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excusethequality · 7 months ago

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My 2024 in Film: February

Another month of movies.

Like usual I'll hide it behind the line so as not to bombard the timelines of the uninterested.

But there were a lot of good movies watched in February.

* = Rewatches

February

14.

Evil Demon Golf Ball from Hell!!!

(1997)

—Short Comedy Thriller

Directed by: Rian Johnson

After a robbery takes a bad turn a criminal finds himself cursed with a golf ball that won't stop following him.

Here I was thinking that I was an old school Rian Johnson fan, because I've loved Brick since back in the day, but turns out he was making short films even before that.

I'm not gonna say it's amazing tell-all-your-friends cinema or anything. But I will say that if you're in the middle segment of the venn diagram of people that both enjoy Rian Johnson and Jojo's Bizarre Adventure, I'd recommend you check it out. It definitely has the vibes of a Jojo episode, because that golfball has got to be an autonomous stand like Notorious B.I.G.

15.

La Nuit du 12

[English title: "The Night of the 12th"]

(2022)

—Mystery

Directed by: Dominik Moll

A French homicide detective, plagued by the mystery behind the brutal murder of a young woman, is forced to confront the harsh truths of the world and the reality of what modern law enforcement really is.

There's some things to like about this one, but it can't ever escape the fact that—at its heart—it is not a story about the dangers of living as a woman under the patriarchy. It is a story about how difficult the brutal murder of this woman was for this poor male cop.

And how can you make a statement about the systems of a world where women have to fear this sort of thing from within a story about a woman getting fridged to give the male protagonist some pathos?

16.

Bound

(1996)

—Crime Thriller

Directed by: Lana Wachowski & Lilly Wachowski

While fixing up an apartment a handywoman falls for the woman next door only to discover that their criminal connections could prove to be their salvation or their downfall.

My roommates and I have roommate movie nights wherein every month we select a new theme and everyone has to pick their own movie fitting the theme without telling anyone else what it is until it's their night. Then throughout the month we'll watch them all.

And before each showing the picker will show a couple trailers of the things they were thinking about picking but that didn't make the final cut.

I had always avoided this movie because anytime I hear something described as an erotic thriller my ace ass is running the other way. But we wound up watching the trailer for it during a roommate movie night and I was intrigued.

(extra intrigued because I didn't know Jennifer Tilly was in it and I hadn't seen her in anything in some time.)

So I figured I'd give it a try. And much to my surprise I really enjoyed it. I think I might actually prefer the Wachowski's style in this than I do their later stuff? Not only is it super queer, but it's also just a really engaging thriller. Definitely worth sitting through the couple of erotic scenes for.

17.

Corner Office

(2022)

—Comedy Mystery

Directed by: Joachim Back Based on: "Rummet" by Jonas Karlsson

A businessman starts a new job only to discover a mysterious office that grants him exceptional clarity. The only problem is that he's the only one who can see it and the rest of the office is a little uncomfortable with how he keeps going into the hallway to stare at the wall during his breaks.

I'm not really sure what the message of this movie was supposed to be? It's too uncomfortable to be funny, and it's too odd to be thrilling. I'm open to the idea that I just completely missed the point, but the whole thing felt like having some Boomer talk at you for 102 minutes.

18.*

Ready or Not

(2019)

—Horror

Directed by: Matt Bettinelli-Olpin & Tyler Gillett

On her wedding night a bride is asked to partake in a family tradition of her new in-laws: to play a game. However, the stakes of this game are far higher than she was expecting.

Right off the bat I'm gonna warn you against watching the trailer for this one. It shows way too much and spoils some surprises. I think it's a great one to go into knowing only the broadstrokes. But if you really want one, this one with Indonesian subtitles is cut much better than the standard US one.

Anways, I love this movie!

Samara Weaving is phenomenal as the lead. It's shot super well. And its satire of the rich is excellent.

I don't care what anyone thinks, it's a 5/5 to me. I have a blast every time I watch it and I have seen it quite a few times.

19.

The Lost City

(2022)

—Comedy Adventure

Directed by: Aaron Nee and Adam Nee

An eccentric billionaire kidnaps a romance novelist in order to find a lost treasure. Now it's up to the cover model of her books to rescue her.

I don't know how to put this, but this is a great example of where the writing of big studio Hollywood is these days, and why it drives me crazy. This is essentially (but not technically) a remake of Romancing the Stone (1984) and when you compare them you can really see how screenwriting has changed.

And I wouldn't even say Romancing the Stone is top tier writing or anything. But from the standards of its era it was a solid entry. It might not be the flashiest thing, but it has a strong foundations and it is first-and-foremost telling a story. And that's why it's memorable.

But The Lost City feels like a 2 hour long SNL skit. It's inherently NOT about the story. The story is secondary. It's about the jokes. The story is just there to be a set piece to tell some jokes. Because of this the scenes don't progress in a way to tell the story, they progress to get from one skit to another.

The result is that there is no foundation for me hang my attention on. It's all just empty calories. Yet the film will still try to have big story and character beats, but they didn't do any of the groundwork and so it's all hollow for me.

The viewers wanted silliness and adventure and big names and bigger action, right? Well, here it is! Isn't it great!? Here's a plate of sugar and salt and oil, these are the things you wanted, right? What you put them in is secondary, right? Why bother making a dish when we can just give you what you want.

I don't know. I was excited about this one, because Channing Tatum, Sandra Bullock, and Daniel Radcliffe usually always make me laugh. So them being in something together seemed like a recipe for something I'd like. But it very much was not.

And so many big movies feel like this these days; as if movies are being written by a group consensus instead of by a storyteller.

20.

Cameraperson

(2016)

—Documentary Memoir

Directed by: Kirsten Johnson

Documentary filmmaker and cinematographer Kirsten Johnson creates a memoir of her life and career through the unused footage of the documentaries she's worked on.

I had never seen this one before, but this was my pick for a roommate movie night. The theme was: "Oh!...So that's a thing."

I figured that the easy road would be to pick a documentary that highlighted some unusual group or idea, but I wanted to push the boundaries of the theme. I wanted to find something that wasn't about something unusual, but was itself something unusual.

And that's how I wound up at Kirsten Johnson.

I had first heard of her during a fantastic episode of Switchblade Sisters where she was the guest and she put forth a truly fascinating documentary-filmmaker view of Jackass: The Movie (2002). In the episode she also talks about her film Dick Johnson is Dead (2020), and I was thinking that maybe that would work.

But in looking at her other work I saw this and the idea behind it sounded so interesting that I had to go with it.

It's April as I write this post and this is currently sitting as my favorite thing I've watched this year.

I just love it. It is such a uniquely compelling film. If you were to make a standard documentary about documentary filmmaking I don't think it could come close to reaching this kind of impact. It would seem too sterile. But by using the parts of the documentaries that you don't see it is able to paint this fascinating picture of both her life and her profession, while making you feel like you're along for the ride.

I've thought about this movie so much since I've watched it. Definitely check it out if you get the chance.

21.

Marry Me

(2022)

—Rom-Com

Directed by: Kat Coiro Based on: Marry Me by Bobby Crosby

A pop-star in the middle of a crisis decides to accept the offer of a fan at her concert who is holding a sign saying "Marry Me."

I am part of the small percentage of people that have read the webcomic this was based on, so I was shocked when I saw it had been adapted.

As a connoisseur of Rom-Coms I found this is to be a little below average. But I can't really dislike it, because J.Lo is giving it her all.

Owen Wilson is phoning it in HARD, but J.Lo is going for it.

I wouldn't tell you to go out of your way to see it, but if you're low on options and you see it somewhere, you could do a hell of a lot worse than a movie with J.Lo proving she's still as good as she ever was.

P.S. "On My Way (Marry Me)" is a banger.

22.

Knock at the Cabin

(2023)

—Mystery Thriller

Directed by: M. Knight Shyamalan Based on: The Cabin at the End of the World by Paul Tremblay

A strange group descends on a small family vacationing in a rural cabin and presents them with a choice: decide which member of the family should die and then kill them, or else the entire world will be destroyed.

I distinctly remember early in M. Knight's career where that man could do no wrong. I also distinctly remember years later where a trailer said "From the mind of M. Knight Shyamalan" and everybody laughed.

After he created the absolute heaping white-washed trashfire that is The Last Airbender (2010) I has just wrote him off. But it's been a decade! Maybe he has managed to get back to his roots? And the library had his new stuff so I figured why not see what the man has been up to, without giving him any money.

Anyways, I hate this.

I hate this a lot.

I also hate that Dave Bautista is giving a really great performance, because it'll be the hidden silver lining to an otherwise terrible movie.

From what I read the book this is based on takes the story in a very different direction, so no shade on the book. But I am just lost at knowing what this movie is trying to say? Because I can't help but be wildly uncomfortable with a movie written by a straight man about how a gay couple should kill each other in order to save the world?

Like...what the actual fuck is this? Why would you make this?

23.

Old

(2021)

—Sci-Fi Mystery

Directed by: M. Knight Shyamalan Based on: Château de sable by Pierre Oscar Lévy & Frederik Peeters

A group of families find themselves trapped on a strange beach where they seem to be aging at a highly accelerated rate.

I haven't done the proper research, but I have a working theory that if Gael García Bernal is in a big Hollywood movie: it won't be good. But if Gael García Bernal is in a Spanish-language movie: it will be fantastic.

Which is to not to insult him in any way, but is to say that Hollywood has no idea how to use this man's talents.

Anyways, M.Knight is back at it! Once again getting great actors to be in bad movies. This is just plot hole after plot hole after plot hole. And since this was based on a French graphic novel I actually did read it afterword, so now I can confidently say that he has once again both entirely missed the point of the source material and also gave it a ridiculous ending.

I can't say it's utterly forgettable, but I kind of wish it was.

24.*

Best in Show

(2000)

—Comedy Mocumentary

Directed by: Christopher Guest

Cameras document 5 contestants on their way to the biggest dog show of year.

I'm not positive, but I think this is the first mockumentary I ever saw? My best friend's family loves mockumentaries so I wound up watching a bunch while over at his house and it rubbed off on me. So I have a lot of nostalgia for this one.

It's just such a fun movie. Quotes from this movie live rent free in my head. And the cast! The cast is so good. This is one of those movies that I'll always be down to watch.

25.

Cane Toads: An Unnatural History

(1988)

—Documentary

Directed by: Mark Lewis

A wild look at Australia's history with its most notorious eco-terrorist: the cane toad.

This is one of the movies I was thinking of for the previous roommate movie night, but didn't go with. I obviously still had to watch it by myself later, because I mean...how can you not want to see this?

This friggin' movie is wild. Not only is the story it's telling wild, but it shoots from the perspective of the toads? They had songs written for the movie about toads? It's just something you have to see to understand.

I also thought I knew the story of the cane toads ravaging Australia, but I definitely didn't know the whole story. It's only 47 minutes long. You can find the whole thing on Youtube if you can't find it elsewhere. If you don't watch it for the unique style of Documentary, you gotta watch it to hear the story about these toads. That's the kind of crazy history that you just can't make up.

26.

Nimona

(2023)

—Animated Sci-Fi Fantasy Found-Family Adventure

Directed by: Nick Bruno & Troy Quane Based on: Nimona by ND Stevenson

A young shapeshifter teams up with a criminal ex-knight to overthrow the status quo.

What's this? Another movie this month based on a webcomic I read back in the day? What are the odds?

I've always been a fan of the Nimona comic. In fact I was even one of the many fans reading it here and Tumblr back in the day!

When I was working at a bookstore the Nimona graphic novel was a real popular seller and while the store's owner never gave me credit, I am taking full credit for it. Because it wasn't even on her radar until I pre-ordered my copy and told her how great it was, so she ordered an extra copy for the store. Then I wrote a shelf talker for it and we kept selling it and boom! It became a store staple.

[Sorry, I' hope y'all don't mind 'm just in a chatty mood. So you're are just gonna have to keep putting up with all this stories behind the things I'm watching!]

Netflix has a love for dicking me over time and time again, so I was resigned to probably not being able to see this one, because I refuse to give them any money. But they actually decided to do something cool for once and they put the full movie on Youtube for free in the time leading up to the Oscars.

Overall I really liked it! But I've gotta say that I like it as an addition to the graphic novel and not as a replacement for it. Because in the context of the source material it's delightful, but if you only watched this I feel like you'd be missing out on a lot. Ballister and Ambrosius' relationship in particular is WAY more interesting in the comic.

Also, I'm also not sure why the art director of the movie decided to give Ballister permanent puppy-dog eyes? But that's neither here nor there.

27.*

Evil Dead II

(1987)

—Horror Comedy

Directed by: Sam Raimi

Both a sequel and a remake of the first movie. Ash is back at the cabin and so are the deadites! But this time...it's zanier!

I have discovered that among Horror fans I have some hot takes regarding the Evil Dead films. The first of them is that Evil Dead (2013) is an amazing movie and a fantastic adaptation, and all y'all are just haters.

But the second of them is that The Evil Dead (1981) is the far superior film to Evil Dead II.

The Evil Dead is creepy and wild and delightfully independent and creative. Army of Darkness (1992) is a campy and hilarious adventure through a nightmare world. And floating adrift somewhere in the middle, with no real goal is Evil Dead II.

I know many people who love it, and I wish them the best. But personally every time I've watched this I've just been thinking that this is all time I could've spent watching one of the other ones.

[Except for Evil Dead Rise (2023) which is by far the worst of them all. I'm not sure if that's another hot take or not, but it's true.]

28.*

Leprechaun

(1993)

—Horror Comedy

Directed by: Mark Jones

While sprucing up an old house a spoiled girl and a family of painters runs afoul of an evil leprechaun when one of them eats some of his gold.

I thought I hadn't actually seen all of this when I sat down to watch it, but then the character Ozzie showed up and it all came flooding back to me.

But don't be like me. Don't watch Leprechaun by yourself. Leprechaun is a dish that should be enjoyed with the company of friends. Also some alcohol.

Because it's not a good movie, but it can definitely be a fun movie.

29.

Leprechaun 2

(1994)

—Horror Comedy

Directed by: Rodman Flender

The leprechaun is back! This time he's determined to transform a girl into his leprechaun bride.

Okay, now THIS one I'm pretty sure I had never seen before.

It's also not good. And not even bad in the fun way the original one was, it's just not good. Although Warwick Davis being a menace is never not fun.

But the girl is the most interesting character and she is sidelined for most of it. Thus we're stuck following her dumbass boyfriend and his alcoholic boss around. And they are just the dullest characters to follow around.

30.

Barb & Star Go to Vista Del Mar

(2021)

—Comedy Adventure

Directed by: Josh Greenbaum

Two mid-western best friends decide to spice up their life and take a vacation to Florida.

I have a friend that adores this movie. It looked a little weird, so I wasn't sure about it, but I decided to trust her judgement and my love of Kristen Wiig and give it a try.

And she was right, because this movie is so much fun. It's probably not the sort of humor that everyone will love, but it's definitely the sort of humor that cracks me up.

31.*

Barb & Star Go to Vista Del Mar

(2021)

see #30

After I finished it, I immediately watched it again with commentary, okay?

Don't judge me!

32.

Oppenheimer

(2023)

—Bio-Pic Drama

Directed by: Christopher Nolan

The story of Robert Oppenheimer's history of developing the atomic bomb.

One of my roommates told me at nearly midnight that he was about to put this on and asked if I wanted to watch. It is 3 hours long, but I'm always up late anyways, so I figured why not.

I don't really have many thoughts on this. I typically love Cillian Murphy, but I kind of don't like his Oppenheimer accent in this?

Also people kept talking about Robert Downey Jr.'s performance and I don't know why, because Josh Hartnett was the real standout for me. Somewhere along the line he got really good at acting.

33.

Shall We Dance

(1937)

—Musical Rom-Com

Directed by: Mark Sandrich

A famous ballet dancer starts a rumor that he's married to a performer he has a crush on. This is rather unfortunate for her as the rumor is making it difficult for her to marry her actual finance.

I had never heard of this before, but I stumbled across it while trying to see if the library had a copy of Shall We ダンス? (1996). It turns out they did not, but they did have this.

I didn't like it.

The plot is really creepy when you think about it. Most of the musical numbers aren't very good. And I just was rather bored for most of it. And the moviegoers of the time didn't love it either, so it's not just me!

The main thing it has going for it is that Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire are so friggin' talented that it is always fun to watch them perform. And old movies are always a trip. They have a scene with barely any cuts where Rogers and Astaire do a tap dance number on roller skates. If that's not talent then I don't know what is.

34.

Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome

(1985)

—Post-Apocalyptic Action Adventure

Directed by: George Miller & George Ogilvie

In a post-apocalyptic Australia a lone wanderer becomes embroiled in a power struggle between the sibling rulers of a city.

In a reverse of Leprechaun, I was convinced I had seen this before. I was so sure of it. But when the film truly goes BEYOND the thunderdome? None of that rang a bell AT ALL.

I'm going to assume I had only watched parts of it some time in the past, but never the whole thing. Because the whole second half was a wild surprise for me.

Definitely an interesting watch if you're a fan of the Borderlands games.

35.*

Scream 4

(2011)

— Meta Horror

Directed by: Wes Craven

Ten years after the events of the last movie and Sydney Prescott has finally managed to piece her life back together. But when she returns to her hometown as part of her book tour she soon finds that another familiar face has also returned to Woodsboro.

Unlike with the Evil Dead series, I have no idea how my Scream takes are seen within the Horror fandom. But I love Scream 4. I would go so far as to say that it is my second favorite of the entire franchise, with the first one being the only one that tops it.

I know the third movie gets a lot of hate, so if you dropped off the series at some point and never made it to 4, I humbly suggest you give it a watch. Heck, I'm not positive, but I think you could firmly enjoy this one if the only other one you had seen was the first.

I had never seen anything past 4, so I figured I'd give it a rewatch before finally getting around to watching 5 and 6.

36.

Scream

(2022)

— Meta Horror

Directed by: Matt Bettinelli-Olpin & Tyler Gillett

Ghostface strikes again! And this time Sydney isn't even in town! Maybe people shouldn't live in Woodsboro?

[Right off the bat I should mention that although it is the fifth movie, they decided to make the bold choice to name it "Scream." Does this mean that 2 of the movies in the franchise now have the same name? Yes. Yes it does. Is that kind of confusing? Yes. It certainly is!]

Ohhhhh boy. On one hand I'm glad I rewatched 4 to remind me of where the series last left off. But on the other hand I wish I hadn't because it set my bar really high.

I've heard people screaming praises for this one, so I figured I'd finally get around to checking it out. Especially because these directors also did Ready or Not which—as we have previously established—I love.

HOWEVER, I did not love this.

I don't care what any other fans think, this is going dead last in my Scream rankings. I'd gladly watch 3 before I'd watch this again. The whole thing is like a terrible Scream fan fiction story.

I am so glad I got this from the library, because if I had paid to see this in the theater I would have been even more annoyed.

——————

February Stats

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Movies watched this month: 23

Rewatches: 26% ( 6/23 )

My favorite new movie of the month: Cameraperson

Least favorite: Knock at the Cabin

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Previous Month's Posts:

JAN

#xcusethequality

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ellieellieoxenfree · 5 months ago

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52 weeks, 52 movies: april

yeah whatever i finally got around to it rewatches denoted with *; bold denotes favorites watched.

straight-jacket (usa) — after a gay scandal potentially threatens to end movie star guy stone’s (matt letscher) career, he’s forced to marry an unaware secretary (carrie preston) to keep up appearances, which becomes considerably more difficult after he falls in love for real.

it PAINS me to give this movie a bad review. it really, really does. it has all the ingredients i should like — matt letscher, carrie preston, homosexuality, mid-century american satire — and yet it has all the life and wit of a damp paper towel. letscher appears pained to be in the thing, not so much sleepwalking through the role but actively grimacing through it. carrie preston is usually reliable, but you can see too much of the glue holding her performance together and what should be frothy and campy just comes off as almost embarrassingly try-hard. the chemistry between letscher and adam greer, who plays his communist boyfriend, rick stone, is…well, nonexistent. greer is trying, again, but one person cannot carry a two-person relationship, and stone really isn’t so much of a character as he is a stereotypical hodgepodge of liberal talking points.

straight-jacket was a play first, which shows up in glaringly obvious and detrimental ways — it’s blocked like a play, with stagey sets and shoddy CGI standing in for actual era-appropriate sets. the whole thing feels claustrophobic and limited, and there’s no immersion into the 1950s because the set design only takes us about a quarter of the way there. combining the clumsy, amateurish visuals with characters who spout viewpoints decades ahead of what they should be makes for a jarring experience. (rick, again, is the poster child for this, and i doubt anyone could have salvaged the character.)

it also just doesn’t know what it wants to be tonally. it starts out as fluffy camp, then takes a hard left (ha!) turn into serious social commentary and a shoehorned plea for tolerance and acceptance. rest assured, it does none of these things well, and its preachiness manages to drown out whatever scraps of fun could have potentially been gleaned from the comedy. the dialogue aims for pointed zingers and is instead defanged and limp; the pathos just is creaky and gloopily sentimental. i struggled mightily to figure out who this movie could have been for, and what kind of story it was trying to tell, because i don’t think at any point anyone involved in the production knew, either. it kept trying to take flight, but it’s hard to do that when every level of your story is dead on arrival.

pygmalion (1981) (uk) — linguistics professor henry higgins (robert powell) makes a bet that in six weeks, he can pass eliza doolittle (twiggy), a cockney flower girl, off as a duchess in high society.

the 1938 pygmalion is one of my favorite movies of all time — hiller and howard are lightning in a bottle, and the movie sparkles and crackles and shimmers. this was poised to do the same, because robert powell and twiggy are near and dear to my heart and i would watch both of them read the phone book. (yes, i stand by this. have you seen twiggy in the boy friend? delightful. i adore her.) and i did enjoy it, truly! but not quite as much as i thought i would, which was no fault of either lead. instead, it’s damned slightly by being a faithful adaptation of the stage play, and thus it robs us of some of the more emotionally satisfying scenes contained in other versions. twiggy suffers the short end of the stick here most; she’s a fantastic eliza, but we just don’t see enough of her. when she does get to shine, she utterly nails the role. she starts as a live wire of a girl, chaos and noise, but she transforms into composed steel and ice as she undergoes higgins’ tutelage and begins to realize the magnitude of how he’s used her and how disposable he sees her. i was particularly disappointed that her trumph at the society ball is entirely erased from this version, because it robs us of the power of seeing how effective her transformation has been, but she still takes the limited material she’s given — her confrontation with higgins, which is one of the finest moments in any adaptation — and renders it with quiet, chilling devastation. this eliza is not the hysterical woman-child higgins drags off the streets; this is a woman fully in control of her power and destiny and wise enough to know to keep her anger on a controlled simmer. i loved her restraint here. she doesn’t raise her voice or lash out in anger, but delivers her lines with precise, pointed viciousness.

likewise, when she’s fled the higgins household to stay with his much more agreeable, pleasant mother (helen shingler), she knocks it out of the park. this, unlike straight-jacket, understood the importance of adhering to social norms. eliza here feels like a proper edwardian lady, who understands the roles and limitations placed on her, and she carries herself with a quiet grace and dignity that fully centered the production in its historical context in a way i hadn’t seen to such effect before (even in 1938!).

powell, of course, is magnificent, and he relishes the chance to play higgins. higgins is one of the great roles to me, conniving, brilliant, thoughtless, condescending, full of swagger and bravado. he is an awful man but a great character, and powell inhabits him fully. when he and twiggy spark off one another, they’re delightful together. unfortunately, we just don’t get the chance to see them do it often enough. many of the major bones of the story are intact — the ‘gin was like mother’s milk to her’ line is as screechingly funny as always; the aforementioned post-society ball confrontation twists the knife. but we don’t see much of the actual training and eliza’s struggles to learn; we see higgins and his colleague, pickering (ronald fraser) celebrate their success at the ball, but eliza’s actual achievements remain frustratingly off-screen. it feels very appropriate to shaw to give us an adaptation about a woman coming into her full power and still sideline her in favor of giving us more from the men.

still, frustrating flaws aside, this is a real treat to watch for me — two of my favorite stars in one of my favorite plays. it won’t dethrone the 1938 masterpiece, but still glad i was able to get my hands on it. thanks, random amazon seller in the UK. you’re a real one. cadejo blanco (guatemala) — after her sister goes missing, working-class sarita (karen martínez) infiltrates a gang to figure out what happened to her.

there is a scene late in this movie where a young gangster — much like other members of the gang, most likely in his mid-20s at best — tells the protagonist about a criminal he knew growing up. the man stole vehicles, caused chaos, and terrorized the neighborhood, until the day he was found shot in the middle of the street. his death was unmourned; the cops did nothing to apprehend the shooter. the neighborhood, instead, greeted the news with a profound sense of relief.

that, the gangster tells her, is the fate that he knows waits for him. there is no one who will grieve his own early demise. he has no purpose in life other than to fight for an uncaring boss who will just find another warm body to replace him if and when he’s killed. it is an utterly crushing, tremendously powerful scene. he’s a gangster but he’s also just a boy. he’s too young and gangly to be considered a man yet. he’s still figuring himself and his life out, and he’s horribly aware of his own fragile mortality and the limited amount of time he has left.

and the rest of the movie is a miserable, dragging, tonally inconsistent slog around it. it is over two hours long, for some godforsaken reason, anchored by — i’m sorry, but it’s true — a flat, emotionless lead performance from karen martínez. martínez is admittedly a non-professional actor, so asking her to shoulder basically the entire movie is a tall ask, but she’s not up to the challenge. she has some great moments, such as when she corners the rich boy who keeps her around as a side piece and tells him that he’s going to cover for her while she heads off on her quest to find her sister, or she’ll spill all of his dirty sex secrets to his upper-class friends, but she doesn’t convey the emotional range needed for someone who’s heading into almost-certain death. and sarita faces some truly horrific stuff as her gang infiltration progresses, none of which ever quite lands. not all of this is martínez’ fault, because much of it does lie with the writing/direction/editing/cinematography. there’s not really a sense of urgency or dread that ever comes through. things happen, but that’s…it. i say this with the same tone i would use to say that breakfast happened for me this morning. it was a thing that occurred, without emotion or energy. the plot unfolds, but i never quite felt anything about it. sarita’s sister going missing should fill me with something. the violence (of many stripes) she faces should rouse horror or pity or anger in me. it doesn’t. it’s there. it exists. it just sort of…is.

it’s just boring, is the cardinal sin, which is insane considering the subject matter of the movie. but i kept hovering my mouse over the progress bar and asking how in god’s name i still had another 45 minutes to go. remember when you were in elementary school and each minute felt like it lasted twelve days? that was me with this movie. utter drudgery.

but hey, guatemalan spanish is beautiful, so that’s balm in gilead.

the lady assassin (vietnam) — a kidnapped upper-class girl joins forces with a trio of female assassins masquerading as tavern owners to take revenge on visitors.

this movie might be the dictionary definition of ‘i didn’t say it was good, i said i liked it.’ i cannot in any way defend it as a good production — the plot is nonsensical, with more than a few heavy dollops of fanservice; the fight choreography should credit the wires used as an extra cast member; the characters aren’t exactly rife with personality or understandable motivations beyond ‘kill everyone.’ and yet i fucking loved this movie. fucking adored it. it’s ridiculous, it’s idiotic, and it is a fucking blast. it has no pretensions about what it is, which is 75 minutes of beautiful girls in color-coded fancy dresses killing people, having vaguely homoerotic encounters, and playing hands-free beach volleyball (because why not). it has a melodramatic subplot that is best left discovered by the viewer, but it, like everything else in the movie, is dialed up past 11. it’s deliciously campy, but also, if you let yourself get swept away by the nonsense, it’s also oddly sweet and affecting.

information on the movie is limited. it plays like a wuxia satire, really leaning into the overeating and the extremely dramatic moments, but i don’t know if that was the intention behind it. i know it was a box office smash in vietnam, but is almost unheard of in the west (i ordered my copy from a specialty distributor in the UK for a song), and the few people who have seen it seem more critical than anything else.

these people are stupid and wrong and have no joy in their hearts. i’m an expert and i can thus tell you that this movie, if you open your heart to it and let it take up idiotic residence, will change your life for the better. i’m not really sure what to tell people to sell them on it. either you like hot girls with swords or you don’t. either you like fun or you don’t. either you understand that a movie does not have have legitimate artistic quality to be good, or you’re a buffoon. watch the lady assassin. it’s a good time.

other viewing

stomp! shout! scream! (usa)

mean mums s2 (new zealand)

song of summer (uk)

working girls (usa)

the thirty-nine steps (uk)

the prince and the pauper (1937) (usa)

yes, madam! (hong kong)

tattoo (iran)

who framed roger rabbit (usa)

beverly of graustark (usa)

pride (2014) (uk)

quiet on set: breaking the silence (usa)

super mario bros: the search for princess peach! (japan)

rikky and pete (australia)

naz & maalik (usa)

in person (1935) (usa)

spirit of wonder: miss china’s ring (japan)

weird: the al yankovic story (usa)

lights in the dusk (finland)

sordid lives (usa)

adorables (belgium)

the wind phone (japan)

cartoon all-stars to the rescue (usa)

evil bong (usa)

super troopers* (usa)

utama (bolivia)

dredd (usa)

wings (1966) (russia)

while the city sleeps (usa)

h is for happiness (australia)

dillinger (usa)

dune (1984) (usa)

trópico (guatemala)

breath (2018) (australia)

the divine order (switzerland)

#52 weeks 52 movies #if i gotta be stuck in a room for 8+ hours a day i guess i'll bang some of these out #rereading the list it was a fucking dire month huh #btw fuck dune (1984) for complete lack of nipple window #i mean generally fuck lynch but no nipple window AND no sting dong made this movie even worse

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lubdubsworld · 4 years ago

Text

物の哀れ ( ‘the sadness of things’.)

Characters : Alpha! Jungkook x Omega ! OC.

ABO Dynamics.

Genre : Arranged Marriage / Temporary contractual Marriage.

Warnings : Non- Con/ Extremely Dubious Consent . High functioning alcoholism. Genre related consent issues. Implied suicidal thoughts.

Summary : A recently widowed Jungkook agrees to a contract marriage to keep his company afloat. His grief overwhelms him and it is hard to look at his new wife as anything other than an intruder .

[ Author’s Note : 物の哀れ ~ Mono no aware can be translated as ‘the sadness of things’. It comes from the words 物 (mono – thing) and 哀れ (aware – poignancy or pathos). The ‘sadness’ in question comes from an awareness of the transience of things, as taught by Zen Buddhism. When we view something exceptionally beautiful, we might feel sad because we know it won’t stay so beautiful forever – but appreciation only heightens the pleasure we take in the beautiful thing in that moment. ]

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

I wrapped the white wool shawl tighter around my shoulders. The night was still chilly and the and smelt faintly of impending rain. Why they would plan a party outside while it rained, was beyond me.

After my little skirmish with Jungkook, I had found Namjoon quickly only to be told that we couldn’t leave for another hour at least because there was a certain investor who wanted to meet Namjoon . The guy was running late and he had to wait for him. So here I stood, shivering lightly, all while keeping an eye on my husband as he got progressively drunk.

Namjoon’s words made me sigh a little.

“You can’t decide what someone else’s normal is, Namjoon. Especially when it comes to grief. But the drinking is an issue. And you’re right about the therapist. I know she’s doing her best but I’m not sure if she has the right answers for him. Or even the right tools to help him.”

“I’ve been searching up on therapists who specialize with alphas. There’s one in Itaewon , his name is Kim Taehyung. I really think he could help. He’s an alpha himself.”

“That sounds good. Betas may not fully understand alpha mating bonds or what it’s like when one of them dies. Taehyung may have a better understanding of what Jungkook’s going through.” I nodded, a little hopeful.

Therapy with the beta lady the hospital had recommended wasn’t really helping Jungkook the way it ought to.

Namjoon hesitated.

“Would you be willing to go with him? Taehyung insists a family member stay in the waiting room just in case...” he asked gently. I turned back to look at my husband, leaning on the mahogany countertop of the bar, fingers curled around a glass of whiskey.

“And I’m the one you want to consider for that? That’s ridiculous. Jungkook hates me.” Did I really have remind him of this salient fact?

“I’ve offered to, before. He doesn’t want me there." I sighed as Jungkook threw the drink back with ease.

“That was three months ago though. Things have changed now right?” Namjoon prodded.

I laughed, shaking my head.

“Not between us they haven’t. He’s spending more time with Mina and he isn’t throwing stuff around but he still loathes me.”

“He loathes what you represent: his own shortcomings and failures. Your father wasn’t kind in his approach and you are a reminder of all the things he can’t control.”

How fucking unfair, I thought playing with the tiny ring on my finger ( or should i say handcuff really? ), my wedding ring , the platinum band engraved with my husband’s name, a drop of his blood embossed into the metal.

An archaic tradition, that carried no meaning in modern Seoul but the idea of it was still alive and well. The idea that what we had was a blood bond, imbued in our veins now. An alpha’s connection with a beta or an alpha mate was usually quite fragile. But an alpha and omega mate bond. That was supposed to be powerful.

Unless the alpha was still phantom bonded to a dead wife , that is. It was odd thing. Mate bonds had to be mutual to work. So there was no bond between Jungkook and I . We didn’t have any feelings for each other of course. But wearing someone’s blood on yourself changed that . it forced a bond that wasn’t there. It was ancient magic and it worked on my kind. Not on his.

How fucking unfair because it wasn’t like I could control any of this either?

I grimaced. I had thought of taking the ring off

“Ouch.” I said with a smile. Namjoon waved off my self pity with an eye roll.

“You know what I mean. Even for an Alpha, Jungkook has always held on to his pride. Losing his wife and his company all in the same week probably left him feeling incredibly helpless and your father browbeat him into this whole thing. Of course he isn’t going to be eager to share heart to heart talks with you. ”

I held my hand up.

“I know all that Namjoon. I was there, remember? And I’m not blaming him for any of that. Trauma makes you do shitty things and I understand that . I also understand that if he was in his right mind he wouldn’t behave the way he does now. But that doesn’t change the fact that I can’t change his mind for him. If he doesn’t want to get help, I’m kind of helpless myself, you know?”

Namjoon reached out and squeezed my hand.

“I’m just asking you this because , he does listen to you at times. I’ve noticed it. He doesn’t outwardly agree with you but he takes your opinions into consideration. And, Heejin you live with him and you’re the one who managed to convince him to start scenting Mina. ”

And God, how exhausting that had been. I had kept at it because Mina was so young and she needed her father’s scent to grow. And while i could be persistent when necessary, I couldn’t work miracles.

“Namjoon oppa, “ I said softly, trying to explain myself without sounding like a horrible human, “ I don’t hate Jungkook. Far from it. I want him to get the help he needs and I’m here for him. If you can convince him to go see Taehyung and he’s okay with me coming along, I won’t say no. Mina needs him and there’s nothing I would like more than for him to get better. ” i smiled a little, “ But he’s still going to have to be the one to make that choice. i can’t make it for him.”

Namjoon nodded.

“ Fair enough. Well, I’ll talk to him about it. We’ll set something up. Thank you for not refusing Heejinah. I know it can’t be easy for you either.

I opened my mouth to respond but out of the corner of my eyes I caught a glimpse of someone, staring intently right at me.

I turned sharply, eyes locking with those of Kim Yugyeom and I stiffened, stepping closer to Namjoon on instinct. Yugyeom smirked, winking at me.

I shuddered in disgust.

Creep.

Namjoon followed my line of vision and swore.

“This motherfucker.” He made to move towards him. and I grabbed his arm, fingers digging into his forearm. The last thing i wanted to witness was an alpha alpha showdown in the middle of a party with me in the middle.

“Please, no. Don’t make a scene. It’s what he wants.”

“Jungkook has the shittiest friends on the planet.” Namjoon shook his head and I couldn’t agree more.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mina’s appointment with the doctor went about as expected. She was right on time with her milestones and I sat in the waiting office for a mere twenty minutes before being called in. The doctor, an alpha named Min Yoongi gave me a small smile of recognition before flipping through the pages of her file.

“ Jungkook didn’t come along?” He asked casually, grabbing a pen and making a note of her weight and length before plotting it on the small graph. She was a little on the smaller side but she was growing well.

“He’s busy...” i said with a shrug, “ So I still keep giving her the polyvisol supplements?”

Yoongi nodded, “ The nurse will fill in the prescription for you. Are you sure he’s busy? He called me last night and told me he wanted to come see me?”

I blinked.

“He did ? “ I couldn’t quite process this.

“He wanted to talk about how she’s doing and I told him he could come in for her appointment today.”

I imagined a world where Jungkook actually spoke to me, instead of forcing me to navigate stormy waters on rotten plywood. Nine more months, i told myself firmly, already digging for my phone. Nine more months and I would be out of this living hell I’d gotten trapped in.

“Can I try calling him? He’s probably forgotten. I think he might regret missing out.” I begged and Yoongi gave me a small smile, waving me off.

“Of course you can Heejin-ah and tell him that if he wants I can drop by at the office and talk to him as well.”

I nodded quickly , moving out to the waiting area while the nurses held Mina, soothing her before getting her ready for her shots. I tried calling him and not surprisingly he didn’t pick up. I called his office next and Jungkook’s secretary picked up the phone .

The woman hated me.

“He’s busy.” She said curtly.” He’s specifically asked me not to bother him with stuff that isn’t important.”

Her whiny voice grated on my ears and i bit my lips to keep the irritation in.

“Since when does his daughter make that list, Ms Lee?” I said calmly and she hesitated.

“He’s in a meeting right now and-”

“I’m in the hospital with his daughter. I hope you’re willing to take the heat when he finds out that you wouldn’t let me get through to him. “ I said casually.

It was a twisted version of the truth for sure. Meant to imply that Mina was hurt in some way. But I couldn’t bring myself to regret it much. I had enough on my plate without dealing with twenty year old secretaries who fancied themselves in love with their hot boss.

“I... just a moment, Mrs. Jeon.”

I loathed the name. It wasn’t mine. It was hers and I felt like a thief every time someone addressed me that way.

After two minutes, Jungkook’s familiarly low and perpetually exhausted voice came out ,

“Hello? Heejin?” He sounded listless and his voice just a little slurred and i groaned.

“Please tell me you aren’t drunk.” I whispered.

“I’m not. “ He said shortly. “ What’s wrong? What happened? Is Mina alright? ”

“Did you tell Yoongi that you were going to meet him today?”

He was quiet for a second.

“i’ll talk to him.”

He hung up and I stared at the phone. I realized that I shouldn’t have called him in the first place. Should have asked Yoongi to call him himself. What was wrong with me? Even a few syllables exchanged with Jungkook felt like staring into an abyss .

I moved back to the clinic , just as Mina plaintive wail filled the room. The shots were done. It took us another thirty five minutes to finish filling her prescriptions and for Yoongi to finish examining her. She was already dozing off and I wasn’t supposed to feed her for another thirty minutes so perhaps the nap would do her good. I had just finished settling her into her Bjorn carrier when Jungkook’s voice came from the entryway.

“Is this the way to Dr. Min’s office?”

I glanced back to watch him . He looked ridiculously handsome in a three piece suit, jacket thrown over his arm and hair lightly damp from the misty drizzle outside. I saw the secretary’s mouth actually drop open and stay agape as she tried to process his questions. i could see the way his beauty had rendered her entirely witless and as someone who had experienced it first hand , i could sympathize,

But Jungkook was beginning to look annoyed from the lack of response and i decided to give the poor girl a break.

“He’s waiting for you.” I called out and Jungkook startled. He glanced up at me and for some reason he looked surprised. He always looked surprised when he saw me. As if i was just some monster out of his worst nightmares turning up in odd places . As if he couldn’t quite believe that i did exist in his life now. Unwelcome but impossible to avoid.

“You’re here.” He said blankly.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

“Yes, i am. I’ve been here for three months now. “ i said shortly, before i could stop myself, “ Mina’s fine. She just had her shots. I’m going to drive home and put her down for a nap. Do you want me to come with you ?” I pointed at the clinic.

He hesitated before shaking his head.

It was all according to script then. Jungkook would never include me in a single thing. Even if i was smack damn in the middle of the room with nowhere else to go.

“Alright. i’ll see you after work.”

“We’ll have guests for dinner today. ” He said suddenly.

I stared at him, confused.

“For dinner??”

“ Sooah’s parents.”

Oh, God.

Wary of the extra nurses suddenly filling the room, the little whispers and the curious glances, i kept my smile even.

“Of course. ” I bowed a little before turning on my heel and walking away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sooah’s parents were, for lack of a better word, selfish .

They had lost a daughter, so of course i could understand with their need to keep their daughter’s memory alive. But the way they chose to do it was unhealthy and borderline vindictive.

" She’s growing well.” Mrs. Kim had the same statuesque figure as her model daughter and she held her grandchild with a slightly unsure grip and Mina felt the uncertainty in her grip, breaking out into cries at once. I stayed still, my throat dry from disuse. I hadn’t said a word since they came in.

We were seated at the table, dinner was done.

Jungkook sat next to me, staring straight ahead while his father in law tried to engage him in conversation.

With Jungkook, the grief came in waves. Some days, the waves were small and gentle, like the ones that lapped at your feet on the shore of a tranquil lake. on those days e went about his day as usual, spoke to his friends and signed deals. And somedays they were big, behemoths carrying guilt and accusation, crashing over his head with a vengeance.

On those days , he looked like he’d been run over by a two ton truck.

Today was just one of those days and i could sense it.

The man was going on an on about some charity that Sooah had been involved in as a young girl... Could Jungkook make a contribution in her name?. Could Jungkook pay for a concert of her favorite singer in her hometown..? Could Jungkook possibly consider contributing to opening a foundation in her name?

I could feel the urge to scream, grow by the minute.

Each syllable that spilled out of her father’s mouth was aggravating, the sentences began and ended with her name, over and over over again and It felt terribly like she was standing right next to me, ice cold and dead but real and relentless at the same time. He spoke of her like she was still alive and i couldn’t fathom how that was healthy. How that was going to help Jungkook move on.

If anything it made it harder for him to move on.

And in a moment of chilling clarity, i realized that this is what they wanted.

They didn’t want Jungkook to move on from her. They wanted him to be consumed by her. In the wake of that realization , i felt anger surge.

There was just enough hurt and heartbreak and pain and grief in this room without these idiots adding to it.

“Jungkook is tired tonight, uncle.. Perhaps we can discuss this later.” I said finally, unable to bear it any more.

The man gave me a glare.

“I wasn’t talking to you girl.” He said sharply. I frowned.

“We’re trying to help Jungkook. “ The woman said sharply. “ Unlike you and your father we do not prey on the weak. “

Jungkook shifted at the phrase and I glared at her.

“He isn’t weak. “ I snapped, resisting the urge to add on a you bitch , “He’s grieving . And what he needs is space to process his grief. Not you people trying to shove your daughter into his throat with every sentence. “

“Don’t you dare talk about our daughter!” Mrs. Kim snarled and i felt a headache come on.

“I thought that was why you were here? To talk about her? Or should I say use her as an excuse to get money out of him?? What you’re doing is unfair and awful!! . Jungkook isn’t ready to talk about this and one look at his face should tell you that, if you even bothered looking at anything except his wallet.” I shouted.

“Heejin, that’s enough.” Jungkook said hoarsely and i bit my lips.

Of course he wasn’t going to support me even if we were on the same side. Defending him, protecting him was exhausting and it was such a thankless job. i wanted it to end.

“I think we should call this a night. please, just leave” I said sharply, standing up and reaching for Mina. She glared at me but handed the baby over.

“You don’t get to make that decision. My son in law is who I’m here to see. You’re just the parasite that’s attached herself to him. You sit there in my daughter’s place and you dare disrespect me this way. ” The woman snapped.

“Its still my house. “ I gritted out. “ I’m married to Jungkook whether you like it or not and so i have the right to ask you to get out of my house.”

“Heejin, stop.” Jungkook’s voice only made me angrier. He sounded drained and empty and still these leeches wanted to suck him dry. And he was too blind to see it.

“I’m done with this” I stood up moving to the small pack and play that sat in the corner of the living room. i placed Mina in and watcher her eyes flutter shut gently.

i turned back to stare at Mrs. Kim.

“i want the pair of you to leave. Get out before I call security.”

She gaped at me.

“you had a wedding... that doesn’t make it a fucking marriage. “ she sneered. “ Its probably not even legal until you consummate it. So go ahead, call the cops right now. You think i wouldn’t take you to court. ??!! ”

She was spouting absolute nonsense, probably driven by her own grief but i wasn’t feeling particularly charitable tonight.

“Why don’t you ask your son in law that? Ask him if the marriage was consummated or not...” I smirked.

She faltered, eyes wide and disbelieving.

“No. You’re lying ...he wouldn’t.” She turned to Jungkook who looked at me with fury in his eyes.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He said sharply and I scoffed.

“With me? What the fuck is wrong with me? What the fuck is wrong with these idiots that they think they can come here and ask you to sign a fucking cheque when you’re still out here grieving for their daughter?!”

“You don’t know shit about them or her...”

“I don’t have to. I don’t have to and i don’t care to either. All I know is that i married you and you’re my husband and whether you meant those vows or not, i did. I swore in front of my God and my family and I’m going to keep those promises. I’m going to protect you because I love your daughter . I’m going to protect you because you need to fucking live to be able to care for her. “

i turned to stare at his in-laws. They were staring at me, some of the fire dying out and in the span of a few minutes they somehow looked older .

“You don’t deserve to be here.” Mr. Kim said finally, voice cracking and i exhaled.

“And yet, here I am. And I’m not leaving. you are.” I said calmly.

They stared at me for one more second before standing up and moving out of the dining space and into the hallways leading out.

“We’ll call you later Jungkook-ah...” The man said before walking out of the door and slamming it shut behind him.

The silence between us grew heavier as the seconds ticked.

“We can’t decide how people grieve.” Jungkook said softly.

I stared at him in disbelief.

“You’re telling me that , Jungkook? Or did you forget all the times I indulged you when the only way you could grieve was apparently by forcing yourself on me.” i snapped.

His eyes widened , just a fraction before going blank again.

He took a deep breath and went on.

“They lost their daughter and they’re hurting. We can’t tell them they aren’t allowed to honor her memory...They’re clearly in pain...”

“Not more than you!” i snapped. “ You’re the one in pain here Jungkook. Your pain is so much more than theirs ..... Or may be it isn’t i don’t know.. But i do know that I can’t sit here and watch them bleed all over you when you’re cut just as deep as them.”

“You don’t know shit about e!” He roared. “ Don’t you fucking dare talk about my grief like you can understand it...like you actually know what its like to lose the woman who had your fucking heart, because if you did you wouldn’t have agreed to this fucking marriage...you wouldn’t be here in this room with me, intruding on my grief and my pain... “

The sound of his voice made my entire body freeze in fear. I stayed perfectly still, jumping when he crossed the distance between us and grabbed my face, fingers curling around my jaw.

“ You want to know how i wanted to grieve? I wanted to grieve in solitude!!! I wanted to grieve without some fucking stranger hovering over my shoulder like a fucking plague!”

I exhaled shakily, fingers trembling as i reached up to hold his wrist, my entire jaw throbbing with how hard his grip was.

“It’s the price you pay for getting your company back. Jeon Jungkook. “ I choked out.” Or did you forget that marrying me is the reason you aren’t homeless on the streets “

He laughed a little yanking me closer and wrapping an arm around my waist.

“You’ve learned to talk back these days...” He muttered , “ I think I preferred the girl who hid in the nursery for the first three weeks of our wedding.”

“I wasn’t hiding . I was avoiding you. Because your misery was contagious and i didn’t want any of it on me.” I snapped and his hold on my waist tightened.

“Are you trying to make me angry? ” He snapped, fingers curling on my waist and I swallowed the whimper of pain that threatened.

“Maybe i am... Maybe anything is better than watching you walk around this house like a corpse. You’re alive so I don’t see why you act like you died with her.”

He growled at that, eyes blazing as he stepped back enough to stare into my face.

“You’re right... I didn’t die with her. Although i wanted to...Maybe if i wasn’t such a fucking coward, i would have gone through with it. .” He laughed and I felt my heart go ice cold at the very thought of it.

“You didn’t die... So why don’t you get some help. There’s no shame in getting help... Taehyung...”

“I don’t need help. i need to be alone.” He snarled. “ I need to be allowed to cry and mourn my wife the way I want to but you and your father made sure that i couldn’t.”

I sighed, looking away in defeat.

“Fucking look at me!” He snarled, hands grabbing both my arms and yanking me forward. “ Why won’t you look at me huh? is the guilt finally catching up?”

“No. No guilt. Just loathing and resentment.” I snapped back and he laughed again.

“Well too bad. Because you know what? You’re right. I paid for my company with my right to grieve and you...you paid for my name with your right to say no . “

I swallowed as he yanked me away from the table, dragging me to the couch in the side.

“ I never refused you a thing.” I choked out, breathing ragged as he shoved me into the soft leather surface, crawling on top of me at once. “ I only said no when you were drunk out of your mind. When you thought it was okay to fuck me and call me by her name.”

He made swift work of the buttons of my blouse and I stayed still, arms lying by my side.

“ Are you telling me you want this ? You expect me to believe you want my hands on your body?” He sneered, fingers moving up to grip my hair. “You don’t want this and you don’t want me....Just like i don’t want you either. i’ll never want you. ”

“You don’t want me.??.. You have a funny way of showing it..” I scoffed , staring right into his eyes rolling my hips up into his , greeted by the hard press of his length against my thigh. “ And to be honest i don’t give a damn if you’re still in love with her , all I want is my name on your lips if you want to get off with me. Because I’m not just a toy you can use to replace your dead wife. I have a name and you should remember it. "

He growled again, fingers squeezing hard against the back of my head till my scalp felt like it was on fire.

“I hate you. “ He said clearly. “ I hate you and everything you’ve done to me.”

“Everything I’ve done to you? Oh you mean save your life? Taek care of your baby girl like she was my own? Give you the chance to rebuild your entire career.? Turn you into multi millionaire again? Good. Hate me. The feelings mutual. “ I snapped. “Now if you hate me so much why are you still here? Get off me.”

“I’m not going anywhere, wife.” He sneered. “ Because like you said, I’ve paid for this.” He drawled, reaching down and squeezing between my legs. “And I’d be a pretty bad businessman if i don’t collect from my investments.”

Before I could retort, he pulled back, just enough to grab me by the waist and flip me over on my front. I flinched when he grabbed my arms, yanking them back and trapping my wrists together in his fist at the base of my spine. My cheeks pressed into the leather couch, sticky and uncomfortable.

i heard the sound of his zipper, the clink of his belt buckle.

Coward.

I shivered when he pushed my skirt up.

“Don’t enjoy this too much, yeah?” I snapped, “ You hate me remember?”

“Easy enough to forget its you when I don’t have to look at you.” he retorted.

He slipped one arm under my waist, lifting me up just enough for him to yank my panties down.

“Just remember , you don’t get to blame the alcohol for this .” I sneered. “ You’re sober and clear headed and you’re hard for me. “

Somehow that seemed to bother him.

He stopped .

I could feel the hesitation in his limbs.

It made me laugh.

“You know Jungkook, i took you for lot of things but a coward wasn’t one of them.”

“What the fuck does that mean huh? I should put you in your fucking place for how insolent you are with me... ” he pressed down on me and i gasped when I felt his chest pressing into my back, his face inches from my own. I flinched when he sank his teeth into the mating mark on my neck.

“it means that if you’re going to do this, if you’re going to talk big about putting me in my place like the big bad alpha that you are, at least own up to the fact that you’re attracted to me. ”

“ You forget your fucking place, omega.” he hissed, voice sharp and furious against my ear. “ Another word out of that mouth and i won’t be responsible for what i do.” I gritted my teeth when he curled his fingers around the inside of my thigh, parting my legs and settling in between.

He pushed into me in one strong thrust and my eyes flew open in shock.

“Fuck.... why are you so fucking tight...” He groaned and my shoulders began to throb as he fucked into me, setting a punishing speed that left both of us panting . We were too fucking would up for it to last any longer than a few minutes and yet, i could feel pleasure swell inside me, wetness seeping out of me and onto the leather couch beneath us.

I wondered just how fucked up this whole thing was. Just how much damage were we doing to each other?? But it was hard to care too much about it, because even if though it was a terrible way to talk things out at least he had talked. It was nothing new....nothing earth shatteringly enlightening but he had said it all out loud and that made a difference.

“You think you can come into my life and dictate how i fucking live.” He grunted against my ear, fingers tightening on my hair. “ it pisses me off.”

“Everyone dies, Jungkook. People die and they leave loved ones behind but Life goes on. It has to go on. You can’t just pause life to grieve. Mina needs you.” I felt my eyes begin to sting with tears, the adrenaline from the argument fading and my body threatening to go limp as he drove into me at the same punishing pace.

He didn’t respond, fingers closing around my throat and squeezing lightly instead.

“Save your platitudes before i decide that the warmth of your body isn’t worth the grate of your voice on my ear.” He snapped and I whimpered when he stilled, spilling into me.

He stayed pressed up against me. breathing harshly against my ear and i waited till both our breaths evened out.

“It’s not selfish to move on Jungkook. You aren’t insulting your wife’s memory by wanting to move on. “ I said softly. ” Someday your heart and mind will agree with me. Whether you like it or not. That’s just how pain works, Jungkook. One day it’ll pack itself up and walk out of your heart in the middle of the night. You just have to hold on till then.”

He didn’t reply, merely drawing himself up and off me.

Once i heard the door to his bedroom slam shut i dragged myself up , thighs shaking and sticky. I grimaced at the mess on the couch. I stared at the packet of baby wipes on the table nearby and shuddered. That just felt wrong.

I’d just have to go grab a washcloth from the bathroom.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On that weekend, we had another dinner to attend, this time with a few investors from out of the country or so Namjoon told me.

Although we didn’t talk about what happened and he didn’t try to touch me again, things were subtly different.

Something had changed in the way Jungkook behaved with me. There was a little less of the usual zombie like indifference and he actually seemed to be avoiding alcohol actively. It was a welcome change. But to make up for it, Mina went into a growth spurt. Which meant ten minute naps every hours or so with wailing sobs in between.

i was exhausted.

So much so that Jungkook told me that he didn’t want to pick Mina up from Seokjin’s place till the next day.

It was a little past one in the morning when I finally trudged into the apartment. Jungkook wasn’t black out drunk but he was definitely a little loose limbed, eyes just a shade more glassy than usual.

“Tonight went well. I’m thinking the guy from Macau is definitely going to consider investing.” He muttered, gripping the door frame and taking off his shoes.

I toed my own heels off, feeling upset and bereft.

“Why would you tell Jin oppa that we’ll get Mina in the morning? She’s not used to being away the whole night.” I complained, feeling jittery and nervous because the house felt so empty and strange .

I didn’t like the idea of being alone with Jungkook without the buffer of his daughter between us. The house felt foreign, the walls seemingly closer together , the space to cramped.

Jungkook dropped his keys in the bowl and tugged on his tie, watching me carefully.

“It’s too late and Jin hyung said she was already asleep. He’ll drop her off in the morning. Just relax. Would you like a drink?”

I stared at him.

What now?

He looked nervous and a tad worried.

Swallowing , I shook my head, turning on my heel.

“I’m going to bed.” I was almost at the door to the nursery when he grabbed my arm, seemingly moving faster than I could breathe.

“Wait, Heejin… “ He stopped, worrying his lip between his teeth before sighing, “I… I need to say something..” He finished and I exhaled sharply.

I tugged on my arm but he wouldn’t let go.

“Jungkook , let me go.” I said sharply. “ I’m not in the mood tonight . You aren’t drunk now and I’m running out of reasons to excuse your actions.”

His hold on my arm relaxed but he didn’t let go.

“Namjoon hyung told me about that new therapist.... Kim Taehyung?? . I don’t think it’s a good idea.” He said roughly.

I sighed, defeated. It was expected and yet it stung. I wondered if perhaps I was just beating a dead horse at this point. But Mina deserved to have a father who loved her with all his heart and Jungkook’s heart was so filled with grief it had no place for his daughter. If there was any chance I could help change that, I would take it.

I tugged my arm away again and this time he let go.

I tried to smile encouragingly. it was hard because i was all out of comfort, my own exhaustion too overwhelming at the moment.

So I took a deep breath and reached out to lightly touch his arm.

“Listen, no one’s asking you to make a decision tonight, Jungkook.” I tried to smile a bit more widely but it probably came out as a grimace, “ Just sleep on it and think about why you think it isn’t a good idea. Taehyung’s an alpha and he may understand you better. Think about it and you can let Namjoon know later.”

He didn’t reply, merely staring at me till I began to feel a little hot around the collar.

“Well, Good night then.” I made to turn away but he grabbed me again, this time by my wrist.

“Wait.”

Patience wearing just a little thin, I stared at him, waiting as he requested.

“I’m sorry about what I said that night. At the party last week. About you not being her mother. I shouldn’t have said that.”

It was the first time he had apologized for anything.

It took me a second to even remember what he was talking about.

“Alright. I’m not mad. And I understand why you said it. Its fine. And you’re right. I’m not her mother and I should be more careful. ”

He nodded and then stepped back.

“ I’m sorry. For a lot of things. ” He bowed awkwardly and I could only stare at him, shaking my head. The apologies were somehow both welcome and abhorrent to me.

They were the kind of apology you would offer a stranger. And that made them insincere because I wasn’t a stranger. I’d been through too much these past few months, to be treated that way.

For now I could only accept them at face value.

“ Its alright. Just go to bed Jungkook. And listen to Namjoon oppa . I know you don’t trust me but you should trust him. He only wants what’s best for you. ”

I sounded twenty years older than I actually was and grimaced.

"There’s one more thing. Can I... I need... “ He stopped and stared at the floor.

I felt a huge sense of foreboding rise up at that.

“Are you going to pull the i paid for your body card? “ I said bitterly. “ You made it very clear that i can’t say no. I don’t see why you’re bothering to-”

“You can say no.” He said softly. “ You can say no.”

And then he looked up at with limpid doe eyes, shining with all the stars in the galaxy and I wanted to sob at the unfairness of it all.

“ And if I say no, where will you go? To a brothel? you’ll come back smelling like another beta or omega and you can’t come near your daughter till it fades. Which is what? A week? “

Jungkook didn’t say anything and I felt helpless.

“Is that why you sent her away tonight?” I demanded and he looked genuinely surprised.

“What? No. Of course not . i just...You looked exhausted. I thought you’d like a night off. And just... I don’t want to have sex. Can you just sleep with me. I just... I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

“What’s so special about tonight?” i rolled my eyes already moving to his bedroom instead of the nursery.

He stared at me for a few seconds, eyes empty in the dark of the hallway.

I waited a whole minute before sighing. This was excruciating and my heels hurt from wearing heels all evening. i wanted to curl into the air mattress on the floor of the nursery , possibly lie sleepless till dawn and then drive down to pick Mina up from Jin’s place.

“Jungkook , let’s just go to bed and forget-”

“Its her birthday.”

I barely heard him, his lips barely moved and his voice was so low.

I stared at him. Not sure if I’d misheard.

“What?”

“Its her birthday. “ He repeated.

“You can say her name.” i said calmly. “ You’re not betraying her by saying her name out loud in front of me.”

He went a little stiff at that and i wanted to kick myself for the remark. What a hypocrite I was. I’d reprimanded Namjoon for trying to dictate Jungkook’s grief and here I was , doing the exact same thing.

“I’m sorry. God, Jungkook... I’m sorry. i shouldn’t have said that. i didn’t know. Why didn’t you tell me.. I... of course you don’t have to be alone. Should i call Namjoon oppa? Or Jimin?” I asked gently.

“It’s Sooah’s birthday.” He was still staring at the floor, apparently he hadn’t heard a word I’d said.

I had a sudden flash of memory, remembering that Jungkook used to sing. He had sung at his wedding seven years ago. Serenaded his wife as she walked down the aisle. I had been young then but i remembered thinking how evident his love was in every syllable sung .

Something i could hear even now, in the way he said her name.

“Okay. What would you like to do? I... I can make seaweed soup.” I said softly. “ We can go see her if you like?”

He stared at me.

“I want to go alone.” He said finally.

I hesitated.

“I’ll drive you. i’ll stay in the car. You can’t drive.” I reminded him.

Jungkook’s driver’s license had been suspended after one too many traffic violations. I drove him around often .

He didn’t reply, staring out of the huge bay windows and i sighed.

“Alright... Why don’t you go change into something more comfortable yeah? i’ll get the soup going and we, “ i bit my lips, “ , I’m sorry, And you can go see her. “ I smiled, before moving to the kitchen and grabbing the dried seaweed. I soaked it in cold water, before getting the beef, garlic, soy sauce, salt and pepper and the sesame oil from the cupboards.

Ten minutes later, the soup was boiling away and I peered out at the door leading to his bedroom. I was still wearing the cocktail gown and my head was beginning to throb. I oved to the nursery and stripped quickly, slipping on my white t shirt and a pair of pink corduroy shorts.

I would be in the car anyway. By the time i finished taking off all my make up, the soup was done and Jungkook was slumped over the counter. He looked drained, more so than usual . In fact he looked notably worse than how he was ten minutes ago.

Torn between the urge to draw him into my arms and the helpless knowledge that he would absolutely hate me touching him , i merely hovered near the stove, pouring the stove into a small airtight container.

On a whim I moved to the cupboard in the corner that housed all the crockery and threw it open.

“What was her favorite bowl?” I said casually, staring at him.

He blinked, staring at me like i was speaking a foreign tongue.

“Her favorite bowl , Jungkook The one she always drank or ate from?”

He swallowed but leaned his palms down on the granite countertop, levering himself off the tall stool of the kitchen island and making his way over to me. I stepped back, giving him space to peer into the depths of the black marble shelves.

He finally stuck a hand in and drew out a pale yellow and mauve bowl , a little worn but intact.

He held it carefully, running his fingers gently over the bowl, savoring the surface his wife had once caressed with her own fingers. I watched as his lips curved, a pale pale imitation of a smile but a smile nonetheless and I felt my breath catch in my throat.

This was probably the first time he’d smiled in the three months i’d known him.

My heart began to pound, a steady staccato that began rising in volume and i willed myself to stay calm.

“I..uh.. I can wash it for you.” I said softly .

The smile disappeared as quickly as it had come and he stared at my outstretched hand like it was a snake .

Face almost eerily blank he cleared his throat.

“I’ll do it.”

i watched as he moved to wash the bowl under the spray from the faucet and finished clearing up the kitchen. i grabbed a small bag to keep the sea wood soup in and held the bag open when Jungkook finished washing the bowls. He grabbed a fresh kitchen towel and carefully wiped down the moisture before wrapping the bowl in the towel and keeping it inside the bag, carefully.

I smiled and zipped the bag shut.

“Lets go shall we?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I sat waiting in the car, staring out into the darkness of the parking lot, while the rain poured torrents outside the glass windows of the car. I felt unaccountably alone, like I was the only human being left on the planet.

It had been a little past an hour since Jungkook had disappeared into the building that held his wife’s ashes. I wasn’t sure if i should give him a call. Had he fallen asleep in there.

I told myself I would wait another hour and if he didn’t come out, I would go check on him.

I dozed lightly against the window, exhaustion beginning to creep in. I wanted to sob at how tired i was. I could have gotten a full nights sleep, something i hadn’t had since the day I took Mina into my arms.

But then, i remembered the tiny smile that had sprung up on his face and i grinned despite myself. That was progress wasn’t it? It definitely was. I was sure that if only Jungkook could be convinced to go meet Taehyung , the alpha therapist, things could get so much better for him. I wanted to have him at least halfway to being ..... capable of handling his own daughter, before i left him. if not the worry alone would eat me alive.

I was just getting ready to perhaps climb over the console and nap in the backseat when my phone rang.

I glanced at the dashboard, frowning. it was two thirty in the morning.

Who?

I grabbed my phone from the bag and my heart leapt to my throat.

“Jin? What’s wrong? What happened to her?” I could feel my heart threatening to give out, any number of terrible possibilities running through my head in a vicious loop.

“nothing happened, Heejin , take a deep breath... She’s just running a fever. it was quite low earlier but its hitting 101 now and I’m getting a little worried. I’ve given her cold baths and kept a wet towel on her but it doesn’t seem to be coming down.”

“We’ll be there in ten minutes! “ i said quickly.

“I’m sorry, Heejinah, i don’t have any experience with babies and-”

“it’s alright...thank you for calling me oppa!” i hung up , already fumbling with the door and stepping out into the rain. i was soaked through in three second flat. What a day to wear a white t shirt.

I ran quickly, stumbling a little on the gravel pathway and hoping to God i was going the right way. I ran into the foyer, the poor security guard falling asleep over his desk glancing up at me in sympathy.

“there was a man here earlier?”

“Second floor third room.” He said casually.

I nodded, already rushing for the steps. I climbed the four flights of stair in two minutes, my heart threatening to give out. I found Jungkook in the room , kneeling on the floor and he looked at me in shock that swiftly turned to anger.

“Jungkook-” i gasped because the run up had robbed me of my breath.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He moved so quickly I could barely blink before he was right up in front of me.

“Jungkook, I... We need...” I tried to draw a breath in but before I could form the words he grabbed my arm, so hard that I whimpered in pain.

“I told you i wanted to be alone, what the fuck is your fucking problem?!” He snarled.

“Jungkook-” Before i could finish, he yanked me just a bit closer to him before shoving me out of the room with his wife’s portraits and the small ornate vase that held her ashes.

it wasn’t that hard.

He didn’t push me in a very brutal way.

In fact it was probably with lesser force than what anyone slamming a door would use.

But,

Jungkook was six feet two. He weighed a 170 pounds.

I was a hundred pounds wet and barely came up to his shoulders.

And it was just my luck that the wall opposite to the door had a large concrete and granite horse figurine placed right in front of it.

I crashed into the torso of the equine, my bones rattling inside me and I whimpered when my wrist made contact with the hard surface, bending a bit out of place.

I slid to the floor in a wet lump, trying to catch my breath and process what had just happened.

Jungkook stood frozen by the door horrified as he stared at his hands, as thought he couldn’t quite fathom what he had just done.

A sharp burning pain began in my sides and I gasped out.

“Oh, fuck.” I swore.

Jungkook moved to help me up but i was already crawling away from him, scrambling to my feet, ignoring the ache in my side.

“I’m sorry.” I said softly, holding both my hands up. “ It’s Mina...she’s running a fever. We need to go get her.”

“Heejin-ah, I’m...”

One more apology and i would officially lose it, i thought slightly hysterically.

“its my fault.” I said sharply, “ I should have probably tried calling you from the car instead of barging in like this but Jin called and i got worried...I wasn’t thinking straight so I’m sorry about that... I think we should go get her as soon as we can.”

“Did i hurt you?” He demanded , reaching out for me again and I nearly fell again trying to move away from his touch.

“No.. No I’m fine.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Are you sure, we don’t have to go the doctor.? “ He asked nervously, watching me carefully wipe down her body with the slightly damp wet cloth. I nodded, carefully squeezing the water out before dipping the towel in water again.

“She’ll be fine. Her fever’s come down and with babies this young, its safer to care for them at home than to take them to a hospital.” I said casually,

“I wasn’t talking about her.” He said stiltedly.

I blinked, staring up at him in surprise.

“What?”

“I think we should go to the doctor. You fell hard. ”

“Jungkook what are you even on about?” I said crossly, steadfastly ignoring the pain in my sides. It was sharp and unbearable with every breath I took in but I was too terrified to go to the hospital and have them tell me I’d cracked my rib or something.

Partly because that would be so inconvenient.

Partly because Jungkook would probably go back to being a guilt ridden shadow of himself if that happened.

“I’m going to call Yoongi hyung.”

Before I could protests some more he was already on his feet, moving to the living room.

Yoongi arrived thirty minutes later , annoyed and sleepy, dressed in a soft white t shirt and stone wash jeans.

“It’s four thirty in the morning , she better be dying Jungkook..” He rasped out near the front door and i flinched at the murderous tone to his voice.

Suddenly , i hoped desperately that my ribs had cracked.

Yoongi stepped in , staring at me . He took in the mess of quilts i sat on and sighed.

“Come here and take your shirt off.” He said gruffly.

I blinked, feeling blood rush to my face. Was he always this handsome? Hating the very unwelcome flutter of nerves, I moved to stand in front of him, grabbing the hem of my t shirt .

But the movement jolted my rib and pain sharp and lancing shot through my side. I yelped and dropped my hand again breathing harshly which only seemed to make things worse.

I swallowed and Yoongi blinked, reaching out to gently grip my elbows.

“Hey...relax ... “ He said gently.

I felt the press of a warm chest at my back.

“Let me help hyung.” Jungkook’s voice rumbled through my body, his chin brushing the top of my head and he bent over me from the back, fingers gripping the hem of my shirt and carefully lifting it up to just above the curve of my breasts.

Yoongi was staring at Jungkook over my shoulders expression unreadable.

“So you do know how to act after all.” He commented drily and I heard Jungkook inhale sharply behind me.

“Hyung...” He said sharply, and Yoongi merely rolled his eyes.

“How did this happen?” He ran slender fingers all over my skin, feeling each dent and dip carefully.

“I ..uh.. I sort of fell into a statue? It was made of concrete and quite heavy.”

His face shifted into a frown.

“Jungkook , tell me you didn’t push her.” He said sharply and I jumped a bit.

“No...he didn’t.” i said sharply and Yoongi ignored me , staring right at the alpha behind me.

“I didn’t mean to.” He said finally.

“You broke her rib, kid.”

I groaned in defeat. Behind me Jungkook stiffened.

“It was an accident.” I said sharply and Yoongi gave me an unimpressed look.

“If i had a won for every wife that told me that.”

“It was my fault and-” I shut my mouth. I did sound like the poster child for abused wife in denial.

“Relax... I’m not going to send your handsome husband to prison.” He chuckled. “ This time.” He added, giving Jungkook another glare.

“It won’t happen again. ever. “ Jungkook’s voice shook a little.

I sighed, already imagining the self flagellation that was probably going on inside the alpha’s head.

Yoongi’s voice drew me out of my head.

“Its not a break. It looks like a crack which is easier to heal. But i still want you to come in tomorrow. We’ll get it x rayed. Its going to take a couple of months to heal.”

I gaped.

“Months?”

“As long as you take it easy you’ll be fine. Now where’s the little one?”

Yoongi dropped off a small bottle of pediatric paracetamol and told me to keep an eye on her temperature before bidding us goodbye.

Once the door closed behind him, Jungkook turned to me , eyes wide and lips parted.

“If you apologize , I’m going to throw this at your face.” i said calmly, fingers closing over the neck of the ceramic vase on the table.

Jungkook blinked.

“I’m sorry. “ He said nonetheless and I sighed, pulling my hands away.

How fitting. Neither of us could act out of character.

Jungkook couldn’t stop blaming himself for everything under the sun.

I just couldn’t bring myself to hurt him in any way.

“Just go to bed , Jungkook. I’ll be fine.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s Note : As always the pain is here and probably going to get worse. But Jungkook seems to be turning mildly human so let’s see if he can keep that up. Also handsome pediatric doctor Yoongi as second lead because i like to torture myself.

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miserabull · 4 years ago

Text

A very long meta-analysis on P2 Bad Grief

So, I've gone over every dialogue with this guy a few times, and there is some stuff I've never seen addressed before. This is a mix of analyzing and theory that have been in my head for a while, and I’d love to know if it all also makes sense to other people

The thing about Classic and P2 Grief, is that they are very different characters playing the same role. Who is Bad Grief? A thief, a kingpin of the town's criminal underbelly, and a smuggler working for Big Vlad. In P1, he's also a dangerous murderer who kills people for fun, but denies it, even claims that he kicks people out of his gang for daring to take up knives. Dude lies a lot. In fact, he maintains the lie up until the last route, the Changeling's, and then tries that on her too but ends up confessing. This is my very wordy way of saying that while I kinda agree with people who are like "he's not a violent murderer like P1 Grief", P1 Grief also claimed to not be one up to the last minute. I don't think they are making him a sadistic killer this time, yeah, but I'm pretty sure he's a liar, and that there's a darker secret. The game implies Grief keeps his cards close to his chest and there is more to him several times, like here, when you talk with Lara's reflection

Lara's Reflection: You see, she puts her stock in deeds and not in words. So Stakh was always close to her; for he would hear his heart, and act. A trait you share, Burakh.

Haruspex: And the most taciturn of us all, Bad Grief.

Lara's Reflection: He speaks so much yet does so much more.

or when Artemy confronts him at Aspity's Hospice:

Bad Grief: You heard about Rubin? Know why the Kin wants him dead? He's walkin' around all downcast, doesn't sleep. Says not to ask. Says it's safer like that. What's he done, I wonder? I wanted to ask Sahba, but maybe you know?

Haruspex: You're lying. That's not what you wanted to ask. I can tell.

Bad Grief: If I did lie, I wouldn't tell you the truth now anyway, would I? So back off.

I'm not gonna go over the blowing-the-train tracks quest now, though I have some thoughts on it/what I think might be his plan there. For now it suffices to say that that whole thing is very odd, that his plan doesn't make sense(yeah, blowing up the tracks is a bad idea for his business. kinda meaningless though if the alternative is being hanged). That is to say, I'm pretty sure there's a hidden agenda there that we're probably only finding out in Changeling route.

So, what I mean is, if you think P2 Grief is harmless, or just a clown, or became a gang leader by accident, then, well. I think honey, you got a big storm comin'

A few more notes on Grief's character, and what I think of what we got so far:

-I believe the reflection(I have some thoughts about the nature of those too, actually lmao) is telling the truth, mostly. He is terrified, he doesn't want Artemy to think badly of him, he never wanted violence. P2 Grief is younger, more sympathetic, and very obviously more scared than his P1 counterpart. I don't think he's out there killing for fun. Still, I think he has a lot of blood on his hands anyway.

-I think his loyalty to his friends is sincere. He's kind of really big on companionship and loyalty, which fits, as a gang member. I really think that he wants to belong, to a gang, to a friend group, somewhere. Artemy mentions he's "always been weird" a couple of times, or stuff like "I knew you'd end up like this." and that thing with Lara's reflection... I think Grief was always a little bit on the margins, even in his own friend group, and that's why he made a place for himself as the leader of the misfits, of the people who don't fit what the town considers to be good society. I gotta get on with this because this is gonna be long enough without me rambling about every single thought and feeling I have about this bastard though

-He doesn't give away Stakh's hideout accidentally because he's goofy and dumb. He mentions more or less where it is like, three times. I think it's obvious that he's practically asking Artemy to go check on him, but he doesn't want to be a snitch, so he plays the fool like "Oooh no I gave you a hint, I sure hope you don't go looking for him now, don't ask me because I’d never tell!!". He's playing the clown, he's not that stupid

Okay, now we're getting to the heart of things. In P1, along with the reveal that he's actually a violent murderer who played another violent murderer(Barley) into taking the fall for his crimes, we get something else: he's working under the patronage and protection of Vlad Olgimsky. In P2, they put a lot more emphasis on that, Grief will tell you about it in the first AND second conversation you have. There is even a certain imagery associated with it... actually, allow me a quick digression here, I wanna go over some motifs around Grief.

Grief is pretty into clockwork and gears, going by his choice of decoration for his Lair. The town itself is compared to a machine several times, by himself, by Big Vlad, and regarding how the Kains view it. I risk to say that the way Grief sees it is rather different from the Kains, at least at first. For him it seems to be more of a blunt factory machine, while to the Kains...it means something else, more complex. Grief seems to have glimpsed what that is inside the Cathedral, near the end. That reminds me of something else, in the Diurnal End when Grief talks about how he used to be a clocksmith before, and now he's going to be "another kind of clocksmith", I don't think he's necessarily being literal in either case. Curiously, there's also a Clocksmith inside the Cathedral in Marble Nest...but I'm going off topic again

Bad Grief: Not a keeper of stores, but stories. This town, this great machine, the gears don't turn on their own, no, not till they're slick with secrets.

But so, webs and puppets. We return to Vlad Olgimsky(old), who uses the metaphor of his “web”. There's also an important character in Grief's journey that is strongly associated with (spider)webs and strings, and that's Aglaya. The most notable time Grief himself refers to it though, I think, it's in the Theatre of Death, if you let him die:

“My path was not called 'The Spider'. No, think wider. It was 'The Silkworm'! The end of a railroad, I pulled strings firm; unaware someone more cunning pulled mine upstairs.”

So about that. He’s referring to the PTB right? Probably, but not only. A theme in Patho is like...these layers of manipulation. I’m gonna pass the mic to P1 Clara and Saburov for a second:

Alexander Saburov: Begin with the Olgimskys. That is the most important sin for me, and the least for him, for it is not his fault. So did Olgimsky protect his illicit trade? Did he benefit from it?

Changeling: He didn't just benefit; he presided over it. Grief was his stooge.

Alexander Saburov: Now then, we shall skip the issue of the barber gang, since it's clear now who their true mastermind was... thanks to your courage, my brave girl.

Changeling: Don't skip it just yet. Barley was as much of a puppet in Grief's hands as Grief himself was for Olgimsky. Everyone has their toys.”

Grief is a puppet in Vlad’s hands both in P1 and P2, as there he says he’s Vlads “eyes and ears” in the warehouses. In the Cathedral, he seems to more or less realize the extent of it, and how it goes against what he always wanted in the first place: to not be trapped by anything.

Bad Grief: I used to be a thief, yet they made me a storekeeper. And what a perfect fit I made! I got my Warehouse kingdom, and with it, the insides of the Town's great machine. I kept Vlad's riches while havin' all I could dream of. Can't imagine a sweeter life.

Funnily enough, by that time he’s trapped in someone else’s web: Aglaya’s. That seems to be his thing, he thought he was in control and playing everyone, knowing all the secrets and pulling strings. In the end, he’s a Silkworm in the web of bigger fish. I mean, spiders.

Bad Grief: ...Yet they, too, are controlled by someone. Insane to think what kind of teeth you need for that.

But okay. Back to the start, I believe Grief has a lot of blood in his hands even before shit breaks loose. The things he seems to be most afraid of are also… interesting. This ties to his connection to Big Vlad, and the Kin.

Grief’s role in the payroll seems to be as a stool pigeon. He knows where everyone goes, what people are talking about, what they don’t want to become public. And he responds to Big Vlad. What I think is, hm, you know, even after Victoria passed it seems like the Kin and the Bull Enterprise never really defied Olgimsky, or had a leader in any way. Grief, too, seems to enjoy a pretty comfortable life for a gang leader. As an important piece to Vlad, he really doesn’t have that much to fear, since the guy “owns everything” and is very explicit to Artemy about how he can destroy anyone who doesn’t obey him. And probably has done that before. My guess is, Grief kept the machine working right by tattling, so no leadership or enemy to Vlad’s Enterprise could rise. I’d speculate that Vlad possibly paid the favor not only financially, but by maintaining Grief in that position. Basically, I think with Grief’s info, Vlad could eliminate any potential problem. That would mean that maybe without even having to shed blood himself there might be a lot of deaths Grief is responsible for, not to speak of the maintenance of that horrible system in the town. I think the route they are going for here is that Grief is a class traitor.

Why do I say that? Well, first let’s look at Grief’s relationship with the Kin: he’s remarkably close to them for a townie. Geographically, obviously, and also in the sense of living on the margins of society, but he also shares many of their superstitions, and seems to hold Aspity’s opinion in high regard(even calls her Sahba). I find it easy to believe that many of his men are part of the community as well, due to not being welcome in the town. At that time we see him in the Hospice though, and talking with the Kin people there, it’s pretty clear that they are planning some sort of uprising. That it’s imminent. Grief seems to know it. Seems to be absolutely terrified of that too, and to feel betrayed by Vlad.

Bad Grief: It's too late for me, Cub. I've only got one road ahead of me now. Perhaps the outbreak is for the best... Plagues are like fires, people forget old scores. And all hell will break loose here soon.

Haruspex: Any dark prophecies to share? You're the criminal mastermind here, after all.

Bad Grief: No need to prophesize. People fear hunger. Even honest workers will turn their hatchets and hammers to crime. Burglin' houses, lootin' corpses, guttin' each other. They will. Oh, they will.

Haruspex: Not all of them, Grief. Not all.

Bad Grief: The turf's so dry, you don't even need a match-a glare would start a fire. And when the Kin bares its teeth, that's when we'll all dance! They're slow on the start, but oh so fast on the draw! The Master likes them mute and obedient, but apathy makes them that way, not stupidity. They're only obedient till the time comes. And here it comes.

And the people who lose their jobs? They won't be too fond of staying home. They'll find new hobbies, like looking for food, or venting their anger. ...And Fat Vlad shut his facilities down the day before yesterday, didn't he? Crafty... Didn't whisper so much as a single word to me. Do you think he knew?

At the same time he seems to think that he deserves this, and it’s inevitable. “We reap what we sow”, paraphrasing him. He talks a few times about how there’s a vile beast inside each person in the town, about how they are all wretched and everything, including him, which I think might just be a way of coping like “yeah, I sold out, but anyone would do the same if they were in my place”.

So, yeah. What I think is that Grief was a guy that had no power and money, with absolutely no perspective, who due to his very particular skills had an opportunity to climb up and took it(all while still getting to pretend he’s an outlaw, free from the chains of society!). And it’s...very bad. And he knows it’s very bad, and he’s not evil or sadistic, but he’s immature, cowardly, and desperately wants to be in control of his own destiny, and to not be alone, and all that. He’s still Artemy’s childhood buddy, a loyal friend, and someone who never really wanted to cause that much damage. He also knows that what he did is unjustifiable, and that no matter what he truly feels, the damage is done and he’s guilty of horrible shit.

#pathologic #pathologic 2 #bad grief #pathologic meta #I forgot to talk about the shotgun. but oh well #full of spoilers both P1 and P2

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generallypo · 4 years ago

Photo

in all sincerity, kim dokja makes me happy and he deserves to be so too :^(

incoherent yelling and sobbing under the cut. these fEELINGS will not be contained aaauuunnghhh.

------

anyway i binge-read all 500+ chapters of ORV this week and i honest to god feel bad for this -- completely! fictional! aghhhh -- guy. in case you haven’t figured it out, the following is some spoilerly shit

i went in expecting a fun, brainless power trip fantasy for dudes with an isekai addiction. instead, it turns out ORV is actually a gigantic, self-deprecating prank on the entire genre itself. kdj plays more into the sad -- if high-functioning-- clown trope than the sexy, edgy, chuuni bastard type i was prepared to laugh at. there were -- gasp! -- female characters with personalities! parents (aka ADULTS who act like ADULTS) who actually survive and feature prominently! adorable children! a real sexy, edgy bastard! a power trio with amazing fashion! sexual tension and bickering! friendship! life and death bonding!

*breathes in deeply* fouND FAMILYYYYYYY.

like, yeah, the plot around the first few arcs seems a little aimless, but the buildup is worth. the world-building is pretty decent. there’s discernible effort put into the fight scenes, and i can appreciate that. but -- but! what i stayed for were the characters -- namely, the fantastic OT3 of KDJ, HSY, and YJH -- who come together despite their initial rivalries and end up saving each other’s asses, like, every other day. granted, the other characters don’t get as much focus, and they do fall into certain character tropes..

but a trope done well is nothing i would gripe about. every significant character in ORV has a coherent, and more importantly, respectful take on their respective trope. maybe it’s because sing-shong is actually a married couple, but all the interactions between even minor characters are a convincing blend of awkward rambling, suggestive humor, sharp remarks, and casual banter. in other words, this cast of mostly working adults (plus a teen and two kids) talks like working adults. the relationships built throughout the story are, frankly, some of most realistic of its genre. sing-shong has managed to craft a dynamic that undoubtedly brims with fluffy fondness all around, but also drips with sarcastic tension, with unspoken urgency, with a wariness that softens into sincerity over the course of many, many chapters. it’s the kind of progression that makes even stock characters read like more than just the 2-bit villain or comrade or love interest. here, we have relationships both straightforward and not, strained or otherwise, romantically-oriented as well as decidedly the opposite -- and then numerous others scattered along the spectrum with the freedom to shift either way.

it’s also an interesting point of note that our MC kdj actually does not end up with a stated romantic partner, much less a conventional heteroromantic harem. he gets teased about that fact from time to time, but it’s with less of the sleazy shonen locker room humor one would expect and more of the good-natured ribbing you’d find among friends or that one especially nosy auntie at the yearly family reunion. kdj is a grown ass man. in the background, i applaud his maturity, and he handles all the prodding like a champ.

so instead of finding and fulfilling his horny, he builds himself a wealth of loving family. yeah, there are beautiful men and women around him. yeah, they unequivocally adore him. but they’re also adults, and they have priorities, too -- which are not so much finding a way to bang kdj’s brains out and more so simply keeping the damn guy alive. this is truly not ‘oblivious mc with his thirsty, sex kitten harem’. it just so happens that a guy proves himself to be unflinchingly gentle and capable in an apocalyptic setting despite his broken self-esteem, and lots of people find that attractive, romantically and platonically.

it.. kinda makes sense? he’s a hard worker, thoughtful, and good with kids. kdj is the kind of guy you know would make a reliable partner, and anybody with eyes can plainly see and appreciate that.

and it’s not that our MC’s a total brick wall. in fact, it’s likely the opposite, and he’s just too darned repressed to admit it. from what has been implied, kdj does indeed recognize and accept love, or at least a primitive concept of it. i like to imagine that the kind of love that he ends up seeking out simply manifests itself more easily as acceptance and safety, as warmth and a home of people to return to every day. even better, the people who surround him know this, and they give him exactly that. it’s refreshing, and honestly, really sweet.

(as a side note, i really, really do appreciate the cosmic bi energy radiating off of kdj, who canonically earns the title of being loved by all and is all but in name married to yjh and hsy. he also respects women and small children and honestly anyone who isn’t total scum to him or his family. i respect that.)

but the happy stuff aside, you know it it just ain’t ORV without the generous screaming dollop of angst. admittedly, there’s self-sacrifice, injury, lonesome wandering, more sacrifice, some epic fighting, reunion and confrontation. all of it is a lot to digest, sure, but never does it feel entirely hopeless, or truly, truly heart-clenching. ORV, up until the final act, is a mostly light read. you relax in your chair, thinking that nothing beyond this point can disturb you.

yeah fucking right.

------

and then the beginning of the end arrives. when the squad finally break through to their ‘ending’, the scene that kind of breaks me is the reveal of the Most Ancient Dream. it ties so much thematically into the little tidbits that we get of kdj’s past, and it though it feels like almost a joke that the source of the goddamn apocalypse is a kid with bruises smeared across his skinny ass body -- it’s such a pathetic picture that it’s kinda poetic, actually. you’re left mystified but somewhat convinced, like a math problem explained halfway through. this.. child.. is a villain somehow, isn’t he?

and then 999th turn uriel speaks up, and she. just. hugs him.

[[You are this universe’s most powerless existence, aren’t you.]]

that. that gets me. kdj’s reaction immediately upon this revelation? absolute murder. seeing him essentially self-destruct upon realizing that all these people he’s surrounded himself with -- some who continuously proclaim their loyalty and affection for him throughout their journey, some who suffered eons of war and loss and trauma because of his existence -- not only forgive his younger self but smother him with unconditional acceptance and love is stifling, is too vulnerable and exposed and he simply can’t cope -- it’s so telling of his true mentality, of his crippling insecurity and crumpled sense of self-worth. kim dokja is a liar, through and through, so much that he fails, or perhaps refuses, to comprehend the veracity of others’ kindness and love towards himself.

by some miracle, the events at the end of the world somehow resolve.. or so it seems. there is a departing train, a liberated team of ex-gods, and a child rousing from his slumber. in the aftermath, i am left shaking. somehow, despite the ending having been (happily?) reached, there’s still another chapter ahead. what is this witchcraft?

------

and then ah, yes -- the epilogue arc. i teetered on the edge of being critical for a little bit there -- is that display of deus ex machina, of sad, self-sacrificing nobility a bit too egregious to be acceptable? is this some wild last let-me-yank-this-outta-my-ass plot twist to drag out the chapter count? i sincerely thought that the arc before it would have been the finale. i was wrong. thank god.

anyways, as an answer to the above: no, and no. i stake my firm claim on the belief that the epilogue arc was meticulously planned out well in advance of its release, confusing and time-warpy as it is. i liked it. tremendously. even if it entirely invalidates all of kdj’s supposed development (”haha lol yeah sure i won’t sacrifice myself or anything anymore guys don’t worry about me” -- KDJ, at some point because he’s a lying rat bastard). actually, our beloved MC disappears for a large chunk of this arc, and i think it’s great. in his absence, the other characters not only go absolutely fucking nuts, but they have to figure out this new problem on their own, even if the lure of peaceful complacency in the newly saved Korea might convince them otherwise.

and then the whole time paradox thing comes around. yjh goes to space, hsy saves the only life she can, and kdj grows up. the crew waits, holding onto their hope even if it bleeds them dry. sing-shong does a damn good job of illustrating their fraying calm, their lurking madness, the unseen but pervasive depression that seeps in from kdj’s absence. the kids lose their father, lhs and jhw lose their reliable leader figure, ysa loses a best friend and confidant, lsk -- as distant as she pretends to be from her son -- loses her only child. and then there’s hsy and yjh , who are essentially bereft of the other half of their existences. their pain is palpable, is grounded in the hopeless, gnawing frustration of an utterly meaningless victory. emotionally, ORV hits all the right -- if agonizing -- beats.

however, a story can’t sustain itself just through its pathos. i’m happy to say that ORV doesn’t drop the ball after the first milestone, and after all the hurt, the characters do leap straight back into action. even better, the plot holes actually do get patches, and the poetic cycle of writer, protagonist, and reader comes full circle by making use of all those supposedly throwaway characters from the myriad world lines.

at the end of the road, there is a distinct sense of unity, of a delicate but undeniable cohesion to the world lines and their origins. sing-shong lets us guess a little here at the finish, but there’s just enough information to feel hopeful. maybe there never had been a definite start -- or finish -- to the story of kdj company, and... that’s okay. everybody ends up where they were meant to be, where they fought and struggled to reach. it’s.. almost like a happily ever after, if we’re allowed to dream of that.

------

now, i realize, this was all an orchestrated maneuver.

i’ll take it.

to me, all of this work sounds like someone put some serious thought into this behemoth of a plot. it cements the entire original premise of the story. it suggests -- but never explicitly confirms! -- the possibility that breaking free of the cycle is possible through the exact same system that sustains it. it’s terribly interesting -- and inspirational! with all the dramatic revelations and life-threatening scenarios and the cast’s resigned acceptance of them that essentially make up ORV’s entire mood, there’s still that last hint of rebellious and righteous anger that lights up the whole damn nebula. it’s like the kdj company blasting away at the heavens just to yell into the nether: we’re not looking for the happy end, but the free one. stay alive.

it’s subtle, and yet it’s such an emotional gut punch. i came away with the most ruinous, frustrating, bittersweet sense of longing in ages. i pined. for these fictional darlings. god, i am weak.

so. yeah. ORV is pretty good. flawed, but ambitious and impressively thought out. i’m stoked that the webtoon is making pretty good progress, even if it’ll take an eternity and a half to meet that monstrous chapter count. i’m still gonna follow it. hell yeah.

------

(by the way the idea that secretive plotter and co are literally gonna take care of and raise baby kdj and spoil him and be the best friggin family a kid could ever want does things to me. protect him. he’s suffered too much. let at least one worldline’s version of him know happiness. and actually, aLL OF THEM DESERVE DOMESTIC BLISS TOGETHER IN A BIG OL MANSION WITH SUN AND FRESH AIR AND TENDER FAMILY MOMENTS UGH)

------

and there you have it, folks. you made it to the end. in the far, far distance, i’m cheering you on and crying my eyes out in gratitude. thanks for tuning in!

#omniscient reader #orv #omniscient reader's viewpoint #kim dokja #fanart #kdj happiness rights!#protect him!#let! him! have his big house! with everyone! he loves!#please!#long ass emotional screeching #look i can't do him justice with drawing but hell can i yell out my love for him :'^DD

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cdyssey · 3 years ago

Text

Need

Summary: After Nick arrives at the beach house, Frankie escapes to her studio to process her emotions. Post 7x04.

A/N: I've had such Grace and Frankie brain rot these past few days that I figured I should put it to good use and write another fic. It was really fascinating to try Frankie's POV. Lily Tomlin imbues her with a lot of subtle pathos that I totally wish the show would explicitly explore more.

AO3 Link

—

Frankie excuses herself to the studio for dinner, so she can process her very big, astonishingly inappropriate, and entirely overwhelming emotions without resorting to calling Nick a “wavy-haired, Pierce Brosnan wannabe douche canoe.”

As delightful (and totally true) of a turn a phrase that it is, even she knows that saying it aloud would be trespassing a boundary that she’s sworn herself never to cross: Grace is married.

Unhappily married, maybe.

Complicatedly married at the very least.

But until the day that they mutually say “I do” to divorce papers, there isn’t enough room for three people in the Skolka marriage, however much that Grace—bless her increasingly unthawing heart—tries to ensure otherwise.

So Frankie lets the newly reunited couple have their dinner alone under the guise of a generosity that she doesn’t exactly feel, and she takes leftover pasta into her studio to moodily pick around the bowl until her fettuccine looks less like fettuccine and more like unevenly perforated confetti.

(Woo fucking hoo.)

After a few minutes of this aggressively unconstructive practice, she places her nearly full bowl on a nearby work table and stretches out across her paint-stained couch, staring at the ceiling and resisting the reactionary urge to light a joint. Mary J might help her feel better for the present moment, but tomorrow morning, she’d still wake up and feel invaded in her own home.

Paradoxically, she’d also feel alone, goddammit.

She pulls her shawl more tightly around her shoulders against an invisible and piercing chill.

Frankie hates feeling lonely.

She spiraled when Grace lived in the penthouse. She nearly self-destructed to fill the gaping void that her roommate, her friend, her practical and beloved soulmate left behind. There was a period where she didn’t wash her clothes and ate a lot of admittedly non-vegan takeout. There were nights when she’d lay awake in her awfully huge bed, staring at the empty space where Sol used to sleep, and have the familiar waking nightmare of spending her final years in forced solitude. She was happy with Jack, and then Jacob—sweet Jacob—came around too, and she did something she still feels fucking ashamed about: she hurt both of them, and she lied when she said that she had just wanted to have some fun.

She knows herself.

Intimately.

She‘d been scared of being alone again, so she tried to hold on to two people who were helping her to stave the awful feeling away. Those men wanted her, and Frankie used them. They wanted her, and she pathologically loves to feel wanted because she sometimes and irrationally fears that she might not be needed.

To be fair to her irrational fears, all the people she’s ever needed and felt needed by have hurt her before.

Sol cheated on her for twenty years.

Her own sons stuck her in a nursing home.

Grace just fucking left her.

She eloped in Vegas like a blushing twenty-one year old bride and just disappeared.

She says it was a mistake; she sat across Frankie in a sunlit restaurant and candidly told her that she didn’t like the person she had become when she married Nick.

And to be completely fair to her, Grace has been adamant about not wanting to leave again—so perhaps she never will—but if her husband is here to stay, it's also a distinct possibility that she’ll never have to make the choice to physically leave to… well… leave.

She can perpetually honeymoon with Nick and still call Frankie home.

It could be a happy ending for Grace… and a fresh new hell for Frankie, who'd just started to feel secure again.

God knows she wants her best friend to be happy, but the big man in the sky must also surely understand that she had hoped that she alone could be enough for Grace, that this unconventional life spent together in the beach house—so crazy, so weird, and so inextricably entangled—would be their shared happily ever after.

But even as she thinks it, the vestiges of her clearly misplaced optimism begin to evade her, dregs now at the bottom of an already drained cup.

She and Grace aren't married.

It’s always been an objective fact.

Tonight, it feels more like an unpleasant reality.

When the door leading into her studio suddenly flies open, Frankie barely has enough time to swipe the back of her hand across her eyes before she sits up to find none other than the lady of the hour.

Her collared shirt popped up stiffly around her neck, a martini glass surgically glued to her right hand, Grace looks quintessentially herself as she walks in, even down to the minutiae of her trademark I'm-angry-at-the-world-and-everyone-in-it expression—brow furrowed and eyes Medusa cold. After all but slamming the door, she stalks over within a few clicks of her practical but unmistakably high heels.

“Well, hello to you, too, Sunshine,” Frankie greets wryly, hoping to hell and back that her face isn’t as red as it feels.

It’s a tall order, though.

Alas, she was gifted (or equally cursed) with an exceptionally expressive face.

“Frankie, this is nonsense,” Grace says bluntly, using her martini glass like a pointer and leveling it straight at her head. “Come back to the house—your house—and have dinner with us.”

It’s the authoritarian nature of the demand that rifles Frankie.

Frankly, it pisses her off.

She’s always been a rebel contrarian.

“And by us, you mean you and your house arrested husband, right?” She returns evenly. She betrays herself by raising a single and devastatingly skeptical brow. “The man with whom you should be having a very emotionally honest conversation with right now about the parameters of your jacked up relationship?”

Grace shifts her weight from heel to heel and glances away a little too quickly for the gesture to be entirely natural. Frankie had blatantly stricken a pulsing nerve, and the guilt of doing so immediately swallows her.

She shouldn’t be so hard on her friend.

(She doesn’t know why it’s permissible to be equally hard on herself.)

“Well, I tried to have that conversation, thank you very much, but then I ended up wanting to claw Nick’s eyes out.” The obvious follow up question must shine in Frankie’s face because sighing infinitesimally through her nostrils, Grace adds, “His attorney argued that my advanced age and apparent capability to croak at any moment were reasons enough to grant Nick leniency. They let him out so he could take care of me—whatever the hell that means.”

Her no-nonsense voice never falters as she delivers the brutal words, but her eyes undermine her, seething with emotion, simply roiling. They tell a story of horror and disgust and searing, absolute betrayal; they’re heavy all over with sadness and the indelicate trappings of all her raw and mercilessly exposed fears.

Frankie understands immediately.

Nick used one of Grace’s deepest insecurities as a get-out-of-jail-free card.

Being eighty-two years old.

But perhaps more accurately, feeling like it.

“Oh, honey,” Frankie melts. She can do nothing else but melt, to be suddenly overcome with fierce, protective, and terrifying love for the woman in front of her. “That fucking bastard.”

Grace immediately laughs, the sound hoarse and watery and a little unhinged all at the exact same time.

“Tell me about it,” she half-smiles and takes the swearing as a rightful invitation to join Frankie on the couch. With a gentle clink, she sets her half-emptied martini glass on the table next to Frankie’s completely full pasta bowl. “I said the exact same thing.”

When she chooses to sit close enough that their shoulders are brushing, Frankie intuitively knows that this is petty defiance against Nick for daring to intrude upon them and the world they've so carefully created together.

She temples Grace’s nearest hand with her own in an attempt to silently communicate that this right here—whatever this is between them—is love.

“So, please”—Grace squeezes her hand back—“please don’t be angry with me… I… I didn’t want this. You know I didn’t want this. I don’t want him to even be here.”

Frankie stares openly at her best friend.

Wide-eyed and hopeful against her self-loathing, self-centered will, she searches her broken face like it's revelatory.

It's stunningly rare that Grace Hanson ever articulates her wants so clearly. Forty years of an emotionally repressive marriage did their number and toll on her. She pedestalized rigid decorum over every conscious desire.

She played by the rules even if they hurt her.

And drank herself to oblivion on many a night to forget the very fact that she was hurt.

To deny herself the honesty she’d somehow convinced herself that she didn’t deserve.

“… you know this is your husband we’re talking about here, right?” It’s a rhetorical question. Frankie's pretty sure that they both fucking know that it’s insane that this conversation—that this entire situation as a whole—is happening.

“I know,” Grace replies firmly. “Believe me, I'm well aware. But you’re… you’re my partner, Frankie, and if I can’t be upfront with you, then I don’t know who else I can turn to.”

The very word partner sends shivers down her spine, and the shivers collect like butterflies in her already churning belly.

It’s just a word, she tells herself.

She scolds.

Grace doesn’t mean anything by it.

It's a label, and Grace doesn't do labels anymore.

“I... I wasn’t mad at you, Grace,” she finally admits. It's easier to do than questioning the extent to which her roommate would give up the world for her, but all the same, her voice is frighteningly weak, a pale imitation of everything Frankie usually projects herself to be: confident, cheerful, unshakeable, unshaken. Suddenly, it hits her that it’s been a very long time since she’s been so openly vulnerable, too. “I'm not even really all that mad at your jailbird husband either. I was just scared, and when I get scared, I skitter like a nervous little bug."

She shuts down.

She spirals.

She tries to put a smile on her face for the people who love her all the same.

And then she lies awake at night, drowning in the sheets of an empty bed.

Thinking about how she should probably tell someone that everything hurts.

But she’s Frankie, and she doesn’t do that.

Grace perpetually convinces herself that she doesn’t deserve honesty; Frankie has come to fear that no one wants her own.

“Were you scared of me?” Grace asks quietly, her grip so tight now that it almost stings.

“Frankie…” She presses when a few heartbeats of silence stagger by, limping painfully on all fours, pronouncing so many unspoken and profound hurts.

“Of losing you, Grace,” she confesses, the words defeated and scraped raw. She forcefully tugs her hand away from Grace's just to temple her own hands together on her lap, to lick her sundry and shining wounds in a private corner. “I was scared of losing you, of being alone again in this big, empty house… and I don’t like being alone.”

She can’t bear to look at Grace as she says it, staring at the paint-flecked floor without ever really seeing it, her eyes burning.

She wishes they’d stop burning but feels the precise moment when they begin to leak anyway.

It’s all so embarrassing.

And childish.

Frankie is an eighty-year old woman, and she shouldn’t be upset over her best friend having a goddamn life.

She should be happy for her, fucking ecstatic.

And yet, she's—

But before she can complete the miserable thought, her body becomes aware of another sensation entirely—warm arms enveloping her from the side and inexorably pulling her in, turning the space that once existed between two bodies—between them—intangible, negligible.

Grace.

Shock turns into realization, and realization transforms into aching, sweeping relief.

It can only be Grace.

Grace’s soft lips pressed to her cheek.

Grace’s fingertips curling into the fabric of her dress.

Grace’s nose against her neck as she slides her sharp chin across her shoulder.

“I’m not leaving you, Frances Bergstein,” she declares. “Whatever happens between me and Nick, in the end, it’s going to be just you and me in this house that is our damn home. I swear that to you. I’d tell you every day just to prove it to you.”

Oh, these words.

These beautiful, tender, and long-needed-to-hear words.

They’re just words, she could tell herself again.

She could lie.

She could convince herself if she had to.

She could conveniently forget that Grace Hanson uses language carefully, that she employs every sentence with scalpel-like precision.

Or... more complicatedly still... Frankie could believe her.

Frankie could blindly accept these words for what they are, as manifest confirmation that she is loved by another—prioritized and cared for and needed.

She could be Grace’s partner and let that incredible word be electrically charged with so many complex and ridiculous and extraordinary ideas, none of which are traditional, and all of which feel true.

She could believe in her even if belief is not simple, even if belief is a product, first and foremost, of trust.

And Grace has certainly lost her trust before, but goddammit, she's earned it so many times, too.

“Oh, God,” Frankie laughs in such a way that it’s stupidly clear that she’s crying as Grace rubs slow circles into her back with her thumb. “This is all messed up. You’re the one with a house arrested, tax evading husband. I should be the one comforting you.”

“The house arrested, tax evading husband doesn’t particularly faze me,” Grace chuckles, her voice low. “Seeing you hurting and upset does. My priorities are remarkably straight.”

“I’m not sure you know the meaning of that word,” she smiles weakly as they slowly and clumsily begin to extricate themselves from their tangled embrace.

It’s hard to find themselves again.

To be apart.

“But I do,” Grace protests, emphatic and indignant and maybe even a few shades righteously pissed. “You’re the person I wanna share this crazy life with at the end of the day and every day. Why is that so hard to believe?”

“Because every day is an incredibly long time to be with me,” Frankie offers meekly, giving her one more perfect and easily acceptable copout, a neatly packaged excuse.

She can be too much.

She knows this.

“It’s just the right amount of time to be with you,” Grace murmurs, reaching up to brush an errant tear away from Frankie’s cheek, her thumb lingering, her quivering palm. “You’re kind enough to love me, and I’m lucky enough to be loved by you... so let me return the favor, Frankie. Let me be here for you."

And to Grace’s credit in this fleeting moment, she continues to hold Frankie.

It's a promise to never let her go.

#grace and frankie #grace hanson #frankie bergstein #grace x frankie #grace and frankie spoilers #reginianwrites #s: grace and frankie

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motownfiction · 3 years ago

Note

O, P, X, H

H. how would you describe your style?

it's the great american hangout novel! except it's not a novel. it's a series of loosely connected vignettes about a period in history i didn't even live through (but chose to write about because it's the historical focus of my dissertation, so i kill two birds with one stone). but yeah, it's like micro-events, character studies, mostly comedic with some injections of pathos that i hope to high heaven don't sound cheesy.

O. how do you begin a story—with the plot, or the characters?

i guess this all started with the characters, and even though i have lots of situations i want them to get into, who they are and how it affects their development, their relationships, etc. matters way more than what happens. i know i gave this answer (or something like it) last year when i was still writing fan fiction, but for me, it's like deciding what the characters will go through as characters determines the actual beats of the plot. i decide what i want to convey about the characterization, and then i determine what kinds of events can get me there.

P. are you what george r. r. martin would call an “architect” or a “gardener”? (how much do you plan in advance, versus letting the story unfold as you go?)

the answer to this question is the same as it was a year ago, too. i would say i'm both, but i think i err on the side of architect. i think it's very important to have a plan for what you want to do, but i think it's just as important to be able to abandon that plan if something more interesting occurs to you while you're writing. you should ideally go back and make the proper edits (which i had to do recently for something relatively small -- the color of will's eyes), but it's important to be able to let go of your plan if you really need to. so i have a whole document of things i want to happen, but if organically they take a different turn, that's fine by me. i'm never nailed into anything, and that's an important lesson.

X. a character you enjoy making suffer.

i guess most people answer this question with their blorbos that they love to put through angsty situations, but i'm not like that. i want my good characters to be as happy as they can be, and i'm crushed when they're not. like, i get absolutely no joy from sadie's grief over not being a twin anymore. i get absolutely no joy from steph not knowing what to do after sam dumps her in college. i get absolutely no joy from elenore getting her heart broken a thousand times over, even though i think it's a compelling storyline. the only character who i would enjoy making suffer is charlie because he's a terrible person, but the thing that's so delicious about charlie is that he doesn't suffer. he manages to live a cushy life where most people constantly forgive him. he fucks up and still enjoys all the spoils. he never raised veronica, but she loves him dearly -- calls him dad and wishes they were closer. carrie doesn't divorce him, and elenore will always be just a little bit in love with him. charlie loses his friendships, but he doesn't even realize this because he still sees them around all the time. he doesn't realize that it's been years since daniel was his best friend. he lives so much in his own world (which he is the king of) that he'll never really feel pain (and that's what makes him totally different than charles foster kane tbh).

#ask games #ponyboyatreides #thank you

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miraculous786 · 5 years ago

Text

Buried Six Feet Under

Basis

First Ending

First Ending - Part Two

First Ending Art

Second Ending

Second Ending - Part Two

One hour.

One hour was all it took for the memories to resurface. The memories of the past few months containing a broken doll and a shattered heart.

There had been an uproar.

The police were called.

The news were alerted.

The world began to wake up.

And there had been tears that day. Many.

From the same people who were crying now, in a spacious hall with hundreds of seats. They were all full.

The rain pattered down onto the roof above, and lightning was heard to strike every so often. One would think that the gods were angry this day.

They had every right to be - and they were.

The gates surrounding the building were locked tight, leaving out a group of students that were huddled near the entrance. Most of them wept, their tears mingling with the water pouring down. Their black outfits became drenched.

A bespectacled girl at the front held onto the barriers blocking her from getting in. She screamed and yelled until her voice was sore, yet no one cared. All were too busy staring at an enormous screen indoors, that flickered to life to reveal something painfully familiar.

Someone painfully familiar.

Jagged Stone - a man with purple locks who was gripping tight to a pair of Eiffel Tower-inspired glasses - pressed a key on the computer at the stage.

The video began to play.

"Okay, umm...hi!" the person recording greeted, nervous smile gracing her features. "I'm Marinette Dupain-Cheng, also known as the superhero 'Ladybug'. You may know me through Tom and Sabine's Boulangerie Patisserie, since, well, they're my parents."

She let out an awkward chuckle, scratching the back of her neck.

There was a sob from the front of the crowd.

"I'm making this video because...uh, I want this to be seen if something happens to me in battle. An akuma battle, that this. You see...some villains have been extremely tough, and, well..."

The bluenette let out a sigh. Her expression became grim in an instant, and her tone serious. It reminded those watching of the heroine that they had come to love.

"Hawk Moth has found out a way to translate the Guardian's book, which, long story short, allows him and Mayura to become even stronger. That's why I wanted to make this video."

She glanced to the side, and unmistakable tears were seen to be forming at the rims of her glossy eyes. "I...I've seen Chat Noir get hurt before. I've seen him get- get killed too many times. It's entirely possible that I'll end up with the same fate."

A sniffle escaped her, but she chose to wipe at her eyes and let out a dry chuckle. Her tone was wobbly as she dryly stated, "Chat, he...he isn't as serious as I am about this whole thing. About this whole job. And I hope that after he sees this, he learns that Hawk Moth needs to be taken down. If I have to sacrifice my own life for that..."

She shrugged. "...so be it."

Marinette's eyes wandered over to something off-screen, and she beamed at whatever it was.

"Tikki's asleep right now, so I have to make this quick. I...I wanted to ask those who are watching a favour. If, if you get this then could you- could you pass on my earrings to someone else? Well- someone in particular, actually. Paris needs two heroes to take care of it, after all."

She leaned forward and out of frame for a few seconds. Then she returned with a coloured picture, that had two girls grinning at the camera. She pointed to one of them.

"This is Alya Cesaire - my best friend and one that I sincerely trust to take on the mantle of Ladybug. She, she's amazing. I have so much faith in her, and I know that she'll be perfect for the role."

A blond in the audience clenched his fists.

The designer grinned. "I actually wanted to hand over my earrings to her when I first got them but decided not to - it was a close call, though. Please show this video to her, by the way. I want to say something."

Marinette gained a smirk, as she started, "Hey, bestie! How's it going? I'm, I'm sorry about not telling you who I am, but...a secret is a secret, right? I know you would've loved the scoop. You have all of my support to defeat Hawk Moth, Alya. I'm sure that Tikki will guide you though everything. That is, if she's able to. Oh! That reminds me - I have a request that I wanted to ask of you. I...can you show this to Chat?"

He took in a raspy breath.

"Hey, Kitty. I just wanted to tell you that, well...I'm afraid that the mantle of the Guardian will have to go to you, since you're the only one alive that can take it - barring Hawk Moth, of course."

She pursed her lips. "You're my partner, Chat. The best one that I could have ever asked for. I hope that you'll be able to keep your head up and stay strong alongside Alya, and protect the Miracle Box."

And let the tears flow.

"Oh, and if it isn't too much to ask...can, can I stay with Tikki, even if I'm gone? You don't have to bury me with the earrings or anything, but...just visit my grave, please? With Tikki. She's been with me through thick and thin and is quite emotional when it comes to her holders from what I've heard. I wouldn't want her to live with the guilt of my death."

Adrien found himself nodding with a whimper.

That was when Marinette suddenly jumped up. She whipped her head to something invisible to her right and yelped. "What? Me? Recording something? Of course not, Tikki! I'm just-"

The screen turned blank again.

Allowing all to hear the choked sob from Chat Noir.

He covered his mouth to muffle his cries, and yet his pathos was clear to everyone around.

And even those outside.

It seemed as if everyone had broken out of their silent stupor, as murmurs began to break out and fill the hero's ears. Murmurs of what would happen to Hawk Moth. What would happen to Paris. What would happen to them all without Ladybug.

Something inside him snapped.

And a growl tore through his throat.

"Stop it!"

Everyone turned to him in surprise. Most edged back at the anger he clearly had restrained.

His cat ears thrashed. His sharp claws flexed. His green eyes dilated.

"That is enough! You're all horrible!" he hissed lowly. "Why can't you see that it isn't Ladybug gone? It's Marinette!"

Sabine and Tom flinched at the mention of their daughter.

"Whether or not she has the mask, she's the same person! And I bet that if she were here she would have agreed with me!"

A man with slicked grey hair and a striped sash rushed forward. "Chat Noir, I'm sure that there's no need for thi-"

"Shut. Up. Before I make you."

The Mayor gulped.

"I'm going, and none of you are going to stop me," he snarled, as he faced the exit of the place. Beneath his breath, he muttered, "You didn't deserve her. None of us did."

Only a few seconds later did thunder strike loud from outside, but Adrien was already somewhere else by that time.

Already gone.

And with the remains of his very partner.

Rain dripped down from his locks to his face, to the point where none could point out what were his tears and what weren't. There was a hush as all stared with baited breath, observing Chat as he knelt in front of a headstone.

A headstone in memory of the one he loved. Still loved.

"I'm sorry, Princess," he choked. "I-I'm so sorry...You didn't deserve any of this."

The crack in his voice made hearts shatter.

"You'll always be my Lady - my Princess. And I'm sorry that I couldn't do more."

His lower lip wobbled. His eyes drifted to the ring at his finger.

And he reached to pull it off.

"I'm the new Ladybug..."

Until he caught the whisper that made his blood run cold.

His now twitching head slowly rotated up to who had spoken. It was none other than Alya Cesaire.

She was stood at the gates to the graveyard, pipe wrench in hand. Behind her were other students from her class, that had tears - or rain, he couldn't tell - pouring down their cheeks.

So did she.

Yet her lips were still poised into some sort of a smile.

"What?"

There were many flinches from the Parisians nearby.

In a more confident tone, the reporter stated, "She named me the new Ladybug."

Silence.

A harsh flare from Chat Noir's heart made him bare his teeth. "So what?"

None were prepared for the shout that soon escaped his mouth.

"You're the reason we need a new Ladybug!"

Adrien stood up, back arched and irises slit. "You're the reason that Paris will be left in shambles! That people will die! That the Guardian is gone!"

His booming bellows quieted to a mumble. "That Marinette is dead."

A fire flared in his eyes.

"You did this..." he growled menacingly, claws out. "It's all your fault!"

As the police force standing guard grabbed at the lunging cat aiming to avenge, none noticed the creature settled on top of Marinette's grave.

The butterfly.

That glowed a faint purple from its droopy wings.

As if it was mourning like the rest of the population for the death of the heroine buried six feet under.

~*~*~

It had been a day since then.

Since the funeral of one Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

And there was a figure approaching the graveyard where those had previously mourned for her.

They stepped over soaked grass and muddy ground. Scattered petals and jagged rocks. Yet they didn't stop.

Their suit became damp from the rain. Their shoes became soggy from the puddles. Yet they still didn't stop.

Not until they reached the grave at the centre of the yard, that stood tall in colours of black and red. Bouquets of daffodils and roses lay around it, along with plush toys of a girl in spotted fabric.

The figure, the man, bent down to inspect the rectangle of dirt in front of the memorial of stone, that had fancy scripture engraved into its surface. There was nothing on the patch. No flowers. No cards. Nothing.

Except for two hexagonal boxes.

Etched onto their lids were markings in blood-red, that depicted messages in a language that none could decipher - apart from the owner of the porcelain shards buried six feet under.

Despite the grime starting to gather on his clothing, the man continued to stare impassively at the items. His icy blue eyes studied the sight in front of him for a few seconds more, until his lips soon pursed tight.

Fingers gripped at cold objects, and brought them into the open in a stiff movement. They hesitated for a moment, as if worried of what they were about to do, then gently deposited their contents onto the dirt.

The figure let out a weary sigh. He stood back up treacherously slow. Then, he snapped his back straight up, and walked past the gates leading out of the graveyard.

He didn't look back.

He only left two items sitting in the mud. Left two items to waste away until the foreseeable future.

Left two miraculous.

And whilst he made his way down the dark and gloomy streets of Paris, dozens of eyes watched from the shadows.

They only had one goal in mind.

To protect their Guardian. The remains of their Guardian.

Until the end of time.

~*~*~

@soupfilledboots

@ladybug-182

@mochegato

@anjuschiffer

@gangstaluigi613

@itskarmalone

@moonystars14

@amayakans

@mewwitch

@agentofscifi

@pale-lady-dreamer

@lntimancy

@raisuke06

@thyladyanput <3

@doriebell

@2sunchild2

@zebrabaker

@freshbark

@saphiraazure2708

@animalgirl05

@queen-in-a-flower-crown

@g-arya

@persephonescat

@sapphirewilliams5095

@colorfulmongerpsychicranch

@dontbenddontbreak

@nights-of-fire

@achefisachef

@cinnamonrollorder

@adhd-coyote

@7-sage-7

@vanillacoffee-bean

@heldtogetherbysafetypins

@dorkus-minimus

@sassakitty

@shippernaturalsanderspjoandscifi

@corabeth11

@echpr

@jewishdumbass

@olynix

#miraculous #miraculous ladybug #ml #mlb #marinette dupain cheng #Marinette deserves better #akumatized ladybug #akumatized marinette #akumanette #ml ladybug #chat noir #adrien agreste #sadrien #alya cesaire #alya salt #ml salt #lila salt

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brasskier · 4 years ago

Text

@badthingshappenbingo trope #3 (and this one was actually requested!)

Thank you to the incredible @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde for reading this one over for me!

Trope: Suicide attempt

Summary: Yennefer's just running a few errands, and doesn't expect to end up talking Geralt's bard down from a rooftop. Jaskier is ready to leap, and doesn't expect a certain mage to interrupt his grand finale. Both of them might just walk away with a better understanding of one another. (Or, a character study in borderline personality disorder.)

TW for suicidal ideation/threats/gestures and reference to self-harm. The descriptions aren’t graphic and he doesn’t actually jump, but this whole fic deals with suicide and mental illness. Be safe y’all <3

Read it on my ao3 or below the cut:

The trip to Tretogor wasn’t supposed to last long. Replenish her stock after the utter disaster that was the dragon hunt, some odds and ends as she came upon them, maybe get absolutely shitfaced and forget the whole thing happened. That was all. And it looked like, for a pleasant change of pace, there weren’t going to be any complications. Errands finished, Yennefer was enjoying a hearty roast at one of the better taverns in the city when she noticed the early warnings of a brewing commotion. First murmurs, then the voices grew louder and more persistent, and then people were pushing outside. She ignored them; a petty barfight was not something she particularly wanted or needed to get involved with. The bar was still stirring, and eventually when she finally shifted her focus off her roast, the tavern was near-empty, only the drunkest of patrons remaining. Even the barkeep was shuffling outside. Clearly, something was happening. Something big. With a beleaguered sigh, she pushed up from her chair and headed out the door.

A surprisingly large crowd greeted her outside, more expansive than the usual clamor around a simple drunken brawl. She approached the barkeep, standing on the outskirts of the mob, and she didn’t even have to speak before the barkeep jerked his head skyward. She traced his gaze to the roof of a towering building casting its shadow over them.

“Poor sod’s gonna jump, I reckon,” the barkeep ruminated, eyes still fixed upwards. In place of the massive beast she fully expected to be perched atop the building stood the figure of a man, trembling at the very edge of the roof. She squinted, an uncanny familiarity settling into her gut.

She mumbled her half-hearted thanks, already pushing through a portal to the rooftop. The man, still frozen in place on the opposite edge, didn’t seem to notice the sudden company, and her uneasiness grew into a sinking dread.

“Jaskier?” she called, tentatively, afraid to startle him. Any last shred of hope that she was mistaken (though the intricately embroidered doublet was hard to mistake) was gone when he jerked his head back to face her. His mouth was agape, an uncomfortable mixture of surprise and disappointment drawn across his features. “What are you doing?”

“The fuck does it look like?” He snapped back. There was more than his usual sarcasm or mock-incredulity in his voice, real and deep-felt anger coloring his tone.

“Don’t do it,” she urged, surprising herself with the tenderness in her own words. “Come on now. Just come down.” Why did she care? The question gnawed in the back of her mind, and she did her damndest to push it aside. She’s a good person, after all, right? She’d do it for anyone, surely. None of Geralt’s not-getting-involved nonsense.

“Fuck off, Yennefer.” He let out a barking laugh, thin and breathy, pitching forward ever so slightly with the force of it. She felt her whole body tense, hands reaching out reflexively.

“Where’s Geralt? What happened?” This was, apparently, the single worst line of conversation she could’ve settled on, because he dropped abruptly to a squat and for a split second she was certain she was about to witness the man’s death.

“I’m not his fucking keeper.” He was nearly at a roar now, a fever-pitch that sent a shiver down Yennefer’s spine. “Haven’t seen him in a week. Not since— not since—” Though she couldn’t see his face, his eyes fixed resolvedly on the ground below, she could hear the tears cut through his words, his breath hiccuping.

“Shh,” she hushed him. Clearly, something had happened after she stormed off. What, precisely, could wait until later, when he was back on solid ground. “I know. It’s not fair.”

“The fuck do you know about fair?” he scoffed, shoulders hunched, arms wrapped around his abdomen against the biting wind.

“He fucked me over, too.” She should’ve been offended, and she would’ve been if she wasn’t far more concerned with making sure the bard didn’t fling himself into an early demise, which would be decidedly unfair. That sentiment did little to ease him, and withdrew no response. “Fuck Geralt,” she declared, trying again. “Damn brute thinks he can just take as he pleases.”

“And— and then discard you once he’s had his fill,” he mumbled, offering her the slightest glance back, tears glistening against the pink of his cheeks.

“You’re better than that,” she set forth like a thesis. “You’re — loathe as I am to admit it — talented, bard. People like you. You’ll find plenty of material to write about.” Perhaps an appeal to both logos and pathos would be sufficient, at least enough to get him off the ledge.

“It won’t be the same.” He frowned tragically over his shoulder at her. “I've lost it all, Yen. Look at me— I'm just a silhouette.”

“That's nonsense. He… you're more than him. He's not everything.” It felt ridiculous to her, throwing yourself off a roof over an argument with a friend. After all, Jaskier had always managed to exist in the spaces between Geralt before; teaching, or penning his next obnoxious ballad, or bedding married women, or whatever it is overgrown manchild bards do. But, then, she'd almost killed herself to restore something she knew she could never get back. So perhaps they were even.

“Look, this is awfully sweet of you, but—” he swept his arm, gesturing vaguely at nothing in particular. “Just let me go. I’m doing everyone a favor.” He turned his attention back to the ground, wind rippling through his hair. “Should’ve done this a long time ago.” She felt her heart skip — a long time ago? This wasn’t just a histrionic reaction to whatever might’ve occurred between him and Geralt; gods knew how long he’d felt like this.

“You know I can’t do that,” she retorted, drawing tentatively closer. “Don’t make me portal you down.” He huffed, waving her off with a trembling hand.

“Please, Yen.” Realistically, she knew it would be easy to oblige his request. Walk away, pretend not to hear the sickening thud, and carry on. He was only her ex-witcher’s ex-bard, after all. “I always knew it'd end like this. I’m just… I’m glad I even made it past thirty, really.”

“That’s— I’m not— no, Jaskier. I’m not letting you throw yourself off a roof, for the love of the gods. That’s insane.” She wasn’t sure what was more insane, letting him go, or standing here arguing with him. “You’re going to be real glad when you make it to forty, bard.”

“Am I though, really? This isn’t my first time, believe it or not. And every time I live, or I back out, or I let someone talk me out of it. And I always regret it in the end.” Her mind reeled again — every time? How many had there been? She pushed the thought back.

“You won’t find out unless you get down,” she argued, drawing closer still. He tensed, sensing her presence, hands balling and unfurling repetitively. “Come on. Go to the tavern with me, get something to eat, have a—” she was close enough to smell the alcohol on his breath now “—more drink. I’ll be out of your hair in the morning, and if you still regret it, well…”

“Fine,” he finally agreed on the tail end of a sigh, turning to fully face her. “I’ll do it tomorrow.” She didn’t like the resolve with which he said those words, but he was agreeing to come down, which at least was a small victory. She’d handle tomorrow when it came around. In the meantime she needed to get them both down. “Or eventually,” he tacked on as she held her hands out, forming a portal back to solid ground. “Inevitably.” The word rang in her mind as she looped an arm around him and led him through the portal. As an afterthought, she summoned a blanket with a flick of her fingers; it was one of those cheap, thin blankets they kept at the inn, but it would do. She tossed it over his shoulders and he dug his fingers into the fabric, drawing it closer around himself.

Once they were back in the tavern, that thin blanket still draped over Jaskier's shoulders and mug of ale held in shaking hands, it was time to talk.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, dragging his thumb up and down the cool tankard, avoiding meeting her eyes at all costs. “I’ve caused such a fuss. You must be anxious to get out of here.” He finally glanced in her direction when he felt a hand land on his forearm.

“It’s fine, really,” she insisted, and he couldn’t bear the pity in her eyes. “Now are you going to tell me what that was all about?” He huffed a laugh, looked away again.

“It’s just, you know. Me and my theatrics.” He shrugged, running a hand along his jaw.

“Bullshit.” When, exactly, Yennefer had gotten so good at seeing right through him, he wasn’t sure. But he did know he definitely didn’t like it.

“I’m sorry. I just, I… I get like that, I guess,” he muttered finally, dragging his thumb along the rim of his glass.

“Suicidal, you mean? You just get… suicidal?” She raised a skeptical eyebrow, moving her hand up to his shoulder.

“Yeah, I guess.” He reached blindly, dropped a hand over hers. “When something goes wrong. Someone leaves me again. I just, I fuck up a lot, and I’m no good at dealing with the concequences.”

“That’s— gods, I know you’re an idiot, but that’s really worth killing yourself over?” She tried to keep her tone light, clipped, maybe a little detached. He was uneasy with the attention, it was obvious, and she was also certainly not ready to admit that maybe, just a tiny bit, she sort of cared about him.

“Geralt, he ran me off,” he mumbled, sinking further into the blanket. “After the hunt, after your fight, he blamed me. For everything, the entire two decades of our, well. I guess it wasn’t friendship.” He chewed at his lip, a nervous habit, anger bubbling below the surface at the thought of that day. “Told me the greatest gift life could give him would be to take me off his hands.” Yennefer balked at him, finally hearing the context of his despair, and she was just about ready to portal right over to wherever Geralt had fucked off to and give him a piece of her mind.

“That’s terrible,” she told him, the best she could really offer. Nothing she could say would undo what’d happened, and nothing could change how much it hurt him. “He really is a bastard.” Jaskier nodded slowly, raised his tankard up in toast. “When’s the last time you ate? You must be starving.”

“Stew would be nice,” he replied quietly, meekly. She haled one of the barkeeps, ordered him a stew, and requested another round of drinks. “It’s not just the fight, though,” he added once the server was gone. “I don’t know how to explain it, Yen. Why I do the things I do, or feel the way I feel. It’s just, it’s all too much sometimes, you know?” She knew. All too well, she knew. She was only just beginning to understand herself, just beginning to feel some semblance of control. He was so young — perhaps not by human standards, but comparatively.

“I know. It’s hard.” They felt like empty platitudes, like she had no idea how to truly connect with him, and it was frustrating. She wanted to help him, but she wasn’t sure how, wasn’t sure he wanted it.

“Yeah.” He bobbed his head, picked at the wood of the table. They drifted into silence, neither sure how to fill it, neither sure this was a conversation either wanted to have. The stew arrived, and he picked at it rather than devouring it like he usually did his rations.

“You know I’m sterile, right?” she finally broke the silence once he’d finished his food and pushed the bowl aside, leaning closer, her voice pitched in a conspiratorial whisper. He nodded solemnly, averting his gaze, watching the light catch in his amber ale. “And you know I’ve gone to great lengths to rectify that, correct?” Another slow nod.

“I know, Yen. I’m sorry, I know you have far more right to be miserable than I do. And here I am, wallowing like a toddler—” She waved a hand to cut him off.

“No, listen, stupid bard. It’s really not about being able to have kids. It’s about the fact that I don’t have a choice, that I’ve never had a choice,” she elaborated, hiking the blanket further up his shoulders as it started to slip.

“I know. And here I am, I’ve gotten everything I wanted. I got to choose; running away, going to Oxenfurt, becoming a bard, traveling. Gods, I followed Geralt to the ends of the bloody Continent for two decades of my life I’ll never get back — but that was my choice.”

“Would you please let me finish my point, instead of interrupting me to wallow in guilt?” He gnawed at his lip, finally turning to face her. “It wasn’t about being a mother, it was about choice. So this—” she waved her arm dramatically, wondering for a moment when exactly she’d started picking up his mannerisms. “This isn’t about Geralt at all, is it?” After a moment of contemplation, he carefully shook his head. “Then what is it about?”

“I don’t know, to be honest,” he muttered at the tail end of a swig from his tankard. “I’ve just always been like this,” he said with a sweep of his hand, palm upturned, string-callused fingers twitching aimlessly. Her violet eyes bore into him expectantly, and he felt angry for a flicker of a moment — she was a witch, right? He should be able to just sit back while she delves into the darkest crevices of his psyche, let her root around and not have to struggle to put his life into context and language. “Can’t you just, y’know…” He tugged at his fingers, tilted his head.

“Read your mind?” she finished the question, scooting closer to him, and he felt the hair on his arms rise. “Are you sure that’s what you want?” He nodded, and she pressed her forehead against his, pulling him in close, enveloping him in the lilac and gooseberries he knew Geralt loved so much. He understood why; he felt inexplicably safe, even as the logical half of his brain urged him to pull back. This was all for show, and he knew that— she didn’t need to touch him to read him. Either way, he was grateful to not have to give language to the nameless, that she could just see.

See Jaskier at seventeen, screaming at Valdo from across the courtyard, "if you leave me I swear the fuck to melitile I'll kill myself," knowing he's made this exact threat verbatim so many times Valdo can't believe him, unable to recall what they were even arguing about anymore. When they break up, his mother tells him the first heartbreak always hurts the worst; it hurts all the same every time thereafter.

Jaskier at twenty, slicing thin lines into his thigh for what had to be the millionth time, running out of unmarred skin, witcher/tentative friend asleep somewhere beside him in the darkness. If asked, he’s not sure he’d have an excuse. Sometimes to feel something, sometimes to feel nothing. Either way, this uncertainty is what keeps his wrists clean.

Jaskier at twenty-three, wailing great, hiccuping sobs, shoulders rattling, blind beyond teary eyes. Geralt, gods bless him, doesn’t know what to do, stands arm’s-length away, regards him with uncertainty and pity. They’d fought about something that didn’t matter and he couldn’t remember, and that rage washed over him, red-hot, balled fists trembling at his side. “Get out! Gods, are you thick? Leave, Geralt; I fucking hate you.” But then Geralt listened, because Geralt didn’t play Jaskier’s games, and now there he was, sobbing, babbling, “don’t leave me, I’m sorry, I’ll be better, I can’t lose you, it’ll kill me, don’t go.” Geralt stays; they pretend nothing ever happened.

Jaskier at twenty-seven, at the ashes of his latest burnt bridge, just another failed relationship that feels altogether more like death than separation. Grieving it more like death, too; sobbing until he could do little more than stare at the ceiling and try to breathe, mourning a cemetery of mistakes and a lifetime of failure.

Jaskier at thirty-two, depression blanketing him with the fresh snow, the man he'd tangled up his entire identity in fucked off to the mountains for the winter while he sludged through classes, distracting himself from having to confront the fact that he doesn't recognize his own face in the mirror. Jaskier does exist in the spaces between Geralt, but, sometimes, that Jaskier is a husk.

Jaskier a few days ago, marching back to Oxenfurt because that's all he knows, doubtful Jaskier even exists anymore, the emptiness in his mind unbearable and somehow terminal, altogether certain he's been incompatible with life from the very moment he entered it and resolved to rectify nature's mistake himself.

Jaskier who, his entire life, has felt everything, too much, all at once. Who's always been led by his heart — and not in the beautiful, Romantic way, but messy, tragic, and uniquely Jaskier. A man so utterly at the mercy of his own mind, drowning in feelings he doesn't have the language to name, his entire being defined not by who he is but what he does and who he loves.

Jaskier, on a rooftop in Tretogor, itchy feet ready to fling him off the ledge. He'd told Valdo once, in the in-between hours not quite night or morning when everything seems strange and far away, that he knew how he was destined to die. Pressed on, even as Valdo chuckled and called him presumptive, “I'm going to kill myself.” Not today, or tomorrow, but inevitably. He said it not with the certainty of someone who's seen into the future but the cynical resignation of a man who knows no other escape. And Valdo punched his arm, told him not to talk like that, promised it would get easier one day. He hates Valdo now, not that he remembers why, and that day has yet to come.

She pulled back eventually— finally — and swept a shaky thumb over his cheek. He chewed on his lip, staring expectantly with hauntingly wide eyes.

“Jaskier.” It was barely a whisper, uttered at the end of a sharp exhale, and when violet eyes met his they shone with an uncanny recognition. He wasn't sure what, precisely, she'd seen, but he knew whatever it was had been enough. He'd invited her to the bleakest corners of his mind, and now she regarded him like a lame horse. He ducked his head, but she caught him with a hand on his chin. “You know that's not how destiny works.”

“Hmm?” He wracked his brain to figure what she might be referring to, coming up empty-handed. He didn't have a big, grand destiny like she or Geralt did. He was just Jaskier the bard, Jaskier the one-night stand, Jaskier the disappointment.

“It doesn't have to end like that. You have a choice,” she elaborated, still painfully vague, but he understood.

“This isn't the first time, Yen, I—”

“I know. I saw.” Right, she saw, probably everything, and he had the wherewithal to feel humiliated for it.

“I've cheated it enough times. I can't outrun it forever.” It felt nice, at least, to let his walls down a little, stop playing the perpetual naive optimist. Almost a relief, even, a weight off his shoulders.

“I know. But you're strong, Jask.” She moved her hand from his chin to the back of his head, guiding it to rest against her shoulder. “We have more in common than I thought, you know.” He laughed, thin and heady, but with a little more conviction this time, and pressed his face against her neck.

“Is that your way of telling me you're fucked up, too?” He asked, and, despite the levity in his tone, he truly was curious.

“Yes, bard,” she hummed, reaching out to sip at her tankard.

“You're not going to give me any more than that?” He fought off a yawn, pressing the back of his hand against his mouth. “I just told you everything.”

“Maybe someday,” she replied, setting the mug back on the table. “But right now I think you could use some rest. We both could.” She slipped out of the booth and he let his head tilt back against the wall, mourning the absence of her warmth.

She returned a few minutes later, room procured, and hiked the blanket back over his shoulders as he reached for his lute and followed after her. It was a nice enough room, two beds on opposite sides, a bath he had no intention of utilizing. Exhausted, he kicked off his boots, shrugged off his doublet, and dropped onto the bed. He let his mind wander, dozing as Yennefer readied herself for bed, eyelids heavy by the time she blew out the candles.

“You won't try again?” Yen asked from across the room after a while, barely a silhouette in the faint moonlight. Jaskier rolled over to face her, finding her staring distantly out the window.

“You, uh, you have to be more specific,” he muttered, tugging the blanket closer to his chin. It smelled of lilac and ale.

“How am I supposed to make that more specific?” It came out sharp, like her usual tone with him, but he could still feel an uneasy twinge to her words.

“I mean, I don't know.” He felt stupid for reasons beyond his grasp. “Not today, or tomorrow. But I can't promise never.” There was a long pause, and Jaskier barely breathed, wondering if he'd managed to upset her as sleep crept up on him.

“Not today is enough,” she said finally, sounding almost far away, and his breath hitched in his throat.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, voice thick with impending sleep. “When are you leaving?” The me he omitted at the tail end rang in his mind, unspoken but understood, heavy in the nighttime silence. She was supposed to leave in the morning, so he could either move on or finish what he’d set out to do; he wasn’t sure he wanted her to uphold that promise anymore.

“Not today.” He exhaled slowly. Not today is enough. And maybe, just maybe, enough not today's would add up to never.

#the witcher #the witcher netflix #the witcher fanfic #jaskier #dandelion #julian alfred pankratz #yennefer #yennefer of vengerberg #tw suicide #jaskier whump #bad things happen bingo #brasskier does bthb

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jonroxton · 4 years ago

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as for clois, the writing choices made little sense to me. why did they wait so long to make them explicitly romantic? i swear they were still writing clana in s8. at times it felt like lois was in love with the blur & not clark & that she really started falling for clark when she realised he was the blur. and that's fine, i don't mind it tbh, but they should have started writing clois in s5-s6 so they can get that aspect out of the way with enough time to write lois being in love with clark

love these. gonna tackle ‘em one at a time.

1. why did they wait so long to make them explicitly romantic?

It seems to have been a combo of things. there were rules set on lois by the superman offices irt what she could do, who she could interact with and even how long they had her for a season. this is why you barely saw her with lex or at the planet in her early years, and why clois doesn’t ever move beyond the bantering subtext stage until like season 6. I remember returns was coming out and the superman offices lifted a few restrictions on how the show could use her, this changed a little when s7 ended and Rosenbaum and Kreuk left and new contracts drawn, but they were more or less constricted in how they could portray clois. always through loopholes basically. the why of this is simply bc the show never wanted to venture too fast into the superman mythos, which is what lois and clois brought them.

s8-s10 got new show runners and less restrictions, but why still the delay? why have lana return and stop all that s8 build up. with hindsight and within the context of the complete show, it’s difficult for me to frame her returning arc as anything but horrific for clark/lana, and though I wished they hadn’t beat that dead horse, what they did holds a lot of nuance and pathos for both characters. the writers seem to have wanted complete closure irt to clark with lana before ever pursuing clois seriously. they were never the greatest writers so the result is lost in translation. some see it as forced on them, but I feel this does the whole arc a disservice, since it’s explicit choices down the line that lead to their separation/break up , bottom line is that clark and lana lie to each other and this time the consequences are irreversible, the pattern of the secrets and lies causing all their strife finally broken. it all seems to move slow or even backwards irt to clois romantically, but the show took clark’s pains over losing lana (again for the billionth time) seriously. going for clois at this point would have indeed been the rebound, the show decided not to and overall is the better for it.

2. this is where the blur comes in

clark is not looking for romance in s8 (neither is lois) and clois is not romantic in that they are in love and together. this has been the running gag since her arrival, with the subtext (if you see it) being that they actually like one another and enjoy each others (biting) company and one day will be married. the fun is in their clashing personalities not being quite who they are destined to be, and we watch it all while clark is passionately in love with his high school sweetheart. this was certainly annoying considering how long it went on, nevertheless, all through both of their romantic entanglements, clark and lois have a strong friendship and camaraderie that works irregardless of whether or not they’re romantically interested (or seen that way). this is the foundation s8 builds on, that they’re good (maybe great) friends and can count on each other. this is actually an anomaly in SV lol, but they’re really the only people the other can depend on completely without fail.

so clark is heart broken yet he’s also for the first time coming into his own. he and lois are in a new environment, more professional, more serious, more superman. the superman/lois/clark triangle and its effectiveness (or lack thereof) has been written about before and by my betters. what I can say as I understand it is: it’s a mistake to differentiate between superman/clark blur/clark as separate people and its not so much that lois falls for one over the other but that she recognizes something in superman that is very much like clark and vice vera and does so at different times. the structure of this narrative is infuriating, but thematically is filled with identity madness. this is always why the triangle ends when lois is conflicted about being in love with both precisely bc they’re so alike. a wider superman running gag is lois lamenting clark and superman are not the same person bc they would be the perfect man.

superman/blur is the powerful, lonely, kryptonian side of clark and sv clark has never had an easy time connecting with this part of himself (he’s actively fought against it). when he’s speaking to lois as the blur, this is not someone clark has seen before, this serious, introspective, entirely giving lois who wants to listen to him. who doesn’t run away from him and fully accepts his powers. and though she doesn’t know it, she’s connecting with a serious, hidden part of clark. I think another important point about how lois sees clark is that she IS impressed with him because he constantly surpasses her expectations, even without the subtext of being interested in each other, lois does have an appreciation for clark as a do-gooder.

3. with the foundation of their friendship and history, this leads to a lot of s8 stories where they have to confront their subtext for the first time (that saw episode where they pretend fake married and forced to go through a test. it’s literally WHATS YOUR SUBTEXT?! sv anvil’s for ya). made all the more complex by exes and secret identities.

4. LAST THING I think is important to consider

lois and clark have seen each other go through terrible breakups and have seen each others heartbreak. the last half of s8 very much plays up that notion of not getting involved to not get hurt. hooking them up early on would’ve meant not getting this very careful characterization where lois and clark work hard and seriously on their relationship to make it work.

5. last last thing: it’s a shame we didn’t see it

I disagree we didn’t see it. s8-s9 was more loophole superman shenanigans but s10 is one glorious clois domestic train!

#mystuff #sayruq #smallville #clois #I answered the second part somewhere in here #since it touched on the superman/blur/clark lois love thing #this was a great ask got to chew on some stuff #the chlark one is gonna take some time bc I haven't really chewed on that in a while or ever really #not outside the context of bloe being horrible lol

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itspileofgoodthings · 4 years ago

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Folklore Reactions

going to do this in sections, so this is just tracks 1-5. I still know nothing! (well, and also everything.) But I wanted to capture some of my initial feelings. :)

the 1: after several listens I understand so much more clearly what this song is doing and it ISN’T deeply sad, like I first thought. there’s a lightness to it. it’s a song about looking back at something nostalgically and being a little apologetic for doing that. “in my defense I have none for never leaving well enough alone/for digging up the grave another time.” she’s shaking her head at herself, acknowledging that she can’t help being this way, being so retrospective. the details are so fun and vivid. sunday matinees, bus stops, rosé flowing, but what i love about it so much is the main hook of the song. “it would’ve been fun, if you would’ve been the 1.” because it doesn’t matter how long it’s been, it doesn’t matter that this song isn’t a deeply personal one for taylor in that it’s not about her (and i don’t think it is, i think it’s a perspective one), taylor will always muse on whether something that didn’t last could have lasted and will always quietly, gently, in a third person way wish that it could have lasted. the ache in her voice when she sings “if my wishes came true, it would’ve been you.” this non-breakup song has more pathos in it than most artists’ actual breakup tracks. AND IT’S ALSO A BOP????? I CAN’T.

cardigan: oh man, i can’t say anything coherent about it yet. this song is so big and so layered. i will say that the way that this, august, and betty have these HUGE intertwining bridges---- is everything to me. the whole heart of the song is about what betty kNEW and the way the bridge is just images stacked on images, moments stacked on moments, all the things she knew. and there really was so so so so much that she kNEW. and that knowledge couldn’t save her from heartbreak. because she wANTED to be someone’s favorite. a lot of knowledge when you’re young isn’t the same thing as wisdom and it can be its own heavy gift because you can’t make all the rest of you grow up to match that knowledge. you’re still just a kid, too. she saw how it would all unfold and fell anyway BECAUSE SHE WANTED TO BE CHOSEN AND LOVED. THIS SONG.

the last great american dynasty: this was my breakthrough song!!!!! the one on first listen that makes me feel like I can breathe and that I can sort of process. :) I grinned SO WIDE the second I heard her sing “Rebekah rode up on the afternoon train.” It’s perfect, utterly perfect, every word hits a beat and every word tells a story. bitch-pack friends!!!! filled the pool with champagne !!!!! boys and the ballet!!!! the bridge is beyond delightful. THE CHILLS I FELT WHEN SHE SANG “and then it was bought by me.” a song about taylor’s rhode island mansion is not what I expected or thought I wanted but it is exactly what this album and I needed. It’s both a processing song for Taylor personally and the parts of her reputation that her RI mansion helped create but it’s also about STORYTELLING, about making a legend out of the woman who lived there before, sharing her story with the world and tying her past to Rebekah’s and in doing so immortalizing both. i’m obsessed.

exile: this is a stunning collab, her best yet I think. his voice is deep enough that it holds up next to Taylor’s--which often ends up being more expressive than her duet partners. They feel like true partners as vocalists and storytellers; the story is equally theirs. Love the big sound, love the crosstalk, love the pain amplified in this big, big sound. “holding all this love out here in the hall” >>>>>> KILL ME. this was also a breakthrough song. it’s fairly straightforward but that doesn’t lessen its power.

my tears ricochet: oKAY so the biggest magic about this song !!!! to me!!!! is the fact that the thing that seems to work LEAST, that feels like it might be the weakest link in an otherwise stunning and layered and metaphor-driven song is actually the thing that ties it together!!!!!! and YES. BY THAT I MEAN THE TITLE. !!!!!!! it wasn’t until she sung the titular phrase that it all snapped into place for me. this is a SHARED grief, a shared bitterness, a union even in the separation in the sense that they both are hurting. (anywhere i want just not home//you would still miss me in your bones) the phrase my tears ricochet captures that perfectly, it IS the thesis, because they are not only her tears but they come from her. they strike him and then return again. the way she sings it too. the truth, the almost-acceptance? the ache, the sadness, but mostly the plain, matter-of-fact TRUTH and the lowness, the lowest of lows in terms of her register, that really drives it home. look at how my tears ricochet. what feels like it could be melodrama becomes reality in those three words. it is a perfect track 5.

#taylor swift #folklore #the 1 #cardigan #the last great american dynasty #exile #my tears ricochet #can't do more than five at a time haha

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thestarwrites · 4 years ago

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All Right, All Might: Ch.11

After all of the counseling with class 1-A, All Might and Patho finally get to go on their first date, but hero work always just has to get in the way, doesn’t it? WE FINALLY GET TO THE SMUT EVERYONE, CONGRATULATIONS.

Word Count: 3,506

Rating: R

——————— CHAPTER ELEVEN: A NIGHT JUST FOR US: part 2

The citizens who stood around all began to cheer as they saw All Might, their champion, punch the wild and ferocious villain in the face. Keri couldn’t help but smile with them as they heard sirens in the distance, a silent tear slid down her cheek as she watched him stand over the villain in triumph. Laughing and waving to the people, saying hello, but telling them to stay back in case the villain woke up and attacked again.

I gotta be this, I gotta be All Might for as long as I’m able to be.

She heard his words from last night echo in her head. She slowly formed a pink ball over her palm and sent it to him. It connected with All Might’s chest and filled him with pride, he averted his gaze to find her in the crowd, and when his eyes met her, he smiled like he was his young self again. The genuine and warm smile of a man who could conquer the whole world. He felt warm and sure - and happy. Happy not only because he saved people from what would have been an agonizing death, but because when he looked up his girl was in the crowd. His girl was cheering him on, his girl believed in him.

“Excuse me citizens!” A policeman called out as he came into the street, “We have to collect the villain please!” The people stepped out of the way as the cop spoke to Toshinori about the villains quirk before he radioed in and two other men came over with a straight jacket and a quirk-canceling cuff for around his neck.

Patho stood on the sidelines, watching with a smile on her face, no one noticed her, no one thanked her, All Might as always completely out-shined her. But it was alright, she didn’t want the attention, it was enough that she could help him. He continued to shake hands and sign autographs for people as they fawned over him.

He was truly a wonder. She could tell just how happy he was to be so adored, but not for the attention, but because he valued the people and respected his position.

After forty-five minutes the man finally had some space to look for his girlfriend. Finally when he spied her smiling and sitting on a discarded stack of palettes he walked to her, “There you are- why didn’t you come find me?”

She blushed and smiled, “Too busy watching you.”

“Watching me?” He chuckled, “Now why on earth would you want to do that? I ruined our date.”

Shaking her head she sighed dreamily, “You couldn’t ruin a thing, dummy.”

He cupped her cheek gently, “You’re crying.”

“I’m happy,” she chuckled when he cocked his head to the side in confusion, “I feel like a young girl in high school again, getting to watch you work. Getting to see you smile and wave and talk to your adoring public. I just... am committing all of these moments with you to memory. Not every girl gets to look up at her hero and know at the end of the day he’s coming home with her.”

Smiling softly he nodded, “I understand, you were amazing back there, Ree.”

She sighed and leaned into his touch, “I played my thankless part.”

“It’s not thankless.”

“I have no fans, I have to public adoration. I’m a second rate support hero- but it’s enough to be able to help them.”

“What the heck are you talking about you have no fans??”

“I don’t!” She laughed.

“The kids at school would say differently. Especially the kids in Midoriya’s class,” He looked at her, crouching to her level, “And you have me. I’m your biggest fan of all.”

Giving a dreamy sigh she blushed hard and leaned in to kiss his cheek gently, “Oh Toshi... you certainly know how to make a girl feel special.”

He chuckled, “Come on now; what do you want to do for the rest of our date?”

“Let’s go home and watch an American rom-com.”

Smiling he nodded, ��Which one?” He held out his hand for her to help her off of her seat.

Taking his hand she gently jumped down to the pavement, moving to lace her fingers with his, “When Harry Met Sally.”

“Hmm, i don’t think I know that one. What is it about?”

She leaned into his large form as he turned down a deserted alley, for which she was grateful, “It’s about a man and a woman who become the best of friends.” She gave his hand a thoughtful squeeze.

Chuckling he took his hand from hers and slung his large arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer as she wrapped her own arm around his waist- but only reaching about mid-back due to his size, “Sounds familiar.”

“Frankly I think our story is a little different.” She wasn’t used to this much affection with his hero form, but he couldn’t be seen walking away from a crime scene with the same clothes in his skinny form.

“Why because the man isn’t a washed up hero?”

She pinched his lower back gently and tsked him, “No because when I have sex with you tonight I’m not going to regret it.”

He stopped in his tracks and started coughing out blood.

“I- Oh! Toshi I’m sorry!! I’m so sorry!” She moved to pull out a spare cloth she’d carried with her for this specific occurrence.

He laughed a little as he wiped his mouth, his cheeks were beet red, “Don’t apologize, sunflower.” He pulled her hand to his chest, “Do you feel how fast you got my heart beating for you?” He says as he lowered his head to catch her lips in a kiss. The kiss tasted like ice cream and blood, “You keep surprising me at every turn, you little tease.”

Her cheeks were as red as his as she looked to him, “Toshi... you’ve never spoken to me like this before...”

“Do you... want me to stop?” He backed her up to be against the wall, caging her in with his large arms. He was glad he was All Might right now. As All Might he could be confident and hulking and make her feel as small and delicate as he wanted her to feel.

She shook her head, looking up at him, her hands splayed on his chest, “T-Toshinori...”

Leaning down he kissed her again, and she let out a soft sound against his lips. He let out a soft growl and moved his hand down to grab at her ass. Gasping she broke it, “W-wait-“

“What? What is it? Did I hurt you?”

“No! Oh no no Toshi. I just- you’re All Might right now, someone could see us. We should go somewhere more private if you’re going to paw me like a highschool boy.” She smirked, rubbing his chest gently to alleviate his worry, “I don’t want the whole world in our business yet- tonight is our first date.”

He chuckled softly and nodded, “Understandable- come on then, kitten, let’s go home first.” He held out his hand, she took it, “I don’t think we should watch the movie right when we get home…” he smirked at her.

She blushed and bit her lip, squeezing his hand, “Oh All Might!”

He laughed and smirked, “Don’t worry, little lady, you’re safe with me. I’m a hero.” He winked and smirked, once they were out of sight of the civilians and there was a place to take off, he jumped into the night air, holding her close to him again.

Keri screamed out in joy and laughed as she held onto his neck as they flew through the sky, this would be something she missed when he was no longer All Might. Not that it was a deal breaker, she just wished secretly that she could have dated him in his prime, when he was confident and unburdened the way he was now.

Looking up at his face she smiled, she loved him so much, “Toshi?”

“Hm?” He glanced down at her before looking ahead once more.

She smiled, “This was the best night of my whole life.”

He smiled slightly, cheeks pink, “Was? It’s not over yet, Sunflower.”

Chuckling she nodded and buried her face into his neck, giving and experimental kiss to the skin under his ear, “I just need you to know how happy you make me.”

“I’m not even really doing anything, Ree,” he chuckled.

“I know,” she sighed, kissing his earlobe, “You make me happy just by being you,” she gave an experimental nip to his earlobe, “You’re the most wonderful man in the world,” when he shivered slightly she smirked and gave a little nip to his thick neck, “And you make me want you so bad…”

He growled in his throat at that and let out a shaky breath, “I want you too. Hold on for a minute, kitten, we’re almost home.”

Landing on the roof of her apartment building he set her onto her feet and leaned down to kiss her softly, “Are you sure you want to do this - with me?”

She smiled and stroked his chiseled jaw, “Of course I do.”

He took her hand again, starting to head where they could be shut up together in the safety and comfort of her apartment, that they kept referring to as home. Maybe it could be their home. Together. Toshinori smiled as his large hand laced fingers with her small one.

Keri smiled and opened the door, pulling him inside with a giggle.

The older man smirked and gently pinned her to the inside of the closed door, “Now… where were we, Miss?” He reached down with one hand, grabbing a handful of her ass once more and she let out a soft moan as he did so. Groaning he smiled, “You’re so beautiful… surrendering like this for me.”

She sighed again and hooked her leg around his large thigh, he moved forward to press himself into her, “Toshi… why are you… still in your hero form?” She rolled her hips experimentally against the bulge in his pants.

Sucking in a breath he let his forehead rest against hers as he hooked his hand under her knee, “I - I can’t… I don’t want you to see me like that right now.” He leaned down and kissed at her neck, “I need to be this.”

Keri nodded, “Okay, baby,” she kissed the side of his neck, “You know where the bedroom is,” she whispered.

Growling softly he hoisted her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist, “I’m not going to pretend like I haven’t thought about this a lot.” He smirked.

“Toshinori, you sly dog,” she giggled and kissed him, “I’ve thought of this a lot too.”

Setting her on the bed he pulled off the button up shirt and the tee under it, the scar looking quite painful under the strain of his muscles. Keri pulled her sweater off, holding it in front of her stomach. He frowned, “Whats wrong?”

“I told you I… I’m not…”

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her lips, “You’re beautiful.”

“How can you say that to me when you can change your appearance?” She frowned.

Toshinori frowned, “You’re right, Keri… I’m sorry.” He took a deep breath and shrank to his normal form, sitting next to her on the bed, “You are your authentic self with me. So I’ll be mine with you.” He nodded.

“Not that I’m saying getting pawed by Big Might is bad- it was really hot,” she blushed and giggled, “But you’re also hot as you are, like this.”

“You’re hot too,” he gingerly took the sweater and threw it with his clothes on the floor, “Just as you are.” Gingerly he slid his rough large hand over her back, “I haven’t been with anyone since the incident.”

She took a deep breath and smiled, “I haven’t been with anyone since my last boyfriend dumped me five years ago.”

“— You got dumped?”

“Toshi. Not now,” she chuckled and moved to straddle his lap, leaning up into her he groaned. Nodding he held her hips, “Can I ask you a question?”

He nodded.

“Are… I mean - Is… Is your cock bigger as All Might? I- I’m just curious! It doesn’t matter.”

His cheeks lit bright red and he looked down, getting a little lost in her breasts, he leaned forward and kissed them each over the cups of her bra, bringing one large hand up two squeeze one, “It gets thicker when I’m All Might, cause of the blood… but, it stays relatively the same. Its uh… its nine inches, sometimes ten in hero form…”

She moaned as he kneaded her breast and reached her arms around him to hold and pet his hair, “Ah- that makes sense… NINE OR TEN?” She pulled back to look at him, “Holy shit Toshi you’re packing!”

He let out a nervous laugh and leaned to kiss her neck, “Is that bad?”

“No - no… thats… woah,” she laughed a little, “Be gentle with me?”

He pulled his head up to look into her eyes and he smiled warmly, “Keri, I could never be anything but gentle with you. I want you under me, moaning in ecstasy, moaning my name and thinking of only us.”

“Oh Toshi,” she sighed and leaned forward to kiss him.

The older man groaned into her and pushed her over, making out with her as his thin frame pinned her to the bed. Rutting against her core, her legs spread for him, “God - Sunflower… you’re… perfect.” He stood up to start discarding his pants, she started to squirm out of her leggings. After a moment he helped her to pull them off, tossing them on the floor. He smirked, “Mm… nice lingerie set…”

She blushed and giggled, it was a deep blue with yellow trim and a red bow, “I wanted to wear… your colors.”

He smirked wider, “You’re so hot right now… you wouldn’t even believe it.”

Biting her lip she tossed her bra, crooking her finger, “Come here Toshi…” she slid up higher on the bed, the lanky man following her. He slid her panties down her legs, kissing her plush thighs as he went down.

“This is definitely the best day of my life,” he chuckled and moved to kiss her again once she was naked.

She hummed into his mouth, “Well why don’t you take off those boxer briefs and make it the best day of my life too, Toshi?"

“As you wish, my dear.”

------

All Might got up to stretch and he sighed as he sat on the edge of the bed with a grain, panting, “That was… woah.”

Blushing she bit her lip, holding the sheets around herself, “You’re incredible, my Small Might.”

He laughed a little, cheeks red, “Hey… how about we take a shower together before we call it a night, hm? We could take a shower and watch some TV, and then I’ll tuck you into bed before I go back home.”

“No.”

“No?” He blinked.

“No. You have to stay the night. It’s like, a rule.”

Smirking he slithered back into the bed, “A rule, hm? Says who?”

“Says your girlfriend,” she pouted, “I expect to have more sex in the shower, and then maybe some good old fashioned sleepy sex when we turn in, after the movie.”

Laughing harder he kissed her red lips, “You expect me to have a lot of stamina for a man with one lung.”

She flushed, “Oh- oh shit Toshi- I didn’t even think of that- oh my god I’m horrible!”

“Oh stop,” he kissed her again, “You’re sweet… I’ve never let anyone see me naked like this and… and somehow… right now - its not bothering me so much.” Kissing her cheek he smiled, “But I really should go home, Ree. I do have medication to take and some paperwork to take care of. But - I’ll come take you out for brunch, hm? Then I can take you shopping? It’s Saturday tomorrow after all.”

She raised her eyebrows, “You really do mean to spoil me…”

“Of course I do, kitten,” he kissed her forehead, “Come on now, lets take a shower and maybe you’ll be so tired you’ll wanna crawl right into bed.”

After their brief, but intimate shower, he gently tucked her into bed, pushing her hair to the side, “Are you comfy?”

The girl was wearing the white button up he had been wearing tonight as her sleep shirt, she nodded, “Yeah…” Keri yawned, “You’re the best boyfriend in the world.”

“Its been one day, I have plenty of time to mess this up,” he leaned down to kiss her forehead.

“Mm… you won’t,” she sighed, “You’ll text me when you get home?”

“Course I will, Sunflower.”

Nodding she reached up to cup his cheek, guiding him down to kiss her, “Mmm… goodnight Toshinori… thank you for such a wonderful evening.”

“Thank you, Miss Chairo,” he smiled and kissed her once more before shutting off the lamp, “Sleep tight, Ree.”

He was met with the sound of soft snoring as he walked out of the room with a smile.

When Toshinori got back home, he was beaming. It was late, so he could just walk in in his small form, god knows he was too tired to maintain his hero form now. He felt like he could sleep for a week. He hadn’t had sex since before the injury- he had doubted that any woman would have him. But he had his Sunflower.

Opening the mailbox first as he always did, he was surprised to find a letter, “This is from Gran Torino!” He beamed, heading up the stairs, tired but anxious to read what his mentor had to say in response to his letter earlier in the week. Smiling he blushed, “He’ll be so surprised to learn that the situation with Keri went so well…”

He unlocked his door and went into his sparse apartment, locking himself in and texting Keri that he arrived home just fine. He knew she was already asleep, so he plugged it in and went about undressing and getting ready for bed.

Yawning he turned his bedside lamp on, grabbed Gran Torino’s letter, and got into his large bed. Tearing it open, he started to read;

Dear Toshinori,

I’m not going to say that I’m not surprised you have become a teacher. Because I am a little surprised after all how closely you’re following in my own track! As far as this Midoriya kid, he seems exactly the sort of person you’d choose for your successor.

I bet he’s just as stubborn and reckless as you. And of course when the time comes for internships, send him my way. I know even being taught was difficult for you, so I’m sure teaching hasn’t been easy. It’s no walk in the park, but while I’m mentoring him, you need to work on getting your priorities in line to be able to teach him once the internship is over.

But yes, my best student, I will help you.

As far as being reckless goes - a woman? You never wanted to get involved with someone before. And especially now? With what Nighteye has said? You haven’t even talked to him in five years. I bet she has no idea.

And what about All for One? What if she becomes a target - I’ve seen her work, she can’t protect herself. An emotional manipulation quirk is only good for so many things, and protecting yourself from the most powerful villain in Japan is not one of them.

Don’t get involved. You should be training your successor and making plans for how you’re going to step down. You have to end it. Stay friends if you want, but that is where it should end.

Think about what Nighteye said, Toshinori. Seven years. And it’s been five. As much as neither of us want to acknowledge that, she has to be told at some point if you’re planning on continuing this into your retirement.

Think, Toshinori.

Stay well, I will talk to you soon.

Yours, Sorahiko Torino

All Might sat on his bed, tears rolling down his cheeks. For a moment he growled, “He’s an old man what does he know!” He crumpled up the letter and tossed it, coughing as he tried to steady his breathing. It turned into a full on coughing fit, grabbing for Keri’s handkerchief he kept near him always, he started using it to catch the blood that came up.

Wiping his lips he hugged his long legs to his chest, “I don’t want to lose her.” He cried softly and shook his head, “I won’t… I won’t sacrifice this! Not after I’ve lost everything else!”

But he knew in his heart, eventually, he would need to think about the long term. And what was best for the woman he loved.

#all right all might #all might x reader #toshinori yagi x reader #all might x oc

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