that far. I had to watch the movie twice because I fell asleep during the third quarter of the film. Upon watching again, I realized that I really did not miss much.

For the good, Sir Alec Guinness and Sessue Hayakawa were amazing. Both play men trying to survive in an impossible situation and the only thing guiding them is principles and honor. Without their principles, they will die and so will the men that report to them. It seems obvious that both men have made decisions that have ended up with the death of soldiers and civilians, so neither is afraid to sacrifice themselves or others on principle. 

I am somewhat confused as to why the Allied soldiers follow the orders of Nicholson. His fight is so that he does not have to do manual labor. When he wins the game of chicken with Saito, he rewards his men by having them work harder to aid the cause of the enemy. Nicholson is like Forrest Gump in some ways because he does exactly what he is told to do (or at least how interprets his instructions). Officers don’t participate in manual labor so risks his (and his officers) to abide this. He was ordered to surrender so he will not attempt escape. The bridge is based off British plans so he will complete the job. He is given a deadline to accommodate enemy officers and dignitaries so he will finish before that time. Those guys shouldn’t be down by the river with explosives so he immediately informs Saito.

Shears was probably the most flexible character, but he did not change over the family. He also did not look like somebody who had been in a POW camp. He had a bit of a dirt tan, but he was healthy and muscular like a man who had a muscle isolated workout plan and a balanced 3,000 daily calorie diet. The clothes may have been shabby, but none of the soldiers really looked like starving POWs. Also, all of the women in the film (there were a few) were all young, good looking, and had great teeth. I kind of doubt it. 

Although the characters were interesting, the film did a pretty poor job of painting each lead as a stereotype. The American lied about his history, talked big, and took on the crazy missions. The British officer followed rules to the point of harming others. The Japanese officer was honor bound and willing to kill as a matter of obedience. This is not what I think, but it was reportedly what the writer of the source material, Pierre Boulle, thought. 

One thing that I have not touched upon because I wanted to save it mostly for when director David Lean’s opus, Lawrence of Arabia, comes up, the shots of the jungle in Cinemascope are beautiful. From the beginning when we ride in on a train right behind a machine gun, the background speaks volumes. There are not a lot of close ups because the jungle is made into a character. There is no greater threat to the captors or the prisoners than the environment surrounding them and Lean makes sure that the viewer is constantly aware of this. It is really what keeps the film from becoming tedious at times, so a round of applause for director David Lean and cinematographer Jack Hildyard.

My questions that I always ask myself will be answered a little different than normal. Does this film belong on the AFI top 100? Absolutely not. It is blatantly a British film and should not be pilfered because of a couple American actors and screenwriters. It does, however belong on the BFI top 100 and it stands at #11 on the list of greatest British films. Would I recommend it? Absolutely. Also, pay attention to the scenery because the characters are established very early and have little growth, so the camera work is the best part between the first 30 minutes and the last 15 minutes. I am not sure that the film needed to be so long, but it is still very good and deserves a full watch.

[starfaring-princelotor]

The Prison Kingdom

Chapter 2: To Create A Name

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Summary: With new companions comes new information you were unaware of before.

Warnings: Mentions of suicide and blood.

★ Disclaimer: I do not ship Lotura and I respectfully ask that this story to not be tagged as Lotura. This is a Lotor x Reader/Self-Insert OC story which is in no way related to Lotura at all. Please be respectful of my chosen pairing. ★

A/N: Click here to learn more about fairies.

1 . 2 .

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“I didn’t know pirates can read.”

“Aye, fancy that, eh? Learn something new with every rising sun,” you closed your book then fully turned your attention to the man leering over your shoulder, “I didn’t know that incubus’ can be nosy, little whelps, and yet, here we are, mate.”

Lance, he said his name was. Young faced with an offended scrunched up frown because of your comment, he seemed fresh to the battles of blades. And of insults. Rule number one when growing up under the honorable tutelage of your aged seafarer captain: whatever you do, do it well. May he rest in peace, the poor fool who took a cannonball to the gut. 

“Hey! I’m not nosy!” came his witty reply, accompanied by a muttered grumble.

You took that as his white flag.

“Pirate.” 

“Aye, capitain?”

Shiro said nothing else, only gave you that good old “stop picking on the soldiers” look. You shrugged in response. He stated that he needed to stop by his neighboring guilds and request assistance from a few specific set of people. And thus, along with you and a few others who gathered at Altea, Shiro created a small group of warriors for this expedition. 

There was Ulaz, a powerful necromancer who channeled spirit energy from the dead to do his bidding. Attractive mercenary with those glowing eyes and pointed ears, leader of the Blue Tail Guild. Then that one golem from the deep mountains, what was her name? Shay of the Yellow Eyes faction? Those fancy jewels embedded in her rocky exterior were tempting, but you were sure she could pack a punch if you tried to use your five-finger discount. And, last but not least, a dryad ghost who calls himself Rolo, belonging to the Green Claw Guild. His skills with traveling between planes of existence at ease would be most useful for scouting. 

Right now, the only one left was meant to be meeting at this farm on the outskirts of a small, unnamed village. Someone from the Red Teeth Guild, supposedly the one King Alfor led until his untimely demise. Her name was Hira, one of the Alteans who was tasked with defending the royal family. Keyword: was. She gave up that title and dedicated her life to hunting monsters with vengeance, more importantly the dragon that razed Altea to the ground. Though she lacked the magical abilities passed down by her ancestors, she made up for it in pure strength as a berserker. 

“- He is ready, Shiro. I have seen the boy fight alongside Lance, they both would make worthy comrades in battle.”

You could sense the pride and ushering tone in, who you assumed, was Hira. Off in the distance, the two boys mentioned were tending to a bull peacefully. Out here, it was easy to fall into the dull sense of a domestic life. A farm, crops to harvest, animals to feed. Making pasteurized cheese from only the freshest of milk. A humble existence, not one meant for the explorative type of people. Much too docile, too vulnerable.

“No, Hira. They are just boys. If we were hunting wild boars, yes, I would bring both Keith and Lance along, but this mission is too dangerous for the inexperienced,” Shiro argued, voice muffled behind the bales of hay, “I’m not putting their blood on my hands. Are you willing to?”

A pregnant pause, only to be interrupted by the peppered clucks of chickens nearby.

“Altea needs soldiers, Shiro.”

“Children are not soldiers, Hira. I’m done discussing this. Are you with us or not?”

“Fine. But keep your Galra scum on a leash. This war still isn’t over and I won’t forget what happened a decade ago,” she spat with spite lacing each syllable in her words, “His kind shouldn’t even be joining this party.”

“No one would forget, but his skills are invaluable if we’re going after a dragon that uses quintessence as an energy source. Our mission is to kill it so a repeat of the past doesn’t happen. Do you understand?”

Part of you wanted to say you didn’t mean to eavesdrop. Really, you didn’t, it was just convenient that your hearing was much more enhanced than the average being. And, judging by the pupiless stare of Ulaz, you knew he heard them, too. That slightest, almost barely noticeable twitch in his ears gave him away. 

“That bull is going to charge them. Watch,” Rolo informed, also watching the spectacle of Keith and Lance’s shenanigans.

As if able to predict the future, Keith must’ve patted the animal a little too hard, which irritated the beast. He started hoofing the grass, gave one loud baying screech, before shoving both of them away in a disgruntled thrash. Don’t run, you thought, but it was instinct to flee when something once neutral becomes aggressive. Pity that Keith fellow was wearing red, though. 

“Useful trick ye got there. Ever thought about trying yer hand as a fortune teller? Could swindle a few fish for quite a bit o’ gold,” you chuckled, recalling the time you did such a thing yourself. 

“Huh. Wonder if Nyma would be up for that gimmick after this hunt.”

“This hunt...it is such a small group. Can we really fight a dragon?” Shay’s inquisitive voice openly asked, “I have heard rumors and stories of such feats only being accomplished by massive armies, yet we are of only 10 bodies.”

“We are not going to kill a dragon. Shiro needs us to find it first before requesting for support from Altea. Perhaps the kingdom’s allies can send reinforcements as well.” Ulaz spoke of Shiro as an old friend, an old comrade in arms, and oddly enough, that fact was reassuring, “We can not trek through enemy territory with siege weapons and cannons. Not yet.”

Not until we know what we are going against. 

“Can you build, pirate?”

“Can a shark bite?” you immediately retorted, but judging by the blank look on his face, he didn’t understand the reference, “Aye, aye, I can build. Bless me with a keg o’ gunpowder and I’ll gift ye bombs strong enough to take out me other leg.” 

Shay giggled, Rolo smiled, and even Ulaz found the dark joke a little humorous. 

-

There was something stifling about traveling by foot through the thicket of the woods. You would take the open sea and the ship over mangled trees and looming leaves any day. Rolo, however, was in his element. It seemed like the vines were reaching towards him to give an odd embrace from the trees themselves. Was it just you or did that trunk have a face carved out in it? Perhaps you’ve been spending too much time reading that book of yours. 

[Not every spirit is malicious. Some belong to those children who ventured too far, unguarded and blind to the dangers lurking deep within. Be careful if you hear echoed giggling of the young. Faes are master tricksters. Under no circumstance should you ever answer their question, lest you wish to be swept up and vanished into thin air. Avoid rings of mushrooms at all cost.]

Below was a quickly drawn image of cap mushrooms formed in a circle. There seemed to be a child-like figure with butterfly wings attached on its back. You came to realize then, while sitting around the campfire and partaking your turn for watch, that the creatures of the land vastly differ than those of the sea. You expected this, of course, but something in the back of your head had one question buzzing in your skull: how far could you flee if you came across such beasts?

Shuffling off to the side alerted you of Shay awakening. Slowly, she emerged from her tent as the fire danced, making those gems glimmer even more beautifully in the night. 

“Are you well, p-pirate?” she asked albeit hesitantly stuttering on the title.

With a nod of confirmation, you shut your book quietly just as she took a seat across from you. She seemed to be lost in thought, curious even, and it amused you greatly to see her glance away when you caught her stare. Then, her gaze stayed locked on the very interesting rock by your wooden leg. 

“Lass, does this ol’ thing give you the willies?” you tapped your leg, already quite used to not feeling anything come from the action, “It t’aint rigged with explosives, ye can trust me word on that.”

Now, she quickly snapped her wide eyes up at you, “No, no, not at all! I mean, it’s a little...I have seen such things before. But that is not why I was - forgive me - for staring.”

“Eh?”

“Your name. The captain calls you ‘pirate’ and you were introduced to us as so. I have never met someone who doesn’t have a name,” Shay rubbed her hands together unsurely, wondering if her question came out too personal, “ I - does it bother...do you have a name that you wish to be called instead?”

Cute and utterly kind by a default. You liked that about her.

“Would ye like to hear a story, mate? A story of the Name-Stealing witch of the sea?”

At that, her attention was completely enraptured by the flourish wave of your hand and the quill you pulled from your coat sleeve like magic. If there was one thing you enjoyed more than crafting bombs, it would be telling stories embellished in exciting lore and haunting truths. Or lies. That was left to be decided by the listeners. 

“Aye, among those who were unfortunately marooned on desolate islands, legends say that the nights following an empty sky, there be but a single bottle floating to the shore. No matter where, it always held a single piece of parchment and quill. You nay see her on the bank, or hear her whisper, but some say she stands afloat as a speck on the horizon. And some say...she will grant ye solace if ye but write yer name on that there paper.”

You now pulled out a rolled-up sheet from your other sleeve, earning a gasp of surprise from your audience. Well, your one audience.

“I came across her one fateful night. There’s a rule among us pirate folk: those who fall behind are left behind. Ye carry yer own weight to survive out there and me weight was just a little too heavy,” cue you knocking on your wooden leg, “I was starved and alone with nothing but me ‘n me pistol. Good ol’ trusty Kretch. Once the taste of sand could no longer sustain me, nor the grass, nor the leaves of the palms, I had to decide if I wanted a quick death to be my end.”

Concern. Of course she was concerned to hear those dreadfully haunting words. 

“But she came to me one night, offering me nothing but a bottle. I told meself, if there were a chance to live, I’d take it without thought. And I did. I wrote me name, but oh, what a fool I was. There I lay, death washing upon the shore, and she came to me. She took it with a kiss, so I may never speak it again. She took that parchment so I may never write it again. And when I woke on a different bank, and when those kind souls helped poor little ol’ me, and when they asked who I was…”

You crumpled the paper then immediately tossed it into the fire, the blaze quickly sparking a green flame in a show of bedazzlement.

“...I couldn’t remember it.”

At the end, Shay was practically sitting on the edge of her log with wide-eyed awe. Couldn’t remember your own name? The very idea seemed appalling and completely impossible. Not even magic can do that...right? 

“But why? What could a sea witch want with a name? Was she born without one and chose to steal names, collect them, to satisfy her own cruel jealousy? Or was she searching for hers? She may still be out there yet, Shay, ready to make a deal with those desperate enough to survive. Perhaps she even haunts those in the forests or the caves…”

“No! I want to keep my name, I - “ she shook her head to get the jitters out, clearly displeased with the thought of losing something so important, “Can you get it back? Your name?”

“Many have tried, but all have failed or perished in the pursuit,” you paused, letting a slow, sneaky grin spread on your lips, “Unless...ye have more than one name to go by.”

“More than one?”

“Aye. That’s why ‘tis important to make a name fer yerself. And that’s why Shiro calls me pirate, fer me own safety, eh? Not even she can steal a title like that.”

“Can...stealing a name kill someone? Do you think she can kill a dragon if she took its name?” Shay questioned more for herself than for you, “It’s scary to think about…”

“Ah, but then ask yerself, do ye want t’forget the dragon? Pain is the world’s cruelest teacher, but I cannot imagine waking one day and not remembering how me family died by the dragon’s fire,” you explained before tilting your head in thought, “Were ye there, lass? When the dragon attacked?”

She shook her head no, “I wasn’t, but my people helped with saving the injured who were buried under the wreckage. Many were worried about the royal families and of the prince and princess as well.” 

Now it was your turn to lean in, intent on catching every word she shared.

“It is tragic that Queen Mellanor passed at Allura’s birth. Even more that her father was killed by the ally he trusted. We weren’t able to find Prince Lotor nor Emperor Zarkon, assuming they had fled as soon as the attack had started. It was horrible, hearing the survivors share their woes. I wish it hadn’t happened. Even a few Galra citizens living in Altea were affected, but…”

Here, she began fidgeting with her hands nervously then lowered her voice down a pitch as if the forest have ears of their own.

“When we uncovered Galra citizens, they were herded off into the castle...and they never came out.”

Somehow, Shay’s story was much more frightening than yours. Not only because you believe her, but you also believe that the fate of those Galra was likely leading to an unhappy ending. 

“I think - “

A rustle, one against the wind, and your head snapped in the direction of the noise. 

“Shh - wait, I hear - “ and before you could finish your sentence, a blunt force punched you in the face, sending you flying off your seat to knock into an allies tent. 

You heard Shay let out a yell, a battle cry and a way to warn everyone that an intruder was here. A cacophony of noises rose in volume, people scrambling to attack a wisping shadow in failure, for the punches came too quick and too powerful. A whirlwind of purple light trailed by each landed blow and, tried as you might, every shot from your pistol did nothing against the flurry of that damn bludgeoning weapon. 

“Rise!” Ulaz shouted and, instantly, a cooling spell fell over you, releasing you from the bruising pain of your crushed rib. 

You owe him a drink for that one. 

“Form up on me! Shields up!” Shiro ordered, equipping his own shield to cover his front, but it was already too late. 

By the time the chaos settled and the dust came down, the attacker had Hira’s throat in a deadly grasp while holding her body up in the air. Metal claws were cutting into her skin, drawing a line of blood, just to emphasize how serious she is close to dying. One wrong move, and her life would be forfeit. You waited with held breath on a command, anything from Shiro, but nothing came in one, two, three seconds.

Then, Shiro’s eyes widened at the person standing across from his infantry.

“Sendak?”

[moonwest]

Full Ben Whishaw Interview in Sunday Times Magazine

Ben Whishaw, the voice of Paddington, the millennial Q in the Bond films, the next generation of Mr Banks in Disney’s epic Mary Poppins reboot, is fresh off the plane from LA. He is wearing a navy shirt, dark wool trousers and a fluffy knitted hat over his lush curls. It’s a strange combination of quirkiness and elegance. At the start of the year he won a Golden Globe and a Critics’ Choice award for his captivating portrayal of Norman Scott opposite Hugh Grant’s Jeremy Thorpe in A Very English Scandal. Of course he says he didn’t expect to win, and of course he says it feels great, but when I ask if this recognition from Hollywood means he’ll spend more time out there, he says: “No idea. I don’t feel it’s my world. I just sort of dropped in and it was a lovely thing. I would like to drop in more often. Maybe it opens doors. I guess we’ll see.”

For now, it’s back to the day job. Whishaw, 38, is rehearsing a play called Norma Jeane Baker of Troy, in which he plays a man who likes to dress up as Marilyn Monroe. “We just got the costumes,” he says. “I wear a dress that’s a replica of the one she wore in The Seven Year Itch — the white one where the wind comes up. They’ve also given me the bum, hips and breasts. I don’t think they’re as big as Marilyn’s, but they’re proportionate to my body. It’s a strange thing. I’m not playing Marilyn, I’m playing a man who’s infatuated with her. The play is set in the year she died and he’s in mourning for her. Apparently there was a spate of copycat suicides that year.”

To research the role, Whishaw has been reading a book called Fragments. “It’s bits of Marilyn’s diary, notes on hotel paper, poetry,” he says. “She writes beautifully. Arthur Miller was here with her when they were doing the film The Prince and the Showgirl, and she opened his diary and read about how disappointed he was with her, how embarrassed he was being around his intellectual friends with her. Apparently this was devastating to Marilyn. All these men say how difficult she was. It makes you want to strangle them. But she really was amazing. She had a lot going on, a lot of sadness on her plate, poor darling. To be a star in that star system and those men.”

If she had been born 50 years later, does he think she would have been part of the #MeToo movement? “I’m sure she would have. I’ve been listening to interviews with her. She doesn’t seem afraid of anything.”

Fearless and vulnerable. It’s a contradiction that could possibly describe both of them. “Yes,” he smiles.

Almost 15 years have passed since Whishaw, fresh out of Rada, was acclaimed as one of the best ever Hamlets in the Trevor Nunn production at the Old Vic. His portrayal earned him an Olivier nomination and opened the door to film and television roles. He voiced Michael Bond’s Peruvian stowaway bear in the two recent Paddington films and is lined up for a third, as well as an animated TV series for Nickelodeon. Perhaps his best known role is Q in the Bond films Skyfall (2012) and Spectre (2015). As soon as he’s finished his Marilyn, he will begin shooting the next one, though no one in a Bond movie can tell you in advance what it’s going to be like. “I think they’re probably trying to figure out what to do with the storyline,” he says. “At least I know that my character is the same. Someone did tell me there might be a scene with Q’s cats.”

I immediately want to sort out an audition for my cat Roger Moore.

“Does Roger travel?” he asks. “Could he go to Pinewood? And can he cock an eyebrow?”

Yes, he can. That’s why he’s called Roger Moore.

“I’ll get onto Barbara Broccoli about it,” he says.

Whishaw has created an ever-widening niche for himself — he has made room in film, theatre and television for malleable, sensitive male characters that are sometimes described as androgynous, but what they really are is sexually ambiguous.

“Do you think I’m androgynous? I think I’m quite male-looking. Androgyny is different to non-binary, but I hate all these labels. I get mixed up.”

It’s true, there are many labels; nonetheless Whishaw is a 21st-century man. When you think of those macho actors of the last century, men like Rock Hudson, who revealed he was gay only when he was dying of Aids, it seems so different now.

Whishaw entered a civil partnership with the Australian composer Mark Bradshaw in 2012, but for a long time he did not discuss his private life. He would say things like, “An actor shouldn’t reveal their sexuality because it pigeonholes them.” Once he had come to terms with it himself, however, hiding it became difficult in a different way. “People assume there’s some juicy secret,” he says. “But I don’t agree any more with that statement [about being pigeonholed]. I don’t think it’s the be-all and end-all, and since revealing my sexuality I haven’t had any negative effects.”

Perhaps that’s because he is such a skilful actor, perhaps the pigeonholes aren’t as rigid as they used to be, or perhaps the revelation has actually helped him. He shrugs. He doesn’t mind talking about it now, it’s just he can’t be conclusive.

At one point, Whishaw was lined up to play Freddie Mercury in Bohemian Rhapsody, although he was never given a contract or confirmed officially. Various versions of the biopic had been on the cards for about 10 years. Sacha Baron Cohen was in the frame first of all, then Whishaw, and ultimately Rami Malek. The film has been accused of not being “gay enough”, but, for all the criticism, Malek’s career-defining role won him an Oscar.

We talk about how hard it was for Mercury to admit that he was gay and how he would refer to himself as bisexual. But then perhaps he was. He certainly had sexual relationships with women. “I think it’s very unfair when people say they’re bisexual and they’re accused of being gay really,” Whishaw says. “If we’re honest about these things, perhaps most people are on a spectrum.”

Whatever the risks he took in revealing his sexuality to the public, Whishaw found it much harder coming out to his family. “I’ve gone through a few difficult things,” he says. “There was a moment in my early twenties when I did not feel very good about myself. It was to do with my sexuality and not knowing how to be myself and hating myself. I did know [my sexuality], I just couldn’t tell anyone.”

When he eventually told his parents, they weren’t surprised, but he still struggled. He sought therapy. “It really did help,” he says.

He carries himself with such a sense of otherness that I am surprised to learn he is a twin. “We were born on the same day and we came out of the same place at the same time, but we are totally unalike,” he says. “Perhaps you can see we are related, but we don’t look alike. He’s blond. He came out first and was very pink and chubby. And I was this squashed, dark thing that popped out a few moments after. We were so different, but we were always dressed the same and taken everywhere together, even to things I was not interested in, like football. So I’ve always defined myself by him, but in opposition to him. I like everything different to him. There’s not a single thing we have in common, except we both liked the scary rides if we were taken to a park.”

Don’t twins normally have a kind of supernatural understanding? “No. No understanding, no telepathy. When I told him [about being gay], he wasn’t surprised, of course, but still.”

He notices a black crystal around my neck and I explain that it was given to me by my hypnotherapist.

“I’d like to try hypnotherapy,” he says. For what? “Smoking,” he says. “It’s so frowned upon. You feel ostracised from the world if you smoke. And there’s the hair twiddling thing.” He starts twiddling his hair. “I’ve probably been doing this for the whole interview.” He hasn’t, but apparently it’s been a lifelong habit. “I’ve done it since I was a baby. I don’t know why I do it.”

I recall the title of a Peter Cook anthology: Tragically, I Was an Only Twin. That’s what Whishaw seems like. I can’t imagine him with a brother. “My dad says if my brother and I were one person we would be an amazing, perfect human,” he replies.

It’s often reported that his father works in IT, but that’s not true. “He lives in the countryside and raises chickens behind a farm. He used to be a footballer and he now works in sports with young people. He’s not an IT person at all,” Whishaw laughs. His mother works in cosmetics. They split up when he was a young boy, but he has good relationships with both of them. He talks about them with love.

The last time we met, Whishaw told me he was afraid of meeting people. “I haven’t got over that,” he says. “I love people, but I’m just shy of meeting new people, especially when they’re famous.”

In particular, he was bashful around Meryl Streep, whom he starred alongside in Mary Poppins. “I’m so completely left speechless when I’m in the same room as her. Do you never feel that speechlessness come on you?” he asks sweetly. “Even though she seemed to be the nicest person, I was very timid and shy around her.”

It’s odd how someone so shy can look so confident — smouldering even — on screen.

He walks off in the furry hat that makes him look part man, part mole. It’s certainly a statement. But perhaps the most curious thing about Whishaw is we’ll never entirely know what that statement is.

Norma Jeane Baker of Troy is showing at the Shed’s Bloomberg Building, New York, April 6-May 19; theshed.org

[shirtlesssammy]

9x02: Devil May Care

Then:

Ezekiel is totes on the up and up helping out the Brothers Winchester.

Now:

Dean fills Sam in on where Cas is (far away and human and without wings or money or ANYTHING and they’re not going to pick him up. GOD, do I love Supernatural post-season 11 SO MUCH.)

I mean, I guess the brothers have to worry about all the fallen angels out there (heaven forbid you include a FORMER ANGEL in on the mix!) They also have Crowley captured and as Dean so eloquently puts it, “He’s the junk in my truck.” (Lol, not until season 10, buddy!)

In an old, abandoned house, a demon performs a spell over a bathtub and out pops Abaddon!

Dean comes back to the bunker to a seriously freaked out Kevin. He’s been alone for too long. The bunker was acting weird when the brothers were gone. Dean fills him in on what’s happening. Dean is just a jerk here, wtf? I know he’s under some stress but let’s be nicer to the poor kid prophet, at least.

The brothers haul Crowley to the dungeon. They want demon names. He’s not going to cooperate. Torture isn’t going to work.

Kevin demands to know why Crowley is there. He killed his mom. Dean promises that if Crowley gives them what they want, they’ll let Kevin knife him in the end.

Abaddon starts to build her faction of demons. She finds Crowley’s level of leadership to be lacking. “The king is dead. Long live the queen.” And with that Abaddon is going to lead Hell.

Dean tells another hunter about the fallen angels and tells him to pass it on.

Meanwhile, Abaddon is fulfilling one of her first goals, getting better vessels for demons. Her first recruits possess some army dudes on a bus.

On the side of the road, a woman looks over the engine of her broken car. A man in a van pulls up and offers her a ride into town. She gladly accepts (BECAUSE THAT’S A SMART MOVE). Bonus on the gross predator man? He’s also a vampire. But the young woman is a hunter and dispatches him with ease. 

She’s captured by the army demons though. Wherps.

Dean and Sam arrive at the bus. They get a little pushback about investigating —it’s a military case, not a federal one. They have their supervisor, Kevin Solo, give the go ahead. Kevin does his own little investigation and the boys get their clearance.

Once inside the bus, they find the wounds on the dead bodies to be old. Demons. They also find surveillance video of Abaddon.

Abaddon has the other hunter in custody, and she wants answers about Sam and Dean. She gets Dean’s number and Kevin answers. She tells him that she has hunters in her clutches. She’s going to kill them if they don’t come for them.

Sam and Dean task Kevin on learning everything about Knights of Hell and they head to rescue the other hunters.

Crowley continues to sit in the dungeon, reflecting on his brush with being cured and human again. Kevin walks into the storage room by the dungeon. Crowley starts taunting him and Kevin opens the doors.

Sam and Dean find a ghost town. Quick! Somebody find Dean a long coat and a cowboy hat! 

They find the hunters trussed up in one of the abandoned shops. Tracy seems nice and would make a great Wayward Sister JUST SAYIN’. 

Crowley does what he does best and starts to twist Kevin around his finger. He implies heavily that Kevin’s mother isn’t actually dead. 

The Winchesters and their hunter buddies set up for Abaddon’s assault as the army-demons approach. The demons get tricked by the old phone-playing-a-recording trick, buying the hunters a little time to sneak out the back. We learn that Tracy is NOT looking to be BFFs with the Winchesters. Her parents were killed by demons throwing a party commemorating Sam’s release of Lucifer. Uh. Whoops? 

Crowley lays out his bargain: if Kevin frees him, he gets his mother back (she’s imprisoned, not dead). Kevin can’t help but listen to it all, including Crowley’s assertion that the Winchesters don’t care about Kevin beyond his usefulness. And honestly at this part of season 9 I gotta say that Crowley has a point.

The hunting parties split up. Dean defends his brother to Tracy. “You gotta know who the real monsters are in this world, kid.” Sam and Irv approach the demons. Irv confesses that he revealed the identities of a bunch of hunters to Abaddon one sad, drunk night. He’s looking to go out in a blaze of glory. His confession earns a shot through the heart from a demon sniper. 

Sam gets knocked down by demons and on the other side of the stakeout, Dean gets chucked to the ground by Abaddon. 

Tracy fires at the knight of Hell but Abaddon’s suited up with a bullet-proof vest to defend against devil’s trap bullets. Dean sends Tracy to his car for a resupply, then gets ready for a heart to heart with Abaddon, angel blade in hand. 

Sam continues to have a no good very bad day, up against the rest of the demons. (Don’t worry, he’s Sam Fucking Winchester, so we’re good.) Abaddon gets a good hold on Dean by the hair (BRB off to write some Abaddon/Dean fanfic!) and compliments him on being obedient AND “suicidally stupid.”

“Are we gonna fight or make out?” Dean asks, “‘Cause I'm getting some real mixed signals here.”

Abaddon wants Crowley on a plate and she’ll kill Dean quick. OR she’ll peel off Dean’s tattoo and possess his ass. She taunts him with all the horrors she’ll inflict on others while possessing him - and making sure he’s aware of every last bit. 

Sam’s doing poorly. Apparently he forgot his middle name at home that morning (the trials are still affecting him, poor lamb). But not to fear! Ezekiel pushes his way forward and Sam’s eyes flash blue. It’s time to smite some demons. (LOL remember when angels were super powerful creatures that everyone feared and nobody could kill? Those were good times.)

Abaddon witnesses the angelic explosion, chucks Dean through a shop window, and disappears. 

Back at the diner, Ezekiel surveys his demon-killing work and defends his smiting to Dean. He was only protecting Sam. Dean looks like a spooked cat talking to him. 

Ezekiel insists that Sam is fine and won’t remember anything. Dean feels regrets about...everything. (It is his number one personality trait.) Maybe they should have closed Hell - all the demons running around the world are his fault because he wanted to save his brother instead. Ezekiel (Dean: “I’m gonna call you Zeke.”) insists that Dean did it out of love. Dean stops looking like a scared cat and starts blustering instead. “I'm not really with the whole, uh, love, and... love.” DEAN BEAN. (Praise to season 14!)

A little bit later, Dean packs up weapons in the diner while Sam wakes up. He tells Sam that he killed all the demons and Sam’s shocked. “You killed three demons? Alone?” LOL season nine! Tracy pulls up with Baby and DAMN GIRL you got to drive her. She checks on Sam’s welfare in a reasonably friendly manner. Dean, you won her over with the power of FRIENDSHIP! (Shut up, I have not seen too much My Little Pony.) 

The Winchesters arrive at the bunker with some booze and a bucket of chicken. They call for Kevin immediately and when he doesn’t answer they race down to the dungeon. They find a very pissed off and somewhat bloody Crowley. Crowley immediately offers up names of demons and gives them a deal - they scratch his back, he scratches theirs. But the first demon names are because playing with Kevin was so much fun for him. “Wind him up, watch him go.” Dean races upstairs to find Kevin walking out of the bunker. To convince Kevin to stay, Dean delivers such compelling arguments as:

Crowley lies

If Kevin’s mom is alive, then she might as well be dead

It’s dangerous outside the bunker

They need him

Oooof Dean. Not a winning argument, there. Kevin jumps on the last point. 

Dean insists that they need Kevin because he’s family and they’d die for him. He successfully talks Kevin into staying and meets up with Sam. Sam’s reflecting on Tracy’s dislike of him. Dean tells Sam that he’s done more good than bad. “Here’s to now,” Dean says. The bold future! 

“The fallen angels?” Sam asks. “Abaddon? Cas losing his halo, Crowley in our basement?”

“Crap. We're living in a freaking sitcom,” Dean says. UH I would watch the HELL out of that show. 

Sam decides that he’s feeling good and life is good. I’m so glad to see Sam in such a healthy place! Thank goodness both Winchesters are in a good mental state. LOL, kidding, Dean drinks his feelings as the episode fades to black. 

______________________________

Everything’s Fine and Nothing Quotes:

Can't wait to see Sam in stilettos and a leather bustier, really putting the S A M into S & M

Then we all go out for ice cream and strippers

What's the matter, hellhound got your tongue?

I'm Kevin freaking Solo

I torture all my friends. It’s how I show love

______________________________

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive! 

[tellywoodtrash]

Sanjivani - Week 6

Overall Plot

Holy shit, what a fucking week. Lots of interpersonal developments (read: dhamakas!) Shashank ousted Juhi all those years ago (on the request of Rahul) because he was in love with her?!?!? Shashank is also possibly Sid's father, or somehow personally associated with him?????? Rishabh's background is revealed too!!!!! Phew. I am dizzy.

The Medical Stuff

Not that much focus on the medical stuff this week. Neil's dad is quickly diagnosed with Legionnaire's disease and I assume cured (since we didn't see him after that, and Neil happily went along to Sid's for Ganpati.) There's an old friend of Shashank's whose wife had a nasty fall and is showing some pretty bad effects of concussion. Sid's injuries seem to be the priority right now.

The Acting

Dude. Sayantani, what a stellar actress. I could not take my eyes off her in the the scenes where she's at Juhi's house. Her eyes glittering with a strange sort of determination, almost like a suicide bomber, as she presses the button to detonate life as Shashank and Juhi know it. Fucking amazing. She blew (pun unintended!) even Mohnish outta the water, with her ice-cool, unperturbed performance, standing up to him so ably! Gurdeep too, had a nice couple of scenes, alternating between Juhi being disturbed at what she found out, as well as having to take charge of one crisis after the other, and she played it with such grace and poise. Surbhi had a more toned-down week (other than the scenes when Sid gets injured.) I particularly liked the apology scene and the scene where she's praying for Sid. I'm watching YPNTKH rn, and find Namit to be waaaay more polished in that than he is here? How did his dialogue delivery and acting regress a level or two, when he’s so damn steady there? Now I'm legit suspicious of the director(s) of this show, coz if they're not extracting the best out of their two leads, who have proven to be much better performers than they’re exhibiting in this show.... What are they even there for?  

The Characters

Sid: Watching YPNTKH has given me a new appreciation for Sanjivani!Sid (he's called Siddhant in that show too!) because he's a much better character here. He's a soft boi who isn't hyped up on ego and toxic masculinity, and I really really love and appreciate that. His admonishment of Ishani (during her apology) underscores his true character; he glossed over her poor behaviour towards him in public and even the fact that she slapped him, to focus on how she was ready to blow up her own career and throw it all away over a past she had nothing to do with. He's an excellent mentor who truly cares for his team and wants to make them the best doctors that they can be. Also, I'm so, so heartened to see how accommodating he is of Ishani's germophobia. Everyone else treats it as a quirk or inconvenience, but he truly takes it into consideration, asking for consent before coming in contact with her (at almost every instance they're close by - not just once for effect and done - I hope they maintain this aspect for good), or protecting her from unwanted contact from others. His crush on her is just so adorable - checking if she’s okay while he’s carrying her, remarking he’s glad that he didn’t punish her for her insubordination because he likes seeing her all soft and contrite; his bashful glee when she gives him a flower, the (mischievously) proud grin as he watches Ishani walk off to give Rishabh what he deserves; gently guiding her to where the best views of the Ganpati fest are, all the while shielding her from unwanted contact from strangers; semi-consciously dragging himself on top of her, to protect her from the gunde!!!!!! What a good, good bean he is. He's truly so beloved that seeing him brought in injured paralyses the whole hospital in shock, and they all unite in both dawa-and-dua ways to ensure he pulls through. Please show, I am fucking begging you; do not ever ruin this character by making him a typical Tellywood hero. Keep him soft and respectful and lovable forever!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I deserve a male character like this after all the fuckery I’ve been through the years!

Ishani: Ishani finally comes around to seeing Sid for what he is. Even before she learns that he wasn’t the one to blame for the poster drama, she opens up about her emotional issues to him, perhaps the first person she's let in for over 20 years now. Not only him, we see she lets in his mom as well; letting her smear colours on her face, hug her, and feed her sweets from her hand, even asking for more. Really sweet and shows the willingness to make progress on her part, for people who really matter. We also see the side of Ishani that's fiercely protective of those she considers her own; lambasting Rishabh for trying to play with Asha's career, and taking on a whole group of rowdy men who were harassing her, but as per usual, her impulsive side creates more problems than she ever accounts for. Couple that with her tendency to self-blame to a destructive degree, and our girl has a lottttt of work to do, mentally. I really liked the scene where she's praying for Sid, and she says that Sid is her friend, he's everyone's friend here, and they all really need him in Sanjivani. That's all the emotional development that's appropriate for now; what the fuck is this sudden realization of "love" that's coming outta nowhere acc. to the promo for next week???? Please! It's too fucking early for love and all. Friendship, maybe a confusing infatuation of sorts because he’s been her saviour multiple times now, that's it. Not CAPITAL L waala LOVE and all. Also not a fan of how she was just paralyzed and clutching at Sid and weeping after he got injured, instead of doing something helpful. Like, it's hard to believe she's a good doctor when she reacts so emotionally in scenarios like these. I think her skills extend only to diagnosis and she should maybe focus on that, instead of the surgical part.

Asha & Aman: Asha's woes against the patriarchy continue. First with Rishabh threatening to derail her career by bringing her family into the picture, and then those random drunkards at Ganpati. She does pull together nicely though while Ishani is panicking tf out, and manages to insert a chest tube for Sid to alleviate the internal bleeding. I’m glad that she finally opened up to Ishani about why she’s so competitive and bullheaded at work, which in turn leads Ishani standing up for her against Rishabh. A solid girl!love bond growing there and I am thrilled! Aman toh... Lol, continues being Aman. He offers to beat Rishabh up for Asha, roams around the hospital like an errant 10 year old, just generally having a gala time, unlike the others who are there to focus on work. I really cannot read the vibe between these two; are they just really good bro-sis type friends, or is there a romantic undercurrent? I can't tell. Either way, they're good together, and I don't mind whichever way it develops.

Dialogue(s) of the Week:

Asha [when Ishani freaks out that she threw away the literal white flag she was carrying to make up with Sid]: Ab ke ho gaya???? Wapas se teri overacting; dekh, sahi dustbin mein daala hai (iss baar.)

Aman [literally rolling into the scene on a razor scooter, seeing the yellow rose that Asha suggests Ishani give Sid]: Chee, chee, chee chee; itni gareebi aa gayi, ki yo peela phool dene laage tum log? Arre, manne bol diya hota, english waala phool mangwa deta, phoren se. Lekin [scoffs disdainfully] tumhari marzi... [scoots away]

Rishabh: We finally conclusively know who the worst fucking person in this show is so far. Ding ding ding! Winner winner, chicken dinner! This dude is just something fucking else. He threatens to fuck up Asha’s career if she tells anyone about the poster drama. He is a classist fucker who puts down Asha’s background to Ishani, saying she has “gaon waali harkatein.” He doesn’t give a shit if Sid dies of his injuries, to the point that even Vardhan is taken aback with how vitriolic he is. A truly vile creature, this one. We finally find out that he’s the son of the canteen waale chachaji, which explains the confrontation on the day Sid was called in for his investigation (Sid says that only he knows Rishabh’s “asli aukaat”, before Rishabh rudely pushes past him and the canteen chacha who came to offer them both chai.) All his LV belts and fancy car and show-shaa is just to hide his actual economic background and as such, he prevents his father from interacting with him while in Sanjivani. He’s terribly rude and dismissive of him, to the point where the dad wishes it was Rishabh who was battling for his life instead of Sid, who’s always been more of a son to him. Yiiiiikes. Anyway for all his bluster, I am happy that he’s properly terrified of Ishani, who threatened to fuck. him. up. if he steps out of line as far as she and her friends are concerned.

Neil: I was hoping we’d see more of the Neil-struggles-with-medicine-and-his-father’s-expectations plot, but it was done away with for this Ganpati wala track. Maybe next week? Shout out to him for his adorable wardrobe filled with cartoon characters, even a Tweety Bird waala kurta that he wore to Ganpati!

Rahil: Ride or die for Sid, and I’m so glad these two soft boys are best bros. They deserve each other. He seems to be pretty close with Sid’s mom too, which makes me wonder what his family situation is? It was nice to finally see Rahil integrated into the group of residents, teaming up with Asha and Aman to get the truth out of Rishabh. I also like that despite his own terrible injuries, he takes charge of the situation when Sid is injured and gets him the first aid he requires at the moment by instructing Asha/Aman/Neil what to do. Nice progress from that first case where he was panicking and Ishani had to step in. He’s inconsolable when they reach the hospital though, and unwilling to leave Sid’s side to get his own injuries looked at. Best boy, all the love for him!!!!!!!! 

Shashank: Lord above, what a week for poor Dr. Shashank. All his children are spontaneously combusting and giving this poor man the worst week of his life (probably.) Anjali unrepentantly blew up his personal and professional relationship with Juhi, Juhi is freezing him the fuck out (I refuse to believe that he has any romantic feelings for her unless he says so himself, out loud), Sid has been brought in at the brink of death, and Ishani is on the verge of a breakdown blaming herself for what happened with Sid. For godssake, this poor man is still recovering from a VERY MAJOR BRAIN SURGERY! Could y’all cut him some damn slack, you terrible little brats!?! He’s trying his best to manage; diplomatically addressing the issue with Anjali, trying to engage in conversation with Juhi, comforting Ishani and friends about Sid, but gosh, he’s really struggling to keep his head above water. Also, the overwrought reaction about Sid......... We’re supposed to think he’s Sid’s father right? But would they really do that to this character???? Make him romantically involved with Juhi AND have an illegitimate child with another woman? Very unlikely that they’d make him such a horndog. So one of these plotlines has to give up, and I really hope that it’s the Juhi one. I can begrudgingly tolerate him being Sid’s dad, but being in romantic love with a woman who was canonically a daughter-figure to him for all these years? Un-fucking-acceptable.

Sid’s mom: We don’t have a name yet, but Aarti Bahl (aka Ekta Sohini) also played Nurse Padma Bansal Gupta (Shashank’s second wife) in DMG after Shilpa Tulaskar left. So is she Padma here too, or a whole new character with the same face? As for why the previous actress was replaced, I have a feeling it was because she didn’t look age-appropriate and/or conventionally “attractive” to be paired against Mohnish for this “is Shashank Sid’s father?” plotline. I’m not sure what to make of Aarti’s acting, she seemed very stiff with that forced smile throughout the Ganpati function; and wasn’t too impressive in the scenes where she was panicking and hiding from Shashank either. The scenes I really liked her in were when she was lovingly fussing over Ishani, and later in the hospital when she remarked how proud she was of Sid for standing up to protect the honour of a woman. She has a very soft and calming voice, and her dialogue delivery is really pleasant and soothing, so I’m hoping I grow to like her in this character.

Juhi: Juhi’s not really having a great week either, but she’s a boss bitch who has everything (mostly) in control and I am so fucking happy to see that. I’m glad she didn’t fall apart over the “truth” or try to leave Sanjivani over it - curtly stating to Shashank that she’s signed a contract and intends to honour it, unless he fires her again. She has a brief confusing moment with him while conducting a motor function assessment to determine his fitness to do surgery again, but other than that, she’s all pulled together. She’s mostly brusque with Shashank, trying to prove that she deserves to be here because of her capabilities, and trying to break out from under his shadow to be a proficient COS in her own right; but she’s also gently firm with him when he emotionally barges in trying to help with Sid, insisting that she has it under control and assuring that she will not let anything happen to him. It’s so great to see her balance both her medical/admin skills as well as the firm-yet-empathizing demeanor so ably.

Anjali: Oh Anjali. I love you but you have some serious daddy issues that you need heavy-duty therapy for. On one hand, I understand why she is so resentful and passive-aggressive the way she is (Sayantani’s portrayal compels us to peek beneath the layers!) but on the other, she really had no right to throw Shashank under the bus like that. But I can’t say I didn’t enjoy the way she did it - so bloody spectacularly; unfazed at getting slapped by her father in front of her “rival”, chugging down a whole glass of wine and insulting Juhi’s cooking before she left for the night. So tragic, yet so fucking hilarious. On a professional front, I’m predicting that she’s gonna tire of this Luxury Ward COS post real soon, since it only seems to have her stand around kowtowing to rich assholes like a receptionist of some sort. I can only hope that she wises up to Vardhan’s BS soon enough, instead of serving as collateral damage and falling into the quagmire he’s planning with Rahul to target Shashank/Juhi.

Vardhan: Not much of Vardhan this week other than him entering that secret room he’s built for Rahul in the Luxury Ward. Good. I prefer him in small, controlled doses. And at least we have some clarification that even with all his shady crap, he’s not as horrible a human being as Rishabh - stating that even though he doesn’t like the way Sid operates within Sanjivani, he hopes he pulls through in surgery.

Overall Rating: 4/5

[pinkforyoongi]

The Fake Bodyguard | Jeon Jungkook

part 2

pairing: commoner!jungkook x princess!reader

genre: fluff au

word count: 4k (oops i got a little carried away)

warnings: swearing, mentions of suicide

a/n: reposting this since tumblr is an ass :( part 1 can be found from my masterlist

finally some news of the real park jimin spread around

“someone claiming to be park jimin was creating chaos at the main entrance gates. what a dumb ass he’s already here! besides they were wearing commoners clothes so probably some local madman” -a kind maid

“y-yeah haha. what an idiot” -sweating jungkook beside you

“please make sure not to hurt him. if he’s still there, have someone escort him somewhere safe within the village. thank you”

to say jungkook was surprised by your kindness was an understatement

he was expecting you to be a selfish brat living without worries but turns out you were an actual sweetheart??

he had been your bodyguard for two days and his whole opinion about you and your family had changed drastically

well- he still wasn’t so sure about your parents though

he felt like they were a bit,,,, secretive

they didn’t tell you much about the village and it’s people, leaving out major details like the spreading of the nasty virus

it was big news in the village so it was hard for him to digest that you had absolutely no idea what was going on

whenever you tried to ask your parents about the villagers they’d give you short replies, telling you not to worry about them since they were handling it

you never dared to pry, since you knew your parents were busy and stressed out, especially during a time like this

the maid smiled and scurried off into the distance, leaving you alone with your bodyguard

“do you ever wonder?”

“about what, kookie? you have to be a bit more specific”

“about the villagers? about what goes down there?”

you smiled at the boy, thinking he must actually be one of the villagers since he’s so curious about your thoughts

“all the time. believe me, wish i knew all the scoop”

jungkooks heart tingled

“yeah i’ve heard some crazy stories from there”

you pretended to be surprised

“you’ve been to the village!!”

at this point jungkook realized he’s supposed to be from another kingdom

“ehh yeah a couple of times”

“tell me everything! please”

your eyes went big and a wide grin spread on your face

the glint in your eyes made jungkook believe you were genuinely interested

and because he loved his town and the people in it, he wouldn’t skip a chance to talk about them

“well... i heard there’s a nasty virus spreading around”

the excited grin turned upside down upon hearing his words and jungkook scratched the back of his neck in regret of choosing this as the first thing to tell you about his home town

“...there is? :(”

poor boys heart couldn’t take your puppy eyes any longer

“yeah, but it’s no big deal!!! anyways there’s this one really good soup restaurant! they serve the best soup”

“really? what kind of soup?”

“all kinds of soup! they’re all great i’m a regu- i mean i went there once and... ate like everything on the menu... yeah... omg you have to go there some day-”

you didn't dare stop jungkook from talking about the village so passionately

you listened to every word he told you with a fond smile on his face and made sure to ask questions about his favorite things

what a cute lil baddie

it made you wonder what he really came here for

was he here to assassinate you?

no, he would have already done that

was he here to assassinate your parents?

no, he would have already done that too

was he a thief? did he want money for himself?

you doubted that

he didn't seem like the selfish type

to you he was someone who reminded you of yourself

he was here, maybe he was adventurous and curious too

but no, that couldn't be all

there must have been another reason he was here

and it must have been important to him, for him to risk everything

i mean if he ever got caught for breaking in and pretending to be your body guard?

you didn't even want to think what your parents would do to him

the whole idea made you shiver

jungkook seemed to have a pure heart

for some odd reason you were sure of that

...

"hey kookie, did you want to come here?"

jungkook furrowed his eyebrows and stopped chewing on his chicken wing to look at you

"no? does it look like i want to be here??? smh"

he continued chewing loudly, rolling his eyes at you

"well no i can see you're dead inside but like??? how did you get picked?"

"i guess i'm just that good. or then it's my handsome face. yeah. definitely my face" -jungkook mumbling with chicken in his mouth

"what more could i ask from a body guard" -you rolling your eyes

"hey btw am i getting paid for this or what?"

you thought for a second in reality you had no idea, your parents handled everything like they always did, even if you tried to inquire they always insisted they were taking care of things and you didn't need to worry

however, this could have been a way for you to figure out what he was after

he just asked if he was getting paid, maybe he's just poor and wanted a job?

time to find out

"wdym??? this is your payment :)"

you gestured towards all the food laying in front of him

he stopped chewing again

he even dropped the chicken wing on his plate dramatically, jaw hanging open as he examined the food in horror

"this is my payment?"

"yeah. also you have your own room and the best company you could ask for! isn't that enough? isn't that what we agreed on?" you smile at him innocently

"...i must have amnesia... i'm sorry but what the fuck"

you slapped his shoulder playfully

"language, sir park jimin! and of course i'm kidding you dumb ass. you'll get paid accordingly once this is over... only if it doesn't last forever..."

jungkooks eyes widened even more

"you're too easy to mess with. i doubt you'll be here for long lmao"

"you almost gave me a damn heart attack woman"

you smiled to yourself, knowing there was deeper meaning to your last sentence he wasn't aware of

you picked up your fork and continued eating, expecting jungkook to do the same

however when he didn't, you gave him a questioning look

"what's wrong kookie?"

"just curious... (y/n), do you feel safe? with me? because you know,,, i'm your body guard and all"

"that depends. safe from what? with you i'm definitely not safe from loosing brain cells, i mean you're one hell of a dumb bi-"

"no- i mean do you feel threatened? are you afraid?"

the seriousness caught you off guard a bit and you had to swallow

"no, kookie. i feel safe. i trust you"

jungkook was no trained body guard so he actually felt a little bad for you

he did know how to defend himself well since he had learned a thing or two living in the village

he was confident in his skills- confident enough to knock off park jimin and take his place and sneak into the castle

but he was uncertain

he wasn't sure he could protect the both of you, but at that moment he promised himself he would protect you no matter what

he owed you that much, for stopping your body guard when you were in danger

and if you trusted him with your life, how could he let you down?

after all he could actually get away with this whole park jimin thing if he just did his job and collected the payment then he could get back to the village and help the poor families with their health care debts

he would just need to send them a message

he needed a way to let them know he was going to get money

but how was he supposed to do that when he needed to be around you 24/7 and you weren't allowed to leave the castle?

he could think of a plan later

right now, he just smiled at you in response to let you know he appreciated your honesty

that night jungkook laid awake in his bed, staring at the ceiling

he had escorted you to your room about an hour ago when you had voiced you were tired and wanted to go to bed

he kept thinking about how he was to send the villagers a message

they didn’t have any idea what he had gotten himself into, but jungkook doubted they thought he was dead

he had ran away for days before, the villagers and his family had grown pretty accustomed to it

jungkook loved going on adventures, exploring the outside world and visiting different places

he came to think of you, someone who was locked up in a castle for all their life

you never had such a chance to leave and explore

even though jungkook had spent a couple of days with you, he saw how much you yearned to go out there

he could see it in the way you stared out your window whenever anyone exited the castle, whether it was the guards or visitors

he felt so bad for you, he had no idea you could actually be so sad when all this time he had thought you were living your life to the fullest, getting everything you ever wanted in a silver platter

maybe he could sneak you out of the castle? with him?

it would be a win win situation

he would get to see the villagers and you could get a taste of the outside world

how would he bring it up to you? what if you said no?

when would it even happen? during the night? wasn’t that the safest?

his train of thought was interrupted when he heard a knock on his door

he adamantly got up and opened the door to find you standing there, shuffling on your feet, dressed in your night gown

“can i come in? just for a while?”

jungkook opened the door for you to come in

you took a seat at the edge of his bed, sitting down like a proper princess with your hands on your lap

“why are you still awake?” jungkook inquired

you bit your lip and brushed some hair behind your ear

“couldn’t fall asleep. sorry if i’m bothering you”

“it’s fine. i wasn’t getting any sleep either”

“kookie can i be honest?”

jungkook carefully sat down next to you and nodded

“i was a bit afraid just now. i heard a bang and think a bird flew into my window and i got scared i was being attacked”

“what? a bird? omg did you check????”

“yeah i saw feathers. i’m pretty sure it was a bird”

jungkook wasn’t convinced

he shot up and grabbed your hand, dragging you behind him to your room where he aggressively moved your curtains aside

he peered around, taking notice of the evident feathers still stuck on your window

“kookie?” you quietly called out when he didn’t say anything

“yeah? it’s all good. i don’t think anyone is around”

“okay”

jungkook had to admit his heart jumped to his throat when you told him you had heard a bang

his heart rate was calming down now that he had checked for enemies but adrenaline was still running in his system

he let out a sigh of relief and turned around to face you

you were standing there so innocently, hugging your own body and peering at him through loose strands of your hair

the moon shone trough the opened curtains and illuminated your shiny eyes and made your skin look angelic

you were truly beautiful those weren’t just rumors people spread around, jungkook understood that now

so his body reacted before he had the time to realize what he was doing

he engulfed your smaller frame in a hug

he carefully wrapped his arms around you and pressed your head against his chest, soothingly caressing the back of your head to tell you it was okay and you were safe now, there was no need to be afraid

you didn’t take long to respond, wrapping your hands around his waist and pressing your ear against his chest

“you should go back to sleep, (y/n). i’ll keep an eye on you, okay?”

“don’t you need to sleep?”

“if it means i get to protect you, then no”

“kookie how are you supposed to protect me during the day if you’re tired? at least sleep on my couch”

realizing you were right jungkook agreed

and even though you didn’t know who this boy was, you felt safe with him sleeping in the same room with you

the next day you noticed jungkook was being a bit more quiet

he was clearly in thought and you noticed him staring out of windows towards the village

maybe he was starting to miss his family and friends, you thought

he had been gone for almost a week now, wasn’t his family worried?

heck, you didn’t even know if he had family

just when you felt like you were making friends with him you realized you know absolutely nothing about him

but you wanted to know more, you wanted to be his friend

but you didn’t dare to ask him, he seemed like the type of person you should not bother when they’re deep in thought

so you kept doing you as jungkook quietly followed you around like a shadow

it wasn’t until the sun was finally setting down when jungkook finally said something to you

“when was the last time you left the castle?”

you sipped on your tea before glancing into the distance over the fence of the porch

“years ago. i might have been 15 or 16. i’m not completely locked up, i can go outside as long as it’s inside the walls”

jungkook hummed in response as he also stared outside

he had a look of admiration in his eyes looking at the scenery

the wind gently played with his soft, brown locks and the setting sun made his skin look like honey

“do you want to?”

“what? go outside?”

“yeah. to explore. meet new people in the village. try soup”

you snorted

“yes, soup boy. i dream of going out there every night, but i can’t. my parents would kill me even if i just asked”

“...have you ever like... tried to sneak out?”

“...no? i’m not suicidal, kookie”

“don’t be so dramatic. i used to sneak out as a kid all the time. it’s not that bad”

“you didn’t live in a castle full of guards, did you?”

jungkook shrugged

“i guess you have a point”

you nodded in agreement, taking another sip of your tea

after a short silence you decided to ask more about him

“you sneaked out a lot?”

“yee. i still do it as an adult”

“of course you do. how did you do it?”

“it’s easy once you get the gist of it. you gotta plan your escape during daylight, then execute during the night”

“you seem like an expert at this”

jungkook playfully wiggled his eyebrows at you

you huffed and turned to look at the village that could be seen

it looked inviting

you wanted nothing more than to go there, maybe as another commoner

you wanted to experience how other people your age lived their lives, make friends, go to public schools,,,,,, eat soup

“will you take me there one day?”

“princess (y/n), are you asking me to sneak you out of the castle?”

inside his head, jungkook was doing a victory dance

this was exactly what he wanted to hear you say

“maybe? so, will you?”

jungkook smirked at you

“i’ll think about it”

“i take that as a yes!” you cheered and stood up, ending the conversation there

skip time to nighttime again

you were in your bed about to fall into unconsciousness when suddenly something poked your cheek

you inhaled through your mouth in surprise and shot up

you quickly came to notice it was jungkook, but before you had the time to scold him you were choking on your own saliva

and finally you died from lack of oxygen

the end

jkjk you coughed there like you had pneumonia and jungkook looked a bit horrified

life flashed before his eyes when he thought this was how you were going to die

before you redeemed yourself and held your heart trying to catch your breath

“shit sorry didn’t mean to give you a stroke” -jungkook

“my own body guard just almost killed me” -you

“wtf you doing here anyways? they heard of knocking in your kingdom???”

“i got an idea”

you rubbed your temples in stress

this boys two brain cells decided to unite in the middle of the night and now he was here to tell you about it for some reason

“what is it?”

“let’s sneak out now”

you stared at him in disbelief wondering if you had heard him right

there was a bright smile on his face like he was proud of his idea and you had to admit it was cute but jesus christ

“kookie are you crazy? did you finally snap? people might want to murder me and you want to sneak out of the safety of this castle in the middle of the night?”

jungkook looked down, trying to think of a way to convince you it would be a quick run and he was a pro at this

“i heard there was a festival going on tonight. it would be the perfect opportunity to blend in and go unnoticed. no one could find you and harm you in a large crowd. especially when i’m there with you”

after jungkooks last sentence your heart skipped a beat

you stared at him for a good 10 seconds

and you couldn’t believe he actually convinced you to consider his idea

“besides no one is expecting you to run away. i’ll keep you safe, i promise”

and the second jungkook gave you a soft smile you were sold

damn he should be a salesman he could probably get you to buy anything

so there you were, a big hood on, sneaking behind jungkook on the castle property to try and find a way to climb over the walls

“don’t worry i already have an escape plan”

yeah right

“don’t worry there are people who probably want to murder you but we’re sneaking out of the most safe place you could be in” you thought to yourself

eventually jungkook helped you climb on top of a shack where you proceeded to climb the wall

you were surprised just how easy it was to actually escape

you hadn’t really ever dared to think about escaping by yourself

and if you got caught? you’d be dead for sure

you were still a little hesitant, but jungkook made sure you were following behind him, looking over his shoulder every 5 seconds

once over the wall, you stared into the dark forest right beside the castle and swallowed a lump

jungkook noticed this and quickly walked beside you, offering you to grab onto his arm

and you did, you held damn tight onto it

soon however, the two of you had made it to the edge of the village

and jungkook was right

you could hear loud music and people’s laughter all the way

he grinned at you when you squeezed his arm in response to the commotion

“see? we made it”

jungkook lead you through paths and roads all lit with lanterns

people started walking past you and the commotion got louder and louder

you kept your hood low so no one would recognize you

even though that was highly unlikely

until you had made it to the opening where the festival was held

people were dancing around

basically your mood went from “fuck i’m gonna die” to “holy shit this is beautiful” in a blink of an eye

jungkook saw it in your face and he realized this was his window to talk to his family

“hey umm you want soup? follow me”

before you could protest he was already pulling you towards a small restaurant right at the edge of the market

“wait here so people don’t see you. i’ll be right back”

you wondered why jungkook was acting so hurried all of a sudden but you still nodded your head

maybe he just really missed this soup you thought as you sat down on a bench to gaze at the people having fun at the market

a smile took over your features and you let yourself relax for a bit while being mesmerized over the view in front of you

you checked on jungkook inside the restaurant every once in a while and saw him happily chatting with the cashier

when all of a sudden you heard someone call out to you from the dark alleyway next to the building

“ma’am? could you help me lift this?”

you turned and saw a young black haired man smiling at you politely

he was lifting large boxes to a carriage

“sure” you smiled and stood up to help him

the two of you lifted up a box while the man examined you closely

“i haven’t seen you before. what’s your name?”

you slightly panicked but did your best to keep your cool

“oh, i’m from somewhere else. i’m visiting a friend. my name is... (y/n)”

you internally cringed at yourself for revealing your actual name but it was too late to take it back

“(y/n)? your parents named you after the princess?”

:)

fuck

“y-yeah... exactly”

“well (y/n), my name is park jimin”

your name is what

wait-

your eyes widened involuntarily and you looked up at the man

he was still examining you closely, almost like he was trying to read your mind, maybe waiting for you to reveal your secrets

now you didn’t like this man very much

you had no idea if he was lying or telling the truth but either way you didn’t like it

you needed to abort mission and get jungkook asap

“oh uhh my friend came back! it was nice meeting you i gotta go-”

he stepped in front of you when you tried to hurry past him and grabbed your wrists

“i knew it was you, princess”

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

the man who claimed to be the actual park jimin was now pushing you further into the dark alleyway so you were out of people’s sight

you were too frozen from fear that your body became incapable of trying to fight him

“get in the carriage” he ordered

and out of actual terror you were about to oblige

when a voice coming from behind him stopped you both

“what do you think you’re doing?”

the man turned around and came face to face with jungkook who had two plates of steaming soup in his hands

jungkooks eyes widened when he realized what was going on

he panicked but managed to throw the steaming soups at the man

he screamed in pain and instantly let go of you

so you took your chance and dashed towards jungkook who quickly grabbed your hand and started running along with you, guiding you throughout some dark alleyways

he obviously knew these roads very well, making you question everything about him and who that man was

you knew jungkook wasn’t legit, but now you were even more confused

all you knew is that you trusted jungkook more than you trusted that man chasing after you

finally jungkook pulled you inside a house and locked the door behind him

he watched from the small window on the door and didn’t turn away before he saw the man running past thinking you were still running

he then turned to you but didn’t meet your eyes

he was too ashamed

and he was scared

“who was that?” you asked him in a demanding voice

jungkook knew he had to tell you the truth

so he took a deep breath and prepared himself

“that was park jimin, your bodyguard. but i don’t think his actual original intentions were to keep you safe”

to be continued

a/n: how do i always end up writing about chicken gdi