#i mostly just try to watch from the outside at this point and just curate my own little safe space 💀 its scary out there
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i love to hear your thoughts on minnie you're the only one who gets season 4 in the fullest
im so flattered you think so anon 😭
how it feels being in this fandom sometimes
i love analyzing narrative and themes and stuff and S4 has Way more going on than people will give it credit for (S1 + 4 combo my beloved)
#S2 and 3 have grown in appreciation for me but they still suffer from a lot of weak elements#S4 is a wonderful companion piece to S1. and wraps up the whole series solidly and satisfyingly#im just here hoping like-minded people find me...#i mostly just try to watch from the outside at this point and just curate my own little safe space 💀 its scary out there#twdg#incognito#replies with lexi
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You must be in a tumblr bubble because how have you never seen posts with thousands notes claiming most classical literature is actually fanfiction of bible and the rest is of mythology. Like, this isn’t a hot take on tumblr, unfortunately.
Probably because I have a life outside of tumblr and curate my experience, but yes, I have seen posts about how Paradise Lost is just Bible fanfic and Dante's Inferno is self-insert fanfiction, but mostly from people who watch OSPD videos and say it as a joke. It's a major simplification of about a dozen concepts but okay, if you look at it from the point of definitions, yeah, Paradise Lost & the Divine Comedy are technically fanfiction; they are based on pre-existing work, with Dante there's irl people in scenarios they've never been in, etc etc.
Although I have never seen anyone saying any particular fanfic is a literary masterpiece that must simply be taught in academic settings, which is what that OP's post was actually implying.
And here's the thing; I think fanfic has the potential to be considered a classic. Because, what makes let's say, the Divine Comedy so important? It's not because it's old, but because it struck a nerve among the masses, it did things against the societal structure no one dared to do before, it transformed the Italian language as we know it, it's this carefully, excruciatingly crafted work in terms of sentence structure and is primarily a theological exploration. Now this stands out also because the og canon content, the Bible, is MASSIVE in influence. That thing STILL shapes social norms, conventions and expectations.
No current fanfiction now will ever come to be seen as a true classic unless the canon thing the fic is based on reaches Bible levels of influence on society, which is going to take centuries. Same can be applied to Greek Myths in general(also in both these cases the canon thing is also tied to social structure and religion which large portions of the world follow). We don't want to equate the term 'fanfiction' to that stuff because it feels like it's beyond that but technically, yeah. It's fanfiction.
But the term fanfiction itself is extremely recent, it was said first in 1939 and therefore carries temporal contexts and definitions. It's why it feels juvenile and uncomfortable assigning such a new, and initially frowned-upon term to classics. Being angry about what is and what isn't fanfiction depends entirely upon how you view the term 'fanfiction'.
For me, it is value-neutral and doesn't immediately denote lowered quality these days because at the most fundamental level, fanfiction is literary work based on pre-existing media. But if you add the current cultural context in which fanfiction is primarily written, ie., posted online by anyone and everyone with a desire to write, mostly to fulfill shipping fantasies or certain character scenarios canon didn't provide, then I can see why people would consider giving the label of fanfiction to the classics an insult or "shooting too high".
Maybe 'fanfiction' isn't fitting because of all the social stigma around it, maybe it doesn't apply because it feels like trying to apply modern story beats and terms to ancient mythology. What specifically, is making someone uncomfortable about the term 'fanfiction' on the classics? What the hell even is "fanfiction" in the first place because you could argue that The Song of Achilles is canon-compliant POV change fanfiction but its advertised as a retelling. Pride & Prejudice & Zombies also counts for fic. I think there's a good discussion to be had on what makes "fanfiction" as we know it now what it is because even I think assigning the term to Divine Comedy or Paradise Lost feels wrong. Maybe it's about intent? The classics are written with the need for social change or to make people see things different; art for life's sake. But most fic these days are purely art for art's sake- it is peak self-indulgence and self-expression.
I'm looking it up and people keep narrowing the definition of "fanfiction" as like
Amateur writing
Based on copyrighted characters
Without permission from og creator
Now that whole "copyright" concept complicates things because Romeo & Juliet? Not originally by Shakespeare. Dude borrowed characters from a different play, pretty sure he changed Juliette's name, and he wrote it when the og was only recently made. The concept of "copyright" and "author permission" is also VERY recent. What even counts as actually "amateur" because Van Gogh is considered a pro now but when he was alive he only sold one painting apparently so back then he could've been classified as "amateur"?
I have fully derailed. I forgot what I wanted to say-- Okay yeah I'm aware people say the classics are fanfiction, and in a way, yeah, it is, depending on how the individual defines "fanfiction".
#fanfiction#food for thought i guess#i'm sleep-deprived and in the middle of exams but this made think about what makes a classic and what's the definition of fanfiction#maybe there will be a fic someday that changes the world#but the problem is; fic is confined to fandom culture and thus people outside of it won't take it seriously#even if the thing is precise in ripping apart current governmental structure in whichever place they're from#because 'ah it's just some silly fandom thing'#fanfiction isn't taken seriously because the media its based on isn't often taken seriously#people got mad about paradise lost because up until then NO ONE DID WHAT MILTION DID BEFORE- if i'm remembering right- writing in modern-#english where the story wasn't a hero's quest was just not a thing and stuff written that way wasn't taken seriously#it rankled people because ppl held the Bible as something divine and paradise lost flipped the script on everything society largely believe#why would anyone take a fic based on Supernatural seriously when SPN itself is not respected?#same goes for even good media like LOTR Song of Ice and Fire etc#yeah they're huge but not in the way the Bible or Greek mythology are#unless there comes a canon work with anywhere close to social influence as the Bible- no fic will be held up as a classic#hello anon did you expect whatever this fucking mess is when you asked?
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death note. death wish.
Living your life backwards may be a good way to living a life that's more than black and white, right?
And so, we're here and now. When I'm asked what my wish list is, my usual reply is: Peace of mind.
This response gives a "fuck off" vibe without cursing. It works so well because I got a number of really, really curious gifts for the past years which involved a Moonswatch that was turned over to my dad, para walang palag ang vini ajumma n'yo.
What's my wish list? Back when I was 18 years old, stuck at home and caring for mom, I journaled whenever time permitted it. I listed down delulu x solulu items. I recently unearthed it and I can say that as per my timeline, only a very few things on the list needed to be crossed out. I'm starting this day with rewatching NA Season 4. Habol tayo sa mga paganaps because June is ending soon.
This year, what's my death wish? Building a Lego project I shall not name.
Seeing the first sunrise and sunset in my tiny home outside MNL.
Eating Jap food and downing tea. Rinse and repeat. Then, cheese, cold cuts, and an ice-cold alcoholic drink. Rinse and repeat ulit.
Getting a rice cooker, a wok, a cleaver, and a basic tiny kitchen set up.
Hunting down a mattress and pillows with a mattress protector to address unavoidable back pains atbp.
Biking more and walking more. Watching more Netflix with Dad even when his algo is not algo-ing.
Seeing my good friend power through after a really bad fall.
Getting the edits for a project on the back burner since 2015.
Spending time with my soul sis and Tito Ro that involves Batang 90s galawans in every sense of the word.
Going back to driving or maging passenger princess forever. Puwede both.
Spending more and more time beyond the outside of MNL. Tawid-dagat na us, vini.
Getting Vici and Vidi's vibe as senior dog babies pa rin. Tabing-gutter to tabing-dagat days and nights.
Growing my side project silently. No details are to be shared anytime soon. Plantita may bakuran na saks lang. No flower-bearing plants. And mga curation ng endemic plants sa Pinas na acclimated na. May iba pa pero TMI na e. So eto na lang muna. :-P
A few days ago, I got a kicks that I've been hunting down for quite some time. It reminds me of mom's OG pair when I was the only child. I saw this in her rare photos and boogsh. Ngayon ko pa talaga nakuha 'di ba? Even dad was surprised to see it's giving mom's mom shoes and the 90s vibe that's so me. Hint: Platform because my height is too ugh and I'm a thicccc bitch.
My current hair color also surprised me. Super like mother dragon's staple hair color nung kalakasan niya. This should have been a totally different color, but my colorist and I planned it out so that by December, I'd be able to get the hair color I like based on my mood, of course. Whenever I look at the mirror, it feels as though mom is staring back at me with her RBF. Kakatakot. I look like my Dad, pero 'pag ganito hair ko, shemayyy. Parang bumangon sa lupa nanay kong maligalig. Lerkkkzzz. Lagi na lang this time of the year 'yang pakawala ng paramdam nanay ko. This day starts on a very curious and different note, too. LOL. Maiba naman, for realzzzz noh? Death Note naman. Super straight up, this has been aligned with my best friend naman na. -No viewing; rekta cremate -Ashes in Mt. Pulag and Mt. Batulao (good luck sa magaakyat neto at sa lungs niya) -Walang pasend off sa huling gabi -Walang paghahatid sa huling hantungan -Walang socmed bakas -Walang photos and vids -Walang photos ko pero may photos na mga naprint ko (mostly Instax) -No flowers, no fancy stuff -Finger food -Batang 90s chichirya (tagpipiso) -Non-spiked cocktails -Ice-cold water -Extra hot black coffee -Pride PL na naka vinyl -Instant pancit canton and siomai with rice O 'di ba? Basic lang. Just plugging it here para it's a reminder na una-unahan lang 'yan. No one is too young or too old to die. Kapit lungs. And try seeing life from the vantage point of death. I've questioned myself so many times about this death perspectives. Baka I'm romanticizing it lang, after all. Pero no e. No talaga. I wish ganun nga, pero, siguro, this time around, mas at peace na ako, in a way. I've read about SI as well recently. Then I prompted as Gemini. Sabi tumawag daw ako sa helpline with call to action na pak. Me: I just asked naman. Duh. OA ang nonchalant bitch na 'to, na wonky naman a lot of time. LELS. I guess, now, I'm more open instead of being forced to open up. Malaking difference 'yan, and I guess, that's the difference that makes things better --weekends and weekdays, too. Sana lang mga pimples ko, umayon 'di ba? May jamboree na naman sila because it's the time of the friggin' month na boogsh talaga sila. PS: Super love talaga NA. As in! Hits home on all levels. Plus, super gwapo ni Max and cutie ni vini Helen. Si Max, mala-Jezzazz take the wheel 'yung vibe na weirdo na maligalig. Blue looks so good on him, too!
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What I don't get is why people follow someone then just refuse to interact with anything you share or post, like... WHY bother? Why are you there?
Maybe I'm asking for too much but I hate it when people do that, at worst it makes me anxious because it makes me get paranoid and wonder why you're even HERE to begin with and at the very least just annoy/ticks me off. Someone who I used to have as a follower defended these types of people saying they don't use Tumblr to interact with others and just watch which I get to an extent but WHY is it that 99% of the time anyone who decides to follow ME is the type to NEVER interact with anything I share or post... make it make sense. Like, seriously because hardly anyone ever follows me I check out people who do try to follow me and normally these are people who use Tumblr the normal way, they share and post stuff regularly so... why follow me? Why? Do most people just follow people and never interact with them? What's the point of doing that though???
Like, I could share cute animals and they wouldn't interact, video game stuff, nothing, political stuff nada, personal stuff, oh you better believe they ignore that so like... why? Am I just a person people LOVE to ignore? It feels like this happens outside of social media too, I guess it's just me, I guess I'm just really boring or something or just THAT bad at using social media which... I don't know how that's possible I don't do anything THAT weird/different but I guess it is enough to make me uncool, boring, annoying or whatever to everyone else.
Maybe I take it too seriously but I like curating my experience here on Tumblr and for a while I let people who never interact follow like anyone else but I had enough one day and now I kick off new followers pretty quickly. Maybe I should give them time but tbf and honest... I don't give A SINGLE shit! And I'm allowed to, no one has a right to follow me, if I don't want you here, I'm allowed to fuckin kick you out of my space.
And, even for the few people who did interact with me, the few who actually seemed like friends they would eventually stop, had more important people come into their lives so they would eventually, pretty quickly, get tired of me and stop mostly interacting with me so I would leave and soft block them so they weren't following me anymore. Not necessarily malicious, there was one time in which I just felt we weren't compatible people anymore (politics basically), but regardless I would leave and maybe that hurts people but tbh why does it matter? They barely knew me, and maybe I do it too quickly now as a coping mechanism, reject people before they reject because that's all people ever do to me, I'm allowed that though, it's not like things are much different from back when I didn't do this sort of thing. And, maybe I also rationalize it at times, once one person seemed really happy with their new life so I exited because I didn't really seem like I fit into it and just figured they would still be happy with my presence/that I would mean much if I left/I wanted to give them space for their new life. But again, I was probably just rationalizing my actions. I just have grown tired of being rejected...
Also... these people were usually the ones who interacted with ME first, then like clockwork they would lose interest in me but for the people I interacted with first... they never seemed to want to be my friend. I respect that, I respect their boundaries but... I'm not going to sit here and lie that it doesn't hurt being rejected like that. Also no, I don't LITERALLY ask if we can be friends, I know that's not how that works.
...oh well, just time and time again God or faith or the universe or WHATEVER prove to me I'm only really meant for loneliness. At least I'm more used to it now.
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A big thing I like about tumblr is that I can talk mostly nonsense without feeling like Im detracting from the point of my blog. because I can always make more
It's also why I refrain from posting random shit on my main since I use it exclusively for art and occasional unobtrusive update posts so people know Im not dead or away. I like organization and I dont like things bleeding into other things so I have a decent amount of blogs dedicated to certain spheres of interest that I dont think would be appropriate to put on one blog.
I think its mostly because I myself appreciate it when other people employ this approach because it makes it easier to enjoy specific parts of their content without being subjected to the rest of their person as they are, most of the time, just an internet rando to me and unless theres some personality beyond their art that I happen to enjoy looking at I usually prefer when its separate. Sometimes its for the best.
It's especially useful if the person in question Really Enjoys Getting Into Beef With Other People for some reason because then I dont have to see a morbillion discourse posts or qrts or reblogs or something or millions of Hot Takes on my feed when Im specifically curating it to be a fun and mellow experience.
The thing about twitter is that unless youve cultivated an audience that enjoys watching you being you they will likely protest whenever you as an Artist or just COntent maker in general show more personal parts of yourself as it obstructs their enjoyment of their, likely also curated content conveyor. I want to respect that personally, but due to me being a big Dumb Dumb who forgets passwords to his alts and other things outside of my control atm I can't afford to Just Make Another Twitter account, as much as I would like to.
Also Twitter is more conducive to quick spurts of funnymanism rather than discussions of things that interest you. It's easier to quickly qrt someone with "this you?" or a shitty reaction gif than to try and build an actual serious discussion about things. It's what it was built for and as I've grown I've realized that I;m not exactly the perfect kind of person to use that platform.
I'll still be using twitter to post art as it's been my established platform for a while but tumblr is probably best for showing me as I am as a person. It's also why I dont have much of an interest of plugging my tumblr there as I dont want to carry over that same vibe to my much comfier and earnest corner of the internet.
Thats about what I have to say for now. Expect more odd longwinded rambles like this one.
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So first off sorry that this came off as calling you hypocritical I definitely didn't mean it as an attack at you at all,
I rebloged from you cause you were there basically, I should have communicated better that I meant it towards the Tumblr community at large, so one last time I apologize for not communicating that properly,
Like I said at the end of it I probably should have worked on making sure I had my thoughts clearer as you bring up some things id consider but wasn't sure how to get out, I mostly rebloged it as was without going over further cause I needed to get it off my head
So bare with me I am having a really bad brain day at the moment and I might not be coming off well
I think we are both in complete alignment that no one should receive hate over fanfiction.
As for the 'disney adult/harry potter adult' thing
Now I completely agree that some people are extremely fucking annoying and inconsiderate about it my ma worked with this woman that put Disney songs on all day long driving everyone nuts and would flip out if people asked her to turn it off cause 'everyone loves Disney'
Like that shits not ok to do to people,
So mocking that entitled attitude that some rock, like the people that had to have the HP game and didn't care that trans people were being hurt
All that is fucked and needs to be called out.
But what I'm getting at is what people find good or bad writing is entirely subjective,
Like one personal example I loved the hell out of King Arthur Legend of the Sword which kinda flopped into none existence compare to The Green Knight I thought I'd love it given my lifetime love of all things Camelot, but I would never watch it again, I just did not like it, but it was very popular.
It's just I don't know how to articulate this
What holds up as an adult with an adult brain depends on your brain, and while there's nothing wrong with not getting someone else's obsession with this or that thing,
I don't understand thinking this thing you like is superior to this thing someone else likes that you don't like
Not saying that's what you're doing,
Just that it's something I see commonly
And while I do have a fairly curated dashboard i try to look outside it to get a wider veiw on things,
Now JK is without a doubt doing harm on an extremely large scale I do not dispute that at all,
And I didn't mean to come across that misogyny is the only issue here just that I think it factors into it,
There is definitely a huge difference in scale.
Gaiman isn't creating and funding rape friendly bills (that I know of)
The way jk is funding bills against trans people
And I am a cis woman looking down the barrel of losing the right to an abortion so I feel the fear of legislation going through that will stripe your right to your body away I literally have had nightmares about being forced to keep a pregnancy,
I in no way am trying to minimize the amount of suffering Jk is causing,
So the amount of people they are hurting IS different
But harm is harm those women he hurt are hurt forever nothing will ever undo it
(And side bar we will never know how many people he's done this to, if I was a victim of his id shut up because I wouldn't want to be harassed and dragged through the Internet for ever,)
And I would personally want his balls ripped off if it was one woman
Again harm is harm irregardless of scale.
There's this thing I read once that comes my view up well 'it doesn't matter if you're drowning in 5 feet of water or 50 drowned is drowned'
From my point of view where I am sitting I am a rape survivor in trying to deal with that trauma I have looked for and listened to so many stories of rape,
and over and over again I see a common theme
rapists get away with it
Rape is treated as a lesser crime
Especially when it's a popular white man that's done it
It just doesn't stop
I'm sorry I wanted to reply back to you immediately because I never meant to make you feel attacked but I need to stop here cause I'm starting to get upset and I don't think I be able to articulate the rest of what I wanted to say, I think I got the most important parts out
And I understand if you blocked me no hard feelings on my end
Edit:
Ok
What I'm really trying and failing to articulate is simply
We are always going to react to feel more viscerally the things that effect us personally
And it's easier to condemn a person we already dislike vs someone who we do
We all have bias and those bias are different then everyone elses
And I think the best way to be kinder to each other when we are speaking about these sort of things is to know what yours are and to remember that you don't know what other peoples bias are
That's all I was trying to say that I'm sad and scared and I wish we could all be kinder going forward and ironically managed to say it in a way that hurt @redshiftsinger
Neil Gaiman is still following the PR playbook
I'm so sick of how Neil Gaiman is continuing to manipulate the conversation while displaying ZERO accountability or remorse.
Do you think him leaking that he's apparently offering to step back from Good Omens Season 3 is a sign that he realizes he fucked up and is trying to make it right? Absolutely not.
What he's doing is making the first moves to launder his reputation so that he can keep making money off of his IP and, eventually, return to the spotlight. All of the overjoyed reactions here and elsewhere are part of that plan.
One part of that Deadline article really stuck out to me.
[Highlighted Text: Deadline understands Gaiman’s offer is not an admission of wrongdoing...
Gaiman’s position is that he denies the allegations and is said to be disturbed by them.]
This is what makes me think that it is actively irresponsible to publicly celebrate or advocate for the continuation of any media project that involves or enriches Gaiman. The fact that Amazon has even announced that Good Omens is on hold shows the credibility of the accusations. And yet Gaiman leaking this information suddenly puts them on the backfoot. "Just take the deal!" cries the fandom. Neil is no longer the bad guy, it's Amazon who are now denying you your comfort show. It's blatant manipulation and it sickens me that it might actually work.
Boosting Good Omens or Sandman or Coraline at this time is not a victimless crime. True, no one person is going to be the difference between Gaiman facing consequences or not. But it's public opinion that will truly determine whether his legacy will be impacted. That's why he's spent a considerable amount of money on the same PR firm as Russell Brand, Prince Andrew, Danny Masterson, and Marilyn Manson. Their specialty is helping rapists get their lives back.
So please think of the long-term implications of breathing a sigh of relief and going back to posting about Good Omens, or signing a petition that gives Gaiman a way out of finally facing the consequences of his own actions.
Yes, none of these shows were 100% made by Gaiman. It sucks that this is going to affect people other than him. But maybe he shouldn't have chosen to sexually abuse at least 5 women and very likely more. In a just world, you fuck around and find out.
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Lab Partners With Benefits Pt. 3 | Percy Jackson
Summary: Another week, another lab and Y/n and Percy are feeling a different kind of tension this time.
Category: fluff
Part 1 | Part 2
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Percy had been kicking himself all week. He had forgotten to ask you for your number before you left his place and now you probably thought he was just some asshole looking for a one-time hookup. And he didn’t want that. And he hoped you didn’t want that either. But he wasn’t really sure what he wanted.
It’d been a hot minute since Percy was in any kind of relationship and he wasn’t sure if he was even the relationship kind. Even if he did want to be, his life just didn’t lend itself to dating mortals. There was always some monster popping up that he’d have to fight, or quest he’d have to go on, or emergency at camp he’d have to run off to, and Percy was a shit liar. It’s what messed up the last time he’d tried to date somebody. He was constantly blowing off dates and rain-checking everything because the gods are needy attention seekers.
He’d seen superhero movies before and related a lot to when they had similar issues. Percy’s not saying he’s Spiderman or anything, but he does live in New York and save it from constant peril – so yeah, he’s Spiderman.
This time, however, he was really considering trying again. Trying with you. And Percy had a plan.
Sliding into his seat when there were only a few other people in the room yet, Percy felt pumped up. He woke up early, showered, had a FaceTime with the boys to discuss the game plan, and got to class ahead of you so that he was ready to give you his number the first chance he got before he lost his nerve. That was part of Jason’s advice: offer his number to you instead of asking for yours. He claimed it would make Percy come off more vulnerable and less pushy. Leo mostly just spouted different cheesy lines that Percy would never use. Frank didn’t say much but Hazel piped in every now and then when she took the phone from him.
“So, you’re lab partners,” Hazel started. “Do you talk outside of your lab?”
“No, that’s why I need her number.”
“But you said you did homework together at your place right? So how’d that go? Did she seem interested?”
Percy paused.
“Yeah, it went... fine.”
Hazel was blissfully unaware of the blush that was creeping up his neck but Jason didn’t miss it. Or the way he suddenly needed to roll up his sleeves and fiddle with them.
“Did you just do the homework?” Jason asked suspiciously.
“We uh... kissed...”
“Niiiiiicee, Percy!” Leo hollered. “That’s my boy!”
Frank retook the phone from Hazel and hastily gave an excuse to go before leaving the call and cutting off Hazel’s confused protests.
“I don’t know what to tell you, man,” Jason shook his head. “This is way beyond my level now. Piper and Annabeth are nearby I’ll go get them-.”
“No!” Percy cut him off. That’s the last thing he wanted. The girl’s won’t know or care what to do so they’d ask Piper’s siblings and then the entirety of camp would know. “It doesn’t really change anything. I’m going to give her my number and then the ball’s in her court and I don’t have to worry about it.”
“But your balls were in her court, weren’t they Percy.”
“Leo I am going to kill you when I get back to camp and that is a threat.”
Leo left the call.
“I’m sure it’ll be fine, just don’t do your game-time face because it’ll scare her off,” Jason tried to get the conversation back on track.
“What face? I don’t have a scary face?” Percy added another item to the list of things to not do when he saw her.
“Yes you do. It’s when you’re charging into battle but this isn’t battle is it Percy?”
“You’re lucky,” Percy lamented while he grabbed his backpack. “You just woke up and were already with Piper. All the hard work done for you.”
“You got this man, just be yourself.”
Percy decided to throw that particular bit of garbage advice away.
Now he was sitting in his seat, got there early, and he was even wearing his nice t-shirt, so what could go wrong.
As soon as you walked in the door all of his carefully curated bravado deflated inside of him. You walked towards your shared table and he had to expel childish nerves he hadn’t felt in years. He’s in college now, for Hades’ sake. He was a man.
“Hey,” you greeted as you sat down.
“Hi.” That was stupid. Men don’t say ‘hi’. He should’ve said ‘hey’ back.
“You’re here early,” you commented and Percy just nodded like an idiot.
The plan was to giver you his number as soon as he saw you, but he couldn’t just blurt that out of nowhere.
“How’ve you been?”
There. Establishing a conversation and definitely not stalling.
“I’ve been good.” The small amused smile on your face calmed him down a little. He’s got this.
Class started before he could slip his number in casually but Percy wasn’t deterred. He wasn’t going to let geology get in his way.
While you were reading the data you had to chart on the graph, you noticed Percy’s usual fidgeting get even worse. Glancing at him from the corner of your eye, you saw him concentrating intensely on the paper and trying to contain his frustration. You recognized the signs since one of your friends has dyslexia, but you knew he wouldn’t ask for help.
“So we have to plot the points on the graph and then draw the elevation lines, right?” You asked casually, looking over to him for confirmation. He nodded his head, but still continued to squint at the numbers which all were very small print and close to each other.
Muttering the numbers as if to yourself but loud enough for him to hear, you got to work.
Percy sat back and smiled a little, knowing what you were doing. He looked over at you, from your furrowed brow to your crossed legs bouncing with your tapping foot. With a contented sigh, he recalled what it felt like to be in between those legs. Having them wrapped around his hips while you moaned his name.
His eyes trailed up your body, memories that were attached to each part flooding through him like a highlight reel of his deepest fantasies. Then he got to your bare arms and the goosebumps on the skin shook him out of it.
“Cold?” he asked, interrupting you trying to help him which he really should have been listening to.
“Yeah, a little.”
“Here.” Percy shrugged off his hoodie and held it out to you before pausing (and slightly panicking.)
Hold up, is this weird? Am I being weird right now? Should giving her my hoodie come before or after we exchange numbers? I guess doing it before could be a good test of whether she would be interested in exchanging numbers. But this is couple stuff. Her wearing my hoodie. That usually comes after numbers. But she’s cold now and I can’t seem like an asshole withholding warmth unless she accepts or declines my number.
Luckily, you didn’t seem to notice his panic as you took the hoodie from him without hesitation and put it on. “Thanks.”
He calmed down as he watched you roll up the sleeves so that your hands were free to work and he felt a different kind of warmth spread through him. He liked the way you looked in his hoodie.
You caught him watching you and it threw you off. This wasn’t the heated gaze that had made you melt before, this was... softer. But the moment was ruined when you glanced down and saw that he hadn’t drawn a single point yet.
“Hey,” you tapped your pencil on his paper. “Focus.”
“Sorry.”
You worked well together for a while. The rhythm of plotting points distracted Percy from his nerves. That is until he felt your hand on his forearm.
“What’s this?” You asked, finger tracing the SPQR of his tattoo and making him shiver.
“Oh, it’s a band.”
“What band?”
“The Super Popular... Cool Rockers.”
“They spell Cool with a Q?”
“That’s what makes it cool.”
“Ah.”
Percy went back to the worksheet, congratulating himself on his quick thinking when he saw you pull out your phone.
“What are you doing?” he asked, totally nonchalant.
“Looking up the Super Popular Qool Rockers.”
Percy snatched your phone.
“Oh, you won’t find them.” He dodged your attempts to grab it. “They’re really underground.”
“You’ll be really underground if you don’t give me my phone back.” Percy hastily returned your phone, as if the threat scared him. You tried to glare at him, but found it too hard to suppress your smile once his broke out. “Thank you. Now will you tell me what it really means?”
“Maybe one day.” People started packing their things and leaving since class had flown by faster than Percy liked. Sensing his window of opportunity closing he decided to Hades with it. “Depends if you go on a date with me.”
You took your time standing up and gathering your things while pretending to mull it over in your head. Which Percy really did not appreciate.
“Maybe one day,” you answered him with a coquettish smile and took a few steps towards the door. “Well, aren’t you coming?”
Percy was too concentrated on restraining a fist pump to puzzle out your meaning.
“We didn’t get much work done today, so we better finish what we started at your place.” You winked at him and strided out the door.
With a mischievous grin, Percy was quick to follow.
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Interlude: Safe
This scene got cut from The Paths You Take but I wanted to explore it anyway, so I pulled it and made it it’s own oneshot (fully on AO3) Smut, feelings, but mostly character/relationship study. Smut is not particularly graphic imo, but yeah. Inspired in large part by “Safe Here” by LP off her newest album Churches Many thanks to Jedi for reviewing the spicy for me! If I missed anything, lemme know :)
There was something soothing about flying at night, inertia dampeners on, moving quiet, skirting over a largely still, moonlit world below, wrapped in something liminal, fleeting. Like the world had changed and only they were there to witness it, to see it as such, carved in shadows and light, the press of the Port's glow against a dark sky just visible in the distance another stretch of the dream.
A glance to his right showed him Scott sitting in his seat with his legs drawn up, knees to his chest and arms around them, fingers moving in an easy tattoo against his calves and eyes fixated on the view beyond. It was the stillest he'd ever seen him outside of sleep, open and vulnerable, and he knew, somehow, that he was feeling it too -- the magic of this moment, this carefully curated sequence of events and circumstances that could only be created here and now and never again, never quite the same.
"Quite the view, isn't it?" he whispered, and the hush of his voice did not interrupt the energy, the atmosphere around them and he watched as Scott smiled and glanced his way.
"Quite the company," the other young man murmured back, and his hand was reaching out and Reyes caught it, their fingers twining, Scott's warmth spreading through him. A thumb running against the back of a hand, the playing of his fingers against his own soft and gentle, and Reyes wondered if maybe here, now, was the whole point of loving someone: a stolen moment, precious in its fragility, something to press into the memory of sensation like the figments of a dream upon waking, the details hazy but the feeling remembered.
"You don't want to eat?" he asked as they drew closer and Scott shook his head, smile widening a touch, and Reyes gave his hand a squeeze in acknowledgment.
Docking, locking up his shuttle and ensuring it'd be topped off and ready to go come morning, Reyes took Scott's hand again. That liminal sense followed them, undisturbed by the change in scenery, persistent in the haze of neon lights, in snatches of conversation and laughter and exclamations from various establishments alive with the night as they made their way down now familiar streets. It reminded Reyes of other nights, memories centuries old, warm summer air and cicadas and that long stretch of twilight before the sun would set, when it was easy to believe the world was bigger than it was, that there was so much left to see. A feeling harder and harder to recapture the older he'd gotten, the more he'd lost, wonder supplanted by a grief he'd struggled to carry.
And here, now, somehow, he'd found it again: a galaxy away, in the hands and eyes of a man he'd never have met back in the Milky Way, and his chest ached with the profundity of it. The rightness. So many days and weeks and years spent trying to trace fate's tendrils, to understand her picture, her intentions towards him, and he never would have seen this.
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SO MERLOPIAN KAI PART 2 ELECTRIC BOOGALOO
So, with Kalmaar, he ofc immediately goes to his parents about his feeling, slightly placing his revenge on hold. They are...dubious about it, but Maya raises the point of how there has never been a human/merlopian hybrid before, and from what Ray has told them about having two EM parents it’s possible for Kai to have some water abilities himself, which could be what gave Kalmaar his feeling. So, they agree to look into it.
Moving on..... Uh. Kai doesn’t have a fun time in S6, as briefly as he’s there. You see, Nahdakahn knows exactly what buttons to press and is able to get Kai into a panicked state where he, on the verge of a panic attack and mental breakdown, just says “I wish that I could just be normal! I wish I could just go home! I wish I could be with dad and mom and father and Kal and Bentho and Nya!!!”
The “normal” comment comes from how they weren’t able to completely hide Kai’s heritage since yeah, there were other people on the boat who saw him. That and he also tried a lot less to keep it hidden. And because some humans are assholes, he has to deal with that.
So ofc, Nahdakahn interprets it in the worst ways and as two wishes. Kai is now a full human yes….but was also sent to where the fish fam currently were……which just so happened to be at the bottom of the ocean.
So yeah, double trauma for both groups. Kai got to experience what drowning felt like, and his fam was essentially forced to watch him die since there was nothing they could do. They were too far under to take him to the surface and too far from the palace to take him there.
But dw, it gets even worse.
You see, the whole reason Nahdakahn is being this malicious about Kai’s wishes is because he learned that Kai was the reason the Preeminent was destroyed, thereby destroying Djinjago.
Nahdakahn is then able to do a “oh? Is this not what you wanted? I thought you wished to be normal.” Which ofc sounds really bad since it’s in front of his family. “But, I understand. You grow tired of the stares in the street, how they whisper behind you back about what you are. Not human, not merlopian, not normal. Just a freak masquerading as one of them.”
This ofc supremely pisses off the fam. Like, weapons drawn ready to commit murder.
But then Nahdakahn stop them with a “ah ah ah, I wouldn’t do that if I were you. After all, I am the only way your son has a chance at living. So go ahead. Make a wish.”
Trimaar ends up being the one to do it, and is smart enough to know this uh will twist it in anyway he can so says. “I wish for Kai to be sent safely to the surface without harm done upon him.”
Blah blah blah, your wish is yours to keep, Trimaar realizing “wait there’s a lot that could be interpreted” but too late BAM now Kai’s kinda stuck on the Misfortune’s Keep.
And he....generally has a pretty bad time. Think Jay but this time it’s personal.
However, Kai’s appearance had Trimaar get the Merlopian army and start heading to the surface. The remaining ninja have a brief moment of “are you kidding me two enemies at once” before learning that this is Kai’s lost family and they’re here to help.
So now the ninja have a whole ass fish army to help them, plus a very protective, very angry fish family.
But for the rest of canon, the only difference is that when they’re leaving Tiger Widow Island, Nya gets snatched along with Jay(who was taken because he hadn’t used his wish yet) and they aren’t stuck on the island, and then later that Kai gets sucked into the sword when the ninja launch their rescue mission.
But yeah, it gets all Un-Happened by Jay’s wish(which at seeing Kai physically hurt and being emotionally torn apart at his baby sister dying, wished that none of this ever happened and that Nahdakahn was never found), only like canon Nya and Jay still remember what happens.
Nya is now firmly on team Kai Is Alive and tells her parents everything about what happened and the wish Jay made, and more importantly where Kai is.
Unfortunately, they need to take some time and prepare. Trimaar and Maya have been doing their best over the years to open the populace possibly making bonds with the humans, but now it’s finally happening. They can’t just go up there out of no where, since from what Nya has told them 1) most humans don’t even know they exist and 2) in the past few years they have been subject of many attacks, mostly from non-humans, so they need to make sure the humans understand they don’t mean any harm.
So DotD happens, then the beginnings of S7 :)
Right out, Kai never liked the museum curator. Up to that point he’d only ever caught fleeting glimpse of him but something about him Kai just despised. As a result, he also visited the museum as scarcely as possible, and thus didn’t notice a very interesting painting containing a two very strange figures.
When he learns his name was Dr.Saunders.....things don’t go well.
It happened when Kai brought the helmet with his dad’s symbol on it. As much as he disliked the curator, he was the most likely to be able to recognize what kind of helmet it was.
Then in his anger he gets himself captured.
He’s taken to a special cell lined with vengestone and has guards around the clock, and Krux takes extra care to make sure Kai doesn’t know where Ray is.
ofc it’s around this time that the Merlopians arrive and express their wishes for a possible alliance between their two races. Unfortunately they showed up at literally the worst time, and double unfortunately the people in charge of diplomacy decide to bring some of the ninja in as an extra precaution because of the villains have been running around.
So the people who join the meeting are Lloyd and Jay from the ninja(they would’ve brought Kai but he hasn’t returned from his missions yet and isn’t answering their calls) as well as some police officers and from the Merlopians is the whole royal family plus a few guards.
Both Jay and Nya have a silent moment of staring at each other since “I know and I’m not sure you know but I think you know but I don’t want to say anything since you might not”
And just as they’re about to start, The Time Twins attack. Because why the hell not.
They’re actually able to hold them off for a while, but unfortunately there are too many Vermillion. Then Kalmaar whips out his Water Powers which causes him to get kidnapped since they need both Fire and Water masters for the blade.
While they’re recovering, Lloyd then gets a panicked call from Zane saying that he checked the museum footage and Kai has been captured. The gets overheard by the royal family, and then Lloyd asks why they looked so upset at which they learn(sans Jay since wish) that Kai is royalty. The eldest son actually, and thus first in line for the throne, as well as being presumed dead for the past five years.
So basically Krux has kidnapped the King and Queen’s husband, the crown prince, and the second in line prince(if anyone knows a more fancy term for this please let me know)
Maya, Trimaar, Nya and Benthomaar are not happy. Not with the Ninjagian people, no they’re fine, but they’re bout ready to murder Krux, and they don’t even know about Ray yet.
So they offer any help they can.
Zap back to how Kai and Kalmaar are doing.
Kalmaar is….kind feral tbh. Like, he’s biting, clawing, trying to strangle them with his tentacles, and before they got vengestone cuffs on him was trying very hard to drown anyone.
Ofc, this does little to the Vermillion and soon Kalmaar finds himself in the cell right next to Kai’s. He’s overjoyed to see his brother again, albeit upset that this is why.
They both reluctantly come to the conclusion that there isn’t much they can do at the moment, and there are many Vermillion guards right outside their cells, so they decide to start catching up.
And for pretty much the rest of the season canon is pretty much the same, just shuffle around the characters a bit and add a protective Fish Fam.
Though their little trip back in time is quite sight for the Past EMs, especially because of how Kalmaar is using his powers, which leaves Kai mostly stuck in his Fish Form. This time they don’t even bother trying to explain, just give instructions on how to defeat the Vermillion and jumping into the battle.
And I mean just imagine that from the EMs perspective. An enemy you thought you defeated just returned with a giant metal creature and an army of snake things that don’t look like any kind of Serpentine they’d ever seen. Then a shark person and squid person??? show up and not only do they know how to fight the snake things but they also seem to be Elemental Masters???? Despite the fact Ray is very much alive and they didn’t even know there was a Water EM. Then the two not only summon dragons but they also fuse their dragons into an even bigger one with two heads.
And then all of them disappear into the sky without a trace.
W i l d
But yeah, after that it calms down quite a bit. Kai spends the time skip before S8 reconnecting with his family and his dad, and through some tech courtesy of Borg they're able to bring Ray with them :D
And Kai actually goes to meet the Jade Royal Family since y’know. He’s the crown prince. He’s kinda important and legitimately forgot about it. Luckily Kalmaar is able to help coach Kai through it, but is also a bit smug about how he finally has something to teach to his older brother. Kai was actually the one who suggested asking the ninja for help protecting the mask.....but we know how that inevitably ends.
Bentho, Kal and Nya were actually on the ship for this particular adventure, and then Nya and Bentho were dragged along when they got sent to the First Realm. Bentho, despite being the youngest sibling and to the surprise of literally everyone, was actually really good with kids and spent the most time with Little Wu, right behind Cole.
But yeah S9......Nya and Bentho have a really bad time in the First Realm beause of the heat, but at least they don’t get captured. Kai on the other hand....
Yeah at some point he gets accidentally splashed with water and well.....it definitely doesn’t help with the Oni accusations. The Dragon Hunters decide to burn him along with the Wind Dragon, which moves up their Build Our Own Dragon time table.
After they escape Faith is actually pretty chill about the whole fish thing, but she does ask a lot of questions.
And then S10..... kinda the same. They end up dropping off as many people as they can with the Merlopians since the smoke can’t reach them.
I might make a Part 3 for the rest of the seasons, but yeah. this is where we’re at.
#merlopian royalty au#info dump#ninjago#kai#kai smith#kalmaar#prince kalmaar#trimaar#king trimaar#krux
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Abeilles au Printemps - Ch 9
Alternate Title: Bees in Spring
Genre: AU, romance, drama, comedy, smut, who’s the daddy
Pairing: NCT x Y/N (fem)
Rating: Mostly mature themes/ language. Smutty chapters will be labeled 🐝.
Word Count: 11500+
For other chapters, see the masterlist.
OMFG. I can’t believe it has been an entire year since we posted the last chapter. 2020 was truly a mess, lmao. We’re SO sorry we made you wait that long! We had everything written and then we started adding and changing stuff to the point where we had to rewrite the entire thing. But it’s here now! And you’re in for a WILD ride. - D
“So is this how the rich and famous live?” commented Yuta as he drove down the wide street, passing various mansions in the neighborhood. “I bet there's a pool in every backyard and everyone owns their own boat.”
“Probably,” you responded weakly. You were too busy trying to pull the skin off from the sides of your fingers. A nasty habit you had since you were younger, which only manifested when you were extremely anxious. You had no reason to be stressed, right? Jaehyun would explain everything and everything would be fine, wouldn’t it?
You motioned for Yuta to make a right at the stop sign. “Are we leaving the neighborhood?” he asked you.
“No, not really,” you answered, forcing yourself to put your hands at your sides so you wouldn't pick at them anymore. “He just owns more land than his neighbors. He likes his privacy.”
“I completely understand. That’s how I would be if I had all this money. I’d even have my own little pond of ducks,” he joked. “They’d be free to walk the grounds and they’d just add to the beautiful and serene scenery that I would curate for my land.”
You rolled your eyes at Yuta before sitting up straighter in your seat. “Speaking of ducks, drive slowly and don’t run over Quackers and Mr. Bill.” Right as you said that, two ducks waddled in front of Yuta’s car, making their way through the iron gates to their pond on the other side.
“He actually has ducks?!”
“Per my request, yes. Our evening walks at the park during the early part of my pregnancy also consisted of feeding the ducks. I enjoyed it so much I joked about him making a pond and having ducks of his own.”
“And so he dug a hole in his yard and purchased you two feathered creatures?!”
You slouched back into your seat. “Five, actually. The other three should be around here somewhere. They came with the ring, the beautiful nursery, and the wall he tore down for my walk in closet.”
Yuta almost slammed on his breaks in shock. “The wall he--Woah, wait he already built you a nursery?”
Sighing heavily, you turned your head to look forlornly at the swaying motion of Mr. Bill's feathery butt as he walked into the distance. “Yeah…”
“And now you want to barge in this man’s house and accuse him of what exactly?” he asked as he pulled to a smooth stop right outside the Jung estate gate. “You said you’d explain on the way, but you haven’t breathed a single word.”
Well, you were confronting Jaehyun about Mark being arrested for a car that supposedly belonged to Jaehyun and not his cousin Taeil being reported stolen, secret photos following the every move of you and your male friends since earlier that day, and the relationship between those photographs and those of Kun cheating while overseas. There was no way you could explain any of that to Yuta in the short amount of time you had between now and seeing Jaehyun.
“It’s complicated,” was all you told him.
“Tch. Complicated,” Yuta clicked his tongue. “You have a giant envelope of evidence you’ve been trying to hide from view since I picked you up. I’m a lawyer, too, remember?”
“Yuta, please.”
“Let me be a voice of reason before you do something you’ll regret." Yuta rested his chin in his palm as he propped his elbow onto his armrest. "You just became his fiancée only what? A week ago? There’s probably a logical explanation--”
“Thanks for the concern Yuta, but I have to do this if I want to stay engaged.”
Yuta ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath, and he drummed his fingers of his other hand on the steering wheel while he thought. “I won’t say anything more. But just promise me you’ll be careful. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t hesitate to do."
Ha! You couldn't hold back the chuckle that escaped you. You leaned over to kiss Yuta on the cheek and gave him a somewhat reassuring smile. “This just might be the day that I do.”
His brows furrowed. “Should I call the cops?” he responded with evident concern in his voice.
You rolled your eyes and proceeded to fish for Jaehyun’s electronic gate key out of your pants pocket. But then...your attention quickly turned to the large iron gate slowly opening on its own.
“I thought this was supposed to be a surprise mission?” Yuta lifted himself away from the armrest and took his foot off the break, then proceeded to pull through the gate towards the front of the mansion.
“It is. I didn’t call beforehand. He is obviously watching us on the monitor in his kitchen. Fucking creep.”
“Y/N! That’s your fiancé you’re talking about!”
You shook your head. “He has to be guilty of something since he’s not coming outside to greet me.”
“Right...” Yuta pulled into the circular driveway in front of the mansion and put the car in park. There was only one other car in the circular driveway and you recognized it to be the same make and model of Jeno’s car. He must have driven straight there after dropping Mark off at your place. No telling what conversations were being had within those walls. You imagined how lucky Mark had been to have Jeno in the right place at the right time after he was pulled over by the police. Was it a coincidence or was it on purpose?
Theories continued to fill your head as your eyes shifted, and they ultimately landed on Jeno’s license plate. “That’s…” You rummaged through your envelope and pulled out the photo of Kun and examined the sticky note attached to it. Doyoung’s scribbles matched the license plate in front of you. “Oh my--“
“Woah, who’s the hot chick with Kun?” Blurted Yuta as he snatched the photo out of your trembling hands.
“Give it back, Yuta!” You screeched in desperation. You tried to grab it from him but he pulled it out of your reach and batted your hands away.
“Where is he, at a resort?” You tried to grab it once more but he swatted you away again. “Why is Yangyang taking photos of this no name?”
"Yuta!" And he blocked you again.
“Why does this sticky note say ‘you don’t know who else he’s watching?'”
"Please!" And again.
“With a license plate number that matches the car in front--” You finally succeeded in snatching the photo from his grip and put it back inside the envelope, then let out a heavy breath, thankful that Yuta had only seen the picture of Kun and not the one with him and his son at the ER. “Y/N you need to tell me what’s going on,” Yuta demanded. “I don’t want to jump to conclusions, but I’m starting to get an idea of what’s happening and I really hope I'm wrong.” You started to ask about his assumptions but decided not to, because you were too afraid to get confirmation for your own thoughts. “But if I’m not,” Yuta continued, “do you want me to come in with you? I won’t say anything, but I’ll be there to support you in this apparent kerfuffle you’re about to have with Jaehyun.” And fight him if he had to. Yuta didn’t care how much Jaehyun's face was worth if he ended up hurting you in any way.
You took a deep breath and shook your head. “No. I have to do this alone. But you can help this pregnant lady out of your car.”
“Suit yourself.” Yuta got out and went around to help you out of his car and straighten you onto your feet.
“Please just stay here. If I’m not out in exactly twenty minutes come and get me?”
“You’re asking me?” No, you weren’t. The inflection at the end of your sentence was because you had just realized how unprepared you were to confront Jaehyun. You were still in your pajamas for crying out loud. All the tension had built up on the way there, and all the questions you had for him began to mix with your feelings for him. You weren’t exactly sure how you were going to pull this off without breaking down.
“No. I’m telling you,” you corrected Yuta.
“Understood.”
Yuta helped you walk up the front steps before turning around and walking back to his car. You tugged on the doorknob and, like you figured, it was unlocked. You slowly opened the door and shut it behind you. The chilly air of the beautifully decorated foyer ran down your spine and left behind a trail of prickly ice crystals. It was eerily quiet. You took a left towards the kitchen and ran your hands across the granite countertop. The same countertop where the homemade cookies he made for you sat on the night you had welcomed him back home. You continued walking and stepped into the living room where the two of you made love countless times on his ridiculously expensive furniture.
Deciding not to continue searching on the first floor, you made your way to his staircase. The last time you walked up those stairs was the day of your baby shower--the day he proposed to you and presented you with a fully furnished nursery, a broken wall, and some gotdamn ducks. You were afraid of what would be waiting for you inside that room this time.
“Okay, little bee. Hold on tight.” You patted your stomach before you gripped the railing, ready to start your ascent. But you hadn’t made it two steps up when Jeno suddenly came flying down the stairs.
“Hey, Ms. Y/N!” He seemed to be in a rush and didn’t even stop to properly greet you. “It’s nice seeing you again.”
“Where’s Jaehyun?” you managed to ask the young man before he made himself scarce.
He stopped in his haste and turned around to face you. “My former employer is in the nursery as you probably already guessed,” he informed you frantically.
You were more than taken aback by his choice of words. “Former employer? Wait, Jeno, what happened?”
“I have to go. The moving van will be here bright and early in the morning, so I have to make sure everything is packed and ready to be moved out of the pool house.”
“He fired you? And kicked you out--”
“I have to go, ma’am. I’m sorry it all had to come down to this. I really enjoyed having you as an acquaintance the past few years. And I’m really sorry about Mark. He wasn’t supposed to get mixed into all of this.”
“Mixed into what, Jeno?” You gripped his arm, stopping him from fleeing your presence. “Please, I have to know.”
Jeno looked you in the eyes and clearly saw the desperation he had already picked up in your voice. Guiltily, he averted his gaze downward, but he suddenly stopped breathing when his eyes landed on the envelope you were holding at your side. He didn't know exactly what was inside your envelope, but he had a pretty strong idea. “I have to go. Please send my love to the baby,” he said and pulled his arm out of your grasp, continuing his hasty retreat through the house.
You took a deep breath and continued the ascent towards the second floor with more determination in your steps. Reaching the top of the staircase, you turned and walked toward the nursery. The door was slightly ajar, a sliver of light peeking through. You put your hand on the doorknob before readjusting your posture and reclaiming your confidence. You opened the door only to be greeted by...no one. Confused and thankful nothing jumped out to scare you, you turned every which way until you were dizzy, thinking you had somehow missed the six foot man in the beautifuly decorated nursery.
“Jaehyun?” You called out but there was no reply. You walked further into the room towards the crib. You braced yourself along the railing, the smoothness reminding you that Jaehyun built this himself with his own two hands. Two hands attached to a warm body that also proposed and promised you a lifetime of happiness. You should feel happy in this room like you did a week ago. But now you felt different. Off. “What is wrong with me?”
What were you there for exactly? What were you trying to accuse him of? What you were thinking he did could all have been something your mind made up because you were actually too scared to finally settle down and commit to someone. It was entirely plausible. You did this in all your relationships. You ran away from Taeil, from Doyoung, Taeyong, and Kun. Jaehyun wasn't special. The only thing he did differently was propose to you before you could escape. But you actually truly did want to stay this time. And maybe that was why you were so afraid. You were afraid of finding out something you actually had to run away from.
Tired of being in your thoughts and standing on your increasingly aching feet, you called out for him. “Jaehyun, we need to talk--“
“Let’s talk.”
Startled, you dropped the envelope inside the crib before turning to face your fiancé in the doorway with a rod in his hand adorned with bumblebee patterned curtains. He was wearing a fitted, plain black t-shirt— one of several in his closet, jeans and canvas sneakers. Damn, he looked good. Simple, but so good. And you looked like a mess of a creature before him in your pajamas, house slippers, and wild bed hair.
“Hey, what’s going on?” he asked after taking in your tousled appearance. “What are you doing here? Did Jeno let you in?” He placed the rod against the wall before walking up to you and grabbing your hands in his. He led you to the rocking chair, ushering you to sit while he crouched down in front of you. “Today has been very weird. First I had to pick you up from the emergency room. Then the release of my new movie was delayed by the studio. Jeno suddenly quit. And now you're here out of nowhere. Not that you being here is strange or anything. I love your company—wait did you drive here? Didn’t the doctor say—“
“Jeno quit?” you interrupted his rambling. “You didn’t fire him?” With the way Jeno ran down the stairs, you were pretty sure he was running away from something--or someone. But Jaehyun’s features gave off a look of concern and slight offense that you would think he’d fire Jeno for any possible reason.
“No, he quit on his own. He said the stress of being my assistant was finally starting to weigh him down. I guess having to deal with your brother getting arrested wasn't exactly something he wanted to experience.”
At the mention of your brother's name, you remembered exactly why you were there in Jaehyun's home in the first place. “Why did you have my brother arrested? And why didn’t you let him call me from the police station? I may be pregnant, but Mark is still my brother. Not yours. I could have handled the situation.”
Jaehyun cupped your face in an attempt to calm the rising anger he could see wanting to boil up inside you. “I was going to go over to your place, actually. Sit down face to face and explain how Mark got involved in this silly feud between my cousin and I. But my agent called to give me ‘bad news’ and then Jeno came shortly after giving me his less than 24-hour notice.”
“I should have been a higher priority, Jaehyun. I’m your fiancée!” You all but screamed in your heightening temper and pushed his hands away from your face. That probably sounded selfish on your end, but considering your reason for showing up to his house unannounced, it needed to be said. You hadn’t planned on blowing your top so quickly, but every thought inside your mind was racing, making it hard for you to stay level.
His hands went down and gripped the armrests of the rocking chair. “I know and I’m sorry. But you’re here now, so please let me explain.” You didn’t want to hear anything he had to say. You just wanted him to admit whatever your brain was accusing him of so you could leave and be heartbroken alone in your bedroom. But of course you said okay, anyway, since you literally had no other choice but to listen to him. “I truly did not know Mark was borrowing cars from Taeil. If I had known that information beforehand, I would never have put him or Taeil in that position. Mark was simply an unexpected factor in this ongoing tit for tat game of family rivalry.”
“Ongoing?” After he proposed to you, Jaehyun had promised you that he would talk to his cousin about everything. So why was this beef over you between the cousins still unsquashed? “Jae, what does that even mean if you were the one who bought him the cars in the first place?”
“It means that my cousin is a leech and I finance him in order to keep him functioning.” Your eyes went wide, but you didn’t say anything so he continued. “Taeil’s weak attempt to separate us with his words spoken at the baby shower did not sit right with me. So since he decided to bite the hand that literally feeds him, I felt petty and decided to report both my vehicles that I allow him to drive as stolen.”
Petty? There was nothing petty about that at all! It was straight up mean! Almost cruel! How could Jaehyun do that to his own cousin--his family? He wasn’t unprovoked, but nothing Taeil did or said deserved for him to get thrown in jail.
“How could you do that to a member of your own family, Jaehyun? If you were to get mad at me, would you do something like that, too?” Your mind had already wanted to make him out to be a bad person if it would help you confront him, but there he was convincing you himself.
“What? Y/N, no! Please don’t make this more than what it is,” he pleaded, squeezing the armrests tighter. “Taeil and I have our issues, and I know I went too far. But I would never hurt you like that.” You didn't want to believe him, but the sincerity in his eyes instantly calmed you against your will. “In hindsight it was not the right thing to do. I admit it. But I truly didn’t know Mark was using the cars and had been for some time apparently. And if Mark needs a car, why didn’t you just tell me? I have plenty he could borrow. They’re all nicer than what Taeil was rolling around in anyway.”
Your eyes narrowed, the brief reassurance you felt from him fleeting at his flippant remark. “Mark and Taeil have had a relationship with one another since way before you came into the picture,” you snapped. “Taeil knew Mark when he was still in diapers. He looks up to Taeil like an older brother. Whenever Mark needs brotherly advice, Taeil is always there to lead or guide him. I was happy their relationship picked back up once Taeil moved back here. He’s done more for my little brother than anyone else has. And to think that you almost put that in jeopardy.”
Seemingly having touched a nerve, Jaehyun's nostrils flared slightly when he sighed. “I apologize, Y/N. I really am sorry. The charges were dropped and Mark has nothing on his record.” Your eyes followed his hands as he let go of the armrests and reconnected them with yours. “I promise I will make it up to Mark. And you. We can move on from this.”
Move on from this? Like it was just that simple? Your brother was handcuffed and thrown into the back of a cop car for no reason. It was something totally preventable if Jaehyun hadn’t been an asshole in the first place. And even if he had known Mark was driving the cars, he would have just put a report out on a day he knew Taeil was driving one of them. It would have been easy for him to figure out. Taeil wasn’t that hard to follow.
To follow…
Your eyes quickly shot back up to meet his, startling him back a bit. The words you spoke next came out in a sizzling string, climbing their way out from being forced into the dark corners of your mind. “I find it really hard to believe that you had no knowledge of Taeil letting Mark borrow the cars when you seem to keep tabs on everyone else connected to me.”
You hadn’t wanted to outright accuse him like that in case you were wrong about everything, but the anger growing inside you had finally taken over. You couldn’t take it back. And now the thread that held together your relationship with your fiancé was being tested.
Jaehyun’s mouth opened and closed in shock as his eyes flickered with confusion and something else you couldn’t quite place. You wanted to say it was fear. “What is that supposed to mean?” he asked, his tone a cross between offended and worried.
You stood up from the rocking chair, pushing him out of the way to move towards the crib. You retrieved the envelope you dropped inside of it and shoved it into his hands. Standing to his feet, he looked at the envelope like it was an unidentified object never before seen on planet earth. And then his eyes went blank.
He walked over to the other side of the room and simply placed the envelope on the fully stocked bookshelf without any attempt to open it. Aghast, your eyebrows went high into your hairline. “So you’re just not going to open it?”
“Yes,” he said too simply.
Your fists balled at your sides. “And why not?”
“Don’t need to see what I already know is in there.”
You hiccuped. A premature sob getting stuck inside your throat.
“Didn’t think it would show up again after Jeno lost it.”
The room was spinning. You needed to grab onto the railing of the crib for support. Jeno? No, you had received the envelope from Doyoung who had supposedly received it from Winwin. Wait! Was that why Jeno’s eyes grew wide when he looked at it on the staircase? Was this the reason he quit his job so suddenly? Nothing was adding up. “H-how do you know the contents belong to Jeno?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.
“Are there photos of Kun and some random woman in there?”
“Yes,” you answered him shakily.
“Jeno’s photos.”
Eyes glazed over, you stared at your fiancé standing across from you as your train of thought went back to the dark edges of your mind. For a moment you felt weak, and you thought your legs were going to give out beneath you. Jaehyun had thought the same thing, for he was at your side in an instant with a hand on your back, coaxing you to sit back down in the rocking chair.
“No. I’m standing,” you said firmly, your strength returning with full force, reignited by his audacity to touch you right now. You jerked away from him and walked over to the bookshelf. You aggressively grabbed the envelope off it and opened it before him. You held up the photos of Kun and the woman before throwing them down onto the floor. You pulled out the rest of the photos taken earlier today and threw those down as well before balling up the entire envelope in your hands. “Make this make sense, Jaehyun. Make it all make sense!” you yelled at him then threw the wad of paper at his chest, where it bounced off and unceremoniously landed at his feet.
Unflinching, he swallowed thickly as he studied the contents of the envelope on the floor. “The envelope did feel a bit thick. I now see why Jeno quit so suddenly.”
Jeno, Jeno, Jeno! Why did this all keep going back to Jeno? “What are you saying,” you demanded slowly.
“He was sloppy. Or careless. Maybe he did it on purpose.” He toed one of the photos on the floor that had been facing downwards and turned it over with his shoe. “I see he had these taken today. They never crossed my desk, but somehow ended up in your hands. You were never supposed to see them.”
Your throat became tight and you felt tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. Involuntarily, you sat back down onto the rocking chair as your body betrayed you. You were weak. You could no longer stand because he had just admitted it in less than so many words. It wasn’t a complete confession, but it was all you needed to confirm what you desperately didn’t want to believe. You didn’t like the sound of where any of this was going, but you still wanted him to continue, to say he had a perfectly good and logical explanation for why Jeno would have all of those photos taken. But you couldn’t say anything, not immediately. You were rendered speechless by the truth you so hopelessly wanted to deny.
“Jaehyun,” you said barely above a whisper. “I’m going to need a little more than that.” He looked at you, his eyes soft with the unspoken words he saw mirrored inside your own--with the fear of knowing how this was going to end. “If you don't want to start with the ones from today,” you continued, “then start with Kun. Just tell me something.”
He took a breath and ran his hands through his hair. A gesture that forewarned he was about to unload a massive amount of unpleasant information. “Kun didn’t deserve you. He only appeared to be faithful to you," he said when he began. But of course, this was something you already knew--facts already revealed to the both of you outside of Ten's clinic the day of the paternity tests. "The woman in the photo was a fling from his past," he continued. "They started hooking up again towards the tail end of your relationship.”
A fling from Kun's past? You knew Kun had been in other relationships before you, but the two of you made a point never to bring up past relationships while you were together. You didn't want to talk about your exes for obvious reasons, but what reasons did Kun have? From what you knew, Kun refused to be stuck in the past and always looked at what was in front of him--who was in front of him. But then again, what did you actually know about Kun other than what he showed you on the surface?
“And you became privy to this information how?” you asked Jaehyun. Obviously he had known for some time before the paternity testing since he was able to orchestrate having Kun's pictures taken.
“Remember our conference call last year when I asked you to review my contracts for the scripted series?”
“Yes.”
“Well Jeno caught sight of Kun dropping you off in front of your office building that same day he brought over the contracts. A kiss on the lips between the two of you and he figured you were an item.”
A deep frown set into your face and your head tilted to the side in bafflement. In your head, you put together what Jaehyun had said and what you already knew and came up with your own conclusion. “So Jeno told you that I had a boyfriend, you became insanely jealous, and then decided to start following Kun around, waiting for a perfect moment to expose him as unfaithful?”
“Not exactly." He took note of your skepticism denoted by your stance and quirked eyebrow. “I was happy you found someone. I figured the moments we shared before I left was the extent of our friendship and physical relationship. Especially since we hadn’t decided on if we were a 'we'. I truly was glad you found someone to be with," he reiterated his first statement while continuing to look straight into your eyes. "I was a little sad when I found out, but I knew that I should have worked harder to be with you or just have you wait for me. I had come to terms with losing you. I was going to move on. But then Jeno went for his regularly scheduled dental appointment and coincidentally his dentist that day was Dr. Qian.”
“You’re lying,” you said before your brain fully caught up with what was going on. It was too good to be true--too easy. Did he actually think you were going to fall for that? There was no way Kun could have fallen into Jaehyun’s hands so easily.
“I really wish I was. Jeno usually sees the other dentist that works with Kun, but that day his partner was out and Kun was in charge of all the clients.”
You were suspicious of his answer, but you remained silent with confirmation that you wanted him to continue given by your facial expression.
“Jeno, being the diligent assistant that he was, prodded for information regarding your relationship--without me knowing about any of this yet, I might add. But when Kun told him about the hot date with his girlfriend that same night, imagine his surprise when Kun named a woman that wasn’t you.”
Heat radiated through your body once more as you processed his words. “If you knew about him, then why did you keep that from me, Jaehyun? I could have gotten out of that relationship a long time ago!” The volume of your voice raised with every word. You couldn't fathom why he would do that to you. Everything that happened up until now could have been avoided had he just told you when he found out. But instead, purposefully or not, he wronged you by keeping it a secret.
“I had every intention of telling you," he said, holding his arms open in surrender. "I just didn’t know how to do it. If I told you then, you would have accused me of snooping like you are now. Or you would have gotten mad at me and said I was trying to come between your relationship or something, like lying to win you over. And you seemed happy with him, so why would I ruin that for you? I was stuck between multiple options.” He let his hands fall back to his sides in exasperation.
“So instead of telling me, you decided to take matters upon yourself anyway and have the man followed by your henchman, Jeno and Yangyang, all the way to his fake convention tour?” you interrogated him. Jaehyun finally broke the eye contact he held with you by looking down at the floor and rubbed his neck. The guilt etched onto his face was not being masked one bit. Frustrated by his behavior, you reached out to him and yanked him closer to where you sat by his other hand. “Talk, dammit.”
He sighed and forced himself to look at you again, and swallowed thickly before continuing. “It was actually...an all expense paid vacation purchased by me.”
You let go of his hand, stunned into silence as your breath caught in your throat. Your eyes held so much anguish and disgust. Disgust directed at him. It pained him to see it--to acknowledge that he was the one to make you look at him that way. He knew he had royally fucked up everything he was trying to build with you, and the only thing he could do in this situation that he caused was to completely come clean. “I figured that if I sent Kun away, I could come home and tell you everything I found out about him. And when you decided to leave him--”
“You would already be there to put my broken heart back together,” you finished for him. There was no point in sugar coating it, but it sounded so much harsher when you said it out loud. His face flushed with shame. He looked so sorry--so pitifully guilty. You had every impulse to get up and slap him right then, but you didn’t. Instead, you let yourself speak freely. “That was your master plan? To set Kun up so you could swoop in and fix me like I’m some kind of broken object?”
“No, Y/N, I--”
“I can’t believe you of all people would do this, Jaehyun.”
“I didn’t do it alone,” he disclosed in a panicked attempt to deflect some of the blame.
You wanted to slap him again for even trying. “Yeah, Jeno. I’m sure he did a lot following your orders--”
“It was Winwin, too. It was his idea.”
You frowned, confused. You had momentarily forgotten that Winwin was involved with all of this. It was his idea? That would explain the way he acted in court earlier that day. And you did recall Winwin saying that he was the one who sent Kun on the fake trip. Now that you thought about it, what Winwin had said in court sounded a lot like what Jaehyun had just told you. But how? You had only met Winwin when you began dating Kun. Which meant…
“How long have you known Winwin?”
Jaehyun took another deep breath. He seemed to do that everytime he was about to hit you with more unpleasant information. “Winwin was my assistant before Jeno. Before I met you. He quit because he couldn’t handle the job anymore. He ended up becoming a travel agent because that was all he could find. We’re still friends and we met up from time to time. I told him about you one day. About us. That I wanted us to be serious. And when I told him your name, he said he already knew you and that he already knew about Kun. So, I elicited his help and together we sent Kun on that phony trip.”
No thoughts. Head Empty.
He already knew Winwin before you ever met either of them? The two of them were close enough with each other and became close enough to you to come up with this ridiculous plan to blackmail Kun? It was a really dumb way to avenge your honor. And you couldn’t tell if you were mad or happy after hearing all of what they did. You were...conflicted. Very. Conflicted.
“I..this explains a lot and so little at the same time,” you managed to say coming out of your stupor. “I would have never guessed the two of you were once friends. The way you hid it from me...wow. Did you give Winwin acting advice?” you asked him bitterly.
“We never stopped being friends. He was willing to expose what type of man Kun really was so he played along as best as he could. We both thought we were doing the right thing. We just went about it in the wrong way. I’m really sorry, Y/N.” He looked at your hand, wanting so badly to reach out and hold it, but he knew you wouldn’t let him touch you right now. So instead he turned around and faced the wall on the opposite side of the room as he continued trying to exonerate himself. “In hindsight I should have just called you and told you. Whatever your decision would have been I would have supported it and moved on.” He walked toward the wall he was facing and placed his hand against it to support himself through his speech. “I truly thought I was doing the right thing. If I hadn’t screwed up the timing then my blackmail plot would have worked, haha...” He laughed after he said it, but there was no feeling in it whatsoever. “But then again it wouldn’t have mattered. I let Kun extend his vacation for a whole month with plans of getting back to you as quickly as I could so I could tell you all of this. I just needed him away from you for as long as possible so you would forget him by the time I came home.” He turned back around to face you. “But I was two months too late and already sixth in line. I didn’t think I would need to compete with any of the other guys for your heart.”
Sixth in line.
Suddenly, you found yourself gripping the armests of the rocking chair as your ears honed in on his last few sentences. You processed what he just said, repeating it a million times in your head until it finally clicked into place. You were a pretty sharp and smart individual. You earned several academic achievement awards and scholarships in college, graduated at the top of your class in Law school, passed the Bar on your first attempt, and you were highlighted as one of the top entertainment lawyers in your area. So your brain quickly connected the scattered dots after your eyes went down to the floor and you saw the other pictures you had carried inside the envelope.
Your eyes went back up to look at him. “You knew about them before you came back, too.”
“FuCk.”
Jaehyun turned around and walked out into the hallway with you following without warning. He had gotten caught in another lie and couldn’t face you anymore.
Now sitting alone inside the nursery, you felt your anxiety go through the roof. Your hands began to shake and your bottom lip trembled as you held back the urge to scream.
“Come back here...” It came out choked and barely loud enough for him to hear wherever he had gone. “Come back here, Jaehyun!” Your rage took over and you were able to yell for him as loudly as you could.
You got up from the rocking chair and made your way out into the hallway to search for your fleeing fiancé. Luckily, you didn’t have to walk far. He was pacing up and down the hallway between the nursery and the master bedroom. His back was tense at his shoulders and his fists were tightly clenched at his sides. You knew words weren’t going to stop him, so you walked to him and forcibly grabbed his shirt to turn him around and face you. When you did, you saw his eyes up close. They were red with tears begging to be let loose from his ducts. They spoke volumes. Within them you saw fear and shame doing a tantalizing dance together with immense sorrow.
Jaehyun hated it. He hated the way you looked at him like he was some kind of monster. Your eyes read back to him anger, betrayal, and genuine suffering. He couldn’t bear to have you look at him like that any longer and wanted to prove to you that he wasn’t a monster. But when he quietly spoke your name and tried to caress your shoulder, you immediately smacked his hand away.
“Y/N, I’m so sorry.” A tear ran down his face.
“No, Jaehyun! You do not get to cry!” You pushed him away from you by his chest, causing him to stumble backwards a bit. “How long? How long have you had YangYang following me around and secretly taking photos of me with the others? And don’t bullshit me. I want the whole truth!”
“Since I sent Kun away, okay! I knew you’d try and fill some preexistent void...” he trailed off and rubbed his wet chin, and then wiped his hand on his pants. “So I had you followed. What if you had gotten involved with someone similar to Kun? Or what if you found someone not good enough to be—“
“So the fuck what, Jaehyun! It’s my life and you had no reason to meddle with any part of it. Did you manipulate the other guys, too? Did you find a way to advertise phony trips to them, too?”
“No! I never meddled with anyone else, only Kun. At some point I realized those momentary flings were something you needed. A release. And by the time I had enough of your dick hopping with guys that weren’t me, who didn’t want to be with you long term except for maybe two of them, that’s when I decided to become the last participant in your ongoing sexcapade. I may have been sixth in line to get to your heart, but I was determined to be the first one you chose to share it with completely.”
“Then why didn’t you stop having me followed around?” You were teetering on the edge of an emotional cliff at this point. You felt a small kick inside you, your little bee signaling to you that if you kept this up she’d physically join you sooner rather than later, but you ignored her warning.
“I had every intention to have you not followed anymore. After I returned early from filming, I decided to try really hard to make you see that I was the man you wanted and needed. But then you ghosted me when you decided you wanted to try again with Kun. After all the things I did that you were unaware of, you still chose to be with him. I could have sent you the photos then, but I didn’t want to hurt you like that after you and I had just emotionally and physically reconnected. Plus if I did, we wouldn’t be having the conversation now after all that has happened between us this far.”
“Tch. Of course we wouldn’t be like we are now! Jaehyun, look at us! I wish you would have shown me those photos when you wanted to because I’d be done with both you and Kun. For good. It would have saved me a lot of tears and heartache.”
Delusional, he was genuinely shocked at what he heard about you being done with him. He thought he may have finally gotten through to you with his ridiculous explanations. “You don’t mean that, Y/N. We would have worked through it after you heard where I was coming from and my reasoning behind the decisions I was making--”
“I don’t mean it? You don’t think extortion and manipulation isn’t a reason to cut ties with someone?”
“Yes, but I had to do what needed to done--“
“You didn’t need to have me followed or exploit Kun. My life isn’t a movie where you can just play whatever role you feel like!”
Those words cut him deep, and his countenance flickered with pain. “Y/N, I’m sorry--“
“Stop saying that! Because if you meant it you wouldn’t still be having me followed to this day! You were the last person I thought would hurt me this much!”
You had not cried once up until this point, but the dam had finally been breached. Tears fell fast from your eyes as your heart shattered into a million pieces. You covered your face with your hands as you sobbed uncontrollably. Your baby was shifting inside you, agitated by all of the stress you were putting on her. And the thought of her safety was the only thing keeping you from falling to your knees.
“I never meant to hurt you like this...” He said as his own heart crumbled from watching himself single handedly destroy yours. “But...even after all I’ve done,” he continued, though you couldn’t imagine what more he could possibly have to say. “I’m still better than all the other guys you’re still hung up on.”
“I’m not hung up on anyone! I said yes to being your fiancée, remember?” You aggressively removed your hand adorned with the beautiful ring from your face and held it up to his. “I said yes without hesitation. But knowing what I know now, maybe I shouldn’t have. Even the fourth guy in line wouldn’t have hurt me this badly!”
Jaehyun’s eyes grew wide then narrowed before he quickly rushed a hand through his hair. It had become increasingly unkempt since the beginning of the argument. “Who, Taeyong? He wouldn’t know how to take care of you even if he tried. He can’t even properly manage his own bar.” You didn’t even ask how he knew which exact guy was fourth and let him continue talking. “This is actually his third attempt at a bar. His first two bars closed shortly after opening because of the shady dealings he was doing to keep the place afloat. He’s managed to make it past six months now because he was threatened again with more jail time. Plus you started sleeping with him again, and of course he believed he would have a life with you. So that forced him to start changing his way of living.”
“Well it’s good to know I’ve had such a positive impact on someone trying to turn their life around. At least he was honest with me about the type of person he was before and after he met me. All my other partners seem to have been more honest with me than you ever were.”
“Not the six foot phony who was one-third of your impromptu threesomes,” he said with a scoff before wiping any remaining tears he had with the back of his hand. “He’s engaged, Y/N. Has been for an entire year.”
“What?” you asked incredulously.
“Yeah. The troll is afraid of commitment. But you already knew that considering you had multiple rendezvous with him while I was away. You were so devastated to hear Kun cheated on you after all this time, meanwhile you were the other woman for Johnny.”
“I didn’t know they were engaged! If I knew that I wouldn’t have slept with him again. But she knew about us before that. It’s not my fault he didn’t tell me everything about them.”
“Still didn’t make it right. Especially since you were also cheating on Kun at the same time.”
“I know it’s not right, Jaehyun! Why are you trying to redirect the conversation to make me look like a vile person?!” He didn’t have an immediate response for you, so you decided to keep going in your state of turbulent emotions. If he wanted to be nasty with his accusations, then you were going to be nasty right back. “Does Johnny intimidate you? You think that if you hadn’t come back or if I wasn’t with Kun, then maybe I would have ended up with Johnny instead? He is my type, after all, which is why I slept with him so many times. He’s tall, handsome, well-endowed, and has a dazzling smile just like you. Did you view him as your main competition?”
“Now you’re just saying stuff to try and piss me off,” he said with a set scowl on his face. “I don’t need to compete with someone who voluntarily cheats on his girlfriend. If the two of you had gotten together, he would have done the same thing to you and you would be in the same situation you were with Kun. Look around, Y/N. All those guys are terrible compared to me!”
You crossed your arms over your chest and shifted your weight onto one foot. “Fine. Since you seem to have some dirt on every single guy I slept with. Enlighten me. Tell me all the information you paid Jeno, YangYang, and whoever the fuck else you hired to find. Because I know you didn’t try to find anything out for yourself. Tell me all the secrets Yuta, Taeil, and Doyoung are keeping from me.”
Accepting your challenge, he began divulging facts without hesitation. “This is a secret not even Yuta knows, but he has another kid out there in the world. Maybe more, who knows. Jeno went above and beyond my authority and paid his ex-wife for the details. The kid’s mom had been trying to reach out to Yuta for a while, but the ex always intercepted and kept her quiet.” He saw your face fall, as you were very affected by this tidbit of information. To console you he said, “I’ll admit I created a monster with Jeno, and it wasn’t until Mark got arrested that he regained his good natured consciousness.”
“Why haven’t you disclosed this information to Yuta?”
“I wasn’t even supposed to know about that. Besides, you and the baby are my top priority. Not him.” Jaehyun leaned against the banister of the railing overlooking the first floor of his estate.
“I’m going to tell him,” you asserted.
“Suit yourself. I don’t care anymore,” he said with an indifferent shrug of his shoulders.
“Well, what about Taeil? Did he steal your girlfriend when he was younger? Is that why you’re making sure he doesn’t end up with me either?”
“No.” He said affronted.
“Then why?”
He looked down as he ran his hand back and forth along the polished wood of the banister. “Because I hired the love of his life to be my lawyer, pursued her situationally and then romantically, maybe fathered her first born child, and then I told her I loved her and proposed.”
“That’s not what I asked nor is it new information. Shit, everyone at the baby shower could have figured that out—they probably did figure that out.”
“No, it’s not. But to add insult to injury, he can’t provide for you like I can. Taeil’s broke. He’s a terrible accountant that made some piss poor investments in the past. He has no money. No savings. Nothing tucked under his mattress. He drives my cars because he can’t afford to buy his own. His house? Mine. His gym membership? He’s a guest on my account. Those bad investments? Good investments now since I got my hands on them. The only reason he was able to successfully get you in bed was because he moved back here while I was busy filming my movie; before I could convince him otherwise. He was the one that recommended I hire you as my lawyer. He just didn’t expect that I’d steal your heart, too.”
You couldn’t believe what you were hearing, but some things were starting to make sense. “So…,” you began as you spoke your thought process out loud. “When Taeil went to study abroad where you stayed, he lived with you and confided to you about our failed relationship. And then when you saw the opportunity, you sought me out and continued to pursue me even though you knew about his strong feelings towards me?” Jaehyun looked to you and said nothing, affirming your assumption. “You’re sick.”
“It sounds worse when you say it that way. But my feelings have always been genuine. I originally sought out your professionalism and just so happened to fall in love with you while we worked together. I didn’t fall in love with Taeil’s memory of a long lost girlfriend. I fell in love with a respectable, successful, and mature woman. Different time. Different place. Different feelings.”
You hated that he was right. He didn’t make himself fall in love with you just so he could steal you away behind Taeil’s back. He fell in love with you naturally. But as you have come to find out, he loved you a bit too much and was willing to do whatever it took to make him look like the better man.
Feeling your heart wavering, you squeezed your arms tighter against your chest before you asked him about the last person he supposedly had information on. “And Doyoung?”
“The only thing I have on him...” He hesitated mid-sentence as if he was contemplating whether or not he wanted to say what he was going to tell you. “...is that he pawned the ring he purchased for you. He was going to propose to you after graduation, but Taeyong got in the way.”
You audibly hissed as you violently sucked the air between your teeth, causing Jaehyun to flinch slightly. “Jeno didn’t tell you this,” you told him with a clenched jaw. “You’re lying to me again?”
“I’m not lying. And it wasn’t Jeno. Ten told me after the paternity test.”
“Liar,” you huffed out. You could feel your body temperature rising as your breaths became shorter.
He let out a dispiriting chuckle to himself. “Apparently you didn’t know, but he’s Team Jaehyun. Has been for quite some time now. He also got caught up in this ‘who’s the daddy’ drama and couldn’t help but dip his toes in. So he gave me some insight. He joked that the last men standing would be me and Doyoung. Even if the baby is for neither of us, we’d still be the last two actually vying for your heart.”
“Doyoung and I despise each other,” you hiccuped.
“And you despise me, too, now. So I guess Ten was way off with his assumption.”
“Just shut up!”
All of this had to be a lie! There was know way Ten had told Jaehyun that Doyoung was going to propose to you after you graduated law school. If Ten did know about it, all the way up to the detail about Doyoung pawning the ring, why hadn’t he ever told you? And why did he tell Jaehyun? Was Ten working with him, too? And how much of a financial hole was Doyoung in that he needed to sell the ring he was going to use to profess his undying love--
Jaehyun noticed the way your breathing had become irregular, and urgently pushed himself away from the banister when he registered the frantic look on your face as the cogs whirled inside your mind at the thought of Doyoung wanting to propose to you. “Y/N, listen to me. I know this is--“
“Sorry, pretty boy. Your time is up.”
Equally stunned by the interruption, both you and Jaehyun whipped your heads around towards the staircase to see Yuta making his entrance onto the scene. You were so caught up in Jaehyun’s bullshit that you had momentarily forgotten he was still waiting for you outside. The tightness in your chest loosened at the sight of him, and you were thankful he kept his word by coming to your rescue at the right time.
“Y/N, it’s time to go?”
Jaehyun’s narrowed eyes darted quickly between you and the other man standing before him. “How long have you been in here?”
Yuta made his way over to you and gently uncrossed your arms that were still pressed tightly against your chest. “Long enough to know I have another kid somewhere out there. Not the way I wanted to find out, but then again, you can’t always get what you want.” While looking into your glossy eyes, he cuffed his hand around one of yours and let you squeeze it as hard as you needed to in order to keep hold of your sanity. He could feel the fast pace of your heightened pulse through your palm. “My ex-wife is pretty trash, huh?” He asked, then turned his head to face Jaehyun to now look directly into his eyes. “Don’t make the same mistake I did and marry the wrong person, Y/N.”
Beneath that cold, blank expression, you knew Jaehyun was fuming. You, his fiancée, had come unannounced to confront him, and now stood in his home holding hands with another man who also held claim to a piece of your heart. You stared at him as he seethed in silence, letting every letter of Yuta’s words sink into his prefrontal cortex.
“Don’t call me, text, email, or anything,” you commanded Jaehyun after you were able to find your breath. “I need time away from you to think. I need time for myself, my health, and my baby. Our possible baby.” You pointed between all three of you within the space. “Just let me think. No matter how long it takes.” You paused briefly to shift a bit of your weight onto Yuta, as you were now too tired to stand on your own. “If you want any little bit of hope that I’ll stay with you after all this, you’ll do these things for me.”
With your other hand you reached out to Yuta’s, and he proceeded to help you walk down the stairs and out of the mansion.
There wasn’t anything he could say. The only thing Yuta could do was listen to the sniffling of your nose and breathy sighs as you cried softly beside him while he drove you home. You had a great deal of things on your mind and you would talk when you were ready. He himself had a lot on his mind. His ex-wife had been blocking him from seeing his other child. The only reason he could think of for her to do something like that was so she could secure their son’s inheritance, to ensure that he got all of it without having to split it with another sibling. He didn’t put it past her. She already tried to wring his bank account dry during the divorce. This made him wonder what his ex had in mind to do if he was the father of your baby, too. He needed to do something about that conniving woman and get his son away from her before she did something else he wouldn’t be able to forgive.
You sighed heavily, snapping Yuta out of his thoughts. From the corner of his eye he saw you wipe your nose with one of the tissues from the packet he got for you out of his glove compartment. Seeing you like this was so upsetting to him. He was used to seeing you as a strong, independent woman who didn’t have any problem taking care of herself. To see someone like you so broken up because of another person made him so mad. He should have punched Jaehyun like he originally wanted to.
“I’ll stay with you until your brother gets back,” Yuta said, breaking the stagnant air around you.
You shook your head. “No, your family needs you.”
“Are you sure?”
You weren’t. You weren’t sure if you actually wanted to be alone until Mark came back. You weren’t sure you could be alone. But you were sure that you didn't want to drag your brother or Yuta any further down this deep pit of despair you dug for yourself. You didn’t want to go home anymore. You didn’t want to be there alone with your thoughts and you didn’t want to be there with Yuta who had his own issues that needed to be sorted out right away. But where could you go? The man you thought you could trust your heart to just ripped it out of your chest and stomped on it. There was nowhere else for you to go but home to cry on your brother, but you refused to keep stressing him out. So you would have to go to a place where you could cry on someone else who actually had a role in your messed up storyline. Two of which would more than likely turn you away, and one of them would definitely welcome you with open arms against their better judgement. And the other would…
“I want you to take me somewhere else instead,” you answered Yuta’s question.
“What? Where?”
“I just don’t want to go home. Please, Yuta?”
He sighed and scratched the back of his head. “I’m going to have to charge you cab fare.”
Because of Yuta’s joke, a small smile was able to make its way onto your tear stained face. “Thank you. Take the exit after the next one and then make a left at the light.”
Yuta followed your instructions as you directed him to your destination. He had an idea on where you were going and his assumption grew stronger when he began to drive through a residential area. You pointed to the house you wanted him to drop you off in front of and he pulled up to the curb to park his car.
“That’ll be $36.00, please,” he said, reaching out his hand towards you. You ignored his antics and began taking off your seatbelt. “Whose house is this anyway?”
“You’ll see.”
“Oh no. I’m not letting you out until you tell me.” To reinforce his point, he pressed the button to re-lock his car doors that had automatically unlocked when he put his car into park.
“I’ll be fine. What more can be done to me after what I just went through?” You unlocked the door manually and then struggled your way out of the car by yourself. By the time Yuta had taken off his own seatbelt to stop you, you were already halfway to the front door of the house, so he gave up and let himself watch you go up the rest of the way and ring the doorbell. After opening the door, the owner of the house’s hands went immediately to your puffy cheeks as the sight of your distressing appearance suddenly caused him to become overcome with urgency.
Yuta craned his neck as he tried to see who it was you chose to use as a supportive pillar. When he got a good look at them he made a hum of enlightenment before sitting back properly in his seat. “I was expecting to see her mother, not the rabbit.”
You were immediately ushered into the house and made to sit on the living room sofa. Doyoung left you briefly to make herbal tea after you accepted his offer for a cup. Once done, he set the cup and saucer into your hands, and then he sat down beside you on the couch with his elbows resting on his legs. “What happened to you?” he asked you after waiting for you to take your first sip of the tea. After your visit with him to the ER earlier that day, he assumed you had gone home to rest like the doctor prescribed.
“I found out who really had the pictures taken.” Doyoung didn’t say anything, allowing you to continue when you were ready. He watched as you took another sip of your tea, noticing the way your hand slightly trembled when you placed it back down onto the saucer. “It was Jaehyun.”
As if he had already known the answer, Doyoung closed his eyes and inhaled slowly. “I figured as much.”
“How long have you known?” Leave it to Doyoung to be so perceptive. He should quit being a lawyer and become a detective.
“I found the pictures the day you had us all tested. I put the pieces together a little bit before your baby shower.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
Doyoung looked down shamefully at his hands. “You ask that like you were actually willing to talk to me.”
“It didn’t stop you from giving me the envelope.”
He moved one of his hands to push back his hair from his face. “I’m sorry about that. My mind was grappling with so many emotions that day. I wanted to talk to you about everything in person, but he kept getting in my way.” From the way he spit out the word, you knew he was talking about Jaehyun without having to say his name.
“I’m glad you did it when you did,” you told him as you gazed dismally into the orange liquid inside your cup. “I was able to use what you gave me to confront him and he revealed his true self.”
Doyoung’s eyes moved from your face to your hand that held the saucer. You were still wearing the engagement ring from Jaehyun. He didn’t want to make any assumptions about where your relationship with him stood. “Are you still…” he asked tentatively.
You followed his gaze and inferred what he was asking you. “I don’t know,” you said after taking a deep breath. “I just...he told me a lot of things. I don’t know if I’ll be able to trust him again.”
“I see,” was all he could say to you in that moment.
There was another small period of silence between you so you could drink more of your tea, but in actuality you were mustering up the nerve to ask him this next question: “Is it true that you were going to propose to me?”
Doyoung’s entire body went stiff beside you. And you swore you saw his eyebrows hit the sky. “Who told you that lie?”
You turned your body slightly to face him more and looked into his eyes for the first time since entering his home. “Everybody has been lying to me lately and I just want to have an honest conversation with someone. So is it true?”
“Did Jaehyun tell you that to mess with your head? It’s obviously false,” he said, becoming defensively indignant.
“Ten told him.”
Doyoung didn’t respond right away, and so you knew it was the truth.
“How much money did you lose on the ring?”
“Why does that matter? You still left me anyway, so I would have had to sell it regardless.”
And here you thought the two of you would finally be able to put aside your differences.
“For fucks sake,” you gritted and practically threw the tea cup and saucer onto his coffee table. “I’m sorry I left you, okay! Is that what you want me to say? Stop reminding me of one of the biggest mistakes I've ever made! So can we please have a conversation like two human beings?”
Something you had just said lit a flame inside him and he could no longer hold back all the conflicting feelings he kept inside him. “Fine! If you want me to be honest, yes! I was going to propose to you. You were my everything just like you were to all these other guys that worship the ground you walk on for some reason. And I just don’t know why it has to be like this!” He took a second to take a shaky breath as tears began to prickle behind his eyes. “Because you were with me! You were supposed to be with me forever! But then you just left me to be with Taeyong, and I made myself hate you all this time even though I was the one who told you to go!” He hastily wiped his eyes with his sleeve before any of his tears could fall. “Fuck!”
You stared at him wide eyed in disbelief at the fact that he was finally being honest about himself. But then you shook your head when something other than his current state came to your attention. “Was it really Taeyong or were you too afraid that I might have rejected your proposal to be with someone else?”
Doyoung sniffed and wiped his eyes once more. “Don’t psychoanalyze me right now.”
“I’m right, aren’t I?” He responded by rolling his eyes at you, making you scoff. “You know, you're the whole reason I have commitment issues. You’re the literal reason I ran into Taeyong’s arms. But he turned out to be crazy, so I left him. Then the next thing I knew I was working with two guys who only wanted me for my body rather than have a functioning relationship. I said I was fine with that, but I really wasn’t. So I found a seemingly good natured man to settle down with, but I was still unhappy with him because I wanted to try the no sex thing like an idiot. If you hadn’t run me away in the first place, we’d be married by now with our joint practice like we used to talk about, and I wouldn’t have come out of some crazy sex bender not knowing who the father of my daughter is!”
“I know, I know! And I’m so sorry!”
“Are you?!”
“Yes! And I wish I could take it all back!” He cradled his face in his hands as he fought back a sob. “I never stopped loving you, Y/N.”
“You made sure I believed otherwise.”
He slid his hands down and off his face. “Because I’m stupid.”
You shook your head at him again. “No, I’m stupid. I still don’t know who my baby’s father is because I’m too scared to look at the results.”
Doyoung’s eyes widened slightly. “You have the results and never told any of us you got them?”
“I know I’m terrible for keeping everyone in limbo. I wasn’t ready before. But now...I think I am. I have to be.” Doyoung watched quietly as you lifted up your left hand and twisted off the engagement ring on your finger. “Knowing who he is determines how I’m going to move forward with my life,” you continued and placed the ring onto the coffee table next to the small puddle of tea you spilled. “And I need to be able to face head on whatever fate the universe has chosen for me and my child.”
Dun dun duuuunnnnn!
For other chapters, see the masterlist.
#nct#nct 127#nct u#nct smut#taeyong#johnny#yuta#jaehyun#taeil#doyoung#lucas#kun#nct 127 smut#nct u smut#nct scenarios#nct imagines#nct fic#jaehyun smut#yuta smut#johnny smut#taeyong smut#doyoung smut#taeil smut#bees in spring#abeilles au printemps
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the warmest hello (to the coldest goodbye)
once a spy, always a spy forever, forever the warmest hello to the coldest goodbye remember, remember -spies are forever, the tin can bros
warnings: undercover spy work, mention of weapons, drugging someone into unconsciousness/giving someone a roofie, essentially the start of an enemies to lovers fanfiction
pairings: virgil/logan, offscreen roman/patton
words: 4,465
notes: this is for day 7 of @analogicalweek! the prompt of the day is “free day” and i have decided to write a combination soulmates and rival spies au! please enjoy!
⁂
Not that Virgil would admit it, but, like literally every other marked person, he's tried to imagine how he might meet his soulmate. He just didn't ever spare any thought on what he'd do if it happened on the job.
His official cover to his friends (which was mostly his cousin Roman and Roman’s husband Patton) was that he was an analyst—he was always vague about what exactly it was he analyzed, but since neither of them were particularly mathematically inclined, and both were maybe a bit too trusting for their own good, they took him at his word.
Even when he was sent off on various unusual "business trips.”
It’s not like Virgil’s mark is very specific about when and where it’ll happen. Virgil knows that variations of "sorry about that” make for a large percentage of common soulmarks.
There’s protocols in place, of course, but Virgil had never really paid attention to those classes while training to be a spy. The Lewis clause is the kind of thing Virgil didn’t pay as much attention to, because it didn’t seem as useful as understanding the technology or how to make a cover. The Lewis clause is what to do when someone meets a soulmate on the job—there are specifications for if the soulmate is a target, a team member, or an enemy.
Virgil hadn’t really cared at the time. He’d kick himself for that later.
Any number of meetings occurred accidentally—knocking something over, bumping into someone, or, like his cousin Roman's soulmate did, take Roman's coffee thinking it was his own hot chocolate. They got married two winters ago, just so they could serve hot beverages in cold weather.
He thinks the iteration stamped in black along his left inner arm, "I'm very sorry about this," with the addition of "oh no, it's you” tacked on at the end of his makes it likely that whatever he says will, A, likely be first, B, be somewhat unique, or unique enough to be immediately recognizable, and C, be in the aftermath of some kind of accident.
He ends up being partially right. What he says is first and it is somewhat unique. What his soulmate apologizes for is no accident, though.
Virgil does undercover work, sure, but it's very rare for him to enter the James Bond style locale he's at today, and that he’s been working for the past couple months; the marble ballroom he's circling is dripping with gold chandeliers and matching heavy, velvet curtains that accent the floor-to-ceiling windows. There’s a string quartet in the corner, barely audible over the chatter of rich socialites. Virgil, deeply uncomfortable in his white-tie attire, is circling the room in an attempt at looking like he attends charity balls all the time.
He sucks at it.
As if on cue, his earpiece crackles to life.
"How the fuck did you ever qualify to be a spy?" Janus, his tech man and eye in the sky, snickers into his ear. "Your acting skills are horrendous. If you auditioned for The Room right now, they wouldn't let you into the cast.”
"Fuck off,” Virgil fake-coughs into his shoulder.
"Christ, at least try to look like you're mingling, not like you've stalked the target here."
Unable to stop himself, he glances toward the target he's meant to be watching.
The target, who is so staggeringly wealthy it could make Virgil, who is trying to pay off his student debt on a spy's salary (not as high as one might think) burst into tears. Or, much more likely, start ranting about the myriad flaws of capitalism. If so inclined, he could honestly probably steal the amount of money necessary from one of her offshore accounts, and it would be as unnoticeable as someone taking a penny from him.
Mary Lee Truman is standing amidst a flock of suited men, like a dove amidst a flock of dour crows; her dress is slinky silk, a shade of champagne that glimmers rose-gold in the right shade of light. She’s standing leaned to one side, her hip popped out and an arm crossed over her stomach, a crystal-cut champagne flute dangling in her fingers as if she was born to hold one.
Her husband, Lee Truman (fuck if that wasn’t confusing, it was really easier to think of them by their codenames) is off by the bar, seemingly getting himself another drink.
His eyes stray to Mary Lee again; he can tell a couple of the suits are hired muscle, bodyguards, which makes sense, as the Trumans are allegedly a massive crime family, doing their dirty dealings in plain sight. A couple of the suits he recognizes from dossiers; one is a business partner of Lee’s father, who might not even know what the Truman family really gets up to; one absolutely knows what the Truman family gets up to, as Virgil’s read his rap sheet and knows he’s been in and out of jail due to his assignments from the mob.
There’s one suit there that really doesn’t seem to fit the mold of either category.
For one thing, he’s around Virgil’s age; for another, he isn’t rippling with muscle. Not that he doesn’t look fit; his well-tailored suit shows off his broad shoulders, his biceps, his lean waist. He’s dark-haired, and pale, and blue-eyed, and he’s standing next to Mary Lee with a look that Virgil would think of as dour, but now that he’s looking closely, the blue-eyed man looks almost... calculating.
This man wasn’t in the dossier.
Almost everyone at this ball was in the dossier.
Virgil looks away from Mary Lee and the handsome man, and instead decides to start taking up Janus’ advice; he slowly moves through the room.
Well. He's doing it to get closer to Mary Lee, but sure, he can attempt to mingle.
He traverses through the room, his fancy shoes clicking on the marble floor, mindful to not step on any dress hems—he has it easy, as his directive was simply to wear his white tie with his hidden weapons, his ear piece, and his lapel pin that records everything he's seeing. The women in the room provide the only splashes of color outside of the black suits and white shirts of the men, the gleaming marble, the gold- accented glasses and dishware. Even what little art he's seen follows that color theme -- white marble busts, abstract black and white paintings in their gilded frames, a gold statue outside the front steps, as if to greet the partygoers.
But the women of the party aren't beholden to this strict color scheme. Gowns of pink chiffon, red lace, blue taffeta, deep violet velvet, Virgil passes them all, keeping one eye out for rose gold silk.
He ends up instituting himself in a ring of people listening intently to an art history professor talking about the architectural significance of his building—he introduces himself with his cover name, James Walker, to the man next to him, who Virgil already knows is a Truman cousin. He gives a fake first name too—he says his name is Alex, when Virgil knows it’s really Bruce. Okay. Something to take note of.
He listens to the art history professor talk about art deco with just one ear, the other straining to eavesdrop on Mary Lee and her suits.
“Do you think our beneficiary approaches?” Mary Lee murmurs to the blue-eyed one, the one that wasn’t in the dossier.
“Oh, I know he does,” the blue-eyed man says to her. He has a pleasant British accent, the kind of voice that would be right at home on a nature documentary calmly narrating the eating habits of wolverines, or something like that. “According to all my research, our previous beneficiary is no longer within our purview. A new one will have been instilled in hasty time. As a matter of fact, I believe I would be able to point him out to you right now.”
Mary Lee sighs, a little, and the man continues talking about their charity. Virgil’s mind races. He knows the Truman’s “charity work” almost always acts as a sieve to run dirty money through, so what would it mean, that they got a new beneficiary? A new target, maybe? A new directive?
Either way, this is almost definitely some kind of code they’re talking in. He tunes a bit more into the art history professor’s impromptu lecture—he’s taking a brief tangent into talking about Tamara de Lempicka—as he ruminates on that particular conversation between the blue-eyed Brit and Mary Lee.
Then he ends up in conversation with an elderly woman beside him, who wants to know who he is—James Walker, I run a business a state or two over, I’m interested in diversifying my assets—and if he’s been to any art museums in town. Both he and the man he is meant to be have not, but it turns out she’s a curator and has numerous suggestions for him.
He also knows this woman, Ida Kelly, has been paying into the Truman business for quite some time, and has potentially ordered hits using the Truman’s muscle.
“Madam,” a suited waiter shows up at her side, as if on cue, and hands her a small glass full of what looks like a gin-and-tonic.
“Oh, yes, thank you,” she says, taking her drink immediately.
The waiter turns to him. There is a singular champagne flute on the tray. “Sir.”
“I didn’t order anything,” Virgil says stupidly, before he realizes that almost everyone here is taking champagne flutes off of trays, and he supposes this waiter just wants to clear his before he has to double back and get more. “Oh, all right.”
He takes it. It’s a delicate, crystal-cut glass. He’s almost a little afraid that if he holds it wrong, it’ll break.
“Really, we’re doing an Impressionism exhibit, and it is positively divine,” she says.
Very suddenly, there’s a hand on his shoulder, emanating warmth through his suit and Virgil jumps, a little—he hopes whoever it is didn’t feel one his knives. Or, God forbid, his gun.
He turns to see no one, when a hand touches his opposite arm, and he turns again. It turns out to be the blue-eyed Brit, who is staring only at Ida, brushing past him, allowing his hand to trail down Virgil’s arm, touching his hand as if to say, please stay there, I do not want to bump into you.
At such a close range, Virgil can smell his absolutely incredible cologne, see his defined jawline, the way his blue eyes gleam.
Ida brightens. “Darling!”
“Ida,” the Brit says warmly. “I visited that display myself, it was simply wonderful.”
“Oh, you’re too kind,” she says, clearly drinking up the praise. Virgil looks between them, feeling even more awkward than he has all night.
“Wait a goddamned minute,” Janus murmurs in his ear, after such a long stretch of silence that it makes Virgil jump again. There’s the sound of rapid typing.
“A victory!” The man says, lifting his glass—it looks to be full of whiskey. “A toast, to your latest triumph.”
“Oh, now,” she says, but when the other surrounding suits start lifting their glasses, Virgil lifts his, as well.
“To Ida Kelly,” the Brit says. “One of the finest artistic minds to walk the earth at our time!”
Virgil takes a sip of his champagne at the same time as everyone else; another woman in a deep green gown with a shawl edged in feathers takes Ida’s arm, rhapsodizing about the Impressionism movement and the latest event that her art gallery had put on.
It takes about a minute for Virgil to notice his vision going blurry in the corners.
It takes him about ten seconds of blinking hard and rubbing his eyes, hoping to clear it, to stumble over his own two feet.
It takes five seconds for Janus’ voice to buzz to life in his earpiece, urgent, “Virgil, get out of there, get away from that man, that’s Lo—”
It takes him about two seconds after that to notice that the blue-eyed Brit is looking at him with an expression clearly lacking remorse.
It takes him about half a second to realize the finger tapping one shoulder, his hand at his hand—the same hand that had been holding his champagne flute. He hadn’t been looking at his drink. The Brit had made him turn away from his drink.
The Brit put something in his drink.
Virgil’s been made.
“Good God, man,” another suited man says, when Virgil stumbles over his own two feet, “had enough of the bubbly, have you?”
Virgil ignores him; even as his vision is growing blurrier and blurrier, his eyes are intent on the Brit, staggering towards him, and he doesn’t even really know why. He’s been made, he should be running, but—
"Did you just fucking poison me, you fucking asshole?" Virgil slurs, and his sudden lack of physical control resoundingly answers the question before the Brit can; the arms that catch him before he can full flat on his face are muscular and warm. He’s distantly aware of the crystal-cut grass slipping from his hand and shattering on the marble.
The warm, muscular arms are more pressing than that. And, for a dirty rotten criminal who has probably killed people, the man is quite handsome. His bespectacled face swims in Virgil's vision.
"'I'm very sorry about this," he says smoothly, before his eyes widen in alarm. "Oh no.”
As Virgil is on the verge of unconsciousness, he hears, "It's you."
His last three thoughts before he slips under: did he just fucking say what he thought he said, then, good God his eyes are so blue, then, fuck, I should have paid way more attention to the Lewis clause.
⁂
Virgil is aware of three things as he wakes up: one, he feels like he has a dreadful hangover. Two, he’s pretty sure he’s in a plane or train or car or something moving, which makes him feel motion sick.
Three, he’s been stripped of his earpiece and his weapons.
He blinks his eyes open slowly, squinting; it’s night time, but even the low light is making Virgil’s eyes hurt.
This is a limousine, he can tell that much off the bat; the partition is closed, the glass tinted as dark as it legally can be, the interior leather light-colored, the bar fully stocked with different sodas and crystal-cut decanters full of various liquors, which makes him wince in memory of the champagne.
He feels like shit, but when he looks over and sees the blue-eyed Brit—his soulmate—his soulmate who had fucking drugged him and was working with the mob—it makes him feel even shittier.
“Ah,” his soulmate says. He’s sitting with one ankle resting on his knee, a squat glass of whiskey in hand. He has glasses on now that he hadn’t had on before. Also, his accent is no longer British; he’s got a nice Italian lilt to his voice, now. “Good. You’re awake.”
Virgil stares at him. He doesn’t say a word.
“I’ll admit this,” he gestures between them, “rather put a cinch in my plan on how to deal with you.”
“Would you have killed me?” Virgil asks. His voice comes out a croak. “If we weren’t...”
He trails off.
The man’s eyebrow arches, before he shrugs, and rolls up his sleeve. His soulmark is in the same place as Virgil’s—stamped across his left inner arm, in the spiky handwriting Virgil only uses in his personal notes, not the more uniform one he writes reports with.
Did you just fucking poison me, you fucking asshole?!
Undeniably a matching soulmark to his.
“My parents were quite bemused by it, when it showed up,” the Brit—or American?—the blue-eyed—his soulmate says. “I suppose we have our answers now.”
“Do we?” he says.
The man takes a sip of whiskey. Then, he says, “Your predecessor was FBI. Are you the same?”
Virgil tenses. The man rolls his eyes again.
“Please,” he murmurs. “For an organization meant to be secretive, your lot are quite obvious when you trade moles in and out. One comes in, goes out, and coincidentally someone new is knocking on the door within the week. It’s absurdly simple to pinpoint who’s reporting back to your government. So. FBI, CIA, military...?”
“Who gives a fuck,” Virgil says.
“One should know what one’s soulmate does for a living, shouldn’t they?” he says. “This is a very unique situation. I’m simply trying to find out—”
“What do you do for a living, then?” Virgil snarls. His head is pounding, his mouth is dry and it tastes dreadful, his soulmate is an asshole working for the other side, and he’s being carted off to God knows where. This day is one of the worst of his life. Why couldn’t he have had a nice little café meet-cute, like Roman had had?
The man smiles at him, not particularly kindly. “I diversify.”
Virgil pulls a face, because he knows that’s poking fun at his cover.
“What,” Virgil says, “poison people on Monday, go to Ida Kelly’s resort on Tuesday, with a fun little Friday jaunt of killing people who cross the Trumans?”
“I’ve never actually been to the museum Ida Kelly curates,” the man admits. “It was an easy way to insert myself near you, to put it in your drink. And for goodness’ sake, it wasn’t poison.”
“Roofie. Drug. Whatever.”
The man’s eyebrows pull together, in a rather petulant expression. “I designed that myself, you know.”
“Well, it’s shit,” Virgil snaps. “I feel like I have the worst hangover of my goddamn life.”
“Yes, that was part of the design,” the man says, and offers him a glass of water.
Virgil stares at him. “Seriously.”
“No trust between soulmates?” He says.
“Yeah, well. Fool me once.”
The man shrugs, putting down the glass of water into a cupholder, before digging out a sealed water bottle. Virgil takes it and places it into a cupholder near him. No fucking way he’s accepting any food or drink from this man.
His lips quirk up into a smile.
“Where are you taking me?” Virgil says, ignoring the way that smile makes his heart pound.
“That rather depends,” he admits.
“On?”
“Well.” He says. He uncrosses his legs, planting both feet on the floor. “I’m assuming that now the man in your little earpiece—he was rather rude—is aware that you have been, what is it you say? Made?”
Virgil nods.
“Well. Now that he, and therefore your employer, knows that you are made, you won’t be poking your nose into Truman business anymore, will you?”
Virgil grits his teeth. “Not undercover.”
The man ignores that. “And I know that no matter which you work for, the Lewis clause has been adopted across every arm of that government, and as such you’ll be prohibited from any mission that might bring you into contact with me.”
God damn it. How does he know the spy lessons better than Virgil does?
And then it occurs to him: Janus knew that man. He warned Virgil to get away from him, to get away from Lo—
He rolls this information around in his head. The Lewis clause isn’t exactly a widely advertised part of being a spy; there was a whole trilogy of novels that got adapted into secret agent movies, years ago, that concerned opposing agent spies coming to face each other again and again, and the secondary soulmate agents teamed up together. Which the Lewis clause would prevent, but the public who went and read those novels or saw those movies wouldn’t know that.
So either this man—Lo? Lo what?—either knows a lot about spies, because he’s one of those know your enemy types, or...
Or he sat down and learned about the Lewis clause the same way that Virgil did, except he actually sat down and listened. Maybe he defected, maybe he’s dirty? Or maybe Virgil’s just overthinking it.
Look. Virgil’s got a lot of questions here. Chief among which:
“Where are you taking me?”
“Away,” the man says vaguely, looking at him. “Are you gay?”
Virgil gapes at him.
“I’d be perfectly fine with a platonic soulmate, but for the sake of disclosure, I am gay.”
“For the sake of disclosure,” Virgil repeats disbelievingly, and pinches the bridge of her nose, rubbing it. God, his head hurts terribly.
“Bisexual, or pansexual, perhaps?” He prompts. “Asexual? Or... you could be straight, I suppose.”
“Ugh,” Virgil says reflexively, then shakes himself. “I’m not—okay. Fine. Yeah, I’m gay too.”
“All right,” the man says, as if noting it. “What’s your name?”
Virgil snorts.
“What?”
“Okay, I don’t—” he gestures to the limousine around them. “Again, you just drugged me. I don’t know where you’re taking me. You probably would have killed me if I hadn’t said those words.”
The man makes a moue of distaste.
“Or had someone kill me, I don’t know,” Virgil amends. “Either way, you’re working with that family, who I’m assuming aren’t pleased at having a spy getting caught trying to work himself into your ranks, so I’d rather you not know all that much about my life, thanks.”
“It’s not like I’m asking for your,” an infinitesimal pause, as if he’s wracking his brain, trying to remember something, “social security number or anything. A name.”
Virgil stares at this man. Lo—. Lo something. Lochlan? Loyd? Or was it a codename?
“Yours first.”
The man pauses.
“You drugged me,” Virgil says.
He smiles at Virgil. “Will you hold this over my head for the rest of our lives?”
The rest of our lives. Yes, that’s meant to be the fairytale ending for soulmates, isn’t it? A nice little meeting, the swell of overdramatic violins in the background, falling into each other’s arms and forming a life together. That’s the popular answer.
More and more recently, though, people have been advocating for choice; that soulmates are not always the best person for you.
Virgil doesn’t know which camp he and this man will fall into, just now.
“Yes,” Virgil says quietly. “Yes, I think I will.”
The man sets aside his whiskey.
“Logan.” He says at last, and his accent has changed again; it’s vague, almost indecipherable, but if Virgil had to guess he’d say Midwestern American. Virgil wonders if it’s his real one. “My name is Logan.”
Logan.
“How do I know you’re telling the truth?”
“Since discovering you’re my soulmate? I haven’t lied to you at all. Not a word.”
“Except for the accent.”
Logan laughs.
“Habit, sorry. It’s a long story that perhaps the man screaming in your earpiece will be able to tell you one day.”
Virgil jolts with surprise. “You know—?”
He cuts himself off before he can say Janus’ name.
“Reputationally,” Logan says, and, as strange as it is, Virgil believes him. In this, at least.
His soulmate’s name is Logan.
“Virgil.”
Logan smiles, his blue eyes glittering. “It’s nice to meet you, Virgil.”
There’s the sound of a soft knock on the partition, and it lowers; Virgil can’t see the driver.
“Sir? We’re here.”
“Right,” Logan murmurs, shaking himself. He reaches into his jacket and withdraws an envelope, offering it for Virgil.
Virgil hesitates.
Logan rolls his eyes. “It’s not like I’ve laced it with anything. I’m holding it with my bare hands.”
Virgil huffs, but he takes it, opening it and pulling out a thin piece of paper.
It’s a commercial flight ticket to Washington, D.C.
“Why D.C.?” Virgil says quietly.
“Most of those organizations are based there,” Logan says. “Is it too far a jump to assume that you are, as well?”
It is actually too far a jump; it’s not even remotely close, he lives in an entirely different part of the states. But. To be fully honest, he doesn’t want Logan to know the state he lives in, and therefore the state that Patton and Roman live in, until Virgil knows if he can be trusted or not.
Logan opens the limousine door from inside, revealing they’ve pulled up to the local airport.
“What, no private plane?”
“I assumed you wouldn’t trust that,” Logan says with a shrug. “The Trumans may be powerful, but you know as well as I that manipulating a flight of this nature is well outside their purview.”
Logan’s right, he absolutely wouldn’t have trusted that, but. This limo’s pretty swanky. For the time he wouldn’t have been obsessively running over every crack and seam in a private jet and interrogating the pilot, he probably would have had a pretty swell time.
Virgil swallows, looking up at Logan. “There are programs, you know? If you wanted to be a witness. Be in service to—”
Logan smiles at him in a way that’s almost pitying. “I left that life behind a long time ago.”
Virgil looks to the airport, then back at Logan.
“Will I see you again?”
Logan shrugs again, almost delicately. “Who’s to say?”
Virgil nods, once, and he says firmly, “I’ll see you later.”
Logan grins at him. “Not if I see you first.”
Virgil slips out of the limo, slams the door shut, and, with what feels like Herculean effort, manages to get into the airport without looking back to see if he can see Logan through the tinted glass.
He does exchange the ticket for another that’s an hour and a half later, though. He’s not a total idiot.
He gets through security pretty quick, and sits in one of the incredibly uncomfortable chairs, his brain pounding with his headache, the questions swirling around in his head making it even worse. Virgil puts his head in his hands.
He just met his soulmate.
His soulmate is working for a mob family.
He just met his soulmate.
His soulmate is apparently smart enough to specifically engineer a roofie.
His soulmate, though!
Janus knows his soulmate. Janus recognized his soulmate.
His soulmate knew about the fucking Lewis clause.
Was his soulmate a spy too? Was his soulmate in deep cover? Had he betrayed his organization? Was he a good person, or had the universe seen fit to hitch Virgil to someone awful?
How had Logan gotten entangled with the Trumans in the first place? Why wasn’t he in the dossier?
Where was Logan even from? Did he like coffee? Hot chocolate? What had he studied in school? What was his favorite food? If they were normal people, would he have asked him on a date and not drugged him and dragged him off in a limo?
Who was Logan?
Whatever the answers to his questions are, though. Virgil knows himself enough to know that he isn’t about to let this case go. Not the Trumans. Not him.
Lewis clause be damned.
#my post#text#my fic#analogical#analogicalweek#sanders sides#sanders sides fanfiction#sanders sides fanfic#virgil sanders#logan sanders
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Now that i think of it. How would it be the Willumity trio with a jealousy situation before and after they confess to each other? Like, a very handsome man comes to Luz and talk to her while Amity and Willow just want to destroy him or something like that.
So I actually addressed this in one of my first Willumity posts but I only did it with Amity so I’ll go into more detail about each of them because buh da bup bup bah, I’m Lovin This
Luz:
Before they all start dating, Luz just sort of deflates whenever she sees someone else flirting with her girls. Especially when they’re flirting with each other. Because she wants to be happy for them, they’re receiving positive attention!!! Romantic attention!!!! And Luz is Too Chicken to do it herself so she just bites the inside of her cheek whenever she sees it happening and goes quiet (always a strange occurrence, everyone knows something is wrong if Luz is quiet).
Also mentioned in one of my very first willumity posts: Luz is extremely insecure about her feelings towards Willow and Amity, especially when she realizes she’s having these feelings at the same time. Their friendship was broken for so long but once they started mending it? Luz could see their chemistry coming back to life. She liked to tease Willow about it sometimes too, but she didn’t do that often. Normally she would use that to deflect Willow’s worried looks aimed at Luz.
After they all start dating? She gets a little passive aggressive, ngl. That is, until she gets Directly Aggressive. If she sees someone flirting with one of her girls, she’ll sorta subtly go to their side and wrap her arm over their shoulders and insert herself into the conversation (usually only if she can see that her girls are uncomfortable. She knows Amity and Willow are more than capable of handling themselves). If the person trying to flirt just keeps going though, Luz will go into Sniper Mode. They’re not getting the hint? She will zero in on them and deliver a devastating line to properly deter them. And if that doesn’t work, she’ll go full-throttle Feral Mode and just start yelling. If she makes a big enough scene, she knows the other person will either flee or a big enough crowd will draw to see that someone is supposedly harassing them.
Again, Willow and Amity are totally capable of handling themselves so it rarely ever comes to that. There’s been maybe one instance where Luz has gone Feral™️ on someone who just couldn’t take a hint and someone had to physically subdue her before she ripped them to shreds. At that point it isn’t even about jealousy, it’s just about basic respect and decency.
Her jealousy doesn’t creep up as jealousy, at least not usually. It mostly manifests as a deep fear of Willow and Amity somehow coming to the conclusion that they like each other more than they like Luz and will end up leaving her behind. She’s scared of losing them, so she does get clingy sometimes, but not usually in situations where she’s scared someone else is going to take them away from her.
Willow:
Similarly to Luz, she suffers in silence whenever someone flirts with Luz or Amity before they all start dating. A lot of people flirt with Luz because, I mean, why wouldn’t they? She’s smart, she’s a human learning magic, she’s faced the Emperor and lived, and that’s not even accounting for how cute and funny she is. How genuine she is. Willow hates seeing other people make Luz blush tbqh; it takes her a hot minute to figure out why it makes her so angry but when she realizes it’s because she has a crush on Luz she just sort of dies inside. Whenever she feels that rage start to build up, she has to excuse herself to go outside and rage in a secluded section of the surrounding forest; she can’t constantly cause property damage to the school by disrupting its foundation with her vines.
She especially resents the Blight twins for making Luz blush every now and then. She knows they’re just doing it in jest but that doesn’t stop that oddly jealous curl from forming in her chest. It’s different though with Amity??? She’s not sure why (at first) but Amity making Luz blush just makes Willow’s chest fluttery because she does like watching Luz blush. And for some reason, she doesn’t mind it when Amity is the cause of said blush.
After they start dating, Willow isn’t one to actually get jealous all that often. She may get concerned if someone started flirting with Luz or Amity, mostly just if she’s never seen this other person before. But she has a weird sense of peace about her girls being flirted with once they are all dating; she knows they’re all polyamorous and any love they might feel for someone outside their little group doesn’t have any effect on the love they have for each other. So unless this anonymous person is actively making her girls uncomfortable, she likely won’t step in.
Amity:
She can get almost unreasonably jealous. She’s extremely protective of these relationships she’s somehow managed to curate with two of the most important people in her life. If she sees anyone outside of their immediate friend group even look at one of her girls in a potentially suggestive way, she is immediately by their side and glaring at the person that dared to think of flirting with her girlfriend.
Of the three of them, she’s the one with the most anxiety about them being “exclusive” despite being a polyamorous triad. She’s so worried about losing her girls to literally anyone else. It takes a while for the notion to really settle in that her girlfriends won’t be swept away from her by some stud with an animal sidekick. I think maybe Luz or Willow even gets a crush on someone outside of their little triad and it sends Amity into a panic spiral she thought she’d already dealt with. She really doesn’t want to lose them.
That original post I made about Amity’s jealousy had her be the type of jealous where if she saw one of her girls being hit on and was clearly uncomfortable, she’d stomp her way over and dip her girlfriend into a searing kiss that leaves them breathless and just stares down the person that dared to make her girlfriend uncomfortable. Which I’m defo still here for. Those girls are hers, and she’s not about to let just anyone get close to them.
I think maybe for the first....year? Two years?? They’re dating? They have to sit down frequently with one another assuade fears and clarify boundaries. Being in a polyam relationship is hard work and everyone needs to be clear with their feelings and concerns. They do figure out their rhythm though and once they are secure in their relationship and feelings towards one another, if anyone ever catches even just a fleeting sensation of feelings for someone outside their little group, the other two will start teasing them relentlessly.
Also thank you for giving me that good Willumity Prompt, it feeds my soul
If anyone else has headcanon questions they’d like to send me, please direct them to my owl house sideblog @edasnest !!!! Oh and go bug @sterling-jay in the meantime because their headcanons are the poison that kills me and the salves to my emotional wounds and it’s killing me
#prinxly inquiries#jonyturbo1#the owl house#luz noceda#willow park#amity blight#willumity#toh headcanons#last headcanon ask on this blog!!!
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In Pursuit of the Scholarly
Triggers: Racism against elves. If there’s anything else you feel should be mentioned, please let me know. No violence included.
Not beta read, cross posted on AO3. Also, I have no idea of the Sindarin here is accurate- I used a translator I found on Google. Don’t @ me.
——
Prince Kíli, second in line for the throne of Erebor, was incandescently angry.
The Council sat and watched, though most did not really listen, as the Prince railed at them and yelled counter arguments and indignity. Most of the council, save for a very select few outside of the presence of the royal family, were not swayed by the show of temper. Some, in fact, looked rather smug (though those were typically not well liked in the Lonely Mountain).
The King, the King’s Consort, the Princess Royal, Prince Fíli, and Her Ladyship Tauriel sat in tense silence as their kinsman slowly ran out of steam. Tirade ended, he stared at the Council and waited.
Kern, who had held his seat on the Council even prior to the Desolation, was barely able to swallow his smirk before he responded.
“Be that as it may, Your Highness, Khuzdul is our sacred language, and it must be... protected. It is... understandable,” it looked as though the word hurt to say, “that you would wish to share it with your wife. But I’m afraid that we cannot agree with your insistence to allow Princess Thiliriel to take Khuzdul lessons.”
The young father bristled, and for a brief moment the Council braced for another round of ire. But it wasn’t the Prince Kíli who spoke, but Prince Fíli.
“Surely you see how difficult it would be to keep Thiliriel from learning Khuzdul completely, my Lords, as she lives in a Dwarven city. Some would say restricting her education in this way was born of ill will directed at the race of her forebears.” He pointed out, politely. Kern’s eyes narrowed.
“We can’t control the opinions of the uninformed, your highness,” he allowed, “and it is understood that there has been, and will be, some unfortunate transference. But perhaps this may be managed if the Royal Family would consider limiting their use of Khuzdul while in the company of the young Princess?” His polite tone matched Fíli’s syllable for syllable.
The Royal Family, save Lady Tauriel, stiffened as one. Prince Fíli’s eyes glinted at the response.
“We are approaching the Noonday bell. Perhaps this is a matter best settled another time.” Balin tried to intervene, and another dwarf would have accepted it for the diffusion that it was. The majority of the Council was prepared to do so, had Kern not spoken.
“I believe we’ve made our decision clear, Lord Balin, but thank you for the reminder. A pleasant day, my Lords.”
And an infuriated Prince Kíli was storming out of the chamber after Kern’s final words, gently tugging Lady Tauriel with him, even before the King had officially ended the meeting.
——
It started with Prince Fíli. This, perhaps, should not have surprised the Council as it had.
The Prince had been spotted, overheard really, in a training ring with the young Princess. That itself wasn’t unusual; the heir had made it routine to ‘train’ with his niece a few times a week, and nearly all the dwarrow who frequented the upper training halls had seen the two playing rambunctiously under guise of hand to hand combat. If this time usually came just before the Princess’ bedtime, well, no one could say Prince Fíli wasn’t efficient.
As far as the Council could gather, the incident happened just before the Royals had left for the evening. The Prince had been crouched on the ground, beckoning the little one forward and playfully taunting her. She had responded in kind, rushing at her uncle and jumping at him with a battle cry that, according to multiple reports, was very cute. He had taken her momentum and propelled himself backwards, landing flat on his back. And then, he had exclaimed:
“Cin got nin! Im’m dad!”
Apparently no one had clearly heard what the little one had said, but the Prince had smiled and kissed her forehead, replying:
“Cin did eithel, lend emel.”
Of course the Prince knew multiple dialects of elvish- the entire royal family did- but only so that they could interact with Elvish representatives without fear of coercion! It was unheard of for it to be spoken so- so- familiarly within an everyday setting! Especially in a Dwarven stronghold such as Erebor! Even Lady Tauriel chose to speak mostly Westron in the presence of the mountain’s public eye. It had left the Council feeling slightly wrong-footed, but perhaps it had been a one-time occurrence. A bit of practice, perhaps, so the Prince wouldn’t get rusty.
It was not a one-time occurrence. Only days later, King Consort Baggins was overheard in the library casually reading aloud to Princess Thiliriel in Sindarin... though the book itself was Westron! The Head Librarian hadn’t even asked him to lower his voice- though as the Head Librarian was the young Ori, son of Lori, that wasn’t surprising in the least. The former Company of Thorin Oakenshield was very close, even now.
Lord Ori had even pointed out a few words and asked for the translation in his own book, an act which garnered stares of its own.
The next day, Prince Kíli and Lady Tauriel gathered stares of their own as they strolled through the market, Princess Thiliriel between them, speaking exclusively in Sindarin! In the middle of the Marketplace! At one point, one scout reported, the Prince had swung his daughter around in his arms, exclaiming something in the lyrical language he hadn’t understood. It must have been humorous, though, because both Mother and Daughter had burst into giggles.
But the final straw, really, had happened in the Council’s very chambers during a meeting. Princess Dís, during a moment between agenda topics, had turned to her brother and quite clearly addressed him in Sindarin. And the King, with no hesitation, replied in Sindarin.
The entire room went silent, and many stared. Only Prince Fíli and Lord Balin continued perusing the paperwork for the next order of business as though nothing was amiss.
“Is everything alright, My Lords?” The King asked dryly, noticing the attention.
“It is just... well, you see...” Lord Tírn stumbled as the King turned his attention to him, and Kern interrupted.
“It isn’t like you to speak Elvish when there aren’t any Elves around, Your Majesty.” He interjected, and Thorin raised an eyebrow coldly.
“And you would know me well enough to make such an observation?” The Council watched as Kern blanched and then flushed.
“We’ve been hearing quite a lot of Elvish around the Mountain these days, Your Majesty.” He didn’t answer The King’s pointed question.
“Sindarin, Lord Kern. Not ‘Elvish’. There are multiple dialects. And since my granddaughter has been forbidden from learning her Father’s sacred tongue, we have decided to use her Mother’s instead.” Princess Dís replied, and if Thorin was cold then his sister’s tone was frozen solid. The Council felt a rush of fear run down their spines.
“Yes. In fact, I’ve been considering asking Prince Legolas to visit soon- Lady Tauriel is both a working ‘dam and a mother, and I don’t want to take more of her time but there are a few grammar questions I have that Lord Bilbo can’t seem to explain.” The Prince’s tone could be described as bland, even self-musing, but the flash of steel in his eye as he glanced at Kern.
“I- I suppose it would be good for our relations with Mirkwood for the Prince to visit-“ the Councillor tried, and was interrupted.
“Perhaps we should revisit the idea of an Elvish Ambassadorship, as a permanent position in the Court.” The King stated, and Kern turned an ugly puce color.
“Elves living in Erebor!?” He erupted, evidently at the end of his rope.
“My Brother’s Wife is an Elf. I would be very careful how you finish that thought, Lord Kern.” Prince Fíli said lowly, and unsheathed a knife to spin, point down, on the table with pointed intent.
“My granddaughter is part Elf. I will not hear any protest about her kin coming to stay, Councillor. Especially if you hope to keep your seat.” Princess Dís did not need to produce a weapon to aid her threat.
“I meant no disrespect, your Highnesses. I humbly apologize.”
“It seems to me, Lord Kern,” the King began, “that you have invited disrespect with your words and your conduct. Barring my grand niece from learning her Maker’s tongue- don’t look at me like that, I know who’s voice persuaded the rest of Council against it- and now making remarks of such disgust against the lineage of an heir of the line of Durin?” King Thorin trailed off, hard stare never wavering.
Kern, who had already been thrown off kilter by the Royal Family’s seemingly overnight adoption of Sindarin, floundered under such a direct accusal.
“I- Your Majesty, never-“
“In fact,” the King continued, and the Council watched the two with bated breath, “I have been in talks with some of our oldest, most practiced curates and they all agree. The right to learn Khuzdul is a matter of religion, not of politics.”
Kern turned that fetching shade of puce again.
“So while it remains a matter of courtesy for Prince Kíli and Lady Tauriel to inform the assembled Council of their plans for Princess Thiliriel’s education, they are in no way obliged to do more than consider the Council’s opinions on this particular aspect.” The King finished, and it was Princess Dís’ turn to smirk as she, and the rest of the Council, watched the pompous windbag known as Kern to puff up, process, deflate, and stiffly nod.
“Thank you, your Majesty, for reminding the Council of the boundaries of our reach. I am... sure this will not be forgotten.” The words came as easily as blood from a rock, and Kern ground his teeth as though trying to break ore from stone as he spoke.
“Oh, and Lord Kern?” King Thorin said, already looking at the papers for the next topic, and not sparing a glance for the Council.
“Yes, your Majesty?”
“I’d like for you to tell his Highness and Lady Tauriel the good news. Directly after the Council Meeting concludes. We wouldn’t want to delay the Princess’ education any longer.”
Fíli’s smile could only be described as wolfishly sharp, and he clearly inherited it from his mother.
——
Elvish translations:
Cin got nin! Im’m dad! : you got me! I’m down!
Cin did eithel, lend emel. : You did well, sweet heart.
#the hobbit#fili#kili#bilbo baggins#fanfic#thorin oakenshield#Dís#original child character#Kiliel#injustice#elvish racism
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Careful How You Go.
Ella Kemp explores how film lovers can protect themselves from distressing subject matter while celebrating cinema at its most audacious.
Featuring Empire magazine editor Terri White, Test Pattern filmmaker Shatara Michelle Ford, writer and critic Jourdain Searles, publicist Courtney Mayhew, and curator, activist and producer Mia Bays of the Birds’ Eye View collective.
This story contains discussion of rape, sexual assault, abuse, self-harm, trauma and loss of life, as well as spoilers for ‘Promising Young Woman’ and ‘A Star is Born’.
We film lovers are blessed with a medium capable of excavating real-life emotion from something seemingly fictional. Yet, for all that film is—in the oft-quoted words of Roger Ebert—an “empathy machine”, it’s also capable of deeply hurting its audience when not wielded by its makers and promoters with appropriate care. Or, for that matter, when not approached by viewers with informed caution.
Whose job is it to let us know that we might be upset by what we see? With the coronavirus pandemic decimating the communal movie-going experience, the way we accommodate each viewer’s sensibilities is more crucial than ever—especially when so many of us are watching alone, at home, often unsupported.
In order to understand how we can champion a film’s content and take care of its audience, I approached women in several areas of the movie ecosystem. I wanted to know: how does a filmmaker approach the filming of a rape and its aftermath? How does a magazine editor navigate the celebration of a potentially triggering movie in one of the world’s biggest film publications? How does a freelance writer speak to her professional interests while preserving her personal integrity? How does a women’s film collective create a safe environment for an audience to process such a film? And, how does a publicist prepare journalists for careful reporting, when their job is to get eyeballs on screens in order to keep our favorite art form afloat?
The conversations reminded me that the answers are endlessly complex. The concerns over spoilers, the effectiveness of trigger warnings, the myriad ways in which art is crafted from trauma, and the fundamental question of whose stories these are to tell. These questions were valid decades ago, they will be for decades to come, and they feel especially urgent now, since a number of recent tales helmed by female and non-binary filmmakers depict violence and trauma involving women’s bodies in fearless, often challenging ways.
Emerald Fennell’s Promising Young Woman, in particular, has revived a vital conversation about content consideration, as victims and survivors of sexual assault record wildly different reactions to its astounding ending. Shatara Michelle Ford’s quietly tense debut, Test Pattern, brings Black survivors into the conversation. And the visceral, anti-wish-fulfillment horror Violation, coming soon from Dusty Mancinelli and Madeleine Sims-Fewer, takes the rape-revenge genre up another notch.
These films come off the back of other recent survivor stories, such as Michaela Coel’s groundbreaking series I May Destroy You (which centers women’s friendship in a narrative move that, as Sarah Williams has eloquently outlined, happens too rarely in this field). Also: Kata Wéber and Kornél Mundruczó’s Pieces of a Woman, and the ongoing ugh-ness of The Handmaid’s Tale. And though this article is focused on plots centering women’s trauma, I acknowledge the myriad of stories that can be triggering in many ways for all manner of viewers. So whether you’ve watched one of these titles, or others like them, I hope you felt supported in the conversations to follow, and that you feel seen.
Weruche Opia and Michaela Coel in ‘I May Destroy You’.
* * *
Simply put, Promising Young Woman is a movie about a woman seeking revenge against predatory men. Except nothing about it is simple. Revenge movies have existed for aeons, and we’ve rooted for many promising young (mostly white) women before Carey Mulligan’s Cassie (recently: Jen in Coralie Fargeat’s Revenge, Noelle in Natalia Leite’s M.F.A.). But in Promising Young Woman, the victim is not alive to seek revenge, so it becomes Cassie’s single-minded crusade. Mercifully, we never see the gang-rape that sparks Cassie’s mission. But we do see a daring, fatal subversion of the notion of a happy ending—and this is what has audiences of Emerald Fennell’s jaw-dropping debut divided.
“For me, being a survivor, the point is to survive,” Jourdain Searles tells me. The New York-based critic, screenwriter, comedian—and host of Netflix’s new Black Film School series—says the presence of death in Promising Young Woman is the problem. “One of the first times I spoke openly about [my assault], I made the decision that I didn’t want to go to the police, and I got a lot of judgment for that,” she says. “So watching Promising Young Woman and seeing the police as the endgame is something I’ve always disagreed with. I left thinking, ‘How is this going to help?’”
“I feel like I’ve got two hats on,” says Terri White, the London-based editor-in chief of Empire magazine, and the author of a recently published memoir, Coming Undone. “One of which is me creating a magazine for a specific film-loving audience, and the other bit of me, which has written a book about trauma, specifically about violence perpetrated against the body. They’re not entirely siloed, but they are two distinct perspectives.”
White loved both Promising Young Woman and I May Destroy You, because they “explode the myth of resolution and redemption”. She calls the ending of Promising Young Woman “radical” in the way it speaks to the reality of what happens to so many women. “I was thinking about me and women like me, women who have endured violence and injury or trauma. Three women every week are still killed [in the UK] at the hands of an ex-partner, or somebody they know intimately, or a current partner. Statistically, any woman who goes for some kind of physical confrontation in [the way Cassie does] would end up dying.”
She adds: “I felt like the film was in service to both victims and survivors, and I use the word ‘victims’ deliberately. I call myself a victim because I think if you’ve endured either sexual violence or physical violence or both, a lot of empowering language, as far as I’m concerned, doesn’t reflect the reality of being a victim or a survivor, whichever way you choose to call yourself.” This point has been one many have disagreed on. In a way, that makes sense—no victim or survivor can be expected to speak to anyone else’s experience but their own.
Carey Mulligan and Emerald Fennell on the set of ‘Promising Young Woman’.
Likewise, there is no right or wrong way to feel about this film, or any film. But a question that arises is, well, should everyone have to see a film to figure that out? And should victims and survivors of sexual violence watch this film? “I have definitely been picky about who I’ve recommended it to,” Courtney Mayhew says. “I don’t want to put a friend in harm’s way, even if that means they miss out on something awesome. It’s not worth it.”
Mayhew is a New Zealand-based international film publicist, and because of her country’s success in controlling Covid 19, she is one of the rare people able to experience Promising Young Woman in a sold-out cinema. “It was palpable. Everyone was so engaged and almost leaning forwards. There were a lot of laughs from women, but it was also a really challenging setting. A lot of people looking down, looking away, and there was a girl who was crying uncontrollably at the end.”
“Material can be very triggering,” White agrees. “It depends where people are personally in their journey. When I still had a lot of trauma I hadn’t worked through in my 20s, I found certain things very difficult to watch. Those things are a reality—but people can make their own decisions about the material they feel able to watch.”
It’s about warning, and preparation, more than total deprivation, then? “I believe in giving people information so they can make the best choice for themselves,” White says. “But I find it quite reductive, and infantilizing in some respects, to be told broadly, ‘Women who have experienced x shouldn’t watch this.’ That underestimates the resilience of some people, the thirst for more information and knowledge.” (This point is clearly made in this meticulous, awe-inspiring list by Jenn, who is on a journey to make sense of her trauma through analysis of rape-revenge films.) But clarity is crucial, particularly for those grappling with unresolved issues.
Searles agrees Promising Young Woman can be a difficult, even unpleasant watch, but still one with value. “As a survivor it did not make me feel good, but it gave me a window into the way other people might respond to your assault. A lot of the time [my friends] have reacted in ways I don’t understand, and the movie feels like it’s trying to make sense of an assault from the outside, and the complicated feelings a friend might have.”
Molly Parker and Vanessa Kirby in ‘Pieces of a Woman’.
* * *
A newborn dies. A character is brutally violated. A population is tortured. To be human is to bear witness to history, but it’s still painful when that history is yours, or something very close to it. “Some things are hard to watch because you relate to them,” Searles explains. “I find mother! hard to watch, and there’s no actual sexual assault. But I just think of sexual assault and trauma and domestic abuse, even though the film isn’t about that. The thing is, you could read an academic paper on patriarchy—you don’t need to watch it on a show [or in a film] if you don’t want to.”
White agrees: “I’ve never been able to watch Nil by Mouth, because I grew up in a house of domestic violence and I find physical violence against women on screen very hard to watch. But that doesn’t mean I think the film shouldn’t be shown—it should still exist, I’ve just made the choice not to watch it.” (Reader, since our conversation, she watched it. At 2:00am.)
“I know people who do not watch Promising Young Woman or The Handmaid’s Tale because they work for an NGO in which they see those things literally in front of their eyes,” Mayhew says. “It could be helpful for someone who isn’t aware [of those issues], but then what is the purpose of art? To educate? To entertain? For escapism? It’s probably all of those.”
Importantly, how much weight should an artist’s shoulders carry, when it comes to considering the audiences that will see their work? There’s a general agreement among my interviewees that, as White says, “filmmakers have to make the art that they believe in”. I don’t think any film lover would disagree, but, suggests Searles, “these films should be made with survivors in mind. That doesn’t mean they always have to be sensitive and sad and declawed. But there is a way to be provocative, while leaning into an emotional truth.”
Madeleine Sims-Fewer in ‘Violation’.
Violation, about which I’ll say little here since it is yet to screen at SXSW (ahead of its March 25 release on Shudder) is not at all declawed, and is certainly made with survivors in mind—in the sense that in life, unlike in movies, catharsis is very seldom possible no matter how far you go to find it. On Letterboxd, many of those who saw Violation at TIFF and Sundance speak of feeling represented by the rape-revenge plot, writing: “One of the most intentionally thought out and respectful of the genre… made by survivors for survivors” and “I feel seen and held”. (Also: “This movie is extremely hard to watch, completely on purpose.”)
“Art can do great service to people,” agrees White, “If, by consequence, there is great service for people who have been in that position, that’s a brilliant consequence. But I don’t believe filmmakers and artists should be told that they are responsible for certain things. There’s a line of responsibility in terms of being irresponsible, especially if your community is young, or traumatised.”
Her words call to mind Bradley Cooper’s reboot of A Star is Born, which many cinephiles knew to be a remake and therefore expected its plot twist, but young filmgoers, drawn by the presence of Lady Gaga, were shocked (and in some cases triggered) by a suicide scene. When it was released, Letterboxd saw many anguished reviews from younger members. In New Zealand, an explicit warning was added to the film’s classification by the country’s chief censor (who also created an entirely new ‘RP18’ classification for the Netflix series 13 Reasons Why, which eventually had a graphic suicide scene edited out two years after first landing on the streaming service).
“There is a duty of care to audiences, and there is also a duty of care to artists and filmmakers,” says Mayhew. “There’s got to be some way of meeting in the middle.” The middle, perhaps, can be identified by the filmmaker’s objective. “It’s about feeling safe in the material,” says Mia Bays of the Birds’ Eye View film collective, which curates and markets films by women in order to effect industry change. “With material like this, it’s beholden on creatives to interrogate their own intentions.”
Filmmaker Shatara Michelle Ford is “forever interrogating” ideas of power. Their debut feature, Test Pattern, deftly examines the power differentials that inform the foundations of consent. “As an artist, human, and person who has experienced all sorts of boundary violation, assault and exploitation in their life, I spend quite a lot of time thinking about power… It is something I grapple with in my personal life, and when I arrive in any workplace, including a film set.”
In her review of Test Pattern for The Hollywood Reporter, Searles writes, “This is not a movie about sexual assault as an abstract concept; it’s a movie about the reality of a sexual assault survivor’s experience.” Crucially, in a history of films that deal largely with white women’s experiences, Test Pattern “is one of the few sexual-assault stories to center a Black woman, with her Blackness being central to her experience and the way she is treated by the people around her.”
Brittany S. Hall in ‘Test Pattern’.
* * *
Test Pattern follows the unfolding power imbalance between Renesha (Brittany S. Hall) and her devoted white boyfriend Evan (Will Brill), as he drives her from hospital to hospital in search of a rape kit, after her drink was spiked by a white man in a bar who then raped her. Where Promising Young Woman is a millennial-pink revenge fantasy of Insta-worthy proportions, Test Pattern feels all too real, and the cops don’t come off as well as they do in the former.
Ford does something very important for the audience: they begin the film just as the rape is about to occur. We do not see it at this point (we do not really ever see it), but we know that it happened, so there’s no chance that, somewhere deeper into the story, when we’re much more invested, we’ll be side-swiped by a sudden onslaught of sexual violence. In a way, it creates a safe space for our journey with Renesha.
It’s one of many thoughtful decisions made by Ford throughout the production process. “I’m in direct conversation with film and television that chooses to depict violence against women so casually,” Ford tells me. “I intentionally showed as little of Renesha’s rape as humanly possible. I also had an incredibly hard time being physically present for that scene, I should add. What I did shoot was ultimately guided by Renesha’s experience of it. Shoot only what she would remember. Show only what she would have been aware of.
“But I also made it clear that this was a violation of her autonomy, by allowing moments where we have an arm’s length point of view. I let the camera sit with the audience, as I’m also saying, as the filmmaker, this happened, and you saw enough of it to know. This, for me, is a larger commentary on how we treat victims of assault and rape. I do not believe for one goddamn minute that we need to see the actual, literal violence to know what happened. When we flagrantly replicate the violence in film and television, we are supporting the cultural norm of needing ‘all of the evidence’—whatever that means—to ‘believe women’.”
Ford’s intentional work in crafting the romance and unraveling of Test Pattern’s leading couple pays off on screen, but their stamp as an invested and careful director also shows in their work with Drew Fuller, the actor who played Mike, the rapist. “It’s a very difficult role, and I’m grateful to him for taking it so seriously. When discussing and rendering the practice and non-practice of consent intentionally, I found it helpful to give it a clear definition and provide conceptual insight.
“I sent Drew a few articles that I used as tools to create a baseline understanding when it comes to exploring consent and power on screen. At the top of that list was Lili Loofbourow’s piece, The female price of male pleasure and Zhana Vrangalova's Teen Vogue piece, Everything You Need to Know about Consent that You Never Learned in Sex Ed. The latter in my opinion is the linchpin. There’s also Jude Elison Sady Doyle’s piece about the whole Aziz Ansari thing, which is a great primer.”
Sidney Flanigan in ‘Never Rarely Sometimes Always’.
Even when a filmmaker has given Ford’s level of care and attention to their project, what happens when the business end of the industry gets involved in the art? As we well know, marketing is a film’s window dressing. It has one job: to get eyeballs into the cinema. It can’t know if every viewer should feel safe to enter.
It would be useful, with certain material, to know how we should watch, and with whom, and what might we need in the way of support coming out. Whose job is it to provide this? Beyond the crude tool of an MPAA rating (and that’s a whole sorry tale for another day), there are many creative precautions that can be taken across the industry to safeguard a filmgoer’s experience.
Mayhew, who often sees films at the earliest stages (sometimes before a final cut, sometimes immediately after), speaks to journalists in early screenings and ensures they have the tools to safely report on the topics raised. In New Zealand, reporters are encouraged to read through resources to help them guide their work. Mayhew’s teams would also ensure journalists would be given relevant hotline numbers, and would ask media outlets to include them in published stories.
“It’s not saying, ‘You have to do this’,” she explains, “It’s about first of all not knowing what the journalist has been through themselves, and second of all, [if] they are entertainment reporters who haven’t navigated speaking about sexual assault, you only hope it will be helpful going forward. It’s certainly not done to infantilize them, because they’re smart people. It’s a way to show some care and support.”
The idea of having appropriate resources to make people feel safe and encourage them to make their own decisions is a priority for Bays and Birds’ Eye View, as well. The London-based creative producer and cultural activist stresses the importance of sharing such a viewing experience. “It’s the job of cinemas, distributors and festivals to realize that it might not be something the filmmaker does, but as the people in control of the environment it’s our job to give extra resources to those who want it,” says Bays. “To give people a safe space to come down from the experience.”
Pre-pandemic, when Birds’ Eye View screened Kitty Green’s The Assistant, a sharp condemnation of workplace micro-aggressions seen through the eyes of one female assistant, they invited women who had worked for Harvey Weinstein. For a discussion after Eliza Hittman’s coming-of-ager Never Rarely Sometimes Always, abortion experts were able to share their knowledge. “It’s about making sure the audience knows you can say anything here, but that it’s safe,” Bays explains. “It’s kind of like group therapy—you don’t know people, so you’re not beholden to what they think about you. And in the cinema people aren’t looking at you. You’re speaking somewhat anonymously, so a lot of really important stuff can come out.”
The traditional movie-going experience, involving friends, crowds and cathartic, let-loose feelings, is still largely inaccessible at the time of writing. Over the past twelve months we’ve talked plenty about preserving the magic of the big screen experience, but it’s about so much more than the romanticism of an art form; it’s also about the safety that comes from a feeling of community when watching potentially upsetting movies.
“The going in and coming out parts of watching a film in the cinema are massively important, because it’s like coming out of the airlock and coming back to reality,” says Bays. “You can’t do that at home. Difficult material kind of stays with you.” During the pandemic, Birds’ Eye View has continued to provide the same wrap-around curatorial support for at-home viewers as they would at an in-person event. “If we’re picking a difficult film and asking people to watch it at home, we might suggest you watch it with a friend so you can speak about it afterwards,” Bays says.
Julia Garner in ‘The Assistant’.
But, then, how can we still find this sense of community without the physical closeness? “It’s no good waiting for [the internet] to become kind,” she says. “Create your own closed spaces. We do workshops and conversations exclusively for people who sign up to our newsletter. In real-life meetings you can go from hating something to hearing an eloquent presentation of another perspective and coming round to it, but you need the time and space to do that. This little amount of time gives you a move towards healing, even if it’s just licking some wounds that were opened on Twitter. But it could be much deeper, like being a survivor and feeling very conflicted about the film, which I do.”
Conflict is something that Searles, the film critic, knows about all too well in her work. “Since I started writing professionally, I almost feel like I’m known for writing about assault and rape at this point. I do write about it a lot, and as a survivor I continue to process it. I’ve been assaulted more than once so I have a lot to process, and so each time I’m writing about it I’m thinking about different aspects and remnants of those feelings. It can be very cathartic, but it’s a double-edged sword because sometimes I feel like I have an obligation to write about it too.”
There is also a constant act of self-preservation that comes with putting so much of yourself on the internet. “I often get messages from people thanking me for talking about these subjects with a deep understanding of what they mean,” Searles says. “I really appreciate that. I get negative messages about a lot of things, but not this one thing.”
Michaela Coel in ‘I May Destroy You’.
* * *
With such thoughtful approaches to heavy content, it feels like we’re a long way further down the road from blunt tools like content and trigger warnings. But do they still have their place? “It’s just never seemed appropriate to put trigger warnings on any of our reviews or features,” White explains. “We have a heavy male readership, still 70 percent male to 30 percent female. I’m conscious we’re talking to a lot of men who will often have experienced violence themselves, but we don’t put any warnings, because we are an adult magazine, and when we talk about violence in, say, an action film, or violence that is very heavily between men, we don’t caveat that at all.”
Bays, too, is sceptical of trigger warnings, explaining that “there’s not much evidence [they] actually work. A lot of psychologists expound on the fact that if people get stuck in their trauma, you can never really recover from PTSD if you don’t at some point face your trauma.” She adds: “I’m a survivor, and I found I May Destroy You deeply, profoundly triggering, but also cathartic. I think it’s more about how you talk about the work, rather than having a ‘NB: survivors of sexual abuse or assault shouldn’t see this’.”
“It’s important to give people a feel of what they’re in for,” argues Searles. “A lot of people who have dealt with suicide ideation would prefer that warning.” While some worry that a content warning is effectively a plot spoiler, Searles disagrees. “I don’t consider a content warning a spoiler. I just couldn’t imagine sitting down for a film, knowing there’s going to be a suicide, and letting it distract me from the film.” Still, she acknowledges the nuance. “I think using ‘self-harm’ might be better than just saying ‘suicide’.”
Mayhew shared insights on who actually decides which films on which platforms are preceded with warnings—turns out, it’s a bit messy. “The onus traditionally has fallen on governmental censorship when it comes to theatrical releases,” she explains. “But streamers can do what they want, they are not bound by those rules so they have to—as the distributors and broadcasters—take the government’s censors on board in terms of how they are going to navigate it.
“The consumer doesn’t know the difference,” she continues, “nor should they—so it means they can be watching The Crown on Netflix and get this trigger warning about bulimia, and go to the cinema the next day and not get it, and feel angry about it. So there’s the question of where is the responsibility of the distributor, and where is the responsibility of the audience member to actually find out for themselves.”
The warnings given to an audience member can also vary widely depending where they find themselves in the world, too. Promising Young Woman, for example, is rated M in Australia, R18 in New Zealand, and R in the United States. Meanwhile, the invaluable Common Sense Media recommends an age of fifteen years and upwards for the “dark, powerful, mature revenge comedy”. Mayhew says a publicist’s job is “to have your finger on the pulse” about these cultural differences. “You have to read the overall room, and when I say room I mean the culture as a whole, and you have to be constantly abreast of things across those different ages too.”
She adds: “This feeds into the importance of representation right at the top of those boardrooms and right down to the film sets. My job is to see all opinions, and I never will, especially because I am a white woman. I consider myself part of the LGBT community and sometimes I’ll bring that to a room that I think has been lacking in that area, when it comes to harmful stereotypes that can be propagated within films about LGBT people. But I can’t bring a Black person’s perspective, I cannot bring an Indigenous perspective. The more representation you have, the better your film is going to be, your campaign is going to be.”
Bays, who is also a filmmaker, agrees: representation is about information, and working with enough knowledge to make sure your film is being as faithful to your chosen communities as possible. “As a filmmaker, I’d feel ill-informed and misplaced if I was stumbling into an area of representation that I knew nothing about without finding some tools and collaborators who could bring deeper insight.”
Carey Mulligan and Bo Burnham in ‘Promising Young Woman’.
This is something Ford aimed for with Test Pattern’s choice of crew members, which had an effect not just on the end product, but on the entire production process. “I made sure that at the department head level, I was hiring people I was in community with and fully saw me as a person, and me them,” they say. “In some ways it made the experience more pleasurable.” That said, the shoot was still not without its incidents: “These were the types of things that in my experience often occur on a film set dominated by straight white men, that we're so accustomed to we sometimes don’t even notice it. I won’t go into it but what I will say is that it was not tolerated.”
Vital to the telling of the story were the lived experiences that Ford and their crew brought to set. “As it applies to the sensitive nature of this story, there were quite a few of us who have had our own experiences along the spectrum of assault, which means that we had to navigate our own internal re-processing of those experiences, which is hard to do when we’re constructing an experience of rape for a character.
“However, I think being able to share our own triggers and discomfort and context, when it came to Renesha’s experience, made the execution of it all the better. Again, it was a pleasure to be in community with such smart, talented and considerate women who each brought their own nuance to this film.”
* * *
Thinking about everything we’ve lived through by this point in 2021, and the heightened sensitivity and lowered mental health of film lovers worldwide, movies are carrying a pretty heavy burden right now: to, as Jane Fonda said at the Golden Globes, help us see through others’ eyes; also, to entertain or, at the very least, not upset us too much.
But to whom does film have a responsibility, really? Promising Young Woman’s writer-director Emerald Fennell, in an excellent interview with Vulture’s Angelica Jade Bastién, said that she was thinking of audiences when she crafted the upsetting conclusion.
What she was thinking was: a ‘happy’ ending for Cassie gets us no further forward as a society. Instead, Cassie’s shocking end “makes you feel a certain way, and it makes you want to talk about it. It makes you want to examine the film and the society that we live in. With a cathartic Hollywood ending, that’s not so much of a conversation, really. It’s a kind of empty catharsis.”
So let’s flip the question: what is our responsibility, as women and allies, towards celebrating audacious films about tricky subjects? The marvellous, avenging blockbusters that once sucked all the air out of film conversation are on pause, for now. Consider the space that this opens up for a different kind of approach to “must-see movies”. Spread the word about Test Pattern. Shout from the rooftops about It’s A Sin. Add Body of Water and Herself and Violation to your watchlists. And, make sure the right people are watching.
Brittany S. Hall and Will Brill in ‘Test Pattern’.
I asked my interviewees: if they could choose one type of person they think should see Promising Young Woman, who would it be? Ford has not seen Fennell’s film, but “it feels good to have my film contribute to a larger discourse that is ever shifting, ever adding nuance”. They are very clear on who can learn the most from their own movie.
“A white man is featured so prominently in Test Pattern as a statement about how white people and men have a habit of centering themselves in the stories of others, prioritizing their experience and neglecting to recognize those on the margins. If Evan is triggering, he should be. If your feelings about Evan vacillate, it is by design.
“‘Allies’ across the spectrum are in a complicated dance around doing the ‘right thing’ and ‘showing up’ for those they are ostensibly seeking to support,” Ford continues. “Their constant battle is to remember that they need to be centering the needs of those they were never conditioned to center. Tricky stuff. Mistakes will be made. Mistakes must be owned. Sometimes reconciliation is required.”
It is telling that similar thoughts emerged from my other interviewees regarding Promising Young Woman’s ideal audience, despite the fact that none of them was in conversation with the others for this story. For that reason, as we come to the end of this small contribution to a very large, ongoing conversation, I’ve left their words intact.
White: I think it’s a great film for men.
Searles: I feel like the movie is very much pointed at cisgender heterosexual men.
Mayhew: Men.
White: We’re always warned about the alpha male with a massive ego, but we’re not warned about the beta male who reads great books, listens to great records, has great film recommendations. But he probably slyly undermines you in a completely different way. Anybody can be a predator.
Searles: The actors chosen to play these misogynist, rape culture-perpetuating men are actors we think of as nice guys.
White: We are so much more tolerant of a man knocking the woman over the head, dragging her down an alley and raping her, because we understand that. But rape culture is made up of millions of small things that enable the people who do it. We are more likely to be attacked in our own homes by men we love than a stranger in the street.
Mayhew: The onus should not fall on women to call this out.
Searles: It’s not just creeps, like the ones you see usually in these movies. It’s guys like you. What are you going to do to make sure you’re not like this?
Related content
Sex Monsters, Rape Revenge and Trauma: a work-in-progress list
Rape and Revenge: a list of films that fall into, and play with, the genre
Unconsenting Media: a search engine for sexual violence in broadcasting
Follow Ella on Letterboxd
If you need help or to talk to someone about concerns raised for you in this story, please first know that you are not alone. These are just a few of the many organizations and resources available, and their websites include more information.
US: RAINN (hotline 0800 656 HOPE); LGBT National Help Center; Pathways to Safety; Time’s Up.
Canada: Canadian Association of Sexual Assault Centers—contacts by province and territory
UK/Ireland: Mind; The Survivors Trust (hotline 08088 010818); Rape Crisis England and Wales
Europe: Rape Crisis Network Europe
#promising young woman#violation#emerald fennell#carey mulligan#ella kemp#shatara michelle ford#test pattern#women directors#female director#directed by women#non binary director#non binary filmmaker#lgbt#trigger#trigger warning#content warning#censorship#empire magazine#letterboxd#empire online#terri white#courtney mayhew#film publicity#film marketing#birds eye view
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Community Gardens
this is a donation drive commission for @htmlfroggy! based on the prompt: platonic intrulogical g/t & the song ‘community gardens’ by the scary jokes! this is my first time trying a songfic, so i hope its good!
warnings: remus and all the vaguely squicky things he says, illness, misunderstandings, small mentions of body horror
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Full disclosure, I am a monster A creature of despair, not that that should be a cause for concern If there's one thing I've learned in all my years here It's that despair is less abundant in those who understand How to plant their hearts in community gardens
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Logan first met his best friend because he was investigating rumors of a human lurking around the border of his forest.
He had his doubts, of course; ever since he’d personally visited every human settlement on the perimeter of his woods, the ritual sacrifices done to ‘appease the monsters’ had quickly come to a halt, and the amount of angry humans out for vengeance had dropped concurrently.
When he gently pushed past the boughs of the saplings marking the border, however, there was indeed a human crouched on the ground, seemingly buried up to his elbows in mud. They looked up at Logan’s approach, and the giant was prepared for a number of reactions to his presence. Swearing, screaming, slumping over in a dead faint.
Plenty had responded to him like this in the past, and plenty more certainly would in the future. It came with being a monstrous giant.
The human offering him a slightly unhinged grin and a mud-slinging wave wasn’t one of the responses he had prepared for.
As such, his reply was uncharacteristically tentative, as though his voice would snap the human out of the peaceable trance they were in. “...Greetings. I am Logan, denizen of this forest. I’m here to inquire into what you’re doing here at the edge of the woods.”
“Ooh, an interrogation!” The human didn’t stand, craning their neck back at a painful-looking angle to see him properly. “What if I don’t want to say, huh? Are you gonna grind me into bone meal under your heel?”
Logan blinked. The fear that normally would accompany such words was still completely absent. “No. I will not be harming you unless you move to harm those under my protection.”
The human sighed, almost disappointed. “Yeah, I didn’t take you for the type. Oh, well, guess we’re both leaving unsatisfied then.”
Logan waited a moment longer, and then sighed lowly, before lowering himself to sit amongst his trees. The human cocked an eyebrow, looking as though another inappropriate comment was on the tip of his tongue.
“If you don’t wish to explain yourself, then I will be supervising your excursions as the guardian of these woods,” Logan announced, sure that his cold gaze would at least give the strange human some pause.
Of course, because they seemed to delight in proving his assumptions wrong, the human just stared for a moment before a wide, enthusiastic smile spread over his face.
Logan sighed again, and steadfastly ignored the bright flare of curiosity the human had sparked in him. Most likely, they were simply a thrill-seeker, looking for an adventure like all the epics humans told about interacting with giants. Surely, they’d grow bored soon enough.
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You'll be fine, you honeycomb Who could ever hurt you? Who could be so cold? You'll be fine, oh honey pie Who could ever hurt you? Who could be so unkind?
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“Who did it?”
The half-growl in Remus’ voice was enough that his gaze was immediately drawn away from the Lewisia cotyledon that he had been carefully coaxing root rot from.
His unruly human acquaintance had apparently gotten closer while he was distracted, abandoning his small plot of freshly-turned soil and haphazard seedlings. It was a break from their typical engagement, where Logan remained in the treeline and Remus remained rooted in his strange, barely-edible ‘vegetable garden’ as they talked.
“What do you mean?” he replied once he’d processed the strange question. “Is something amiss?”
“Is your brain made of stone?” Remus shot back sharply, and Logan’s eyebrows drew together automatically at the insult. The human barely seemed to notice, thankfully. “Of course something’s amiss, you’re bleeding out all over the place!”
He pointed emphatically, and Logan realized what the human was so up in arms about even as he turned to look. On his left side, stretched over his ribs, a long gash was slowly trickling sap-like ichor. The wound had been mostly hidden by his left arm, but in turning to focus on a new plant, he must have accidentally displayed it to the human. “Ah. Do not be alarmed, it’s a shallow wound and will scab over shortly--”
Remus waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t insult me, I know that much from the look of it alone! What I don’t know is: Who. Did. It?”
Logan frowned briefly. He wasn’t sure why the human wanted to know, but he certainly wasn’t in the habit of denying anyone information. “I wasn’t informed of their name. A Jorōgumo sought sanctuary, which I granted, and approximately half a day later, a human mercenary attempted to breach the forest borders.”
“And you killed the bastard?” Remus asked expectantly. Logan couldn’t help the minute flinch that traveled through him, the way his face shuttered back to cold neutrality. He’d thought… It didn’t matter. It was his own fault for believing that the man saw him in any other way.
“No. I warded the forest against them with a bit of their blood. Once they realize the wards are impenetrable, I believe they will move on to an easier bounty.”
“Not if I get to them first,” Remus replied cheerily, spinning his slightly-rotted wooden trowel in his hand. Logan felt a thrum of alarm at the idea of him getting in an altercation with a mercenary, though he wasn’t sure why. If two outsiders got in a fight, it was technically out of his jurisdiction.
“You most certainly will not attempt to hinder their departure,” he said firmly. “It would be detrimental to all parties involved.”
Remus visibly pouted, before sighing and throwing the trowel at the ground hard enough to half-bury it. “Fine, Beanstalk, but at least let me—“
He stepped forwards, even closer, and Logan stiffened, all-too-aware of how small the human was compared to him. “What are you doing?”
His voice came out slightly shriller than normal, and Remus jerked to a stop instantly, glancing up at him before turning his head away, something in his expression dropping.
“I was just… nothing. Forgot for a second,” he muttered, bringing his hand up to inspect his dirt-encrusted nails. He continued before Logan could ask what exactly he’d forgotten that had prompted such a bitter expression. “Anyways, I’m sure you’re tired of babysitting, so I’m heading back. Seeya, Colossus.”
Logan watched as Remus whistled off-tune as he turned away, his shoulders drawn just slightly too-tight, and felt as though he’d missed something important.
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The culmination of man's mistakes came the day The sun ran so hot, it turned the desert to glass If there's something to be learned from all these losers It's that the price that you pay For arrogance and a false sense of immunity Is to face the wrath of a dying star
-
For the next few moon cycles, Remus barely appeared at their-- his makeshift garden, and when he did, he was simultaneously more subdued and twitchier than usual. He almost always left early.
Logan knew, logically, that he should be glad for this development. The human’s basic survival instincts had clearly finally kicked in, and he was distancing himself appropriately from a monster. It was what he’d been expecting from the beginning, and better that it had happened now rather than go on any longer, what with how… worked up he was over it.
Ridiculous. He sighed through his nose and turned away from the cluster of bleeding Hydnellum he’d found, attempting to force his thoughts away from the human and what his reaction to such a unique-looking mushroom specimen would have been. He needed to focus on his duties as the curator of these woods.
However, it seemed fate had other ideas, for it was only a few groves later that he was called upon by a Hamrammr, Alda, who had been wearing the form of a large wood grouse for the past few seasons.
“I have news on your human,” she said, and her tone was urgent enough that Logan forewent reminding her that Remus was not ‘his’ human. “One of my flock saw him dragged into a town jail two days past, and he hasn’t emerged since.”
Logan attempted to ignore his quickening heartbeat. He couldn’t jump to conclusions. “Which town?”
Alda watched him keenly for a moment. “The populous one to the northeast of our territory. Be careful, Curator. You know the laws of these woods apply to even you.”
Logan nodded sharply, and then was moving. Once he reached the fields between his woods and the human settlement, he took a deep breath to clear his mind. Barging into the humans’ space like this would hardly be appropriate, seeing as he worked to keep them from doing the very same to him.
Instead, he folded in on himself like a withering plant, ignoring the painful cracking of wood and bone as he took on a smaller form. A simple glamor to match, and he didn’t receive a second glance as he walked the streets as an average traveler.
An average traveler could find someone willing to gossip easily enough. And if Remus would fear him less in a reduced form, that was just a completely unintentional bonus.
“Criminals? We don’t have many here, and none with a valuable bounty.”
“Really? I believed I heard whispers of a recent arrest,” Logan replied, completely truthfully.
The shopkeep waved his hand dismissively. “Oh, yes, the resident cursebearer was found guilty of conspiring with the beasts of the enchanted wood to try and bring destruction upon our humble town, but as I said, no bounty--”
“The denizens of the woods are forbidden from attacking nearby towns,” Logan recited automatically, his mind racing. Remus was a cursebearer? The practice of directing all the magical and non-magical curses of a town onto one individual was archaic, barbaric, and… explained a lot about Remus’s behavior, actually. There was a strange pit in his stomach at the thought.
“That’s what the giant told everyone, but how are we to really trust the word of a monster? Besides, the cursebearer was witnessed haunting the edges of the woods, speaking with that very giant!” Logan kept his face carefully neutral as the shopkeep shook his head. “It’s just too suspicious. He could have struck a deal, could already be one of those beasts at this point, and he spent enough time dragging filth through our streets as it is. Good riddance, I say.”
The shopkeep broke off as he turned away, hiding the crack in his expressionless mask. Logan barely heard the resulting questions as he walked away with sharp steps.
The next morning, the town woke to the sight of half the jail’s roof torn clean off, and one very distinctive prisoner missing.
-
You'll be fine, you honeycomb Who could ever hurt you? Who could be so cold? You'll be fine, oh honey pie Who could ever hurt you? Who could be so unkind?
-
Logan carefully cradled the human’s limp form in one hand, seated in their usual spot at the edge of the woods. He hadn’t expected to be so obvious in his retrieval of Remus, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret it, either.
When he’d successfully infiltrated the jail, he’d been subject to an embarrassing lack of control over his magic at the sight of Remus. The human had been barely-conscious, wrists shackled to the wall of his cell and a sickly pallor to his skin. It looked as though what little he’d been fed had been expunged in fits of sickness.
Worst of all, he’d managed to focus on Logan’s frozen form after a moment, and a haphazard expression of delight had spread across his face. “Itty bitty Logan,” he slurred feverishly, “man, did I die al’rdy? Good. Missed ya.”
Logan’s grip on his shapeshift had snapped as though he was a youngling again, and somewhere between caving the ceiling in and rusting the cuffs away, Remus had fallen back to unconsciousness. Even now, as the sun rose, he was uncannily still, only the rasps of each shallow breath proving his life intact.
“I’m unsure what to do,” Logan confessed, studying Remus’s frame. The human was so small without his usual exuberant gesturing. His wrists oozed where the manacles had been, human flesh scabbing over so much slower than Logan’s would have. “I cannot abide the thought of sending you back to live with people who treat you like that, but to bring you into the woods would bind you to them in a way that could not be undone. Bind you to me in a way that could not be undone. I doubt you’d want that.”
“Are you… stupid?”
Logan jolted at the voice, mocking but almost a whisper for how loud it was. “Remus?”
The human was squinting up at him, and even those few words sent him into a fit of coughing. Logan hurriedly drew morning dew up from the nearest saplings and pressed the liquid to Remus’s lips.
“Don’t waste energy,” he chided; Remus flipped him off. “I apologize for… handling you while you were unconscious, but we cannot waste time. You are seriously ill, and need treatment. Do you have anyone who can provide it? Cost is no obstacle.”
Remus snorted audibly, and opened his mouth for a heartbeat before his face pinched in with resulting pain. He shook his head with an eye roll. Logan tried not to feel frustration at his friend’s lackadaisical attitude towards his own health, and failed.
“This is not a joke, Remus! If you don’t get immediate treatment, your only options will be making a contract with my forest, or death.”
Remus held up a finger.
“First option,” he croaked. “Stone for brains.”
Logan was rendered speechless for a short moment, his fingers curling up around the human. “Wh— Remus, you can’t give up on human treatment so rashly. A contract will change you. You’d be, for lack of a better term, stuck with me until you made a full recovery and paid back the debt at the very least.”
Remus hacked out something that might have been another insult to Logan’s intelligence, and he held up his pointer finger more emphatically. “First option. We’re— ‘m your friend. Not scared of you, big fucking nerd. That’s my final word… maybe liter’lly.”
And because he was as dramatic as he was vulgar, Remus chose that moment to let his eyes roll back in his head.
His heartbeat loud in his ears, Logan took a deep breath, pushed all of his concerns and doubts aside, and stepped into the woods.
-
The years have been hard on this lonely heart If you wanna know the truth There's no more community gardens So I guess I'll have to settle for you
-
“I don’t get it,” Remus mentioned one afternoon, watching Logan finish the last touches of a seal for a dryad’s lightning wound. “If you didn’t know I was a cursebearer, and you didn’t even end up caring I was a cursebearer anyway, why didn’t you ever let me near you when we hung out?”
Logan pressed the seal into the tree and glanced over at him, sighing with exasperation upon seeing him picking at the turmeric leaves ringed around his healing wrists. At least he couldn’t reach the ones working to repair his lungs.
“You’ll agitate your wounds if you do that,” he chided, reaching over to lift him from the mossy, oversized log he sat on. As always, he hesitated a moment before making contact, and as always, Remus leaned up in advance to greet him, as though being carried in the palm of a giant was not only normal, but also the only form of transportation he’d ever accept.
“Ooh, sounds fun.” Remus grinned mischievously but did indeed stop uprooting the plants embedded in his skin. He laid himself out flat on his back instead, an arm and a leg dangling over the edges of Logan’s curled hand, uncaring of the cool forest air rushing past him as Logan walked. “You still haven’t answered my question, though.”
“I’m not sure I fully understand it. You’re asking why I didn’t physically interact with you, before, but I believe the answer is obvious.” Logan adjusted his woven sleeve cuff absently. “I simply… found your company enjoyable and didn’t wish to scare you off, I suppose.”
He waited for the typical laughter that came whenever he implied that maybe Remus should be wary around him, since he was by most human definitions, a literal giant monster. It didn’t come.
Instead, Remus’s face was scrunched up in thought. “So… it was because you wanted to keep being friends. And not because you thought I was gross, or repellant, or better off as juicy blood mulch, or--”
“If anyone wants to mulch you, Remus,” Logan interrupted neatly, “they will have to go through me first.”
“...Not if I get to them first,” Remus responded, a slow grin building on his face. “Since we’re friends and all.”
“That completely counteracts the point of my protection, but yes,” Logan said, a small smile of his own finding its way onto his face, “we certainly are.”
#sanders sides#platonic intrulogical#g/t#donation drive#ts logan#ts remus#songfic#alt title: two bros sitting in the woods five ft apart cuz theyre 'monsters'#logan may have the brain cell but he certainly doesnt have a high EQ lol#writing#my writing#commissioned works#htmlfroggy
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everything is you: one
A/N: Happy Sunday everyone! Hope you all are having a great weekend! Wanted to share this with you all as it’s a story I’ve been working on. It’s honestly taking over my life a bit, but I hope you all enjoy it!
This may or may not be inspired by the Boyz II Men song. I love my 90s music and I heard it and then boom. And it also may have been inspired by a korean drama called ‘Fated to Love you’, at least the character of Alena.
Should have three requests out before I update this and things you never knew! That’s the plan and I plan on sticking to that plan. Snapshots should be update soon as well!
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Credits to the original GIF creator!
Alena groaned as she heard her phone rang for the umpteenth time.
It was a Saturday.
She was allowed to sleep in.
Her eyes opened wide then when the day sunk in. Picking up her cell phone, she sat up and saw multiple missed calls from Angel, EZ and Felipe.
She clicked on Angel’s name, cursing under her breath.
“Where the fuck are you?” Angel growled out.
“I’m so sorry Angel,” Alena groaned as she laid back on her bed. “I had a late night at work and I missed my alarm earlier.” She looked at the clock beside her bed and it read ‘10:35am’.
He sighed. “It’s fine, I was just worried. You didn’t even text me querida.”
“I,” she bit her lip, internally groaning for forgetting to do such a simple task. “I thought I did. Sorry my-“
Angel cut her off. “Your co-workers took advantage of your kindness yet again and you did their work while they went out to party.”
Alena hated how well Angel knew her. But she nodded her head meekly as if Angel could see her.
“Cruz is looking for mama.”
She smiled thinking of her son. Well, technically, Cruz wasn’t her son. Cruz was Angel’s son with his ex-girlfriend, Valeria. The woman didn’t want Cruz so she put him up for adoption without even telling Angel. She told him that she would rather he be in the system than have a father like him. That she wanted no reminder of him in her life. When Angel went to the orphanage to retrieve his child, they gave him a difficult time due to his criminal background along with his history with the Mayans. They told him he didn’t have enough stability to care for a child.
Typical systemic bullshit.
Alena had a good job, or well, a respectable job that people would see as stable. Being Angel’s friend, she offered to pose as his fiancé so that Angel could get his son. It was a fight, but eventually they were able to bring Cruz home and Alena has been taking care of Cruz with Angel ever since. On his birth certificate, it was Alena’s name that was on there along with Angel’s.
One may wonder why would Alena even adopt a child that wasn’t hers?
Many people, including her family, have called her insane and too kind to help Angel out the way she has been doing for the last few years. They were never together and were only friends, yet, they were co-parenting.
But Angel saved her all those years ago when she was merely sixteen years old. Things would have been different if Angel wasn’t there.
Alena moved to Santo Padre with her mother when she was eleven years old. She lived in the apartment building down the street Angel’s home. She was EZ’s age, so she ended up being in the same class as him. For lack of a better term, she was EZ’s rival when it came to academics. She hardly participated in any clubs, sports or any activities, but when it came to academics, she definitely rivaled EZ. Angel always teased EZ that not even his spooky gift could beat Alena. Due to living in the same neighborhood, they always seemed to walk home together and she eventually befriended EZ then Angel.
They weren’t her best friends, but she definitely considered them good friends. Her best friend, Carla, was EZ’s current girlfriend. Carla moved to Santo Padre at the age of fifteen and became a part of the triplet with EZ and Alena. Once EZ was out of jail, their feelings became more apparent especially since Carla stuck by EZ. Though, they couldn’t lay blame in Emily since EZ did push her away.
She adopted Cruz four years ago and now, she was his mother and she wouldn’t do a thing to change it. Her and Angel co-parented well. Their schedule never veered from the usual, but she usually was in San Diego during the week and from time to time Cruz came with her. Mostly, he was in Santo Padre since Felipe could watch him when Angel was working. Angel insisted that she didn’t have to take care of Cruz, her helping him get his child was enough, but she grew fond of the child.
She would do anything for Angel and now she would do anything for Cruz. They might not be blood, but he was her son.
“Shit, okay, let me just change into some clothes and I’ll head over.” Alena maneuvered out of bed. The guilt seeping in that she didn’t come home last night as she intended to do so.
Well, she didn’t go over to Angel’s.
“Don’t bother,” her room door opened and the giggle that flooded the air made her smile.
“Mama!” Cruz greeted her, jumping on her bed.
“Baby!” She opened her arms as Cruz jumped into them. Looking up at Angel, he leaned against the door frame and smiled at her. “I’m really sorry.” She pouted.
Angel groaned. “Please don’t do that, you know that pout makes me powerless.” Alena laughed at his words. “I know, it’s fine, I know how you are.” Angel sighed walking over to sit at the edge of her bed. “Really wish you wouldn’t let them walk all over you.”
“It’s not a big deal, I was staying late anyway and they didn’t anticipate it to be busy yesterday.” Alena’s eyes were focused on Cruz who was cuddled into her arms.
“That’s not the point Lenny.” Angel hated how kind she was, it was the reason she was stuck in California in the first place. She was going to Europe, Paris specifically, to become a curator for the Louvre, an opportunity that came once in a lifetime, but she stayed in Santo Padre, and was doing scut work. It upset Angel, but she wouldn’t leave, because if she did, Angel wouldn’t be able to have Cruz and she didn’t want that. It was Angel’s chance to be a father, to have a family.
“How was last night?” Alena knew how difficult it was for Cruz to sleep when he knew she was coming home.
“Awful.” Alena noticed the dark bags under Angel’s eyes. “He wouldn’t stop calling for you. And I tried calling you but your phone was off.”
“Sorry, I forgot to charge it and I just,” she kissed the top of Cruz’s head as she felt his breathing even out indicating he was asleep. “I’m really sorry Angel.”
“Stop apologizing, you didn’t do anything wrong.” Angel moved so he was sitting right beside her. “I’m going to have to either buy you another phone or those power banks.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “You have to start saying no querida, you’re not getting paid enough to handle everyone’s load.”
“I just want to help.” Alena laid down with Cruz in her arms.
Angel followed suit, resting his hand behind his head. Even though they didn’t start off tangled in one another, eventually when he woke up, he knew Alena would be wrapped around him with Cruz in between them. They had a weird dynamic, Angel could recognize that, but he wouldn’t trade it for the world.
“Baby, just say no next time. It was their work to do, not yours.” Angel turned and wrapped an arm around Alena and Cruz. “We’ll just take a nap then we can head over to Pops, family dinner.”
“Isn’t family dinner usually tomorrow?”
“Two nights of family dinner, didn’t want to argue with the old man.”
Alena laughed. “Okay, we got to stop by the pharmacy, Cruz needs a refill on his inhaler.”
“I already got it.” Angel closed his eyes. “Go to sleep, I know you’re tired, sleep in for once.”
Alena closed her eyes, kissing Cruz on the forehead one last time before her world went dark.
=============
Later on that night, Alena was relaxing on the recliner at Felipe’s as Angel and Felipe grilled outside. She knew their relationship had been tense, however she knew they were trying to work it out. With EZ out of jail, she knew the dynamic would change. Angel always felt second best to EZ, but not to her.
He was number one and he knew that.
“Mama, do you have my crayons?” Cruz came up beside her, EZ following behind.
“Yes bubba, they’re in your bag remember? We packed it together.” She ruffled his hair, kissing his cheek.
“Oh yeah! I’ll go get it tio!” Cruz ran to Angel’s old bedroom where you had dropped off his things.
EZ looked down at Alena and smiled. “Nice to see you relaxing for once.”
“Your father and brother won’t let me do anything.”
“Well you do everything for everyone else, hard not to spoil you.” EZ was still in awe that Alena took the mantle of mother for Cruz. He was always close to Alena and remained close to her while he was in jail. Besides Carla, she was the only woman in his life that he didn’t push away like he did Emily. He felt terrible for doing so, but he didn’t want to make her wait. When his father informed him that Valeria left Angel after informing him she was pregnant and that she was giving the child up for adoption, it broke EZ’s heart for his brother. He knew for a fact that Angel would be a great father. From what Felipe reported to him, Valeria was a grade A bitch. But then Felipe told him that Alena adopted Cruz to help Angel and that she was going to be Cruz’s mom.
EZ would say he was surprised, but he wasn’t. Alena had always placed Angel on some pedestal after he saved her all those years ago. He understood why she did, but he just didn’t think her gratitude would be this great. When he got out of prison and saw their dynamic, he was in awe. Cruz may like Alena a little more than Angel and it was slightly laughable. Not in a malicious way, but Alena wasn’t his biological parent, but he was so attached to her.
“Is Carla coming?”
“No, she’s working a late shift at the hospital.” EZ wished Carla was here, but he knew how short staffed it was and she had a four day break after this stretch of days.
“Mommy, do you want to draw with me and tio?” Cruz cake running back, his bag in his hands.
“Mommy is resting little man, we talked about this.” Angel answered for her. She looked up and found Angel walking in from the kitchen, trying to shoo Cruz and EZ away.
“No! I haven’t seen mommy and I want to play with mommy.”
“Cruz,” Angel sternly called out his name. “Do you want mommy to get sick?”
Cruz looked up at Alena, a pout on his cute face, and shook his head. “No daddy.” Alena got sick easily and Angel tried to make sure she didn’t over exert herself. She tried to give her all to Cruz, but he knew how exhausted she was even though she didn’t complain.
“It’s okay, I don’t mind. It’s just coloring Angel.” She hated seeing Cruz pout.
“EZ take Cruz.” Angel waited till they were outside before he crouched down beside Alena. “Listen I get it, you want to do everything with Cruz and you suck at saying no, but you can’t let Cruz have everything. I’m tired of being the bad cop.” He teased her.
Alena laughed. “I play the bad cop during bed time especially when you want him to stay up with you. We take equal amounts of sternness.” And they did. They were a team and sometimes, Cruz needed a stern answer from both of them. They tried to assure Cruz’s happiness, but they didn’t want him to not have boundaries or manners when it came to certain things. Bedtime was bedtime. Playtime was playtime.
“You okay? You want something to drink?” Angel asked as he stood up.
“No, I’m okay. Can I bake the brownies now?”
“Nope, keep that cute ass of yours on that seat.” He winked at her. “I’ll bake the brownies.”
“No, Angel you literally don’t know how to bake.” Alena countered.
“It’s just following instructions.”
“My exact point.”
“Oh, you think you’re funny.” Angel chuckled. “It’ll be fine mi dulce.”
“Hey, wait, did you submit the application for Cruz’s school?” Alena called out since Angel went inside the kitchen.
“Lenny, would you stop? I got it, remember? You literally told everyone at the club to make sure I didn’t forget the deadline.” Angel found it annoying, but Alena knew him best. Every fucking turn he made, he had one of his brothers reminding him to submit Cruz’s application. Then his pops would text him. Then EZ would bug him, it was hard to miss the deadline. At the same time, he chuckled at the thought because no one knew him like Alena did.
“Okay, I just, maybe we shouldn’t start school. Cruz is five, maybe it’s better for him to stay home for now.” Alena bit her bottom lip, unsure if she truly wanted to enroll Cruz to school.
Angel chuckled, helping Alena up so he could sit on the armchair. He pulled her to him, letting her sit on his lap sideways. “We talked about this, it’s gonna be hard, but Cruz needs to go to school. It’ll make it so much easier for us when it comes to childcare and he can meet kids his age.” He thought how insane it was that Alena was so involved in Cruz’s life but he wouldn’t have it any other way. Cruz was Alena’s son, even though he hears how the people around town slightly mocked Alena for her choices, there were more people who supported her. He always referred to her as his partner because in all intents and purposes, she was his partner.
“You’re right.” She sighed, leaning her head against his shoulder. “I just, what if he gets bullied? Or he doesn’t have friends?”
“Have you met our kid? He’s too cool to not have any friends.” Angel scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous, he’s going to be fine.”
“Okay, but if he comes home crying even once, heads are rolling.”
“Okay mama bear, calm down.” Angel kissed the top of her head, laughing against her head.
Felipe called the two to come out, finding Alena sleeping in Angel’s arms. He gestured for Angel to come out, which he did after waking Alena. Once Alena was awake, they both made their way outside with Cruz already seated, Angel and Alena sitting on either side of him. EZ and Felipe sat across from them.
EZ always found it fascinating when they all ate together. If there were carrots, Angel would put the carrots in the salad on Alena’s plate, not liking carrots since he was a kid. But Cruz would then put his little carrots on Angel’s plate, thinking they were just exchanging carrots.
“Cruz, that’s for you.” Angel placed the carrots back on his plate.
“You put your carrots on mama’s plate.”
Angel looked over at EZ and Felipe who both had an amused smile on their faces. Angel grumbled as he took some carrots back. Alena laughed at the two, shaking her head. Her boys were too much at times.
“Alena,” Alena looked over at Felipe. “Your mother came by the other day, she said you haven’t seen her. Are you avoiding her?”
She smiled sheepishly, letting out a nervous laugh. “Yeah, she just,” she looked over at Angel who was waiting for her to answer as well. He had gotten a few teasing text messages from Michelle, questioning as to why her daughter hasn’t come to see her the last four months. “My mom has been trying to set me up on dates with her friends' sons and I just don’t want to deal with it is all.”
Angel almost choked on the carne asada he had shoved in his mouth while EZ smirked. Felipe tried to hide a smirk, his eldest obviously bothered by the possibilities.
“And has she found a rightful match for you?” EZ loved watching Angel squirm. He missed this. He never thought he would miss his obnoxious older brother and Alena, he missed her too. He missed their academic competitions and how much she pushed him. He missed cooking with her on Friday nights, the Korean cuisines she would make were amazing. But mostly, he missed just being around both of them. He wasn’t exactly incredibly shocked that Alena stepped up to the plate. Her and Angel always had a connection, ever since she was eleven years old. The younger sister they never had, well, for EZ at least she was. With Angel, the lines blurred so long ago. “I’m sure your mother at least has fifteen candidates for you.”
“Cielo, don’t leave us hanging, how many candidates does she have?” Angel’s smile was tight, which made EZ even more amused to tease his brother.
Angel only called her cielo, sky in Spanish, whenever he was trying to tease her or when he wanted something from her. Sunshine was reserved for when he was secretly annoyed with her, which she deciphered over the years. Lenny when he was frustrated and Alena for everyday things. She liked it when he gave her a Spanish nickname cause he just sounds so good speaking Spanish.
“Um,” Alena opened her mouth to reply when Cruz got her attention.
“Mr. Vic is calling you.” Cruz held her phone up, which he had in his hands.
Angel raised an eyebrow at his son’s words and Alena excused herself.
“Who’s Mr. Vic?” Angel asked Cruz.
Cruz looked up at his father. “Mama’s best friend. He takes care of me whenever mama has to go to work.”
Angel looked at EZ and his father, who shared the same look as him.
“Is he nice?”
Cruz nodded his head, shoving a carrot in his mouth. “He makes mama laugh.”
Angel had never heard of Vic before. Tonight was a night of revelations.
And he was not liking it one bit.
Alena sat back down, apologizing for taking the phone call.
“Who was that?” Angel questioned.
“Just a friend, he takes care of Cruz. Remember, I told you about him, Victor. He was just checking if we were still going to this museum next Saturday with Cruz.” Alena was certain she mentioned Victor to Angel before, but with so much going on, he most likely forgot.
“The museum?” Angel knew that Alena absolutely loved art, just like him. It’s what made them bond as strongly as they did. They would borrow one another’s materials, paint together. The third bedroom at their house was an art studio because she wasn’t sleeping in that room alone, it would be confusing for Cruz. But he did remember her mentioning Victor. He wasn’t even sure why he would think Alena would bring anyone around their child without checking with him.
“Yes museum, we’ve been planning for a while. You have a run to Vegas then right?” Alena wasn’t sure why she was nervous or she felt that she had to ask permission. It was mostly for Cruz since in all technicality, he was Angel’s son. She was like a glorified babysitter. Well, she was more than that, but at times she couldn’t help and feel that. People would always ask her who’s cute kid Cruz was whenever she was in San Diego and in Santo Padre, people would always come up to her saying how they admired her for stepping up to the plate. And of course there were the ones who gave her the oddest look, like she committed a crime by helping Angel.
It was hard to push those looks aside at times because there were so many times she wished Cruz was truly hers. But she didn’t want to dwell on that.
“I do, I just thought we would spend the day together before I left.” Angel knew he was being a dick, but he did intend on doing that.
“Oh, we can do that, not a problem.” Alena enthusiastically agreed. “I can reschedule for Sunday.” She quickly shot Victor a text before continuing to eat.
EZ looked at the victorious smile on Angel’s face. He chuckled at his brother’s reaction, shaking his head. “So how many has your mother found for you?”
“Ten.” She murmured.
“What was that?” Angel asked. He heard, but he wanted to make sure he heard correctly.
“Mommy said ten.” Cruz answered.
Felipe and EZ laughed while Angel rolled his eyes.
“And how have you been keeping your mother at bay?” Felipe knew how pushy Michelle could be, especially with Alena since she was too kind for her own good.
“She’s been ignoring her.” EZ cackled. “Alena, your mother is going to ambush you soon.”
“No actually,” Alena looked over at Angel. “I told her I was dating someone, which I’m not. But it’s keeping her at bay. I’m almost sure she set up a dating profile for me.”
EZ laughed harder. This situation was too funny. He loved Alena’s mother. She was tough as nails, but was also the sweetest woman he’s met.
“Why doesn’t she busy herself with your brother?” Angel wiped Cruz’s cheek.
“My brother is, well, he’s been with Mina for years. I’m technically the only one without a commitment.” Alena knew her mother meant well, but she didn’t exactly have time for dates with Cruz and Angel taking up her time.
“You do, it’s me and Cruz.” Angel stood up. “Anyone want a drink?” Felipe raised his beer indicating he wanted another while Alena just requested for water.
“I’ll come with.” EZ stood up, following his brother in the kitchen.
The two brothers entered the kitchen, Angel grabbing a beer for himself and his father.
“Hey, if you’re not happy with Alena being set up, why not just ask her out?” EZ grabbed a beer as well.
“Ask her out? For what?” Angel gave his brother a questioning look, making his way back out, but EZ stopped him.
EZ made a face, chuckling at his brother. “Oh, we’re still in denial. Haven’t you been in denial for like seven years?”
“Drop it Ezekiel.”
“Look, I know you don’t think you’re worthy of her, but you are. Alena is playing mommy to your son, no questions asked or expecting anything in return. You’ve protected her since she was fifteen years old, kept men away from her and kept her safe. Don’t let the voices get to you Angel, you obviously like her.”
“Well, you’re wrong, I don’t.” Angel pushed pass EZ, halting his movement when his eyes landed on Alena.
She gave them a small smile, and moved past Angel. “Sorry, I’m going to the bathroom.”
“Did you,” Angel wasn’t sure what to say. He didn’t mean for Alena to hear any of that. “Did you hear any of that?”
“Any of what?” She gave him a questioning look. “You two are so weird.” She laughed, making her way to the bathroom.
But she did hear. She always knew Angel wasn’t interested in her but hearing it was definitely much more hurtful. It was okay, she knew her role in this whole situation and she was fine with that.
Anything for Cruz.
=============
Alena finished her skin routine, putting on her glasses as she walked out of the bathroom. Angel was already on the bed, Netflix ready to go. Cruz was knocked out in his room after a fun night with abuelito and tio.
She slipped in on her side of the bed, keeping her distance from Angel. The lines blurred between them time to time since Angel was very affectionate. He loved cuddling, but after what she heard, to protect her own heart, she wanted to keep a distance between them.
Angel knew Alena heard him. After she returned from the bathroom, he could tell that she was distancing herself. Her attention was solely focused on Cruz and rarely acknowledged him unless he specifically called her name. He hated it when she closed him off but would still smile at him and be very polite. He wanted her to lose it one time, but at the same time he didn’t.
They always said it was the quiet ones.
“Hey, about earlier,” Angel scratched the back of his neck, unsure of how to start.
“You don’t have to explain anything.” Alena cut him off before he could speak further. “It’s fine, we’re a good team Angel, we’re both here for Cruz.”
“It’s more than that, you’re one of the most important people to me.” And it was true, she was. He’s known her for quite some time and it was hard not to be overprotective over her. Alena always wanted to help everyone with no questions asked. She was a genuinely kind person and people walked all over her often. He tried not to, and he was successful most of the time, but sometimes, she pushed him to let her do things for him and he just didn’t want to argue with her.
She wouldn't even look his way and it upset him.
“It’s okay, don’t worry about it.” She placed her hand on top of his, giving it a squeeze. “I don’t expect for you to have feelings for me and we’re friends. Things can get blurry at times because of the dynamic we have. You don’t have to explain anything, we’re good.”
“Alena, don’t brush this off. It’s not that I can’t have feelings for you, our situation is just complicated.” Alena was a beautiful girl, he just, he doesn’t even know what he wanted.
“Angel, don’t worry about it, we’re good.” She gave him a reassuring smile.
Angel didn’t want to push her, so he let it go and just returned her smile. “What are we watching?”
“Lucifer?”
Angel put Lucifer on, Alena situating herself against the headboard. Looking over at her, he knew their situation was highly ideal, and complicated as fuck, but he wouldn’t trade it in the world.
But things were bound to change, they always were.
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