#blah blah blah if i had to do a rose colored glasses on this all it would be. since january i have read 60something books and before this y

[dancedance-resolution]

i started a supercorp portrait of a lady on fire au like three years ago. i'm never going to finish it, but the writing style is pretty cool, so i want to share it. so um enjoy the prologue and a bit of chapter one?

---

Prologue. Bonnelles, France. 1786.

“First, my contours,” Kara said, her voice soft and level. She looked out upon the dozen or so young women, their eyes darting back and forth from their papers to Kara herself. “The outline,” she continued. The increasingly swift sound of scratching charcoal prompted Kara to further instruct, “Not too fast. Take time to look at me.” She paused. “See how my arms are placed.”

At that moment, Kara saw the painting.

She swallowed and took in a breath; she schooled her expression before letting out the air with a pathetically soft “My hands.” Her students’ gaze followed her verbal direction, now observing as Kara’s fingers curled with remembrance. Their own hands now began to sketch the slope of hers—the slope that had once coaxed breathy moans from a lover, the slope that had once created that very painting in all of its hollow longing.

Kara felt her heart rate accelerating, and her attempts at calming deep breaths only made her shoulders shake unsteadily. “Who brought that painting out?” Her eyes darted around, landing on each possible offender, as she tensed her core and adopted a stern countenance.

Every student dutifully turned to look at the work.

It was an especially young girl who finally lifted her hand. “I brought it. From the stock room. Should I have not?”

Kara’s “no” felt like a brick, its weight threatening to pry tears from her reddening eyes. So Kara took another swallow, a handful of blinks, a few more steadying breaths.

“Did you paint it?” the girl asked innocently. Nia, her name was? She stared at Kara, oblivious to the flood of sound overwhelming Kara’s mind and echoing in the cavern of her heart.

“Yes,” Kara uttered softly, the word barely audible as they fell from her lips. “A long time ago.”

Nia’s head snapped back to examine the painting once more. It stood on an old but sturdy easel, tattooed and scarred but still standing. The artwork itself was brooding, with a white sun bleeding into a dark vignette. Heavy clumps of clouds occupied the sky and caged some of the sun’s rays, so the fire burning behind the woman was bright enough in comparison to create a dragging shadow of her figure. The flames crawled up the back of her windswept dress, bringing sharp tension to an otherwise lulling, melancholy landscape.

“What’s the title?”

The sound of the sea began to swell in Kara’s head. Her lips trembled. Her body unwittingly swayed slightly. “Portrait of a Lady on Fire.”

---

Chapter I. The island of Brittany, France, and the surrounding sea. 1779.

Kara squinted into the distance, her face scrunching up a bit as she desperately tried to shield her eyes from the harsh glare of the sun on the water. For all its gorgeous teals and sparkling peaks, it certainly did make her wish for one of those brimmed hats the rowers were all wearing. With every one of their paced paddles, the cork-like little canoe bobbed haphazardly. Kara rather felt as if she were in the wine glass of a thoroughly drunken Marie Antoinette.

At least she wasn’t prone to seasickness.

She still felt quite unsteady, though, being thrown about and forced to pathetically grab onto the boat’s low walls. She leaned forward, trying to regain her balance and ground herself despite the absence of ground.

The wooden pallet holding her canvas was, apparently, as unstable as she was, and the next thing Kara knew, it had been lurched off of the boat like vomit from a drunkard. Kara watched helplessly as it thrashed among the choppy waves, the sea carrying it a few feet from the boat.

The chief rower met her desperate look with exhausted resignation; he ceased his paddling as Kara shed her overcoat and placed a precarious foot on the edge of the canoe.

With a strained creak from the boat’s wood, she jumped into the water, dress billowing behind her. Her first gasp for air upon emerging from the water was audible; she could feel the effort in her throat. Her arms moved in laborious little arcs as she slowly made her way towards the floating pallet and finally made a desperate reach for it. Kara’s fingers grasped onto a wooden board, and she pulled herself up onto it with a grunt.

---

The incessant wind upon the sea was certainly not helping Kara. Dripping wet, she wrapped herself up in her overcoat in a pitiful plea for warmth. She held the edges of the garment up to her lips, the sensation of the dry fabric bringing her some comfort as she closed her eyes and left herself to the mercy of the mighty sea.

But the interminable rocking of the feeble boat wouldn’t allow her any rest.

Kara wasn’t very religious, not anymore. Yet, the sight of the cliffs and coast of Brittany moved her to relieved prayer.

---

The sun had already begun to set as Kara trekked up the sandy coast. Her legs ached with every stumbling, unsure step—maybe she was a bit seasick after all—and her hands were tired of having to grip her full skirt to keep it out of her way.

She paused on the rocks, taking a moment to manually wring some of the water out of her skirt. She filled her lungs with an arduous breath before slinging the rope holding the pallet over her shoulder. Next came the fabric sling, which housed her trunk of personal items—she positioned it on her back with careful poise.

The journey up the cliffs and towards the trees was exhausting. Kara’s skirt required repositioning every few seconds, the rope was digging into her shoulder, and the pallet and trunk slammed into her back with each wobbling step. By the time she reached the straight path up to the residence, her breaths were heavy and pained, and the sun was nearly fully hidden beneath the horizon.

A soft light emanated from the windows above the mansion’s door, helping Kara feel a bit more secure as she knocked. A short blonde woman answered her summon and introduced herself with a flat “I’m Eve.” She opened the door a bit wider and gestured with her body for Kara to come in.

Eve held a small candle as she guided Kara up the stairs, the sounds of their shoes echoing through the grand yet starkly undecorated hallway. The walls of the stairwell were cement bricks, and the wrought iron bannister was rather plain and geometric.

They came to a stop in front of a similarly void room, bare save a few heavy curtains and a daybed. The raised panels along these walls matched the white-painted wood of the window frames, and they gave the chamber some elegant character.

While Eve entered the comparatively less intimidating room, Kara stayed back a moment, taking in the shafts of muted blue light from the windows and the contrasting warm glow of leaping flames from the central fireplace.

Eve crouched down to poke at the fire as Kara set down her belongings. “It was a reception room,” Eve explained. “Though I’ve never seen it used.”

The fire crackled pleasantly. “Have you been here long?” Kara inquired.

“Three years,” Eve answered, directing her attention back to the fire.

Kara peeled off her overcoat and draped it along the wainscoting. “Do you like it here?”

“Yes,” Eve said simply as she stood up. She turned to Kara, meeting her eyes now as her hands smoothed over her skirt. “I’ll let you get dry.” And with a nod, she was on her way.

Kara watched her every step.

Once the door closed, she hastily began removing her overskirt. It fell to the dark herringbone floor with an unglamorous thud.

---

There was no method or grace to the way Kara wrapped her hand around the rusting crowbar, but with a few jerks, she’d managed to successfully pry the top off of the pallet.

After setting down the wood cover, Kara extended her hand, letting it fall clumsily onto the slick canvas in front of her. It was still wet, and her hand’s small circular movement caused moisture to pool at her fingertips, as if her touch had beckoned the water. So her hand withdrew, and Kara slid the canvas out from its container. Her eyes danced over the surface as she considered how to dry it, holding it in front of herself like the Communion host of an evening Mass.

---

Kara decided to accompany her drying canvas, which was now positioned next to the fireplace. Stripped naked, she sat in front of the fire and pulled her legs towards herself—she was vulnerable, sitting there bare and in a new environment, and the action made her feel a bit more small, compact, and safe.

Kara set down her candle so she could light her tobacco pipe with the flames. Her large, smoky exhales grounded her, in a way, with the familiar sight and smell acting as a sort of sedative. And she stared forward, expression blank but unmistakably worn.

---

Kara walked barefoot along the cement floor, making her way through the hall and to the pantry room wrapped in nothing but her robe-like smock.

[sickgraymeat]

[kay-selfships]

hi hi!! it's me again <3 i saw your recent post about a canon/canon ship and i wanted to say that i TOTALLY understand how you feel. last time i told you about a ship with my f/o that i find really annoying (i actually hate this ship) and most people in the fandom treat that ship like it's canon. and as bad as i feel, i do understand (unfortunately) why people ship them. while those reasons don't make any sense or carry any weight for me, it's really useless to argue with shippers because they wear those rose-colored glasses and constantly say things like "my favorite canon/canon ship is canon because they looked at each other for more than five seconds and blah blah blah". ofc i'm exaggerating because the ship with my f/o actually has reasons to ship it (TO MY GREAT REGRET). and i always think why do i have to put up with all this? none of my friends really understand me when i see my f/o with this other character. don't they realize it's the same as if they saw their lover with someone else? wouldn't it hurt them? moreover, i've become really annoyed with a canon/canon ships because every time someone starts talking about their canon/canon ship i feel uncomfortable because i start thinking about how there's someone out there who doesn't like this ship because their f/o is in it and it breaks their heart just like it does me. every time my friends send me ratio/aventurine art i feel uncomfortable because i think of you and how you hate this ship. i wish all selfshippers had the option to actually avoid all this. i hope you're doing well! i'm glad we can share something that's bothering us both.

—🦊anon.

hello hello !! haha yeah, it does get really rough with certain ships. because with some it’s easy to kinda reassure myself in my mind like “oh they’ve never actually met in canon so whatever,” or “oh here’s this, this, and this reason why it wouldn’t work.” but with some it’s like yes, i understand WHY they’re shipped clearly they care about each other or they’ve got such a dynamic that they understand each other more than anything. while obviously you can care for or understand someone without having romantic feelings, it’s rough when it seems like everyone else around you is going “see!! it means they’re in love!!!” and maybe you’re just not seeing something everyone else is? but yeah, it definitely hits right at my insecurity and sometimes makes me think maybe this other person would make them happier than i would and it sucks!!

while i do have my personal canon/canon ships that i do like, i would never insist that it’s canon and that everyone that doesn’t like the ship is wrong!! i think that’s just the best way to go about it. like some people get so personally offended if you don’t want the same fictional characters to kiss that they do and i can’t understand it. i do appreciate you thinking of me when it comes to aventurine…and yeah, that particular ship is definitely the one that causes me the most heartache. i do hope that you’re doing alright as well!! while there’s not all that much we can do about this, at least venting about it helps, at least a bit.

[suckitsurveys]

Who has made the biggest sacrifice for you? My dad, for sure.

Who is the most overbearing person you know? My brother in law.

Do you still remember your first kiss? I do.

Are you happy with where you are relationship-wise now? I am. Mark and I are stronger than ever.

How many kids do you want to have? Zero.

Have you ever purposely given someone the wrong number? No.

Who’s the last person you smoked weed with? Mark and I took an edible last night.

Are you currently wanting any piercings or tattoos? Yes.

Who is the person you have hurt the most? I don’t know.

Who is the person that has hurt you the most? Blah.

Who’s the last guy to give you roses? Mark.

Did your parents do drugs when they were younger? Yup. My dad’s been known to eat an edible here or there now a days..

The first thing I’d do after winning the lottery is… Buy a new car.

The videos that always make me laugh are… I mean, so many.

One of my favorite writers is… I don’t know.

One of my favorite singers is… Billie Eilish.

What’s a favorite hobby of yours? This garbage.

I think a good source of therapy is… Crying.

A friend who I can always be myself around is… All my friends, that’s why they are my friends.

Something helpful to lose weight is… Hahahahhahahahahahahaahhahahahahaahahaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.

A fear of mine is… Having my fears used against me.

If you knew me well, you’d gift me… Anything Pikachu or Snoopy or Garfield or bat or panda related, gift cards for sushi restaurants or boba, candles.

Who is someone you’ve been enjoying watching on YouTube recently? I haven’t legit watched YouTube in a really long time, other than SNL clips here and there oops.

Who was the last of your friends to have a baby? None of my close friends have kids.

Which family member did you get your height from? My mom.

Which TV channel did you watch the most as a kid? Nickelodeon.

Who is your favorite cousin? Kelly and her daughter Brittney, honestly.

If you had to choose a country to live in besides your own, which country would you choose? I’m good.

Do you think you look better with long hair or short hair? Either.

What did the last mask you wore look like? It was a royal blue paper mask.

Have you ever ridden in an ambulance? Nope.

What color was your nursery when you were a baby? I don’t believe I had my own room as a baby.

When is the next time you will attend a family reunion? Where will it be? We don’t have those.

Do you like cereal? What would you consider your favorite kind of cereal? Cinnamon toast crunch.

What’s your favorite lollipop flavor? Watermelon.

Who did you last hold hands with? My 5yr niece.

What sounds help you sleep? White noise or fan noise.

Do you have a loud or more soft laugh? I’d say it’s in the middle.

Do you like to dip your fries in a frosty or ice cream? I’ve done it before but it’s not a common occurance.

Cookies or brownies? Brownies.

Are you a fan of musicals? I don’t hate them.

Have you ever stargazed with someone? Yes.

What color is the vehicle you ride in most often? Silver.

What’s your favorite kind of pasta? I love pasta with pesto, but I also love pasta with the red sauce my dad makes.

Would you say you’re a condescending person? I am very sarcastic which can read as condescending but I don’t mean it to be mean or anything.

Have you ever mowed a lawn? I have.

What’s the last song you listened to? Sweet by Lana Del Rey.

Are you content with your social life? For the most part. I’d love to hang out with people more and do more stuff but I’m also just so tired all the damn time from working.

Have you ever had edible flowers? I have, yes.

Do you read other people’s survey answers? When I take them from people lol.

Do you work better alone or in a group? Depends.

What are 3 essential items you won’t leave the house without? My phone, my keys, some sort of way to clean my glasses.

Do you enjoy spicy foods? I do.

What is something you want to be remembered for? I don’t know.

Do you like pickles? I do.

What is something you take a lot of pictures of? My cats and my nieces lol.

What is your favorite thing about the beach? Being in the water.

Are you afraid of snakes? Not actively, no.

Do you think frogs are ugly? No.

Name three things that you find refreshing. Ice water, a pool or lake on a hot day, a cool breeze.

What is your favorite vegetable? Mushrooms.

Do you own any succulents? Nope.

What is your least favorite shade of green? I don’t know, it would depend on how the green is used.

Do you like olives? Yes, except for kalamata.

What are three of your favorite insects (or insects that you think look cool)? Praying manti, butterflies, bumble bees.

Would you ever dye your hair green? I have done it before.

Are you a tea drinker? Yes.

Do you like mangoes? They aren’t my favorite but oddly enough there is a sushi roll I LOVE that has a mango sauce on it and it’s amazing.

What’s your hair texture? Thick and kinda coarse.

Do you play games on your phone? Yeah, some dumb card games and word games and NYT games mostly.

Is acting something you’d enjoy? Are you convincing? Eh.

In what ways are you immature? Lots of ways.

Are the Olympics something you get into? Not at all.

Chocolate, strawberry, or vanilla milkshake? Vanilla.

What’s something or someone you’ll always defend? Access to safe and legal abortion.

[silver-wield]

Some zerith is bringing back your zack is a cockhold tweet and they're offended that they feel they ain't welcome in the CT fandom. You'll see some CTs completely be dense why you have those opinions lol. I think they forget that you're not just a Tifa fan and that you actually like Zack a lot. That tweet was supposed to be sarcastic af because aerith isn't really doing the bare minimum of what we wish we could see from her. She's been disrespectful of cloti's (cloud especially) privacy and space. She doesn't care about her new friend's feelings, neither does she remembers her own mother. If you look at her and see beyond the lenses of rose colored glasses? She's honestly a character with such wasted potential. I honestly had to wake myself up reading her TOTP part. Maybe if she was actually shown to care about her own narrative (her parents, more cetra and shinra lore) more than just boys in the game, it would have been sold on me. Those points are honestly so brushed aside you only actually remember about her is flirting with boys and she died.

It's cute tho when they police a CT's opinion. They're acting like a cult for goodness sake. I'm a CT, I have my own opinion. I wont just follow what others think for the sake of being a "good" CT. Wtf does that even mean lol. Not hating any character? Not criticizing any character? Not expecting responsibility for their shitty actions so they wouldn't be a mary sue? I've seen their thought process tho, they're one of those who like to keep this echo chamber that aerith's just a match maker w/o realizing how stupid af that is. It'll only end up hurting tifa and making cloud uncomfortable. They're trying so hard to still like aerith, it's actually telling. Nobody has to try so hard liking zack, cloud and tifa people.

Some CTs sometimes like to act superior but don't realize they're also in a cult. If they can't defend aerith other than "she's beloved, they wouldn't make her a trash" and other mental gymnastics about what should be blah blah, then that isn't it. The writer has already failed to naturally make her likable unless you wield it to be like a few on copium I've seen already.

Funny how people trawl through my twitter just looking for things to be "outraged" about when they know for a fact I don't like Aerith and refuse to act like she's not some slimy bitch and Zack is being cuckolded by her.

Zack deserves better.

And it's also funny how they'll get all irate over their precious pink trashbag and expect the "good clotis" to come to their aid, but they're fucking silent af when it comes to defending Tifa or clotis against the constant barrage of harassment and hate we get daily.

So excuse me for not really giving a shit about their hurty feewings and forced delusion that she's "perfect" over a character with shitty traits that are shown in the game, but they started it by never standing up for any of us.

[shallowseeker]

I hated my writing for this one. Too talky talky buuut I'm delighted to see some similar ideas reflected in SPNwin , and it rejuvenates me to keep playing, keep going. Maybe it will return from war soon. I've found new value in it because of SPNwin:

///

"So the way I see it, some o’ this stuff applies to all relationships. You can build someone up so much in your mind you freak the fuck out when they don’t meet your—uh—fantasy, right? So read and learn.” The cutesy, happy tone is out of place, Sam thinks. The last thing they need is Dean making light of their relationships.

“Disillusionment,” Dean begins dramatically, like it’s a fairytale. “Couples can’t fathom their differences in this stage. They fight, get hurt, hate, and doubt one another’s intentions. Many couples break up during this phase, while few identify the relationship issues.”

Mary smiles to herself again. “I went through that when Dean was born, and I still wanted to hunt. Our worst fight was once when John actually left. It forced me to stay home with you boys and not take any hunts. I think he knew something. He probably thought I was cheating.” She hums. “I still hid the hunting though. I wonder if we’d have gotten through it if we had the chance? I think I wanted to help people and hunt, but at the same time, I didn’t want your dad or you in the life. I wanted peace for you.”

“You wanted peace for us, but you were putting yourself last. Maybe if you'd stuck together, you coulda made it,” Dean insists, like he’s trying to convince himself more than anyone. “You’re not that different from one another. You coulda made it work.”

“I don’t know,” Mary sighs, frustrated.

///

“I wanted to be anyone else. I’d been to Hell by that point. I guess my mind was still on hunting. But you know what? We barely even fought. She was a strong person, but she knew I was a phony. But you and dad?”

Mary’s face snaps up hopefully.

“You did struggle. You had this—"disillusionment" and you still wanted to forgive him. He wanted to forgive you for the demon deal. You kept trying to fix it, okay? I think you’d have made it.”

Even if he’s not sure he agrees, Sam is touched by Dean’s rose-colored glasses when it comes to Mary and John.

Dean lifts up the book. “Developing that communication, trust, and finding the ability to work together…blah blah. This applies to all family, too, not just marriage.”

Dean looks at Mary knowingly, and after a few moments, she seems to catch onto his hidden meaning. They do that sometimes, and it's kinda cool that they have that connection, but sometimes Sam feels left out.

///

I suppose if John were alive today, I’d be working through,” and here she chooses her words carefully, “how he raised you boys.”

Dean nods, getting a funny smile on his face. “Well. You’d be surprised what you can forgive. Getting disappointed in someone is life’s actual secret sauce.” He makes a big show of patting Jack’s shoulder. “Because you can’t be disappointed in someone unless you open yourself up to trust 'em in the first place. And when you fall in love love, your expectations are, like, suddenly irrationally high.”

Mary’s eyes are shining now, and she nods slowly, like she’s actually appreciating Dean’s advice. Christ. Dean is handing out cheerful advice like he's farting sunshine. Sam hopes this doesn’t turn into one of his stupid porn jokes at the end of it all.

“Maybe we would’ve. Maybe we’d have even hunted. Maybe it would’ve ended badly, but maybe we woulda worked,” Mary breathes, and her eyes are wet. “Even if we were cursed.”

[petrikaira]

The Maid

Oemlaria Vulpis, Pg 1 (Previous) (First)

Rating: G for General Audiences

The warm brown and sunsetty peach of Nele’s blanket made her little room feel like home. It gave it a splash of color, and splash of warmth, and now as it was, fresh from the washer she could feel the literal warmth too. The faint scent of the roses that often got added to the wash water filled the room. Apparently queen Aikaterine loved it, and Nele was glad for it as well as the laundress’ agreeing to add her new blanket to their fresh laundry load and get it done before night. 

Now, with a bit of her free day left and her blanket on her bed, all Nele wanted to do was lay around and get a feel for her new blanket. The lights outside hadn’t even gone down yet, and there was still plenty of the day left to explore and so she waffled. Was it really wise to do that now? Wasn’t there something more productive she could be doing?

Her Mama would be chiding her for not doing more with her day. Idle hands make idle women, blah blah blah. Nele stopped for a long moment. Idle hands- she felt her cheeks flush. That didn’t apply here. Today was her day off, and she was allowed to do what she wished with it! And there wasn’t anything for her to do, anyways. Her maids uniform was down at the laundress, and would be ready for tomorrow and the dress she was wearing now had only been worn twice. Nowhere near enough times to wash. Her personal belongings were all put away, and her room was fresh and clean, and dinner wasn’t for another few hours.

There was really nothing to do. She could be idle all she wanted.

She climbed on to her thin bed, and felt the smooth softness of the blanket beneath her fingers. She ran her hands over the seam in the middle, the little bump, and then across the pink peach stripes. It was perfect.

As she lay there, she began to think of the name she wished to have once more. Her mind was not used to being idle, and it was a problem that needed solving sooner than later. Diantha. It still didn’t really hit, but she did like it better than Nele. Veerle, maybe? That was all about the traveling- and the battles.

She wasn’t really doing battles, was she? And yet she did like the sound of Veerle. Steere had a similar sort of feel, and meant star, which was sort of cute. But was she a star? Or Silke! That one was also fun, though she had no idea what that one meant. Renate? No, that one sounded too formal. Too stiff. It had almost some of the same problems as Cornelia, but with less of the ick that came with it. Evelin? That one…felt a little too put together, in a different sort of way than Nele was. That one was out. Hanna wasn’t bad, she supposed. She wasn’t really drawn to it and she wasn’t really disgusted by it. Besides, there was Hanna Glass down at Sally’s and that felt too weird to go by. Ilse? Still cute. Or Lieke! It felt fun. 

She was really liking the names with the e ending. She liked them a lot. If she could just try them out in her head, maybe she could find the exact one she wanted to go by. 

Someone rapped at her door. Pulling herself from her circle of thoughts, Nele got up and went to the door. She cracked it open to spot one of the footmen before her, or at least she assumed the man was a footman, as she hadn’t seen any others yet and he wore the Butler’s uniform. Besides that, he was positively orange and had two noses, but he looked mostly human.

“Sorry, are you human? There’s someone here to see the human maid,” The man said. His voice sounded a bit nasally, like one of his two noses was whistling. 

“I am, yes,” she said, and furrowed her brow. Inside of her twinged. She hadn’t seen that many demons out and about, but now one was asking for a human. “Do you know who is calling on me-?”

“Er, I dunno, can’t tell you her name but can tell you she’s one of the Vulpis, and they don’t usually come here,” the footman said.

Nele stared off for a second. A Vulpis. “So they really don’t get along with the Canis,” She mused aloud.

The footman shrugged. “No, Miss, the Vulpis tend to hate the Canis. Should I tell her you’re busy or-”

“Oh!”

Her. There had only been one Vulpis, and Nele had been certain after the pretty Vulpis maid had left that she was a bit rude, and also that she would never see that maid again unless by chance if she happened to go to the park. 

The floor creaked. The footman shifted from booted foot to booted foot. “Is that a yes or?” he asked. “Because I really can’t keep someone from the Vulpis family waiting, Miss.”

She did like that the footman was calling her miss. The thought cut like a knife through butter of the rest of it all. She turned through the rest of it, sifting the butter of her thoughts in her hand and thought of the lips like a petal, the pale hands on a chamber pot. The stare and the bang of that door as it closed behind her. 

“Yes, sure, I’ll go see her,” Nele said. “Meet her. So long as- the Vulpis aren’t human eating demons? Or go for souls?”

She had to be sure, before she went. She didn’t want to step right into danger because she was excited to know another maid outside of her castle, another person she could maybe go meet in the park. She didn’t want to regret any of this. So far it felt light.

“Don’t think so?” The footman said. “But I’ll be there at the door if you’re worried.”

Nele smiled just once at him. “Thank you,” she said, and let him lead her to the Vulpis woman.

[mademoisellehypergamy]

✨ CREATING A PERSONA FOR HYPERGAMY & SOCIAL CLIMBING  ✨

The votes are in and “Persona” won! Ladies, get the notebooks out. Class is in session. And this is gonna be a long one.

Be honest with me: Are you currently your ideal woman? The majority of you will probably answer honestly and say no. And there’s nothing wrong with admitting that. The harsh reality is most women on their hypergamous journey aren’t even close to being the ideal woman they aspire to be. Hell, the average woman (hypergamous or not) will probably live her life never being able to become that woman, if we’re being completely honest here.

I believe every hypergamous woman should create and adopt a persona. You are who you believe to be. When I was younger, my teachers and parents told me I was academically gifted. So guess what? I believed the same! That pushed me to work even harder in school. Same concept applies here. You are who you believe to be. A persona isn’t a “fake” version of you. It is you. Your ideal person. It is malleable, so it can change at anytime. Just like you changed throughout your life.

STEP 0 - WHY YOU SHOULD ADOPT A PERSONA

✨Not Everyone Will Win the Birth Lottery. But that doesn’t mean you can’t rewrite your past, and repave your future path. Let’s face it: some of you were born into bad circumstances; abusive families, poverty, toxic relationships, obstacles and barriers, etc. And some of you are living lives currently that you aren’t satisfied with: stressful job, health issues, bad environment, *insert sob story here*, blah, blah, blah, woe is me!  But should your current and past conditions get in the way of your hypergamous journey? No! Absolutely not. 

✨You Can’t Be the Same Basic B*tch Forever. Okay b*tch, when you were being “true to yourself” in the past, look where it got you. Probably in a less than favorable situation. Congratulations for being an authentic basic b*tch! 🥳😊

Ladies, change is necessary. When you started your hypergamous journey, you underwent a change. Are you saying your hypergamous self is fake? Of course it isn’t! It’s still you, just an “elevated you”. One that is more aware and knows what she wants. 

✨ Most People Don’t Even Know Who TF They Are. It’s sad, but true. Most people are lost and suppressing their true desires and personality. I’m here encouraging you ladies to create your ideal persona and to become this woman. Because this woman is who you are deep inside, who you want to be. Stop hiding her! Create her, and become her! As long as this person isn’t harming anyone, there is no reason you shouldn’t chase your dream self.

STEP 1 - CHOOSE & CREATE YOUR PERSONA

This is the fun part ladies! Time to choose and create your new persona!

✨ What Kind of Woman Do You Aspire to Be?  Have fun with this ladies! What kind of woman have you always dreamt of becoming? Is she wildly intelligent and beautiful? Or perhaps she has a heart of gold and is adored by all?  Nothing is off limits. This is you.

For those of you who are truly struggling, below I have included a few examples of common personas. If you don’t know where to begin, choose one as the “foundation” and build on it. Make it your own!

*Disclaimer: Anyone that I mentioned/included below is simply for inspiration. Not all of these women are hypergamous. This is just for inspiration*

1. The Socialite/ The “It” Girl: This is the girl that everyone knows. She’s always at a party with a glass of champagne, wearing the latest styles, and living the BEST life. She’s glamorously unattainable and few have access to her, but somehow she’s a part of every social circle.

Inspiration: Jamie Chua (https://www.instagram.com/ec24m/)

2. The Traveler: This is the girl that travels constantly. Whether it’s across the globe or to a different state/town, she’s always on the go! No one seems to know how she funds her lifestyle because she always appears to be traveling and never working. Her pictures are always on point and high quality, with a combination of bikini pictures, relaxing scenery, exotic foods, and endless hotels.

Inspiration: Jennifer Tuffen (https://www.instagram.com/izkiz/)

3. The Influencer: Think of the ultimate Instagram Baddie; perfect body (usually because of surgery), full lips, carefully applied makeup, nails always done, hair on point. She is sponsored by all the clothes brands, and lives lavishly. She’s always out at a restaurant and traveling. Typically dresses in more revealing clothes/lots of bikinis.  What differentiates her from the Socialite? The degree of elegance and class. While the Socialite gives you an “heiress” vibe, the Influencer is more on the “flashy celebrity” side.

Inspiration: Kaylar Will (https://www.instagram.com/kaylarwill/)

4. Femme Fatale: She rarely posts on social media, but when she does, it only makes you question her existence more. This girl is beautifully sensual, and her social media only reveals bits and pieces of her life. She is an entire mystery, no one knows about her private life. One day she’ll be flying from London, the next she’ll be visiting an art gallery  She’ll sometimes post images of gifted roses with poetry captions. She oozes seduction and dark mystery. 

Inspiration: Dita Von Teese (https://www.instagram.com/ditavonteese) Now I thought long and hard about who to choose for this one, and if you take a moment to look at Dita’s IG account, you will understand why. You will notice that the ONLY thing she posts about is her clothes/lingerie brand or things relating to business. She reveals nothing about her personal life. Every post is promotion about her business. In fact, the last time she posted something about her “life” was on October 8th when she posted her CAT modeling another designer’s scarf. She’s a very discreet woman, and it works in her favor.

5. Girl Next Door: You know that basic b*tch that’s SUPER popular for no reason? This is her. From her Starbucks to her Tiktoks, she’s just your average girl living her life. In a way, she isn’t a threat because she seems approachable, relatable, and friendly enough through social media. Something about her aspires others that they can achieve a similar lifestyle. She’s terribly basic, but somehow, it works. 

Inspiration: Loren Gray (https://www.instagram.com/loren/)

6. Exotica: *This persona is best suited for women of color* She is exotically beautiful and unique. She is a trendsetter, not a follower. She has an air of heightened sexuality, with a touch of grounded-spirituality. Something about her is wild and untamed, and she oozes excitement and adventure. 

Inspiration: Monica Leon, or “Danger”. Now if you’re in my generation, you may remember the reality show “For the Love of Ray J” (which was ghetto btw💀). To this day, one girl that I will NEVER forget on that show, was “Danger”, the girl with the tiger tattoo on her face and that NO ONE liked, but Ray J was obsessed with. Although she no longer is on Instagram (and has since legally changed her name), I still believe she naturally embodied that exotic and mysterious woman persona. I recommend watching the show for free on Youtube just to observe her (and only her because the other women were pickme’s  💀)

7. The Luxurious Diamond: This woman is the epitome of class and elegance. She exudes femininity and grace, and holds an air of mystery by only showing us bits and pieces of her life. What we see is soft luxuries, wineries, beautiful clothes/scenery, and a life of comfort. She balances a mature, elegant, ladylike presence, with subtle girly-youthfulness. 

Inspiration: Г-жа Анисимова   https://www.instagram.com/creme_de.la_femme/

✨How Does She Look Like? From her hair to how she wears her makeup, be able to create a vivid description of her appearance. Being able to do this will show you where to work on with your current appearance.

✨Personality We all have traits about ourselves that we don’t like. This is your chance to identify your traits that you love and maximize them, while also working on the aspects of your personality that are a bit more problematic.

It’s important to recognize that some “negative” traits are not really negative. Society just shames us for them. For example, “The Socialite” persona may be polite, but that doesn’t mean she’s super open and friendly with everyone. Not everyone is her friend, and she is naturally unattainable. So why would she be super friendly to everyone? Some may call her “standoffish”, but I call it “selective”.

✨Past Self? Not a Problem.  So let’s say you had a less than perfect childhood and endured a lot of trauma. Not a problem, just reinvent your past! Now I’m not saying to straight up lie and make up a crazy story about how you grew up with billionaire parents and traveled the globe. I’m saying adopt a realistic story that’ll help you on your journey. 

For example, if your date were to ask about your past, instead of telling him how tragic your childhood was and how you were homeless and abused by your parents, and no longer have a relationship with them, you can say: “I moved around a lot as a child (“homelessness”), so I really enjoyed being able to interact with a lot of different people (make the negative seem positive). My parents still move around a lot, so it’s hard for us to meet (explains why you aren’t in contact with your parents). 

Reword and reframe, ladies. Not everyone needs to know everything.

STEP 2 - BRING HER TO LIFE

✨Remove. You cannot embrace your new persona, your new IDENTITY, if you are still stuck in the past. And that includes past connections that do not serve you. Some of your old friends (college friends, childhood friends, etc.) are not meant to accompany you on this journey. And that’s OKAY. Same with other toxic relationships in your life, family included. You will have to decide who to keep, and who to distance yourself from.

✨ Social Media! I’ve mentioned this in an earlier post, but social media is the easiest way for you to push your new persona. You control the content that goes on your social media, so even if you haven’t fully embodied your new persona, you can sure as hell fake it on social media. 

- Unless your persona is a socialite/influencer type, avoid posting too often. - Be consistent; if you retouch your images, make sure its consistent with all your photos. - Be mindful of what people tag you in/post about you. You know that “friend” who always posts the ugliest pictures of you? Yeah. They’re not your friend, hun. 

✨Dress. The. Part. Okay, sis. You can have the personality down perfectly, but if the look doesn’t match, no one will buy it. Your look is the first thing people notice, so invest in it. It doesn’t cost a lot, especially with fast fashion sites like Shein that sells clothes for $5. Just be able to keep up the appearance.

✨ Immerse Yourself in the Environment.  Looking the part and having the right personality is not enough, ladies! It wouldn’t make sense for you to be a “Socialite” sharing pictures of you eating at Red Lobster and Olive Garden every night. It wouldn’t make sense for the “Traveler” persona to share only bathroom selfies in her apartment. You have to live like the woman you aspire to be, and that includes placing yourself in those environments.

If you are not in the place financially to do so, learn to project the image without spending money. Ex: If you can’t afford to go to Hawaii, go to your local beach and take bomb ass pictures. Don’t tag the location. People will automatically see a beach in your picture and assume you are on vacation traveling. Get creative, ladies. 

✨You Owe Them Nothing. Ladies! Remember you don’t owe anyone anything. Not an explanation, not your time, nothing. So if you are living this new persona and people are asking questions you don’t want to answer: don’t. This is your life. 

STEP 3 - YOUR PERSONA WHILE DATING HYPERGAMOUSLY & SOCIAL CLIMBING

So now that you have created your ideal persona, and taken the steps to incorporate it into your life, how can you use your newfound persona to aid you on your hypergamous journey and while social climbing?

✨Infiltrate New Circles. Your persona should be someone exciting and enticing. People love befriending people who are happy and adventurous. Use your persona to befriend others and enter new social circles. You can do this through: - Social media; follow similar accounts to yours and interact with them. - Activities related to your persona; Let’s say you adopted the “The Luxurious Diamond” persona and started visiting wineries. You may notice when you go that there are regulars; identify the regulars and use your common interest of wine to strike a conversation. -Interest groups; join clubs/groups that help you reach your goals. For example, “The Traveler” may have always wanted to travel to Bali, but didn’t want to go alone. She joins a travel group to meet other likeminded inviduals and meets a travel buddy. This person ends up introducing her to others who also enjoy traveling.

✨ Be a Chameleon. You should  never be set on just one persona. Like I said earlier, your persona should always be malleable. You should be able to change yourself to your benefit, and always be open to expansion. When it comes to dating, a man may “want” a certain type of woman, but the secret is that most men just want a woman who is open to possibilities.  I remember a man who used to be on my roster who loved music. This man was always insisting on taking me to operas and symphonies. And he too was a musician (I really don’t like dating musicians, but that’s a topic for another day), so whenever he was performing he would have me sitting in the box so I’d have an “undisturbed” experience.  Now ladies, I’m not into music AT ALL.  But I was open and willing, and guess what? The man adored it, and he adored me even more! He spoiled me like crazy and would serenade me with music he wrote about me because I was his “muse”. Although I ended up ghosting him, I definitely appreciate a good opera now! 

✨Be Larger than Life to Entice. The attractive part about these personas is the fact that it feels almost fake. The image that is portrayed is almost mythical, like something out of a fantasy. You can’t believe this girl is traveling so much, or you can’t believe this girl still has a social life in the middle of a pandemic! It’s unbelievable, but that’s what makes us so intrigued. Men especially love fantasy. That’s why many men have a “dream girl”, a woman that embodies their physical and emotional fantasies. They love the impossible. It’s also important to remember that you are always being watched. People see you, whether in person or on social media, and when they see someone or something more interesting than their mundane life, curiosity will get the best of them. They’ll be drawn to you and want to know you.

✨ The Persona Advantage. Creating a persona is supposed to help your journey. The purpose is to reinvent yourself into someone who will help you better navigate your hypergamous life.  For example, if you are trying to get into more exclusive, affluent circles, creating a persona who is skilled in social and dining etiquette would be more beneficial than a persona that’s an Instagram Influencer. Being an Instagram Baddie that wears Fashion Nova won’t help you at a Charity Gala. So be sure to think of what you desire in life to shape yourself into that. Don’t just become someone who won’t get you to where you want to be. 

This post will definitely have a Part 2 in the future, but in conclusion: You can be whoever you want to be as long as you play the role. Be an actress in your own life, and live the life you desire.

Well ladies, I’ll be away for Valentine’s day weekend. Wishing you all a wonderful and safe weekend ❤️ Lots of love.

Follow my IG for more: @mademoisellehypergamy

[mercurytrinemoon]

On houses, house rulerships & how ya'll should stop associating them with signs + a rant on the meaning of the 8th house

This is one of those moments where I'm going to say (read: rant, so heads up, I may sound pretentious) that modern times keep distorting astrology. I’m talking about associating houses with signs/planets (aka the “12 letter alphabet”, briefly mentioned by William Lilly in the 17th century but ultimately it became a product of modern astrologers: first attempted by Alan Leo and decades later popularized and named by Zip Dobyns). Can we just... use a neuralyzer and make people forget that method? It's ingrained in people's minds because, seemingly, it's easier to learn that way - search astro basics in google and you'll see things like "9th house=Sagittarius=Jupiter". This compressed version of astrology seems more accessible and easily digestible for a casual reader and not many newbies try to even question that approach. But there's a reason reputable astrologers these days are trying to erase it from everyone's minds. Signs are traits, planets are vessels, houses are areas of life. Houses are a completely different thing + every person has their own chart with their own house rulers. You can't say Mars is the “natural” ruler of the 1st... well unless, of course, you're an Aries rising, then yeah, your 1st is ruled by Mars, 2nd by Venus and so on.

Sure, some houses share accidental similarities with planets that have been assigned to them by modern *cough*lazy*cought* approach. Example, the 3rd rules communication... oh and so does Mercury. But then again, Mercury has nothing to do with health, injuries, work - all things 6th house. 7th is relationships and 2nd is money & values... and it so happens that Venus shows our attitude towards these things. I would sometimes find myself loosely refer houses to planets, like “oh the 3rd mercurial house” just because SOME of them do fit with the characteristics... and because it's a language that is well-understood (I won't do that anymore). BUT even when I started learning astrology, I had a red light go on in my head when people would straight up go "Moon in Virgo or Moon in the 6th". It never made sense to me. These are completely different things. And I've seen some awesome astrologers who would state things like "oh Aquarius Sun is basically the same as Sun in the 11th", like nah, dude. Because why? Aquarius is the friendly type and the 11th rules friends? Because Aquarius is the big innovator and 11th stands for hopes and dreams? But Aquarius is also a rebel who's stiff in their beliefs. Aquarius is a weirdo, is the 11th house the house of weirdos? No. Aquarius likes to be independent and usually has issues with feeling of not belonging anywhere, while 11th rules communities. THAT'S CONTRADICTORY. Because they're not the same.

Want more examples? Having Venus in Aries is completely different than Venus in the 1st. What do people usually say about Venus in the 1st? That it makes the native charming, lovely, well-put together, with great manners, maybe beautiful, graceful, maybe a bit shallow. When in Aries? None of these characteristics fit, on top of that, it's in its detriment. Our poor gal Venus is uncomfortable and confused in Aries. She's like, "conquer? Swords? Selfishness? Obnoxiousness? Sparring? You're telling me to fight people? What am I doing here???" 

I think it most shows in the 8th house, which... *deep breath* has gone through so much (ironically since it rules transformation), like, there's a lot to unpack here. "tHe sCorPioNic HoUse": tell me in what way does Scorpio have to do with inheritance, death, taxes, other people's stuff? These are the og topics associated with the 8th house. And by the way, it doesn't have to be a material inheritance, because I saw people being confused by that. You can have your 10th house ruler in the 8th so maybe you'll inherit that job as a chairman in your father's corporation, along with its renowned name. Or your 6th house ruler is in the 8th so you'll inherit a genetic health condition from your parent. 

Now, modern astrology, as per usual, tried to turn it into something positive (and psychological because apparently according to modern notion, astrology can’t predict anything so it’s only psychological *eye roll*) and put its rose-colored glasses on it so they'll say things like: transformation or taboo topics - like okay, makes sense, it's an intense house after all. Like a near-death experience or a metaphorical death will be transformative and maybe hard to talk about. And Scorpios do have the tendency to go through drastic situations in their lives and to dig deep & not being afraid to uncover secrets and all that's unknown and scary for others. There you have it, some convergence. But still, Scorpio and the 8th house are two different things.

Then there's the topic of the 8th house and sex. Actually, side note, a quick history bit, the 2nd century astrologer, Vettius Valens saw sex in the 7th house - because that was the thing that happened after marriage - it represented two people coming together. In medieval times it then moved to 5th house of kids - because children-making requires intercourse, duh. Listen, I get that the 8th, as the follow-up to the 7th, is seen as joined resources; and joined everything, including bodies... or bodily fluids... (tmi?) after you get married or whatever. I don't think that makes sense in the modern times. I mean, go ahead if you want to associate the 8th with sex but after some time of studying astrology, I see it almost exclusively in the 5th as it's the house of pleasures. Simply. Besides, technically you can get yourself off and don’t need anyone else to assist you. My issue, again, comes from the root of the association with the 8th. Modern astrologers started linking 8th with Pluto and Scorpio in medical astrology rules reproductive system and so Scorpio is seen as the fReAky sEx dEMon blAh blaH (honestly, try asking Scorpios about their intimate life and they'll run for the hills abashed). So it turned out that 8th house is the "plutonian one" (I had a moment today wondering if it's plutonian or plutonic and idk anymore) so therefore it must rule sex. Well that logic doesn't make sense because everyone knows that the first and most important planet in the matters of sex is Mars but none of ya'll go and say "1st house is the house of sex because it's ruled by Aries". So no, houses are not the same as signs/planets.

12th house has a similar issue. This one has literally nothing to do with Pisces. Like, I feel bad for Pisces honestly, you guys don’t deserve being dumped into the 12th. It's a rather gloomy house and the most positive thing you could come up with it is being the house of imagination and intuition - because it rules the subconscious and partially your mind. And Pisces is usually characterized by those two. Or you could say that they're both kinda foggy in nature - 12th is the unattainable. But that is literally the closest you can get with them correlating. Other than that, 12th is hidden enemies, succlusion, illness (but mental or chronic, it's a bit different than 6th). There's nothing piscean about it really.

But I get it, open most of the astrology books and you'll see chapters called that way. Why? Because it's easier to publish something that's shorter aka simpler for the reader (actually that was one of Dobyns' reasoning behind spreading that approach). That’s why I said it’s lazy. And someone would argue that it’s easier to learn this way - because the information is compressed into 12 sections (signs) instead of 24 (signs+houses) or even more if you include delineations of every house ruled by each sign. Like, “well if I memorize the meaning of Cancer and Moon then automatically I’ll also memorize the 4th house”. But in fact, it’s so limiting in the long run and then forces you to unlearn what you have learnt, which is actually harder than taking the time and grasping the proper meaning right away. And again, with time it warps the meaning of everything.

Saying house=sign completely discredits the purpose of even having houses. And then on top of that it leads to people not understanding their own charts because they don't know the core meanings of the houses and instead look at them through the lens of signs. "I have planets in Gemini but I'm not that talkative and extroverted". Well okay, where are those planets? Are they in the 7th? Then maybe they're not talking about you but about people you come in contact with? Are they in the 4th? Well maybe it's your fam that has those qualities? The 11th? Are your friends like that? Houses are areas of your life, you can't say "Moon in the 3rd or Moon in Gemini" - Moon is "how", house is "where" - these are not the same things, even if they have a few traits in common. 

Ok, rant over, bye.

[oldtowrs]

˗ˏˋ LOVELY PRESENCE; obi-wan kenobi x handmaiden!reader

SUMMARY - the reader, a handmaiden and obi-wan’s love, visits the jedi temple to spend a last evening together before obi-wan is sent on a mission to corellia, and finds him in the middle of training. needless to say, obi-wan throws caution to the wind and shameless fluff ensues

WORD COUNT - ~4.3k

A/N - ayyy... its more of my golden boy, haha. i don’t know what you all expected really. this is really just shameless fluff for fluff’s sake. i hope you all enjoy. and please i don’t want to get any comments saying ‘they could’ve gotten caught, blah blah.’ yes i know, that’s the point. i said shameless fluff did i not? small font and no caps is intentional. and for the story’s sake, just pretend that no one saw obi-wan and the reader, okay? okay. also i’m going to tag @obaewankenobis and @karasong / @hellotherekenobi bc they liked the excerpt i posted from this piece. here’s the full thing enjoy :)

WARNINGS - obi-wan in a tank top. i said what i said. 

coruscant shone golden in the last rays of the setting afternoon sun. the buildings, huge pillars of metal and glass, reflected the golden light every which way, illuminating the many hovercraft that flew through the coruscanti airspace, looking like little trails of stardust in the sky. the sky, with its painted gradient of vibrant hues, and clouds which interrupted the color in such elegant ways, acted as a beautiful backdrop for the gleaming city.

as padme’s advisor and handmaiden, you had seen many beautiful sunsets and sunrises, the sun rising from or melting into one of the many beautiful lakes of naboo. but none of them could’ve paralleled the gleaming grandeur of coruscant, the seat of power of the republic, in her final golden hour.

but even as you admired the beauty of the city-planet, you knew there was a beauty more divine than that of naboo and of coruscant and of the whole inner rim combined: and he was standing before you in the gardens of the jedi temple,wielding his lightsaber in preparation for the mission he was to depart on come morning. his auburn hair fell into his slightly freckled face, into his beautiful blue eyes that shone like a thousand stars, as he moved. his jedi robes had been laid upon a stone bench, discarded in the heat of training, leaving him in nothing but his dark trousers tucked into his leather boots, and a black, sleeveless undershirt. the shirt revealed his freckled shoulders and muscular arms as he swung his saber in arcs about him, and the sun seemed to both seep into his skin like honey and glow upon touching the lovely freckles surface. every part of him was awash in gold as the sun kissed his skin and danced about his beard and hair, turning the auburn strands into warm, roughspun gold.

he was beautiful in all that he was, strong and dedicated and driven by peace and focus, as a high ranking jedi master and general should be. he was a honeyed, shining golden in the brilliant sun. and he was all yours.

obi-wan.

then, in a moment he had turned to face you, his lightsaber spinning in a wide, elegant arc until the hilt came to a halt by his head, the end of the saber outstretched, opposing hand pointing directly at you. those beautiful blue eyes that you so dearly loved seemed to shine with the light of a thousand stars as his gaze met yours. a smile immediately lifted the corners of his lips. he hurriedly began to make his way towards you, dropping the saber to his side, the blade withdrawing into nothingness as he forged his way through the gardens.

‘darling!’

the endearment was almost a sigh of relief, of comfortability, as it passed his sweet lips and graced your ears with its soft tenor and lilt of his elegant coruscanti accent.

he clipped his lightsaber to the leather utility belt about his hips, before taking your face in his hands and placing his lips gently on yours. his thumbs traced delicate circles on your cheeks, and you felt him smile into the kiss as your heated blush rose to meet his touch. he smelled of his soaps and colognes, of his soft linens, of the garden, of him, of home and you couldn’t help but sigh into the kiss happily.

panic filled your heart as you suddenly pulled away from him, hands delicately wrapping around his forearms, as you tried reluctantly to pull out of the kiss that had you falling faster and faster into his lovely orbit.

‘obi-wan! someone might see!’

obi-wan's eyes turned soft, the stars in his eyes dimming only so his love could shine through. he pressed a kiss to your forehead, and while you were still worried about being caught kissing a jedi, risking everything obi-wan had ever known, you couldn’t help but melt into the kiss, into his touch. your hands, significantly smaller and more delicate than his, slid gently up his bare arms to cover his as they continued to caress circles upon circles of his love into your skin.

‘don’t worry, sweetling,’ he murmured, the words gentle against your forehead as they graced the space-though it was limited-between you two. ‘there’s no presence but yours for at least the next several hundred yards.’

it was true. what with the galactic war, the jedi order had been spread thin. even the jedi council hadn’t had a meeting at which all members were present for months; or at least that was what obi-wan told you in the quiet hours of the night in which he returned, from long days of maintaining the order of the galaxy, to his chambers-to the image of you tucked delicately beneath his linens or your silks. those were the hours before his words turned sugary sweet and more intimate and began to accompany a plethora of gentle kisses.

obi-wan, being the powerful jedi he was, would be able to sense the presence of another being as they moved through the force; and if he was comfortable enough to bring you close and pepper your face with butterfly-like kisses, then you supposed you could allow yourself to relax into his touch.

‘and as lovely as your presence is, darling,’ obi-wan began, his callouses gentle against your skin as he moved to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear. ‘whatever are you doing at the jedi temple?’

‘i was sent on official business by senator amidala,’ you said, raising your chin into the air haughtily, a note of pride taking hold in your voice.

‘and what might your business be, my lady,’ obi-wan said, drawing ever near as his hands drifted down your arms and the elegant silks sleeves of your dress until his fingers found and wove themselves between yours. his thumbs continued their circular escapades on the surface of your skin-which you now realized was growing just as honeyed as his in the afternoon light.

you’ve bewitched me, master kenobi.

‘to admire and oversee the activities of a certain jedi master who’s lovely presence i will miss dearly after he leaves my side to go hunt down clues of the sith and of battleships and criminals on somefar off planet,’ you said, admiring the way the deepening wrinkles at his eyes gathered beautifully as a smile grew upon his lips-those soft, pillowy lips that you could drown in forever.

‘admiring a jedi?’ obi-wan laughed heartily, the sound of it rich and loving against your ears. ‘on such sacred grounds as these? you must have some courage, darling.’

‘if i remember correctly, master kenobi,’ you hummed happily, his title and reputation falling sweet like rose petals from your lips, ‘it was you who just kissed me on such ‘sacred grounds.’’

and there he was, again, leaning in close, slanting his lips against yours as though it would be the last time he would get the chance to kiss you, to take your breath away with such a simple action, to make your heart melt beneath his gentle touch--like he needed the constant reassurance of your kiss to weather the cruelties of a galaxy at war. and when he pulled away, absolute adoration lingered there in his baby blue eyes, as though stars had imploded along the lines of your lips as he kissed you, and their stardust had collected in his shining blue irises so that they may always remember your beauty and the stars that danced about your skin like little shadows.

‘my stars, darling,’ he sighed, ‘i would kiss you for eternity if it meant the first thing i would see when my lips parted forms yours was the sweet beauty of your face. i would kiss you for an eternity and longer if it meant i got to be in your lovely presence for always and forever.’

‘obi-wan, love, you’re making it really hard not to dread your departure already,’ you sighed, pouting ever so slightly in the way that you knew would pull at obi-wan’s heartstrings.

‘don’t worry, little one. i’ll come back to you, whole and in need of your sweet kisses,’ obi-wan hummed, pressing another kiss to your forehead. ‘and it just so happens that i have been relieved of my duties for tonight to ready myself for the mission.’

‘and what might that preparation include, master kenobi,’ you asked teasingly, and watching him preen under your endearment. his station was something to be proud of, to have worked so hard, to have come from nothing and to now be a jedi master and general, and the best negotiator and diplomat the order had. he embodied all the code stood for: compassion, patience, discipline. and you knew that deep down, somewhere, hidden away with his immense love for you was a mild sense of pride at all he accomplished-though he would never let it show.

‘i was thinking of spending my time with a handmaiden i rather enjoy the presence of--a handmaiden i have formed quite the attachment to.’

‘she must be a very lucky woman then, to have the affections of someone as accomplished and as endearing as you.’

‘oh, but i am the luckiest man in the galaxy to love her and call her mine.’

your heart swelled at his words. his?

obi-wan leaned down to kiss you once more, this time his hands finding purchase in the cotton and silk that made up the back of your dress, splaying themselves about your back as though he were cradling you ever closer to his chest in an almost protective manner.

‘yes, darling.’ he managed in between the soft pillowy kisses he pressed to your lips, the tip of your nose, your cheeks and forehead, any part of you he could reach with those wonderful lips of his. ‘all mine.’

your hands rested against his chest, the thin material of his undershirt allowing you to feel the muscle which rippled beneath his beautifully freckled skin from years dedicated to his training and to the order. the fabric was soft as your fingers trailed down his chest, to his hips where the cool metal of his saber kissed your fingers.

‘teach me,’ you murmured, lips brushing against obi-wan’s as the words left your lips. confusion drew his eyebrows together, a small crease forming between them in a way you couldn’t help but adore.

‘teach you what, sweetling?’ he asked, voice velvety and soft against your ears.

‘teach me how to use a lightsaber.’

a smile took over those soft lips you so dearly loved, and a laugh erupted in the evening air. he was beautiful when he laughed, color painting his cheeks and his hair falling out of his face as he leaned his head back in his laughter. you would’ve admired the lovely sound and the way his eyes wrinkled at the corners had your words not been cause for it.

‘why are you laughing at me? i’ve fought to protect senator amidala on many occasions with both a blaster and vibroblades. why not a lightsaber? or did you forget i’ve been trained in close combat as well, master kenobi.’

‘i never said no, darling,’ obi-wan sighed, coming down from his laughter to press a gentle hand to your cheek, thumb tracing circles into your skin. ‘however, the thought of you with such civilized technology is quite a fearsome one indeed.’

‘please, obi-wan?’

obi-wan’s gaze softened, knowing in his heart that you meant too much to him to deny you any one of your many requests.

‘i suppose,’ he sighed, worry mingling with the warmth in his crystal blue gaze, as he begged of you, ‘just promise me you’ll be careful. i hate to even think about harm coming to you, much less see you harmed by my weapon and under my supervision.’

‘i promise.’

its then that his fingers find the palm of your hand, guiding it into his strong, calloused, yet gentle grasp, as he pulls you from the sanctuary of the temple and into the wild delicacy of the gardens. a soft click sounds and the cool metal of obi-wan’s saber kisses the tips of your fingers as he pulls you close and presses the saber into your delicate hands. he wraps your fingers around the hilt, and raises your hand to kiss your knuckles, his beard tickling the skin there.

‘this weapon is dangerous as it is beautiful, darling. do you understand?’

‘yes, my love.’

he pulls you into the clearing in the center of the gardens, stone tiles sturdy beneath your feet. soon his figure is wrapped around your, your back pressed firmly against the strong musculature of his chest as his strong, star-freckled arms wrap around your own, guiding your hands and body into a stance he deemed worthy of training in.

‘you must always be aware of your body in position to your saber,’ he explained, his voice low in its velvety depth as he buried his lips in your hair, the top of your head grazing his delicate cheekbones. ‘you must always be aware and precise in your movements. one wrong move could prove fatal.’

as much as you wanted to focus on his words, his close proximity was very distracting. the heady, musk of him overwhelmed your sense in the most pleasantly soft manner, and the delicate brush of his skin against yours was enough to set your nerves alight in blissful agony. you wanted to melt into him, to meld into the softness of his heart, the warmth of his being and voice. there was so much of him that you loved, and it was just so close… he was just so close.

‘focus your thoughts, darling,’ he chuckled sweetly, the deep tenor of his voice rumbling softly in his chest as he pressed a sweet kiss to the crown of your head, into the softness of your hair.

‘sorry,’ you said sheepishly. sometimes you forgot just how strong his connection with the force was, and how he could read you like an open book. of course, you’d given him permission to do so--convincing him that you were okay with having his loving presence in your consciousness, that it wasn’t an invasion of your privacy. you had had to convince him that having his warmth in the corners of your mind was one of the most comforting feelings you’d ever known, that is wasn’t a burden or an overreach or a breach of your trust.

‘it’s okay, sweet one,’ he hums sweetly. ‘just focus on my movements.’

his hands wrapped around yours, pressing them into the hilt as he tilted the end of it away from you. blue light filled your field of vision as he ignited it.

‘this is called a low guard. it's a good place to start dueling, as you can move any which way from this position’ obi-wan explained, the passion for his practice and the dedication to his order seeping into the softness of his voice, turning the tone sweeter than honey. ‘focus on fluidity, and precision, darling. yes, perfect. now bring it down to your side, and up in an arc.’

obi-wan’s praise was enough to send your head spinning, and your heart reeling with contentment. there was nowhere else in the whole galaxy you wanted to be than in obi-wan kenobi’s arms, the callousness and softness of his hands pressed firmly into your own as he guided your hand down into a steep arc before bringing it down to the opposite side. his arm crossed over your body in a way that was reminiscent of the way he would wrap his arms languidly about your waist so as to hug you in the way he loved to in the early hours of the morning in which the two of you woke in the others chambers as the sun’s rays just began to kiss the clouds high above. your heart fluttered like a thousand butterflies pushing against the limits of your lungs in a campaign for freedom-a freedom to press your face into his chest, to give him a kiss for every star-freckled blemish upon his skin.

‘and that would be a basic defensive maneuver,’ he hummed, interrupting your wandering thoughts before guiding you through the motion a couple times to work it into your muscle memory. his tutelage continued on like this until the sky was only lit by the last remnants of the sunset.

‘let me try,’ you whispered into the small space between you. he let go, his skin leaving its precious contact with yours as your nerves almost screamed for him to come back.

you tried some of the maneuvers on your own, getting a feeling for the balance of the elegant weapon in your own hands. it was similar to its dagger analog, a defensive art you had learned upon padme’s admission into the senate. a smirk pulled at the side of your lips as an idea formed in your mind. just beware of the blade, obi wasn’t voice echoed in your memory.

quickly, you began the maneuver, turning around and wielding the blade in a flourishing so that it came to rest by your head in the way obi-wan had done upon your arrival to the jedi gardens.

mild panic and pride mixed beautifully in obi-wan’s face, pulling at it in ways that gently tugged at the light wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. obi-wan would be lying if he said that his heart did not jump into his throat in fear that something would go wrong, that you would hurt yourself in your playfulness. however, when he saw you, alive and unscathed, pride gleaming in your eyes as the flourish put him in a position that would’ve won you a battle, he couldn't have been more proud of you-his love wielding his lightsaber as if it was what you were born to do.

‘how’s my form, master kenobi?’ mischief dripped from your words, his title slipping off your honeyed tongue so elegantly that it elicited a delicate warmth in his chest, and a heated redness to his cheeks.

with a flick of his finger, the blade disappeared into the hilt, into nothingness, under his deft manipulation of the force, before he reached for you, pulling your small, delicate form into his. his arms wrapped around you, the silks and chiffons of your simple dress kissing his arms as he pulled you into him and placed his lips sweetly-albeit a little forcefully-in a kiss that melted both your heart and his own.

‘and when i thought you possibly occupy and melt any more of my heart, you’ve found a way to prove me wrong.’ he hummed into the small space between you, the vibrations and soft brushes of the suppleness of his lips delicate and heartwarming against yours

his heart felt as though it collapsed like a dying star before being reborn again as you buried your face into the warmth of his chest, his exposed skin soft against yours. one hand found purchase among the soft strands of the hair at the back of your head, as the other wrapped around your waist and pulled you ever closer against him. he pressed yet another kiss to your forehead, pushing his feeling of pride and love to you through the force.

‘it was utterly perfect, darling,’ he hummed sweetly, before pulling you from his chest and reclaiming his lightsaber from your deadly, yet delicate hands. ‘i knew you would be a terrifying force to be reckoned with, but i didn’t know you would look so beautiful doing it.’

at that, your heart swelled with pride, a smile tugging at your lips and a blush rising to consume your cheeks and tips of your ears. obi-wan couldn’t help but smile down at you-- the warmth which radiated from your heart and your soul and into the force for him to perceive was too sweet not to.

‘oh, obi-wan,’ you sighed, ‘i don’t deserve your kind words.’

‘you deserve the universe and more,’ obi-wan cooed, his delicate touch finding its way to your heated cheek as he moved to cradle it in his large, gentle palm, heart melting as tears of pure happiness stung your eyes as you melted into his touch. ‘my high praise is the least you deserve.’

‘obi-wan, will you spend the night with me? or can i spend the night with you? i don’t believe i can bare to part with you right now.’

‘i wouldn’t miss the chance to be in your lovely presence for the whole corellian system, darling.’ obi-wan hummed, thumb tracing its familiar patterns once more.

‘obi-wan,’ his name was soft-barely a whisper- on our tongue as you said it: the name of the jedi master you loved so dearly. ‘must you make it so very unbearable to part from you every time the war leads you away from coruscant… away from me?’

obi-wan’s gaze softened into sadnesses he dropped his gaze to his hands as they moved to hold yours, to feel their softness once more. he knew you missed him when he had to leave on these missions and risk their unknown circumstances. he dreaded the moment when he finally boarded the transport, slipping out of your sight as you watched from some hidden place in the jedi temple or the senate buildings. he could feel the pain your heart brought you in those moments as it radiated through the force. he would do anything to kiss away the tears that would form in worry at the corners of your eyes, to comfort you in his warm embrace, to wrap you up in his cloak and hold you close for eternity.

but he couldn’t. the many walls of steel, glass and space that separated you from him were too great to physically abound. so instead he would send you a sweet message of comfort over your commlinks, and press his thoughts and feelings into the back of his mind, into the depths of his heart. he would miss you, but his feelings would always act as his motivation, and he would always come back to you. obi-wan had lost so many people in his own life. he would never willingly put you through that pain of losing him. so he would fight valiantly and efficiently, cutting down the enemy or gathering intel in the manner that would certainly return him to you in the quickest and safest manner possible.

‘i promise i don’t do it willingly, my sweet’ he sighed, his voice soft and as comforting as he possibly could--though you didn’t miss the note of sadness that lined the edges of his words. gently, his hands pulled you close to him, so that there was barely any space between the two of you. one left your grasp to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear with great care and delicacy before resting his forehead against yours. your eyes fluttered shut in tandem with his, as to let the soft sensation of him so close to you overwhelm your senses.

and then his voice was warm and pleasant as it formed in your mind, as clear as your own.

i swear to you, my darling, for every time i leave you behind, i will always come back to you. i will not leave you alone in this galaxy by yourself. not ever.

your eyes fluttered open at the formation of the words, only to find his beautiful blue eyes staring sweetly into yours, into your heart.

‘and i’ll always be waiting for you upon your return, my love.’

‘i know, darling,’ he hummed graciously. ‘i know.’

and then, as the sun’s rays faded and the dark of night began to set in, in the safety and sanctuary of the verdant gardens about you, obi-wan kenobi kissed you, soft and sweet as his hands found the curvature of your cheek and the warmth of your body with his own. he kissed you, stardust dancing about your lips at his gentle caresses, in the safety of the gardens, where no one could separate you from him, where he could show you a small fraction of his love for you without the burden of the galaxy’s prying eyes.

‘what do you say i gather my things aboard the transport, and i’ll meet you in your chambers in, say-half an hour?’ he hummed, brownish auburn eyebrows tilting upwards as he gazed lovingly into your eyes, asking for your permission to occupy your time with his own sweet and lovely presence.

‘i’d like that very much,’ you smiled, revelling in the way a boyish grin covered his now slightly swollen lips. he parted from you to gather his robes hurriedly before returning to your side, to press three quick kisses, to your cheek, your forehead and, finally, your lips.

‘half an hour, then, my darling.’

and sure enough, there he was, standing in your doorway half an hour later, ready to scoop you up in his strong arms and spin you about with pure, love-filled elation. his lips would cover your face, your neck and collarbones, your shoulders-anywhere his lips could find the sweet pleasure of your soft exposed skin.

and for the rest of the night, he was yours-nuzzling his face into the comforts of your stomach as he cuddled into you, wrapping his arms around you in the most loving way, kissing you like you were the oxygen in his lungs, the blood in his veins, and the stardust which made up his being.

and when he left on the transport the next morning, your heart ached at the loving smile that pulled at his lips when his eyes met yours. and somehow you knew, all would be alright, that he would return to you in three-cycle’s time to kiss you and love you all over again.

i will come back to you, my lovely darling. i promise

[ahgaseda]

aura | three

driving me crazy, look in my eyes, follow me, come here, dance with me now, I’m gonna make you feel like that...

summary : back again at a camp for kids that can’t behave, you are still brokenhearted over your ill-fated romance with Jaebeom, until your friend Jackson offers to help make your ex jealous in exchange for helping him land the most unattainable girl at camp.

warnings : strong profanity, explicit dialogue, recurring alcohol or recreational drug use, graphic sexual content, brief mentions of illegal activities, potentially triggering elements involving toxic relationships and emotional manipulation, etc.

miniseries chapters : one / two / three / four / five / six / seven

Every step down the path was slowed by dread and anxiety. The auditorium sat on a small hill, looming over the rest of the camp, and the sight made your stomach turn each time you laid eyes on it.

Such an unassuming building and yet it still shot nerves through you.

Entering through the double doors, you were blasted by air conditioning, which was a bit excessive with the crisp morning air. You simpered when you made eye contact with a few of the other campers. It was a small group, as to be expected for these little sessions.

Then, your gaze shifted to the wall where Jaebeom was leaning back and had just looked up at the sound of the door opening.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you groaned, wanting to march right back out. Fate was such a cruel bitch.

Jaebeom cocked his head at your reaction, following you with his eyes, and asked sweetly, “Sleep well?”

“Yes,” you replied, curt, avoiding his stare.

Jaebeom shifted closer and whispered, “Did you think of me last night?”

If only you knew how you had filled his thoughts and dreams. Those kisses in the pool still made his heart race.

Smirking with a chance to torment him, you retorted, “Not even once. My mind is full of Jackson and how good his head looked between my thighs.”

Jaebeom frowned, the blood draining from his face. Hearing about your escapades with Jackson made him insane, like being dragged through pieces of broken glass.

“That bastard,” Jaebeom huffed under his breath.

Your arrogance faded and you turned somber. Part of you realized that you were giving yourself away to spite him. It was like trying to heal a burn by directly applying more fire.

Doctor Ambrose stepped inside, greeting everyone with her signature smile. “Good morning. Are we ready to begin?”

No one was. Not one of these poor souls wanted to discuss their daddy or mommy issues in group form. But it was mandated by the camp and having been attending for many years, you were accustomed to dodging.

You and the others followed Doctor Ambrose into the main auditorium, approaching a ring of folding chairs waiting on the stage. You swallowed the lump in your throat and avoided a look at Jaebeom as you took a seat.

This was the room where it happened - where you surrendered your virtuous flower. Blah, blah, blah, you thought to yourself. Eventually, you were going to have to come to terms with the fact you were less bitter about losing your virginity and more broken at having lost your heart.

The theater was the one place no one bothered to lock after curfew since it was solely used for group sessions and the occasional motivational speech, but if someone did remember to lock up, the door code was common knowledge. Guys went there to blaze up. Girls went to sneak drinks.

Jaebeom had brought you inside. The relationship had grown and was leading to a physical consummation of your feelings for each other. You knew exactly what would happen. After all, you had snuck out of your cabin in the middle of the night to meet a boy beneath the stars.

You let him lay you down on the stage, behind the heavy velvet curtain. Jaebeom at least had the wherewithal to put his jacket down for you to rest on.

You stole a glance of the shadow behind the curtain, not too far from where you sat, and your expression soured. You could still remember the rampant beating of your heart when Jaebeom kissed you with all he had and laid you down beneath him.

The memory raced across your mind in steady bursts. Your eyes burned at how gentle he had been with you, how loving. Jaebeom convinced you that he was madly in love and that there was a future between you and him.

And you were such a fool to believe it. You were over the moon thinking you had finally found love in the most unlikely of places. With someone you trusted. Someone you considered a friend.

Taking a deep breath, you were officially angry.

The time spent with Jackson had taken off the rose-colored glasses. You were able to see your affair with Jaebeom for what it was. And though you were still hopelessly in love with him, you were mad as hell for what he had done to you.

Doctor Ambrose called your name and began, “Let’s start with you. Why don’t you tell us the behavior that warranted your presence back at camp this year?”

You crossed your legs and sang, “Oh, where to begin, Doc? I lied. I cheated. I stole. Short of murder, my rap sheet is long.”

“You’ve been coming here for many years and you know that’s not what these sessions are about,” she chided, giving you a stern look. “Skip the bravado and get straight to the real talk.”

You narrowed your eyes. Ambrose always did hit the nail on the head. That’s why she was one of the few people at this godforsaken place that held everyone’s respect. Which was impressive in its own right since you and your fellow rich, troubled kids had very little respect for anyone.

But if Doctor Ambrose thought you were going to bear your soul to a room full of people that didn’t give a damn about you - Jaebeom included - she was sorely mistaken.

You sighed and continued, “I’m sure it’s common knowledge by now that I had a terrible lapse in judgement last summer and that lapse in judgement had a lot of unforeseen consequences.”

Jaebeom was unmoving in his seat, but his eyes were heavy on you.

Ambrose gave you her undivided attention and spoke softly, “Go on.”

You shrugged, hoping to hide just how miserably the words were coming from your mouth. “I lashed out. I cycled through all of my emotions and when they were too painful, I did something bad. Something that distracted me from how angry or hurt I was. Classic reckless human behavior.”

Her response was blunt, but genuine, “It’s called self-destructive behavior and you were punishing yourself for the pain someone else inflicted on you.”

You studied her, wanting to smack this woman across the face for defining you in a single sentence. “Forget psychiatrist,” you scoffed. “You’re a psychic.”

“I know you,” Ambrose said tenderly. “And you are not defined by your mistakes.”

You rolled your eyes, though you would love to believe that. “We all are, Doctor Ambrose,” you told her morosely. Then, your tone shifted, “Now, please take the spotlight off of me before I do something bad. Like I said, it’s what I’m known for.”

Ambrose exhaled loudly, conflicted, but decided not to push you. Turning to the next participant, she called, “Jaebeom, your turn.”

Jaebeom was still looking at you.

“Why don’t you tell us the activities that landed you back for yet another summer here?”

Jaebeom grumbled, “I’m a dick. The end.”

A few of the other attendees chortled.

“Jaebeom, everyone here knows you’re more complex than that,” Ambrose shot back.

“Am I?”

She cocked her head. “You don’t think so.”

“Ask her,” Jaebeom said, waving his hand in your direction. “Everyone knows what I did.”

You didn’t dare look at him, offering no absolution. You kept your gaze firmly rooted to Doctor Ambrose, who was now glancing between the two of you suspiciously.

Tapping her pen, Ambrose ordered, “After this group session I want to see both of you in my office.”

Your heart sank and you pleaded, “But, Doctor Ambrose…”

“Moving on,” she cut you off.

You folded your arms tightly across your chest in defiance, stiff in your seat. Jaebeom stretched out his legs and braced his arms on his thighs, keeping his head low.

Tuning out the conversations going around the circle of other campers discussing their toxic and sometimes illegal activities, you could only think about how angry you were. How it was billowing and growing inside of you until it threatened to burst.

Though Jaebeom was in the seat beside yours, he felt an entire world away. What had you done to him to deserve this? And for fuck’s sake, why couldn’t you stop loving him? If you fell in love with someone, couldn’t you ultimately fall back out?

Stealing a glance in the corner of your eye, Jaebeom looked up at that same moment and your eyes met. You looked away immediately, bitter and vengeful, but Jaebeom persisted. For someone who prided himself on being set in his ways, he couldn’t stand how you spun him on his edge.

You made him want to risk it all.

When the group session ended, Ambrose twirled the pen between her fingers and said, “I suppose we can forgo my office and just speak here.”

“We have nothing to talk about,” Jaebeom spoke up, venomous.

“I think there’s plenty,” she asserted, studying you intently. “Wanna tell me about it?”

Your eyes glistened when they met hers. You wanted to tell her she was right. That you had punished yourself for a year because you fell for a boy - the wrong boy. It was stupid. It was juvenile. And you resented yourself to hell and back for it.

“You wouldn’t understand,” you finally murmured, voice shaky.

She smiled, comforting. “Try me.”

Jaebeom could see you were about to crack. He could hear the weakness seeping into your words. Running a hand through his hair, he blurted out, “It’s my fault.”

Ambrose questioned levelly, “How so?”

“Be quiet,” you hissed.

“I fucked up,” Jaebeom confessed.

“Language,” she corrected loosely.

Jaebeom frowned. “I seduced her. I convinced her I was in love.”

“And were you?”

“No, I…,” Jaebeom trailed, like he couldn’t bring himself to say it. “I don’t know.”

You glared with nothing short of loathing at the floor.

Ambrose was putting the pieces together and she didn’t hesitate to scold, “What was your purpose, Jaebeom? What were you trying to achieve?”

Jaebeom paused a moment. Then, he finally admitted, “I was trying to get her into bed.”

Ambrose clocked a glance at you and said, “I’m assuming you succeeded.”

Your breaths came faster. Your heart was revving like the engine of Jackson’s blood red Corvette. Any minute you were going to explode.

“I went too far,” Jaebeom mulled, scratching his head. “I had never gone that far before, but I was addicted. I had no idea it would… I didn’t know she would…”

“You’re full of shit,” you snapped.

Doctor Ambrose called your name, giving you the same warning about profanity.

You leveled your scowl at Jaebeom, who had already bowed his head in submission or shame, and sneered, “I will never believe a word you say. You knew exactly what you were doing. You wanted someone to hurt as much as you hurt.”

Jaebeom still couldn’t meet your eyes. Pathetic, he thought to himself, but he couldn’t face your wrath. He couldn’t see the pain manifested on your beautiful face.

“Congratulations,” you continued, rising to your feet. “I know how you feel and I almost derailed my life because of you!”

Ambrose held out a hand amicably. “Please, sit.”

“No, I’m out of here,” you barked, gritting your teeth to keep the tears at bay. “And if you plan on physically making me stay in the same room with this asshole a minute longer, my stepfather’s attorneys would love to blow this shit wide open.”

Doctor Ambrose gave you a nod and sat back down.

Your steps echoed through the frigid silence of the auditorium and you nearly knocked the doors off their hinges when you pushed them open to escape outside.

When you had gone, Jaebeom exhaled heavily.

Ambrose looked at him. She could see the guilt weighing down his shoulders and though she didn’t want to take pity on him after what you had just revealed, compassion was a cornerstone of who she was as a person.

“Jaebeom, it goes without saying, but I’m going to say it,” Ambrose whispered for his ears only. “Breaking other people doesn’t fix you.”

Jaebeom stood to full height without another word and skulked away, hiding his teary eyes behind his long black hair.

“The nerve of that bitch! I know that she knows what happened last summer,” you vented, pacing back and forth in front of Jackson as he sat on the edge of the bed. “Everyone on the east coast knows by now. I had to hear about it for the first month of school on a daily basis!”

“I know,” Jackson replied patiently.

You tried to mimic the voices of the nosy, gossiping girls back home, “‘Can you believe she spread her legs for him? Did she really think he loved her? I thought she was smart. Turns out she’s a dumb whore like the rest of us!’”

Jackson grimaced. He remembered that morning, when you told him you slept with Jaebeom. You were so happy, so sure of what you wanted. And he knew it was going to unravel, leaving you holding all the pieces. “No one said that.”

“Everyone said that, Jacks! Admit it,�� you yelled.

Of course, they did. Jackson had never threatened so many people in his life. Jackson had a lot of friends, but he only had one best friend. Whenever they spoke of you and Jaebeom, it made his skin crawl. Made his fists clench on instinct.

He was supposed to protect you.

Jackson rose from the bed, grasping your arms and staring you in the face. “Who cares what other people say? I sure as shit don’t!”

You cast your gaze down, shifting from angry to sad. “And he really sat there acting like he didn’t think I would take it so personally,” you whispered, trembling.

Jackson gathered you in his arms, squeezing tight. “He’s an idiot. It is known,” he quipped dryly.

You pulled back and sighed, “Maybe we should just fuck.”

Jackson frowned, but quickly hid his disappointment with a swift, “I’m not in the mood.”

You quirked a brow. “Seriously?”

Jackson released you and teased, “Yeah, I’m not a faucet.”

You let a smirk play at your lips and reached for his belt. “What if I…”

Jackson grabbed your wrists and chided you so sternly you almost faltered, “Listen. You are more than sex. You understand me?”

There were very few occasions Jackson reprimanded you and he always snared your full attention when it happened. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you murmured, “...Okay.”

Jackson simpered. “You don’t need to fuck. You need a hug.”

You chuckled, squeaking in surprise when he pulled you to his chest faster than you thought possible. You smiled, burying your face against his neck as he enveloped you in his embrace.

It was exactly what you needed.

You set your hands to his shoulders, feeling burly muscles underneath. Jackson always radiated heat and energy, and you were content to let him hold you forever. Jackson was warmth and safety.

He was home.

After a moment, you blurted to alleviate the tension, “Can we go get food?”

Jackson exclaimed, “I thought you’d never ask.”

The two of you walked arm in arm to the mess hall. It had been ungodly, the hour you woke to attend your group therapy session, but it meant you were starving for breakfast and the smell that hit your nose when you entered the dining room made you salivate on the spot.

Approaching the line, Jackson said, “Damn it. I forgot to tell you I’m sitting with Yeona today.”

“Oh,” you replied, remembering you didn’t get a chance to talk to him much after you had pounced on him. “I take it everything went well last night.”

“Yeah, we hit it off. I’m laying the groundwork.”

You rolled your eyes. Part of you was rooting in Yeona’s corner, that she stick to her guns and save herself for someone who loved her. The other part felt guilty as hell for being part of the same scheme that destroyed you last summer.

Pushing those thoughts aside, you told him, “I think I want some alone time to myself anyway. I’ll sit in the corner.”

Jackson eyed you worriedly. “Are you sure? I can totally blow her off.”

“Positive,” you insisted, beaming at the gesture. “Go with Yeona. You two would make a really cute couple.”

“Ha. Ha,” said Jackson in mock laughter.

Together you got your food and then parted in the aisleway. Yeona smiled when Jackson joined her by the window and you vaguely wished happiness for them. Jackson wasn’t like Jaebeom. 

Maybe Yeona would be good for Jackson. She could help him work through his commitment issues. You had seen firsthand what his parents’ marriage had done to him. It was no surprise he broke off relationships as soon as they started to become serious.

Taking the empty table in the corner, you backed against the wall. Pulling a magazine out of your purse, you placed it next to your tray and opened to a random page, biting into your toasted bagel.

Jaebeom leaned against the adjacent door frame, hands in his pockets. He was sporting his trademarked leather jacket and his hair had strayed into his eyes while watching you.

He was at war with himself over what to say.

First and foremost he wanted to apologize, but Lim Jaebeom had way too much pride for that. Secondly, he considered offering you a better deal than whatever Jackson was giving you, but given your furor at the group session, Jaebeom knew better than to stoke your wrath again.

Jaebeom thought of all those times last summer when he caught himself staring at you. How could someone so beautiful and amazing be interested in the likes of him? You were confident and fearless, a little rough around the edges with a heart of gold. You were everything he aspired to be and you brought out the best in him without even knowing it.

By then, Jaebeom was in too deep. He could feel himself falling for you and he forbade himself from ever putting his heart on the line. And so he cut you loose.

Jaebeom remembered your face when he spoke those words. I never loved you. The joy left your face. The light fled your eyes. With four words, he had broken someone completely and it kept him awake at night.

Sex was a release for him. No more, no less. Jaebeom could fuck a girl and never see her again afterward, and it wouldn’t bother him for a second. After her - the woman that loved and left him - Jaebeom didn’t attach sex with emotion and certainly not intimacy or commitment.

Then, he had you. Suddenly, he wanted to wake up to you in the morning. He wanted to fall asleep in your arms every night. He didn’t fuck you… he made love to you. He felt passion for the first time in a long time. When it was over, he didn’t want to leave like he had always done. And that scared the shit out of him.

Jaebeom realized you had begun to heal him and he panicked.

Even now, Jaebeom wanted you back. He needed another chance. His first instinct was always to run when he felt emotions he didn’t understand, but he could fight back this time. He could change for you, couldn’t he?

When Jaebeom slid into the seat beside you, you weren’t the least bit surprised.

“What are you reading?” he asked nonchalantly, picking up the magazine and fanning the pages.

“Chick magazine,” you deadpanned. “There’s an article in there on Ten Ways to Achieve Female Orgasm. You should read it.”

Another snide jab at his bedroom skills. Jaebeom wrinkled his nose, but rebuffed you, “I only got one round with you. How do you know I couldn’t give you the best loving of your life?”

It was a provocative thought. You felt your heart stutter a little, but your mind was fully in control now, and you shot back, “Because I don’t think you know what love is.”

Jaebeom met your eyes and this time, you didn’t back down. “You know what I meant,” he huffed.

“So, I’m a mind reader now? Good to know,” you retorted, acerbic.

Jaebeom turned to you, leaning in and whispering, “Tonight. After curfew. Sneak out with me.”

You shook your head, mouth full of food. Swallowing, you told him coolly, “I have a regularly scheduled dick appointment with Jackson.”

“Cancel it,” Jaebeom said, appearing unaffected though it made him want to destroy Jackson a thousand times over. “I’ll have some wine. We can go to the lookout. You know, like old times.”

You scowled at him and yet, you wanted nothing more than to go back to those old times. Before you were stupid. Before you fell in love with him.

“Give me one good reason,” you hissed, taking a sip of your orange juice.

Jaebeom shifted, like the words pained him. More from pride than anything else. “I just want to talk to you. I miss you. As a friend.”

You didn’t say anything, but you shuffled your attention between him and Jackson. The latter was making Yeona laugh heartily and you felt a twinge of jealousy. Not from a place of malice, but a protectiveness over your best friend.

Jackson would tell you not to. He would tell Jaebeom to take a fucking hike.

Angling back to Jaebeom, you warned, “If you so much as grab my boob, I will kick you in the balls and leave you there.”

Jaebeom smiled, but quickly fought it. “That’s fair.”

“What time?”

“Eleven.”

You nodded. “Okay, I’ll meet you at the spot.”

Jaebeom rose and you were sad to see him go, but he added, “Nah, I will come to your cabin and get you. I don’t want you walking at night alone.”

You rolled your eyes. “Chivalry isn’t dead after all.”

Jackson stitched his brows, having listened to you recount the exchange to him back at his cabin.

“Of course, chivalry is dead,” your best friend exclaimed incredulously. “He killed it.”

“Jacks, please,” you whined. “He just wants to talk.”

“No, he doesn’t,” Jackson countered firmly and he looked a heartbeat away from combusting. “He hates that you’re sleeping with me. It’s jealousy. Plain and simple.”

You propped your hands on your hips, frustrated from arguing with him. “Wasn’t that the plan? To make him come after me again?”

Jackson remembered what had started all of this in the first place and he changed his tune. “Right, yeah, but this is just going the same route as last summer. You see that, right?”

“No, it’s not. I’m wiser now.”

Jackson approached briskly, taking you in his arms and roaming his hands around your waist. “You could just stay here with me,” he coaxed, voice a low growl. “I can eat that pussy like it’s my last meal.”

You snorted a laugh, but slipped out of his arms. “Nice try, but you were right. I’m more than just sex and I need to see where his head is at.”

Jackson sighed in defeat.

“Don’t wait up for me tonight,” you called back to him as you slipped through the door.

Jackson watched you go and stood rooted in place. Fuck, he was conflicted. Every instinct he had told him to stop you, but how could he? What right did he have to you in the first place?

He was just the guy you fucked to get back at another guy.

Jackson exhaled loudly through his nose. He could feel himself slipping, losing his nerve. Even when he sat with Yeona, making her smile and laugh, and noticing she leaned into his touches, his eyes still wandered to you. And when Jaebeom had appeared by your side, Jackson could feel his heart sinking into the bottom of his stomach.

Jackson reminded himself of the deal. He would get Yeona and you would get Jaebeom. That was it. Those were the terms you both agreed on and thus far, everything was going quite smoothly.

But Jackson was thinking of you and now he was thinking of Jaebeom touching you. And it made him want to die.

The day passed by at a glacial pace. By the time night fell, you began the long, arduous process of doing your hair and makeup. When there was a knock at the door, you had to stop yourself from sprinting across the room to answer.

Instead, you made his ass wait.

“Hey,” you greeted, stepping through and shutting the door behind you a moment later.

“Hey,” Jaebeom replied, scanning you over. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you,” you said sweetly, noting the backpack slung over his shoulder. “What you got back there?”

“None of your business,” he teased. “Ready to go?”

You pursed your lips, watching Jaebeom turn and stride away, expecting you to follow. Which, of course, you did.

The lookout was a small patch of open field between the trees. It was the perfect spot for stargazing and late night makeout sessions. You and Jaebeom had spent many hours in this place. As did you and Jackson.

It was a place of clarity and self-reflection. Something about seeing the stars so clearly, away from the noise and smog of the city, made you feel a sense of belonging. That everything would be okay. Sooner or later.

Jaebeom dropped his backpack and began rifling through it. Reading your mind, he called, “Don’t sit yet.”

You were about to complain, but then he stood and fanned out a red flannel blanket, smoothing out the corners over the grass.

“Now, you can sit.”

You almost chuckled, but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. Plopping down, you overlapped your ankles and watched him take the spot beside you.

“Wow, this is actually romantic,” you smarted, monotonous.

Jaebeom popped open the bottle of wine and took a swig. “I’m full of surprises,” he quipped, handing you the bottle.

A bit perturbed he had neglected to bring separate glasses, you took a sip and countered bitterly, “Not really. I remember all the romantic gestures and sweet words of last summer.”

Jaebeom sighed. So did he.

He had taken something so precious and innocent and filled it with poison. Jaebeom could have walked away at any point. And even worse, when all was said and done, he could have stayed.

There was a lull of silence and you didn’t mind. Jaebeom studied the stars, feigning interest. You turned your head, looking at his profile alight with the glow of the moon.

“Jaebeom, why did you bring me here?”

Jaebeom swallowed and whispered, “I hate myself for what I did to you.”

You frowned. “And what about all the other girls?”

Jaebeom shook his head, remorseful only for you. “They weren’t naive. They weren’t inexperienced,” he explained, somber. “They weren’t my friends. They weren’t you.”

You narrowed your eyes. The anger was pooling in your belly again. And your next question was scathing, “So, what sets me apart is that you hurt me the most?”

“Yes,” Jaebeom said, feeling small. “And you didn’t deserve it.”

You cried, “Why me?”

“You were the holy grail. Every guy wanted you.”

Biting back tears, you whimpered, “You talk about me like I’m not a person.”

Jaebeom realized that and he looked away, mulling over if he could put his feelings into words for once. “Would you believe me if I said that looking back I meant the things I said to you - that I loved every moment we spent together last summer?”

You thought about it for a moment and then you answered, “No. It’s what I’ve wanted you to say and yet. . . I don’t believe you. Everything you said and did was the means to an end.”

Jaebeom didn’t deny it. “I thought so, too. But when I got home, you were all I could think about. I wanted to see you and hold you. I missed having you in my life.”

The tears were flowing freely now and you turned your head away.

Jaebeom came closer, cupping your cheek and wiping the tears with his thumb.

You sobbed, “Why did you do this?”

“Shh, baby,” he whispered under his breath.

“You hate yourself for hurting me. I hate myself for loving you.”

Jaebeom felt like a gaping open wound, one that refused to heal. And yet your pain surpassed his own. He would rather writhe in misery than see you crying in his arms. Knowing that he had driven you this far.

“You were right,” he choked out. “I wanted you to know hurt the way I did. I envied you. You never let anyone get to you. I thought in some twisted way I wouldn’t be alone and I could finally move past what happened to me.”

You could feel yourself falling for it again and you lowered your head.

“I’m sorry,” Jaebeom finally said.

Those words you had wanted for so long and they did nothing for you. They didn’t fix you. They didn’t numb the pain. They didn’t restore what had been taken.

You pushed his arms away and got to your feet, wiping the tears with the back of your hand. Stomping toward the gravel path, Jaebeom was hot on your heels, calling your name.

When he grabbed your arms and spun you back around to face him, you yelled, “Let me go, Jaebeom.”

“Tell me what to do,” he pleaded. “Tell me what you need me to do!”

“Break this fucking spell,” you shouted back at him. “Make me hate you. Because I love you and it’s killing me!”

That was the last thing Jaebeom wanted. He was consumed by you. There were those words again and Jaebeom couldn’t stand it. No one had ever loved him, much less fallen in love with him, and he didn’t know what to do.

So, he gathered you in his arms and melded his lips to yours. You didn’t hesitate to kiss him back hard, carding your fingers into his hair.

Jaebeom held your waist and hips snugly, trapping you to him. You pressed yourself to his chest and tugged on his hair, earning a groan. You slipped your tongue past his lips and Jaebeom made a noise at your aggression. He could taste the salt of your tears.

This was stupid, you thought to yourself. You just never learned, did you? But God, kissing him was amazing. You let your hands fall from his head to roam his shoulders, pressing your nails into his shirt. You felt so small in his arms, like you were lost in him.

Jaebeom began to move, steering you with him back toward the blanket, still kissing you like his life depended on it. You weren’t surprised when he lay you down, but Jaebeom was beyond surprised when you wrestled him to his back and straddled his hips.

You wanted to grin at the shocked expression he was sporting, but you only caught a brief glimpse of his widened eyes before smashing your lips back on his.

You just wanted to kiss him and kiss him and kiss him until you were satisfied, satiated. Maybe then you could finally get on with your life. It was senseless logic, but all you knew was he kissed so fucking good. It made you crazy. Just like everything else about him.

For fuck’s sake, you would never understand why you were in love with the one thing determined to destroy you.

“Stop. Stop,” you suddenly told him, panting and breathless.

Jaebeom looked at your hand pressed to his chest, watching you sit up on top of him, and his heart sank. He knew that look. You were about to bolt.

“I can’t do this,” you whispered, more to yourself as you brushed your hair out of your face with your fingers.

Jaebeom stroked his palms up your thighs, clad in the tightest jeans he had ever seen, and coaxed, “Why?”

You blinked, thinking of an answer. There were many, but you were trying to invalidate them on the spot.

Jaebeom sat up, wrapping an arm around your hips and rocking you closer to him. “Tell me,” he mumbled, pressing a wet kiss to your neck.

Your eyes fluttered and you felt resolve melting away each time his lips touched over your racing pulse.

“You’ll leave me again,” you cried shakily.

Jaebeom shook his head, proceeding to suck beneath your ear. “I’m not going anywhere,” he growled.

You ran your hands through his hair, hips arching ever so slightly in search of friction. Your body was heating up, excitement pulsing through your veins. You craved him. Lust was a powerful thing, and now you truly understood.

“I am,” you said firmly, pushing him back with both hands and rising to your feet.

Jaebeom slumped back, disappointed and defeated, and shook his hair out of his eyes. Watching you walk away, he begged, “Please stop sleeping with Jackson.”

You turned to face him, lips parting incredulously.

Seeing your anger, he lowered his tone to something more pliant, but definitely snide. “Give me a chance to make things right before you let him get his claws in you.”

It only confirmed what Jackson had said. Jaebeom’s newfound pursuit of you was solely from a place of jealousy. Your best friend had been right and you were too blind to accept it.

“You really are the worst,” you snapped at him, heading back on your way.

Jaebeom shouted vengefully, “He doesn’t fucking deserve you!”

You kept walking and retorted with disdain, “Story of my life, it seems. I guess I only fuck guys that don’t deserve me.”

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[fun-with-colors]

Persona 5 Royal and “Poe’s Masquerade”

I recently (read: a few minutes ago) saw a post about how Beneath the Mask is a brilliant and tragic character study of Joker, and I felt compelled to talk about some of the awesome references in Persona 5 Royal (not sure if they’re all in the vanilla game, never played it.)

So, in Beneath the Mask, there’s the line “I’m a shapeshifter, at Poe’s Masquerade,” right? Which is a reference to Edgar Allan Poe’s The Masque of the Red Death. Seems like a pretty cut-and-dry thing, it ties into the theme of there not being anything beneath the mask, as was the case in Poe’s Masque. Well, I am here to tell you that that particular reference is anything but simple. It’s brilliant. 

Fair warning: this is gonna be a long post.

First off, some context on The Masque of the Red Death. It’s a short story where, basically, there’s this plague going on. It’s called the Red Death, it makes you sweat blood and die in less than an hour. Terribly contagious, the Red Death. So this rich guy gathers up all of his friends and allies to hole up in his abbey, and locks the gates behind them. A few months in, they decide to throw a rocking masquerade party. 

The party is structured as such: 

There are 7 rooms in order, each color-coded. Blue, then purple, then green, then orange, and then violet. The last room is black, and lit up by red lights. There’s a big imposing clock in the last room, and whenever it chimes the hour everyone stops partying until the clock is done, and then resumes. 

Everything’s going great while people are dying outside until midnight, when this new guy shows up in a gaudy red costume that looks like a corpse killed by the red death. The host chases this guy down with a dagger. They go through all the rooms, and once they reach the last room the host finally looks the mysterious stranger in the face, and instantly dies. The guests panic and remove the mask to see who it was, only to find that there was nothing there. The guests then all also die to the Red Death. 

Grim, right? Well, it also has a lot of striking similarities to Shido’s palace.

The basic premise of some rich asshole trying to save only his friends from the plague on the land, only this time the plague is one that he himself has orchestrated: the mental shutdowns. Those on his ship are safe from being permanently cancelled, while those who aren’t (like the Shujin principal) are not. 

The letters of introduction parallel the 7 rooms, since all of that preparation is in the eventual goal of unlocking the final room.

The guests on the ship are all wearing masks that look a heck of a lot like masquerade masks. 

The intruder, ie: the thieves. 

 as a last-ditch effort to kill the thieves, Shido takes a pill that will temporarily kill him, mirroring the moment when the host dies in The Masque of the Red Death. 

But wait! We’re not done!

That is just the first layer of references

This is why I said that it was gonna get super long. Strap in folks, because those references aren’t even an original choice that the game made. They’re INHERITED references. Also I have a lot to say, and am bad at being succinct. Well, they say that if you can’t be concise, you can at least be interesting, and I hope that I’ve managed that. 

Some more context:

Akechi is based off of the famous Japanese detective Akechi Kogoro. The author of the Akechi Kogoro stories is a man by the pen name of Edogawa Ranpo. If that name sounds familiar, it should. It is, as wikipedia puts it, “A rendering of [Edgar Allan] Poe’s name.” 

There is one Akechi Kogoro story, called Gold Mask (Or The Gold Mask, or The Golden Mask), that is especially relevant here. In it, Akechi goes up against the mysterious Gold Mask, who turns out to be none other than Arsene Lupin. 

It should not be surprising how many similarities there are, but I am somehow surprised nonetheless. 

These are some insane connections, y’all. I’m basically just gonna retell the events of the story because it’s mostly relevant anyways. It’s not even all about the red death thing. Also I just really like this section of the story. This is gonna get rambly, but bear with me here. 

Ok so first plot twist: this book also references The Masque of the Red Death. Big time. Like, there is a chapter titled “The Masque of the Red Death.”

The setting: a masquerade ball put on by the French Ambassador (The Count de Rouzieres). The ball takes place in seven chambers, in the same color order as in the original story. This time, however, they are set up so that one can only see one room at a time. Do note that the final room is described as making things look as though they are “somehow not of this world.”

The inevitable twist

Guess who shows up unannounced at the moment the clock strikes midnight? Ding ding ding! That’s right, it’s the Gold Mask. 

(The next chapter is called “The Gold Death”)

The investigator who had been Akechi’s sidekick (more on that later) chases after the Gold Mask, along with the Count and one other dude. 

I’m just gonna quote the book’s description of the third man. 

“It was impossible to identify the man on account of his eccentric costume. [...] He wore a form-fitting black shirt and trousers, black shoes, black socks, a black cloth on his head, the ends of which rose sharply into two long horns, and, of course a face mask.”

...Yeah. I was way more surprised to find out that that design is straight out of the source material than to find out who that mysterious third man was. (more on why akechi was disguised in a bit)

The Count is the first into the final room with the Gold Mask. No sooner does he enter than the other two men hear a gunshot. They run in, fearing the worst. 

Turns out it’s the Gold Mask who’s been shot by the Count. They pull off the mask and discover... the Count’s interpreter. One of the investigators declares that the interpreter must be the gold mask, and this all can be called off. The guy’s dying, everything’s fine. 

Suddenly, the man with the black mask starts laughing. They demand he removes his mask, he does so and reveals himself as Akechi Kogoro. Akechi insists that this man cannot be the Gold Mask, because Arsene Lupin is the gold mask.

Everyone else thinks he’s ridiculous, until he gets the dying interpreter to confess that yes, he was working for Arsene Lupin.

Now. The part that makes this all really funny is that as the interpreter is dying, he points out to Akechi who Arsene Lupin is (since Lupin has so many disguises as to not fundamentally have a true identity). The interpreter points to (dun dun duhDUH) The Count of Rouzieres, the French Ambassador to Japan. 

Obviously the police commissioner is finding that hard to believe, but when Akechi produces an envelope that he claims is evidence, he orders that the rest of the investigators and guests leave the room, so that it’s only him, the POV character, Akechi, and the Count. 

The letter is apparently from another well-known detective familiar with Arsene Lupin, full of evidence that proves that the Count of Rouzieres is actually Arsene Lupin. Incriminating stuff, blah blah blah. 

Arsene admits to being, well, arsene, and then proceeds to have a superficially amicable conversation with Akechi. He then pulls his gun out of nowhere and threatens to shoot akechi. Suddenly, the detective who supplied Akechi with the note (his name is Weber) jumps out of the clock mechanism behind Arsene and confiscates his gun. Arsene Lupin is about to be arrested, with no way out. One of the investigators pulls out his own gun on Arsene, and both Akechi and the police commissioner are very experienced in making arrests. Even beyond that, there’s an entire crowd of investigators waiting outside the only door. 

We cut to the aforementioned crowd of investigators, who have just noticed that the voices from inside the room have gotten very quiet. After knocking and hearing only silence, they decide to open the door.

The room is empty. 

We cut back to Arsene, who is acting very confident despite his precarious circumstances. He says that he has the power to create such a catastrophe as to make it impossible for them to arrest him, before calmly walking out of the only door in the room. 

The detectives call for the police officers outside to arrest Arsene, but... there doesn’t seem to be anyone there to do it. He locks the door to the room from the outside, and flees out of an open glass window and down a fire escape to his waiting allies. (very similar to the way Joker attempts to escape from the Casino, and VERY similar to how he ultimately escapes from the interrogation room.)

It turns out that the “black-velvet room” was actually a cleverly disguised elevator, with the mechanism in the clock. Arsene used the elevator to separate the detectives from the rest of the investigators, and to make his escape for real. It is SHOCKING to me that of all the things in persona 5, the interrogation room escape is ENTIRELY true to the source material. It’s wild. 

Anyways, I’ll stop there. I’ll probably make another post with all of the miscellaneous connections between the Gold Mask and Persona 5, since there are a lot. I’ve had this topic sitting in my brain for a while. 

Edit: I forgot to get to why Akechi was disguised. Well, it turns out that’s another connection: Akechi had been presumed dead. Everybody thought he had been shot. Turns out it was just a fake version of himself, a trick taken from Sherlock Holmes. (and one that shows up in Persona 5 Royal). He was taking advantage of the fact that everyone thought he was dead to get more info without being suspected. 

[lovemesomesurveys]

last time you bought something at the store with your own money? Does ordering online from Bath & Body Works count? I recently purchased a few things.

what time did you wake up today? It’s 5:21AM and I’m still up.

what are you planning on doing today? Another day in bed doing the same few things I can do.

are you watching tv? It’s on in the background, but I’m currently listening to an ASMR video with my earphones.

who is your favorite singer for this year? Does my favorite singer have to change on a yearly basis? <<< Yeah, this is worded weird.

is it dark outside? Yes.

do you go to wal-mart any with your family? We do our grocery shopping there and I used to always tag along with my mom before the pandemic hit.

what color are the doorknobs in your house? Gold.

do you use matches to get the candles lit up on the birthday cake? No, a long lighter. <<<

how many people live in the house with you? I live with my parents and brother. is it your family [like mom, dad, brother, etc.] or is it your own family? ^^^

are you a country person? I’ve never lived out in the country.

what was the last tv show you watched? The New Adventures of Old Christine. 

what time did you go to bed last night? Yesterday I think I fell asleep around 5AM-ish.

do you wash your hands after going to the bathroom? A l w a y s. 

who are you talking to? No one.

are you sick? Yes.

is anything bothering you at the moment? A lot of things.

what’s on your mind? My current shit I have going on.

do you have sunglasses? No, I don’t wear sunglasses.

what language do you speak the most? I’m only fluent in English.

what are you on right now other then bzoink? I’m not on bzoink, but I am on Tumblr and YouTube.

are you eating or drinking anything right now? I have a Starbucks Doubleshot energy drink.

what do you hear when you stop typing? The ASMR video I’m listening to and my fans.

what is your favorite type of cookie? Sugar and shortbread.

do you cook your food? Only ramen or something I can easily make in the microwave. 

do you go to school? I’ve been done with school since 2015.

do you like coke or pepsi? Coke.

miley cyrus or demi lovato? I like some songs from both.

cake or cookies? Cake.

tv or internet? Internet.

myspace or facebook? Well, Facebook.

sunny or rainy? Rainy.

when its raining, do you like not too bad, or really bad better? I love rainy days.

what does your name start with? S.

does anyone call you a nickname? Yeah, my family calls me “Sis.”

do you go by the nickname more? With my family, yeah. Otherwise, people just call me Stephanie or Steph.

do you like football? what about basketball? soccer? baseball? volleyball? Nope. Not a sports fan at all.

do you go swimming every week? Uh, no. I haven’t gone swimming in several years.

where did you go on vacation last? Disneyland last year before the pandemic hit and everything shutdown.

do you drink water like you're supposed to? No. :/ I only get like 3 glasses in at most it seems. I drink other stuff, but still.

do you go to football games at all? I went to a couple in high school, but that’s it. I didn’t care about the game, I just went to hang out.

do you pop/crack your fingers? Yes.

are you a strong person? No, neither physically or emotionally.

are you weak? Yes, both physically and emotionally.

what do you see when you look to the right all the way? A wall.

do you hang out with the nerds, average, or popular people? I hang out with my family, who are awesome and everyone loves. I’m the nerd.

what are your favorite colors? Pastels, rose gold, sea foam green, coral, yellow. 

does everything you eat come out of the refrigerator? Not everything, no.

do you like to eat at outback? Nah.

have you ever been to the beach? Countless times. I love the beach. I wish I could go soon.

do you sweat easily? Ugh, yes.

how are you feeling at the moment? Blah.

do you watch ICarly? No.

do you have a garden? Nope.

do you like dogs? what about cats? snakes? hamsters? any other pets you like? I love doggos. Cats are beautiful and interesting, but I’ve never been a cat person, personally. NOOOOO to the snakes. Nope, nope, nope. I had two hamsters when I was a kid. I also had a lot of fish.

do you like to sing in front of big crowds? what about in front of your family? friends? Nooo, definitely not. I can’t sing. My family hears me sing along to songs, but that’s it.

do you live in a house, apartment, or a trailer? or nothing? A house.

do you have a gmail? I do.

what color is your pants/shorts/skirt? Black leggings.

are you way to pale, pale, average, dark, or tan? I’m pretty pale.

without going back, what question are we on? I’m not going to count.

do you have any coke bottle tops? No. do you have a digital camera that you can record with too? No.

do you have a cell phone, that can take pictures? Yeah.

when you need to think of happy thoughts, do you think about spongebob? No. I think of the beach.

have you ever had a bug go in your mouth? Gahhhhh.

did you like my survey? It was fine.

how old are you? 31.

what's your favorite ice-cream flavor? Strawberry, mint chocolate chip, cookie dough, birthday cake.

do you like paintings that are really good and look real? I mean, sure.

are you texting anyone? Nope.

[happytroopers]

I Can’t Drink You Away // Fives x Reader

TW: drinking, Fives is dead, hallucinations

____

You smiled and laughed at the soldier beside you. He was definitely a shiny- fresh-faced, clean-shaven, classic cropped hair cut, and his armor barely had anything other than his battalions calling colors on it. A little young for your taste, but he was funny and sweet, and in combination with the best wine 79′s had to offer (which was still only 4 credits a bottle), was pushing all your buttons. 

Placing a hand on your thigh, he threw another tragically cheesy line at you- you only giggled, lightly slapping his armored shoulder. He’d told you his name earlier in the conversation, but you hadn’t heard him over the pounding bass of the techno song they were playing at the time. It didn’t matter, you probably wouldn’t see him again. 

Lifting the plastic wine glass up to your lips, you closed your eyes as you took another sip while he told an over-exaggerated story of his first battle- this was maybe his second shore leave. Sip, Swallow, Set the glass down.

Open eyes. You blinked softly, the combination of the heavy false eyelashes and strobing, multicolor lights creating a unique effect (or maybe it was the wine), things seemed to be moving slower, the music more languid but still base heavy- you felt heavy. 

“Hey, you ok?” The soldier across from you asked, hand on your thigh squeezing a bit to bring you back to him. Your heavy eyes flitted to his, and your breath caught in your throat. Sitting across from you, grinning bigger than ever- Fives. You gaped for a moment, wide eyes as he looked at you, laughing at your shocked expression. Fives’ hand moved from your thigh to you upper arms, thumb fiddling with a stray lock of hair. Heat rose to your cheeks, this can’t be real, hiding a shaky hand by raking it through your hair, nodding fiercely.. 

You blinked again. The music sped back up, the cottony feeling left you ears, and you noticed the people moving in the background again, oh, the shiny is back as well. 

“You sure you’re alright?” The young soldier asked, smile dropping a bit, “I can get you some water?”

Shaking your head, you ignored the familiar heartbreak in your chest and, instead, forced a smile. Tapping the base of your plastic wine glass, you faked a laugh, “I’m fine, it’s just...” 

You paused, watching his reflection off the cheap wine glass, like this, you could almost imagine it was in fact, Fives- even though you hadn’t seen him in a  year (and never would again). 

Soft smile. Breath hitched. Hide the frown. Eyes sting. Force another smile. 

Faking another laugh, you snatched the glass into your hands- no more reflection- ringed fingers tapping the rim of the glass as you lied through your teeth, “Just stronger than I thought.”

Hell, it wasn’t strong enough.

The trooper- Gild, maybe?- didn’t look convinced, but continued trying to lure you in with a cheesy smirk, eyebrows waggling, “Oh, well, in that case, let me get you another glass.”

For a moment, you were about to nod and smile, but the experience had already dredged up memories that you had rather stay down, instead your smile turned apologetic, “Actually- I’m sorry- I can’t do this.”

The poor soldier’s shoulders deflated, and you did feel bad for him, so in an attempt to console him, you pointed over his shoulder, “But, you should really talk to that pretty twi-lek woman, the one in the black dress? She’s been staring at you all night.”

Offering a soft smile, he nodded while tipping the rim of his glass at you before wandering off. Watching him go and the wide smile on that beautiful woman’s face, you sighed and downed the rest of the glass before flagging that bartender down for another. 

Now, with a full glass of wine and painfully happy memories of your late boyfriend, you cross the crowded clone bar. Most of the 501st was there, a painful reminder that you couldn’t name all the faces that waved at you. It’d been a long time since you’d known the younger boys, hell, the younger ones only knew you as the civilian pilot that was always hanging around their Commanding Officers. 

Next, you passed Jesse, who was leaned against a pillar telling a longwinded joke. He was flocked by a horde of girls of all species, mostly Twi-lek, human, and Togrutan, but you spotted a pair of Pantorans as well. They were all laughing, taking any opportunity to lay a hand on the newly promoted arc trooper. 

Another sip of wine. Blink. 

Suddenly, you were seeing a newly promoted Fives, surrounded by a similar horde, but his eyes were only on you as the two of you laughed. 

Blink again. Keep Walking. 

The Arc trooper caught sight of you, toasting his fruity umbrella drink to you- too buzzed to even notice you’d walked away without smiling back to him. 

Next, you passed Kix, sporting his new hair cut and sporting an absolutely gorgeous Mirialian girl. He noticed you right as she tucked her face into his chest, one of his hands was holding a drink and the other was on the woman’s lower back as they swayed, but Kix- ever the multitasker- was much more observant than Jesse. He sent a worried look to you over her head, but you just shot back an unconvincing thumbs up as you continued walking. The medic offered a sympathetic smile before the green-skinned woman called his attention back to her. 

Another sip. Deep breath. 

Finally, you found Rex. In a back booth, sipping Corellian Whiskey on the rocks as he watched the club crowd in front of him. You slipped into the booth beside him, giving him a slight nod as you joined the people watching, no longer even bothering with a fake smile. 

“Happen again?” 

Was all the Captain asked, low ball swirling in his hand. You sighed, throwing him a sideways glance- he was the only one you’d told about this issue- these flashbacks, memories, hallucinations, whatever you wanted to call them. The silence was the only answer he needed. 

“Sorry, (Y/N)- I miss ‘em too.”

You both took another sip of your respective drinks. You flagged down the server droid to order a stronger drink for yourself and another drink for the Captain, who awkwardly patted your knee. 

“Can I tell you something Rex?” You asked, finishing the wine before the droid returned with the next cocktail. The captain nodded, turning towards you to listen. He barely heard you over the pounding music, but the singular tear was illuminated in the pink, blue, and gold flashing lights. 

“If these flashbacks aren’t going to stop, I wish they’d at least last longer.” You sighed, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear, “It hurts, but... it’s nice to see him.” 

____

First draft, unedited, this probs sucks, blah blah blah, y’all know the drill 

[thecozywhaleshark]

Something Old (Part 1)

A/n: Hello! I had this series idea and I just had to write it for Jungkook. I was having too much fun not to write it, and Jk just happened to fit the best <3

Word Count: 1370

Summary: You are always the one to catch the bridal bouquet at every wedding you attend... but at this one, you’re determined not to. 

The universe wants you married, but you do not want to be. 

This all started three years back when you caught your cousins bouquet at her wedding. It was all fun and games, and you were excited to take home your little bouquet of white lilies tied in that deep red ribbon. 

But then three months later, you caught your sisters. And a year and a half after that, you caught your best friend’s. 

So this year, when your college roommate decided to get married, you decided you would sit out on the whole ‘bridal toss.’

Swirling your glass of sparkling grape juice (it was a strictly dry wedding reception... to each their own you guess) you watched as all the single girls and women gathered behind the bride and squealed as she tossed the bouquet...and then watched, horrified, as the bridal bouquet was batted by one of the bridesmaids to the side...and dropped right into your lap.

You stared at it for a moment, unblinking. 

“Again?” you stated, exasperated.

The dark haired guy sitting next to you that you had been chatting to on and off throughout the reception began to crack up, clapping his hands and giving you a double thumbs up as you picked up the little bouquet of white roses and greenery, and headed to go take the obligatory picture with the bride. 

You took a deep breath and smiled at all the bridesmaids, fake laughing your way through to hug your old roommate and pose with her. 

A few hours later, after watching the bride and groom drive off, you head to your car, slinking into your seat with a sigh.

What a day.

You picked up the little bouquet and tossed it into the passenger seat with a huff, glaring at it where it landed. Still annoyed, you slung it over your shoulder into the back seat. 

“Thanks universe. For reminding me, once again, how single I am.” 

You rest your forehead on your steering wheel and began to bang your head lightly.

Stupid. Stupid. Worthless. Fucking. Universe. Or God. Or whoever. Why. Me.

You were still banging your head against the steering wheel when you were startled by a tap on your window.

You screech and turn around to see the dark haired guy from the wedding party waving at you through the glass. 

You roll down your window angrily. “Don’t you know better than to knock on girls windows at night!” you snap, crossing your arms over your chest and sending him a glare. 

“I’m sorry!” He holds out his hands in front of him. “I was just wondering if maybe I could get a ride? I know it’s last minute and probably an inconvenience, it’s just my phone died and I can’t call an Uber.” He gives you an apologetic smile and you feel yourself softening. 

“Fine.” You sigh, pressing the unlock button and gesturing to the passenger side. “Get in.”

“Thank you so much. Honestly you’re the best person I know.” 

“Yeah yeah yeah, get in before I change my mind.” 

He slips into the seat and buckles quickly before reaching out and offering you his hand. “It’s strange, because we sat next to each other the entire wedding, but I don’t think we’ve introduced ourselves yet. Hi, I’m Jungkook.” 

“Y/n,” you shake his hand and start your car. “Where do you live?” 

“North off Cordelia and next to the gas station, if you don’t mind.” 

You nod and start your car engine. “You can plug your phone in there, if you have an iPhone.” 

You gesture to your car charger and he lets out a sigh of relief, plugging it in immediately. “Thanks.” 

“No problem.”

He glances over his shoulder and notices the discarded bouquet. “What? Why did you throw them?” 

“Throw what?” you glance at him out of the corner of your eye as you switch lanes and prepare to merge onto the freeway. 

“Your bouquet.” He reaches back behind your seat and picks it up off the floor, straightening the leaves and stroking the rose petals. “You caught it.” 

You snort. “Wrong. It landed in my lap.” 

“Technically that means it chose you then.” 

You roll your eyes. “I don't want to be chosen.” 

Jungkook smiles, shaking the bouquet lightly at you. “Bouquets never lie.”

You bark a laugh. “Oh really? Tell that to the three others I've caught before tonight.” 

He turns to look at you, cocking his head. “You’ve caught others?” 

“Yeah. My cousins, my best friends, and my sisters. And now, my old roommates.” 

He lets out a low whistle. “Damn, you’re lucky.” 

“I would say cursed.” 

“Cursed?” 

“Always the bridesmaid, never the bride.” You mock, quoting the movie you have been compared to on more than one occasion. “And this time I wasn’t even a bridesmaid.” 

“Did you just quote 27 Dresses?” 

You glance at him curiously. “You know it?” 

“My mom likes it.” He mumbles, playing with the petals of the flowers again.

“Mhm. But yeah.” You sigh, switching lanes and preparing to exit the freeway. 

“Do you even want to be married?” He asks, setting the bouquet on your dash and arranging it so it catches the streetlights. 

“Maybe one day... but if it’s going to be anything like the traditional wedding ceremonies I've been too and caught the bouquet’s at, then count me the fuck out.” 

“Why’s that?” 

“Well, to me, if I'm being honest, I find them boring.” 

“I think they’re sweet.” 

“They’re dry! You walk if you’re part of the wedding party, or you sit if you’re not, you hear them say the same things, and it’s always in a church.” 

“It’s traditional?” He protests, shifting in his seat.

“And another thing -” you’re on full rant mode now and you can’t seem to stop. “They’re always white! White lilies, white roses, white irises - they drive me nuts!” you bang your hand on the steering wheel and Jungkook jumps a little in his seat. “If it were me, I’d do something original. Like blue.” 

“Blue?”

“Yeah. Like I get the whole white wedding dress thing, and I want one too... I mean, almost every girl dreams about it. But I don't want white roses or lilies, I want something colorful. I want a blue bouquet.”

“A blue bouquet?” 

“Yeah. You know like the rhyme? ‘Something Old, Something New, Something Borrowed, Something Blue?’ Everyone always minimizes the blue. A blue garter, maybe a dot of it on their nails, blah blah blah.” You grimace into the thin air. “If it was my wedding, I would emphasize it.” 

“I guess if it was your wedding, you could do whatever you wanted.” 

You shoot him a little smile, calming down a little. “Exactly.” 

All too soon you turn onto Cornelia Street and Jungkook is pointing out his apartment building and telling you where you can park. 

“This is me.” 

You park the car and wait, looking over at him.

“Ah, thank you. For the ride. Sincerely.” He grins and ducks his head, unlocking the door and opening it a little, putting one foot out.

“Hey-” you call and he shifts back in, looking at you curiously.

“Do me a favor, throw that away for me?” You point to the bouquet on the dash.

He frowns. “Why?”

“I don’t want it. It’s only a daily reminder that as much as the universe wants me apparently married, which at this rate, I will never be.” 

He’s quiet for a moment. “Then can I have it?” 

You bark a little laugh and wave him off. “Go for it.” 

He smiles sweetly, picking it up and tucking it under his arm. “Thanks for the ride, and the flowers. Can I... can I call you sometime? You’re fun to talk to.” 

You laugh and reach into your purse for your phone. “Sure. Here.” 

You switch phones and put your numbers in before handing them back. 

He gives you the biggest smile as he puts his phone in his pocket and steps out of the car. “Have a good night y/n.” He says, bending down to wave at you through the window.

You laugh, tossing your purse into the passenger side and waving back. “Goodnight, Jungkook.” 

[klarojonsa]

Okay so here is the thing. I'm so tired of people saying cami changed Klaus and blah blah. I would not engage in it because the show is like has been over for 2 years. But when I see antis saying some triggering sh*t. I can't stop. I know like it's no use of pointing it out again and again but sometimes it's better to voice out than keeping your rage bottled.

1. Klaus is a Fictional character. This is so important to understand. He is loved and likable and all that jazz. But with that, he is a toxic person, no matter how changed he is. He is toxic and so is the entire Mikaelson family. Hell the entire vampire clan is toxic. There is always abuse and manipulation in play so before you start attacking each other about shipping toxic ship and all, STOP.

2. Fanservice. People often use this excuse to validate their arguments. Why? Because apparently according to them it's supposed to be a bad thing when it's not? It simply means you're enjoying the show and you're invested in something. Clearly people saw something that's why there is a HUGE fan following and hence the fan force and then comes the fanservice.

3. It's a questionable point here really. Would you rather like someone who makes you depend on them for remainder that you're supposed to make right decision or would you choose someone who gives you independent choice, to find it in yourself to make right decision. Forcing goodness is not inspiring it. Its forcing it. This is the reason why I will always hate Klamille. Klaus is supposed to want to do good things on his accord. Not to service the women be wish to impress, so that if he checks every box in her list, he will be better father for her daughter. No! That's ridiculous and the way some of you guys even like it is... Ugh dont even get me started.

4. Balance. Is good at one side and bad at the other supposed to balance? Uh no. That's not what I want in my ship. I want authority. Equal power. Sense. Self respect. Not seeing your loved one with rose colored glasses. That's what I want to see in the couple I want to ship. That's what I got in Klaroline. They manipulated each other as fuck. Used each other and they were toxic as fuck and even I admit it here now. But they were literally balanced. They brought the best out of each other. The darkness. The light. The goodness and the worst. Just simply being good does not remove all the bad things you've done.

5. Does confessing your love for someone means you love them? Maybe perhaps. But does it mean that there is someone you never confessed your love to and not loved them? Uh no. Here we go again. Ck fans use this excuse SO SO much and again and again to validate their arguments when their whole relationship was just words. Where were actions? Let me see. Nowhere. Someone wise said action speaks louder than words. That's all that matters.

6. Feminism. Oh I have to laugh at this one, CK fans use this A LOT and by a lot, I mean it. "Why do you hate Caroline so much to ship her with a man who hurt her?" And "Oh but he stabbed her" and yadda yadda shit. Women are supposed to stand with women right? And yet here you are, shipping your fav with a man that's killed and murdered and all because of why? "OH because he loves her and he doesn't hurt her" please let me remind you, when he compelled that WOMAN and bit her, FOR WHATEVER REASON Idk. Abuse is abuse. And yet you Ckers go on moaning about how he never hurt her.

7. Camille changed Klaus? She inspired goodness in him? Umm no. She certainly did not. She simply put "you're not like this Klaus, Oh I know there is goodness in you Klaus" and all that shit. She practically forced him to do all that and despite of his judgment he did why? Because again he wanted to serve her. Not because of himself. Why did Camille matter for him? Was it simply a romantic notion in his mind? Nope. She was simply someone who was unachievable for him. A bright untouched light. And his family seemed to think that so too. They approved of her. And with that, Klaus wanted her "Coddling" more than ever. Now he had daughter to think about, family to make them think he can be a good father? That's where Camille fits in. Forcing him to do good, so his good actions would be better example for her daughter. Where is HIS will? That's nowhere to be seen. It's the love for his daughter that drove him to seek that kind of help. He appreciated the light in her but never the darkness. With Caroline, it was different. She INSPIRED that goodness in him. She never said "Oh klaus you're better than this" no! Because she was better than that. She wouldn't give him Beady eyes to make him work no. That is something he has to do by himself. So when he bit her, she just relented to the fact that she was going to die. She didn't. She knew she was going to be dead. And yet she said something. Something that made him find goodness in him. CHOOSE THAT goodness in him. Not forced. Not coursed. Just pure. She said "because I've seen it. Anybody capable of love is capable of being saved," and translation? I know you're terrible terrible person but if you can care for someone other than yourself, perhaps all hopes for you is not lost. That's all she said. That's all without expecting him to take action. And he did. He had a choice and he did it. He saved her. He needed to realise that there is indeed something inside him that screams louder than his demons. Love.