#i should google the director to see what else he directed

[feelingthedisaster]

can we just appreciate for a moment the directing of dead boy detectives? like, the photography is so thought-so and pretty and meticusly arranged, the amazing usage of colours, and the angles, the 3x3 or whatever is called in english and i just, god. i love it

[wonderfulworldofmichaelford]

Michael in the Mainstream: The Suicide Squad

Suicide Squad has frequently been touted as one of the worst comic book movies ever, and honestly? I don’t really agree, even if I almost wholeheartedly agree with every criticism of it. The editing is bad, the story is a mess, the Squad’s friendship is nonexistent, characters like Waller act like absolute idiots, Enchantress is a bad character and an absurd villain for these people to face… And yet, the core cast of scoundrels are all pretty likable when you wipe off the crap they’re buried under. These characters all could have shined bright if they were given competent writing and direction; the ideas are there, but the execution is unbelievably flawed due to excessive executive meddling (and probably a bit of pretentiousness on director David Ayer’s part). If only there was a director capable of taking the concept of a bunch of C-list villains getting together and performing dangerous missions and, along the way, becoming a found family…

That director thankfully exists, and his name is James Gunn. Gunn has already shown twice that he is capable of doing “a bunch of assholes become a found family” really well with the two Guardians of the Galaxy films, films that have a lot of style and flair that help make them the best films in the MCU, and considering Suicide Squad was mangled the way it was to try and be more in line with his Guardians films, it only makes sense to pull him in to give Task Force X another shot. Why settle for imitations when you can get the real thing? It’s not like he was doing anything else while Mickey Mouse put him in time out for naughty tweets, after all.

But this isn’t Gunn under the thumb of the Mouse, oh no; this is Gunn allowed to go absolutely wild. This is Gunn given the budget of a modern superhero film and asked to make a Troma picture, with all the blood, gore, and cheesiness that entails, and by god did he pull it off. Right from the get go we are given a taste of just what sort of movie we’re in for as a mangy child-murdering weasel man shows up and Nathan Fillion detaches his arms from his body to gently tap enemy soldiers on the head, and somehow things only get wackier from there.

Gunn seemed to actively go out of his way to fix every single problem of the original film. The characters, for instance, are all fairly similar to those of the first film. Bloodsport is clearly the stand in for Deadshot, but where Deadshot was just your average charming, funny Will Smith role to the point it could get distracting, Idris Elba makes Bloodsport a tired straight man to the wacky antics around him and portrays his growth through the film very well. Peacemaker is the jackass of the team in the vein of Captain Boomerang, but where Boomerang had little use in the narrative despite being the best and funniest non-Harley member of the team, Peacemaker is given his full due, with John Cena making him one of the funniest assholes ever put to film and even giving him a bit of depth and moral complexity. King Shark, AKA Nanaue, is obviously Killer Croc’s replacement, but where Croc was bland and really just stood in the background the whole movie, Nanaue is a sweet, charming, funny oaf with brutal strength who is just absolutely lovable and adorable, all capped off with hilarious vocal delivery from Sylvester Stallone himself. Polka-Dot Man is something of a replacement for El Diablo, though while El Diablo was really bungled by the narrative despite being well-acted and sympathetic, Polka-Dot Man is given ample opportunity to be funny, tragic, and useful all at once, and gives him a bit of an arc (pretty impressive for a character who was added in solely because Gunn googled who the lamest DC villains were). And finally, Ratcatcher is something of the replacement for Katana, being the second woman of the squad and the token good teammate, though where Katana was awkwardly shoehorned in at the last minute, Ratcatcher is clearly the heart of this team and brings the band together. Overall, the new Squad is leagues better than the original, and you will care for this band of criminals by the film’s end.

Returning characters get their due as well, particularly the ones really screwed over by the first film Waller and Flag get it the best of all. In the first film, Waller’s entire scheme was stupid, nonsensical, contradictory, and basically everything she did went against what was told to us about her, namely that she is a master manipulator. It was really a waste of Viola Davis, who had the presence and mannerisms down but who was constantly being failed by a shoddy script. Thankfully, that’s not the case here; Waller is very much the ultimate, manipulative girlboss she should be, from using her own troops as a distraction for another team to threatening Bloodsport with his daughter getting raped and murdered in prison over a minor offense if he doesn’t join her Suicide Squad. She is a stone cold bitch you will love to hate, and is easily one of the best comic book villains in film now (quite the turnaround all things considered). Flag is an actual character in this movie, with great chemistry with the members of the new Squad, particularly Bloodsport and Harley. Much like Bloodsport, he also gets a bit of a rivalry with Peacemaker going, which ends up being entertaining and even leads to a truly sad moment late in the film. Quite impressive for a guy who did nothing but spout awkward exposition in the first film.

Then we have Harley. I’m going to be honest, Harley has never been written better than she was in this film. While Robbie has had the character down from day one, the scripts have consistently failed her. The original film did nothing with her but sexualize her and have her spout crappy one-liners, and while Birds of Prey was a massive step up and had her written as she should be, the overall narrative of that film didn’t quite give her the due she deserved due to her feeling like a passive character pushed around by the flow of the plot. Here, though, Harley fully grasps at what’s given to and takes charge when she can, leading to one of the best action scenes in a film full of them. She ahs great interactions with her teammates and is just consistently funnier than she ever has been before, and it makes me happy to know someone who loves this character as much as Robbie does is finally getting to truly shine as she deserves.

The music and editing are vastly better. Remember how the original film had a new licensed song every minute, and almost all of them made no sense, and the music that played for Deadshot was exclusively rap artists (which was lowkey kinda racist)? Well, Gunn is bringing his ability to weave songs into the narrative with this one, but he also gives plenty of time for the music composed for the film to shine. As for the editing, gone are the obtrusive comic-book style cards that announce stupid throwaway details (and in a few cases, plot points you will very likely miss), replaced by more amusing and less obtrusive gags. The movie is also cut in a way where, you know, it makes sense. Everything flows naturally, and while there are a couple of points where time rewinds so we can see how we got to a certain point, it’s never so confusing that you can’t follow it.

The stakes are vastly overhauled. It made zero sense in the first film that Waller would assemble a team that consists of people whose powers range from “is good with weapons” to “is an Aztec fire god” to “is a big ugly crocodile man” to take on Superman-level threats. This is like if you sent a Boy Scout troop to fight Godzilla, it’s just not gonna end well and there’s an absurd disparity in power levels. Here, the team is being sent on a general black ops mission and have their skills selected by who would be most useful for the mission, and while they do end up taking on something a bit outside their context in the form of a certain cyclopean starfish alien, it’s a bit easier to swallow because of the buildup and because “big angry alien” is a lot more sensible as a threat to black op vigilantes than “ancient interdimensional witch goddess with a zombie army.”

Most importantly, though, is that this film lives up to its title. This is very much a suicide mission, and where the last team made it out relatively unscathed, this film suffers a lot of casualties. Characters die for gags, characters die suddenly, you might think a character is going to be a big, important part of the plot only for them to be dispatched right when it seems they’re getting going. For a film like this, it works perfectly, and some of the deaths are absolutely hilarious. That being said, you can kind of predict who lives and who dies based on star power alone; do you really think Harley’s gonna bite it? Come on.

I don’t really have many issues with the movie, but I will reiterate: this is essentially a Troma film with a massive budget, made by one of their alumni. Troma is a studio that makes gory, gross, and awesome B-grade movies and a similar irreverent mentality is on display here. If you can stomach gore, violence, and absurdity then this is a film you’re probably going to get into, but it’s definitely not the kind of comic book movie for everyone. Thankfully, it is exactly the kind of comic book movie for me. It honestly feels like the sort of movie I’d want to make, where I take a bunch of stupid C-list villains with dumb powers and give them actual development and characterization to the point the audience feels something for them. You’re going to be moved by a girl who controls rats, a stupid shark man, and a depressed dude who shoots polka-dots from his hands, and you’re not going to care.

I really hope they follow this up with another one, especially if they bring James Gunn back. There were a lot of characters he considered for the team, and a lot of them have potential, be that hilarious or dramatic. I mean, the man considered Mr. Freeze, that guy could be one hell of a leading man! Round out the team with some of the considered ideas like Rainbow Creature, Solomon Grundy, Chemo, Livewire, Punch and Jewelee, Man-Bat, Dogwelder, and the almighty Kite Man, and you’ve got one hell of a Suicide Squad! Also, maybe get Gunn to consider Crazy Quilt and Condiment King.

Really, the possibilities are endless, and that’s what the fun of a Suicide Squad movie should be: seeing the dumbest dregs of comic book history thrown into a place where they’re probably going to die horribly. Gunn managed to get that when Ayer couldn’t, and the results are perhaps his magnum opus. This is Gunn at his best and most free, unchained from the restrictions of forcing a film to tie into a bunch of others while also using all the tricks of his signature style to craft a damn fine film that easily holds up on its own outside the context of the DCEU. These are the kind of comic book movies we need, so let’s hope this film gets the respect it deserves so it acts as a wakeup call for studios content to churn out

[hakasims]

Shitty Luca Movie Recap, Episode 4

Can’t Watch Nina, Even For Luca?

Don’t Worry, Me Neither. Goodbye.

.

..

...

Ok, fine, I’ll talk about the damn thing.

So it’s a warm September night, and I’m in the mood for a Luca Marinelli feature. In my infinite wisdom I choose Nina. “It’s directed by a woman,” I reason, “and women know what’s up.” ‘What’s up’ in this particular case is code for ‘how to frame beautiful men for the female gaze’. Because women can be auteurs, too, and being an auteur means making movies about your own personal wank material.

Turns out, sometimes a woman’s wank material consists less of a gorgeous male form and more of fascist architecture. We’ll discuss the former in due time, but for now, what’s Nina even about? Well, at its core it’s a simple story about a young woman who doesn’t know what she wants, set against the backdrop of the Rome that is almost entirely empty due to most people leaving for the summer. This could have been a fairly straightforward coming-of-age film, but Nina is too indie and up its own ass for that. Literally nothing of note happens in this movie, and it’s all long static wide shots of empty streets, endless stairs, and domineering largeness of Rome’s most famous fascist buildings such as the Palace of Italian Civilization, the Sapienza University of Rome, Palazzo dei Congressi, and, most prominently, the Fountains Hall. (Google what they look like if you don’t know.) Now, I’m guessing those locations weren’t chosen by accident. They could have easily added to the creepiness of the movie — and I’m assuming creepiness was intended; otherwise how do you explain these hoverboarding nuns?

Anyway, the employment of the locations could have been atmospheric and thematic had the shots not been so bland. But they are. Bland, flat, and always looking the same no matter what is happening in the scene. Usually audiences are willing to sit through slow uneventful movies because of interesting visuals or characters worthy of attention, but Nina has neither. The titular character herself is tedious. Even her bad fashion sense is bad in a boring way that doesn’t tell you anything about her. Is she stuck in perpetual adolescence? Is she searching to get in touch with her sensuality? Who knows. The only thing I’m certain of is that she needs to learn to tuck her tops into her bottoms.

Nina spends her days giving singing lessons, going to Chinese calligraphy classes, eating cake, exercising and taking midnight walks in the empty city. She wants to go to China in September — it’s the closest thing to a goal she has — yet she’s done no preparations, and instead of learning Mandarin she’s studying calligraphy. And she’s real bad at it, too.

There are reoccurring visual elements in the movie besides the vast emptiness: stairs, white columns, a jogger, a red dress, animals… You’d think those were very straightforward symbols, but they’re used too sporadically and inconsistently to hold any meaning. For example, animals. Nina is tasked with both helping out in a pet store and house-sitting an apartment with a German shepherd (a good boy named Homer), a guinea pig and a tank full of fish. The instructions she’s given are absurd, like feeding the dog sleeping pills and putting the guinea pig on a diet. And then there’s a supposedly American TV show always playing in and out of diegesis about dogs living in cages and swimming happily in pools, and it looks and sounds like a video off the political section on the dog version of YouTube. It contains timeless classics like “You are a dog born in the age of consumerism” and “Depression is an evil illness now spreading amongst dogs of every breed, dogs belonging to every social class.” The butter commercial from Crazy Ex-Girlfriend could never. And I wish the whole movie was as surreal as this TV program but unfortunately it’s as bland and directionless as Nina herself.

And boy is it directionless. There aren’t any subplots in the movie, no cause and effect, no acts, no structure, no flow; only scenes that happen, and I can’t even find any reasons for the order in which they happen. The scenes also don’t start or end; they just interrupt each other, not leaving any emotional impact. For example, there’s a scene where Nina sees her future self. She’s on one of those midnight walks with the good boy Homer when she sees a couple being romantic. The woman is wearing a long red dress, and the man is in all black. The shot is wide, so it’s impossible to see their faces, but the woman is obviously Nina:

And the man is definitely Luca. I recognized his ass. I’m not joking, guys. It’s his ass:

Also I was later directed to the website of the photographer who took the set photos, and yes, it’s Nina and Luca.

I never forget an ass.

Anyway, Nina, who at this point hasn’t properly met Luca’s character, Fabrizio, sees herself from the future acting romantic with him, and doesn’t react. We don’t even know if she recognizes herself or him or whether it’s even a real scene or a dream. How are we supposed to empathize with a heroine who isn’t allowed to react to her environment?

Whatever, it’s time to talk about Fabrizio. He plays the cello and he’s obnoxious. That’s it. He first appears as a patron of Caffé Palombini, the real-world café Nina frequents (and buys her cakes at). She’s drinking her usual milk shake and reading. At some point, their eyes meet, but neither says anything, and then Nina gets up and runs after the good boy Homer who decided to take a little stroll by himself. She leaves all her things behind: her milk shake, her handbag, at least three books, a whole stack of paper for calligraphy, and her diary. It’s obvious she’s going to come back as soon as she gets the dog. And yet before her feet are even out of frame, Fabrizio gets up, goes to her table and fucking steals her diary!

His next several appearances are random and sporadic, and it looks like he’s stalking Nina, but by the time of his first actual scene she is following him for some reason. Obviously, he can’t let a woman outcreep him, so he ambushes her:

He tells her blankly, “You’re following me,” but I think this scene deserves better dialogue. Thankfully, we have a whole well of predator/maiden media to pull from.

Though I personally believe this is the most appropriate line:

Fabrizio lets Nina know he has her diary in the dickiest way possible: he quotes from it to let her know that he’s read it. He then informs her that he’ll only give it back to her if she continues following him. And it’s not blackmail; “it’s an agreement.” What an asshole! I’m weeping for the dignified cuckoldry of Joseph.

And what was the purpose of that “agreement” plot point if the next time they meet is by chance? Quirky love interest writing, duh. So quirky that the accidental meeting happens when Nina is walking past a phone booth where Fabrizio is… doing a phone prank? I don’t know, I got nothing. Anyway, he’s annoyed their meeting is unintentional on Nina’s part, but he returns her diary, and I guess they start dating? He watches her sing once with what could only be described as a complete absence of emotions:

In the next scene she watches him play the cello after which they go on a date. Nina is wearing the red dress from the vision, but Fabrizio’s shirt is different. I fucking give up.

Their next (second?) date is a romantic dinner on Nina’s roof, and they’re dancing for entirely too long. She then tells him she’s scared of how much she’s enjoying his company, gives him a ridiculously chaste kiss goodnight and… completely ghosts him afterwards. And if you didn’t dislike Fabrizio before, you will now as he starts calling Nina at ungodly hours (including 5:30 am) and leaving her very whiny and increasingly more passive-aggressive, entitled, and accusatory voicemails. At some point he even leaves a voicemail for the fucking dog! He’s like, “Homer, I’m worried, meet me at the café.” Again, quirky love interest writing: extortion, phone pranks and a voicemail for a dog.

Fabrizio then lets Nina know he’ll be leaving town in three days in case she’d like to see him one last time or whatever. And she never fucking does! In any other movie she’d be chasing through the airport, but here she just drops him like he’s a well-tucked shirt! She tells the kid she’s befriended (she hangs out with an eleven-year-old boy the whole movie, don’t worry about it) that she’s afraid to be “like everyone else”, with a job and a boyfriend, so she doesn’t even say goodbye to Fabrizio. At some point she goes for a walk with the good boy Homer, and Fabrizio is also there, and they just miss each other. Even fate isn’t interested in that romance.

And then all the fascist buildings get covered in gigantic paper figurines, and the red-dressed Nina runs into Fabrizio’s arms. Because of course.

Nina is one of those movies where the main theme — a struggle to grow up — is obvious, but the rest of the elements are a mess only the writer-director could decipher. And I don’t really care. Again, I had to read Japanese postmodernists at university. What I do care about is the male form I mentioned at the start. I know I have no one but myself to blame for my expectations of how the director should have framed Luca’s body or face, but it’s one thing to frame him blandly and a completely different thing to isolate him as the only character (or actor) she’s deeply uninterested in filming competently. Everyone else in the movie gets their fair share of close-ups and decent lighting whilst Luca — whose name is literally second in the credits — gets, um, neglected.

This is his introduction:

These are literally all his close-ups:

Should I even count this last one? What’s with the lighting? Like, this is as well-lit as his face gets:

Oh, the shot is too wide and you can’t see his face properly? Well, tough poop:

Are you kidding me with this shit?

Nina may not be objectively the most terrible of the movies Luca’s been in: I’d argue both Mary of Nazareth and L’ultimo terrestre are worse, as is Slam, whose time’s a-coming. Nor is it the movie where Luca appears the least (The Great Beauty’s literal one minute of screen time is saying hi). But it’s the only movie I have no reasons to watch: it’s blandly shot, poorly structured, badly themed — and it’s actively obstructing Luca’s beauty and charisma. So no matter which film you’ll ask me to do next, at least in terms of the visual component of my posts, we have nowhere to go but up.

[lirbrarycrows]

Various Fake Dating HCs

Various situations that require fake dating from there’s a creep, to a school play,  and how it becomes real 

AN/Yall know the drill. Caffeine, sugar, no sleep, binge writing session with no edits. That said if anyone catches a mistake please let me know Todoroki’s got a little away from me (def. was not 2 pages worth of google docs nope not me wrong writer) Enjoy!

Characters: Deku, Bakugou, Kaminari, Shinsou, Todoroki 

Word Count: 2520

Requests Open

Warnings: Mentions harassment

Deku 

Mineta wasn’t the only creep on campus and you were Class 1-E’s lucky lady as he called you thinking he was God’s gift to women

After 2 weeks of annoying you everyday after class was enough 

You’d complained to Deku and Uraka about it before so he was well aware of the jerk

When he approached you at lunch you couldn’t take it anymore

The moment he left you’d plopped your forehead onto Deku’s shoulder and asked Deku to help you out offering to buy him lunch for the week in return

He wasn’t sure how he could - he knew he couldn’t intimidate the guy like Kirishima or Bakugou so he wasn’t sure what you wanted

When you explained he’d gone pink but agreed

Since then he’d held your hand, helped you study, and called you honey and sweets when the creep was in earshot 

It took the jerk a while to realize you weren’t interested for some reason when he did though Deku kept up all the sweet gestures 

You told him a week after the last encounter with the creep that he could stop 

He’d just murmured (thinking you couldn’t here) “I don’t want to” 

You’d given him a kiss on the check and realizing you’d heard he’d launched into one of his patented spiels saying of course if you weren’t interested, and he still was focused on becoming the number 1 hero, and and and 

You’d wait for him to finish and look up at from the floor before giving him a smile and asking where he wanted to go on your first official date

Bakugou

It was his idea believe it or not. You both were good friends and after his internship he had several dedicates “fans” They’d gone so far as to track him down and asked him out incessantly 

The first time he’d scoffed and told them to get loss with his usual tact, that is to say none

After that when they’d followed him everyday from the gates of UA he’d blown up at them, literally 

Most of them were properly scared off by this or at least more reserved 1 girl just couldn’t take a hint

You and Bakugou had been sent to get snacks for movie night later and SHE was as always waiting on Bakugou

He’d groaned seeing her and whispered in you ear to play along 

Snaked his arms dangerously low around your waist, pulled you close

He purposefully didn’t look at her pretending he hadn’t already seen her

When you were out of the gates he spun you around and trapped you against the wall leaning in to whisper to you thanking you for playing along he asked if he could kiss you

You grabbed his face and pulled it towards your own

When you broke apart he smirked then pretended to take notice of the girl telling her off for spying on him and his girlfriend

You walked up behind him as he yelled at the girl and glared daggers at her 

She wasn’t happy about it but between both your threats she finally backed off (though she would occasionally pop up at public UA events) 

You were always with the Bakusquad so it was an easy matter to plant a kiss on his check and motion you were watching her in case she felt like trying anything

Neither of you were ready for or wanted a real relationship so that was as far as it went in high school but you keep in contact and who knows what the future holds

It did become a running joke how you two were such a lovey dovey couple in between the cursing each other out and harder than necessary slugs to the shoulder

Kaminari

You two flirted like there was no tomorrow 

Eventually everyone assumed you were dating bc who else flirts with every breath

One night you were running late and Kirishima had asked Denki “Where’s your girlfriend” 

It took him a second bc as much as you both flirted it was never serious

You’d popped in not a minute later and Kaminari had thrown his arm around you dramatically declaring “MY BEAUTIFUL GIRLFRIEND IS HERE” for everyone to here 

You looked at him quizzically and snorted

He managed to pull you away from the group and convince you it'd be a great joke to see how long you could convince the gang you were dating and how much drama you could create in your fake “relationship” 

You were plotting soap opera level storylines by the end of the night

After a week of scheming and late night writing session you started your personal drama with a dramatic monologue to the girls before class on how Kaminari had forgotten your so important 1 week-aversy 

-They’d consoled you and told you guys care about stuff but if you did you should talk to Kaminari

By lunch everyone had heard and Bakugou had a betting pool on how long the happy couple would last - Kaminari tried to join but was banned

Week 3 had the suspected cheating scandal - that had earned you a lecture from Kirishima on how it wasn’t manly to cheat and you assuring him nothing had actually happened 

By week 5 the two of you had a regular date scheming night 

During week 6 when Kirishima was “buzzed” after overusing his quirk he confessed to loving your (nonexistent) identical twin who conveniently went to another school and you had never spoken of bc she had stolen you last boyfriend

Towards the end of the term during date night Denki dropped to one knee proposing a proposal story line you’d burst out laughing when he grabbed a slap bracelet (He’d gotten from goodness knows where) and slapped it onto your wrist

At least take me on a real date first you’d joked - then frozen hoping he hadn’t heard 

He had. He took the slap bracelet off, still on one knee and said (Y/N) will you take this slap bracelet and go out with me for realizes I mean 

You’d ceremoniously take the slap bracelet and try to carefully put it on your wrist, treasuring it - slap bracelets can’t be gently moved though so it snapped up immediately as you said “I do” 

Shinsou

It wasn’t planned by either of you

You didn’t even know people though you were dating until a picture of the two of you showed up in the schools gossip column and someone pointed it out to you at lunch 

Shinsou just nodded his head and sighed saying “that makes sense” 

You had no idea what he was going on about - you found out that people had been kinder to him this morning some. Guys approached him about his “game” and some girl had talked to him saying if he was with you he couldn’t be as scary as he seemed 

You to were close and you knew how much it hurt him that people were scared of him bc of his quirk 

You were sitting so you leaned over and gave him a side hug promising him it would be okay

That hug went down the grapevine and “confirmed” your relationship 

By the time someone directly asked you about Shinsou the two of you had talked and agreed to let slide neither of you liked anyone and it was helping Shinsou so where was the harm 

You didn’t go out of your way to appear as a couple but you were friendly and people were prone to misinterpretation��

Shinsou certainly wasn’t a social butterfly but he certainly wasn’t seen as scary and his friend group grew

2 months into your “relationship” Shinsou had a girl confess to him she liked him 

He was taken aback she hadn’t talked to him the entirety of last term and suddenly she liked him

She had been scared of him unlike you. Unlike you, something clicked for Shinsou and the rest of the week he found himself comparing other girls to you and realized he may truly be in love with you 

By the time he came round to that realization you had made your own. Maybe people had thought you two were a couple bc you hung out with him more, hugged him more, smiled at him more, and liked him more and differently than your other friends. You  maybe even loved him 

At lunch he was the one who reached out and touched you, lightly settling his hand on yours and asking if you wanted to be more than a rumor 

Todoroki

Can we say emotional trauma 

In literature class there’d been a project to perform a Kyogen as a part of their classic lit unit - you’d loved it even if you’d been graded more on the accompanying essay of the evolution of language and classism than the performance part 

When you saw there was a school play you hasn’t hesitated to audition bc the kyogen performance had been so fun

You hadn’t gotten the lead role you wanted but you were more than fine playing a the female lead’s best friend who got swept off her feet by the quiet tortured poet

As soon as you saw who you’d been cast as you immediately checked who your love interest was. It was none other than Shoto Todoroki

You were really nervous the first rehearsal that focused on your sections

You knew Todoroki only by reputation, as a aloof and focused student 

You had no clue what he was doing in the play so you asked. He didn’t tell you the first day instead just did a read through 

The entire time the drama teacher kept saying “More Emotion” and “You’re in love so SMILE” you were pretty sure it was directed at Todoroki who was barely beyond monotone

The director requested Todoroki stay after rehearsal for extra practice. As his scene partner you stayed too

During on of these he explained during the kyogen project he’d felt different in his everyday life when he was pretending to be happy or angry compared to when he tried to show no emotion 

The director had called that moment a breakthrough. You smiled at him and asked whatever made him think that showing no emotion was in any way a good idea. He didn’t answer you 

You made it your mission from then on to get him to show emotion. Of course that was the director’s job on stage. You made it your mission everyday though. 

You would have friends pass him notes for you in between classes, eat lunch with him, and had a bad joke of the day hoping to catch him roll his eyes rather than just stare ahead eating robotically 

Eventually he started to show cracks in the armour, he would smile when you made funny faces backstage, or say he was upset which wasn’t much but baby steps

There were days he reverted to mono-emotionalism (that emotion being bored) on those days you eventually decided your best course was just to annoy him to death or even better till he said he was annoyed this came in the form of you lightly hitting you arm on his head, singing the 100 digits of pi song on loop, or running and jumping at him (he would always catch you knowing his choices were that or be bowled over) 

Those days became fewer and further between as you got closer to the play. There was one particular bad day though. You’d been trying all day to get a reaction, good or bad, out of him with nothing working. 

He was sitting on the floor during practice. You dropped beside him and leaned back till your head was in his lap and started asking “What’s up with you?”

You didn’t finish your question bc he shoved you out of his lap and stormed off 

Your scenes that day weren’t great to say the least 

By the end of practice you were just drained, you really were trying to help, and instead you’d hurt him and that hurt as much as him pushing you away and saying he didn’t need you 

The next day you had Deku hand him a note saying you were sorry 

You didn’t try to reach out to him the rest of the day, sat with your own friends at lunch, and didn’t bother him between scenes during practice

It was a week before you two spoke and that was only on the blocking of the last scene the leads ran to each other as you two cheered and hugged 

Tech week was hell week for 2 reasons 1. The general tiredness and overwhelmingness that always come with tech and 2 you were practically glued to Todoroki’s hip the entire play for 3 run throughs a day and you still weren’t really speaking 

Opening night you saw Todoroki pacing half an hour before curtain call. You were headed back to the dressing room to help some of the other girls with their makeup but he looked stressed. 

You waved not wanting to startle him. He looked up from his pacing feet and just stared at you 

“I’m not here to annoy you. You just look stressed and I wanted to say it’ll be fine and um break a leg. Anyway I’ll leave you to your pacing.” You said before starting to leave

He doesn’t move to stop you from leaving but he stares you down and starts talking, spewing all the feelings that have been building up (that he doesn’t understand) He’s nervous around you. Why is he nervous around you? He’s mad at himself for making you sad that day. You didn’t talk to him. He didn’t know what to do so he let you not talk to him. His miserable and he misses you he thinks. He tried talking to Deku but Deku just told him that he needed to talk to you about these feelings so he didn’t say anything more to Deku. He has all these feeling and doesn’t know why? 

You walk towards him and ask if it’s okay to hug him

He gives the smallest nod

You wrap him in the tightest hug you possibly can and lean your head into his chest. He eventually rests his head on top of yours and awkwardly wraps his hands around your back

When you pull away he looks at you for a moment before telling you your makeup looks nice 

You have to run to help the girls with their makeup you remember but make him promise to talk after the show 

You two talk and by the final curtain call your on stage hug has somehow become a chaste peck on the cheek. 

He pays for your post set strike theater crew Denny’s meal with Endeavour's stolen credit card and asks if it counts as a date if there are 20 other people with you

[jocia92]

(Google translated)

Dan Stevens, who grew up in Wales and south-east England, spent his summer holidays at the National Youth Theater at the age of 15, and he was drawn to the stage while studying English in Cambridge. Since his big breakthrough as Matthew Crawley in the hit series “Downton Abbey”, he has also repeatedly appeared in films such as “Inside Wikileaks - The Fifth Force”, “At Night in the Museum: The Secret Tomb” or “Beauty and the Beast” . Most recently, Stevens played the Russian Schnösel singer Lemtov in the Oscar-nominated comedy “Eurovision Song Contest: The Story of Fire Saga” from Netflix. At the beginning of June, the German film “Ich bin dein Mensch” by Maria Schrader celebrated at the Summer Berlinale Premiere, which starts on 1.7. comes to German cinemas regularly. Stevens plays the role of a love robot in it. Unlike on the screen, however, the 38-year-old prefers to speak English in the zoom-conducted interview. He chose a brick wall with a lion motif as the digital background. No allusion to the song “Lion of Love” from “Eurovision Song Contest”, but a photo of the famous Ishtar Gate in Berlin’s Pergamon Museum, where “I am your human” was filmed last summer.

Mr. Stevens, in your new film “I am your human” you play a humanoid robot that is entirely geared towards fulfilling the romantic needs of a skeptical scientist. You yourself recently described the film as “delightfully German”. How did you mean that?

I wanted to say that here pretty big questions - such as what actually makes a person or how much perfection love can take - are negotiated in a very light-footed, elegant and sometimes humorous way. In my experience that is a very German quality. At least I have often seen with many of my German colleagues and friends that they are very good at not discussing difficult issues exclusively deadly serious and melancholy.

Where does your personal connection to Germany and the German language come from?

My parents had friends who lived in Bielefeld and we used to visit them in North Rhine-Westphalia during the school holidays. Traveled from England by car! That’s how I learned a little German as a child, and later I learned it as a subject at school. I even did a short internship there through our friends in Bielefeld. I really love the language. Funnily enough, I was later able to use my knowledge of German professionally, because my first film was “Hilde”, in which I was next to Heike Makatsch played the British actor and director David Cameron, who was married to Hildegard Knef. After that, I always hoped that there might be another chance to speak German in front of the camera, because playing in a foreign language is an exciting challenge. When the chance arose to shoot “I am your person”, I could hardly believe my luck.

Did you know the director Maria Schrader who gave you this chance?

Funnily enough, when the script for the film landed on my table, I had just watched the Netflix series “Unorthodox”, which she directed. I had also watched a few episodes of “Deutschland 89”. In general, I knew that she was a great German actress, not least because friends who knew their way around the German theater scene often raved about her. Working with her was a joy now. Her understanding of actors is quite instinctive and brilliant. I have seldom seen someone who can help an actor who is having difficulties with a scene with such simple means.

The fact that you had already seen “Unorthodox” shows, of course, how quickly “I am your person” must have been implemented in the past year …

Oh yes, that was really quick. In March I was still in New York and was about to premiere a new play on Broadway. But then the pandemic came, everything was canceled and I flew back to my family in Los Angeles. A few weeks later, Maria and I met each other via Zoom - and shortly afterwards I was sitting outside in a café in the Berlin June sun for the first time in months to discuss the upcoming shoot with her. That was pretty surreal because I hadn’t actually left the house since March.

Is it correct that you oriented yourself to Cary Grant and Jimmy Stewart to portray the romantically programmed robot Tom?

In any case, these were role models that Maria and I spoke about. When you think of the game between the two of them, you always see an enormous clarity and directness. Cary Grant, for example, was always quite funny, especially in his romantic roles, but also flawless in an almost artificial way from today’s perspective. I found that very suitable for a robot. Apart from the fact that the ideas that Tom and his algorithm have of romance and love are certainly also shaped by the classic romantic comedies from Hollywood. Oh, the woman is sad, so I’ll bring her flowers! Such automatisms from the stories from back then were very appropriate for Tom now.

Keyword role models: Who shaped you in your career as an actor?

There were of course many. Jimmy Stewart was certainly something of a role model. My mom and I watched a lot of his films when I was little and I was always impressed by the kind of sweet tragedy that went into all of his roles. But maybe Robin Williams’ work influenced me even more. I always found the incredible variety of his films remarkable. He could make his audience laugh hysterically like no other, but also move them to tears in other roles. I always wanted to emulate this range.

In fact, the range of your roles is enormous and ranges from the Disney blockbuster “Beauty and the Beast” to a comic adaptation in series format such as “Legion” to bulky independent films such as “Her Smell” or the horror thriller “The Rental “, Which we just released on DVD. Is there a method behind this diversity?

Not in principle. I like variety, but I’m not just looking for roles that are as different as possible from one another. Rather, there are always similar factors that I use to select my projects. Sometimes there is a certain director that I really want to work with. Or the role itself is irresistible because it presents me with acting challenges. And sometimes a script is just fantastically written and I am interested in the topics it is about. With “I am your person” it was definitely the latter, especially since the timing was just right. In 2020 there were so many societal questions that ultimately touched the core of human existence. Such a script, which deals with something very similar in a light-footed way, was just fitting.

A few years ago you said in a questionnaire from the British Guardians that your greatest weakness was not being able to make up your mind. So every time you are offered a role, do you ponder whether you should accept?

No, no, when a script appeals to me, it actually does it very quickly. It’s such a gut feeling. If I’m unsure and skeptical, that’s a good indicator that this is not the right thing for me. That with the difficulty in making decisions related rather to something else. For example, it takes me forever to order in a restaurant because I can never decide what on the menu appeals to me the most.

You became famous with the role of Matthew Crawley in the series "Downton Abbey”. Did you immediately suspect at the time that something big was going on?

At first we were all pretty clueless. There are really many British history series, and we were one of them. When the first season aired in the US and was a huge success there, it was pretty unexpected. I never expected the impact the series would have on my career.

Barely ten years later, are you still being asked about the role?

Oh yes, regularly. Probably nothing will change about that either. I got out after three seasons!

In the meantime, however, the flamboyant Russian singer Alexander Lemtov from “Eurovision Song Contest: The Story of Fire Saga” should also be a character with whom you will be immediately associated, right?

Right, it has been mentioned more and more recently when people recognize me on the street. This charming, silly film obviously had a nerve with the audience last year in the middle of the corona pandemic. Especially since the real Eurovision Song Contest had been canceled.

The film was the number one topic of conversation on the Internet for a while - and Lemtov GIFs and memes were everywhere. Did you follow that?

It was really hard to avoid it. I wasn’t looking specifically for what people were posting. But of course my friends passed a lot on to me, and there were already some very funny Lemtov things. But he’s also a figure made for GIFs.

Another question every British actor under 40 has to put up with these days: Would you like to become the next James Bond?

Oh, of course, everyone gets to hear this question again and again who meets certain criteria. But it is completely hypothetical. Although a few years ago I read in an audio book by Ian Fleming’s “Casino Royale”.

You mentioned earlier that you and your family have lived in the United States for a long time. How big is your homesickness?

I actually feel very comfortable in Los Angeles. But every now and then I miss the sidewalk culture of European cities. People on foot, street cafes, things like that. Last year the longing for it was particularly great, although it was of course clear to me that there was a state of emergency in Europe too. In any case, I found myself reading books that were set in Europe and made me homesick. Which is why the unexpected trip to Berlin was really a boon.

You are also an avid cricketer. That’s certainly difficult in Los Angeles, isn’t it?

There are quite a few cricket clubs here. The only problem is that the few people who do the sport here are so good at it that I have problems keeping up. That’s why I always lose sight of the matter here a little. Even as a pure TV viewer, it is not easy to stay on the ball, because of course there is no cricket broadcast here at prime time. But as soon as I’m home in England in the summer, I really want to play again!

[link4eva]

Kiro’s R&S: Bystanders (Chapters 33-34) Translation [CN]

Hi, y’all! Just a couple of quick notes before you begin reading...

This R&S translation contains spoilers from the CN server for Chapters 33-34 which have not yet been released in the ENG server. So if you don’t wish to be spoiled then please don’t look below the cut! 

The next thing is that I don’t actually know any Chinese myself so this translation was done through the power of Google Translate and with a huge help from the lovely @keliosyfan​ . Thanks so much!! 

Hope you enjoy!~

No matter how the outside world changes, his heart is as pure as always.

[Chapter 1]

That experimental kid.

This is Hephaistos’ first impression of the new Helios.

He first saw this kid, not at the headquarters, but on the TV on the side of the road.

A blonde young man, with a soft smile within his blue eyes, sang a song in English on stage. The camera turned away from the stage. Fans screamed and waved light sticks frantically, the directors and judges on the side were all intoxicated.

Passers-by, who were attracted by the youth’s singing, gathered in front of the TV, obsessively looking at the shining star on the screen.

Only Hephaistos in the crowd stood by with cold eyes. He clearly understands the hypocritical admiration in front of him and what kind of fanatic power he will eventually integrate into his plan. This is the purpose of BLACK SWAN; to promote the symbol of “Kiro” to the public.

What’s so good about this kid’s singing performance? Hephaistos huffed and left uninterestedly.

But that impression would soon be overturned.

The dark alleys are not easy to navigate after the rain. The muddy water and blood mix together to form shallow puddles. Each footstep produces a sticky sound. Hephaistos ordered his men to clean up the mess. He looked to find the silver-haired young man walking out of the shadows and greeted him, “It’s done?”

Helios took a USB flash drive from his pocket and threw it to him: “It’s all here.”

“The new Helios’ methods are much more straightforward than I thought.” Hephaistos looked at the humble gadget in his hand, “It seems that working with you in the future should be easy.”

He stretched out his hand to Helios: “It seems I have forgotten to introduce myself. I am Hephaistos, but you’d better not call me by this name. It’s too confusing, and I’m not used to it.”

Helios glanced at the dark-skinned man in front of him. The other party showed him a friendly smile, but his gaze in the nightlight looked like a falcon locked onto its prey, making his nerves instinctively go on high alert.

He nodded but didn’t hold Hephaistos’ hand back: “There’s blood on my hand. Makes it inconvenient.”

Hephaistos expressed his understanding and stepped to the side: “Are you coming back with me to headquarters now?” 

“There’s something else.” Helios obviously didn’t intend to talk to him more, so he left.

Seeing Helios walking away, Hephaistos said: “I’ve heard your song.”

Helios paused and turned his head.

“Although I don’t have much appreciation for music, I still think it’s a good song.” Hephaistos lips formed a slightly playful smile. “Just thinking of someone who can write such sunny and gentle lyrics who is capable of creating such horror in a blink of an eye. I can’t help but feel goosebumps.”

Helios’ expression remained the same: “Are you done talking nonsense?”

“Is this really nonsense? I just thought I’d remind you,” Hephaistos gave a step back. “Since you have returned to the dark, don’t think of the light anymore.”

When Helios heard this statement, his gaze dropped slightly. When he raised it again, his golden pupils were sharp as blades, and they passed the corner of Hephaistos’ crooked smile. However, the murderous intent was taken back by him in an instant.

“Then, let me remind you. Before reminding me, do your own thing first.”

“Of course I will do my own thing.” Hephaistos held the USB up to him, “Don’t worry. You and I are in the same group.”

Helios didn’t respond to this “companion” who suddenly showed up. He didn’t look back at Hephaistos as he turned and left the dark alley. 

“Brat.” Hephaistos clicked his tongue. He added an attribute to his previous impression of Helios in his mind.

The experimental kid that is difficult to deal with.

[Chapter 2]

Hephaistos never felt that BLACK SWAN was set in stone. Just 17 years before, there was a rift in the organization and the eventual addition of Ares and Hades was the fuse that completely detonated the rift.

Although BLACK SWAN did not appear to have any anomalies on the surface, the undercurrent surging underneath the surface had long been divided into two streams by an invisible boulder, both heading towards different goals.

When Hephaistos stood in front of the diverging boulder, he didn’t take much time to think before choosing his own direction. After all, compared with Hades’s paranoia, another “new world” was attractive to him.

Even if his companion was the experimental kid who is difficult to deal with. 

Helios had settled into the organization earlier than him. As one of the main members of the plan, his influence became more and more prominent. The identity of “Kiro” was already a burden to him. Throwing it in the trash is one thing but the reality is another.

A Lincoln slowly drove out of the hall, flanked by crowds. In the crowds, everyone was blurred by the drizzling rain. Only the swinging flashlights in their hands were visible in the night.

“WE LOVE KIRO” *Made some word changes here* Hephaistos glanced out the window and said, “I didn’t understand you at your comeback concert before. Anyway, it was just a farce made by Anole to solve his problem. That’s it, there’s no need to re-enter the stage-life at all.”

Kiro’s comeback to the entertainment world is a major event. It caused a lot of waves and rippled even in BLACK SWAN. But, given that Helios himself has always been a maverick and is now the leader of the organization, everyone only dared to talk secretly. However, Hephaistos is different. He and Helios have had a cooperative relationship from the beginning. Even before the two met, Hephaistos would’ve been happy to dance on Helios’ minefield of a temper.

“Or, did you come back because you still want to enjoy being a big star? Is it fun for you to watch those young girls scream for you?” 

“Shut up.” The man who was still smiling at the fans with an angelic smile was expressionless at this moment. When he heard this sentence, he did not raise his head and continued to tap the keyboard with his fingers.

“Ah, I understand.” Hephaistos suddenly thought of something and grinned. “You are all about that girl.”

Tap.

The crisp sound of the pressing of the ENTER key drowned out all the other sounds in the car cabin.

Helios looked at the calculation results displayed on the screen, his eyes dimmed: “I have my own considerations, and I don’t need others to interfere.”

“I’m not interfering. I’m just making small talk. I was bored anyway.” Hephaistos turned the steering wheel and drove steadily down the road. “Besides, I have to thank you for being “Kiro”, because otherwise, it would have been difficult for us to get an invitation for this banquet.”

Helios didn’t say anything. He quietly looked out the car window. A drizzle of rain ran across the glass, splitting his reflection in the window into countless fragments. At that moment, he no longer seemed to be a “Helios” nor a “Kiro”.

The two were silent for the rest of the way until the towering banquet building finally appeared in the night; like a dormant beast waiting for its prey to mindlessly walk into its trap. Helios just said in a low voice: “Since I’m going to act low-key this time, I can go in alone. You can station yourself outside.”

“No problem.” Hephaistos reminded Helios, “Leto’s tricks up his sleeve are almost all gone. It’s no surprise that this kind of madman will attempt anything at this banquet. Since you are going to bring QUEEN into this banquet, you must get her and bring her out.”

“Of course I will bring her out,” Helios replied, “As you said, everything we do is for the New World. In the New World Project, QUEEN is indispensable.” 

Hephaistos smiled: “It is all for the New World….right?” He pressed the pedal, “The time is near. Go. Don’t let your little dance partner wait for you any longer.”

[Chapter 3]

The rain has stopped.

15 minutes have passed since Helios and QUEEN entered the lobby. However, fans and reporters crowded around and were not willing to disperse anytime soon. Hephaistos, who had not received his next command, continued to hide in the crowd and wait. From time to time, one or two conversations of passers-by floated in his ears, nothing more than that surrounding the dazzling star and his dancing partner.

“Unfortunately I couldn’t see what it looked like….”

“I seem to have taken a picture but something was blocking the view.”

“I really want to be Kiro’s dance partner too!” 

Hephaistos raised the corners of his lips slightly. In the hall, everyone was so occupied with the scene in front of them, paying no mind to the trivial things in the outside world. Hephaistos didn’t know whether to think it ridiculous or sad. As he was looking around, there was a sudden scream coming from the door! *Took some liberties in translation here*

“What’s the matter?”

“What happened?!”

The reporters outside wanted to rush into the hall that was now filled with the scent of blood but were stopped by a line of uniforms that appeared out of nowhere. The perimeter of the building was quickly sealed off. A siege launched inward in an orderly fashion.

“Are the people from NW here too?” Hephaistos asked and a brief command came from his headset: “Leto has acted.”

“Can you handle it?”

“I was slightly delayed by Anole’s trick.” Helios’ sounded slightly out of breath, presumably because he was running, “He shifted into Leto’s form and garnered everyone’s attention. You don’t have to worry about the situation inside. Just wait outside.”

“No problem.” Hephaistos could faintly hear the screams from both his headset and from the inside. It was obvious that the situation inside was not as relaxed as Helios stated it to be. He stepped back slowly and informed Helios: “Right. People from the NW. Moving in soon.”

“....”

“You know?” Hephaistos was surprised for a moment but he also quickly figured it out. If Leto is gone, NW and the Task Force will naturally have to draw a clear line with the loser.

Everyone is in this melee, fighting for their own agendas. He is just a bystander in all this.

Hephaistos took advantage of the commotion and disappeared into the crowd.

Hephaistos didn’t wait long at the agreed pick-up location before he saw Helios walking over from the woods.

He is no longer the blonde he was when he was inside. His silver hair is sprinkled with star-dust like shimmer in the moonlight. It almost seems ethereal. The dried blood on his cheeks was the only indicator that he was in fact not an elven prince who came from the moon but rather a Shura* who had just returned from purgatory.

*Note about Shura from @keliosyfan​* 

The Shura that is mentioned is talking about the Buddhism demigod of war Asura. In Japanese, it's used to describe a person who has to fight an endless war against something in a relentless or inhumane manner. Hephaistos was making a comparison between how Helios (as blonde kiro) went into the banquet all nicely dressed and clean like an elven prince from the moon and then later came out with blood on his face (silver-haired Helios) as if he just fought some bloody battle which he probably did.

Continue

“Nailed it?”

“Leto escaped but he can’t go far.” Helios said faintly, “There is no way he can escape the dog.”

“Yeah. The rest is for the Task Force and they will have a headache. As long as our goal is achieved.” 

Hephaistos asked, “Where is QUEEN?”

“Sent her back.” Helios pondered for a while and decided to share some more information.

“After her Evol was retrieved, her strength became even more powerful and there was not much time left for us.” 

“I understand.” Hephaistos opened the door and motioned Helios to get in.

“Where to next?”

“Go to the temporary headquarters.”

After speaking, Helios climbed into the car. As he passed Hephaistos, Hephaistos suddenly noticed that the rain had stopped a while ago but Helios had water stains on his shoulders.

That seems to be….tears?

[Chapter 4]

The description of the bereaved dog is a bit too good. Under the first-hand news report of QUEEN and the live video uploaded by KEY, Leto’s true face was thoroughly exposed to the public’s eyes. As this is such sensational news, BLACK SWAN was naturally made aware of it.

At this time, many members of BLACK SWAN are on standby in the temporary base. Although they are scattered apart, the center of the crowd is still the young silver-haired man. It seems that wherever he is, he will be the most eye-catching light.

“I just got three pieces of news. One good, one bad, and one really bad. Which one do you want to hear first?”

“Say it if you want to, or shut up if you don’t.”

Hephaistos leaned against the wall and tsked boringly: “Then tell me the good news first. Artemis was also in the banquet hall at the time and was injured.”

Hearing that the members of the same group were injured, Helios didn’t even flinch: “Her life and death have nothing to do with us.”

“That’s true. As for the good news and the bad news, I’ll talk about them at the same time. The good news is that the Special Task Force has surrounded the orphanage. No matter how hard Leto struggles, he’s already dying. The really bad news is that even if he is dying, a dying beast may still be able to bite when crazy. He has threatened to kill all the kidnapped orphans if QUEEN won’t go to speak to him unaccompanied.” Hephaistos said this and paused deliberately.

“Don’t you worry about QUEEN?” 

When he heard the word QUEEN, Helios’ icy appearance seemed to thaw slightly before it quickly froze once more. After a moment of silence, he replied briefly: “I believe in her.”

“Believe in her?” Hephaistos thoughtfully said, “Indeed, if you don’t believe in her, there will be no way to continue.”

He didn’t say anything. Now that QUEEN’s ability has been recovered, this is also an excellent opportunity to observe how much her power can grow.

Hephaistos glanced at a huge device placed behind him. Its shape stood out from the dark environment that it was in. If Hades’s “Return to Zero Plan” was his answer sheet, then this device is of their faction. 

Hephaistos asked in a low voice, “When will our next step begin?”

“The next step is to be done by someone else.”

“Someone else? Is it me? I’m not good at this high-precision work.”

“Of course it’s not you.” Helios glanced at the time. “He’s almost there.”

Ten minutes later, the man Helios had in mind pushed the door open.

Hephaistos didn’t expect to see Ares, the traitor of BLACK SWAN, at the temporary base. He was astonished like everyone else for a moment. When he saw Helios’ unsurprising expression, he quickly calmed down.

Helios said that the person who will take over this next step is actually Ares? In other words, the two of them had been conspiring since a long time ago. He should’ve known sooner.

He even suspected that maybe Ares’ “rebellion” was also the plan made by these two.

Hephaistos looked at the man in black who had walked up to Helios step by step, his palms involuntarily started to sweat. He couldn’t help the way the corners of his mouth rose.

Forget it. No matter what these two have in mind, as long as the goal is achieved, he didn’t care that Ares had returned once more.

After thinking about all of this, he coughed slightly and expressed his greeting first: “Ares, welcome back.”

[Chapter 5]

Leto disappeared. Hephaistos was a little surprised when he heard the news and felt it was reasonable.

As a member of the New World Project, he firmly believes that the power of QUEEN is the key to opening everything. No one can predict how huge a door this key can open and what kind of world will be behind that door. Leto’s disappearance is nothing more than a small experiment to test the power of QUEEN. When her power really breaks through, it will be….

Hephaistos turned his gaze back to his hand holding a photo.

Originally, he did a little research out of curiosity about that girl. He didn’t expect the results of his investigation to be so interesting.

The picture shows a couple embracing each other. Except for the man’s eye-catching silver hair, the two are no different from any other couple in the streets. The girl raised her face slightly, with a bright smile, while the man’s eyes were filled with indefinable affection. It was definitely not the expression that someone monitoring QUEEN should have. It was not for show but rather pure love straight from the heart. 

Even Hephaistos, an outsider, can see the attraction and bond between the two.

“So,” Hephaistos whispered, “No wonder you didn’t let me be nosy at the amusement park. No wonder you insisted on taking her in during the banquet. And no wonder you would be so confident in her.”

Hephaistos once thought that loneliness was the true face of Helios, and the sunny “Kiro” on the screen was a mask he wore. But the soft murmur of the silver-haired youth in the car on the day of the banquet, the tears on his shoulders, and the photo in his hand completely broke this perception.

It seems that his impression of Helios can be rewritten again.

Hephaistos felt that until the arrival of the New World, he could use this observation as a leisurely pastime, adding a little bit of fun to being a bystander.

Even if you are in a chess game.

Plunk.

A soft sound from the device behind him interrupted Hephaistos’ thoughts. He walked towards the device and the flickering signal jumped between his pupils. For a while, he truncated through these light spots and saw the endless world.

Hephaistos smiled to himself.

Forget it. No matter what kind of lingering past, what kind of feelings, bond or obsessions Helios and QUEEN have, they will be crushed by the New World the moment they face the end of truth and evolution.

“This is real romance.” Hephaistos sighed and lit the photo without resignation, and threw it in the trash can.

[END]

[chiaki-translation]

4th Anniversary The Key To Daydreaming: Spring’s Door - Event Translation

I figured that my translation speed now is about 1 chapter a day, considering that I don’t work on weekends, and 1 troupe has 3 chapters, you can do your math~ Just a rough idea for those waiting for the translations~

Again, link for the video this time is here, watch the voiced video for the full experience~ SPRING’S DOOR

4th Anniversary The Key to Daydreaming: Secret Key / / Spring’s Door / / Autumn’s Door / / Winter’s Door / / Opening the Future Door with You

Disclaimer:

A3! is owned by Liber’s Entertainment

Spring’s Door

Director:

(I found this key in the courtyard, but…

What should I do if I can’t find the owner in dorm.

If that really happens, should I go and deliver it to a police box?

Hmm, if I’m the owner and I’m looking for something that’s mine, the first thing I’ll do is--)

…Bells?

(The sound seems to be coming from one of the Spring Troupe’s room.

I need to ask them about the key as well, I guess I should take a look)

<Shifts to Corridor>

Director:

(It seems that the bell sound is coming from Room 101…

The door is slightly open too…)

Hmm? Something’s pasted here.

… “Unlocked”?

Sakuya-kun, Citron-kun--

<Shifts to Room 101>

Geppaku:

“Show me whatever it is that you desire…”

Will:

“…”

Director:

Geppaku and Will…?

Will:

“Mr Foreign Fortune Teller, can you find what I’m looking for…?”

Citron:

“I told you I’m an Onmyouji…

Well, it’s fine.

Let’s see…. Just a bit more, I need more information from you.”

Will:

“The information for what I’m looking for right. Umm…”

Citron:

“The color?”

Will:

“It’s yellow! It looks a bit old…”

Geppaku:

“Then, how about the size?”

Will:

“I think I can fit it in my palm…”

Director:

(Will is asking Geppaku to search for something, is this an etude?)

Geppaku:

“…! I’m seeing something.”

Will:

“Really!”

Geppaku:

“A small yellow colored metal object… I saw a lady holding it.”

Will:

“A lady?”

Geppaku:

“A young one, with a bit of clumsy side on her, but ultimately a strong and very kind person.”

Director:

(Was there such character before…)

Geppaku:

“And then… A fanatic of something called ‘Curry’.”

Director:

…

… You mean, me?

Will and Geppaku:

“--!”

Director:

(Oops, that came out of nowhere…

Even though they might be in the middle of practice)

Umm… Sorry, I didn’t mean to get in the way.

Will:

“Sorry! I was so absorbed in it, I didn’t realize that there’s someone else here.”

Geppaku:

“Pardon me. I’m an Onmyouji, my name is Geppaku.

I was helping this person looking for something that he had lost.”

Will:

“I’m Will from the Luminous Circus.”

Director:

Nice to meet you…

(Ah, is the etude supposed to continue like this I wonder)

Will:

“Excuse me… Do you happen to find a key somewhere?”

Director:

“Key?”

Will:

“Actually, our Leader lost the key to the trunk that packs our business tools, and I’m looking for it.

The leader said that we can use other tools for the show if we can’t open the trunk, but…

If it stays this way, we’ll get roped into the Leader’s unreasonableness again…

To prevent that, I have to somehow find the key.”

Director:

That key that you’re looking for… Is it perhaps this one?

Will:

“Ah! A key!

I’m sure this is the one! I don’t know if I can open it with this, but I think this should be the one!

A lady is holding on to a yellow metal object…

It’s exactly as you said, Mr Foreign Fortune Teller!”

Geppaku:

“I told you, It’s Onmyouji.

But I’m glad I could be of help.”

Will:

“If you don’t mind, can you return the key back to me?”

Director:

Of course. I’m glad I can find the owner.

(I’m not really sure, but it seems to belong to Sakuya-kun…

Ah, that’s not it, it’s Will)

Will:

“Thank you so much!

But, I can’t just take it from you for free…

I have to show my gratitude to you somehow.

Hmm, what to do, I don’t have any money with me…”

Director:

There’s no need, it’s just the right thing to return it to its rightful owner.

You don’t need to mind it.

Will:

“Bu, but…!”

Geppaku:

“Then, in exchange, you can take this from me.”

Director:

This is… A soccer ball?

Geppaku:

“I’ve never seen such a Temari before.

T.N: Temari is some Japanese ball thingy, just Google it~

I’m sure this is a precious thing. Please, take it.”

Director:

Umm…

(Is this also part of the practice…?)

Then, I’ll take it.

Thank you so much.

Will:

“Really sorry about that.

I’m grateful from the bottom of my heart, Mr Foreign Fortune Teller.”

Geppaku:

“Don’t mind at all.

When you can use the key to open the trunk, please show me your performance.”

Will:

“Of course, with pleasure!”

Geppaku:

“I’ll be looking forward to it.”

Will:

“Yes! Thank you so much, the two of you!”

Director:

You’re welcome.

Geppaku:

“…!”

Will:

“What happened?”

Geppaku:

“Very near here, somehow a negative aura…”

Director:

A negative aura?

Geppaku:

“It doesn’t seem to be something bad, but…”

Director:

The one beside here is Masumi-kun and Tsuzuru-kun’s room…

Is it perhaps a fight…?

Will:

“Are you going to take a look at the situation over there?”

Geppaku:

“Yeah, if it’s you I’m sure that you’ll guide them to the right direction.

Director:

Eh? I haven’t said anything about going over--

Geppaku:

“There there, up you go.”

Will:

“I will cheer on you from here!”

Will and Geppaku:

“Have a safe trip~”

Director:

Wait a minute, you guys--!?

<End of Chapter 3>

Director:

I feel that I just got forcibly kicked out…

(But, I’m glad that the key is safely returned to its owner.

Even so, I wonder why they’re dressing up as Will and Geppaku.

Is it a full-scale etude training…)

This soccer ball too, I wonder what this is about…

???:

You…!

???:

Shut up, don’t be noisy.

Director:

Right.

I have to check the situation in room 102.

(Eh, this door also has a paper written “Unlocked” on it.

It’s slightly open too, similar to the previous room.

…For the time being, let’s take a look inside)

<Shifts to Room 102>

Kubota:

“Ah, damn it, I’m going to be late this way. Give me a break.”

Hayama:

“It’s because you can’t afford it isn’t it.”

Kubota:

“Huh?”

Director:

(It’s Kubota and Hayama this time…?

It’s rare to see Masumi-kun and Tsuzuru-kun practicing together on their own)

Kubota:

“I can’t practice without a ball.

And what to do, it’s your fault.”

Hayama:

“If it’s a ball, you can just buy a new one.”

Kubota:

“Ugh… You see! I lost the ball because I bumped into you when you’re looking away.”

Hayama:

“I don’t think you’re suitable for soccer if you make a fuss over a slight bump.”

Kubota:

“I told you, I’m a pro soccer player!

It was because of you, don’t walk while looking at your phone.”

Hayama:

“I don’t know you though.

It can’t be helped, they just announced KIKUKAWA’s new collection.”

Kubota:

“What an impertinent fellow…!

I don’t know what that KIKUKAWA is, but I don’t—"

Hayama:

“Shut up.

You too, for you to not know about KIKUKAWA—"

Director:

Wa, wait a minute, Tsuzuru-kun, Masumi-kun, calm down…!

Kubota:

“Tsuzuru-kun?”

Hayama:

“Masumi-kun…?”

Director:

(Right, they’re in their role right now)

Umm, anyway, you’re looking for a soccer ball right?

Is this perhaps Kubota-kun’s ball?

Kubota:

“Ah! Yeah, that’s the one!

Sigh, I’m glad! You really help me.

Thank you!”

Director:

You’re welcome.

Hayama:

“…”

Director:

(I feel like I’m being stared at…)

Hayama:

“Hey… Sister, will you become my exclusive model?”

Director:

Eh?

Tsuzuru:

There’s no such line…!

Kubota:

“A, ah~ Thank you, really.

Let me somehow make it up to you.”

Masumi:

… I don’t want to end it yet.

Tsuzuru:

…

Masumi:

Sigh, I have no choice…

Hayama:

“Take this, as compensation.

Cause it seems that he lost his ball because of me.”

Director:

This envelope… Is this an invitation card?

Hayama:

“Who knows. It’s a party for celebrities?”

Director:

That’s a very rough idea…

Hayama:

“I don’t think there will be a man that matches you, but it seems that you’ll be able to eat some delicious food.”

Director:

(I wonder if the words are coming from Masumi-kun or Hayama, I can’t tell…)

Umm… Then, I’ll take it, thank you.

Hayama:

“Yeah.

The party’s venue, just go out of this door and turn left.”

Kubota:

“Enjoy yourself. Then, see you.”

<Shifts to Corridor>

Director:

(He said the left side of the door…)

It’s Room 103… Of course.

(This door has the paper written “Unlocked” on it too.

Following the pattern, inside should be…)

<Shifts to Room 103>

Futami:

“Professor, I don’t have time to play with you.

Won’t you just give me the information already.”

Moriarty:

“Even though I already said I don’t know?

Unfortunately, I don’t have any high school student.”

Futami:

“…”

Moriarty:

“…”

Director:

(It’s Futami and Professor Moriarty this time.

It seems like they’re playing chess against one another…)

Futami:

“Then, there’s no point anymore. Checkmate.”

Moriarty:

“I wonder if you’re actually unfamiliar with chess rule?

I haven’t heard any check you know.”

Futami:

“Unfortunately, I don’t have the taste of an English gentleman.”

Moriarty:

“Oh boy.

Well, it’s fine… It seems that the Queen has arrived.”

Director:

?

Moriarty:

“Hey, Queen—Nah, let’s go with ‘My Lady’ here.

His student might be attending a certain party.

But, he would need an invitation to go there.”

Futami:

“… As I thought, you know something about  it.”

Moriarty:

“My lady, you have an idea about that party right?”

Director:

If you’re talking about party and invitation…

Futami:

“Perhaps, you actually have the invitation?”

Director:

Umm, is this the one…?

Moriarty:

“This wax seal, there’s no doubt.

It’s the invitation to the party.”

Futami:

“Hey, you. Will you give me the invitation.

I’m a high school teacher, but there’re some students that has been missing from school for a few days.

It seems like those students was deceived and asked to do some shady job.

The place where the students will appear next is supposed to be the party that you have the invitation to.”

Director:

You need it to save your students right.

If that’s the case, please take it.

Futami:

“Thank you, that was a great help.

As thanks, that great professor over there will give you something.”

Moriarty:

“Hmm, what a man who knows no fear.

Well, I guess I can kill some time with this.

I’ll close one eye this time.

Then, my lady, take this. You can use it as you like.”

Director:

Gold coins!?

If it’s money, you don’t need to…

Moriarty:

“I’m sure you’ll use it well.

Just consider this a charity.”

Futami:

“For the Napoleon of the criminal world to actually do a good deed…

Well, anyway, I got the invitation.

Let’s go to the party venue immediately.”

Director:

Wha, me too!?

Moriarty:

“I’m sure you’ll be able to see something interesting.

Don’t worry, there won’t be any blood spilled without that man here.”

Director:

(That’s kind of disturbing…)

Moriarty:

“… Well then, let’s go.”

<End of  Chapter 4>

Futami:

“So it’s here…

It doesn’t look like a party venue.”

Director:

Or rather, it’s just a lesson room…

(Here too, there’s a paper written “Unlocked”)

Moriarty:

“Whatever the story is, you can’t move forward if you don’t turn the page.

--Please, go ahead, my lady.”

<Shifts to Lesson Room>

Will:

“You are…!”

Hayama:

“I’m glad we meet again.”

Director:

Everyone…

Kubota:

“You brought some amazing people with you…”

Geppaku:

“There’s an unsettling aura that you brought here…”

Futami:

“…Professor, they don’t look like my students you know?”

Moriarty:

“I was only talking about possibilities with my ‘might be’.”

Futami:

“Tch…”

Will:

“It’s great to see you again! I want to see you no matter what so I asked Mr Geppaku to search for you.”

Director:

Me?

Will:

“Actually, this key that I got from you is not the trunk’s key…

So, I want to return the key to you.”

Director:

I see.

But, I’m sorry. A lot of things happened after that, the soccer ball…

That’s not it, the temari right, I don’t have it with me anymore.

Even if you return the key to me, I can’t return the temari back…

Kubota:

“The temari that you’re talking about, is it about my soccer ball.”

Geppaku:

“So that mysterious temari belongs to this person.”

Kubota:

“I don’t really understand the situation, but if you have trouble opening that trunk, it’s fine to just bring it to a locksmith isn’t it.

When I lost the key to my suitcase last time, I also had a locksmith to open it.”

Hayama:

“You lost your key when you travel… And you said you lost the ball as well, as I thought, you’re just a klutz aren’t  you.”

Kubota:

“Shu, shut up.

At least it was your fault that I lost the ball earlier.”

Will:

“But, if I have to ask a locksmith, I don’t have that kind of money…”

Director:

Ah!

Do you think you can do something with this gold coin?

Will:

“It will be enough if I have that!

But, I can’t get you to do that much…”

Director:

Professor Moriarty, this is a good deed isn’t it?

Moriarty:

“If you said so.”

Director:

So that’s what he said, don’t mind it.

Futami:

“Even the famous professor said it, just take it.”

Kubota:

“Right. That way, I won’t feel too guilty too.”

Hayama:

“Don’t waste that person’s good intention.”

Will:

“Everyone too, if you said so…

Thank you so much.”

Geppaku:

“Ah…

The yellow-colored metal object that I saw… It’s this.”

Will:

“It’s yellow, it’s a small metal object that fits in your palm, and a lady is carrying it… Ah!

I see, the one that Mr Geppaku saw is not that key, but this gold coin instead.”

Director:

I see, so that’s the case.

Will:

“Then promptly… I will return this key to you.”

Director:

Thank you.

Ah, it ended up back at the beginning again…

Umm, by the way…

Among everyone here, does anyone happen to drop this key…

Everyone:

“…”

Director:

I thought so…

And I thought I actually found the owner of the key…

Will:

“I’m sure you’ll find him.

I mean, you said that you’re back at the beginning, but…”

Geppaku:

“’The End’ is also ‘The Beginning’.

Your story with the key continues onwards, you were about to say that right.”

Director:

The end is, the beginning…

Futami:

“Then, we still have our ‘Continue’ as well right.”

Kubota:

“I also have practice coming up, but… Well, I’ll tag along.”

Hayama:

“Then, see you.”

Moriarty:

“Safe trip, My Lady.”

Director:

Yeah. See you again, everyone--

<Shifts to Courtyard>

Director:

…Wait, why did I not get any hint!?

(Sigh… I’m not really sure whether something will happen or not, it was pretty confusing, but…)

Everyone did well.

The end, is also a beginning…

(That sounds just like Spring.

This key too, I wonder what kind of ending awaits it.

Fufu, I’m pretty excited.

Alright, I wonder where should I go next.)

<End of Chapter 5>

[thenightling]

In defense of Tom Sturridge (Already!?)

Apparently Tom Sturridge needs defending from our own meager fandom... already...

Disclaimer:  Though it is looking more and more likely that Tom Sturridge has the role of Morpheus in Netflix’s Adaptation of The Sandman this has still NOT been confirmed.   We are still riding on pure speculation.  However, I will defend the man.

Though it is not officially confirmed that Tom Sturridge will be playing Morpheus in The Sandman there are already people in the fandom complaining about the casting. (See the Neil Gaiman’s Sandman Facebook group.  The one with over three-thousand-members that I left.)  

In this post I will be addressing each and every complaint that I have seen thus far.   

And you wonder why they’re keeping the cast a secret from us for so long?  This.  This behavior would actually be worse if you knew for certain who was in the cast.  

When these negative reactions are in regard to who “might” be playing Morpheus, without any actual footage, or even images of him in character, they were wise to keep it a secret from us.

Now, let us begin.

1.   “He looks too much like Robert Pattinson.”  The hatred of Robert Pattinson is bizarre and irrational.  It is as if a great deal of the population cannot separate him from a character they despise.  The irony is Robert Pattinson never liked playing Edward Cullen anyway.  He did it strictly for the money.  And as far as vampire fiction goes, there is far, far, worse out there than Twilight.  Twilight is not good but there is worse out there.  It seems the hatred of Twilight is almost a knee-jerk reaction- a compulsive raw contempt against anything that appeals to teenage girls.  I do not like Twilight but I do not irrationally hate an actor just because he was in the films.  So what if Tom Sturridge resembles Robert Pattinson a bit?  You’ll condemn an actor because of his bone structure?  Because he “Kind of” reminds you of a man who played a character you don’t like?  Really?  I thought most of this fandom were grown ups.

2. “He’s too young to play Morpheus.”    The casting call was for men between the ages of twenty six and thirty six.  Tom Sturridge turns thirty-six this year.   It’s true that a man in his forties or even a youthful fifties could probably play Morpheus perfectly well and Morpheus did have crows-feet wrinkles in the first issue but to condemn an actor based on his age is merely ageism.  In this day and age a man can look any age with the right makeup.  Look at the lead in the silent film of Faust, directed by F. W. Murnau (Director of Nosferatu).   It’s impressive to know a thirty-six-year-old played elderly and youthful Faust in that film, and that was back in 1926.

3.   “He’s too old to play Morpheus.”  ...Seriously?   What did you want?  A CW teenager or early twenty-something college kid as the ten-billion-year-old dream lord?  Yet again, I know a man can pretty much play any age with the right makeup.  All else is ageism, even my cynical statement about the CW, that’s ageism.  

When Lestat the musical was on Broadway the actor who played Lestat was forty, the woman playing his mother was only about two years older than him.  

The actor playing Barnabas in the original Dark Shadows was in his forties.  The character was (According to Dan Curtis) only twenty-five when he became a vampire.  The woman playing his mother was only five-years-older than him.  

Tom Welling was still in Smallville as pre-Superman Clark Kent and he was older than the actor who played Superman in Superman Returns.  With good acting and makeup age doesn’t really matter.        

4.   “He’s a terrible actor.”    The man has about ten acting credits in total according to IMDB.  Most are bit parts and two are from when he was ten and eleven-years-old respectively.  

Are you judging him on roles he had before he hit puberty!? 

I have my doubts you ever saw him act in anything yet.  You’re probably leaping to conclusions because the pictures you found of him are a stoic pretty boy with beard stubble.

5.  “If he’s playing Morpheus that’s automatically a deal breaker.  I’m not watching.”   Okay.  Okay, fine. Don’t watch it.   You don’t have to.  No one is making you watch it.  However, you should be aware that Neil Gaiman watched the auditions.  He had a say in the casting.  If Tom Sturridge is playing him than this is the man HE chose. If Neil Gaiman doesn’t know who should play Morpheus, than no one does.  I thought James McAvoy did an excellent job in The Sandman audio drama and I will not automatically assume Tom Sturridge is a bad actor just because there are people pre-determined to hate this.

6.  “He shouldn’t be played by a white man.  It indicates that The Endless are all white and white people rule the universe.”   Morpheus likely will still have his bone-white (not human-white) skin from the comics (and I hope, the black void eyes with star pupils).  This was pulled off successfully with the Frankenstein monster in Penny Dreadful, with his own inhuman skin and yellow eyes.   

Morpheus’ bone-white skin, improbably thin build, and black void eyes are supposed to be without distinct race.  He’s not a human being. He’s not Caucasian.   He might be played by a white man, yes, but the actor was chosen based on talent, not racial background.  

I saw the casting description. Race was not a factor.  Since actual non-human / humanoid entities devoid of distinct racial background were unavailable, the show simply had to make do with a human being, instead.  The real Endless were unavailable or refuse to act.  You know how temperamental anthropomorphic personifications can be.    

7.   “He’s not thin enough.”   Okay, look. A lot can be done with CG.   I don’t want an actor killing himself for this role. 

Back in 1976 David Bowie was close to ninety-pounds when playing Thomas Jerome Newton in The Man who fell to Earth.  He was so under-weight that the wardrobe department had to buy his clothes in the children’s department of a store.  Yes, the character was really that thin in the Walter Tevis novel that the movie was based on.  But in the book Newton had hollow bones, like a bird, David Bowie, however, is a human being, not an alien.  And Tom Sturridge is a human being, not an anthropomorphic personification.  

When David Bowie played Newton he was on a diet mostly consisting of cocaine...  He could have easily died.  Thankfully Bowie cleaned up later, but he was not in a healthy state when he was in The man who fell to Earth.  We do not need a return of The Thin White Duke.  Not like that.

For a human to reach Morpheus’ comic book weight- that might require very unhealthy behavior, it would potentially be dangerous.  This is something they can adjust with camera tricks and computer effects.  He does not need to look like he’s dying. 

8.   “They should find an actor whose cheekbones stand out.”   See above...

9.    “He doesn’t look anything like Morpheus.”   I am certain you have not seen him in costume yet.  Neil Gaiman has (hypothetically speaking).   Let us trust the author and believe that his character looks the way he intended.    Remember how Henry Cavill went from Superman to The Witcher.

 10.   “I wanted Henry Cavill to play him.”   ... What?   

Have you... have you read Sandman?   Henry Cavill is under contract to do The Witcher.   He needs to stay buff for that role, and you want him to play “rake thin” Morpheus?  Yeah, a lot can be done with CG but Henry is an action hero actor.  He can act.  He’s a good actor.   But this is probably not the right role for Henry Cavill.

11.   “He looks like an American Youtuber.” He’s not either of those things.  Stop judging by appearances.   

12.  “He’s too pretty to play Morpheus.”   Stop judging by appearances.

13.  “He’s not attractive enough to play Morpheus.”  See above... 

14.  “He’s too short to play Morpheus.”  / “I heard he’s only five foot three.” / “I read that he’s just five foot eight.”    According to Google and IMDB he’s 5′10.  That’s the same height David Bowie was.  That’s average adult male height.  If they want him to look taller that’s easily done. Remember, Tom Cruise was The Vampire Lestat.  

It’s just lather, rinse, repeat, when it comes to fans.  Every adaptation the same thing.   “Tom Cruise can’t play Lestat.” (Anne Rice apologized for leading that charge, when she saw him in action).   Or “Michael Keaton is too wholesome to play Batman.”  or even “Ryan Reynolds should never play Deadpool after what he did in Wolverine.”  

People never learn.

Just give Tom Sturridge a chance. The casting isn’t even official yet.   And if he is Morpheus- try and wait to actually see how he plays the role before you decide he’s the worst thing to happen to The Sandman.  A few publicity photos don’t tell you what he is capable of as an actor.   You might be pleasantly surprised. 

[pikapeppa]

Professor Solas/Lavellan: First Impressions

Chap 1 of Inadvisable (professor Solas AU) is posted! In which Nare Lavellan has a chance run-in, literally. 

Beautiful art by Nare’s creator, @elbenherzart​!

~2400 words; read on AO3 instead.

- NARE -

Nare swept her hair into a tidy ponytail, then gave her face one last critical look before stepping out of her bedroom. She tapped lightly on the closed bedroom door across from her own. “Tamaris?” she called. “Are you–”

“I’m coming,” Tamaris grunted. “Give me two fucking minutes.”

Nare smirked at Tamaris’s customary early-morning surliness, then padded quietly down the hall to the living room. Athera was waiting pertly on the couch with a half-finished cup of tea in her hands, and she grinned at Nare as she approached. 

“She’s awake, at least?” Athera asked.

“Awake enough,” Nare said drolly. She sat next to Athera and tucked her legs up on the couch. “Are you nervous about your first day?”

Athera laughed. “Me? Nervous? Of course not! Just a normal first day doing this job for the first time in the only Ancient Elvhen Studies program in the entire country. What’s to be nervous about?”

Nare sympathetically eyed her friend’s bright smile. She didn’t blame Athera for being nervous. Athera had been looking for a research coordinator position for years. Her new job at the University of Orlais was well-earned, in Nare’s opinion, and it was just a stroke of happy fortune that Athera was starting her job at the same time that Nare was starting her Master’s of fine arts with U of O’s prestigious — and infamous — Ancient Elvhen Studies program. 

It was also serendipitous that Tamaris had decided she wanted a change of pace and place, resulting in the three girls splitting the rent on a cozy three-bedroom-plus-studio apartment close to the university.

“Don’t be nervous,” Nare said warmly. “It’s going to be great! By the end of the week, the director will be wondering how they lived without you making the whole lab twice as efficient.”

Athera grimaced and ran a hand through her hair long chestnut hair. “I don’t know. Professor Abelas did not sound that impressed with my lack of experience during the phone interview. I’m still surprised I got the job.”

“He probably thinks he can train you up fresh since you’re so-called ‘inexperienced’,” Nare said knowingly. “He’ll see how good you are in two seconds. I’m sure of it.”

Athera smiled at her. “Aw, you’re sweet. I bet you’re going to impress your new supervisor just as much when you meet with him tomorrow.”

“I hope so,” Nare said. But her belly jolted at the mention of Solas. 

Professor Solas, she reminded herself. Just because she had a crush on her new supervisor’s voice didn’t mean she could start thinking of him in an informal way before they’d even met. 

Oh, but he had such a gorgeous voice. The majority of her communication with Professor Solas had been via email, but the one time they’d spoken on the phone… Fenedhis, Nare couldn’t get it out of her mind. His voice was smooth and mild like a hot vanilla latte, with a curl of an Elvhen accent that made something shiver in her belly in a very visceral way. She was still surprised that she’d managed to keep her calm and sound like a reasonable and intelligent person after hearing Professor Solas’s first few words floating into her ear through the phone. 

And that was just from hearing him talk about the Elvhen art stream of the program and the opportunities for exhibiting her work in the galleries in Val Royeaux. Imagine if he ever spoke to her in that beautiful smooth voice about other, less professional things… 

Stop it, she scolded herself silently. She was being so stupid and horny, developing a crush on a man purely for his voice. Well, not just his voice: he was incredibly intelligent and knowledgeable, and strong-willed to the point of stubborn as well, if his academic position papers were anything to go by. But if Nare was being honest, his intelligence wasn’t the main thing that had been keeping her up at night for the past couple of months since she and Solas had last spoken on the phone. 

It was stupid to be thinking such carnal things about his voice, though. She didn’t even know what he looked like — not for a lack of trying to find out, if she was perfectly honest. She’d searched online for a photo of her soon-to-be supervisor, but he didn’t have a faculty photo anywhere on the U of O website, and a Google search had been shockingly unhelpful, leaving Nare with only a blank slate to imagine along with that knicker-melting voice. 

“Nare, you okay?” Athera said.

Nare jolted slightly, then smiled sheepishly. “Sorry. Just thinking.”

Athera gave her a shrewd look. “Something tells me I’m not the only one who’s nervous.”

“I thought you weren’t nervous,” Nare teased.

Athera grinned, but Tamaris’s grumpy voice interrupted before Athera could reply. “You guys have nothing to be nervous about. You’re going to impress the shit out of everyone. Now let’s go get some coffee already.” She wandered over to the door and started jamming her feet into her scuffed black motorcycle boots. 

Nare exchanged a smirk with Athera, then popped up from the couch. “Good morning, lethallan,” she crooned. 

Athera giggled and hugged Tamaris’s arm. “Good morning,” she sing-songed.

Tamaris groaned. “Fuck off, both of you. I’m only awake this early because I have a client in an hour.” 

“Wait, is it already nine?” Athera said in alarm. She checked her watch, then squeaked. “Oh shoot! Oh shoot, I’m supposed to meet Abelas at the office in fifteen minutes!” She shoved her feet onto a pair of flats and grabbed her bag, then flung open the door. “Bye! Have a good one!” she yelled, and she bolted down the stairs. 

Nare smiled at Tamaris. “Looks like it’s just you and me.”

“Lucky you,” Tamaris drawled. “You get to suffer my morning-gremlin attitude all alone.”

Nare chuckled, and they made their way down the stairs at a more measured pace and wandered toward their favourite café at the end of the block. 

It was a perfect crisp early-September day. The sun was a lovely warm wash of light, and the air was fresh and cool without being cold. The leaves hadn’t started changing colours yet, but the quality of their verdancy was starting to shift from the lush springlike undertones of blue to the more autumn-like undertones of yellow. When Nare pointed this out to Tamaris, Tamaris huffed in amusement.

“That’s such an artist-y thing to say,” she said. 

Nare gave her a chiding look. “You say that like you aren’t an artist yourself.” She pointedly eyed the delicate vallaslin that curled around Tamaris’s left eye — vallaslin that Tamaris had carefully tapped into her own skin, and the same skills which had imbued Nare and Athera with their vallaslin as well.

“I don’t often work with colour, though,” Tamaris said. 

“Isn’t your client this morning for a coloured tattoo?”

“Yeah, but that’s different than painting,” Tamaris pointed out. 

“Your tattoo work is amazing, though,” Nare said.

Tamaris smirked. “Fine. We’re both amazing artists with mind-blowing skills. Are you going to buy my coffee for me because I’m so awesome?”

“I’m the student here,” Nare said with a grin. “You should be buying me coffee.”

Tamaris tsked. “Fine. Just this once though, you leech.” She pulled open the café door and gestured sarcastically for Nare to enter before her.

Nare chuckled and slid into the café. They placed their orders together, then sat at a sunny table to enjoy their coffee and fresh scones — vegan blueberry for Nare, and lemon-glazed for Tamaris. 

Nare took the lid off of her cup and blew on her coffee. “So you’re coming to the start-of-year mixer tonight, right?”

Tamaris slumped in her seat and shoved a hand through her lush midnight curls. “Explain again why you want me to come to this mixer thing. I’m not a student.”

“It doesn’t matter that you’re not a student,” Nare said. In truth, she just wanted to get Tamaris out of the apartment before she started forming roots.

“It kind of does,” Tamaris said flatly. “It’s happening at the campus bar.”

“Lots of non-students go to the campus bar,” Nare pointed out. “It’s a nice bar.”

Tamaris grunted. Nare leaned toward her slightly. “Come on, Tam,” she wheedled. “Come to the mixer. Athera’s coming.”

“She works at the university now,” Tamaris pointed out. “It makes sense for her to go.”

Nare wilted. “What else are you going to do if you stay home?”

Tamaris’s reply was prompt. “I’ll rewatch The Archdemon Rises 3 for the fifth time and paint my nails.”

Nare declined to mention that Tamaris’s eggplant-purple manicure was still intact since she’d last done her nails two days ago. Instead, she widened her eyes pleadingly. “Please come? We’ll make a girls’ night of it. It’ll be fun, I promise.” 

Tamaris eyed her stonily for a moment, then sighed. “Ugh, you and your baby blues. Fine, I’ll come.” 

Nare beamed at her and took a bite of her scone. A leisurely half-hour later, they stepped out of the café.

Tamaris stretched her arms over her head. “All right, I’m headed home,” she said with a yawn. “You sure you don’t want to wait until tomorrow so we can go to that museum exhibit together?”

Nare shook her head. “I want to see it before my meeting with my supervisor tomorrow.”

Tamaris smirked. “Hoping to impress him with your up-to-date knowledge of the local art scene, huh?”

Nare poked her playfully. “Yes, okay? I want to make a good first impression.”

“You’ll be fine,” Tamaris said. “You always make a good first impression.”

Tamaris’s tone was dry, and Nare gazed fondly at her seemingly standoffish friend. “Thanks,” she said sincerely. “I’ll see you later.” 

Tamaris nodded and headed back to the apartment, and Nare turned in the opposite direction toward the modern art museum. She pulled her phone out of her purse and tapped open her browser to check the price of tickets for the special neo-Avvar exhibit; she was fairly sure she’d get a discounted admission with her student ID, but some of the museum’s special exhibits were even free for students, and Nare couldn’t remember if— 

She suddenly slammed right into someone. 

She stumbled back, then squeaked in alarm as she tripped over an uneven crack in the sidewalk. Her phone dropped from her fingers, and she grabbed for it even as she tried to find her footing, oh no oh shit she was going to fall down–

A strong pair of hands grabbed her arms, and Nare gasped as she regained her balance. “Shit,” she blurted. “I’m so sorry, I – my phone, I was distracted…”

“The fault is mine. I apologize.” 

A heated ripple of recognition spilled down her spine. That voice. She knew that voice. She’d been replaying that voice in her head for months and wondering what the person who owned that voice looked like: how tall he was, how big his hands were, what his lips looked like shaped around the liquids vowels of that divine Arlathani accent… 

Lightheaded with disbelief, her heart in her throat, Nare lifted her eyes to his face.

Her breath left her in a punch of shock. Gorgeous. He was gorgeous. An impeccably shaven head, a mere hint of crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes which put him somewhere in his late 30s or early 40s, lush lips with a perfect cupid’s bow, a delicate divot in his chin and a jawline sharp enough to cut, and his eyes… 

His eyes were perfectly lucid, a perfect quixotic blend of light grey and pale blue that Nare couldn’t quite name, and they were so warm. His eyebrows were creased with a hint of concern, and when the crease in his brow deepened, she realized that she was staring.

“Are you all right?” Professor Solas said. 

She opened her mouth, but no words came out. Which was a good thing, because the only words Nare could think were you are fucking hot.

She nodded dumbly. A tiny hint of a smile curled the left corner of his lips, and he released her arms. “I apologize for the collision,” he said, and he crouched down to pick up his book and her phone. “I should know better than to read and walk at the same time.” 

Nare watched stupidly as he rose to his full height. Fenedhis, he was tall.

He held out her phone, and Nare carefully studied his face. There was no recognition there. There was warmth in his handsome face, but no recognition. He didn’t know who she was. 

Not that she would necessarily expect him to, since he was a professional and an intellectual, and professional intellectuals probably didn’t online-stalk their new grad students to find out what they looked like. 

She took her phone with trembling fingers and swallowed hard. “Thank you,” she whispered. 

“You’re welcome,” he said. “You are not hurt, I hope?” 

Ugh, he was so good-looking. Why did her supervisor have to be her exact ideal physical type?

She dropped his gaze and tucked a stray strand of hair over her ear. “I — no. I’m fine,” she said in a tiny voice. 

“Good,” he said. “And again, I apologize for the collision.” 

She shrugged and tried to nod at the same time, then wanted to smack herself for being so fucking awkward.

“Take care,” he said. A moment later, he was walking away from her. 

She finally dragged in a breath and watched greedily as Professor Solas walked away. For someone who had such a mild voice and such kind eyes, his gait was certainly confident. 

Confident and sexy. 

Nare blew out a breath and forced herself to turn away. She was shaking. Why was she shaking? Why was her heart beating so hard, not just in her chest but in her entire body? 

Why was her mind completely taken over by the thought of Professor Solas stretching her naked body out on a desk, those warm grey-blue eyes scanning her from head to toe before he taught her all kinds of torrid lessons that she would never forget? 

Fuck, she thought desperately. I am in so much trouble.

[inkribbon796]

Shutdown Ch. 3

Chapter 3: Damage Control

Summary: Logan finally finds Nate and things continue to escalate.

Chapter: 1, 2, 3

Nate was talking with a couple of Legionnaire hunters in some bar when he got a text from both Bing and Marvin that Logan was heading his way, and that he was acting weird.

Problem number one: he preferred not to be seen with the other hunters around the Coalition. Especially since the hunters didn’t like how “permissive” Nate was about them keeping demons under their roof. The singer took great joy in telling them to take their heads out of their asses and not to attack people. And that he was not going to help them until they stopped.

Problem number two: he very possibly more than a little bit drunk.

“Hey Nate, you might want to watch out. Logan’s upset.” It was from Bing.

“In fine,” Nate struggled to text.

That was when Marvin rushed in, he took one look at the hunters and said, “Get outta here, Google’s coming an’ he’ll kill yah guys if he sees yeh, come on Nate.”[1]

“Come on, let’s wait for Lo,” Nate told him, before the singer called over to the bartender. “Hey Greg, can I get a gin and tonic for my friend, he’s coming in.”

“Nope, nope,” Marvin said and after a couple minutes was able to pull Nate out of the bar. The hunters didn’t leave but they hung around the area.

“Come on Nate, help me out a little” Marvin muttered. Silver flying overhead with Henrik, Patton, and a couple of bags.

“I haven’t had drinks with Logan in ages, I’ve been out of town doing fuck all,” Nate complained.

“Yeah, whose fault is that?” Marvin retorted as he dragged him out.

“It’s freezing out here,” Nate complained. Mare was getting antsy, clearly better able to read the room — so to speak — than his inebriated host.

“Sharp!” Logan called as he walked over, still in his uniform, Roman hot on his heels. Google kept his distance as Bing and Jackie were braced for trouble.

“Ahhh, hey Lo,” Nate smiled, even after Logan walked over and ripped the singer out of Marvin’s hands and slammed him against the brick wall of the bar.

“What the fook[2]!” Marvin spat in surprise. Logan wasn’t violent. Logan at least tried to communicate.

“Where is it?” Logan demanded.

“Hmm, what?” Nate slurred. He was tired, and maybe he was a little more drunk than he thought he was.

Logan’s hands got a little close to Nate’s throat. “My camera, what did you do with it?”

“You said it was fine,” Nate reminded.

“You stole from me!” Logan spat in a rage. “Give it back.”

“Logic,” Silver warned, putting a hand on the Side’s shoulder. “Let’s go back to the base and talk this over.”

“So he can steal from me again?” Logan spat and shoved into Silver with much more force than the other hero expected. He could have easily withstood the shove and not moved but he wasn’t expecting it.

Mare was finally fed up with the situation and easily pushed himself into control of the body, surging out of the necklace and grabbing onto Logan’s wrist with a false light grip. “Hey hero, let’s not make a scene in front of people.”

The Side looked back at Mare and Nate, dark lines coming down from Mare’s eyes. The arm of the suit briefly vibrated for a second before Mare felt electricity coursing through the body. He quickly kicked Logan away before he could do damage the demon couldn’t block.

“All this for a fucking splitter?” Mare shouted. “Thought you were the smart one.”

“I don’t care what you two want it for,” Logan proclaimed, “he stole it from me and everyone is insisting I keep waiting until he gives it back.”

“Come on Nate,” Mare decided, “time to sober up. I think it’s time you got a nightcap, buddy.”

“I just don’t understand why I am forced to sit idly by while things are taken from me,” Logan spat.

“Yeah well Nate’s drunk, so you’ll have to wait until he’s sober again,” Mare told him.

Logan went quiet for a second before something that looked like brass knuckles shot out of his suit and Mare didn’t like the look of them. He knew Logic wasn’t a brawler, so there was no way he was just planning on beating the shit out of Nate and taking the camera off his broken body.

“Okay, alright,” Mare began sliding along the wall, trying to put distance between Nate and Logan, “I’m still using this body, just don’t hit the face. I need it.”

“You demons and your face fixation is a little unnerving,” Roman commented.

“You’d be surprised what you can get away with if you have a nice face,” Mare defended. “If I wanted absolute power I could get that just about anywhere.”

Logan went to hit Nate’s chest, clearly just trying to get into contact with him rather than go for a quick knockout.

“Hey!” Mare yelled.

“Bing, get the can opener,” Silver ordered.

Bing was quick to move it and between Silver holding him down and Bing working with the nanites they got the suit fully turned off.

Logan stopped talking and fighting, just quietly laying there, Mare released Nate who looked a bit more sober and hungover than before and he rubbed at his eyes as Henrik began trying to find what was wrong.

“He said he was fine with me holding onto it,” Nate grumbled, keeping his eyes on the bar. None of the other Legionnaires had come out of help or confront him about Mare.

“I guess he wasn’t,” Roman commented.

“You okay?” Patton asked Nate.

“My head feels like sandpaper and my mouth feels like ass,” Nate grumbled. “I’ll be fine.”

Henrik directed Silver to take Logan to the hospital since he: A— wasn’t breathing; B— didn’t have a heartbeat; and C— was cold to the touch.

Mare quickly took back control of Nate’s body and just ran off into the night before anyone could stop him, and Google stayed following from a distance. He didn’t go into the hospital but he was very clearly watching from a distance for a while before leaving to take his notes and test back to his workshop.

Virgil raced into the hospital, since he’d been called by Patton about what was going on. He proceeded to freak out and have a mental breakdown.

At this moment several things were missed. A swath of freckles covered by a mask. The fact that Virgil’s eyeshadow was always dark and did weird things sometimes. And since people tend not to look down when directed, there was a black stain on the hem of Roman’s normally perfectly white coat.

Logan was admitted to a room for treatment where the doctors stated that he was still pumping blood and his heartbeat had returned, but he wasn’t breathing so he was going to be kept for tests.

After everyone had called asleep, Janus slipped in, disguised as a nurse. He’d been watching for a couple hours, waiting for his moment to move in.

Janus sighed as he walked in, looking at all the Sides. More importantly he looked at the new additions on the Sides. The freckles, the deep black eyeshadow, the black tinge on a coat, and most damning of all Logan laying there in the middle, not breathing.

A deeper sigh came from his chest. “Oh Logan, what have you done?”

From his caplet he pulled a spell book, and flipped it open to a page before he started chanting a spell. He made sure to do so quietly so that none of the Light Sides would wake up. His aura lit up into a magical circle around the Light Sides.

Once Janus stopped speaking, Logan drew in a breath and everything finally went back to normal. Patton’s face had his normal late winter pallor. Roman’s coat was its normal color. Virgil’s eyeshadow looked slightly lighter.

Janus let out a sigh of relief, using his nurse illusion again but promising, “Don’t worry, I won’t let this happen again.”

Carefully the deceitful protective Side left the room and the hospital was left none the wiser.

After the warehouse the silent sniper had followed Google outside the bar until the other heroes had swarmed around Logic. The accidental victim had seemed fine, a little more aggressive than he was usually reported as being. But then there was all this talk about a lack of a heartbeat, and Nate had clearly been possessed and slipped off into the night without waiting to talk to anyone.

Or more likely the demon suspected it would be forcibly placed back into containment.

It wasn’t until the coast was clear that the hunter got into a car and drove just outside of Gainesville city limits while they could still reach the location. It looked like a simple storefront if not for the plain clothes agents inside.

The hunter flashed a quick ID badge and the guards let the hunter in, barely offering a comment as they headed down the stairs to a room where there were four people talking. Three men in suits, and a woman wearing a cloak with rune tattoos going up and down her arms.

The hunter threw the crossbow down in front of the woman, “You gave me the wrong spell.”

“Excuse me,” one of the men in suits barked angrily. “We are having a discussion, if you could wait until we’re done.”

“No, they were sent to get Google, I want to hear how it went,” one of the other men in suits commented, he was in front of a laptop working on something.

“Fine,” the first spat. “I can already see it didn’t work.”

“Calm down,” the woman told him. “What happened?”

“I had the robot in my sights but the arrow hit the hero instead,” Taylor told her. “He saw me, I was told he was a null. I shouldn’t have even been able to hit him by accident.”

“You’re positive that it was one of the null heroes?” She asked.

“Director,” one of the agents walked in with a new folder and handed it to the more frustrated suited man before he handed it to the man who was in front of the computer.

“This thing should be decommissioned and ripped apart,” he commented, Wezel remembering how Google had almost killed him in his own office. “At least the other one doesn’t try to rip your nuts off.”

“I’m not losing all the resources we dumped into it, I want this thing back,” the Director reminded. “If I have to get them back as scrap, I’ll take it.”

“Fine,” Wezel snapped. “Would help if you all used the stuff I made.”

“We did,” Taylor snapped. “It targeted someone else.”

“That’s impossible,” Wezel insisted. “It wasn’t designed to work on people.”

“Well that obviously doesn’t seem like the case,” the third man in a suit commented. His suit was an off beige and his tie was a blood red color. His smile was as sharp as broken glass.

The Actor’s placement was off but he fit like a puzzle piece, forced into place and his aura dampened to look human.

“I don’t care what it seems like, you can’t give someone a computer virus,” Wezel snapped.

“I think maybe you can,” the Actor smiled confidently.

“No, you can’t,” Wezel pulled a file out of the stack and slid it over to the Actor. “Here, take it and just go already.”

The Actor stood up, flipping through it, “Screw this robot hunt, Dames is mayor again.”

“We have more important things to worry about than a corrupt politician,” the Director reminded firmly. “But if you want to deal with it, be my guest.”

“Nice, ah-score,” the Actor smiled and kept flipping through the folder until he found a set of pictures stapled onto the folder to keep them from falling out.

They were different pictures of Dark’s Lost Ones, the Actor ignored all the others to the side and ripped Illinois’s picture out.

“You sure this kid is Wil’s?” The Actor chuckled. “Looks a bit too good looking to come from that sleaze ball.”

“Who cares at this point?” Taylor commented. “They’re all spawnlings by now.”

“Well I lost something a couple years back, looks like Dames found him for me,” Marc smiled, taking the picture as he stood up. “You need me for anything else, Director?”

“No,” the Director scoffed. “As far as I’m concerned, you and these other magic freaks can all get lost.”

“Alright, see you all around then,” the Actor just walked out, whistling to himself as he left, a slight skip in his step.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Accessibility Translations

1. Get out of here, Google’s coming and he’ll kill you guys if he sees you, come on Nate.

2. fuck

[13atoms]

Deep Focus: Chapter 3 [Tom Hiddleston x Reader]

Summary: Tom is a successful porn director with a romantic streak which proves very popular with his female audience. His resident porn actress and business partner has been with him through thick and thin, the two of them growing completely inseparable, even as her own career starts taking off. But working in such close proximity is intense, and burgeoning feelings threaten to complicate their professional relationship.

Mature, smut, porn director!AU, ethical porn production discussion, porn-star-and-coworker!reader. Friends to lovers, slow-ish burn. This chapter: no smut, light hurt / comfort, all fluff. Warnings for usual stuff + UTI talk [6k] Ao3 link

You woke up in agony. With an ache through your entire lower body, and that distinctive, painful need to piss that made you want to cry. After a few dazed moments in the bathroom, you realised what was wrong, and bit back tears as at the overwhelming sensation cramping through your entire lower body.

Before you’d even googled the symptoms, you knew Urinary Tract Infection would be at the top of your screen. Next to it, a new message from Tom, asking some question about a file he couldn’t find.

Fuck off, you wanted to send back, crawling back to bed and struggling to focus on the words as the burning sensation refused to subside. Another message followed it:

Tom: Actually no rush, we can go over it in the office.

A few more seconds, and he’d sent:

Tom: Does 12 still work

Tom: I’ll bring snacks :)

That stupid smiley face. He still couldn’t work out emojis. Usually it would endear him to you, but instead it brought tears to your eyes, your duvet both a comfort and unbearably stifling as you wrapped yourself around it, desperately shifting your hips to find a position which might numb the burning pain from that fucking UTI.

You were hungry, shaky, and you knew if you wanted painkillers you’d have to get food. But it was so far away. And the thought of cooking food made you want to throw up. Or scream into the pillow.

Your phone buzzed again.

Tom: ?

It wasn’t his fault. You knew it wasn’t his fault. Even if he had written the script and directed the scene and then trapped you into a heartwarming conversation which had definitely given bacteria the chance to destroy your urethra and bladder after hours of being fucked and fingered and you were going to kill him if he sent one more fucking text.

Grumpy and in pain and curled up in bed, it felt exhausting to even compose a short text which was polite enough to not hurt his feelings.

Sorry, don’t think I can make it in. Need a sick day.

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath, and considering just sucking it up and going in to the office. Maybe if you could grin and bear it, it might take your mind off things. Then you needed to piss again, pain pulsing in your entire lower abdomen, and you cursed the day you ever took the damn job. As you limped to and back from the bathroom, grabbing a huge glass of water on the way, the insistent buzz of your phone interrupted your pity party.

Of course it was Tom calling you.

You thought about not picking up, but you knew he’d only worry more. And some small part of you wanted the sympathy, as you forced yourself to chug water you knew would burn on the way out and lamented the bloated pain in your bladder.

“Hey, Tom.”

A second after you picked up, he was already in a full blown speech.

“Hey! Are you okay? What’s going on? You should have said you weren’t feeling well yesterday, we didn’t need to shoot. It’s – ”

He trailed off, and you smiled at the sound of his huff down the phone, his frustration at himself as he realised he wasn’t giving you space to talk. Even as the pain in your lower stomach demanded your attention, you caught yourself smiling.

“I’m fine, just feeling a bit worse for wear.”

For a beat he was silent, but you could imagine the furrow in his brow, the way his eyes would soften with concern if you could see his face.

“What’s really wrong?”

His voice was so soft, laced with that rare kind of sincerity that left you feeling like he truly, truly cared, and suddenly you realised you were crying. Stumbling over your words, face screwed up from discomfort, you knew you should be mortified to be sobbing down the phone to him. But Tom wouldn’t care.

“I’ve got a UTI, and it really fucking hurts. I should have peed straight after the shoot yesterday but I forgot and I don’t think I can get out of bed. I’m really sorry, I’ll – I’ll make up on the work. Email me what I need to do I just… I can’t do it today,” you choked out.

On the other end of the phone, you could hear Tom was moving.

“Oh, darling. Don’t even think about the work. You don’t need to apologise. I’m… what do I need to do? I’m on my way over.”

You wouldn’t expect anything less, the unguarded concern and tinge of panic in his voice catching you off-guard with how sweet it was. He was really worried. The conversation from yesterday loomed large in your memory – was he just worried about losing his biggest talent? You knew that wasn’t true, cursing yourself as soon as the thought flitted through your mind. He really cared.

Background noise leaked through the call as he put his phone on speaker, the jangle of keys and the sound of doors slamming telling you he was getting ready to leave.

“Tom, it’s fine. Please. I don’t need you to look after me,” you protested, “just the day off is great.”

He said your name lowly, almost a whine, and you knew he wouldn’t be discouraged whatever you said.

“I’m fine…” you returned, equally stubborn. You expected him to laugh, but instead the phone was returned to his ear, his voice clear as glass, with all of his decisive firmness.

“You said you couldn’t get out of bed. I’m coming over.”

It was enough to forget the discomfort you felt, your heart clenching at his protectiveness. You could keep fighting him – some part of you didn’t want him seeing you sick – but in truth it sounded really nice to be looked after. You curled up tighter in your bed, the screen of the phone cooling against your overheated cheek.

“So I’ll ask again,” he continued, “is there anything I can do to help?”

“Could you grab some cranberry juice on the way over? And maybe some junk food?”

“Of course. You should have just asked.”

“Thank you.”

Your voice sounded impossibly small, some admission of weakness, but Tom didn’t acknowledge it. He chatted for a bit longer, the sounds of the city playing in snatches alongside his baritone as he walked through the streets, blathering and giving you advice and smothering you with sympathy as he rushed over. It made you smile as you just listened, distracted a little from the pain and pressure in your bladder, as he offered completely vague and generic advice about looking after yourself.

It was nice. To have someone care for you that much. He was completely forgiven for his hand in causing you all that pain to start with.

“Are you sure you shouldn’t go to a doctor?”

You heard him stop walking, no longer distracted from his worry as it leeched into his voice. You could imagine the little row of shops he was standing outside of, the faded shopfronts he was staring down.

“I’ll be fine, Tom.”

“There’s a pharmacy on the way –”

“No!” you laughed, imaging his frustration as it was accompanied by the beeping of traffic lights.

He only hung up as he entered a shop, promising he wasn’t too far away, and as the line went dead you realised you’d been smiling for the past five minutes.

*

When Tom arrived you were just leaving the bathroom, rushing to the door and drying your hands on your sweatpants, fighting to stand normally even as a fresh burning pain demanded your attention.

He was juggling bags as you let him in, one in his arms and a backpack weighing him down.

“Hey!” he greeted, bustling past you to the kitchen, leaving you to close the door behind him.

You privately liked it when he was like this – on a warpath. It happened on set quite a lot, everything else forgotten as he found a goal and the blinders went on. You were usually there to balance him out – to remember to talk to people and do the boring stuff.

His current warpath was rummaging through your cupboards, muttering about all the things you needed to be given to feel better. He turned to face you slightly out of breath, a completely over reactionary panic in his eyes.

“I got you breakfast too, I wasn’t sure if you’d eaten.”

As he set his backpack down on your kitchen counter, unpacking pastries and painkillers and snacks, you wondered what you had done to deserve Tom. Without thinking, ignoring the fact you were just wearing sweats and probably needed a shower, you hugged him. Pulling you closer to him without hesitation, you felt Tom smile against you.

You blamed the pain, the hunger, the stupid bacteria, for the tears pooling in your eyes.

“Thank you,” you murmured into the hug.

Tom squeezed you just a little bit tighter, one hand tensing where it splayed flat against your shoulder blade. He refused to let you go first.

“Of course,” he murmured back.

Finally you stepped back, ducking you head to avoid his eyeline, turning your attention to the stuff he’d brought. Tom seemed to take a second to snap out of his daze, his overwhelming energy momentarily sapped, allowing the moment to fade away.

As he started to unpack the bag, you realised just how overboard he had gone. Every brand of cranberry juice you could imagine. You got a narrative of everything he bought as he stacked it in front of you, batting your hands if you tried to help.

“I know you said not to, but I spoke to a pharmacist on the way over. He said you don’t need to see a doctor unless it’s bad for another three days, then they might give you antibiotics. I got you paracetamol too – he said that was best.”

Two boxes of pills emerged from the bag, followed by chocolate.

“Since you feel rough,” he explained sheepishly, before pulling out more pills, “and I also got Vitamin C tablets. Those are supposed to help. Snacks for lunch…”

He’d practically bought you the whole corner shop, and you bit back a fond smile as he filled the fridge.

“…and cranberry juice. As requested.”

You were about to thank him, the words trapped in your mouth at just how overboard he had gone, but Tom was already speaking again.

“I know he said just to give you painkillers, but if it gets worse I will take you to see a doctor. Your kidneys might be at risk if it doesn’t clear up soon –”

You sat down heavily in the kitchen, pulling your legs closer to yourself as the pain spiked for a moment, making Tom twist to face you in concern. It fucking hurt, but you wouldn’t let him see that. With a huff of laughter, you tugged at his arm to sit beside you.

“Tom! You are mothering me to death,” you teased, feeling your cheeks burn hot at his attention.

“I’m hopefully mothering you to make you feel better, darling.”

Damn him, for being so sweet. You felt yourself blush under the attention.

“Just because you need me to find that file!” you shot back, trying not to stare at the way his teeth worried his bottom lip.

His eyes met yours intensely, purposefully, and for a second you remembered his uncanny ability to be so sincere it felt like he was staring right through you.

“It’s not just work. I care about you,” he told you candidly. You almost couldn’t bear to listen to it. “I was so worried when you said you were sick. I hoped you were just hungover or something.”

Snorting a laugh, you tried to break the heaviness of the atmosphere. It sounded horrifically unnatural. Tom didn’t even crack a smile.

“There’s a reason we start at 12 most days,” you teased, before sensing you’d somehow gotten the mood entirely wrong. Tom stayed quiet.

“Thank you,” you tried again, voice more sincere as you tried to match him, wincing as you shifted your hips, “I do really appreciate it. So much. I was just going to lie in bed and be miserable, and this is actually making me feel better.”

You’re making me feel better. The thought went unsaid.

“I’m glad.”

The pair of you ate in silence for a while, Tom working on an orange as you munched through the breakfast he’d brought you. Every few bites, you caught his concerned gaze on you.

“You should have told me straight away. And we’ll get you the week off work.”

You went to protest, but he’d strategically spoken as you had a mouth full of food. He ploughed on.

“No arguments. We can reschedule the shoot on Thursday, or hire someone else.”

“Tom, no. I’ll be fine once I’ve down the… three cartons of cranberry juice you bought. How much do I owe you, by the way?”

“Not a penny.”

“Tom!”

He ignored your complaints, silently moving to stand instead. As Tom searched for a glass, opening random cupboards, you picked a carton to chug cranberry juice from with all the grace of a frat boy. Tom laughed at first, before resting on hand on your arm as you forced yourself to drink as much as you could.

“You’ll make yourself sick!” he protested, and you finally conceded defeat and put down the remaining half of the carton.

“Better than this UTI,” you grumbled, “cranberry juice usually clears them pretty quick.”

He left you to it for a while as you forced down the sickly sweet cranberry juice (not your favourite brand, you decided, but it would do) and finished your breakfast.

Assuming he was responding to emails you sat quietly, letting him focus while you enjoyed the food, until you caught the banner of WebMD at the top of his screen. You sighed, and Tom’s focus was on you in a second, worry in the lines of his forehead.

“Is it bad?” he asked quietly, glancing down at the hand firmly place on your lower stomach.

“It’s not ideal,” you conceded.

He bit his lip, and you knew he was sinking further into a pit of worry.

“People have them all the time. Stop reading that, I’ll be okay!”

“I just get scared. Whenever I see what you go through at work, I – ”

“You make it sound like I’m suffering some terrible fate, Tom. It’s my job, and I have to do it. This could have happened from anything.”

You cut yourself off before you could accuse him of overreacting. He was sincerely worried. You didn’t want to mock that.

“You could get a hot water bottle, if you don’t mind?” you suggested, “That helps sometimes.”

He was on his feet before you finished speaking, rummaging through cupboards and flicking the kettle on. It seemed like a good solution, to give him a task. You chewed your last bite of croissant slowly as you watched him.

Sweet, sweet Tom. It was dangerous to admit, but you had no idea what you would do if he wasn’t in your life. You watched the line of his slim build as he strode around your kitchen, filling the hot water bottle and testing the heat of it against his hand before he guided you to stand.

“Come and sit on the sofa, love.”

One hand outstretched, a fluffy water bottle grasped against his side, curls dishevelled, you were taken aback yet again by just how rare Tom was. You often wondered if he had some secret partner you’d never heard about, some situationship or wife or something he kept hidden from you.

It just didn’t seem possible a man like this could go home to an empty house. Your heart ached for him, sometimes. His loneliness, as he fought to climb the ladder in such a harsh industry with that ridiculously soft heart of his.

Then he was calling your name, stepping closer with concern on his face, reaching for your jaw as you stood dazed.

“Sweetheart?”

“Sorry,” you blinked, trying to snap out it, stumbling forwards a little as you tried to reassure him you were fine.

One hand still rested awkwardly on your aching lower stomach, and Tom was shoving the hot water bottle beneath it, arms ready to brace you if you fell. Fuck. Embarrassment overtook your senses, tears starting to well in your eyes, as you realised just how shit you felt.

Tom was muttering about sitting down, guiding you as if you couldn’t navigate to your own sofa without help, a helpless concern on his face which was making your heart ache with guilt.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered again as he helped you sit, suddenly overwhelmed by the need to pee, by a fresh pain in your stomach. By Tom’s hands on you, the smell of his cologne and the concerned crinkle of his forehead as he knelt on the ground in front of you.

Leaning forwards, you tried to be subtle as you shoved the hot water bottle tighter against your lap and grit your teeth against the fresh wave of discomfort. Those painkillers had better kick in soon. With your eyes clenched shut you didn’t have to see Tom’s concern, didn’t have to imagine yourself weak and useless in his eyes. Even so, your embarrassment about him witnessing you like this was potent. You hardly felt like you were in your own body, confused and clumsy. You realised you were still gripping Tom’s hand, probably hurting his fingers as you squeezed involuntarily from the pain.

You let go suddenly, gasping as you remembered to breathe, hand covering your own eyes instead.

He was watching silently, and it unnerved you more than his rambling. Under the mask of your fingers you opened your eyes, seeing the fold of his knees against the floor and the wringing of his hands in his lap.

All you could hear was your breathing and his, slow and fast respectively.

Fuck, you needed to piss again. Damn cranberry juice. The knowledge that it would flush your system was all the comfort you could grasp as the uncomfortable pressure in your bladder became abruptly unbearable and the pain seemed to swell further, somehow.

You thought for a moment, your brain ticking along painfully slowly with exhaustion and pain, enjoying the darkness of your eyes screwed closed beneath your palm.

Ignore Tom. Stand up. Get to the bathroom. Pee.

In your confusion-addled brain, it felt like enough of a plan. The discomfort was so potent, it was hard to string thoughts together. After a few seconds of bracing yourself, it felt like every muscle in your body strained to stand back up again, resting a hand on the couch for balance as you swayed for a second, blinking against the sudden brightness bombarding your opened eyes. Tom was asking you what you were doing, but you ignored him. You felt drunk, nauseous, staggering and eyes still welling with tears at the sheer agony of straightening up to walk the few steps to the bathroom.

You could ignore Tom, this fresh well of misery making his words seem miles away, but as you finally got close the bathroom door his hands on your hips halted you in place.

He forced you to look at him, eyes struggling to focus on his features, the deep frown on his face deepening as he saw the tear tracking down your cheek.

“What are you doing?” he asked purposefully, overenunciating the words like he was speaking to a stubborn child, hands grounding you as he held you still.

“Bathroom.”

The words seemed like someone else’s, taking an impossible amount of effort, shaky as they fell from your lips. You realised you were fully crying, and some distant, rational part of you felt a stab of mortification.

“Okay,” Tom nodded in understanding, still using that slow, controlled tone.

He didn’t seem to have anything else to comment, guiding you to the bathroom door and opening it, letting you walk inside before holding it open by the handle.

You frowned, struggling to find the words to complain to him, desperate to pee and try to end the pain in your sensitive bladder. Tom’s face was still creased with concern, a fresh tinge of quiet authority in the set of his jaw.

“Please don’t lock the door,” he insisted, and you frowned. “I won’t… I won’t open it. I promise. But please don’t lock it. Just in case.”

You nodded mutely, unhappy, but not quite having the presence of mind to argue. Tom closed the door, and you sighed, accepting his deal as you nervously sat to pee, eyes fixed on the handle. He was probably pacing outside, and you tried not to think about how embarrassing this all was as you let your face fall to your hands, trying to scrub away the tears which had begun to itch on your cheeks.

It burned, and you exhaled shakily. You reached to turn on a tap, and hoped Tom couldn’t hear.

Fuck this. Fuck this.

The fogginess of reality was cut through sharply by pain, and the all-consuming ache which seemed to suddenly rage through your entire pelvis, your worry about the unlocked door only adding to the sheer misery this day seemed to have planned for you.

“All okay?” Tom called through the door, shocking you with the reminder of just how close he was.

With a wince you cleared your throat, trying to hide the weakness of your voice as you prepared to reply before he got any big ideas about bursting through that fucking door.

“All good!”

“Good.”

His reply was awkward, too loud and too curt, and you wondered what he was thinking. If he was lamenting some other plans for his day. You heard his footsteps retreat, and turned off the running tap.

The pain in your abdomen had lessened now, the burn finally subsiding, and after a few moments staring into space your head started to clear. A few more litres of cranberry juice, and hopefully it’d be all better.

You always forgot the kind of despair that acute kind of illness seemed to bring, the pain and the weakness. Blinking away the confusion, you washed your hands and face. Tried to fix your hair a little. Brushed your teeth. All those little things fixed, and you started to feel better.

It took you a few more minutes, and one more check-in from Tom, for you to emerge. The kitchen had been cleaned up, the hot water bottle ready to be refilled, and Tom was sat uncomfortably on the sofa – it was obvious he’d just sat down as he heard you approaching.

He jumped to his feet again, not quite sure what to do with his arms, and you wished you knew what was going on behind those widened blue eyes. You should ask, you knew he’d tell you everything straight away.

Tom was never insincere.

The movement of his lips suggested he was trying to word a question, and failing. You put him out of his misery.

“I’m feeling a lot better.”

“I’m glad. That’s good.”

He didn’t believe you, and you could see it. You folded yourself onto the couch, and he moved to refill the hot water bottle. Handing it to you wordlessly he hovered nearby, until you shuffled to indicate he could sit beside you.

It was awkward. Things were never awkward with Tom. His weight beside yours dragged the two of you together, even gravity willing you to reconcile from this strange shift in the atmosphere. You resisted, shuffling a little so you could sit up without touching him, one arm on the sofa as you faced him.

“Sorry for zoning out on you there, I don’t know what happened. I wasn’t trying to be rude.”

His face broke into a quiet relief, and it broke your heart a little.

“You weren’t! I didn’t think you were being rude. You just scared me. I was worried.”

Smiling tightly, you hugged the hot water bottle closer to your torso, enjoying the comfort as much as the pain relief from the warmth. The storm of concern on his face lifted a little as he watched, hearing your quiet, unspoken thank you.

“What have you got planned for the rest of your day?” you asked softly, diverting the conversation.

Tom knew what you were doing, and you saw him bite down a laugh.

“Just looking after this stubborn woman, and not leaving her house until she feels better.”

The mocking was light, undercut by the open fondness in his eyes, and you found yourself warmed by it.

“She sounds like a pain in the arse,” you teased.

“She’s really not. Only when she pretends to be fine when she’s not.”

“Sorry.”

His face dropped, immediately reaching for your hand, and he scrambled to backtrack. You were a horrified as tears sprung to your eyes again, trying to blink them away.

“You know I wasn’t serious. I just worry, I’m sorry.”

He was still reaching for you, one hand on yours and the other gently brushing away your fresh tears, his face close to yours as you shuddered out breaths and tried to form words.

“No, you say anything wrong, I think I’m just feeling a bit…”

“Down?” Tom offered.

“Fragile.”

“Oh, sweetheart.”

You weren’t sure if he opened his arms first, or if you reached for him first. But you were against his chest in a second, head on his shoulder and his arm around you, the hot water bottle displaced as it warmed both of your hips where they were pressed together.

There was comfort in the beating of his heart, in the smell of him and the cologne he’d put on hours ago, in the strength of his arms as they held you to him for the second time that day.

You apologised again against the fabric of his shirt, and he shushed your words.

“You must feel dreadful, love. You’d be well within your rights to tell me to go fuck myself. I think you were very polite, all things considered. Ignoring me was very considerate.”

When he felt you laugh against his chest you could hear Tom’s heart speed up, the rumble of his own chuckle, and you knew the two of you were fine again.

You’d always be fine. The two of you were close like that.

“I’ll remember that for next time,” you teased.

“There won’t be a next time.”

A sombre promise that you’d never get another urinary tract infection was crazy, it didn’t make sense. He was taking far too much accountability, as usual. But you let yourself sink into his confidence, into his comfort. You let yourself believe him.

“You’re so good to me.”

He didn’t say anything, just shuffled you to relax down on the couch, keeping you against him but twisting you. One hand found the hot water bottle and pressed it against your abdomen again, and even when you reached to take it, his hand just stayed there.

It took a few seconds to process that he was spooning you, the solidness of his chest against your back and one hand over your stomach. He was everywhere, against your whole body, warm and smelling amazing, his breath against your neck and his weight pulling you closer to him on the soft cushions.

You wondered if he felt it too. That strange, desperate need to be closer even as you were pressed together. Like you wanted your soul to merge with his, your skin itself to melt together with his.

Maybe you could blame the infection-induced madness for that feeling too.

The pain in your abdomen was barely there anymore, your bladder feeling less raw, the ache no longer acid-sharp. But you knew that was because of him. Because of the warmth and the distraction and his comfort, these stupid endorphins coursing through your veins, and his sweetness in bringing you medicine and sustenance and three fucking cartons of cranberry juice.

“You okay?” he mumbled against your neck.

For a second you couldn’t think of anything except a flash of irrational jealousy. The mere thought he’d held other people like this. That there were nights he might have come home from you and whispered against someone else’s neck, raised goosebumps on their skin, warmed their body.

You had to stop yourself from gasping, wondering where the hell that had come from, a strange brand of anger still burning hot in your chest. You were starting to sweat, from his body heat and the hot water bottle and the infection. Maybe a bit from jealousy.

If Tom noticed, he wasn’t disgusted. He stayed right there. While Tom babied you, you were happy to engage in moping around for a bit.

“They don’t warn you about this bit,” you whispered, “when you sign up to do this shit.”

“This shouldn’t happen,” he consoled, “I thought the studio was better than that. We’ll tighten protocols. I’ll see what we can do to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

You knew he couldn’t see your smile, and you hoped he couldn’t sense the tightness in your chest at this ridiculous seriousness. A worry for your health that surpassed your own concern.

Was that what love was? You hadn’t really thought about it before.

“Risk of the job,” you dismissed.

He grumbled into your hair, his breath ghosting over your neck. You wondered if his eyes were closed. As he minutes passed his head relaxed a little, the position melting, your bodies wax under that quiet, smouldering flame which you shared.

You closed your eyes, focusing on Tom’s steady breaths lulling you to sleep.

*

He was still there when you woke up, a heavy arm over your waist, his hand replacing the fluffy hot water bottle which had fallen to the ground. You could feel the five points of his fingertips on your thin shirt.

You weren’t sure if he was awake, his breathing quiet and even, chest moving against your back even as the two of you had fidgeted in sleep. It was delicious, warm, but your bladder was screaming at you. You realised you probably should have drunk more before napping, that burning sensation returning, and sighed as you started to disentangle yourself from Tom without disturbing him.

He must have been asleep, mumbling in confusion as your form was replaced with cool air against his chest, rolling over and opening his eyes sleepily.

It was early afternoon, the room bathed in light, and he squinted as he murmured your name. His voice was deepened and slurred by his nap, and you tried to soothe him back to sleep as you retreated to the bathroom.

“Go back to sleep, it’s fine.”

He was fully awake, rubbing his eyes, and you sighed. Pausing in the doorframe, you watched as he sat up and looked around to fix you with a stare. He had a fairly extraordinary case of bedhead, red creases from the sofa marking his face, confusion on his face as he woke up.

“Where are you going?”

“I… Tom. Go back to sleep. Don’t worry.”

He blinked, and asked again.

“Where are you going?”

You fixed him with a glare of ‘I don’t want to say it’, but he was too sleepy to understand. He cocked his head in confusion.

“I have to pee again,” you admitted, and Tom clambered to his feet.

For some reason.

He seemed more awake now, stretching to his full height as he strode across the room to you.

“Really? You’re embarrassed about that? How long have we known each other?”

“Why are you following me?”

He paused in the doorway, blinking in confusion at himself, pink creeping up his cheeks.

“Right, sorry.”

You smiled to yourself as you used the bathroom, still wincing from pain but blessedly noting an improvement, staring at your reflection in the mirror as you washed your hands. You weren’t sure when you’d started feeling differently about Tom. You weren’t sure if your relationship had changed, or if it was just in your head.

You were sure that this was new. Something beyond the close friendship you had taken for granted for years. You could get used to the feeling of waking up pressed against him. To being spoilt by him, surprised by his thoughtfulness. You could get used to that desperate sincerity, those blue eyes which saw right through to your soul.

Drying your hands on your sweatpants, you re-entered the living room, seeing Tom’s mop of curls as he sat cross-legged on the sofa, back straight and hands folded in his hands. He seemed sheepish, his position almost child-like as his eyes tracked you across the room, waiting for you to settle somewhere.

There were gears turning in that overactive mind of his, and you perched yourself beside him, waiting for him to speak. Finally he did, the words precise and practiced inside his own mind.

“I’m sorry for just barging in. I don’t know if that was too far, I just wanted to help. I couldn’t go to work alone knowing you weren’t well.”

You couldn’t help smiling. Of course that was what he was worried about.

“Tom, it’s okay. I appreciate your help so much, not many people would do that for me. I’m sorry for being so stubborn.”

He winced, lips pressed into a tight line.

“I’m sorry. You know I didn’t mean that.”

“But you were right,” you admitted, “I was being stubborn. I should have just said thank you. So, thank you.”

Tom nodded in acknowledgement, but you knew he hadn’t taken the words in. He kept talking.

“I felt so bad, I knew yesterday was too much. We should’ve taken more breaks. You must be so tired. Or getting sick. Apparently if your immune system is already fighting something off you’re more likely to get ill. And I kept you talking when I should’ve made you to and clean up.”

“You won’t convince me this is your fault, Tom,” you told him lightly, resting on hand on his bent knee.

He stared at your hand for a long second, and you knew he didn’t believe you. You closed your eyes, swallowed, letting your eyes drift across to everything he’d brought. Remembering how he’d dropped everything at the realisation you were sick.

How he wouldn’t take no for an answer until he was with you, helping you. Making sure you were safe. You wondered what would have happened if he hadn’t come over. Would you still be in bed, choking down water and painkillers, debating texting to ask him to bring groceries over?

You couldn’t recall why were so averse to him coming over now. He hadn’t made you feel bad, or weak. He’d been nothing but caring and helpful and, yes, a little overbearing.

But that was part of him. What made Tom, Tom. He put one hand on his thigh, inches from where your thumb rubbed over the inside of his knee, and you took the leap. You laced your fingers which his, staring at how your hands fit together.

“I can’t remember a time anyone was this nice to me. Ever.”

Tom sighed, and you felt a moment of heaviness. A realisation that your life was about to shift. Chapters, ending and beginning. Something new taking root, as Tom met your eyes nervously.

“Then I need to do a better job.”

[dovechim]

a remedy for mondays 01 (m)

➾ 11.2k

➾ summary: all you wanted was just one day off work. but for that to happen, you need to invent a plausible reason. and then somehow, somewhere along the way, things get out of hand, and now people think you’re having a baby with your co-worker Park Jimin after a one-night stand. confused? join the club.

➾ warnings: impregnation kink (all that jazz, u guys should know by now), brief mention of pregnancy termination, future smut 

➾ a/n: this is written purely for fun & i hope you can understand my humour!!! please don’t go having babies just for some time off work. by the time i post this, it will be monday where i live. i hope this brings you all some joy :-) 

ps: thank you to @jimlingss, who always hears my crazy ideas out and encourages me to go for them. heck, sometimes she even brings it out of me. idk where i would be without you :”D

You hate this.

The saying goes: work to live, not live to work. But at this rate, you’d rather just not exist at all if you have to continue work at this god.darn.fucking.job.

All around you, people are huddled into their seats, heads bowed below the partition that separates the desks. Frankly, you think this whole open-plan office thing is just bullshit. Who the fuck wants to make eye contact with Jeon Jeongguk when he’s picking his nose in the middle of editing a spreadsheet?

Not you, that’s who.

You sink even lower down in your seat as you continue to stare your screen with a pounding headache. The numerous open windows on your desktop are just mocking you at this point. The morning seems to be crawling by. Usually, you ration out your morning coffee and breakfast to keep you going; so your morning goes a little something like this: arrive 8.30am, check emails, get water from the pantry and fuck about while your bosses aren’t here yet till 9.15am. Reply to some emails till about 9.45am, then sit in a daze till it’s 10am and time for you to drink your morning espresso and nibble at the small bun you bought from the bakery nearby.

This usually gets you to about 11am, only an hour more to go till lunch.

A job in the public service is perceived to be prestigious by most; so you suppose you should be thankful for your job dealing with family policy. But what outsiders don’t realise is that working in a governmental organisation as the utmost bottom rung absolutely sucks. There are so many standard operation procedures for nearly every single fucking thing, even emails to senior management needs to be vetted by someone in a higher position than you. As a result, things get done very slowly and even if they do get through to senior management, it might just get rejected because they decide that it’s not good enough. Then the work comes all the way back to you, and the whole dreary process starts again.

Not to mention your asshole boss. Bae Joohyun. Senior Director. She has a notorious reputation throughout the entire department for being a hell witch from Satan’s posse. In her meetings she demands utter silence from everyone other than the presenter; sneezes and coughs or pen clicks and typing are strictly forbidden.

Technically, she isn’t your direct superior, and you don’t work super closely with her, but she has this mandate that all leave requests for the entire department have to be approved by her. You’ve submitted requests 5 times in the past year, none of which have gone through. As a result you haven’t taken a day off in a good three years since you started working here. You still remember that one time she rejected your medical leave and called you to her desk. You’d been nursing a terrible flu, your complexion washed out and almost falling off your feet. Looking in the mirror that morning had been a complete shock. You thought a zombie was staring back at you.

Bae Joohyun had narrowed her eyes at you. “What’s wrong with you that you need to take emergency medical leave, _____?”

“I-it’s this cold, ma’am,” your voice was nasal and stuck in your throat.

Bae Joohyun had rolled her eyes and motioned for you to speak up. “I can’t hear you, stop mumbling for heaven’s sake!”

“I have a cold, ma’am! Has been so for the past three days,” you sniffled and pressed a tissue to your nose.

“A cold?” Bae Joohyun raised an eyebrow sceptically. “You seem fine to me. You look the same as you usually do. Get back to work.”

Sometimes you feel like this company, in all its pro-family views, treats married employees with children better.

The resentment grows inside you as you tap on your keyboard harder and harder, earning you a timid glance from Jeon Jeongguk opposite you. But you ignore him, continuing to type out a reply to someone who somehow failed to read your previous email and continued to ask the exact same questions.

“______?”

You absolutely hate it when someone approaches you from the back in your blind spot and startles you like this. Forcing a smile on your face, you sit up straighter in your chair and turn around. It’s Taehyung from the Baby Bonus Team, and he’s holding a folder with a smile on his face.

“Morning, ______!” He chirps with a sunny expression, and you can barely muster enough energy to greet him back, let alone match his level of enthusiasm on a Monday morning. “Could I just trouble you to update this for me? It’s just our operations manual for the Baby Bonus Team that hasn’t been touched in like… ages. I just need the HR section updated. Is that ok?”

Before you can even reply, Taehyung places a folder on your desk and his email appears on your screen, and he’s off. It’s not a secret that Taehyung loves his job to pieces. He loves children, loves babies, and loves it that he’s doing his part to contribute to the nation’s falling birth rate.

Well, not likethat,since you’re pretty sure he doesn’t have a girlfriend.

But everyone else here seems to love children. Over lunch with your team, all they do is exchange pictures of their children, their friends’ children, or some random baby from Facebook and coo over how chubby and cute they are. You stopped going to lunch with them after Mingyu from Pre-Schools team showed everyone a picture of his niece in a soiled diaper.

Most of your older coworkers who are married with their own families have pictures of their children on their desks. You’re forced to stare at these pictures with the resentment bubbling up inside you as you listen to their latest rant about how your proposal is too skimpy, lacks real research, that email of yours is poorly worded, needs to be recalled etc; so can anyone really blame you when you’re unable to dredge up even the slightest bit of adoration for those grubby faced gremlins?

Clicking open Taehyung’s email and finding the document he attached, you scroll down to the section he mentioned. You realise that he was being modest when he said that it needed an update. The whole fucking section comprises of just a single sentence, and you’ll probably have to write it from scratch.

Sighing through your nose, you click open an internet browser and do a quick google search for the general HR benefits for expecting women and their partners. You also open up the intranet to take a look at your own company’s mandates, which seem to be quite a whole lot more substantial than the general ones (which is only natural since your organisation is so pro-family in its viewpoints).  16 weeks of paid maternity leave, for a start.

Good god. 16 whole weeks? That’s practically 4 months. That’s almost half a year!!!

Obviously you know that having a baby wrecks the mother’s body, and is a major life change; that’s why they need that much leave time. But right now the concept of not having to go to work for that amount of time is simply blowing your mind. Especially since it feels as if you’ve been working non-stop for as long as you can remember.

On top of the 16 weeks is increased medical leave that can be taken any time before the baby is born. Your company is incredibly sympathetic towards pregnant women, which is only natural considering the line of work that you do in family planning. In fact, you know of a few colleagues from the Baby Bonus Team who took almost a whole month of medical leave, spread out, before they had their babies.

Not to mention the actual baby bonus itself.

Curious, you click back to Taehyung’s document and scroll up to the section on Baby Bonus. You scan through and gather that it comprises of a cash gift of $8,000 to $10,000, on top of several other schemes such as a savings account with the amount matched by the government. The total amount of cash receivable just for having one child is listed at the bottom of the page.

You sit back in your chair with a sharp breath. You never realised it was this lucrative to have a baby. Imagine receiving free money from the government, and having all that paid time off. All you need to do is just pop out one (1) baby, and that’s it. You can suck the government dry if you devote the rest of your life to being a baby making machine. See what Bae Joohyun has to say when you slam your maternity leave application on her desk.

The thought makes you smirk triumphantly.

But a moment later, the triumph fades as you remember your very, very single self. Without a boyfriend to knock you up, there’s no way this scheme would work.

Sighing, you shake your head to get rid of all the useless fantasies as you get back to work.

*

“Hey, _____. Meet our new joiner,” Jeongguk’s voice stirs you from the zoned out state you’re in, frantically typing away.

It’s well after lunch now; somehow the time had flown past while you were working on Taehyung’s document.

You look up to meet Jeongguk’s eyes, and then your gaze shifts to the slightly shorter man beside him. He is wearing a large pair of black glasses that cover nearly half his face; his blonde hair is parted down the middle and neatly slicked back. This man can’t even meet your eyes; he gives you a nervous little smile but his gaze is off, fixed somewhere on your shoulder. His white dress shirt is tucked in neatly to his black dress pants, but he is constantly fidgeting.

“Park Jimin. Welcome to the team, buddy,” Jeongguk slaps Jimin on the shoulder with a grin. “You’re sitting beside me.”

“Welcome, nice to meet you,” you smile and nod at him, but otherwise remain seated. No one can or will distract you from this document. You need to finish this by today, or else you’ll have to bring it home to work on it.

Park Jimin nods shyly as Jeongguk shows him to his seat. With this current arrangement, it means that the three of you are all facing each other in this cluster of desks. Sighing internally, you watch Jimin take his seat and arrange his things, see him glance shyly at you from behind his enormous glasses before his eyes dart away and he hides behind his desktop.

What a weird guy. He hasn’t said a single thing. Whatever. You turn back and resume typing, but then your phone chimes with an email notification.

CONGRATULATIONS!!! YOU HAVE WON MEET AND GREET PASSES TO MEET agust d TOMORROW!!!

Your heart skips a beat and you abandon typing just to open the email. You bid for these meet and greet passes months ago when you bought tickets to see your favourite rapper in concert. No news had resulted in you concluding that you hadn’t won after all, and you were contented with the chance just to see agust d in real life.

But now…

You scroll down to look at the details of the meet and greet.

24 September 2019, from 4pm (please see your specific timeslot on your attached passes)

Each meet and greet session comprises of: an up close, INTIMATE, one on one opportunity to chat and take photos with agust d, lasting for 15 minutes

Your heart sinks as you check the time on your pass. You end work only at 6pm, and when you’d bought the tickets you thought it’d be fine for you to go straight after work since the concert only starts at 7pm. There’s no way you’ll be able to take half day leave to attend the meet and greet. There’s no way Bae Joohyun would let you.

Sitting back in your seat in despair, feeling the angry tears well up in your eyes and the frustration cloud your chest, you don’t notice a pair of meek eyes behind black glasses peek out behind the desktop.

All that’s going through your head is: there has to be a way, there has to be a way.

There’s no way you’re letting these passes go to waste just like that. There’s no way you’re not meeting agust d just because Bae Joohyun has a stick up her ass.

*

Tuesday morning finds you at Bae Joohyun’s desk with a leave application filled out. You carefully set it on her desk, knowing full well that she comes in at 9.30am on the dot every day.

Rumour has it that she colour codes her outfits based on her mood that day. As you slink back to your desk, you catch a glance of her clad fully in black, striding powerfully into the office in her black pumps.

Your heart sinks as Jeongguk sings out a cheerful good morning to you and Park Jimin, whom you hadn’t even noticed was already at his desk.

“Morning, Jeongguk,” you mutter under your breath. “Morning to you too, Jimin.”

The newcomer does nothing more than nod at you as he ducks back behind his computer. But today you don’t have the bandwidth to wonder about him as you click over to Taehyung’s email about the document from yesterday.

“Hey, aren’t you going to see agust d tonight?” Jeongguk sits up straighter.

“Yeah, why?” Your reply comes clipped, already in a bad mood just from anticipating your rejected leave application.

“I heard the results of the balloting for the meet and greet passes came out yesterday,” Jeongguk’s bright eyes are on your face. “Do you know agust d, Jimin?”

The blonde haired man shrugs as part of his face appears from behind his computer.

“Anyway, I think only like five people got the passes, and as of yesterday night, there are already bidders on the black market willing to pay almost a thousand just for one pass,” Jeongguk continues on.

“Huh, really? Who’d be that crazy to pay that much money?” You muse, looking at your phone.

“Right?” Jeongguk sighs dramatically. You know he’d be extra salty if you told him you won passes to the meet and greet. You’d already made the mistake of letting slip that you managed to get a VIP ticket, and Jeongguk had sulked for an entire week after that. “I mean, what are the chances anyway? If you think about it, those people who won the passes must be die-hard fans, since you can only win one if you managed to get a VIP ticket. Which die-hard fan would sell their hard won passes like that?”

The conversation tapers off as you reply to some emails, but you can’t help but glance back at your phone. A thousand dollars just for a meet and greet pass. That’s just crazy. The amount of money some people are willing to spend… it almost makes you wonder if you could… sell it since you can’t make it anyway…

No. No. You can’t sell agust d’s love just for a thousand dollars. You wouldn’t even sell it for a million dollars. Shame on you.

Hushed whispers suddenly erupt around you, and Jeongguk hisses like a startled cat.

“Shit, SD’s coming! Fuck, I was in the middle of a game,” Jeongguk scrambles to turn off his phone, muttering under his breath that his teammates are going to kick him off the team next time.

You sit straighter in your seat and turn your head towards the aisle. Sure enough, Bae Joohyun is fast approaching like a hurricane bent on destruction. Her face is as black as her outfit.

“Jimin, since you’re new, just copy what I do. Look at your computer and don’t speak unless spoken to,” Jeongguk’s eyes are wide with fear, but he is frantically typing away on his keyboard, turning to glance at the timid man beside him. “Got it? Don’t show any fear, she can scent it like a shark with blood in the water. No matter what you do, don’t make eye contact with her if she isn’t talking to you.”

When Jimin doesn’t respond, Jeongguk glances hurriedly to the younger man. “Did you hear me?!”

“Y-yes.” It’s the first word you’ve heard this man utter, and it is somewhat strangled and you barely catch it over the rising panic that unfolds around you.

“Who d’you think she’s here for?” Jeongguk whispers to you.

“No idea,” you choke out with a closed throat, even though you have a very good idea who she’s here for.

As Bae Joohyun nears your cluster of desks, she slows down. Her eagle eyes scan the floor where all the employees are huddled at their seats, typing away with hunched shoulders. You can feel her gaze land on you, and you close your eyes briefly to say a prayer for mercy.

“______.”

Your name is uttered into the silence, and Jeongguk’s eyes shift just a fraction to glance at you. They are wide with fear. Beside him, Park Jimin’s eyes dart to yours from behind his thick black glasses. But none of them move.

“Y-yes?” You turn in your chair to face Bae Joohyun.

“You applied for emergency half day leave this pm, am I correct?” The witch herself holds up your leave application form. “Seeing as it’s this last minute, it must be urgent. What’s wrong with you this time?”  

It’s dead silent. Everyone is pretending to work at their desks, but you know all too well that what they’re really doing is eavesdropping on this conversation. Well, eavesdropping is too generous a term, considering that this conversation is made fully public.

“I… I’m…” You stutter and stumble over your words, struggling to think of a plausible excuse. Some part of you had hoped for a miracle, prayed to the gods eight times last night that Bae Joohyun would be in a merciful mood this morning and grant you the leave without asking.

You glance at Jeongguk, and by now he’s worked everything out silently in his head. His expression says everything. But he doesn’t dare to even look you in the eye.

Instead of him, you realise that another pair of eyes are watching you instead. Park Jimin’s head is tilted to the side, his eyes are observing your mini panic attack without darting away for once.

“Well? What’s wrong with you, I asked,” Bae Joohyun demands.

You can practically hear the clock ticking off the seconds till her patience runs out. Between that and Park Jimin’s persistent stare, your mind just goes blank, and you utter the first words that come to mind.

“I… I’m having morning sickness!”

“What?” Bae Joohyun’s tone is, for the first time, one of shock. “What did you just say?”

Despite Bae Joohyun’s presence, Taehyung from Baby Bonus has turned around in his seat. “Morning sickness? You don’t mean to say you’re…”

Your eyes dart around wildly all over the place in response to what you think Taehyung is implying. God dammit, if not for his fucking comment, you could have diverted it down a less conspicuous path.

“Pregnant?” Namjoon from HR pipes up. “______, are you pregnant? When were you planning on notifying HR?”

Oh god. Things are moving too fast. Slowly, people are turning around in their chairs and inviting themselves into what should be a private conversation between you and Bae Joohyun. Curious looks are directed your way, and you are tongue tied.

“______, I didn’t know you were married! You’ve been keeping it from us this whole time?” Someone from Pre-Schools, you think his name is Seokjin, exclaims in a chiding tone.

“No!” Your voice bursts out from somewhere. It sounds far away to your ears. “No, I’m not married!! I just had a… a… a one night stand.”

Fuck. You’re digging yourself into a deeper hole.

“A one-night stand?” Bae Joohyun narrows her eyes. Somehow you can see that she doesn’t really buy it. She is scanning your face intently, and if there’s even a shred of uncertainty, she will catch it.

“With him!” Pointing at the one person who’s been silent all this time, you can feel the gazes shift from you. You know what they say about a liar. They always have this compulsive need to supplement their lies with arbitrary details.

But it works, and everyone’s attention is now on Park Jimin. You can see his eyes dart around briefly for a moment before they return to yours. But they don’t seem any more panicked or surprised than they usually do. He is as cool and collected as he always is, and he doesn’t say a word, as usual.

“Damn, you and Park Jimin?” It’s Jeongguk who speaks up this time. “Who would have thought? I mean, the guy just started yesterday, that must have been hell of a welcome party you gave him.”

Several giggles and snickers break out in response to his lewd joke.

“Shut up Jeon, that’s not how pregnancy works,” Namjoon rolls his eyes. “They must have met each other months ago. Is this going to be another HR concern though? Inter-departmental relationships?”

Bae Joohyun glances down her nose at you derisively. “I have no wish to know what you do in your free time. But I must ask, Ms _____, that you inform HR immediately of any condition you have that might affect your ability to work.”

The intimidation wrought by Bae Joohyun is replaced by anger at her words. No wish to know about your personal matters, when she was the one who decided it was appropriate to ask why you need to take leave in front of the whole department? What if this was a real situation and you were facing an unplanned pregnancy? Instead of being offered sympathy and support, you’re faced with judgement. This woman is entirely heartless and should not be the head of a pro-family planning division. Not to mention that discussing your leave application publicly is utterly inappropriate. It’s this thought that gives you the courage to speak.

“So can I be approved?” You look her directly in the eye, throwing your shame out the window. What’s done is done. Since the whole department thinks you got knocked up from a one-night stand with a colleague, you might as well use it to your advantage. “For my half day leave. Can it be approved?”

A few beats of silence follow as Bae Joohyun looks cornered for the first time. There is an unspoken pressure even as people turn back to their desks to continue working. If she turns you down in front of everyone like this, she could quite possibly get reported for discrimination against pregnant women. Though it is unspoken, your shoulders relax as you realise you have the upper hand in this situation.

Bae Joohyun takes a deep breath.

“Fine. Approved.”

*

Wednesday morning, Jeongguk is an eager puppy trailing after you, begging for pictures and a blow by blow account of the concert.

“Just watch my Instagram story or something, I literally have no voice to talk to you right now,” you roll your eyes. Truth be told, your voice isn’t that bad off, but you just want to bask in that post concert afterglow for a moment.

“What was he like in person? Did you pass him my fan letter?” Jeongguk is relentless this morning, and his never ending chatter makes Park Jimin peek out curiously from behind his computer.

When your eyes meet, you freeze on the spot like a deer in the headlights. On Tuesday you left right after Bae Joohyun approved you, seeing as it was almost lunch time anyway. You decided that after winning a war, one rightly deserves to enjoy a stress free, worryless night out before returning to the battlegrounds once more.

But now that you’re here, it is a whole different story. Park Jimin glances at you wordlessly before resuming typing, and the awkwardness is killing you. You feel bad enough that you implicated him in this whole mess, probably ruined his reputation around here and maybe even giving HR a reason to keep a closer eye on him. But regardless, you probably should talk to the man and attempt to explain things, and at the very least, apologise.

“…ask him when his next mixtape is dropping?” Jeongguk is still at it.

“Hey, um, Jimin? If you have a moment this morning, can I speak to you in private?” You lean to the side to attempt to catch a glimpse of Park Jimin.

There is a slight pause before Jimin’s head appears, and he meets your eye for a moment before looking away again. He nods once before turning his head in the direction of an empty meeting room.

“Woah, should you be doing that in your condition, though?” Jeongguk comments with a lewd smirk even as his eyes lower to your mid-section, and you give him a scathing glare in response as you close your laptop.

“Shut up, Jeon. Just for the record, I ripped up and threw your letter in the trash,” you hiss at him, eliciting a horrified gasp as you follow Jimin to the meeting room.

*

“So, um…” You start off awkwardly once the door is closed.

Park Jimin is twiddling his thumbs, head bowed shyly and he refuses to make eye contact with you. Now that you think of it, his nerd glasses actually suit him quite well, but it’s just a shame that he’s too painfully shy to actually look anyone in the eye. He is quite a good looking guy, but maybe he has issues with his self-esteem is all.

“I wanted to apologise, first of all. And also explain myself,” you take a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have dragged you into my mess. It’s just that- I… I just haven’t had a fucking break from Bae Joohyun ever since I started working in this fucking place.”

All the resentment just pours right out, and you’d be ashamed of yourself for using vulgarities at the workplace were it not for Park Jimin finally glancing up at you with a tiny smile on his face.

“I heard the rumours about her. So they’re true.” Jimin’s voice is still a little hesitant, wondering how much he should be gossiping about Bae Joohyun with another co-worker who could so easily rat him out and get him in trouble. But then, seeing as you’ve already managed to implicate him within a day of knowing him, how much dirtier can you do him, really? The thought brings a wry smile to his face once more. But then again, it seems like everyone here is more or less united by their intense dislike for Bae Joohyun. You of all people probably dislike her the most.

“True? What kind of rumours did you hear? And from where?” Intrigued by the man whom you’ve exchanged less than two words with before claiming to have had a one-night stand and a resulting pregnancy with, you lean forward in your seat.

Jimin shrugs. “Glassdoor.”

His response catches you off guard, and you are laughing with your hands over your mouth. “Oh my god. Please tell me you read the one where someone spit in her coffee. That was me.”

Jimin raises an eyebrow. “Really? I thought that was by a 54 year old IT engineer.”

“I can’t be putting my real age and designation on there, can I?” You point out.

“Were you the one who bagged dog shit and hid it in her office?” Jimin has that tiny smile again, and you have to admit it’s sort of cute when he comes out of his shell. He is even more handsome when he smiles, brighter and somewhat infectious.

“19 year old marketing intern? Yep, that was me,” you sigh in contentment as you remember rage writing all those Glassdoor reviews after a particularly bad meeting that one week. You didn’t actually do all of those things, but just imagining it and writing public reviews was enough for you to get your imagined revenge.

“ ‘Hid some dog shit in her office so she can be reminded of how shitty her management style is’,” Jimin recites from memory. “You know, I almost withdrew my application because of that review.”

Jimin’s dead serious tone makes you laugh again. The sound of your laughter fills the empty meeting room, and you have to admit that this is the most relaxed and carefree you’ve felt while working here.

But belatedly you realise that you’ve gone very off topic, so you sober up and attempt to try to get things back on track again. “So anyway, about the um… one-night stand thing. We can just lie low for a while and make up some shit later. Tell them the baby didn’t make it or something.”

Jimin nods thoughtfully, tapping his chin. “Or we can say it was a false positive. Less for you to go through since people would be all over you with pity and sympathy if we said that. I don’t think you’d wanna be pretend to be distraught over an imaginary baby.”

“That’s right, you’re a genius!” You marvel the way he just comes up with these ideas so easily. “How did you know about false positives?”

Jimin only shrugs, pushes his glasses up on his nose a little and he seems to be blushing. “I studied biology as an elective back in university.”

There’s a pause of silence before you look him in the eye again. “I really am sorry, you know. For making you go through all this. I kind of just panicked and didn’t think before speaking.”

But Jimin doesn’t seem to be making as big of a deal of it as you are. “Y’know, it’s fine. It ispretty exciting to be accused of having a one-night stand on my very first day. Aside from that, things can only go up, right?’

It takes you a moment or two to realise that he’s making a joke, delivered in that deadpan way of his that betrays his sweet, innocent face. At your harried expression, Jimin breaks the act and giggles, and you nearly slump over with relief.

“So, I guess we have to act like we’re in a relationship too?” Jimin adds as an afterthought.

“It’s up to you, we don’t really have to make it that obvious,” you shrug as you get up from your seat and push the chair back to its original position. “I’m fine with being an unwed mother for a bit. I wouldn’t wanna trouble you any more than I already have. You don’t have to do anything else for me.”

Jimin is silent as he follows your lead toward the door. When the both of you are almost halfway back to your seats, he stops you with a brief clearing of his throat. “It wouldn’t bother me at all.”

You look back at him for a moment, and he just gives you another one of those shy little smiles as he goes back to his desk. For the rest of the afternoon, you find that you don’t really mind having an open office policy, not if it allows you glimpses of cute Park Jimin in his nerd glasses sitting opposite you.

*

The ruse goes on without a hitch for at least a few weeks. Here and there you get the odd look of curiosity and perhaps a little judgement from a few of the older ladies who tsk behind your back about you being a single unwed mother, but otherwise, things are better than ever. Just knowing that you have the freedom to take medical leave whenever you feel like it has improved your mood greatly, and the other day Namjoon from HR even came to tell you that you can come into work later if the morning sickness is really bothering you.

Most of all, people are also curious about the relationship between you and Park Jimin. Word has spread that he is the father of your pseudo baby by now, but thankfully no one is tactless enough to outright ask if you and Park Jimin are a couple now. Not even Namjoon from HR.

Monday morning comes, and you drag yourself into work, feeling slightly more worse for wear than usual. Every Monday, you have a progress meeting with your immediate superior that always leaves you in a bad mood after. It’s the same old tirade; getting piled with things that others have no time for, having previously submitted proposals rejected and being asked to redo them.

Today after the meeting, Jimin comes up to you just as you’re downing your fourth cup of coffee before 10am. He has a slightly anxious look on his face, one that’s out of place on his usual calm and composed self.

“Do you have a minute? We need to talk. Now.” Jimin turns immediately and starts walking towards the nearest meeting room, and in spite of yourself, your eyes are drawn to his ass in those pants. It almost makes up for the earful you got from your manager this morning. Almost.

“We’re in trouble,” Jimin says once you close the door to the meeting room. He is seated with his laptop open in front of him.

“What happened? Is it Taehyung from Baby Bonus again? I swear, if he accidentally deleted the whole archive, I’m going to shove a chair up his ass-“

“No, no it’s not about work,” Jimin swallows hard as he types something and turns his laptop to face you. “Over the weekend, someone wrote on my wall. They said- they wrote- just… just see for yourself.”

“Oh my god.” You hand flies to your mouth as horror slams into your gut. “I’ll kill him. I’ll kill that stupid punk with my own two hands. Delete it now!!!”

“That’s not the point,” Jimin’s voice sounds strangled as he directs your attention to the comments. “That’s my Granny. She saw it.”

The full extent of the damage done doesn’t hit you until you read Park JungMin’s comment.

“What was your granny doing up at freaking 5am???” You hiss in anger, poking Jimin’s shoulder.

“I don’t know- she’s an old person! She probably couldn’t sleep!” Jimin snaps back.

“Why didn’t you delete it immediately after you saw it!?” You accuse Jimin, pointing a finger at him. “None of this would have happened if you just deleted the post!!!”

“I only saw it this morning, for your information,” Jimin turns his head away from you and crosses his arms. “Forgive me for having a normal sleep schedule.”

“Fucking Jeon Jeongguk, I’ll kill him, I really will,” you mutter as you start to pace back and forth, already contemplating the numerous ways in which you can torture him.

“What are we going to do?” Jimin’s hands hover nervously over his laptop. “Granny will be so disappointed if she finds out it’s a lie. Maybe we should just come clean.”

You whirl around in indignance. “We can’t do that!!! It’s far too soon, if the truth comes out now, everyone will know I was just faking it. We need to wait at least three months. I researched, that’s the most likely time for a woman to have a miscarriage. Why did you have to add your grandmother on Facebook??”

“Hey-! She just wants updates on my life because she lives all the way in Busan!!” Jimin looks affronted when you mention his granny like that. “And if we’re playing the blame game here, if it weren’t for your concert, none of this would have happened in the first place.”

“That was agust d,” you say simply, as if it explains everything. “And that’s not the point. You have to tell your granny that it’s all a lie and tell her to keep it to herself.”

“But what am I supposed to say?” Jimin whines, his bottom lip jutting out and you swear you almost see him stamp his foot like a toddler throwing a temper tantrum.

“I don’t know, anything! Make something up!” You throw your hands up in exasperation.

“She has a weak heart, she can’t take it,” Jimin insists as he stands up and crosses his arms. “She’ll keel over in shock if I tell her there’s no baby. And she told me she’s already booked on the first flight to Seoul. You have to take responsibility.”

The absurdity of this situation means that you can’t decide if you should laugh or cry. “Well what do you want me to do? I can’t just magic a baby into my stomach like that!”

Jimin stays silent, and the implication dawns on you.

“No way. You’re insane. You can’t possibly mean that we should-“

“She wants you to come over for dinner tomorrow night.” Jimin says finally, his eyes now pleading. “She just wants to meet you. We don’t have to tell her that there’s no baby yet. Please?”

Oh. Well, for a second there, you thought Park Jimin was about to suggest something else entirely.

“It’s just one dinner,” Park Jimin pleads eagerly.

Your head is pounding, and the stress of the entire morning has caught up with you. Everything is too overwhelming, things are moving too fast and you’re too tired to argue with him any longer.

“Fine. Just one dinner. After that, we’re coming clean with Granny.” You fix him with a meaningful stare as his face lights up in glee.

“I promise!” Park Jimin grins as he claps his hands together. “Oh and ______... you might want to go easy on the coffee there. Pregnant women can’t have too much caffeine.”

*

This is ridiculous.

Just thinking that you could be curled up at home with a nice glass of wine in bed, instead of standing nervously outside some stranger’s house makes you more huffy and annoyed than usual.

Jimin beside you shoots you a look, and you roll your eyes.

“Did you hear me? Or do I have to repeat the entire story of how we met and ended up secretly dating for five months again?” Jimin nudges you in the ribs with his elbow.

“When I said make something up, I didn’t think you were going to become a scriptwriter for Marvel,” you roll your eyes back at him. “I’m just gonna let you do the talking. Ok? If they direct any tricky questions my way, I’ll just pretend I need to puke.”

Jimin sighs a long suffering sigh as he reaches for his keys. He always envisioned the first time he brought a girl home to meet his family as a wholesome affair. He imagined himself to be feeling over the moon, a little nervous but that was to be expected, and most of all, irrevocably in love with the woman standing at his side. Taking a glance at you now, Jimin can’t say this situation is ideal.

But hey, when life gives you lemons, right?

He opens the door and leads the way in, only to be accosted by a hug from his Granny having made it only about five steps in. Her comforting embrace and familiarity makes him relax again, and he hugs her back tightly.

“Granny! I missed you! How was the flight? Does your back hurt? You should have rested more! You should have let me pick you up at the airport,” Jimin says in a chiding tone as he places an arm around her, trying to steer her towards the living room area to take a seat.

But the stubborn old woman refuses with a smile that lights up her entire face when she catches a glimpse of you. “Ah, this must be ______! She looks so pretty! Too good for our little Jimin, I must say. Come in, come in!!! Take a seat and take a load off!!! You must be tired after working the entire day, and with the baby too.”

You can barely keep yourself from wincing when she mentions the baby, but otherwise, Jimin’s Granny is a very pleasant person. She exudes an aura of warmth and you feel at home with her immediately. Her compliments make you soft; and she seems to be incredibly genuine about them too. For the next five minutes, all she does is admire you; how smooth your hands are, how good your complexion is, how smart, kind and gentle you look, and also my oh my our little Park Jimin has managed to snag such a professional for a girlfriend.

“Granny, you’re embarrassing her,” Jimin mutters with a rosy blush spread across his cheeks as he stands beside the old woman. “And me as well.”

“Nonsense,” Granny chides Jimin as she turns to you with a smile that wrinkles at the corners of her mouth. “This is the first time our little Jimin has brought a girl home, you see. We were all worried that he was… you know, batting for the other team, which would be perfectly fine, but…”

“Granny!!!” Jimin actually does stomp his foot and cross his arms. The tips of his ears are red, the blush on his cheeks is prominent. “Granny, I’m hungry. Can we eat?”

It seems like Jimin knows exactly what works on Granny, because she turns around immediately and pats Jimin’s cheek. “Alright, alright puppy. We can eat now. Come, _____, you must be hungry too now that you’re eating for two. I asked Jimin about your favourites, I hope you like them.”

You glance questioningly at Jimin for a moment over Granny’s head as the two of you follow her to the dining table and have a seat opposite each other. While Granny’s warmth is nothing but welcoming, you can’t help but feel a little overwhelmed. This, at least, is not what you were expecting. Granny seems perfectly fine with the notion of you being pregnant with Jimin’s child without getting married first. Perhaps society is shedding its traditionalist viewpoints and you just hadn’t realised it.

“You know dear, when Jimin told me the news, I was so overjoyed,” Granny says with a wistful smile on her face. “It’s one of my wishes to see Jimin happy with a girl he loves. And looking at the two of you now, even if I die tomorrow, I’ll be content.”

“Granny!” Jimin admonishes sharply. “You can’t say that! Your health has been getting better, hasn’t it? Are you taking your medicines? Three times a day, like the doctor said!”

Granny pats her grandson’s hand. “I am, puppy, I am. What does an old woman like me have to live for if her only grandson doesn’t even visit her anymore? At least now I’ll have the baby to look forward to. You’ll let me take care of it for you, won’t you?”

This last part she directs to you, and you glance nervously at Jimin. This is most definitely not what you signed up for when you agreed to this dinner. With every passing second, the guilt just piles higher and higher, till you feel like you might have trouble swallowing your food.

“Mrs… Mrs Park,” you say hesitantly, speaking for the first time since you set foot in this house. Pseudo baby or not, it just wouldn’t do to hurt this kind old woman, especially since she seems so excited and happy to meet you.

“Call me Granny, please,” she says as she pushes an extra bowl of rice towards you. “You should have this too.”

“Oh no,” you say automatically. “I’m watching my weight, so I shouldn’t…”

But it was the wrong thing to say. Granny immediately perks up, sitting straight in her seat, her eagle eyes on you. “Watching your weight, dear? Why would you be doing that now? You should be eating well for the baby! Is it this little punk who’s making comments about your weight?”

Granny seizes hold of Jimin’s ear and pulls, and he whimpers in the midst of spooning a giant bite of rice into his mouth.

“NO!” You blurt out in a panic, seeing your coworker’s face screw up in pain. You have to admit that you’ve been in a number of interesting situations with Park Jimin thus far, but something tells you that this isn’t the worst of it just yet. “No, Granny! I- I take it back. I’ll eat.”

Granny lets out a hmph as she releases Jimin’s ear with a warning glance towards her grandson. As Jimin reaches for a juicy looking sparerib, Granny’s chopsticks dart out and intercept him, causing the piece of meat to fall back onto the plate. She then expertly picks it up with her own chopsticks and drops it on top of your rice with a satisfied smile.

Jimin turns to Granny with a pout on his lips, and when your heart skips a tiny, little beat, you know you’re in trouble.

*

Somehow, bad news always comes on Monday mornings.

Today it comes in the form of Park Jimin, again, as he drags you into a meeting room the moment you finish your meeting with your manager.

“What is it now?” You hiss at him as he locks the door suspiciously. “Do you really need to do that? You know people think we’re like, fucking in here, don’t you? Thanks to your buddy Jeon Jeongguk.”

“Wait, what?” Jimin does a double take. “No, that doesn’t matter. My parents. They want me to marry you.”

“WHAT?” You screech so loudly that Jimin winces and covers his ears. “Tell them no, for fuck’s sake!”

“They already apparently bought an entire plot of land in the baby’s name,” Jimin goes on adding to the bad news as if he were adding fuel to the fire. “It’s in Baby Park’s name.”

“Oh my god.” Your head swirls and you wobble on your feet, and Jimin reaches out to steady you as if you were actually pregnant. You push his hand away with an irritated glare to remind him that all this is just a ruse. One that you’re beginning to seriously regret having cooked up all those weeks ago.

“What are we going to do?” Jimin sighs as he runs a hand through his hair, taking off his glasses for a moment to rub at his temples.

“We?” You exclaim. “What do you mean, we? Why are you talking as if we’re already married? You need to resolve this situation on your own, buddy. It’s not my fault your family likes to jump the gun!”

“What about you then?” Jimin snaps back with a raised eyebrow. “Look, it’s been two months, almost three, and I don’t see you making any plans to hide a watermelon under your clothes or tell people that it’s all just a scheme you cooked up.”

You gasp indignantly. “I was- I was working up to that! You know, coming up with my cover story, setting the stage, all that!”

Park Jimin crosses his arms in disbelief. “Oh really? So you’re planning on coming clean with everyone and telling them you’re not actually pregnant? Is that why you’ve been taking medical leave every week, running to the bathroom to ‘throw up’ every morning that you’re noton leave?”

“Have you been watching me?”

“A little hard not to, considering you sit right opposite me!”

The two of you are panting and staring hard at each other, both wrapped up in your own anger.

“Look, I’ll forget everything else. Just tell your parents to sell the land or something. The price of land has gone up recently, I’m sure they can still make a valuable profit if they sell now…”

Jimin’s eyebrow twitches. “Sell the land? When they think it’s for their precious grandchild?”

“There. Is. No. Grandchild,” you spit back at him. “Oh my god. We’re just going in circles here. I need to get back to work. My manager already gave me hell this morning, and I don’t need this from you too.”

You leave him in the meeting room and make your way swiftly back your desk, waking your laptop and checking your emails. A few minutes pass before you can fully calm yourself down and reorientate to what needs to be done. First, you redo that spreadsheet, feeling slightly better once you drown out the entire world and just focus on the numbers and cells in front of you. In fact, you forget about this whole terrible mess for a moment or two.

“Hey, _______?” There is a tap on your shoulder, and you turn around to see your manager hovering behind you. She bends down to squint at your screen, “You’re not still redoing the spreadsheet, are you? Our meeting ended an hour ago, you should be done with that by now!”

“I-I’m sorry, something came up, and I…” your voice is weak compared to hers, and vaguely you can see Park Jimin lean over slightly in his seat. “I’m done with it now. I’ll send it over.”

“Good. And get started on the operations manual. I need it all by 5pm today.” Your manager gives you a pat on the back, starts to walk off, and then hesitates. “I know you’re in a rather… delicate situation, but that shouldn’t affect your ability to work. It’s a busy period of time, _____, and I expect nothing but the best from my team. Got it?”

You swallow hard as you try and return her smile. “Got, it, Manager.”

Turning back to your screen, tears are blurring your vision as you attach the document to an email and send it off. You can feel the curious stares of your coworkers all on you, and you feel more self-conscious than ever. Never mind that pretending to be pregnant is all a ruse. It was supposed to make your life better, give you some breathing space, but you feel more suffocated than ever.

You need some air. Now.

Standing up, you grab your phone and dip your head, striding for the exit quickly so that no one catches the expression on your face. Hopefully, they’ll think you need to puke or something, and not pathetically hide in a corner and cry your eyes out. Thankfully, this morning you had the foresight not to apply any eye makeup, so you can rub your eyes as much as you want.

This corner is actually pretty nice. It’s secluded that no one would accidentally wander in and find a hysterically sobbing woman, yet it’s not too far that you can’t make it back to your desk within five minutes if your manager calls. You wipe your face with the back of your sleeve, taking a deep breath and getting ready to go back and face everything once more, when you notice a pair of loafers standing a few steps away.

“Are you okay?” Park Jimin’s voice is familiar. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… intrude, but you just looked so upset and… she was totally unreasonable. Using that as an excuse to comment on your work ethic. Just unacceptable.”

He is shaking his head with a serious expression on his face, and it makes you laugh suddenly. Jimin looks up in surprise, eyes wide, but then a small smile spreads across his face as well as he tucks his hands into his pockets. It occurs to you that if Park Jimin weren’t here, no one else would have come to check up on you.

“I’m used to it,” you shrug as you check your reflection in your phone screen. “It’s just… I just need to cry once and I’m fine. You weren’t supposed to see this side of me,” you attempt a weak laugh. “You’re only supposed to know the bad bitch side of me.”

“You can still be a bad bitch even if you cry every now and then,” Jimin shrugs as if it’s obvious. “If you’re done crying, can we go for lunch? I’m starving.”

*

You make Jimin buy you some meat and you wolf it down in front of him as if you really were eating for two. To his benefit, Jimin says nothing and only takes out his wallet when it’s time to pay.

On the way back to the office, feeling decently satisfied and absolutely sure that you have a tiny little food baby (with today’s dress being particularly unforgiving around the midsection), you can’t help but feel a little bit better. Maybe Park Jimin isn’t so bad after all.

“______? Oh my god, ______? Is that you?” A far off voice calls, and you turn back.

And you wish you hadn’t.

Min Yoongi comes striding towards you with a huge grin on his face, waving as if he can’t believe it’s really you.

“Shit shit shit,” you swear under your breath. How much unluckier can this day get?

Jimin looks at you quizzically.

“It’s my bastard ex who cheated on me by getting another girl pregnant,” you whisper to him by way of explanation. “They got married last month but I never responded to their invitation.”

“Oh,” Jimin says, immediately grasping the situation. “I got it. Don’t worry.”

“What?” You look at him in panic, seeing the expression on his face and not liking it one bit. “What are you gonna-“

But it’s too late now for any further conversation, since Min Yoongi is now in earshot. He grins again as he looks you up and down. “_____! What a surprise! Do you work around here?”

“Y-yeah, what a surprise too,” you say weakly.

“I haven’t seen you in ages!” Yoongi’s eyes dart to Jimin standing beside you for a moment, before they fall to your midsection. “But might as well. I wanted to congratulate you on the baby, because what a coincidence, right?”

He hands you a beautifully embossed invitation card with the words ‘Baby Shower’ on it, and you can feel your face draining of all colour. You swear under your breath.

“Oh! And this must be… the father-to-be?” Yoongi somehow doesn’t pick up on the escalating horror on your face, because he turns to Jimin and extends a hand of congratulations. “Congrats, man! How’s it feel? Excited to become a dad?”

Jimin sneaks a quick peek at your horrified expression. “Y-yes! Absolutely…. Um, thrilled, we are.”

At Jimin’s confirmation, Yoongi’s face seems to fall a little, and seeing it makes your heart clench in vindication. Serves that cheating little bastard right.

“I didn’t know you were seeing anyone, ______... let alone serious enough to… have a baby and all that,” Yoongi’s voice mellows a little as he directs his gaze back to you. “I thought you didn’t want to have children… for a while, at least.”

You detect a little bit of regret in Yoongi’s voice, and maybe a little bit of something you can’t quite put your finger on right now. In your five-year long relationship with him, Yoongi always made it clear that he wanted to have children as soon as possible. It was one of the major roadblocks in your relationship, and eventually it became the tipping point that drove him into the arms of another woman who was desperate enough to pop out his babies for him.

Wait a minute. It almost sounds as if Min Yoongi is trying to blame you for making him cheat. All of a sudden, you want to show him how you’ve been living all these months. Completely fine and happy without him. Better off, even. You want to make this cheating bastard realise that you’re not pathetic. You open your mouth in indignation, but before you can say anything, you hear Jimin’s voice.

“It all happened so fast, really,” Jimin shrugs as if it’s no big deal. “When I saw her I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her, and you know how life is… We aren’t getting any younger either, so we thought why not try for a baby while we’re at it? She’s perfect for me, and we’re very happy together.”

Jimin does it better than you ever would have been able to. His words are so smooth that even you are convinced that the two of you are in a stable relationship together. Glancing at him, Jimin looks so self-assured and confident that he puts Min Yoongi to shame.

Min Yoongi looks shell shocked. “R-right. Th-that’s really nice, I’m ha-happy for you guys. Congratulations again.”  

You have no idea how Jimin is making all of this up, but the look on Min Yoongi’s face is enough. It almost makes up for when you found out about the breakup through the pre-wedding invitations he sent you.

“But we- we haven’t really told anyone yet, so how did you find out?” A frown creases your brow as you mentally run through a list of people who know about this pseudo pregnancy. The whole company, for one. Jimin’s Granny. Jimin’s family. And now Min Yoongi. But the question is, who told Min Yoongi? It’s not like he has any links with Jimin’s family.

“I mean… I saw the bump,” Yoongi scratches the back of his neck as his eyes drop briefly to your waist. “And um… I know you blocked me on social media a while ago. But I just wanted to check in on you and see how you’re doing. And I saw someone post on Jimin’s wall about the baby. So I kind of put two and two together.”  

There’s an awkward silence as your hands immediately fold over your waist, your cheeks heating up self-consciously. You can feel Jimin struggle not to burst into laughter beside you, and you surreptitiously elbow him hard in the ribs.

“Anyway, um… I hope you’ll come to the shower,” Yoongi nods at the invitation again. “It’s on Sunday, and feel free to bring Jimin too. I uh… invited your mom too. I mean, it’s just… Your family wanted to know how Yeji and I were getting along with the baby and… we were so close so I figured…”

At this point the humiliation can’t get any worse. So you decide to just cut him off with a formal smile that you hope doesn’t look too forced.

“We’ll be there, Yoongi. See you.”

*

It’s fine. It’s all fine. Even if Min Yoongi knows, it’s all fine. You can just attend this baby shower, just show your face for about an hour or so and then disappear from his life altogether. And then he won’t even know that you didn’t have a baby.

The very definition of co-workers means that you only see each other on weekdays from 9am to 6pm. But if that’s true, then somehow along the way, you and Jimin had progressed far beyond the point of just being co-workers, to the point that you’re somehow spending half of your weekend with him.

You sigh to yourself as you watch all your friends’ kids run about screaming at the top of your lungs. You’re already beginning to get a headache from all these irritating little gremlins making so much noise. At least you’re not being asked to play with or look after any of the children. Seeing that you and Yoongi had dated for a substantial amount of time, most of the attendees at this baby shower are your mutual friends, and it’s awkward to say the least.

At least you have Park Jimin with you to be your pretend boyfriend slash husband so you won’t seem like the pathetic ex-girlfriend attending her cheater ex-boyfriend’s baby shower for his new wife. So far there haven’t been any difficult questions, just curious looks from your friends whom you haven’t seen in a really long time because you’re just so tied up with work.

“Hey babe, come here! This is really fun,” Jimin shouts to you from one of the game stations, and you have no choice but to stop sulking in the corner like an evil brooding witch.

(One of your friend’s kids had pointed an accusing finger at you the moment you arrived at the shower with a not so thrilled expression on your face.

“Mama, why is the evil witch wearing yellow, mama? Is she here to curse Sleeping Beauty?”)

“This is really fun,” Jimin says again as he pulls the blindfold off with a grin on his face. “Pin the diaper on the baby poo.”

He points to a target board with a questionable looking substance smeared all over the centre of it. The person next in line is blindfolded and trying to pin the diaper in the centre of the board, and there are disappointed yells when he misses.

To his credit, Jimin really does look as if he’s having fun. He’s been the only person to score a point at this game, and he’s acing all the other games: guess the baby food, pin the sperm on the egg, etc etc.

“I’m notpinning the diaper on the baby poo,” you frown at him. Who the hell comes up with these games? “Is there any wine here? God, I need a drink.”

Before you can wander away, Jimin grasps your elbow. “You can’t drink,” he says with a serious, chiding look on his face. “You’re pregnant.”

“No one here knows that, do they?” You roll your eyes at him and sidestep a screaming toddler who is barrelling down the walkway. For someone who was present at the time of conception of this scheme, Park Jimin really is taking this way too seriously.

Jimin sighs and follows you to the beverages table in defeat. If he can’t stop you from drinking, the least he can do is hold up his jacket around you to make sure you don’t get caught. But then, a very rounded, glowing looking pregnant woman suddenly accosts you, and by the look on your face, Jimin surmises that this can only be Yeji, the woman Yoongi cheated on you with.

“Ye-Yeji, you look… um… wonderful!” Your strangled voice gets lost as Yeji envelopes you in a huge hug, forcing you to squeeze up against her bump. “Congratulations!”

The mother-to-be is all smiles, her makeup is perfectly done and there is an ever present glow on her face. She looks like an absolute goddess in her flowy white dress and wavy hair, and its moments like this that remind you that Yoongi left you for someone better.

“I feel wonderful, thank you!” She places a hand on her protruding belly. “Oh, I was just chatting with your mother over here, you haven’t said hi to her have you? She’s been complaining to me that you don’t have time for her anymore!”

Fuck. Your mother. You’ve been avoiding her calls and messages for the past few months, and you give her a weak smile as she comes over with a dark look on her face. It’s not that you’re doing this on purpose, it’s just that the breakup with Yoongi was beyond messy. Everyone’s parents are naturally on their side after a breakup, but somehow your parents remained on Yoongi’s. Every call would be about Yeji’s pregnancy, how their baby room was progressing, how many kicks she felt in a day, all those needless details that only felt like repeated stabs to the heart when you were trying to heal and get on with your life.

“…I’m so glad you could come. When Yoongi told me the news, I was so excited I thought my water was going to break!” Yeji is gesturing excitedly as she gushes to your mother, and you freeze in panic.

She couldn’t have…

“_____, I can’t believe you’re pregnant too!”

Her exclamation has a few of your friends nearby turning around, and a few of them start to clap. Yoongi elbows his way through the crowd, his hair matted with sweat as he pants with exertion.

“Baby, you were supposed to wait for my cue!” He admonishes his wife with a slight frown, but then he kisses her lips when Yeji pouts.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t wait! It’s all just so exciting, I can’t believe _____ is going to have a baby too! I remember feeling so guilty in my first few months of pregnancy that I could barely sleep…”

“I know, I know, baby,” Yoongi shushes her with a kiss to her forehead. “Anyway, _____ and Jimin, we uh… we prepared something for you. We hope you like it, and uh… _____, I hope it can make up for all the shit I put you through in the past year.”

At this point, you don’t even dare to look at your mother. “Wh-what did you prepare?”

“It’s over there! In front of the photowall,” Yeji claps in excitement. “Go on! Everyone’s waiting!”

Everyone at the party clears a path for you and Jimin to make your way to the colourfully decorated photowall at the front of the party. On the floor in front of it sits a brown cardboard box.

With all eyes on you, you swallow hard and start to make your way to the photowall. Jimin follows behind you, whispering under his breath. “What the fuck is this?”

“Probably another lame party game or something… just play along,” you whisper back, your mind too preoccupied with thinking about how you’re going to explain your pseudo pregnancy to your mother. Knowing her disposition, it’s entirely possible that your father knows about it already, and maybe even your entire extended family, and… oh god-

The moment you step in front of the photowall, someone standing to the side of the box pulls something, and an explosion of balloons and streamers burst from the box. You are quite literally showered in confetti, and when you look up, there are four balloons spelling out the word ‘baby’, and another balloon with ‘congratulations’ on it.

“Congratulations on your baby!!!!” Someone shouts, and people are taking out their phones to take pictures of you and Jimin drenched in confetti. Someone claps, and soon, the entire party is clapping. There are hoots of congratulations, someone proposes a toast, your college friends are almost in tears, your sister is loudly announcing that this should go on Instagram, your mother is half crying and half glowering at you for not telling her sooner, and everyone is talking about you and your non-existent baby.

Beside you, Jimin is equally stunned, but unlike you, he isn’t at a loss for words. He pulls you in close, pretending to pose for the cameras with a jovial smile on his face.

He still has the gall to joke around as he says, “maybe we should have that baby after all.”

In the blink of an eye, things just got very, very out of hand.

*

Number of people who know about pregnancy

Whole company: (estimated 200 people)

Jimin’s Granny

Jimin’s family

Min Yoongi and wife

Attendees of Yoongi’s baby shower (estimated 50 people)

Your family

Total: 265 people

*

[greywindys]

I had a fic I was working on for 2Doc week, but it betrayed me and turned angsty when I wanted something softer. So instead, I thought I could share a fic I never published, and I believe the first fic I ever wrote (dated in Google as complete on June 17th, 2016. Holy moly!)

It fits into day 3′s prompt of firsts - the first night the spent together on good terms. The beginning of the bond, I guess. It could also be considered the first head massage (lmao), as I like to think 2D is good with his hands in various scenarios 😉. (I adapted the head massage into scenes in later fics, but this was the first time I worked with it as a concept.)

If there are any “M” or “D” I apologize! When I was starting out, I was too self-conscious to write their entire names (lmao @ me). Oh, how things have changed. Hopefully, I corrected them all, along with most of the typos...

The rating here is T. Essentially, Murdoc encounters 2D late at night when he can’t sleep, and ends up watching a movie with him. They begin to form a tentative bond, head massages are had as much needed sleep. Takes place during P1.

Also happy bday again, Murdoc 😭

For Murdoc, sleeping is a daunting game of chance. First, there are the good nights, when he drinks enough to remain in a complete stupor until daylight. Then, there are the bad nights when his body’s need for genuine slumber catches up with him. On these nights, he dreams. More often than not, they come to him in the form of nightmares ranging from painfully specific to vague and unsettling. Like a flood, all of the emotions and thoughts he had intended to leave behind in Stoke return.

Tonight is one of those nights.  

This one, in particular, is the reason he’s left the grimy safety of his Winne, head still aching. He intends to rummage through the studio mini-fridge for the half-consumed bottle of rum he started that morning. (after all, his anxiety wasn’t going to fix itself). Instead, he's thrilled to discover the fridge has been restocked, and he's about to grab an unopened bottle of rum when he's interrupted by a crash coming from the direction of the lobby.

The noise is coming towards the kitchen now in slow, shuffling steps. Murdoc presumes it could either be one of the wayward demons he summoned the other day, or it could be another one of the building's many intruders looking for a blank wall to vandalize. Nothing he wants to deal with now in his anxious state. Murdoc considers making a run for his Winnebago but decides against it. ‘You’re Murdoc Niccals” he thinks to himself, ‘Bass god and creative genius. You're not ten anymore and you don't get scared.' With that, he braces himself and he turns to face the unknown figure that was now in the doorway.

“Oh...Hi, Murdoc.”

It’s 2D.

“I've got half a mind to lob you through another car window,” he says trying to mask his surprise. “What the hell are you doing walking around with the lights off in the middle of the night?” That must have been the source of the noise. Typical. It’s as if 2D is intentionally searching for a way to get injured.

2D scratches his head. “No need to get so steamed up about it. I, uh, well, I guess I was trying to keep to the ambiance and all that. I didn’t think anyone else would be awake right now.”

“I don’t know what’s so unexpected. I get more done in a night that you would in a year,” Murdoc replies. He takes a sip of one of the bottles of rum he’s assembled on the counter. “So long as there are still songs to write, the siestas can wait.”

“Not sleeping well then?” 2D asks blithely. Murdoc can’t tell if the singer has seen right through him or failed to comprehend a word of what he just said. He finds him very unreadable at times, and in the most infuriating way.

“No. I was working. Being productive. You ought to try it once in a while,” Murdoc grumbles in response. “Anyways. What’s all this about the ‘ambiance’?” As if 2D is that deep. “And why here?”

“That new zombie movie, you know the one I was telling you about? Well, it arrived today,” 2D says with a grin. “And now I’m watching it. It’s a lot scarier when you do it the dark.”

“Well you have a TV, no, THREE TVs in your room,” Murdoc retorts, exasperated. “Just go away and watch it there.”

“Yeah, uh, l thought about that, but the special effects in this one are supposed to be wicked good and the screen in the lobby has a clearer picture than the screens in my room. I would have watched it this afternoon, but Russel said Noodle shouldn’t be watching all the blood and guts, so I waited until now. It’s better watching scary movies late at night anyway, you know?” 2D is looking at Murdoc now, a tinge of hopefulness in his voice. “A couple blokes on this forum I was reading were describing it like a Romero meets Raimi type film, really over the top.”

“Sounds like a real Oscar winner you have there,” the sarcasm in Murdoc’s voice is palpable.

“Actually, it was a straight to video release, but you should check it out,” 2D says. “I’m only about ten minutes in now...if you have...time,” he trails off awkwardly.

The band had faced many inexplicable and absurd situations, but it is 2D’s consistent attempts to be friends that confounded Murdoc the most. His first inclination to tell the singer to fuck off. Yet the thought of the solitary journey back through the car park gives him pause. He isn't sure he can handle being alone right now. He needs an immediate distraction, a mood lifter, and making fun of 2D has the potential to be a two in one solution. At the very least, it was a safer gamble than going back and running the risk of falling asleep again.

Murdoc makes 2D wait for an answer in uncomfortable silence before replying. “Fine,” he says, “This better be entertaining.”

2D brightens at his response. “Just let me grab some snacks and then we can go back.”

“Yeah, yeah. Oh, and this time turn on the damn lights.”

With some newly acquired light and a bag of crackers in hand, 2D leads Murdoc to the lobby. A collection of pillows and blankets litter the floor. All the while, and to Murdoc’s annoyance, he takes the time to tell him every detail of the conception of his setup. He had been in the lobby for the past four hours watching movies. According to 2D, doing so in such an open area was much scarier than in his room or even in the building’s cinema. He was also sorry because they would have to turn the lights off again when the film starts. “Because well, you know, Muds. The ambiance.”

“Just start the bloody movie will you,” Murdoc replies from his spot on the floor. The size of Kong is intimidating at night, and it’s not helping him calm down. He hates how much his dreams still affect him. Physically, he had left all the bad energy behind ages ago, but mentally it follows him like a low-hanging mist, threatening to completely engulf him daily. He couldn't seem to make it go away, but he could control how much he thought about it. Alcohol was typically his mainstay but right now, that job belonged to an unwitting 2D. If he didn’t start the movie soon, Murdoc was going to set his entire movie collection on fire.

“It’s the little triangle that does the trick, right?” 2D asks as he studies the remote. “Never mind. I think I have it. There we go.”

The scene starts with a group of young adults in their twenties hiking through the woods as night falls. Occasionally, the camera switches angles. It shows the group from alternate perspectives such as the bushes or the tops of trees.

“The director wanted to flip the whole slow zombie portrayal on its head,” 2D explains. “There’s already been talk of fast zombies in the indie horror community, but he wants to take that one step further. In an interview, he said that not only were his zombies going to be fast, but they were also going to fly.”

“That’s stupid. And you thought this was worth the twenty or so quid you blew on it?”

“He’s ahead of his time. You’ll see. Look,” 2D says through a mouthful of crackers. He points to the current scene. One of the protagonists had wandered away from his group in search of a good place to set up camp. “See what he does with the camera there? We’re watching the main character from the perspective of a flying zombie. The director wanted to make a movie about an outbreak that emerges in the wilderness, not because of some virus. It's meant to add to the impossibility of the situation. How do we fight against something not man-made? Watching the film through the eyes of the monster emphasizes how alone and insignificant we are in the face of well, everything. Man versus nature, nature versus man.”

Murdoc grabs the bag of crackers from 2D. “Oh please. This is hardly cutting edge. We all know they’ll all be dead in the end because nature is bigger than man. Duh.” He takes a handful for himself and continues watching.

2D ignores him and continues his reflection. “It makes me wonder whether it would be better to be a zombie at the end, rather than survive. Not sure I would want the loneliness that comes with it.”

Murdoc is beginning to realize that 2D is in one of his chatty, philosophical moods. He attempts to tune out the singer’s blathering with another drink from the bottle of rum he brought with him from the kitchen. He came here to watch a ridiculous movie. Instead, he's stuck listening to banal musings about the true nature of humanity from someone with a half-functioning brain.

“Well if there’s ever a zombie apocalypse here, I’ll be sure to let them eat you first if you’re so eager. You’re already halfway there anyway, and certainly no better off than these divs on screen.”

“Thanks, Muds. If I ever get infected, I’ll make sure not to bite you...unless you want me too,” 2D replies.

This time, it’s Murdoc's turn to ignore him. “Anyways, as far as I’m concerned, anyone who’s too pathetic to fight against a zombie apocalypse deserves whatever is coming to them.” He gets a twisted sense of comfort from blaming.

“I dunno...I don’t see any shame in being afraid of a monster bigger than you. That’s what makes these movies so scary. We all have our own monsters that seem impossible to overcome,” 2D says sagely. “It’s not anyone’s fault, it’s just how it is.”

Murdoc scowls. “Does watching movies at this hour always turn you into a half-braindead Socrates? Or Plato? Hippocrates? He's just naming names now. He fidgets.  

On-screen, another character screams as one of the zombies bites her arm.

“Are you alright there, Muds?” Why did 2D have to pick up on everything? “Movie too scary for ya?”

“No!” Murdoc snaps. “It’s not that… It’s just...” Neither 2D nor the rum he grabbed from the fridge earlier had done anything to dull his current bout of nerves. Instead, all the tension has been gathering at the base of his neck. The throbbing in his head from before is even worse. He groans in frustration.

“You just seem a little on edge, that’s all.”

“...It’s my head.”

“Oh, you have a headache,” 2D says, seemingly pleased that it’s an issue well within the breadth of his expertise. “Do you need any help with it? I was talking with my mum about mine just last week; she gave me something good.”  

Murdoc perks up. He could count on one hand the number of scenarios where he would place his trust in 2D. Pain medicine was one of them. A strong painkiller could change everything. “Do you happen to any of those buggers with you now?”

“Sure,” 2D says, smiling as he moves closer to where Murdoc is sitting.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m um, well for this to work I’m actually going to have to touch your head.”

Immediately, Murdoc jerks away. “You what?!”

2D shrinks back in response. “It’s just a head massage, Muds.  My mum’s worried about the number of prescriptions I have so we cut one of the stronger ones out and replaced it with this. We wanted to see if it made a difference. I’ve been going to a massage therapist for the past two weeks or so. It doesn’t quite do the trick but it works well enough, I picked up some technique myself, uh, I think.”

“You can take all that geeky zen rubbish and sod off,” Murdoc mutters.

“Okay, Muds...alright.”

They continue watching the screen as victim after victim gets infected. 2D continues to interject with overlong descriptions about symbolism, zombie lore, and film technique. Murdoc weighs his options. If he’s being honest, he’s at a point where he would accept anything that might make him feel better. But why did it have to be 2D? On the other hand, the singer wouldn’t stop talking. Considering it was just the two of them, and no one else would ever have to find out, Murdoc makes his decision. Allowing 2D to touch his head in this scenario was justified. Interrupting yet another explanation about the folly of man, he asks, “Hey uh...2D? You know that massage you were talking about? Will giving me one make you shut up for more than ten minutes?”

“Oh..uh,” 2D sounds surprised. “Yeah. Yeah, we can give it a try.” Hesitantly, he moves behind Murdoc and begins.

2D’s fingers send tiny sparks along Murdoc’s scalp as he kneads the muscles in his forehead, moving downwards along his hairline. He dwells on how amazing it feels but pushes that thought to the side with haste. He keeps his eyes locked on the screen and the excessive depictions of gore and chaos. It’s an apt representation of turmoil he is currently feeling inside. What he finds so maddening about 2D, even more than his inscrutability and empty-headedness, was his willingness to be kind to Murdoc. Murdoc had spent the past twenty or so years convincing himself that kindness was not meant to be a part of his life. There was something inherent to his existence that repelled it from him. And he had come to accept that until 2D had to come along and mess it all up. It had to be because he was just too stupid, there was no other answer. Murdoc wasn’t sure he would be able to handle any other answer.

As 2D moves his hands to the back of Murdoc’s head, he begins softly humming. He begins following along to the soundtrack of the movie but soon trails off on his own. Evidently, watching the movie without any sort of verbalization was not going to happen. However, the melody he’s come up with is wistful and soothing. Murdoc makes a mental note to ask him about it in the morning to see if it would fit with some lyrics he had drafting. Slowly, and a bit self-consciously, Murdoc feels himself begin to relax.

“How does it feel so far? Is it working?” 2D asks.

Oh, it was working. More than that, Murdoc realizes a significant amount of his tension had abated. The darkness of the lobby no longer looks so menacing, the unpleasant memories that were hovering over him seem to have floated away. He's never been able to settle himself down from a bad night without copious amounts of alcohol. It’s an unfamiliar but pleasant sensation.

“I think the movie is almost over. Didn’t quite live up to the hype but it was still pretty entertaining after all. How about you?” 2D asks, still looking for a response.

Murdoc yawns. “I’ll give this director you were so excited about some credit. He knows his way around a good death scene. I don’t think I’ve ever seen fake blood used that way before.”

“The fake blood actually cause a lot of controversies because some of it was real animal blood. I almost didn’t buy it myself.”

“Ah. A man after my own heart.” 2D’s hands are still kneading the back of his head when Murdoc moves to lie down on his stomach.

“Oh, are you going to sleep now?” 2D asks.

“No. Keep going.” He would have never considered it earlier in the night but, as the singer's fingers continue to run through his hair, Murdoc muses that sleep may not sound so bad after all. Even though it was just 2D, it’s comforting to have him there. 

“So I guess it’s been helping then? My mum will glad to hear,” 2D says. “But you might want to run a comb through your hair a bit more often, it’s all greasy...also a bit tangled in the back.”

“Just...shut up.”

So he does, returning to the reflective melody he had been humming just minutes ago. It’s the singer’s soft croon that sticks in Murdoc's mind as he finally drifts off completely.

-------

When his eyes open, the first thing Murdoc notices is the half-empty bottle of rum he had left by his side. The next thing he notices is that he's still in the lobby, surrounded by blankets. He must have slept there the entire night. 

“Oh, morning, Muds,” comes a familiar voice just to the right of him. “You’re awake.”

Turning quickly in the direction of the voice, Murdoc finds himself face to face with 2D. “What the hell are you still doing here?” M demands, mortified, “Why didn’t you go back to your own room?”

“Well, I was going to do that, but once you laid down, I wanted to lay down too, and you rolled over on my arm and wouldn’t budge. I tried to tell you, but all you did was try and elbow me. You missed though,” 2D mumbles. It sounds like he’s still half asleep. “Then I guess I just nodded off.”

Murdoc feels his embarrassment beginning to morph into anger but decides to ignore it. He's pretty comfortable right where he is. “You’re lucky you’re my lead singer.” 2D was also lucky that he gave good head massages. “Because otherwise, you would be on some really thin ice right now.”

“We’ll be lucky to see any ice at all this winter what with all the warm weather.”

Usually, an obtuse response from 2D would have earned him a string of insults or a swat on the head. Today was not going to be one of those days. Murdoc turns again so that he’s facing away from the singer, pulling the blanket over his head to block out the light. He was going to savor the moment a bit longer. Despite 2D being 2D, it’s rare that he’s ever felt so at peace.

“Hey, Murdoc? Wait,” 2D says, “You never gave me my arm back.”

“Too bad. I’ll check back in a couple hours,” Murdoc grins beneath the blanket. He still couldn’t pass up a chance to inconvenience the singer at every opportunity. It was too much fun.

“Don’t be such a wanker,” 2D says as he attempts to jerk his arm out from underneath the bassist. “I was nice to you!”

He was right. And he was probably nicer than he deserved, given their history. For that reason, Murdoc would roll off his arm soon enough. He still wanted to talk to him about that song he had been humming.

The singer had surprised him last night. Murdoc knew that 2D had an uncanny ability to figure out how to annoy him to maximum effect, but he never would have expected him to also know what to do to put him at ease. Underneath the covers, he ponders what exactly this realization means to him. He isn’t sure, but he knows it means something. It wasn’t going to eliminate the underlying resentment he still clung to, nor was it going to solve his infinite list of issues. But at the very least, he could rest assured knowing that he wasn’t completely alone.

[suitofvibraniumarmor]

Catch My Breath

Summary: After her parents are killed, Y/N needs someone to guard her until the culprit can be found.  Pairing: Clint x Reader  Word Count: 3643 Warnings: Death of parents, attempted murder, violence, guns, funeral. Angst. But also a some fluff? Square Filled: Private Security AU for @marvelfluffbingo​

GIF found via Google Image Search. 

The idea of going out in public with a bodyguard was positively abhorrent to you, but since your parents had been unceremoniously shot down in the house you had lived in your entire life the week before, going out without protection was just plain stupid. Your uncle assured you that he had found someone in private security who would take good care of you without being intrusive. 

Detectives were working round the clock to find out why your parents had been the target of murder. Your father’s parents were wealthy, yes, but he had wanted no part of their fortune when they refused to accept his love for your mother. He traded his place in their will for their acceptance of her. Your parents would never see a dime of those riches, and neither would you, but your family was happy; that was far more important to you than anything money could buy. 

“He’s late,” you mumbled to yourself, checking the time on your phone. 

Your uncle smiled kindly and wrapped an arm around your shoulder. “He’s not. You’re impatient, Y/N. Your father was the same way when he was anxious to get things done.”

Maybe impatience wasn’t the best quality to have, but knowing you had a trait that resembled that of your father, pulled a sad smile from your lips. You missed both of your parents terribly, so you would take whatever pieces of them you could get at this point. 

Another ten minutes passed before someone buzzed the gate. Your uncle’s own security put the man through several questions, which meant another ten minutes before he was actually on the property and approaching you and your uncle in the foyer. 

“You must be Mr. Barton,” your uncle greeted, holding his hand out to shake that of the man dressed in black and pushing dark sunglasses onto his head. “I’m Sawyer Preston, and this is my niece, Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Clint Barton, nice to meet both of you,” he returned, nodding in your direction. Maybe you should have offered to shake his hand, too, but you were too skeptical of anyone for any type of physical contact. It was a wonder you allowed your uncle a hug or two throughout the day. “Ms. Y/L/N, your uncle mentioned you need a protection detail for an indefinite amount of time?”

You had expected that your uncle would handle of this, so you weren’t prepared to answer questions. “Y-yes. My parents —”

“I know,” Clint interjected. You met his eyes, directly, for the first time. He wasn’t interrupting you; he was sparing you a repeat of a story you had already had to tell far too many times. “I’m willing to take the job, and your uncle has my references.”

“Homeland Security, quite impressive,” you uncle commented, nudging you with his elbow. 

You gave a tight smile. “Impressive, yes. I don’t need much — for right now, I need to go out and find a dress for the funeral tomorrow. Eventually, I’d like to go back to work.”

“I’ve told her that’s not necessary. My parents weren’t keen on sharing their fortune, but I don’t share the same qualms they did,” your uncle supplied. 

You pursed your lips together. “And while that’s very kind, my desire to work is more to keep me from wasting away, doing nothing.”

Clint smirked. “Fair enough. I can handle both of those things. In order to do my job, Ms. Y/L/N, the only thing I ask is that you keep me aware of your plans so that I can be there to do what I need to do. You’re going to get annoyed, having a human shadow everywhere you go, but until they’re able to find the people who did this to your parents, I’m going to be a necessary nuisance.”

“I appreciate the honesty.” You gave your uncle a single nod. “I think this will work out fine. Are you available now to go with me? If I don’t find a dress soon, I’ll be wearing these clothes to my parents’ funeral.”

Clint nodded. “Of course. Mr. Preston, you and I can discuss the financials when we return?”

Your uncle nodded and sent the two of you on your way. Clint showed you to his car, a stereotypical, all-black SUV, with tinted window. Despite the tint, he insisted you sit in the middle row. 

You sighed. “I guess that’s part of the annoying human shadow game?”

“Exactly,” Clint answered, chuckling. “It’s likely any shooters would assume you’re in the front seat, with me. I’m not a chauffeur, but I try to avoid any harm coming to my clients.”

“I appreciate that.”

You appreciated his casual, easy demeanor. Clint was professional, but not corporate. He wasn’t treating you like a paycheck; he was treating you like a person. A person who had nothing left to lose except her life — and he was going to prevent that loss if he could. 

As you perused the racks of dresses in a store you normally wouldn’t have dreamed of shopping in, but now you had a standard to live up to. You wanted something stylish, but modest. Classic, but not old-fashioned. With three dresses on your arm, you asked the sales attendant for a fitting room. She offered to help you, but you declined. Clint, a man you hardly knew, standing outside the door of the fitting room was enough of an invasion to your privacy. 

Of the three dresses, there was one that you felt comfortable in — in fact, you felt downright good about yourself. And a little guilty for feeling that way. You decided you needed a second opinion. If the reaction was too good, you would find something else. You stepped barefoot out of the fitting room and looked around for the sales attendant. 

“Wow.”

Clint had muttered the word under his breath, and judging by the look on his face, he hadn’t mean to let that slip out. You bit your bottom lip and apologized. 

“I’m sorry, I was expecting the sales attendant to be out here. I needed a second opinion.” You stood in front of the open fitting room door, shifting nervously from one foot to the other. “I really love this one, but I feel almost … not almost, I do feel guilty, about how much I love it, and how good I feel in it.”

“Hey,” Clint soothed, taking a step closer to you, “you’re still living your life, remember? Grieve. You’re absolutely allowed that. But what good is me protecting your life if you’re not going to live it?”

Your breath caught in your throat. If life was a movie, he would have reached up to caress your cheek, and there was a not-so-small part of you that wanted him to do that. What was wrong with you? You’d known him for, what, an hour? You looked down at the floor, smoothing out the front of the dress. 

“Okay. I’m going to get dressed and then we can go.”

Clint resumed the place where he had been standing before you came out of the fitting room and hadn’t budged when you came back out again. This time, there was no conversation as you got back into the black SUV. You didn’t mind; the exchange in the fitting room lobby had left you a little rattled, and, if you weren’t mistaken, Clint was feeling a bit of the same. 

The morning of the funeral, you rode in a town car with your uncle. Clint and two men from your uncle’s security team followed behind the town car in Clint’s SUV. 

“How’s the security detail working out so far?” your uncle asked as the town car pulled up to the church. 

You watched out the window as Clint got out of the SUV, becoming familiar with his surroundings before he headed toward the town car. 

“Fine. It’s fine.”

Clint came and opened your door, while your uncle exited the other side, escorted by his own security team. Your aunt, Sonya, was waiting at the front of the church for you and your uncle. She was the only sister of your grandparents’ three children, and had always been incredibly kind. She had even been one of your mother’s bridesmaids, and sent you a card or a gift for every birthday. You would have opted to stay with her after your parents’ death, but she had been traveling at the time, and you weren’t familiar enough with your uncle to explain that you would rather live with your aunt. Maybe once the investigation was over.

“Y/N, my dear,” she sighed, tears filling her pretty eyes. She took your hands and kissed you on both cheeks. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry this happened, I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner. I’ve arranged to have your things moved to my house first thing tomorrow morning.”

You hugged her, more grateful than you can express. When you pulled away, you motioned to Clint right behind you. 

“Aunt Sonya, this is Clint Barton. Uncle Sawyer hired him as my person security for the time being.”

Sonya reached out to squeeze her brother’s arm. “Very smart, little brother. The guests will be arriving soon; shall we go in?”

She hooked an arm through yours and the two of you walked ahead of your uncle and the security into the funeral home. The director went over a few last minute details with the three of you, and then advised you where to stand as guests filed in for the service. There was a guestbook, but propriety called for you to greet all of them along with your aunt and uncle. 

Clint was never far, always right behind you, occasionally reaching out to set a hand in your arm — soft, as though he was letting someone pass, although no one was. No one else would have noticed the gesture, but you were grateful for it. Despite your aunt and uncle on either side of you, the cold fingers of loneliness had taken a grip on you. The more people who poured in — most of whom wouldn’t have acknowledged your parents on the sidewalk if they passed — the lonelier you felt. With Clint behind you, you felt less as though you were suffocating in the feeling. 

You made it through the majority of the service by taking deep breaths and occasionally meeting eyes with Clint, standing off to the side, at the front, not terribly far from the caskets were placed. Each time, he gave you an encouraging nod, and you were able to make it a few more minutes. 

Just at the end of the eulogy, Clint was focused in on something or someone that wasn’t you. Without his silent encouragement, you felt your chest tighten and a lump form in your throat. The walls began to close in, and it felt as though everyone else in the room was breathing all of the air, leaving none for you. 

Pushing from the pew, you rushed as gracefully as possible out of the room and out front of the funeral home. Fresh air rushed over you. You gasped it in as though it was the last air you would ever breathe, closing your eyes and trying to get the world to stop spinning. 

“Y/N!”

Before the spinning became too much and your knees gave out, Clint was there, holding you at the elbows and urging you to breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth. 

“I can’t — I can’t —” You couldn’t finish the sentence. “They’re gone! I’m alone! I have no siblings, my family in there, I hardly know. Even my aunt kept a certain amount of distance so she didn’t lose her inheritance, too. I’ve lost my parents and now I’m thrust into this world where I could die at any moment, surrounded by people I hardly know, in a world that’s uncomfortable and unfamiliar!”

You were sobbing now. No matter how hysterical your rational self might have thought you were at that moment, you couldn’t stop. You were heartbroken. Your world was falling apart and you had no idea how to pick up the pieces, let alone put them back together. 

“Okay, all right,” Clint soothed, pulling you against him. You set your chin on his shoulder, holding on to him tighter than you had held on to anyone in a long time. “It’s the beginning, Y/N, you’ve got a long way to go with this. You’re allowed moments of uncertainty, especially at your own parents’ funeral. But you’re not alone. You’re not going to be alone. Your aunt is going to take care of you, I’m going to take care of you. You’re not alone.”

You nodded against his shoulder, unsure how this man you had known for not even twenty-four hours was more comforting than relatives you had known your entire life. With Clint’s presence as your security guard came a certain kind of security you hadn’t expected him to be the source of. 

The two of you waited in the lobby for the service to be over. You aunt doted on you when she came out, making sure you were okay now and ready for the burial. You assured her that you were, though the disapproving glances from your uncle had you wondering if you would hear about this from him later on. 

The burial and the wake were tolerable. You were introduced to so many people, you knew you would never remember them all, but you did your best. When it was permissible, you had Clint drive you back to your uncle’s house so that you could get out of that pretty dress and rest. You put on a t-shirt and a comfortable pair of sweats, washed your face and took the pins out of your hair, then fell to your bed to take a nap. 

When you woke, it was dark and you were startled awake by the bedroom door slamming shut. You squinted your eyes in an attempt to see in the dark. 

“Clint?”

He put a finger to his lips, urging you to be quiet. “There’s someone in the house. They shot the at the front gate. I want you to get your phone, get under the bed, and call your uncle. Tell him to stay wherever he is until this is under control.”

You did exactly as Clint told you, clapping your hand over your mouth when your shin hit the bed frame as you scrambled in the dark to get where you had been told. A bruise later was certainly better than losing your life. 

Honestly, you were worried that even the light of your phone from under the bed would give away where you and Clint were, but you didn’t want to put your uncle in danger, either. You dialed his number and prayed that the volume was low enough that whoever was in the house wouldn’t hear it.

From right outside the bedroom door, another phone rang. You frowned, wondering who had been stupid enough to invade a house and not turn their ringer off. Two rings later, realization hit you: those rings were in sync with the ones coming from your end of the line. 

Clint must have realized it, too, because you heard him curse under his breath and he whispered for you to end the call. Once it was disconnected, the ringing in the hallway stopped. 

“Stay here,” he ordered before you heard his footsteps leading out into the hall and away from your room. 

You were terrified at having him farther away than he had been since he arrived the day before, but there wasn’t much of choice in the matter. You stayed where you were, praying that it wasn’t your uncle who had come after your life, not really. 

The light in the bedroom switched on, and you held your breath. From your position under the bed, you could see not Clint’s black boots, but your uncle’s fine leather, polished dress shoes. Surely it was only a matter of time before he looked under the bed, but until then —

Two strong hands gripped your wrists and pulled you out from under the bed. You screamed and fought, but your uncle was quicker and stronger than you. He punched you once across the face, then clamped one hand over your hand and your mouth, the other pressing down on your throat. 

“Shh, Y/N,” he urged quietly, “shh. The more you fight it, the more it’s going to hurt. Death doesn’t have to be as painful for you as it was for your parents.”

Your squirming stopped, and a lack of oxygen wasn’t even your greatest concern. You stared up at him, eyes wide with both fear and realization. 

He nodded. “That’s right. It was me. You were out, or you would have been taken down with them, I’m sorry to say. How’s about, since you’ve only got a few minutes left anyway, I’ll tell you everything?”

He let up the pressure on your throat, but kept his hand over your nose and mouth, allowing some air, but not much. You wondered where Clint was, why he hadn’t come to save you yet. 

“You see, your parents weren’t exactly taken out of the will as they thought. Well, they were, but you weren’t. Before my mother and father passed, they set up a trust for you. It is to be awarded on your next birthday. However, that means money has been funneling out of my inheritance for years. I simply cannot have that. You have no children, and with your parents gone, the next of kin are Sonya and myself. My sister has no idea about any of this, so I suppose she’ll never be grateful that I took care of things for us, but at least —”

Someone hit your uncle, hard, at the temple. He fell to the side, his hand leaving your face, and allowing you to breath. For the second time that day, you gasped in air, greedy to fill your lungs again. 

Clint stood over your uncle, blood running from a gash on his forehead. He was already on the phone for backup, even as you worked to sit yourself up. You scooted away from your uncle’s limp form as quickly as you could. 

You could hear sirens in the distance, but you stayed where you were, as did Clint. Your uncle was rousing as police officers entered the house; they cuffed him and carted him off to a squad car to have a medic check him over before they brought him to jail. 

With the situation under control, you allowed another medic to escort you to the back of the ambulance, to have your face checked and make sure there would be no last damages from the brief time you were being suffocated. 

“She gonna be all right?”

The medic turned to see Clint behind him. “I think so, although I’m going to encourage her to go down to the hospital and get checked out, just in case. Maybe you should, too, sir.”

Clint pointed to the cut on his head. “Oh yeah, this — I didn’t see it coming, I guess. I’ll have someone drive both of us over here soon. Fair enough?”

The medic nodded, but had both of you sign AMA forms, just in case. Clint informed you that your Aunt Sonya had called the house, having been alerted by authorities, and Clint had assured her that you were all right, but she would likely want to meet the two of you at the hospital. 

“That’s fine,” you nodded, sliding down from the back of the ambulance. “Are you going to drive, or …?”

He reached up to run a gentle hand over the bruising on your face. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there, Y/N. He got the jump on me down in the kitchen, and when I came to, he was confessing. I wasn’t trying to leave you out for bait, and I never would have let him hurt you more than he did, but they’re going to need that confession.”

“What, you got the whole thing on video?” You smirked, adrenaline fueling your sense of humor for the moment. “You’re one of those people! The people who see a car wreck or whatever and instead of calling for help or something, they just video the whole thing and take pictures.”

Clint rolled his eyes. “Hey, c’mon, I saved your life in the end. They need the evidence.”

You nodded and stepped forward to kiss his cheek. “You did, and I’ll be forever grateful for it. Perhaps sometime you could accompany me to dinner, as a small, insignificant thank you?”

“Well, I should probably keep up the security detail, at least until your uncle is safely behind bars and we’re sure he’s not going to send anyone else for you — or your aunt for that matter.”

“Yes, that’s a good point,” you nodded, “but I mean accompany me not as my security guard.” 

As the gist of what you were saying sunk in, Clint’s smirk grew to a smile. He put a hand at the small of your back and guided you toward his SUV. 

“Let’s get you to the hospital, Ms. Y/L/N. The sooner we get you back on your feet, the sooner you can take me to dinner.”

You giggled, but you knew this happy feeling wouldn’t last. The reality of the last week and a half of your life was going to sink in again, this time with the addition of the attempt on your life. You were confident, though, that with Clint around, you could could keep breathing through it all. 

Tags: @captain-s-rogers​ @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​ @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked​ @hurricanerin​ @horsesandbandsforlife​ @im-not-an-armrest-im-short​ @captain-rogers-beard​ @shynara51​ @sea040561​ @anxiouskore​ @pinknerdpanda​ @xtina2191​ @jackryanplz​ @beakami​ @heartsaved​ @fullprunerebelstatesman​ @blackwidowismyhomegirl​

[thesparkinthefire]

Ghost - Pedro Pascal x Reader

A/N: I have a one and a half hour breakfast break because my company does not know how to plan, so I thought I might as well upload this now. I am uploading it through my phone and don't know how to proper edit on tumblr so this might look like a mess. English is also not my first language and I never wrote in it before - please point out any mistakes I might have made. I think this is part one of two.

Word count: 1,997

Paaring: Pedro Pascal crushing on musical!Reader ft. Oscar Isaac

Trigger Warning: age gap mentioned, a lot of jealousy

"Though my heart is broken, it keeps breaking every day." - With You, the Ghost cast album

Pedro didn't hate Oscar. It was quiet the opposite – that guy was his best friend. His amigo in the US of A and the wild life of Hollywood. Working with him on Triple Frontier was a dream come true and felt more like a guys-trip than work most of the time. Both of them were part of the Star Wars universe and if it somehow would have been possible they would love for their characters to meet just to work together a little more.

No, Pedro didn't hate Oscar. Except for two things.

First being that one time when he gave him a Wet Willy during that interview when they were answering questions people seem to type into Google – he still cringed whenever he thought back.

The second thing were you. Not exactly you-you because you did absolutely nothing wrong, but for Oscar's relationship with you. 

What an irony, that Pedro had introduced the both of you. You were a young actress from Europe and after you blew up because of your role in a teen-romance movie you were his partner on the second season of The Mandalorian. Your character had been a fan favourite, came into the show half way through the season and was set to stay at least for a few more episodes in the third season.

You were younger than him. A lot. But that had never bothered you. In every interview you had you were asked how working with “an experienced actor like Pedro Pascal” was like – which he found a little offensive, he might have a little lower back-pain but he wasn't that old – you smiled and answered that age was only a number and you two got along very well. And he was more than glad that you saw it that way.

To claim that he had never crushed on one of the actresses he had acted romance with would simply be a lie, but he was a professional. He never told anyone if he did and he did his best at keeping it a secret and not letting his feelings dominate his brain. But it was different with you. The moment he first saw you he thanked god that you had gotten the role. You were stunning in your very own way. Always kind to everybody – it didn't matter whether you were talking to him, the director or the clumsy intern. You always brought yourself to smile in the morning even though getting up early was like torture to you. You stayed focused on set, even when your nerves were killing you. Having a bad day was tough but you always acted kind and polite. You were perfect. In every possible way. Acting romance was the main job for the two of you and that wasn't only hard because he was wearing Din's helmet all the time. No, the problem was that he wasn't acting. He fell madly in love with you. It wasn't even your character. You were just so damn perfect.

You met a bunch of times outside of work, after the second season had aired and press tour had been wrapped. You got along so perfectly well that he sometimes had to ask himself, if he wasn't being too obvious. Maybe he was. But you never told him to step back or just didn't notice it. You should have noticed it by the time he asked you, what you were doing for Christmas. “Probably watching Netflix,” you had answered. “I am not going home until the new year and, yeah, everyone else is with their families.”

“You could join me,” Pedro had said before his mind had really processed the words you had said. “I mean- I am having dinner with a bunch of friends and, yes, we don't have a no-girls rule and you could join me. Us.” He had never seen something as beautiful as you when your eyes lit up in that moment. You happily accepted. That's how you met Oscar Isaac. Pedro's best friend, who he had never hated as much as in the moment when you were kissing him.

Oscar and you had a lot in common. You both loved Star Wars and were more than happy to discus every single theory about Finnpoe, Din Djaren and your character, the Skywalkers and Baby Yoda – just like you and him had so many times before. You both started by playing theatre – just like he did. You learned Spanish when you were still in school and tried your best to hold simple conversations with Oscar while he tried to teach you more – just like Pedro had. The thing that really connected the both of you and that made Pedro feel invisible were musicals. Sure, he had seen a few but singing was just not his thing. Oscar and you, on the other hand spent hours talking about the motifs in Hamilton, the fate of Gleb in Anastasia, the musical adaption of Heathers, the movie adaption of Cats and the harmonies in Dear Evan Hansen. Pedro loved listening to you. You were the most beautiful when you were talking about something you were as passionate about as musicals. You whole face lit up and you started talking with your hands. As much as he loved it, he hated it. Because it wasn't him you were talking with but mainly Oscar. You both loved singing and sooner or later ended up with his guitar, when the three of you were meeting at Oscar's house, or at your piano, when you were in your apartment. Pedro didn't dare to imagine how many hours you had spent in togetherness singing and acting out scenes. Fuck's sake he shouldn't – Oscar was married after all.

The year after you met some genius decided to bring the musical Ghost to California for a four week run and thought that no couple would be a better fit than Oscar and you. That was solely a PR-gig because the same director was about to host a bigger play the month after the run, but Oscar still accepted. So did you. And that hurt Pedro so much.

You had been doing a few musicals before you blew up as an actress and were just perfect for the role for Molly but Oscar, god, out of all people. He didn't know if he could handle seeing the you being in love. Even if it was just on stage.

The day Oscar and you accepted the part the three of you met up and watched the movie the musical was based on. You were crying half of the time and Oscar was visibly touched too but Pedro hated it. Maybe only because of the thought of you kissing his best friend for at least four weeks – rehearsals additional. He watched you from the corner of his eye and when he saw Oscar lean in you direction, he quickly wrapped his arm around you and pulled you in. “You are truly a crybaby,” he mumbled and handed you another tissue. For an hour the world was perfect – you, cuddled into his side while watching a romance.

But it soon got back to the cruel reality when Oscar decided, after the movie ended, the best way to cheer you up was singing Unchained Melody to you.

And now he was standing in the doorway to your rehearsal room in the theatre that you had stared working in a week ago, looking at you somewhat between sitting and laying on the orange couch and Oscar above you. Kissing you. Hands roaming over your body, under your shirt, moving it up. It was like looking at an accident – he didn't want to watch because it horrified him, but at the same time he couldn't look away. His heart was crushing, breaking. And the worst thing was, that the first thing that crossed his mind wasn't, that Oscar is a married man.

“Okay, wait,” you said, pushing him away from you. “Is it weird when I do that?”

“What?”

“That.” You tapped against his side, which was turned away from Pedro.

“Normally not but the audience can't see that because that side of us is turned to the back of the stage.”

Fuck.

That was a stage kiss. You were practising. That was all part of the rehearsal. Oscar wasn't cheating on his wife and you weren't... well, you weren't doing anything at all because Pedro had never made the god damn move of asking you out. It had been almost a year since he first met you at the table reading for the second Mandalorian season and he never said anything. Why did he never say anything? He was such an idiot. He could have slapped himself, hit his head against the next wall. What the fuck was holding him back?

“Hey Pedro! Didn't hear you coming.” Your voice brought him back to reality. Oscar moved off of you and you sat back up again. God, he had been starring. He had definitely been starring.

“Todo esta bien, amigo?”, Oscar asked.

“Yeah... Yeah, sure. I am just not feeling well.” That was an understatement. He was feeling sick. Fucking sick. He couldn't wait for the premiere. You would be so happy and excited while the knot in his throat was growing minute by minute until he was forced to sit through two hours of you and his best friend being in love. Usually he was good at separating the human from the role they were playing but somehow it was not possible for him this time. His brain couldn't and it made him mad and sad at the same time because he wanted to be happy for you. Ghost was a musical you were talking about before. It was possibly a dream come true and a huge opportunity to be selected for the leading role and he should be happy for you. He wanted to support you and his best friend on their project and give them the acting advice, they asked him for – that's why he even came here – but his heart wanted him to turn around and walk right out the door and never come back. Maybe even drink to get the images out of his head. They were nightmare material to him.

“Well, don't get us sick. We only have two more weeks until the premiere.”

“I will let you know once I know how to control sickness,” he snapped back a bit harsher than the wanted to. That's what it was. Sickness. A virus. Jealousy was poisoning his heart.

All he wanted was to be there for you. Because he knew how anxious premiers made you. Everyone kept asking you about how you were doing and you always smiled and said that you were just as nervous as everybody working on the production but that wasn't the full truth. Pedro saw it in the way your smile faded for a split second, once the question was asked. He noticed it when you took longer and longer to reply to his messages. He noticed, that you were a little more quiet than usual when you were out for dinner. Stress-crying was a thing you did and he would bet that you had already have a few breakdowns.

He wanted nothing more than to comfort you. To pull you in a tight hug, kiss your head and tell you that everything will turn out just fine, because you were gorgeous in every way possible. You were intelligent and strong and beautiful – simply amazing. Why did he never ask you out? It was way too late to do it now, wasn't it? You had grown to be something like best friends and best friends don't date each other.

He had shoot his shot.

And you would never be his.

Part two

[wincore]

AHHHH ive been working all weekend at my part time job and reading ur wips/ideas literally got me thru it!!

WHEN U CATCH UP ON HAIKYUU U GOTTA LET ME KNOWWW omg who was ur favorite character from what u watched?? mine is kuroo & atsumu (s4)!! if u have any anime or drama reccs id gladly take them 🤲🏻🤲🏻

when do you hear back abt grad school btw!! :o like what’s the timeline for applying & hearing back?

OFC I LIKE THEM?? I LIKE ALL UR IDEAS!!!

DISOBEYING FATE??? does this mean 2 ppl who are nonsoulmates are pretending to be together/are together 👀👀 IS THIS GONNA BE ANGSTY!! u know i live for the tension... and u know i love the way u write it!!!! a more flirty and annoying yn sounds so fun to read omg

“this fashion designer fic is dedicated to you tata 💝” IM HONORED TO CONTRIBUTE TO TAEYONG’S DUNGEON ESCAPE HWHSHJSJ will there be runway character cameos 😳😳

“AFTER TWILIGHT” HELP MEEEEE i cant tell who in nomin is edward and who’s jacob.... jeno edward?? LOL

EVERY ROMANCE PLOT SUITS JAEMIN OMGGG SO TRUE WAIT THAT REMINDS ME pls tell me the tropes/plots that u associate with the members!! or which tropes u think suit them well, any pairings that rlly stand out to u. obviously we are both pro e2l & doyoung HSJWJJS but who/what else!!! i am a person fan of yukhei with the f2l/campus crush/heartthrob bestie trope.

ALSO i kinda went off the grid around the time u did that poll about people’s favorite fanfic tropes/plots so i didn’t see any updates on it!! did u find anything interesting from that survey?? :o

I HOPE UR HAVING A GOOD WEEK MOONIE 💛

- tata 💖

THAT MAKES ME SO HAPPY AHHH omg i hope your part time offers enough wage for all that work!!! i would be so mad if i had to work over the weekend (but.. then again.. i’m aiming for ..corporate jobs..)

OMG omg okay this is going to get REALLY longer now tata!!!! i think this is where i should include a keep reading 😭

LET ME TELL YOU I HAD THIS MASSIVE CRUSH ON OIKAWA like his character just got to me!! i think i even wrote a character analysis for him back then LOL when i tell you 15 year old me was absolutely enamored with a 2d man. i loved kuroo too omg and the whole nekoma team he was just so chill i wanted to be him 🤩 and i’ve seen pictures of atsumu from my friends!!! who keep spamming me bc they too are in love with 2d men and he looks like someone who would cause problems on purpose but that could just be me sdkdhsj 

and ooh, i have so many dramas/animes i’ve been meaning to watch but recently in kdramas, i watched run on which was super cute and i love the female lead; extracurricular oh BOY i love this. i love thrillers and crime fiction. like SO much. it’s a shame i can’t make my own 😔; and now i’m currently watching vincenzo which is a dark comedy about a korean-italian mafia man and it’s rlly funny at times and also i like the theme of evil fights evil bc i am tired of main characters with moral compasses 🙄🙄 it’s ongoing though!! my friends recommended true beauty and love alarm to me but the way they are sobbing over it i am very afraid. i was also planning to watch perfect crime (jdrama) bc my friend is obsessed with sakurada dori. <3

my all time fav animes are still one piece (which i still havent caught up with bc i am so slow) and demon slayer!! i havent watched much anime recently but i watched the ancient animagus’ bride (?? i think that’s the name?) it’s got SUPER pretty visuals and i was in awe of the animation most of the time.

i also watched this japanese movie fairly recently called shoplifters and it’s also crime technically but discusses more of japanese poverty and my feelings throughout the movie were like 📈📉📈📉 and it’s so well directed!!! i think it’s the same director as for after the storm!! idk if you’ve watched that but it was really good too!

i apply to grad school next year!! i’ll be joining in the fall semester so i have to get stuff ready by april and that’s when most of the applications start!! the scholarship im aiming for begins earlier though and like. ma’am slow down i don’t even get my degree that early i’ll have to use a provisional certificate now😭

YES about the soulmates omg hhh the official synopsis is this: 

if finding your soulmate is the same as a damn game of russian roulette, you are determined to not pull the trigger at all. except, you know who your soulmate is and he doesn’t—and given a choice to pretend, you find that jaehyun is the lesser of the two burdens to bear.

like jaehyun is not the soulmate but yn doesn’t want her soulmate bc a) he’s in a relationship and doesn’t rlly care about the soulmate system which hurt bc she’s even lonelier now 😔 and b) she thinks money > love but that’s just a coping mechanism for being a lonely (and romantically repressed) person as is her being annoying and nosy LOL. i will end the analysis of my own character here jshgdksh

YES TO RUNWAY CHARACTER CAMEOS and yes you are literally the reason taeyong is escaping the dungeon

PLS neither jeno or nomin can be blue screen filtered brooding men i would be so uncomfortable 😭😭 IMD YING DGKSHDK if jeno plays edward i need him to that apple scene like taemin did ♥

okay so i have nct dream categorized in this way (i feel like it’s kind of biased towards bff2l whoops):

bff2l - mark, jeno, jaemin, jisung

e2l - haechan, renjun

either - chenle

but adding to that, lucas is definitely the campus crush bff you’re secretly in love with but you just can’t tell him!!! he’s too hot and popular for his own good!!!! but a series of romcom-esque events will help you probably LOL (bonus points if it’s fake dating)

if it isn’t e2l with doyoung i will respectfully not accept it as valid ❤

i also associate xiaojun with bff2l likee they’re always together on campus to the point that people think they’re dating also xiaojun majors in music and gets complimented on his lyricism often but like every song’s about you lol and one day he’s like wait is it copyright infringement if he’s using your existence in his songs bc boy are you a work of art ;)

i think sicheng would do REALLY well in royalty aus like hello??? he already has the looks and the poise. also chaebol aus might also work bc what are corporate businesses but modern day kingdoms </3 bonus points if it’s e2l but idk how you beefing with sicheng would work like . i don’t think he can fight like ever y/n will bench press him.

jaehyun is another person who seems to go with any vibe/plot like mans really said i will not give you any onscreen idol personality to work with ❤ 

i think most of them would pair well with bff2l?? they are all so silly and seem like they’d be great friends LOL except they’re too good looking.

and oh!!! i don’t think i posted the results OOPS let me add them real quick.

the readability is low on this bc google sacrificed that for uniformity 🙄

but the ones i had as options were (in the same order):

i hope you have a great wekk too tata!!!!!! answering this ask boosted my energy for the week 🥰🌼