#do i exaggerate my optimism for my own sake? of course

[invinciblerodent]

i say this with all the calculatedly cautious optimism in the world, i swear, if people Andromeda (as a verb) Veilguard/Dreadwolf, write it off as a horrible terrible failure, and fill every discussion with fatalistic bull they concocted from half-sentences all on their own before they'd not even play, but just SEE even one minute of it, I will start biting

[tendo-64]

Doodle for the occasion because I was wrecked by the end of claus's journey so now so do y'all!

Anyway, review time, as well as screens and whatnot if you want to see the major differences without playing through 26 hours yourself lol (massive wall of text incoming). Or you can just enjoy (or not enjoy because it's sad) the angsty doodle. (I'll be drawing more and will post the doodles and this one on their own too)

(Warning for the record that I will be discussing the darkest elements of this game, which means I will be discussing suicide--more so because this romhack addresses it slightly more than the base game did as it subtly acknowledges Claus was the one who died in the original near the end.)

Claus's Journey was really fun. For anyone who hasn't seen my older posts, it's a romhack in which Claus is the protagonist and Lucas is the Masked Man (AKA the Mother 3 Swap AU, but playable). It changes dialogue in addition to sprites to accommodate for the differences in personality. Claus also has narration and isn't a silent protag so you get to see his thoughts on things.

To summarize the main differences: Claus in this version was going to still fight the Drago, until Lucas asks to come with and gets called a crybaby, which angers him and he decides to go kill it himself (knocking out Claus to keep him from following), as he's tired of everyone treating him like he's weak and helpless. Obviously, he never comes home.

MOTHER 3 is an interesting game because it sets Claus up as the typical RPG protagonist, and then kills him off in the first chapter and has his less-typical brother fill his shoes as the hero instead. In a regular game, Claus would've come home from the Drago somehow having survived and everyone would've praised him for being "stronger than we thought" or whatever, but instead he gets kidnapped and brainwashed into becoming a(n anti-) villain. He's the game's antithesis--where Lucas is patience, forgiveness, optimism, and fights only to protect his family, Claus is impulsivity, holds grudges, is unable to move past his trauma, and fought for vengeance to give himself peace of mind from his pain. The Masked Man then goes onto be the ironic representation of the dark path he was headed down: anger and violence for the sake of it, long since having forgotten his original motivations (of course, he was brainwashed against his will, but it's still worth mentioning that parallels can be drawn to those who repress their memories and lash out as a result of trauma, albeit very exaggerated)

So, if you flip that on its head, the whole thing changes. Now Claus is, pretty much a typical RPG protag. His arc is about "recklessness" instead of being a crybaby, where he has to learn to be more thoughtful and tactful.

And Lucas becomes an elaboration of a theme MOTHER 3 implies but never really went in depth with for Claus: the dangers of not taking trauma seriously or expecting someone to just "move past it." He keeps getting called a crybaby, and he snaps. But at the same time, him becoming the Masked Man feels even more disturbing to me because, instead of it feeling like a Claus who's been corrupted, had his negative traits amplified and his positive ones removed, it's not recognizable as something Lucas is at all. It's a massive stark contrast (was for Claus too, but I think Lucas even more so)

I definitely prefer the original dynamic in the original game, as it's more unique and is a big part of the game's identity, but this dynamic is interesting too, if mostly for Lucas and Claus only in the context of it being "what if Claus had a slightly more normal childhood"

At the end, at the ending monologue, Claus has something more to say. The player expresses concern for him and Claus gives his thoughts on Lucas's death: he says that he understands why Lucas did what he did, but then seems to acknowledge his own canonical fate as he's quick to reassure us that he's looking forward to his future and doesn't want to leave his family behind--that he thinks things will be okay and he's happy to be here.

That honestly hit me harder than anything else--it's so sweet hearing Claus of all characters tell us he'll never leave this world behind and he has hope in his future. But it also hurts when you realize that this ending is a blessing and a curse. Claus is happy and will continue living his life, but it came at the expense of Lucas's happy ending. If Claus knew this was a scenario where his brother suffered his own fate instead, he'd have never wanted it that way. Moreover, it's heartbreaking to see Lucas--the character who's known for being someone who can push through hardship no matter what, who can lose everything and still have the strength to go on, who can say he loves life and heals from everything he's been put through... die. It feels so wrong and disturbing--much more so than Claus's death in the original because Lucas had a happy ending, and this hack takes from him.

Claus's Journey is something one might play because they wanted to see an ending where Claus heals from his trauma and lives. But then you realize it's not really a better ending when Lucas had to take his place. It is nice seeing Claus talk about his faith in his future, but in many ways it feels worse that Lucas won't.

I think I'll go with Claus Lives AU instead if I want to see Claus live gdjgjd

But in all seriousness, I enjoyed the romhack. I recommend it, even if some of the new dialogue doesn't mesh with the original writing style perfectly, and some lines feel slightly forced, it can be overlooked.

Anyway, review out of the way, here's some screenshots.

(I regretfully didn't screenshot anything from ch1 because I wasn't posting about my playthrough back then, so I'm going to use screens from a YouTube playthrough by GreenieBoi just for chapter 1)

And here's Claus telling Flint about Lucas:

After this, changes are minor until timeskip.

I didn't screenshot most of Claus's narration, but here's some other noteworthy screens:

I made a post for Tanetane Island already, so I won't share those here

Bro called the duck toilet dumb >:(

Porky says this after Claus tells him the Masked Man is Lucas:

If Claus tries to fight Lucas:

I recorded Lucas's death and last words since there's too much to screen.

Claus monologue that hit hard

And I think that's it! This took a while to write, and probably took a while to read, but thanks for reading!

[nohj3]

...I'm starting to realize my marriage might've been not great.

It's long over of course. I'm fine now.

But i still... It didn't end because i did anything to leave, it ended because they realized i wasn't worth anything to them anymore. And they left me in a literally destroyed house we didn't own, late to a job i then lost, holding all of their debts, every social connection shattered and emotionally broken.

And even to this day i...

It's hard not to tell myself, that it's my fault, You know?

I could've done better. I could've been more. They needed me. And i wasn't good enough for them.

But this kinda thing... These kinda words... I can feel my brain excuse every one.

1. Sure. I was never hit. And anything else physical was... I was married. I had obligations you know?

2. I mean... Yeah. I did do things knowing they'd act certain ways... I tried not too... But... I was also in charge of maintaining everything, and it's kinda hard to do both. How am i supposed to be capable enough to keep your life together, and incapable enough as to not be "scary" to you? Why is my docility so important in a partner to you?? Didn't matter. I chose docility and it ruined me...

3. God. I heard this so much. I can't talk to anyone about anything. Can't do it. Can't do it. Can't do it. At some point i spoke outloud how i wasn't supposed to. And they tried to convince me i simply misheard them. Every time. I misheard Every time they said that. That if it was that. It would be bad. So they definitely didn't do that. So i took that as being allowed, big mistake that was. Sure i was *allowed*. But every time i did. And anyone caught any whiff of anything they were doing to me. They yelled at me for *lying* to people. For spreading mistruths. And manipulating people against them. That i couldn't be trusted to talk correctly. And they'd go behind me and *fix* what I'd said. Eventually to avoid the yelling i knew what to say, i knew the *correct* versions to tell people...

4. I have an audio sensitivity. And a depersonalization disorder. Loud noises often turned my brain off and shut me down. Making me suggestible and calm. They liked me docile, so for fun they often would not tell me about expected loud noises to watch me go into an episode. They thought it was cute. If in a fight or situation similar, they'd often yell, to force me to stop functioning fully. So i learned not to disagree. I learned to be scared of angering them.

5. "It's only like that when i deserve it." "I'm sure I'm simply telling it wrong." "Oh. You're reacting like that? I'm srry it's not that bad i promise, i must've exaggerated a little." "Nono i didn't mean to make them sound bad. They're actually very good. I promise." "Oh they love me. I know, they wouldn't put up with me if they didn't xD" "i caused this. It's on me. They wouldntve acted like that if not for me." Take your pick. I used to be known for my iconic optimism....

6. Scared to say no is like... THE definition of my marriage xD i couldn't say no. I even tried sometimes, still futile. They used me for everything they could. For fucks sake, i was still sending them money after the divorce, simply because they asked. A lot of pain happened because i couldn't stand up. Not just to me... I... I don't wanna talk about it.

7. God. Every. Time. They threatened to drive off cliffs. Threatened to kill themselves. God the first time i managed to get out of that house, they showed up telling me i sent them to the suicide ward at the hospital by not being at the house. They would cut themselves and then tell me i was at fault for them doing it. In another way, they were grossly incompetent at everything, and then yelled at me for not taking care of them better. Constantly throwing in my face their mental conditions, as excuses for i needed to stay. To take care of their life. They'd never actually let me do that. I tried. Nonono. They needed me to blame. They had no intention of actually letting me help. For fucks sake. They wouldn't take their meds, or see their therapist. And that was on me for even daring to suggest they should, until it was on me for not making them. They purposefully mafe me hold up their entire life. I kept their relations together. I mediated their fights. I fought their job to let them keep it, that they NEVER WENT TO. I paid for everything in the entire house, and also for them to go on road trips, and go get drugs. And that time they bought a dog, just to hate having ut Abd tell at me for not taking care of it. Twice! Tis happened twice!!! I did my best to stop the second one. They didn't care!! They'd get credit cards I'd have to pay off, they'd- I'm srry. I'm ranting. This is unbecoming of me.

All of this is me just being too emotional.

I'm srry.

I read this. And i just....

It all came boiling out.

I'm srry.

I need to shut up.

Please don't ask me for relationship advice unless you are prepared to receive some truly upsetting information because some people are ready for the "He's exhibiting the literal textbook signs of a psychological abuser and you need to get away from him before he successfully cuts you off from your support network" talk and some people aren't

[dovechim]

the happiest place on earth (m)

➾ 24k 

➾ summary: in this life, you have two goals. 1. get park jimin to notice you. 2. get into Broadway. (not necessarily in that order). you and jimin have been crew members at Disneyland for over a year, but he’s no closer to being your boyfriend than you are to getting into Broadway. when you get promoted from a fur character to a face character, your hopes and dreams of playing Princess Ariel opposite his Prince Eric are this close to coming true. But what happens when you’re tasked to play the Evil Queen instead? 

slice of life au, incredibly cheesy towards the end. basically a lot of fluff with some smut :)

➾ warnings: protected sex, oral (f receiving) this one is pretty mild tbh

➾ a/n: for the purpose of this fic, let’s ignore that Sesame Street and Disney are own by two different companies 🙃 happy 25/26th birthday to one mr park jimin, the only Prince Charming I'll ever fall for 💓 this is just a warning of the cheesiness to come 🧀

The sounds of joyful music are slightly muffled, not just by the constant excited chatter around you, but also by the heavy costume that drags your entire body down. The incredible buildup of body heat is seemingly exacerbated by the sheer amount of bodies around you, little kids who are scampering to get a hold of your soft yellow fur.

“Mommy! I want a picture with Big Bird too!” A toddler’s voice wails from a distance, and you struggle to see out of the tiny little eye holes in the yellow neck of the costume.

Well, the good thing about having to wear this is that you don’t have to fake a smile for the cameras. The permanent grin on Big Bird’s face- er, beak, convinces everyone around you that you fit right in at this place.

The kids are all in giggles as they take turns hugging you with joyful screams and giggles, being towed away by their parents once they’ve got their shot. You can see your handler, Joy, keeping a watchful eye from a distance away to make sure things don’t get too out of hand. Your movements are heavy and cumbersome, but luckily you don’t have to move much because all the kids just crowd around you anyway.

Your time is nearly up. For the safety and well-being of all cast members who are required to wear full costumes, often referred to as fur characters, shifts are restricted to 15 minutes at a time, with a 45 minutes rest time before you go again. And with this weather, you feel as if the 15 minutes can’t go by fast enough.

You glance over enviously at Oscar the Grouch, your usual character, having a much calmer time with the noticeably thinner crowd around him. He’s never been a very popular character, especially not with the kids, since they tend to prefer the bright and cheerful personalities of Big Bird, Elmo and of course Cookie Monster. The blue furry character is dancing energetically on the street, rousing delighted cheers and screams from the kids as he pretends to queue at prop truck selling cookies.

You curse at the management’s decision to have you take over Big Bird’s character today. Better yet, you curse the guy who originally plays Big Bird. Why’d Kim Namjoon have to call in sick today of all days? And why, for heaven’s sake, did middle management think it’d be a good idea to get someone your size, to take his place?

Miserable and sweating bullets, you try your best to wave and move your arms around in some semblance of a dance to entertain the kids.

“Last photo, folks,” Joy waves her hands to get the crowd’s attention with a grin on her face. “Be sure to give Big Bird a big hug, alright?”

Your head jerks sharply in her direction with a steely glare, but it loses all effect because of the stupid goofy Big Bird head. As if the grubby kids around you needed any encouragement to squeeze and grope you in this costume. You swear, one more little kid mashing his face into you, stepping on your feet in the huge orange shoes, and you’ll just scream-

“Alright alright, Big Bird’s gotta go help Cookie Monster bake some cookies now,” Joy gently pries a little boy wearing glasses off you. She loops her arm around your fluffy wing to give you some support as the two of you start shuffling away slowly. “We’ll be back at 3pm! See you all then!”

Even if you hate every second being in this sweat soaked costume, you can’t deny that you’ve definitely noticed a change playing a slightly more popular character. Kids don’t pull faces at you the way they did when you were playing Oscar the Grouch, instead they tell you they love you, their faces light up when they see you, and they fight to be the first in line at for a photo opportunity with you.

There is a small warmth in your chest as you walk painfully slowly and turn down a discreet corner into the staff rest area. Once out of sight from the public, you strip off the bright yellow head as Joy opens the doors of the air-conditioned break room for you.

“Oh my god. That was the longest 15 minutes of my life,” you groan, collapsing down onto the floor dramatically. Joy winces in sympathy as she quickly gets a bottle of water for you, rummaging in the pantry for the good snacks.

“It was extra hot today, wasn’t it? Ugh, I’m dreading my shift next,” Joy tosses you a packet of biscuits.

The door bursts open, and Cookie Monster comes in singing and dancing, his energy seemingly limitless. When he strips off the character’s head, Jeon Jeongguk’s voice comes out even more clearly, the grin on his face still at full power as when he started his shift.

His hair is messy as he runs a hand through it, casting a puzzled glance at you laying down on the floor.

“Wasn’t that a great shift?” Jeongguk enthuses, a happy puppy grin on his face as his handler Kim Taehyung unzips the back of his costume. “The kids were all so cute. This really is the happiest place on earth!”

As if on comedic timing, Oscar the Grouch bursts into the room, and you can hear Min Yoongi cursing and swearing as he can’t get the character’s head off fast enough. From your position on the floor, sipping your water and nibbling at your crackers, you cast a jealous, spiteful glance at him.

What does he have to complain about? Oscar is practically the easiest character to play on Sesame Street!!

The buddy system consists of one character and one handler, and they switch shifts throughout the day. Kim Namjoon calling in sick means that the buddy system is one short today, and Yoongi doesn’t have anyone to switch shifts with. Which means he’s due to go again in less than thirty minutes.

Feeling your strength returning, you sit up again and start to unzip your costume so that Joy can start getting ready. There isn’t any changing room here, but all of you aren’t exactly naked under the costume, so no one has any objections changing in each other’s presence. Your light workout shorts and tanktop are soaked with sweat and sticking to your skin when you climb out of the yellow costume, kicking off the orange shoes before you turn to help Joy into it.

“Goooood afternoon!” A cheerful, happy voice sings out as the door opens, and your entire being perks up in recognition.

His presence brightens the room immediately- even Yoongi looks relieved to see him.

“Jimin? What are you doing here? It’s your day off,” Taehyung is half-way into his transformation into Cookie Monster.

“Heard Namjoon was sick today, so I volunteered to come in to cover,” he says with a happy grin, his eyes creased into a smile. His fluffy dark blue hair looks so soft, and he casts a brief glance across the room, eyes landing on you and Joy, Jeongguk and Taehyung, and then Yoongi, obviously doing the math. “I guess I’m up next in Oscar the Grouch?”

Dammit. One more reason why you’re cursing Min Yoongi, or more accurately, your rotten luck. You could have had a chance to partner with Park Jimin today if you’d stayed as Oscar the Grouch, something you’d been waiting for ever since you joined the park as a character actor.

Unfortunately, your schedule never seems to coincide with his, until today.

“Oh thank fucking God,” Yoongi mutters as he strips himself out of the costume in a hurry. “I’m so happy I could kiss you.”

Park Jimin giggles, a sound that sets off butterflies in your stomach. But nothing prepares you for the way he casually strips off his grey sweatpants to reveal the tight booty shorts underneath, preparing to step into the costume.

You belatedly realise that you are staring at Park Jimin’s very supple ass, and Joy is left to struggle into the Big Bird costume all by herself, with time running out. Turning away with a reddened blush on your cheeks that you hope the others attribute to the heat, you zip her up and hand her Big Bird’s head, leaving her to finish dressing herself as you quickly slip on some jeans and the standard issue polo shirt that handlers wear.

Your throat is dry as you glance at him shyly, wishing more than ever that you could be the one helping him into his costume. Min Yoongi catches the longing glance that you give him, but he can’t be arsed enough to tease you about it.

“C’mon guys, time to go!” Jimin’s smile is blinding as he gets ready to put on Oscar’s head, shuffling towards the door with the garbage bin around his waist. He makes eye contact with you, and your heart skips a beat. “Let’s make this a great shift!”

You’ve never been one for optimism. But somehow, it’s almost bearable when its coming from Jimin.

As you hold Joy’s hand and walk her slowly out to the main street, your attention remains on Jimin in the Oscar costume. Somehow, even in his grimy garbage can, nothing seems to dim his bright personality. He is like the sun as he dances on the street, crouches down in his garbage can, teases the kids and makes them scream with laughter. His movements are large and exaggerated, the way you were all trained to do, and you can’t help but admire his natural talent that can’t be hidden by a costume.

He is an incredible hit with the kids, an unusual occurrence. Someone like Park Jimin really does fit in here. Every bit of his personality suits the happiest place on earth.

Unlike yours.

*

It’s been almost a year since you joined as a character actor, and by now, practically the whole crew knows about your crush on Park Jimin. Everyone but the man himself, unfortunately. Luck just hasn’t been on your side so far, and most of the time you’re left admiring him from afar.

“So… that was an unexpected surprise,” Joy says as she wipes her face with a tissue, glancing at you in the mirror.

You pretend not to know what she’s talking about as you tie your sweaty hair up into a bun, getting ready to clock out. You and Joy are familiar with this routine, sharing the same schedule ever since the both of you decided that working as an amusement park character would be the best way to boost your resumes and eventually earn you the chance to audition for Broadway someday.

They were big and lofty dreams alright, but as long as you take a tiny step every day, you know you’ll make it eventually.

“You won’t get anything done hoeing around like that you know,” Joy giggles as she spies the nonchalant look on your face. “You need to go out there and get your man. Honestly. Or someone else will.”

You whip your head around to stare at her in panic. “Someone else has their eye on him? Who?”

Joy shrugs carelessly, but you can see the caution on her face as her movements slow. “Well… there are some rumours going around about him and Dahyun…”

“Dahyun? The girl who plays Ariel?” You frown, picturing them together in your mind. “I didn’t know they knew each other.”

“_______... they’re in the same rotation schedule,” Joy says with a hint of pity in her voice. Being the more outgoing of the two of you, she seems to be in on the latest news and gossip.

Or maybe that’s because you always leave the crew group chat on mute.

Sighing in frustration, you toss a used baby wipe into the trash. “How am I supposed to make a move if I can’t even talk to him? We barely even know each other, we’re just co-workers!”

“You and Jeongguk are co-workers, that doesn’t stop him from stealing your Pringles every time you leave them in the pantry, or you from play fighting with him when he does,” Joy points out.

“That’s different!” Your brows furrow in consternation, but you leave it at that. “Anyway, we don’t even have the same shift lined up.”

“Girl, you’re working in the happiest place on earth, where magic and fairytales and your Prince Charming is infinitely possible,” Joy sighs dreamily, waving the wand of her lip gloss around as if it were a real magic wand. “Make it happen.”

It seems like the whole wow factor of working at Disney hasn’t worn off on your best friend. As for your naturally cynical self, you can’t exactly say that you’ve never been amazed by the fact that you work at such a magical place, but it’s not really like you to get sucked in by all the illusion that this place offers.

“Ooh!! Can you imagine if he played Prince Charming, and you played Sleeping Beauty?” Joy almost falls over in her excitement as she grips your arm. “That’s like a magical love story waiting to happen!”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” you grumble at her, but even you can’t help but let a small smile tug at the corners of your mouth. “It’s only been a year since we started, and all new joiners have to start at the bottom for god knows how long. Promotion is practically unheard of. Maybe we’ll be stuck playing Sesame Street characters still we’re old ladies.”

“Don’t say that!” Joy swipes your arm with a pout. “It’s got to do with vacancies as well. As soon as they need someone playing a face character, they’ll bump one of us up. That’s how Dahyun got Ariel within 6 months of joining.”

“Well, let’s hope one of them gets chickenpox or something, that’s the only way I’ll get a lucky break,” you say with a deadpan voice as Joy bursts into giggles, chiding you as you turn to exit the bathroom.

“What’s a princess character like her even want with Park Jimin anyway? Shouldn’t she be romancing, I don’t know, one of the Princes instead?” You can’t get your mind off that rumour of the both of them together.

You find it hard to believe, seeing as there is a very obvious social hierarchy amongst all the crew. The Disney princesses are the queen bees, the very top of the pyramid, along with the Princes. Somewhere around second tier are the less popular princesses such as Mulan, Pochahontas, or Tinkerbell, still very well sought after by guests, but a lot less well known as compared to, say Ariel or Sleeping Beauty. All the furry characters rank at the very bottom, with the only exception perhaps being the classic Mickey Mouse himself.

The hierarchy is so ingrained into the system that you don’t even talk to or hang out with anyone outside of your level. Even in the staff cafeteria, buried in the underbelly of Disney World itself, seating is segregated according to which character you play. It’s like high school all over again.

That’s exactly why Joy’s dream of playing a Disney princess is far-fetched, to say the least. It would be like jumping straight to the top of the hierarchy in the blink of an eye. The best you can hope for is a promotion to a face character. Any face character. Just so you don’t have to wear the unbearably stuffy, disgusting costume anymore.

“What should we eat? I’m in the mood for pizza- oh!” Joy stops in her tracks, and you smack into her back.

“Give me a heads up, would you,” you groan, massaging your forehead, moving to walk around her as you scan your card at the train gantry.

“Oh my god. It’s Park Jimin.” She sounds breathless, and you look up at the mention of his name.

And there he is, seated on one of the benches with his thighs spread in his grey sweatpants, white shirt almost hanging off his shoulder sinfully, and blue backpack slung casually over the other shoulder. He is scrolling through something on his phone, completely absorbed in what he sees on his screen.

“Here’s your chance!” You hear Joy hiss at you, shoving you forward. “Talk to him!”

You are reduced to a blubbering mess, somehow losing control over your limbs as Joy continues to push you forward until you are in his line of sight.

“-don’t want to- agh!”

Jimin glances up at the sound of your voice, a smile of recognition immediately lighting up his face as he puts his phone away.

“Hey! ______, right?”

Even the way he says your name reduces you to a pathetic pile of goo. The mere fact that he knows who you are…!

“U-uh, hi, yeah!” You smile awkwardly at him.

Jimin scoots over and pats the seat beside him invitingly, looking over your shoulder. “And Joy, right?”

“Mhmm, going home?” Joy responds so naturally; you wish you had her ease when it comes to talking to guys. Or anyone, in general.

“Yeah,” Jimin grins his heart melting smile again, this time directing it at you. “Hey, you did great with Big Bird today. It’s tough playing such a tall character­- his head is the heaviest, I swear.”

“It-it is,” you stumble a reply back to him. “I don’t usually play Big Bird…”

“I know, your usual is Oscar right?” Jimin beams back. “I don’t know how you do it; it’s so hard to get his character just right! Especially wearing that costume- I feel like I’m behind a mask.”

Now you know he’s also painfully kind on top of everything else; complimenting you even though he easily plays Oscar better than you on your good days. Even the way he takes notice of your usual character makes you feel… dare you say… special.

“Hey, I forgot something back at the park, I’m gonna go back,” Joy says with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes as she bids the both of you goodbye. “You two go ahead! I’ll see you tomorrow!”

That sly little minx! You stand up involuntarily, panicking over being left alone with Jimin. At the same time, he grabs your arm to get your attention.

“Hey! The train’s here,” Jimin seems unperturbed by Joy’s sudden departure, getting up and starts walking towards the doors.

You hastily follow him into an empty cabin, struggling to keep your composure and cool your heated cheeks. There aren’t many people going in the opposite direction at this time of the evening, and the both of you find a seat easily.

“Which stop are you getting off at?” You ask, glancing at the map above the train doors.

“The second to last,” he grins with a slight wince. It’s absolutely adorable, the way he scrunches his nose. “I know, long ride right?”

“That’s my stop too!” Your eyes widen as you realise that you’ll be sharing the entire ride with him.

“Guess it’s my lucky day to have company then,” Jimin grins. “I think we joined at around the same time, but we haven’t really talked much.”

“Yeah, about a year ago, I think our schedules just haven’t really matched up,” you smile at him, having to avert your eyes as he ruffles his dark blue hair casually.

He flirts so effortlessly; his smiles are charming, and he draws you in with every word of his. It’s more than you could ever hope for, sharing a nearly empty train ride back with Park Jimin.

“So, is working at Disney everything you ever dreamt of and more?” Jimin asks, his eyes shining bright.

“You mean, did I dream of being stuck in a stuffy, sweaty and smelly costume for four hours a day? Totally,” you say unironically, but it makes Jimin giggle.

“Yeah, that part isn’t the best,” Jimin admits with a hand covering his mouth, still giggling. “I always make sure to air our whatever costume I’m wearing, so that the next person doesn’t have such a bad time.”

And he has a heart of gold too.

“It’ll get better once we get to play the face characters,” Jimin reassures with a few pats on your hand. The physical contact makes your heart skip a beat. “I think it’ll be soon, if we keep doing a good job!”

“Who are you hoping to get?” You desperately hope that he doesn’t see the blush on your cheeks.

“Hmmm, I don’t know. I guess I’ve always been a fan of Aladdin. You know, how cheeky he is and everything. Of course, I don’t think I’ll get a monkey as my sidekick, but still…”

“You’d make a perfect Aladdin,” you can already picture him charming all the little girls, sweeping them off their feet even without a magic carpet.

“What about you?” Jimin asks, a curious gleam in his eyes.

“Uhm… well…” you almost say Jasmine out of pure instinct, but you stop yourself just in time. To be honest, you never really thought about which face character you wanted to play. Getting a foot in the door to work at a Disney Park alone was a dream come true, and you’ve been so absorbed with the toiling labour of playing a fur character that you simply didn’t have the time to dream of something better.

But Jimin’s words have set you thinking. Of course, anyone’s answer might be to play a Disney Princess. It would be an incredible add to your resume. But could you really muster up enough of your acting skills to be in character around people all day? Not only would it be physically tiring like it is now, but it would also be mentally exhausting.

Unless you can find a character that suits you to a T, the way Aladdin suits Jimin. Or rather, the way Jimin can mold himself to suit any character he’s playing. It’s a talent you know you don’t have, and you know it’s an area of improvement for you as an aspiring actress. But somehow, you still can’t bring yourself to give up on your dream of standing upon the Broadway stage one day.

“I haven’t really thought about it,” you admit finally. “I guess… anyone would be fine. As long as it’s not Pluto,” you add in as an afterthought, and Jimin bursts into his musical laughter that travels throughout his entire body.

“You could be Elsa,” he says after a moment, after he’s calmed down. “Cold, a little aloof, but beautiful. I think you’d suit her well.”

The sincerity with which he says this makes your heart flutter. Moments ago, the thought of playing the ice princess and having to sing ‘Let It Go’ to dozens of grubby children would have put you off. You’d never liked that movie, but with Jimin’s suggestion, you ironically find yourself warming up to the idea.

*

Life has a way of smiling down at certain people. Park Jimin is one of them. And with just one encounter with him, you can feel his good luck rubbing off on you already.

When you check your schedule for the next quarter, your eyes catch on his name along with yours, side by side as handler and character. This time, as your usual: Oscar the Grouch.

You are in a good mood that morning as you clock into the park, heading to the utilities room to retrieve your costume and sign for it. When you reach the desk, you realise that Jimin somehow got here earlier than you did, and already signed out on your behalf.

He’s waiting in the common dressing room, drinking a protein shake and dressed in a muscle tee that shows off a dangerous amount of skin. You catch a glimpse of nipple as he raises his shake to his lips, and your throat goes dry. No one ever comes in for the morning shift this early, so the two of you are alone.

“H-hey, you’re early,” you clear your throat as you slide your backpack off your shoulder.

Jimin turns to face you, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Hey! Yeah, thought I’d get in a workout and start my shift little earlier today. Did you eat yet? I got you a bagel!”

He tosses a warm, buttery package across at you, and you just barely catch it. It’s only when you bite into it and a moan escapes your lips that you realise how essential breakfast is.

“Do you want to go first? Or me?” Jimin abandons his chair to come sit next to you on the couch. “I’m fine with whatever, but I’m a little sweaty right now, so…”

He grins bashfully, rubbing the back of his neck as he does so. It’s incredibly cute, and you have to distract yourself, tearing your eyes away from his almost transparent muscle tee.

“Sure, I’ll take first shift,” you push yourself up from your seat, feeling an intense need to put some distance between you and the dangerously charming man.

You usually dress the same way for work every time- jeans and the standard polo tee, with exercise shorts and a thin tank top underneath. It makes things easier when you have to rotate between being character and handler.  With Park Jimin in the same room, you feel a little self-conscious at stripping down in front of him, so you attempt to hide behind the locker as you quickly get rid of your jeans and shirt.

You feel painfully naked as you start to wrangle yourself into the Oscar costume. Jimin sets aside his drink and helps you by holding the bottom half of the costume open for you to step into, his face dangerously close to the apex of your thighs. You can feel his hot breath on your flesh as you gingerly step into Oscar’s trashcan.

Putting on a costume has never felt this intimate before.

“It’s like you were made to play him, you fit perfectly!” Jimin giggles, patting the top of your head. “How cute!”

“You’re one to talk,” you grumble back at him, if only to hide the growing smile on your own face. “You fit into it pretty well last time too.”

The moment is shattered as the door flings open, and Jeongguk and Taehyung come chattering in. They give Jimin a fist bump each, in the natural camaraderie that boys have with each other.

“See ya at break, ______!” Jeongguk calls out playfully, waving a tube full of your Pringles with one hand just to taunt you. Even though you can’t see him with Oscar’s head on, you hear the telltale sound of the chips rattling inside the tube, and you actually growl in annoyance.

“Jeon Jeongguk! I swear if you eat even a single one-“

“I’ll save you the empty can! Hey, does Oscar do recycling or is he just in a normal trash can?”

*

The difference between your Oscar and Jimin’s Oscar is painfully stark. When it’s his turn, he gets no less than 20 children crowding him at one time. His natural charisma just oozes through the suit.

But rather than discourage you, it actually makes you work even harder. You actually learn a couple of things from observing how he plays Oscar, and by the end of the day, you’re proud to say that you’re on par to compete with even Cookie Monster sometimes.

“Good one today, ______!” Jimin grins as he strips off the green, furry head, pushing his sweaty hair off his forehead.

“You weren’t too bad yourself,” you say with a tiny smile, offering him a pack of wet wipes.

“Hey, I was thinking we should grab a bite to eat,” Jimin turns to look at himself in the mirror, styling his dark blue hair as he rakes through it carelessly with his fingers. “You down?”

You have to stop yourself from grinning from ear to ear, instead answering coolly. “Sure. Where did you have in mind?”

“Cafeteria? I’m craving a Dole Whip myself,” he’s back in his muscle tee again, pulling on a pair of his favourite grey sweatpants.

You’ve never actually eaten anywhere other than the staff cafeteria, and even then, you avoid doing so after shifts because you don’t want to deal with seeing the rest of the crew. But Jimin has such a sweet smile that you don’t have it in you to refuse.

The two of you exit the dressing room, making your way down to the staff cafeteria, buried out of sight from the guests. To be honest, park food isn’t that bad, and the cafeteria serves a selection of it weekly, at a heavily discounted rate for staff.

Jimin’s just pondering over what he should have before Dole Whip, when a small tap on his shoulder makes him turn around.

“Oh- Dahyun! Hey, I didn’t know you’d be here,” Jimin greets her with a grin, and you can’t help but peer around him to get a glimpse of her as well.

She is exquisitely beautiful in a way you know you could never be, her features are dainty and delicate, and you can see why she’s such a good fit for Ariel. She moves with a grace and elegance that comes only with years of dance and stage training, and even in her loose-fitting pants, you can see that she has a figure to die for.

It’s people like her who make it to Broadway.

“It’s my shift starting soon,” she says in a soft, tinkling voice, casting a curious glance at you. “Anyway, I was just coming from the manager’s office. They want to see you.”

“Oh really?” Jimin frowns as he checks his phone. “I haven’t checked my email yet-“

“Yeah, something about a character change,” she smiles in excitement. “Seo Joon’s quitting, so they asked me if I had anyone to recommend to take his place, and I said you! Isn’t that great?”

Jimin seems genuinely enthused as he widens his eyes in realization. “Oh… oh wow! Prince Eric! I… I didn’t think it’d be this soon!”

“You should hurry down so they can give you the official new schedule,” Dahyun claps her hands as she giggles. “There’ll be character training sessions, outfit fittings, oh, and we also have to train together for a bit!”

The two of them almost forget that you are there, and you awkwardly take a step back, which makes Jimin look at you. His elation disappears a little.

“Hey, I’m sorry, I’ll just go attend the meeting real quick. I’m sorry about lunch, we should reschedule and it’ll be my treat!”

“No,” you shake your head and swallow hard, struggling to express that you are really happy for him amidst the all the envy and jealousy swirling in your chest. Because you truly are, he deserves this and so much more. “Go for your meeting. Don’t worry. I’ll just… I’ll uh… just head home.”

“You should get a Dole Whip! It’s the perfect treat after a shift,” he calls over his shoulder as Dahyun shoots you an awkward little smile, turning to follow him.

You watch as the two of them exit the staff cafeteria, already excitedly chattering to each other about god knows what. Yeah, somehow, you don’t think a Dole Whip is about to make things better.

*

“Prince Eric?” Joy frowns. “Well, I can’t say he doesn’t suit that character, because he would suit any prince, but…”

Now that Jimin had to be swapped out, the only good thing about it is that Joy is back on the same rotation as you again. So it means you can whine to your best friend about how unfair all of this is, how you wish Dahyun would actually get her voice sucked out of her by Ursula.

“They’re gonna look perfect together,” you say glumly. “This is why I don’t hope for anything. The moment I do, it just gets taken away.”

Joy winces as she watches you avert your gaze, untying and tying your shoelace. Your sandwich remains untouched as the two of you hide away in the dressing room during lunch break.

“Sweetie… I’m sorry,” she sighs as she pulls you in so that you can rest your head on her chest. “I’m sure our big break is coming soon. It’s all about that stroke of luck, you know?”

“Only if that lucky break comes in the form of Dahyun’s broken leg,” you grumble. Honestly, you should have seen this coming. Someone as bright and talented and golden as Park Jimin deserves to be with someone who can match him. Someone who can look as good beside him.

In other words, definitely not you. Children run away from you when they see you. They cry when they see your face. Even when you’re hidden and concealed behind a costume, they still can’t bring themselves to come any closer to you.

Your thoughts are interrupted by Jeongguk throwing open the door, still stuffing his face with a Mickey ice cream sandwich. His eyes land on the both of you, take in your disgruntled expression, then he continues to scarf down the rest of his sweet treat. Taehyung follows close behind, holding a bunch of snacks in his arms and dumping them all on the table.

“Whats wrong with her?” Jeongguk gestures with his sticky hands, stomping around in his heavy Timberland boots.

This dressing room is somewhat of a cosy reprieve, not only from the sweltering heat out there, but also away from all the other crew members. It’s long been established that it belongs to the select few of you who have the misfortune to be playing the fur characters, while the face characters are assigned the bigger, more luxurious dressing rooms for them to do their makeup and hair in. However, since the fur characters don’t need much prep other than climbing into a large furry suit, this dressing room only has the bare minimum.

You don’t mind though, because over the past year, it has come to feel like home. Ending a shift and collapsing on the couch, bickering with Jeongguk about the snack stash, coming in early to find Yoongi pulling an all nighter on the couch from the day before, getting annoyed with all of Taehyung’s junk everywhere. Getting secretly drunk after park hours with Joy and sneaking out to avoid getting into trouble.

As much as you hate to admit it, the few of you have become family.

“Not in the mood, Jeon, run along,” you shoot him a warning glare, but he is all too used to your caustic words, and sometimes you think he even enjoys riling you up.

“Might this have something to do with a certain Park Jimin getting to play Prince Eric?” Jeongguk is more astute than he lets on, but then again, it could be just because he actually bothered to read the crew schedule today.

“Who’s playing who?” Yoongi enters with a cup of cold brew in hand, sucking it down like it’s his lifeblood. All this while, you’ve never actually seen him eat something solid.

“Jimin is Prince Eric, opposite Dahyun’s Ariel,” Jeongguk repeats in delight, all too happy to take part in your misery.

Joy shoots him a glare and moves to cover your ears. “Gee, I don’t think you could rub that in any harder, Jeon.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” he snickers, moving toward the lockers in the corner for his bag to start getting ready for the afternoon’s shift. At the last minute, however, he turns back to glance at you, still lying motionless on the couch, with a look of mild concern on his face. He looks like he’s about to say something, but lets it go at the last minute.

“I hope when we get promoted, we all get it at the same time,” Taehyung says earnestly, looking around at the rest of your faces. “I just wanna stay with you guys forever. Park can go play Prince Eric for all I care, honestly.”

Yoongi finishes his coffee, discarding the cup into one of the trash bins. “Can’t say he doesn’t deserve it though.”

With a resigned sigh, because the older man is right, you go about getting ready for your shift. Something tells you that today is going to be harder than it usually is.

*

You go through the motions of your job like you do every single day, stooping inside your little garbage can, twirling little children around, taking pictures and trying your best to be in character. It’s just the start of your third shift for the day, when something out of the ordinary happens.

You first catch wind of it through the children’s excited chatters.

“Pwincess Ariel is coming!” A little girl with a lisp says, pulling at the arm of her sister next you. “Huwwy up, we gotta go see her! Leave Mister Oscar alone!’

Her sister all but shoves you away in her excitement, causing you to nearly topple over in the heavy character suit, but luckily Joy is there to support you. All the children around you suddenly scatter, screaming and crying as they tumble toward the other end of the street.

“It’s Ariel! And Pwince Eric!” The same girl yells, and your breathing slows to a stop.

What? Why would they come down to the Main Street? Princesses and Princes usually stay in their own zone, in their castles if they have one, unless it’s parade time, which it most definitely isn’t. In a matter of minutes, your side of Main Street is left deserted, you and Joy standing pathetically alone in the middle of the road as you watch all the kids surround the perfect royal couple.

Jimin is absolutely radiant in his white blazer and dark blue pants that fit him perfectly. He looks every bit like royalty with gold embellishments on his shoulders, gold buttons down the front, and a sash to accompany his top half, while his long legs are accentuated by his boots. His newly dyed black hair is parted down the middle, swept back off his forehead to expose his sweetly smiling eyes as he greets everyone around him.

He walks as if he is on a runway. The audience is captivated by him; he steals the show even from the beautiful Ariel herself. Girls are falling at his feet to take pictures with him, children are asking if he has a white horse with him, and parents are sighing with adoration over how perfect he and Ariel look as a couple. It’s like a Disney movie come to life.

Everyone coos in admiration as the handsome Prince Eric gets down on one knee to a tiny girl dressed in an Ariel costume, takes her hand and kisses the back of it. Then the real Princess Ariel sweeps in with her green dress and flowing, shiny red hair, on the other side of the little girl, and the three of them pose for a picture together.

You are awestruck at how realistic they look together. They look as if they’ve just stepped out of a live action Disney movie.

“God damn,” Joy says under her breath as Jimin offers his hand to Dahyun, and the two of them continue their mini parade down the street. “He really does look perfect.”

It’s as if Jimin was born to play Prince Eric.

The two of them are fast approaching you and the other Sesame Street characters. Cookie Monster spreads his arms wide in welcome, doing a little jig that has the children screaming with laughter. He pretends to ask Prince Eric if he has any cookies, and their mini impromptu skit delights the audience. Worse still, Jeongguk in the Cookie Monster costume fawns over Princess Ariel too, gesturing for them to hold hands as he pretends to act as their royal butler, doing a deep bow that nearly has him toppling over.

Your legs feel weak and you opt to crouch down in your trashcan, making Oscar the Grouch look even smaller and more pathetic, all alone on the Street.

“Hey, are you okay? Do you need to have a rest?” Joy crouches down beside you in concern.

“…fine…” you mumble, but you can’t really be heard inside Oscar’s head. But then, it actually might be a good idea to escape back to the dressing room before Jimin and Dahyun make it down here. You turn to tell Joy that you want to go back, but then a little child approaches you out of nowhere.

“Mister Oscar?” A tiny, petulant voice calls, and you turn around to face it.

It’s a little boy with glasses, dressed in an Oscar T-shirt and with an Oscar headband. He looks shyly up at you, but even from inside Oscar’s head, you can see his eyes are filled with wonder and amazement.

“Can I have a picture please?” He asks politely, and Joy jumps to her feet.

“Of course! And would you like an autograph too? Where’s your book?” She helps the little boy with his book and pen, and glad for something else to focus on, you take the pen and open the book to the right page.

“Whats your name?” Joy asks, so that you can write it along with your autograph.

“Seokjin,” he pronounces clearly. “You’re my favourite Sesame Street character,” the boy says with a proud smile, pointing to his Oscar T-shirt. No matter how foul your mood is, that’s bound to melt your heart a little, and you express it through your actions, holding your hands to your heart for a second before spreading your arms for a giant hug.

As you feel the squirmy little body in your arms, you hear a familiar voice behind you.

“Ah, how sweet!” It’s Prince Eric, and he looks on at the scene with his sweet smile. “Mister Oscar, thank you for keeping our streets so clean always!”

You release the child from your hug and look up at Jimin. His smile seems a little bigger than it was just now, and his eyes are trained on the exact spot where yours would be if you weren’t wearing the suit. For a moment, you wonder if he knows that it’s you inside the suit.

“Mister Oscar is smelly!” A child yells out from somewhere, and a dozen giggles follow. “He loves trash!”

Ouch. As much as it’s true, children can be rather thoughtless with their comments sometimes. You struggle to stay in character even as your character head droops a little, retreating into your trash can.

There is an awkward silence from the crowd, and even Dayhun’s smile is frozen, at a loss for words, and there’s even a look of pity in her eyes. You can feel Seokjin beside you grasp your hand a little tighter in defensiveness as he puffs his chest out.

But before he can say anything, Prince Eric frowns, turning to face the general direction of the child who had insulted you. “That isn’t very nice, is it?” He reprimands the child gently, and the crowd quiets down. “Mister Oscar has feelings too, and how do you think he might feel if you say that?”

The girl who had called you smelly looks guilty as Jimin admonishes her. “Sowwy, Prince Eric and sowwy, Mister Oscar.”

Prince Eric’s radiant smile is back on his face as he pets her head once. “That’s better. Now, you have a great day and enjoy yourselves in the Magical Kingdom. Have a great day, Mister Oscar!”

You pretend to bow as the royal couple take their leave.

*

“I don’t get it,” you say in a fit of anger as you sponge the sweat off your neck. “Why would he- they- come all the way down to Main Street?”

“Forget about it,” Joy soothes as she digs out a tube of original flavoured Pringles from her bag and offers it to you. “Shall we have soju or beer today? And chicken? It’s my treat.”

You take the tube from her and open it, shoving a stack of chips into your mouth, feeling better once you taste the salt. You’re no stranger to getting insulted by children, but somehow today stings more than usual. “I bet Ariel doesn’t get any children telling her she’s trash.”

Joy sighs, but doesn’t say anything.

You gather up your things to leave, pulling your hair back in a drooping ponytail. “Rain check? I’m not really feeling it today.”

“Sure,” Joy agrees, watching you pack your things, not even bothering to hide the tube of Pringles somewhere Jeongguk can’t find it. “Call me when you get back!”

The trek to the train station is longer than usual, lonelier without Joy to accompany you, but it’s better for you to be alone with your thoughts anyway.

*

You’re no stranger to fielding slightly abusive and insulting comments from children. Usually, you’re able to just brush it off because you tell yourself that children don’t really mean what they say. But the past incident has taken a toll on your psyche, and you can feel yourself dragging your feet to work.

On top of the next month’s schedule, you get another email from management asking you to drop by their office before your next shift.

Jeongguk catches you on the way to the management’s office, in the midst of finishing a Dole Whip from the cafeteria. The sight of it reminds you of Jimin and his promise to make up that missed lunch date.

“Here to see management?” Jeongguk asks, following you inside and offering you a spoon of the sweet yellow dessert. You open your mouth grudgingly, and the taste is not bad as it melts on your tongue. It does calm your nerves a little, though.

“Let’s hope it’s nothing bad,” you mumble under your breath.

Knocking on the door, you enter the corporate office, which looks very ordinary. No such trace of the Disney magic here. The receptionist directs you to the head of Character Management.

The head of Character Management is a stern looking lady with her hair pulled back into a bun. Kim Sejeong bids you and Jeongguk to sit down, lacing her fingers together.

“I’ve called the both of you in for some very good news today,” she begins, a hint of a smile on her otherwise serious face. “A career advancement. The two of you are being promoted to face characters.”

Your heart leaps in your chest, and Jeongguk can’t help but grin.

A lucky break. This is what you’ve been waiting for all this time. You can barely contain your excitement as your mind starts to race. Who could it be? Dare you even hope that you might be playing a Disney Princess? You’d be thankful even if it was one of the lesser known princesses. Mulan? Alice in Wonderland?

“First of all, Jeongguk.” She turns her gaze towards the boy with the bunny grin beside you. “You’ll be playing Gaston from now onwards.”

You nearly snort in laughter. Vain, idiotic, attention seeking Gaston who can’t read nor spell his name? It’s a perfect fit for Jeongguk. You can already see him in your mind’s eye, flaunting his muscles and bickering non-stop with the Beast.

Just as long as you don’t have to play Belle.

“And you, Ms _______,” she turns her gaze to you next. Your heart completely stops in your chest, trying to anticipate what’s coming next.

Maybe you’ll finally get a likeable character. Someone like Cinderella, and then kids won’t say mean things to you anymore.

“You’re going to play The Evil Queen, Snow White’s stepmother.”

*

“Oh my god!” Joy can barely contain herself when she hears the news. “I’m so happy for you! Finally, you got a face character!!”

Somehow, you don’t really share her excitement. It’s one of your last few times playing a fur character, and you can’t say you’ll miss it. Jeongguk was the first to break the news to everyone the moment he got back to the dressing room. As one of the first few to be promoted to a face character, it is definitely liberating, but a part of you is unsure of the uncertainty that lies ahead.

“At least you can attend the character crash course together,” Taehyung says gloomily at the prospect of losing his best friend.

“She’s lucky to be accompanied by my dashingly handsome self,” Jeongguk pretends to flex a bicep, already getting into the role of Gaston. It doesn’t seem like he’ll need much training to assimilate.

“It’s the Evil Queen,” you say quietly to Joy. “Who likes her? It’s even worse than Oscar the Grouch.”

Everyone knows that the fur characters occupy the bottom of the hierarchy. But what they don’t acknowledge is that the villains are barely a rung higher than them. It’s even worse now that you won’t have the character costume to hide behind. You’re going to have to step up your acting skills, and actually talk to and interact with guests who might be snarky and even meaner to you now.

“C’mon, it’ll be great for your resume. I can already see it. You’re gonna ace it, then you’ll snag the audition for Maleficient,” Joy is already thinking ahead. “And the role is practically perfect for you! Honestly, I was a little worried because I didn’t see you as the type to go around cooing at little children and hugging them and everything. This suits you way better.”

“Wow, thanks for the compliment,” you shoot back at her.

Joy only sighs. “You know what I mean.”

“We have a bigger problem,” Taehyung interrupts as Jeongguk continues to flex at himself in the mirror. “Who’s gonna take your places? It’ll be like breaking up the Fabulous Five. We won’t even see each other anymore. You’ll be using the huuuge dressing rooms. We’ll become like strangers!”

You sigh at Taehyung’s overreaction. “That won’t happen, Tae. Even if Jeongguk and I graduate from fur characters, it doesn’t mean we won’t hang out anymore. We’ll still come back here after shifts and all. I mean, this is the only dressing room that has a TV!”

“I guess…” Taehyung doesn’t seem convinced. “You’ll still come and visit though right?” He pokes Jeongguk in the ribs, causing the younger boy to flinch in the midst of practicing one of his Gaston poses.

“Of course he will, the bigger dressing rooms don’t have nearly as good a snack selection as we do,” Yoongi says off-handedly from his position stretched out across the couch. “And Jeongguk’s got all his weights stacked in the corner there. It’ll take him ages to move it over.”

As much as Yoongi seems to be aloof most of the time, the eldest crew member actually does seem to have a heart at times. His words do the job of reassuring Taehyung well enough, and the subject is left alone as everyone starts to get ready for their shifts.

“Hey, you on for the all-nighter today?” Jeongguk nudges you with his arm as you slip past him to put away your bag. “We gotta watch Beauty and the Beast and Snow White at least three times each before we start character training.”

“Who said I wanted to watch it with you?” You turn your nose up at him.

“Together? Ew,” Jeongguk expresses his dissatisfaction in a similar manner, scrunching up his nose. “I didn’t mean it like that, you idiot! It’s just, I know for a fact you’re too poor to afford a TV at home, and we happen to have both films on hand here…”

Jeongguk pauses for a moment as he looks at Taehyung, Yoongi and Joy, all of whom are currently absorbed in a discussion of whether the turkey leg tastes better with or without mustard.

“… unless you guys wanted to watch it too?” He has to raise his voice to be heard over Taehyung’s valiant defense of ketchup.

“No thanks, I hate fairytales,” Yoongi grumbles, waving the offer away. You all know Yoongi only came on board because he’d been offered the chance to play Darth Vader, but at the last minute got scammed into Sesame Street.

“Why would we wanna be holed up in here watching the same movie over and over when we could be getting fried chicken?” Joy grins unapologetically, and Taehyung chimes in.

“With extra ketchup!”

“Alright, fine!” You toss one of Jeongguk’s white shirts at him. “I guess it’s just us.”

“… I brought snacks,” he holds up a bag of Pringles with a mischievous smile.

And you’re sold.

*

“Did you actually shower?” Your eyes widen in disbelief as Jeongguk returns to the dressing room after both your shifts have ended, hair wet and dressed in fresh clothes.

“I’m not a slob, you know,” he grumbles as he makes a futile attempt to dry his hair one last time. “I got us some food from the cafeteria on the way back. They had orange chicken from Nine Dragons.”

“Really? That’s different,” you sit up in interest. “Oh my god. Are those pork belly buns too?”

“How’d you know? You never go down to the cafeteria anyway,” Jeongguk opens up another box containing shrimp fried rice, and the whole room smells so good.

“I don’t like navigating that political jungle,” you say with a mouth full of delicious, savoury pork. “You ready? I’m gonna start Snow White first.”

Jeongguk begins to devour the food as the two of you settle in to watch the movie. You have a pen and pad by your side to take down some notes on the Evil Queen’s character, how she interacts with the other characters, and some of her more iconic lines.

She’s overall a very snarky and witty character, and the more you watch, the more you think you might enjoy playing her after all. Her personality is not unlike your own, and some of the things she says are straight up savage.

“Oh! You should definitely call people peasants,” Jeongguk chimes in, a fistful of chips in the air.

“You think? Wouldn’t that be too much?” You are doubtful, but you write it down anyway, figuring you could always run it past the trainer during the sessions.

“Please. You’re a Queen. Everyone else simply must bow,” Jeongguk does a horrible impression of a British accent, which sends you giggling so hard that you nearly drop your plate.

“Maybe I’ll even come by as Gaston and steal all the attention from you. How’s that?” Jeongguk grins cheekily, and you roll your eyes.

“Oh please, as if your ugly face could ever.”

The two of you are laughing so hard that you don’t hear the knock at the door until it creaks open.

“Um… hi?” A familiar, honeyed voice makes you turn around.

It’s Park Jimin, the last person you expected to see. You’re suddenly aware of how this must look, of how you must look, dressed down in your sweats and junk food all over the place.

“Jimin! What are you doing here?” You attempt to straighten your shirt and sit up straight, pausing the movie.

“I know it’s late, but I hoped you’d still be here, so I decided to come and check,” he says shyly, averting his gaze to the floor. “I thought you’d be leaving soon… and maybe we could leave together.”

“We’re in the middle of a movie,” Jeongguk states the obvious, and you slap his wrist to get him to shut up, but he ignores you. “It’s for our character training.”

Realisation dawns across Jimin’s face. “Oh- oh! That’s right! I heard the good news. You’re being promoted to a face character! Congrats, that’s so great. I know you’ll do so well.”

Is he saying that to compliment your acting skills, or is he maybe insinuating that someone like you has the personality akin to an Evil Queen? Knowing pure, sweet Jimin, it’s probably the former, but your traitorous mind can’t help but doubt it.

“Um… thanks,” you smile hesitantly back at him. “I… I saw you as Prince Eric. You were… you were great.”

He blushes cutely, and you can feel Jeongguk rolling his eyes beside you.

“Well, um… glad to have you as a face character too. Maybe we’ll see each other more often. I think our zones are pretty close to each other,” Jimin ruffles his jet-black hair once, bringing your attention to the metal rings on his fingers. “So… see you around!”

“Wait!” You spring up from the couch, making it to the door before he can disappear fully. “I’ll um… I’ll walk you out.”

After not seeing him for more than a month, you can’t let him slip away that easily. Especially not when he looks this good, dressed down in a black shirt and black ripped jeans.

“If you need help with getting used to face characters, I could give you some pointers,” Jimin grins as you start to walk alongside him. “Or if you need help coming up with ‘outs’.”

“’Outs’? What are those?” You’re unfamiliar with the term.

“It’s when someone asks you to do something you’re not allowed to, like accepting food, or even hugs, if you don’t want to,” Jimin explains. “Or if they ask weird questions you don’t know how to answer. Usually it involves weaving in your character’s backstory to make it more believable.”

“Oh wow. I had no idea being a face character would be so difficult,” you can’t help but start to worry about how different it is from what you’re used to.

“It’s not that hard. This girl asked if she could marry me, right in front of Princess Ariel!” Jimin giggles. “Dahyun wasn’t very pleased.”

You go quiet at the mention of her, and the easy, joking atmosphere between the both of you fades. The park is dark and quiet, all the shops are shuttered, and in general, it is a much gloomier and more eerie place than you’re used to.

“Anyway, I think you’ll do a good job.” Jimin has a way with words that always seems to reassure you.

You come to the entrance of the train station, and you stand awkwardly as Jimin looks for his train pass.

“I’ll see you around?” You offer hopefully.

“Of course!” Jimin grins, turning to tap his pass. But then he hesitates. “Hey, um… maybe we should exchange numbers. In case… in case you need help with the training or something.”

“Y-yeah, that’s a great idea,” you fumble for your phone and present it to him, noting how cute his fingers look as he types in his number, giving himself a missed call so he’ll have your number too before he gives it back to you. You notice that he’s named himself in your contacts with a cute little chick emoji.

“I should be getting back now,” you have to stop yourself from fawning over how cute he is.

“Oh yeah! Shouldn’t keep… uh… Jeongguk from waiting too long,” Jimin scratches the back of his neck. “It’s kinda dark, will you be okay walking back alone?”

“I’ll be fine, I do it all the time,” you wave his concern away.

“You should text me when you get back,” Jimin says over his shoulder as he taps his train pass, then crosses the gantry. It’s only then that you realise that he might think you and Jeongguk are something more than friends, judging from the way he said his name.

“Jeongguk! He’s just…” You blurt out, causing Jimin to turn around, a few steps into the train station with a slightly confused look on his face.

Your cheeks are burning as your voice trails off. “He’s um… just a friend.” You finish lamely.

“Oh.”

Maybe it’s a little hard to tell in the dark, but you could have sworn you saw the smile on his face get a little brighter.

*

You can do this. This is only a tiny step of a multitude of challenges to come.

Knocking timidly on the door, you let yourself into the unfamiliar dressing room, Jeongguk close behind you.

“What if they eat us alive?” Jeongguk stage whispers into your ear.

“Don’t be an idiot,” you elbow him in the ribs in irritation as you attempt to swallow back your intimidation, walking to the dressing room with what you hope is a confident stride. “The worst they can do is stare us down.”

It must be at least three times the size of your old dressing room. There are two rows of dressing tables and chairs on their side, with brightly lit mirrors and bottles of makeup gathered neatly on the tables. At the back are two private changing rooms, one male and one female.

A few of the dressing tables are already occupied, and you don’t recognize most of the crew members currently here. But by the looks of their costumes, you gather that they play Princess Jasmine, Cinderella, and Aladdin respectively.

Walking cautiously to one of the dressing tables in the back, you set your bag down, realizing that there are private lockers stowed beneath the dressing tables themselves. You’ve never had this much space for your stuff before, even a dedicated hanger beside the mirror for you to hang your costume.

Jeongguk sets up shop beside you. “This is weird. It’s like there’s too much space.”

“Where’s Taehyung’s junk when you need it?” You attempt to make a joke to ease your own nervousness, even as you pull up a picture of the Evil Queen herself and start working on your makeup the way the character trainers had taught you to.

Being your first time playing her, you want to get everything right, so you make sure to come more than an hour before your shift is due to start. As the next half an hour passes, more and more crew members start to fill up the dressing room, but they keep mostly to themselves, and leave you and Jeongguk alone at the back.

Dark purple eyeshadow, dramatic brows, and red lipstick. You had been practicing this by yourself at home all weekend, so it goes pretty smoothly. To finish, you layer on the blush to complete the look. Now all you have to do is get into your costume in the private changing room.

A purple ankle length dress with sleeves, and a dramatic black cape with a high white collar to match. You have to tie back your hair so that you can secure the headpiece of the costume and affix the golden crown on the top of your head. When you look in the mirror, you don’t even recognize yourself.

You look tall. Intimidating. The thick layer of makeup has completely transformed all your features. You look like the witch from the nightmares you had as a five-year old. You try an experimental swish of your cape, and the resulting action makes you feel powerful.

There is a knock on the changing room door.

“Hello? Are you done in there? We still have to get changed.”

You open the door to see Dahyun’s slightly annoyed face morph into a semblance of a smile as she takes in your appearance. “Wow… um, ________. You look… um… great.”

The girls behind her giggle, and you know it is far from a compliment she’s paying you.

And maybe it’s because going through the ritual of transformation into someone else has truly changed you, because you can almost feel the Evil Queen’s aura that prevents you from doing something you usually would, like lowering your head or scurrying away in shame.

“I know,” you say, and you walk away in a swish of velvet fabric and shocked stares trailing after you.

*

It’s a hot afternoon as usual, but nothing you can’t handle. After being stuck in a stuffy little costume, getting to feel the slight breeze on your cheeks as a face character feels like heaven.

You hang out by the Wishing Well, practicing your cape swirls and finding that you enjoy it a lot more than you’d thought. It’s a quiet start to your first time playing the Evil Queen, and you try not to let the nerves get to you. Most of the visitors just walk by you and smile awkwardly without doing anything.

Your first customer is a child wearing the trademark Mickey Mouse ears. She approaches you timidly, holding out a red apple to you. The Evil Queen never smiles, so you glance down at the child, clasping a hand to your chest as your eyes widen in approval.

“Why hello there child, is that apple for me?”

The child nods so hard that their Mickey Ears nearly fall off, and you have to admit, they are kind of cute.

“Are you absolutely sure? Well then, thank you very much, I must say you have great taste. Even if you do like to wear rat ears on your head…” You take the apple gently from the child and raise it high in the air. “Behold! The most gorgeous apple in the kingdom, only suitable for the fairest queen in the land of course!”

You glance down at the child again, who seems to be more than excited that you accepted their gift. “Would you like a picture child? Alright then, where is your caretaker?”

The child grasps a fistful of your cloak in their hands as she points to her parents, waving a camera, and you pose for the picture, arms folded regally and eyebrows raised. When you see that the child kind of just freezes up for the camera, you take it upon yourself to bend down so that you are eye level with her, gently helping her to fold her arms and copy your facial expression.

You can feel her parent’s laughs of delight when they finally take your picture again, the child a carbon copy of your regal and intimidating self. When they come to collect their child, they flash you a grateful smile, and that tiny bit of affirmation is all you need.

After the ice has been broken, you feel much more at ease with the crowd. A few more people approach you for pictures, and you manage to maintain a friendly bicker with them while still staying in character. You ask for compliments, admiring yourself in their front view cameras, dissing Snow White when they bring her up, and when they leave, they bring a new crowd in along with them, all of whom are entertained by how self-absorbed and vain you are.

“Queen, queen! Oh, my queen,” a teenage girl raises her hand. “Who do you think is better looking, you or Gaston?”

“Gaston!?” You gasp in horror dramatically. “That terrible excuse for a man? You must be joking.”

“But I asked him, and he said he thinks he’s the most handsome!”

You wave them away with a roll of your eyes. “Oh please. Have you seen that pathetic little stallion tail he has for hair?”

“I heard someone was talking about me?” A loud, blasting voice sounds from behind you, and you turn to see Jeon Jeongguk dressed up as Gaston approaching, hands on his hips.

His costume consists of a large amount of shoulder and chest padding, and his red tunic is stretched tight across his naturally huge thighs. You have to say, he does have the body to play Gaston, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t look ridiculous. You almost want to burst out in laughter, but somehow you manage to keep it in.

“Only about how ugly you are,” you say with a wave of your cape.

“Ugly?” Jeongguk is affronted. “That is a word I’ve never heard in my life.”

“With how small your vocabulary is, I’m not surprised,” you examine your flawless nails, and smirk in satisfaction when a few people around you clap in delight at your comeback.

“Look at all these people here to see me!” Jeongguk goes on as if he never heard you, spreading his arms to flex his biceps to welcome the cheers of the crowd. More and more people are now gathering around the two of you. “They must be amazed by how handsome I am.”

“They are here to see me,” you clarify. “That is, before you barged in so uncouthly. Don’t you have better things to do? Like groom that monstrosity of a dog in your backyard?”

“Did she just refer to the Beast as a dog?” Hushed whispers and giggles come from around you, and you don’t have to do much to hide your smirk.

“They’re admiring the size of my muscles, of course!” He strikes a pose down on one knee, flexing one bicep, and some of the girls actually swoon at his good looks. A part of you secretly thinks that he ignored the second part of your insult because he doesn’t know how to respond to it in an appropriate PG manner. Instead, he focuses on making sure everyone around him can see him flexing his biceps.

You can tell that he is enjoying every bit of the attention he gets, as some of the crowd ‘ooh’s and ‘aah’s at his show, and the competitive spirit inside you gets ignited.

“A true Queen does not need to compliment herself, for she has her servants to do it for her,” you gesture at the crowd impatiently. “Well? Compliment me!”

“The fairest in all the land!”

“Snow White is ugly!”

“My Queen, you are so beautiful!”

With every compliment, you nod in approval, and it’s clear the crowd is having a great time. Some of them are even recording your impromptu little skit with Gaston.

It’s the most fun you’ve had playing a character since you started working here. For once, you can kind of let go and be yourself without worrying if you’ll be good enough.

Jeongguk gathers his little fanclub that has formed around him. “Come on, let’s go tell Belle how handsome I am.” He struts off, one arm around a girl each as they follow him back to his zone giddily.

“Ugh, good riddance,” you sigh and continue to admire yourself in a mirror someone gives you. “I dislike him almost as much as Snow White.”

Some of the crowd actually looks a bit upset when Gaston leaves, and you observe with slight surprise that they really enjoyed this impromptu skit between you. You make a mental note to yourself to talk about this with Jeongguk after your shift, to see how the both of you can arrange more regular visits for him in the future. The fact that both of your characters aren’t even in the same story means you have even more freedom to come up with their interactions.

The afternoon passes quickly, and you feel more settled into your role, even starting to have fun once you realise that you can pretty much just make up your lines on the spot. It’s even more enjoyable once you realise that playing a villain is essentially getting paid to insult visitors.

You’re just about to get ready to end your shift when you spot a large crowd approaching your area. At the very front, you spot Dahyun as Ariel, striking with her red wig and flowing green dress, and slightly behind her is-

Your throat closes up as you see Jimin in his prince costume again, the navy blue of his blazer making his white ruffled dress shirt stand out even more. His black hair is side parted, his eyes are smiling as he trails after his partner. It’s been a while since you last saw him in character, but he never fails to take your breath away.

When Dahyun spots you at the Wishing Well, you can almost swear that she slows down, turning behind her to reach out a hand to Jimin. At first the prince doesn’t notice her outstretched hand, as he leans to take a selfie with a visitor, but once he catches sight of it, he takes her hand without a second thought, tucking it into the crook of his arm in one smooth, natural motion.

You school your features into a look of disdain, but you don’t even have to pretend to begin with.

Making sure that they are within ear shot, you swish your cape in disinterest. “Does anyone smell anything fishy? Oh. It’s that fish-girl.”

You swear you can actually see the look of shock cross her pretty features, and she opens her mouth, but no words come out.

“Gaping like a fish too,” you say with a wave of your hand, and the visitors around you gasp at your savage comment. “Begone, trespasser, shouldn’t you be in an aquarium somewhere?”

Some of the visitors near you are laughing and even taking videos of you, and they are just loving the savagery that you dish out. Their impressed murmurs only serve to boost your confidence, especially when you see Dahyun’s reaction.

She only attempts to smile prettily at the crowd, unable to come up with a witty comeback, but you can see her grin is forced and doesn’t reach her eyes.

You haven’t dared to look straight at Jimin yet, but your eyes land on their joined hands instead. Clasping a hand to your chest in disgust, you roll your eyes. “Ugh, they’re holding hands. Someone please remove them from my presence.”

And then, even as you’re trying your very best not to look at the one person who has undoubtedly captured all your attention, your eyes can’t help but be drawn to the way his eyes widen when he sees you.

Suddenly a bead of insecurity creeps up in your chest. Surely he must think you look revolting like this. That’s what everyone thinks when they see a Disney villain. You are, quite literally, playing the villain in the love story between him and Dahyun. You might not be from the same fairytale, but the idea is there.

She’s the princess, he’s the prince.

And you’re the villain.

The two of them approach your Wishing Well at a steady pace, Jimin’s pretty eyes have now thankfully returned to their normal size as he runs his hand through his silky black hair, waving and blowing kisses to the crowd. He doesn’t even spare you a single glance, and it stings.

You can imagine your face is a really bright shade of purple, if your emotions are anything to judge by.

“Ma-madam,” a whimpering child approaches hesitantly at your feet, and you nearly startle. You didn’t see them approach, all your attention being focused on the prince and his princess.

“Yes, child, what is it,” your voice coming out a little more huffy than you wanted it to. But still, no one around you sees this as out of character, and you suddenly remember who you’re supposed to be playing.

You’re allowed to be a little mean.

“Are you… are you a witch?” The child’s large, inquisitive eyes gaze up at you, and you stare back at her with your chin lifted high.

Jimin and Dahyun are within earshot now. You can feel as if the crowd is holding its breath expectantly, waiting for your answer.

“A witch?” Your voice rises, scandalized. You do a graceful swish of your cape as you spin around, arms spread dramatically. “How can a witch be this beautiful, child?”

It’s a lie. All of it is a lie, because you don’t feel the least bit beautiful. Especially not in this getup, especially not in front of Dahyun with her porcelain skin and fiery red hair that compliments it so well.

But the crowd eats it up with cheers and laughter, clapping and chanting your character’s name. All the attention is now on you, and the prince and his princess are left to pass by quietly.

Maybe your acting skills have improved, but you’re pretty sure that you’re the only one in the whole crowd who didn’t buy that act one bit.

*

“You’re viral!!! Oh my god. Have you SEEN this?” You’re attacked by some kind of rabid animal the moment you step into the fur character’s changing room.

It turns out to be only Joy, who seems beside herself with excitement. She’s currently still in her Oscar costume with the head off, that’s why you mistook her for a rabid animal in the first place. The fur of her costume nearly suffocates you as she’s all up in your face.

It’s late, you’ve just finished your last shift and all you want to do is collapse on the couch for a few minutes before you have to muster up the energy for the train ride home. Today took more out of you than you realized.

“You’re viral,” Taehyung grunts from a corner, attempting a few sets with Jeongguk’s weights that are clearly too heavy for him. “She’s been saying that over and over for the past few hours.”

“What are you talking about?” You say wearily, trying to focus on the phone that Joy is waving around in your face before you just grab it from her in your impatience.

It’s a Youtube video titled “EVIL QUEEN PUTS GASTON IN HIS PLACE” and it was just uploaded only a few hours ago. But it already has a million views and counting.

Slightly more awake now, you start to focus on the short three-minute video. It was just taken today, and you hear yourself insulting Gaston for a bit, before actually bickering with him when he shows up. The camera work is shaky, clearly taken by someone in the audience.

“Did you read the comments yet?” Joy says breathlessly as she peeks over your shoulder. “Read them. They’re gold.”

You start to scroll down to the comment section, your heart racing as you read them.

disneylover012: Oh my god. The Evil Queen is the best. She’s so savage!!

walkingonsunshine: Imagine getting paid to be mean to visitors. I LOVE HER

starwarsfan48: We need more of this. MORE

chipndale29: I’m gonna go to Disney tomorrow just to see her!!!!

sunnyreds: she and Gaston are actually kinda cute together… arguing like a married couple. They should totally date!! (4 replies)

        potatocakes: imagine if they ACTUALLY WERE DATING IRL

        luckycat7: THAT’S SOOOO CUTE OMG I TOTALLY SHIP THEM

chimchim013: why’s everyone saying they should date??? They’re probably just friends in real life…

nochu019: @chimchim013 lol don’t hate him just cuz u ain’t him… I ship them too

“Oh my God, they ship you and Gaston,” Joy is falling over herself with laughter, and you put aside the phone for a moment to help her get out of her costume, seeing the threat that she poses to anyone in her near vicinity.

“Who ships us?” Jeongguk arrives with his hair wet and shirt clinging to his body. He dumps his bag at the door and plops himself onto the couch.

You feel a little weird after reading that comment. Joy is safely out of her costume by now, and you hand her back the phone. “Nothing. Just some random people on Youtube.”

“They aren’t just some random people,” Joy admonishes. That’s the top liked comment, and that video has a million views now. And counting. _______, you’re famous!!!!!! The star of our little park!!!!!”

“Not forgetting who else starred in that video, are we,” Jeongguk raises an eyebrow, popping open the lid of a Pringles can. “I was, after all, your co-star.”

“Oh shut up, you were totally getting owned- hey wait. We didn’t even show you the video yet. Why do you seem like you already know which video that is?” You narrow your eyes in suspicion, turning to look at Jeongguk.

Jeongguk turns red immediately, stuffing his face with more of your chips. “Mmf- happened to see it…”

There’s a loud clank in the corner as Taehyung gives up on working out. He massages his biceps as he paces around the room, eyes bright with excitement. “This is huge. Bigger than we could have ever imagined!!!” He grabs you by the shoulders. “________, you might even win Employee of the Month if you keep this up! The crowd loves you!”

“Oh please,” you wave away their optimism with a hand. “It was only one video.”

“It’s not just one video,” Joy corrects you as she scrolls furiously on her phone. “This account also uploaded another one. This time it’s called…”

Joy gets cut off with a snort of laughter. “Oh my god, you bad bitch.”

The door opens, and Yoongi walks in, hair in a mess and eyes half-open. “Who’s a bad bitch?”

“_________!” Joy squeals. “You fucking called Ariel a fish.”

“No way,” Taehyung grabs the phone to see for himself.

EVIL QUEEN DISSES PRINCESS ARIEL, CALLS HER A FISH

“…Oh. It’s that fish girl.” You hear your voice blasted loudly, and then the rest of the video is drowned out by boisterous laughter, cheers and screaming.

It’s chaos. Taehyung is running around the room. Joy is jumping up and down, replaying the video over and over. Jeongguk is rolling with laughter on the couch and falls off, knocking his knee on the table. Yoongi, true to his quiet self, only smirks at you with a look that resembles admiration, a tall order for the man of few words.

“Not bad. Guess you are serious about getting your man.”

“Wh-what?” Oh my god, guys shut up for a fucking second,” you say to your friends, but they aren’t having it. They are completely beside themselves with mirth, and a part of you can’t help but smile either. The animosity between fur and face characters has been an ongoing war ever since you joined. A video like this going viral just feels like a score for you and zilch for them.

“I thought we’d lost you and Jeongguk over to the Dark Side when you got promoted to face characters,” Taehyung says, still half doubled over from the exertion, face red. “But now it’s totally us against them. You’re a double agent!”

“She’s a fucking champ is what she is,” Jeongguk says with a look of pride on his face. “Insulting them while keeping character. I don’t know how she does that.”

You don’t really have much to say as you watch your friends replay the video over and over, but there is a warmth in your chest as they celebrate and dance. A warmth that completely erases the feelings of insecurity still lingering after seeing how beautiful Dahyun was today. The validation from your friends is just what you needed to chase those doubts away, and you plop yourself down on the couch, snuggling closer to Jeongguk as you settle in to watch the rest of the videos uploaded by that account.

Yoongi only partially grumbles about all of you squeezing onto one couch, but even you can see the tiny, proud gummy smile on his face as he watches from his standing position behind you all.

There may be shitty moments in this job. But moments like this make it all worth it, and you tell yourself to hold on to it no matter what.

*

Jimin collapses into a chair in the dressing room. To be honest, he prefers the fur character’s dressing room to this one. Always cosy, with that soft couch perfect for taking a nap in between shifts. And the main plus point: the people. Ever since he got promoted to a face character he felt weird going back there, but it seems like you and Jeongguk still treat it as your dressing room. He hardly ever sees you in here, even when your shifts match.

A bigger dressing room also means more people, and more strangers. It’s noisy, impossible to relax for a moment in between shifts. So he pulls out his earphones and plugs it into his phone, opening Youtube and idly browsing his homefeed.

He comes across an interesting video that catches his eye immediately.

EVIL QUEEN PUTS GASTON IN HIS PLACE

That’s you in the thumbnail. He’d know your face anywhere. Jimin clicks on it, and the video begins to play. You and Gaston are bickering away, back and forth with an undeniable chemistry, and Jimin feels a lump growing in his throat.

It’s partially overshadowed by the pride when he notices that it’s gone viral, over two million views now, and he grins happily. Watches the way you throw yourself into your acting, how confident you look making up your lines impromptu.

His mistake is when he decided to scroll through the comments.

sunnyreds: she and Gaston are actually kinda cute together… arguing like a married couple. They should totally date!! (2 replies)

        potatocakes: imagine if they ACTUALLY WERE DATING IRL

        luckycat7: THAT’S SOOOO CUTE OMG I TOTALLY SHIP THEM

He frowns. You and Jeongguk? Hm. Not if he has anything to say about it.

He types furiously on his phone and presses submit before he has a chance to think twice about it. Satisfied with his reply, he continues watching to the end of the video, but not before another ping interrupts him.

It’s a notification that someone has replied to his comment. He opens it and scrunches his brow in disapproval.

sunnyreds: she and Gaston are actually kinda cute together… arguing like a married couple. They should totally date!! (4 replies)

        potatocakes: imagine if they ACTUALLY WERE DATING IRL

        luckycat7: THAT’S SOOOO CUTE OMG I TOTALLY SHIP THEM

chimchim013: why’s everyone saying they should date??? They’re probably just friends in real life…

nochu019: @chimchim013 lol don’t hate him just cuz u ain’t him… I ship them too

He starts typing furiously again but can’t come up with anything intelligent to say. Finally, he deletes everything and clicks on the offending user’s screenname to check out his channel.

It’s primarily focused on gaming and streaming, although their latest video does look like it was taken in Disneyland itself. Jimin sees a familiar silhouette in the corner of the video’s thumbnail and clicks on the video to get a better view, though the figure is never clearly outlined.

Frustrated he scrolls through the rest of the channel’s videos, but it’s all lame gaming streams.

It’s probably just a loser gaming nerd, Jimin tells himself as he returns to the viral video of the Evil Queen. Nothing to get worked up over.

He’s interrupted by the timer on his phone signalling his next shift, and he sighs, tossing it away and starting to get ready.

*

The view count only goes up and up. Throughout the weeks that follow, more of your fan accounts pop up, uploading numerous videos of you sparring with Gaston, entertaining the crowd solo, insulting and bickering with guests. The list goes on, and your fanbase grows bigger.

Now you have a sizeable crowd at the Wishing Well every time your shift comes on. It energizes you, gives you the motivation to act better, think of wittier lines. The recognition that you’re getting every day makes you shine even brighter, giving you the hope to aspire towards your eventual big-picture dream of Broadway.

“It’s totally possible,” Joy gushes as she takes off her makeup at the end of the day.

You’re sitting on the couch in the small living area, face already scrubbed clean of all your makeup. You tear into a face mask and carefully align it on your face. With the extra makeup that comes with playing a face character, you also run the risk of breaking out more, and blemishes are even harder to cover. So you put more effort into your skincare routine to make sure that your skin is as flawless as can be.

“With all this fame you have, you could totally have an edge at auditioning for Broadway,” Joy continues on.

“Maybe…” you say, closing your eyes and tipping your head back for a moment of relaxation. “No one knows it’s me playing the Evil Queen. They can’t find out my name, or Disney will fire me. You know the rules.”

“Yeah, you could send it in as a highlight reel or an audition tape,” Joy answers. “Those are kept private anyway, so the public won’t find out. Win-win.”

You roll over to face her. “You think that’ll work?”

Her response is interrupted by a polite knock at the door of the small dressing room. You both know that none of you ever knock before entering, so whoever is outside must be a visitor.

“I’ll get it,” you say, walking toward the door and opening it.

“Um, hi.” It’s Park Jimin again, hands awkwardly in his pockets and looking freshly showered in a black shirt and ripped jeans. His favourite combo. “I thought I might find you here.”

You hastily rip off your face mask, cheeks turning red at your disheveled appearance compare to his flawless one. “Hey! Um, yeah haha guess I’m pretty predictable!”

You almost cringe at your awkwardness. Jimin only smiles gently, eyes looking past you into the room.

“Are you busy?”

“Um… no! Not really. Just relaxing after my shift, Joy’s here too, you know her, right?”

Jimin acknowledges her with a nod. “Actually, I kind of ran into senior management just now, and they asked me if you were still in the park. I think they want to see you and it seemed kind of urgent, so I came over to see if you were here.”

A slight tinge of disappointment makes itself known in your chest. So Jimin didn’t come here to look for you, he only came because senior management asked him to.

“They- they want to see me? I didn’t get any email from them though…” you pull out your phone and check it, only to realise it’s out of battery. “Oh. No wonder. Um… sure. I’ll go see them right now. Thanks for letting me know.”

You start to slip past him, but he catches your arm halfway.

“I’ll walk with you, if you don’t mind,” he says with a shy little smile, flipping his hair off his forehead with one hand.

“You sure? I don’t want to hold you up… you must be tired.” Both of you start to stroll toward the head offices.

Jimin smiles companionably, taking a deep breath of the crisp, cold air. “I’m okay. Not that tired. It’s a really fun job, and seeing the crowd gives me energy. So I always end the day with more energy than I started it with.”

You can kind of relate to what he’s referring to, and for the first time you realise how important it is to receive so much love and attention from your audience. “Yeah, totally. It’s like a two-way dialogue. You give the audience your all, and they give it back to you tenfold.”

“Exactly!” He grins at you with a little skip in his step. “You’ve been killing it lately. I heard you’re going super viral on Youtube. The first video of you and Gaston has, what- five million views?”

“Oh, yeah… it’s crazy. I have no idea how that happened,” you blush a little under his intense gaze, focusing on the path in front of you instead.

“I know how it happened, your acting skills are amazing,” Jimin says with a shrug, saying it as if it’s obvious. “Watching you makes me feel like you were born to act. When you’re acting, you just steal the spotlight even if there isn’t a stage. I think you should give yourself more credit.”

He turns to you with a sweet smile, eyes warm. It almost makes you stumble over a non-existent rock.

“Thankfully neither you nor the crowd are mind readers, because I was doubting myself like crazy that day,” you attempt to laugh it off, but your confession only makes Jimin even more curious, his hand brushing against yours. You ignore the hitch in your voice. “It was more like tiny little questions. ‘Like is this okay? Am I doing a good job? Was that too mean? Do they hate me?’ ”

“Wow- that’s… I couldn’t tell at all,” Jimin admits. “From the outside you just looked like you were born to be there. You looked so confident and comfortable in your own skin, and… it was attractive.”

Your heart skips multiple beats as you shakily bring yourself to make eye contact with him. Jimin is still looking at you, and the words are left unsaid between the two of you, but his gaze makes it loud and clear.

I was attracted to you.

You’re saved from a response as you approach the head office. Thinking he’d probably do the normal thing and leave now, you turn to say goodbye to him, but Jimin follows you into the office.

“I can stay a little. Don’t have anything after this anyway,” he says with an easy smile, and part of you is glad, because you’re nervous at the thought of meeting with senior management.

Though you’ll have to go in alone, the thought of Jimin waiting outside for you makes you a little less anxious.

“Good evening, _________,” the head of Character Management, Kim Sejeong greets you.

It’s strange to be meeting with management so often, the last time being when you got promoted. But this time, the rest of the management is also in the room, sitting on either side of a long table, looking important and intimidating.

“Hi- Good evening, I believe you wanted to see me?” Your voice comes out small, and you hate it.

“Yes, we have some very great news for you,” Kim Sejeong smiles tightly as she ushers you to a seat at the end of the table. “I’ll let our director of HR deliver it himself.”

His nameplate reads Jung Hoseok. He clears his throat, adjusting his tie as he smiles at you. “Congratulations, ________. You’ve been made employee of the month.”

There’s a stunned silence for a moment as you digest the news. Finally, you bring yourself to utter a response. “Um… I… wow, this is amazing, I had no idea… Thank you so much, Mr Jung.”

Jung Hoseok laces his fingers together, smiling again as he looks at the other members of the senior management. “I think I speak for all of us when I say that we’ve definitely noticed how you are shining in your new assignment. We’ve taken note that you’ve gone viral, and we estimate that park visitation numbers have gone up by 5% ever since you were promoted. You’ve brought very good publicity for our park, and we think you deserve this title.”

“In fact, we decided to modify the title slightly, you’re now employee of the month for the next three months. Of course, we’ll be announcing your title in the official staff newsletter later this month, but we just thought you’d like to know in advance,” Sejeong interjects smoothly.

This has to be a dream. Some cruel nightmare where everything is ripped away from you at the very last second. There’s no way something this good can happen to you… is there?

“It’s not just a title,” Jung Hoseok corrects himself. “I’m not sure if you’re aware, but the Employee of the Month is also rewarded with a small voucher. But since this is Employee of the Month for the next three months, we thought the prize should be similarly inflated.”

You glance at Sejeong expectantly, not daring to get your hopes up. What could it be? Cash? A month off work? A bonus?

“Two pairs of VIP tickets to Disneyland, redeemable at any time with no expiry,” Jung Hoseok grins as if he thinks he’s awarding you the Nobel Peace Prize. “And, a free night’s stay at the Disneyland hotel, two rooms inclusive.”

You’ve never really been a fan of Disneyland and its hotels, but this is slightly ridiculous. The reward for doing well at work is… getting to spend more time at work? You supposed you can always sell the tickets or something… you just have to find a way to be discreet about it.

You realise that a longer than socially acceptable amount of time has passed in which you’ve just been staring at senior management, and you clear your throat, mentally slapping yourself out of your stupor.

“Thank you, Mr Jung. I truly… truly appreciate this, it’s such an honour,” you force the words out alone with a stiff smile on your face.

Jung Hoseok seems satisfied with your gratitude. “Thank you, Ms______. Please keep up the good work. Well, that’s all we have for you today, unless there’s anything on your side, Sejeong?”

“Nope, nothing from me,” Sejeong shakes her head. “You may go now.”

You thank them one more time before letting yourself out of the room, still trying to process everything. Jimin sees the slightly overwhelmed look on your face, and he immediately meets you at your side, arm around your shoulder to guide you to the door.

“You okay? It wasn’t bad news, right?” He asks, worried.

“No… no it wasn’t. Quite the opposite, actually,” you say still in a daze. “I was awarded Employee of the Month. For the next three months.”

“Oh my god. That’s amazing! You totally deserve it!” Jimin expresses his joy with his entire body, skipping ahead of you a few paces and even doing a spin, giggling in that cute way of his.

“It is,” you smile, genuinely happy now. “But get this, guess what was the reward.”

“A 13th month bonus?” Jimin guesses excitedly, his eyes bright.

“Two pairs of VIP tickets to Disneyland. And two hotel rooms, one night stay,” you say in a deadpan manner. “I know, right? How stingy. Employees already get a 20% discounted rate off everything, and yet…”

“You could always sell them. Or, I mean… take the chance to just be a normal person at Disney. I guess that’s easier said than done, with all the things that we’ve seen as cast members…” Jimin bites his lip in a way that highlights how plush they are.

“A normal person at Disney?” You’re intrigued by the idea as the two of you start to walk back towards the cast member’s dressing rooms. “I’ve never really thought of that before. I mean, this is our workplace, so I don’t think I could ever think of it as a place to have fun.”

“I could show you, i-if you wanted,” Jimin stumbles over his words, and you can see a slight blush on his cheeks as his smile rounds them out gently. “I think it’d be fun. To just forget what we’re really here for and enjoy the park as Walt Disney himself intended it.”

From anyone else, those words would have rubbed you the wrong way. But coming from Park Jimin, it’s genuine because you can tell he really believes that this park was meant to bring joy to people.

And after all, spending a day with Park Jimin in Disney doesn’t sound all that bad. Especially when you think of the hotel room waiting for you after.

“I think it’s a deal,” you grin at him, a fluttering in your stomach when you see his face light up.

*

“Oh my god. Please,” Jeongguk begs, practically on his knees in front of you. “I’d kill to stay in a Disney hotel just once. And besides, this would be great for my channel!”

“You have a channel?” You frown at him. This is news.

“I recently just started one! It’s mainly gaming for now, but I thought of branching out into vlogging too! And what better place to vlog than Disney itself?” Jeongguk grins and stretches his arms, spinning in the small dressing room and nearly knocking Yoongi off his feet.

The older man glares as he shields his Americano with his body. “Count me out. Spending more time in this place is the last thing I want.”

You sigh under your breath. “Me too, bud.”

“C’mon, you have three tickets! Just give one to me, and Tae and Joy can take the other two! It’s perfect!” Jeongguk folds his arms petulantly, as if he can’t believe you haven’t done the math. “We can do the ‘Eat Everything at Disney Challenge’ and then crash in the hotel room at night. It’ll be like old times again, just way fancier!”

“We can just sneak Yoongi hyung in for the ‘crash at hotel’ part,” Taehyung chimes in. “We’ll get snacks and alcohol and shit. It’ll be great!”

“Um… well, about that…” you shift your weight from foot to foot. “I… kind of only have two tickets left.”

“What? Where’d the last one go?” Jeongguk immediately questions this unexpected wrench in his well laid plans.

This catches Yoongi’s attention too, and he stops scrolling on his phone to fix his eyes on you. Eyebrow raised, as if he can tell what you’re going to say next.

“I don’t think you have any other friends than us,” Jeongguk is thinking hard, and you punch him in the shoulder just for that comment.

“It’s Park Jimin, that’s who,” Joy pipes up from the corner as she’s examining her skin for any breakouts.

Jeongguk frowns. “Wait. Prince Eric? He’s your friend? You guys are close?”

Yoongi snorts at that naïve response. “Dude, she has the biggest boner for him. Everyone in the crew knows that. Well, except for you and him, I guess.”

“Shut up, everyone does not know that!” You throw a cushion at Yoongi, but he raises an arm to deflect it, unbothered as always. “I’m gonna put salt in your Americano tomorrow.”

“Two slots and three people, that’s gonna be interesting,” Yoongi says, going back to his phone.

“Well, I volunteer Tae as tribute. He’s the only one whose shift doesn’t match ours for the next month,” Joy shoots you a quick glance as she says this, and you understand what she’s getting at immediately.

If it’s just you, Jimin and the two brats, you’ll be spending the whole day taking care of them like they’re your overgrown children. But with Joy along, hopefully she can distract Jeongguk long enough for you and Jimin to have some time together, and hopefully even hit the end goal of-

“Oh, right…” Taehyung says with slumped shoulders. “Who plans the shifts anyway? Why’d I have to be left out this time?”

Feeling a little guilty for all the unspoken planning going on between you and Joy, you ruffle Taehyung’s hair fondly. “Hey. You can still join us at night. We’ll just sneak you guys all in.”

You almost regret the words coming out of your mouth the moment you say it, because Joy shoots you an ‘are you sure about this’ look. You return her look with a shrug. As much as you want Jimin, it doesn’t feel right to exclude your friends like this, friends who have been like a family to you.

You’ll just have to find a way to get Jimin alone, because this is your best chance.

*

“Hey everyone! What’s up guys, today we’re doing a ‘Eat Everything at Disney Challenge’!! Woohoo!” Jeongguk’s boisterous voice attracts the attention of a few other people around him.

He holds out his vlogging camera further to capture the rest of the party. Joy is walking beside him, doing a great job of being the physical buffer between Jeongguk, you and Jimin. She waves half-heartedly, more concerned with shielding herself from the merciless sun with her sunhat and making sure Jeongguk doesn’t crash into anything while mindlessly vlogging.

You’re a few paces away with Jimin, matching your pace to his and already feeling the exhilaration of the day ahead. Even just walking beside him is enough to get your heart racing. Today he’s dressed up slightly more, in a white button-down shirt with cut-off khaki shorts that show off his muscled thighs. To complete the look, his black hair is parted in the middle, showing off his forehead, black sunglasses hung on the vee of his white button down shirt.

“Did I miss the memo or something?” Jimin turns to you with an amused smile on his lips. They look soft, pink and even a little glossy, as if he’d taken the time to apply some tinted lip balm. “Eat everything at Disney Challenge?”

“Don’t worry, I missed it too. If I’d known, I would have worn something a lot looser than this,” you gesture down at yourself. If only Jimin knew that you had spent hours agonizing over your outfit last night, panic calling Joy for help and realizing that you have absolutely zero date worthy clothes in your closet.

It figures because the last time you went out for something other than work and auditions and grocery shopping was never.

Finally, you’d settled on a yellow plaid dress with thin straps to fight off the summer heat, and sneakers to make walking a little easier.

“You look great though,” Jimin says boldly, biting his lower lip. “How about this: he’s here for the all you can eat challenge. We’re here on a date.”

The words make your stomach flutter dangerously, as if you’re on Space Mountain just before the big drop. There’s something slightly different about Jimin today, he’s a sassier, more flirty version of himself, and it only makes you wish you could have come alone with him even more.

*

No more shy smiles or cute grins today, Park Jimin is going all out in his flirting. He’s going to get the girl today, Jeon Jeongguk be damned.

The four of you stop at a churro stand, and Jeongguk announces to the camera that it’s the first stop of the day.

Jimin’s never been one for the sugary treat, but he spies an opportunity as Jeongguk begins to scarf down his churro on camera, getting sugar all over his shirt.

“Hi, can I have one pineapple churro please?” He asks before turning to you. “Share one with me?”

“Sure,” you shrug as Jeongguk approaches the two of you, his original flavour churro already gone.

“What’d you guys get?” Jeongguk squeezes himself in between you and Jimin. “Oh. Pineapple? I didn’t know they had that flavour.”

Jimin hands over some cash to the vendor and takes the still warm, yellow churro dusted in bright yellow sugar. “They have all different kinds of flavours, look.” He points to the menu board on top of the booth. “Hey, you know what’d be cool Jeongguk?”

“Hmm?” Jeongguk turns to him with a questioning look in his eyes.

“You should try all the different flavoured churros, it’d be a really cool addition to the vlog!”

Jeongguk lights up at the suggestion. “Why didn’t I think of that?” He turns to the vendor and points at the menu. “Can I have one in every flavour? Oh, and employee discount please.”

“Sure, but we’re fresh out of churros and it’ll take about fifteen minutes to make the next batch, would you be okay with waiting, sir?”

Jimin discreetly tugs at your hand and pulls you away with him while Jeongguk haggles with the vendor about the waiting time, too preoccupied to even notice the two of you.

A safe distance away, Jimin grins as he glances you up and down as if he suddenly realized something. “Here. Take this.”

He shoves the churro at you, and you take it from him, brows knitted in confusion.

“It matches your outfit, and you look really cute. I wanna take a picture of you,” Jimin explains with a giggle as he takes his phone out of his pocket, positioning you so that the Magic Castle is directly behind you. “One, two three…”

You make him laugh in his signature way, with his entire body, when you pretend to play the churro like a flute. He snaps a few more pictures with a satisfied smile on his face, and you drop the pose, walking over to him to check the picture and half hoping you don’t look horrible.

“So pretty, see,” Jimin shows you a candid of you laughing at him laughing, and you realise it’s the happiest you’ve seen yourself lately. His proximity as he shows you the other pictures makes your heart race, and you almost don’t want to move away.

To cover up your fluttering nerves, you take a bite of the churro, feeling the sugar melt on your tongue, and the tangy taste of pineapple spread across your tastebuds.

“Good?” Jimin asks, putting his phone away, casually letting his arm skim past your waist as he tucks it into his pocket. “Lemme try?”

Before you can offer your end of the churro to him, he closes one hand around your wrist and lifts the other end of the churro to his lips, taking a bite of it. The sugar dusts his plush lips, and he maintains direct eye contact with you as he chews, his smoldering eyes such a contrast with the cute bulge of his cheek full of churro.

The slight height difference means the churro is tilted in between the two of you, and your end of the churro remains slightly out of your reach. Feeling as if his eyes are daring you to, you lean forward slightly and take a bite from your side while he takes another bite from his end.

God damn if this isn’t the most romantic thing you’ve ever done. You’d thought these things only happen in movies. Feeling your cheeks heat up from his stare, you break away first and brush some sugar off your chin.

“It’s really good,” Jimin comments, licking his lips to get every bit of sugar. “Tastes just like the Dole Whip. Pineapple’s really good for you too.”

“It is?” You ask before you can fully comprehend what he’s said, mind already addled by his close proximity and how outrageously cheesy he’s being. You see a stray granule of sugar on his bottom lip, and without thinking, brush it away with your thumb.

Jimin pairs his answer with another bite of the pineapple churro, a slight smirk on his lips as he chews. “Yeah, it tastes good, and it makes you taste good too.”

You understand his double entendre immediately and wonder where the hell this side of Park Jimin was all along. A moment ago, everything was straight out of a rom-com movie, and a second later he’s looking at you like you’re the lead actors of Fifty Shades.

“Hey guys, I got it!” Jeongguk bounds over with his two fists full of churros, his camera balanced dangerously in the crook of his elbow. Joy trails behind with a slightly apologetic look on her face at not being able to successfully keep him busy. “Guys, can you film me? I’m gonna try to break the world record for eating churros the fastest.”

You oblige, stepping away from Jimin to rescue the camera from Jeongguk. “There’s such a record? What’s the time to beat?”

“Dunno,” Jeongguk shrugs, his eyes already focused on the multi-coloured churros in his hands. There’s pineapple, plum, green apple, strawberry and blue raspberry. “I’ll make one if there isn’t.”

“Don’t choke, Kook,” you caution him, taking out a bottle of water from your bag just in case, and position him in the camera frame. “Three… two… one… action!”

Jimin looks over your shoulder at the camera’s viewfinder as Jeongguk begins to scoff down the churros at record speed. In the blink of an eye, he’s already downed three, and he shoves the last two in his mouth at the same time, chewing furiously as if he’s eating two Pocky sticks at the same time.

“And… time!” You call out, figuring he can just add in the timer below later in post editing. You keep recording though, and hand him the bottle of water with your free hand.

Jeongguk looks satisfied with himself, though his eyes land on how close Jimin is standing behind you as he chugs the water. With a petulant pout, he lowers the bottle from his lips.

“Do I have sugar on my mouth?” He asks you, looking at your face rather than at the camera.

“Yes, yes you do,” you say with a laugh. “It’s all over your face and chin.”

“Wipe it for me?” Jeongguk asks with a shameless grin, glancing at the way Jimin’s expression tightens. “I can’t see where it is.”

There’s a brief pause as you hesitate, and then you pull a pack of tissues out of your pocket, tossing them at him. “Here. Use these.”

Jimin’s laughter sounds angelic to you, but it grates on Jeongguk’s ears.

*

“Hey, can you walk ahead of me?” Jeongguk turns to you with his camera still focused in front of him. “I wanna do a ‘follow me’ shot. And I need a model.”

“I’ll do it!” Joy chimes in enthusiastically, although you can obviously tell how forced it is judging from the smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. The heat is definitely taking a toll on her. You owe her a huge debt after this.

But Jeongguk frowns a little. “Hmmm, can ______ do it instead?”

“What’s wrong with me?” Joy crosses her arms defensively.

“Have you seen the way you walk?” Jeongguk rolls his eyes. “You’re like a drunk elephant.”

Joy’s eyes widen in outrage and you can tell this is about to turn into an argument between your two best friends. Before she can say anything, however, Jimin cuts in.

“I’ll do it,” he says, pushing back his black hair from his forehead.

Relieved, you chime in. “Y-yes! Jimin walks really well. You should see the way he walks down Main Street when he’s Prince Eric. He turns the whole place into his private runway!”

Jimin shoots you a fond little smile, glowing from your compliment and you feel Jeongguk’s eyes tracking this tiny moment between you.

“What do I have to do?” Jimin asks, already walking in front of Jeongguk.

“But… ‘follow me’ shots are usually done by a girl because they get more viewers,” Jeongguk protests weakly, especially when Jimin appears in the viewfinder of his camera. “And… and we have to hold hands.”

“You have no idea how handsome I am from the back,” Jimin smirks, running a hand through his hair again. “I’ll get you way more views than Joy and ______ ever could.”

“God damn. That confidence is so hot,” Joy whispers beside you, watching the two men squabble over having to hold hands, and then finally settle for no hand holding.

You don’t doubt he could get way more views than you or Joy, especially with the little smirk he shoots the camera over his shoulder as he starts to walk toward the Magic Castle. Jeongguk follows while filming, leaving the two of you behind for a moment.

“You know what’s hotter?” Your eyes don’t leave him for a second. “That ass.”

Joy giggles in tandem with you for a second before she stops with sudden realization. “Oh my god. I just realised something. I hope the walls between the hotel rooms are soundproof.”

*

“And… here’s the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen today…” Jeongguk suddenly turns the camera on you as you pick at your candy floss. “We’re waiting to go on the carousel!”

Suddenly camera shy, you hide behind the giant pink cloud. “What’s with you? Why are you complimenting me?”

“Because it’s true,” Jeongguk shrugs, one hand reaching out to move your cotton candy away from your face so that he can see you.

But his view is suddenly rudely interrupted by Jimin who sticks his face right in front of the camera. Jeongguk jumps back in slightly shock, a scowl etched across his features as Jimin blocks you entirely.

“How about me? Aren’t I the cutest guy you’ve ever seen?” Jimin checks himself out in the camera lens, and you have to stop yourself from agreeing. He fluffs up his silky black hair, taking the sunglasses that hang in the vee of his shirt and putting them on.

Jimin continues to check himself out in the camera’s viewfinder, and you laugh at him, watching him smooth his hair and lick his lips, and suddenly you find yourself envying the viewers of Jeongguk’s channel. That is, if Jeongguk decides to even let this make it into the vlog in the first place.

Jeongguk is making noises of disgust, trying to get Jimin out of frame, and the two of them are squabbling like little kids.

Jeongguk passes the camera to you. “Hey, film me.”

He grabs a piece of popcorn and tosses it into the air, trying to catch it with his mouth. Joy giggles when he fails, and Jimin snorts with laughter at his reattempts.

“C’mon, that’s easy,” Jimin says as he grabs popcorn from Jeongguk, and you turn to focus the camera on him instead. Jimin tosses it into the air and catches it easily, shooting the camera a little smirk.

“I’ll do it again,” Jimin says, grabbing another piece of popcorn and tossing it in the air. It lands in his mouth effortlessly, and the way he looks at you while chewing makes your mouth go dry.

“One more, and if I succeed…” his voice trails off so that you have to strain to hear him over all the background noise of the park. “You have to ride me tonight.”

Then he throws it into the air and catches it with his mouth, and your heart skips a beat when he catches your eye after.

“Um, what?? I’ll have to ride… what?” You feel like that piece of popcorn has gone down your throat instead, from the way you’re stuttering.

“You’ll have to ride with me,” Jimin says with a wink, nodding at the carousel. “What did you think I said?”

You’re saved from replying when the gates in front of you open, signalling the next batch of carousel riders.

Joy tugs you along, unaffected by what just went down whatsoever. Her only aim is to choose the prettiest unicorn so she can take millions of selfies, and you follow her, not realizing that Jeongguk isn’t behind you. By the time you do realise, you’re already standing beside a white pony with a pink mane and tail just behind Joy.

“You go ahead, I wanna film the carousel from here,” Jeongguk focuses on getting the perfect frame on his camera. Jimin glances over his shoulder and realizes that it’s focused on you, following you as you go from pony to pony, laughing and giggling with your cotton candy still in hand.

He narrows his eyes in suspicion. “Hey, I thought this was supposed to be a ‘Eat Everything at Disney Challenge’? Why are you filming ______ like, exclusively?”

“Because I wanna eat her, that’s why,” Jeongguk mumbles under his breath, and Jimin nearly explodes.

“What did you just say man?” He’s ready to grab Jeongguk by the collar for referring to you in such a crude manner.

“Calm down dude, it was just a joke,” Jeongguk’s eyes widen in fear. “I say stupid things sometimes without thinking! You know I’d never treat _____ like that. She’s like one of my best friends! I can’t help if I’m attracted to her like that!”

“Kook? What are you doing? Get over here!” You gesture at him and Jimin, who are still in the queue even though there are more than enough spaces on the carousel.

You notice the two of them having a seemingly intense conversation, at the end of which Jimin backs down and shoves his way through the gate, with a hard set to his jaw as he approaches the horse you’re about to ride. But by the time he’s on the carousel itself, the annoyance has vanished off his face.

“You should ride on this one instead,” Jimin gestures to a horse on the inside of the carousel. “Switch with me.”

You were just about to get on the horse, but at his insistence, switch to riding the one on the inside instead. Jimin stands just behind you, making sure you’re securely on the horse before he climbs up on the one next to you.

He glances at Jeongguk still in the queue trying to get a shot of you on the carousel, but he purposely angles his body so that he’s blocking you entirely. Especially when he sees your exposed thigh when your dress rides up from your position on the horse. Jimin doesn’t want anyone but him to be privy to this view, that’s for sure.

The ride slowly creaks to a start, and the whimsical music starts up. Now that the sun has gone down, the glow of the carousel lights casts a magical tinge over everything, and when Jimin looks over at you, he isn’t ready for the surge of butterflies.

*

The four of you make it to the hotel to check-in, half exhausted and just wanting to collapse onto cool sheets for a while before coming up with a plan to sneak in Yoongi and Tae, who insisted on bringing the snacks and alcohol so that they wouldn’t be left out.

“Here you go, two rooms, across the hallway from each other. 503 and 504,” the hotel clerk smiles at you, and you thank her, grabbing the keys and joining the other three in front of the elevators.

“Fifth floor,” you mumble to no one in particular as the four of you enter the lift. Joy reaches out to punch in the correct number, while Jimin boldly wraps an arm around your waist and you press your cheek into his chest.

“Why’s Kook sulking?” You refer to Jeongguk who’s been silent ever since you got off the carousel ride, looking through shots on his camera with a sullen look on his face.

“His blood sugar is low, he needs some snacks probably,” Joy says, stifling a yawn herself. “God, I can’t believe it’s only 9pm and we’re dying to go to bed. When did we become boring ass adults?”

“Ever since we got jobs and started paying bills,” your voice is muffled by Jimin’s shirt.

The elevator dings and you stumble out, navigating the lush hallways lined with red carpeting to find the correct unit number. You stop in front of 503 and tap the key card to the sensor, tossing the other one to Joy who opens the opposite room.

The sight of the neat, luxurious hotel rooms perks even Jeongguk up, as you dump your stuff and throw yourselves onto the soft beds.

“Oh god. Who was the one who suggested The Spinning Teacups? I hate you so much right now,” you mumble into a pillow, all your energy sapped up.

“Jeongguk did,” Jimin helpfully supplements your memory even as you feel the bed dip slightly beside you.

All of a sudden, you are painfully aware that the two of you are alone in the room together… the door is locked securely and there’s no one, not even Mr Walt Disney himself, who could interrupt your moment now. You turn to see Jimin flat on his back beside you, eyes closed and hair brushed away from his face. The outline of his sharp jawline leads you down to his Adam’s apple, then further down into the v of his shirt that exposes his chest…

He catches you looking with a playful smirk on his plush lips, turning onto his side so that he can regard you better.

“I waited all day for this…” Jimin whispers in a low sultry tone as his eyes undress you, and he sits up, running his fingers through his hair. “Remember what I said about riding me?”

You can only gape at him for a moment, before you reach out to smack his chest. “Oh my god, I knew I heard that! You made me feel like such a pervert!”

Jimin laughs, reaching across the bed to pull you into his lap so that you are indeed straddling him. “You’re cute when you’re flustered.”

You forget about how sweaty you feel when Jimin pulls you down for a kiss, and you finally taste those plush lips of his that you’d been dreaming of forever. You feel as if all of this is a dream, only it can’t be because the sensation of his warm body beneath yours is all too real, his tongue begging for entrance is making all of your fantasies come true and-

Ding dong ding dong ding dong ding dong!!!

The doorbell rings persistently and doesn’t stop. Such an obnoxious act can only be the work of one person. Sighing, you extricate yourself from Jimin’s grasp with one last kiss to his bottom lip and go to check who’s outside in the doorhole.

But all you see is darkness.

“What are you guys doing in there! Come out! Yoongi and Tae are here!” Jeongguk’s voice sounds from outside, and you can only surmise that he’s covered the door hole with his hand. Real mature.

Sighing, you turn back to Jimin still on the bed. Inside here is Jimin with his cute smile and sinful promises of the night to come, and out there is… Jeon Jeongguk with a penchant of cock blocking you at every turn he gets.

“We should join them for a bit. Then sneak away if we can.” Jimin sighs when the doorbell continues ringing, twitching an eyebrow in annoyance. “Or else he’ll never leave us alone. We need a game plan.”

Jimin turns to rummage through his bag for some comfy clothes to change into, and you do the same, only retreating into the bathroom to try and freshen up a little first. Five minutes later you emerge, dressed in comfy sweats as you open the door, only to stop the incessant ringing of the doorbell.

“Kook, you’re disturbing the neighbours,” you chide him gently, pushing him towards the other hotel room as Jimin emerges behind you in an oversized black hoodie and shorts.

It seems like the party already started without you, chip bags open and strewn everywhere, beer cans crushed and strewn around. You plop yourself down on a pillow and reach for some Doritos, moaning as the salty, cheesy goodness hits your tongue and you feel renergised.

Yoongi comes in bearing pizza, and for a moment no one speaks as you all hungrily devour the food.

“So Kook, did you manage to finish your ‘Eat Everything at Disney Challenge’?” Taehyung asks with a hopeful grin, for he’d contributed to the idea himself.

“Obviously not, or else he wouldn’t be stuffing himself right now,” Joy says through a mouthful of pizza, chasing it down with a gulp of soda. “He started off strong with the churros, but I think he kinda got sidetracked along the way…”

“Oh,” Taehyung says, not really looking all that disappointed. ���Bro, there’s always next time! I told you, you need me!”

Yoongi settles back with a can of beer, looking as though the day has thoroughly worn him out. “So, how’d you losers like Disney? As visitors, not as cast members.”

“Eh, was okay I guess,” Jeongguk picks at a piece of pineapple on his slice. “Vlog turned out slightly different than I wanted it to.”

“Too hot,” Joy complains, before realizing her mistake. Her eyes widen as Taehyung tosses an empty crushed beer can at her.

“Try an entire afternoon in costume!” Taehyung says indignantly, before bursting into laughter.

While they bicker back and forth, Jimin nudges your knee with his, and mouths the words ‘game plan’. Your eyes dart around the mess in front of you, then at each of your friends.

Jeongguk is stuffing himself with the rest of the pizza, and if you know anything about him is that he goes out like a light after meals. Yoongi is already more than half asleep, Tae and Joy are distracting each other. Now’s the perfect time.

You start to stand up slowly, making your way to the door to let yourself out quietly. You don’t dare to turn and see if Jimin is following behind you, all you can do is keep going straight without making any more noise…

“_______? Where are you going?”

Shit.

Jeongguk’s sleepy voice interrupts you, and you turn around, a hesitant smile on your face. You see that Jimin is still seated in the circle, and you root around in your head for an excuse.

“Just- just gonna get more beer, we’re already out!” You say, and Jeongguk seems to accept this as he shifts his position to lie his head on Jimin’s lap instead. “Hyung- can I call you that? Hyung, lend me your lap for a while. You’re comfy.”

Ignoring Jimin’s silent protests for help, you let yourself out of the room, breathing a sigh of relief once the door closes behind you. You let yourself into the other room with the spare keycard in your pocket, thanking the heavens that you decided to ask for an extra card at reception just now. The original one is with Jimin, if and when he manages to extricate himself from Jeongguk’s grasp…

You sigh and slide under the soft, warm sheets, deciding that you might as well take a nap while waiting for Jimin.

*

Beep-beep….

The sound of a key-card being scanned stirs you from sleep, and you crack open an eye, but all you’re met with is the darkness of your hotel room. Then there’s a weight on the bed beside you, and Jimin’s soft voice.

“Did you fall asleep?”

“No, no I-“ the sleep in your voice betrays you, though, and you sit up hastily, taking in Jimin’s ruffled appearance; hair messy and cheeks slightly red. “What time is it?”

“Just past 2am,” Jimin rubs a hand down his face, reaching for a bottle of water on the bedside. “We were deep into some drinking game before I managed to escape. They’re all passed out in the other room.”

Jimin tilts the bottle and drinks deeply as if to chase away the sleepiness. He replaces the bottle on the bedside and moves to take off his hoodie, revealing the thin black shirt underneath. Unable to stop yourself, you push yourself into a sitting position, grabbing his shirt and pulling him in for a kiss, continuing from where you left off earlier.

You can taste the remnants of beer on his tongue, his hands slide around your waist to feel your soft curves, pull you closer to him so that you feel the hardness of his abs and the heat of his body.

“Finally,” he groans, trailing his kisses down your neck. “Fucking finally. This was all I could think about when we were playing 7 Up.”

His hands slide down to lift your shirt over your head, his lips marking the top of one breast as he works at the clasp of your bra. Jimin’s roughness is welcome as he sucks purple and blue into your skin, tossing away your bra like it’s nothing.

“You had the nerve to fall asleep while I was stuck entertaining your friends?” Jimin emphasizes this with a particularly harsh suck on your nipple, his fingers twisting the other one and your thighs clench together, trying to seek some sort of friction. His palm gropes your breasts, squeezing it roughly as he marks the other with his teeth and tongue.

“Shi-t I’m sorry!” You squeak out, but this side of Jimin you’ve never seen before is so fucking hot, and you can feel yourself already craving his touch on your body, inside you, and just everywhere.

His anger translates itself into his actions as he pulls down your sweatpants with a yank, but his fingers are always gentle on your skin as he travels up your inner thighs, traces across your sensitive lower lips. He witnesses how soaked your underwear is, pulling it away from you as he settles himself in between your thighs.

One flick of his tongue sends your thighs trembling, and he concentrates all his efforts on your clit, his fingers digging into your soft flesh in an attempt to keep your legs spread for him. Two fingers spread you for his viewing pleasure, he eats you like a man starved, not caring if your juice smear on his chin or cheeks.

When his fingers start to tease at your entrance, you buck your hips in a silent plea for more, and Jimin obliges you by sliding in one finger. Even though you’ve pleasured yourself in the past, it doesn’t compare to the feeling of him filling you up with his fingers, stretching you out and watching how well you take him.

One thumb is still rubbing circles around your clit, fingers stroking that special spot inside you as he coaxes you to cum all over him. Finally, Jimin goes in for the kill, replacing his thumb with his lips wrapped around your clit, and sucking until you see stars and your thighs are wrapped tight around his head.

You are panting and out of breath when your muscles loosen up, and Jimin is licking his lips, staring at your cunt. Without giving yourself time to get shy, you move to straddle him, ripping his shirt off in a hunger to feel his chest and abs, grinding against him.

“Fuck, are you really going to ride me like this?” Jimin has his hands around your waist as your tongue swirls in the shell of his ear, feeling your wet cunt grind against his abs. He lets you get a fill of his rock hard muscles for a few more seconds before aligning you where he really wants it, just over the bulge in his sweatpants.

“A bet’s a bet, right?” You reach down to pull the waistband of his sweatpants lower, bringing his underwear with it.  You can already see the red tip of his cock, hard and angry and weeping with precum.

You grasp him with your mouth watering at the thought of swallowing his thick cock down your throat, but that will have to wait because you think you might die if you don’t feel him inside you this very instant.

“You know, I always look at your ass in your Prince Eric costume when you walk past the Wishing Well,” you admit to him, stroking his cock a few times and relishing the deep groans from Jimin.

“Sounds like you have a kink for Princes. Maybe I should fuck you while wearing my Prince outfit?”

“Bonus points if we can roleplay. You can save me from this big, towering castle, and when you climb all the way up I’ll thank you by sucking your huge-“ You’re unable to finish the sentence, bursting out into giggles only to be met with a puzzled look from Jimin.

“Wait, you weren’t being serious? I was getting into that!” 

“Only if you call me Queen. And I get to call you a peasant.”

Jimin mock pouts, but then when his cock brushes against your clit, he suddenly remembers that he’s supposed to be punishing you for falling asleep while waiting for him.

He delivers one spank to your ass, causing you to moan as he reaches for the condoms thoughtfully provided by the hotel.

“Ugh, they’re Disney themed,” Jimin groans in distaste as he tosses aside the Mickey Mouse wrapper, unrolling the red and white polka dot condom over himself and swearing even more. “Who the hell would be turned on by this!”

You giggle at his obvious distress over how the condom makes his cock look.

“You’re laughing?” Jimin frowns in disapproval. “I’m here in danger of going soft before I can even fuck you and you’re-“

“Then I’d better help out,” you stifle your laughter as you grip him by the base and sink down onto him, and immediately all thoughts of Mickey Mouse, Disneyland and his cock going soft flee from Jimin’s mind.

All he can think of is the feeling of your warm cunt surrounding him, how tight you are as you take him all the way. You alternate between bouncing on top of him and grinding your hips in circles when you want more depth. Your thighs are burning, but you promised you’d ride Jimin till he cums.

When your pace slows down just a smidge, Jimin bends his thighs under you and meets you halfway for a while, before finally wrapping his arms around your waist so that your upper body is pressed tightly to his. Then you feel him pound into you, using his lower body strength to keep up the pace.

Although you’re on top, he seems to be doing most of the work, and the most you can do is to tighten around him. You can feel his grasp tight around your waist as his breaths quicken against your skin.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” Jimin is clearly trying to hold himself back, but you gather the last of your strength and start bouncing on him, trying to push him over the edge. A few more squeezes of your core around him and Jimin is groaning, gripping your waist as he thrusts up into you and spills into the condom.

A few brushes of his thumb around your clit is all it takes for you to follow him over the edge, collapsing against his chest in exhaustion as you both come down from your high.

Jimin goes soft and slips out of you, and he rolls you to the side so that he can take off the used condom. He grimaces as he ties the end and tosses it into the trash. “Never a-fucking-gain.”

“Does that mean we aren’t having round two here?” You tease him as he comes back to bed, snuggling deep into the covers with his cold feet pressed against your thigh.

“I think I could maybe deal with that… are there any Donald Duck ones?”

*

“My queen! I brought you a new servant!” A teenage girl excitedly drags her friends towards you, holding a camera up to film your reaction.

More and more of your visitors have been filming you, but you take it all in stride rather than feel pressurized by the thought that this will end up on Youtube. You pretend to check yourself out in the camera’s front view for a moment before noticing her and her friends.

“My new servant? Well everyone’s a servant, what are you talking about?” You glance dismissively at the crowd around you, holding up your mirror to catch the sun’s rays. “Well, if you’re my servant, you may bow.”

The girls giggle as they attempt to curtsy.

“That was terrible,” you swirl your cape in response. “It needs work. Now off with you!”

You turn and begin to stroll in the direction of the Magic Castle, aware that your little entourage is following you. Children are running after you and a few of them ask to hold your hand, which you allow graciously.

“Come, come, walk with me. The Wishing Well is filthy, Snow White hasn’t been doing her job lately. Out of my way! Out of our way, peasants!” You proclaim loudly, making everyone aware that you’re currently conducting your own parade.

Your shift is due to end soon, but you can’t resist passing by the Magic Castle just once. If you get the timing right, Jimin should be doing his rounds there while Ariel is stuck inside at in a photo session…

From far away you spot the bright blue jacket of his blazer, his dark black hair glowing in the sun and his pretty smiles as he twirls a child around in his arms. The sight of Park Jimin as Prince Eric nearly makes you want to smile, and you barely manage to keep your smirk of disdain on.

“My Queen, what do you think of Prince Eric? Isn’t he just the dreamiest?” One of your followers sighs from behind you as they catch a glimpse of the Prince. “He would make a great servant!”

“That’s precisely the reason why I came here, to recruit a new servant,” you concede, waving your mirror in the air as you approach Jimin. “I think a poison apple or two should be enough to take care of Princess Ariel, and then he’ll be all mine!”

Your laughter makes Jimin glance up at your approaching entourage, and well-mannered as his character is, he gives you a slight bow.

“Well, to what pleasure do we owe your presence to? Not here to give out any poisoned apples, are we?” Jimin holds a child’s hand as they attempt to hide behind him.

“Not at all… not yet at least,” you smile deviously, gesturing to all the people following you. “Someone here suggested you’d make a good servant… and I came here to see for myself.”

“Ah, I’m afraid I have to politely decline,” Jimin says with a small bow, but you can see the slight smile on his face. “As much as it would be an honour to serve you, my Queen, I’m afraid my allegiance lies elsewhere.”

“Hmmm,” you consider his rejection with a finger on your chin, checking your reflection in your mirror before you answer. “Well, at least he has manners. Which is more than I can say for his other half, that fish girl. I guess he needs to make up for the both of them.”

You can see it takes everything Jimin has not to giggle with his entire body like he usually does. Swirling your cape, you turn around and stride to the nearest exit, waving goodbye to your followers.

A few minutes later, Jimin follows you into one of the dressing rooms already laughing.

“You did it on purpose! I nearly broke character because of you,” Jimin points an accusing finger at you, but his giggles take all the sting out of it. He takes your hand and the two of you start to walk back to your fur character’s dressing room, taking the shortcut through the tunnels so that god forbid, no one in the park sees Prince Eric and The Evil Queen holding hands and giggling together.

In all the fairytales you read as a child, it’s always the Princess who gets her Prince and her happy ending. Never in your wildest dreams would you imagine that something like this would be possible, and yet here you are, walking hand in hand with the Prince of your dreams.

Maybe you don’t have to be a princess to get a happy ending after all.

“I should come by more often, you’re cute when flustered,” you tease him as he opens the door to the dressing room, and you’re thankful that no one can see the silly smile on your face that definitely doesn’t fit the Evil Queen.

“Ugh, get a room,” Yoongi peeks an eye open and closes it immediately at the sight of the two of you.

“This is a room,” you say, and Jimin only reluctantly lets go of your hand to let you take off your makeup.

Yoongi only grumbles and goes back to napping, and the two of you quieten down in the unspoken agreement that a sleepy Yoongi is like a bear that should best be left in hibernation.

You retrieve your phone to check your messages that you missed while being away for the past few hours, only to see that you have five missed calls and three messages all from the same number.

Opening the latest message, your heart skips a few excited beats.

Dear ______,

This is Mr Kim, Casting Manager for Broadway’s Maleficient. I refer to your audition tape sent in a few weeks back, apologies for the delay in getting back to you. I’d like to formally invite you down for an audition at your earliest possible convenience. The directors are all very excited to meet you, especially after watching your audition tape of your current role as The Evil Queen at Disneyland. You’ve become somewhat of an internet sensation, and we would love to have a chance to meet you in person. Please let me know what date works for you, or give me a call any time.

Your hands are shaking. It feels like all the air has been sucked out of the room.

“What? What is it?” Jimin asks in concern, peeking over your shoulder to read the text.

Then he lets out a loud whoop that makes Yoongi grunt in annoyance.

“You better not be giving him blowjob right in front of my salad or I’m kicking the two of you out on your naked asses…”

“______ got a fucking Broadway audition! She’s going to BROADWAY!!!!”

Jimin is beside himself with excitement, and you turn to kiss him, not because you want to shut him up (though it does accomplish that too).  

You kiss him because you feel like every happy ending deserves to end with a kiss like this, only then does it count as a happily ever after.

[ot3]

What's the core appeal of orv? I know the premise but why does it make you so hyped up?

OH BOY OH BOY....... i will try to be as concise as possible here but i could write without exaggeration thousands of words about why orv is good. But I guess here's the big stuff.

- Its funny, for starters. it is extremely funny, which is very high up on my media priority list. in orv, there will be incredibly grim things that make you laugh, and incredibly cringe and silly anime bullshit that will hurt you as heavily as any other media you’ve seen. 

- it executes it’s thematic arcs with pinpoint precision the likes of which i’ve hardly ever seen anything else manage to do. regardless of whether or not the themes themselves are the sort of themes you go bonkers for in media, it’s always just delightful to see something perfectly stick it’s landing in terms of the big concepts its trying to grapple with, and orv does

- it’s got fun and fascinating worldbuilding mechanics. the core concept being ‘reality now operates on the rules of a shitty novel’ means that the worldbuilding doesn’t have to function logically, it functions thematically. it’s explicitly stated in orv canon that some of the internal rules governing this new reality are objectively really stupid and illogical, but they just have to roll with it because that’s what was in the book, and i think it’s a really enjoyable way to do it. This may at first sound like a copout, where the writer is trying to excuse their own bad worldbuilding, but it isn’t. The world building is actually incredibly deeply thought out, but it doesn’t exist for the sake of rational function, it exists for the sake of, once again, furthering orv’s thematic arcs. the rules by which this universe operate do a magnificent job of strengthening the core concepts the authors are exploring. 

- it deals with morality in a really wonderful and nuanced way. there are almost no characters in orv’s extremely large cast of characters who are just explicitly morally condemnable, and almost every conflict allows you to understand exactly why the antagonists believe they’re in the right by opposing the actions of our protagonists. the central conflicts are never pure right and pure wrong; they’re always about contrasting goals, conflicting worldviews, and different priorities between ends and means. this makes the conflicts all feel so much more dynamic and engaging than those where the only stakes are physical harm. 

- the characters interpersonal relationships are some of the most interesting ive ever seen. orv is very slow burn and it takes a long time for a lot of these to come out of the woodwork, by design, but by god once they do they fucking hit. similar to the plot conflicts, the interpersonal conflicts also almost never occur where there’s one side clearly in the wrong. the characters are almost all genuinely attempting to do their best by each other, and the tension comes from the ways in which human communication is fundamentally imperfect and part of our feelings and intentions get lost in translation. it’s very heartwrenching and heartwarming to see unfold, in equal measure. 

- following from that, it’s a narrative that really meaningfully prioritizes non-romantic relationships over romantic ones as the central focus. obviously there’s shipbait and the ot3 is real and good and my friend but if you’re looking for deep complex platonic, (found or otherwise) familial, and antagonistic relationships that never get ruined with forced romantic arcs, we got em baby!

- the pacing is unlike anything i’ve ever seen before. from a purely technical standpoint, it is genuinely a fascinating case study in how to execute a narrative that is almost constantly escalating without exception. there is very little downtime or breathing room in orv, which is insane for something that clocks in at over a million words, and somehow, it still works. i’ve never felt more like a frog in a pot of slowly boiling water than i did when i was reading orv and i can’t believe they pulled it off. it’s so interesting to read something like that.

- it is a tragedy without resorting to cynicism and a very adult narrative that’s really steeped in childlike wonder. i’m a big fan of cartoons made for children cartoons made for children are my favorite things to watch because i like media that is uplifting and encouraging. but of course children’s media will always be simplified and not very relatable to an adult. orv is very much a serious and heavy adult narrative, and a deeply tragic one at that, but this is never tragedy for tragedy’s sake. it’s a very compassionate piece of media over all, that holds a lot of reverence and sympathy for the ‘naive’ optimism of children that gets stripped down over time. if you, like me, feel more like a grown up child than an adult someday, i think it’ll hit for you. 

- if you are a person who has ever gotten deeply involved in media to ignore bad things happening in the real world, which i know you are because you are reading my tumblr blog, then there is going to be a lot about orv which resonates for you. a lot of metanarrative has attempted to comment on the voyeuristic nature of media obsession and storytelling, but a lot of it does so in a bizarre way that almost seems to shame the audience for having the audacity to... enjoy the product the creators have produced for them. orv is what i can only describe as a love-letter to its own audience, and it’s really a manifesto about how engagement with media can foster genuine human intimacy, even if initially it’s something you’re using as a crutch to replace that intimacy. the closest thing to orv’s metanarrative i can think of would be undertale. if undertale made you Feel some Things, orv is gonna make you Feel some Things as well. 

- it is extremely cathartic and meaningful. i am not exaggerating at all when i say that reading it gave me the closest thing i have ever felt to any sort of spiritual breakthrough. it helped unfuck my head a ton during some very grim times and i think the perspective it offers on the value of human life is a really really good one

- its really funny i promise

- its cringe in a way that’s hype

- please read orv please not even for me do it for yourself i want you to experience what i experienced for YOUR sake not mine

[ourmondobongo]

Levi Ackerman in Shingeki no Kyojin Chapter 136 analysis: Part 01/06

(I was trying to post them before the final chapter, but I'm just too slow in writing T-T Here it goes anyway...)

Hello, dear SnK readers!

This series of posts will be about an analysis of Levi's character in SnK's plot and especially in chapter 136.

Here, I'll flesh out parts of the dialogue, drawings, and plot analysis the best I can as one of Isayama's plot lovers and Levi Ackerman's huge fan.

This came from my sadness at seeing Levi's amazing character being ultimately reduced/downcasted/degraded for very unfair reasons that I particularly guess could become a little less unfair remembering certain aspects of his and SnK's story.

But, of course, you are free to like, dislike, agree or not! This will be my own viewpoint, after all. I just kindly ask you all to remember that respect is essential so we can keep a healthy talk!

Little explanation before we start...

For about 8 years now, I've been reading the manga and watching the anime.

So I do believe that more than writing a plot for pure gore or the sake of X or Z  romantic relationship (this last which sometimes is really and purposefully exaggerated in the anime by WIT Studio, and maybe I will write about it another time), for more than 11 years our dear Isayama presented the world an amazing thriller about human-eating creatures and complex human issues. 

I highlight this here because sometimes I think it is actually easy to forget how ample SnK gets discussing serious issues. Which in response might lead us to overlook details - especially if involves the expectations we carry over events/characters based on our desires rather than the core of the plot.

And in fact, from the beginning to the end, SNK brings us pain, violence, and bloodshed. But more importantly - it brings us questions about what freedom is; being powerful x powerlessness; political, social, and economic issues; conflicts and wars; culture of hate and prejudice; dimensions of fear; technological advances; socio and psychological issues; life and dreams and death (and for the sake of brevity I will stop here, but this list is just a scratch of what we have seen!)

So everything isn't just as "simplistic" as it seems.

Isayama only gives us 45 pages per chapter, so like the Paths, all details are connected between chapters, and they all matter!

Let's go!

ANALYSIS Chapter 136 Part 01/06: Number of the chapter

To understand Levi's character, monologue, and importance in this chapter, let's take a look into the context of what was happening in SnK's plot at the moment.

For this, I'll start from the very beginning: the number of the chapter! #136

The meaning of Number 136

I've seen a lot of people discussing number 139 (that will be AoT's last chapter) based on numerology. So I decided to search number 136 just by curiosity. And if this isn't amazing, I don't know what to say. (Highlights are on me.)

First source:

"The numerology energy represented by the number 136 expresses itself as a source, where things begin.

A beginning might be the start of anything — exploring new lands, leading a new mode of thought, manifesting something material, evolving something into a new form, discovering something — but generally involves a process for continued existence. Without a process along which the new might proceed, the beginning would also be the end.

[#136] It's also a nurturing energy, meaning it generally considers something's continued existence before beginning that something — instead of just starting things willy‑nilly."

(Souce: https://affinitynumerology.com/number-meanings/number-136-meaning.php)

Second source:

"Another way of looking at angel number 136 is as an expression of root number 1 (1+3+6=10, 1+0=1). The vibration of the number 1 is all about new beginnings, optimism, and inspired leadership.

136 assures us that we are on the right path, even if our situation has been a bit out of balance in recent months.

[...]number 136 relates to your prevailing thoughts and feelings. It carries a response to your prayers, hopes, and wishes.

You will discover that the more positive your thoughts are; the better are the results of your labor. Positive thinking leads to positive outcomes. This sign from your angels assures you that you are not alone. In case of any doubt, reach out to your angels for guidance.

Source: https://thesecretofthetarot.com/angel-number-136/)

And lastly:

"Your divine guides are alerting you that certain aspects of your life are coming to an end. As such, you should prepare for a new adventure.

This is an opportunity to take advantage of the gains you have made in the past. It’s also a chance to right your wrongs.

You have another chance to do things right."

Source: (https://thesecretofthetarot.com/angel-number-136/)

So, in summary, I can see that number 136 is about:

having new beginnings rooted in facts that happened in the past (nbp);

finding balance through tough times (bttt);

preparing for changes (c);

being sure you are doing the right thing even if it looks terrible or uncertain (dtrt);

a response to prayers, hopes, wishes, thoughts, and feelings;

second chances.

Now, now.

I know nothing about numerology material, really. And this number has absolutely nothing to do with Isayama's drafts for this chapter. But I can pinpoint a few nice lines about how the whole chapter carries some aspects of its numerology meaning:

We have a flying titan! (nb/c)

Annie is back to help everyone; (all)

Reiner and Falco remember their promise to save Gaby (bttt);

Levi takes over the SC's leadership in a crucial moment; (bttt/c/dtrt)

The SC finally decides to kill Eren; (all)

The shining parasite appears again (nb/c)

Marleyans save Eldians and vice versa; (all)

Levi's reminiscence about the past, his beloved SC teammates, and he reaffirming he did not regret letting Erwin die instead of Armin; (all)

Annie and Mikasa saving each other; (all)

Armin fighting with himself, his self-hate, weakness, and doubts; (all)

Armin meets Zeke in the Paths (all).

A few examples of the many connections happening here:

Having new beginnings rooted in facts that happened in the past (nbp);

The flying titan had been a recurring topic in (and out of) the manga for years- from the OVA when Pixis imagines a flying titan; then more seriously during Marley Arc and later on. Still, seeing it happen was definitely a new beginning for so many possibilities! And changed the endgame of SnK since it was how everyone was saved and then able to stop Eren later.

Having Annie back and saving everyone - including Mikasa (and vice versa) - is something unique in that we saw how they were real enemies at the beginning! Then they became more friendly in chapter 132, and now this chapter. (It was so nice for me!)

Finding balance through tough times (bttt);

Falco is our "bird" titan, and he saved everyone at their worst moment. This certainly can be a way to find a little balance through tough times. (Otherwise, everyone would be dead.)

Captain Levi taking the leadership while Armin is MIA and Annie calming Mikasa about killing Eren are also examples of finding balance in chaos. (I will get more into it later, but basically, amidst the pain and panic, we have heads focusing on what is important.)

Preparing for changes (c);

Falco's support gives the Allies a little bit of time to reorganize and correct their course of action. Then they have little time to take the most debated choice up until this point of the entire second part of SnK's story - killing Eren. This is a big change in terms of how it affects the whole story.

Meanwhile, the Marleyans and Eldians stopped fighting each other. This is the beginning of a big change that says a lot about how enemies can change in the face of death (again).

Armin fighting himself to help his friends - that monologue was rather raw, cruel, and a display of sheer desperation of a young man whose shoulders were impossibly heavy under the weight of failing to save his friends and the world.

Yet, he realizes a way out just in time to become the game-changer of the whole story/who would save the world - like Eren had long said to Levi when our Captain was deciding who would get the injection in that roof.

Being sure you are doing the right thing even if it looks terrible or uncertain (dtrt); a response to prayers, hopes, wishes; and second chances.

I will come back for this part later too (with mostly Levi), but even now it's undeniable that Levi's actions and his monologue can relate to this. Settling that everyone should finally give up on the idea of saving Eren/keeping him alive hurts the SC's members, looks terrible for them. But in the end, it was the right thing to do.

This is also an answer to the prayers and desperate pleas from the thousands or millions of people on the verge of dying before them and all around the world.

So Levi's final order about killing Eren is also a second chance he gets for them all to stop the mass-murdering they are witnessing, which would become 10 million times worse if Eren wasn't stopped...

(Chapter 134: In the depths of despair)

So, yeah, there are A LOT of things happening here in this chapter that we can single out just by a simple number interpretation. (And I swear I could keep going further on this too. But let's keep advancing for now…)

Complementary to our reading here, I also don't know how many people noticed it, but something that should be quite obvious about this whole chapter is that it's purposefully rooted in situations that marked significantly the characters in the past.

Why would it be that?

Well, because this chapter is answering the question the Marleyan Secretary made in the previous chapter (135):

In other words, the Marleyan Secretary is wondering - "Wow, there are enemies people fighting with their lives on the line against that monster. But why would they risk themselves? Why would they do something so dangerous and impossible when they would actually get benefits if the part of humanity who hated them vanished?"

"What exactly do you think they are fighting for…?" is the Marleyan question.

And I believe it can also be Isayama trying to reach his readers and make us wonder again - why are your brave and beloved characters fighting Eren instead of settling down and waiting while he literally incorporates the Devil and erases their enemies?

The answers are all (directly and indirectly) shown through personal reasons of Annie, Falco, Reiner, and especially Levi as to why, despite the deadly situation, they (and the rest of the allies) were still risking their lives to fight against such a living hell of a nightmare.

And while we read the chapter, especially Levi's part, we can say that concluding that "this chapter is really working like an answer" can also be supported by the chapter's title: "Dedicate your hearts" or "Devote your hearts".

I will explain the chapter's name in my others posts, though, because it will be quite long and involve many other chapters. But keep in mind that the Survey Corps is a core thought for Levi in #136, so we can now take a little dive into my point 04 - namely Levi's taking over the SC leadership in a crucial moment and his role in this part of SnK's plot!

(It will be in the Analysis Part 02!)

[jksangelic]

in the dark (m)

☾ Rating: M

☾ Genre: pwp, smut, slight crack, very minimal scary times.

☾ Pairing: jikook x female reader (kinda, read the warnings).

☾ Warnings: explicit sexual content, threesome, light male x male action (kissing, their peepees touch but only because of), double vaginal penetration,  oral (female receiving), casual sex, unprotected sex, they fuck in jungkook’s truck, maybe a slight noona kink? sorry.

☾ Summary: “I can’t get a signal on my phone, the car is dead, and I’m fairly certain we are out of matches.”

Jungkook and Jimin have a very short attention span, and when you three are lost in the middle of nowhere with a truck that won’t drive, they busy themselves with you.

☾ Word Count: 6.1k

☾ Note: Here’s another exciting project done for Halloween Smut Fest, hosted by the wonderful admins of @/btssmutclub! I hope you love this little Halloween treat as much as I loved writing it, and if you want more deliciously spooky smut, please check out the club and all it’s wonderful writers!

Another note: I was supposed to post this on Halloween but ya girl was shleep! Anyway, this story was really fun to write considering it’s my first attempt at writing threesome smut! I really hope you all enjoy, and feel free to send me an ask if you liked it personally! (wink)

Another ‘NOTHER note: the “Read More” function is in here so don’t flame me.

You really felt the part, itching yourself in this god-awful over-sized knit sweater that screamed “cactus that died twice over!”. The faux flora that was hot glued on one boob threatened to fall off and if you knew your costume would be this much of a mess, you would’ve just gone for your signature devil that reappeared in the corner of your closet every Halloween. Fuck originality.

“How the hell do you get lost in the same town you’ve lived in for years, Jungkook?” you simmer, itching your bare legs with vigor. For the love of all things pure, this sweater is shedding.

Jungkook grips his steering wheel hard enough that you see his veins threatening to burst, “Well, shit, man. I’m not the one who wanted to take a pit stop at a boba dive that I’ve never been to before. I live in the boonies; no one around here should even know what ‘boba’ is.”

“You didn’t even like it,” he continues, “I told you that we should’ve just head straight to the store and then to Jin-hyung’s house.” You pout, it wasn’t your fault the tapioca was soggy.

“My phone doesn’t have any service,” Jimin pitches in, leaning atop the center console from the backseat with a voice of annoyance. Groaning, you coax your phone to turn on once more. All you get is a tantalizing depleted battery.

“And you left your phone at home? What kind of millennial are you?” you bag on Jungkook, completely horrified by the fact that he nervously rakes his eyes on every passing sign, turning hesitantly only to pull a U-turn, biting his bottom lip and picking at the fuzz on his cheek with his free hand. There was no sugarcoating it. He was lost beyond all comprehension of the word.

“Y/N, literally shut up. If you weren’t stuck to your phone 24/7, you’d have enough battery right now to get us back into town.”

“You’re such an ass, Kook. You’re lucky we even went with you in the first place to get the snacks you vouched to buy and forgot until thirty minutes into the party.”

“Both of you! Stop eating each other’s asses and shut up! I can’t hear my own farts back here,” Jimin growls, turning to Jungkook, “just keep driving, we’re bound to get back on a main road at some point. If you keep turning randomly, we’ll just keep getting fucked.” He was right. The more Kook authorized a new direction, the more the landscape changed and morphed into nothing recognizable.

“Yeah, no shit,” Jungkook spits with an added eye roll, “but there aren’t even signs anymore. I haven’t seen a house in the last five minutes. This is so weird,” he trails off in thought. Fog eventually clouded around the truck, getting denser until you all eased into soft white. Jungkook drove cautiously slow in fear of hitting deer;  you were deep enough in the woods to do so.

It was beautiful in a creepy, Halloweenish way. It was the perfect night for the cold to bite and the moon to smile down menacingly, if only you were in the right place for it.

You sigh, “I wanna be at the party.”

Jimin scoffs, “Don’t we all. What are you even supposed to be?”

Pulling your itchy-ass sweater over your knees, you click your tongue, “I’m obviously a cactus. Can’t you see my thorns?” you pick at the random frayed knots woven into the cloth, pulling them to a point to exaggerate their spikes.

“Why couldn’t you do something sexy? No one wants to get laid with a cactus,” Jimin criticizes. You shrug. Not everyone understands the importance of ingenuity.

“No one wants to get laid by a mummy that only got their neck embalmed,” you retort, eyeing his all-white outfit with, not even joking, three rolls of toilet paper resting atop his shoulders. He didn’t even bother to get the good kind of teepee, 1-ply threatening to be blown away by Jungkook’s measly heater. “Even Kookie’s costume is better, and he painted the bones himself, for heaven’s sake.”

You both study said costume, a plain black long sleeve (way too small but damn it really hugged him in the right spots) messily painted with an anatomically incorrect skeleton on the front and alongside his sleeves. Jungkook snickers, “Look, I even drew a boner,” pointing to where the material is tucked into his skinny jeans and, yes, noticing a random bone sticking out of his pants.

“Penises don’t even—I don’t know. I can’t argue when its an eight out of ten Halloween pun,” you surrender.

The chatter dies down as Jungkook drives around aimlessly, your continuous glances at the clock failing to slow it down so you can get to the store and to Jin’s house before Hoseok drank everything out of the liquor cabinet. You didn’t know how to read a map, not that it mattered since Jungkook would never have one in his glovebox, but damn it all, you really were stuck and were potentially risking crossing the border to another country for all you knew. It would be a lovely, nostalgic feeling to be yelling at each other over a paper map instead, though, aesthetically pleasing and all that good stuff.

Jungkook’s face scrunches, leaning back to peer at his dashboard then leaning back in. He runs his hand through his hair and repeats the set of actions, looking at it closer like he was trying to read another language. It’s on his third round that you stare at him blankly, expecting him to explain why he’s fidgeting like a toddler on two packs of jolly ranchers and a monster.

“Fuck, oh my god. Ohmygodohmygodohmy—,” he panics, laughing as if he’s gone mad.

“Jungkook? What’s wrong with you?” Jimin asks.

The truck sputters and heaves on its wheels, easing itself off the side of the pavement and into the rocky soil. Nearly breaks the gearshift when he shoves it into park and shuts off the engine with an exasperated bleat.

“I—I didn’t think… My dashboard doesn’t calculate how many miles I have left like newer cars and I knew I needed to stop by the gas station but I was going to fill it up when we went to the store so I thought we’d be fine but I forgot when we got lost and—”

“Wait, shut up for a second. Just get to the point,” you rub at your temples, wanting him to strictly verbalize what you already know is happening.

“We’re out of gas. And I just used the rest of what’s in my extra gas can. We’re stuck.”

It takes a few empty stares between you and the boys for your denial to kick in, “That’s funny. You’re funny, Jungkook. It would be so completely idiotic of you to forget to get gas and just now remembering when we’re stuck on some empty country road with no working cellphones and nowhere for us to get help nearby. So tell me you’re joking.”

Jungkook stares straight through the windshield, simultaneously worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. You swear you can hear his heart beating in his ribcage. Turning on the ceiling light, you flash him a bright smile before lunging for his neck. Jimin catches you before you strangle the rest of his IQ out of him and coos you into sedation, “Hey, okay, bringing a dead body into the situation is not optimal!”

“Look, it’s not my fault! I thought we were going straight to the store but you had to change our course,” Jungkook defends.

“Any sane human would just say, ‘Oh, hey, I have to stop by the gas station first because we’re running on empty,’ but no,” you draw out the “o” with squinted eyes and venom in your voice, “you always have to challenge the odds, don’t you? Now we’re stuck out here in the middle of fucking whoknowswhere!”

“You’re being so dramatic, Y/N.”

Your pitch is way above normal, “You’re a dumbass!”

“You’re a bitch!”

“Chill out! The both of you!” Jimin yells, hands still securing your arms to their sides in case you were to claw out anyone’s eyes. “The sooner we find help, the sooner we can get out of this predicament. Let’s try to find a nearby house and see if we can use their phone. There’s bound to be a living soul somewhere around here. I already texted Tae our location, but my phone has yet to deliver it. Sitting here and doing nothing isn’t an option. Let’s go.”

You exhale harshly through your nostrils, nodding your head obediently and signing a truce through eye contact with Kook. “Should one of us stay here just in case a car passes?” you offer.

“I’ll stay here. Sorry, but a single female in an inoperable car is a little sketchy. Can you two function properly or do you need to stay here and think about your actions, Kookie?” Jimin drawls. Jungkook scoffs on cue and is already halfway out the door when the question is asked.

“Why can’t I stay here with you? Jungkook can look by himself,” you whine.

“Someone is more likely to help a couple than some random dude who’s roaming the street by himself. Please, Y/N.”

He was right. Hopping out of the truck, you pull your sweater as far down it can go and bounce on your toes. Damn, it was brisk outside. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Kook says, dripping with sarcasm. The road ahead stretched so far that it disappeared over the horizon uninterrupted. A straight shot. The only source of light is barely graced by a last quarter moon and you decide in your own head that it’s time to forgive and forget, clinging to Jungkook’s arm for warmth and a sense of security.

“Scared?” he asks without a hint of mockery. You shrug. You weren’t sure yet.

Pacing yourselves between a jog and a walk, it seems like way too long of seeing absolutely nothing; the trees and the fog and the road blending together and becoming so unrecognizable that you worry your mind is playing tricks on you. Even worse, you shake vehemently from the cold, goosebumps eating you alive.

“F-F-Fuck, Jungkook. Should we try going the opposite w-way?” your teeth chatter, “We shouldn’t go too—” He covers your mouth with his palm, the rest of your words mumbled into his clammy hand and your body stopped in its tracks.

“What is it?” you try again, licking his skin in attempt to drive his grimy little paw off.

“Shut up!” he whisper-yells, eyes focused on something in the distance off the road. Following his line of sight, it takes a few seconds for your eyes to adjust to what he sees: two warmly glowing orbs far off in the distance. The pace of your heart quickens at the sight, ecstatic to finally see something.

“Lights! It might be the entry to someone’s driveway! Jungkook, c’mon.” He wraps his arms around your body once more to keep it from surging farther down the street, impossibly warm against your back and this time you can feel his heartbeat through the layer of clothes. It beat fast and hard, telltale for the occasional emotion Jungkook hardly ever felt in all his years of living: fear.

“Those aren’t lights,” he breathes into your ear, eyes filled to the brim with dread and voice wavering. “It’s getting closer, what the hell.” Jungkook is right. You stare at them as the mysteriously yellow orbs inch, no, run to the both of you and it’s only then that you realize that they’re eyes.

“Run, fuck, don’t scream, runrunrun,” Kook squeaks as he death-grips your hand and sprints in front of you, your own legs catching up to him before you can fully process what’s going on. Terror suddenly rips through your limbs, propelling you forward like it’s all you knew what to do but even then, Jungkook struggles to keep you alongside him, breathless encouragements like “it’s okay” or “keep running” or “a little faster” keeping you from even thinking of stopping. He could run ahead of you, but here he was, desperately pulling you behind his body that was obviously much more fit for running than yours. Tears prick at your eyes.

You must have walked for miles since it takes another ten-or-so minutes before you see the silhouette of his truck that was, at that moment, the most beautiful hunk of metal you ever laid your eyes on. Porsche’s had nothing on Jungkook’s dinky old pickup.

Opening a rear door, Jungkook all but shoves you atop Jimin before jumping in himself, not bearing the thought of having to sit in the front seat alone. Jimin watches with a bewildered look as you two struggle to catch your breaths, peeking out the front windshield to see if the eyes were anywhere in sight. Thank the heavens, they weren’t.

You curl into Jimin’s chest and bite back sobs of anxiety. “What the hell was that?”

“Was what?” Jimin finally inquires, clutching you close despite lack of an explanation.

“There was something, a bear or a wolf or something. It started chasing us,” Kook informs, a questioning lilt in his answer because he didn’t really know. “God, those eyes. It looked tall, I don’t even know if it was an animal.”

“I’m not going back outside. Neither are you,” you deadpan, “not when that thing is out there.” The boys nod in agreement.

“Hey, it’ll be okay. I’m sure Tae will get our message soon and he’ll come get us. We just need to stay here and be patient,” Jimin says comfortingly.

Jungkook tsks, “What if he doesn’t?” Jimin punches his arm and he yelps in pain.

“If worse comes to worse,” Jimin glares at the younger, “then we stay in the truck until it gets light enough to look for houses without worrying about being mauled by bears or wolves or deer or anything of the like. Each of us will take turns as lookout just in case anyone passes by. We’ll be fine, okay, Y/N?” He must notice your quaking so you shake your head in compliance.  After a few minutes of discussion, you properly seat yourself in the middle and bring your knees to your chin, foreboding residing and the bitter cold seeping back into your list of things that suck tonight.

The first thirty minutes pass as if it’s several hours, games of rock-paper-scissors and skeptical scopes out of the windows unbearably monotonous. Jimin’s sudden force of bladder earns a heated debate of whether or not you would allow him outside or not, eventually approving when Jungkook offers an empty beer can and you’d much rather not. At the time Jimin staggers out of the vehicle, you perceive that the temperature both within the truck and outside have reached equilibrium and try your best not to whimper at the fact.

“Why don’t you try to sleep, Y/N? We can stay up for now,” Jungkook offers after another twenty minutes of the knife game (but with a mechanical pencil), hands now shuffling over his biceps to stimulate heat.

“Can’t. Too cold,” your breath puffs between your lips.

“It’s because you’re not wearing pants, sweets,” Jimin starts, pulling his long sleeve by the collar and over his head before laying it over your thighs politely. When you open your mouth to claim that you don’t need it, you throw all of your manners away because damn his shirt is warm on your prickled legs. Besides, seeing Jimin’s protruding muscles from his immodest tank wasn’t the worst thing.

The younger scoffs, “God, hyung, you’re just trying to show off.” He tilts his head in a demeaning manner, an odd tension ricocheting between the men.

“What? No, you little shit. She said she was cold so I’m trying to keep her warm.” Jimin only receives a belittling tch.

Hubris truly was one of Jungkook’s worst faults, you and Jimin incredulous when his hands lift your waist so you plop down between his lap, one of his legs resorting where you sat before and holding you close to his chest. While you struggle to pry his arms off, he only looks towards his hyung and gives him an award-winning smirk, “I’ll keep her warmer.”

“J-Jungkook, what the fuck are you doing?” you ask, shuddering when he massages the meat of your thigh.

“I’m just trying to make you feel better,” he purrs, looming over your shoulder, “am I warm?” And even though every siren in your head blares, you melt into his heater-like body because, yes, he was warm. Who were you to deny such an offer? So you hum your answer.

Jungkook victoriously peeps at Jimin through his eyelashes, breath fanning against your shoulder, “See?”

Jimin raises an unimpressed brow, rolling his eyes before stretching out as far as he can with limited leg room and rests his arms behind his head with ease. You watch as every muscle beneath his tank moves and extends, pecs scandalously flexing in his newfound position.

You squint, “I don’t know what the hell you two are doing, but you better stop it.”

“What? You were so scared and cold, poor thing, I’m just trying to distract you,” his palms press against your hips, digging his crotch into your tailbone, “You shouldn’t be so irked, it’s not like we haven’t done this before.”

Images flash through your mind like kaleidoscope; a scorching hot kaleidoscope that left you writhing in his sheets in a wet, moaning mess. Suddenly appreciative of how dark it is as so the boys can’t see your flustered features, you sneer, “That was a long time ago, Kook.”

Jimin’s interest must be piqued, watching him slither over and pout in your face, “Ahh, you’ve fucked Jungkook too? You didn’t tell me.” He looks thoroughly disappointed. Jimin was one of your closest friends but it didn’t mean you were obligated to inform him of every sex endeavor you’ve ever experienced. Even more so when he was on that list, several times, it just made things awkward.

If the sirens were blaring earlier, your head was aflame by now, two horny men toying with you like predators to their prey. “What’s it to you mongrels? I can do what I want.”

“Who was better?” For some reason you can’t differentiate either of their voices when they’re both low, husky, full of hunger, but you just guess it’s Jungkook, the competitive bastard.

“I’m not fucking doing this with you two right now, do you know what situation we’re in? Please keep your dicks tucked.”

“I kinda see a great opportunity to rid our boredom and warm up the car a bit,” Jimin soothes, pressing cold, plump lips to your propped knee, fingers weaving in the hem of your sweater, “Don’t you agree, Kookie?”

He foregoes answering his counterpart, keen on squeezing the answer out of you (quite literally, as his hands grip the plush skin of your inner leg), “Answer me,” he growls into the crook of your neck.

“Fuck,” your breath hitches and fails to brave a front, “I don’t know. You were both good in different ways. Kn-knock it off, Jeon.”

“But it’s been so long, noona. Let us take care of you. C’mon, I need a yes.” By this time, Jimin starts suckling on the opposite collarbone, hands flat on your stomach but never daring to touch lower nor higher until you give them your unwavering permission. You purr like a kitten and do what he fails to do, gliding his hands until he reached soft, supple breast and kneading your fingers through his.

Startled by your ministrations, Jimin releases his wet lips from your neck and stares through your eyes with primal want; need, even. It made your bones melt.

“So, do you guys do this often? Share your meals?” you say into his lips, pulling on the bottom between your teeth and eliciting a grunt from the boy.

“We share a lot of things, doll,” he mumbles back, tongue sweet for a reason unknown, a sickeningly sweet poison enwrapping you in sheer desire. Jungkook grows impatient, hooking palms under your knees to spread them up and apart, no shame in getting to the point. Despite the lack of light, the new position steals Jimin’s attention as he stares at what you hide between your legs.

“Thought it’d make it easier for you to get to, hyung,” Kook offers wickedly.

“Are we really doing this right now? Just going to have a threesome in the back of your truck, Kookie?”

“Do you not want to?”

“No I do, it’s just fucking cramped back here.”

You’re not facing him but you practically feel the satirical eye roll, “Sorry, princess, should I lay out a blanket in the middle of the road? Would that accommodate more to your specifications?”

“Better watch your mouth, or you’ll be watching me and Jimin only.”

He humps into your back once, well near whining into your ear, “Okay, ‘m sorry.”

All the while, Jimin prodded at your clothed sex with a thumb, long strokes from above your clit to the edge of your perineum, drawing out patterns that made your stomach flex in anticipation. “Jimin, please.”

Jungkook pipes in, “Are you going to taste her? I can smell her from here. Smells good.” Jimin quite likes the idea, pushing your legs even higher to sniff you himself, nose buried deep in the fabric and breathing you in. Occasional nips send shivers in your loins, audible gasps urging him on for more, please, more. Rather, he takes to the moldable flesh of your inner thigh, mouthing at it so ferociously that the spots ache but it only sends you further. You did love foreplay, after all.

Jungkook’s rutting cock to your tailbone doesn’t go unnoticed, looking back at the devilishly angelic face, eyes sewn shut as his focus tapers in to the movements of his hips, looking for any sort of relief. Feeling a little victorious, your words drip with pride, “Rutting like some sort of dog, huh?” His eyes snap open at your exclamation, warning, but never opposing. At the same time Jungkook shuts you up with his tongue in your mouth, Jimin sticks his own in your eager pussy, both boys lapping into your heats with such vigor that you had no distinct feeling of either—it all blended into euphoric bliss.

Kook swallows your moans without a complaint, teeth and tongue colliding into something so completely unorganized that it was pornographic. The older moans while collecting every drop of arousal he can, pretty nose rubbing against your bud, thumbs spreading your lips beautifully and sinful tongue working wonders in and out of you.

“Feel good, babydoll?” Jungkook mutters in the midst of open-mouthed kisses, “Jimin’s real good with his mouth, ain’t he?” The opposite chuckles at the mention, watching you cry in joy as he sucks your clit between his teeth. “Hyung, what does she taste like? Prep her for me, will you?”

Jimin halts his attention to you, taking a moment to stretch his back in the confined space that seemed to sway with his movements, chin dribbling with so much you that for even the smallest of moments, even you were a little ashamed. He winks at you, “Why don’t you taste her yourself?”

The proposition makes your face scrunch; the thought of having to rearrange so Jungkook could eat you out seems excessive, denoting your trait of lazy loving above all. What you find instead, is Jimin’s handsome face nearing yours, only to avoid you completely and inch closer over the shoulder Jungkook relies on. Watching Jimin slide his overly-moist tongue into Jungkook’s willing lips leveled to living in a wet dream, you can’t help but moan as your two closest friends elicit lewd smacking sounds from one another, drool accumulating so incredibly that it leaks down onto your skin. Fuck.

Your obnoxious whining is what separates Jimin from his other half with a rather reluctant growl, calming your rowdy self with a kiss of your own, strings of their saliva still connected as he transitions from Kook to you.  His mouth sears, leaving you to believe that you’re quite literally melting into those god-gifting lips and you’ve never been more heated from a simple kiss in your entire being. Jungkook takes to his jeans, releasing his member from its restraints and giving himself a few sluggish tugs, knuckles scraping along your spine as he pumps.

“I don’t need to be prepped, just get on with it, Kookie.” Jimin quirks an impressed smirk.

“Oh? I appreciate the offer, but I don’t think that’s how you ask for me, Y/N, you know that.”

“Fuck, Jeon, please fuck me, I’m begging you. Jus’ need to be filled,” you admit, using wobbly arms to try to hoist yourself up. Jimin does the rest, lifting your hips to sit on Jungkook’s lap, and even more importantly, propping you onto his dick all at once, girth stretching you oh so wonderfully that you squirm in his hold. The latter groans at the slick intrusion, hips hastily rolling upwards without prompt, but you don’t complain.

“You really didn’t need to be prepped, huh? You fit so nicely around me. Why’s that, babydoll?” he snarls, hands upon hands gripping your ass and beneath your thighs, keeping you in a hovered position above Kook so he can ceaselessly pound into you from mid-shaft to hilt, over and over and over. You wail in their clutches, hysterical in the feeling and arching beyond your limits so he can hit that aching spot deep inside you.

“Answer him when he asks you a question,” Jimin cautions, leaning back down to suck purples into your hipbones with lazy eyes.

“I,” you heave at a particularly hard thrust but try again, “I just got fucked last night hah—Jungkook, upupup.” He abides with a coo, aiming for your bellybutton and incessantly jabbing the place where you craved him most, fire roaring inside your stomach. You’re so limp, deadweight in their grips that you wonder how they even keep you in place, all the more when Jimin resumes his attack on your clit with that skilled tongue, licking stripes from where Jungkook’s skin slid into yours all the way to where the material of your panties started. “Having so much fun without us, yeah? I’ll make you feel even better,” Jungkook says, snapping you back into the moment.

Your vision starts to blend, inexistent stars appearing into an otherwise blind view as your limbs warn to give out even more than they currently are. “Fuck, please! I’m going to—ugh!” Jimin spits on Jungkook’s dick before pressing the rough flat of his wet muscle to your throbbing bud once more, assisting the younger’s glide and simultaneously working to wring out your orgasm.

And does it come, bones solid and muscles taut as you constrict around Jungkook like a boa, crying out in pained ecstasy as your pussy squeezes to essentially push out its intruder. Kook himself hisses, unable to move in your vice-like grip until you eventually free yourself of your high, Jimin kindly cleaning you with utmost care from below. Wholesomely exhausted, you rest your tired head on Jungkook’s shoulder, kissing his jaw appreciatingly, “Did you cum, Kookie?” Obviously not, you think, his cock still hard as ever and still sheathed inside you.

“No, princess. It’s okay, I don’t need to if you’re too spent.” He gives you a reassuring smile, bunny teeth so endearing, so profound alongside his normally prick-ish personality. Of course, he wouldn’t be your friend if you really thought of him as a nuisance.

“Mm-mm, go ahead boys. I’ll be perfectly fine.”

They look at each other briefly, telepathically debating on their next move. “Can we try something?” Jimin inquires sweetly. You nod willingly, always a little bit of a sucker for Park Jimin. “Good girl, if it’s too much, your safe word’s ‘red’, ‘kay? Use it if you need to, I mean it.” Jimin (and his very un-vanilla like kinks) of all people never pushed your safe word so far, your curiosity really getting the best of you as he sits up with an already warmed-up dick. He must’ve took it out long before, the thought of him jacking off to you igniting what used to be a dull flame in your belly.

It’s when he drags his head at your clit that the puzzle pieces click, his own precum dripping down your abused lips and Kook’s shaft. The other nibbles on your ear, whispering calming affirmations as Jimin desperately looks for an opening.

“Fuck, it’s so dark in here,” he barks, jarring in contrast to the saccharine notes Jungkook practically sing-songs in your neck. “Do you think you can take it, Y/N?”

The question isn’t challenging whatsoever, but it makes you determined to please. Even without his confirmation, there’s nothing more you want at this moment, so you reach  out for him, pressing his soft, velvety head in the space right above Jungkook’s, inching ever so slowly closer and closer to his hilt. By the skin of your teeth is the pain almost unbearable, an embarrassing guttural cry wrenching out of your throat as Jimin’s hips kiss yours. “Fuck, ugh, hell, please just stay for a second,” you dig your canines into your lip, forehead resting on a worried Jimin’s.

“Should’ve let him prep you, princess,” Jungkook husks, not so skilled at hiding his own displeasure. If the discomfort didn’t freeze you in place, you would’ve dug an elbow into his ribs for revenge.

“Shut it,” your voice cracks, “No offense, Jimin, baby, but your fingers wouldn’t have done anything to help this situation.” Park scowls but takes it otherwise lightly. His fingers were, also, not a true indicator to his size; although smaller than Jungkook, Jimin sported a curve that resembled the best dildo money can buy. Even now as it settles into your most delicate nook, he essentially eases the pain, replacing the feeling with steady eagerness for someone to move.

“Please,” is all you muster, taking Jimin’s thick bottom lip between your teeth playfully and releasing it with a high-pitched moan as he tests a thrust, Jungkook biting into your shoulder with the increasing speed.

To describe it to the best of your ability, it was simply the pure definition of being full. It was the thought of two deliciously large cocks moving in tandem, scraping your insides as the boys chased their highs like wild dogs that got you off more than anything. It was the filthy squelches, the grunts and groans, the hands roaming over your body and the growing sways of Jungkook’s truck as Jimin rolls into you that makes you cry in unadulterated rapture.

“Ha-aah, hyung, my legs are falling asleep. Let me do it,” Jungkook pants, hand already reaching out to push Jimin’s abs, clearly not asking for permission.

Park carefully readjusts, his back laying on the seat, your head against his shoulder and Jungkook kneeling behind, cunt still stuffed with them both. “Please, please move, ugh—” you beg.

“Gonna finish this off, okay? Use the word if it gets to be too much,” he warns warmly, polar opposite of his future actions, but you nod in agreement.

He slides out almost all the way, wiggling his hips a bit before plunging back inside with all the force he can gather. You wail and subconsciously straighten your arms beside Jimin, unable to quietly lay down as Jungkook fucks you into oblivion. The position is worth it, seeing Jimin’s lidded eyes and mouth forming a pretty “o” and you can’t help but wonder what it feels for him, frenulum’s catching each other with each aching shove and shafts fighting for space within.

“D-Don’t look at me like that, Y/N,” he grumbles, rutting ever so slightly.

“Like what, baby?” you drawl, “Hey, how does it feel? Fucking one of your best friends with another one of your best friends? Don’t tell me you’re going to cum from something like that…”

He knew exactly what you were doing, taking no bullshit as he lifts a hand to your hair and yanks on it, “Watch it, babydoll. You’re not one to talk when you’ve already cum once. Not too long before you do again, right?” He laughs in your face, entirely dehumanizing.

You have no choice but to nod (a little stiffly, as his hand still tugs on your strands), “Y-Yes, Jimin.” He clicks his tongue.

“Won’t call me ‘daddy’ in front of Jungkook, huh? Shame.”

“I’d get confused of who she’s referring to,” Kook chimes in, revealing a shit-eating grin with a particularly hard thrust that makes you shed tears. You hang your head, unable to contain your moans as a familiar burn churns.

“Good girl, such a good girl,” Jungkook murmurs, palming the flesh of your ass and gaining even more momentum, “Noona takes our dicks so well, just made for us, aren’t you?” You sigh your validation.

Jimin picks up his own pace, out when Jungkook’s in, in when Jungkook’s out, pants turning into continuous groans, “Babe, I gotta cum. Where?” Your lips latch onto his in a crazed manner.

“Inside,” you speak in kisses, “inside, please, both of you.”

Jimin is the first to cum, seed only making Jungkook’s thrusts easier. Kook presses his chest to your back, unreservedly ramming into you with all he is that you collapse into Jimin’s shoulder once more. He follows shortly after, his own mix of white intermingling with his hyung’s, remaining there until he’s sure everyone’s breathing has calmed.

“Careful,” you wince, grabbing Jungkook’s arm warningly as he pulls himself out of your abused cunt. Jimin’s soft member remains with your request, already discontent with the emptiness after Kook’s depart.

“Ew, you’re drooling on me,” Jimin complains, and he’s right, your face sticky and wet when you lift your cheek.

“Shit, the cum’s leaking all over my seats, literally get up,” Jeon whines.

“Ugh I fucking hate you both.”

You’re the only one to get up, maneuvering around and arguing with the younger boy as he desperately tries to clean his seats, which were beyond repair in the first place. The windows are fogged up to the point of condensation, droplets threatening to grow too big and fall.

You brows cinch together in utter confusion, staring at the groups of water that start to tint an odd, orange hue. It disappears as quick as you realize it, though, and you figure the after-effects of the threesome was starting to make you hallucinate.

“Do you guys really think my fingers are that short? I think they’re fine,” Jimin pouts.

Jungkook snickers, “Yeah, those fingers don’t reach sh—"

BAM!

The three of you flinch and fly to Jimin’s side, watching with horror as, what looked like, a giant paw disappearing from the window’s view. Your mind sputters to the image of the thing in the woods and your sweat seems to freeze over, hair standing on end and fear coursing through your veins.

“Whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck,” the boys ramble over themselves, clutching you close to their bodies.

In the reflection of the fogged glass, you see the orange tint you saw seconds ago, hesitantly turning your head behind you and making eye contact with the glowing orbs mere inches away. You shriek at the top of your lungs, the other two yelling because you are, then full-fledge screech when they see them too.

“Oh my fucking god, shut up! You’re no fun to scare. Unlock the door,” a muffled voice growls from outside.

“Taehyung?” you all accuse.

Jungkook all but shoves the door open, revealing a Taehyung with werewolf mask now propped atop his skull, smiling from ear-to-ear that he got you three so good.

“Hey y’all, sorry it took me so long to get here. I got Jimin’s message and—what the hell, Jimin, put your dick away—oh sweet mother of pearl it smells fucking carnal in there. Please don’t tell me you had a threesome when you’re stranded in the middle of nowhere.”

You don’t even attempt to shuffle your clothes fully back on like the other two, who were, blushing like elementary schoolgirls. “We got bored, and it was cold,” is all you say.

“Well, don’t you move on fast, Y/N. Was I not enough to satisfy last night, pretty thing?” he juts out his bottom lip, feigning hurt. On the contrary, you think.

Park and Jeon stare at you in disbelief, piecing together what Taehyung is saying. “What?” you snarl, “I told you guys.”

Taehyung paces a bit, palming himself through his jeans before shoving Jimin’s shoulder and crowding himself into Jungkook’s already-cramped backseat, “Fuck, I got a hard-on now. Can you guys handle one more round?”

omg I hope you guys liked, my BUSSY hurt writing it (~:

[fic-xation]

Motel Walls Are Made To Be Soundproof - a GEAH fanfic

Welp. I've officially fallen down the rabbit hole of Netflix's Green Eggs and Ham series. C'est la vie. Because we were ROBBED of this classic shipping scenario towards the beginning of episode ten, I took it upon myself to correct that fatal blunder. Hope you enjoy~! ❤️️❤️️

Archive

"Uh-oh! Sorry, but I've only got one room left. You'll have to share."

"Perfect! Slumber party!"

If Guy's extensive, miserable life has taught him anything, it's that the universe loves throwing him a curve ball whenever possible. And the clerk, (why did he look so familiar?) seemed only too pleased to oblige.

~~

The motel room was nothing short of standard. Beige, unassuming walls, mass-produced inoffensive factory artwork, a television, and twin, bland lamps framing a -

"... Single bed," grumbled Guy, letting his briefcase topple to the hardwood floor. "Figures."

His travel companion, however, approached the subject with his usual flair of obnoxious optimism.

"Hey! Single bed, double the snuzzles, amiright?" Gleefully, Sam elbowed at Guy's belly, before turning his attention to the warbling attaché. "What say we let you stretch your feathers, huh, buddy?"

"Sam, wait-!"

Too late.

Before Guy could get another word in edgewise, Sam flicked at the double latches, and with a caw of delight, Jenkins exploded into the room like a firecracker, crowing and bouncing with all limbs a-gaggle.

“Gyah-!” Guy yelped, stumbling onto his backside. Lucky for him, there was little in the room that could warrant an outrageous destruction fee…

… The noise on the other hand…

“Yeaa-aaah, Mistah J!” Sam whooped, bounding atop the lone bed like the sugar-addled child he was. “Talk about a party animal!”

Guy, however, was far from impressed.

"WILL you two keep it DOWN?!" he hissed, making a mad swipe for the Chikaraffe’s leg. With a playful squawk, however, the bird merely hoisted the elder Knox into the air, before catching him roughly by the scruff of his collar.

"What's got your wockets in a bunch?" Sam sneered, already making himself comfortable against the freshly laundered pillows. Guy, meanwhile, could only dangle helplessly from the smiling beak as he glared towards the wannabe bon vivant.

Thrashing his arms, he managed to free himself before collapsing to the mattress like a sack of cement.

"I don't know if you've noticed, or you're just too crazy to care-" Guy snarled, rising to his knees. "But we are up to our eyebrows in witnesses! Do the words noise complaint mean anything to you?! Or, better yet, search warrant?”

Valid concerns to be sure, but naturally, Sam shot him down with no more than a shrug.

"Chill-AX, my S.O.O.M.D.B... Stressed-Out-Over-Minor-Details-Buddy!” Reaching into the bedside drawer, he began to poke about curiously, evidently looking for something. “Motel walls are made to be soundproof! I mean, heaven forbid ya let the whole building know you n’ your partner are havin’ sweet, wonderful-”

“SAM!” Flushed and flabbergasted, Guy clapped his hands to Jenkins’ ears. (Or, at least, where he assumed ears would be.)

Innocently, Sam tilted his head to one side. “… What? I’m just sayin’, no one wants to have cereal with everyone listening in. Call me old fashioned, but I think slurping and crunching should be done behind closed doors only… Ooh! Speaking of which-”

Unsurprisingly, Sam was quick to find the room service menu. Wasting no time, he began to rifle through the cardboard pages, feigning a look of pseudo-concentration.

“… Let’s see…” he murmured, scratching his chin.

Guy, dumbstruck, could do nothing more than release Jenkins’ head with an aggravated grumph of embarrassment, clumsily shifting his hands into the pockets of his fur.

Why did he get the feeling Sam's… suggestive phrasing was all too deliberate?

"… Look-" he said at last, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Just do me a favor, and keep the nonsense to a minimum tonight, okay?"

"Roger-dodger, Captain Cantankerous!" Sam proclaimed, posing his hand in a jolly salute. "Me n' Mr. J'll be the very models of good behavior! ... Won't we, boy? Huh?"

Jenkins, with an excitable gobble, swiftly rolled onto his back.

"Ooooh-” Sam cooed. “Looks like someone is croakin’ for a strokin’!”

With reckless abandon, he launched himself towards the bird, eagerly combing his hands along the soft, feathery belly. “We're gonna be good, wholesome tenants for this good, wholesome establishment. Aren't we? Aren't we, ya silly-willy-nilly-boy...!"

Even Guy couldn’t help but smile slightly, quietly succumbing to a gentle pet along the downy fuzz of the Chikaraffe’s neck.

The power of Sam’s smugness, though, was certainly enough to ruin the moment. With a jerk of his hand, Guy hastily withdrew, and crossed over to the phone atop the T.V mantle.

“Ah, gettin’ the midnight munchies, are we?” Sam smirked, flopping onto his stomach.

“… Sam, it’s seven-thirty.”

“You say tomato, I say ketchup.” He shrugged, propping himself against his elbows. “Oh, but ya know what tastes great in a motel room paid for by identity theft? Couple a’-!”

"If you say the words, 'eggs,' or 'ham,' or 'green,' in any particular order, I'm dumping you off at the diner where I found you." Guy warned, his brows derisively furrowed.

"... Questioned rescinded!" Sam chirped, though something in his expression seemed to have faltered a bit.

... Or, maybe it was just Guy's imagination.

"In any case-" Guy's furry finger trailed the length of the rotary dial. "I'm not callin' room service. I'm just gonna ask the front desk to send up a cot."

Sam chuckled, impishly turning to his back as he kicked at the air. "A cot? … Honestly, Guy, you spoil this bird silly! But there's really no need, I mean, this goofball should be fine with just a sheet or two-"

"It's not for Jenkins." Guy said stoutly. "It's for me."

… Sam’s feet ceased their flexing. Pouncing back to his knees, he stared at Guy with eyes like saucers.

"... For you?" He repeated dumbly. "Ya mean you're not-"          

"No." Guy huffed. "I'm not." Shifting his shoulders, he fidgeted slightly with the coil of the phone. "... It... It’s just for comfort's sake. I-I'd feel better if we weren't... If I-" He cut himself off, practically tangling the cord between his awkward joints.

Sam observed his friend for a moment or two, before smiling easily with a flash of his hand. "Say no more, Pally O'Malley. You need your sleep-space, and I respect that. So!” He leapt to his feet. “What d'ya say we pull the ol' switcheroonie, and trade spots, huh? Let ME take the cot, and you can help yourself to the king-size!"

He then made an exaggerated gesture across the bedspread, like a gameshow host parading a new car. Needless to say, Guy was a little more than surprised.

"... Are... are you sure?"

"Of course! A lil' guy like me doesn't need this much room, anyway. Besides-” Slowly, Sam tucked his hands behind his back, sheepishly shuffling at his feet. “… After all the confuzzlement I've put ya through, this only seems fair."

… Sam was certainly a lot of things, (the words 'dope,' and 'nimrod' generally came to mind,) but every once in a while, he showed a certain level of autonomy Guy didn't think was possible. Briefly lost for words, Guy stared, slightly slack-jawed, before inevitably coming to his senses with a shake of his head.

"... Er... Thank you." He mumbled quietly.

~~

After everything that Guy’d gone through within the last two days, (ranging from breakneck bean-recovery, to adversarial avalanches,) he would’ve happily sacrificed his own appendix for a good night’s rest.

Unfortunately, (but not unsurprisingly,) he had no such luck.

At first, it’d been Jenkins vying for his attention, whining softly as he prodded his beak to Guy’s shoulder.

“… Mr. Jenkins… No… It’s sleep-time…” Guy murmured drowsily, his face half-hidden behind the mound of pillow. If Guy had to guess, he’d wager the big fella was just restless, or hungry… But there was something to his chirping that felt more… desperate. Like he was actively pleading for Guy’s attention. Against his better judgement, Guy finally arose with a groggy grouse, rubbing his palm to the grittiness of his sleep-starved eyes.

“Alright, buddy, wassa matter?” he mumbled with a yawn. Looking over to the creature, Guy expected him to be pecking at the windows, or, (heaven forbid,) scratching at the door… But, to his surprise, Jenkins’ attention was not pointed at the room…

But to Sam.

Sam, who was curled like a boiled shrimp against the suspended canvas of the lightweight cot, quivering pitifully…

… Oh, Dillikins, is he sick?!

Frantically, Guy flicked at the adjoining lamp, scrambling to Sam’s side.

“Sam! Sam, what-”

“… M’sorry…”

Sam’s voice came in feebly; so feebly, in fact, that Guy wasn’t even sure he’d really heard it. Brow furrowed, he gingerly knelt to the floor.

Sam was… sorry?

… Sorry for what?

It was then that Guy realized – Sam wasn’t sick, he was dreaming… Then again, judging by the violent twitches, maybe nightmare would be the better word…

"Sam... Sam, c'mon, wake up-" Guy whispered, hopelessly jostling at his partner’s shoulders… but to no avail.

"... M'sorry..." Sam mumbled again. Guy couldn’t quite pinpoint it, but something about his voice was... unnerving. It lacked his devil-may-care smoothness and bravado... It sounded weaker, smaller... younger, even. “I… I promise I'll be good... I won't be a burden, Mom, please-"

Without warning, Sam’s rubbery arms twisted themselves around Guy’s unsuspecting midsection like a snake. He reeled, flustered and shocked, but there was no prying the little man from the surprise embrace. He seemed glued to Guy’s stomach, murmuring pathetically all the while,

“Don’t leave… Don’t leave, I’ll be good… I swear I’ll be good…”

It was not the monstrous storm of a boisterous sob, but instead, something quieter... and, all together sadder. It rattled in Sam's ribcage, shaking him from the inside-out. Against his friend, he shivered like a pup, huffing and panting and gulping for air, as his tears dampened the weathered, oak-colored coat.

Guy was all too familiar with the type of nightmare Sam was having, even if the specific context was lost on him. More than once, he’d woken up to an exhausted morning after a fit of grief-filled sleep; his face so ludicrously wet with tears, one would think it'd been raining indoors.

"SAM!" Guy hissed, rustling at his partner’s arms like a maraca. Still murmuring his ghostly pleas, Sam head merely bobbed lifelessly.

“What is he, comatose?!" Guy seethed, shooting Jenkins a thunderstruck look. "I can't get him up!"

Mr. Jenkins whimpered helplessly, glancing between his two adopted papas dads like a frightened toddler. Just then, his face lit up, and, (in what Sam would no doubt classify as a lightbulb moment,) he snapped his powerful jaws at the little man's leg.

… Sam was certainly awake then. His eyes popped open like two jack-in-the-boxes, and with an exaggerated breath, Guy knew a scream was bound to follow. Reeling, he hastily clapped his hands to his partner's open mouth, but not even that was enough to stifle the shriek of pain.

"Shh- be quiet, just be quiet!" he urged, not troubling to temper his own volume as he wrestled the writhing Sam. It proved to be more difficult than one would think, (after all, he was no bigger than their luggage to begin with,) but in his twisting arms, Sam squirmed and thrashed a weasel.

“You're fine, you're okay, just be quiet, please!"

THUMP-THUMP-THUMP!

There came a harsh hammering from the opposite wall, rattling the headboard and lamps in its wake.

“Hey-!” cried a muffled, male voice. “Put a cork in it over there!”

“Yeah!” resounded a second, unfamiliar, (but equally masculine,) voice. “Some of us are tryin’ to eat cereal here!”

Red-faced with effort as well as embarrassment, Guy bit at his lip.

… So much for soundproof walls…

“S-sorry!” he stammered, hurriedly gesturing for Jenkins to hush. “My, uh… my buddy here just stubbed his toe! … We – we promise to keep it down!”

“Yeah, you better!” growled the first voice. “Cause if I hear one more peep outta either a’ you, I’m filin’ a complaint!”

Guy swallowed. “… D-duly noted…” Briefly, he paused, wondering what else to say. “Er… Sleep tight!” he added, with a gawky sort of grin.

“I wouldn’t count on it!” giggled the second voice.

Finally, after a moment of strained silence, Guy let out a breath.

“You know, those two sound so cute together.”

With a strangled yap, Guy glanced down towards Sam. He’d all but forgotten about his partner, now perfectly conscious as he lounged within the incidental cradle.

“I gotta say-” Sam continued, casually resting his hands behind his head. “In spite of the blinding pain in my leg, this is a pretty nice way to wake up.”

With a noise of disgust, Guy hastily tossed Sam to the bed like one unloading a bag of trash.

“For your information-” he snapped. “I was trying to wake you up before you got us thrown out on our furry duffs! You were caterwauling like a Pandog with a Spork in its spleen!”

… Okay, so, maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration. Even Jenkins shot Guy an accusatorial glare.

Sam’s smile, however, was dropped almost at once. “… You… You heard all that?”

Guy blinked, a little stunned. He’d been expecting a laugh, or a dismissive hand-wave, but… Sam looked almost afraid, sitting back against his knees as he anxiously wrung at his hands.

“… Er… Not too much-” Guy mumbled, suddenly feeling as fretful as Sam looked. There was something so off-putting about seeing such a plucky spirit look so apprehensive… Sheepishly, he rubbed at his arm, glancing towards the ground. “… I-I mean… You mentioned your mom once, but-”

Guy looked up, suddenly noting the subtle twitch in Sam’s seemingly blank eyes.

“… Sam…?” he ventured cautiously.

All at once, Sam’s voice broke out in a crooked sort of chortle.

“BOY-!” he proclaimed, in an unsettling parody of his usual swagger as he hopped to the floor. “I sure could go for a swim right now! Did ya know this place even had a pool? I was shocked, I mean, talk about luxury! Did I remember to pack my swim-trunks? Ah, I guess it doesn’t matter; I mean, I only got the one shirt anyway, right? Do ya think they got pool floaties? Gee, I hope they got pool flo-”

“Sam.”

The little vagabond was already halfway towards the door when Guy’s hand came to rest at his shoulder. Visibly cringing, Sam risked a glimpse, and found his partner’s expression rather… uncharacteristically compassionate.

"... Heh... No beatin' around the bush with you, huh?” Chewing his lip, Sam looked back down.  “… L-look, it... it's nothing! We all have our weird dreams, it's nothin' to get all flibberty-gibbet about!"

Guy groaned, wearily massaging at the corner of his eye. "Sam, a dream about two countries warring over butter is weird. You were having a sleep-paralyzing nightmare. It was…” He paused, suddenly feeling considerably warm. “… Disconcerting.”

"... Oh, Guy-" Sam's eyes wobbled with hyperbolic affection. "You do care!"

He lunged for a hug, but, per the norm, Guy was quick to rebuff.

"I just wanna get this resolved so I can get some sleep, okay?" he spat, shoving the Who to one side. Nevertheless, Sam remained as misty-eyed as a child coveting a Valentine's Day card.

"Okaaaay... ya big ol' softie-pants."

With an amorous giggle, he lightly tapped at Guy's knee, who just rolled his eyes.

“… Alright, c’mon you.” Decisively, Guy headed back towards the bed, helping himself to a seat along the edge. Turning his eyes, he tapped at the open space beside him, to which Sam gave his usual melodramatic gasp.

"You... you mean it?"

Reddening slightly, Guy scowled heavily. "Don’t go gettin’ mushy on me; my legs were just gettin' tired, and..." he trailed off, shaking his head. "Look, just get over here before I change my mind."

With a hoot, and a tap of his heels, Sam was already in, burrowing beneath the blankets like a rabid Groundgopher. As tightly wound as a burrito, he poked his face out from the folds, and giggled huskily.

"I always say, heart-to-heart talks are always better when you're all snuzzled up under a blanket! Ooh, ya know what would make this even better? Hot choco-late!" Dreamily, he sighed, and smacked at his lips. "What do ya say we order ourselves a round to get started, and-"

“Sam, stop trying to change the subject and talk to me.” Guy interjected, swiveling in place as he crossed his legs. “… Is talking about your mother that much of a sudden sore spot for you?”

Even before the sentence was out, Guy knew he’d said the wrong thing. Sam lost all trace of mirth in his expression, slowly staring out towards the opposite wall like a man in mourning.

It then occurred to Guy this was probably the first Sam was ever reluctant to speak.

"... Look-" Guy sighed, resting his arms to his raised knees. "... I'm probably the last Guy to be givin' advice about family stuff, but... whatever the deal is, it seems to me like your mom really loved you... And I mean, look at you now. A certified wildlife protector-! A hero, risking life and limb to protect a helpless animal-"

With every word of praise, Sam seemed to sink further and further into the blankets. Sensing the obvious discomfort, Guy quickly switched gears.

"... Look, bottom line is, you got a lot for a mom to be proud of. That..." he glanced over his shoulder towards the briefcase housing his dismantled self-flyer, and sighed. "... That's more than a lot of people can say."

Despite the gentle words, Sam continued to stew in his self-imposed silence. Warbling softly, Jenkins reached out across the bed, and nudged his nose to Sam's shoulder invitingly. With a resigned sort of smile, Sam naturally obliged, stroking his hand along the bird's mop of magenta hair.

"... I can't say any of that, though..." he said quietly. More quietly, in fact, than Guy'd ever heard him. "My mom wouldn't be proud, ‘cause... she never knew me."

Silently, Jenkins withdrew his head, as Guy could only stare. "... What did you say?"

Surely he'd heard wrong.

"... I made it all up." Sam mumbled after a moment. "Everything I said about my mom... was a lie."

... Then... All those stories-

"But... But what about the juice incident?" Guy reasoned. "Or the stuffed animals, or - or-" briefly, he snapped at his fingers, desperately wracking his brain for any other examples. "Or your imaginary friend, Reggie? Who she pretended was real?"

Beneath the thick veneer of shame and guilt, Sam couldn't help but feel a soft pat of fondness for his gruffy companion.

... He really had been listening...

"Made up... Pretend... Non-existaroo." he listed hoarsely, staring up towards the ceiling. "I never told anybody this before, but... when I was very little my mom-" Sam's voice broke slightly, and he swallowed. "... Left me at an orphanage... It's always just been me. I mean-" he paused, smiling ever so faintly. "At least until I met you."

... Guy was stupefied. Practically since the beginning, he'd pegged his fellow felon as a fool; a clingy buffoon born with an undeserved silver spoon in his mouth... And now, come to find out... he'd been abandoned?

"... Do you remember anything about your parents?" Guy ventured softly.

Sam looked away. "... I remember my mom... a little. Just... one thing."

"What?"

Even in the darkness, Guy could catch the faintest hue of rose blooming through Sam's pearly fur. Shuffling deeper under the covers, he mumbled sheepishly, "It's not important..."

Guy found himself leaning forward.

"Go ahead," he whispered encouragingly.

Though something told him he already knew what it was. Whimpering shyly, Sam drew the brim of his sleep cap over his eyes.

"... It's silly..."

"... Sam..."

Sam jolted slightly, looking out from under his hat. He'd known from the get-go that Guy was not a touchy-feely sort of Knox, and yet... he'd made a gentle reach for his partner's trembling hand, as seamlessly as though he'd been practicing for years. And even more puzzling, he showed no sign of regret, or awkwardness... He just stared with those lined, tired eyes, and squeezed.

Sam’s face went from white to pink… Then, smiling in defeat, he relaxed, and gazed up towards the ceiling.

"... She made me breakfast."

... Guy'd known it, without really knowing it... And even still, he couldn't think of what to say. How many times had Sam ordered that dish in their shared existence? ... And how many times did Guy gag, and shudder, and turn his nose up at it?

... How many times did he turn his nose up to her memory?

The guilt suddenly sagged in his stomach like a stone.

"... I bet hers-" he said after a beat. "... Were really good."

Sam chuckled sadly, finally turning onto his side, though he still avoided eye contact. With his free hand, he mournfully traced the swirling pattern of the bed sheet. "The best... Really green... Super eggy... I've been trying to find her all these years, so I could ask... why, ya know?" He blinked, and a tear lazily trailed along his fur. "... Why she gave me up..."

Guy wanted to say something... anything... but a saddened, desperate chuckle quickly interrupted.

"I-I'm sure it's a good reason, I just-" Sam's voice seem to thicken with grief, as his grip on Guy's hand only tightened. One by one, tear after tear splashed against the bedspread, but Sam was determined to carry on. "... I really wanna know... So I keep ordering them, and I keep trying them... But they're..." he struggled to swallow the burgeoning lump in his throat. "... Never hers..."

Sam I-Am and Guy Am-I had not been together for very long, but in their time together, there seemed to be one hard and fast rule.

Sam was always the first to instigate a hug.

Tonight, Guy broke that rule.

“… Keep trying, Sam …” he whispered, gently cupping Sam’s head to his chest. The gesture and confession proved to be too much for Sam, as he quickly dissolved into snuffles of catharsis, desperately clasping his Guy like a life preserver. Purring softly, Jenkins curled his elastic neck around the pair of them, encircling the two like a wreath of pure warmth.

"Here, blow." Guy said after a minute, plucking a tissue from the box atop the bedside drawers, and gingerly held it to Sam's button nose.

Unfortunately, the moment of tactile tenderness was quickly squelched, as, with a nasally Bronx cheer, Sam's thunderous mucus rocketed a stream of slime as green as his eggs. Quickly suppressing the urge to retch, Guy snagged at a fistful of tissues, hastily smothering them to Sam's sticky face.

"... Better?" he asked, swiftly tossing the snotty clump to one side.

Sam gave a shuttering sniffle, nodding weakly.

“… Y-yeah… Th-thanks, Guy…” Smiling wetly, he dragged his knuckles across his swimming eye before casting the discarded cot a look of drained submission. “I… I guess I oughta be gettin’ back to bed…”

He made to move, but was suddenly pulled back in by Guy.

“… You don’t have to leave…” he muttered, squaring his shoulders with a great show of shyness. Lowering his gaze, he buried his twisted mouth against the fluff of his tawny neckline. “… N-not… not if you don’t want to, I mean…”

“... For real?” Sam gawked. “… But… but what about your sleep-space?”

“Eh,” Guy shrugged, finally sliding in under the comforter, as Jenkins dutifully uncoiled. “I always sleep alone… So, maybe…” Shyly, he fluffed at his pillow. “… I could try it with a companion, for once… Who knows?”

Without realizing it, he’d shuffled in closer, making a second clasp for Sam’s feeble hand.

“… I might wind up liking it.”

[theculturedmarxist]

So I’m looking over

https://en.wikiquote.org/wiki/Vladimir_Lenin

There are a couple entries which bear some amount of alarm, though divorced from whatever context they were found in which might mitigate their apparent meaning.

Use both bribery and threats to exterminate every Cossack to a man if they set fire to the oil in Guriev.

As quoted in Richard Pipes, The Unknown Lenin: From the Secret Archive (1996), p. 69.

Treat the Jews (express it politely: Jewish petty bourgeoisie) and urban inhabitants in the Ukraine with an iron rod, transferring them to the front, not letting them into the government agencies (except in an insignificant percentage, in particularly exceptional circumstances, under class control).

As quoted in Richard Pipes, The Unknown Lenin: From the Secret Archive (1996), p. 77.

It is precisely now and only now, when in the starving regions people are eating human flesh, and hundreds if not thousands of corpses are littering the roads, that we can (and therefore must) carry out the confiscation of church valuables... I come to the categorical conclusion that precisely at this moment we must give battle to the Black Hundred clergy in the most decisive and merciless manner and crush its resistance with such brutality that it will not forget it for decades to come… The greater the number of representatives of the reactionary clergy and reactionary bourgeoisie we succeed in executing for this reason, the better.”

As quoted in Richard Pipes, The Unknown Lenin: From the Secret Archive (1996), pp. 152-4.

I don’t figure Lenin as a saint, but I’m immediately suspicious of this kind of content because the character assassination of Communists by taking them out of context is old hat for the bourgeoisie and their minions. That they’d do so on his quote page is completely unsurprising. That each quote comes from the same source makes them even more suspect in my opinion. Lo, a short search later:

Reichman on Pipes, 'The Unknown Lenin:  From the Secret Archive' 

Author: Richard Pipes Reviewer: Henry Reichman   

The Unknown Lenin might better better be titled "the well-known Richard Pipes."  The book contains 113 previously unpublished documents attributed to Lenin, mostly brief memoranda and telegrams, or on which the Soviet leader penned marginal jottings, or, in a few cases (e.g., Lenin's 1886 Patent of Nobility), simply materials, largely ephemeral, concerning Lenin.  Nine additional documents, mostly telegrams to Lenin by other Bolsheviks, are included in an appendix.  Only a handful of the materials, encompassing altogether perhaps thirty or thirty-five pages of the text, can reasonably be considered substantive.  In a significant number of items Lenin's only contributions are often cryptic marginalia, sometimes simply the notation "into the archive."  A few documents are merely trivial, including an order for medications from the Kremlin pharmacy. With the major exception of one important and revealing text of a speech on the 1920 Polish war, virtually the entire substance of the book lies in editor Richard Pipes's tendentious introduction and interpretive commentary and notes, which imply if not argue that these newly released materials must alter previously indulgent (if not favorable) views of Lenin.  Since Pipes has spent nearly half a century berating the Soviet founder as the evil genius of our century, the book is hardly a surprise. 

It is hard to imagine that much documentary material by or about Lenin had not already been published by his Soviet successors, if not in the five editions of his Collected Works, the last of which numbered 55 volumes and included more than 3,000 publications and documents, then in the long run of Leninskii Sbornik, a pedantic and largely inconsequential journal of Leniniana.   Nonetheless, some Lenin materials (although apparently no true "works") were withheld from publication because either in tone or substance they tended to show the founding Communist in a harsh light or, apparently, because they were deemed too revealing of foreign policy formation.   Whether these brief materials, which in English translation here cover in totol just slightly more than half the book's 204 pages, are adequate to prompt even a minor reassessment is, at the least, problematic. Pipes acknowledges that "it would be naive, of course, to expect [these documents] to alter in some fundamental way our perception of Lenin's personality or his politics."  However, they do, he continues, "cast fresh light on Lenin's motives, attitudes, and expectations" (p. 6).   Pipes claims that these materials reveal Lenin to be "a heartless cynic, who in many ways provided a model for Stalin" (p. 1), and "a thoroughgoing misanthrope" (p. 11) with a "policeman's mentality" (p. 12), who "for humankind at large ... had nothing but scorn" (p. 10). 

Taken as a whole, the documents show no such thing.  The brutal rhetoric found here, especially in some Civil War-era telegrams, certainly reconfirms Lenin's ruthlessness, but this has hardly been hidden, even by Soviet censors.  Even when read in isolation the documents do not prove, nor sometimes simply suggest, all that Pipes implies they do.  A few cases of inflated and bloodthirsty rhetoric in the midst of an extraordinarily brutal civil war, some anti-clerical rantings by a professed and passionate atheist, and pompous self-deluding declarations of faith in world revolution do not prove that Lenin pursued violence for its own sake, sought to annihilate believers, or, in Pipes's most outrageous charge, plotted "the invasion of Germany and England" (p. 7).  Taken out of the context of Lenin's enormous ouevre and divorced from his life and work, these materials do little more than provide additional illustrations (and by no means the most interesting or revealing ones) of the Soviet founder's distinctive and remarkable combination of stubborn dogmatism with tactical flexibility verging on opportunism, cemented, to be sure, by a certain cold-blooded utilitarian idealism.  Pipes, it seems, confronts these hitherto secret materials like a Vichy policeman who finds gambling at Rick's Place.  He is "shocked!" 

Here and there, of course, the documents do add to our knowledge of Lenin's career and early Soviet history.  Two documents suggest that Allied landings in Murmansk in early 1918, which began over foreign military involvement in the Russian Civil War, were approved by Lenin and Stalin.  That the Bolsheviks received German money even after 1917 is apparently confirmed in a note from August 1918: "The Berliners will send some more money: if the scum delay, complain to me formally" (p. 53).  Several documents shed additional light on Soviet intentions and plans for the 1922 Genoa Conference, although it is by no means clear that these show how "Lenin deliberately set himself to 'wreck' Genoa even before the conference had even convened" (p. 6), as Pipes overconfidently declares.

Additional materials add support to interpretations already held by most historians on the basis of other, and often better, evidence. Transfer of the legacy of the Bolshevik sympathizer N. P. Shmit through the false marriages of his sisters to Bolshevik activists, which stirred a ruckus with the Mensheviks and in the International, is documented, although nothing new is added to our knowledge of this affair.  Lenin's intimate relationship with Inessa Armand is hinted at in four letters from 1914 and four others from late 1916 and 1917.  His peculiar tolerance of the tsarist agent and Bolshevik Duma deputy Roman Malinovsky is shown to have continued well into 1917.  Several notes, letters and telegrams to other Bolshevik leaders suggest that Lenin did not hold many of his comrades in the highest regard, although these are far from indicating even signals of the kind of paranoiac megalomania associated with the behavior toward subordinates of Stalin and Mao in their later years.   Indeed, one genuinely interesting revelation is how much Lenin concerned himself with the health of his fellow revolutionaries, often ordering scrupulous obedience to doctors' orders as well as rest stays in dachas and spas.  Other documents suggest that, as most historians have already come to see, Stalin played a greater role and was closer politically to Lenin than early historians and most contemporaries acknowledged.

Pipes's commentary occasionally misinterprets or often unjustifiably infers too much from specific documents.  Lenin begins a letter to Armand in July 1914: "Best greetings for the commencing revolution in Russia."  According to Pipes, this "reveals that Lenin saw the outbreak of the First World War as inevitably leading to a revolution in Russia" (p. 27).  Perhaps.  It is equally if not more likely, however, that Lenin's confidence stemmed from that month's general strike and street fighting in St. Petersburg and accompanying Bolshevik gains in the trade union movement, if it was not simply a formal declaration of standard revolutionary optimism. Pipes produces a four-page memorandum by Trotsky from October 1919 criticizing a Central Committee decision on military operations against the White general Denikin.  Lenin's sole contribution to this document, one of the longer ones in the book, is a brief appendage:  "Received 1 October. Lenin: (nothing but bad nerves; [the issue] was not raised at the plenum; it is strange to raise it now" (p. 73)  From this notation alone Pipes somehow concludes that "Lenin's cavalier dismissal of his advice indicates that he did not hold Trotsky's military abilities in high esteem" (p. 70), a possibility, to be sure, but certainly a highly exaggerated and unjustified inference from such spare evidence. 

And then there is the letter to foreign commissar Chicherin of August 1921 in which Lenin urges collaboration with "those Germans who want to overturn the Versailles peace" (p. 132).  Here is Pipes's interpretation: "The letter makes explicit Soviet Russia's policy of secretly collaborating with those elements in Germany which wanted to 'overturn the Versailles treaty,' that is, the Nazis and other nationalists" (p. 131).  The document, of course, makes no mention at all of the Nazis, who were then an infant sect probably unknown to Soviet diplomats, much less to Lenin.  Indeed, no mention is made of any extra-governmental nationalist grouping, including not only the Nazis but the then far more numerous and influential Freikorps.  What is articulated here is an example of Lenin's well-known strategy, given full implementation at Rapallo in 1922, of playing the imperialist blocs against each other.  Elsewhere Pipes writes that "the Soviet strategy of destroying the Versailles treaty by forming an alliance with right-wing German elements ... was consummated two decades later in the Hitler-Stalin pact" (p. 95).  This crude attempt to lay responsibility for 1939 on Lenin would be laughable if it were not such a clear example of biased scholarship. 

Perhaps the most egregious example of how Pipes reads into documents conclusions that they do not necessarily support, is his contention that Lenin denied requests to intervene against anti-Semitic pogroms perpetrated by the Red Army on its retreat from Poland.  On October 1, 1920, the Jewish Section (Evsektsiia) of the Central Committee reported such attacks by units of the First Cavalry Army.  The report, included by Pipes (pp. 116-17), was forwarded to the Central Committee eighteen days later and to Lenin in mid-November.  Lenin's only contribution to this document was to scrawl on it "into the archive," which Pipes construes to mean "that no action was to be taken" (p. 10).  One wonders, however, what action Lenin could have taken six weeks after the fact.  Moreover, the significance of the notation "into the archive" is hardly clear.  Indeed, elsewhere Pipes reproduces a note from Trotsky with Lenin's "into the archive" annotation (p. 136) as evidence of action that WAS taken by Lenin. There are several other examples as well of documents marked "into the archive" by Lenin which Pipes uses to illustrate how Lenin concerned himself with the issues they addressed.   [Lenin's November 1919 draft theses concerning policy in the Ukraine, however, are another matter.  Here Lenin proposes to "treat the Jews and urban inhabitants in the Ukraine with an iron rod, transferring them to the front, not letting them into government agencies ..." (p. 77). This certainly evidences at least a pandering to the presumed anti-Semitism of the Ukraininian masses, although not necessarily blatant anti-Semitism of Lenin's own.] 

One document in the collection surely does highlight the calculating brutality that emerged in Lenin, especially in the wake of the Civil War.  In a March 1922 letter to Molotov on policy toward the church, Lenin writes: "It is precisely now and only now, when in the starving regions people are eating human flesh, and hundreds if not thousands of corpses are littering the roads, that we can (and therefore must)  carry out the confiscation of church valuables with the most savage and merciless energy, not stopping [short of] crushing any resistance.  It is precisely now and only now that the enorous majority of the peasant mass will be for us or at any rate will not be in a condition to support in any decisive way that handful of Black Hundred clergy and reactionary urban petty bourgeoisie who can and want to attempt a policy of violent resistance to the Soviet clergy.  We must, come what may, carry out the confiscation of church valuables in the most decisive and rapid manner, so as to secure for ourselves a fund of several hundred million gold rubles (one must recall the gigantic wealth of some of the monasteries and abbeys).  Without this fund, no government work in general, no economic construction in particular, and no defense of our position in Genoa especially is even conceivable ...  All considerations indicate that later we will be unable to do this, because no other moment except that of desperate hunger will give us a mood among the broad peasant masses that will guarantee us the sympathy of these masses or at least their neutrality" (pp. 152-53).

This document, with its chilling rhetoric, is not new, however.  As Pipes acknowledges, it was smuggled out of the Central Party Archive in the late 1960s and published in 1970 in Paris.  Its republication in the official Izvestiia TsK in 1990, however, dispelled skepticism about its authenticity.  More important, it cannot stand on its own as evidence of Bolshevik policy toward the church or even of Lenin's own views.  These were much more complex than this collection or Pipes's explanatory material will admit.  Moreover, it certainly cannot be said to evidence a POLICY of callous disregard for famine victims, since it is contemporaneous with Soviet efforts to involve both Russians and foreigners in relief efforts. 

Surely the most useful materials concern the 1920 war with Poland, although Pipes's contention that some documents indicate that the Soviets planned an invasion even before they were attacked by Pilsudski's forces cannot be supported by the extremely thin and murky references offered as evidence.  In particular, the stenographic record of a speech delivered by Lenin to the Ninth Conference of the Communist Party in September 1920, which as the longest document in the collection occupies twenty pages, is of special interest.  It provides crucial insights into Soviet foreign policy and the attitudes toward world revolution of the Bolshevik leadership; both diplomatic historians and students of Leninism will find it indispensable.  Again, however, Pipes draws unfounded and extreme conclusions. 

To be sure, several documents show that Lenin's optimism about the potential for revolution in the West was stronger and lasted longer than many have believed.  But Pipes's contention that Lenin's speech "indicates that the invasion of Poland had as its objective not only the sovietization of that country but also an immediate advance on Germany and possibly England" (p. 94) is totally unsupported by the text.   Certainly Lenin tells his listeners that the advance on Warsaw was linked to rising hopes of proletarian upheaval in Europe, including Germany and England as well as Poland, but that is quite a different matter from planning an invasion, and certainly not of England, to which there is absolutely no conceivable reference. Lenin was undoubtedly a fanatic, but there is no evidence here or elsewhere that he was a madman.  Indeed, he was very much the realist; the thrust of the speech was to acknowledge "the main and dismal point," which was "that a mistake has undoubtedly been committed" (p. 106). 

The speech also includes a valuable discussion of the Communist attitude toward the Versailles system.  As previously noted, Pipes emphasizes Lenin's recognition that German nationalists and Soviet Communists could make common cause against the peace treaty, and he contends that this portended future developments in Soviet policy, not simply Rapallo but 1939 as well.  Lenin's discussion of the "unnatural characteristic bloc" (p. 102) between right-wing German patriots (he calls them German Kornilovites) and Bolsheviks emphasized, however, the temporary and strictly informal nature of the alliance, warning clearly: "If you form a bloc with the German Kornilovites, they will dupe you" (p. 103). 

One could cite numerous additional examples of largely irrelevant documents and tendentious editing, but I have already spilled too much (cyber)ink on a book about which one wonders why it needed to be published.  Those few documents, such as the speech to the Ninth Conference, that genuinely reveal new information could well have appeared in journals, since they will mainly be of use to scholars. The remaining materials simply reinforce common interpretations and impressions of Lenin's politics and character.  Clearly, the book's editor had a purpose of his own.  In an acknowledgment at the opening of the volume, Yury A. Buranov of the Russian Center for the Preservation and Study of Documents of Recent History, which furnished Pipes with the documents, emphasizes:  "The interpretation of the materials is a matter of the creative and scholarly assessment on the part of the American editor."  It is this interpretation that in the end holds the book together--and it is this interpretation that makes the book a one-sided example of how NOT to read documents. 

A bourgeois minion out to slander a Communist revolutionary by willful distortion and outright fabrication. Goodness, can you believe it?

[recentanimenews]

An Ode to SHIROBAKO!

Today marks the five-year anniversary of one of my favorite shows, SHIROBAKO! I still remember tuning into the first episode in the spirit of the new anime season, that special mix of hope and morbid curiosity. The beginning gave me what I expected, cute girls in high school making animation together for a school project. But then there's a time jump: two and a half years later, we meet one of those girls again on the road, hungry and frantic, listening to voice actors on the radio promoting the show she's working on as she races another production assistant across the mean streets of Tokyo to be the first to a freelance animator's apartment. You can almost see the staff of SHIROBAKO rubbing their hands together in glee. “Ha, you thought this was another treacly drama about high schoolers? This is a workplace sitcom, baby!!”

    Despite its slice-of-life inclinations and cute character designs, SHIROBAKO is a fast-paced workplace comedy/drama in the vein of The Office and Scrubs. Except that instead of being set somewhere boring like an office or a hospital, it takes place in a down-on-its luck anime studio called Musani, staffed with employees who bear a suspicious resemblance to real-life figures in the industry.

  The producer is an older man who cooks curry for his staff, just like industry legend Masao Maruyama; the director is a talented but very indecisive, and looks just like the director of 2003's Fullmetal Alchemist, Seiji Mizushima. Maybe it's this reason that while it aired, SHIROBAKO made a reputation for itself as being an invaluable resource to understanding how anime is created, an unsparing depiction of how the sausage is made.

    Of course, the world of SHIROBAKO is a fantasy. It is a place where men take many shapes and sizes but women are all conventionally attractive; where dolls talk and animators hallucinate their characters while in the throes of creativity; where Musani's director can put on a cowboy hat at the studio's lowest point and snatch history from the jaws of defeat. This of course, is all to SHIROBAKO's benefit. The show is unapologetically a cartoon, about cartoons, and smarter people than me have already written about how it uses its medium as a fulcrum to leverage the power of animation to its best effect. But if Miyamori and her friends are larger than life, there's a grain of truth to them that those in the workplace will recognize. Like the plight of Shizuka Sakaki, who works a dead-end job while she frantically hustles behind the scenes to find the career she really wants. Or the animators at Studio Titanic, incentivized by an industry that prioritizes speed and quantity over quality to pump out shoddy work. Or Taro Takanashi, a production assistant so bad at his job that he must have been drawn from real life (and he was: according to the director, Taro was modeled on his own past self! At least he can admit it.)

  SHIROBAKO still has a devoted fan following since airing, enough so that a movie sequel is on its way. I'll personally always love the show for its memorable characters, cheeky nods to anime history and the story's willingness to let its cast face real danger in their struggle to make art. But some have criticized the series for being unrealistic. Not for being exaggerated, or calibrated for marketability (both true) but that it is “too optimistic” a portrait of the industry. Said one writer I followed at the time, “in the real world, Miyamori would have hung herself under the stress.”  It's a grotesque statement, but not fully removed from reality. In past years there have stories of animators dying of overwork. Stories of directors abusing their connections to sexually harass voice actors, freelance animators not being paid by their studio contractors, and companies refusing to compensate their employees for unpaid overtime because their work was deemed insufficient. The world of SHIROBAKO has its problems—difficult co-workers, a competitive industry, clueless and self-absorbed producers. But it is undeniably a kinder world than the one we live in.

    That said, I personally believe that the optimism of SHIROBAKO is earned. After all, the staff who worked on the series have weathered their share of disasters. SHIROBAKO itself faced a difficult production, resulting in the subbed release of the final episode being briefly delayed on Crunchyroll. I'd imagine the staff who worked on the show know what it's like to toil in the trenches on a series nobody likes, or do career-best work on the adaptation of a light novel that everybody forgets about in a month. SHIROBAKO features its share of genius characters, from the secret animation powerhouse Shigeru Sugie to eccentric and feared director Hidea—I mean, Mitsuaki Kanno. But it has just as much sympathy for the less obviously glamorous jobs: production assistants, sound designers, background artists, CG designers, script researchers and the countless other hands creating an animated series. All of them ordinary people doing the work in an unforgiving industry.

  This to me is the great lesson of SHIROBAKO: Anime is made by people. They draw, they eat, they struggle, they do exercise routines. Some of them have great fashion sense, others are fearless drivers. But they all have names, and they're all important. I've seen a trend recently of companies reducing “anime” to a brand, another marketing label to better enable the collection of consumer data. This year's Netflix documentary Enter the Anime gives us glimpses of a handful of directors, but never lets us into the studio. This is a mistake. Anime is never just one person, or a synopsis on a page. In this industry, the existence of any animated series that makes it from beginning to end is a miracle, enabled by the hard work and tears of countless dedicated staff. Not everyone reads the credits, but there is a story behind every person whose name is there, and behind the names of those left out.

    You might be a fan of anime, a fan of cute girls, a fan of animation for its own sake. There's something in SHIROBAKO for all of those folks. If you're a fan of jokes and daring escapes, there's plenty of those too! But SHIROBAKO is also a story about people, made by people. A love letter written to a very difficult and demanding job. Five years later, the airwaves adrift with countless beleaguered productions like paper lanterns, that job has never been more difficult or demanding.

  Are you, like me, a fan of SHIROBAKO? Do you ship anyone in the cast together? Do you know a Taro at your workplace? Let us know in the comments!

---

Adam W is a features writer at Crunchyroll, and the world's biggest fan of famous animated porcupine Andes Chucky. He sporadically contributes with a loose coalition of friends to a blog called Isn't it Electrifying? Follow him on Twitter at: @wendeego

Do you love writing? Do you love anime? If you have an idea for a features story, pitch it to Crunchyroll Features!

By: news+feed@crunchyroll.com

[made-in-the-hallway]

Problematic feelings

Word count: 2.083

Requested: Yes

Warnings: Angst and tiny cries.

What’s up fam? I know it has been soooooo long since the last time I published a piece of writing but I felt the need to write wash over me so here I am! This was requested so I got down to fullfill that request! I haven’t proofread that so I am sorry for any typos! Also, I am not very sure of this one but I hope you like it! Feedback is very much appreciated and requests are open too! Without further a due, enjoy! (Picture’s not mine / Masterlist)...

Life had always been somewhat easy for me. That doesn’t mean that it never had its downs as well, but in total, the happy times and the happy memories, outnumbered the bad ones. Someone would assume that I am silly or even insane for thinking like that. But it is the ultimate truth. And I couldn’t be more appreciative of the little but of the big things that came my way as well.

Since I was little, my family was my safe place and they would always be there for me no matter what. It was something that always fascinated me and it was the main reason why I looked up to my parents as well. They were the happiest and the funniest people anyone would ask for to be in their lives. They made it their priority to look after me and make me a rational and most importantly a joyful human being.

As the years were passing by, my parents’ demeanor didn’t change in the slightest bit. Not even my dad’s, even when I brought Harry over to meet him. Harry and I had met at a Uni lesson, Algebra I reckon. We instantly hit it off and we would hang out almost on a daily basis. His presence always placed a smile on my face and warmth in my heart without him even trying. I was amazed at the simplicity of his actions and the importance they carried with them, for they made my day every day.

Harry was too thankful for having me around. At first, he had noticed how closed off I was and he made everything in his power to change that. He would randomly insert a funny comment in our conversation, without it really being relevant. But it did make me more comfortable around him. Then, he would nudge my shoulder when the teacher we both despised would walk into the classroom and I would stifle a laugh because we didn’t want to be expelled.

Anyone watching us would suppose that we were a proper couple. Oh how I wish. I’m not gonna lie. Harry was charming and all but what really made me fall for him so quickly was his personality. I know this sounds cliché as hell, but I can’t state otherwise. Just the way he saw things and his optimism worked like a strong magnet for me, pushing me towards him without stopping. At the time, I knew I was screwed, because I deeply understood that those feelings I had developed for him were one-sided. He never really rubbed it in my face that he hadn’t taken a liking in me, but he never confessed he liked me either.

So things between us were stable; at least for a month or so. There were times when I wouldn’t hear from Harry for almost two weeks. The time we spent apart was tearing me apart and no matter how many texts and voicemails I would leave to his cell phone, they were all sent in vain. The situation changed when he appeared on my doorstep – after 36 days of absence- clarifying that we needed talk. At first, I was scared he wanted to call it quits with me and just leave me be. 

But the complete opposite happened. He confessed that I was on his mind from the very first day his eyes landed on me and that he wanted to risk our friendship in order to become something more. This had to be the best day of life. Just thinking about it, makes me feel all the butterflies I felt at that time. So, we continued being together even after our graduation. My parents were ultimately glad for Harry. I mean, how couldn’t they? He was sweet with their daughter, he would always lend a hand when needed and most importantly, he never took advantage of my parents’ hospitality.

Things changed for the better when he proposed though. It wasn’t anything over the top, but it was over the top for me. The boy I had been fantasizing about since day one was on one knee asking me to be his wife. Maybe that was the best day of my life along with the day we were informed by our doctor that we were expecting twins. We were happily petrified. We wanted kids of course, but we had never done that before. How could we make it? Would we make good parents? How would we be able to afford such a lifestyle? Those were questions voiced to Harry by me, making my uneasiness and fears visible to him.

“As long as we’re together, nothing should make us feel afraid”, Harry had commented and that was all I needed; Harry to be there for me; for us. Ever since, he never left my side. He was there even when he needn’t be. Sometimes, he would exaggerate and be worried for the both of us. Deep down, I knew this was all I needed. A family with the man I always loved and a home to protect this affection from the vicious eyes.

But who knew that this affection would be threatened by the only people I would never suspect? Me and Harry. After the twins were born, difficulties and problems started to arise and they made us isolate ourselves from each other. I hated that. I thought we would never be hit by misery and sadness and that our family would be lovingly bonded till the end of time. Maybe, my life had been way too good to me and now it was time I dealt with its nasty face like everybody else did.

Fights with Harry have become a routine by now. Maybe his busy schedule is taking an ugly toll on him that he can’t control. Maybe I am tired of him throwing tantrums at any given moment. Maybe I don’t want our children to be raised in an unfriendly environment like this. Whatever the reason, Harry and I never bottled up our thoughts and emotions and we always took it out on the other. Just like right now.

Lips pursed, hands fisted, eyes burning and words sharper than knives were a usual sight for him. So it shouldn’t be much of a surprise for me as well.

“Harry please stop shouting! I just put the kids to bed for God’s sake!”

“Oh now I can’t even talk, right? Do I need yehr permission to do tha’ as well?” Harry’s tendency to exaggerate was enough to send me over the edge and forget all about my infidelity and my kids’ napping. 

“That is nonsense and you bloody know it! You never needed my permission to do anything! If you think that asking for my opinion on things, which is absolutely normal for couples and families, is wrong, then this is highly childish of you!”

“So yeh think tha’ I am a child then! How brilliant! I just can’t believe yeh said yes to marry a child!”

“You know I value our marriage and our family more than my own life Harry! What is wrong with you anyways? You always have my word for my loyalty and devotion to this family of ours but you just pay no attention to it!”

“Don’t even think about accusing me of not loving yeh or my children!” Harry’s blood was boiling by now and if there was a minor possibility to control his temper before, now there was none.

“If you loved and cherished me Harry then we wouldn’t be shouting at this time of night. We wouldn’t even be questioning each other’s feelings. But maybe y-“

“Maybe wha’? Maybe I don’t want yeh? Is tha’ wha’ yeh were goin’ to say?” Harry had taken a few steps towards me and my eyes were started to be blurry when a tiny cry from up the stairs had me frozen in place. 

Our older daughter, Emmy, was holding her teddy bear close to her small figure and she wore a disheartened  face that I swear it ripped my heart in two. Without wasting another minute, I rushed to her side and she desperately tried to get a hold of me like I were going to abandon her or disappear into thin air. Harry stood in front of the sofa, with his face buried in his hands and his heart fallen to his guts if not the floor of our home. I couldn’t believe we made our daughter believe her parents didn’t love her anymore or they didn’t love each other.

“Baby it is ok. Shhhh… I promise” I tried my best to soothe her and I felt her cries die down a bit. Instantly, I let out a big breath I didn’t even know I was holding and I absentmindedly started rubbing her back and planting small kisses on her small hands.

“Dadda doesn’t lov- love us anymore momma?” she tried to say but her hiccup got in the way. Just when those words fell from her lips, my face was quick to turn to Harry’s side. I was somewhat relieved to see that our daughter’s words had shaken him up a bit and made him come to his senses. That must mean he still feels something; if not for me, then for our kids at least.

He was quick to come to our side and place us inside of his embrace. Truth be told, I never felt safer in my entire life. Just when his arms tied around us, I felt protected. I felt like this black bubble of shouting and menace couldn’t absorb us. Emmy by the way, had stopped crying and she cherished her dad’s hug by wrapping her tiny arms around his neck and him lifting her up to meet his eyes.

“Don’t ever, ever assume tha’ Dadda doesn’t love yeh… Okay princess?” Harry reassured her and she moved her head. If only things were so easy. I had to remind myself that my conflict with Harry was far from over and we had yet to put an end to this. The only thing stopping me from it is my lack of energy. I was beyond tired and fed up with fighting with him. I just want everything to fall into place once again and stay this way for as long as we both remain married.

“Let’s put yeh to sleep now. Princesses need their precious sleep, don’t they?” Harry joked and Emma chuckled. He had a way to make things right; with his kids. I had made my way to our bedroom by then and I was preparing myself with what was coming. 

Half an hour later, I heard the door of the room cracking, signaling that Harry was in the room as well. No one said a word, letting the awkward silence consume us and leave us longing for a single reassurance; that nothing was lost yet. I found it completely ironic to be met with desperation and a heavy breathing around Harry when in the past he was the one who fought with those demons.

“What happened to us Harry?” I was the first to break the thick ice between us for it needed to be broken.

“Life I guess…” he dully replied and my heart fell to the floor. I needed to steady my mind, or else the burden of this situation would flip me over in a matter of seconds. 

“I am willing to chase life and not let it get in-between. But I can’t if I am alone in this”

“Wha’ do yeh mean Y/N?” he turned to face me and I could have sworn that I saw hope in his eyes. A burning hope to push that restart button together. A burning hope to make it right. Again.

“I mean that I am willing to start it all over. To be happy again. To leave those arguments behind and only look back to them to remind ourselves that we can be better than that. I am willing to give it a try and remind ourselves that our love is here to stay for good. I just need to know one thing Harry” I truthfully said and the look Harry gave me was enough for me to muster up all the courage and hope I had left in me in order to ask him two words. Even though I didn’t have a single clue what his answer would be or where we would be standing after this.

“Are you?”

[anniversary-magazine]

In Conversation With Conceptual Artist Pedro Reyes

Contemporary conceptual artist and traditional stonemason; architect and activist; engineer and craftsman. The cross-disciplinary nature of Pedro Reyes' work - which encompasses performance, installation, video, sculpture, and activism - makes a strong case for multiplicity.

Acknowledging the poetry of form as well as the power of politics, Reyes' work layers complexity, humor, rigor, and design. Reyes lives and works in Mexico City in a brutalist house of his own design. 

Rosie Robertson (RR) Pedro Reyes (PR)

RR: Having first trained as an architect, you now create time-based, conceptual performance art, and sculptural works; was it a childhood dream to become an architect?

PR: As a child, my grandfather was a significant influence because he taught me algebra and mythology at the same time, he would take a Greek or roman myth, and then he would pose a problem in algebraic terms. For instance, a simple arithmetic problem would be: Jason has to kill the hydra, but can only catch two heads at a time; how hard does Jason have to work? What that taught me was that you could have myths translated into a formula, and those myths could change or be rewritten using the same elements that gave me the keys to eventually perform. On the other hand, my father was also a significant influence because he taught me engineering drawing. He did not mean to impress me, but to give instructions for someone to build something. The acknowledgment that "if you can draw it, you can make it" gave me the necessary skills to become a sculptor.

RR: Coming from an architectural background, does your artistic practice share a similar relationship with the notions of time, space, politics, and the body?

PR: In architecture, you have to respond to a program, you have to solve a problem, which has stayed with me in my art practice. I expect from my pieces some degree of accountability. I am interested in measuring what that impact can be. It actually took me a long time to start making art pieces for art's sake only.

RR: Your artistic output seems highly collaborative, often coordinating/working with several organizations and individuals who contribute to the overall project. Even working with stone must also require many technicians and craftsmen, particularly on a large scale. As it is often stated, 'art cannot be made in a vacuum' - however, I wonder if there is a part of your artistic practice that is more solitary?

PR: Sculpture has always been a collective undertaking. If you walked in a sculptor studio from the Renaissance or other eras of human history, you would systematically find a group of people working on a single carving due to the heavy labor required to carve stone. I am very much interested in keeping that craftsmanship alive. In the studio, some maestros have many years of experience, and some people who started to learn the craft are now on their way to becoming maestros themselves. However, there is a lot of thinking process that must happen in solitary, for me that is mainly distilling thoughts that may be vague ideas that I have found in old books and that I keep in notes, and then at night, I translate into drawings, and those drawings will lead to new works. Drawing is certainly something that requires me to be alone.

RR: You have collaborated with your partner, fashion designer Carla Fernandez. Does having an intimate relationship and in-depth knowledge of each other's work inhibit the work, or does it speed up the process thanks to the 'couples’ shorthand' that inevitably forms in intimate relationships?

PR: Yes, I collaborate with Carla on many projects. We know how to let each other do what they do best, which helps us move projects forward. What is most important, however, is to share a cause and be concerned with a social or political issue. Because when you do some kind of activism, solidarity is essential, even if it is the companionship of a single person, it makes a world of difference.

RR: Your work includes video, sculpture, performance, activism, and installation - does the freedom to work in any medium feel freeing or overwhelming?

PR: Augusto Boal warned us about the "Che Guevara Syndrome," because as Che Guevara made a revolution in Cuba, then he went on emancipating countries and went to Angola and almost got killed, and then went to Bolivia and was killed there. So, the warning is that you have to be careful about the number of revolutions you undertake; if you embrace too many, you may not be able to complete much.

Feeling overcome by the news and the 24-hour news cycle is commonplace - particularly in the current political climate of polemics, outrage, and misinformation. Though it was made in 2013, your work Colloquium is an elegant expression of the present-day political and cultural landscape.

RR: Where do you get your news from, what role does it play in your life, and do you feel that the news cycle feeds your work or distracts you from it?

PR: My news diet is a mix because often, I follow the social media accounts of activist groups, which often are quite radical but give you an unfiltered and critical "temperature" of local environments. Nevertheless, they have a global resonance because you see how things really are. Instagram accounts such as @heavydiscussion and @blackpowderpress, as well as hashtags like #nfac report events that you won't see on the mainstream press. However, I am subscribed to other news outlets such as The Economist, The Guardian, etc.

RR: Though your work often deals with heavy and complex subject matters, the tone is playful and humorous. Fine art, video/performance art, and activism all have a reputation for being somewhat po-faced or self-serious. I wonder if you actively inject humor into your work to change this perception - or to make the work more digestible - or is humor part of your character and the lens through which you see the world?

PR: Studying humor, you find that most jokes have a setup and a punchline. And the way that punchlines work is through shock; in the setup, you have a course of action where you detect that something is going in the wrong direction, but then the punchline is such a big disappointment that the way you cope with that shock is with laughter. I thought to myself what would be an "upward drop," a punchline so hilariously optimistic, so ridiculous, that it also leads to laughter. But most importantly, wild visionary ideas may have more traction than reasonable reforms. It is crucial to have this kind of exaggeration to create a compelling vision.

RR: Do you believe in the power of art and/or politics to inspire or mobilize change? Why?

PR: I believe that by action or inaction, we all shape the world and that art can produce change. If I destroyed 1,527 weapons, I like to think that some lives were saved by taking those guns out of circulation, and if I planted 1,527 trees, that also has an impact. However, I don't think that all art has to serve this purpose. The beauty of art may also be in its purposelessness, where the aesthetic experience has in itself, a use. Life is miserable without art, and culture is a basic need. That is one of the main reasons I am working on reactivating libraries. Reading a book is a life-changing experience, and literacy is one of the few things that has been proved to foster social mobility.

RR: As you mentionned, the 2008 artwork 'Palas por Pistolas' was an invitation to the inhabitants of the Mexican city of Culiacan to donate their guns in exchange for coupons and vouchers. The resulting collection of 1527 deadly firearms was then melted down and turned into garden shovels, which are used for planting trees in schools and art institutions. The spades are potent symbols of optimism and activism - I wonder what is the role of the gallery, and how do works of real-world activism change or transform in the neutrality of the white cube?

PR: I have never shown Palas por Pistolas in a gallery context, it has been shown in biennials and museums, but every time that it is shown, the piece is activated through the planting of trees. The museum has to organize a tree planting, which involves the local community and creates an opportunity to talk about gun control. There are two ways to look at the museum: as a fridge or as an oven. Museums are like fridges in the sense that they have a perfect temperature to keep works safe for posterity, but also, they can work as ovens where you cook new realities, and both functions are essential.

RR: Your work is multi-layered, and the objects presented to the audience have had a life before reaching the gallery space. Is it essential that everyone connects with the work's concept and that they understand its "story"? Or are you at ease with the experience of the work varying depending on the viewer's engagement with it?

PR: Art objects indeed tell a story, but often I am interested in the artwork being a platform for the audience to find a place where they can tell their own story. This is the case of Sanatorium, where there are pieces where I ask the audience to ask a secret, which is anonymous and put inside a bottle, and in exchange, they can read someone else's secret. Or I ask them to write their epitaph, and then you can also learn how different people's epitaphs accumulate. These artworks become more vibrant with the public's input, where content is generated by the user, and they continue to grow through this collective process. When I make instruments, it is up to the musicians to come up with music at the moment of interpretation, so I love doing work that is not a definitive creation, but that is only a steppingstone in the process of collective creativity.

RR: More traditional art forms, such as your sculptures in stone, are more open to interpretation. Are the sculptures rooted in the act of making - more preoccupied with shape, texture, color, and composition - or is there an equally direct 'message' or story behind these works as there is with the activism?

PR: In sculpture, form is meaning, and there is more to form that can be translated into concepts. That's the beauty of it: a sculpture consists of thousands of decisions. These are made during the process, often in a direct battle between hand and material, the sculpture's body, and the force applied to the operation of shaping, of sculpting. You think by doing. Some sculptures are abstract, and others are figurative, and many are something in between, but I certainly produce sculptures that have an "agenda." If I make a bust of a thinker, it works as an index for the body of work of that person, or they may reflect a moment. For instance, in 2016, I made a wood version of the liberty statue, so it looked like a trojan horse. It was a commentary on the permanent state of war where the United States waged war against other countries with the pretext of exporting democracy. The only ones who profit are the military-industrial sector that has hijacked US politics. I also made a Protesters series, where I wanted to retake the format of the statue. Statues have always been prominent figures, mostly men, and I wanted to make a monument to the anonymous protester who takes his own physical body to the streets, nowadays even risking their personal safety as a last resort to produce change.

RR: What do you find more inspiring: nature or man-made structures?

PR: I would say that I am more interested in art than nature. In art, you have interpretation, and I'm always interested in how judgment is produced, how it occurs. However, in sculpture, you still have a very close relationship with nature, mainly because you have to understand the structure of matter.

RR: What is beauty - and what role does it play in your work?

PR: Beauty is a difficult thing to describe or to define, first because the term doesn't have much currency in art. Also, it is a dynamic term, in the sense that there are aesthetic dimensions that vary according to each person's taste. However, when something is well resolved, it is because the artist has spent time taking care of composition, and as he may also be aware of the relevance, the work may have in its current context. If you notice, what I am saying is full of abstractions, it is always easier to pinpoint examples and then talk about its properties.

RR: Which artists, architects, or activists most inspire you?

PR: I have been lucky to have great mentors and teachers, to name a few. Antanas Mockus, a philosopher, mathematician, and former mayor of Bogota, Colombia, has been very influential. In 2016, I also had the chance to work with Noam Chomsky while teaching at MIT, on the making of a theatrical production called "Manufacturing Mischief." Another significant influence has been professor Doris Sommer from the Cultural Agents at Harvard University and writer Lauren Berlant at the University of Chicago.

RR: Do you like to live with your own works?

PR: I do live with my works, and there is a courtyard in the studio where the works spend some months before they are shipped to shows or collections. It is a stone garden where I get to spend time with the works because once they are gone forever. It is there where I test the resilience of the work because you aren't always in control of the context. Hence, the works must be good enough to resist a bad display in the future, so I am still happy to advise the placement and installation of the work.

RR: Any book suggestion(s)?

PR: Currently, I am enjoying reading the biography of Victor Serge, a communist revolutionary.

All images by Alex Lesage

[doctorwhonews]

The Doctor Falls

Latest Review: Written by Steven Moffat Directed by Rachel Talalay Starring Peter Capaldi, Pearl Mackie and Matt Lucas with Michelle Gomez, John Simm, Briana Shann, Rosie Boore, Samantha Spiro, Simon Coombs, Nicholas Briggs, Stephanie Hyam, and David Bradley Produced by Peter Bennett Executive Producers: Steven Moffat, Brian Minchin A BBC Studios Cymru Wales Production for BBC ONE First broadcast 6.30pm, Saturday 1 July 2017   This review contains spoilers and is based on an advance preview copy of the episode.   Last week Matt Hills described World Enough and Time as ‘the bleakest and darkest that Doctor Who has been for quite some time’. The Doctor Falls, befitting the second part of World Enough and Time’s story, maintains if not deepens this atmosphere. Nothing that is done in World Enough and Time is reversed. At times many of the lead characters seem to be competing to find which of them has the most profound death wish. The plan the Doctor comes up with can only obtain a minor respite for the embattled humans on floor 507. Indeed, when the Doctor argues that the emergence of Cybermen is inevitable in any human society, and where he also points out that in this closed and time-dilated environment their advantage is overwhelming, what point can there be to fighting on? It’s this question which The Doctor Falls seeks to explore, and in doing so say more than we have heard for some time, if ever, about both Steven Moffat’s and Peter Capaldi’s understanding of who the Doctor is. The result is oddly uplifting. My first reaction, as messaged to one of the editors of this page, was ‘Shining, brilliant, beautiful’; but I added that I think I needed more words to do the story justice. So: The shift of setting between the first and second half of a two-part story is an established Steven Moffat device. As The Big Bang moved from the underhenge of the climax of The Pandorica Opens to the museum, so The Doctor Falls uses its pre-credit sequence to establish the society on floor 507. The Big Bang was itself a cornerstone for the edifice of mythology which Steven Moffat had (with characteristic use of paradox) already begun to build before the stone was set. The Doctor Falls finds Moffat readying and detonating the explosion which will bring down his own version of Doctor Who. The destruction is even more careful than that wrought by the Doctor within the episode, but the visuals suggest what happens: though so much is reduced to ash, burning the old growth might allow for the cultivation of the new. Floor 507 displays a placeless but vaguely mid-Atlantic rusticity, neatly juxtaposed with the gas-choked dystopia over five hundred floors below. It’s an agricultural community where children are central and guarded against the predations of the topknots by a thin line of defenders. It recalls Russell T Davies's idea from his 2003/4 pitch document, that outer space stories should feature human pioneers so the audience have points of identification, perhaps unconsciously also recalling the western. In contrast to the masculine universalism of the Cybermen – both male in that there are no Cyberwomen, but genderless in that the Master insists Bill is now an it – the community has a matriarchal bent, with Hazran as its leader. The chief cook and chief executive are the same person, unproblematic and brought to the screen with authoritative warmth and human fear by Samantha Spiro. The character reminded me a little of Lucy Cohu's Deborah Goren in Ripper Street. There are at least nods to the New England orphanage of The Cider House Rules, and to the pioneer communities of Little House on the Prairie, but theirs are not the stories being told. Introducing a child viewpoint character is an old familiar Moffatism, here used self-consciously. Briana Shann’s Alit recalls Caitlin Blackwood’s Amelia Pond; apparently parentless, independent, willing to confront her fears, and bearing enough of a resemblance to Pearl Mackie’s Bill (exaggerated by the hairstyling) to make one wonder if there is a direct connection between the characters. Perhaps this is Moffat once more embodying the child audience and acknowledging its link with the companion. Alit is the first person Bill sees when she arrives on floor 507, and the first person to make an empathic connection with her when she wakes up from the ‘sleep’ induced by the Doctor. Alit perhaps embodies the audience’s hopes that Bill can be restored to humanity, as well as the wish of her community and the Doctor for a non-cybernetic future. In reminding long-term viewers of lost friends, and present lookers-in on the current predicament, Alit helps to highlight the optimism underlying what could otherwise be read for much of its length as an overwhelmingly pessimistic episode. The Doctor Falls follows the non-linear structure of World Enough and Time in its first act, containing flashbacks within flashbacks. However, opening the main narrative with a scene where the Doctor is undergoing torture and ritual humiliation is a good choice. There’s something Christ-like about suffering enabling the Doctor to restate his values, though I’d be cautious about following this parallel too far. The scene and the Doctor’s speeches also help divorce the episode from the detail of the setting: there will, the Doctor says, always be Cybermen, wherever there are human beings. The origin of the Cybermen is a tale Doctor Who has told elsewhere in other media, and it’s a legend which this episode supposes will be told again and again in different ways. Hence the nod to Doctor Who Magazine's The World Shapers with the mention of Marinus, and why it is perfectly acceptable in this context for the Cybermen to blast death rays from their headlamps in a way which they never managed before on television, but did on the back cover of  the first paperback edition of Doctor Who and the Tenth Planet. Cybermen created by Kit Pedler and Gerry Davis; but with embellishments by Chris Achilleos, Grant Morrison and many others. Moffat, like Russell T Davies, has never been reluctant to draw from non-television Doctor Who where it helps develop a concept. Likewise his attitude to the programme’s lore: the importance is not in the detail of where the Cybermen come from, but that the Cybermen’s conviction that turning people into Cybermen is a dead end for all the natural and moral sciences. As someone once said, they must be fought. Bill is herself a battlefield. The Master likes to remind everybody (but particularly the Doctor) that she is a Cyberman, the result of a conversion process which stripped away anything deemed useless to Operation Exodus. From his point of view, Bill is dead. The programme shows the Master to be wrong, or at least that it disagrees with his view of the individual as nothing more than an organism. As long as Bill recognizes and believes in herself, she exists, even if the programming of a Cyberman rages like a hurricane in her head. The continuing presence of Pearl Mackie in the credits and her voiceover in the trailer tantalized exactly what role she would play, and doubtless many hoped or expected a speedy and conventional resolution. The Master’s brutal taunting is a reminder that we can obtain neither. The device of allowing the viewer to see, most of the time, Bill as she understands herself, not only avoids practical problems surrounding the uniformity and inflexibility of the Cyberman costumes, but allows Pearl Mackie’s talents to be displayed in a way they haven’t been so far. Mackie's physical awareness makes her fill the space of a Cyberman while remaining visibly Bill to us. We often see Bill as a Cyberman only when she is reminded that a Cyberman is what others see – such as when she walks in on Hazran and Nardole unannounced and Hazran blasts away with her shotgun. It’s a jarring, heartbreaking moment. Also breaking hearts is Missy. Those hoping for an hour of multi-Master malevolence will be disappointed, but I think this episode does better with the scenario it presents than it would with the one some seem to have hoped for. Michelle Gomez plays Missy in the manner of an addict who keeps slipping from the wagon, deliberating giddily between new and old hits and guessing at some kind of peace beyond the spectre of withdrawal. It’s an irony that the Doctor never knows for certain that Missy was luring her former self into a trap which would have made her feel free to help the Doctor. In the meantime Missy and the Master flirt like bad fairy nobles making sport in the woods. Shakespeare scholars will know better, but their bickering seemed to me a sort of self-obsessed fusion of elements of A Midsummer Night’s Dream and Much Ado About Nothing. Gomez and John Simm are very good at this, especially as there’s a genuinely disturbing undercurrent to their bantering. Simm in particular, with his beard, is a poisoned Pan, a violator whose lust for his next self reminds one of the brutality with which the Master treated his wife Lucy. Despite his very real and effective threat (and history) of violence, John Simm’s Master is a hollow malevolence, harmful, damaging, self-consumed, but overall an evil with no point to it. I’ve been looking at academic Doctor Who books for another project, and remembered that in an interview with the writers of Doctor Who: The Unfolding Text, Douglas Adams complained that the Master’s plans had no meaning. The Doctor theorizes the path of the Master’s career on the ship in a way which assumes the emptiness and self-defeat in the pursuit and exercise of absolute power for its own sake. In return, later, the Master critiques the Doctor’s course of action on his way to floor 1056, arguing that if the Doctor hadn’t given his lecture on time dilation he would have arrived early enough to save Bill. This line of reasoning is possibly flawed in story terms, but anticipates (or echoes, depending on where one stands) the criticisms made by several reviewers of World Enough and Time. It’s an old fan observation that the Master often seems like a character who realizes that he is in a television series and behaves accordingly, but here his criticisms flag up his own powerlessness; he’s not willing to act in a way that helps anybody or contributes to the main narrative, so stands on the sidelines and plays critic until he can escape. It's tempting to think of this aspect of him as a departing showrunner who knows his successor is already in the office. The Doctor Falls is a good episode for Nardole, a character whom we never really got to know and who has probably suffered from never having been the focus of an episode. A friend explained him to her enquiring mother as the Doctor’s butler, and perhaps that’s why he remained semi-visible, his full properties a secret. Here, though, Hazran makes her discovery of him one of her missions and Matt Lucas’s depiction of Nardole’s awkwardness must resound with everybody who has felt unworthy of another person’s esteem. It’s natural and credible and also very much part of Moffat’s observational writing of male self-effacement and overconfidence as a mask for doubt. How one greets it will depend on one’s patience with Moffat’s themes, but for me, here, it works unobtrusively, the Doctor and Nardole competing over their relative usefulness, or lack of it. Nardole’s departure doesn’t give him a chance to say a long goodbye; he leaves as part of an operation in much the way he might have done if he’d expected to see the Doctor again, but as he never had a conventional introduction this is appropriate. As a title, The Doctor Falls intrigued me more after World Enough and Time because in one sense the Doctor had already fallen; he’d hubristically reduced his way of living to a formula by which he thought he could test Missy, and where stock phrases had replaced psychological insight. Instead we have a heroic fall which (like much else, as Matt Hills noted last week) calls back to the series trailer. The Doctor says he is a man of peace, but walks in war, and here he accepts the fate of the warrior, picking off more Cybermen than logic would perhaps expect with his absurdly versatile screwdriver until a Cyberman blasts him down through the chest, a wound which is one of at least two ways in which Bill’s fate has anticipated his own. The devastated landscape which the Doctor’s bomb leaves behind is as much a design achievement as anything Michael Pickwoad has hitherto accomplished – a landscape we’ve got to know has become a devastation of a kind previously associated in his time on the series with Skaro or Trenzalore, and this time the Doctor is the immediate cause. Redemption and the chance of new beginnings come in part because the Doctor was wrong. There was hope and there was a witness, perhaps even a reward. I’m sure that in earlier seasons we’d have had glimpses of Heather now and then, as the series piled arc upon arc. None of Steven Moffat’s companions have been allowed to return to anything approximating their old lives; travelling with the Doctor means incorporation into the mythic substrata of the universe, and so it proves with Bill, reunited with a Heather whose personality has now re-emerged and seems dominant in the watery spaceship. It's good to see Stephanie Hyam once more; there's still a note of wondering in her performance but the dislocation has become the confidence of the explorer. As all the interaction between Bill and Heather is seen from Bill’s narrative point of view once Bill has been remade as a Heather-like creature, perhaps what we see is all a translation convention. Whatever, the choice to become human again is open; it’s intriguing that the door is not closed entirely on Pearl Mackie’s return. However, if this is a farewell, it’s a good one. There's irony in the Doctor’s regeneration being sparked by a tear (a rearranging of the meaning of grief expressed for the third Doctor in The Monster of Peladon and Planet of the Spiders, of course) from a protected friend who has now turned twice into a creature he has previously fought against. It recalls Russell T Davies’s theme of the Doctor as agent of liberation rather than reinforcer of parental authority. However, this year the Doctor has forgotten that lesson and become guardian and tutor to both Bill and Missy, with Nardole as an unteachable voice by the wings. The Doctor's efforts to protect people have not succeeded in the way he sought. As the first Doctor realized at the conclusion of The Dalek Invasion of Earth, beneficial change can come from taking the risk of being brave enough to let go. That was the real lesson of Susan's portrait seen on the Doctor's desk in The Pilot, and he had forgotten. The problem, of course, is that the Doctor doesn’t want to let go. Bill, as a Cyberman, wanted to die if she couldn’t be herself any more. The Doctor wants to die too. Peter Capaldi’s performance of a fragmented Doctor, repeating the words of his earlier selves while holding on to his current physical form, was dizzying, helped by a camera which located him at once from several angles and levels in the TARDIS interior. Perhaps this Doctor’s changes of persona across series reflect an ongoing uncertainty about who he is which stretches beyond the ‘Am I a good man?’ interrogations of series eight. Back in 2010 Frank Collins wrote (in a review of The End of Time) of the tenth Doctor’s life as a Bildungsroman; the Doctor’s reward for personal development and the achievement of self-knowledge, was however to be returned to adolescence to begin the process again. Perhaps this older Doctor is about to change without having reached the point his two immediate predecessors did, and worse, can’t see any prospect of doing so. What, then, can be made of the first Doctor’s emergence from what presumed convergence of narrative (over fifty-one years) leads us to believe is an Antarctic blizzard? I’d thought earlier this series that Steven Moffat’s valedictory notes weren’t only for the period he’s been showrunner, but for the entire period he’s been involved, from the time Doctor Who returned in 2005. The Logopolis homage of companions suggests this too in content, as well as calling further back in form. If nothing else, the montage will open up arguments about who counts as a companion again, which will keep a lot of people happy and angry at the same time. The first Doctor said, if only in the script of The Tenth Planet, that he would not go through with the change to his next self, and the meeting of the two Doctors benefits from that level of fan knowledge while I hope still working as a confounding moment – a ‘suspended enigma’, it was once called – for those who don’t know. In the brief time we see him, David Bradley gives a performance which is very much the first Doctor as opposed to his William Hartnell or his Hartnell as the first Doctor from An Adventure in Space and Time, which augurs well. I’m always conscious that I tend to emphasize what works for me in these reviews, and they are often moments which leap out rather than broader themes or more thorough analysis. This article is based on one viewing of the episode and I’m still not sure why I found it so positive an experience. Throughout I imagined that the director, rather than the Doctor, must have the hidden arms of a Venusian Aikido practitioner; Rachel Talalay conducting with at least three batons like a hexapod, but with many more eyes than Alpha Centauri. The open vistas of floor 507 come to mind; the fatally wounded Doctor’s monologue about stars, too, was uplifting despite its note of disappointment, perhaps because it acknowledged that the Doctor’s belief and perhaps hope that this was the end for him was false. Heather’s return was a reminder that hope, even if apparently lost, can never be written off. Yet throughout there are sacrifices unappreciated and only postponed, with the sense that the inevitable is only being delayed. Perhaps the episode can be read as a musing on mortality, especially given that Cybermen, Time Lords, unconverted humans and indeed puddle-spaceship-creatures are all seeking to delay the inevitable, unless they are the Master, which is in a sense to be nothing at all because he can’t adequately empathize with others’ conditions. If so, it’s also the second part of three. The twelfth Doctor’s finale is begun, but it is not over, and we have to wait almost six months to conclude our verdicts on the whole. http://reviews.doctorwhonews.net/2017/07/the_doctor_falls.html?utm_source=dlvr.it&utm_medium=tumblr

[myassbrokethefall]

Your 792 chapter coffee shop AU sounds like a new art form. I really think you should take on this challenge.

I would just like to say, for the record, that I DO have a healthy embarrassment over (a) the fact that I wrote this and (b) how much time today I spent on it.

CHAPTER 1

“My expectation is we will not have something next season. It isn’t impossible, but the clock is getting pretty tight.”

Hear that? That doubtful voice, those killjoy words? That’s me. Sigh.

Let me introduce myself. I’m Gary Newman, and I work for Fox. That’s me explaining to IndieWire that SOMEONE got some facts confused. About MY project. I’ve only been working on it for months and months, and I was starting to feel like I was really getting somewhere – and now David Madden might have screwed it all up.

Here’s me again: “It’s not easy to find time. We would love to do it again, and I believe there will be a time when it happens, but it does not feel imminent to me.”

OK, PAUSE. REWIND. Let me start at the beginning.

David and I both work at Fox. He’s the president of Fox Entertainment, and I’m co-chairman/CEO of Fox Television Group. We don’t even know each other that well – we pass each other in the halls sometimes, but we don’t have that many meetings together or anything. Yesterday was the TCAs – only the biggest TV press event of the year. And David wanted to come present with me. I was a little doubtful at first – did he know my project? Hell no, not like I do. But I figured it would be good to have some backup up there. Everyone likes David M. He’s good-looking, 71, medium build, obviously does a lot of NordicTrack. Whatever. He’s all right. I don’t really know him that well, like I said. He has amazing eyebrows. Ugh, please forget I just said that.

Anyway. My project. What’s it’s about? Glad you asked!

Our network used to have this show, The X-Files. Back in the day, everyone loved it. And last year, I brought it back. (Well, me and my bestie, Dana Walden – we’re co-chairs/CEOs. We do everything together.) It took a ton of work! First I had to get the creator, Chris “Old Man” Carter, on board. He’s this eccentric guy who lives in a beach house and surfs all the time. He has longish hair, sort of like an MTV VJ. He was up for it. But THEN, I had to convince the show’s stars, Gillian Anderson and David Duchovny. Don’t even get me started on them. They are both weirdos. But, super long story short, they finally agreed to work with us. We did the show, and it did great! Sure, the plot didn’t make any sense and the emotional arc was nonexistent (that’s Old Man Carter for you), but everyone liked it anyway. (Except the AV Club, but everyone knows they’re dicks.)

So we – me and Dana – were going to do another season. Once again, we talked to Old Man Carter and he was all for it. I think he has a lot of free time. That’s cool. But you know who doesn’t have a lot of free time? David D. and Gillian. They are both super popular, and BUSY. It was kind of a miracle that they agreed to help last time. So I’d been working on both of them – slowly and carefully. Figuring out schedules. Proposing deals. You know, executive stuff. And – things were moving forward. Slowly. And carefully. We’d had some setbacks, but I was still optimistic.

Cut to yesterday afternoon. There we were at the TCAs, talking to basically every entertainment reporter in the US of A. I’m all ready with more cautious optimism – the last thing we need is for the press to get prematurely excited and start reporting that the new season is a done deal. That could screw up negotiations in who even KNOWS how many ways. So David Madden, who basically horned in on my presentation, is up there with me. And here’s what he says:

“Sure, the deal-making is complex, but we expect to have an announcement shortly. Heck, we were hoping to reveal it today! But the deals aren’t QUITE done. I’ll tell you this, though – it’s going to be way more than six episodes! Not as many as 22, but still a lot.”

What??!?!

Oh, OK. I’ve only been working my BUTT off to keep everything moving forward, this delicate balance, trying not to promise anything or step on anyone’s toes. Can I just tell you – I have woken up nights thinking about this. Worrying that Bryan Fuller was going to steal Gillian away to NBC (our big rival) to be the lead in a series about a gay shoe store on Saturn run by ghosts or something. (You probably think I’m exaggerating, but you haven’t met Bryan Fuller.) Worrying that David D. would decide to stop acting entirely because now he’s super into being a singer-songwriter. (Here’s a secret – and it’s kind of mean, sorry – David D. CANNOT EVEN SING. But you did NOT hear that from me.) Worrying that Old Man Carter will just disappear into the jungle one day and never return. (Actually that might uncomplicate some things, but you did not hear that from me either.)

So that’s what he said, and that’s why after the press conference I had to set the record straight. And so, I come off looking like the bad guy. Me, Gary Newman! I love X-Files! I’m the one who’s been working so hard to bring it back! I am so ticked off right now I can’t tell you.

Next day. Dana and I were at our after-work job. We work at a coffee shop called The Twentieth Cup. It’s a pretty chill place, a lot of execs and middle managers, some talent. You might think being co-chair/CEO of a major television studio would be enough of a time commitment, but I guess I’m kind of an overachiever sometimes, plus I like having that extra pocket money. I still get about three and a half hours of sleep, so it works out OK.

We had just gotten on shift. I looked around, and sighed when I saw who was sitting at her usual table near the door. Anne Simon is Old Man Carter’s best friend. She helped him with his part of the project last year. But sometimes she just parks herself at Twentieth and sits there with her laptop and barely orders anything. I swear, one day she had a single biscotti and a cup of water and she was there for my entire shift. And she used about 50 napkins. (She draws on them. Science stuff, I guess.) She’s OK, but she’s kind of a gossip. I was NOT psyched to have her there when I was still steaming about what David M. had said.

“I wonder if we’ll see you-know-who today,” said Dana.

“Who?” Sigh. I knew who.

“David M., of course.” Dana had a funny grin on her face. Oh, for pete’s SAKE.

“I do NOT want to see that guy,” I said, teeth gritted, and as quietly as I could manage so Anne wouldn’t overhear.

“Do you really think what he said was that bad? What’s wrong with getting people a little excited about more X-Files? We can definitely close those deals, eventually. Don’t you think?”

“It’s not going to make it any easier having the press up our butts about everything! Not to mention, what if it scares David D. and Gillian off? You know how prickly they can be about people just assuming they’ll do a project.”

“Will you relax? I doubt Gillian and David D. even pay attention to the TCAs.”

I sighed. Loud. Anne glanced over at me. I lowered my voice. “I just can’t believe him,” I said. “Why would he SAY that? He’s just so…so…”

“So what?” Dana asked, wiping down the counter. Dana is a great multitasker. Not to mention my rock.

“Ugh! I don’t even know!” I clenched my fists. I could see David M.’s face in my mind’s eye. That receding hairline. That smirk. Those EYEBROWS. I felt my cheeks flush.

“You know,” Dana said mildly, “for someone who can’t stand David Madden, you sure talk about him a lot.”

“Shut up, Dana,” I said, but my voice came out with less force than I intended. She grinned and went to put the rag back. “YOU brought him up!” I added, but even to my own ears I didn’t sound too convincing.

From outside, there came a faint sound of breaking glass. I looked up. An old GM EV1 had pulled up and collided with the streetlight, breaking one of the headlights. “Oh boy,” Dana muttered.

The shop door opened and David Duchovny and Gillian Anderson swept in, having a muttered argument. As usual, all heads in the place turned toward them, and also as usual, they barely noticed. “I’m SORRY!” Gillian was saying. “You can barely see that bloody pole. It’s tiny. You’re OK, right?”

“I should never have let you drive my car,” David D. grumbled. “They don’t even make EV1s anymore. I don’t know where I’m going to get a replacement headlight.”

“Just look on eBay! I’ll look for you. Someone will have one.” Gillian dismissed him with a wave of her hand. He rolled his eyes as they approached my register.

“Hey, Gary,” David D. said. He didn’t take off his sunglasses. Sometimes he wears them inside. I heard one of his pupils is bigger than the other one, which is crazy. Dana told me it was a basketball accident. Yikes.

“Hi David,” I said. “Hi, Gillian. What can I get for you guys?”

“I’ll have a large kale smoothie,” David said. “With double kale, please.”

“Double kale, you got it.” I nodded at Dana, who went off to the refrigerator. David was getting out his wallet, which was just a plastic bag with dollar bills in it that he had stuffed in his pants pocket. He started to uncrumple his money. I cleared my throat.

“Hey, so, you guys are still maybe thinking about doing the next X-Files, right?” I tried to sound super casual. I THINK I pulled it off.

“Perhaps,” Gillian said. She was speaking in her British accent. Sometimes she’s British, sometimes American. It’s called bidialectical and it’s a real thing, I swear. Gillian has a new British boyfriend so she’s been speaking British more often lately, and dressing fancier, and talking about the Queen all the time and stuff. (Her new boyfriend is SUPER into the royals.) She glanced at David D., then back at me. She has an intense gaze. I looked away first and fiddled with the cash register buttons, waiting for her to say more, but she didn’t.

“Sure,” said David. “If we have time.” David D. is more laid back than Gillian – most of the time – but he can get contrary if you come on too strong. He went vegetarian a few years ago when he was working on a book about talking farm animals. (I know. It was a good book though.) He’s not preachy about it though, which is cool. He handed me 14 dollar bills, mostly straightened out.

I glanced over at Dana, who was working on David’s smoothie. She made a face.  

“How about for you, Gillian?” I asked, turning back to her.

“I’ll have a cinnamon caramel nutella whip frappuccino with COLD whole milk, please. With chocolate sprinkles and some kettle corn if you have it. And a slice of that flourless chocolate cake, and this bag of pretzels. Thanks, Gary. Oh, and could you make the drink a double shot? I have to write a whole novel by tomorrow.” I raised my eyebrows. Gillian likes to stay busy, all right. (That’s half the problem.)

“Sure thing,” I said. “I’ll bring it over to you guys.” They nodded and grabbed a table in the corner. David pulled out a battered paperback and Gillian plunked a laptop onto the table. On the other side of the cafe, Anne Simon was tapping something intently into her phone.

(No, David and Gillian are NOT going out, and never have, or if they have no one has told ME about it at least. You wouldn’t know it sometimes though by how they act around each other. Sometimes it’s like they’re married, and then they won’t talk to each other for six months. Like I said – they’re weird.)

I was breathing a little easier. They weren’t bubbling over with enthusiasm or anything, but at least they didn’t seem ticked off by what David Madden had said. That was a relief.

Speak of the devil – I had just gotten back to the counter after delivering David and Gillian’s drinks when the bells on the door sounded again. I looked up, and there he was. David Madden, Fox Entertainment president, wearing a white button-down, dark brown Cole Haans, and a smirk. He met my eyes and I felt the flush creeping up my cheeks. Damn it.

He settled at a table not far from the counter. David D. and Gillian didn’t notice him (of course), but Anne did, and I saw her reach for her phone again.

“Hey, David,” Dana called out. “The usual?” David M. smiled and pointed finger guns at her. Ugh. Who does that?

Dana prepped his regular order, which is a large coffee, black, with extra sugar. (That’s David M. in a nutshell.) She put it on the counter, then looked at me.

“What?” I said testily.

She tapped the counter in front of the mug. “Gary, come on,” she said. “Bring it to him.”

Dana is my bestie, AND my rock, but sometimes she drives me absolutely up a wall. “Why?” I asked, hoping Anne couldn’t lip-read. “What makes you think I want to talk to David M.? Now or like, ever again?”

In answer, she just turned away and started loading the dishwasher. I sighed loudly, again. I picked up the mug, made my way to David M.’s table, and set it in front of him. He looked up when he saw me, lifted his amazing eyebrows, and smiled.

“Hi,” I said.

TO BE CONTINUED*

*EXCEPT NOT REALLY

Disclaimer: This is silliness, silliness, and silliness again. No harm or offense is intended to anyone parodied (even that is a stretch for this ridiculousness) here. Please don’t punish me by not making more X-Files. (Or by suing.)

Also I have no idea how old David Madden is or whether he does NordicTrack. He does have cool eyebrows though. 

[weddingpearlneecklace]

( Linkedin.com ) - Opinions on the current state of the diamond market are very different. De Beers, finally, sold a large number of diamonds - having reduced prices by about 7% - and immediately the mood of market participants became positive. Shares of Anglo American rose, and experts began to predict that the worst is over. If everything was so simple in business! De Beers follows the usual practice of reducing the availability of diamonds, reducing prices and changing the range. But in the real world, diamond manufacturers have many reasons for buying De Beers diamonds, and few of them bought because of consumer demand. Some say diamond manufacturers bought diamonds just for sale in secondary markets for quick capital investment and to please their bankers. Consumer demand has not grown very much,

There is still little hope of growth in the economies of China and India. In the United States, sales of diamonds are normal, but statistics show that mostly low-price goods are sold. Outside the United States, sales of diamonds are stable, but most countries have suffered from the strengthening of the US dollar. The Federal Reserve Bank rate did not lead to an increase in interest rates in January, and this makes me think that the recovery in the United States is slowing. I think that economists have done too much to rebuild the US, and strengthening the US dollar in fact is detrimental to their recovery.

I believe that reports on the improvement of the United States economy are exaggerated. I constantly wonder why no one else talks about the US debt, maybe because this is the election year. Business is developing well in a stable environment, but this situation is far from stable. In December, I thought that the US dollar would strengthen even more, but now I believe that the Canadian dollar could be undervalued - in any case, I'm nervous, because large fluctuations in the currency can bring unforeseen profits or lead to disaster! All masters make predictions about the exchange rate, including banks, which constantly adjust their forecasts - in fact, no one knows anything! As a dealer with diamonds, I'm not engaged in currency speculation; But no one who does business can not fail to follow the exchange rate.

In Canada, sales of diamonds were surprisingly stable, but replenishment of stocks poses a problem not only because of the exchange rate of currencies, but also because of the large amount of residues and diamonds overestimated by the GIA. I would normally plan a trip for purchases right now. I need precious stones, but my suppliers can not currently meet my expectations, and they do not expect new products until mid-April. Interestingly, there is a surplus of diamonds on the market, but the best ones are selected and are not actually sold.

The diamond business is struggling to find a way out of the difficult situation. The year 2015 was terrible for diamond mining companies and diamond producers. Everyone is slightly apprehensive that history will repeat itself. There is evidence that De Beers and ALROSA have accumulated diamonds worth about $ 3 billion. What happens if diamond mining companies misjudge the market and throw too many diamonds on the market? It's terrible to think that the success of the current cycle of sales and resale of boxes for the sake of quick profits can induce diamond miners to raise prices and throw even larger volumes of diamonds onto the market.

There is one positive point that should be taken into account, secondary buyers purchased original boxes from sightholders with a premium of 5% - 7%, and taking into account the fact that De Beers reduced prices by 7%, it turns out that the prices for diamonds have not changed, And there is a good chance that the prices for diamonds will not fall.  

The price of polished diamonds is expected to increase in the second half of 2016. I do not expect that economic news from India and China will change the near future - all industries overestimated the demand from these countries, and this error led to an excessive supply of goods around the world. But Rapaport raised prices in its January price lists in demanded categories for the first time in a long time. I believe that this increase in prices is due to the shortage of diamonds sold, and not to the growth of consumer demand. In general, January was a good month for diamonds, but the industry should not react too violently and forget the lessons of several past years.

The situation with diamonds is surprisingly good in comparison with other minerals, but it is impossible to overestimate the need for type marketing. I believe that specialized jewelers are perceived as a matter of course and are alienated by the participants of the upper part of the diamond pipeline - the diamond producers. I believe that this ignoring is a big mistake, as specialized jewelers are the most important partners in the promotion of diamonds as luxury goods. In my opinion, luxury goods do not mix very well with the Internet. The concept of diamonds as luxury goods is not optimally informed about the diamond and the picture. The Internet provides sales in the short term and depreciates the stones in the long run. Diamond companies will finance a marketing campaign,

Statistics show that many jewelers close their stores, and this is due to price competition. Jewelers do not differ from the manufacturers of diamonds, they can not survive without profit. Large store chains take their places, and the modus operandi (working methods) of most large networks is to put a price above luxury or quantity higher than quality. I believe that the future of diamonds (if they are sold as luxury goods) is in the hands of specialized jewelers. Specialized jewelers can sell luxury watches, which simply show time, at a price expressed in five-digit numbers. This category of jewelers is a wonderful master in selling the concept of luxury. Specialized jewelers have always had a significant role in creating the needs and desires of consumers, and they need to inspire enthusiasm. Our industry has shifted priorities, it supports undertakings that destroy the idea of ​​luxury. New concepts for the promotion of diamonds must necessarily be focused on specialized jewelers, and it is necessary to encourage them to more fully participate in the diamond dream.

The sentry business is a good example of the type of marketing that promotes luxury goods without creating a negative impression. When expensive watches are sold, they are sold, thanks to their own beauty and additional sophisticated functions in the watch, and not at the expense of other watches. It seems to me that selling any luxury watches is actually a catalyst and causes consumers to want to seek this luxury category. Each sale of watches helps to develop the watch business all over the place.

[shatteredskies042]

Dangerous: Part I

“Petty Officer?” A blonde head of hair popped up at the voice. “Yeah?” She wiped the grease from her brow and stepped out from under her ship. She wiped her palms on a greasy rag as she approached the ensign, “what is it?” “Rear Admiral Pierce sends his regards, ma’am,” the ensign saluted. He withdrew a data chip from a pocket and offered it to the blonde. “This chip contains your orders.” “Direct from the Admiral himself?” Aliana Judge asked, slightly awed. “Did he give a timetable for these?” “As soon as possible, ma’am. Good luck,” he wished, before saluting and striding away. Aliana looked at the chip in her palm, wondering what.. or who, could be so important. She returned to her ship, finished the minor repair, then boarded her ship. Sitting in the docked craft, she punched a command to bring her personal vehicle: a Faulcon deLacy Viper Mark IV, optimized for the fighter role. Her first true ship, as the others she had were loaners, Federation property. She stopped by her cabin to change into her skintight dark green flight suit. She took her seat in the singular chair. She plugged in the data chip as she activated her systems and prepared for a long flight. As her reactor warmed, she examined the contents of the data chip. The first was a preface from Rear Admiral Pierce himself, uncommon in her typical mission orders: “Judge, this mission is not exactly your typical operation, but you’ve probably guessed that by now. The man we’re sending you after... he interdicted the pirate ambush on your father’s funeral ship when it passed through Epsilon Indi. Attached are the classified reports confirming this fact. He’s proven himself capable, and I want you to bring him in. Her breath hitched, remembering her father’s funeral. She remembered the report of the attack, remembered the two Eagle pilots credited as heroes for thwarting the assault on the medical transport carrying her father. Why had it been covered up? Pushing the emotions from her brain, she looked at the current location of her target, and locked it into her navigation computer. Regulus, an out of the way system without much to offer. Firmly in the Federations hands, interesting. “Daedalus Control, Pad Thirty-Four, requesting launch clearance,” she spoke into her helmet before she slipped it over her head. Adjusting the fit and making sure it connected with her suit, she sealed the environmental controls and watched the displays scroll and activate. “Pad Thirty-Four, deLacy Juliet Alpha, clear for launch. Mind the traffic, pair of cruise ships coming in,” the controller responded. “Copy Deadalus Control,” she replied, taking off and angling her Viper out. Exiting spaceports was painstaking, it took so much time due to speed restrictions. She kept her speed just under the requirement as she exited the circular spaceport in Martian orbit. Once clear, she increased power to get free of the mass lock of the Red Planet. Once clear, she engaged her Frame Shift Drive, and began her trek to the white star of Regulus. She opened the full file, and read the name of her target: Michael Voron. She skimmed the entry, what they knew of his past, and statistics gathered by analysts culled from transactions he had made. One piece of data in particular jumped out at her: An organization known as the Pilots Association kept data on every pilot in the galaxy. Their data was free to access, and would be displayed when a ship was scanned. The three main surveyed traits revolved around trading and economic skill, navigational ability, and combat prowess. The latter trait was surveyed from the lowest rank of Harmless to Dangerous. Fewer than one tenth of one percent of all pilots would ever earn the rank of Dangerous. Her target, Michael Voron, was rated a Dangerous combat pilot. The bar was decrepit. Most pilots bars were. Men and women who spent millions of credits on their ships to purchase and outfit them were often the stingiest and most frugal of drinkers. All their money went into their craft. They were a mixed bunch, but they mingled together well. The drink flowed, and as it had been for time immoral among gatherings of pilots, so did the lies and exaggerations. At one corner table sat a scout, a trader, a handful of Federation security pilots, and one other. “So, this Lance is coming up on the asteroid I’m parked behind, and I ping and scan him. He thinks it’s one of you guys, because I don’t say anything and I’m running silent. He’s sneaking up on Nguyen's ‘Conda, and I can tell he’s fangs out and about to engage. I throttle up and sit behind him, come out of silent and flash my own fangs. He takes a shot at Nguyen, and I light him up.” The speaker was a man, of average height and build, possessed of light gray eyes and short brown hair. He sat in a chair with a glass of amber liquid in front of him. He wore a gray leather jacket over a white shirt, as well as dark pants with a holstered pistol strapped to his hip. “Is that the guy you were off chasing when we were in that furball with that five man wing?” One of the Federal pilots asked. “He was the fifth man,” the pilot confirmed. He could easily be any sort of pilot in this room, with the cool confidence of a man who knew the score. “So, he takes a shot at Nguyen, and I start hitting him. Dude panics and tries to break off, but I’m right in his wake the whole time.” “I thought I saw a plasma shot flash by my cockpit,” another Fed pilot, Nguyen presumably, spoke up. “How the hell did your Cobra keep up with a Lance?” The pilot grinned, “I duplicated his every move. He boosted, I boosted, he tried to sidestep, I drift and sidestep behind him. The Fer-de-Lance is a great ship, but you have to pour some money into it and watch your power distribution. Manage it on the fly. He didn’t, so I was able to keep behind him and keep pinging him until his reactor detonated.” “See, I don’t believe that,” the trader spoke. “The Fer-de-Lance is a heavy fighter. It’s got a class five weapons hardpoint for god’s sake,” he swirled the ice in his drink. “It would have gutted your Cobra in seconds.” “It would have,” the Cobra pilot agreed. “But who’s here telling the story?” he grinned. “It is a tall tale, Mister Voron,” a female voice rang out. g out. A short haired blonde approached them, a red half-jacket made of synthetic leather and what looked like a uniform under it. She leaned down and set her palms against the table, watching the bounty hunter. “I too, would think so, but I happened to check at the authority office before coming here.” Michael Voron narrowed his eyes, setting his elbows on the table and leaning forward. “And you are?” “The woman who just bought everybody at this table a drink, it’s up at the bar,” she winked at the others. A means to get Voron alone, it seemed. As the chairs cleared out, the woman sat across from the bounty hunter, looking him in the eyes silently. “You’ve got my attention,” he told her, taking a sip. “Of course I do,” she said confidently, bordering on cockiness. “You’re Federation,” Michael pointed out, seeing the insignia peeking out from under the corner of her jacket. “A petty officer, a pretty new one at that, seeing how shiny the insignia is,” he observed, watching her. “Who are you?” “My name is Aliana Judge, and I want to offer you a job,” she said. Violet eyes interrogated gray, as outlined what she had come here to do: “The Federation is putting together a special squadron, fully comprised of Dangerous level pilots.” “Not interested,” he said flatly. A crack appeared in the woman’s confidence. “You can have everything you want. Top of the line upgrades, any ship you want, the riches of the Federation at your-” “I have everything I want,” he promised, glaring at the woman. “I don’t want any part of your war.” Maintaining an icy confidence, Judge glared at him: “then if you did, why did you protect my father’s convoy?” “What convoy?” he asked curiously. A soft bang came as she pound her fist on the table, “don’t play dumb with me. You know what I’m talking about.” “Petty Officer Judge,” Voron said slowly, “you’re causing a scene. You offered me a job, and I declined. I’m happy with my lot in life. Bounty hunting is always good, and I’ll take courier and even strike contracts on occasion. I’m free to choose my own targets and jobs and go where I please.” “You’re going to regret this,” she said spitefully. Aliana pushed from the table, and quickly made her escape from the bar. ----- Four Months Later... “Jade Angel breaking off, nearly Winchester,” Judge called over her communications link to her fellow Federal pilots. She’d been in an active conflict zone in Sanna for the last half hour, and nearly shot her kinetic weapons empty. She funneled her power into her Viper’s engines, accelerating away from the battlefield to jump into supercruise. Once she made the jump, she relaxed, letting out a deep breath. She was safe, for the next hour at least. That was until the direct message scrolled through the communications window. [DIRECT] CMDR Voron: Judge, we need to talk. Ali’s left hand danced over the keyboard as she checked local contacts. She responded with a standard Federation response: THIS IS A FEDERATION CRAFT. CLEAR OFF OR YOU WILL BE FIRED UPON. [DIRECT] CMDR Voron: Canned responses won’t faze me. Then her HUD flashed, her drive and engines decreased in pitch. She had returned to normal space, and for this second, she was dead in space. She looked through her canopy as she tried to reboot her systems. Michael Voron’s ship sat in front of her, weapons trained on her.