#either way his character design and writing is IMMACULATE

[moldypoff]

I agree so hard.

swansea mouthwashing... you agree. reblog.

[howyoutalktostrangers]

“The Hell’s Gate Scramble”

by Will Johnson, July 2023

Once the hooch business was booming in Salmon Creek, largely thanks to Shuswap Joe’s timely distribution ingenuity, Clif Garcia began to groom him into position as his righthand man and confidante. Joe found himself shaking hands with people like the mayor and the police chief, as well as their netherworld counterparts, all while wearing immaculately tailored and custom designed suits provided by his employer. He had arrived in town wearing a dead logger’s clothes only months ago, barefoot and penniless, but his tenure with Clif's bootlegging business had changed everything overnight. Joe felt like an absolute imposter as he ascended through the ranks. He feared anyone who spent even a small amount of time with him would quickly discover that underneath his suit he was nothing but a feral boy who couldn’t read or write a word, hardly better than a tramp.

“Some of the best people who ever lived were illiterate,” Clif told him one day, with his boots casually kicked on to his desk while he smoked a stogie. Joe had confessed embarrassment over this inability to pick up a newspaper and understand what it says like everyone else.

“Think of it like one skill among many. You may not know how to read a book, but I’ve seen you read a room. The way you climb trees, nobody around here can do that. You understand the song of the river, and you’ve swum among the salmon. If some prick comes along feeling superior because you missed a couple days of school, pay him no mind. There’s more to this world than you can read on a sheet of paper.”

“You think so?”

“Listen, I’m no choir boy. Being a good person might not be in the cards for me. But you don’t get to a position like mine without being a good judge of character. You always need to know who’s going to stab you in the back, and who is worthy of trust. It’s a survival skill. And you, kid, you don’t have a dishonest bone in your body.”

“It’s just that I feel as if I don’t belong.”

Clif slapped the desk hard, and gave a choking laugh. “Most of those people, these men you’re working with? They would plant you in the ground without hesitation if they thought it would benefit them, if they figured they could get away with it. See, I used to think there were good people and bad people in this business. But in reality it’s just people acting how the system requires them to, how the laws tell them to, how their boss tells them to. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Joe took a long and thoughtful slurp off his drink. “You’re saying people have many bosses, that they are nothing but broken branches being pulled along in the current.”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying, kid. Yes.”

Clif leaned over his desk to refill Joe’s glass, letting out three or four healthy glugs of Shuscotch. They’d been drinking all evening, swapping back and forth between business and personal topics, all while the window glowed purple from the cloud-streaked sunset. Joe’s boss had a thick sheen of sweat across his forehead, beads dribbling down his temples and spotting his shirt. His face was puffed up, the bags under his eyes almost squeezing his eyes shut. He was a nostalgic drunk, and a touchy one. But when Clif threw his scrawny arm around Joe’s broad shoulders, it conjured in him a warm throb of happiness, of belonging, that he had never felt before.

*

Sunset over Little River burst across the sky in fiery orange tendrils, and it painted the surface of the water in shimmering pink and crimson. To anyone watching from the banks, the flashing reflection of the churning water looked eerily similar to flames — the whole scene conjuring a paradoxically watery forest fire. It was a narrow waterway, meandering down from Salmon Arm to the Thompson River, with thick brush along either bank that dragged in the swelling current. Little River felt young and tumultuous and defiant, like following a teenager through a shoplifting spree at the local grocery store. Shuswap Joe stood out on a rickety dock and watched the water lap up towards his boots, surging forward and then receding again, persistent but playful. He was used to listening to the voice of the water, but in Little River it was speaking a language he could hardly understand.

Behind him was the Squilax General Store, located a half day’s ride from Salmon Creek. Built atop a steep grassy hill a stone’s throw from the Thompson River, during the day it operated as a grocery and post office while at night their operation’s Shuscotch barrels remained hidden beneath a false floor. Late at night the smugglers would roll them down the grassy embankment to a dock that hung braced against the sweeping current and load them on to rafts, which they launched down the river and on to their next checkpoint.

The store was owned by a World War I veteran named Tom Halverson who had lost both his legs and one of his hands during the fighting overseas, but its day to day operations were managed by his plucky paramour Blair — a bright-eyed blond woman in her fifties who was just shy of five feet tall, always wore a homemade floral apron, and had her light blond hair cut short like a man’s, with a swoop of bangs across her forehead. The building was constructed of red brick, had a mossy green roof surrounded by heavy, groaning trees, and consisted of one main interior shopping space stocked with cigarettes, vegetables and canned goods. The other three rooms they used as a bedroom for their children, an office, and a dining room that overlooked the river. They themselves had taken up residence in a derelict caboose that had been left riverside to rust after a derailment.

It was Joe’s responsibility to oversee all the storehouses strewn across the Shuswap area, but it was Squilax that he liked returning to the most. Not only was the property serene and peaceful, but Blair had taken him under her motherly wing the moment she met him. He was still young — though he’d never known his real age — and she’d been able to identify the scared boy hiding inside the mountainous gangster he was rapidly becoming. Every morning she would make blueberry and rhubarb pancakes, serving them at an outdoor table alongside her three young children.

Eventually Blair decided to take Joe’s tutelage into her own hands, inviting him to participate while she instructed her children at the dining room table. She taught him the basics, starting with the alphabet and simple math, then transitioned to more intellectually challenging pursuits like philosophy and history. She’d never had a more attentive student, rapt with wonder as she tip-tapped her rolling chalkboard and always raising his hand to ask a question. His reading in particular was voracious, and within a few months he was devouring novels by Robert Louis Stevenson and Jules Verne. She even wrote him up a real report card one day, giving him A+s in every single subject. Joe knew it was silly, how moved he was by this little piece of paper, but nobody had ever taken any interest in his education before.

She was half his size, but made him feel like he was the small child.

One day, after a long April afternoon at his dining room desk, Joe found Tom sitting in his wheelchair overlooking the river. He had a blanket draped across his lap and a paint brush dripping from his dangling fingers, with three unfinished canvases on easels surrounding him. One of the paintings depicted a sitting woman with the strap of her dress drooping down her arm, the second was a train caboose, and the final one was a horror of chaotic colour that didn’t resemble anything Joe had ever seen before. It looked violent. Tom nodded in his direction, and for a moment they listened to the mountain breeze intermingle with the lonely call of a distant train.

“I didn’t know you were an artist,” Joe said, finally, unsure if Tom had even sensed his presence. “Those must be your paintings back in the house?”

Tom turned to him with bleary eyes. “Didn’t know the old cripple had it in him?”

“I’ve never met an artist before.”

Tom laughed. “Sure you have. We’re all of us artists, one way or another. The question is whether or not you take the time to discover that fact, or if the world convinces you that other things are more important. If I was half as good at painting as I was at killing, kid? I would be world famous by now. Instead it’s just me and my lonely canvases, counting down the days before I ascend from this hellscape.”

“I like that last one, the messy one. I like the colours.”

Tom turned to it, laughed to himself, then swabbed a new streak of purple across it. “I take it you never went overseas,” he said. “For the war.”

Joe nodded. “I was just a kid.”

Tom coughed, not looking at him. “Hell, you’re still a boy now. We were all boys. Boys pretending to be men. Men pretending to be soldiers.”

“Were you afraid, going over there?”

“Anybody who tells you they weren’t is lying. Or stupid. Being afraid is okay, though, because that what keeps you alive.”

Joe liked listening to Tom’s stories, though they were confused and meandering. Sometimes Tom lost his place, or forgot what he was talking about, but eventually the narrative always returned to that muddy horror show he endured in Europe. Tom conjured up scenes of gore and sacrilege, describing how the battlefields were strewn with rotting corpses that had burst open and blown apart to paint the landscape red and black. As a soldier you had to squat shitting while bombs were detonating all around you, squinting up at the sky above and begging a God you don’t believe in to help you survive.

“I’m lucky, because I was a sniper,” said Tom.

“What’s that?”

“Well, you use what’s called a sniper rifle. It can kill your enemy from a distance, sometimes like a mile away. One moment they’re standing there, the next they’re writhing around on the ground trying to stop the blood from squirting out of their neck.”

Joe took a big breath. “What’s that like, to watch a man die?”

Tom sighed. “You put a gun in a man’s hands, and you make him a God. Thing is, man isn’t supposed to be God. God is supposed to be God.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Taking another man’s life changes you. We’re not supposed to have that power, because you can’t hurt somebody else without hurting yourself at the same time. That’s how it works,” Tom said.

“I wish someone had told me that when I was younger, kid. You’re going to see violence, especially in this business, and you have to decide ahead of time whether you’re going to keep your soul intact. Because this smuggling business here? It’s war too. Just a different type of war.”

*

The mountains were watching with utter indifference.

During all the years that Shuswap Joe lived feral in the woods, he’d always felt that the natural world was on his side. The trees whispered to him the secrets of the forest, the animals were his siblings, and the river reliably took him wherever he needed to go. But ever since joining the world of people, he’d been feeling disconnected — exiled almost. And as he was marched down the dock in Squilax with his arms tied behind his back, he got the sense that the stoic cliff faces looming far above were frowning with disapproval.

The bandits had arrived just before dinner time, barricading the store entrance and herding them together with menacing shotguns. They all wore masks across their mouths, with hat brims pulled low. They initially locked Joe in the cellar along with Blair, Tom, and the kids. They were also joined by an increasingly distraught employee, who blubbered to himself in the corner while his bloody nose dripped on the ground. They listened as the robbers ransacked the place, tearing up the floorboards looking for hooch, until eventually they came storming downstairs demanding answers. A cat-like bandit pulled Tom from his wheelchair and pistol-whipped him viciously, until he was panting from the exertion.

They were getting desperate.

“Joe, you have to listen to me,” Tom said, through broken teeth, once the men had retreated to the next room. “Listen, the next thing they’re going to do is kill me, okay?”

“I’m not going to let them kill you.”

“Don’t do nothing stupid, Joe. You hear me? They’re going to kill me just to make a point, just to break you. What you need to do is save Blair, okay? When they’re distracted with me, you make a break for it. You think you can do that?”

Joe nodded, still conflicted, while the men returned to the room. Two of them marched around behind Blair and Joe and lifted them to their feet roughly, shoving them in the direction of the exit. The other men were repositioning Tom in his wheelchair, and guiding the crying employee out to follow.

“Please, I don’t know anything about the liquor. I just run the store, please. This really has nothing to do with me,” the man blubbered, stumbling through the grass towards the river.

“You could just let me go and it wouldn’t make any difference to anybody. Please!”

“Shut up!” yelled the cat bandit, who was clearly the leader. “You shut your mouth or I’ll break your jaw, you hear me?”

Their entourage made its way down to the pier, which swished and swayed as they tromped single-file down down to the dock. At the end there was a raft tied to one of the pilings, as well as a bundle of logs they used to disguise their smuggling activities and an old canoe. It was a breezy afternoon, the sun high above them, as the four captives lined up with their backs to the water.

“Someone must have given you false information,” Tom said. “We’re just a normal family business. We sell groceries, nothing else. There’s no bootlegging going on here, I swear it.”

The bandit laughed. “You still think you can protect it, don’t you? Think maybe somebody’s coming to save you? Look around. You see? It’s only us out here, and the only thing you need to worry about now is convincing me not to kill you.”

With that, he reared back and stomped his cowboy boot into the clerk’s sternum. Astonished, the panicked employee was barely able to burp out a syllable of surprise before he hit the water with a tremendous splash. Blair, Tom, and Joe watched the man gasp for air, his arms still tied behind his back, as the current swept him away. Within ten seconds he had submerged, leaving only a string of bubbles as evidence that he had ever existed. Rage tears trembled in Joe’s eyes, and he sucked back deep lungfuls of air in preparation for what was coming next.

“Sad,” the bandit said. “To think all we needed to save his life was a little cooperation. That man died for a measly load of booze. Does that seem right to you? Does that seem fair?”

Joe growled. “That’s enough. Why are you doing this?”

He laughed again. “Why, it’s you Joe. You were the one that tipped us off. We got word that Garcia’s righthand man was spending an unusual amount of time in Squilax. Very curious. So we sent some men to check it out, and wouldn’t you know it? They spotted men rolling barrels down the hill to this very dock, in the middle of the night.”

Joe took in that information. This was all his fault. If he hadn’t been interested in attending schooling with Blair, if he hadn’t recklessly returned over and over, these men never would’ve realized there was a secret storeroom here. A deep guilt blossomed in his chest. This was the first family he’d ever had, and now he was going to be responsible for their deaths.

“Let them go,” Joe said. “Take me. I’ll show you where the hooch is hidden.”

Before the men could respond to this development, a loud war cry echoed across the water. Several shots rang out, and suddenly the air was full of white smoke and wood chips. As Joe squinted, he saw Tom twirling around on one of the bandit’s backs like he was getting a piggyback ride. With one arm he was strangling the man beneath him, and with the other he was levelling a stolen pistol at his compatriots. There was a bright flash, then one of the robbers tumbled off the dock with crimson squirts of blood spouting theatrically from his neck.

This was Joe’s chance.

While the bandit leader swung his gun crazily, trying to figure out who to shoot first, Joe barrelled across the dock like a rampaging moose and tackled Blair on to the raft moored to the end piling. The force of their impact made it float away a couple feet, giving them some distance while the struggle continued. Blair quickly disentangled Joe’s restraints, then he crawled back to the dock ropes to untie them from heir mooring. Two of the four robbers were now dead, but bullets were still winging through the air as he got them untangled. He looked up to see that Tom was now laying on the dock, dragging himself along weakly by his one good arm. There was a snail trail of watery blood soaking into the wooden planks.

“This all could’ve gone so different,” the bandit said, pressing the barrel to Tom’s temple. “Now it’s time to say good night.”

The current beneath them was picking up as the shot rang out. Joe and Blair screamed from thirty feet away as Tom slumped to the dock dead. The bandit gave his body an unceremonious kick and it plopped into the water and disappeared just like the clerk’s. Only then did the two remaining criminals turn their attention to those had gotten away. Joe felt his stomach tighten as their captors jumped into a canoe and started heading their way.

“Blair,” Joe said. “We’re gonna need to paddle.”

*

It was a shame he didn’t have a better audience. As Shuswap Joe navigated down the Little River on the rickety raft he’d escaped Squilax with, ducking each time a new gunshot rang out, his powerful motions took on a primal rhythm. He looked like a charging bear, his paws swiping the surface with each new stroke. His pursuers were half a kilometre back still, maneuvering their small canoe into the quick current and flying up behind them at an alarming pace, but Joe was born on the river — he wouldn’t let them catch up.

Joe could feel his pulse in his throat, and his breaths were coming in panicked bursts. The evening mist dampened his forehead and ghostly tendrils of mist began to waft across the surface as they passed under a newly constructed bridge to Scotch Creek. He blinked away the moisture as images of Tom flashed across his headspace, the way his noble old veteran friend had crumpled slack to the dock like a sack of wet laundry. Was one man’s life really worth a few barrels of hooch?

Had Joe done the wrong thing, trying to protect the stash?

These were questions he didn’t have time for. He swivelled around to check on Blair, who was paddling furiously on the other side of the raft. She looked like she was punishing the water, beating it with her blade, as her eyes trembled with rage tears. First they had to escape, but then it was clear she had revenge on her mind. These men had killed her husband, and she was ready to start burning down houses until she found out who was responsible. He had only a moment to marvel at the naked love at the root of her grief before they were tossed headlong into a whitewater rapid.

“Hold on, Blair!” he yelled, as they hit the first curling wave. “You’re going to have to hold on tight here!”

Watery chaos consumed them, then, and it was a different type of chaos than Joe had grown accustomed to on the Adams River. The banks of the Little River were further apart, the bottom further down, and the placid surface cleverly disguised all the underwater obstacles waiting to tangle up boats and suck down bodies.

This was not a friendly river, Joe realized — this river was an enemy, just as much as the masked villains in desperate pursuit.

The raft pointed its nose to the sky, then shook itself like an angry dog. Water came sloshing through the slats, crashing inwards from all sides. Blair was knocked down and nearly bucked off the back, but she was able to claw her fingers for purchase just in time to get rocked again. Joe rose to his feet, trying to get a better idea of what lay further downriver, and was greeted by a slavering wall of water nearly twice his size. It loomed above him like a river deity with its arms outstretched in judgement, then speared into his chest with a mighty crash. The force would have knocked him out of the raft, but Blair grabbed ahold of his belt and tugged him back to safety.

Joe turned to his dripping friend, and thanked her with an exhausted sigh. The rapid wasn’t over yet, and the pursuing canoe was cleaving through the waves towards them with no problem. He shook his head in disbelief as another bullet sang its ugly song, thumping into the wood of the raft between them.

“I can’t lose you,” Blair said, straightening out her sundress and preparing to paddle.

“I’m going to need your help killing those fellas.”

*

Shuswap Joe couldn’t feel his arms.

Blair was steering their raft from the back, standing proudly against the driving wind as she expertly slalomed along with the fastest moving currents. After their tussle with the rapid, which had drenched them both completely, the water had settled into a lazy burble before opening wide to become the Thompson River. This was the smuggling route the Scotch Creek distillery’s hooch took to the coast, so Joe was familiar with how it looked on a map. Being at surface level was another situation entirely.

The canoe behind them had gone silent hours earlier, though it still lurked in the distance like a sea monster breaking the surface with its serpentine snout. Maybe they’d run out of bullets. As he continued to paddle, Joe wondered what these men were even trying to accomplish. His boss Clif had warned him that some day they might face this sort of trouble, other criminals trying to shoulder into their territory, but the River Eel Saloon’s owner was confident that he’d bought off or employed nearly every working age man in Salmon Creek. Who would be stupid enough to mess with somebody like that?

“What do these men aim to gain from all this?” Joe asked, pausing for a moment as the river came to a glassy calm. “They had no reason to kill Tom.”

Blair frowned. “Not until he gave them a reason to. Not until he went and played the hero, throwing away his life like it was pocket lint. That goddamn war, Joe. It’s not right, what violence like that does to a man. He was just looking for a reason to die.”

“He still loved you, though. And the kids.”

Blair scoffed at that, rubbing the back of her hand across her dripping face. There were wisps of grey in her hair, which was messily pulled back into a ponytail, and the wrinkles around her eyes told her life whole story. It had been a life of pain and disappointment, a life of never quite getting what she wanted. The universe hadn’t been kind to Blair, and her very existence was a kind of stubborn defiance. She had callused worker’s hands and bleeding knuckles, her bare feet braced her against the rough bark of the raft.

“Watch out!” Blair yelled.

Joe turned with barely enough time to duck a tree branch shaped like an open hand, its skeletal fingers reaching for him through the mist. Their raft had become completely engulfed in a creeping white fog that swirled around them like spirits. It seemed like he could hear voices in the wind, chittering and giggling and whispering just beyond the reach of his comprehension. He swung his head from one side to the next, trying to locate the sources, but all he could see was pillowy oblivion on all sides.

“Where are we?” Joe asked, watching more dark branches drift through the mist and disappear. “What is this place? It feels haunted.”

Blair exhaled ominously. “I’ve never seen them in person before.”

“Them?”

“The Ghost Trees.”

And sure enough, as soon as she said that, an island of bone-white trees loomed out of the blank void before them like a ceremonial grave. To Joe it looked like a grove of pale albino humans, stooped and reaching and intertangling with one another. Their trunks were mottled grey but their branches were the colour of pure snow, like all colour had been leached from them by some vampiric force. They were dead, all of them, but they had a sort of sinister presence to them that made it seem like they were watching hungrily as they floated past.

“Those trees were once strong and tall. Proud. But over the years the river began to eat away at the soil they’re rooted in, washing away all the nutrients that they depend on to survive. The river took away their foundation, then it starved them until there was nothing left to do but die,” she said.

“But they’ve stayed here, stubborn, drying into hardened husks. A ghoulish reminder of what they once were. It happens to us all, you know. We start out flush with life, and end up as dried up skeletons that crumble to dust.”

Joe didn’t want to say anything to that.

Blair began slowly paddling again, staring past him as the fog continued to swirl. They’d almost forgotten about their pursuers, who they hadn’t seen in a long stretch now, but Joe had no doubt that they were still back there, relentless. What would happen if they caught up? Would he be able to kill another man to save himself? To save Blair? Or would he become nothing but another skeleton, like the ghost trees looming far overhead? He craned his neck and gazed up past the shivering branches overhead.

“What happens after we die?”

Blair smiled. “Well, Joe. It depends on who you ask about that.”

“What do you think?”

She thought about that for a long time as a light rain pebbled the surface of the Thompson. The raft was moving quickly now, picking up momentum without the aid of their paddles. The tree corpses continued to swipe at them, reaching out with knobby fingers, trying to sweep Blair and Joe down to watery oblivion. Blair chopped at one with her paddle, severing its fingers.

“Here’s what I think, Joe. You look at nature, and it’ll give you the answer. Some day you’ll die, and then something else will eat you. Maybe it will be a worm. Maybe it will be a bird. But they’ll eat up little part of you until you become a part of them,” she said.

“Maybe a part of you will become moss. Some pieces of you will end up in the belly of a salmon. You’ll be part of the earth, but you’ll also be part of the sky. Your mind might be gone, or your spirit if you want to call it that, but your body will still be alive all over. That’s the real afterlife.” Joe considered this, picturing a hypothetical bear ripping apart a writhing salmon, its essence dripping into the water below as it desperately tries to escape. That fish would become part of the river and part of the bear simultaneously, it’s evisceration a sort of duplication. Blair’s explanation made sense to him, but still he was afraid.

Without his mind, without his body, would he really still exist?

“Watch out,” Blair said, pointing to a long half-submerged tree that lay in their path. She quickly began to steer them away. Its branches looked like sharpened spears. “We’ve got to paddle now, Joe.”

The mist was so thick for a moment he thought he might choke, but Joe began furiously paddling as the tree got closer. The current was strong here, and they were flying towards it at an alarming speed. More trees were appearing out of the whiteness like spectators, leering expectantly. A branch stabbed Joe in the arm, like a thief jumping out of the darkness, and then disappeared again just as quickly.

“Paddle, Joe!” Blair yelled, as the waves started to thrash around the raft. There was blood running down the side of her forehead, but Joe didn’t have time to figure out how that had happened. “Paddle!”

They hit the tree with a smash, and for one terrible moment it seemed like they were going to capsize. Joe’s eyes widened in horror as he gazed down at the frothing madness sluicing through the tree’s branches. His feet struggled to find purchase as the raft rose from the water, Blair throwing her weight against it with an outstretched elbow. As it shuddered and shook in the balance, Joe understood then that death was close enough to kiss him, no matter what he thought of the afterlife.

“Hold on, Joe! Don’t let go!” she yelled, and with a giant crack the raft was free again, twirling in the current. The sky opened up above them, smiling down down with a heartbreaking cluelessness, and the fog lifted almost immediately. On both sides of them were the crumbling walls of the Fraser Canyon, rust-coloured and crowded with jagged boulders. The colour of the water had transformed from a blue-black lifeblood to a creamy chocolate, and the temperature of the water had noticeably dropped.

“Are you okay?” he asked. “We made it, Blair. We made it!”

Blair sat slumped at the back, her whole body trembling like she was freezing cold. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and the blood from her head wound was running down her neck and creating a crimson stain amidst the floral design of her dress. Her breathing was strained, like a bull who has exhausted itself in the ring, but her jaw was set. She blinked determined at the churning water behind them and the thundering waterfall far in the distance. They would be there within a few hours.

“We haven’t made it anywhere. They’re still coming. And this problem isn’t going to solve itself, unless we do something.”

“Okay. What should we do?”

She smiled then, like she had just remembered a raunchy joke. “We’re going to lead them down to the gates of Hell, Joe, and then we’re going to make sure they pass through.”

*

Joe had never seen anything like it.

As Blair continued to commandeer their raft towards the slavering chaos of Hell’s Gate, the waters of the Thompson thrashing around their raft, Joe stood gaping in terror at what lay before them. Underneath his feet the lashed-together logs were beginning to buck and tremble, individual strands of twine snapping like guitar strings. It wasn’t going to hold together much longer, but that didn’t matter — the river was going to eat them either way.

“I think you’re going to have to swim to shore,” Blair said. “I’ll distract them while you get away, but you have to jump off now.”

Joe turned to face her, hearing what she wasn’t saying just as loudly as what she was saying. The look on her face was almost demonic, and suddenly he understood what was happening. This had been a suicide mission all along, and she didn’t want him along for the ride. He opened his mouth to reply over the screaming current, but right then a bullet sliced through his hat and sent it tumbling into the water. The bullet had grazed his scalp, and hot blood burbled down his forehead to mix with the river water.

“I can’t let you do this,” he yelled, holding one hand to the wound. “What about the kids?”

“A mother who isn’t willing to die for her children isn’t a mother at all. These men need to be stopped, Joe. Men like these can’t be allowed to go around killing people over hooch. You swim to shore now, and you tell my babies that I died to make their world a better place.”

Against his own volition, tears flooded into Joe’s eyes. He looked past Blair at the pursuing canoe, then back at Blair’s weather-beaten face. They only had a few minutes before they’d reach the rapid and he had to make his decision fast. Why was the world so full of pain? Why was everyone he loved doomed to die before his very eyes? He thought of what Tom told him, about how this was a different type of war than the one Canadians had just finished fighting in Europe. And every war requires a particular kind of hero. He locked eyes with Blair, fear banging away in his chest, and they nodded in understanding.

When he first hit the water with a clumsy dive, the freezing temperature struck him like a fist to the throat. He gasped and cried out as waves tumbled and surged over his head, struggling to breath. This wasn’t like swimming on the Adams River. This was more like a bar fight with a supernatural entity, like God was knocking him around a boxing ring for fun. Blair’s raft was already a stretch away, and for a flash he watched as the canoe swept past him. He was free and safe, as long as he could make it to the shore.

Looking back on what happened years later, he would wonder how exactly he found the suicidal courage to do what he did next — quickly grabbing ahold of a slimy boulder, he hurled himself on to the beach and began sprinting after the pair of water crafts even as gunshots continued to ring through the afternoon calm. He felt a blast of sunshine on his shoulders as he danced through the jagged rocks along the shoreline, trying desperately to catch up to Blair and the murderous henchmen. Could he make it in time?

Railway workers were gaping at the scene from far overhead, shouting down warnings at the boats. He had less than one minute to reach Hell’s Gate before he lost his new mother forever, and he couldn’t let that happen. Summoning up a bear-like savagery he bounded along in his sopping boots, ripping off his plaid shirt and pawing along on all fours. He was no longer capable of conscious thought — his entire attention was focused on the life and death mission at hand. And then, as if placed there by some benevolent deity, he spotted a knobby tree trunk jutting out over the water like a helping hand. It was wedged between two rocks in the current and hung about ten feet over the waves.

“Blair!” Joe yelled. “Blair, I’m coming!”

His Squilax matriarch swivelled her head towards him, and for a moment he thought she was going to ignore him. But then he motioned at the incoming log and she understood without saying anything what would happen next. While she maneuvered the raft in his direction, he clambered out on to the log and laid on his stomach, reaching down to save her.

As she approached, Blair threw down her paddle and kneeled on the raft. Joe didn’t understand what she was doing until she came up with a fist of twine, effectively detaching the logs from one another. The four logs broke apart in all directions, until she was balancing on a single log. She was as graceful as a cat, stepping back and forth as it rolled beneath her feet. Another gunshot rang out, but came nowhere near her.

It came down to a matter of seconds. She had to leap at precisely the right moment or she would be sucked down to her death. Blair was a small woman, scarcely five feet tall, but she jumped with the ferocity of a fleeing doe. Her fingers intertwined with Joe’s and he reached his other hand to grab her wrist, the trunk groaning underneath him. She dangled there kicking as the canoe swept past, the men realizing too late their fatal error. Blair and Joe watched as it disappeared into the waves, the men splashing into the rapid and never resurfacing.

It was over.

“Don’t worry, Blair,” he said. “I’ve got you now.”

[weekend-whip]

I am so confused and in shambles dude. From what I've read so far (haven't finished the first book yet) your worldbuilding and characterizations are immaculate! How do you do it?? How would you recommend improving on that type of stuff?

(skdsfjdkjgj my own rewrite is just a mess of random stuff I have no idea how to write characters or properly worldbuild)

Aww thank you!! I dunno how to recommend straight up improvement when everyone’s got different approaches to how they write and how they want to write, buuuut this is kind of my thought process when approaching a project a big as a rewrite that you could try. *-*)9

...this also got a bit long, so I’mma gently tuck it under a cut:

-All those random tidbits you’ve already got, anything at all? WRITE EM DOWN, keep ‘em stored somewhere easily accessible! I’ve currently got like four pages dedicated just for all the small stuff I want to eventually include/scenes I MUST write. It’s good to have a few bare basics to look back on or reference when you’re not sure of how to tackle a scene or what direction you want to take a character/plot. 

For example, maybe you want to demonstrate how Kai gradually grows to accept help over time: in what ways does he start to become more comfortable with his team? What moments will stand out as turning points? Or it could even be less specific stuff like “Scene where Nya talks to Zane”. At what point in the plot would that be good to insert? And what would have led up to that moment? Thinking about stuff like that from the get-go will always give you a place to start from, and keeps the ideas flowing. You can always change and tweak later as you develop! 

-Outline a general direction of where you want to take the story overall! It can be detailed right down to every paragraph of every chapter, or just simply a “this is how it starts, this is where the middle is, and this is how it ends”. Just give yourself somewhere to start, then figure out how you want to get from Point A to Point B, and it’ll basically write itself! And then if you happened to get stuck going forward, it becomes easier to see where you’re stuck at. Sometimes you’ll have to cut something out because it isn’t flowing, sometimes you’ll have to add more because things aren’t making enough sense! Either way, doing this makes it easier to see potential problems in the plot before you write yourself into a corner (...which I have done a few times). 

And if you do find yourself scrapping something, don’t get rid of it completely! Hang onto those ideas/scenes you once tried to include—there’s a good chance you may find another opportunity for them later down the line! It makes it so much less stressful than trying to rewrite from memory too. (Especially in the case where you find yourself overhauling an entire chapter...which I have done. Many times.) 

-Make a master timeline of events! Extremely helpful when referencing things that happened in the past, and to sort out potential time-related plot holes before they can occur! (especially in the case of something like Ninjago). Knowing exactly how long ago something happened or how long an event goes on for will do wonders for maintaining consistency. Highly recommend. (I’ve actually got two documents for my timeline because it’s a LOT to keep track of)

-As for actually doing some world building, I must confess, a lot of mine didn’t even fully pop up until I actually began writing the sequel ahahaah. I just knew I wanted the ninja to be aware that their elements were inherited from the get-go, rather than all the way into Season 4...which then spawned the idea for the eye colors, and why it wasn’t common knowledge, and then the entire Elemental Compass came along (which I conceived on the fly, lol, all of that was not in my original design AT ALL), and then how the Guardians were involved, and then how the FSM played into all of that...and now I’ve got a baseline of lore to play with. I guess what I’m trying to say on this front is that sometimes, you don’t have to think so hard about the world-building until it becomes relevant, or until you’re forced to answer a big question like “Why is this the way it is?” 

(...and ALL of the above snowballed for me JUST because I had to explain away why the general public and even the Ninja themselves wouldn’t have taken interest in Lloyd’s green eyes when they otherwise should have)

....but fi you’re looking for a more concrete answer, or just want some lore ready from the start, consider how society is structured in your universe. Is there a currency system, or do people barter for goods? Is there one collective language, or is there several, and why? What’s the geography like, is there a reason more people live in one area over another? Figuring out “base” things like that will help you maneuver the characters in the world you create. And in the case of Elemental Powers, well, I suppose that’ll depend on how deep you wanna take your rewrite. Is there an entirely new system for how it works, or are you going to pull from what’s already established (as tangled as it is asdfghj)?

-Characters are a bit trickier; for starters, I’d recommend rewatching the show (for the umpteenth time) to really get a feel for the characters’ mannerisms, speech patterns, and what they’re most likely to do in any given situation. For example, Zane’s obviously got a more posh and concise way of speaking, while Jay and Kai are far more casual and less direct (and the difference between those two is that Kai will often make the situation relevant to himself while Jay’s more prone to go off on a tangent about literally anything). Cole’s speech patterns, meanwhile, depend entirely on the current situation: he’s more firm when in the midst of a mission, but far less formal while chilling around. 

Or, another interpretation of mine: when tackling a situation, Kai will almost always act on instinct, which can come off as impulsive depending on what it is. He only stops to think things through when he realizes he’s got the upper hand. Jay will tend to hang back until he sees an opportunity, then drives for it with all he’s got (or he’s otherwise forced to act). Zane will analyze a situation before making any big moves at all, and will adapt his strategy from there (and tends to be caught off guard often because he’s thinking too much). Cole will normally try to assess a situation if he can, but if he’s emotional to any degree, can prove to be just as impulsive as Kai or thought-distracted as Zane. 

Something you could do to practice all this, or to find your own ‘flavor’ for the characters would be to write imaginary dialogue between them in any random situation you can come up with–what would they be saying to each other during a chase scene? Or around a dinner table? Or when they’re trying to comfort somebody? How would Kai approach the problem compared to Zane? How’s Jay going to react to it compared to Cole? They’re not always going to agree on everything immediately either, so how would a potential argument go where no one’s really in the wrong? It’s those little nuances that can really make characterization pop, and a lot of it happens subconsciously! 

Another thing you can do is read, read, READ other people’s stories! Getting a feel for how others interpret the characters can give you some ideas too (or give you an idea of what you DON’T want to do, lol). But reading does help make it easier to envision a character’s voice when applied to the written word, so that way when you’re writing and trying to nail their nuance, you have something of a baseline to compare to. (A lot of my “baseline” so to speak comes from @/lloyd-skywalkers’ amazing fics and The Fantastic Mr. Walker, actually)

When it comes to applying these characters to your own design though, you’re going to have to extrapolate: you’ve got the basics of the character right in front of you, but there’ll be a time when you’ll have to put them in a situation they’ve never been in before, or feel emotions they haven’t shown a lot of on screen. For example, you’d think Kai would just be a constant ball of rage and frustation and yelling, but I personally have a tendency to make Kai cry far more often. Not as some ooc-replacement for his anger, but precisely because he’s so angry at things. It stems from the insane amount of pressure, standards, and expectations he puts on himself, and the results of how his life had been prior to being a ninja, and because of how much he just wants good things for the people he cares about (and yet, bad stuff just keeps happening). And that makes a least a little bit of sense, right? Technically nothing is out of character, as long as there’s a character-driven/related reason for why it’s happening. So my advice here is, don’t be afraid to see how far you can push with a character. You can achieve a goldmine of character moments by doing this!

AND....uh, I think that’s all I got, for now! Hope this helped even to the smallest degree, and good luck with your own rewrite! 

(And if you’re looking for more general writing tips, check the tags! I’m not going to get into that stuff because fanfic allows us to break normal writing conventions and you can be free to explore whatever works for you!)

[jimlingss]

can i request a yoongi chef au? i feel like yoongi's culinary skills are underrated, and I'm just a slut for chef aus in general

Anonymous said: Hi I saw ur request open posts for the new year!!! Could u write more yoongi stories🥺?!?! Your stories are so fantastic and i’m thirsty for more yoongi lolol🤪(hopefully u get enough votes to do more of him haha)

I feel like Jin’s the one who’s usually written as the chef, prob because he’s the better known chef in BTS, but you’re right! There’s gotta be more chef Yoongi!AUs, so here you go!!!

↳ Buttering Up

2.2k || 100% Fluff & Flirtation || Min Yoongi || Chef!AU

He clearly doesn’t know who you are.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.”

You hum, arms crossed as you eye him up and down. His black hair is practically a bowl cut, bangs covering his forehead. He’s in casual clothes ��� a taupe trench and black pants — looking like he’s ready for a trip to the grocery store rather than to cook. You wonder where this child crawled out from.

“You’re Yoongi?”

“That I am.” He approaches the door of the restaurant before plunging his hands inside his trench coat pockets. He fishes out the key and unlocks it, ushering you inside. “Hope you don’t mind that the restaurant’s closed down.”

You mind much more that he left you waiting on the cold city street for over ten minutes. You still can’t believe he was late. The audacity.

“I would’ve liked to see how you and your staff do your dinner service.”

“Unfortunately, we’re booked full for the next two months.”

You scoff — how doesn’t he know who you are? You’re a food critic who’s brought highly regarded restaurants to their knees through a review of five sentences. Your words alone has had rippled effects in the industry. Even the most talented chefs hold their breaths when you taste-test.

You make Gordon Ramsey look like Mother Teresa.

This Yoongi character is much too arrogant to not respect you. His new and upcoming restaurant might have raving reviews, but you’ll see what’s really going on.

“Sit wherever you’d like.”

There are no waiters in fancy garb, no hand sewn tablecloths made of silk. He doesn’t even pull out the chair for you. Instead, he’s off flickering on the lights of the restaurant while you choose a wooden table and chair right in front of his open kitchen — which is a horrible mistake in itself.

Open kitchens have always been a concept that has fallen short in your eyes. It’s much too noisy during dinner service and it gets smelly fast. Who actually wants to leave smelling like butter and oil?

It’s something you note as you get settled. 

Your coat drapes at the back of the chair and then you watch him. Yoongi’s taken off his trench as well, revealing a white long sleeve that he’s beginning to roll up to his elbows. He’s lean and his build is small, but somehow, he’s far from being scrawny. You gawk at the veins running up his forearm until he casually asks—

“Do you have a preference for wine?”

“I’m fine with any.”

He hums and comes over from the glass cabinet with a bottle of chardonnay and a wine glass. Yoongi pops the bottle easily and pours into the pristine glass with a mere tilt of his wrist. You watch the stream fill the glass a quarter way full.

“Is there a menu?”

“You don’t need one.”

Your brows raise. “Excuse me?” 

“If I were you, I’d put myself in the chef’s hands entirely and go with their recommendation.” He strides away, placing the wine bottle on the other table and then he turns with a glint in his eye and his mouth slightly crooked upwards. “Unless, of course, you don’t trust your chef.”

Oh. He’s confident. 

You can’t wait for his ego to blow up in his face.

“Fine then.” Your head tilts upwards. “What’s your recommendation then?”

He rounds his way to go into the kitchen that’s only a few meters away from where you sit. “Risotto with grilled chicken breast, topped off with caramelized onions, mushroom, grilled zucchini and sautéed tomatoes.”

You roll your eyes. What a basic dish. Isn’t it just rice? And with chicken breast?! Ew. It's guaranteed to be bland.

“Alright then.” You give a smile that might be more mocking than intended. “We’ll see how it tastes.”

Yoongi starts and while sipping the chardonnay, you take a good look at the restaurant from your spot. The place is rustic with a hint of contemporary. There’s exposed brick, wooden tables and chairs, and low, yellow lighting. There’s nothing particularly impressive about the place.

Soon, the sound of rapid, rhythmic chopping fills the space and then sizzling. You watch him intently. And you’re appalled. This Yoongi guy commits the worst cooking sins — his pan is cold when he starts throwing on ingredients. He cooks with olive oil. He overcrowds the pan. And he doesn’t even taste test once as he cooks.

What the actual fuck. 

There’s a line between arrogance and insanity, and he was crossing it.

You cringe when he starts using his metallic spatula on the non-stick skillet.

Is he even qualified to run a restaurant?!

Or maybe your assistant sent you information about the wrong restaurant? Or maybe this was not the guy you were supposed to be eating from. What if he poisons you or kills off all of your taste buds?! Your career would be ruined.

“Everything going okay?” you pipe up.

He glances up at you for the first time, eyes peering past his bangs. “Yep. Should be done in five.”

Food is simple. It either tastes good or it doesn’t. But the higher up you go and the fancier it gets, the more convoluted the food tastes with bland flakes of gold and the same old truffle shavings. That or it’s entirely boring and unoriginal. 

Or in this case, it might kill you. Which would be the first. And you’re not happy about it.

You feel unsettled when he plops the dish in front of you.

“Chef’s recommendation.”

“Thanks.”

You feel unsettled because it actually smells good. The aroma that fills your senses is flavoursome and buttery, and the thyme on top adds a fresh hint. You’re also unsettled because the plating isn’t actually bad. It’s been presented in a pasta bowl with wavy designs and the chicken breast is thinly and neatly sliced on top. It’s clean. It’s bright. It’s colourful.

But the most lethal poisons are the appetizing ones.

“Are you going to wait until it gets cold?”

You look up, brows raising at how he’s gotten comfortable in the chair across from you. Usually the chefs and waiters or waitresses like to skedaddle off and leave you to your own thoughts, too afraid to stand in your intense scrutiny. But Min Yoongi twists off the cap of his water bottle and casually downs it in front of you.

“I’m just looking at the presentation.”

“Tastes better than it looks,” he exhales after swallowing his water. 

Your expression becomes skeptical. But you take the silver spoon beside you anyhow and decide not to waste any more time.

The spoonful goes into your mouth. He watches you. You chew.

Instantly, you halt. 

The flavour hits your tongue. Creamy. Thick. But each individual grain of rice still has some firmness with a discernible texture. It’s been done al dente. There’s sweetness from the caramelized onions. An earthy flavour from the mushrooms. A zesty touch from the thyme. The chicken breast is somehow still juicy and the tomatoes burst on your palate. 

Suddenly, you’re thrusted back into your childhood. Those summer days spent in the cottage. Sun-kissed cheeks, dirtied knees, cotton dresses. You can hear your late grandmother in the kitchen. The way she calls out that it’s lunchtime. You can feel the comfort of family and love.

It feels like you’ve become the food critic in the ratatouille movie. 

You almost cry.

“What do you think?”

You clear your throat. You have to be honest. There’s no way you can lie about something like this. “It’s good. I think...this is the best risotto I’ve ever had. You cooked it perfectly and the toppings you chose were absolutely immaculate with this dish—”

You look up at him. Min Yoongi has an enormous, cocky smirk plastered across his stupid face.

It’s entirely off-putting. 

“But of course,” you quickly add, “there are many ways you could improve on it. You could add cilantro—”

“That would unnecessarily drown out the notes of thyme you taste,” he rebukes without a single beat and you scoff. 

“I noticed you didn’t add any pepper to it which could deepen the flavour.”

“Except this dish doesn’t need it,” Yoongi deadpans. “You don’t need to help me make any adjustments. I think I know what I’m doing better than you are. Just do your job and I’ll do mine.”

You suck in your cheek and narrow your eyes on him before you take another bite of the risotto while it’s still hot. “The food is delicious, but I must say, the company really spoils it.”

Yoongi’s slumped with one cheek resting in his hand, elbow on the table. He lazily stares at you with that smirk of his. “Really? Because if I didn’t know any better, you look nervous rather than annoyed.”

You scoff for the second time. “Why would I be nervous?”

“Maybe you didn’t expect the food to taste as good as it does and that makes me unexpectedly attractive,” he states plainly. You almost choke. You hit your chest as you sputter. “Or maybe you’re intimidated by me. I’ve gotten both before.”

You wipe your mouth with the napkin. “I’m afraid you’re not very perceptive, Min Yoongi.”

“Really? I think I am.” He smiles, the corners of his mouth quirked. “I’ve read your reviews before.”

You’re unamused. “Have you now? So you must know how difficult I am to satisfy.”

His smirk is sly and it’s jarring against his softer, more tender features. He’s smaller than the men you’re used to being around, but somehow it feels like he’s taken up the entire space of the restaurant. His focus on you is sweat-inducing. Even if you don’t want to admit it. 

“I don’t think so. You’ve just been eating shit food,” he says bluntly and your brow cocks. “You just need someone good you can trust. Someone who can take care of you properly.”

You’re not sure if the double entendre is purposeful. You wouldn’t put it past him.

“And is this someone you?”

Yoongi shrugs and sits back. “It could be.”

You grab your glass of chardonnay and gulp the rest in an effort to stop the conversation before it completely derails into a different direction. Yet, Yoongi’s half-lidded and darkened eyes stay on yours with each swallow. He’s unfazed. Unbothered. And that bothers you even more — bothered in a way that makes your face hot.

There’s a clack as you put the wine glass down and gasp. 

“I’m a professional.” You won’t be swayed so easily. “I can’t be bribed.”

“Of course.” He blinks as if he doesn’t know what you’re talking about. You glare at him and he gestures to the dish. “Please. Keep eating.” 

You finish the plate.

“Do you want any seconds?” he asks as he gets up.

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” Yoongi lingers, all too brazen and fearless. “If you don’t get any more now, you might have to come back for more.”

This time, you don’t try to hide the roll of your eyes. “That’s a presumptuous assumption.”

Yoongi smirks and his voice is husky. “After getting a taste from me, everyone comes back for more.

You scoff.

Min’s Restaurant Review

Three nights ago, I ate at Min’s Restaurant and met the main man in the kitchen. Unfortunately, he is a difficult person to interact with. I hope no one has the disservice of having to speak to the chef behind the dishes. Doing so may as well ruin the experience. Furthermore, his cooking methods are unconventional and unorthodox. It was completely shocking to watch.

However, and what I would consider most important, the food at Min’s Restaurant is spectacular. What Min’s Restaurant lacks in likeable personnel, they make up in the served cuisine. The meal that was prepared for me not only subverted my initial expectations, but overcomes, what I consider, what the food industry is lacking in this modern age exactly. Without unnecessary garnishes and ingredients, the flavours of Min’s Restaurant are both light and deep. It was an undeniable delight to consume and for the first time, I licked my plate clean. 

It is undoubted that the man behind Min’s Restaurant has the hands of god.

You should have pride.

But you’ve always loved good food. It’s your Achilles heel. It’s the one thing you’ve been passionate about since you were a kid. The reason why you love your job.

Even after writing such a review, you find yourself booking another reservation. But as a customer instead of a critic.

Of course, they were booked full for the next six months, largely thanks to your review, and they swiftly refused you with numerous apologies. But they called back not ten minutes later. You have a feeling that your name finally sunk into them — that he had something to do with it. 

That theory is confirmed when you arrive. The person in question is next to the seemingly nervous hostess as the noisy kitchen echoes throughout the busy restaurant. 

In the low lighting, Min Yoongi stands there with a relaxed smirk. As if he was expecting you. As if he knew you’d come crawling back to him to eat out of the palm of his hand, literally and figuratively.

You hate that he’s right.

“Welcome back.”

[yeojaa]

( ROSERAIE. )

What you had - so brilliant and beautiful and bright it was almost impossible to look at head-on - was what was tearing you two apart.  It was your love that would be your demise.  

pairing.  jjk x f!reader.

genre + rating.   my take on a hanahaki!au.  pretty heavy on the angst.  general.

tags / warnings.  mention of minor character death, breaking up, soulmates, angst, unrequited love, sick character (hanahaki), bittersweet, non-idol.

wc.  3.2k

beta reader(s).  my forever queens, @hobi-gif​ @snackhobi​!  you both bring such hope and joy (hahahaha) to my life!!!  and of course, the loveliest angels @joheun-saram​, @pars-ley​, and @ditttiii​ for reading through and giving me excellent feedback!

author note.  this is a part of @goldenclosetnetwork​‘s 23 | jungkook’s birthday project.  it’s my first time writing a hanahaki au so...  i have a lot of headcanons for it but i’m not sure whether it all came across in the story.  😰  eep.  anyway, please enjoy and feel free to leave any feedback.  i would love and appreciate it!  most importantly:  happy birthday, kook!  💖

Your parents were a young match.  Together from the tender age of eleven, they’d shared pieces of themselves readily, trading secrets in tree houses and blanket forts.  Nothing was held back - a childhood crush brought to life by playful ribbing and sugar-coated snacks.  Where your mother went, so did your father;  she was his light as much as he was her shadow.  Two halves of a destined whole, earnest and pure.  Friends first.  

It made perfect sense when they shared their dreams - the same one they’d had since they could remember - and it was identical:  swimming in the ocean with a faceless friend, families on their respective four and three-week long road trips.  They’d recognised each other immediately, felt the click the moment they stepped off the camper van.  Your father had called it cooties;  your mother said butterflies.

It didn’t matter that they’d never seen each other’s faces until that moment.  There was the spark.  Recognition.  The rest was history. 

Jungkook’s parents have been soulmates since the early 2000s.  His father had lost his wife - his first soulmate - exactly one year prior to their meeting.  He didn’t have his recurring dream until a fortnight before he met his wife.  Hadn’t expected it, either.  He’d been talking about his day in his local support group (it never got easier, he’d discovered) and he’d mentioned it in passing, glossing over the details of the vivid new pictures painted against his eyelids.  His second wife - his second chance - had attended after losing her son.  A complete chance.  Serendipitous. 

It wasn’t always simple, though.  The heartbreaking endings came just as often as the happy.  

There were people who lost their soulmates before even meeting them.  They’d never know they’d lost their first one until the next dream came - if it came.  If they were lucky enough.  

There were message boards and dating sites.  Places people stripped themselves bare and spilt their secrets to the world.  Desperate for love, they detailed their dreams and hoped that their other half was somewhere out there, reading those same words.  

Some, though, never found their special someone.  Life came at you fast and from all directions - or it never came at all, caught somewhere across the globe in the form of someone you’d never meet.  Those were the most painful circumstances, as if fate was cheating the system.  Here’s a love you know you have, but that you’ll never experience.  It was terribly cruel. 

(But when was life ever fair?)

There were stories about those that never found their puzzle piece and how it felt, whether it hurt.  Most said it was a quiet ache, something you never really noticed until you thought too closely about it, like a scar that had healed over or a loved one gone a long time.  Painful in an explicable way and only - luckily, miserably - softened by ignorance. 

Others spoke about it like death, missing an integral part of themselves.  It played a large part of their life, shaping and changing them with each passing day.  They couldn’t fully live without their person, even if they’d never met them.  It was simply the principal of the matter. 

You’d never quite existed in either camp.  You’d always wanted to find love but you hadn’t rushed it.  You figured you’d meet your happily ever after at some point.  Maybe at your work - caught between the shelves or returning an overdue book - or maybe out with your dog, walking the same route you took every day.  They’d show up one day.  You were sure of it. 

Love had a way of surrounding you. 

Your best friends - because of course the two of them would fall for each other (it was nauseating) - had found each other young too, on the grounds of the elementary school you all played on.  They’d been bonded since the beginning, secrets exchanged in art class and atop monkey bars.  You’d cheered them on the whole way, giddy in a way you couldn’t describe.  Being around it  felt like standing beneath the sun, scorching heat warming you all the way to the core.  It didn’t matter that you didn’t have it for yourself (yet). 

They’d come.  Eventually.  You felt it in your bones and later, you’d learn, in your shins.

He’d come around the corner fast as a bullet, headphones in and hood pulled over his head.  You’d barely have time to avoid him, poor coordination lending itself to disaster when only one of your feet would make it out of his path of destruction.  

BANG!  

It was something right out of a campy romance novel.  Guy goes jogging, runs headlong into his dearly beloved and nearly gives her a concussion.  He feels bad for her scraped knees and falls in love with her dog.  His morning runs become theirs and six weeks later, over a late night bite of contrasting gelato flavours - green tea for him, bubble gum for her - they fit the pieces together.

Jungkook’s the faceless boy you’d always dreamt of, one hand on the wheel, the other resting easily on your thigh.  He was the one with the slick black AppleWatch and long fingers.  You’d never imagined he’d be covered in ink, immaculate designs running the length of his forearm all the way back and across his shoulders.  In fact, you’d never thought about tattoos at all. 

You get your first and only one with him - intricate red looped around your wrists and over your pinkies.  Your own, very real string of fate, sealed and signed forever in rouge. 

He was your Prince Charming, your best friend, your bonafide soulmate.  You’d done everything together - skydiving, snorkelling, silly photos atop the Eiffel Tower.  He’d adapted to your distaste of onions and took them all, meticulously picking them out of stir fries and sauces until not a single sliver remained.  You’d learnt to tolerate his unbearably fast driving, white-knuckled and silent when he’d tear around corners too fast in a car too low. You fit perfectly, filling all the spaces he could never, keeping him whole even when he was broken.  

Your love was of fairy tales but it was better than that too.  Real.  Concrete.  Solid.

Until it wasn’t.    

The two of you had never had any other choice.

That’s what it feels like, at least.  He’d done his best - tried every little thing he could’ve possibly imagined - and it’d all amounted to nothing.  He’d gone through all the motions, explored every avenue, given everything he had.  It wasn’t working.  This thing he wanted with every fibre of his being, that he’d hoped for his whole life, just wasn’t working.  It wasn’t for him.

“I’m sorry,”  he cries, and he knows you know he means it.  You can read it between every line of his expression, tucked among the neatly scrawled india ink in faded red, underlining the passages you’d written together.  He is sorry.  He’d never meant to do this to you, nor you to him.  He’d wanted to give you it all - make all your hopes and dreams come true.

Sometimes, fate just had other plans.  

Because what the two of you had - so brilliant and beautiful and bright it was almost impossible to look at head-on - was what was tearing you apart.  It was your love that would be your demise.  

And he can’t bear to hurt the one he loves.  

He’d tried so hard.  Really, he had.  You had too, more than he ever deserved. 

There was simply no other option.  You’d always come up short.  You weren’t the one for him - not anymore - no matter how badly you wanted to be.  You weren’t the one meant for him.  You’d fumble for that ledge - held so impossibly high, just barely out of reach - before falling right back to where you began.  The bottom.  He couldn’t stand to see you there, brought to your knees once, twice, a hundred times.  

He’d lose count if not for the petals.

Little ones, at first.  Tiny pieces of silk you’d found on your pillowcase, outside the shower, in your water glass.  They’d been unassuming - reminders you could easily ignore.  

Then they’d grown, velvet softness that made it hard to breathe, that had him rubbing soothing circles over your skin, earnest vows winding like vines around your airways.  Neither of you had had any idea why it was happening.  You were soulmates - bound to each other and destined since the beginning.  Your love wasn’t unrequited. 

“We’ll figure it out,”  he’d said.  Sworn.  “We’ll get through this.”

Your heart had broken with each promise;  his had too, differently, but in perfect tandem.  

(Spring still came, steadily, with a rose garden blooming within your insides and freesias in your nose.) 

It wasn’t his fault.  You would never blame him, even when it was his fist that broke yours, splintered it into a million pieces that cut worse than the thorns in your lungs.  You knew this was just as hard for him.  He’d had to watch you wither away, even as a patchwork of flowers blossomed in the spaces he’d thought he could keep safe.  He hated it - could barely take it.  It kept him up all night, tears in his eyes.  Even when he slept - managed it, every few days - it’d prompt him awake in a cold sweat.

If he’d known then what had changed, maybe he could’ve fixed it sooner.  Maybe he could’ve saved you the heartache.  (Weeks later and during a coffee break with the new girl at his startup was not how he’d expected to find his answer.)

“I love you,”  you tell him, an ocean of sadness.  He loves you too, more than anything, more than there are stars in the sky.  He loves you with every part of himself - and yet he knows now that’s what’s causing this.  He loves you, but not in the right way.  Every touch he offers is wrong, leaving you bruised, broken, barely breathing.  It’s a disease - a venereal infection that seeps beneath skin and bone, settling within the marrow.  It changes you from the inside out, realigns your DNA until you’re mutated and miserable. 

The realisation is devastating:  his love causes more harm than it heals. 

So he stands there now, caught in the distance between you, eyes melancholy blue.  His composure is frayed, crippled beneath the weight of your circumstance.  He tries to memorise your face in these last moments - the colour of your hair, the shape of your stare.  How you sound in the morning - voice raspy with sleep, dust caught in your eyes.  The way you hold him close and the feeling of your eyelashes against his neck in the early hours.  

Jeon Jungkook doesn’t want this to end.  He doesn’t want to lose you, give you - this - up but he has to.  He has to, for you.  To give you a chance.  

Even after having so little - only five short years - you were about to lose the rest of your lives.  

You pack your bags - he helps, folding your favourite sweater (one of his, in truth) alongside your toiletries and undergarments - and you prepare to do the thing that you should never have to do.  You sign papers, dot I’s and cross T’s, and put all your treasured memories away into cardboard boxes to never be touched again.  You label them neatly and dress tape over edges;  Band-Aids meant to hold together the deepest wounds.

You’re going under by anaesthetic and he’ll be here, where he has everything he wishes he could give you.  A love he doesn’t deserve, within arms he wishes were yours. 

He wonders whether he’ll still feel the pull once it’s done or whether his heart will stay there, tucked somewhere beneath the dug up roots.  Whether it’ll be safe, undiscovered like a long lost treasure.  

It’s best this way.  He tells himself that - loops it on repeat until it’s the only thing he can think.  It has to be better.  For you, for you, for you. 

He knows he’ll carry you with him forever.  Like the air in his lungs, you’ll keep him going.  

He’s snapped back to the present, to the small hallway of the home you’d built together.  The traces of you are gone - all the photos hidden away, your row of shoes missing from beside his.  It’s strangely bare.  He knows it won’t last long.  She’ll be here next week.

Your hand pushes against his cheek, thumb caressing along the seam of his bottom lip, right where the freckle sits.  He’s a thief - a criminal, a sinner - when he dips his head, presses back into the warmth of your palm.  This isn’t for him to take but he does anyway, eagerly and with deep regret. 

“I love you.”  Your voice cuts through all the white noise and agony - a beacon in the night, guiding him home.  

He smiles, half-hearted and weak and not even his.  Every part of him screams at him to beg you not to do it, to accept him for the man he is - lost and weak and sorry.  He almost drops to his knees - fights tooth and nail against his aching limbs not to - and brings a hand to yours.  The red threads looped around your wrists fit perfectly together, the ends of inked rope caught around your pinkies matching when his fingers slot between yours. 

Don’t do this, he pleads, without words or hope. 

“I’ll love you forever,”  you tell him - promise like he had you.  “You’ll always be the brightest star in my sky, Jeon Jungkook.”

He almost cracks - seams near splitting, adhesive tearing from skin - when you return his smile and he can see how hard it is.  You’re already broken, all the pieces of your puzzle in terrible disarray. 

You’re trying, for him. 

“I’m so sorry,” he answers, because that is kinder than an I love you that doesn’t mean what you need it to.  Because you deserve better - you deserve it in the same way you mean it. 

So he’ll let you leave and he’ll pray this isn’t the worst decision of his whole life.  

“I’ll see you.”  

He hopes so.  He can’t bear the idea of losing you again.  He doesn’t think even she could fix him if he had to. 

“Be safe,”  he whispers, in a voice that stutters your stare and shatters what little resolve you have left.  He sees it in your eyes - all the crystallised parts of your composure turned to ash.  He wishes he could be sorry.  He’s not.  

“I love you,”  you repeat with an air of finality. 

Jungkook does the same:  “I’m sorry.” 

You leave, ushered into the back of your mother’s tiny sedan.  She helps you with your bags and your seatbelt, rubbing your shoulder carefully when baby’s breath slips past your lips and falls all over your lap.  She meets his stare when she climbs into the driver’s seat.  He tries to read her expression.  Understanding?  Resentment?  Gratitude?  

The car pulls away with a groan, disappearing down the tree-lined street.  Jungkook stands in the doorway for far longer than he should.

He’s moved on - settled down with the girl of his dreams.  Literally.  

She’s nothing like you, sarcastic and stubborn with a staunch refusal to ever come second best.  She laughs maybe a bit too loud, giving him shit when he orders in another car part.  She’d eat an onion raw, if she could, and takes showers hot enough to slough the skin from her bones.  They have a home together and in a year’s time, he thinks he’ll propose.  He’s not in any rush, though, because he knows she’s his forever.  

(Knows it, even though you’d once been that same shining star to him.  He has to believe it won’t happen again.  Life can’t screw someone twice, right?  Lightning never strikes the same spot or something like that?)

Still, he tries to forget the feeling of you.  

It isn’t as hard as he’d thought it would be.  The love exists as it always has, just differently, in the palm of his hand and not the space behind his ribs.  You’re his best friend and he is disgustingly, unbelievably lucky.  

He’d gotten his second chance.  Even if he’d once resented it, he had everything now.  

You still go for your morning runs and he still changes your oil because you’d never learnt how to.  His parents invite you for Sunday dinners;  you’re gracious enough to decline them.  You don’t see it as pity - you just don’t want to intrude.  (It isn’t your place any longer.)  You accept all the changes readily, without regret.  You promise you’ll go by one day.  

Your parents never speak to him.  He doesn’t blame them.  At the supermarket, on the street, in passing when he’s coming and they’re leaving - it’s radio silent.  

It’s been six months and you haven’t dreamt at all.  They’d hoped - prayed - that you’d find someone new after him, someone to treat you right.  You don’t mind, you tell them.  I’ll meet my special eventually, you say (again, again).

He wonders whether you resent them for it - their concern, perhaps a bit overbearing and offered with a heavy hand.  If you do, you say nothing, playing along each time they suggest you meet another friend’s son, another junior at your father’s accounting firm.  You don’t understand the sad way they watch you. 

“I’m sorry,”  he mumbles one night, seated at the neighbourhood cafe you’d frequented on your first date.  Your idea, because you loved coffee and, in your old words, this was your place.  The start of it all, where he’d knocked you hard onto pavement and stolen your heart in the process.

You don’t remember it now.  Not in the same way. 

This is somewhere you come for their great matcha lattes, where you waste a few too many evenings when you just want to get out of the house.  It isn’t the place he’d told you he loved you or where you’d resolved your first fight.  

(It’d been stupid.  He’d forgotten to pick up groceries for your first dinner with your parents.  You’d been so stressed you’d snapped at him, carrying tension into the rest of the evening.  He’d apologised with an almond croissant and your favourite green drink.)  

It’s like a wall has gone up, splitting your heart in two.  The part of you that’d once been Jungkook’s remains out of reach, caught behind a gate neither of you have the key to.  

“For what?”  You quip, a milk moustache presenting itself over the rim of your mug.   

Jungkook shrugs.  He can’t make you understand.  “Y’know,”  he mumbles into his red bean mochi bun.  It sticks to his teeth and coats them in soft white flour.  “Just— everything.”  It’s not enough, either as an explanation or an apology.  It falls terribly short, barely worthy of a participation trophy.  

“It’s fine.”  You say it every time, clockwork in response to the same apology he always gives - out of the blue and vague.

“No, but I’m—”

You level him with a glare.  It might’ve hurt once but now it settles like a scolding from a sibling.  He reminds himself this is how it should be, you there and him here - two parallel lines.  

The guilt never goes away. 

tag list.  @neverthefirstchoice​​ @youwannabelostandnotbefound​​​ @snackhobi​​

[sleepylixie]

1.3k words, Purge! AU, Enemies to (Possibly) Lovers, Beware of swearing

Mastermind! Hyunjin X Fem! Reader​

Music: Ponzona by Purple Kiss, Boca by Dreamcatcher, Double Knot by Stray Kids, Criminal by TAEMIN.

A/N: PART-2 IS HERE WOOP WOOP!! I’m so excited to write more of this, it inspires me so much! ANYWAYS- ONTO THE FIC!

New Dawn Miniseries || Part-1 ||

The Annual Purge: A 24- hour period in which all crimes are legal and emergency services are suspended for the entire period. Government officials designated as “level 10” are fully protected from harm.

March 16th 2021 ( 5 days to the Annual Purge, 2.45 p.m)

The second time you were marched into Hwang Hyunjin’s office, the primary emotion swirling through your mind was not fear or apprehension, but a searing-hot rage. You weren’t dressed in the garb of tattered royalty either- a sleek pencil skirt and blouse adorned your curves, hair pinned in a way befitting of the governor’s daughter. Your teeth were gritted, hands fisted against your sides as you walked the same opulently designed hallways you had focused on not too long ago.

So much for being the future face of the city- it seemed that cavorting with the enemy had now become your only ( rather unfortunate) pastime.

He was dressed exactly the way you remembered 2 nights ago, his suit jacket immaculately pressed and perfectly fitted against the planes of his body. Blonde hair swung gently as he raised his head from work to watch you walk in, his lips once again curling in a frown as his eyes met yours.

The guards who had walked you to the study made their way out of the room, clicking the door shut on their way out. You walked into the study, closer to the table, eyes still narrowed as you matched Hyunjin stare for stare- it was him who looked away, clearing his throat in annoyance.

“Why is it that you insist on barging into places you are not welcome?” He sighed, his annoyed tone only serving to incense you further. It was rare that you were ever this angry, but something about Hwang Hyunjin’s elegant yet brutally infuriating dismissal was all too good at making your blood boil in your veins.

Sliding into the chair opposite his table and crossing your legs, you raised an eyebrow in irreverent challenge, your lips only just concealing the venom you were dying to spit- no, you would sound casual, unassuming instead.

“Are you telling me you have no idea why I’m here, Hwang?”

At that, Hyunjin smiled- a wide, thoughtless grin that would’ve convinced anybody else of his innocence, but not you. It looked like a threatening snarl to you, like he knew exactly why you were here and was, in fact, counting on it-

“Are you telling me I wanted to see you any more than I absolutely have to?” He chuckled and your hands curled into fists against the fabric of your skirt yet again. Oh, this aggravating bastard-

“Are you telling me you had one of your lackeys tail me everywhere for a reason other than that you were curious about me?” You responded, your voice barely, deceptively light, and yes- you finally spotted it. A crack in Hyunjin’s impertinent armour, the same flicker of surprise that had danced across his eyes when you revealed how you got into his stronghold that first time.

“So you caught him after all.” 

“Han Jisung, right?” You picked at your nails, looking for all the world like a woman uncaring. “He told me he was tailing me because you didn’t have enough information to actually kill my father.” 

Hyunjin’s lip curled in derision, expression darkening at your words.

“And here I was, thinking you were here for the sheer pleasure of antagonizing me.”

“I might look like a rich brat, Hwang, but I think I’ve proven to you that I’m more than just that.” 

Hyunjin leaned back, his arms resting on the sides of his chair as he exhaled through his teeth, head cocked to the side as he watched you.

“All you’ve proven to me is that your loyalties are about as solid as your week’s opinions.” He responded evenly, not letting you get a word in edgewise before continuing.

“You sold your father out to us almost too easily. What’s to say you didn’t agree with the way the Faceless handles things and decide to sell us out? Can’t have that now, can we? I value my power in the Faceless much more than I value this...whatever this is with you. I’m sure you understand.”

You swallowed, a chill settling in your veins as he spoke- as much as you were loath to admit it, he did make sense.

“I don’t care what your intentions were, Hwang. I trusted you to handle it yourself, but clearly, you’re missing important information. If you want details, just ask. You do not send people to stalk me.”

“You’re not exactly instilling any sense of confidence or trust in your motives, ma’am.”

“Fucks sake, Hyunjin,” You threw your arms up in exasperation. “I came here that night ready to hand my dad over to you on a silver fucking platter. It was the most difficult decision I’ve ever had to take but this city won’t survive a year without the Purge and the Faceless. I’m ready to do whatever it takes to make sure my father’s plans fall through. No matter what.” You stressed, looking the blonde man in the eye with your last words. 

A stagnant silence passed between the both of you before Hyunjin stood up and you straightened up in your chair, following his movements. He looked down at you, the sunlight from the windows behind him staining his hair burnished gold.

“I think I’d like to set those words in stone, just to be on the safer side.” 

Ten minutes later, you were standing behind Hyunjin, watching as he ushered another young man into the study- one with an aura of intimidation and irreverence identical to Hyunjin’s. It permeated through the whole room almost effortlessly, despite his short stature and unassuming dark hair. 

He grinned at Hyunjin, eyes crinkling as he shook hands with the blond man before he turned to you- it was like the temperature in the room had gone down a couple of degrees despite the late afternoon heat. There was something intensely icy about the way he stared you down like he was scanning your very existence with just his gaze. 

“This is Chris. He’s the...ah, the counsellor. Lawyer, advisor, strategist-”

“Also the previous leader.”

And it all clicked. This Chris character had clearly trained Hyunjin to be his reflection in all ways possible - identical aura, manner of speaking, standing, down to the icy, insolent scrutiny. You held his gaze, nodding in acknowledgement. Steeling your nerves, you willed yourself to think, say something, anything in response-

“Why would you give up your power if you’re clearly still capable of leading?”

Chris’ eyebrows raised, the shadow of a smirk twisting his lips as he turned away from you, leading the way to the table.

“Who said I gave up any power, princess?”

Maybe it was the dark threat the words were laced with, or maybe the words themselves, but something about Chris made your hackles rise, body unconsciously tensing for a fight. It was a struggle to keep your expression neutral as it always was, to keep your body language closed off to a person who seemingly thrived off unconscious conversation cues. 

Chris was dangerous. Maybe even more so than Hyunjin.

As quickly as the moment came, it was gone- Chris cleared his throat, smoothing out his already immaculate suit.

“Hyunjin told me you had details that would help the Governor’s assassination?”

Thoughts raced and eddied in your mind as you looked between Hyunjin and Chris, weighing your options. If this was Hyunjin’s mentor, you were sure he would scent the slightest apprehension from miles away- no point in hesitation now, was there?

“More details than you’ll know what to do with.”

And the identically wicked smiles that graced both men’s faces was a sight to see, a savage look of celebration and sinful glory. Chris pulled a phone out of his pocket, possibly to record your words-

“You have no idea what we can do with details, princess.”

HUUUUUU A ROGUE VILLAINISH BANG CHAN I SCREAM - okay I'm good ( i think) plOT THICKENs!!!!

Taglist: @aliceu​ @decembermoonskz​ @cuokka​ @lavenderbexlatte @straykidsownmysoul @stellarmonsterr @soya-zz @fylithia @bythesunnotbythemoon @luminois @moonlight-hyunjae @melodie-mingi @cotccotc @popisdead @kisskissbanggang @sungieshines @blueprint-han @danyxthirstae01 @leximb1222 @ohmysparkle

Network Tag: @inkidz @angstyskzclub @kpopscape

Thank you ror reading! Do let me know what you think! - Elliana

[theravennest]

Let’s Talk: The Blooms at Ruyi Pavilion

I finished all 40 eps about two weeks ago, actually. I enjoyed it for the most part, the 1st half especially, but there were several things near the end that took me out. 

But first some of the good bits...

The cast chemistry was immaculate. Our four main lead actors were a lot of fun together. Not just Zhang Zhehan and Ju Jing Yi, but also Wang You Shuo and Xu Jiaqi (Loved them!). The four of them have such obvious ease with each other after their previous work together in Legend of Yun Xi and it made scenes with any combination of the main four really pop. 

I was especially drawn to the sisters’ relationship and the Prince-Vassal bond going on between Prince Su and Little Marquis. (Y’all know I’m a sucker for both sibling stories and stories about fictional royals and their loyal vassals.)

Most of the ancillary characters were interesting, actually. As y’all know from my last post about this one, I was crack shipping like crazy all the side characters. 😂 This cast made it easy for me.

Except for Prince An. (Sorry to hit the bad so early.) Good god, I hated that man. His character was poorly drawn in pretty much every way, which is unfortunate cuz he’s the main antagonist. Any story with a main antagonist that just doesn’t work is always gonna be weaker.

Also, no offense to people who like that actor but he was the only cast member who did absolutely nothing for me in terms of performance. So much of the story was focused on his weaksauce motivation and dry acting like, my god, put me out of my misery I do not care.

Anyway, the set design and costuming was top notch and I even enjoyed the broader story ideas the show was trying to put forth. The sitcom vibe of the first 20 eps or so was SOOO good. Our four mains’ comedic timings were pitch perfect. 

Unfortunately, the writing took a sharp nosedive in the back 3rd or so and it had a rough ending. (The lightning strike on the tower scene, the fight in the underground temple, the return of Prince An’s mom...all of that was trash. let’s be real.)

I mostly blame this on three things: the missteps with the Prince An character, the lack of development of Rong’s prophetic dreams even though that was the main premise of the show, and the jump-the-shark moment that was the wedding night and its subsequently underwritten fallout. 

Now to clarify, I don’t mean to say the wedding night event shouldn’t have happened at all but rather the execution of it within the story was poor and it negatively impacted 90% of the other character motivations/progressions and the overall pacing. 

You know, it felt like that thing you do as a writer where you wake up and have a specific scene in your mind. It’s evocative, impactful, fun, or otherwise intense. But you just have that scene and it’s something that would have to happen in the middle of your story. So you work your way backwards to try to get to that scene and you do your best to get the characters to make decisions to get there but when you sit down to write nothing works out. It’s clunky or OOC for the scene to still happen so you end up having to either scrap the evocative scene or keep the clunky lead up and hope no one notices. That’s what that wedding scene and everything that happened after felt like. They wrote themselves into a corner and just struggled to recover until the bitter end. 

The main pairing suffered the most because of the poor writing choices. No matter how much chemistry ZZH and JJY have together, even they could not completely salvage Rong’s yo-yoing behavior with Prince Su. They started off so wholesome and then dove into such toxicity and miscommunication for no reason. 

Don’t get me wrong. I can very easily enjoy angst. But Fu Rong consistently broke this man down. After ep 25-26, it stopped being good angst and became so awful to watch all the emotional manipulation and turmoil. There’s something broken in the writing if 9 out of 10 times Prince Su cried or fell into depression it was because of something Rong did or said to him after jumping to a conclusion with only part of the puzzle pieces gathered. 

I could forgive some stuff because Prince An was manipulating things but some stuff was just all Rong not giving Prince Su the benefit of the doubt or plain old not doing her due diligence in investigating. She is supposed to have inherited the most prolific and successful spy organization in the show and she still got 90% of her conclusions wrong. It was like she was determined to always think the worst of Prince Su no matter what despite how often he went above and beyond to help her. Despite the fact that he literally had a reputation as a general for being a harsh taskmaster but fair and just. 

I think what broke me was when she did the bare minimum investigation into her own father’s death and just fully blamed Prince Su without confronting him honestly or even considering his personality or their relationship up until that point. She really believed a single street seller’s entire testimony over the man she lived with and supposedly loved for months. Girl...

And this is after she’d previously mistakenly accused him of killing her mentor with very few facts to the point where she stabbed him on their wedding night.

There came a point where I actually wanted Prince Su to finally, truly divorce Rong and settle down with someone who could love him right. Maybe give him time to heal from the repeated heartbreaks, betrayals, and the literal stab wound in his chest but he was so fucking in love with Rong, he just couldn’t escape.

(If there were behind the scenes production reasons for the clunky-ness of the back half, I would not be surprised at all but ultimately they don’t matter cuz the story we got was the story we got.)

Imagine if we had gotten a Rong who used her prophetic dreams to navigate the cut throat world of royal politics. Or imagine if we’d gotten Rong as a true apprentice to Ruyi who learned both metalsmithing and spycraft in the first half and took over the pavilion as a competent leader in the second half. As it stands, it just felt like wasted potential.

I’m glad they had the modern day special AU eps tho cuz those were great. Zhang Zhehan and Ju Jing Yi had the opportunity to really showcase their incredible chemistry but in a modern setting and with better writing than the back 3rd of BRYP.

Now let’s talk Zhang Zhehan since he was the reason I started this in the first place. I loved him in this. I truly did. He was stern and serious but also playful and sweet. He was romantic but awkward, badass but vulnerable. He really delivered a nuanced and charming performance. I loved every second.

I think my favorite moment wasn’t some badass fight or even a super romantic moment. No, it was when he got drunk and started crying like a little baby cuz Rong was constantly doubting him no matter what he did. It was simultaneously sad and hilarious. Like gut busting funny. Y’all can watch it here:

I laughed so fucking hard at this. Oh my god, guys! This shit was too much.

Random Thoughts:

The romance between the 2nd leads was A+. Truly an adorable affair. Though I think they should’ve gotten together officially earlier around ep 25 or so and we should’ve seen the rest with them as a couple.

The costuming was so good y’all. For all the main four characters but I was especially drawn to Prince Su’s outfits.

The ghostly pale look with the bright red lips and eyeshadow makeup for Rong did not bother me at all. I actually liked it for her though I think it would’ve worked better if she’d had more explicit prophetic abilities.

I could’ve used more actual war scenes with Prince Su and Little Marquis.

The OST for the show SLAPPED!

That one kid spy in Ruyi Pavilion was voiced by the same actor as Chengling from WOH and I have never double-taked harder. lmao

Even though there were things I didn’t like in this show, I appreciated how gay I could make it in my last post. Truly it was a bisexual’s dream aesthetically.

[ve1vetyoongi]

better with you | 02

Chapters: index

Pairing: Seokjin x female reader

Genre: fake dating/arranged marriage!au, smut, angst, humour.

Word count: 18k

Summary: A part time job as a chef at Paradise Resort seems like the perfect way to spend your summer and save up some spare cash to open your own restaurant back home. That is until you cross paths with the CEO’s son who threatens to fire you if you don’t help him inherit his trust-fund-baby-fortune. How? By making you his fiancé. Well, his pretend fiancé at least.

Warnings: (mostly) fluffy smut, unprotected penetrative sex, handjobs, oral (f recieving), creampie, spanking, lots of pining hhhhhh.

A/N: HELLO omg it’s literally been so long since i updated this fic and let me tell you it was so fun to finally write for these characters again!!! thank u for everyone who has sent lovely asks about the first chapter and for waiting so long for the next one! ily and i hope ur all staying safe and well during these crazy times my honeybuns <3<3

"Seokjin," You gasp. "N-not here."

Fingers toy with the hem of the expensive sequin dress you found wrapped up in tissue paper on your bed that morning, edging agonizingly closer to the damp throb between your legs that under normal circumstances would require immediate attention from Seokjin -- if only you weren't in the back seat of one of the Kim's private cars.

"Why not?" Seokjin mumbles against your neck, the way his plump lips nibble the lobe of your ear making you shiver. "I know you're wet for me. Nobody has to know if I just..."

His palm cups your heat brazenly, and you have to bite back a moan, cheeks flushing when Seokjin chuckles low and gravelly against your ear. Your arrangement as you've taken to calling it has been going on for a few weeks now, Seokjin dragging you along to family outings and fancy dinners as his fiance and rewarding you with sensual rendezvous and get-to-know-me time in between.

"I know you want it, sweetheart." He drags a finger down your panties and you whimper. "Just say the magic word, and I'll give it to you."

Oh god. You are so weak for his touch, and he knows it. The things Seokjin's tousled hair and cocky smirk make you feel should be illegal. Anyone would think you have the sex drive of a teenage boy, constantly eager to jump his bones just looking at him. But not now, not here. The windows might be tinted, but you are sure you spot the chauffeur's eyes drifting to the backseat in the rear view mirror.

"Sir," The driver coughs, eyes trained politely to the steering wheel. The car has stopped at some point, not that either of you noticed. "We have arrived."

Seokjin flashes you a satisfied look as his hand reluctantly slips out from beneath your skirt so he can fish around in his back pocket for his leather wallet, throwing a couple fifty dollar bills on the front seat as a tip. "Thanks, Pierre."

You're still busy straightening your skirt when the car door opens and a black-gloved hand helps you out onto the sidewalk. You can't help but blush ferociously when you meet the driver's knowing gaze, a smirk playing on his lips. "No problem, sir'"

"I'll take it from here." Seokjin nods to the driver and slips his elbow through yours. Pierre lifts his black cap, before getting back into his shiny Mercedes and whizzing off into the city traffic.

Your legs shake in your stilettos, partly because you're not used to walking in anything other than your beat up converse but mostly because of the reassuring smile Seokjin sends your when when he see's you glancing around nervously.

You're in a upper class part of town, the street lined with shiny black cabs and designer boutiques with French names you can't even pronounce. You can't help but feel out of place, like the eyes of every passerby see right through your immaculate rich facade and see you for the ordinary kitchen girl that you really are.

"Don't worry," He leans down, pressing his lips to your ear so only you can hear as he pretends to adjust your diamond necklace. At least you think its diamond...what would you know? "You look beautiful. Just relax."

A small smile plays on your lips. Beautiful. It makes your heart flutter like a butterfly between cupped palms, even though you know it shouldn't. That's been happening a lot lately, and you don't like how easily he can make you melt. Snap out of it!  You tell yourself.

Still, his reassurance makes you feel more at ease than before, and you straighten your shoulders with a new found confidence as Seokjin takes your hand in his, even if it is just for show. You have to make the fiance thing believable, after all.

"You still haven't told me where we're going." It's true -- Seokjin is good at keeping secrets. Probably because he knew that you'd say no to most of the crazy situations he seemed persistent on putting you in.

"Don't hate me," Seokjin eyes you carefully. You narrow your eyes, with a nod that says go on. "Hyejin wants us to go dress shopping."

"You bought me this new dress this morning?" You smooth down the front of the floaty summer dress that hugs your figure.

He coughs, eyes averting yours. "Wedding dress shopping."

That's when you come to a stop on the sidewalk outside of an elegant white-brick bazaar, eyes widening at the glaringly white dresses styled on mannequins that stare at you from behind the floor to ceiling windows.

Seoul Bridal - For All Your Wedding Dress Needs.

Your blood runs cold. Oh no.

You grip his hand tighter. "I'm going to kill you."

Seokjin is already pushing open the door with a chuckle that mingles with the tiny tinkling bell that rings out and announces your arrival. Too late to kick off your stiletto's and run.

"After you, sweetheart."

"Welcome to Seoul Bridal," A pretty lady with curly hair in a striped pant suit welcomes you inside with a hand shake. Her name tag says Wheein, and you can't take your eyes off the red lipstick on her teeth. "It's nice to finally meet you, Seokjin."

"The pleasure is all mine," Seokjin responds, voice deep with a suave charm that makes the girls behind the reception desk giggle unashamedly. For some reason you have to resist sending a glare their way, not missing the way your chest burns when Seokjin flashes them a dazzling smile. "Hyejin said you had some ideas for Y/N's wedding dress?"

"Of course. We have everything ready. We just need to get some measurements first." She smiles at him courteously, then whips a tape measure out of her trouser pocket which she wastes no time in wrapping around your waist. "Arms up, please." She murmurs as she slides the glasses balanced on top of her head behind her ears so she can get a better measurement of your shoulder width. You send an eyeroll Seokjin's way when you hear him snort bemusedly at the sudden man handling.

While Wheein bites the cap off a pen with her teeth and scribbles down the size ratio of your waist to your hips for future reference, you finally get the chance to take in the boutique properly. The sweet scent from the bouquets of white roses all over the room fills the air and the walls are painted a blush pink to match the faux fur rugs. Streams of sunlight pour through the chiffon curtains making the racks of blindingly white wedding dresses of all sizes and designs glow invitingly.

"Which one am I trying on?" You ask absentmindedly, nodding towards the sea of satin and lace hanging delicately from pink hangers.

Wheein looks up confused, then her nose wrinkles with distaste."Oh, none of these darling. You deserve the very best." She starts walking quickly towards a back room, heels click clacking as she beckons you to follow her with a crook of her finger. "We received some luxury designs from two of our best designers in London and Milan just this morning -- oh! And it looks like the dress from Paris just arrived!"

She shuffles you and Seokjin into a private dressing room, seating you on an elegant couch upholstered with grey velvet. Seokjin picks up one of the gossip magazines on the coffee table and helps himself to the complimentary cupcakes, all while you wring your hands together nervously, Wheein emerging from the large closet with three white garment bags.

"Here they are! Oh, how exciting." She claps her hands together with a beaming grin in your direction. With a flick of her wrist she removes all three bags, revealing three of the most beautiful dresses you've ever seen. You must look dazzled, because Wheein crosses her arms triumphantly. "Hyejin knew you'd like them. Just wait until you see the veils..."

She disappears into another room, and you're left gawking at the garments set in front of you like a goldfish. Fingers trembling, you reach out and touch the first one. It has a giant poofy skirt, like something you imagine a princess would wear, and you imagine how it would float down the aisle like a real life cloud. The second is more slinky, with shiny beads littering the bodice that glint silver beneath the glow of the chandelier and the third is made from gorgeous lace that shows skin in all the right places.

"How much did these cost?" You hiss to Seokjin, ripping your hand away like your touch alone might burn a hole in the fabric.

"Hm?" He says through a mouthful of cake, eyes widening when he takes in the dresses for himself." Too much, probably. Hyejin went a little over board but honestly, these aren't as bad as I was expecting." Seokjin runs his hand over the lace one, and nods approvingly. "You should've seen the rejects. One had a trail longer than my monster coc-"

"I can't try on any of these!" You splutter, arms hugging your torso. They're too beautiful for someone like me, is what you want to say, but you don't. "I'll look dumb."

"Just do it." He leans back against the wall with a roll of his eyes. Like this is all nothing to him. "It's not like you actually have to get married in one of them."

Ouch. His words sting, even though you know they're true, and you're reminded of the real reason you came here in the first place. It makes your stomach turn, how he can go from the sort of sweet Seokjin you know when you're alone to the cold, arrogant rich guy in the drop of a hat.

You turn away so he doesn't see your frown, when you catch a glimpse of something white in the corner, poking out from beneath a dust sheet. Your curiosity gets the better of you, and before you can help it you're crossing the room and ripping the sheet away to reveal another dress; except this one makes something in your chest flutter.

It's simpler than the others. Tiny white roses are stitched into the sleeves, the neckline dipping into a V shape where the bouncy chiffon skirt meets the satin waistband. It's straight forward, uncomplicated. Just how you like it.

"Have you decided which one you want to try on first?" Wheein's shrill voice calls, but it's drowned out by the blood pumping through your ears.

"That one." You breathe, pointing at the dress that you can't help but reaching out to touch.

"That one? Are you sure, darling, I'm sure we can find something more fancy--"

"No!" It comes out too loud, and you cover it with a cough, turning to send her a pleading smile. "I mean, no, no thank you. This one, please. I want to try it on."

"You know, when Hyejin told me Seokjin was finally getting married I just knew you would have to be something special." Wheein says once you're safely alone in the dressing room, away from prying eyes and mischievous ears. "Suck in."

"Hm?" It's all you manage to get out as you're strapped into a boned under-corset that feels like its trying to squeeze every last breath out of you. You're so close you can smell her floral perfume.

"It's just that I've had so many wedding dresses made that never made it to the aisle. Honestly I was starting to think Seokjin would never settle down..." She trails off, lip tugged between her teeth as she helps you step into the floaty white dress, tying the belt into a bow at your waist before stepping back to admire her handy work. "But now I see what made him change his mind. You make a beautiful couple."

"Oh." You realise she's looking at you, a blush creeping up your neck. "Right."

If only she knew the truth.

You start to turn towards the mirror, but she plants a hand on your shoulder hurriedly. "Nuh uh. No peeking yet." You feel your face drop. "Don't look so worried. It looks perfect. He's going love it."

"I...I have to show him? Now?" You shift uncomfortably. The shoes are rubbing your soles and the sleeves sort of itch. "Isn't it bad luck for the groom to see the wedding dress before the big day?" You ask sheepishly.

"This is just the rought blueprint," Wheein reassures. "It doesn't count."

"I..." Your voice breaks. The thought of Seokjin sat out there with his roaming eyes seeing you in this dress makes your stomach churn. "I'm nervous."

"Don't be. Save that for the big day." She bites her lip, stepping back to look you up and down like there's something missing. Her eyes light up, and she digs around in a leather trunk in the corner to retrieve a sparkly tiara which she tucks neatly into your hair. "There. Perfect. Now lets not keep him waiting, hm?"

"Holy shit."

The words leave your mouth before you can think better of it.

Your reflection stares back at you, wide eyed and awe stricken, except it doesn't look like you at all.

The dress is beautiful. There's no denying it. It hugs your waist perfectly and the skirt waterfalls down to your ankles in just the right way. Wheein tugged your hair over your shoulders so the sweetheart neckline shows off just the right amount of collar bone, tiara sparkling beneath the soft light. A matching veil partially covers your face, and you've never felt more beautiful than you do now.

It's almost enough to make you want to believe that this is all real. That you're marrying Seokjin. That you get to walk down the aisle looking like...this.

"I don't see why I have to get all dressed up, Wheein, it's no big deal -- woah."

The door flies open, and your eyes snap up to meet Seokjin's in the mirror.

He has half of his seventh cupcake hanging out of his slackened mouth, his hair gelled back and tousled to reveal his forehead, and his piercing brown eyes that can't seem to decide where to look, glancing up over your exposed shoulders and down to your ass and back again, like he can't get enough.

He's lost his casual slacks from earlier, seemingly under Wheein's instruction, now clad in a black suit and matching shiny-toe'd shoes. His tie hangs slack around his neck, like he tugged it loose, and he fiddles awkwardly with his cuff links as he tries to get a grip over his roaming eyes.

"Y-Y/N you look--"

"Beautiful, right?" Wheein straightens his shirt, fastens his cuff links and knocks him beneath the chin to remind him to close his gawking mouth with a tut. He nods, speechless. "I'll leave you two to talk."

The door shuts behind her, and the room suddenly feels quieter than now you and Seokjin are alone, him on one side of the room, you on the other. You dare to meet his eyes and you find them staring straight at you, the glint that's usually there replaced with a wonder that's soft and gentle around the edges. You melt beneath his gaze.

He clears his throat, scratching a phantom itch at the back of his neck. It's the first time you've seen Seokjin seem sort of...awkward?

"C'mere." His voice is low, filled with something you can't quite put your finger on. "I want to see you."

You have to remember how to get your feet to work, hesitantly putting one in front of the other to cross the room. Seokjin stands with his palms clasped, a small smile playing on his lips as you close the space between you, and you swear you can hear the wedding bells already.

After what feels like ages, you stop a few paces away from him. He steps towards you carefully, flipping the veil out of your eyes like he's done it a million times before.

"Hey." You whisper. You don't know what else to say, but it makes Seokjin laugh and the sound makes your chest squeeze.

He looks dapper in his suit, like a real groom, and as he leans in closer, closer, until there's barely any distance between you, you can smell his cologne.

Your eyes fall shut instinctively. You almost swear when you open them there'll be a pastor and a pair of rings and Seokjin will be saying I do--

"You scrub up pretty well, huh?" His breath tickles your ear, and your eyes snap open to punch him in the chest playfully.

"I could say the same for you, mister."

A thumb grazes your jaw, tucks a piece of hair behind your ear. "Whoever gets to marry you is one lucky bastard."

The pounding in your chest is so loud you're sure the whole store can hear it. His lips are inches from yours, parted and plush. You've kissed them plenty of times before but only in the height of passion. Never like this. Not when his touch feels like a jolt of electricity running straight from his body and right into yours.

Just when you think he's going to give in and close the distance, he turns your face in his palm and plants a peck on your cheek. It's soft, careful. Like he's not really sure of it himself, his hand running through your hair before he takes a couple steps back with a shake of his head. Like he almost did something he shouldn't have.

"What time do you have to be at work?"

The question breaks you out of your trance. You realize he's staring at you expectantly, waiting for an answer. "Oh--not until this evening." You manage to choke out.

"Good. Then you're all mine for the afternoon." He grabs another cupcake from the stand and disappears behind one of the fitting room curtains. "Hurry and give the dress back to Wheein and I'll call Pierre to come pick us up."

"Where are we going?"

You hear him snort. "You'll see."

"This is where you wanted to take me?"

The late afternoon sun sparkles on the surface of the Paradise lake like diamonds. It's peaceful here at this time of day, the gardeners already disappearing into the lounge for a late lunch, rows of pastel canoes tied up to the dock bobbing in time with the chirping birds.

"Well?" Seokjin huffs impatiently. He's stood in the hull of a dark blue canoe that he stole from the boat shed — or borrowed, as he put it, since everything here belongs to him anyway — hand extended towards you. "Aren't you getting in?"

You narrow your eyes and nod towards the sign that says NO BOATS ON THE LAKE AFTER 4PM in curly gold letters. "Isn't that breaking the rules?"

Seokjin raises a brow, jangling a set of keys. "I own this place remember? Besides, I stole the boat worker's keys so we can stay for as long as we want."

The breeze ruffles your skirt, a shiver running down your spine when you peer over the edge of the dock and see your sheepish reflection staring up at you from the water, rippling and watery around the edges. You never did like deep water, and the thought of getting in that rocking capsule of death makes your stomach churn.

"It looks cold," You point out, grimacing at the clear blue water. "What if we fall in? Do you even know how to steer this thing?"

Seokjin shoots you a look, like you just said the dumbest thing he's ever heard. "Pfft. Of course. I've been taking rowing lessons since I could toddle."

Of course he has. You roll your eyes. Rich kids, huh?

"Oh come on, it's fine!" He jumps up and down as if to demonstrate just how safe, but the boat just rocks manically side to side and he has to grab the dock to steady himself before he plunges straight into the lake. He flashes you a sheepish smile. "See?"

You cross your arms, unconvinced. "Yeah, I think I'll pass."

Seokjin slumps into the canoe with an exaggerated sigh. "Well goddamn, I'm sorry for wanting to do something nice. We don't get much alone time so I thought—" He waves his hand at you in frustration, starting to unravel the rope keeping the boat secured to the dock. "You know what, fuck it, I'll just go by myself—"

"Wait!" Something about the disappointed frown on his face makes you change your mind. Fuck it. "I'm getting in."

He pauses, and then his lips curve up into a small smile. Not his usual too-big-too-polite smile; the kind of smile you reserve for special moments. The glint in his eye is back, and if your legs weren't already jelly, they are now.

"I knew you couldn't resist me." He stands up and puffs out his chest, offering you his hand again, which you take this time.

"Don't be an idiot." You flush. "The lake just looks inviting today."

"Whatever you say, sweetheart." He chuckles, before his arm wraps around your waist so he can throw you over his shoulder and tip you into the canoe.

"Seokjin!" Your knuckles whiten with how hard you grip the edge of the boat that tilts left to right sickeningly with the impact of your limp body being man handled into the hull. "Be careful!"

"Okay, okay. Just sit back. Relax. Enjoy the view..." You wobble over to the wooden seat opposite him, grateful for the way the boat balances out on the surface of the water. "Let me take care of everything."

You have to admit the view is beautiful. Dangling your hand over the edge of the boat, you let your fingers swirl through the cool water, and listen to the hum of a speedboat nearby. The sun has turned the water a yellowish hue, like liquid gold.

When you look back up at Seokjin, the sight of his lightly perspiring skin glowing beneath the stream of light as he unties the left oar practically takes your breath away. You almost want to reach out and see what it would feel like to touch his cheek, run your hand down his chest where his flesh peeks out from the top of his dress shirt...

"Ah, shit!"

There's a light splash and you're snapped out of your trance, a pair of sheepish eyes staring back at you.

Yeah. Never mind.

Seokjin peers over the edge of the boat, watching as one of the oars floats into the middle of the lake. The canoe has already floated just out of reach of the dock, so without it you are stranded.

You let out a panicked groan. "I thought you knew how to steer this thing?"

"I do!" He grunts, a flush creeping up his neck. "Besides, I said I knew how, not that I was good at it."

He fumbles with the latch beneath his seat which opens to reveal a secret compartment, inside of which are a pair of life jackets, and, much to your relief, a spare oar.

"Aha! We're saved." Seokjin pulls it out and waves it at you with a look of satisfaction.

You roll your eyes and settle back into your seat as Seokjin grasps both oars and starts to row. "Wow, my hero."

"Don't thank me too hard." He snorts.

You shoot him a look, and he breaks into laughter, the sound melodic enough to have you joining in and before you know it you're both chortling uncontrollably. It feels easy, nice.

Your laughter dies out into a hazy giggle, and you shut your eyes, letting the sun caress your face.

"You're nothing like how I expected you to be, y'know."

Seokjin splashes you gently with the oar. "What did you expect?"

"Hmm, I don't know. Stuck up, selfish rich dude with an ego complex?" You snort, but Seokjin's chuckles have disappeared now. His brows are furrowed when you open your eyes, and you feel sort of bad for ruining the ease that had settled between you. You shift awkwardly. "Can you blame me?"

"Huh," The boat floats beneath the shade of a weeping willow, the scent of white blossoms and freshly cut grass filling your senses, and Seokjin hauls the oars into the boat so he can rest for a while. "You know, it pisses me off that everyone sees me that way. I don't want to be that guy."

"Why?" You're surprised by his honesty. There's a sincerity in his voice that you've never heard before.

"I just...I just try and fit in. To make everyone happy, I guess."

He avoids your gaze, looking out over the lake with his chin in his palm and his shoulders slumped. Your heart twists.

"If it helps, I don't see you as that guy anymore." You shrug. "When we first met I thought you were just like everyone else at Paradise. But you're...different from everyone around here. Nice. Underneath all the designer of course." That earns a snort from him. "Why do you hide that side of yourself?"

"You're hardly one to talk about hiding, kitchen girl." He crosses his legs and points a finger at you. "One minute you're calling me a douche and shooting arrows like an Olympian and the next you're getting all insecure when I call you pretty or something."

You feel a blush rise in your cheeks. Insecure? Is that how he sees you?

"Do not." You mumble.

"You act like you're so much better than me for being good, and then have a fit when I say something nice."

"Well, I never asked you to call me pretty. That wasn't part of the deal." You pick at an invisible piece of lint on your skirt. "I figured you were humouring me."

Seokjin's eyes turn serious. He leans forward, like he's about to take your hand or something but changes his mind.

"I know...that what we have is weird. I know I ask you for a lot, and we're supposed to be strictly friends with benefits but—" He sighs, trying to find the right words."I like spending time with you. Like this. Just us."

You feel giddy, suddenly shy beneath his gaze. "I do too."

"And I always mean what I say, Y/N." A breeze ruffles his hair, and he shoots you a grin. "Like I said earlier, whoever gets to call you theirs is one lucky bastard."

I'll be yours, you want to say, but you know it would be futile; someone like Seokjin could never belong to you, and that's exactly why you don't belong here.

"Oh shit."

Before you can respond, Seokjin's expression is turning grave as you both watch with matching horror as the spare oar splashes into the lake.

"Please tell me there's another one underneath there." You nod towards the storage compartment with wide eyes.

"Nope." He scratches his neck awkwardly and shrugs."That was our only one."

"Then shouldn't we call for help or something?!"

"No, I have an idea. You lean over the edge and I'll hold your legs."

"Me?! Why can't you do it."

"Because I'm heavier, duh? I'll tip the boat." He links his fingers together pleadingly. "At least try, or else we'll be stuck out here all night!"

You cup your hand around your watch face to block the glaring sun. Your kitchen shift starts in forty five minutes and you can't afford to be late. Namjoon will certainly fire you on the spot.

"Fine!" You wobble to your feet and slide over to his side of the boat. "But you better not let go, or I'll kill you."

Seokjin salutes. "Scouts honour."

Before you can change your mind, Seokjin has both hands wrapped around your thighs and you're sent hurtling head first over the edge of the boat, face inches from the water's surface.

With a grunt you extend your arm, and your fingertips barely brush the oar, sending it further away.

"Fuck!" You call over your shoulder. Seokjin is red in the face with extortion, and you feel the boat rock as you lean further out. "I can't go any more or we'll tip!"

"Just a little more!" Seokjin yells back. "You've almost got it."

"Okay...almost..." You shift a little more and aha! The oar is just within your grasp! Until you hear a low buzzing coming from behind you, and you hear Seokjin yelp, his grip on your legs starting to slacken... "Jin? what are you doing?"

"Get off me!" He yells, letting go of you in favour of slapping something on his shoulder wildly, and before you can give him a piece of your mind the canoe loses its balance and tips upside down, sending the pair of you hurtling into the lake.

You manage to hold your breath before you go under. The water is an icy shock on such a warm summers day, your limbs flying into action and scrambling wildly until you break the surface and take a heaving breath.

Wiping the tendrils of dripping hair from your eyes, you glance around for Seokjin, but he's no where to be seen.

"Seokjin?" You call, panic evident in your voice. "Where are you?"

Bubbles appear on the surface of the water, and before you can let out a sigh of relief, a hand grabs your ankle and yanks you back under the water.

When you surface, choking and spluttering, you're beneath the cover of the upturned canoe. Seokjin grins at you, whole and in one piece and perfectly alive, and you can't help but feel pranked.

"Hey, sweetheart." He drawls, running his fingers through his soaking hair. The shadow of the rippling water reflects on the underside of the canoe, turning his skin a pale blue. "Fancy seeing you here."

"Seokjin!" You yell and he jumps when you start splashing him wildly. "What the fuck was that?"

He shields his face with his hands."It was a bee! I'm allergic."

"So? I was hanging out of a fucking canoe!"

"Oops." He's chortling now, and it echoes beneath the canoe. "Did I let go?"

You splash him again, and he grabs your hands with his to stop you from sending another tsunami his way. His palms are warm compared to your clammy ones and his eyes are watching you fondly, but that just pisses you off even more. "Okay! Okay! I get it, I'm sorry okay?"

"You idiot! Now I'm all wet and I'm totally going to smell like trout at work and—"

"Just shut up for a second would you?" A hand brushes the tangles of wet hair from your cheek, and before you know it a pair of plump lips are crashing against your own.

"Mmf!"

You're surprised at first, but there's something so tender in the way his hand cups your chin to pull you closer, how his arm curls around your waist, and before you know it you're grabbing him by the collar and kissing him back wildly like the world is ending and you're the last two people on earth.

"You're kinda cute when you're mad." Is what Seokjin whispers against your lips when he pulls back, out of breath.

"Oh." You breathe, a smile beginning to play on your lips. "Okay."

It's like you're in your own little bubble. Just Seokjin and you. You and Seokjin.

Until it bursts.

"Holy shit! Are you guys okay?" The sun is glaringly bright when the canoe is ripped away from your heads, and you have to squint through your fingers to see the figure swimming towards you.

"M-mr Kim?"

Seokjin jumps back from your body at the sound of his title, his hand letting go of your wrist. It falls into the water limply.

"That's me." He coughs, straightening his tie, like he isn't soaking wet and it's somehow going to make him look more professional.

"I didn't know you were rowing today..." Your eyes focus, and you instantly recognise Taehyung, the Paradise lifeguard. You have met a couple times at staff meetings.

Shit. You turn your face to the side, and hope he won't look to closely.

"I wasn't." Seokjin deadpans, gesturing to his soaking appearance. "Y/N and I thought we would go for a swim."

"I— oh." You muffle a chuckle at Seokjin's sarcasm and the wide eyes of the life guard who seems utterly stunned.

It doesn't seem so funny when he turns to you suddenly, eyes scrutinising, and offers you his elbow.

"Here take my arm, we have to get you two dry."

You glance at Seokjin carefully, but he just nods for you to go ahead, so you take Taehyung's arm and let him pull you back to the dock, Seokjin leisurely kicking on his back behind you like he doesn't have a care in the world.

Once you're safely on dry land, Taehyung disappears into the boat shed before returning with a pair of towels which he drapes around your shoulders with a concerned look.

"Take these. You aren't hurt, miss?"

"No." Seokjin answers for you with a roll of his eyes. There's a bite in his tone. Is he...jealous?

"Good, this is why we say no boats after 4..." Taehyung sends Seokjin a stern look, and you feel the tension rise when he just clicks his tongue in response. "I should really report this to my supervisor."

"We won't do it again," Seokjin's eyes bulge when you grab Taehyung's forearm. The lifeguard seems surprised himself, looking you in the eyes for the first time. You turn on a sickly sweet tone and bat your lashes. "We can keep this between us, hm?"

"I...I suppose so." Taehyung coughs, but then his eyes narrow. "Hold on a second. Do I know you from somewhere?"

Your mouth turns dry. "I..."

"No!" Seokjin jumps in between you, wrapping a protective arm around your shoulder. "She's not from around here."

His face has turned a deep shade of red, and you can feel his heart beating rapidly against your back. Anyone would think he was embarrassed. Then again, what did you expect? You are just a kitchen girl after all.

You nod slowly. He sighs with relief. "No. We've never met."

Taehyung scratches his chin, stepping back to get a better look at you. "It's just you look super familiar..."

"We have to be going now!" Seokjin stands up suddenly and grabs you by the hand. He squeezes extra tight, swinging your interlocked fingers where Taehyung can clearly see them. "Thanks, uh...Taehyung?"

"My pleasure, Mr. Kim." The lifeguard looks startled by Seokjin's sudden departure, but steps back to let you pass. "Be careful next time okay?"

"Yup, we will kid."

"Thanks!" You call over your shoulder, as Seokjin is already dragging you away from the lake and up the steps to the grand veranda that lines the resort.

"Thanks?" He rolls his eyes. "Y/N, the lake is like a foot deep, it's not like we were gonna drown."

"He was nice..." You bump his shoulder playfully. "Why? You jealous?"

His cheeks flush pink. "No! Of course not, I just...didn't like the way he looked at you."

You reach the top of the steps, and Seokjin slows down to a leisurely walk once he's in the clear. From here you can see the whole of the resort, sprawling greenery and luxury living in all its glory.

"Speaking of, that was a close one." You laugh. "He totally almost recognised me."

"Yeah." Seokjin laughs too, but then his face drops. "You're right. That was close."

"Seokjin?"

He stops, and turns towards you. His hand drops to your waist, lifting you up so you're sat on the balcony's edge, and then his mouth is capturing yours once again.

This time something feels different. It's desperate, but timid. Passionate but broken. It leaves you breathless.

He pulls away first.

"Jin, what just happened—"

"I..." He swallows thickly and looks away. "I shouldn't have done that. I've gotta go. I'm sorry."

It's then, as he turns and hurries down the back staircase towards the plaza and leaves you all alone on the veranda, that you realise you had never let go of his hand, not even for a second.

"I had fun tonight." Seokjin says as he drops you off at the Paradise gates after an evening spent perusing high fashion wedding venue magazines with Hyejin over tea and finger sandwiches. "Hyejin looked like she was on the verge of a stroke when I suggested walking down the aisle to The Thong Song."

Seokjin boasts a simple T-shirt and tailored pants tonight, the turtle neck draped over his shoulder unnecessary on such a warm and sticky summer night blessed by the lingering caress of the day's blazing sun. The drive slopes downwards, Seokjin's angular shadow a contrast against the twinkling lights that blur Paradise into a picturesque backdrop of pristine white brick, and a warmth spreads through your chest as he beams at you.

"I thought it was a fine choice," You muse, suppressing a giggle when you think back to the way Hyejin dropped her teacup at Seokjin's suggestion, eye twitching in disgust. "We're not even engaged yet and she already has our entire wedding planned out."

Oops. Seokjin stiffens. Your laughter comes to an abrupt stop, face reddening with embarrassment at your slip up. Of course you aren't engaged. You never will be. At least not to each other.

He's been weird like that, lately. Ever since that day at the lake when he left abruptly, seemingly shaken up, you've been walking on egg shells around him. One wrong word could send him flying away with that same scared look in his eye. And honestly, you still don't understand why.

All you know is that things have been different since you almost got caught at the lake. Sure, you've continued to hook up like normal, but Seokjin seems to be making a conscious effort to be more distant around you. You haven't talked about what happened that afternoon on the veranda, but it's clear something did; Seokjin hasn't kissed you since.

If Seokjin notices your poor word choice, he doesn't mention it. "Pretty sure she has my entire life planned out too." He murmurs almost bitterly, despite his face boasting a smile that doesn't quite meet his eyes. You figure it's better not to press him further.

He walks beside you to the end of the drive in a relative silence that feels all too loud — not awkward per se but filled with a definite unspoken tension that has you hiding behind your hair, eyes trained to the ground because you don't know how you are supposed to look at Seokjin when it was just you and him.

Moments like this, not heightened by passion or under the watchful eyes of his family are rarities. You take a deep breath and try to savour the taste of geraniums which lingers in the air from the gardens and the closest thing to normal you have ever experienced around Seokjin.

Despite the the emotional distance Seokjin seems intent on keeping in place, every physical step seems to edge you closer to him, eyes trained to the way his shoes sidestep until you are practically shoulder to shoulder. Seokjin doesn't so much as look at you as he does so and you are content to think he is too deep in his own thoughts to notice the way your bodies cling to each other like magnets, until the tips of his fingers brush against your palm in a delicate touch that may have been perceived as intimate had he not ripped it away with a pained expression, like he touched an electric fence or something.

You have admit that you felt it too. The spark as they describe it in romance movies. It was more of a tingle really, warm and fuzzy as it fizzed all the way from your hand to a spot in your chest suspiciously close to your heart that was beating a little faster now as you imagine how it would feel if he took your hand in his.

Except he doesn't. And when you glance up at him he is no longer engaged with his own thoughts but rather staring at you with a questioning look, brows slightly furrowed, and embarrassment replaces the fuzz in your veins when you consider for a moment that perhaps he was reading your mind and the completely inappropriate thoughts for a fake bride to have for her fake husband along with it.

The flush that caresses your cheeks is nearly as vibrant as the rose bushes which line the drive, perfectly pruned and as beautiful beneath lantern light as they are in the day and a perfect reminder of your embarrassment as you create a relative distance between your body and his. That way you were sure you could keep your hands - and your thoughts - strictly to yourself.

Far too quickly you find yourself turning the corner onto the street where you always part ways, the stoney gravel evening out into the same boring old scuffed concrete that winds through the entire city, a clear indication that you were leaving behind the Paradise grounds and entering the not so pristine visual of reality.

Usually you were glad to be on your way, sick of talking about neck lines and lace types and the way your shoulders ached from nodding politely at people who got wine drunk on weekdays but tonight you feel like you could keep walking with Seokjin forever in this strange bubble of unspoken words.

But you know as soon as he stops dead beside you that the bubble has already burst, floating away just out of your grasp like the false reality you live at Paradise.

"I'll be going then." It's quiet out here, not a trace of the music from Jazz night at the bar or the laughter of couples crossing the plaza to their suites after a few too many Chardonnays. Seokjin opens his mouth and then closes it again while you fidget awkwardly. "Thanks for a good night."

The way you say it sounds like he took you on a real date, one that you were supposed to thank him for. It's too late by the time you realize that a boundary has been overstepped when Seokjin doesn't return the genuine smile you shoot him as you turn to leave.

"Wait!" The click of your shoes against the sidewalk halts at the serious husk in his tone, jarringly loud against the silence. "I need to ask you something."

His face is partially lit by the street lamp you find yourself beneath, casting half of his face in a golden glow that emphasizes the shadow of his lashes against his cheeks when he closes his eyes, as if to briefly collect his words.

Despite your better judgement, probably blinded by the normality you had fallen into, you press him further. "What is it?"

"Listen Y/N..." Seokjin scratches the back of his neck and you shift awkwardly in front of him, chest suddenly tightening with a niggling dread. "You haven't told anyone about us have you?"

"Us?" Your eyes widen. Since when did Seokjin start referring to you as a pair? You tilt your head quizzically. "I mean, your sister and your parents know —

"No, I mean the things that we...do in private." The summer evening suddenly turns chilly. Seokjin must notice when your face drops, the way you hug your arms to try and keep hold of the warmth that had practically singed each of your nerve endings just a moment ago.

"Things?" You splutter. "Is that all they are to you?"

You can't help it. The way Seokjin talks when you are intimate, the way he kissed you so desperately that day on the veranda -- it made it feel like those moments meant more to him. He was damn convincing - when he told you that he wanted you, you believed him - and you can't help but feel cheated.

Seokjin's brow simply furrows, flummoxed by your sudden outburst. "Yeah, I mean we had an agreement — isn't that all they are to you?"

An agreement.

The way he says it sounds like your relationship is strictly business. As if he's paying you for a service - which, in his own way, you suppose he is. Sure, you knew he wasn't really going to fall in love with you in the way he told his family he loved you but you thought he at least felt something — no, you were sure he had at the lake. Maybe you were just confusing pleasure with intimacy.

Still, the way his finger points at you accusingly makes a hot rage rise in your chest but you simply take a shaky breath and plaster the closest thing to a grin on your features as you can muster.

"Of course they are." The sweetness in your voice is a little too forced, but it goes unnoticed on Seokjin who lets out a sigh of relief. "None of this means anything. I know that."

"Good. Then we're on the same page..." He still looks slightly unconvinced - you can just make out the way he narrows his eyes doubtfully in the dim light - but he doesn't have time to press further before a black car rolls into the drive and he clasps your wrist to pull you across the paving and into the shadows. "Watch out!"

Seokjin suddenly yanks you closer to him, your chest nearly pressed up to his. You almost mumble a thanks, idiotic enough to think that his only motive is to prevent you getting flattened by a Mercedes Benz nearly invisible in the night if not for the crunch of tyres against gravel.

But then you feel his breath hitch when he catches a glimpse of your white kitchen uniform reflected in one of the tinted car windows, sending a salute towards the security guard in the drivers seat with fingers crossed behind his back, and you silently condemn yourself for thinking he cared about anything other than his reputation even for a second. You go numb.

You look between your bodies where your hand dangles limply in his grasp. Just a moment ago you were envisioning how it would feel for him to hold your hand in his, the way his skin brushed yours enough to give you shivers. Now it just made the hollow ache in your chest throb with a cold emptiness.

Seokjin strains his neck, only releasing you from his hold when the glow of headlights disappears around a corner and you are smothered by darkness again.

Seokjin's sigh of relief stings. The words never leave his lips but you can tell what he was thinking. Phew, now I don't have to explain why I, almighty Kim Seokjin, was conversing with a staff member after hours. Lucky escape!

A smile appears on his face, as if you were supposed to share his relief. "So, same time tomorrow?"

You feel yourself stagger away from him in shock. Seokjin is many things but you didn't think he was heartless. It's enough to send you over the edge.

"Clearly we are not on the same page." You spit. "Actually, you know what? No. I'm busy tomorrow."

Seokjin scoffs, running a hand through his hair. "Doing what?"

"I have things to do." Your emphasis on the word makes his eyes widen,

"Oh great!" He barely raised his voice before glances behind him warily, making sure there was no one around to see him getting heated. When he turns back his voice is nothing but a harsh whisper. "And what do you expect me to tell my family, huh?"

"Tell them that your fiancé to be had to go do the job they actually pay her to do." The way he laughs breathily makes your fists clench at your sides as you turn on your heels and stalk down the street before he can see the way your face reddens with a combination of hurt and anger, though not before you are calling over your shoulder despite knowing it would only fuel the fire. "Unless you're too embarrassed to tell them who I really am."

"You don't seem to mind when you're cashing in your favours." He calls after you, hands on hips with a bitterness lacing his voice that makes your heart twist painfully.

You hear the way your pulse quickens, the lump in your throat growing bigger and bigger as you stop dead. "What?"

"Y/N, I didn't mean that I —"

"So that's what this is? You are embarrassed of me?" Your voice raises incredulously.  "Is that why you've been so weird with me since Taehyung almost recognised me at the lake? You're scared someone will snitch on you to your rich friends?"

"No, I--"

"No what, Jin?" You let out a hollow laugh. "I thought I meant more to you than that."

Seokjin pinches the bridge of his nose. "It's just you and I...we could never be anything more, you know that right? I don't want you to get the wrong idea. We don't come from the same background and it would be..." He pauses. "Inappropriate."

"It's too late, anyway. Forget I said anything." Tears streak your cheeks hotly and you hide behind your hair, determined to hide your weakness from him. "This was a mistake."

You start to walk away, but then you're running, as fast as you can away from Paradise and all the hurt. The sound of Seokjin's tennis shoes hitting the concrete picks up as he follows you down the path, calling your name, and for a moment you think he's going to comfort you. Tell you that he was sorry and that none of this was meaningless to him after all.

But he doesn't.

"I'll text you!" Is the last thing he calls before you disappear around the corner out of sight. You want to sneak a look over your shoulder, see him standing there at the end of the street beneath the street light.

Instead you resist, letting the bitterness pooling in your stomach rise up and burn your throat like bile. "Don't bother!"

Either he listened or he didn't mean it when he said he would text you.

The anger that ran hot through your bloodstream after your fight with Seokjin has faded to nothing but an indescribable emptiness and regret.

You haven't heard from him in three days. That is a long time where Seokjin is concerned and completely out of character.

Even on normal days, when you had a day off from pretending to be his fiancé, Seokjin would find a way to make you laugh by sending you a low angle selfie from the dinner table at one of his father's business conferences or a cheeky message to let you know he'd just seen you walk past the golf court wearing the red sundress that he liked.

You couldn't remember when Seokjin became a normal part of your day. Just like brushing your teeth or washing your hair, you had become almost expectant of a vibration against your thigh at work or the ping! of your ringtone before you went to sleep or even a heated make out behind the restaurant when you just couldn't wait any longer.

So when it all suddenly came to a stop, you were sure you were going crazy. All you were left with was a feeling of emptiness, as if something vital was missing.

It wasn't even as if he owed you anything, not really - it was true that the romance wasn't real and even the sex was just sex to him; but at some point you had to admit you had crossed some kind of invisible barrier. In between lying to his family, public "dates" flavoured by champagne and hanging off his forearm at celebratory cocktail parties, you and Seokjin had become friends.

(Sort of. If you ignored the parts where his lips made you lose your breath or the night's that ended with his head between your legs.)

So god forbid you expected something from him after your fight the other night. A sign that he cared, if even a little bit. An apology for the way he'd deliberately tried to hurt you.

That's how you find yourself checking your phone anxiously on your kitchen shift breaks, refreshing your inbox obsessively and trying to ignore the heaviness weighing down your chest with each passing hour without even so much as one of the cheesy emojis he used way too frequently to be ironic lighting up your screen.

He even stopped dropping by the restaurant under the guise of a casual lunch like he usually did. You found yourself on edge, breath fogging up the glass of the window with your disappointment every time you heard the door zip open and you rushed to greet him, only to be met with someone utterly not Kim Seokjin.

You thought you saw his broad figure dipping into one of the other restaurants across the plaza instead one afternoon as you left work and you couldn't help but wonder if he shamelessly flirted with the kitchen staff there, too.

It hurts knowing that it was so easy for him to cut you out of his life completely when he had become such a constant part of yours. It hurts knowing that he probably wasn't even thinking of you when he was the only thing on your mind.

And to make matters worse, it seems that the tight smiles and vacant nods you shoot Jimin as he divulges the latest and greatest Paradise gossip he overheard while serving at some fancy dinner party last night didn't do a good job at hiding the melancholy gloom which hangs over your head.

He's still talking as you swipe your cards to check out of work, charmingly holding the door ajar for you to slip outside the restaurant where you told Jungkook you'd wait for him to join you.

The air is cooler than expected against your face, the first time that summer where the sky is covered by splotches of grey cloud that refuse to let any blue peek through like an ugly patchwork quilt that mirrors your ugly mood.

"Y/N, didn't your hear me? Mr Kim's wife literally grabbed him by the balls and threw him out of the building when she caught him cheating with the waitress — wait, are you okay?"

Jimin is already half way down the limestone stairs, too caught up in his own dramatic storytelling to notice the way you stand rigid at the top. The phone in your palm is lit up with the same three words that have haunted you all day — NO NEW MESSAGES — but Jimin's question breaks your trance for a moment.

"Huh? No, I'm fine." You assure, slipping the device into your back pocket, swallowing thickly and mustering up a watery smile you hope will appease him before he can ask any more questions.

It doesn't work.

"You've been acting weird all day." Your legs feel wobbly as you close the distance between you, like the very foundations of your body are beginning to give in to the weight that has set up camp in your chest no matter how hard you try to ignore it.

"I have?" Jimin is peering at you with narrowed eyes, not malicious necessarily but inquisitive. They narrow further when you sigh shakily, averting your gaze to the shirtless gardener who mows the green lawns that spread out as far as the eye can see into perfect lines, counting the distant rose bushes as a distraction from the impending tears that have begun to well. "I don't want to talk about it."

Jimin throws an arm around your shoulder a little too roughly to be comforting, following your stagnant gaze. "Damn he's kinda cute." The lack of witty remark from you when he lands a jokey punch to your shoulder seems to finally perk Jimin's attention. "Tell me, are you and Mr Kim Seokjin having trouble in Paradise?"

Jimin lets out a snort at his own pun before he spots the sullen look on your face, covering his impending chuckle with a cough and releasing you from his grasp to sling his hands in his pockets awkwardly. "Oh shit, really?"

You simply sniff in response, allowing that to be confirmation enough, slumping down onto the grand staircase and letting your face fall into your hands.

Jimin plonks down beside you, sidling up until your knees touch, the simple act of comfort making the tears that had been threatening to emerge all day prick hotly at the corners of your eyes.

"I messed up, Jimin." Your voice is muffled by your palms but that doesn't mask the way it wavers slightly, Jimin's hand immediately rubbing soothing circles into your back. "I think he's mad at me."

"Why?"

"Because I basically told him that I kind of have feelings for him—"

"You did what?" Jimin grabs you by the elbow, alerting the atention of a guy in a velour tuxedo leaving the restaurant who gives the hot tears staining your cheeks a funny look. "Hold up, go back. You have feelings for Seokjin?"

Even with vision blurred by tears you can see the wide eyed expression on Jimin's face. You cross your arms in a pout. "Well you don't need to say it like that."

"Like what?"

"Like the idea is completely crazy or something."

Jimin runs an exasperated hand through his hair. "So you mean the truth?"

It isn't the way he says it so much as the realisation that he is right that stings. You bow your head, a few silent tears rolling down your cheeks until you can taste their saltiness. "I know, I know. I'm not good enough for a person like him, I was stupid—"

Jimin shakes his head gently, placing his palms firmly on both of your shoulders and forcing you to face him head on. "Listen up because I'm about to serve you a cup of piping hot real shit, okay?"

You wipe your nose noisily on your sleeve, giving him a curt nod. "Okay."

"The reason you and Seokjin will never work out has nothing to do with you so I won't accept any of that mopey shit." Jimin shakes you vigorously as if he is knocking some sense into you, and you offer him a tearful giggle. "Truth is, Seokjin can't see a good thing when he has it because there is no room in his rich ass heart for anything other than money and his reputation."

"But—"

"No buts!" Jimin shucks up his sleeves until they cover his hands like paws, using the fabric to dab away your tears, unphased by the growing damp spots on both of his cuffs. "The sooner you realise that Seokjin's issues are not your issues the better."

Your tears are dry now. You're pretty sure Jimin's pep talk ended your momentary wobble but your voice still sounds slightly hoarse when you speak. "It just felt like more when we...you know..." You wave your hands around wildly hoping Jimin will fill in the blank, which he does with a click of his tongue.

"Then you need to stop sleeping with him immediately."

"What?"

"You know what I think?" Jimin links his arm with yours, pulling you alongside him. "I think that you're confusing intimacy with actual feelings."

Maybe he's right. It's natural for emotions to be heightened when Seokjin is making you literally fall apart beneath him, probably for him too which would explain the intimate things he had said. Perhaps all this time you were just confusing loving the way he made you feel for loving...him. After all, you had always thought the regular Seokjin was kind of an asshat at times. Of course you didn't have feelings for him!

"You know what? I think you're right." Jimin raises his eyebrows in surprise, as if he was expecting you to be harder to win around. You slap a palm to your forehead. "I can't believe I actually thought I caught feelings for him for a second."

"Happens to the best of us." Jimin grins. "If I was getting dicked down by that beautiful god of a man then I'd want to have his babies too. Imagine how cute they'd be..."

"Jimin!" You smack him playfully before leaning across to rest your head on his shoulder, his chuckles vibrating against your cheek. "You just basically told me he's an asshole."

"And I stand by that!" He defends, letting his own cheek rest against your hair. "But you can't deny that he is fucking inhumanely gorgeous..."

"Are we talking about Kim Seokjin again?" A dry voice appears somewhere behind, making you jump and pause your laughter. A glance over your shoulder reveals none other than Jungkook, arms crossed and a sullen vibe emanating from the way his thick brows furrow so deeply they almost connect. Come to think of it, he always seems to be moody where Seokjin is involved. Huh.

"Why? Are you gonna try and tell me that he's not that buff again?" Jimin scoffed, stiffening ever so slightly beside you and refusing to even glance in Jungkook's direction.

"No, I just don't see why we have to always talk about him." Jungkook puffs, blowing his bangs out of his eyes bitterly. "Besides, I just saw him outside the kitchen and his body isn't that good. I'd hardly say 'sculpted'."

Huh? Seokjin? Outside the kitchen...

Neither of the boys seem to share your bewilderment, launching into a spat heavy with a tension that had been building long before. "And what would you know, anyway?"

"I go to the gym!" Jungkook flexes his arm, earning a scoff from Jimin to which he frowns. "Look!"

"You saw Seokjin where?"  You breathe, butting into the squabble and drawing two startled looks when you jolt to your feet, wiping off the back of your leggings.

"O-outside the kitchen...why? I assumed he was waiting for you..." Jungkook is wide eyed, blinking with a lack of understanding considering his previous absence. Jimin has already wrapped his hand around your wrist to pin you in place.

"He is?" You nibble your lip.

You imagine him leaning up against the wall outside the kitchen, probably looking at his watch impatiently as he waits for your shift to finish. He never could wait for long so perhaps he'd even already left, storming off to go let his anger out in a game of extremely competitive table tennis with a retired CEO in the lounge.

But there's a chance he is still there and that he was waiting for you and even though every fibre of your being screams that it is a bad idea, you just want to see if it was true. If he really was thinking about you. If you'd misjudged him after all and a part of him did care.

"Y/N this is a bad idea." You're already bounding down the steps when Jimin tugs you back to offer a slice of reality. "Remember what we just talked about? Not catching feelings." He draws the last word out and wiggles his eyebrows which only makes Jungkook even more confused.

"It'll be fine Jimin," You brush him off though it sounds a little like you are pleading with him. Carefully dislodging your wrist from his grip, you plaster a reassuring smile to you face that doesn't seem to appease his anxious foot tapping. "I won't let him get inside my head. I'm not confused anymore, see?"

"Fine. Knock yourself out." Jimin steps back, gesturing for you to go forth which you do far too quickly for his liking, flashing him a thumbs up before turning your back and disappearing down the steps before he can protest any further. "But promise to call me immediately if you get horny feelings again!"

The way your heart thumps in your chest as you speed walk around the building has to be unhealthy.

You slow down as you get closer to the corner that obscures the back of the restaurant from view, taking cover behind a bush pruned into a perfect ball.

There he is.

Your breath hitches. It's almost as if your brain tricked you into believing he was a figment of your imagination these past few days without him. Like you made the whole thing up. But no, here he is and he's breathing and he has blood pumping through him just like you and he's so real that it hits you like a freight train.

For the first time this evening, the sun pokes it's head out from behind the clouds, a small crack opening up in the sky that sends a stream of soft golden light cascading across him. And almost as if in unison, it feels like the light shines right through the Seokjin shaped cracks in your heart as you watch his eyes flutter shut at the kiss of warmth and his arms reach above his head to lean into the light in a leisurely stretch.

It almost feels like you are seeing him for the first time all over again.

If Seokjin didn't let out a sigh of impatience in exactly the way you imagined he would, shaking his head and throwing his hands into the pockets of his gym shorts in defeat, you would have been content to just watch from the sidelines like you promised Jimin you would.

Perhaps you wouldn't have rushed out from behind your camouflage of foliage, sending a garden gnome flying in a crash of broken china in your haste. And even more importantly, perhaps you wouldn't have found yourself calling out for him to stop.

"Seokjin!" Your voice sounds small but the word flies out before you can slap your hand over your mouth to keep it in. It's familiar on your tongue, like coming back home after a long trip, and you savour the taste.

"Y/N?"

Seokjin stills at the crunch of your shoes approaching him tentatively, shoulders squared as if weighing up his options - fight or flight? - and just as you think you are mistaken and he didn't want to see you after all, he's taking flight - straight towards you and drawing you into his arms in an uncomfortably tight bear hug.

His chest hits yours with a force that makes you literally lose your breath, hairs on your arms rising as you feel his warmth encapsulate you completely like a comforting blanket.

The sudden embrace stuns you to a shocked silence, arms pressed to your sides stiffly as he buries his nose in your hair and takes a deep inhale. Is Kim Seokjin smelling your hair?

You have to admit the scent of his cologne makes you giddy, a little woodier around the edges than you remember it to be which you put down to the still slightly sticky and sweaty gym clothes hugging his torso. Under normal circumstances you would've been grossed out but the heightened thump of your heart in your ears acts as an ample distraction.

For a moment you forget about Paradise and the argument and the door to the kitchen beside you that could open at any moment. It's just you and him again, and you're melting.

You could stay like this forever, if his grip didn't tighten considerably, as if he was trying to squeeze the breath straight out of you and hold that too, and you are pushing his chest away from your body with a cough. "Jin — can't breathe!"

Seokjin lets you go — reluctantly, settling for holding you at arms length instead — and you are sure you spot his neck flush at the nickname you used accidentally.

"Sorry." His gaze dips to your feet and then drags all the way back to your puzzled eyes as if he is taking all of you in, like you had changed since he last saw you or something as if that wasn't just three days before. A lazy smile appears on his face. "Missed you, that's all."

His words are slightly breathless and punctuated by a shake of his head as if he can't quite believe he's saying them either and the honesty is so unlike him it makes your chest ache.

"Then why didn't you call?" There's a snipe in your words that seems to jolt him out of his sunny disposition, mouth downturning into a frown, arms dropping from your shoulders and going limp at his sides instead as if he is coming to his senses. "You're the one that's been avoiding me."

His shoulders droop awkwardly. "I'm sorry."

"It just didn't make sense why you would stop talking to me—."

"No, not for avoiding you — well I am sorry for that," He explains. "I mean for the things I said. The other night."

You furrow your brows, stunned. "Why?"

"It was mean and...truthfully I couldn't face you because of it." He drags a hand down his face and presses his back to the wall in defeat, giving you a perfect view of the regret that makes his jaw tighten.

With a sigh you sidle up next to him, careful to leave enough space between you so that your arms don't touch. Deja vu masks the ordeal and you realise it's all too similar to the first time you met in this very spot, watching the very same plaza except today it's still bustling with life beneath the orange glow of the setting sun and you have to squint to see it clearly.

You clear your throat. "I thought it was because of the things I said. About us."

"No!" His exclamation is a little too quick, too loud, and he looks embarrassed, following it up with a gruff "Don't be stupid."

"Well don't worry. While you've been avoiding me I've had plenty of time to think it over and you were right after all."

His nose scrunches, a habit of his you've noticed before that gives him an air of innocence. "I was?"

"Yeah, I think I must have had a few too many glasses of champagne at dinner that night." Your laugh is hoarse with the effort it takes to force it past your lips. "I'm happy with our agreement how it is. You don't need to worry about me going all crazy on you again."

"That's...good." His adam's apple bobs. He seems unconvinced by his own words. "Good. I'm glad."

Then he smiles and your heart throbs so hard it could explode so you just smile back and join in with his nervous laughter.

"So we're okay?"

"We're okay."

There's nothing left to say; now it's clear where you both stand. So why is Seokjin opening and closing his mouth like a goldfish?

"Is that all you came here to talk about?"

His laughter stops, and then he coughs and puffs out his chest, returning somewhat to the cocky Seokjin you are used to.

"Actually I was thinking...it's getting kind of late. It would be bad mannered of me to let you walk home alone."

"Why? I always walk home alone?" Seokjin never seemed to possess the worry you can see in eyes before when he dropped you off outside the club and watched you disappear into the night multiple times a week.

"For protection. Just in case." He rolls his eyes, as if it should have been obvious.

"It's okay, I've got pepper spray in my bag plus it's like 5 PM—"

"No. Protection for me." He suddenly pleads. "My mind will start to wander if I go back to my apartment alone again."

Seokjin seems so serious you know you can't reject him now without your conscience taking a beating, so you choose to say nothing at all. You want to be there for him, but at the same time you know you're only going to get hurt. The toe of your shoe draws circles in the dirt. "I don't know what to say."

"How about you don't say anything and just come to my place instead?" Your neck snaps up. He's never invited you to his place before. It always seemed like an inappropriate boundary to cross considering you are hardly even friends let alone lovers. "That way we both win."

You smile and he seems relieved. "I guess, just for a little bit."

"Great! Think of this as you doing a favour for me."

"Again?" You roll your eyes teasingly.

"I repay you don't I?" He sees your face fall. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that—"

"I know." You butt in. "It's fine. Really."

A silence falls in the same way it did the night you fought and it seems neither of you know what to say next. Truthfully you're just glad he doesn't seem mad at you, his quiet company a familiarity that tells you nothing has changed between you.

That is until he leans in a little too close and his fingers brush your wrist. You swallow thickly and wait for him to push you away again, when you feel him hesitate.

This is supposed to be the part where he pushes you away again, looking at his hand in disgust or wiping it on the back of his pants like he touched something dirty.

Instead, he reaches between you to link his fingers carefully with yours. It's like you are suddenly filled with helium, at risk of floating away if the feeling of Seokjin's warmth beside you wasn't there holding you to the ground.

"Is this okay?" You ask with wide eyes, nodding down at where his slightly clammy palm smothers your own.

He nods. You melt.

"You were right, the other day." Seokjin squeezes your hand comfortingly. "I need to stop hiding how I really feel."

You've never been to the residents part of the resort before. You never dared. But truthfully, by the time you realise you are walking not floating, you are already half way across the plaza.

Seokjin guides you around the circular fountain spitting water from the mouth of a cherub, carried by the breeze as a fine mist that feels cold and refreshing against your hot cheeks and marches you up a marble staircase to the resident lodge which rises up out of the ground like a beautiful half moon of white brick, stylish balconies decked with jacuzzis, chiffon curtains and a sea of people who fit Seokjin's class perfectly.

A tired looking doorman stands posted to the entrance and despite feeling Seokjin stiffen beside you, he never lets go of your hand. Not even when the doorman gives you a once over, an eyebrow raising at your casual attire.

You wait for Seokjin to force the doorman to sign an oath of secrecy when his eyes widen at your interlinked fingers, except the moment never comes. He simply rubs his thumb across your knuckles soothingly, striding straight past the doorman and holding the gilded door open for you to slip through himself.

You mumble a thanks, letting out a breath you didn't know you were holding and hope Seokjin can't feel the way your heart thumps against your rib cage uncontrollably. For what reason you can't quite decide — is it because you're conditioned to fear getting caught with Seokjin or because he doesn't seem to care? 

Seokjin doesn't let go of you until he has to press the elevator button, and it feels ten degrees colder when he does. Your curious eyes take in the perfumed lobby, grand staircase winding upwards as far as the eye can see, lined with a carpet that's intricately embroidered with gold thread. Paintings line the walls which makes the place feel like some sort of museum and you half expect someone to ask you for an entry fee.

Then the elevator's ornate doors open with a ping you thought only existed in movies and Seokjin's hand is back and shuffling you into the elevator at the small of your back, refusing to leave even once you are inside.

The elevator is lined with polished mirrors and you do a double take when you make eye contact with your reflection, nearly reaching out and tapping the glass to check they are real and not the kind you find at a carnival that make everything look distorted. The way Seokjin pulls you closer to his side makes you look like any one of the other normal couples who frequent the resort, if you ignore the way your baggy cardigan contrasts his head to toe designer outfit.

Seokjin's too busy humming along to the classical music which crackles through the speakers overhead to notice the way your gaze travels to him. You know he wants to make you think that none of this affects him like it does you and his unbothered attitude would have worked had you not noticed the way his cheeks have a pinkish tinge, even in the dim yellow glow of the elevator.

The elevator opens, and you follow him down the hall only to find out Seokjin lives in one of the penthouses. You shouldn't be surprised but when he swipes a shiny key card and the lock beeps with a little green light that tells you the door is unlocked, you can't help the way your mouth gapes. Almost as if you were expecting it to flash red instead, denying you entrance and reminding you that you didn't belong in a place like this.

"Aren't you coming inside?" Seokjin has already crossed the threshold, wiping his polished shoes on the gaudy WELCOME mat inside while you stand awkwardly in the hallway, peeping through the crack of open door. You suddenly feel self conscious in your cardigan and leggings, as if you should've dressed up or something.

Seokjin seems to sense your hesitation, fingers finding your wrist with a smile. "You'll catch a cold out there."

He tugs and you don't resist, letting your feet follow him inside. "It's summer. And we're inside, Jin."

"Well how would I live with myself if I took the risk?" The click of the door locking echos from the high ceiling and you swallow thickly knowing there's no going back.

Inside, the suite looks like a luxury hotel room, like every last penny from the royal Mint had lived and died there.

It's open plan, the grand chandelier glimmering in the evening sun casting miniature rainbows across a living room consisting of pristinely white sofas sporting an array of throw cushions that look as though they have never been moved, collecting dust in the same way as the open magazine on the marble coffee table and the empty coffee mug beside it that look like they were placed there to create the illusion of the space being lived in.

Everything feels a little too pristine, a little too perfect like it materialised straight out of a furniture magazine.

The far wall is entirely glass, floor to ceiling windows looking out over a view of the entire resort; with a squint you can just make out the soft lights of the restaurant you know well, reflection shimmering like gold dust on the surface of the undisturbed public pool. An array of caddy boys on the golf courts collect stray balls and haul clubs back into the lodge and beyond that the vibrant gardens, a blur of pink roses and green hedges from where you stand but still a pleasant sight against the evenings pale blue sky.

Seokjin hums to himself as he flicks on all the lights, disappearing around a corner until you can't hear the click clack of his shoes against the tile anymore. You don't know if you are supposed to stay with knees knocking in the living room or if he was expecting you to follow him; but you presume the latter is true when his voice rings out into the room, jolting you from your shameless study of his living space.

"Have you eaten?" You shake your head in a silent no even though he can't see it, somehow managing to get your legs to carry you beneath a decorative arch and into the kitchen where Seokjin stands with his head ducked into a fancy looking fridge - even the most basic of appliances seem high tech, a touch pad visible on the front for what purpose you don't want to even ask. "I don't know about you but I'm famished."

"I was on my way to find something to eat when we — when you saw me, actually." The correction is quick but it makes your stomach feel funny. Since when did it start to feel normal to refer to you and Seokjin as a "we", as if you are anything but his accessory?

"Perfect." He emerges from the fridge with an armful of tupperware boxes balanced beneath his chin, foot kicking the door shut before he dumps the entire load onto the marble kitchen island that separates you from him.

"How about you stay for dinner?" He flashes you a small smile, corner of his mouth blowing the bangs out of his eyes, and your heart practically skips a beat.

It's just a formality surely, the polite thing to do. The Seokjin you knew was usually eager to get you out of his hair.

He is looking at you expectantly, your throat suddenly dry as you try to muster a response, an excuse. The word that immediately crosses your mind is no. This is dangerous and you know it. But then the bite in your stomach is back and despite knowing an I shouldn't be here in the first place would have been more appropriate, your lips betray you with a simple, "Yes." And the way that Seokjin's face lights up in surprise has every regret falling away as you relish in the knowledge that he is actually happy to have you.

"I thought I would have to bargain with you. You're usually stubborn with me." Shiny bar stools sit tucked beneath the little kitchen bar set up beside him, a few expensive looking champagne bottles littered across the surface. He pats one of the plush cushions in a gesture for you to sit which you graciously do, even as you scoff at his words and silently wonder why someone who lives alone needs so many seats.

"Because you're usually trying to get me to do something ridiculous." You chide. "And besides, I'm hungry."

"So you're just using me for my cooking skills, huh? I didn't think you were that kind of girl." Seokjin eyes you cheekily, hands fiddling with the dials on the stove with a pout. "How do you turn this thing on?"

You let out a sigh of mock despair, joining him at the counter and turning the knob until you hear a familiar click as the gas ignites, basking the kitchen in a blue glow. "If your 'skills' end with me getting food poisoning I'll never forgive you Kim Seokjin".

"I think I can handle a simple pasta dish," He retorts, but not before sending a pot from the utensil rack crashing to the ground with a clatter. "Maybe I spoke too soon." He picks up the appliance, holding it out to you sheepishly, a flush caressing his cheeks now.

You click your tongue but in no way maliciously, instinctively filling the pot with water and pulling open a few drawers in search of some other equipment. "Where do you keep the spoons?"

"Top drawer." You hear him call, settling himself into the askew stool you previously occupied, kicking his feet up onto the opposite stool and making you internally wince when the soles of his shoes settle on the white leather cushion. "Can I ask you something?"

Something in his voice changes, a seriousness that you aren't used to with him. In fact the only time you'd ever heard it was last week on the lake, when he admitted he felt like an outsider at Paradise.

You dump the pasta and lean against the counter to face him. "Sure."

"Do you think I'm an asshole?" He asks quietly.

You pause. "Sometimes." Eyes narrowed, you let out a sigh. "Why?"

"I'm sorry." Seokjin sounds small, and he wrings his hands together awkwardly. "For making you do all this for me, and then acting like a douche."

You push his feet off the stool and take a seat opposite him. Your mouth is dry, so you say nothing. He looks at you expectantly. Like he's hoping his apology will make up for the stinging hurt that still lingers in your chest every time you remember the look of shame in his eyes when he almost got caught talking to you at the gates. You flash him a sad smile, and he sighs when he realises it's not enough.

"God, I'm so fucking lame. What normal guy has to get a girl to pretend to be his fucking fiance?"

"What normal girl agrees to pretend? If you're lame then I'm just as bad." You chuckle, somewhat bitterly. "If you're so embarrassed by me, why don't you just tell your family? Then you won't have to worry someone will find out who I really am."

There's a sharpness to your words that makes Seokjin wince.

"It's not that I'm embarrassed of you! I'm...embarrassed of me."  Seokjin rushes. "I just can't tell them. It would break them if they knew we've been lying."

Oh. So all this time he wasn't afraid someone would find out your real identity...he was just worried about disappointing his family?

"I always knew I was going to marry some nice girl from upstate and take over Paradise one day," He continues. "But now it's actually happening and I'm realizing I'm not cut out for this."

His head falls into his palms, forehead creased. You can tell this has been weighing on his mind for a while, and part of you feels thrilled that he trusts you enough to confide in you.

"I want to be the man they want me to be but I don't know how much longer I can pretend."

You slide your hand over the counter and cover his. He looks up, surprised, when you give it a comforting squeeze.

"I think you're just scared." You whisper. "I know you Seokjin, and you'll be an incredible CEO."

He puffs out his chest. "Pfft, I'm not scared."

"You're scared you won't be as good of an owner as your dad." You say. "And you're scared that you won't love the girl who you marry like you're supposed to."

Seokjin falls quiet, like what you said hit a nerve. He frowns. "I know what it's like to love someone. And those other girls -- the ones my parent's tried to set me up with -- they were nice and all but... I didn't feel it with any of them."

"You can't force love." You offer him a sympathetic smile. "Sometimes it just pops up in the strangest of places. It just happens."

"You're right." He smiles back, and shakes his shoulders like a weight has been lifted. His eyes soften fondly. "Hey. How do you always seem to know exactly what to say?"

"One of my many talents,"You laugh as you instinctively start to dish up your meal. That's what working in a kitchen does to you. "Including making incredible pasta."

The smell of carbonara wafts through the kitchen, and he rubs his stomach gratefully.

"God I love you." Seokjin says breathily, threading his hands through his hair and looking at you in wonder.

"What?" You go slack, the metal spoon between your fingers hitting the ground with a tinny crash.

Seokjin blinks twice before rushing to cover up his mistake. "You know what I mean."

You do know. But a part of you wishes that you didn't know, that you could pretend that the words that spilled from Seokjin's lips were real and true and meant something.

Not that it matters anyway. You aren't in love. You are just pretending to be. So why does it feel like a ton of bricks smushed your heart when you realise this was probably the only time you would ever hear him say those words, even if he didn't mean them how you wished he would?

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth before it can start to wobble and bend to your knees to retrieve the spoon. Seokjin is already ahead of you, leaping out of his chair to grasp the metal at the exact same time.

A gasp passes your lips when his hand covers yours tightly, the contact accidental but enough to send tingles up your spine like it always does. Except this time, it seems he feels it too, because when you dare to look up he is staring at your almost interlocked hands in wonder.

"Is now a bad time to repay one of your favours?" His voice is hoarse.

"What—"

Seokjin's fingers hook beneath your chin, tilting your head towards him so that he can press his lips against yours in a tentative kiss, swallowing your words in transit.

The kiss is slow and languid, the way he slots his plump bottom lip between yours making you melt instantly. His cheeks are warm and soft in your hands as you cup them, the action feeling just as natural as the warmth blossoming in your chest when Seokjin moves his mouth in time with your own with an impossible tenderness.

He sighs into your mouth like he'd been waiting forever to do this, and you feel a similar satisfaction, finally able to curb the craving for him that has been aching inside you since your last encounter when he left you standing alone on the veranda.

Seokjin's fingers trace up your arms tentatively, hairs raising wherever they touch, before tangling them in the hair at the base of your neck and pulling you ever deeper into the kiss, not just with pure desire like you were used to but with a yearning to hold you closer. For the first time you let yourself succumb to your senses, protective guard over your heart shattering as you get lost in the scent of his woody cologne and the roughness of his simultaneously pillowy lips.

By the time he pulls back you are already breathless and he is too, lips parted slightly, breath tickling your nose.

"Sorry." The curve of his lips tells you he didn't mean it. He wanted to kiss you. You melt. "'S cause I missed you, that's all"

"C'mere." With a breathy laugh you pull him closer to you again by the collar, mouths crashing together in a tangle of teeth and tongue this time that makes you burn with a hunger to commit every caress of his lips to memory, blood running hot as he tugs your bottom lip between his teeth like he wants to devour you right then and there. "I want you."

His hands search your body making you shudder, swell of your chest pressed to his as he slips his burning hot palms beneath your thighs to hoist you onto the kitchen island, uncaring when the spice rack rattles precariously. His lips never leave yours, tongue sweeping into your mouth in a way that has you panting for more, suddenly desperate to feel his warmth against you without the damn barrier of your leggings between you.

"Wanna take you right here so bad." Seokjin breaks away, eyes glazed over and slipping from your swollen lips momentarily to take in your quivering body, slotting himself between your welcoming legs. "God, you drive me crazy."

His hair tickles your cheek when he lets his face fall into the crook of your neck as if accepting defeat, his self control hanging by a thread in the same way as yours.

"Then take me." It's hushed whisper but it makes Seokjin groan, his hands rubbing flat circles into the tops of your thighs but never getting quite close enough to the ache that pulses between your legs, as though he can't trust himself.

"Don't want you to do something you'll regret." Seokjin sounds pained as he nips at your neck, lips sucking marks into the flesh obscenely while his tongue soothes the burn, your eyes squeezing shut at the sensation.

"I could never regret you." You stammer between quiet whimpers when his teeth attack the sensitive spot behind your ear and in that moment you believe every word. "I promise."

Seokjin leaves one last wet kiss to your jaw. "Open your eyes. Look at me." His hands tremble when they take your face between them and hold your already damp forehead against his. You obey, biting your lip when his own lustful eyes stare into yours with a gentleness. "Promise. You want this — me?"

Your heart throbs. "I promise."

"Then how could I refuse?" With a peck to your lips Seokjin hoists  you over his shoulder like you are weightless, blood rushing to your head as you come face to face with his butt.

"Let me down!" You laughed as he carries you through the apartment, pounding your fists against his back playfully. He only tightens his grip, landing a sharp smack to your ass that has you quieting down quickly. "Ow!"

"Don't pretend you didn't like it." His voice is muffled as he lets you down but you can still hear his smirk before he even comes into view. Your back lands on top of a plush mattress, silken sheets a welcome cold against your skin which still burns from Seokjin's touch. You manage to glance around the room briefly, taking in the elegant matching silk drapes and the luxe gold trimmed furniture which makes it feel like a hotel room you probably could not afford.

But then Seokjin is hovering over you again and the way his eyes darken as they rake across your body captures all your attention.

"I wouldn't mind if you did it again." You hum coyly, enjoying the way his pupils dilate as he swallows a groan. Seokjin grips your ankles and lands another slap to the flesh of your ass that has you panting and choking on your own smirk.

"Such a slut, hm?" Your knees fall apart instinctively as he leans over your body, leaving a few lingering kisses across the expanse of your chest that peeks out of the top of your tank top, all while your fingers find the hem of his gym t-shirt. "God I love your ass."

"I'll fuck it myself if you don't hurry up." The way your hips buck up give away your impatience, never quite meeting the painfully visible tent in his crotch and gaining the friction you so desperately search for. Your panties are soaked through and clinging uncomfortably to your dripping folds by now, the heat between your legs pulsing unbearably.

Seokjin chokes at your threat, eyes rolling back as he pictures the image you painted. "F-fuck, I'd love to but maybe another time." Your lithe fingers manage to get his shirt over his shoulders, throwing the garment somewhere behind him and sucking in a gasp when you take in Seokjin's naked torso beneath the warm glow of his bedside lamp, toned and slightly damp with anticipation. "Gotta take care of this cunt first, hm?"

His palm cups your mound obscenely through your leggings and you whine at the first contact you'd received all night, eager to have him touch you without the barrier of your clothing. "P-please." The way you twist your hips needily, trying to grind your throbbing clit against the heel of his palm makes him laugh lightly.

"Sit back, get comfy." He helps you slide up the bed, arranging a selection of tasseled throw cushions behind your head until he's satisfied you are adequately supported, kneeling between your legs to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear and press a prolonged peck to your parted lips. "Want this to be good for you."

"It's always good for me." You assure, fingers trailing fleetingly down his chest and feeling him tense above you at the ticklish contact. Seokjin makes quick work of your top, leaving you quickly in just your bra which you graciously save him the trouble of undoing by snapping the clasp open yourself.

The way he gazes in awe at your bare chest makes you self conscious, hands coming to cover the flush that caresses your face until he rolls one of your hardened nipples and lets out a sigh in unison with your own when your hands fall away, unable to focus on anything other than the tingle of Seokjin's touch and your own shallow pants.

"You're so pretty." His words make your chest blossom with warmth and you arch into his touch, air cold against your hard buds until Seokjin takes one of them into the heat of his mouth and reduces you to a gasping mess beneath him.

As soon as he comes up for air you manage to wriggle your hands between your flush bodies, latching on to the waistband of his gym shorts and sliding them down his thighs along with his boxers as soon as you catch his nod of confirmation.

His cock springs free, hard and already leaking against his stomach. Seokjin hisses at the cold air against his length. You wrap your hand around his girth, lidded gaze watching the way his face twists with a pleasurable agony with each flick of your wrist. He's hot and heavy in your palm, impossibly hard and your entrance clenches when his cock pulses against your palm, forcing him to swallow a moan and stop his hips from thrusting into your hand. You are suddenly hyper aware of how empty you are, another bout of lust pooling in your stomach as you anticipate how good he would fill you up, length enough to stretch you out perfectly.

When your palm twists around the angry reddened tip he just about looses his mind, falling forward to grip your shoulder with a bruising grip, uncaring when a few choked groans spill into your ear. You take pride in the way he falls apart so easily until his large palm covers yours and halts your ministrations all together.

"Stop, fuck—" He squeezes his eyes shut, letting out a hiss as he tries to regain his control, length twitching and drooling against your bare stomach. "Nearly came, shit." Seokjin's chest heaves with laboured breaths, cheeks flushed as he grips the base of his length firmly.

"I'm that good huh?" The teasing tone makes his eyes snap up, the scarlet tint to his cheeks deepening.

"No — I mean yes — but mostly I've been imagining this for a while." He seems slightly sheepish and you find it cute, feeling a little pang in your heart when his nose scrunches with shyness at his confession. "Got too worked up too fast."

"Guess you don't want me to suck you off for a bit, then?" You ask almost hopefully, your heat growing ever wetter at the thought of his girth fucking your throat mercilessly.

"There's plenty of time for that, princess." The glint in his eye is the same as the one he had that day in the locker rooms, except this time you trust his words knowing that nothing could stop you coming back for more.

"Guess I'll have to save my skills for another day, then." Seokjin chuckles at the pout that graces your lips, swatting your hand away before it could stroke his length again. "Unless..."

"Brat." The shake of his head is affectionate.

"Don't pretend you don't like it." You echoe his earlier words and he rolls his eyes to your amusement.

"Touché."

He holds your gaze for a little too long, the way his eyes soften at the edges and his lips part cutely too intimate for you to deal with in the moment so you focus on the neglected ache between your legs instead.

You interrupt the moment before you let a piece of your heart flutter straight into his hands. "Hurry up and get inside me, idiot!"

"Okay, okay jeez!" Seokjin raises his hands defensively before he shuffles down the bed, eye level with your crotch.

You can't help the way you arch off the bed as he peels away your leggings, whining shamelessly when your swollen folds finally hit the air.

Soon enough you feel Seokjin's hot breath hovering over your slit, making your clit pulse even more desperately if that were possible. Before he could devour your heat like you wanted him to, you are reminded of his own self control. "'S not fair, is it?" You slur, head spinning with lust as he spreads your lips with his fingers, taking you in completely.

"Not going to eat you out this time, don't worry," The sight of him looking up at you with pleading eyes from between your legs, lips inches away from your clit, is enough to have the coil in your stomach tightening, sure you could cum just from the visual alone. "Just a taste?"

You nod, too breathless to speak, and he runs a flat stripe up your dripping slit, the contact enough to make your legs shake and your head fall back against the cushions. He places a single kiss to your clit which makes you quiver before he climbs back up so you are eye level. "Can't get enough of your pussy," Your breath mingles, his lips glistening with your arousal just inches from yours. "Could taste you forever."

"You can." You whisper.

His tongue traces your bottom lip languidly. You can taste yourself just barely on his lips. "I don't deserve you."

Seokjin supports himself on his forearms, hovering over your body and taking his cock in his palm to line it up with your entrance.

"Ready?" He scans your face for any concerns, any suggestion that you are having second thoughts. Even your small smile and the shameless twists of your hips as you tried to impale yourself on his cock wasn't enough to appease him, apparently. "Promise?"

The tenderness in his voice makes you lose your breath in a mixture of shock and warmth. This has to be a dream. "Promise."

Seokjin's lidded eyes light up and he finds your hand where it tugs on the sheets beside your bodies and carefully interlinks your fingers. The callouses on his fingers, the grooves of his palm and how it slots perfectly into yours is starting to feel familiar. You don't have time to dwell on whether the action was supposed to feel as romantic as it did before he's pushing the tip of his cock against your entrance which clenches with every inch until he bottoms out with a guttural groan of his own.

The slide is slow and languorous, allowing you to feel every ridge of his cock drag against your walls, the stretch burning a little as you tried to accommodate his girth.

"So fucking wet for me, huh?" It's true; you can feel your arousal dripping down your ass, his hips meeting yours with an audible squelch that was testament of his affect on you. You feel his cock twitch inside you, his nose scrunching as he resists slamming into you straight away to allow you to adjust. Instead he focuses on rubbing soothing circles with his thumbs into your hips, taking in your bare form with a fascination. "So fucking pretty underneath me like this."

"All for you." You manage to stutter between hard pants as he snaps his hips back until just the head of his cock remains at your entrance and you whine with the impossible emptiness. "I'm all yours."

"Promise me." It comes out as a command but it's tainted with a softness that makes your cheeks burn with more than just lust.

"I promise. I'm all yours."

That's all it takes to have him slamming back into you, hips meeting yours repeatedly with a loud slap which is almost drowned out by the soft moans that spill from his lips into the crook of your neck. He's more vocal than you were expecting and it drives you crazy.

"Fuck, I'm close." His breath hitches at your words, tongue snaking out to wet his lips as he shudders closer to his high. With a pained expression he pauses mid thrust, head barely inside you as he searches your face for answers with desperate eyes. "Where can I—"

"Inside me." You buck your hips, whimpering when he slides back into you to the hilt as if he can't help it. "Wanna feel you fill me up."

"Shit, okay." He stutters as your fingers move the bangs stuck to his sweaty forehead, his neck and shoulders glistening slightly in the deep glow of the room. "God, you're so tight."

By now you are clenching around him wildly, the heat between your legs getting hotter with every drag of his cock against your velvety walls. With his next thrust he hits your sweet spot deliciously, the mewl that leaves you alerting him of the fact and he watches with a dark amusement as your eyes roll back and you lose yourself to the feeling.

"Mmf — g-gonna cum." Seokjin's thumb rubs circles into your throbbing clit in time with his thrusts and the pressure is enough to have you falling over the edge, vision fading to black as Seokjin fucks you through your high.

"That's it, cum for me baby," He coaxes, thrusts turning sloppy as you feel him release inside you, the feeling of him coating your now sensitive walls almost too much. "S-shit."

You don't realise your eyes are squeezed shut until Seokjin's palm cups your chin, his face a picture of pure bliss when your lashes finally flutter open. There's barely any distance between your noses, his breath lightly tickling your parted lips and you're sure he can hear your heart thumping against your rib cage, loud in your ears as he closes the distance between you in a lazy kiss that feels indescribably intimate with him softening inside you.

"I don't deserve you." He says again, voice croaky this time. "You could do better than me."

"Shut up," His cheek presses to your chest, warm against your clammy skin. "Don't be silly."

"There's something I need to tell you..." He begins, cut off when you sit upright abruptly, eyes wide. "It's nothing bad. Well, it might be depends on how you respond. It's just that day on the lake, when I saw how Taehyung looked at you, and when I thought I lost you, it made me realise that I'm—"

"No, not that." You begin feeling around for your underwear. "I think the pasta boiled over!"

"Oh shit!" He joins your search for clothes, rolling onto his back beside you, though you don't miss the frown that appeared on his face. "Guess I can wait a little longer."

[warsofasoiaf]

Character Analysis: Jon Irenicus

Irenicus is a fun villain, and I think nailed one interesting element of writing down, that of bringing down the villain’s threat in an interesting and believable way. The hero typically grows in power in any story, not just in a game where your progression is literally your XP, but what the villain does, how they grow, is also interesting. If the villain is more powerful than the hero, and also does things to grow and learn, theoretically the villain should still be wrecking house. BG2 wove this into the story itself, where the more you learned about Irenicus, the less menacing he became, culminating into where he was arguably your lesser at the end: he was powerful but only aping what you were. 

Obviously, spoilers for BG2 abound.

Baldur’s Gate II introduces us to our villain almost as a cold open. Fresh off the high of defeating Sarevok, you leave Baldur’s Gate after being pressured to leave by “dark forces” and by those who suspected that you shared similar heritage to Sarevok. Seems a bit odd, honestly, to oust the Bhaalspawn with suspicion given that during the course of Baldur’s Gate I, you saved two of the Grand Dukes. It’s certainly understandable that folks would fear your heritage and you’d want to move on to greener pastures, but something more than a 3-minute cut scene would have probably set the scene better.

However, this opening, and the ‘cutscene’ that follows gives Irenicus a grand initial reveal to the player. This guy is an ultra-powerful wizard, and he speaks with a clinical detachment as he states: “It’s time for more experiments.” It’s a wonderful opening to illustrate exactly what you’re dealing with. He’s clearly interested in your godly soul, and exploiting it to some unknown purpose. What is unknown, as he gets called away by some unspecified intruders by a golem. In the next scene, magical traps are set off as an unspecified Shadow Thief gets disintegrated. Story-wise, this serves no purpose, it’s purely meant to be a way to show off the new spell effects and other cosmetic changes to the engine from Baldur’s Gate II, with the disintegration dust and the screen shaking. But it does help illustrate the power level that Irenicus is throwing around. Save-or-die spells were relatively rare in the lower level of Baldur’s Gate I, even Semaj, Sarevok’s mage companion, wasn’t firing off disintegration willy-nilly. Throwing around disintegration spells clearly shows that Irenicus is a new high-level baddy. Later we see that he killed characters from Baldur’s Gate I off-screen, Khalid and Dynahier, two of the three sets of paired companions from BG1. This gives their partners reason to join in with the player character, but it also serves to show his power; Irenicus is such a bad dude that he can wipe your party before the game starts, like he was getting coffee. It might be a cruel cut, but that’s its intent, to make the player character mad at the villain, to want to punch his smarmy face in.

Commensurate in the danger of Irenicus is the need to find out what’s going on. Irenicus clearly knows something about your godly soul and so you want to find out what he knows. Even for an upstanding lawful good character, growing in power means finding a way to effect good on a larger scale, and perhaps to overcome the evil in your tainted blood. After all, no matter how good you were in Baldur’s Gate I, you still were an incredibly powerful killer. Sure, most if not all of them were bad dudes, Mulahey the iron ore poisoner, the bandits of Cloakwood, the Iron Throne and their plans to take over the Sword Coast. But chaos and destruction follow in your wake, and that chaos undoubtedly would hurt innocent civilians; Saradush in Throne of Bhaal is clear of that enough. Even just knowing more about what is going on could better prepare you for the next Irenicus or the next Sarevok.

When you go through the starter dungeon (another piece of game design, you are being tutorialized but the pastoral instruction of Candlekeep makes no sense for someone who already had an adventure), pieces of the man start to fall into place. He holds a bunch of captive dryads as concubines to remind him of someone he lost. He keeps an immaculate bedroom for a companion that is never there, with an alarm ready to dispatch the golems to kill any who cross the threshold. There’s a woman that was in his life that is no longer there, and the loss pains him, or at least, it seems that it should. Chatter with Imoen and the dryads show that this mystery man is trying to elicit feelings that he had lost, and that’s an entirely different case of worms than pining over a lost love. There’s some element of almost-unwilling psychopathy to these actions. Other hints in this dungeon illustrate this as well. His servants, discarded in vats and forgotten about entirely, would at first evoke classical evil overlords casually disregarding their own subjects. He’s almost all of the way there, but there’s enough there that the player is suggested that there has to be something more to it than that. He does seem to have some sort of sociopathy to him, where people are objects that he can find fascinating but he has no empathy. We see this later with Wanev, who Irenicus spares solely because he was hit by a spell that left him a lunatic, which Irenicus found funny, the administrator of a jail for the insane now rendered an insane patient himself.

He is powerful though, that much is clear when you break out of the starter dungeon. His display of magic collapsed part of Waukeen’s Promenade, and when the regulatory magical body of the Cowled Wizards comes to shut it down, Irenicus is capable of swatting mages like they were mosquitos. Just like the Shadow Thieves that he had been fighting, Irenicus seems more annoyed at the interruptions than any physical threat posed by his myriad foes. He’s definitely a powerful wizard, and when he finally submits to the Cowled Wizards, he does so clearly as their superior, dragging Imoen along with him. It’s fairly plain from a game design perspective what Irenicus is doing; he’s going to Spellhold so you have to get there. Good characters want to rescue Imoen, evil characters want to interrogate him to unlock the power in your blood. Either way, the player character is given a goal, and Irenicus disappears physically from the story for the moment.

He isn’t absent though. In your dreams, Jon Irenicus waxes philosophical at the player character, evoking thought-provoking questions. He explains the paradox of your existence of being born of murder, given life from the act of taking life. He speaks about accepting the gifts that will be given to you, regardless of whether or not you want them. These dream sequences are clear upgrades in quality and presentation from the spoken-dialogue text boxes from the first game after you beat major milestones. David Warner does a great job here in delivering Irenicus’s lines, he feels like a evil mentor speaking about philosophical topics with the same detachment that he tortured the player character with in the opening. While we find out later that these dreams aren’t sendings from Irenicus but rather parts of your character’s godly subconscious, they suggest to the player going through Chapter 3 that Irenicus does indeed know a hell of a lot more about you and your godly blood, keeping the player interesting in finding out exactly what it is you need to find out. The other quests in Chapter Three don’t have much to do with Irenicus, aside from some random events with the guild war in Athkatla at night, where the player will find out pretty quick that one side is powered by vampires, the level drain and click-dialogue of “your blood is rather inviting” isn’t exactly hiding that there be vampires engaged in a secret war with the Shadow Thieves. Even then, it’s tangential. You knew the Shadow Thieves were attacking Irenicus, which suggests at least some level of camaraderie with the vampires, but as we saw with the deep dwarves in Irenicus’s lair, he doesn’t care about followers, and they might simply be disposable assets if anything at all. If you want to know about Irenicus, you’re going to have to get it from the man himself. 

Of course, as befits a high-level mage, Irenicus breaks out of the prison in a cutscene, kills the Cowled Wizards and goes back to whatever unsavory plans he thought up for Imoen, teleporting into the lobby and chewing the scenery with his “I CANNOT BE CAGED!” speech, reinforcing his position as the central big bad and confirming the Cowled Wizards as mere obstacles. This part of his plan has been made clear. Far from the meddling Shadow Thieves and Cowled Wizards, Irenicus can continue his experiments on Imoen in Spellhold, and it falls on the player character to go there and end it. Irenicus, of course, knows this too, and he makes sure he has contingency plans to deliver you to him. I’m of three minds on this. On one, he’s so powerful it seems that he is so powerful, and Amn so large, that plenty of these isolated areas within the continent would service just as well for Irenicus’s lair. Why waste time with all of this blah-blah-blah and just take what he wants? It’s not like teleport spells are beyond his ken. On the other hand, it’s a good way to break up into the freeform quest design that Chapter Three gives, offers the chance for your characters to level up and get cool gear, lets you rock the stronghold quests which definitely let you feel your class and increase replay value, and the idea of the forbidding wizard in the island lair is an excellent backdrop. On the third, it’s in-character for an immortal mage to have plans within plans, even to the point of complexity addiction, although his conduct afterward sort of torpedoes this idea. 

That is, after he recaptures you, he immediately goes back to work to his experiments, and after another trippy dream sequence with Imoen, you find his plan. His goal is to absorb your divine soul, taking it for his own. He doesn’t explain anything more, but now that he has you, he discards you just as he has so many others. Telling his sister Bodhi to dispose of you is what keeps him from being someone like the Riddler, since he’s actually going for a proper smart villain play and killing the soulless husk he leaves behind just in case he pulls a protagonist move and comes clawing back for his stolen soul. It’s Bodhi’s instability, her desire to hunt you brought on by her vampirism, that keeps you alive. After the player character becomes the Slayer, Bodhi tells Irenicus, but true to his condescending nature, he simply...ignores the PC, writing them off as someone who is going to keel over any second due to their lack of soul, completely oblivious to the fact that Bhaal’s avatar was the Slayer, and it’s clear that something is replacing the void that he left within you. The PC must effectively turn that dismissiveness against him, by releasing the imprisoned mages within Spellhold, from the powerful but mostly harmless Dili to the megalomaniacal Tiax. Yet this hard-fought battle does not end with Irenicus’s death and your victory, instead Irenicus goes to pursue his other, as-yet unknown goals while he sends another band of cutthroats to die at your hand. 

Yoshimo is sort of my feelings on this Irenicus’s Spellhold plot writ small. As powerful as Irenicus is, he really doesn’t need Yoshimo, not if he has Sarmon Havarian and so many others. Yoshimo shows up in the starter dungeon, and is useful if a bit obsequious in a “who me?” sort of fashion. He doesn’t have a really good reason to stay with the party from a story reason that he gives you. He could have said: “Hey, thanks for getting me out. Deuces!” Yoshimo’s geas gets him to want to stay with the party, otherwise he’s dead. In that sense, it makes sense for him to want to be with the group. And as the only thief who gains levels aside from the absolutely annoying Jan Jansen, he’s useful for dealing with annoying traps, because reloading a game because your main PC tripped a trap and got petrified is certainly frustrating. Game mechanics though, interfere with this. You as the player character have control over the six-person party and if you want Yoshimo to be there, he’ll be there, and if you don’t, he’ll sit in the Copper Coronet, geas be damned. He’ll stand right there until you go back in after the Underdark chapter, in which case he flops over dead and hardly anyone cares. That’s a system engine limitation certainly, but it’s remarkably clumsy. What is good though, is Yoshimo’s regret during this. He knows he has to betray you and is forced to do so, and he genuinely likes you. The writing that happens is crisp, Yoshimo truly does apologize and Irenicus backs up his dismissive assholery by telling him to shut up. When Yoshimo confronts you in Spellhold, his writing is crisp. “No redemption, and no second chances. My heart to Ilmater.” He fights you and goes down swinging (which was annoying the first time I played because he had the Celestial Fury +3). And you can actually take that heart to Ilmater, occupying a valuable inventory space through the next chapters until you can reach Waukeen’s Promenade again, where you can choose to forgive him or not, but give the heart to Ilmater either way. It would have been saccharine to restore Yoshimo, but this way, I feel, is more powerful in a world with such powerful enchantments to see the effects on the people whose lives it ruins. So the game can be clunky at parts, and Irenicus can be as well, but there’s true craft and joy in it.

Back to Irenicus though, we get the sense of more to him when we see the intro splash screen for the next Chapter. Making a dark bargain with the drow, we see that they have captured surface elves, one of whom immediately refers to Irenicus as Joneleth, suggesting a backstory far deeper as Irenicus immediately resorts to killing the prisoner after being the one to suggest interrogation instead of immediate execution, a lashing out that seems out of character for the clinically-detached evil villain we’ve been coming to know. The backstory is clear in the Forgotten Realms, the dark elves and surface elves are mortal foes and anyone who is known to the surface elves to ally with the dark elves is a great betrayal. As the PC goes through the Underdark and comes out, they are captured by the surface elves. Through a conversation with Eldoth, it can become evident that the surface elves know more than they are letting on, such as when they are the ones who suggest holy water and stakes to fight Bodhi, despite not knowing anything about either one of them. After you slay Bodhi and restore Imoen’s soul to its rightful place, you can call Eldoth out on it. Irenicus is “the Shattered One,” an exile of the elves, and it’s here that Irenicus’s story becomes apparent.

Irenicus was a powerful wizard and lover of Queen Ellesime named Joneleth. Yet in his heart, Joneleth yearned for more power and sought to take the essence of the Tree of Life, the lifeblood of the city of Suldanesselar, for himself and Bodhi. This dark ritual nearly killed many that existed within Suldanesselar, and so Joneleth and Bodhi were punished, stripping their elven nature and immortality away from them, leaving them with a mortal lifespan, thus Joneleth became Jon Irenicus, the Shattered One. Bodhi sought to become a vampire to transgress the mortal years she had, but Jon had felt that it degraded her to that of a high-functioning beast. Irenicus’s scheme was far more grandiose if also possessing an elegant simplicity: he lost an immortal soul and so he needed to take one for himself. The Bhaalspawn was the perfect choice, powerful enough to defeat Sarevok and awaken the power within, weak enough to be captured and have the divine soul snatched away. With his stolen soul freshly acquired, Irenicus now looked to the second part of himself, to revenge himself on the elves. The dark elf invasion ultimately failed, helped out by the PC butchering the leadership of Ust Natha, but Irenicus is still going with golems and summoned demons to destroy the city, usurp the power of the Tree of Life, and complete his long ago schemes. 

I... I do not remember your love, Ellesime. I have tried. I have tried to recreate it, to spark it anew in my memory, but it is gone... a hollow, dead thing. For years, I clung to the memory of it. Then the memory of the memory. And then nothing. The Seldarine took that from me, too. I look upon you and feel nothing. I remember nothing but you turning your back on me, along with all the others. Once my thirst for power was everything. And now I hunger only for revenge. And I... WILL... HAVE IT!!

When confronted by Queen Ellesime, she even asks if there was any part of him that remembered the love he had for her, and the PC sees that it’s her that was in his mind for the beautiful bedroom way back in chapter one. It was almost certainly her that Irenicus thought of when he was with his dryad concubines. And when she poses that question, he answers with the above quote, that he feels nothing. While it seems like this is a loss of depth, that he’s just a flat character, I don’t think this is the case. Irenicus had the chance to change, for self-reflection. Instead, he remembers it as all the others turning their back on him, without any recognition that his schemes nearly killed them. It’s the classic abuser mentality, how dare you make me do these things to you. When his victims tried to defend themselves, he lashed out and remembers only their ‘cruelty’ to him. It’s this that makes Irenicus, for all his great arcane might, so small. Where before he was this intimidating figure, now he’s a petty man, and fittingly, it’s here that you can kill him. Temporarily, at least, because there’s still one more dungeon. Irenicus and you are still battling for your divine soul, and after a few self-reflective quests of your own, you duel Irenicus, who dies pitiably, torn to shreds by demons as his power fails him. It fits the heroic and thematic heft of the arc. As you grow in power, Irenicus diminishes in threat. He was your torturer, an inhuman menace, then he became just a man, torn apart by tiny demons that you probably could take down by the truckload. 

There’s good things to learn here. Irenicus isn’t a super-unique villain, although some of the villain tropes are personalized for the sake of the Baldur’s Gate story specifics. But he does his job admirably. David Warner’s voice work, and the special effects (pretty good for when the game came out in 2000) really was able to sell Irenicus as an enjoyable villain. 

Thanks for the suggestions, Anons who were looking forward to this.

SomethingLikeALawyer, Hand of the King

[parachutingkitten]

Season 5 Analysis

STANDARD DISCLAIMER: I am going to be applying the concept of criticism to a TV show you presumably love and adore as much as I do. If you do not want your idea that the show is immaculate to be challenged, I would not advise reading past this point.

Additional Disclaimer: This includes criticism of Nya’s arc, so if you’re the type of person to get catty about this subject, turn back now.

Mood for this season: It’s spoopy time.

You don’t need to, but if you are interested, and haven’t seen my analysis of past seasons, you can find those here:

Pilot - Season 1 - Season 2 - Season 3 - Season 4

You can also find all of these, and future installments, on my blog using the tag #analysis 

Hey everyone! I’m still doing these things! Let’s see, when was my last one? Over two years ago...? Yikes, I owe y’all an apology. I really didn’t mean to put these off that long. Anyway, get ready to hate me, cuz although (for the most part) this seems to be the fandom favorite season… I think it’s overhyped. I know, don’t kill me. I’ll explain myself. I don’t think it’s bad or anything, it’s very well structured, but I definitely wouldn’t rank it among my favorites. First, for a little context, I am making a one second of every ninjago episode video right now, so I’ve been binging the series and all it’s shorts back to back, so I think I’ll have a bit more to say about connective tissue between seasons, and hopefully you guys can look forward to more of these analyses between now and the new year when I’m releasing that video. I’m also officially a film major now so… sorry if I come of as extra pretentious or get too deep. Anyway, let’s jump into the thick of it, shall we? 

Plot

This is probably the area I have the fewest number of complaints about. This season has a breakneck pace and it keeps everyone busy. I think that’s why people like it. Everyone’s favorite has something to do. Which brings me to the question… which ninja’s season is this? Lloyd is on a lot of the promotional stuff, but he’s possessed and out of the picture for over half the season, so that can’t be right. Cole turns into a ghost, and the season is a ghost season, but that can’t be right cuz I don’t know that I’ve ever heard anyone claim it was his. Nya reaches her true potential, maybe it’s hers? Well, she does have a large b-plot, but she is consistently not a part of the a-plot. Kai has a whole thing with being protective of Lloyd, he has his fear of water, maybe it’s just another Kai season? Thing is, it’s no one’s. It is an ensemble season, and I think that’s a healthy thing for ninjago to keep doing. The more we label certain seasons for certain ninja, the more complaining we’ll get about who’s turn it is for screen time that we’ll miss out on telling a good story. Also, If the season is focused on a ninja you don’t like, you are less likely to like the season (see my next analysis for that can of worms). Again, this season tells it’s story really well. Morro directly ties into the ending of last season, and Nya’s getting water powers was foreshadowed the season before. That’s some cool connective tissue to start. The opening episode establishes the three different things the ninja will be looking for, and for once they’re actual tools instead of a series of weapons, blades, masks, whatever. I like that. Jay has some really good humor, Zane has his speech changes, Kai has his irrational fears and protective instincts, Cole has his ghost angst, Lloyd has to deal with his father’s passing, Nya is a new water ninja, Wu has a shop to run and a student to reconnect with, even Ronin has an arc about developing morals and gaining friends. There’s the mystery about how to deal with the ghosts, what the rules are, there’s the leader subplot, the ninja’s money situation, and lore of the different realms, they even worked in Skylor and Borg, there’s a lot of cool stuff going on. This is a tightly woven script that manages to include a lot of new concepts that you get pretty quick. I don’t feel like there’s even that much fat to cut. The opening is a little slow and strange, and the cloud kingdom episode feels a little unnecessary, but I do like the idea of visiting a different realm early in the season so the audience isn’t caught off guard in the climax. Again, the plot all works for me, it’s the other stuff I find myself pretty meh on.

Characters

Ronin

I’m pretty sure Ronin is the only new (non villain) character introduced. I like him a lot. Ninjago needed a true wildcard to shake things up and be unpredictable. I also think he’s pretty nicely woven into the action of the plot. I think his introduction is a bit strange. Like, the ninja already know him, but we’ve never seen him before? Just the way they talk about him sounds like they’re quickly recapping who this guy is for those who missed previous episodes. It’s fine if the ninja already know him but either 1) Introduce or foreshadow him a season earlier or 2) Introduce their dynamic to the audience before it becomes plot relevant. Maybe the ninja are grumbling about him being a nuisance while tea shenanigans are going on or something. Or maybe you have a scene of him stealing the scroll and making snarky remarks about the ninja while he does it. Idk. just something so his sudden plot relevance isn’t out of nowhere. Also, I don’t hate his and Nya’s dynamic, but I know a lot of people love it, and I’m just not totally here for it. Is he supposed to be a father figure for her? Mentor? Frienemy? Just plain friend? (love interest???) it’s not super clear and I could have used some clarification. I also like his use and tie to the next season, so overall, well integrated character.

Nya

I’m adding in Nya here cuz she goes through a major character change, and how she’s handled is one of the things that rubs me the wrong way about the season. A lot of people will probably disagree and/or hate me for this section of the analysis so… here we go! The thing she has to get past to reach her true potential is fear of failure (supposedly) and the solution to that is to just… not care as much? First of all, I know this isn’t supper important, but the fun thing about the ninjago elements is that every elemental master matched up personality wise with their element. Jay is the energetic master of lightning, Kai is the hothead master of fire, Zane is the calm and calculating master of ice, Cole is the strong and dependable master of earth, Lloyd is the literal child master of energy. This especially goes for all the new season 4 masters. So what qualities are often associated with water personalities? Well, serenity, control, flexibility, elegance, patience… calm. You know, like a Zane type character (the element directly adjacent to hers). These are things that Nya isn’t - or at the very least don’t define her. (there’s also something to be said about water and its ties to more feminine qualities, which Nya has been actively shown to reject, but I won’t go into that rant here.) She was designed as the fire master’s sister, and when you try to fit a fire personality into a water shaped character mold… it doesn’t exactly mesh well. It doesn’t make sense. But, like I said, whatever. Maybe that’s the point? Like she has to change her personality to be more in tune with water? Sure. But let’s talk about this fear of failure thing. Because that’s the stated thing that dialogue tells us she needs to overcome. But when has Nya ever been afraid of failure? Fear of failure means avoiding doing something because of fear. Nya is ridiculously persistent, always has been (you know, fire personality). She tries training when no one tells her to, she makes her own alter ego to try and be a hero and save the people who would constantly tell her she wasn’t ready. Wu says she only wants things that come easy, but that’s never been her character before now, she has carried the team with her tech, research, and covert ops that no one forced her to do, all things which are not easy. Fear of failure is usually characterized by what if questions. If Nya is so afraid of failure, why don’t we hear her saying stuff like “but what if I’m not strong enough, what if I can’t save them in time, or worse, what if I lose control of my power and end up hurting people?” Cole shows much more of a fear of failure this season surrounding his insecurity about being a ghost. He wants to sit out from missions because he’s not sure he’ll be able to do it - he’s afraid of failure. But whatever, the writing isn’t clear at expressing her true setbacks, but she does display a real problem that a lot of people have and I think could have been well done if set up correctly. She shows an undying persistence that gets her too close, and makes her increasingly incapable. She lets her frustration hinder her progress (again, fire personality trait), and I think that’s interesting because I don’t think ninjago has done this character arc yet. The supposed solution to this problem is that she just needs to… care less? And yes, I kind of see where they were going with this, we sometimes cloud our natural potential by thinking about it too much, but saying “you need to stop caring” is the absolute wrong way to word it. Caring is not her problem, the problem is her control over the emotions that come from her caring. Caring is a good thing, and teaching kids that if you’re ambivalent about your problems, they’ll go away is not a good message. What she needs to do is take a step back. She needs to take a break, stop to think, and look at the big picture instead of hyper focusing on the roadblock directly in front of her. The usual and much better wording of the moral I think they were going for is “stop overthinking things”. Teaching kids to look at a problem from a different angle and give themselves time to cool down is a great thing. And just think of it, in the climax she could have this ah-ha moment where she steps back and looks at the bigger picture - the whole town, surrounded by the ocean - and gets the idea to sink the preeminent into the water, you could even easily tie that back into the bucket exercise, and that’s what triggers her true potential rather than the current… I’m honestly not sure what. Random flashbacks and the end of the season approaching quickly. Alternatively, you could tie it more directly into samurai x, and make her struggle with letting go of the past and allowing yourself to give up something good in your life to progress to something better. Anyway, I don’t think this was a bad decision long term, she needed to be solidified on the team as a full fledged ninja, I just think this season doesn’t handle the transition that well. Anyway, whatever, I’ll be waiting for your hate comments in the notes.

Romance

Um… there’s none this season? Like there’s a few Wusako moments that are still as weird as they were in season 2, but they’re really not prevalent. There’s also the Jay seeing the future thing which has some weird implications next season (again, some interesting connective tissue between seasons), but that’s about it. Maybe that’s part of why I don’t love this season? Like where’s the pixane? Lol, I’m kidding. But maybe that’s why a lot of people do like it. If you don’t like the canon ships… this is a nice little safe haven for you. Rare for a majority of the series.

Villains

So Morro is a good idea… in theory. I know he’s the fandom’s favorite edgy boy, but idk I think the brand of angsty teen they ended up with was more of an angsty 13 year old than 17 year old. His voice is really grating and I always want to yell at him to just… go get some cough drops. Stop throat screaming, use your diaphragm man! Also, everyone goes on about his last minute redemption, but as far as season 5 goes, he has like half a second of a change of heart. Literally, when Wu comes over and he’s drowning, he’s still being a persistent little idiot like “you never cared about me nooooo!” and it’s only at the last possible second that gives him the crystal, and even that he does it kind of saltily. The preeminent is pretty cool, I like her concept, her design, all that. All the other ghosts are fine I guess. Nothing super memorable out of them, although their aesthetic, especially when there’s a bunch of them swarming around is pretty cool. One last thing was I never understood how Morro “becoming the green ninja” worked and what exactly it was that… did for him? Like he didn’t actually get the power of energy, right? I don’t remember him using it. Did just him defeating Lloyd make him the green ninja? How does that transfer work? And why did he need it to take over the world or realms or whatever? Like I get that it’s supposed to give him more power and what not but idk, it wasn’t super clear. That’s a minor thing though.

Climax

Pretty cool. I like the ATMOSPHERE. Green light is a hard thing to use and justify correctly, but it works really well here, especially with the dark kinda gray blue sky complimenting it. When the preeminent starts walking into the ocean, it’s genuinely terrifying, but you understand exactly how it works and why she’s strong enough to do it. Nya’s true potential is again a little out of left field and could have had some better motivation put behind it. Like what is it Nya learned in that instant? To not be afraid to protect people? She’s… been doing that. Idk. I’ve hit on that enough for now. Overall, there was good variety. I like the green ninja fake out, I like the realm hopping, I even like the little Garmadon visit and Lloyd getting the robe. I feel like we didn’t need a part one and two, you could have had different titles. I mean come on. But hey, now we know, if Pix had only been there, the whole climax would have been wrapped up in like 10 minutes apparently. Pix for the win.

Humor

Really good. Like I’m surprised how much I laughed. Jay wasn’t annoying humor, it was good stuff, there were some good running gags, there’s a solid fourth wall joke about who the lead ninja is at the beginning of the season. Overall, I am pretty impressed. My favorite joke was perhaps the bit where Jay is sarcastically positive, the voice acting is just really solid. Then again, there’s also the whole Borg scene where he roasts half the ninja, that’s solid stuff right there. There’s just some really solid character interaction this season and the humor feels a lot more natural and less forced.

Drama

Okay, we’ve got a lot this season. Y’all know how I feel about Nya’s arc by now. It does not work for me. Ronin’s relationship with her is alright, but kind of comes out of nowhere. Ronin’s solo plot about kinda working for the ghosts works. Cole’s ghost angst works for the most part, although I wish he would have actually skipped a mission and then gone in to help save his friends once they can’t do it without him. That was probably the most solid drama of the season. The other main thing we have this season is Kai’s whole… fear/protective streak. This also doesn’t really work for me. Like, I get that Lloyd and Kai are friends and stuff, like his whole true potential was centered around Lloyd. But like, why does it have to be framed so weirdly? Sometimes in trying to make it seem like Kai is protective of him, it seems like the other ninja just like… don’t care about him? Not all the time, but there are some weird vibes. Also, it doesn’t really go anywhere. No one learns anything about themselves from this subplot, nothing comes of it, there isn’t really a payoff. Also, Kai has yet another irrational fear, this time of water, which really comes right the hell out of nowhere. They try to explain it away like “Oh, Kai feels powerless and so water can get to him” but like… what? That’s the exact situation he was in at the end of season 2 and he seemed perfectly content to literally swim across the ocean (which um… what do you mean the sworn protector of ninjago can’t swim?). Where is this coming from?! Again, it doesn’t really go anywhere, there’s not a point where he has to learn to confront it or he grows because of it. It’s just pointless stuff added cuz the writers like giving Kai vague trails to try and develop him. The cloud kingdom is kinda cool. That last minute twist about them working with Morro is… stupid and unnecessary though. 

Spotlight Episode

I really like the Spinjitzu master tomb episode. Some cool riddles, I like the first two rooms a lot. I do think the third room is a bit strange. Like, the clue was “don’t look ahead” and the solution was to look beneath them, which is the exact same solution as the previous room. Like, you already have magic ice that shows the future, why not play into that? Don’t look ahead could maybe mean don’t look to the future, the opposite of that being the past. Maybe they have to draw on their past adventures to solve it somehow? Learning from the past is a good lesson, right? But overall, I really like it. Some real solid humor this episode. This episode has the sarcastic Jay optimism, Kai totally stalling for time, Zane dealing a pretty sick burn on Cole, just a lot of fun stuff. I like it. It just has great energy and nothing feels like it’s drawn out for too long.

Misc

The aesthetic this season… can be inconsistent, but the main ghost vibe displayed in the opening theme is really solid and I really like it

Speaking of the opening, Ghost wip is great and the opening in on par with last season’s (which is my fav) for sure

Ice age references… okay.

Chima references…. OKAY...

Okay, but like Deepstone can… kill ghosts? Or not? Is it just something ghosts can touch? It’s supposed to be like water in weapon form, right? Like that’s how I understood it when they first introduced it. Wouldn’t the deepstone bars kill Ghoultar then? And then like, Cole’s bike is made of deepstone. He uses it as a weapon. Wouldn’t it kill him? It kills other ghosts when they touch it. How… how does it work?! I need answers!!!

The captain of the steam boat says they’re going as fast as possible, but later Ronin comes in and cranks it up like twice as fast… that always bothered me like, why would he lie about that? Who is this captain and why is he so chill about everyone’s lives?! And then later Wu cranks it up yet again, like the ship had slowed down to it’s previous speed. What the hell is happening with the controls of this ship???

So pissed that the nasty CGI nightmare cloud monster that chases the ninja is named Nimbus. Totally forgot about that. I have an OC with a cat named Nimbus… I promise, there is not going to be a stupid twist bout the cat being the monster thing in Mists of Fate. That would be very stupid.

I was all excited that season 13 gave us minecart chases, but I totally forgot season 5 gave us one first. I really like the return to the caves of despair btw, good reuse of a known location.

How many times this season did we do the: 

Kai: Oh, I don’t like water, I can’t do it uwu  Cole: ...You serious?

Thanks for reading! And if you got this far… I don’t know. I would love to hear your thoughts if you have any! These are just my opinions, so don’t think too much of it if you disagree.

-Kitten

[snkpolls]

SnK Episode 61 Poll Results (for Manga Readers)

The poll closed with 359 responses. Thank you to everyone who participated!

Please note that these are the results for the Manga Readers’ poll. If you wish to see the results for the Anime Only Watchers’ poll, click here. 

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RATE THE EPISODE 347 Responses

While this episode wasn’t as big of a hit as episode 60, overall most viewers still enjoyed the content and are looking forward to more next week!

amazing amazing! I'm so delighted with this season so far!

Im so beyond pumped i love everything

Dissapointing but acceptable.

I’m like angry I loved it so much.

I just wish we didn't have to wait a week

It was amazing. We all gotta apologize to MAPPA for ever doubting them.

It's a huge stepdown from episode 1. At times the animation was straight up painful to watch. My expectations were low and yet I'm still disappointed :/

WHICH OF THE FOLLOWING WAS YOUR FAVORITE SCENE/MOMENT? 349 Responses

Reiner-centric scenes were the highest on people’s radar, with 24.9% of respondents enjoying his reunion with the warrior cadets, and not far behind, 22.9% enjoyed Reiner bringing up the 104th at the dinner table. In third, with only 13.5%, was Pieck and Porco’s formal introduction to the audience. 

Hearing Zeke greet his grandparents with such happiness warmed my heart. I do believe that he loves them. 

They just had to add one last image of Ymir's broken face before she died, huh? :(

WE FORGOT TO ASK LAST WEEK D: WHICH OF THE FOLLOWING SCENES/MOMENTS FROM EPISODE 60 WAS YOUR FAVORITE? 348 Responses

Last week we forgot to include what your favorite scenes were. The scene from episode 60 that got the most favor was Reiner’s, “I’m sick and tired… of walls” with 33.6% of the vote. 16.7% most enjoyed Zeke’s titan transforming scream. 14.9% were hyped about Reiner and Porco wrecking Fort Slava.

MAPPA WENT ALL OUT WITH THE CINEMATOGRAPHY IN THIS EPISODE. WHAT DID YOU THINK OF THE CINEMATIC PANS AND ROTOSCOPE ANIMATION? 349 Responses

Overall, a total of 74.5% respondents have positive feelings about MAPPA’s use of rotoscope animation and camera panning. Some felt like it was akin to watching a movie, while others are just happy to have the dynamic movement. A smaller amount of respondents didn’t have feelings one way or another, and a minority (about 10.3%) really are not a fan of this type of animation style for the series.

It felt odd sometimes as they used it for long scenes (like Udo talking or Gabi telling the story to her family) but overall it was pretty great and I prefer it to WIT's stale animation during season 3

I liked the more dynamic movement during dialogue, but my roommate found it super awkward and off-model. So a fifty-fifty split in a sample size of two lol

It could have been animated better, but I like the extra dimension it gives to scenes

Enjoyed it a lot! However, there were a few scenes that felt a bit off, like some frames were missing. Specifically, when Udo was doing all those gestures while talking with the rest of the Warrior Candidates.

It felt dynamic to the point of looking unnatural - some gestures and expressions just moved wrong

i'm split, in some scenes it was great (like reiner waking up), but in the dialogue scenes the constant movement seemed kinda unnatural and distracting

It was amazing but at the same time I'd didn't look fluid enough, especially at Udo's mouvements which made the character look kind of...video game-ish in constant moving. 

I thought it looked great the rotoscoping,the movements all looked amazing

The animation during Urdu’s scene is so cool!  I was caught of guard at first though lol. It’s so realistic!

NOW THAT WE’VE GOTTEN TO HEAR A LITTLE MORE OF THE NEW OST TRACKS, HOW DO YOU FEEL ABOUT THE SOUNDTRACK SO FAR THIS SEASON? 344 Responses

So far, reception to the newer music is overall positive. 31.1% are really enjoying the music and think the songs are being used immaculately, and 40.4% really feel that the song choice compliments the scenes they’ve been used in. 13.1% think the songs are good, but miss having that sole Sawano feel to them. 10.8% just feel the music is “ok” and 2.6% aren’t a fan of the new OST tracks so far. 

I mean it sounds good, but we haven't gotten to important moments that require a memorable track, so we'll see!

First episode slapped because it really complemented the scene but it's more... generic. I didn't like how it was used in this episode, there wasn't enough of it and again, generic. I miss Sawano's unreal scores.

the animation absolutely blew me away, and i love the intense music that played during Reiners monologue 

The music is fine.

I've heard both new and old songs from the previous seasons. Still too soon to make an opinion as we need to hear more.

I am deaf, I can't hear no damn soundtracks 

That music guys when they came back to Liberio and reuniting with they parents, made me tear up but also because the scouts never had the chance to go back home with victory in the arms of their family, I wish I could have seen EMA like this.. It kinda felt unfair X) but I was happy for them nevertheless.

HOW DO YOU FEEL ABOUT THE CLOSEUP OF ZEKE’S MOUTH? 346 Responses

Our first of probably too many crack questions in this poll, 32.7% thought the closeup of Zeke lighting his cigarette was cool looking. 21.4% are concerned about Zeke’s lung health. 19.1% are probably annoyed with us and simply don’t care (lol). 13.3% wouldn’t mind smooching Zeke, and 11% were just plain grossed out.

Does smoke even affect a titan shifter? Surely his lungs just heal themselves

ASMR for the eyes, right there. Aww yiss

It was awesome! Zeke is shown as relaxed person with a big drop of mystery. 

Smoking Bad but he is gonna die in a year anyway

Suuuuuuucc

It might've just been an artistic choice to include it in there, but i gotta say I'm oddly fascinated and idk why

I don’t remember it lol

I didn't even notice.

Zeke looks hotter than he has ever looked

WHAT’S YOUR OPINION ABOUT ELDIAN ASSES? 341 Responses

Most of the responses seemed to feel rather positively about Eldian asses, with almost 40% seeking out Zeke’s ass wiping technique. About 17% simply stated their appreciation for them, while almost 13% are just thirsty. In contrast, a little over 17% seemed confused to the question’s inclusion and about 10% were confused outright. 

MAPPA WHERE IS PIECK'S ASS

More into Eldian thighs, really

I bet Levi’s is nice

If only Eren had one

zeke has the energy of a straight man who doesn't wash his ass

Only Shadis' ass

GIVE IT TO ME 😏😏

They are like normal, human asses. Do not turn them into some magical, special snowflakes, just because they belong to Eldians. 

Seek help

Enough

DO YOU WANT REINER TO GIVE YOU A HEAD PAT? 343 Responses

A definitive majority, almost 59 percent, openly expressed enthusiasm for the prospect of a head pat from Reiner. However, a near 30% fraction of responders didn’t seem too happy about this recent chain of less than serious questions. We’re sorry about that. 😅. The rest either didn’t seem interested in said prospect or noted they wouldn’t care either way.

WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT THE DECISION FROM MAPPA TO CONDENSE REINER’S FLASHBACK INTO (PRESUMABLY) A SINGLE EPISODE? 346 Responses

It would appear that the majority of those who took our poll express cautious optimism at the prospect of seeing all (or the vast majority) of Reiner’s backstory being adapted into a single episode, with a near 47% supporting the move, thinking it could make the narrative “more coherent”. Almost 20% argue it would work better pacing wise. On the flipside, just over 17% state that they would rather have a more accurate adaptation to the manga. 11.6% simply say they have no opinion. There were also more than a few write-ins.

I do wish everything could be animated to full detail, but pacing and structure will benefit here

They've done a good job so far, so I'll reserve judgement until I actually watch it.

It will be difficult as they're chapters with loads of dialogue, but they can pull it off if unnecessary stuff gets cut out or changed in some type of way (like watching Marcel's death for the sixth time, them breaking through the wall or even Jean and Eren fighting) 

If they get the pacing right, then the rearrangement will be for the better.

Reiner flashbacks + Reiner suicide attempt + Falco meeting "Kruger" (more than 2,5 chapters) in a single episode? HELL NO! WTF MAPPA!  

Worried and cautiously optimistic.

At least it looks like they're going to stick to just one episode for the RBA flashback. It was mostly just filler anyway, so there was never any need to stretch it out and waste precious time getting back to the Paradis side of the story

I doubt that that's exactly how it is, but if so, then I don't think that that's a wise idea

It’s gonna be rushed as hell

Reiner flashback is very long and there is tons of dialogue, so I dont know how its going fit in only one episode, but if they can make it work then its fine for me

WHICH CHARACTER DESIGN DID YOU LIKE BEST IN COMPARISON TO THE MANGA? 346 Responses

This question gave us a somewhat evenly split pie chart, but Porco nonetheless managed to gain the bigger piece with just over 55%. Surely due to that bomber jacket and haircut. Nearly 45% picked Pieck (gottem) instead. Must have been the somewhat inconsistent nose. 

WHO’S SEIYUU DID YOU LIKE BEST? 335 Responses

On the flip side, 68.4% seemed to prefer Pieck’s soft voice. Porco with his (how the hell does Porco sound like… how can you describe his voice) managed to win the hearts of 31.6% of responses.

Pieck voice wtf? I imagined Pieck with a more Hanji-ish voice, not this sweet and high pitched.

DID MAPPA DO PIECK’S NOSE JUSTICE? 345 Responses

The debacle over Pieck’s POWERFUL nose gave us quite a colorful pie chart. Almost 39% of responses noted that Mappa was on point with Pieck’s nose for most of the episode. Afterwards, 26.7% stated that they thought that Mappa got it right only in some points of the episode. On the flip side, another 26.7% thought that Mappa was generally quite on point throughout the entire episode. A small minority (7.8%) thought that Mappa simply did a poor job. 

The animation is good, and while I don't want to complain, I have a small problem with the drawings themselves. I feel like they lack precision (like Pieck's nose, idk if that's clear).

I'm grateful for Pieck's nose. I always respected Isayama for drawing imperfect characters, because this way he has made them to look more realistic. Even though Pieck has so-called imperfect nose, she is still absolutely gorgeous. Her imperfections are part of what makes her beautiful and unique.

PORCO’S HAIR - WERE YOU TEAM RED HAIR OR BLOND HAIR? AND ARE YOU HAPPY WITH HIS ANIME COLOR SCHEME? 345 Responses

A far less controversial debacle concerned Porco’s hair scheme. The folks supporting a Blond color scheme were universally content with his hair color (all 57.4% of team Blond). On the flip side, an almost universal approval was also present from team Redhead (13.6% of those supported his blond hair color). 27.5% of the responses seemed to care not about this issue at all, however.

NOW THAT WE KNOW PORCO BETTER IN THE MANGA, DO YOU THINK HE WOULD HAVE *ACTUALLY* DONE A BETTER JOB THAN REINER IF HE HAD INHERITED THE ARMOR AND WENT TO PARADIS? 348 Responses

Porco inheriting the Armored Titan is a rather interesting what-if scenario. Perhaps of the most interesting as a whole, so it’s no surprise to see a rather divided opinion of those who took our poll. A little over 36% believe that Porco doing a better job than Reiner on Paradis is a definite possibility. Just over 24% believe it’s not likely Porco would have done better than Reiner. On the flip side, 21.6% think that is is likely Porco *would* have a more successful conduct on the island. 9.2% believe that Porco’s success is a given and in opposition to that, 8.9% think that Porco’s success would have been basically impossible.

HOW ABOUT IF PIECK HAD GONE TO PARADIS WITH THE WARRIORS? 346 Responses

Much less division here, however. 70.5% of responders believe that Pieck’s possible trip to Paradis (in the initial attack) would have not have resulted in a given “mission success” for the Warriors, although she would have been a rather useful ally. Nearly a quarter, on the other hand, think that Pieck’s inclusion would have ended the story right then and there. The rather small minority of the other responders think that Pieck would not have been useful had she participated in the mission.

GABI HAS ALWAYS BEEN A CONTROVERSIAL CHARACTER. HAS MAPPA BRINGING HER TO LIFE CHANGED YOUR FEELINGS TOWARD HER? 342 Responses

64.6% of respondents overall have positive feelings toward Gabi as of right now, with 39.5% having already been enjoying her character throughout the manga. 25.1% now view her more positively with her being brought to life. 20.2% don’t really care about Gabi either way, and 11.7% feel very negatively toward Gabi, without the anime swaying their opinions. 

Gabi still sucks

Sakura ayane as gabi is probably the best thing to happen to me all year

WITH SUCH A DIALOGUE-HEAVY ARC, CUTS WERE INEVITABLE. WHICH CUTS WERE YOU DISAPPOINTED IN, AND WHICH CUTS CAN YOU LIVE WITH?

Overwhelmingly, the scenes that were most missed by manga readers were “Pieck walking on all fours/scaring Porco”, “Zeke mentioning the Ackerman Clan”, “Reiner’s smirk when his family talks about ‘Island Devils’”, and “The imagery of Eren and Armin wrecking ships”. Smaller character details, such as Reiner mentioning how he acted like Marcel on Paradis, Gabi wishing to understand Reiner’s feelings, Falco pointing out how Reiner almost had the Armor taken from him, were also very missed by manga readers, although just less so. 

General Calvi talking about Zeke’s loyalty, Gabi getting praise from her parents when they reunite, and Magath trashing the Marleyan navy, were moments that many respondents didn’t feel strongly about one way or another, or felt that these were details that weren’t really needed anyway. 

Cutting the scene where Falcon talks about why Reiner kept the AT was really bad.  Also the table scene could have been better. Some imagery when Reiner was describing the 104th and his smirk.

The cuts the anime has done made the spectators less informed about some story background stuff. This is in order to direct attention to the marley's eldians planning how to overcome the world's disparagement towards the power of the titans. 

I'm sad they cut the gate guards. They humanize the marleyans a bit. Hope they add their scenes next episode and do them justice.

I hope we will get the Gabi/Reiner talk about understanding each other through PATHS when she eats him next episode

Gimme crawling best giiiirl

MAPPA cut Pieck's ass so this episode wouldn't be so ass centered with Zeke's ass wiping technique. This is my theory lol

Great episode but U was so looking forward to the Reiner scene talking about Paradis “devils”. In the mange it was a powerful scene really adding to the duality of Reiner and the pain he has, and the animation did not do it justice. Plus some parts of his speech were probably hard to understand for a non mange reader without the flashback. (Like which one is referring to Jean for example).  I really wish it had been better delivered

IS THERE ANY CHANCE WE’LL SEE SOME OF THESE CUTS ANIMATED IN A LATER EPISODE? 342 Responses

them into different scenes. Overall, the majority answered a big, fat, “maybe.” 15.8% are confident that what’s done has been done, and 12.6% are more optimistic that MAPPA will find a way.

Overall I was a bit disappointed. I feel like the amount of material cut from every conversation included really added up overall and gave it a very rushed feel to me. I really hope they add it all in later.

ON THE FLIP-SIDE, WHICH ADDITIONS/CHANGES DID YOU LIKE/DISLIKE?

The changes and additions that MAPPA made were overall viewed very favorably, with the scene of Porco and Pieck interacting with the warrior cadets being the most liked addition. This is followed closely by the overall character movement during dialogue scenes, the small detail about Pieck’s father being unwell, and Gabi shouting “Watashi!” on the train.

I loved the additional details made it very emotional

IT WAS A GREAT TIME TO BE GALLIPIECK TRASH

Sneakier Eren's a nice addition too

Porco my boiii I'm so happy he's here 💖💖💖💖 if mappa is adding some extra scenes then gimme more of gallirei 👀

WHICH SCENE FROM THE PREVIEW ARE YOU MOST LOOKING FORWARD TO? 338 Responses

Unsurprisingly, 42% of respondents are hyped about Kenny’s brief return and Annie’s unlikely encounter with him in the Underground. 22.2% are eager to get that sweet Reiner angst as he is rejected by his Marleyan father. 17.8% are looking forward to Reiner’s training days.

ADDITIONAL THOUGHTS ON THE EPISODE?

great! it was inevitable they would cut stuff but it hasn't changed any major plot point or thing i would want to see desperately 

It was just really great to see the scenes animated, it adds another level of depth and understanding to the story I believe. 

Loved anime-onlies missing Eren completely. Some even thought it was him but then noticed the leg and thought against it

I think it was very well done. Just need a little getting used to with MAPPA on the reins now. I think MAPPA added some scenes to show how those Eldians over there are still just human after all and they have their own problems to deal with. 8/10 episode.

I feel like they took a lot of emotion way from reiner. made him seemed stoic and determined to go to the island even though in the make he looked scared about having to return. 

I thought the rotoscoping was really well done! I’m happy with the pacing, the fact that the episode felt like it went by fast is good considering it was dialogue based.

Incredible. The direction, the cinematic quality, we are feasting. MAPPA is elevating the story beyond anything I could have imagined! I'm beyond hyped for the rest!! But where is asshole Marley guards/Hobo!Eren's appearance as a favorite moment?!

Incredible, it adapts the source material very well while adding some touches that make it unique in it's own way. As a manga reader, I'm really glad that they're doing this because it feels like a completly different experience from reading it and makes me excited on what changes or directing choices they're going to make during the course of the season, great job so far MAPPA!

Such an amazing episode. Made 20mins feel like 5. MAPPA is doing fantastic. The characters have never felt more alive and the animation style is something I never knew I wanted until now. 

I can't believe they didn't cast Mads Mikkelsen to voice Mads Mikkelsen

The episode was good but the dinner scene didn't do justice to the manga. It didn't have the same feeling to it. I saw a lot of anime onlys thinking Reiner was just trying to talk shit about the 104th. I feel like the flashbacks during that part in the manga gave it a nostalgic feeling that helped convey what he truly felt about his time on the island. His facial expressions were not quite there either. Specially sad because it was the moment I was expecting the most this episode and because it's a big part of Reiner's character, maybe next episode can kind of fix this.

I haven't seen the anime only poll results, but given personal conversations with them I imagine quite a few could care less about the Warriors and are looking forward to the 104th showing up to stir shit up. Boy are those folks in for a treat :)

I knew I'd feel more attached to all of them once they got animated. I didn't expect getting real thirsty for Lainah.

I was so happy with how much detail MAPPA put into the background scenery. Also, I think that an underrated moment during this episode was the Marlian douchebag triggering the Eldian soldier’s PTSD. You could really feel their terror, and THEY KEPT THE HOBO EREN PART IM SO HAPPY!

Its consistently very pretty and well animated which is great of course, but I worry the team won’t be able to maintain this quality for some of the meatier scenes in the later episodes. The fast pace of the episode (compared to the manga) as well as the many cuts make it a bit harder for scenes to stick, I wish there was a bit more breathing room at times. This also makes the fancy animation and frequent rotoscoping cuts feel less impactful for me—with every scene being cut down to its core ingredients, and every scene having at least one cut with more motion and energy than we’re used to, I can’t help but feel it all kind of mashes together without sticking out as much, leaving less of an impact. (I feel really really weird actually complaining about good camerawork/animation, what the hell lol) Also hobo <3

Plenty of questions about ass but no questions about the full ED? Or how we thought the episode did at hiding Eren in plain sight?

rip Reiner's chocolate abs :'(

The episode wasn't as interesting as the first one. I was yawning from time to time. Yet, I think that Mappa did a great job, because it's hard to animate full of  dialogues chapters. I was disappointed of the fact that flashbacks from Paradis have been cut. I hoped to see Sasha, Connie, Ymir and Marco while Reiner was speaking about them. Without the flashbacks we just got the dry speech and this way hard to say what Reiner is really thinking about people he met on Paradis. We - as manga readers - already are aware of his feelings, but anime onlies may not know and see Reiner as cold hearted person. I'm not complaining over animations or the OST tracks because no studio is perfect and some small mistakes here and there won't destroy my fun. I just sit and enjoy the episode. 

Very good, with the exception of the dinner scene, in which the director missed the mark completely with the tone.

WHERE DO YOU PRIMARILY DISCUSS THE SERIES? 328 Responses

Thank you again for participating! We’ll see you again next week!

[takerfoxx]

She-Ra and the Princesses of Power, Season 5, Episode 13, “The Heart, Part 2,” First Impressions!

I am going to miss this show, I really am.

Well. Here we are. The final episode of She-Ra and the Princesses of Power, an almost three decade later reboot of a show I’ve never seen, which in turn was a spin-off of a show I’ve never seen, and yet somehow became one of my favorite shows of all time.

Now, when this show was first announced, there was a lot of pushback. You had the usual murder’s row of so-called anti-SJW troglodytes who like to swoop in on anything that looks like it wasn’t designed with straight white guys in mind (and speaking as a straight white guy, these guys are just. So. Tiresome!), as well as fans of the original who didn’t care for the new character designs, direction, or lack of connection to Masters of the Universe. Which, okay, I get it, and to be honest the little to no He-Man business still strikes me as weird, but come on guys. It’s been almost thirty years! Times have changed, audiences have changed, and the targeted audience of kids’ shows today are very different from what they were in the eighties. 

But despite all that nontroversy, She-Ra rose above and established itself as a genuinely great show in it’s own right, becoming both a critical and commercial success. Like, okay, it wasn’t Avatar the Last Airbender or Steven Universe-level big, but it definitely established a real niche for itself and gathered a sizeable fanbase. The excellent writing, incredibly on-point comedic timing, superb voice acting, casual diversity, oodles of complex and likeable characters, tight-plotting, mature handling of difficult topics, and immaculate direction made it out to be an amazing children’s show from a decade that has had no shortage of amazing children’s shows, and expectations were insane for the final season, with the climatic final episode being under incredible scrutiny. 

I mean, it makes sense, right? For once, given the huge LGBTQ fanbase the show has, and given how many times the LGBTQ community have been burned at the last second, there is little wonder that they would be wary. And while some shows like the aforementioned Avatar the Last Airbender and Breaking Bad have remained of high quality throughout its run and delivered with an excellent finale (or so I’m told, still working my way through), others like Voltron Legendary Defender and Game of Thrones have become notorious for shitting the bed in their latter halves, and other shows like Steven Universe have had more mixed receptions. So how would She-Ra turn out? Would it end up flopping at the end, or would it stick the landing and enter the pantheon of shows that actually completed their entire story arcs and are fondly remembered?

Yes. Yes, it did. 

The final season was spectacular. It started off all right, but from the third episode on immediately turned into pure brilliance, one that seemed to constantly top itself with wonderful character development, emotional payoffs, scenes of gripping tension, ballsy writing, and fantastic action. And any finale that makes me cry gets a thumb’s up from me.

Now, obviously I have a lot of gushing to do, but before it do, I should point out that I don’t think the finale is 100% perfect. There are things that kind of bugged me, and a few others that I felt really could have done better. Of course none of them were deal breakers, only little flaws that I feel could have stood to either have had more focus or different execution. And I might as well get the negative things out of the way.

And for me, the biggest problem is Shadow Weaver’s exit. 

And to be clear, I don’t have a problem whatsoever with Shadow Weaver dying. I wanted her to die. I’m glad she died. Nor do I have a problem for her dying to save the two girls she’s spent two decades abusing. And nor do I have a problem with them mourning her death, given that they never actually forgave her, and it only made sense that they would have complicated feelings toward her. All of those are fine!

What I have a problem with is how that moment was framed and directed. It was framed like a heroic sacrifice, from the dramatic final stand moment to Shadow Weaver being suddenly acting selfless to her telling Catra how proud she was of her and finally showing her face. 

Everything about that moment was exceptionally well done, yes, but the problem I have is that it doesn’t feel earned. That’s the sort of end you give a morally complex character that has been struggling with their negative qualities throughout a long character arc. And I’m sorry, but while Shadow Weaver is a pretty great and complicated character in her own right, she as never even tried to redeem herself until that moment. With Catra, we still saw how much her actions haunted and tormented her, even when she was at her worst. We saw her wrestling with her ingrained toxic behaviors and her conscience, so that when she finally makes the decision to do something right and, as far as she knew, sacrificed her life to rescue Glimmer and save Adora, it felt all kinds of earned!

But even after defecting to the Princess Rebellion, Shadow Weaver showed no signs of wanting to change. She showed no signs of regretting her mistreatment of Adora and Catra, and still continued to demean, undercut, and gaslight them whenever she was with them, and whenever she was called out on it, she would just brush it off and/or roll her eyes. Even when she was “helping” and “praising” her golden child Adora, she still continued to try to twist her head and mold her into what she wanted Adora would be. And her treatment of Catra didn’t change at all.

So I’m sorry, but that moment just didn’t work for me. Yes, I know Noelle has said that her sacrifice was still selfishly motivated, and I believe it, but it still felt off, especially with her finally telling Catra that she was proud of her, when she was AGAIN demeaning her earlier in that same episode! It carries the unintentional implication that Catra needed Shadow Weaver’s validation in order to move on. I honestly would have preferred that she never got it but realized that she didn’t need it to begin with. And that “You’re welcome,” which is incredibly condescending, was framed as a badass final line. There’s a disconnect between her character arc and its payoff that feels off. I wish something had been handled differently. 

The second issue I had was just how rushed a lot of the character payoffs felt at the end. Yes, I know Noelle said that she doesn’t want to do an epilogue and would like us to decide for ourselves how things turned out, and that’s fine. But one day later wouldn’t hurt. Wrong Hordak was shown a couple times cowering next to Swift Wind in group shots and then straight up disappeared. And given their complicated history together, Scorpia and Catra deserved so much more than just a hi and a hug. Chipped Micah was given more time to harm and demean Glimmer than real Micah was given to love her. The Entrapdak thing got more focus and despite what I said about Hordak needing to either die or lose his memories, I’m not too upset that he didn’t do either, but instead simply broke free and got a happy ending, and Mermista’s line of, “So, are we like okay with this?” was great, but it feels like there should have been more. And I know they never had their own character arc and did all they needed to do last season, but if you’re going to bring Double Trouble back, then give us more than just one episode and a two-second cameo at the end. 

Like, just give us some kind of montage of the rebuilding stage. Show us Wrong Hordak leading his scared and confused brothers in becoming individuals. Have him meet the real Hordak and show us how they would respond to one another! Give us a proper Catra/Scorpia reconciliation! Do more with Double Trouble or don’t bring them back at all. Hell, pair them up with Wrong Hordak partway through the season so they could bounce off each other, because that would be comedy GOLD! And while I’m glad that we at least got to see Lonnie, Kyle, and Rogelio (and they adopted Imp!), it sucks that that was their only scene this season, and it didn’t even have any lines. I’m not so upset about Huntara, because I know her voice actress is hard to get ahold of, so I’m okay with her just getting a wordless scene, but the others kind of bug.

I understand that time was a factor, but surely something could have been done.

All right, now I got all those out my system, let the gushing BEGIN!

Catra and Adora. Oh man. Oh man oh man oh man oh man. Now, I know I said that Catra needs to leave in order for her redemption to work, but even though she didn’t and got pretty much forgiven and accepted by everyone she hurt, I’m still very happy with how her redemption arc went down. Because she made the switch early in the season, showed genuine regret for what she did, made real attempts to apologize to those she hurt without expecting forgiveness, was shown wrestling with her bad traits, sometimes falling back into them, sometimes almost succumbing to bad habits, but was also shown finally making the right decisions and rising above them. She was the best-written character in the show with the most complex character arc, and they fucking NAILED the landing. 

And that is because of her love of Adora. 

Catra and Adora, two white-hot messes of weirdly compatible issues. Catra is so afraid of abandonment that she instinctively pushes those she loves away or runs away herself rather than let them leave her, and Adora only knows how to place others before herself, to be selfless to a fault, take all the blame for everything, and not let herself be the one who’s loved and protected. The two needed each other in order to overcome their issues, to put aside the damage Shadow Weaver instilled in them.

And they finally did.

Catra came back for Adora. She stayed by her side, refused to leave, and refused to let Adora give up. And Adora rose above her feelings of failure, allowed herself to be loved by another, and became whole. 

And then we got it. We finally got the moment we’ve all been waiting for, all been praying for, all wanted so goddamned desperately. 

We got the Big Goddamn Kiss.

The love each other. They’re lovers. They’re soulmates. After everything, how could they be anything else? It’s pure, 100% romantic love, a full, no ambiguity friends-to-rivals-to-enemies-to-allies-to-lovers storyline. Not subtext, no reading between the lines. It’s real, it’s canon, it’s between the two main leaders, and it happened right on the screen and saved the goddamned world.

Catra finally reached out to someone and showed love, and Adora finally allowed herself to be brought up and loved. And it’s that love that overcame Horde Prime’s virus and destroyed the Heart of Etheria. It’s that love that freed the magic, released She-Ra, and allowed her to vanquish Horde Prime once and for all. 

And hey, two girls kissing, turning into a rainbow, and annihilating the influence of a controlling religious cult and the symbol of exploitative colonizers? Hmmm, subtle!

I love it. 

Look, after everyone talking about how much the finale made them cry, and after already sobbing my eyes out when Angella sacrificed herself in season 3, I was worried that I wouldn’t feel the same, that everything had already been spoiled for me so it wouldn’t have the same emotional impact. Hell, the kiss itself had been spoiled for me! So if I knew it was coming, how could it affect me like it did others.

I was wrong. I was so wrong. When Catra screamed at Adora that she loved her and always had, the tears came gushing out. And when they finally did kiss, it made me happier than I had been for a long time. It was such a beautiful moment, and it was so wonderful to see all the magic unleashed, turning Etheria back into the paradise it was meant to be, and the Spire into a giant floating sprig of broccoli!

The Horde was finally defeat, and Horde Prime ripped out of his Wi-Fi network and destroyed once and for all. He will not rise again. His corrupted vision of purity is finally eradicated once and for all, and the galaxy is free again.

It was wonderful.

Other moments I want to highlight! Beginning with Bow! 

Oh Bow. I haven’t talked as much about you as I did at the start of the show, but you really are wonderful. After similar unpowered male goofball sidekicks like Xander and Sokka being big balls of toxic masculinity and ingrained misogyny caused by insecurities that they had to overcome, we get an unpowered male goofball sidekick who is a shining example of positive masculinity, someone who knows who he is and is comfortable with it, someone who more than holds his own in battle, constantly makes himself useful, and stands proud with his superpowered friends. And even then, he still feels like real person, one that gets frustrated, feels down, and gets angry at both himself and his friends, but still continues on, because he’s a soldier and that’s what he does. 

So it was wonderful that he got the Rise Up and Fight speech, because he deserved it, and oh it felt so good, seeing all those instances of people throwing off Horde Prime’s control while his words were playing. Bow really is wonderful.

And Hordak! Look, I know what I said about wanting more from his ending, but my God, that moment when he threw off Horde Prime’s control and shot Horde Prime in the back to save Entrapta and reclaim his identity was so! Fucking! Cool! I was cheering in my car when that happened! So good! 

And hey, give it up for Glimmer for not listening to Chipped Micah and refusing to back down. She overcame a brilliant sorcerer wielding dark magic through the power of sheer stubbornness! Chef kiss, beautiful!

Though I really do think she got most of her stubbornness from her mom. Miss yah, Angie. 

And Scorpia and Perfuma? Why, I think I like that quite a lot! Why yes, give Perfuma a big, strong girlfriend with a huge heart! Give Scorpia tiny, cute hippie girlfriend who will take no shit from anyone. Yes, I like this very much.

So...yeah. This really was wonderful. The world is saved, the Best Friend Squad is about to go on a space romp, and it feels good. And from there? Well, Noelle told us to come with that ourselves, so yeah, I’m sure Etheria was able to fully rebuild following the Horde’s destruction. I’m sure that Wrong Hordak became some kind of benevolent leader to his lost brothers and helped them come to grips with their individuality. I’m sure that Scorpia rebuilt the Scorpion Kingdom from the Fright Zone’s ruins and made it a haven to the lost Horde soldiers. I’m sure that Sea Hawk and Mermista burned down a boat together. I’m sure that Glimmer and Bow were married and became king and queen of Brightmoon and had a long and loving reign with lots of babies. I’m sure that Entrapta was given all the discarded Horde and First Ones tech to crack and find good uses for and remained as happy as a clam, especially considering the Hordak harem she’s built. I’m sure that Adora and Catra continued to build each other up, helped and supported one another to keep themselves from falling into bad habits, and Melog was always there as a faithful therapy magi-cat. I’m sure that Perfuma helped Catra along with meditative exercises and Catra never had the heart to tell her that she was just napping. I’m sure that Frosta grew up to be a strong and powerful queen who also founded her own iceball league. I’m sure that everyone started going to Netossa and Spinnerella’s game nights and just decided to put up with Netossa when she got like...that, because at that point she deserved to. I’m sure that Swift Wind finally did emancipate the horses and taught them to form their own weird society, but still made time to visit Madam Razz. I’m sure that Kyle and Rogelio became proud adopted fathers of little Imp, and one day while chilling at the local pub, Lonnie caught the eye of a big, strong purple woman. 

I’m sure they were all very happy from there on.

I am going to miss this show. It was a wonderful experience, one that’s given me so much. It made me laugh,it made me cry, it made me cheer, it made me shiver, it made me bite my nails, but most of all, it made me happy. 

So thank you Noelle and Molly. Thank you Chuck and Mary Elizabeth. Thank you Sunna and Aaliyah. Thank you Aimee, AJ, Karen, Marcus, Keston, Reshma, Lorraine, Christine, Adam, Genesis, Vella, Merit, Gina, and Jordan. Thank you to all the writers, animators, and directors. Thank you to everyone who worked on this show. Thank you all.

And a very special thank you to @smxmuffinpeddling​ for filling my dash with She-Ra content, which convinced me to check this show out in the first place!

[wifelinkmtg]

momlink

hi. this one’s gonna be a bit weird.

WAR OF THE SPARK is a set that i have strong opinions about in terms of flavor (it’s shockingly bad) but fortunately, I don’t have to care about that for wifelink. unfortunately, every time i try to write my normal thirst list about this set i keep getting sidetracked by the overwhelming mom energy coming off these characters, and yeah okay there are ways in which that could be sexy, but none of those are the case here. so, considering the day, i figured we should lean into it and ask, how would it be if any of these characters were your mother?

in another break from the usual, i will be situating these characters on a rigorous, scientific trio of axes: PRESENCE, which measures how involved a mom is in your life, ranging from 0, meaning absconded entirely, to 10, meaning a full squadron of helicopters and your life planned out until the funeral; COMPOSURE, which measures how put-together and competent a mom is, ranging from 0, meaning frazzled, stressed, incapable of taking care of herself let alone you, to 10, meaning immaculately-coiffed and a life of almost machine-like perfection; and WARMTH, which measures emotional temperature and intensity, ranging from 0, an ice-cold absence of empathy, to 10, white-hot rage.

you will notice that these scales do not measure any sort of linear goodness -  rather, both extremes are pretty undesirable, and there is no optimal spot in the middle. this is by design: i aim to evaluate these characters qualitatively, not rank them numerically. there is no One Best Way to be a mother, but some ways are certainly worse than others. all set? off we go.

Arlinn, Voice of the Pack (art by Ryan Pancoast)

Arlinn is decidedly on the “fun mom” end of the spectrum. You will never, ever have to beg her for a puppy - she has already brought home at least a dozen. And while it’s theoretically virtuous, I guess, that she doesn’t play favorites with her children, the fact that you have to share her attention equally with several wolves means Quality Time with Arlinn is pretty hard to come by. No, she’s not going to pay more attention to you just because you’re human - what are you, specist?

Presence: about a 7 or 8...divided by 15. 0.5/10 Composure: astonishingly put-together, for someone with that many animals to take care of. 4/10 Warmth: If she weren’t overflowing with affection, she wouldn’t have so many dang dogs. 8/10

Kaya, Bane of the Dead (art by Magali Villeneuve)

Hey, on the plus side, everyone at school is jealous and a little scared of you - your mom is a ghost assassin-turned-criminal empress. On the minus side, how are you supposed to have any sense of privacy when Mom can literally walk through walls? You are absolutely going to grow up with paranoid hang-ups about masturbation, sorry.

Presence: Mom is so in your head you won’t be able to get off until you’re twenty-eight. 9/10 Composure: technically both the head of a criminal syndicate AND an entire organized religion. Doesn’t get more together than Crime Pope. 10/10 Warmth: neither “ghost assassin” nor “mafia prelate” are super empathy-building resume lines. 2/10

The Wanderer (art by Wesley Burt)

You used to believe Dad when he said it’s not her fault, that she can’t control when she planeswalks, but now you’re pretty sure that’s bullshit and she just can’t stand to be around you for more than an hour at a time. You’ve got a whole cabinet of souvenirs she’s brought back from her sojourns - wind-up toys from Kaladesh, haunted doll from Innistrad, darksteel box from Mirrodin you are not to open under any circumstances - you’ve covered the whole thing with a dustcloth. It makes you sick to look at.

Presence: you’re pretty sure she forgot your name and has been covering by calling you “kid” and “sport” for years. 0/10. Composure: yeah, mother, “uncontrollable planehopping syndrome” somehow always waits for you to get your broody ronin aesthetic on in the mornings. Sure. 8/10 Warmth: at least she pretends to care about you. 1/10

Liliana, Dreadhorde General (art by Ryan Pancoast)

Look, sweetie, sometimes even adults make mistakes - sometimes really, really bad ones. That’s what Mommy did - she made a really bad mistake, and now she has to go away for a little bit, and you’re going to go live with Daddy. Promise - promise me you won’t forget about Mommy, okay? I’ll write to you. I’ll be thinking about you every day. Be brave, okay? Be good.

Presence: she does write, pretty consistently, from either prison or rehab, you’re not sure which, and your dad won’t talk about it. 2/10 Composure: absolutely not in control of her life anymore. 2/10 Warmth: many years later, you learn that this whole time she was actually off committing war crimes due to contractual obligations, which doesn’t help her attempts to rebuild your relationship. 2/10

Vraska, Swarm’s Eminence (art by Anna Steinbauer)

Mother absolutely will not accept you bringing home grades lower than A. Neither will she tolerate second-place finishes in swim meets, piano competitions, or fencing tournaments. She wears Givenchy to her salons, and you are required to be there in order to show off your breeding, good graces, and knowledge of French and Kraul - which is all suspiciously aristocratic for a waste management union boss. Some Azorius senator got too into the madeira one time at one of her soirees, called her nouveau bitch. He’s a lovely statue in the foyer, now.

Presence: incredibly controlling, but through intermediaries: tutors, private coaches, carefully-vetted friends. 9/10 Composure: you will never even come close to living up to her. 10/10 Warmth: who knows, maybe she’s got a secret softer side! Maybe her ever-expanding sculpture garden says otherwise. 1/10

Nahiri, Storm of Stone (art by Aleksi Briclot)

If Mom even thinks you’re not fully on her side in this divorce, she is going to start throwing things. And you are, you absolutely are! Dad is, by all accounts, a lying, cheating son-of-a-bitch, and you don’t want to have anything to do with him, but you are also totally exhausted from listening to Mom’s snarling, jaw-clenched rants about how she’s going to punish him for his betrayal. You’re ashamed that you don’t say anything about her nascent drinking habit, but at least when she’s having a mid-afternoon wine nap she’s not stomping around the house slamming doors and muttering to herself.

Presence: She’s got her own shit going on, and if she didn’t keep making it your shit as well you’d probably be left entirely to your own devices. 4/10 Composure: Any act of personal maintenance she performs is entirely out of spite. 3/10 Warmth: all-consuming, undying rage. 10/10

Saheeli, Sublime Artificer (art by Wesley Burt)

Okay, granted, you’ve been taking way more of an interest in STEM than you otherwise would just so you’ll have something to talk to Mom about, but you have been having a really good time working with her on your science fair projects, and you’ve been learning a lot! You and your other mom have plenty of time to talk about your primary interests (dance and theater) while Mom’s putting yet more overtime into her engineering job, but when she is home, she makes time to talk to you.

Presence: you’re not happy with how little you see her, but you get that she has a demanding job which she loves. 3/10 Composure: she has gotten much, much better about not just taking over your science fair projects. Even though she could make them far more efficient. 8/10 Warmth: you and your other mom agree that it’s so hard to stay upset with her when she’s got so much genuine joy for you both in her smile. 6/10

Ashiok, Dream Render (art by Cynthia Sheppard)

Ashiok is genderless but will accept being called “Mom” because it gives them power over you. They exist in order to feed off your nightmares, and where you might expect to find any spark of humanity or empathy, there is only smoke and void. Ashiok does not and will never care about you, no matter how many chances you give them. On an unrelated note, Happy Mother’s Day to my actual, real-life mom!

Presence: will literally haunt your dreams your entire life. 10/10 Composure: intends to make you feel awful about yourself, succeeds. 10/10 Warmth: hahahahaha 0/10

[vroenis]

Uncharted 4: An Era’s End

It’s recently come to light that game developer Naughty Dog has been subjecting its employees to crunch; the practice of overworking and underpaying staff in order to meet deadlines. This is not unique to Naughty Dog, nor to their current project pending release later this year, The Last Of US 2. Reports suggest that crunch has been endemic in the working culture of Naughty Dog for some time and this is now no surprise to us as such reports continue to surface about studio after studio, most in the corporately structured, premium funded and managed space we call “triple A” or AAA, but many smaller studios and independent spaces also. Several senior and long-tenured creatives have left Naughty Dog quite recently, and some may have been leaving earlier than those that have been reported during what’s turning out to be a turbulent development cycle for The Last Of Us 2.

Each month, as part of the paid subscription to the Playstation Plus online service, Sony offers a small selection of games. For April, one of them was Naughty Dog’s Uncharted 4: A Thief’s End, from which I derived my title. Not only am I here to suggest the studio’s troubles may have begun during the development of this game, first released back in 2016, but the title may have been one of the first significant indications that the book was closing on AAA development as we know it. I appreciate there have been many good voices shouting from the rooftops about the how unsustainable it’s been from before then, but the Naughty Dog for a long time seemed like a light in the dark, signalling that a big studio could still produce good product under strong leadership.

I feel that Uncharted 4 rather than The Last Of Us 2 is the real light, and instead of a light-house, it turned out to be a signal-fire warning that even then the composure of Naughty Dog was an illusion.

This piece is going to contain significant spoilers for Uncharted 4. It’s also not investigative - I just played it for the first time, completed it and I have some thoughts about it; these are my thoughts.

I didn’t like the third game at all. I took nothing away from it. I’ll never play it again as there’s nothing I want to relive from it, so I’d better look up the wiki on what happened in it... well that didn’t help at all as I don’t remember playing any of that, it was so unmemorable. I remember the wandering around in the desert bit and then some shooting in the desert which was all pointless. There were also some puzzles with shadow puppets that were almost good but so short and pointless, those two things sum up my feelings about the third game entirely.

What a way to start.

I’ve replayed the first and second games once each, so I’ve played those each twice thru and have decided that the first game is overlong and poorly paced, and the second game is the best and probably two-thirds good. Honestly, Elena should drop the Drakes in the ocean, run-off with Chloe and keep in touch with Sully because those are the only three characters with any depth and meaning. Let’s roll-back a bit.

I get that Nathan’s supposed to be a charming, happy-go-lucky character and for the most part, it works. Maybe I’m just getting too old for it or it’s wearing too thin. I really think the third game was completely unnecessary. When I review my notes on the fourth game, I think about the emotional quandary it attempts to set up i.e., ultimately that Nathan should be more honest with Elena - spoiler; he isn’t, but don’t worry it all works out *SPIT* - this was already a problem I was ready to face at the end of the second game. Given my feelings on the third game, I’d have much preferred a simple trilogy and conclusion that faced that emotional brunt to wrap things up. Naturally of-course, that’s not how money-spinners work.

If Uncharted 4 doesn’t spend time on Elena, who does it spend time on? Nathan has a brother! To be fair, I love Troy Baker as a voice actor and if there’s one thing that is consistent in Naughty Dog games, it’s excellent voice acting. I don’t know if I’m now biased after seeing so much of Nolan North and Troy Baker on YouTube outside of their VO talent work, but they’re wonderful people and their professional work is always great. The supporting cast is always great, too - so too the villains even if the narrative arcs are always completely absurd. I know these are always a bit of a lark, you can’t take them too seriously so I can’t hold Uncharted up to Kentucky Route Zero (got my mention in) and shake them comparatively, that’s not fair. It’s OK to have an excuse for a romp even if it does wear on a bit over time.

The problems I have with Uncharted 4 specifically are things like the level and environmental design. I’ve never gotten lost in this franchise up until now when it happened in almost every level... several times. I simply didn’t know where to go. There would be absolutely no clear indication of where to go and no assists, no subtle environmental guide and no camera nudges to help. There is a timer that eventually tells the player where to go and at times, this is tied to deaths so at one point I just threw Nathan off cliffs repeatedly to respawn until the hint appeared. This is unquestionably stupid design. I began to wonder if this was due to criticism that previous games had too much hand-holding, but when the UI assist was finally given and I made my way to the next check-point, I would *never* have found it under normal exploratory gameplay.

This remained true during several moments of scripted action sequences, some including during combat which brings up something else I now remember about the third game. I still couldn’t tell you when it was other than I didn’t know where to go and it was stupid, so there you have it. Maybe the third game was the real signal fire in my metaphor, who knows. In any case, constantly reverting to check-points and having to repeat, not understanding why you’re failing when the game isn’t telegraphing what you need for a success state in a scripted sequence is an exercise in frustration I’m not willing to ever repeat. While I’m not a souls-like player, I completely appreciate the admiration and respect for those games because they have rules that are clear to parse. Video games are *all about* providing feedback to the player. I’m not saying it’s easy, it is an incredibly difficult thing to achieve but it is literally the job you set out to do, it is the only vehicle you have to convey the lofty emotions you want to communicate to your audience.

And then there’s the driving. Naughty Dog. Do not put driving in your games. This is something you’re not able to do.

I don��t want to bash the driving so hard because at this point I feel like it may have been bolted on without time to make it stick correctly. This is the first game in the title where the hot-zones for interactions weren’t quite right. Where I bugged out of animations and had check-points or re-spawns instanced or loaded. Where I glitched out and fell off things, where I had to walk back and forth in-front of things to make buttons appear. The edges of that Naughty Dog polish were fraying. I’d attempt to do a thing and it just wouldn’t work, I’d fall to my death. I’d attempt to do the same thing the same way and it would work. Again this is dredging up more nondescript memories of the third game so I’m beginning to have my suspicions about the working environment there and when in the timeline things started getting bad - but cameras and jumping distances got really difficult to judge. One gap at one time would be fine to jump, then another would have you plunge to your death, and they’d be inconsistent to read or judge. These were not frequent, as with the third game, almost as if the artists and level designers were given time to adjust lighting and camera geometry tracking and control mapping as much as possible but just couldn’t get to them all. But throughout the games, it creeps in more and more.

I’d talk about combat - it’s functional, but it’s not interesting. These games don’t add anything interesting to the genre or video games in general. I play the games on easy because I don’t need to prolong the experience, I don’t actually have the physical time - if I could play the games without combat, I would. There are other games to play if I want dexterity challenges which I do engage in, Uncharted isn’t one of them. Even in 2016 I’m not entirely sure this would have turned heads. I realise I’m playing this a full four years later, but it’s hard to think of the sum-total of this game’s parts and see it as relevant...

But you know what? Uncharted 4 visually looks immaculate. Outside of the voice-acting and sound design, without question, the highest priority has been given to the visual fidelity of this game inclusive of the animations. So much has been invested in how the tech works, to the abandonment of everything else, I’d say the for example, the driving suffered the most, level design next, then interaction scripting. The attention to detail in the environments is stupendous...

...yet it’s all hollow. You know what? I don’t care about pirates and adventures anymore. Whatever. By the fourth game, I don’t care. I totally get that the game’s not for me but I played it and I’m writing how I feel about it. You’re telling me a story about a guy who met the person of his dreams and marries, then his brother turns up and he can’t be honest to his wife? Meow meow meow it’s all for the sake of drama so we skip over all the details but the contrivance is too much. You want me to accept these things on face value, then on face value, I say Nathan and his brother can go get fucked.

I took particular issue with the comically brief relationship discussion Elena and Nathan have after she saves him and they set off together in which she concludes she’s with him “for better or for worse”, which from memory the game chapter is titled after. Now either the character genuinely believes she owes him under the sanctity of nuptial obligation or she’s using it as a justification of such. This is a wholly unsatisfying discussion for me was when I finally checked out of this game - sure I should have done so hours before but this was the last straw and the indication that I am definitely too old for this shit - but this is a horrifying and stupid message to be spouting. Elena don’t owe anyone shit. Married or not, she’s free to save Nathan if she wants to, for any reason, but she’s certainly not obliged to. I despise this massive chunk of traditionalist patriarchy smashed into her character and the narrative, even if it is “well it’s just about her character” yea great, so that just re-enforces her as a loyal dog-trophy for the main character in the on-going male power-fantasy shenanigans shit-train. Nathan’s behaviour isn’t exactly selfish but it’s certainly not adult or considerate. He behaves like a child not taking on an appropriate level of responsibility. Others around him, being Elena and Sully, continuously bail him out - literally saving his life while endangering their own, and he continues to behave like a manchild that neither acknowledges their physical and emotional labour nor does he grow and evolve as an individual. What a fucker. Does he ever sort his shit out, ask Elena what she wants to do for a career and support whatever the fuck she wants to do with her life? Of-course the fuck he doesn’t. Know why? Because he’s a literal man-baby. And his brother is too. But that’s OK cos  he’s a fucken jock-hero and a funny guy so as long as we can all laugh about it and the narrative says-so and it all works out in the end and he gets the girl and she ends-up supporting his career anyway, it’s aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaall fine.

Nathan should have died and Elena shouldn’t have given a fuck.

I know I know, it’s not that serious. Look I’ve been thru some shit, alright? I can see it both ways. Sometimes you don’t think about stupid shit that deep and sometimes you do. Most of the time, I do, and most of the time, I take it to the nth degree, so yea, shit like that gets to me. I call it bad writing, so no, I don’t like the story. At all. Nathan’s supposed to be flawed but nothing ever costs him. When people make mistakes in life, those mistakes cost. The unfortunately thing is the cost is most often paid by the others around them, and sometimes they themselves never realise it. I don’t like stories where there’s a fuckhead at the centre but everyone still stays happy. Nathan seems to have been given a lesson, but I don’t think he earned it. This is why y’all watch Game of Thrones and are surprised when characters die because you keep consuming narratives with no stakes, and GoT is *still* only middling stuff.

Anyway.

How could Elena’s character have been given more attention? Uncharted 4 isn’t all bad. The most valuable thing Naughty Dog achieved was the recreation of real domestic spaces; the Drake households. Twice, we’re given time and space and encouraged to explore them without being funnelled by level design, events, NPC shepherding or audio cues. Rooms and the objects that fill them are meticulously and beautifully created, and they're given life and purpose in a way that has meaning far beyond all the pirate nonsense that while almost as equally beautiful, is completely vacuous.

Putting on Elena’s vinyl record as her daughter Cassie was the only time I enjoyed the music in the game, and it was a great call-back to Nathan having done the same thing in their house much earlier. Sure, there’s the Drake theme that repeats ad nauseam throughout the series but otherwise the soundtrack is bland and unremarkable adventuring fare. It contributes more to the feeling of this game being out of touch, contrasted to something like Control which certainly has a completely different setting, sure - but that’s part of it, so that affords the creative team room for more modular synths and drones and to have a distinct sound.

Walking thru those houses, first as Nathan but really as the player repositioning themselves from adventurer to ordinary life-living person in a domestic setting, and then as Cassie - daughter of these two amazing characters in an equalling urbane setting yet filled with wonderful objects, made up the most fascinating and enjoyable moments of the game for me. The mess of each room gave the houses the perfect lived-in feel to a degree that most other games struggle to achieve, probably due to how much effort it takes to get that much geometry mapped in - Giant Sparrow’s What Became of Edith Finch is probably one of the few games that has come close. The difference between the tropical islands, decaying pirate mansions and the domestic Drake residences is that the houses felt like everything in there felt like it meant something and was in there for a reason, like it had been part of something. I don’t mean that just for the objects that were intrinsically tied to implicit narrative beats like collectables or even items from countries where Uncharted 4 or prior games are set, but also things like towels, washing baskets, plates and dishes, books and picture frames, shampoo bottles, food - the detail in the fridges! That you can feed Cassie’s dog, Vicky is the most meaningful interaction of the game - by the way, the second most meaningful set of interactions is buying an apple in the market in Madagascar then playing with lemur and letting it take the apple.

Back to the houses, I’m disappointed we never got to walk through one of them as Elena. Now that the core of the franchise is wrapped, I’m left with the impression that she’s the most important character in the series and she’s left woefully under-served. This is a very me thing, and unsurprising. I doubt anyone else cares enough about writing and character to have thoughts like this. They’re into Uncharted for the adventuring and the shooting, but as soon as you present me the opportunity for character drama and you want to have a red-hot go at it, I’m here to set aside the rest of that guff and go for it. The running and jumping and shooting never changes, and I’m here to say that the puzzling could have stepped up orders of magnitude that Naughty Dog never committed to - Crystal Dynamics did far better with Rise Of The Romb Raider, and while the puzzling was never really difficult, the way I described it to a friend was to liken the puzzles to desk toys; not intended to be too challenging, but more satisfying in their tactile nature. I feel Fireproof’s The Room series for iOS and Android are great examples of providing similar sensations.

I don’t mind a game mostly about shenanigans, I just don’t want it centred around a character that won’t learn, or who gets off cheaply. Elena is infinitely more interesting to me - her concerns, her desires - Chloe too, for that matter, and I absolutely am not above making the joke about shipping them as I’m sure thousands have before me (no I won’t write a fanfic about them, I’m sure there are plenty around).

I didn’t play the first The Last of Us. There was a horrifically jarring moment when the game felt it was over-playing its sense of cinema to me, then had a sudden camera zoom transition onto I think the first combat gameplay and I checked out. The tone of that game is trying to telegraph TAKE ME SERIOUSLY and I feel all I’m going to do is read tonally similar things to what I have here but far worse. Also post-apocalypse is easy pickings for bad writing, especially by video games narrative writers, I just don’t have the patience. I’m pleased that there’s lesbian representation in the second game but I’m not sure it’ll be handled with sensitivity. While I’m in no way invested in the game as a product, I continue to be concerned for the welfare of the employees at Naughty Dog, and all game developers everywhere, as always. It is a hugely unregulated industry that is in the process of slow collapse, and now more than ever do we need reform and cultural change.

And in the midst of that, one day we’ll get a decent game that’s about domestic partnerships and wonderful emotional relationships with stunning visual fidelity; maybe it’ll have running and jumping and shooting and maybe it won’t. Maybe it’ll end sadly and maybe it’ll end happily but hopefully it’ll be well-written. 

Here’s to Elena.

[dreamdaddydutch]

Desert Blooms

What can I say? This isn’t a happy one... I started this months ago, kept coming back to it and well it’s finally done. This is a Javier-centric piece set post rdr2, there’s a lot of reminiscing and it’s quite angsty, though kinda bittersweet (I mean there’s flowery, poetic language used. Standard). A fair warning - there’s references to suicidal thoughts and an implication to it at the end. 

Character: Javier Escuella   I    Word Count: 3,117   I  Category: Angst/Nostalgia  I  Warnings: Depression & Suicidal thoughts/implications 

I want to tell you a story. It’s about love and loyalty, family and betrayal. Most stories you find in the lost pages of old fairy tales and on your screens, they have happy endings, perfect endings. Stories designed to fill a void that nihilism has created, caused by modern living to make you believe in something that died long ago. God is dead. 

I want to tell you a story about a man who had everything and lost it, who knew what it was like to be loved before his dying days. It is a cautionary tale of hubris. 

He sits and watches the world go by, it isn’t like the old days when he had to worry about his next move, when things were timed and he had a purpose. Now he is free to idly watch as the sun moves across the sky, relentless, heat beating down on the cracked earth, parched and crying out for water. 

He shifts his weight a little, uncomfortable from where he has been sat for so long. An hour or four? He isn’t sure, it all feels the same now. The days they blend so easily into one, it reminds him of mirky soup… Being lost out at sea in a fog where you lose all sense of time and direction. 

His boots had once been one of his prize possessions, immaculate leather, polished daily, golden tips always gleaming in the sunlight, moonlight, by grace of day or night he always looked the part. Now his boots were beat up, worn leather, the gold had long since lost it’s shine. They were caked in dust after too many nights falling down drunk under the stars.

The only thing Javier cared about anymore was Boaz, Boaz had treated him well for so many years and now he poured all his remaining love into the old horse. Any spare money he had after the essentials and the odd woman or poker game, that went on Boaz. New brushes to brush out his mane and tail, the finest snacks and saddle rug. As long as his old boy was happy he still had some purpose. 

As they rode past a cluster of tall Cacti, he watched the flowers bloom with fascination. Yellows, oranges and pinks, bright beacons against a never ending wasteland. The flowers were honest, they knew their place. Javier contemplated how fragile life was, he plucked one of the flowers from a Cactus and held it close to his breast, he sighed, where had all the years gone? He was youthful once, wasn’t he?

Back in the cheap hotel he’s been staying in he looks at his reflection in the mirror, he’s looking old, scars more prominent now. He finds himself missing his longer hair and youthful charm. 

Downstairs in the saloon someone is playing the piano and singing softly. Javier closes his eyes for a moment and remembers the past, somewhere across the hills he can hear the gang sing round Horseshoe Overlook. 

When he’d first left Mexico and met Dutch he had nothing, Dutch had given him everything and then taken it away again in a matter of 10 years. Javier sipped his whiskey slowly, swirling the liquid round his mouth, taking in every individual note and remembering the late nights sat up with the others drinking. 10 Years and they had been the happiest 10 years of his life, until the end. 

Javier joined the others downstairs, sat in a corner watching handsome men and beautiful women in their charm, stumbling and stuttering and twirling in the candle light. 

It is better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all. But with that comes knowledge, the knowledge of what life could have been. With it comes pain. 

In a mirror he sees the reflection of someone sat behind him, all smiles and laughter as their man recounts tales of their youth.

Oh what Javier would have done, what he would have given had he of known what path the gang were going to take. He was blinded by loyalty he knew that now and his chance of growing old with the others had slipped from under his feet. He had wanted to be free for so long so that when he got it he had desired more, coveted what others had and believed that under the guise of freedom fighters, Dutch would bring them more glory.

Hubris. Yes. How he should have listened to his mother and his older siblings. For a moment he had it all, the gang had it all, they just needed to run away to live free without the endless pull of gold. The unsatisfying unrelenting beat of the word ‘more’. As one delves into sin without remorse, but then why should one? Naked flesh against his own as windows steam up in the winter. He had tasted that sweet fruit that had turned now and twisted his cheeks, made them bitter. 

The threads of life were so fragile, like seedlings, they needed attention, care, if forgotten for more than a few days, life would be drained from their small foundations. And like a seedling he had been, so too were the others, all of them without the nourishment they needed to survive. 

At first he had been furious with Arthur, John, Sadie and Charles, he found himself hating them and wishing they were dead. But now he felt nothing but sorrow when he thought of them, he missed them dearly. He wanted to say ‘I’m sorry,’ wanted to go back in time to amend what had happened. 

He missed Sadie’s wild nature and attitude, John’s care with Jack, fishing with Arthur, telling tales round the campfire with Charles.

Small precious moments that he held dear now and never spoke a word of to anyone. 

Only fools rush in, and oh how Javier had done that before he met Dutch. Back in Mexico the woman he loved had been his world and to be so betrayed by her in the end, he would have laid out in the dessert ready for death’s cool embrace if it hadn’t of been for Dutch.

Something in Javier had always made him run, made him keep fighting one more day. And the following day he felt the same, and so there was always the option of sweet release and ending his own life. But every day he promised himself one more day and so like the relentless turning of seasons, so he beat on. 

He nursed the drink in front of him and thought of Mary-Beth, in particular one conversation they’d had one night.

He’d just finished playing Cielito Lindo and had walked off for a cigarette away from the group when he heard her voice, light and airy, inquisitive, caring…

“Hey Javier,” Mary Beth was sat on a log writing in her notebook.

He’d looked across at her, acknowledging her greeting without responding with words. 

“Wanna sit?” She was kind, too kind he often felt. 

“Sure,” he sat next to her and offered her a cigarette which she accepted with thanks, her thin long fingers curled round it. Javier lit hers first and then his own. 

It was silent for a moment, not an uncomfortable kind of silence, more the silence that comes when you’ve been friends with someone for such a long time that you can sit in stillness and it doesn’t bother either of you.

They watched small particles of ash rise from the campfire, tiny flames in the air like fireflies. Above them somewhere an owl hooted. 

“How you are?” She asked softly. 

He tried to force a smile but it didn’t come, he wanted to lie to her to say things were fine, but she was an intelligent woman who would have seen right through it.

He bit down on his lower lip considering his response, “I’m alive.”

Mary-Beth wanted to reach out then, thought on the correct response only there wasn’t one. In the end it turned out that the company of the other was enough to make him feel a little better. Moments, there had been plenty, when words would not suffice, but there was a unity that made them feel close. Just to sit in another’s presence, glance over at them occasionally to know you weren’t alone, so watch the rise and fall of their chest and hear their gentle breaths.

That memory was one of his fondest, it was the closest they had been. His hands either side of him, warmed by the soft earth, a blackbird in the trees that told them they were alive. Gossamer threads, an orb spider just feet away spinning a web on a holly bush. Bright red berries, the smell of damp earth, wild garlic and mint. The horses close enough to hear them. Stream running. A small moth that landed on Javier’s hand just as Mary-Beth had stretched her own fingers out enough that the tips of their fingers met. Contact. Human contact. Love. Devotion. A promise and prophecy in her words.

It was gone now, and he hoped she was well, that she had found a better life for herself, one that she deserved. 

Another night sat in the hotel saloon, drinking and Javier sipped the warm beer, barely enough to quench his thirst though nothing now truly satiated it. Nothing sunk as deep or warmed him in the way libations with his family could have. The taste of the barley hitting the back of his throat, took him back to a particular night when Jack was returned safely home.

The alcohol had flowed so freely, and he had danced, something that he rarely ever did. Even Dutch seemed happy and at peace. He could feel the warmth of the fireplace, hear the laughter that permeated the air and Jack, he was always there to make them smile. Like a mascot Jack had been the life of the gang, at its very heart and all of them would have done anything to protect him.

Javier had dreamt of having a child of his own, believed that one day he would settle down and live a simple life. That was not to be, he could not argue with fate.

The adrenaline that came with a shoot out and destroying enemies meant that parties would last long into the night, often until dawn broke. That was the unofficial end of such parties, the sky painted like a fields of forget-me-nots. There was no happiness like it, nothing even came close.

In the years that followed the fall out Javier had tried to recreate the feeling through new friends but none of them came close.

Javier found some solace in believing that maybe it was better he was alone, at least now he was incapable of hurting anyone else, of betraying his brothers or falling for the promises of a narcissist. 

He emptied his glass, smiled to the bar maid who winked at him in return. Maybe he could fall for one more night of company. Though the laughter of others was nothing like that of Tilly, Mary-Beth or the other girls.

If he sat still enough in the shabby room that he rented in the hotel on the outskirts of the desert, he would make pretend just like he did when he was a child. He would close his eyes and when focused could believe he could smell the outdoors. Hear a fresh stream running, birdsong, the bustle of the camp, home. 

Sometimes that home was with the gang, sometimes it was in Mexico with his parents and siblings. More often than not the two got muddled together, the sound of birdsong, of Pearson whistling, Dutch reading aloud entwined with the sound of a skipping rope scuffing across the dusty earth, his sisters singing… In the end he virtually stopped this practice, the mixture of sounds and images they conjured in his mind became more like a migraine, a picturesque and chaotic raging storm. 

He recalled with fondness one fishing trip with Arthur, the two of them had rode out a short while from camp, a rare moment they shared together where Javier experienced what some would call brotherhood. They had talked about the English language and how things were pronounced, the had laughed and Javier had shared some fishing tips with Arthur.

They had sat in a comfortable silence for the most part, a silence that was born of understanding and belonging.

Javier spent a lot of his days playing cards, drinking, riding out with Boaz, but he didn’t touch his guitar not anymore.

Life, Javier believed was sacred. Whilst he had lost those he held dear, he felt he had been blessed to have shared the most beautiful years with those who had made life worth living. To be human was to love, to hurt, to feel joy, to suffer… And Javier have lived at times deliciously. He had borne back against authority and control; he had been free allowed to be a player in a tremendous adventure.

Javier had known love thrice in his life, once as a child. He recalled his mother cooking stew, his sisters making flower crowns which they would try to place on both his head and the head of his brother from behind without them noticing it. Then there was a woman, as golden as the dawn in spring and finally his new found family. Some never get to experience love, but he got to know what it meant, got to feel it in his veins and that made him feel distinctly rich.

Rejection – he had rejected his past life, one that felt so distant like the first-time smoke swirled in his mouth. His family, they had set him free and he had abandoned them. He had consoled himself with the knowledge that this was for the greater good, with a lie that told him ‘I will come back for you.’

And he did. Too late, the years had wiped any trace of his siblings and mother from the earth.

Love was the remedy but also the poison.

Hunting, that had come before fishing, he had hunted often with his father so that when he joined the Van der Linde gang, it was too painful to recall. The rod instead became his comfort.

His hand stretched towards the sun, a hopeful orb in a desperate world.

He had liked fishing with Arthur, it was peaceful and reminded him of more simple times. He could hear Arthur’s humming, contently tapping his boots in time against the bank. The sparkle of the water at midday, the glimmer of water as fish swum underneath and the ripples spread out.

 He recalled picking daises with Tilly, it was something to pass the time, an easy distraction from a more difficult situation. Between them they must have picked 70 daises or more. Tilly had made herself a small flower crown from them and woven leaves in between, Javier thought it made her look like a goddess. They’d sat on the grass afterwards drinking wine and reading, back against back for support, for comfort, just to know that they weren’t alone.

He’d liked those days where there was time to read in amongst the heists and the chaos. Dutch had given them life so he believed, only now he realised it had all been a trick. Dutch had conjured such beautiful imagery, but now the veil had been lifted he saw it for what it was, cheap parlour tricks like the kind Trelawny would perform with his cards.

He remembered in Shady Belle sitting on the wooden decking with Jack and trying to reassure him after what happened. He’d allowed the boy to hold his guitar, and started to teach him how to play, simple cords at first, simple melodies for simpler times.

  More nights he reflected on the drinking and singing, his love of entertaining the others and the fact that his guitar gave him a role and a place among them. The days were long since gone where he believed in Dutch, his saviour. Even that word, saviour, now made him feel sick to his core. How could he have been so blind to believe such a man? Though he were certain in the earlier days Dutch was true, wanted freedom, equality and was not a bad man, no, but a selfish one who would allow harm to others to ensure he thrived. The hypocrisy of what Dutch became and those he was willing to sacrifice, that was what Javier couldn’t stand.

And the fact that he stood by him? The fact that he, after all he’d been through and who he was, he stood by and said nothing, he shook Micah’s hand and oh… Javier felt the bile rise in the back of his throat, he clutched at his breast, no more, he would beat himself up over this no more.

That was how a cult operated wasn’t it? He stared at his drink. It had seemed so appealing a moment ago, golden and cool, now the nectar had gone sour somehow looked more like unsightly bodily fluids left smeared on walls of unsuspecting victims. Javier was so tired; sleep had never been more inviting.

Now back in the desert, away from humans was where he spent several hours a day. As he stood and went to brush the dust from his clothes, he stopped. It didn’t matter anymore, the clothes on his back were old and torn, no amount of dust was going to make them look worse than they already were.

The leather straps of his sandals were worn, red sand underneath his feet, too hot now. 

Javier guided Boaz out to where the wild horses were and set him free, watched with a gleam in his eyes as he witnessed his old friend finally experience the freedom his master had longed for. 

He took one step, then another and another. He still had to pay the hotel, he had thought he would only be gone for an hour or two, he hadn’t planned for things to work out the way they did. 

But now after 100 steps into the desert, it seemed so irresistible to him. Sand dunes in the distance of a great wide no where. He imagines how the stars would look at night. Determined, loyal now only to himself, he continues to walk until he fades like a mirage. Watch now, look out onto the horizon, can you see him? He’s there if you look hard enough, search hard enough so he isn’t forgotten. 

No point turning back now. 

[tarajenkins]

Given what you've said of Vauthry, about how we're never given any chance to even try and redeem him, help him become a better person, I'd like to ask: how would you go about "saving" him? When he transforms into that Lucifer/Archangel Michael-looking guy, he seems permanently lost, but how would you write out a redemption narrative for him?

I love this ask, I hate the answer I have to give. But it’s gonna be a long response anyway, because context and because you already know I don’t know when to shut up about characters, lmao. 

SO I HOPE YOU LOVE HEARING ME RAMBLE UNDER THIS CUT (but I won’t blame you if you don’t)

I don’t think the in-game narrative allows Vauthry any chance at redemption in the current time, even if he had the agency to take it.  I don’t think we ever saw what he actually could have been. I think what we saw in Shadowbringers was the Lightwarden he’d been carrying finally “awakening”, as Innocence’s Triple Triad card put it. Or, as the X-Files put it in their eighth ep: “We are not who we are”.  

Even if that Lightwarden could be driven out of him (I know an “Aethertech” who would do anything to make that possible cough), I don’t know if he’d regain clarity he may never have had to start.  I’d love to think that he did, a long time ago. The Minstreling Wanderer tells us he can’t say whether or not Vauthry was a monster as a child, when you unlock Crown Of The Immaculate EX.

I believe the Lightwarden’s influence was driving a lot of his brutal acts of “justice”, because that is kinda their whole thing.  As for the man inside the monster?  I have a hunch he was desperate to not be seen as unnatural, and was trying to make sense out of what was happening to him in a way that would not make him a hybrid abomination. Because if he wasn’t a God, if he wasn’t this divine thing he was told he was – then what was he? The way he worded it, “this is why I was born…as man and Sin Eater both…” – it makes me feel he had, at some point in his life, at least once, ASKED why he was born as he was. That he had perceived it was wrong. He needed it to be right. And that was just fuel to the corruption fire.

The talk of godhood actually seemed to be a recent phenomenon, as no other NPC mentions a thing about it – they refer to him as “Lord Vauthry”, and speak of him in mortal terms, apart from his miraculous ability to keep the Sin Eaters at bay. He freely boasted of being a God to the Crystal Exarch, yet we’re to believe he didn’t say a word to his own people, all this time? Or that no one, in turn, would mention to us “Yyyyeah, about this guy….” Mayor Punchable Face may have told him he was a God, but it doesn’t sound like Vauthry bought into it enough to spread the good word for at least twenty years. 

Also consider he called his transformation into Innocence a “trial”. Why would a god need to be tested? And by whom?

By the time we see him in-game, it seemed he was in a rapid decline of sanity, or at least the ability to keep up appearances, and whatever was left of him was fervently clinging to the only purpose he was ever apparently given – which is exactly what that Lightwarden (and Emet-Selch) would want. 

 He was really cynical about the rest of humanity. Given his father, I can see where he’d get that from. Not that daddy told him people suck, it’s that Vauthry probably learned that by his father’s example. Maybe by the rest of Eulmore, too, but I got the impression he was kept seriously isolated from society before his inauguration. He seems to prefer being alone – he only leaves that room when he moves the Sin Eaters against Lakeland. He gives no indication he knows how to socialize, period. You either come to him, or you don’t see him. (He may be keenly aware humes don’t typically reach at least fifteen feet tall. Seriously, look at Cruelty’s size compared to player characters, now look how Cruelty makes a comfy couch for him.)

Cynical, and yet, he wanted to see the people of Eulmore’s “dreams fulfilled, their wishes granted”. Just so long as he was the one responsible, and he was the one recognized for it. He needed their acceptance. 

ANYHOO.  On to stuff I still have zero idea what to make of. 

I should preface the rest of this infodump with the fact I found the Eulmore arc to be the weakest of the expansion, between Vauthry and Ran'jit. Most of the MSQ was given nuance. Eulmore was given a Saturday Morning Cartoon sledge. A -lot- of questions, with no answers, unless Squeenix decides to be generous in a fifty-buck lore book later. (something I hated Warcraft for. I should not have to pony up for a book to understand the main story quest chain in a game.) So, here are some of the questions I’ve got:

- FOOL! THAT WILL NEVER WORK!

They don’t really explain why Emet-Selch thought corrupting an infant was a good plan, as the Sin Eaters seemed guaranteed a win on The First, if only by outlasting the survivors of the Flood. Impatience, maybe? Why not give it to the mayor? That dickpickle would’ve said yes. Maybe we’ll get more answers with the Eden raid. IT’D BE NICE *COUGH*

- The meol thing.  

It’s using Sin Eater’s non-existant flesh to make a bread, and through that bit of Sin Eater, Vauthry could control whoever ate it.  The fanbase loves the “soylent green is people” angle, but it’s done pretty haphazardly, when you think about it like that? Sin Eaters have no lasting corporeal body. They are Light, mixed with a bit of the lingering essence of whatever they originally were – and what they originally were did not have to be humanoid. They dissolve into sparklies in the air upon death – and arguably, they would not have to die to contribute sparklies to somehow mix into food. Forgiven Cruelty lost a whole wing to Thancred when Thancred first took Ryne from Eulmore, and it seemed to have grown back just fine by the time we see Cruelty again. Killing Sin Eaters also would be entirely counterproductive to a nation that devoted themselves to NOT killing them. Also – we are shown the Afflicted, people who are falling to corruption from a SIn Eater attack they’d survived. How is it people who eat meol don’t become corrupted themselves?

Where did the idea for meol  even begin? Vauthry’s father was ousted by the people as mayor before Emet-Selch said hey there, friend, you have a punchable face, let’s make a deal – and Vauthry only took control of Eulmore 20 years ago. He looks a LOT older than 20, or even 40. So his father must’ve rode his child’s coattails before then.  Did Mayor Punchable Face think that was a wise countermeasure against future insurrection? In any case, Vauthry did not exert that control until the WoL and allies were coming to kill the Lightwarden of Kholusia (him), so it did not seem to be a priority of his. Alphinaud confirmed the people were of a free mind until they were made to fight the WoL and allies. (and dialogue stressed it was very noticeable when someone was not of a free mind.) Squeenix: *throws meol into purse* I have to go plotholes came up

- The “Perverted Paradise”.  (I at least giggle every time Alphinaud says this.)

Vauthry is presented as the pinnacle of vice, yet the game does not really show this well – in some cases, not at all.

Gluttony: He isn’t shown to indulge in drink, let alone overindulge. Apart from the meol scene at the end, which was related to controlling the Eater-corrupted citizenry, not gluttony, he was not shown to have so much as a snack. There’s food in his chamber, all of it untouched. But! In the Shadowbringers trailer, Squeenix thought the best example to showcase Eulmore’s decadence was – three thicc'qotes. Having pleasant conversation ‘round a table. Eating fresh fruit.

Not the creepy-ass old patron who thinks that  since his pretty servant can’t sing anymore, she should be “Ascended” as a kindness, although it was implied she could have recovered her health, just not her voice. Not the guy who tossed his servant from a balcony because reasons and wanted us to bring him back. Not even the noblewoman trying to have her servant killed because her lecherous husband put designs on the poor girl.

Three thicc'qotes. Having pleasant conversation ‘round a table. Eating fresh fruit.

We get it, Square, we’re supposed to see he’s fat and think that is bad. Moving on.

Lust: He doesn’t visit the adult nightclub downstairs (the adult nightclub that is shown practically empty and behind closed doors, the lewdness of it all – I clutch my pearls.) He doesn’t  creep on your player character like Magnai did in Stormblood – he doesn’t creep on anyone. He doesn’t want you to be his steed. No interest is shown in the Sin Eaters apart from them fighting for him, as much as some people in the fanbase theorize he is fucking them. (They probably think that Spirited Away is about the sex industry and My Neighbor Totoro is about dead girls, too.) This game is pretty blatant when they intend that sort of thing, see: Yotsuyu, Sastasha, any number of things in Ishgard or Ul'dah. I’ve found nothing here, except the German translation for “Consort Of Sin: Forgiven Obscenity” is “Purified Fornication: Playmate Of The Redeemer”. Since this is not implied in any other translation, I put my trust in Koji Fox and the fact Obscenity’s job seems to be Official Nose Petter to Forgiven Cruelty.

Greed: I am not going to hold his rings and his robes against him, as Urianger has just as much bling (more, actually), The wealthy are made to give up ALL their fortune to be permitted to stay in Eulmore – but that wealth is then used to provide everything for free to those who live there, and the free citizenry are apparently given funds for private use to boot. If they intended to show that Vauthry was using all that for hookers and blow for himself, it did not convey well.

Wrath: If one has broken the rules of the city (or has thrown shade that takes him a full two minutes to catch), Vauthry definitely has this in spades, with a temper tantrum a lot like Philia’s Fierce Beating attack.  But again, the writers don’t really show the extent of the wrath they are trying to tell . Because if you don’t break the rules? Nothing happens, apparently. Trouble seems to have to be brought forward to him, he doesn’t go looking for it.  It didn’t feel any different to me than the Grand Companies, yet this is the one that finally makes Alphinaud do the *GAAAAASP*.

The populace does not seem afraid of Vauthry. In fact, they feel free to pop ‘round to have a word if they think something needs doing. Chai-Nuzz did not seem distressed by his wife’s suggestion she would have a word with Vauthry to soothe the “hard feelings” stirred up in the quest “Emergent Splendor”.  

Pride: He has great pride in his ability to keep the SIn eaters under control, but doesn’t really display any vanity in himself. No portraits, statues, etc. When Alphinaud interfered with Kai-Shirr’s punishment, Alphinaud was told he’d be permitted to stay in the city if he made a painting – not a portrait of Vauthry, but of the city itself.

Sloth: We get it, Square, he’s fat and he sits down, moving the FUCK on.  No actually, hold up, to be honest? As tired and :| as he looked all the time, he struck me as depressed. What guy in Paradise looks that haggard?

NOW moving on.

Envy: If my theory holds, probably plenty of unresolved envy for folks who are not “half Sin Eater”. Otherwise, I can’t think of an example here.

- “Ascension” (Sure thing, Jan)

This is only made reference to in the Weeping Warbler quest chain. “As all know, the sin eaters exist to devour the sinful. But also do they serve to gather the souls of the innocent, and shepherd them unto celestial paradise.”

Sin eaters ate a meal that represents the sins of a household you fool oh wait this is The First

The thing I don’t get here is - why are there obviously limitations on who can be ascended, and when? If the idea is strictly to feed the Sin Eaters, or make meol, or just be an asshole, why is this the only time we hear of it?

It’s like if there are no more mortals, Vauthry wouldn’t have that reassurance he is doing good anymore. Either that, or since he’s never worked in retail, he doesn’t know how to push features.

But I’m betting on the former.

- LASTLY: the hypocrisy of the writer’s narrative (and the fanbase).

Tesleen was our first and horrifying sample of what Sin Eater corruption can do to a human. No matter how strong her will may have been, she was just lost to it. She scratches madly at her face when she uses one of her attacks in Holminster Switch, as though trying to stop herself, or punish herself. But she can’t help it. And we know this.

Titania was a tragedy, had to be stopped. But, a TRAGEDY. Whatever was left of the benevolent ruler was corrupted. There was never a moment where our heroes went “dis binch just evil, they gotta go down”. ( I had many choice words for Titania when I wiped enough times to them, but no actual game dialogue really says it. )

We, the Warrior Of Light, came this close to becoming a Warden ourselves. Somehow it was stalled (convenience!), but there was never a question corruption = bad and out of our control.

Vauthry, on the other hand, is treated as though he is in full control of his faculties, although the corruption before birth makes that questionable at best and he pretty clearly is not? Even as he did that Exorcist neck-twist, no one was like “oh fuck, the Sin Eaters got to another one, damn that poor man”.  (Which would seem a logical conclusion to me, I hate we have like zero real say in our characters’ reactions) Not even a “ahaha okay no seriously what the fuck is going on guys”. Nope. Their reaction was “EVIL”.  Trying to help somehow was never on the table. Watching him die slowly at our feet was.

We saw the Echo of the real circumstance of his birth. It had to come from the Sin Eater that corrupted him, because he wasn’t out of the womb to see that scene play out. Or Emet-Selch. Either way, we saw it, yet at no time afterward do we try to bring the truth out. We just let everyone believe he was evil by choice, and not another casualty of this mess.

And remember earlier, how I said Alphinaud confirmed the free citizenry were not under Vauthry’s control until the fight? Remember the noblewoman whose husband went after their bonded servant, and so she tried to get the girl murdered?

Yeah, we catch up to that noblewoman who tried to murder her servant. She feels really bad about that now.  And what is an option we get to tell her ex-bonded servant when she wonders how she could possibly trust the woman who tried to kill her?

“Vauthry’s society brought out the worst in people…”

Fffffffuck you Square lmao

TL;DR:

In private RP land? In private RP land, where we can back the fuck up in the timeline at will? You are damn skippy that Lightwarden got purged before it took complete hold. (an Aethertech did it with SCIENCE.) And Vauthry is cynical and scarred and bitter and broken and betrayed, but he’s not evil. If anything, he’s actually pretty relatably human. And he’s actually pretty damn glad his father’s shitty legacy is over.