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itsclydebitches · 3 years ago

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I keep seeing people calling Good Omens queer bating and a I can't help but ask why? I read the Aziraphale/Crowley relationship threw an Ace lens and they are clearly as close to married as they are probably going to get without stepping on holy ground.... and they love each other... why is it considered queer bating?

Personally, I think it's mostly young queer fans turning legitimate grievances on the wrong target. A case of getting so fed up with queerbaiting in media as a whole that they're instinctually lashing out at anything that seems to resembles it on the surface, without taking the time to consider whether this is, in fact, the thing they're mad at. Good Omens is a scapegoat, if you will. The equivalent of snapping at your partner after a long day. Your friend was an asshole, your boss was an asshole, the guy in traffic was an asshole, and then you come home to your partner who says something teasing and you take it as another asshole comment because you've just been surrounded by assholeness all day, to the point where your brain is primed to see an attack. Your partner wasn't actually an asshole, but by this point you're (understandably) too on guard to realize that. Unless someone sits you down and kindly reminds you of the difference between playful teasing and a legitimate insult - the nuance, if you will - your hackles are just gonna stay up and you'll leave the room, off to phone a different friend to tell them all about how your partner was definitely an asshole to you.

Only in this case, that "friend" is a fan on social media doing think pieces on the supposed queerbaiting of Good Omens, spreading that idea to a) people who aren't familiar with the show themselves and b) those who, like that original fan, have come to expect queerbaiting and thus aren't inclined to question the latest story with that mark leveled against it. Because on the surface Good Omens can look a lot like queerbaiting. Here are two queer coded characters who clearly love each other, but don't say "I love you," don't kiss, don't "prove" that love in a particular way. So Gaiman is just leading everyone on, right?

Well... no. This is where the nuance comes in, the thing that many fans aren't interested in grappling with (because, like it or not, media is not made up of black and white categories; queerbaited and not-queerbaited. Supernatural's finale is proof enough of that...) I won't delve into the most detailed explanation here, but suffice to say:

Gaiman has straight up said it's a love story. He's just not giving them concrete labels like "gay" or "bi" or "asexual," etc. because they are literally not human. Gaiman has subscribed to an inclusive viewpoint in an era where fans are desperate for unambiguous rep that homophobes cannot possibly deny. The freedom to prioritize any interpretation - yes, including a "just friends" interpretation - now, in 2021, feels like a cop-out. However, in this case it's an act of world building (they are an angel and a demon, not bound by human understanding of identity) meeting a genuine desire to make these characters relatable to the entire queer community, not just particular subsets. Gaiman has said they can be whatever we want because the gender, sexuality, and romantic attraction of an angel and a demon is totally up for debate! However, some fans have interpreted that as a dismissal of canonical queerness; the idea that fans can pretend they're whatever they want... but it's definitely not canon. It is though. Them being queer is 100% canon, it's just up to us to decide what kind of queer they are. This isn't Gaiman stringing audiences along, it's him opening the relationship up to all queer possibilities.

We know he's not stringing us along (queerbaiting) because up until just a few days ago season two didn't exist. Queerbaiting is a deliberate strategy to maintain an audience. A miniseries does not need to maintain its audience. You binge it in one go and you're done, no coming back next year required. The announcement for season two doesn't erase that context for season one. No one knew there would be more content and thus the idea that they would implement a strategy designed to keep viewers hooked due to the hope for a queer relationship (with no intent to follow through) is... silly.

In addition, this interpretive, queer relationship between Crowley and Aziraphale existed in the book thirty years ago. Many fans are not considering the difference between creating a totally new story in 2019 and faithfully adapting a story from 1990 in 2019. Good Omens as representation meant something very different back then and that absolutely impacts how we see its adaptation onto the small screen. To put this into perspective, Rowling made HUGE waves when she revealed that she "thought of" Dumbledore as gay in an interview... in 2007. Compare that to the intense coding 17 years before. Gaiman was - and still is - pushing boundaries.

Which includes being an established ally, particularly in his comics. Queerbaiting isn't just the act of a single work, but the way an author approaches their work. Gaiman does not (to my knowledge) have that mark against him and even if he did, he's done enough other work to offset that.

Finally, we've got other, practical issues like: how do you represent asexuality on the screen? How do you show an absence of something? Yeah, one or both of them could claim that label in the show, outright saying, "I'm asexual," but again, Gaimain isn't looking to box his mythological figures into a single identity. So if we want that rep... we have to grapple with the fact that this is one option for what it looks like.

Even if he did want to narrow the representation down to just a few identities for the show, should Gaiman really be making those major changes when he's only one half of the author team? Pratchett has, sadly, passed on and thus obviously has no say in whether his characters undergo such revisions. Even if fans hate every other argument, they should understand that, out of respect, Good Omens is going to largely remain the same story it was 30 years ago.

And those 6,000 years are just the beginning! Again, this was meant to be a miniseries of a single novel, a novel that, crucially, covered only Crowley and Aziraphale's triumph in being able to love one another freely. That's a part of their personal journey. Yeah, they've been together in one sense for 6,000 years, but that was always with hell and heaven on their backs, to say nothing of the slow-burn approach towards acknowledging that love, for Aziraphale in particular. We end the story at the start of their new relationship, one that is more free and open than it ever was before. They can be anything to one another now! The fact that we don't see that isn't a deliberate attempt on the author's part to deny us that representation, but only a result of the story ending.

So yeah, there's a lot to consider and, frankly, I don't think those fans are considering it. Which on a purely emotional level I can understand. I'm pissed about queerbaiting too and the knee-jerk desire to reject anything that doesn't meet a specific standard is understandable. But understandable doesn't mean we don't have to work against that instinct because doing otherwise is harmful in the long run. We need to consider when stories were published and what representation meant back then. We need to consider how we adapt those stories for a modern audience. We need to acknowledge that if we want the inclusivity that "queer" provides us, that includes getting characters whose identity is not strictly defined by the author as well as characters with overtly canonical labels. We need both. We likewise need to be careful about when having higher standards ends up hurting the wrong authors - who are our imperfect allies vs. those straight up unwilling to embrace our community at all? And most importantly, we have to think about how we're using the terms we've developed to discuss these issues. Queerbaiting means something specific and applying it to Good Omens not only does Good Omens a disservice, but it undermines the intended meaning of "queerbaiting," making it harder to use correctly in the future. Good Omens is not queerbaiting and trying to claim it is only hurts the community those fans are speaking up for.

#good omens #mymetas #queer

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sidecast-text · 1 year ago

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it is 8pm. my gangly, freshly in highschool, fifteen-year-old brother knocks on my door. what is it, i say?

do you have a cross?

like-- like a christian one?

... maybe...

now. we are pretty good buddies. i want to aid him in whatever this strange mission might be. well, what do you need it for, i ask?

... i want to dress as jesus for halloween...

and you might be thinking about right now that jesus isn't a very scary costume idea. it's not. here's the deal:

i live in eastern europe where halloween isn't really a huge shebang.

but my brother and i go to an english-heavy school that makes an effort to let kids have fun on the last day before autumn break.

our halloween is on the 27th of October

effectively, it's halloween without the scares or the candy, and teachers get to give lessons while staring down snow-white, patrick bateman, and jesus (appearently).

we laugh at the idea of jesus in the classroom. and i say to him: you... do know that jesus didn't walk around with a hand-held crucifix, right? for obvious reasons?

i guess... man, they would never recognise me without it though...

we sit in silence and contemplate the loss of plan-jesus-christ. we do that for about two seconds, while i come up with a slightly morbid idea to save the day.

we don't need a hand-held cross. we need a bigger one.

one big enough to carry on his back.

we immediately run to our mother with this hilarious idea, who proceeds to tell us that christ means a lot to certain people and that dressing as him at all would be insensitive and rude. my brother and i insist that the humor of the costume would be the "punching up" kind, and that there is nothing else more perfect for him to be, since he looks like if sleazy j crawled out of a renaissance painting and got a clean shave.

whatever, our mother says, it's your school. do whatever you want, i don't care.

now, i'm sure most of you know that no word in that sentence is loyal to its dictionary meaning. basically, my mother just told my brother:

if you do that i will not call you my son again <3

so it seems that plan-jesus-christ is a no-go, afterall.

I propose that he could be moses--who was at least as cool as christ, except he didn't die--i mean he did, but at the respectable age of 120, and in a way that didn't upset so many people for so long.

however, my brother is INSISTENT on wearing a white sheet. our father and I take turns brainstorming, and one after the other he vetoes:

classic ghost costume

rákóczi ferenc

obi van kenobi

anakin

and many more

it all seems lost. he is debating not even going in on the day of halloween-lite. this grade of high-schoolers are a hair's width away from never witnessing the comedical genius of my brother. that is until he says:

do we have a white cloth with red stripes on it?

...why? we ask.

oh, i'll just dress up as An Arab.

now.

i'm sure the exact same line of thought ran through my head, my mother's head, and my father's head. it went so.

we are all white.

oh my god, there has never been a geopolitically worse time to dress as "an arab".

how do we explain this to him.

should we explain it to him? in depth?

he is fifteen. his brain development is being stunted by his gang of likewise fifteen year old boys who share a single braincell the moment they get in a discord call.

peer review is the only kind of research that matters to him, because he is suffering from the notorious curse of being fifteen.

if he experiences heavy pushback on this, there is nothing that can stop him from dressing up as his idea of "an arab", going to school in that, and probably making awful jokes.

ALL WHILE SHARING A NAME WITH US

no, um, i don't think that would be good, all three of us say.

okay, i guess...

suddenly, our mother is a lot more accepting towards the idea of her youngest son dressing as the big j man, son of god, now that she knows the fight is between him, and the idea of "an arab" conjured in a fifteen year old's mind. in fact, she is suddenly rather supportive of plan-jesus-christ, something she has never been in her fifty years of life.

my brother wraps a white sheet around himself, ties a sash with a red scarf, grabs a loaf of bread and a wine glass, and suddenly JC is standing in my doorway.

to sum it up, tonight is the story of how, through many tribulations,

somehow,

miraculously,

almost unbelievably so,

a mildly problematic and inaccurate costume of oily josh is the shield that protects the family name from the shitstorm that would be my brother roaming the school halls dressed in sandals, a white sheet, and a red-striped kitchen-rug over his head.

such a funny thing just happened but plain text isnt worthy of conveying it. i need to Format this

#to be clear. i know jesus wasnt white either #all of this is meant to entertain #barking #storytime #textpost #halloween #war mention

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emospritelet · 3 years ago

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Heatstroke - chapter 24/24

Last time, Gold confronted Zelena over trying to frame Regina, and Lacey caught the whole show on tape. This is the final chapter! Happy endings FTW!

[AO3]

Lacey set down the camera on the shop counter, and raised an eyebrow at Gold.

“So,” she said. “What do you want to do?”

He inclined his head, lifting a hand and letting it fall.

“It appears you have a story to tell about Miss West,” he remarked. “I feel the choice is very much yours. Perhaps Mr Glass can be persuaded that running an exposé is in the public interest.”

Lacey hesitated.

“Yeah, I think he would,” she acknowledged. “It’s just - Mayor Mills doesn’t know, does she? About Zelena.”

“I don’t think so.”

“I think maybe we should tell her,” said Lacey. “Before it all comes out, I mean. That would be the decent thing to do, wouldn’t it?”

“It would,” he agreed, and let out a heavy sigh, his head rolling back. “Well, that’s unfortunate.”

“What is?”

He raised his head again, sending her a stern look.

“It appears I’ve discovered a conscience,” he said. “The rumour was I didn’t have one. I blame you for this outrage.”

Lacey giggled, and leaned in to kiss him.

“Does that mean you’ll come with me to break the news?” she asked, and he offered his arm.

“To the Mayor’s office,” he said. “I’m sure Regina will be just delighted to see us.”

“This can’t be true.” Regina was staring at Lacey’s phone, having watched the recording twice. “This - this is impossible!”

“This must be a hell of a shock,” said Lacey, and Regina shook her head.

“I always thought she disliked me, but Mal told me I was being paranoid,” she said. “All this time she was plotting to ruin my life because my mother abandoned her? The nerve of the woman!”

“I guess sibling rivalry’s tough to deal with,” said Lacey. “Makes me glad I’m an only child.”

“Well, she certainly has my mother’s ambition and vindictiveness,” said Regina, with a sigh. “I don’t suppose you know anything about the father?”

“I’m afraid not,” said Gold. “Did your mother ever hint that you had a half-sister?”

Regina shook her head.

“She never spoke about her youth,” she said. “Other than to tell me she had to fight for anything she could get and I should do the same.”

She handed the phone back to Lacey and frowned at Gold.

“Exactly how long have you known about this?” she demanded, and he smiled.

“I heard what you did,” he said.

“That wasn’t what I asked,” she said coldly. “I know you, Gold. Were you holding onto this information until it was of use to you?”

“You think I’m working against you?” he asked, in a mild tone.

“I think you never do anything that doesn’t benefit you.”

“Well, perhaps you don’t know me as well as you think,” he said. “Or perhaps we assess risks and benefits differently. Either way, you have Miss French to thank for the investigation of her past and this recording. I merely - encouraged a confession.”

“Quite the sleuthing team,” said Regina, in a dry tone. “Can we expect a new office in town? French Gold, Private Investigators?”

“I don’t mind investigating his privates,” said Lacey, and Gold shot her a very level look as Regina curled her lip.

“Thanks, I’m going to spend the rest of the evening trying and failing to get that image out of my head.”

“You’re welcome,” said Lacey cheerfully.

“The question for you,” said Gold, “is how are you going to handle this? Miss French has quite a scoop on her hands, but she wanted to bring it to you first before raising it with Mr Glass.”

Regina shot Lacey a grateful look before sitting back in her chair with a sigh.

“There’s supposed to be a debate,” she said. “The two of us up on stage. You think it’s her intention to reveal the whole sordid story in front of the whole town?”

“I don’t believe she wants the rest of the town to know,” said Gold. “If they did, then her whole campaign reeks of sour grapes. She’ll want to play on the image she’s created while she’s been here. However inaccurate it is.”

Regina growled under her breath.

“I can’t believe I’m having to go through this charade!” she snapped. “I’m supposed to stand there and - and debate her when she’s trying to frame me for corruption and destroy my life!”

“We don’t have any actual evidence that she’s tried to frame you,” said Lacey, and Regina nodded impatiently.

“I know, I know. Nothing court worthy on that tape, however much she hinted at it,” she said. “If it’s okay with you, I’d like to hand it over to the Sheriff, get him to look into it.”

“If you agree to an exclusive interview with me after the debate, sure,” said Lacey quickly, and almost blushed as Gold shot her an approving look. Regina drummed her fingers on the desk.

“She’s far too good for you, Gold,” she said abruptly. “I hope you know that.”

He smirked at that, winking at Lacey.

“Oh, I’m well aware.”

Gold was finding it hard to stop grinning like an idiot now that he and Lacey were dating, and even found himself unexpectedly granting rent extensions, much to the surprise of nervous tenants. He made dinner for her again later in the week, and she stayed the night, Darcy curled at their feet as they drifted into sleep. It was pleasant being nuzzled awake by a purring cat and finding Lacey in his arms. It was a feeling he could get used to.

They had eventually managed to finish the interview, most of which was carried out in bed, and he had found himself telling her things he had previously had no intention of revealing. He blamed that on Lacey; it was difficult to maintain his usual cool distance when she was wearing his discarded shirt and looking at him as though he was a particularly delicious snack. She kept her word about giving him the final say on the article, however, and upon reading her draft, he noted that she had kept some of the more personal details to herself. He only felt the need to redact a couple of minor points about his early life, but was happy to let the remainder stand as it was. If the rest of Storybrooke was surprised at the intimacy of the piece and his sudden desire to be open about his life - well, they could all go and fuck themselves, as far as he was concerned.

The only opinions he cared about were those of his family, and it wasn’t too long before Neal called. Gold sighed as he looked at the number flashing on his phone. They’re gonna tease me relentlessly about this. Emma especially.

Shaking his head and smirking to himself, he picked up.

“Dad, hi,” said Neal. “Thought you might have called to let us know how your big social occasion went. You’re not avoiding the issue, right?”

“Of course not,” said Gold. “Been a busy week, that’s all.”

“Uh-huh. Emma thought you’d say that.” Neal sounded amused. “She’s been dying to find out about the dance, so I said I’d call for an update.”

“Tell her she needs a better hobby than worrying about my social life,” said Gold dryly. “How’s Henry? I was wondering what to get for his birthday.”

“Nice attempt at deflection, but I’m not done with you,” said Neal. “Come on, how did it go?”

“Uh - it was fine,” said Gold.

“Did you ask Lacey to dance, like I said?”

“Yes.” Gold hesitated. “We’re - uh - sort of dating now.”

Neal whooped, making him grin.

“Way to go! See, I knew you could do it!”

“Yes, well.” Gold scratched the back of his neck, feeling awkward. “It’s early days, I suppose. Very early days, but it’s going well.”

“I am so happy for you, really. Wait until I tell Emma.”

“She’s gonna tease me, isn’t she?” said Gold dryly.

“No more than usual.”

“A lot, then.”

“Hey, her teasing comes from a place of love.”

“Hmm.” Gold was amused. “Well, you can tell her I love her too.”

“And you can tell Lacey we can’t wait to meet her,” said Neal, and Gold’s grin widened.

“I believe the feeling’s mutual,” he said.

“Good. How about in two weeks’ time?”

Gold smirked to himself.

“Excellent timing,” he said. “It’s the Mayoral debate and election.”

“I’m almost certain we can find something better to do than listen to some crusty old politicians.”

“I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised,” said Gold. “It could be an interesting night.”

The evening of the debate arrived more quickly than Lacey thought possible, and she was nervous about more than just reporting the evening’s events. Gold’s son and daughter-in-law were due any minute, and there was a tiny part of her that kept whispering that they wouldn’t approve, that they would wonder why the hell Gold, with his money and power and class, was dating the likes of her. Stressing over her coverage of the election was a welcome distraction from the unwelcome internal monologue, and she concentrated on getting her things together for the debate, checking the recording equipment on Gold’s kitchen table and fretting about the sound quality.

“You’ve already checked it three times,” he said. “It’s fine.”

“I’m supposed to be writing the front page article!” she snapped. “What happens if I fuck up and don’t get anything recorded? I’m gonna look like a total idiot and Sidney won’t trust me with anything more complex than the hot dog eating contest!”

“I can record everything on my phone, if you’re worried,” he said. “Besides, don’t you do shorthand?”

“Yeah, but—”

“You’ll be fine,” he said gently, and kissed her head. “I promise.”

The doorbell rang, and Lacey started, heart thumping.

“Relax, that’ll be Neal and Emma,” said Gold, heading for the door. Lacey frowned at his back.

“Relax, my arse,” she muttered, shoving the recording equipment into its bag.

There were voices from the hall, and a sudden burst of laughter, and she closed her eyes, willing herself to calm the hell down. Footsteps from the doorway made her look up, and she was greeted by a warm smile and an outstretched hand. Gold’s son had his eyes, and curling dark hair above a ready grin.

“I’m Neal,” he said. “Really pleased to meet you.”

“Lacey,” she said, shaking his hand. “Uh - likewise.”

She was reminded vividly of the fact that she had flashed him on their first encounter, and felt a blush start to rise in her cheeks. If Neal was thinking of it too, he was better at hiding it than she was. His wife was a pretty blonde, with a kind look in her eyes and a plump baby in her arms, who was glancing around curiously at everything.

“This is Emma,” added Neal, “and that’s Henry.”

“We’ve heard a lot about you,” said Emma, shooting Gold a teasing look.

“Well, I won’t ask if it was all good, because I’m willing to bet it wasn’t,” said Lacey, and they chuckled.

“Maybe not at first,” admitted Emma. “Don’t hold it against the old bastard, though.”

“Oh, believe me, the feeling was mutual,” said Lacey.

“I’m standing right here,” said Gold evenly.

Lacey caught Emma’s eye and returned her grin. She felt herself relax a little, and leaned over to kiss Gold’s cheek.

“We got there in the end,” she said. “Uh - how hungry are you guys? I didn’t even think about dinner.”

She shot Gold a look, hoping that he would suggest something, and he nodded.

“We’ll head to Granny’s after the debate,” said Gold. “I have no doubt that Lacey will be demonstrating her excellent skill as a journalist, and I’d hate for you to miss it.”

“No pressure then,” said Lacey, and he smiled.

“You’re writing the article for the Mirror front page,” he said. “You have an exclusive with the Mayor herself after the debate. Sidney Glass clearly believes you to be as capable as I do.”

“Yeah, because I got that interview with you,” she said. “I didn’t tell him we were naked when I got most of that info.”

Neal closed his eyes with a pained expression.

“Shows ingenuity if you ask me,” said Emma abruptly. “I can usually get a ton of stuff out of Neal when we’re naked. Must run in the family.”

It was Gold’s turn to look pained. Neal put his hands over his face with a heavy sigh, and Lacey and Emma chuckled. Lacey decided that she liked both Emma and Neal very much. She zipped her bag and nodded to Gold.

“Okay,” she said. “Wish me luck.”

The town hall was filled with residents, chatting amongst themselves and casting curious glances at the empty stage. Ruby was seated next to Leroy on the third row back, and she winked at Lacey as she and Gold took their own seats. Ruby had been delighted to hear that the two of them had started seeing one another, and had only made a salacious comment to Gold on one occasion. Maybe two.

“Big turnout,” said Neal, glancing around. “I had no idea the people in this town were so into politics.”

“Usually they don’t bother,” said Gold. “The Mayor getting some competition appears to have piqued their interest.”

As though his voice had summoned her, Regina walked onto the stage, chin held high, looking calm and competent in a sharp black suit. Zelena followed, in a green dress with a soft silk scarf around her neck and gold hoops in her ears. A green folder was tucked under her arm, her hair tied up, and Lacey thought she was going for the image of a respectable school teacher. A gleam in her eye spoiled the look.

Dr Hopper was moderating the debate, and Lacey quickly checked her recording equipment and opened her laptop, rattling off a few sentences about the tense atmosphere of the hall and the opening statements from each of the candidates. Zelena gave a speech about decency and traditional values, at which Regina seemed to be stopping herself from rolling her eyes with some difficulty. Regina spoke of her record on town planning, law and order—she shot Zelena a look at that point—and prosperity.

“Thank you, ladies,” said Dr Hopper, when she was done. “Now, perhaps we’ll go to some questions from the press before we deal with those the townsfolk have submitted.”

“I have a question for Miss West,” said Lacey, in a loud, clear voice, shoving her laptop at Gold as she got to her feet.

Zelena’s mouth twisted, her smile more of a grimace.

“Of course,” she said lightly. “It’s - uh - I’m sorry, I’ve forgotten your name.”

She waved a languid hand, and Lacey felt her mouth flatten.

“Lacey French, Storybrooke Mirror,” she said evenly, and Zelena let out a tinkling laugh.

“Of course, silly me,” she trilled. “How could I forget Storybrooke’s eager young reporter? Lending the local newspaper such an air of class in that - lovely - outfit.”

There was a muttering amongst the townsfolk, and Lacey distinctly heard Ruby say ‘What a bitch!’, but she smiled sweetly as though she hadn’t understood the insult.

“Yeah, I have a question about your motivation for running for Mayor,” she said. “You said yourself you’ve never been involved in politics, so what inspired you to make this move now?”

Zelena smiled widely.

“Well, as I said, I thought about where I could do the most good,” she said. “Storybrooke is a wonderful town, with many excellent qualities, but talking to its residents has made me realise that there’s a feeling that it may be lacking direction. I sense a need for a return to the basics of community. Neighbourliness. Family values. The traditions of small-town America that we all grew up with.”

“But you grew up in England,” said Lacey. “Wasn’t your father a diplomat? How do you know this view of America is either accurate or desirable?”

Zelena’s nostrils flared as she continued to smile brightly.

“Well,” she said. “Who’s been doing her homework?”

“Yeah, it’s just that people hear politicians mention tradition and family values, and all too often it’s a smoke-screen to hide racism and homophobia,” went on Lacey. “How would you address those concerns?”

Zelena spread her hands.

“I’d say look at my record,” she said. “Since I moved here I’ve made it clear that I’m happy to work with people of all backgrounds. It’s important that no one feels left out, and my initial conversations have led me to believe that there are concerns, and that some residents feel that their interests are not - fully appreciated - by the Mayor.”

“What kind of interests?” asked Lacey quickly, before Zelena could turn away, and her mouth twisted again as she tried to keep smiling.

“As I said, some feel that traditional family values are being lost in the push for modernity,” she said. “I’d like to reassure them that I stand for everything that Storybrooke represents. Decency. Morality.”

“Does that mean you think the Mayor is immoral?” asked Lacey, and Zelena pulled a face.

“I think there have been some questionable decisions at city hall under her watch, yes,” she said. “Does anyone really think that a seedy bar called Queens of Darkness is fitting for this town?”

“It’s a jazz club,” said Regina. “And there’ll be dance lessons each week. A perfectly respectable establishment, run by three accomplished businesswomen.”

Zelena let out that insincere laugh again, and Lacey sat down, retrieving her laptop from Gold and opening it up as Zelena addressed the room.

“Well, it’s not only the company the Mayor keeps,” she said. “We’ve all heard the rumours. Missing money, accounts not holding quite as much as people thought…”

“That’s an outrageous lie,” said Regina coldly. “Where’s your evidence, Miss West?”

Zelena smirked, as though she had been waiting for that very question. She held up the green folder, showing it to the room.

“I have the evidence right here,” she announced. “A brave employee of city hall managed to smuggle this out to me. Evidence that the Mayor has been embezzling town funds!”

There was a shocked intake of breath around the room. Lacey typed furiously.

“How dare you!” snapped Regina. “That’s a lie and you know it!”

“I believe this is my allotted time to speak!” Zelena snapped back. “I think the people of Storybrooke deserve to know exactly who you really are, don’t you? They should understand the choice before them!”

The doors at the end of the hall opened, and there was the sound of heavy boots on the floor. Zelena looked surprised, and then somewhat nervous, and a low-level muttering started up in the audience. Lacey glanced over her shoulder, watching as Sheriff Graham Humbert walked towards the stage with his deputy Dorothy Gale by his side. Regina appeared to be drumming her fingers on the lectern, and Lacey couldn’t work out whether it was anxiety or impatience.

“Miss West,” said Graham. “We’d like you to come with us, please.”

“Why?” demanded Zelena. “I’m a little busy winning this election, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“It’s a matter of obstruction of justice,” said Graham. “If you could come to the station, please.”

Zelena opened and closed her mouth, a sudden flicker of fear in her eyes.

“What if I say no?”

“I’d prefer not to have to handcuff you,” said Graham.

“But we will if we have to,” added Dorothy, folding her arms.

“This is a conspiracy!” blurted Zelena, waving a finger at Regina. “Did the Mayor put you up to this? This is exactly the kind of corruption I’m talking about! The Sheriff being used as the Mayor’s enforcer!”

“Miss West…”

“Mayor Mills will do whatever it takes to silence me!” she went on. “She’s scared I’ve exposed her for what she is!”

“Miss West, I didn’t want to have to arrest you, but…”

“One hint of competition and she calls in her - her goon squad to crush it!”

“Oh, for God’s sake, I know you’re my sister!” said Regina loudly.

Silence fell, and Lacey hurriedly typed a few sentences, describing the shocked atmosphere of the town hall. Zelena was staring at Regina, eyes wide and nostrils flaring.

“I wasn’t going to mention it,” said Regina, curling her lip. “I wanted to give you a chance to be a decent person and deal with this in an honourable way. But since you’re determined to try to ruin my life for no good reason, then yes. I’m well aware we share the same mother, and frankly she’d be disappointed at this pathetic bid for attention.”

“How dare you—”

“I believe it’s my turn to speak,” interrupted Regina. “We’ve listened to enough of your rambling this evening. Since you’d been dropping hints about corruption in my office, I had Sheriff Humbert investigate. He told me earlier this evening that someone had been planting evidence to try to frame me. No doubt that’s what he wants to speak to you about.”

“This is—”

“The residents of Storybrooke know how seriously I take my duties as Mayor,” Regina went on, addressing the room as a whole now. “They know that I value their support and their trust. Of course I’d want any threat to that to be investigated. I’m just - I’m beyond disappointed that the threat comes from my half-sister.”

Her voice echoed around the silent room. Lacey was watching the townsfolk avidly, their eyes fixed on Regina as she spoke.

“I had no idea that my mother had had a daughter before me, no idea that I had another family member out there in the world,” she went on. “Her coming to Storybrooke should have been a time of joy and reunion. But instead of her reaching out to me, she tries to undermine me, to take away the most important job I have in this town.”

She looked down, shaking her head, and Gold leaned in close.

“I wonder how much of this is for the benefit of the voters and how much is genuine,” he murmured.

“Maybe fifty-fifty,” Lacey whispered back, and he nodded in agreement.

Regina raised her head, taking a deep breath, as though steeling herself for something unpleasant. Graham and Dorothy had edged towards the stage, Dorothy removing the cuffs from her belt.

“All I can do now,” said Regina, “is trust that justice will take its course.”

“You know nothing about justice!” shouted Zelena, as the Sheriff started reading her her rights. “You’ll pay for this! All of you!”

She was still yelling when Dorothy handcuffed her and marched her from the room. The sound of the doors closing was very loud in the silence that remained.

“Well,” said Regina, placing her hands on the lectern and looking around the room. “I think we can all agree that this was one of the more - eventful - political debates this town has seen.”

There was a ripple of nervous laughter, and she smiled.

“I truly hope that Miss West gets the help she so desperately needs,” she went on. “And when she has, I want her to know that she’s welcome to visit with Mallory and I. After all, we may not be able to choose our family, but that makes it all the more important to nurture the bonds we share with those around us.”

There were noises of agreement from the audience, and Gold leaned in close again.

“Ever the politician,” he murmured, and Lacey nodded.

“Storybrooke is like an extended family to me,” went on Regina, “and all families have their moments of conflict and frustration, but underneath that there is respect for one another, and a common set of values. I believe I have lived by those values for every year that I’ve served as your Mayor. I will always reach out to those in need and I will always act in the best interests of this town. Under my leadership, Storybrooke will continue to prosper. I guarantee it.”

There was applause, and a couple of cheers, and Regina nodded, looking extremely self-satisfied. She started taking questions, and Gold kissed Lacey’s cheek and whispered that he would see her in the diner when she was done. She watched him leave with his family, Emma balancing the baby on her hip and Neal pushing the stroller after them. Lacey turned back to listen to Regina field a question about the state of the town’s roads, bent her head to her laptop, and began typing up her article on the Mayoral debate.

She emailed the article over to Sidney before leaving for the diner, and walked back there with Ruby, who was chattering about the drama that had unfolded. Regina had been in her element when answering the remaining questions, and Lacey had felt a surge of satisfaction over her part in exposing a crime. Perhaps small town life offered the chance for rewarding work after all. She could see Gold and his family through the window, and his face lit up as she entered, making her stomach flip. Damn the man. I’m falling in love with him.

“Excellent job this evening,” he said, getting up to pull her chair out and kissing her cheek. “I got you a rum and coke, I hope that’s okay.”

“Perfect,” she said fervently, and took a slurp, relishing the taste on her tongue.

“How’d the Mayor look at the end of all that?” asked Emma, and Lacey pulled a face.

“The whole place gave her a round of applause, and she was looking about as satisfied as she could, I guess,” she said. “I still feel kind of sorry for her. Not every day you find out you have a half sister. Especially one that’s out to get you.”

“Well, it could have been a lot worse,” said Gold. “I very much doubt Miss West will present much of a challenge from a jail cell.”

Lacey nodded, taking another sip of her drink.

“Does this mean you and Regina are friends now?” she asked, and Gold smirked.

“Oh, I wouldn’t go that far,” he said. “What’s that term the kids use these days?”

“Frenemies?”

“That’s the one.”

“Kind of like we were,” she observed, and he laughed.

“Regina would fillet me with a letter opener if I even contemplated looking at her the way I look at you.”

“No, I don’t mean that,” she said. “I just meant - well, we kind of had that thing where we poked at each other to get a reaction, right?”

Gold looked as though he was trying very hard not to laugh, and she swatted his arm.

“Stop thinking about dirty stuff! You know what I mean!”

“I do,” he acknowledged. “And I, for one, am very glad that we - er - got the reaction we wanted.”

“You’re still thinking about dirty stuff, aren’t you?” said Emma shrewdly, and Gold shrugged.

“Maybe a little.”

They ate ribs, sticky with Granny’s special sauce, licking it from their fingers and washing it down with beer and wine and rum. By the time they got out into the cool night air, Lacey felt wonderfully tipsy, and regretted putting on her high heels earlier in the evening. At least there was no one else around to see if she fell on her arse, she supposed. Neal and Emma were walking ahead, pushing the stroller and talking quietly, and Lacey let out a sigh, slipping her arm through Gold’s for support, and resting her head on his shoulder.

“I ate too much,” she said, and Gold chuckled.

“We all ate too much.”

“You didn’t throw half of it over your lap, though.”

“No, I thought I’d leave that to you.”

“Stupid gravity,” muttered Lacey, and he laughed, squeezing her arm with his.

“Tired?” he asked.

“Yeah. Long day.”

“Maybe you should have an early night.”

She glanced up at him, and he was grinning at her, his eyes twinkling.

“How’s that gonna work?” she asked flatly. “Your family’s staying over. No way I’m letting you give me screaming orgasms while they’re in the room next door.”

“In that case I could sneak over to yours,” he suggested. “You could scream to your heart’s content.”

Lacey giggled, barging him affectionately with her shoulder.

“I think I love you, Mr Gold,” she said, and Gold stopped dead, turning to face her with a stunned look on his face.

“Really?”

Lacey turned to face him, taking his hand.

“Really,” she said. “I mean I’m kind of drunk, but that’s not why I’m saying it. I think I’ve sort of been in love with you for a while now. Is that okay?”

He was staring at her, wide-eyed, and a softness seemed to spill over his features, making his eyes gleam as he smiled.

“Well,” he said. “I think I love you, too, Miss French. Is that okay?”

“More than okay.”

He seemed to hesitate for a moment, then raised his chin.

“D’you want to move in?” he asked.

“Can I bring Darcy?”

“Of course.”

“Then you got a deal.”

He was grinning, and she found herself grinning back, her heart swelling with love for him.

“Let’s wait until after Neal and Emma go before I move in, though,” she said. “I think you said something about screaming orgasms?”

Gold’s grin turned wicked, and he bent his head to kiss her.

“I’ll be over later.”

She let his lips pull at hers, leaning in to feel the warmth of his body as his arms went around her, and let out a sigh of contentment. Yes. Life in a small town could be amazing.

#fic: heatstroke #golden lace fic #rumbelle fic #golden lace #rumbelle #my fic

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haloshornsinkstains · 4 years ago

Text

Carrying This Imagination, I'll Go

The aftermath of the Inarizaki vs Karasuno game and how it affected y/n, their manager, and her relationship with the team.

Kita x F!Reader (but its pretty mild)

cw: female reader, attempts at writing Kansai dialect

a/n: i’m debating turning this one into a series, I have ideas and I've written some of it past this chapter but still it may be a while between chapters if I do. At least until work eases up and I’m not pulling overtime so much.

As the ball hit the floor you felt your heart lodge itself in your throat, grip white knuckled against the edge of the bench as your muscles screamed at you to move. There would be time for that later, you told yourself, blinking back tears as you watched your boys congratulate the other team before turning to line up and bow. The few simple words of thanks lingering in the air like the bittersweet sting of a wound. They filed out of the hall, a line of bowed heads and black jerseys, and still you couldn't let yourself move. Not until the coach rested a gentle hand on your back did you unfurl your fingers and slowly push yourself to your feet.

"C'mon l/n. They'll need ya around."

You nodded, exhaling a long sigh as you glanced towards the bottles on the side. "I'll get water."

You didn't see his small frown as you collected the empty bottles and headed for the taps, smiling at the other teams manager as you passed.

"Hope to see ya around. Good luck."

She smiled softly in return and you could almost feel the burning jealousy of her team on your back. Not that you could blame them, she was gorgeous.

"For once he's right." You chuckle. "Next year Shin, ya better be watchin' us 'cause we're gonna win Nationals."

Later you carried the newly filled bottles through the corridor, listening for the loud shouts of your idiots. You find them not long after by the stairs, just in time to hear the Captain's soft spoken admission and Atsumu's impassioned reply. You smile up at them, holding the bottles aloft.

"Yeah! An' when I'm a famous volleyball player yer better tell all ya friends that ya taught me!"

You shake your head and behind him Suna laughs, clapping one hand on the blonde setter’s shoulder. “Oh don’t worry Tsumu, I’ll tell everyone plenty of stories about you.”

You dissolve into full blown giggles, memories of the plentiful escapades of the Miya twins flashing behind your eyes and the bottles of water forgotten at your feet. You don’t see the way Kita’s face softens into a smile as he watches you, the pain of the loss softened a little by the antics of his team. Suna though, his analytical gaze doesn’t miss the affection in the captain's eyes, and he nods his head just a little at the older man. Eventually your breathing evens out and you wipe a few stray tears from the corners of your eyes, nodding towards the water bottles.

“Well I didn’t lug all this water here for ya to not drink it! It was a long game, grab a drink everyone.” You hand out the bottles with a smile, turning to glance over your shoulder once they’re all drinking. “When yer all done we’re heading back to the hotel, and you stinky boys are going straight to the bath.”

“Oi! We don’t stink!” Atsumu’s outburst sent water and spit flying all over Osamu and Aran, and you burst into giggles all over again as both men smacked him in retaliation, Osamu yelling at his twin for being a disgusting scrub.

Before another fight could break out between the Miya’s you heard Kita clearing his throat, levelling them both with a stern look. “A hot bath will do all of our muscles good.”

You offered him a soft smile in return and nodded. “See, Captain knows. C’mon stinky boys.”

Amidst the grumbles the team headed back towards the bus, you falling into step besides Suna with a chuckle. Gently you bumped your shoulder against his arm.

“You did real good out there Rin. Glasses really got on yer nerves huh?” You hummed, glancing at him sideways.

“Hmm. Surprised you aren’t crying yet.” He chuckled, gently ruffling your hair. “You were sobbing when we lost to Itachiyama.”

“Later. Lookin’ after you boys comes first.”

“We had the same idea.”

The tears didn’t fall until you were washing the jerseys, as much as they didn’t really need them the next day it gave you some time to be alone. A place to cry, hidden from the boys you wanted to be strong for, the sound of your sniffles drowned out by the hum of the machine. Under the dull hum you didn’t hear the sound of the door opening, startling when the familiar warmth of a body filled the space beside you.

You relax, feeling lips press against the crown of your head as you nod.

“It needed to be done.”

Kita chuckles quietly and you can picture the small nod of agreement.

“Routine is important.” He agrees, lifting the washbasket ready to collect the wet jerseys. “Routine is the foundation that made me who I am.”

“And it makes ya happy.” You laughed.

“And it makes me happy.”

“I just… it felt like something I could do to help. I feel like I let ya all down, like-” you hiccuped, holding back a sob “I wish we had won.”

Strong arms encircled you, Kita pulling you into the warmth of his chest. One hand gently petted your hair, letting you tremble against him as you cried.

“I know. But, at the same time, I’d like to see how far those crows go.” His grip tightened, just a little. “The boys were talkin’ about watchin’ the rest of the matches, I think ya should come too.”

You nodded. “I’d like that.”

Watching games without the pressure of winning was a surprisingly good way to relax, and you were able to focus on the abilities of the other teams. Picking up plays that you could suggest to the boys, and making note of players who would be worth keeping an eye on for next year's competition. Inarizaki might be a powerhouse school but it was always worthwhile to keep an eye on the others. Kita and Aran had disappeared to watch Itachiyama with Omimi, while you, Rin and the Miya twins wanted to see Karasuno’s next match. The others had their phones, so wherever they’d wandered off to you weren’t too worried.

“Those two are scary even from here.”

You tipped your head back to smile at Osamu. “You two were pretty scary yourselves yesterday. But Nekoma are pretty terrifyin’ too.”

Rin nodded. “They’re a great defensive team.”

“Yeah. That middle blocker Captain of their is- holy shit! That Libero is so cool!”

“Yaku.”

You whipped your head around to stare at the two men who had appeared next to you, noting their white jackets.

“Um, bless you? Hey, yer from Fukurodani right? I was plannin’ to come watch ya play later, you guys are awesome.” You grinned, leaning across Rin to wave at the two men.

“Hear that Akaashi! She thinks we’re awesome!”

“I did Bokuto-san. Nekoma’s libero, his name is Yaku-san, and he is indeed very talented.” The dark haired setter, Akaashi, sat himself next to Suna and gestured for Bokuto to join him. “You’re from Inarizaki High yes?”

“We are, I’m l/n, this is Suna and those two behind us are Atsumu and Osamu Miya. It’s nice to meet ya Akaashi-san. And thank you for the information.” You nodded turning back to the match.

“Kuroo is cool too.” The grey-haired Ace sounded almost pouty.

“He is Bokuto-san. I’m sorry to hear about your loss to Karasuno, from what I hear it was a close game.”

Suna nodded, eyes focused on the middle blockers while you sighed and offered the two men an apologetic smile. You didn’t miss the way Bokuto muttered something about Akaashi wanting Karasuno to win but were polite enough to ignore it.

“Get back here ya scrub! Yer not having my onigiri!”

“Learn to share ya pig!”

With an irritated growl you shook your head. “Sorry, those are my idiots. Rin, if you even think about pullin’ out yer phone I’ll be after you next.”

You vaulted over the chairs, stalking towards the arguing twins just in time to see Osamu preparing to kick his brother. With a grimace you put yourself between the twins, gripping each by the front of their shirts and glaring at them in turn.

“Oi, idiots! Yer gonna sit down and behave yerselves or so help me god…”

“But y/n!”

“Don’t but me! Sit yer asses down and behave.” You narrowed your eyes. “And if yer not gonna listen to me, I’m sure I can get Kita to come here.”

Suna chuckled, slipping his phone back into his hoodie and nodding towards Bokuto and Akaashi. “And that’s why our manager is the best.”

“Agashee! Did you see that?!”

“I did Bokuto-san.”

“She’s so cool!”

You laughed, jumping back over into your seat and shaking your head. “Glad ya think so, dealing with those idiots had to have some upsides.”

Akaashi made a small noise that sounded suspiciously like a chuckle before it was interrupted by a quiet beeping from his pocket. Sighing he stood and gently pulled on Bokuto's arm.

"Bokuto-San, we need to go prepare for our match. It was good to meet you all." He gave a polite bow and a soft smile, his reserved nature all the more striking compared to the chaos surrounding you.

"Come cheer for us l/n!"

"Likewise. I'll be sure t' come find ya when they finish." You grinned, waving the pair off. "Ya done makin' heart eyes Samu?"

"Shurrup, yer always droolin' over players."

You shook your head. "I only 'drool' over one player, I just admire the rest." You huffed, ignoring the heat in your cheeks.

Focusing back on the match your heart felt lighter than it had done in a long time, here, surrounded by people you loved and the sound of volleyball, you came to a realisation. This was something you always wanted in your life. Volleyball was something you never wanted to leave behind no matter what.

The rest of nationals went by in a blur, Kita joining you for more matches than not once the pain of losing so early had dulled. You cheered for Fukurodani as promised, and joined the Miya twins watching the duo of terrifying first years from Karasuno. Every moment just cemented the idea that you wanted Volleyball in your life forever further and further into your mind.

Time continued moving forwards. You cried when the third years graduated, Suna took so many pictures of your teary face you almost threw the phone at his head. But the third years graduation meant the end of so many things, their patience and calming influence, the routines you had built up since joining the club, and your first relationship. Still time seemed to fly, the Miya twins made for surprisingly good leaders (officially Atsumu was captain, but you were grateful for Osamu being there to keep him in check no matter how many fights you broke up) and all too soon you found yourself at Nationals once more, earning your revenge against Karasuno for the previous year. Your unlikely friendship with the new Fukurodani captain cemented when the pair of you exchanged numbers on the first day. (Osamu had pouted over it for hours, and none of your insistence you were just friends helped).

University only fuelled your focus, managing the boys team there and watching them rise through the ranks. Joining in on practice to help them out and feeling the old familiar rush in your veins. You kept in touch with the other second years, thankful for their support when your family were disappointed in you. They were the ones there when you graduated, and the ones to throw a celebratory party when you landed a job with the JVA. And they were the ones there to keep your spirits up when a few years into your dream job it seemed like you were about to lose everything, even when they didn’t all know the details.

#halo.writes #f!reader #inarizaki #kita x reader #haikyuu #manager!reader

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nameless-shrimp · 4 years ago

Text

SILENCE || CHAPTER THREE

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x F!Deaf!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of sexual content.

Notes: okay, finally. chapter three. sorry for the wait. i love gojo satoru. really much. okay, enjoy.

previous chapter.

He ran into you again.

Satoru was patiently waiting outside the gates of the school, wondering where Geto was so that they could both make their way to meet Yaga for whatever mission that they would be assigned to for the day. He sighed, kicking his feet against small pebbles on the sidewalk. He knew that he couldn’t be late for another meeting with Yaga, though he was very moody for some type of pastry.

Then again, knowing who he was, he wasn’t surprised at his sudden cravings. Not bothering to wait for Geto, he decided to make his way to the bakery that was a few blocks away from the school.

As he walked down the sidewalk, he glanced around his school. It really did look like a religious school, though the average human would think that, and then Satoru continued to whistle his thoughts away (ranging from wondering where Geto could be to figuring out the kind of pastry he was craving—so was it chocolate croissants or maybe, a pecan pie today?) despite the stares he’d get from people that would walk past him.

It didn’t take him long to reach the bakery, where Satoru opened the door to find that the bakery wasn’t as busy, most likely because it wasn’t a rush hour kind-of-time.

Not that he was complaining, though.

Satoru took out his phone, deciding to scroll through his past images of him and Geto grabbing dinner the other night. (Half of them were blurry, most likely because Geto was trying to take his phone away before the brisket was gonna burn on the grill).

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but we don’t have anyone that knows sign language.”

The voice was audible, and it was the usual old lady that ran the bakery that caught his attention. However, he trailed his eyes up, gazing his attention to the lady he recognized before he minded his own business and he opened up some messages from Yaga-sensei, and as per usual, it had to deal with exorcising grade two curses.

Christ, a lot of this was starting to become tiring; at least, it seemed like a lot of people knew that Satoru was the strongest since everyone began to rely on him.

Someone in front of him left their position in line, so Satoru moved up a bit, scrolling through his phone as usual. He bit his bottom lip, wondering if he should’ve brought some lollipops with him so that he could’ve kept his cravings at bay.

“I appreciate you typing out what your order is on the phone.”

He looked up once again after taking a few steps forward, not minding the person in front of him as he was browsing the pastries. It seemed like the croissants were freshly baked a while ago, as expected from this place—it was the best; donuts sounded like a good option as well too. Sprinkles, icing, or maybe some sort of jelly filled treat. It really made him itch for a sweet, and he felt himself wrinkling his nose at the tasty thought.

“Gojo Satoru!” The old lady perked her voice out loud and Satoru shot a grin, waving at the lady who had her usual pink glasses and a bright smile on her face. It seemed like the person next to Satoru shifted a bit as they were fiddling with their wallet, though it wasn’t Satoru’s business.

“Hey Yuki,” Satoru greeted. “I’m not sure what I’m craving for today.”

“Would you like to try a red bean donut?”

“I’d like something sweeter,” he grinned.

The old woman chuckled, her laugh vibrating a large aura of positive energy—something that Satoru had always admired. “It’s no surprise coming from you. I can even make you a crepe if you want, you know? Chocolate and bananas?”

“Ah,” Satoru held up his phone, checking if Geto had texted him of his whereabouts, but it seemed as if Satoru had no update. He tapped his foot, debating if he should stay for some time to eat.

The person next to Satoru had dropped a couple of dollar bills in the tip jar, earning a welcoming source of gratitude from the lady. However, Satoru’s thoughts were interrupted once the sound of plastic bags had fallen to the floor.

Satoru looked down to see the customer that was next to him bend down to pick up the bags of bagels. He bent down to pick up two bags—it seemed like this person liked cinnamon raisin and plain bagels—and handed them off to them. “Here you go,” he sent off a generous smile.

The person in front of him tensed up and looked up at him, their hood had fallen down to their shoulders.

And—his breath hitched.

He didn’t know why, but it did. He wasn’t expecting to see you here out of all places, and it seemed a bit far out from the neighborhood you saw him at. Though, Satoru shouldn’t question it, because he did run into you at the nearby convenience store.

“Oh, hey,” Satoru knocked some of the confidence back in himself.

You glanced up at him and though you couldn’t see the color that was hidden beneath the black shades that were nearly at the tip of his nose, you could tell that he looked a bit surprised as well too. And Satoru knew that he was. Perhaps that he didn’t expect to come in contact with you but it shouldn’t have mattered anyway, you were nothing but a stranger to him that bumped into him late at night or that you were kind enough to offer him chocolate once before. It wasn’t that big of a deal and Satoru knew better than that, or at least, he thought he did.

He cleared his throat, smirk growing as if confidence had punched his gut and he straightened up his posture. “Nice seeing you here,” and his smirk grew into a cheeky grin.

Satoru’s flirty side was already making its way out and you couldn’t help but feel warm to your cheeks. And there it was; the sight that Satoru admired because it always fed deep into his ego enough to make him have that boisterous and barbaric personality, only because he knew that he was gorgeous and beautiful and handsome and outstanding in his own way. Getting these kinds of reactions were lighting the fire to burn inside him more; that arrogance that everyone was annoyed by yet for some reason, it was a part of Gojo Satoru.

“Yuki,” Satoru called out to the baker behind the counter as he watched you place your bought items in the plastic bag quickly—almost like you were nervous. “I will pay for this one’s orders.”

“How kind of you, sweetheart,” the old lady perked up a genuine smile and Satoru winked at you, where you gazed up at him and came to the realization that he was way too damn tall.

After Satoru had ordered some donuts to eat, he decided to ask you to sit next to him near the large window that had a perfect view of the street on the outside. He rested his chin on the palm of his hand, gazing at the owners walking their dogs and the small Beetle vehicle that was parked outside of the bakery.

Every once in a while, Satoru gazed at you, and you’d be lost in your own head as well, staring out at the world that was outside of the window. He wasn’t sure if you were too nervous to speak to him—and he wasn’t sure where this nervousness came from, but he really wasn’t complaining; after all, he had this kind of effect on women, anyway—due to the fiddling of your fingers on your cup of coffee or the times that you bit your bottom lip, looking hesitant to even face him.

But Satoru couldn’t lie to himself. For some reason, he found himself a bit tense.

And it had to be because you never spoke a word to him after your previous encounters together. That had to be it.

Seriously.

“So,” Satoru broke the silence, tilting his head as he bit into the chocolate glazed donut. This caught your attention as you finally forced yourself to make eye contact with him—or really, you were just staring at black sunglasses, but close enough—and he pursed his lips. “You don’t talk much, do you?”

You shook your head.

“I won’t annoy you with questions about it,” Satoru smiled politely at you before chewing the bite from the donut he took. “So,” he spoke with his mouth full for a moment before swallowing and continuing, “is there any way I can get to know you?”

You bit your bottom lip again and then reached for the phone that you had in your hoodie pocket. You began typing on the phone and then held it up for Satoru to see. His eyes adjusted to the bright screen as he read the text.

'My name is L/N Y/N. It’s nice to meet you. :)'

“Likewise,” Satoru responded, placing his donut down on the plate. “Gojo Satoru. We’ve ran into each other a few times before.”

You nodded.

“So you remember?”

You nodded again.

“At least I don’t look crazy, heh,” he chuckled awkwardly, unsure of how to properly have a conversation with someone that was not open to conversation. Satoru wanted to ask because he was used to having women touch his neck and beg for his attention all over, regardless of who it was—and there would be easy-going conversations here and there to break the ice, somehow.

But with you—clearly, you were different. And Satoru didn’t want to sound basic with that thought in his head. But you were—because you weren’t fucking speaking a word to him.

“Do you mind if I refer to your first name?” Satoru questioned, raising his brows. “You’re welcome to do the same to me—if you ever speak a word to me.”

You nodded, smiling a little bit.

Some progress was being made, at least.

“Y/N, I’m sorry if this offends you but—”

Before he could finish his question, you chuckled out loud, nearly spilling your hot coffee on the table and you waved your hand in front of him, trying to signal him to stop. You held up your pointer finger, informing him to hold it for a minute as you typed on your phone with your free hand quickly. Satoru raised a brow at this, but he knew that you were probably already answering his question—and really, he should’ve known you’d get asked this a lot.

You held your phone up to him.

'It doesn’t. Don’t worry. But I am deaf. I can’t hear.'

“Eh?!” Satoru fell back, completely confused by the text. He pointed at you while throwing his free hand in his tousled white hair. “H-Hold on, so how are you able to hear me?”

You fought back another chuckle before you turned to the side, parting your hair behind your ear where the visible sight of the implants in your ear were noticeable.

Satoru felt dumb. Because—duh, no fucking shit. Of course, hearing aids and cochlear implants existed.

“Oh, right,” Satoru pouted, pursing his lips playfully as he eyed the bakery in front of him. Suddenly, the green couches and the faint string lights were more of an interesting sight to admire—when really, he just felt pretty embarrassed. “My bad.”

You simply kept your smile and waved your hand around.

“So, do you not speak then?”

'I do. I just… don’t like the sound of my voice. I was born deaf.'

“I’m sure you sound cute,” Satoru grinned, completely satisfied with his compliment. And of course, you pushed your lips in a thin line and turned away, trying to hide the faint blush that was growing from your neck to your cheeks. The obvious light pink was a delightful sight for him to see; you didn’t realize it but you were definitely feeding his ego up, and Satoru liked it—a lot. “C’mon. You can talk to me, right?”

You bit your lip again and shook your head shyly.

He squinted his eyes a bit as he took note of your behavior. It seemed like you bit your lip a lot whenever you were in situations that made you timid. Satoru found this cute—or really, he wasn’t going to lie to himself, it was kind of hot. But he couldn’t say that kind of stuff to you, especially with how fragile you looked in front of him.

Satoru felt his phone vibrate and he realized that he received a message from Geto. With one glance, he realized that Geto had finally made it to the outside gates of the school.

He pouted. He wasn’t ready to leave you yet, but for some reason, he was interested in you. Satoru thought that you were someone he could play around with for some time—and yeah, maybe that was the move that he would be going for.

“Hey,” Satoru sighed deeply, pretending to act a bit disappointed—or well, he kind of was in reality, but he made it more dramatic than he really needed to. “Sorry Y/N. My best friend’s waiting for me somewhere. Do you think we can talk again?”

You nodded, smiling at him.

That bright smile of yours was contagious because he found himself smiling as well. It felt genuine, right, and he felt comfortable. Though no words ever came out of your mouth, he felt steady—which was good. It was a great start, actually.

“What’s your phone number? We should meet up more often,” Satoru suggested, a cheeky grin stretched out on his lips.

You exchanged numbers with him and he couldn’t lie to himself. He was thrilled—excited almost, and he wasn’t really sure why. Maybe it was because he scored himself another girl that he could possibly fool around with, but this wasn’t a surprise to Gojo Satoru. With that arrogant personality and beaming azure eyes that captivated the soul of others, he knew that he had it in him to get what he wanted.

Needless to say, the scent of freshly baked croissants never left his nose and for some odd reason, the picture of your smile couldn’t escape his head.

Once Satoru left the bakery, he was met with Geto, who was resting his back against the wall and he eyed his friend cautiously before he huffed a breath with a small smile on his lips. Clearly, he knew. “You got another girl’s number, did you?” Geto questioned.

“You got it.” Satoru snapped his fingers as he put his hands in his uniform pockets. “C’mon. You can’t act surprised.”

“Oh,” his closest friend rolled his eyes, dark hair swaying with the wind. “I’m not.”

“Really now?”

“Really.”

The mission was supposed to be quick and easy, at least that’s what Geto was informed about—and Satoru was informed as well. (But it wasn’t like the white-haired flirt even paid any attention to the messages or lectures that Yaga gives, anyway).

Staring up at the tall building in front of him, Satoru took one glance at his phone and scoffed at the messages from the previous girl he slept with, who was consistently texting him to come back to her place. He wasn’t interested anymore, clearly, and he had stated that numerous times.

Times like these were exhausting for him, but it made Satoru feel uneasy with himself, though he refused to admit it to himself no matter how many times he eyed himself at the mirror, admiring his own reflection but hidden beneath was someone that was afraid to open up about how he felt. And he always cared; it wasn’t like he didn’t—because he always did. It showed from his affectionate gestures with the women he slept with and how he’d always listened to them whenever they vented about their bad days before officially getting the chance to sleep with them.

Maybe he really was an asshole, toying around with their feelings. Yet, was he really? Satoru was lost in his thoughts—once again. The damn whirlwind of thoughts that seeped its way into moments when he needed to pay attention to the present the most, like the murmuring inaudible voice of Geto to his ears or feeling the presence of intense cursed energy coming from the building in front of him.

Geto turned to face his closest friend who was tucking his phone deep in his uniform pockets. “Another girl trying to hit you up again?” Geto asked, raising his brows.

Smirking to himself, almost as if he was the most charming prince, Satoru nodded and stretched out his arms. “Yeah, the last girl I fooled around with,” he explained before staring back at the building with the immense cursed energy that was radiating a few feet from the roof. “But it’s fine. I found someone else I can mess around with for the time being.”

Geto decided to take the first few steps to the building as Satoru followed behind. Geto shook his head and smiled to himself, allowing Satoru to furrow his eyebrows. “Can’t help but break more hearts, huh?”

“It's not my fault they fall for me. You know I always tell them I’m not someone that’s the commitment type,” Satoru scoffed. And Geto knew he was telling the truth too. “Hell, even you know that.”

“I know,” Geto responded. “You’re just something else.”

“What do you mean?” Satoru questioned, suddenly feeling a bit defensive.

“You’re a jujutsu sorcerer,” Geto stopped on his trail and then made a swift turn to face his friend with a serious look glued on his face. “You keep messing around with all these women. I know you don’t want a relationship, and you’re just being you but don’t play with me. Do these women even know that you’re a jujutsu sorcerer? Or, at least, you’re capable of the abilities that you have?”

Satoru didn’t say a word and he only looked away. Of course, Geto would question him, but now was not the time for a lecture. He shook his head and refrained from answering his questions, “we need to exorcise this little shit already,” Satoru groaned, walking forward.

“I’m talking to you,” Geto raised his voice.

“You’re not my parent,” Satoru huffed. “No, they don’t know. None of the girls I’ve been with knew about what I had or what I do or anything about me. I was just there to fuck and leave. I don’t even cuddle them or anything; I tell them these things. I always do.”

“It’s not about you telling them what you are and who you are and what you do,” Geto explained, crossing his arms. Seriously, Satoru couldn’t believe that this discussion was going on. He wanted this to wait for another time, but it seemed as if Geto didn’t have the patience—or rather, his mind was eager to know some things right here and there. “I’m curious. What if there is a time that you fall in love?”

Satoru held back a snort. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“It won’t. I can’t be in a relationship.”

“Why not?”

“Because—” Satoru groaned loudly, where the noise was audible enough to echo in the abandoned hall of the building that they had walked their way into. “Who would want to date a jujutsu sorcerer?”

“Ouch,” Geto chuckled lightly, placing a palm on his heart. “Are you telling me that I can’t get any action then?”

“You know what I mean,” Satoru shook his head before pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Unless the girl is a jujutsu sorcerer or can handle her own, then I can’t be in a relationship. Even if she was a sorcerer though, if she can’t be strong, then I don’t want her.”

“There you go, again.”

“What now?”

“Bashing on the weak,” Geto sighed, closing his eyes. “You understand that jujutsu sorcerers are here to help protect those that can’t see the curses or are too weak to exorcise them. But it doesn’t mean that there’s anything wrong with it, man.”

“Look,” Satoru snapped, letting his frustration show in the tone of his attitude. “I don’t have time to protect and babysit my girlfriend—if I ever have one, okay? I’m sorry. I just—fuck, can we talk later?”

Geto had a smug look on his lips. “Nah, let’s talk about this now.”

“We need to exorcise this little shit or else we won’t hear it from Yaga-sensei.”

“I know, but I find this more interesting.”

“Why you—” Satoru shook his head and then placed both of his palms on his cheeks. He felt his face fall into a flushed state; he knew exactly why he wouldn’t be able to be committed, and part of the reason would be that he was someone that really couldn’t protect the weak forever, let alone the person that he may end up with long enough to call his soulmate.

If that ever happened.

Satoru knew who he was as a person; he wasn’t going to let anyone get in the way of who he was, mostly because he believed he wasn’t capable of being in a relationship. The strongest and the idea of continuously protecting someone who was weaker than him seemed exhausting. It was a selfish thought, though he couldn’t blame himself; he mostly worried about himself rather than worrying and caring for another that wasn’t him.

Despite the obvious selfish thought, Satoru couldn’t find himself to let anyone close to him get in any dangerous situations. Even though he knew that—hypothetically if he did love someone—he wouldn’t let that happen, but he didn’t believe anyone should grave themselves in any bit of danger that the jujutsu sorcery life held, let alone an innocent person.

“Fine,” Geto placed his hands on his shoulders and stretched out his back. He let out a tired yawn before he glanced up at the stairs ahead, where the walls were cracked and the paint was chipped. Clearly, the building had been abandoned for quite some time, and Geto looked at Satoru with a pleasing smile. “But tell me about this new girl you’re trying to mess with.”

“Can it wait?” Satoru whined, portraying a playful pout as he bit his bottom lip that quivered.

“I don’t think so.”

“Man, alright,” Satoru sighed, placing one of his palms on the back of his head. “She’s really cute. She doesn’t talk at all, really—actually, she’s deaf.”

“What now?”

“She can’t hear,” Satoru explained, pointing at his ears and mouthing out words.

Geto looked at him with an irritated stare, clearly, a vein was popping out from his forehead and he huffed, “I know what being deaf means. But how are you even talking to her?”

“She talks on her phone and types out the words,” Satoru explained, scratching his head. “She has these implants or something that she wears and she talked to me about it today.”

“I take it that she doesn’t have many friends?”

“Man, I really don’t know.”

“And you’re gonna fool around with her feelings like that?”

Satoru whined, placing his palms on his flushed forehead. “Can we please talk about this later or something? I don’t wanna hold back on this mission.”

Geto had a smirk grow on his lips. “You actually want to get some business done, hmm?”

“Shut it,” Satoru said as he gritted his teeth.

“Fine, but this conversation isn’t over.”

“Fine.”

At least for now the conversation was over.

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru imagines #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen imagines #shrimp: fics #shrimp: silence.fic

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thefanficmonster · 4 years ago

Text

Quarantine On Crack

Until Dawn Gang + Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing, Some underage drinking, A LONG-ASS READ (sorry 😅)

Genre: Fluff, Crack, Humor

Summary: The Until Dawn kids (including Hannah and Beth) decide to go through literal hell - trying to survive each other while being stuck on a mountain, in a lodge together for an undetermined amount of time. It’s really a 50/50 chance of how their relationships will be affected by this much time spent together.

Requested by my dear Until Dawn Anon. This is the first time our babies aren’t suffering yay! Hope you enjoy! Know I had a ton of fun writing. The credit for some of these amazing quotes goes out to you (keep both the requests and quotes coming, I absolutely love them!) Love you, Vy ❤

Imagine what the aftermath of a human tornado would look like. You’ve got an image? Great. Now triple it as though three tornados had ripped through the place. Cause that’s what the lodge looks like right now.

Let me backtrack just for a second so I can give you a proper idea of what’s going on and how it came to be. I’d like to mention this ain’t my first rodeo. I’m not in Blackwood nor am I staying in this lodge with this group of people for the first time. I knew what I was getting myself into when I accepted Josh’s offer to go there now with this pandemic that’s eating away at the world. I knew certain members of the group would be hell to put up with but that quarantine beat staying at home alone with my thoughts, so I gave in. This plan had its perks: since we would be the only ones on the mountains and all of us are perfectly healthy, we’d be allowed to wander the woods and breathe some fresh air. On the other hand, however, I’d have to restrain myself from committing murder. The snowy wood outweighed the possibility of becoming a murderer and that’s how I ended up here with the ten people I’ve been friends with since high school freshmen year.

We’re on day four so far. Yes DAY four, not WEEK four, and people are already scrapping with one another. Jess and Emily can barely tolerate each other. Mike and Matt likewise. I’ve been done with their shit since day two and am now watching a literal rom-com unfold in front of me. “Will They, Won’t They Squared” is the title in case you were wondering. Why squared? Well we have two pairs of love birds around here that are not official, BUT THEY SHOULD BE. Not naming any names or anything *ahem*.

I probably should’ve mentioned, while I was on the scrapping topic, that I have already managed to threaten Mike at least ten times. Emily and I are trying our hardest to remain civil with each other through passive aggression, and I must admit we’re doing well.

Another thing that has been going on is A LOT OF FUCKING FLIRTING. I swear we run on hormones and caffeine. And I’m into it.

Jess and Emily were at each other’s throats just moments ago, the argument took so many turns and kept branching out so much I forgot what they were even fighting about. Sam and Josh are sitting in front of the unlit fireplace. Sam’s giving him a hard time about his inability to light a fire. She’s basically doing what I would’ve been doing if Matt hadn’t handed me a cup of homemade cider.

“Y/N.“ He says as he settles on the other end of the couch

“Matthew.“ I reply to his greeting, clinking our cups together

“GET A ROOM YOU TWO!“ Emily yells from somewhere behind us

“We have like three empty seats between us and exchanged two words.“ Matt shakes his head, looking at the staircase over the backrest.

“Oh, sureee.“ Emily replies sarcastically

I can tell she’s about to go on and I’ve already went off on Mike twice today so my argument energy levels are low and I’m not having it. Thankfully, a single look shuts her up real quick and she goes about her way.

Suddenly, a loud scream comes from the kitchen. Everyone turns to look in that direction, but I’m unfazed. It’s Ashley’s scream so I know exactly what’s up.

“Sit tight, guys. I’ve got this.“ I put my cider on the coffee table and walk into the kitchen, grabbing the can of deodorant that I purposely left on the counter for this exact scenario. I pull the lighter out of my pocket and step between Ashley and the source of her terror which is, as I guessed, one of those mutated ass Blackwood cockroaches.

I waste no time torching it and picking it up with a paper towel before throwing it in the trash. We take the trash out every night at eleven PM as some unspoken ritual, so the corpse can chill there for now. I ain’t going out in the cold just to throw away the dead body of a cockroach.

“Sorry about that.“ Ashley says through a relieved sigh

“Don’t worry, Ash. Everyone’s afraid of something.“ I assure her, putting the can of deodorant where it previously was.

“Even you?“ she asks skeptically

“Nope.“ I respond with a smirk.

“I CAN CONFIRM!“ Josh calls out from his spot in front of the fireplace, “SHE ISN’T AFRAID OF ANYTHING!“

“And a pyromaniac on top of all.“ Chris mumbles under his breath

He’s not wrong. I did teach them the deodorant flamethrower trick.

I notice Jess has taken one of those three seats Matt mentioned were between him and I earlier. The one closest to him, to be specific. Instead of third wheeling, I grab my cup and plop myself in one of the armchairs.

“Is that another point for the ‘Y/N’s burnt cockroaches’ score board?“ Mr. Munroe struts his way into the room.

I hum affirmatively, “Piss me off some more and there will be another point on that score board.” I warn him nonchalantly, taking a sip of my now almost cold cider.

Ashley, who has safely made it out of the kitchen and is now sitting on the floor by the couch looks up at me and Mike who is now standing behind my chair, looming over me like a street lamp. “Do you two even consider each other friends?”

I give Mike a debating glance, one he returns, before looking back at Ash, “We fuck occasionally.” Mike confirms from behind me.

“That doesn’t answer the question.“ Ashley’s disappointed sigh mixes with Jess’ shocked gasp.

I give Jess an unamused look, “What? Don’t act like I haven’t slept with you too.”

Poor Matt, who’s halfway through a sip of his drink nearly chokes at my words, “Wait, WHAT?”

“OK, show hands everyone who HASN’T slept with Y/N!“ Mike declares.

Chris, Ash, Sam, Josh and Matt raise their hands in the air.

“I’m honestly offended that I haven’t.“ Sam says while raising hers.

“Offended that you haven’t what?“ Hannah asks as her and Beth come downstairs a bunch of board games and puzzles in their arms. “And why are we raising our hands?”

“People who haven’t slept with Y/N.“ Jess quickly explains, grumpily folding her arms over her chest. I can’t help but laugh, nor can I restrain the urge to fluster her even further by winking at her.

“I would raise my hand but these boxes would go everywhere.“ Hannah shakes her head.

“I won’t raise mine because....well, I just won’t.“ Beth blushes, making me laugh.

Josh whips around to glare at me, “Seriously?”

I raise my hands in surrender, “Wasn’t my idea.”

Thankfully the topic is dropped by the time Emily walks in. She sits down on the other side of Jess on the couch, more than happy to interrupt her and Matt’s flirting.

“Oh, finally!“ Sam says as the fire that’s been in the making for a while now finally lights, “I knew you could do it, Josh!“

“We could’ve done it a lot quicker if you helped, you know?“ He narrows his eyes playfully at her, taking the hand she offered to him so she could help him up.

“True, but I was your moral support. You know I like focusing on one task rather than multitasking.“ She teases him, “And now I’ll be your cider supplier. Be right back.“

I give Josh that knowing smirk when I see his ears reddening. You know something’s up when your cheeks/ears are burning hot in a room that’s around freezing - you’re either burning with a fever or a crush. No other explanation.

Hannah and Beth have set the board games they’ve brought onto the coffee table so we can decide what we’d like to play.

“UNO?“ Beth offers while Jess, Josh and Matt look at the options.

War-like flashback ensue when I shake my head, “No! Nah hah, I’ll be tempted to strangle somebody.”

“Over UNO?“ Josh gives me this look that’s between disappointed and deeply concerned

“I’ve been tempted to kill over Rock, Paper and Scissors.“ That statement tells him enough that he turns back around with this stunned look on his face.

Eventually, after a lot of convincing, the whole gang is on board with playing a round or two of truth or dare until one of us decides something more original because we really don’t feel like playing board games.

“Truth or dare, Y/N?“ Emily asks, not giving anyone else a chance.

I smirk, kicking my feet up on the table, leaning back in the chair, “Truth for the first round.”

“Who here is the best in bed?“ she sneakily narrows her eyes at me, thinking she’s intimidating. How cute.

“Dare.“ Why don’t we make things interesting?

Em doesn’t complain, “We still have that cockroach’s corpse?”

“Enough said.“ I get up from my seat only to get grabbed by Mike and pulled back down.

“Easy there, caveman.“ He says, shaking his head, “Just answer the question. This doesn’t need to be gross.”

Chris, Ash, Matt and Jess look mortified. “You were gonna do it, weren’t you?” Matt gathers the guts to ask.

I give him a sweet smile and a nod. “And to answer your question: Me. My turn! Josh, truth or dare?”

He glares at me intensely, “Dare.”

The fucker knows I’m not the type to give ‘kiss this person’ or ‘7 minutes in heaven with that person’ dares. But I do ask some risky questions. Well...the only way to get him into my trap is to use his hatred for bug against him.

“We do still have that cockroach. So...“ I give an innocent shrug of the shoulders, giving him the chance to put two and two together instead of breaking it to him.

You could pinpoint the exact moment the realization hits him, his face turning in disgust. “You know, Y/N, sometimes I really love you.” He says, very touching of him, “And sometimes I’d love to kill you.” He takes a moment, a moment filled with aggressive eye contact between us before finally giving in, growling: “Truth.”

I think I’m level with Mother Theresa for what I did next. “What’s your favorite video game?”

The relief that washes over him is priceless to see. His answer comes as a sigh that indicates that the whole world has been lifted off his chest, “Metal Gear Solid.”

“Cool.“ I say with a cheeky smile.

Being the college kids we are, we easily get bored after a few more rounds, but not before having to defuse an argument that’s basically name-calling between Jess and Emily. I’ve noticed a pattern: if one of them as much as breathes in the other’s direction - a cat fight takes place.

Thankfully, the group disperses into smaller groups or in pairs. Sam, Josh, Chris and Ash go to the theater. Mike and Jess head upstairs, and I think no one would like to go to that area of the lodge in the next two or so hours. Emily and Matt go on a stroll while Hannah and Beth somehow convince me to play Monopoly.

The round ends with Beth somehow gathering all of mine and Hannah’s territories. After a brief celebration they head on over to the theater to join the others. I turn down their offer to accompany them and go warm up the cider that’s now literally frozen.

“Grab whiskey if you want to speed up the process.“ I’m surprised to hear Munroe’s voice behind me but don’t show it as I refuse to even turn around to answer him.

“I’m saving the whiskey for when things get really fucked up.“

“Smart, I guess.“

I choose to be nice and fill up a cup for him as well. I hop up on the counter, taking a slow sip of my drink while looking Mike, who’s standing opposite me, leaning against the kitchen island, dead in the eyes.

“You know,“ he’s the one to break the tense silence that surged between us, “jealousy is a poisonous thing.“

Intriguing opening, Michael. “I’ve heard, yes.”

“Then why don’t you just drop it? You’ll be happier if you do, trust me.“ That smug look on his face makes me want to pour the hot liquid (Destery Smith, anyone?) directly onto his handsome features.

I hear a pair of footsteps approaching the kitchen. A side glance in the direction the noise is coming from confirms that there are indeed two people coming this way - Chris and Ashley.

“A bold thing to tell me while we’re around so many sharp objects.“ If the eyes are really windows to the soul, I would like to picture his with a bunch of stab-wounds from my glare-daggers. Though my gaze is intense, there is a calm smirk on my face. “I can kill you right now.“

Chris and Ashley walk into the kitchen and freeze - they clearly hadn’t noticed us until it was too late. They are looking at us like a pair of deer caught in headlights - mortified.

Mike jumps at the opportunity to ensure his safety, “You can’t! There’s witnesses.”

Unfazed, I turn to the pair who’s on the fence about what they should do, “Guys, could you please excuse us for a moment.”

They both nod hesitantly, slowly taking a step back. Mike is not about to let them go, however. He straightens up, setting the cup he’s holding aside. “No, no, no! Don’t move! Not another step!”

Their eyes land on me and I give them a reassuring and encouraging nod to exit the room. They both comply easily.

“Guys, come on!“ Mike pleads desperately, making me suppress a chuckle

“Sorry, Mike. But you won’t show up at my house in the middle of the night....“ Chris trails off with his apology when Ashley takes hold of his hand so she can lead him away from the kitchen.

“She will.” Ash finishes his sentence, giving me a subtle wink to which I reply by blowing her a kiss.

“Checkmate“ I say triumphally, turning to look at a somewhat scared and disappointed Mike.

“A FIRE IN THE THEATRE!“ Hannah’s scream startles all of us.

I look at the where I left the deodorant earlier, finding the spot vacant. Oh boy...

“Damn it, Josh! I told you not to use the flamethrower without my supervision!“

As Mike and I run out of the kitchen I hear Chris say: “I’m afraid this is the only time this getaway will be lit.”

I hope Ashley gently smacked him upside the head in response to that.

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chocolatequeennk · 4 years ago

Text

Forever Timeless, 1/23

Summary: Two months after the Dalek Crucible, the Doctor and Rose are getting used to having the biggest family on Earth. As they visit Leadworth in 1996, Victorian England, a mysterious desert planet, and Elizabethan England, those family and friends often help in unexpected ways. But no matter where they go or who they're with, it's always the Doctor in the TARDIS with RoseTyler--just as it should be.

Ten x Rose, Donna x Lee

Betaed by @saecookie, @rudennotgingr, @pellaaearien, and @jabber-who-key

Part 7 of Being to Timelessness

AO3 | FF.NET | TSP

Chapter One: Family Time

Rose leaned back into the drop cloth-covered couch and looked around the room. Her mum and Pete had purchased a house in Cardiff, and she and the Doctor had spent all day painting and cleaning. After two months spent monitoring the lingering effects of the Reality Bomb, the domesticity was jarring.

A sharp pain hit Rose between her shoulder blades, and she grimaced and rolled her shoulders. Every muscle in her body ached. She was in good shape, but she didn’t usually spend hours holding a paint roller over her head.

A moment later, familiar hands settled on her shoulders and started massaging the tension away. Rose sighed and leaned forward so the Doctor could get that spot in the middle of her back.

She enjoyed the massage for a few minutes, then reached for his hand and tugged, asking him silently to sit down with her. He collapsed beside her, looking every bit as tired as she felt. He had a smudge of dirt on his cheek and his hair stuck straight up.

“What have you and Pete been up to?”

“Putting together the furniture for Tony’s room.” The Doctor rubbed a hand over his face, smudging the dirt even more. “I need to create a setting on the sonic for Allen keys. Those belong on a list of forbidden torture devices.”

Jackie’s snort interrupted Rose’s teasing response. “And here I thought you were some kind of superior alien,” she said as she entered the room, carrying two tall glasses of water. “How the mighty have fallen—defeated by an Ikea flat pack.”

Rose listened to the Doctor’s internal debate, weighing the merits of defending himself against the likelihood that Jackie would dump the glass of water over his head. In the end, he only rolled his eyes and said, “Thankfully, the fate of the universe has never rested on my ability to put together furniture named after obscure Scandinavian locales.”

Jackie handed them the water and sat down on a folding chair. “Speaking of strange places, we haven’t seen Jenny and Donna lately. Where are they at now?”

Rose blinked. “You’ve seen them?”

Her mum raised an eyebrow. “You would have seen them too if you hadn’t been off to Neptune doing whatever,” she retorted. “They stopped by a few weeks ago before catching a plane to New York.”

Rose sipped at her water to cover up the urge to sigh. The trip to Paris had whetted Jenny’s interest in seeing more of the Earth. By airplane, she’d insisted, because that was how humans did it.

Donna had been happy to travel the world with her. Rose suspected the trip was a way for her to keep her mind off the fact that they still hadn’t found Lee. Four months had passed since the Library, and the TARDIS still hadn’t picked up even a trace of him.

Rose abruptly realised her mum was staring at her expectantly. It only took her a second to remember what they’d been talking about.

“They’re in Sydney,” she said. “They’ll be back for your big housewarming party, but they really wanted to see Australia before coming home.”

“Hah!” Jackie wagged her finger at Rose. “Now you know what it’s like, having your only child go off travelling by herself.”

Rose pursed her lips. “It’s not that,” she argued. “Well, not only that,” she amended. “It’s fun having other people on the TARDIS with us. I miss it.”

“What do you miss?” Pete asked. He pulled a second folding chair over and sat down beside Jackie.

“Having friends travel with us.”

“Apparently I’m not enough company,” the Doctor added, earning a poke in the side from Rose and a snort from Jackie.

“More like you’re a bit too much,” Jackie countered. “Can’t imagine being married to an alien.”

“No, you just married a man from a parallel universe,” Pete interjected.

Jackie rolled her eyes, then looked at Rose. Rose groaned at the look in her eye. Interrogation time, she warned the Doctor.

“Speaking of marrying an alien…” Jackie raised an eyebrow and looked at Rose, then at the Doctor, and back again. “You mentioned something about weird alien rituals.”

Rose opened her mouth, but before she could start explaining the bond, her mother started rambling.

“I’ve been thinking, maybe you had to wear funny hats? Or defeat someone in armed combat?” She pointed at the Doctor. “Maybe Rose had to go back in time to ask your family for your hand in marriage.”

“Nothing like that, Mum,” Rose said quickly before Jackie could continue on that train of thought and bring back painful memories of Gallifrey.

“Well, what was it then?” She narrowed her eyes. “You better not have been naked for this wedding.”

“No! We were fully clothed.” The Doctor felt his neck heat up.

Help!

Rose took his hand and he let out a slow breath. “Leave ‘im be, Mum,” she scolded. “It was mostly just like a wedding. I wore a beautiful dress and we exchanged vows and rings and everything.”

“Well that doesn’t sound too weird.”

“Yeah…” Rose squeezed his hand and he squeezed back, agreeing with her sudden decision. “I was mostly teasing when I said that.”

Jackie crossed her arms over her chest. “So your wedding was completely normal?” she asked, dubious.

Rose bit her lip. “Well, we were alone in the TARDIS,” she said slowly. “And we did a handfasting because that’s part of the Doctor’s tradition.”

“Hmmm…” Jackie raised an eyebrow.

Rose knew she didn’t believe her, but explaining the bond was a far longer conversation than she wanted to have right now. Some day she’d try, but not today.

“It was perfect,” she said, wanting to move away from the alienness of their wedding.

As she thought about that day, something occurred to her. “And our wedding anniversary is only two weeks away,” she added.

The Doctor blinked, and she was glad she wasn’t the only one who’d lost track of time. “We’ll have to go someplace to celebrate.”

“Mind if I plan this trip?”

He smiled and brushed his thumb over her wrist. “I’d love it.”

“Rose?”

The childish voice drew everyone’s attention, and they all looked over at Tony, standing in the doorway.

“Yes, Tony?”

He shuffled forward, a book in his hand. “Will you and the Doctor read to me?”

The Doctor scooted over and patted the cushion in between himself and Rose. “You bet!”

The little boy grinned, then darted across the room and jumped up onto the couch. Rose grabbed the book from him before he could stab himself in the eye with it or something.

“Under the Deep Blue Sea.”

As Rose turned to the first page, she suddenly knew exactly where she wanted to take the Doctor for their anniversary.

oOoOo

The Doctor followed Rose as she pushed her way to the front of the crowd waiting at Heathrow. “The board says their flight landed half an hour ago,” she told him. “They should be almost through customs by now.”

When the first passengers started trickling in a few minutes later, the Doctor gave Rose one end of the sign they’d made. Around them, other people likewise held up their signs—Limousine for Mr. Arbuckle, etc.

The trickle turned into a solid wave of people. “Can you see them, Doctor?” Rose asked as she strained to look through the crowd.

“No… Wait! Yes! Hold the sign up, Rose.”

They waved it madly, and a moment later they were rewarded by familiar laughter. Rose leaned sideways and saw Jenny and Donna walking towards them, wheelie bags in tow.

“TARDIS for Miss Noble and Miss Tyler?” Donna rolled her eyes.

The Doctor turned the sign around and studied it. “Well, we wouldn’t want anyone else to think they could get a free ride.”

“We told you we’d take the train to Cardiff, though,” Jenny said.

Donna nudged her gently with her elbow. “You owe me ten quid, Jenny. I told you they wouldn’t be able to resist surprising us.”

The Doctor’s mouth fell open, and when he looked over at Rose he was thankful to see that at least she was as surprised as he was.

Jenny hitched her backpack up on her shoulders. “I still say giving them the flight information was cheating.”

“I didn’t realise we were so predictable,” the Doctor muttered.

Donna smirked and turned her suitcase so he could take the handle. “We just know you too well.”

Rose shook her head and grabbed Jenny’s suitcase. “Come on, we should get out of the way. The TARDIS is just a short bus ride away.”

Thirty minutes later, the Doctor unlocked the door and held it open while Rose, Donna, and Jenny walked inside. He heard Donna and Jenny sigh in unison, and raised his eyebrows at them.

“Glad you don’t have to take a train after travelling for over twenty-four hours?” he guessed.

“Definitely,” Donna said fervently.

“And glad we can hop into the Vortex and get some sleep without Gran knowing we didn’t go straight to Cardiff,” Jenny added.

The Doctor and Rose exchanged a glance, then Rose gave Donna and Jenny a sly smile. “About that… Are you set on going to Cardiff?”

Donna crossed her arms over her chest. “The housewarming party is next week. I’ve only met your mum a few times, but I have a pretty good idea of what will happen if you miss it.”

The Doctor grimaced and rubbed at his cheek, making everyone laugh.

Rose chuckled and shook her head. “Yeah, you’re right about that. But our anniversary is the day after tomorrow, so we’re going on a short holiday before the big shindig. We can drop you in Cardiff for the week, or—”

“Or,” Donna said before Rose could continue.

Jenny nodded eagerly. “You mean you’ll drop us off on another planet, yeah?”

“If you want,” Rose said.

Jenny and Donna exchanged a look, then broke out in matching grins. “Yes!”

Rose hugged Donna and kissed Jenny on the cheek, then gently pushed them both towards the corridor. “Go lie down. We’ll drop you off in the morning after you’ve slept off some of the jet lag.” She leaned against a strut and watched them go, while the Doctor sent them into the Vortex just like Jenny had asked.

He slid the dematerialisation lever into place, and the time rotor quietly chugged up and down. The transition into the Vortex was so smooth that Rose hardly felt it.

A soft mental tug caught her attention, and she looked over at the Doctor. He’d sat down on the jump seat, and now he patted the seat beside him.

Rose pushed off from the strut and walked around the console, hopping up to sit beside the Doctor like she’d done a thousand times. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and she leaned into him.

“What are you thinking?”

“This life,” she said, talking slowly so she could put the words together as they came to her. “It’s… so much more than I thought it would be.”

She paused, and the Doctor left the silence empty so she could think.

“I thought I’d lost this at Canary Wharf,” she said finally.

“Lost what?”

“Just… human things,” she said, testing the words as she went. “Helping family move. Meeting them at the airport.”

She tilted her head back so she could look at the Doctor. “I love our life, traveling through time and space. And if I could never have anything else, this is what I’d choose. Every time.”

“But we get to have more,” he supplied, understanding what she was trying to get at. “Our life in the TARDIS, and a family on Earth.”

“Yeah. Time and space… and family.”

#ficandchips #ten x rose #dwfic #fic by Nancy #doctorroseprompts #series: being to timelessness #cq's fic: forever timeless #i'm back!!#finally!!#i hope you like this chapter #also you will get a second chapter this week #on thursday #and then we'll settle into a chapter a week #tenth doctor #rose tyler #jenny tyler #donna noble #lee mcavoy #donna x lee

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hcpefulmarshmallow · 4 years ago

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Anonymous said:

Once i saw a video on youtube explaining a certain "anime character type", and it compared Akechi with Nagito. (I dont remember the other characters the video mentioned) what are your thoughts about it? Do you think they're similar?

You know, Anon, the dumb lizard brain that governs my every impulse wants to point at them and say: “mentally unstable twinks with great hair and a Very Heterosexual rivalry with the protagonist” and call it a day. Here’s the thing, though: my feelings about Akechi started strong and stayed that way throughout my Persona 5 experience, though the nature of those feelings has changed drastically since my first impression. (And I quote: “Who’s this Light Yagami-looking motherfucker? No, I don’t trust him. That smile is the last thing someone saw.”) And I want to talk about him. I also never don’t want to talk about Nagito. So you know what? I’m gonna.

Spoilers, by the way.

---

In short, I do feel they fall into a very specific character archetype. Namely: the morally ambiguous foil to the main character. Not a villain, not a hero, but rather somebody who follows their own moral code. With a dash of insanity, of course, because anime gonna anime.

For me, their most intriguing similarities run deeper than a trope, however, and it all starts with this inflated sense of self-importance they seem to share. I know what I said, just go with me on this one.

Nagito, at a glance, seems to have the very opposite of an ego. Forever putting himself down, calling himself all kinds of worthless, and willingly throwing his very life at every cause that comes his way. But herein lies the contradiction that defines him as a character. For all his espousing that the hopeless may never be hopeful, he still leaps at the chance to become worthy. He wants so badly to be more than he is, that he struggles to see a world outside his own perception. He is, of course, compassionate and empathetic; but, unlike Hajime (or even Joker), whose talent with people comes from their respective abilities to remove themselves from a situation and see it as someone else would in order to make a moral judgement, Nagito cannot fathom a world that doesn’t conform to his ideals. Hope and despair, good and back luck -- and there he sits in the eye of it all, defeated yet somehow untouchable. He can’t watch someone trip three feet away from him without assuming his luck has played some role in it.

Akechi is much the same way, though he owns it a little better. He sees all things as means towards his ends. He has his idea of how the world and it’s people work, and therein lie his issues with Joker. Because he plays by his own rules, which are fundamentally incompatible with Akechi’s. Much in the same way as Nagito becomes fixated on Hajime, the Ultimate, talentless, worthless, most shining beacon of hope there is; Akechi sees how Joker is consistently beaten down by life and yet strives to carve his own path, and is unable to cope with either the jealously or the admiration he feels, never mind any combination thereof. Moreover, he, too, desires to rise above and be more than he is: the hero of his own story, despite taking rather unheroic steps to get there.

I would, of course, be remiss not to mention the similarities in their upbringings that lead to these insecurities. Nagito lost both his parents at a young age, and from there, we’re given no indication of any long-term adult influence in his life. Quite the opposite, he seems to have been demeaned and shunned by his extended family at large. It is also implied at times that his parents were not very loving, though there is some debate around that, so take it as you will. Akechi was abandoned by his father who deemed his mother beneath him because she was a sex worker, and was left with a seething hatred for the man because of it. After his mother’s suicide, he was passed from institution to institution, likewise having no long-term positive influence in his life.

Both were left to, essentially, raise themselves; glean their own image of the world and build their moral compass around lives that were unimaginably cruel, ruthless, and unfair. Thus, it’s likely their worst behaviours could have been avoided, had they stable home lives. Of course, this is no excuse, plenty of people grow up in unstable environments and don’t go on to harm others, however, it places them a step above senseless. In fact, they also share an incredible intellect, charm, good looks, and quite the way with words. If you’ve played both games, you know what I’m talking about.

Furthermore, they have this habit of standing on the outside, looking in. Nagito spends much of DR2 implying heavily that he would like to spend more time with the others as their friend, but does little to actually reach out to them. Viewing himself below them, and seeing no reason why such incredible people would want to hang out with trash like him. Akechi also keeps the Thieves at a distance. There are many times when they reach out to him, offer to help him find his way -- and he almost seems to want to. Yet it is as if he doesn’t know how. He has no idea what, besides hatred and spite, could possibly fuel him. Nor does he really know what there is for him to gain from forming genuine bonds with others, or why he should want them. But he does, that much is clear. They each crave acceptance, while accepting it as a lost cause, even as the protagonist of their respective games has their hand out to them. And this, once again, can likely be traced to their equally terrible upbringings, and lack of any real understanding of the world as it is, rather than as they see it.

I could absolutely go on all day down this path. And, hell, at some point, I might. But the overall theme I’m getting at here, is this delicate balance these two characters walk. Being soft and charming, and deadly and dangerous. Intelligent, yet profoundly ignorant. Eccentric and borderline reprehensible, but at the same time, deeply relatable, and extremely likeable. They aren’t psycho for the sake of it, and I’ll argue that to my grave. But moreover, what we have here is the ultimate products of the worlds they were made for. Parallels are drawn constantly between Nagito and Hajime, Akechi and Joker, in a “there but for the grace of god go I” way, and it falls the same every time. Joker forged a home among friends, and people he considered family. Even after being hurt, he found the strength to be vulnerable for someone, and that someone happened to be the right someone; and though these people, he became stronger still. Likewise, Hajime took risks, took responsibility, and became respected and loved through hard work and compassion. He faced his own fear of worthlessness, and in the end, he didn’t fold to it the way Nagito did. He built his own purpose in life, and it was as full of hope as any Ultimate’s. These are feats beyond comprehension to our antiheroes, who may well have turned out to be the heroes after all if they’d only been shown the same support and care. And that’s why I think this character type appeals to so many people, and why these characters become so beloved. I think we become invested in their stories, and we want to show them compassion. There’s a reason why Nagito and Akechi are frequently shipped around, why they exist in so many fix-it fics. At the end of the day, we know the difference between bad people, and people who do bad things. It’s that, the latter may not be beyond saving.

And finally, can I...? If you’ve played the third semester of Royal, they really just make Akechi Like That, huh? In the original Japanese, he was apparently supposed to just come off as tired and not particularly wanting to mend any of his relationships or mistakes since he knew his death was looming, so I’m not sure why they took one look at this complex character development and said, “Hm, let’s just make him balls to the wall, shall we?” but hey. I’ve got to give it to his VA, I had to put down my controller several times because holy shit. Just. Holy shit. Give that man all of the awards. All of them, every single one, please.

#meta;#nagito komaeda #goro akechi #ok to rb #( tagging bc someone might enjoy idk??#i haven't slept in four days appreciate my semi-coherent babbling #no proofreading though we die like men )

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itsclydebitches · 4 years ago

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A weird defence I've seen of RWBY's conflicts has been that it's good writing simply by the virtue that people can disagree on what's the right thing to do in said conflict. Which doesn't work when one decision is being presented as the only valid choice while every other option is either not addressed or demonized. This isn't a story leaving a nuanced set of stances to explore, it's a guy on stage signalling the crowd to boo whenever someone goes against the Protag's decision.

Real quick, I want to talk about RWBY by not talking about RWBY. I’ve seen this argument a lot too and the tl;dr is that just because your audience debates the right action in a conflict — something that is inevitable given how subjective media is — doesn’t mean the story encouraged that reflection in any way. As you say, RWBY pretends that those disagreements don’t exist and that This Is The One (1) Right Answer... which entirely defeats the purpose of a morally nuanced situation in the first place. That lack is bad writing because it demonstrates the author’s inability to provide an accurate picture of the conflict while still ensuring we come out of it liking the parties involved. The conflict was too complex for them to manage alongside equally complex characterization, so they just pretended it was far simpler than it actually was. That’s not something to praise.

But to get to the not RWBY part. I’ve mentioned this a couple times before, but one of the scenes that I think manages these sorts of conflicts really well is the funeral fight in The Haunting of Hill House, episodes 6, “Two Storms.” So warning from here on out for spoilers. Sometimes, the best way to see what’s not working well in one show is to look at another show that does (basically) the same thing successfully and compare the two.

Normally I’d include screenshots, but Netflix doesn’t allow that :/ So I’m forced to rely on bullet points.

The basic premise is that the Crain family has assembled in daughter Shirley’s funeral home, the night before they bury their sister, Nell. A lot of secrets are about to come to light.

The scene kicks off when their father, Hugh, relays the call he got from the housekeeper the night of Nell’s death. She had committed suicide in the family’s childhood home.

Though everyone knew how she’d died, son Steven is distraught at hearing the details and reveals that a few weeks prior Nell crashed a book signing of his. This shocks the others given that this was very unusual behavior for Nell.

Shirley likewise reveals that she got a call from Nell who’d been worried about their brother, Luke, but hadn’t spoken to her the night of her death. The implication is that no one did. They’ll never know what was going through her head the night she died.

Hugh reveals that she did call him. “I talked to her.”

Stunned by this news, his children demand to know what was discussed and Hugh is clearly reluctant to continue. However, he eventually says that Nell wasn’t just worried about Luke, but also the “Bent Neck Lady,” a specter from her childhood.

The viewer knows that ghosts are real in this show. The kids don’t. Or rather, they all experienced supernatural occurrences in their childhood, are still experiencing them now, but only some of them are willing to admit they’re real. Steven is the diehard skeptic of the bunch and starts yelling at his father, accusing him of aiding Nell’s delusions and ignoring a family history of mental illness. In particular, he declares that this “makes you culpable [in her death].”

Steven continues to accuse Hugh of “holding back information” about Nell and Hugh shoots back that “If I held back anything it was to protect you kids.” The viewer understands Hugh’s dilemma: the only reason he keeps things to himself is because Steven and the others refuse to believe the truth, with an added dose of this supernatural stuff being very dangerous. Steven asks, “Why do I need protection from the truth?”

Before their fight can go any further, Shirley tells Steven, “You might want to check yourself before you start talking about the truth.” He published an autobiographical book about their childhood trauma and notably capitalized on a supernatural angle he doesn’t believe in. Shirley calls it “blood money.”

As the argument about the ethics of his book rages, Shirley defends herself primarily with how everyone else thinks this is “blood money” too. No one took a cut when Steven offered one, proving how despicable they all think it is.

Meanwhile, sister Theo has been getting heat for being drunk (a coping mechanism for her own supernatural troubles) and Shirley eventually pushes her far enough that she admits she did take Steven’s money and used it to get her degree. “It’s good, fucking money.” Suddenly, Steven has someone in his corner and Shirley’s main defense has crumbled.

Shirley is furious that Theo had this secret income but was still living with her and her husband. Theo reminds her that she offered to pay rent, but Shirley isn’t interested in hearing that. She demands that Theo move out immediately and uses this betrayal as the new way to protect herself. She’s the victim here.

Steven, sensing another secret in the works, cautions Shirley to “get off your high horse before you fall off.”

Shirley maintains her position until her husband blurts that they also took Steven’s money. Shirley hasn’t been running the funeral home well and they would have sunk without it.

Despite being the punching bag for the second half of this fight, Shirley is offered both reassurance and dignity. Her husband emphasizes that the only reason they’re struggling is because Shirley is a good person. She does too much work pro bono. Shirley also delivers the line, “Do you have any idea how much you’ve humiliated me?” calling into question the husband’s choice to admit this now, purely as a way to prove her wrong.

Shirley leaves to get some distance and discovers that someone — something — has put buttons over Nell’s eyes. The shock of this keeps the fight from continuing and, as plot intervenes, gives the characters the space needed to eventually start healing and forgiving one another, notably by sitting with the various truths they all now have to grapple with.

Phew! A long summary, but I’ve put this much detail in to highlight the nuance of the scene. Obviously RWBY would differ in many ways — less cursing, for one — but the core elements of any morally complex scene should be the same. The important takeaways here are that no one in the Crain family are “pure” or “evil” and everyone gets their chance to be both right and wrong. Hugh is right that Steven won’t listen to him and wrong in that he didn’t do enough to help his kids. We get Steven and Hugh’s frustration, their understanding of the world at odds with one another. Steven is wrong to put everything on his father and justified in starting his writing career with their story. We watch the scene move from “Steven is Wrong and everyone agrees” to “Oh shit nm, more and more of the family are revealing that they benefited from his money, complicating how “wrong” he actually is.” Shirley is right to point out that Theo is getting drunk during their sister’s funeral and Theo is right to point out that being drunk doesn’t erase having a good point. Theo is allowed to scream at the group and then immediately be offered help when she falls. Shirley pretends she’s better than all of them and is slowly, horrifyingly proven wrong, but is then still extended compassion and is allowed to point out how horribly they’ve just treated her. The husband is right about the money, wrong about keeping it a secret/revealing it the way he did, right in how he tries to diffuse the other fights, and VERY wrong by getting caught kissing Theo down in the storeroom!

The scene twists and turns in a way that highlights everyone’s points and their flaws, the moments when their perspective should be upheld and questioned. The end result is a scene that has space for the audience to debate everyone’s choices without imposing the single view of This Person Is Obviously Wrong/Right and If You Think Otherwise You’re Not Watching The Show Correctly. The show itself acknowledges the complexity and nuance of these problems. It asks, “Hugh should have tried harder, but what more can he do when his kids literally don’t believe this stuff exists? Was Steven really justified in writing a book about their collective experiences? What does it mean that something his family sees as capitalizing on their trauma also helped them keep businesses and schooling afloat? Was it okay for Shirley’s husband to keep that money a secret, even if it helped them? How might he have told her in a less cruel manner? What about Shirley’s life has led to her intense need to be on that ‘high horse’?”

And of course: “Who is really responsible for Nell’s death?” By this point the viewer already knows that there is no “really” here. This is too complicated a tragedy to lay the blame at any one person’s feet. Everyone in this room has moments of justified accusations and moments of chastisement because they’re well written, well rounded characters who are neither saints nor devils. The length of the scene (done in a single shot!) emphasizes that if you just wait long enough, even the most perfect looking person will eventually have a skeleton pulled from their closet. No one is above mistakes.

RWBY has NONE of that. Zip. Nada. Nothing. RWBY gave us a scenario with many of the same, core themes — secret keeping, secrets unwillingly revealed, blaming others for your mistakes, hurtful actions with helpful consequences, questioning who is responsible for a tragic death — and instead of even attempting to give us some of the above nuance, RWBY said only that Ruby was right, Ozpin was wrong, and demanding that the audience ignore the nuance they could already see in order to accept the canon.

RWBY’s scene asks the audience to play dumb and look at the world as a Black and White place, despite the show simultaneously insisting that “the world isn’t a fairy tale” and is, in fact, filled with shades of gray.

Just not any shades of gray that mess with that dichotomy that now drives the story.

That’s not good writing. It’s oblivious and contradictory writing that makes the audience frustrated. Not satisfied, surprised, contemplative, or curious. Just frustrated.

#rwby #the haunting of hill house #mymetas #Anonymous

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elliepassmore · 4 years ago

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Children of Blood and Bone review

4.5/5 stars Recommended for people who like: magic, fantasy, non-Western fantasy, multiple POVs, A Song of Wraiths and Ruins I really liked the worldbuilding and thought the world was very vibrant. I liked that the story took us to multiple different places so we got to see a wide range of Orïsha's environments and people. Adeyemi did a good job of incorporating maji/diviners-kosidan relationships into each location so that they felt realistic. One town might have a mix of both where the maji/diviners get shaken down by the guards in a 'normal' way while the next might be brutal for the maji/diviners, and yet another might treat them as relative equals. The way the guards treated the maji/diviners was also realistic, unfortunately, and you can definitely see the influences of real-world laws and actions in the ones present in Orïsha. The magic system overall makes sense and I don't think it needs a ton of explaining: diviners as baby!maji who will get their powers from one of the gods/esses at age 13, the magic is usually passed through the maternal line so kids tend to have the same kind of magic as the mom's, and there are chants/prayers/incantations to the gods that allow the magic to flow. Simple enough. However, the incantations end up getting a bit tricky later on in the book. For one, we pretty much always see Zelie using incantations when she calls her magic, but some of the other magic-using characters are never mentioned as using incantations. While some of them, like Zélie, probably remember a few from before the Raid, that can't be true for all of them, especially ones who are too young or who get a power that doesn't correspond with one their parent had. So that bit felt a little rushed, but overall I liked the magic system in the book and Zélie's way of describing magic was interesting. As for Zélie herself: she's got a fire in her and she's determined to get things done, even if she sometimes doubts her abilities to lead. She balances herself quite well between being afraid of the guards and retaliation and rebellion, and generally seems to keep a good balance, though I do have to agree with Tzain that sometimes she does stuff without thinking. I particularly liked how much joy she took from her diviner/maji heritage and her awareness that simply living her heritage was rebellion within itself. There was a bit toward the end where she was getting doubtful about magic which was kind of confusing since she'd also used magic to fight and for more debatable reasons, but whatever. Overall I liked her character. With Amari I was kind of lost at first as to how people could call her a badass, but I definitely get it now. I'll will admit that I didn't and still don't see how she and Zelie are such great friends. Friends, definitely. But best friends? I don't think they're there yet. Something I definitely appreciate about Amari was how willing she was to learn. Some of the things she came into contact with once outside the palace scared her, but she was open to explanations and other perspectives, which was great considering her upbringing (and considering Inan's chapters). I feel like Amari really came into herself in the second half of the book. She finally gets a chance to fight for something she believes in and I think it helped transform her character from someone who shied away from the blade she knew how to use to someone who would wield a sword to defend herself and others. I could definitely see her becoming a commander of some kind in the future, though I'm not entirely sure if 'queen' suits her (I am not entirely certain the title 'ruler' suits anyone in this book). Inan is the last POV character and he was...he was a lot. Amari and Zelie are definitely my favorites, but Inan is someone I could probably do with having less page time. This boy has zero convictions of his own and is completely unable to look past his nose. Unlike Amari, he continues to believe his father's words even traveling around and doesn't really spare a second thought to how reality might actually be. The one thing I'll say in his defense is that Amari did have Binta growing up and was able to see that at least one diviner wasn't bad, which I do think helped for her to generalize this idea to other diviners/maji, whereas Inan didn't have a figure like that in his life. But enough of that. Inan is wishy-washy and swings one way then the other (though never completely all the way), and he is far too willing to return to his old ideals when things get challenging or scary. I mean, for fuck's sake he isn't even really the one suffering most of these times and is still all too ready to give up. Like, please grow a spine, buddy. I do think Adeyemi actually did a really good job of writing Inan in the sense that she manages to capture the effects abuse and gaslighting and show just how much of an effect those things can have on your psyche. So in that sense Inan was a 'good' character, but I don't think he's a good person nor do I like him. Tzain was someone whom I felt was in the background for a lot of the book. He supports Zelie and is willing to go off with her to do all these things and protects her and stands by her even when she fucks up. He is also able to be nice to Amari despite her being the princess and the daughter of the man who caused a lot of his problems. From what we do see of him Tzain seems to have a good sense of humor and is funny at times. He's also clearly holding in a lot of pain, trauma, and responsibility, though he rarely shows it. I definitely think he feels responsible for his father and Zelie and that whenever something bad happens to either of them he feels guilty, even if there was nothing he could've done. While he blames Zélie for a lot of things, which I don't like AT ALL but at the same time understand needing to direct your anger somewhere, I get the feeling he's mostly blaming himself. In terms of relationships. Someone please explain to me why there needed to be any in this book in the first place? Inan and Zélie are the main pairing, which is just dumb af since he wants to kill her for almost the entirety of the book then, after like two whole days of being together, they decide everything's fine and dandy and start kissing. I side with Tzain on this one, even if his phrasing wasn't great. I'll be honest, the Zélie and Inan's whole relationship just confuses me. I don't understand why they like each other other than 'insta-love' and I don't understand 1) why Zélie's willing to Risk It All after Inan being nice for two days, and 2) why she's willing to continue the relationship after what happens with Saran. Perhaps my biggest issue with them is Inan's so-called love wherein he thinks taking away magic will protect Zélie...completely ignoring the fact that part of Zélie is magic. *SPOILER, SKIP TO NEXT PARAGRAPH TO AVOID* That complete and utter dumbass doesn't seem to connect the fact that he stopped feeling Zélie's soul when Zélie stopped feeling magic. Like? Brains? No brains here. *SPOILER END* Okay, moving on. Tzain and Amari have better prospects for romance. Adeyemi set them up from the very beginning, even if Tzain might've initially seen her as a pretty face. They grow to like and respect for one another and I feel like their relationship could actually go somewhere. But why, why oh why does Adeyemi make Amari mention the L-word? Like, honey, you are not in love with this boy after only knowing him a week. Crush, sure. Love, no. But that matters not, since there is at least the potential. Actually, something re: relationships that I felt Adeyemi kind of brushed over (and it seems like other reviews also had this same thought) has to do with Amari. She is very much coded to be bi and it's written as if she and Binta had a romantic relationship, but Adeyemi never follows through with this. I honestly thought that Amari and Zelie were going to be the main pairing of the book at first, or failing that that Amari would have feelings for Zélie, Zélie wouldn't reciprocate, then Amari would move on to another female character. But nope. Nada. I mean, Tzain's good too, but it's just weird the way the whole thing with Amari's romantic interest(s) was/were written. Now onto something else: the throne. While becoming the next ruler isn't an outright object for either Inan or Amari (or anyone else), being heir definitely sits on Inan's shoulders and drives a lot of what he does. Likewise, Amari comes to the realization that if she were the next on the throne she could help the diviners/maji and overturn the laws and the system that her father created. The current king, Saran, sucks all around and definitely doesn't deserve his head being attached to his body. But we already knew that. The point is, Inan is clearly not good for Orïsha because he can't form his own convictions and leans solely on what he's been taught to think is right. He does, however, think he is the only person who can keep Orïsha safe and protected. Amari, on the other hand, knows she won't be queen and doesn't seem to really want to be queen until she realized what that could mean for what she believes in. However, and there's always a 'however,' she also kind of has Mad Queen Energy about her at times after she makes this decision. She is, in my opinion, also not a great contender for the throne. As mentioned, I think she'd make a great general, but there's something about her that makes me hesitate before supporting her bid for the throne. Do I think she'd be better than Saran or Inan? Absolutely. But probably so would Yemi, that doesn't mean she should get the throne. Perhaps I am merely feeling particularly democratic today, but I don't believe an absolute monarch will help Orïsha. If we are being realistic, I don't even know if a democratic one would either, but power in the hands of a diverse many would probably be better than power in the hands of one. Overall I enjoyed the story. I thought the plot was good and I enjoyed going with the characters as they (mostly) struggled to get magic back. Inan served to be a good character for demonstrating how our childhood can influence the kind of people we become and also serves as a nice foil to Amari, who has decided to be the opposite of her brother. Zélie is a good character to follow since she's so alive. She's got so much rage and love and fear and fire that pushes her every step of the way and helps her overcome so many things. I knocked off half a star for the frivolous reason that I don't like Inan and Zélie's romance and don't think it was necessary for the book. I'll be honest, the book was great, it was tough for me to put down even when I needed to, but for some reason I just don't have any desire to find out what happens in the next one. It's a bit like A Song of Wraiths and Ruin like that for me. I just...don't feel it. I don't think it has anything to do with either book since I couldn't make myself finish reading a new book by one of my favorite authors even though I was enjoying it so...just that kind of year, I suppose.

#book #book review #booklr #tomi adeyemi #children of blood and bone #zelie adebola #magic #fantasy #ya fantasy #characters of color #multiple pov #non-western fantasy

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full-of-jams · 5 years ago

Text

Good Riddance #2

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Summary: There were two things life taught you. Money bought comfort, not happiness. And love was always a gateway to pain. When your former best friend Jimin suddenly returns into your life, he challenges your belief and rips open the past you tried so hard to forget.

Genre: heirs au, girl boss, e2l, angst, mutual pining, eventual smut, feat. OT7

Warnings: hints of booty call Tae, uwus!

Word Count: 5k

A/N: And we’re back up to date! The last bit literally made my heart melt. Please feel free to leave me a comment or send an ask! I would love to hear your thoughts, good or bad!

°°°°°°°

[10:13 PM] You: come get me @ cygnus bar

“Here you go miss, our Cygnus signature sake martini. Junmai Daiginjô sake mixed with dry gin and a dash of extra dry vermouth. Crisp and clean with a slight hint of sweetness. And another Old Fashioned for the sir.”

You briefly looked up from your phone and gave the bartender a quick smile, “Thanks, just put the Old Fashioned right here. My guest will be back in a sec.”

The hotel bar of The Cygnus was bustling on a Thursday night. You were dressed in a close-fitted black cocktail dress, embroidered with elegant gold and silver flowers. A demure little thing if it weren’t for the slit that went up your thigh. A freshwater pearl necklace rested daintily around your neck, aptly showing off your collarbones. You were actually quite proud of your outfit for tonight, although if you’d known the evening would progress in this way you may have decided on something more prude.

Business dinners. Always a fine balance between being charming but not overpowering, personable yet professional. Usually an easy balance to strike if your partner didn’t decide to get plastered and become an insufferable flirt.

You really couldn’t remember the last time you had dinner with a friend just for the heck of it. It was always either business, networking or the occasional ‘date’ which was nothing more than an ill-disguised excuse to end the night in someone’s bed.

You loved your job, but sometimes you wondered if living and breathing your work and drowning yourself in the company was just a way to fill a void. You immediately shied away from exploring that thought. Let’s first get through the evening without killing Gerard, you could psychoanalyse yourself some other time.

“The restrooms here are really divine! I tell you, D-I-V-I-N-E! Almost as divine as you tonight! I need to know the interior designer!” Gerard proclaimed as he slid clumsily back into his seat.

[10:18 PM] You: now.

“Did you just compare me to a toilet?” you asked incredulously as you finished typing and closed your phone.

Gerard gave you a toothy grin before he took a long sip from his Old Fashioned.

I should’ve started ordering him water after drink number two.

“Not the toilets! Their wallpaper is exquisite! Just like you!” he said happily.

“Now I’m wallpaper?” you mused and looked down on your dress. You really should’ve worn something else.

Gerard’s eyes crossed in concentration as he realized what he just said. “What I meant was I could definitely use someone like their designer to stage the condos downtown. They’d sell like hot cakes!” he rectified with a snicker.

“I know who designed this hotel. If you want, I can introduce you to them.” You picked up your drink and gave it a taste. It was pleasant and neat. Unlike the drunk real estate broker sitting next to you at the bar. “But in return I expect you to send me a first draft of the listing proposal by Monday.”

“Y/N! Always on the job. You know I’ll do my magic. Here’s to our new listing contract. The Plumeria Offices! Drinks are on me!” Gerard giggled into himself.

You clinked your glass and laughed quietly, “And who’s commissioning your sorry ass? So technically drinks are still on me. You’re lucky you’re good at your job.”

It was time to end this night. You made a mental note to never go out for drinks with Gerard again.

“Then let me take you out to dinner! Not like this, but a real date. C’mon, don’t you ever get tired refusing me? It’s not easy to find an eligible bachelor like me, rawwr!” Gerard winked and clawed the air in front of you.

He was very lucky he was good at his job.

Your phone lit up.

[10:21 PM] Gucci Boy: The Cygnus?

[10:21 PM] Gucci Boy: That’s all the way across town! Ugh -_-;

Plan A seemed to be a dead end; it was time to start thinking about a plan B.

[10:23 PM] You: i’ll blow you

“How about we talk about your feline bachelorness tomorrow? Tonight we should celebrate our contract and the divine restrooms,” you said distractedly as you scanned the room for an escape.

Gerard unexpectedly inched closer and yelled directly into your ear, “To the Plumeria Offices, the divine restrooms and the divine Y/N!” You winced as a hot waft of alcoholic exhale hit your face.

Your patience was waning. You had to get away before you made dead broker meat out him.

Just in that moment you recognized a familiar figure at the hotel bar entrance. You couldn’t even believe you were actually considering this.

It had been a very long and painful past hour. Your rational brain tried hard to convince yourself that you preferred your real estate broker alive and making you money over the instant gratification of nailing his balls against the wall.

What your brain didn’t tell you was how choosing the devil made this situation any better. Here went nothing.

You abruptly stood up and waved, “Jimin! Babe!”

Jimin’s head turned when he heard his name. His eyes briefly widened with surprise and confusion as he recognized you. He started coming over to your spot at the bar and you could see a flash of understanding cross his face as he took in the scene.

“Cheers to my divine Y/N!” Gerard howled as he lifted his glass with one hand and tried to sling his other around your shoulder. You nimbly dodged his arm and moved right next to Jimin as he reached the bar. Your arm slid loosely around his waist.

“Jimin, babe, what are you doing here?” You looked up at him and gave him your most innocent smile.

Just play along.

His eyes narrowed slightly, but otherwise he showed no sign of surprise at your unusual behavior. After a brief moment he simply smiled back, pulled you closer into his side and rested his hand at the small of your back. You suppressed a startled yelp.

“I was about to ask you the same thing. I had a meeting at the Suthora Lounge. It just finished, so I thought I’d grab a drink before I turn in for the night.” His smile turned into a mischievous smirk. “You didn’t tell me you were coming to this bar tonight, sweetheart. Otherwise I would’ve dropped by sooner.” His term of endearment caught you off guard. There was a teasing glint in his eyes as his thumb gently stroked across your back. You tried to ignore the zing it sent through your body.

“Sorry, where are my manners! Jimin, this is Gerard, a business partner of mine. Gerard, this is Jimin, my…,” you paused for a millisecond as you debated which word to use. For lack of a better idea you lamely ended on, “Jimin.” Jimin shifted slightly next to you.

Gerard stood up and gave the both of you a confused look. Slowly the situation dawned on him and a slight flush of embarrassment crossed his cheeks. He tried to collect himself and stuck out his hand. “Ah yes of course, it’s nice to meet you.”

Jimin shook his hand. “Likewise, Gerard was it? Y/N has already told me so much about you. She often says it’s rare to find true professionals nowadays, but she holds you in very high regard.”

You gave him a quick, annoyed glance. Don’t lay it on too thick, boy. He was trying to hold back his laughter as he quirked his eyebrow in response. What are you gonna do about it?

It reminded you of the days when you used to pull pranks like this all the time.

Gerard’s face turned red like a tomato. Jimin’s words seemed to sober him up a bit. He awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck and replied, “Yes, working with Y/N is great. She’s truly talented and… uh... attractive.” His face blanched. “I mean, not that I find her attractive! I m-mean, not that I find her unattractive…”

Jimin laughed at the man’s flustered state. “Don’t worry, I know exactly what you mean. She’s clever and absolutely stunning. It’s hard to resist.” His eyes crinkled as he gave you another mirthful smile.

Your stomach twisted. He was playing the loving boyfriend part a little too well. If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought he actually meant it. You immediately dismissed that ludicrous thought.

You could already tell this little stunt was going to cost you.

Gerard downed his drink and started searching for his wallet. “I better get going now, it’s getting late. It was a really good evening Y/N. I’ll give you a call next week when all the listings are sorted out.”

“Monday,” you said with a big smile and a voice that brooked no argument.

“Y-yes, of course. Monday. I hope you don’t mind if I don’t take you home. You’re in better hands with your boyfriend anyway,” he sputtered. You fought your urge to correct him and just gave him a friendly hum of confirmation. Gerard nodded to Jimin and you without making eye contact, put some bills on the counter and quickly shuffled towards the exit.

Once he was out of sight you immediately stepped out from under Jimin’s arm. Your skin tingled where his palm had rested a second before. You sat back down and let out a deep sigh. Jimin slipped into the seat next to you.

The bartender immediately came up to him, “Good evening sir, what can I get you?”

“The usual please. Thanks Paul.”

The bartender left and you both sat in silence as you nursed your drink.

“Don’t ask.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

You heaved another small sigh, turned towards Jimin and took in his appearance for the first time this evening. He was wearing a slightly rumpled dress shirt with the top unbuttoned and his sleeves rolled up. He almost looked a bit out-of-place and tired. You wondered if the project was putting him under too much pressure.

What was wrong with you? Why did your stubborn heart still have a tender spot for him?

“What are you doing here?”

This time it was his turn to let out a sigh. “Do you realize you always ask me the same question?”

“Are you following me? Is this some weird game of yours where you’re just trying to prove a point again?” you tried hard to sound unaffected.

Irritation and hurt flashed across his eyes.

Good.

But then it was gone in a blink, replaced by an unreadable smile, “Get over yourself, not everything in life is about you. I live here.” He took the glass of whiskey Paul set in front of him and clinked it against your martini glass. “Cheers.”

You were about to retort as your phone blinked.

[10:35 PM] Gucci Boy: Fine, will be there in 30.

[10:35 PM] You: don’t bother. matter’s settled

[10:35 PM] Gucci Boy: TT-TT dinner tomorrow?

You decided to ignore his question.

“Is Gucci Boy your boyfriend?” Jimin asked with a skeptical snort.

You glanced up and realized he was looking into your phone. “What Taehyung? No, he’s just whatever.”

Jimin’s brows shot up. “Just whatever? And here I thought you were the biggest romantic on the planet.” You couldn’t tell if he was mocking you or not.

There used to be times when you believed in the love of a friend and the love of a mother. Those times were long in the past.

“No Jimin, you’re the biggest romantic sap on the planet. I’m a person who believes relationships are overrated. What do you mean with you live here?” You didn’t want to talk about your love life anymore, so you decided to not-so-subtly change the topic.

You could tell he wanted to push further but then he decided to let it go. “This is our hotel, did you forget? I needed a place to stay when I moved back to the City. I’m temporarily staying in the penthouse suite while I’m looking for a new place.”

“I know this is one of your hotels. That’s not what I meant. Why aren’t you just tiding over at your parents’ or at Jihyun’s? They all live like three blocks from here.“

The edges of his mouth twitched up, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He took another swig of whiskey. “For someone who doesn’t want to be asked any questions, you sure ask a lot of your own.”

There was nothing you could argue against that.

You turned your attention back to your drink. “Thanks Jimin,” you said in a quiet voice. No matter how wary you were of him, you weren’t ungrateful.

He didn’t respond. You looked up to see his reaction. This time his eyes were creased in amusement. “I think this is the first nice thing you said to me since I’m back.”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t get used to it.”

His smile grew wider. Your heart skipped a beat as your friend of your past peeked through.

The moment passed as he responded, “Don’t worry. You owe me one, sweetheart.”

***

The next morning your phone rang. You absentmindedly answered the call while you flipped through some blueprints, “L/N speaking.”

“Y/N, I have a great idea how you can repay me for last night,” a familiar voice purred on the other end of the line.

You did a double take and looked at the caller ID on your screen. Shit.

“Jimin? What do you want?” You muted your phone and let out a loud groan. You knew this was going to happen.

“You know, your work and private persona are really different. Is there a reason why you’re so cold to everyone all the time? Maybe you should go consult a therapist, this could be a serious case of disassocia…”

“Park. Cut to the chase. What do you want?” you tried not to sound annoyed.

The boy on the phone clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “Now I am hurt. And here I thought you’d be endlessly grateful after I rescued you from your horrible date last night!” he wailed dramatically over the phone. You forgot how childish he could be sometimes.

You took in a deep breath and gathered all your patience in your voice, “First, it wasn’t a date. Second, fine. Let me hear your great idea. What can I do for you?”

“I told you I’m looking for a place, right?” excitement now laced his tone.

“Yes?”

“I want you to find me a new home.”

You were a bit surprised and relieved by his request. “Oh, well that’s easy. I can refer you to one of our brokerage partners…”

“No Y/N, I want you to find me a new home. I want you to go house shopping with me.”

You should’ve known he wasn’t going to let you off the hook that easily.

You let out an exasperated breath, “You want me to play your realtor? Jimin, I don’t have time for this, you know we don’t broker. Besides, my team focuses on commercial real estates. If you insist on us finding you a new place, I can get you in touch with our residential development team. They know everything that’s happening in the City.”

Jimin laughed across the phone, “Don’t give me lame excuses. This request is off the clock. You know this town like the back of your hand, and you know my taste. You’re the best personal shopper I could want. I won’t take no for an answer. Impress me.”

There was an unsaid threat in his words. Take this deal while I’m still playing nice. My next request will be much worse.

Sometimes you hated this game of give-and-take. Sometimes you hated savvy business people. Sometimes you hated yourself because you relished in all of the above.

“Fine. I don’t have time this weekend. Give me the week to pull together some listings and then let’s meet next Saturday. I’ll give you one weekend of my time. Either you take it or you leave it and go find yourself someone else to bother.”

“Deal.” his old eagerness shined through, “Oh, and put some effort into it. If I notice you’re doing this half-assed just because it’s me, I won’t let it count.”

You bristled at his remark, “Don’t insult me, Park.”

Another laugh chimed through the line, “See you next Saturday.”

***

It was Saturday morning and you were late for your appointment. You rushed past your stepmother into the kitchen to grab a piece of fruit and some water.

“Honey, is this your breakfast?” she asked, “I’m making pancakes, you can have some now if you can’t stay for breakfast.”

You quickly scarfed down your banana. “Sorry Ave, I’m in a hurry. I fell asleep last night while reviewing the bid proposal and forgot to set an alarm.”

Your stepmom crossed the kitchen and looked at you with worried eyes, “You seem stressed these days. I have a facial appointment this afternoon for my shoot on Monday. You can take the slot if you want.”

“I’ll probably be out all day, so enjoy your facial.” You finished your last bite of banana, grabbed a water bottle out of the fridge and headed towards the kitchen door.

“We could do a girls night in tomorrow? Eri’s off, I can prepare some things for a nice pamper session for the three of us?” she tried again.

You didn’t know why she was fussing. You weren’t even her daughter. “I’m good.”

In that moment your father entered the kitchen. “Bye dad, bye Aveline.” You gave him a quick peck on the cheek and rushed out the door.

The traffic gods showed mercy, you miraculously made it 5 minutes before the appointed time. Your development manager Julia was already waiting, coffee in hand.

“Have I told you, that I love you and I want to marry you?” you said as she handed the coffee and the listing portfolio to you.

Julia chuckled at your remark, “Ah, if only you were my boyfriend. I’ll just have to imagine it was him saying that right now.”

“I take it, he’s still being dense?” you asked.

“Super dense,” Julia agreed. “So who are we meeting on a Saturday morning and why the hell are we showing them apartments?”

“Don’t ask. It’s just an acquaintance of mine and unfortunately I owe him a favor,” you said miserably.

In that moment Jimin arrived. “Good morning Y/N, what’s with the long face? We haven’t even started yet,” he said cheerfully until his eyes landed on Julia. A small frown settled on his face.

“It’s 8.30 am on a Saturday morning and we’re in the middle of downtown. The real question should be why are you in such a good mood?” you commented with a scowl.

“You said we had one weekend. Gotta make the most of it. Who’s this?” he asked with a nod.

You realized you forgot to introduce Julia. Why were you so easily distracted by him? “This is Julia, she’s one of our residential development managers. Julia this is Jimin, a friend of the family.”

Julia eagerly held out her hand, “It’s great to make your acquaintance. Y/N never mentioned she had such a handsome friend.”

Jimin dropped his frown and took her hand, “Nice to meet you too. May I ask why you’re here today?” Julia visibly swooned as he gave her a smile. You wanted to kick them both.

“She’s here to assist with the contract. Once you’ve decided on an object, she’ll close the deal for you,” you answered in an irritated tone.

Jimin’s cheery mood returned, “Great, so that means we don’t need her for the actual touring? Apologies to have hauled you out of bed this early in the morning Julia. If you don’t mind, I’d prefer to visit the properties in private. I have some catching up to do with Y/N.” Jimin gave Julia another bright smile.

“N-no, not at all. I hope you find something to your liking,” she responded weakly. Julia turned to you with a knowing smile and muttered, “Call me if you need something.” She winked and scurried off before you could protest.

Great. You glared at Jimin, “This was completely unnecessary. We need her!”

“Why? Didn’t you do your homework?” he teased.

You huffed at him, “When did you become so insufferable?”

“When did you become so uptight?” he countered. “We can just call her back when I’ve picked something, okay?”

You refused to respond.

Jimin tried to appease your agitated mood, “Look, I know you don’t like me. But you’ve agreed to this and I need a new place. So why don’t we both stop bickering and act like two civilized human beings for the day?” As an afterthought he added, “I’ll buy you lunch. Your choice.” He knew you couldn’t say no to good food.

It was going to be a long day. And you really didn’t have the energy to stay angry all the time.

“There’s this new seafood place close to the pier that I’ve been meaning to try. It’s on the way to the Spirea Tower,” you considered until you saw Jimin’s grimace. You forgot; he didn’t like seafood. “We don’t have to go there…”

Jimin hastily shook his head and said, “No it’s fine. Let’s go there. If it’s on the way, then even better.” You had to smile at his eagerness.

You cleared your throat and put on your best sales pitch voice, “Very well Mr. Park., welcome to 230 Beech. If you’d like to follow me inside.” You gestured and entered the building behind you.

***

“The highlight of this penthouse is of course the 360° view over the city. You have plenty of terrace space to host outdoor events and the glass windowpanes give you that highly sought after indoor/outdoor living experience. This building has all the amenities you can ask for. 24h valet, fully equipped gym, indoor swimming pool, library, conference rooms, a 100-seat screening room, lounges for hosting events, it even has its own residential barber shop, grocer and coffee bar. It really is a great investment property.”

Three penthouses, three condos and two townhouses later, you finally arrived at the last stop of the day. Your day with Jimin was oddly pleasant yet frustrating at the same time. True to your agreement you both stopped bickering and focused on the task at hand. He took his time inspecting each property, attentively listening to your explanations, asking interested questions and openly admiring features that he liked. Nevertheless, nine properties later, he still hadn’t settled for any of them.

“So what do you think?” you asked him, as you presented him the breathtaking sunset view.

Jimin stood next to you and looked out over the city. “It’s really an extraordinary space, but I don’t think it’s what I’m looking for.”

You were tired, your feet hurt, and you really didn’t want to repeat this procedure again tomorrow. “What do you mean it’s not what you’re looking for? It has everything you can possibly ask for and this district has a forecasted value increase of 20% in the next 5 years. Heck even I bought a unit in this building.”

Jimin turned to you and asked curiously, “You live here?”

You shook your head. “No,” you replied, “I still live at home. There’s no point in moving into my own place when I’m barely ever there anyway. Doesn’t mean I can’t own property around town. Are you sure you don’t want this penthouse? Julia told me there’s already two offers up for it, but I’m sure we can strike a deal with the seller. It’s really a great investment.”

“Y/N.” He sounded strangely solemn. “I had fun today and I feel like this is the only way I can get you to talk to me in a normal way, but I meant it when I said I’m looking for a home.”

You spent your entire spare time of the past week pouring over different listings and registries, trying to find something which you thought suited his taste. No chance in hell was Park Jimin going to walk away at the end of this weekend without a contract.

“And what? None of these caught your eye?” you asked defensively.

Jimin looked at you pensively before he said, “They’re all really amazing, but as you said, they’re investment properties. That’s not what I’m looking for.”

Oh.

He continued in a quiet voice, “You know what I’m looking for, right?”

He was looking for a home. Somehow this realization made your heart clench.

You contemplated for a moment until you made up your mind, ripped a corner off your portfolio and wrote an address on the paper.

“Meet me here tomorrow at 11.”

***

“This is a deli.”

“Shush. Just follow me.”

You entered the store and headed straight for the counter.

“Y/N!” exclaimed the man behind the register. “You really need to come by more often!” He came around and gave you a warm hug.

“Hi Bodo,” you said in a muffled voice as you awkwardly tried to extract yourself from his embrace.

Bodo finally let go of you and gave Jimin an appraising look. “This is the young man you’re showing around?”

“Yeah, do you have the keys?” you asked.

Bodo grinned happily, grabbed a basket from behind the counter and headed out the door. ”Of course young lady! Everything ready and prepped as soon as you called this morning. Let’s go!”

Jimin gave you a puzzled look, you shrugged noncommittally. Just follow me.

The three of you walked down the street and arrived at an old building which had ‘Cali Soap Co.’ written across its brick wall. You walked up a flight of metal stairs and ended up in front of an insignificant-looking set of double doors. Bodo fumbled briefly with the keys until he unlocked the entrance and held open one side for you. “Voilá! Welcome, welcome!”

A beautiful two-story loft unfolded before your eyes. Light streamed in from the large industrial windows. Plants hung from the ceiling and the window frames. To the left a giant bookcase spanned across the entire height of the loft. The kitchen was situated in a winter garden at the back of the building which opened up to a small courtyard patio.

Bodo put the keys and the basket on the coffee table and turned back towards the entrance. “I’ll leave you two to it. I packed you guys some lunch in case you’re hungry. Take your time. You can come by the shop and drop everything off once you’re done.”

You gave Bodo a small smile, “Thanks.”

As Bodo left you stood uneasily in the middle of the loft. “I don’t know much about this building. It used to be an old soap factory which shut down in the 80s and got repurposed into a living space. The winter garden got added later on, they removed the air vents, cemented it shut and turned it into a patio. The old delivery area is on the ground floor below us. It can be used for storage or you can put in automatic doors and convert it into a garage. The previous owner didn’t have a car, so nothing was ever installed.”

You turned to check Jimin’s reaction.

His eyes were comically wide as he took in the loft. “What is this place?” he asked in wonder.

“It’s a home,” you simply answered. You remembered the first time you entered this place. You expected the sadness, but you didn’t expect the amazement. It was hard to ignore the love and care that was put into it. An eclectic array of furniture decorated the entire space. The bookcase was nothing short of imposing, filled with books over books over books. In every nook and cranny you could either find an ardently displayed old typewriter or some trinket brought back from faraway. This place was well loved and showed the story of a life. A life which you were never a part of.

I never wanted to be your mother. I don’t even want to be your friend.

Jimin walked around and ran his hands over everything. “I didn’t even know a place like this existed in this city,” he said in a hushed voice.

“I didn’t either,” you responded dejectedly.

Jimin shifted his attention away from the loft back to you. He gently asked, “How did you find this place?”

You hesitated, but then you decided to say, “It belonged to my mom - I mean Celia.”

Jimin moved back to your side, eyes soft. “Celia? Did she get back in touch with you? Where is she living now if she’s selling this place?”

“No, I haven’t seen her since the last time,” you said as you quietly shook your head. “She died last year of breast cancer. I guess she didn’t have any family, Bodo was actually her boyfriend. Isn’t it ironic? I inherited everything, including this loft.”

You’ve never talked about her passing until today; not even to your dad or Bodo. You’ve also never shown anyone this place. Not because you didn’t want to, but simply because you couldn’t think of anyone who could appreciate and understand it. You didn’t know why it felt so easy to share those things with Jimin. It always used to be easy with him.

Jimin was stunned, “Bodo was her boyfriend?

“Yeah, why? He comes by from time to time to take care of this place. He’s actually a pretty nice guy.”

Suddenly Jimin bent over and burst into laughter, “Exactly! How did someone so nice end up with someone so horrible like Celia?”

You could see how it was funny. You started to laugh as well.

“Poor Bodo!” Jimin sprawled on the floor and continued laughing. A warm feeling coursed through your heart as you slowly started to see a glimpse of your old friend again.

After a while he calmed down and stared up at the beamed ceiling. “This place is really beautiful. Are you sure you want to sell it?” he asked carefully.

This place was truly beautiful, but somehow it never felt like it belonged to you in the first place. Maybe because you knew it was never intended for you. It would be a shame to let something so precious go to waste.

You gave the boy lying on the floor a tender smile. “Does that mean you want to buy it?”

Next >>

°°°°°°° 13/04/20

@l4life

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of-wrens-and-whirlwinds-blog · 4 years ago

Text

How Do Dragons Flirt?

Commission for the beauteous @ikeracity !!! A Cherik fic including dragon talk! I hope you like it, friend! Commission info is here!

Charles was reading another book about dragons.

Erik checked and re-checked that there was no one around, then walked over and asked, “May I sit here?”

Charles looked up, blinking. The entire student lounge was empty, and he had claimed the saggiest, oldest, shittiest couch that everyone hated. But Erik needed to get close for this.

“Ah—sure,” Charles said finally, and moved his enormous backpack. Erik sat in the corner furthest away from Charles. There was close, and there was too close; sharing a couch was on the edge of too close. He nevertheless turned a little, and asked Charles bluntly, “What’s that book about?”

A slow flush of shame filled Charles’ face, and he looked down, fiddling with the edges of the heavy paper. There seemed to be quite a few full-color illustrations as well as fancy script. “It’s… um… it’s about dragons,” he mumbled.

Erik bit the inside of his cheek, cursing at himself for already fucking up. He tried to make it better by saying, “Like contemporary ones or mythological?”

The flush deepened, and Charles looked away. “Mythological,” he answered softly.

Erik bit harder, cursed more viciously, and asked, “Can you tell me about that book?”

Charles’ head whipped around, and he stared at Erik with naked shock. Erik’s face went pink this time. “I like dragons too,” he explained, “But I don’t know any good books on them.”

The slow, brilliant smile that spread across Charles’ face was so beautiful that Erik was almost breathless. It really brought home how very fake his normal smiles were.

“Well… what books are you looking for?” Charles temporized, slowly relaxing and turning towards Erik. Maybe it wasn’t even a conscious decision. “There’s quite a difference between books about pop culture and books about dry medieval mythos.”

“I already have a basic grounding of pop culture,” Erik said, thinking back on the past three days of reading absolutely everything he could get his hands on. “Read a lot of essays. But I don’t know much about ancient depictions and writings.”

“Well, you are in for a treat,” Charles replied with something close to unholy glee.

Charles didn’t just like dragons, and he wasn’t just well-read. He was obsessed. Apparently his son was autistic (how the hell did baby-faced Charles have a child?) and his special interest was mythological creatures; Charles had started out just reading to him, and buying him books and watching videos. But then Charles had latched on to dragons, so while his son David researched griffins, Charles collected more and more material on fire-breathing lizards. It wasn’t as bad as his obsession with genetics and biology, but as Charles rambled on and on excitedly, Erik began to realize why people didn’t like listening.

But they were wrong. Because he’d heard so often that Charles was “boring”, but no one had ever mentioned how beautiful he was when he was excited. His eyes were wide and bright, his smile was the same, and his entire face came alive in a way it never did in class debates. He gestured emphatically and his voice got stronger and he looked so relieved.

Not to say Erik wasn’t listening. He was impressed by Charles’ knowledge, and the challenger in him wanted to learn just as much and more. So he listened, and asked questions, and soaked up Charles’ words like a sponge. He even got out his phone and noted all of the books Charles referenced and where to find them, and which sources they used. Charles was only too happy to add to the list.

By the time lights-out rolled around, Charles was hoarse and Erik was in a daze from the immense wave of talking that had just been aimed at him. He didn’t regret it. He found, to his own amusement, that he had enjoyed listening. But, well, he was already in love with Charles. No harm in enjoying his happiness.

They went to the stairs, silently. As they reached the landing where they split ways, Erik asked suddenly, “Can I sit with you at lunch tomorrow? I can probably dig up the essays I read, and we can compare.”

How could anyone think Charles was less than gorgeous when he was happy? “I’d like that,” he said simply.

So it became their Thing. If Erik was angry and wanted to be distracted, he sought out Charles. If Charles was upset in any way and needed to calm down, he went to Erik. They laughed together (when they were alone) about how it was great that, when either or both of them wanted to be alone, they just had to find each other and talk about dragons, and other people would avoid them.

Erik was labeled a martyr and insane for putting up with Charles, but he brushed it off, and in fact snapped at several people who acted like he was “brave” for “trying to be his friend”. There was no trying involved. As soon as they had found common ground, they had become friends. Natural arrogance, similar tastes, and true respect had made a friendship that Erik craved.

And it was fun talking to Charles. Even when conversation veered and they ended up debating politics or queer rights or which pizza chain made the best food (Erik insisted it was Pizza Hut, Charles refused to let go of Dominoes), it always came back to dragons, naturally, easily. Dragons as metaphors. Dragon stories as direct replies to various events in history. Dragons and their place in the human psyche.

It was only natural, really, to spend an evening talking about all the various descriptions of dragon mating behaviors. Erik was of the opinion that basing a dragon’s mating rituals on mammals was an insult to lizards and bats; Charles laughed and said if humans stuck to the mating rituals of lizards and bats, no one would find dragons romantic or powerful. They eventually agreed that birds were a good compromise, since they both detested birds.

Then things started… happening.

Erik immediately linked them to Charles. Gifts of food left at his door. Pretty rocks slipped into his backpack. Beautiful feathers tucked between the pages of his latest book on dragons that he was borrowing from Charles.

And then there was the nesting. The first time Erik visited Charles’ house, they ended up curled in a mess of pillows, cushions, blankets, and sheets, doing something Erik had never expected himself to be comfortable with: cuddling.

Charles’ son, David, was visiting. He was nonverbal, but knew a lot of sign-language; and since Charles had been teaching Erik, he was able to convey to David that he was a friend and he liked mythological creatures too. David looked at him somberly with his big blue eyes, then nodded and sat on a cushion a foot away from Charles, who beamed at his son with so much love that Erik’s heart ached.

But cuddling in a nest, watching movies together, sharing popcorn… it made Erik nervous, but excited. Was Charles flirting? Was this how flirting worked?

He decided to try some himself.

He bought Charles CDs because the silly man wouldn’t upgrade to a digital library, because birds sang to potential mates, didn’t they? Erik also tentatively offered to watch Dirty Dancing with Charles, because birds dance but he couldn’t, and the delight on Charles’ face was worth the fact that Erik disliked most of the movie.

He was stumped on pretty gifts, though. He didn’t have a lot of income, and Charles could afford literally anything he wanted. So Erik bought a ton of jump rings, a spool of wire, those little pliers jewelry-makers used, and pretty beads, and started making things for Charles.

The first thing he gave Charles was one of those bead-lizards, except he made wings to match. Charles almost cried, and hugged Erik so tight, which was… a nice feeling, surprisingly. Then Erik fussed and fiddled and managed to make three differently-sized hamsa, which Charles immediately hung by his front door, on his backpack, and in his room. David demanded a hamsa of his own, so Erik made a child-sized one and gave it to him for his birthday. David was so excited that he ran in circles, flapping his arms, and then shook Erik’s hand heartily. Erik actually found himself smiling.

Charles kissed his cheek so briefly before he left that night. It made him dizzy and warm, a feeling that lasted all the way back to his dorm.

They never talked about it. Not unless continued, hesitant mentions of dragon mating rituals counted.

It was a year after Erik had first approached Charles about dragons when he met Raven.

“Erik, this is my sister, Raven,” Charles said, beaming. “Raven, this is my friend Erik.”

“Nice to meet you,” Raven said neutrally with a lukewarm smile.

Erik nodded. “Likewise,” he said stiffly.

Charles was used to Erik by now, and was apparently used to Raven, because he didn’t seem upset by this standoff. If anything, he brightened further, and told Raven, “He likes dragons too.”

“Yeah, you told me,” Raven replied, taking Charles’ hand and squeezing gently. Then she turned back to Erik, narrowed her eyes, and asked, “What’re your intentions towards my brother?”

“Raven!” Charles gasped, immediately turning red with embarrassment. Erik was also pink, to his surprise.

“He’s my friend,” Erik said firmly.

“Then why are you flirting with him?”

Erik’s face got even warmer. “I… was not aware that I was,” he muttered, eyes glancing around to make sure no one was near.

“Hmph.” Raven turned back to a befuddled and sad—no, no, why was he sad—Charles. “He’s into you, dumbass.”

Erik looked at the ground, unable to hide how very red he was. Charles knew him now. He would know what his expression meant.

“Oh, hush, Raven,” Charles snapped, actually sounding angry. “You don’t know that.”

“Whatever. Did you want to get drinks or no?”

So the three of them went to get drunk. Erik was nervous about that; he was an angry drunk. But if he kept to a low amount of alcohol, he should be fine.

Raven and Charles were so hard-headed it made Erik a little afraid. Raven did eventually fall asleep on Charles’ shoulder, but she never acted drunk other than that; and Charles chattered on with his usual enthusiasm, his speech not slurred in the slightest. Erik was feeling a little woozy after maybe two beers and three shots of tequila.

“Do you like me?” Charles asked suddenly.

“Huh?” Erik said.

“Do you like me?” Charles repeated, looking very sharp and sober. “Raven said you did.”

“Well...” Erik rubbed the back of his neck, staring at the table. But, knowing that they would both forget in the morning, he felt safe in blurting, “Well, yes. I just… didn’t want to bring it up.”

“Why not?”

“Because… it felt weird. I like being your friend too much.”

There was a silence. Then Charles reached over and put his hand over Erik’s. “I like you too,” he said softly.

It was definitely mating rituals.

And Erik didn’t mind at all. Nothing really changed, except they started kissing in private, and then they got bold and kissed while drunk and in front of Charles’ friends, and after that it was just natural to hold hands and sit side-by-side and kiss each other on the cheeks or forehead. It was so natural that Erik forgot their reputations, and was honestly surprised the first time someone invited Charles to a party and asked Erik separately if he’d like to come.

Charles asked David if it was okay that Charles and Erik wanted to be boyfriends. David thought about it, and said his first sentence in six years: “Yes, because he makes you happy.”

“Thank you so much, Davey,” Charles said, smiling broadly with tears in his eyes. Erik felt a weight lift off his shoulders, too; so David wouldn’t mind Erik visiting more often.

Or moving in. Which Erik did, eventually. Because it was only natural. Dragons move in with their mates too, after all.

#Cherik #X-Men #fanfiction #writing #commission

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