#i think the role suits her rather well and it's a shame so many people put her on the bottom

[trappedinafantasy37]

Me rn as I write all this Shadowthara smut

[heavenlymorals]

How would you describe Mary’s personality? I always feel like this fandom portrays her to be this very classy, serious, goody-two-shoes but I think she has to have some form of rebellious nature in her considering she’s a “high-society” girl that fell in with an outlaw and brought him home to her daddy. Yeah she may not be as free and spirited compared to the camp girls, but everyone always talks about Arthur’s type being a woman who’s sophisticated - but on a general scale comparing her to the women of her social status, she must fall more on the rebellious side of things no?

Mary is many things. She is melancholic, feisty, calm, rational, thoughtful. She's a person with many emotions and dreams and honestly? She's a delight in the little time we got to know her, even if the circumstances were rather sad. But mostly though? I think Mary is a woman who grew up.

She met Arthur when she was young, super young.

"Oh, we were so very young. Think of how different life could've been."

I mean, she doesn't even look at day over 18 in that pic she had with Arthur. In fact, Arthur looked to be a couple of years older than she was, but that's neither here nor there. The fact is that she was probably way over her head when she fell in love with Arthur and when she agreed to marry him. She realized that love wasn't going to be enough for her in that society and that's a very realistic approach to it, honestly.

If she married Arthur, she'll probably be ostracized from her family, from society, from the people she knew. She'd most likely also be shamed for dishonoring her family and shame back then was no joke, especially for women. People tend to forget this. She'll lose any connections she might've had and that's not even mentioning the lifestyle upheaval because what's the likelyhood that Arthur, still young and foolish, would be able to settle down and live a normal life instead of this nomadic, dangerous lifestyle?

Mary had to think about all these factors. People end relationships for less.

When it comes to fandom, people are too in love with the idea of love that a real reaction to such a situation backfires on the character and strips them of their personality.

Is Mary classy? Sure she is, but she can also be crass ("Don't be a pompous ass, Arthur, it doesn't suit you."). Is she serious? Yeah, she is in serious situations, like all people, but she is playful and joyful with Arthur ("It's sort of beautiful in a tasteless and gaudy sort of way." "That's the only way I know." "Thank you." "Oh I didn't mean it like that-" "I'm sure. You silly man."). Is she a goody two shoes? Most people are, but she also defies her father in the end despite knowing that her entire life would flip upside down if Arthur does decide to run away with her.

She's definitely a high society girl- her family is rich or at least well off, she has servants, she dresses nice. She isn't as "free spirited" as the other girls but why would she be? She didn't have to go through poverty, or her parents getting killed, or having to live an unconventional lifestyle with a bunch of hucksters. She was a law abiding citizen who lived a normal life where culture, etiquette, and roles mattered.

So is Mary rebellious or sophisticated or any of that? Not really. She's just a normal woman. I don't like putting her into a box of being sophisticated or whatever because that's just a disservice to the very realistic writing of her character.

She's just a woman who our main character fell in love of with for one reason or another who is still her own person. She's not a "type" or any of that because she is many things and a realistic woman is one of them.

Thanks for the ask anon 🥺❤️🫶🏼

[tseneipgam]

"She said that her daughter had been wearing the same dress for three days straight. She took it off only to bathe, but then even slept in it. She said that before our mother had left for Japan, she had been looking after the children one morning at a department store while my sister ran some errands. There, her daughter had insisted on buying the dress, and when our mother had expressed reluctance, had thrown her first ever public tantrum. Panicking, our mother had relented and paid. The dress, my sister said, was both ugly and expensive, but her daughter had seen something in it, something that connected to a feeling deep inside her, that she was nor yet old enough to express. It was also too short, and my sister had had to sew on a laver of leftover lace around the hem, even though she knew her daughter would grow out of that too very quickly. Now, both her children were playing out in the garden, and each day;, the dress, which was a pale wheat colour, became dirtier and dirtier. My sister too had been prone to deep rages as a child."

"I turned to my mother, who was still looking at the Monet, which happened to be one of his most famous pieces. She was swaying lightly on her feet, as if to music, or as if very tired. I said that I too sometimes did not understand what I saw in galleries, or read in books. Though I understood the pressure of feeling like you had to have a view or opinion, especially one that you could articulate clearly, which usually only came with a certain education. This, I said, allowed you to speak of history and context, and was in many ways like a foreign language. For a long time, I had believed in this language, and I had done my best to become fluent in it. But I said that sometimes, increasingly often in fact, I was beginning to feel like this kind of response too was false, a performance, and not the one I had been looking for. Sometimes, I looked at a painting and felt completely nothing. Or ifI had a feeling, it was only intuitive, a reaction, nothing that could be expressed in words. It was all right, I said, to simply say if that was so. The main thing was to be open, to listen, to know when and when not to speak."

"It was a grey, cold day and we were the only two people in the room. I asked my mother what she believed about the soul and she thought for a moment. Then, looking not at me but at the hard, white light before us, she said that she believed that we were all essentially nothing, just series of sensations and desires, none of it lasting. When she was growing up, she said that she had never thought of herself in isolation, but rather as inextricably linked to others. Nowadays, she said, people were hungry to know everything, thinking that they could understand it all, as if enlightenment were just around the corner. But, she said, in fact there was no control, and understanding would not lessen any pain. The best we could do in this life was to pass through it, like smoke through the branches, suffering, until we either reached a state of nothingness, or else suffered elsewhere. She spoke about other tenets, of goodness and giving, the accumulation of kindness like a trove of wealth. She was looking at me then, and I knew that she wanted me to be with her on this, to follow her, but to my shame I found that I could not and worse, that I could not even pretend. Instead I looked at my watch and said that visiting hours were almost over, and that we should probably go."

"I wanted only to master one thing well in my life. I worked at the restaurant the same way. Before each shift, I always pinned back my hair very tightly. I did this not because I wanted to, but because I felt somehow that this style, elegant and strict, suited our role, which was to be contained and capable at all times. In the same way, I found myself doing many small things differently there, as if the very act of crossing through the doors had transformed me, as if I was now porous, or mute. I made a concentrated effort to be efficient and elegant, conscious of my gestures, my voice, the expression on my face, and understanding that if something broke, if we were to drop a tray or plate or stack of glasses, that it would be terrible, almost as if we had deliberately smashed it ourselves in a moment of madness or protest. The restaurant sometimes held large banquets, during which we had to carry long wooden boats topped with seafood and ice, and garnished with vegetables carved into the shape of flowers, which I always wanted to grab and eat, like a child. Though these trays were heavy and unwieldy, I made it look easy, holding in my mind the image of a ballet dancer who puts all her weight on the points of her toes but shows no pain. My boyfriend often joked that I was the kind of person who would be happy in a mountain temple, told only to sweep the dust from the floor each day, to contemplate the nature of time and labour, and the difference, or absolute sameness, between a dirty surface and a clean one."

[esther-dot]

Why do people act like Sansa was so unlikeable and difficult to sympathize with in agot. I loved her from Arya's first chapter for God's sake 😭😭😭 when Arya was bitching about her. I always thought we needed totally feminine, prim, proper female characters like Sansa in fiction. There are already too many Arya's and Dany's.

If you begin reading the story thinking that a character’s POV is the author’s factual representation rather than an attempt to give us a a fractured picture via intensely personal experiences/interpretations, it’s easy to accept the premise presented in AGOT, Arya I which is Sansa is to blame for Arya’s misery. Also, the idea of the beautiful girl that has everything who makes less attractive people feel inferior, who mistreats people lower down on the social ladder, that has the potential to tap into personal grievances, so people respond to Arya’s feelings without thinking about any of this from Sansa’s perspective

Think about that last highlighted bit. If you take that as gospel, you are going to think horrible stuff about Sansa and Cat. Obviously, Arya is upset and and not giving us an accurate reflection of the situation, but it isn’t immediately countered. It takes a while to get a Sansa chapter, and when we do get her POV, it’s after she’s betrothed and getting attention from the prince which seemingly supports Arya’s feelings. That means, even when the turn comes, when Lady is killed, some people are too entrenched in their view of Sansa as the vicitmizer, and Arya as her victim to realize that all along, Sansa has also been a victim.

In fact, in Sansa I we get a glimpse of how Arya’s behavior puts a burden on Sansa and makes her feel bad:

I have siblings, so I suppose I’m used to the “everyone is experiencing their own version of this event” idea, and I like Arya’s rebellion and Sansa’s dreaminess, so I don’t react negatively to either girl. They’re sisters, of course these dynamics are present! But, if you accept Arya’s attitude toward Sansa as factual, then you misidentify the cause of Arya’s inferiority complex, you might even hold Sansa responsible for the words/actions of their Septa who is cruel to Arya. If fans are stuck reading things this way, instead of realizing Arya’s pain largely comes from being forced into a role unsuited to her interests and personality (in contrast to Sansa who is suited to the role by personality and interests), they’ll decide that Arya is right, her suffering is at Sansa’s hands, although we’re shown (not told, shown) this isn’t the case. I believe the idea is to show how their society fucks over every woman, regardless of how much they attempt to rebel, regardless of how well they “obey” (saying that makes me shudder), but that’s just not something fans can absorb if they hate the girl who suffers in a different way.

More broadly speaking, there are trends in media, so I understand why at one point it was necessary to create characters like Arya who refuse to conform to societal expectations, but, the reaction to Sansa, the way the fandoms tries to vilify her for wanting to marry and have kids, for enjoying romance and songs and stories, well, it proves that we need more characters like her too. The goal should be to have every version of femininity represented in fiction, to be more inclusive and representative, so it’s a shame that a character like Sansa is hated for her interests when so many people see themselves in her.

But, I should also note, my sister doesn’t like Sansa. She doesn’t say anything mean about her, but the character isn’t personally meaningful to her. There’s nothing wrong with that. Different characters speak to each of us. That’s fine. What’s disturbing about the ASOIAF fandom is that it doesn’t stop with “not my fav”and instead devolves into unfair criticism, misinterpretations of her motives and actions, and then really horrific takes.

[justplainwhump]

#9 for Dany 😈😈

9: strangle my muse

This is not going to be what you expected. More action than whump, and of course really high on the angst. (If you ask me, it's really good)

And Dany surprised me in more ways than one.

Content / warnings: Lady whump, failed escape (?), some red flags of abusive relationships in the beginning, gun violence, strangling; references to dubcon, conditioning and pet whump; strong language (Dany gets emotional)

Ridley Lordin, B and referenced Leo Luciano are @what-a-whump 's wonderful characters and used with permission.

Thank you so much for asking this, @distinctlywhumpthing , because wow, character development.

[Dany Masterpost]

[Prompt list (still taking them for all my characters)]

Scene (1,500 words) under the cut

-

I look fabulous. I don't even need to look at myself in any of the dozens of mirrors decorating the ballroom. He wanted all eyes on me. And he gets what he wants.

Ridley's hand is resting on the back of my neck, fiddling with the thin white leather strap that he has me wear instead of the usual collar. It's somewhat reassuring. It means it's not that kind of a party.

My dress is tasteful, short but not revealing, tailored to fit so perfectly it doesn't matter that it's too white for my pale skin. It's summer. I should be tanned from days spent in the park, on the tennis court, by the sea. That's not what my days are, though. I spend them inside, nowadays, locked up in the bedroom of Ridley's penthouse, and I can earn the privilege of open curtains.

Sometimes, to my own shame, I do.

He presses a kiss against my neck. "Smile, princess", he breathes into my ear, his fingers lingering on my throat for a moment too long. "You know how Daddy likes you."

Pleasant. Pretty. Pliant. Have I ever been anything else, I wonder? Or have I only ever played roles others wanted from me, anyways?

I force my lips to curve into a smile. Of course I do. I'm tired of fighting. Ridley hums contently, before his gaze is caught by something - someone - else, a middle-aged woman in a red pant suit. Governor Hawkins. I know her, I know them all, the rich and powerful, from the events I've attended by my father's side, and I hate how they don't seem to spend a second thought on how I'm suddenly with this man they all must despise.

"I'll be right back, baby girl", Ridley purrs. "Don't move. Bee Bee?" He snaps his fingers. "Come."

B casts me a short glance, as if unwilling to leave me, before his eyes turn flat again and he trots past Ridley, scanning the crowd for potential threats.

I feel oddly uncomfortable around them, alone among hundreds of people. How many of them know? And how many just refuse to see?

A hand on my back makes me flinch. "Danielle", someone says into my hair. "Let's get you out of here."

Instinctively, I pull away and look over the crowd for Ridley. He doesn't like others touching me. Fuck, I don't like anyone touching me.

"Shhh", the man hushes and grabs my arm again, and only now do I turn to look at him. Matthew Carlson. My father's finance guy. There's a deep frown on his face and a pressed urgency in his voice. "We'll get you away from him."

"I-" I am cut off by a hand over my mouth from behind.

"Hurry", Carlson hisses.

An arm closes around me, drags me back through a door to the kitchen. White tiles and metal surfaces, some employees that seem to have been paid to look away. I struggle against the person holding me, try to bite the hand in front of my face, but they seem to know what they're doing, and I don't.

I want to get away from Ridley, I don't want him to see this. I want to be good, and I want to be free.

"Don't fight, Danielle, this is all for your father's best interest", Carlson says behind me. "You're his legacy."

Ridley will kill me for leaving my spot. Somehow Carlson and his man don't make me feel safe at all.

A cool draft brushes past my naked legs, as someone pushes open a door and they guide me outside into some back yard, stumbling down the flight of steps in my high heels. There's another man waiting near some dumpsters, under a flickering lamp. He's dressed entirely in black and looks me down with a cold frown.

Somehow, nobody hurries any more. There's no car waiting to get me away, no explanation, just silence and the damp darkness of a muggy summer night.

I step back towards the back door, but the man behind me doesn't move.

I turn to Carlson and lift my chin. "Please, leave me alone", I say firmly. "I don't know what this is, but I don't want it."

"Hmmm", Carlson hums, and there's a coldness to his tone that lets me shiver. "I bet you won't, but it's too late for that. You're a liability, Danielle. Your... involvement with Lordin, with Luciano, these... videos, they don't make you look good. You weaken your father's position. Or rather, ours, trying to save what is left of it."

"I'm a fucking prisoner", I hiss. "You fucking know what happened to me, because you let this shit happen to my father, and now I'm the one being sold and tortured and paraded around and hurt, while you fuckers think about your business? This is my life, you-"

"It won't be any longer", he cuts me off harshly, and nods to the man behind me. "Sorry, Danielle, it's not personal."

Something wraps around my neck from behind. Thin and soft and raw at the same time. I scream, but all that comes from my lips is a garbled whine.

The man pulls the rope tight and yanks me back. I thrash, my limps flailing uselessly. Desperately, I fight for air, but there's nothing. Nothing but pain and dread and a dawning understanding. I will die. These fuckers are killing me. My fingers cramp around my neck, fingertips brushing over rough rope, unable to grasp it, buried too deep into my skin.

A shadow moves in the corner of my eyes, a blur within a larger blur. I hear a sharp snarl, a muffled impact, a scream, as I tumble back, fall, landing on something soft. Air floods my lungs, and I inhale greedily, my breath coming out in ragged huffs.

"Do not touch her", B growls at my side, and lunges at the other men.

B.

He came for me.

Under me, the black-dressed man is struggling, whining as he grips his hurt arm and struggles against my weight on top of him. Fucking asshole. I clench my teeth and steady my hand with my other arm, as I ram my elbow into his throat. He stills once more.

Something solid is pressed into my back. His gun, tucked under his jacket. Still coughing, I roll over to my side to grab it. Should've just shot me, I think grimly. Stupid gangsters, trying to make a show of everything.

I struggle to get to all fours and cast a glance over to B. Carlson's guard is laying on the ground, unmoving. Carlson himself is down as well, B sitting on his back, wrestling back his arm, growling something low and inaudible, until the arm snaps.

He doesn't see the guard move beside him. A knife flashes in the guard's hand.

I shoot. Once, twice, three times, all aimed steadily at his chest, from a close distance.

Never stop after one shot, Dad has taught me, years ago. You shoot to kill. Make sure they stay dead.

This one is.

The silence after the shots is deafening.

"Oh, princess!", Ridley exclaims behind me, from the kitchen door, his voice perplexed, almost delighted.

Another fit of coughing shakes me, before I turn around, weakly. Ridley is standing in the doorway, upright, his too familiar silhouette framed by light, arms folded, as he is taking in the scene, smug and confident as always.

My eyes are trained on his chest. Carefully, almost tenderly, I lift the gun once more.

A shadow falls over me, blocking Ridley from my view. B. I haven't even heard him move. But he's standing there now, right between my and my target, wordlessly looking down on me from unreadable eyes.

"Please", I breathe. "Please, B." B knows, knows what Ridley does to me, asks of me, of him. He knows he deserves to die.

He doesn't step aside. Instead, he extends an open hand. I hate him. I hate myself. My stomach drops, as I secure the gun and rest it into his hand.

Wordlessly, B steps back and hands the gun to Ridley. "Nice try, baby girl", Ridley mumbles, as he checks the gun. "Wouldn't hurt Daddy now, would you?"

Casually, he steps down the stairs and considers the two men, groaning on the ground, me, kneeling next to them in my now stained white dress.

With his free hand, Ridley gently brushes over the fresh marks on my neck. "Which one did this?", he asks calmly.

I look aside, at the man in the black clothes, and Ridley steps over, lifts the gun, points it right between his eyes.

Another shot rings through the yard.

A strangled sob escapes me.

"B, tie that other guy up", Ridley says, but his eyes are on me. "Leo will deal with him, later."

He gets to his knees in front of me, pulls me into an embrace, the gun still in his hand. I sink against his chest, trembling with silent sobs, each breath hurting in my throat.

I had almost been free. One way or another.

"Shhh, now, baby girl", he whispers, as he gently cradles me against his body. "You're safe with me. I've got you."

[bluefurcape]

WIP Wednesday

The Sun and the Moon

(working title)

Wrote this for KS month but I wanted to expand it more then never really got around to it. So posting it here to pressure me to keep going on it! Light fantasy AU with arranged marriage!

More of my writing here!

--

It was a political marriage from the start, intended to end a war between their people that had lasted for years. Kakashi had no misgivings about where he and his new bride stood. Two complete strangers forced into the same bed for the sake of peace.

It made no sense that everything could come to a stop because of such a thing, but if that was what it took to stop the needless deaths, Kakashi willingly entered into a sham of a marriage to do it.

With the the wedding party still going on strong below, music and laughter faintly floated up through the closed door. The taste of plum wine lingered in his mouth, coating the back of his throat—the libations had flowed freely tonight. He made no protest when his cup was filled again and again. He lingered at the door, swaying for a moment before turning to the woman kneeling on the silk bedding spread on the floor. She wore a kimono patterned with mountains shrouded in blue mist, the long sleeves and train pooling around her. Her elaborate wedding headdress hid most of her features from him. This would be the first time that he laid eyes on her face.

His bride, Haruno Sakura.

She was the only daughter of the daimyo of the Land of the Mountains; quite a bit younger than Kakashi, from what he understood, but at least she wasn’t a child bride. He had to count his blessings where he could.

Kakashi kept his expression neutral, even as a sense of dread rose in him as he approached her and crouched down to remove the headdress. Despite the naked misery in her expression, she was beautiful, just as his advisers had assured him that she would be. Her unusual pink hair had been gathered into a complicated style and enhanced with gold hair ornaments and pins. Bright green eyes met his then lowered to the floor, but not before he glimpsed the burning anger in them. Her tears had left delicate tracts in her makeup.

“If you would not like to be touched, then I won’t force you.” Kakashi sighed as he set aside the headdress next to her. He wasn’t that type of man and would never be.

She made a small noise of disbelief. “Oh, is that right?”

Throughout the festivities, she remained silent at his side, not speaking once. The first sound of her voice was not what he expected from her; he thought that, like her appearance, her tone would be demure, as refined as glass and just as fragile.  Instead, he heard hard, unbreakable steel.

He studied her for a moment. She was a foreigner, alone in this place, having been raised in a land that had been at war with his for most of her life. It was likely that she viewed him, the enemy daimyo, as a monster, and she the sacrifice to feed his appetite. Perhaps she might come to think differently with time, but not tonight.

Kakashi looked away from her, standing again. He began undressing himself, placing his wedding clothes on the waiting stand.

“What are you doing?” Alarm bled into her words.

He raised a brow, gesturing to the heavy robes of black and silver brocade that he’d tolerated for the sake of the ceremony. “Getting ready to sleep. I’m not going to keep these on in bed.”

He continued until he was only down to the thinner under robe. After that, he slipped beneath the covers on the side that she wasn’t occupying and closed his eyes. She was still staring at him, so he told her, “Blow out the lamp when you’re ready.”

“Are you really not going to do anything?” Sakura asked suspiciously.

Kakashi turned, showing his back to her. “Yes.”

Wary silence followed. Finally, there was soft rustling and he guessed that she was removing her formal clothing as well. Though she clearly was unwilling to stay here, she had nowhere else to go. Neither of them could be seen slipping out this room before the morning. He resisted letting out a sigh as he considered the fact that a woman as beautiful as her was sharing his bed and they were only going to sleep. He heard her extinguish the lamp before she slid beneath the covers as well.

“You won’t say that I refused you?” Sakura asked in the dark.

Kakashi knew the implication behind that question. If they didn’t consummate this marriage, then it would have all been for nothing. The fragile balance of peace would surely come apart.

“If anything, I refused you.” He shifted so that he was on his back again, staring up at the ceiling.

This was a foolish move on his part, to give her this power over him. If Kakashi was the reason for why their lands returned to war, then she would at least be free to return home without shame while he would be reviled by his own people. He rationalized his actions in his mind as a test of her character.

“I won’t do that,” Sakura replied after giving it much thought. There was that steel in her voice again, unyielding.

“Then it seems we have a long marriage to look forward to.”

#

Kakashi did not see his wife often.

It suited him better this way. He had many important duties to see to, in any case, that took much of his day. She was gone before he woke in the mornings, or he pretended to remain asleep until she slipped away. At night, they avoided each other in the same way. They were like passing ships on the sea, never crossing paths. He didn’t know what she did with her time, but he had no interest in learning anything more.

A week passed since the wedding. The delegation from her land would be leaving soon. It was a more subdued affair than the earlier festivities, but Sakura and Kakashi and their retinue ventured out from the castle to bid them farewell from the gates.

She watched them go, her expression torn. One guard, wearing the dark green uniform emblazoned with the white crest of the Haruno clan, turned around, his gaze lingering on her. A strong emotion simmered in his dark eyes. The young man seemed about the same age as Sakura. She made a small sound that only Kakashi was near enough to hear as the guard looked away and rejoined his group.

Before the delegation disappeared from sight, Sakura wrapped her arms around herself and fled, returning to the castle.

That night, Kakashi heard her crying in her sleep. It was the first time that she’d shed any tears since the day of their wedding. He laid there, listening to her quiet sobs and then she spoke a name.

“Sasuke.”

Kakashi opened his eyes and stared up at the rafters.

Ah, he thought. That was likely the name of the man who had stopped to look at her. So there was someone that you had given your heart to before this.

Eventually, her tears faded and she fell into a deeper dream, but Kakashi remained awake for a long time after that.

The next morning, he sat up when he heard her try to slip out beneath the covers as usual and this startled her.

“Good morning,” he said.

Her eyes had gone round and she was so taken off guard by the benign pleasantry that she muttered back, rather rudely, “What is it?”

“I think I need a day off today. Would you like to help me escape my responsibilities?” It was something that Kakashi hadn’t done in a while, not since he had taken on the role of the daimyo.

“Shouldn’t you take your work more seriously?” she asked him scornfully.

He shrugged. “What else is peace good for if not to enjoy life a little?”

She pursed her lips in disapproval, but he was already getting up.

“It would be nice to have a change of scenery,” Sakura admitted.

She had been living in the castle compound for nearly a wweek now. Though he had no idea what her days look liked, he imagined that she hadn’t ventured out beyond the walls, especially in the past week while the delegation from her homeland had been here.

They dressed plainly and escaped through a corridor and a side door that was rarely used. When he showed her this way out, she seemed to consider him differently.

“You’ve done this before,” she observed.

“I discovered it as a child. It was the best way to avoid my tutors.”

Once they were in the courtyard, he led them around a few other buildings as they avoided his aides and patroling guards. He was pleased to see her keep up, following closely at his heels and learning to watch for his silent signals.

He miscalculated as he turned a corner, nearly running into a guard. Thinking quickly, he walked backward and grabbed her wrist, yanking her into a little alley before they could be spotted.

His heart pounded in his chest as he listened for the guard’s footsteps to fade. When he believe they were safe, he let out a sigh of relief and smiled down at her before realizing the intimacy of their position, her frame fitted neatly with his. It broke the unspoken rule between them that had been laid down since their wedding night that they would not touch each other.

“My apologies,” Kakashi said, untangling himself and stepping gingerly out of the alley.

“It’s all right,” she replied as she came out too.

They stood there, shifting awkwardly until he decided that they should keep moving before they were caught. He kept his focus ahead, not wanting to see the expression on her face.

[evarcana]

Taking it out on you

Ev attends the court meeting only to learn that sometimes the second impressions are just as bad as the first ones.

characters: Ev Panopolis, consul Valerius and brief appearance of Volta

words: ~3k

warnings: alcohol (as expected)

notes: On some point I gave up on the idea of Ev being the apprentice, as she just does not have this "MC energy". So this is an introduction to her story, because there is no better way to celebrate the 1 year anniversary of this blog than to remember that a very long time ago I used to write fanfiction.

It has been almost a month already. Almost a month since she came to Vesuvia, almost a month since she was told that her services were not required here. The thought makes Ev frown, but she keeps a quick pace, the sound of her impatient steps on the marble floor echoing through the palace corridor.

It is just before eleven o’clock, and the last of crisp morning sun pours over the rich mauve of lustrous silk drapes and the gold leaf of intricately carved murals, drawing out the warm scent of orange blossom and beeswax from the polished panels of precious wood. Vesuvian palace is exactly what she was promised - a great wonder, and yet Ev doubts it could give any lesser impression while the backdrop to its striking opulence is the city torn apart by disease and grief.

There are no servants or visitors in sight, and Ev’s only company in this seemingly endless corridor are paintings on the walls, depicting what she can only guess are some of the proud moments of Vesuvian history - people and places so foreign to her.

She does simple math in her head: two months and two days ago she was marching down the corridor of a very different palace, eager to be on time for the meeting with Crown Princess Nafizah despite the quite literal last minute notice, and not knowing yet that she was about to hear details of this so-called diplomatic mission.

Back then it sounded straightforward enough. Prakra couldn’t ignore the news of Count Lucio's tragic death, not least because that meant Princess Nadia, the youngest daughter of the Prakran royal family, was left widowed and with the daunting task of handling the red plague epidemic in Vesuvia all on her own. Any ruler could do with an extra pair of hands and any country could benefit from the alliance with Prakra, especially in times of crisis like this. And it would have stayed straightforward if only the discovery of Countess Nadia’s mysterious illness and the unexpected, unreasonable, outrageous hostility of Vesuvian court did not bring this crisis to the whole new, now personal, level.

In theory, Ev did not have to deal with any of that. She could use the excuse that it was only appropriate to deliver such unsettling news about Nadia in person, go back and forget everything that happened in this palace like one of those unpleasantly bizarre dreams you get after a night of drinking. But Vesuvia was still the city Prakra cared about, Nadia’s city, and as far as Ev knew none of the people who came to be in charge of it were appointed by her. Prakran diplomatic presence was perhaps the only way to look after Nadia’s interests until she woke up. Even if Ev had no actual power over the court, returning to Prakra without accomplishing at least something felt like a failure, and failure has never been an option for Ev. With that in mind, she pressed the seal with enough force to imprint Prakran royal crest on the desk and not just on the drop of red wax marking the envelope, and stayed.

Now, after a month of living in the city, she has learned to see that there is more to her new role than just misfortunes. Her relocation allowance is generous, her new place is nicer than what she had in Prakra and she is getting rather used to the convenience of the wine shop next door. Even if parts of it are foreign and unwelcoming, Ev feels at ease in Vesuvia. The tension in her body relaxes, and she thinks maybe this palace can eventually get used to her too, but the thought faints away as soon as she sees the salon door. Ev presses a pile of papers closer to her chest and tells herself that she can think about everything else another time - the court meeting is about to start.

She pushes the door open but immediately freezes on the spot stricken by the gagging wave of nausea - nails dirty with soil and blood, sickly sweet buttercream pastries and rustle of feathers covered in mud. It is no more than a faint impression but even through the fogged mind Ev recognises the feeling - it is vestige, the afterimage of magic. She has felt it before, many times and in many different forms but never has it made her feel physically sick. What is even more unusual is that such a revolting sensation is coming from the palace quarters. One would expect tingles of bubbles from the charmed fountains of never ending sparkling wine or at least the impression of whispers, premium tea, treacle and bitter ambition from the walls which have been magically given ears, and not... whatever this is. Ev draws a deep breath, pushing down into her diaphragm and looks around the room. The salon is not set up for the court meeting, instead there is a tray of food and stacks of empty plates towering on almost every flat surface. Her eyes stop on greasy remains looking terribly out of place on the delicate porcelain plate and she unconsciously covers her mouth. Maybe she is mistaken after all - it is the strange smell of food and not some kind of creepy magic, and, more importantly, maybe this is not the salon she was looking for.

Before Ev gets a chance to mentally blame the chamberlain for giving her the wrong directions, a tiny figure appears from behind the chair. The white cornette is instantly recognisable and Ev is about to ask procurator Volta whether she is here for the court meeting too when she sees that behind the commotion of dark robes Volta is frantically trying to push the whole roast rack of lamb down her mouth. Dear gods. Somewhat unsurprisingly, one of the bones appears to be stuck. Clearly having not expected to have an audience, the procurator widens her eyes at Ev in a mixture of terror and shame. Unable to speak, after a few incoherent squeaks, she throws her tiny hands in the air helplessly, spattering herself with gravy and gestures to the open French doors leading to the balcony. Without giving it too much thought, Ev gives Volta a quick nod and takes an opportunity to escape the awkwardness of the scene.

Wrapped in the soft shade of the balcony, consul Valerius is casually leaning back in the chair, with the usual glass of wine in his hand. Even before she reaches the doors, Ev sets her eyes on his face. The consul is looking away, his face carved and unmovable, the tight knot of dark eyebrows making him look ireful and disgruntled, like one of those statues of stern gods she saw growing up in Zadith. Her next step lands much quieter and then, there steps in, Ev stops and stands very still wondering what thoughts could possibly bring this storm to Valerius’s face. Sun would suit him much more, she thinks, her eyes curiously trailing down the golden glints of his hair.

A loud snort catches Ev off guard and she realises that Valerius is now facing her, looking considerably more displeased than before, no doubt because of her. That’s more like it. How could she forget that this man is the very cause of her problems.

“Could I please have some of your time, consul?” she asks, heading straight towards him. Greetings seem excessive, they didn’t necessarily part on friendly terms last time.

“I didn't expect to see you here again.”

Ev allows herself a smirk. “I know.” I am not here to do what you expect from me. She stops inches away from his chair looking down at him, apparently enjoying the close proximity which, considering their formal relationship and the consul’s well known bad temper, could be regarded as both highly inappropriate and potentially reckless. But Valerius only turns away, more interested in his drink than in her.

“I have been studying the treasury records,” she continues, searching his face for any kind of reaction. His lips curl up in a sneer as he takes a sip of wine, but his eyes are still firmly fixed on the horizon. Ev follows his gaze expecting to see some radical change to the surrounding landscape, but there is only faint outline of the city roofs behind the lush green of the palace's vast grounds, - no columns of smoke, no ominous looking storm clouds gathering in the distance, nothing that could possibly be more interesting than her. Whatever. “Your tax system - ,” she hands Valerius neatly arranged papers, which he completely ignores,“- it is not working.”

“Vesuvian tax system remained largely unchanged for the last two generations, this is how these matters are handled traditionally,” says Valerius, once again denying Ev courtesy of eye contact.

Ev’s mouth twists at the sound of the last words. Too worried the conservative mindset might be contagious, she quickly withdraws her hand and takes a step back.

“I trust you understand that sometimes one should focus on what works, and not what is traditional,” she says, doing her best to disguise the growing irritation. “You don’t attract nearly as much foreign trade as you used to.”

What comes next is a very profound, uncomfortable silence. Ev sighs.

“Consul, you had plague in the city, people died,” her voice is louder now, “lots of people died”, and the irritation is obvious. “And Vesuvia cannot exist without its people. Somebody needs to bring food from the farmlands, make clothes, teach children, attend to the sick. Yes, in the past you could always import whatever you did not have but now people are scared to come because of the plague. You -”, she pauses in anticipation noticing Valerius shifting in his seat, but he only reaches for the bottle to top up his glass, “- you need to do something to make it attractive for them again. Lower the customs, lift the taxes for people whose skills you need, sell empty real estate cheap. There is plenty all around the city!”

Deep down Ev knows that none of these is going to work long term, but she doesn't care - she wants to do something and she wants to do it now.

Yet, nothing changes. She is still standing there, and he is still looking away. Ev would prefer him to disagree, start arguing with her - anything really, as long as it breaks this silence.

“Fine! If you don’t feel like changing this traditional system of yours, even temporarily, at least fix your mistakes.” Ev starts chaotically flipping through the papers searching for the one she needs, which would be a much easier task, if she was less flurried and if Valerius offered her a seat. She wonders whether he is now watching her, sneering at her struggle. “Your approved accounts, here,” this time she brusquely puts the paper in front of Valerius’s face blocking his view, “your numbers do not even add up! ”

For a split second she sees something on his face - a twitch, a flick of rage, and thinks that she has gone too far. But his question comes out in a calm, almost disinterested tone: “What makes you think that somebody like you is even qualified to check the city’s budget approved by the esteemed procurator Volta?”

A moment passes before Ev is able to break from staring at Valerius in disbelief. She glances to the salon where, judging by the sound, Volta has freed her mouth only to move to the next dish. Seriously? Perhaps she should be impressed that he managed to say it with the straight face.

And then there is a chilling sensation at the pit of Ev’s stomach. She asks herself what is going on here? What is this city under the reign of a person who questions everything and everyone except the obvious mistake in the accounts? And what is she - ? Angry, she reminds herself, is what she is, and throws a look at Valerius, who is taking another sip from his glass as in triumph. You don’t need to be qualified, you just need to have common sense. And you, Valerius, either don’t have it or you were not even bothered to look at what your court approves.

She pictures him lazily drinking wine, legs on the desk, his shirt unbuttoned, while completely ignoring his state duties. The image is irritating and yet not entirely unpleasant.

“We both know that I come from a family of alchemists and merchants. Trust me, I know how to count,” she says with a smile. It sounded right in her head, a ridiculous answer to the ridiculous question.

“I thought that during our last meeting you said that you had nothing to do with your witchcraft family.” A perfectly raised eyebrow, and that infuriating smirk.

Ev opens her mouth in protest but gives up quickly. Those were her exact words after all, save for the witchcraft part.

She begins to pace around the balcony avoiding looking at Valerius as much as possible. The consul clearly has a way of getting on her nerves, and she needs all her concentration if she wants to explain what exactly will happen to this goddamn city if they carry on with this approved budget.

“Think about the consequences for the people if this mistake is not corrected!” she shouts, her voice much louder than she would like it to be, and quickly turns to Valerius expecting a blowback. But the pale eyes are looking down, studying something on the floor, or on the edge of the fabric of her long sleeve, she really can’t tell. Oh gods, he is not even paying attention.

***

Valerius has firmly decided that he is not going to pay any attention.

The time of plague was exhausting: the palace suddenly full of people of all kinds and intentions promising to find a cure, pleas for help on the streets which he could not escape even behind the doors of the most expensive carriages, the count who was growing more desperate everyday and the white smoke of the Lazaret carried by the sea breeze towards the city, the memory of which still haunts him. And now there is the Satrinavas’ new pet here having an audacity to talk about his city’s problems - the problems which, out of all people, he should know the most about, he is the consul after all, and a Vesuvian.

Vesuvia he inherited is haggard and sad, and on top of that an enormous responsibility. The last thing he needs is a stranger questioning his authority, as if the incompetent court and the city demanding their beloved countess back have not been tiresome enough. Valerius lets out a short, barely audible sigh. He just wants this farce to be over so he can go back to thinking.

But the witch is not planning to stop, if anything she seems to be enjoying it. Look at her. Absorbed by herself and her ludicrous ideas, she is loud and talks too much with her hands. Her dress keeps slipping down the shoulder draping around the soft curve of a half barred breast every time she does one of these unnecessary, overconfident gestures. Valerius has absolutely no idea whether this is deliberate or she is simply unaware of the indecency which keeps drawing his eyes.

He tries to distract himself by taking a drink of wine only to discover that his glass, just like the air around him, is full of this loud perfume of hers. Harsh cinnamon, incense and patchouli, very much alike their owner, have no concept of the personal space ruining the perfect balance of his red. The wine is not helping. He catches himself looking at the shoulder again. In fact, absolutely useless. He sets his unfinished glass aside on the small table. Valerius has had enough.

***

“Enough!” Valerius shouts. His voice is suddenly deep and rather forceful and Ev hates that it has the desired effect on her. She stops and looks at him. “You were not invited to the court meeting.” The consul’s face looks awfully angry now.

Ev narrows her eyes. “And what exactly are you doing at your court meeting?”

“That should not be a concern of the Prakran subject”, Valerius says, his words dripping with poison, “or whoever you are.”

“I am a diplomatic emissary -,” she does not get a chance to finish.

“Leave!”

Ev wants to scream and protest, but even she knows better than to yell at somebody who outranked her. She draws a breath. One, two, three. All right.

“I only came to give you the papers”, she says coldly, her eyes still locked on his, and leans forward to place the documents on the table. “But I am taking this away, one should work without the distraction of wine.”

With these words Ev snatches the glass from the table, turns away and heads toward the exit as fast as she can without breaking into running. She does not want to look like she is scared that Valerius will grab her by the arm. If anything she is slightly disappointed that he doesn’t.

“My regards to the court,” she raises her hand and waves the glass in the air without looking back. Behind her there is a sound of paper being torn apart.

***

Ev only slows down when she reaches the main staircase.

Suddenly feeling very tired, she leans against the handrail. Again, what is she doing here? Why did she need to turn up in person when she could send a letter? Ev closes her eyes and rubs her fingers together as if feeling for answers in the whorls of her own skin, and remembers about the glass in her hand. Another bad decision. It would have been wiser to take the bottle.

She raises the glass to her lips and breathes in the wine. It’s pleasant. Perhaps she would prefer its company to the boring palace affairs too. Ev twists the glass in her hand, eying the smooth rim before drawing one long sip. It leaves a blush mark of her lips firmly planted on the surface which she studies for a few seconds. “You better be as angry as I am now”, she says to the dark liquid at the bottom of the glass.

[adonis-koo]

tease

| 16 |

↳ Summary: You came with the intentions of your best friend landing a job as a stripper. You never meant to catch the eyes of the king stripper of the establishment- Jeon Jungkook, yourself. With what was supposed to be a harmless way of paying off college debt faster you find yourself falling into a very odd and passionate relationship with your new mentor. Between infidelity, passion and jealousy there’s never a dull moment at Cherry Bomb.

↳ Pairing: Stripper!Jungkook/Reader

↳ Genre: Smut, fluff, angst, drama, slice of life, relationship problems without the relationship, reader is such a shy baby protect her, MUTUAL pining, so much sexual frustration,  

Word Count: 12k

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Warning: This story touches on both sexual harassment and abuse, please read with caution if any of these things are triggers to you. Additional warnings will be given when a chapter presents them.

TW: There is a lot of implied dubious sex and implied rape/sexual harassment in this chapter, if any of these are triggers please read with caution 🖤

You wouldn’t deny, you felt extremely excited while standing in the large room, vanity lights in classic Vegas style were lit up above the long vanity table, the standing hanging rack had all your costumes on it and while your name wasn’t in plaque it was hastily written on a taped up piece of paper. These people actually considered you a soloist….only by definition considering it was your last week...But still, it was exciting!

Taking a seat in the cushioned chair you got to work on your makeup to begin with, it was Vegas, and considering this was a VIP party you figured it would be okay to really go all out cutcrease makeup, sharp wings and eyelashes that could be mistook for fans, the whole nine yards.  You had originally gone to skip a song on your phone, what you hadn’t expected was paragraph long message from the last person on your mind. 

Seriously? No seriously…? Annoyance twisted and snapped in your veins like a wildfire, as you continuously reread the text, did Seulgi ever truly know you at all? Where was this message when your relationship was toxic with Jungkook? Where was she when Hanjae broke into your apartment? Where was she when you completely ruined your first ever soloist performance? Where was she when you actually needed her? 

You hadn’t even realized your hands were trembling or heard the knock on the door until the familiar voice of Jimin interrupted you, “Y/n! Y/n? Hey, you’re on in ten, why aren’t you dressed?” 

Your gaze snapped from your phone to the blonde before you rubbed your forehead, you didn’t have time for her issues right now, it would just have to wait. Standing up you pressed your lips together before sighing, “Sorry, Seulgi just sent me a paragraph text,” You pulled the oversized shirt over your head as you walked over to the costume rack, you already had your lingerie set underneath but it was always more comfortable to get ready in loose clothing, “Out of the blue! Seriously, what is her problem?” 

You could hear Jimin snort behind you in amusement as you pushed your shorts down, looking over your shoulder with an ungrateful expression to which he straightened up at, “Ah sorry. Honestly? She’s probably just jealous...I mean, think about it, you were chosen to be trained by the most popular stripper in Cherry Bomb when you had no intention of even becoming a stripper at all, you were chosen to become a temporary soloist and now you made it on the list for Seasonella as a soloist and she didn’t even make the cut at all.” 

You stopped dead in your tracks, your fingers still coiled against the black pencil skirt that sat at your hips as you turned to face Jimin, “...She didn’t make the list…?” Yikes... Suddenly her message made a lot more sense...Not so much her message, but the timing of it. You glanced back at the costume rack, suddenly feeling a mix of both pity yet anger, this was your job, not high school cheer tryouts! “I honestly don’t know what to do with her anymore, I mean...Sure I feel bad she didn’t make the list, but is it really that big of a deal?” 

“Not really, but strippers are considerably catty,” Jimin leaned against the back of the couch as he shrugged, “Seulgi honestly fits the filler role perfect. It’s a shame really, she has all the potential to become a soloist.” 

You couldn’t help but tilt your head at his works, pulling the sheer button up top over your head before semi tucking it in, “Well somebody needs to tell her that so she’ll get off my ass. Don’t get me wrong, I understood at first Jimin, I really did,” Your eyes were semi glossed and pleading before you sighed, gritting your teeth, “But now it’s just petty.” 

“Well that’s the thing,” Jimin snorted a laugh as you pulled the brown trench coat over your shoulders, “Don’t you get it Y/n?” You paused at his words, his smile playful as he began laughing, as if he knew a secret you didn’t, “That’s her problem. Seulgi needs to constantly be petted, the only person that’s holding her back from becoming a soloist is herself, if she didn’t need to be groomed and the center of attention constantly, if she’d just shut up and do the work that’s needed without constantly being praised for it. She’d easily make it to the top. But because she can’t, because she’s used to everyone telling her how amazing she is, she’s never going to get there.”

Jimin tucked his tongue into his cheek as he scoffed, “People like that annoy the fuck out of me. That’s what makes you different from her, yeah you were coddled by Jungkook in the beginning, but you never expected that out of him. You never anticipated any of us drowning you in praise and telling you ‘you’d definitely become a soloist;. No, you struggled like most of us did in the beginning, you worked your ass off in the beginning and now it’s paying off. That’s her problem.” 

Your lips parted at his words, rather shocked to see Jimin feel so defensive for you. Pressing your lips together as you fiddled with your jacket, you never realized he felt so strongly about your situation with Seulgi, “...Do you think I’ve changed?” That was the one thing that bothered you, this whole time Seulgi kept proclaiming you had changed, was it really that bad?

“Yeah,” Your gaze snapped to Jimin’s figure as he shrugged, pushing his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket, presumably what he was wearing for the stage, “But change isn’t always a bad thing Y/n. Don’t let people hold you down just because they want to stay the same.” 

Sighing, you wrapped your arms around yourself as you leaned against the wall, thinking on his words. You supposed, Jimin was right, change wasn’t always a bad thing. And looking back, maybe you had changed? 

But it’s like he said, it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, you needed that change to happen. Or else things with Jungkook would have exploded and you could have potentially ruined your relationship with him. Your heart trembled at that idea, the memory of him and you both distant but still fresh. Jungkook was so important to you, you couldn’t lose him, and you changed not for him, but for yourself. So had he. 

“I didn’t take you for a therapist Jimin.” You glanced up as a mutual smile pulled on both your and his lips as you shared a laugh, shaking your head as you stepped into your heels, “Thanks though,” You furrowed your brows before smiling a little, glancing up at him as you nodded, “I...I think I needed to hear that. I should make my way backstage, good luck!” 

Jimin tipped his fedora at you with a wink as he replied, “Too you as well, you’ll need it. Cya Y/n.” 

Keeping his words in mind you gave yourself a mini pep talk as you made your way backstage, it was even more crowded here then at a busy day at work and it was more chaotic than you could have ever imagined. You could do this. Being on stage wasn't what made you nervous anymore. It was getting off stage and finding out just what exactly Seasonella was. 

The stage manager nodded in acknowledgement as you stood off to the side, peering out from behind the stage where your heart did a little leap at the sight of Jungkook. Swallowing the lump in your throat at how good he looked in a three piece suit and his gelled, styled hair. He must have just started his routine, his music was bassy and slow and the floor he stood on wafted with smoke, presumably from dry ice off stage. 

Wrapping your arms around yourself you watched the way he easily swiveled his hips turning away from the audience, popping the jacket off his shoulders, oddly enough despite the large crowd nobody seemed to even be paying attention besides a few whistles here and there. Glancing over his shoulder he offered a sultry smirk, even after all this time he never failed to make your heart race and your face flushed as you dropped your gaze. He wasn’t even looking at you, in fact, he probably didn’t even know you were next in line up. Jungkook’s routine was slow and easy going as he began to shed his clothes, as if he was in no real hurry, soaking up his time on stage. 

He really was a natural.

Just the way his hips would slowly roll before snapping, those large calloused hands slowly running up against his chest to pop the first button of his white button up. You could easily see why Jungkook thrived in this environment, now thinking about it. It was easy because it was only skin deep, Jungkook was comfortable in his body and it showed, being a stripper was hard, but it was only skin deep, you didn’t have to get personal or open up to anyone in this business.

But even with all of that in mind, his eyes, it was always his eyes that showed when he wasn’t feeling his performance, when something was on his mind. Nobody ever seemed to notice it but you. No matter how many smirks and teasing smiles Jungkook flashed it was his eyes that seemed...disinterested? Maybe...maybe even upset?

You didn’t like it, it drove your instincts wild with a need to sit on his lap and grab his face to look at you and ask him what was wrong, but then again, did you really need to? Given what had happened this morning? He was upset when you pushed him away, hell he was upset when he left after his shower. Neither of you had spoken when he left either, he just kept looking at you, longingly, as if hoping maybe you’d speak to him, to give him a chance. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to speak to him, it was just...what was there to even talk about? He wasn’t going to convince you this was okay, because it wasn’t. None of this was okay. You didn’t like being on terms like this with him, but what else was there to discuss? It was what it was, all either of you could do was do your job. 

It wasn’t like you were mad at him, Jungkook was a stripper, but so were you. Yes it was upsetting and it hurt that he’d be sleeping with other people, but so were you...You sighed, massaging the temple of your head as you watched his hand slip down to squeeze the thick imprint that pressed against his slacks. You couldn’t stop the quirk in your lips at the sight, even when he was upset he still managed to sport a boner, of course he could.

It was odd watching him pop the button of his slacks, usually by this point girls were practically screaming, but instead it was quiet besides the song that played as the slacks fell off his thick muscular thighs that flexed. You were semi perplexed at the sight of Versace strapped against his skin rather than his regular Calvin Kleins, you couldn’t help but grind your teeth at the idea of that girl buying them for him. It had to be her. Eva.

Was she out in the crowd somewhere enjoying the show? Or was she intending on making him strip again just for her in private. The idea made you livid and the intense desire to jab her eyes out for even looking at what was yours. It was hard to imagine you were actually blushing and melting into your chair when you first laid eyes on Jungkook’s figure on stage. Now you just felt a vague sense of depression watching him hook his thumbs to the band of his boxers.

Maybe it was a sense of defeat that you felt watching him proudly flaunt his hardened cock on stage. A part of you couldn’t help but snicker though, it was so typical of him. Exibitionism was one of his biggest kinks after all. His song had come to an end, the stage lights dimming as people rushed past you, a robe in hand for Jungkook as he came off stage. 

No words were spoken, your gaze only catching his for a second before you were being ushered on stage. Nodding you hurried out in the blackout. Leaning against the pole you made yourself comfortable, it wasn’t time to think anymore. All you had to do was dance. 

The lights immediately flickered on as the intro of your music started out, the smirk immediately pulling on your lips as you turned your head to face the crowd. Most of the crowd wasn’t even paying attention to you, some people seated others standing and talking to one another. What even was Seasonella for? Just connection building for the wealthy?

Letting your hands drag up your body, you slide down the pole letting your legs open naturally before letting your knees drop to let your hands support you on the ground. Your face pressing against the ground as you let your hand circle around your face. Just who were these nameless faces? Just like Jungkook, you weren’t at your best performance. Not that anyone could tell as you rolled to your back letting your legs raise up and set against the pole before letting one slide down as your hands squeezed up your chest, the smile teasing on your lips as you sent a wink out to the crowd. 

That's when you saw him though, Jungkook fully dressed once more, hair damp from sweat and still adjusting the buttons of his loose black button up, his gaze not on Eva who was excitedly waiting for him, instead he was watching you as he ran a hand through his hair. 

Letting your legs open slightly you sat up with your thighs sandwiched between the pole as you rested your head against it, letting the jacket fall off your shoulders as you sent a flirty gasp at the crowd before letting it drop to the ground. 

Making your way to stand up you swayed your hips as you turned to face the crowd, a smug look twisting on to your features at the sight of Eva obviously not happy at your boyfriend checking you out. Keeping a wide stance you dropped slightly to circle your ribs while letting your hands drag up your thighs, teasingly pulling your skirt up higher. Turning to face the wall you curved your spine to highlight your ass as you teased even more, pulling the skirt up to flash the lingerie you wore before tugging the skirt back down. 

You noticed whatever position Jungkook was in he must have left, or maybe Eva had dragged him away at the short time span your back was facing the audience, regardless they couldn’t have left already, right? Pulling your shirt from it’s tuck in your skirt you pulled it out farther as you sunk back down to a slut drop, they couldn’t have gotten far.

Just as you stood back up, hooking your thumb beneath the fabric of your top, a smirk flashed towards the audience that only a few eyes watched you curiously with, that’s when your eyes tracked that messy head of hair again. Jungkook was sitting down, his arm wrapped around Eva who was more than happily snuggled against him, chatting away with what appeared to be her friends. The other person who had stuck out to you was Diego who sat at their table, his eyes however, unshockingly were roaming your body. 

You decided to pay him no mind as you pulled the shirt over your head, letting your upper body become exposed and the glittery, strappy push up bra become displayed. Maybe you were just imagining it but you could have swore Eva had jumped in Jungkook’s tightening grip. His eyes also on you while occasionally glaring daggers at Diego. God you would kill to be listening to that conversation. 

Letting your hips sway softly you strutted further up stage, your arms over head before they groped their way down your body. Turning to face away from the crowd you looked over your shoulder, a playful smile tugging at your lips as you reached for the clasp of your bra. Unhooking it before letting it drop to the ground leaving your bare back on display. 

Turning to face the audience you let your hips begin to sink once more as you let them sway hiding your breasts teasingly behind your hands that began to massage them. It was weird, being in a reversed role where it was your eyes that met Jungkooks from the stage, rather than the other way around. 

Except rather than squirming in embarrassment Jungkook had zero shame in letting his eyes roam all over your body, his lip catching between his teeth and you were all too familiar with that dark look in his eyes. His chin lifting a little in that standoffish, domineering way it always did when he got turned on. 

You however, weren’t yourself at the moment. Rather shy away from his gaze you welcomed it, letting your lips twitch back into a cocky smirk as your hands traveled down your body, your tits perking a little in arousal as your hands slid down your skirt. You could practically see the way Jungkook was eye fucking you, his hand that about been resting on the table curling into a fist and his expression becoming darker by the moment. 

You hadn’t said anything, hell you hadn’t even done anything, but you could tell he wanted to put you over his lap. And there was nothing he could do about it. Something about being aware of that practically made your confidence shoot through the roof as you sent him a playful wink. Effortlessly pushing down the skirt that complied, hitting the ground to reveal the almost light golden, sequin g string you wore beneath, the sheer gold stockings and garter belt to match on display. You could even hear a few whistles from the audience only making you that much cockier. 

And Jungkook was livid. So livid. Despite sitting far away you could see the way his jaw clenched and his fist uncurled and impatiently tapped against the table, as if itching to get his hands on you. Arousal instantly shot between your legs, his dark, lust filled gaze making your body anxious granted this was the most inconvenient timing ever.

If they saw you wet, then that’s just what was gonna happen, you’d just blame it on Jungkook given he was the reason you were in this state. There was no point in worrying about it now. With that in mind you sunk to the ground, crawling out on your hands and knees, letting your tits bounce a little as you dropped to your forearms. Jungkook leaned back in his seat, the vein on his neck popped and you could even see his chest puffing a little. 

The sight made you want to laugh, and for a split second a genuine smile wiggled it’s way onto your lips, before the seductive one quickly took back over as your thighs slid to the ground. Rolling on to your back your vision of him was upside down but that didn’t deter you from letting your hands drag back up your body, letting them squeeze against your breasts as your thighs rubbed together, warm arousal beginning to make your panties stick your folds as you let your body begin to roll as your hips thrusted upwards. 

Your hands sliding back down your body as you began to tug your panties off, gaze never breaking away from Jungkook’s figure, that looked close to a starved man ready to sit between your thighs at the moment. Your panties were unshockingly wet as you kicked them off. As if you weren’t aroused before you certainly were now, naked on stage for the whole floor to see. But with your eyes locked with Jungkook’s it wasn’t like that, it was just you and him at the moment. No party, no one else, just you and him. 

Pulling yourself to sit up you turned to face the audience once more on your knees, a cocky smile tugging on your lips as you let them slide apart. Your cunt was aching and glistening at being exposed as your hands ran up your body, playing with your hair as you heard another round of whistles.

But this wasn’t about them, this was about Jungkook’s clenched jaw and the way he bounced his knee impatiently, the way his fingers twitched against his glass and his eyes roaming all over your exposed body. You didn’t need to see his lap to know he was hard. Crawling back on your hands and knees one last time you sent a one more wink to the audience before rolling to the side. Sitting upright as you finished your last pose. 

The lights went black as you quickly stood up. Walking off stage as best you could in your heels as you grabbed the robe from one of the stage assistants. Wrapping it around your body you let a giggle escape your lips.

Jungkook was turned on, but so were you. You’ll forever have the look on his face stained in your head, maybe something you both could laugh over later and then bang because it would make him horny. 

Walking back to your dressing room you closed the door. Kicking off your heels as you pulled your hair up into a bun to focus on getting dressed. Sitting down you unclipped your stockings before walking over to your bag. You supposed your black mini dress would do, and maybe you’d wear a pair of your black fishnet stockings to go with it? Biting against your lip you figured that would do it before getting changed. Fixing the deep v neck that plunged, showing off your cleavage before pulling out a black pair of pumps to match. 

You wouldn’t be able to talk to Jungkook...but maybe taking Diego up on his offer meant you could see him more? It was a gamble. Nibbling against your lip you fixed your hair in the mirror, putting your phone in the cup of your bra before adjusting it to not make it look obvious. Would you even want to see him this weekend? 

Regardless Diego Friar might as well have been a pile of money sitting at your doorstep, he would be paying you for your company and you knew he’d pay well. This was why you were doing this after all. This was supposed to justify the means. Somehow. Nodding you stood up before heading out. Soloist’s seemed to do more of the entertaining for the guests than actually dancing, although you couldn’t say it was completely true for you. You still had five more dances to get through tonight but at least you had a good hour break before going on back to back. 

Did they really only keep you here as prostitutes? You couldn’t help but wonder about that question, hardly anyone even watched you show. Pushing the door open to enter into the main room you let your eyes wash over the crowd. Why not just hire prostitutes? 

It was legal here in Nevada, why make the strippers do it under dubious consent? Surely the clients budget wasn’t that tight. You supposed there was no point in making sense of it. While Diego would pay for your company, you wouldn’t lie if you said there weren't any underlying motives here. Diego was the client's son, surely he’d know what was going on...Not that you assumed he’d willingly tell you but...A little investigating wouldn’t hurt, right? 

You knew the only thing you needed to focus on was getting to the end of the weekend, but you couldn’t help but wonder, if something illegal was going on here, shouldn’t somebody stop it? Stopping in front of the table you couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you to see Diego standing up, as if waiting confidently, knowing you would come to this table. 

“That was some performance doll.” He sent you a wink, his lips quirked into a smirk confidently, as if you had completely done that just for him. Had Diego not caught on between you and Jungkook? Or was he really that distracted by your body?

You offered a small smile in return as you wrapped your arms around yourself, “I told you I was saving my energy. So I was thinking,” You stretched your sentence as a playful smile tugged on your lips, “About your deal.” 

Diego’s smirk was only reinforced by your words as he confidently strode up to you, “And?” The idea of sleeping with Diego was... less than appealing... but you had a lot of options to weigh here. The first being you were likely to see Jungkook more often, the second being you wouldn’t be passed from creep to creep and the third and last option was the one which wasn’t a good idea. 

You wanted to know why the hell Seasonella existed, what was its purpose, who were these people? Diego was the client's son, if somebody knew the ropes of this party, it was him. 

‘I’ve heard all kinds of rumors about our strippers coming here and not returning to Korea because of being difficult’

That’s the same words Jungkook told you. He wanted you to just go with the flow so nothing happened to you. Going with Diego was both the safest and most dangerous option, depending on how you played your cards. But you were willing to make a deal with the devil to find out, “I’ll agree to it, with some ground rules,” 

Diego chuckled, shifting his weight from one foot to another, running a hand through his hair as he nodded, though it almost seemed vaguely patronizing, “Alright doll, that’s fair enough, what are these rules?”

“Condoms on at all times,” You immediately listed off, attempting to not wrinkle your nose at the idea of feeling him..raw...inside you...it made your stomach churn unpleasantly, “I’m not looking to get knocked up,” You offered a humored smile despite it feeling mildly forced, “And I want my mornings to myself,” You added, remembering Jungkook’s words, him telling you to ask for the mornings so you could at least be together then, “Two rules, and I’m all yours.”

You knew Jungkook wanted nothing more than to make sure you were safe. But you needed answers, you needed to know why this was happening. And furthermore, what part of this was illegal, if any at all. 

Diego gave you a smile, his arm immediately wrapping around you as he replied, “Your rules are gold baby. You won’t be disappointed. C’mon, let's get you a drink and sit down.” It felt weird being held by somebody else while sipping on your classic margarita, taking a seat down at the table where Jungkook’s eyes glared at the arm wrapped around your shoulder like it pissed him off. It probably did. You could only hope Jungkook didn’t get the wrong idea about this, you weren’t doing this to spite him. 

You did it for multiple reasons, none which even involved him...Well, none that involved him in a bad way. But to see Jungkook so...docile in a situation like this? In a situation  “This is Y/n, the lovely doll I’ve been talking about.” Diego introduced you to his friends, mutual friends of Eva as well you assumed. It was coincidental that you and Jungkook just so happened to be sitting on the inside of the table next to one another, a respectful distance between you both given you both were supposed to be closer to each sibling. 

“It’s so nice to meet you!” You gave a bright smile at the man- Lorenzo who was an italian with a strong accent and didn’t seem incredibly familiar with Koren, but enough that you could hold a steady conversation, he also seemed to be a considerably close friend of Diego’s compared to all of the others, “I hope you’ve been enjoying the show up on stage.” 

What you hadn’t expected was a large, wrathful hand to harshly clamp your inner thigh making you nearly choke on your drink, callous fingers digging into your soft skin while roughly massaging closer to your core. 

Your eyes sent sharp daggers to Jungkook’s figure, who was innocently on his side of the table, his free arm wrapped around Eva while conversing with her and one of her friends, acting as if he totally wasn’t groping you. This was not the time or place to be doing this! 

“Ah yes, you put on quite the show.” You gave a forced smile at Lorenzo as you tried to wiggle your leg from Jungkook's grasp, it was useless though as he squeezed harder, his nails pleasantly digging into your skin as if in warning to stop. 

It wasn’t even fair, Jungkook was speaking to Eva and her friends in english which you could only pick bits and pieces of conversation out of while he could hear everything you said. You tried your best, you really did. But Jungkook’s long thick fingers were making it difficult to focus, never quite making it to where you had hoped it would, but just enough to keep you on edge. 

Was this some possessive display or reminder to you? You wished you could just ask Jungkook what his problem was. Maybe he was mad you weren’t wearing your collar, but could he really expect you too when...You couldn’t help but shudder. This was going to be a long night. 

The night dragged on and admittedly, you couldn’t help but tense at all the pleasantries, you honestly assumed Diego would jump you the moment he got his hands on you but then again, he was from a prestigious family, clearly. 

You sighed as you glanced at yourself in the mirror, rubbing the towel over the back of your neck that had broken out in a sweat, you were used to dancing on stage but something about being here had made you nervous. You weren’t sure what it was but the whole vibe of this place put you on edge. Shaking your head you pulled the skirt up to your waist before finishing putting on the rest of your clothes. 

Dread filled your stomach but you couldn’t help it, anytime you weren’t dancing you were with Diego, you assumed the moment he got you alone he’d jump you but he had behaved well...But now your night of stripping was over, your body was tired and so were you but...Well you had a feeling the night had only just begun in other ways. 

Jungkook had disappeared a while ago with Eva and her friends, he had finished earlier in the night then you but given he was more social it wasn’t a surprise he had stayed to converse with her and her friends. Or maybe it was Eva who wanted to stay longer?

You couldn’t help but feel a simmering anger boil inside you at the idea of someone controlling and dictating the man you loved. You forcibly calmed yourself as you pushed your hair off your shoulder. This wasn’t the time to brood of this, it wasn’t like you could do anything about it. Could you even be mad at Jungkook? No, not when you were with Diego. 

Something about the situation made you grit your teeth as you pushed the door to your dressing room open. Why were you so powerless in a situation like this? You had never seen Jungkook let himself be powerless either. 

Pausing you glanced at the ground as people rushed past you, the night on stage still very much alive and even busier than you had ever seen before. If Jungkook was too scared to speak up or if he was worried for you, then you’d do it for him. You nodded affirming to yourself.

Whatever the Friar’s were up too....You weren’t just going to sit still and watch your friends get bullied by them. The idea made your lips twitch and your fist coil in anger, why the fuck was nobody saying anything to them!? 

Closing your eyes briefly you let your shoulders relax as you began to walk. It’s okay, they have all been there to help you on your feet. Now you’d stand beside them and defend them just as they have you. You didn’t know who these people were but you were going to find out. 

Walking out of the back and into the large lounge your eyes scoped Diego who seemed to be talking to two other men...He hadn’t introduced you so they must have been work related contacts. 

Walking over you gave a bright smile as Diego’s eyes landed on you, pausing conversation with the two men as he waved you over, “Finished up doll?” You nodded, feigning innocence to the two men’s stares that leered on you as Diego squeezed your chin, “Good. Tell you what baby, how about you head up to my room? I’ll catch up with you soon, I just have some business to take care of.” 

You felt an odd shiver down your spine at his words. Business? At three in the morning? You still gave a smile as you nodded, “Of course! I’ll see you soon then.” You winked as you took the passcard from his hand, a charming expression on your face as you nodded to the two men before turning around. 

You didn’t like this one bit. You glanced around in hopes of finding a familiar face but everyone seemed foreign to your eyes. Sighing, you shook your head a little, glancing down at the passcard to Diego’s room, number listed on it as you headed for the elevator.

Staying still you intended to enter the elevator only for your eyes to widen at the heated sight as the doors slid open, the familiar head of hair sucking harshly on skin as the woman moaned, Seokjin suddenly straightened up at the sight of you as he coughed harshly. 

The girl jumped before turning around as she gave a sheepish smile before glancing up at him with pink cheeks, “Thanks for seeing me down, i’ll see you later.” She winked as she stepped out of the elevator just as you stepped in. 

It was quiet for a moment as you and Seokjin awkwardly stood there, “I uh-”

“It’s cool.” You immediately cut him off as you both glanced at each other, unable to keep the awkward tense though as you both let out a small laugh, “She seemed happy.” 

“I’d hope so,” Seokjin scoffed, not going into detail but you could tell they obviously had just finished sleeping together, if Seokjin’s sweat drenched and messy hair was anything to go by, his eyes glancing up at the number that ticked up in the elevator, “I’m assuming you’re headed for Diego’s?” 

You gave a small nod before sighing, “Yeah...he had ‘business’ to take care of so he’s meeting me later…” You parted your lips for a moment before closing them once more, glancing up at Seokjin’s figure before asking, “...Seokjin…” Gaining his attention he glanced down at you as he raised his brows a little, “What’s going on here?” 

You watched his shoulders tense a little as he pressed his lips together, glancing away from you before letting his gaze flicker across the elevator as if searching for something, “...Sometimes...it’s better to be ignorant Y/n,” You frowned at his cryptic words, Seokjin’s gaze on you was like a heavy weight, as if they were drilling through your soul as he continued, “Don’t look for something you’ll regret finding out. I saw Jungkook earlier.” Your frown deepened at his abrupt change of topic. 

What was it that they knew that you didn’t? All you had heard were rumors thus far. It was obvious Seokjin and the others knew something was going on, so why weren’t they doing anything about it? Was it really easier to just turn a blind eye to whatever was happening? 

Deciding to drop the subject you held in a sigh as you glanced up at the numbers sliding above the door, “Yeah…?” You kept your tone neutral, not wanting to say you didn’t want to hear it, but on the other hand you were a little curious. 

“Yeah,” Seokjin clacked his tongue before snorting, “He didn’t look happy. Just kept staring at you on stage like a little puppy before Eva dragged him away.” You didn’t reply to his words for a moment. Were you surprised? No. Did it warm your heart?...Maybe a little...But still, you needed to play your cards carefully. The last thing you needed was Eva catching wind of your relation to Jungkook outside of being his trainee. 

“Well he’s just going to have to deal with it.” You replied, not intending to come off as cold as you did making Seokjin turn to face you, his brows raised in somewhat surprise making you sighed as your expression softened a little, “What can I do about it Seokjin? What’s the point in talking about it? It just…” You inhaled sharply before letting it out, “It’s already upsetting, why even talk about it?” 

You hadn’t even meant to project onto him, but you couldn’t help it, the early morning of what had happened with Jungkook was still fresh in your mind, what did he want from you? To say it was okay? That it would all be okay? It wasn’t okay! None of this was okay!

Seokjin frowned a little, his own expression softening a little as he nodded solemnly, “I can understand to a degree. But you can’t ignore him forever. What are you gonna do when all of this is over? Pretend like it never happened?” 

Glaring down at the floor you didn’t reply for a moment before answering, “I don’t know. And I’m not gonna think about it right now. I have a lot more on my plate to focus on.” The doors slid open with a ding as you glanced ahead. Seokjin frowned at your words, wanting to respond but not having the time as you turned to give him a small smile, “Good luck Seokjin, I’ll see you later.” 

Walking out of the elevator you kept a clear head as you walked down the eerily silent hallway, the elevator closed behind you leaving you all by yourself, the corridor was long and if you had gotten too close to a door you could hear soft moans from inside. 

Stepping back to keep in center only to jolt at the sound of a loud crash and a muffled scream, ���Be quiet you bitch!” Adrenaline shot through your veins at the muffled snarl of a man at the you were about to pass, “I’ll be back soon and you better be fucking prepared to perform again.” 

You scrambled away from the door, heart pounding in your chest as the door ripped open, the sounds of sobs inside before the door slammed shut. 

Footsteps stomped down the hallway until they could no longer be heard, when you heard the distinct sound of the elevator you timidly turned around...Should you…? Of course you should! Whatever had happened, it didn’t sound good. Nodding to yourself you swallowed thickly as you  walked back to the door as you frowned. The sobbing was still muffled but could be heard inside and it was enough to break your heart...It wasn’t your business but…

You gently knocked on the door, no response sounding, just tears. Gently you opened the door, timidly gazing inside only to feel your heart crumble at the familiar sight. 

Chan Hee. 

Naked yet curled up, not on the bed, but on the ground against it with her knees curled to her chest and tears streaming down her face, an ugly welt on her cheek as her body trembled. Fumbling you closed the door behind you as you rushed up to her figure that seemed so small in comparison to any other time you’ve seen her.

Chan Hee, was the image of confidence, of not caring whether people saw her as bitchy or conceited. To see her so weak, so vulnerable, it crushed you more than you ever thought it would, “Chan Hee?” You weakly called out as you kneeled down, grabbing the throw blanket off the bed as she whimpered, her arms squeezing tightly around her knees, “Y-you should go.” She stammered, tears streaking down her cheeks as you wrapped the blanket around her body, “H-he’ll b-be back soon…” 

“I’m not leaving you here by yourself.” You gritted your teeth, brows pinching together in anger as she sniffled, yes you may not have been on the best terms with her but you’d never turn your back to someone in need  and right now she needed someone, “For all the differences we might have I would never leave you or anyone else here.”

Her fists coiled around the blanket as she lowered her gaze, trembling as tears dripped down her cheeks, standing up you gathered her clothes that were scattered across the floor before sitting down next to her, “Nobody fucking told me it would be a whore house here.” She sniffed as she gritted her teeth, wiping her eyes once more with trembling hands. 

“I was told…” You murmured as you glanced at the floor, Chan Hee glancing at you as she rubbed her eyes, “But I just didn’t listen, didn’t even think about it.” You gave a hurmorless smile at the floor before it dropped, silently berating yourself on how ignorant you chose to be despite the many times Jungkook warned you, “I was so naive and dumb, it didn’t even register in my brain until this morning.

It was quiet for a moment as you both sat in silence before you shuffled, “C’mon, let’s get you dressed. I’d rather not be here when he comes back.” Chan Hee shakily sat herself on the bed, surprisingly letting you help her get dressed.

Her legs were particularly twitchy, her eyes seemed glassy still and her gaze distant, “...I didn’t care at first,” She whispered under her breath, not looking at you as you pulled the top over her head, “...Sex is sex, it was just another tip under my belt...But after the first round...it was just too much,” Her eyes were beginning to water again as she scoffed despite her lips quivering, “...And even when I told him to stop he-” She inhaled, choking back a sob that made your own eyes water. 

Kneeling down in front of her you gently grabbed her hands, her gaze was down in her lap as fresh tears trickled down her cheeks, it was odd seeing Chan Hee seem so...ashamed, broken even, “Chan Hee, I know apologizing isn’t going to fix what happened, but I am sorry. It shouldn’t be like this, everything in Seasonella... Come on, where’s your room at? You shouldn’t be subjected to this anymore.” 

Chan Hee didn’t reject your movement as you helped her up, your pulse speeding up as you opened the door, timidly glancing around before walking up ahead to the other elevator, only praying you wouldn’t run into the man that did this, “Fifth floor, 32.” She murmured, her body trembling a little as you both got into the elevator. 

The strippers floor was quiet, almost all rooms vacant as everyone was out filling client rooms or dancing, you helped Chan Hee into her room as you set her on her bed, feeling a little lost until she weakly laid down, “I’ll be okay,” She murmured, curling up against her covers as she hugged her pillow, “...thank you.” Two words and yet they felt so hopeless and sad, you mustered a small smile as you nodded before reluctantly turning around. 

Your thoughts lingered on Chan Hee before flittering to Seokjin’s words, and then briefly they stayed on Jungkook. Sighing you pinched the bridge of your nose as you shook your head, pushing the cardkey into the slot before walking into the large room. 

What you didn’t expect was the room to be vacant. You had been gone at least twenty minutes and Diego still wasn’t here? You frowned as you warily stepped into the room, it at first appeared like a lodge of some sort, couches facing each other with a small kitchen at the back wall, up the two steps however was the large king size bed and a desk with a dresser nearby. Despite the room's large size, his main bedroom seemed almost small. 

Your eyes honed in on the messy desk, Seokjin’s words replaying in your mind before Chan Hee’s figure reminded you why you were here. Maybe they would pretend like everything was okay and bare it, but you weren’t. Not when stuff like this was happening. Carefully you glanced around the room before looking over your shoulder at the door as you walked up to the desk. 

Pushing through some of the paper you frowned as you picked up a document of sorts. 

Warehouse 15: Currently full 

Shipments will need to be made by the 22nd and deadlines for payments will be cut off by the 25th when the cargo has arrived, we’ll need to gain the last set of the cargo during the weekend of the 18th-

You jumped at the sound of the door closing, hurriedly dropping the document as you swiftly turned around. Diego’s figure was skewered by the corner of the wall, “You’re here.” You welcomed as you painted a smile on your face despite the back of your mind rampantly running at whatever you just read, warehouse 15? What was held in it that was full? And clients? Was this what Seasonella was about? Today was the 18th, the start of the weekend…

“Seems someone is eager to see me.” Diego sent you a wink as he pulled the jacket off as you felt your smile tense a little, he seemed tired as he loosened his tie. 

You slowly made your way down the two steps into the main lodge as you sat down on the couch, “Well it was getting a little lonely here...Did you take care of your business?” You asked carefully, keeping your eyes wide and doe like to appear innocent as you folded your hands into your lap. 

Diego chuckled a little, unbuttoning his waist coat as he sat down a little closer to you then you would’ve liked but you didn’t move away, “Yes, it’s all finished now. No need to worry about that doll, c’mere.” You squeaked a little at the way his hands grabbed onto your waist, pulling you to straddle his lap. 

It felt foreign as you had never slept with a client before and the only man you had slept with in months was...Jungkook...you felt somewhat nauseous thinking about him, thinking about what you were about to do, “You’ve got all my attention now,” Diego licked his lips as he pushed the hair from your face, your body tense as you resisted to pull away from his touch like you wanted. 

It wasn’t warm and tender like Jungkook’s, one that made you want to bury further into him. No, this felt somewhat condescending in a way, as if your hand was being twisted behind your back and his grip was lifeless of any sort of care or love, “Relax baby, you seem so tense.” Diego purred as his hands slid to your waist. 

You let the smile turn more charismatic as you giggled a little, shrugging as you forced your thoughts into the back of your head, “It’s just been a...long day...but incredible I mean…” You let your smile turn more coy, girlish as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, “I’m in Las Vegas, it’s a little overwhelming...I just can’t help but wonder, how did Seasonella begin Diego?” You tilted your head innocently as you let your hands press gently against his chest.

 “Curious are we?” He chuckled a little, a smirk coiling on his lips as you rolled your hips a little enticingly, the more you gave the more willing he’d be to speak on this, or so you hoped, “Seasonella was originally just an annual meeting held between my fathers men yearly,” His hands rested on your hips as you swayed them against his, letting them roll along the hardening bulge of his cock,, “It slowly began to grow into his men bringing other references, and those references bring theirs until it grew even more, eventually it became more like an open party to the right people to come and do business with us. It’s what made our wealth skyrocket.” 

You were having a difficult time relaxing as he leaned in against your neck, lips trailing along your neck as your breath catched a little as you focused everything onto his words. You’d need more than that to go on. You wiggled your hips a little more as you pulled away, letting your lips tug into a cute pout before letting them twist into a playful smile, “And that’s it? That’s how you started taking strippers from across the globe to attend?” 

Diego placed his hands on your hips as you gave them a little sway, pretending as if you totally hadn’t felt his obviously lacking hard on, “When the meeting starting becoming bigger and more akin to a party we started hiring on entertainment,” You could see the way Diego was becoming more pliable, more willing to spill whatever you wanted so you could hurry up, “Of course it ended up benefiting us in the end, we invest they give us girls. It works out.” 

What…? 

Diego, perhaps realizing how his words sounded didn’t give you a chance to question him further, you squeaked as he pushed you down onto the couch, climbing on top of you as you swallowed thickly, “But enough of that doll. I’m more interested in how tight that little cunt is.”  You jumped a little at his lips attaching to your neck, the sharp moan leaving you before you could stop it. 

Diego’s hands dragged their way down your waist as you squirmed beneath him, controlling your breaths as adrenaline shot through your veins. Just today  and tomorrow, that’s all you needed to get through. 

“Kookie, why have you been so quiet?” Eva turned to face him with a pouty frown, shifting the blanket to cover her plump perky breasts as she laid her head against her arms, observing the way Jungkook laid on his back, his expression dimmed and the frown harshly twisted on his lips. 

The door had just closed and her friend who had joined them in such an incredible night in bed had taken her leave. Jungkook didn’t reply for a moment, unsure of how to before he finally shrugged, sitting up as the blanket fell off his chest revealing the broad chiseled sight that was making her rub her thighs together all over again, “Eva can I be honest with you?”

It was a dumb question, because while he was sure she was going to say yes despite the likelihood that she’d accept his words was….rather slim.

Eva gave him a wide, excited smile, as if she thought for sure he was slowly beginning to open up to her. Sitting up eagerly, she clutched the sheets against her chest as she gave him a timid smile, “Of course you can Jungkook, I’ll never judge you.” Rather than make him smile though Jungkook’s brows only furthered as he sighed, running a hand through his damp hair, “What do you think we are, relationally speaking?” He wanted to cringe at the question, but it was something he had been thinking about. Eva had continuously gloated to her friends about her ‘boyfriend when Jungkook had made himself clear several times before that he was not her boyfriend.. 

Eva’s cheeks dusted a light pink as she glanced coyly at the blankets, “Well...I thought I made my point Kook. If it weren’t for my studies I’d be in Korea...with you...I like you....a lot...I have since we met last year.” 

Jungkook didn’t mean to let the groan escape him but it was too late, Eva had stiffened somewhat as she glanced at him carefully awaiting his response, “Eva….” His words didn’t sound promising he knew it, but Jungkook wanted to make himself very clear, “You do understand that I’m only here because I have to be here? Right? You’re a nice girl but…” Should he bring you into this conversation? No...he’ll need to make it discreet, “I’ve met someone...Someone I really love...” 

Jungkook felt somewhat timid meeting her gaze, it was worse than he had hoped for truthfully. Eva was as stiff as a board and her gaze was darkening by the second before she gave a loud scoff that came out as if she was trying to force it into a laugh, her smile sharper than usual as she replied, “Love…? Maybe it’s just me but if you really loved someone, you wouldn’t be working as a stripper and sleeping with people behind her back.”

Jungkook had parted his lips to object but quickly snapped them shut, remembering he had told himself he was leaving you out of this. He couldn’t help but feel guilty though, did he really love you if he was doing this? He could feel it eating him alive inside as she gave him a snide smile, “Yeah, that’s what I thought. I get it Jungkook I do, we’ve been apart a year, but just give it a shot!” 

Eva ignored the way his body tensed as she climbed into his lap, cupping his face as her smile softened a little, “I think we could really work Jungkook...besides...you know I can offer you anything she could and even more,” Jungkook’s jaw clenched against her grip and he refused to meet her eyes, “And you know it, I’ll take care of you, provide for you, my family will keep you safe from KOI and I know how much of a strangle hold they’ve had on you before.” 

Letting her forehead rest against his she leaned in, his lips were so soft and addictive. Eva only felt them for a few seconds before she was pushed away, her lips even parted in somewhat offense at the aggressive and cold glare he gave her, “I’ll sleep with you all you want, I’ll play boyfriend while I’m here, I’ll let you have your fun with your friends,” She whined a little as he shoved her against the bed climbing on top of her, “But don’t you ever fucking kiss me like you’re actually apart of my life. You know nothing about me or who I am and it’s going to be kept this way.”

Jungkook roughly rolled her onto her stomach as he growled, “Now I’m gonna spank this ass until it’s bruised and you’re gonna count you disobedient bitch.” He didn’t even wait for her to speak, she was already moaning and whining as his hand slammed against the delicate pale skin of her ass. Jungkook didn’t care how much she knew about him or how much she could dangle his past over his head, there would always be few things off limits and this was one of them. 

…

It was morning, you knew it was. Light streamed through the windows and it looked like a beautiful day outside, blue sky with billowing white clouds. If you were back home in Korea you would’ve begged Jungkook to take you to the market where you’d go to look for plants and succulents to add to your collection. 

But you weren’t home. No. You were in Diego Friar’s bed with thighs that ached and like they were on fire with your stomach churning for the past thirty minutes. He had left a while ago saying he had work to take care of and that he’d meet you in the cafe for breakfast. That was okay, you didn’t want him to stay anyways. You felt gross, every inch of your body felt disgusting and you knew a shower wouldn’t be enough to make you feel better. 

Trying to ignore the dull throb of your stomach you sat up feeling somewhat numb as you carefully dressed yourself. Glancing at Diego’s desk you deflated even more, all the paper that had been thrown across was gathered and most likely taken by him this morning. Standing up you winced as you forced yourself to walk. You weren’t going to break down...you weren’t going to break down crying…

No matter how much you repeated it in your head you still felt tears glossing in your eyes as you punched the bottom floor button, the elevator was making your stomach feel even worse as you groaned silently, the elevator was too small and there were too many people here. 

As soon as the doors slid open you pushed your way out, the churn of your stomach becoming too much and you needed to find a bathroom, fast, “Oh hey Y/n-” Jimin’s eyes widened a little as you shoved past him and into the bathroom. 

Unable to even lock the stall door as you lurched down onto your knees, the sour taste of alcohol and last night's meal coming up as you coughed rancidly, spitting out bile as tears trickled down your cheeks from the force of your cough as you began to dry heave up any last bits. 

Sitting down against the toilet you couldn’t help but let the tears trickle down your face as you let out a sob. God you felt disgusting, would Jungkook even want to be with you today after knowing...After seeing? Your hands trembled as you sobbed into them. Sniffling harshly as you forced yourself up to stand, flushing away the reminder of what had happened before wobbling out to the sink to fix yourself up. 

Your eyes still looked bloodshot but it wasn’t notable as long as someone didn’t stare for long, you rinsed your mouth out with the sink water, gurgling a few times as you gagged while spitting it out, the raw burn of your throat a reminder of what had just happened. 

Opening the door you jumped a little to see the sight of Jimin leaning against the wall with one foot, arms crossed as his eyes landed on you, a frown quirking onto his lips as he sighed, “...You...look like you’ve seen better days.” He picked his words carefully, “You good?” 

You closed your eyes briefly, trying to ignore the churn of your stomach already despite having just thrown up, “As well as I can be, I just...Sorry I didn’t mean to push you, I just uh...threw up.” You gave a weak smile as Jimin examined your figure, “Sorry. It’s just been a long night.” 

He nodded understandingly, “Well I’m sure your body is already going through a lot as it is, you should really lay down and rest.” You sighed at his words, glancing away from him as you rubbed your forehead. 

“I told Diego i’d be at breakfast in the cafe....What are you doing here?” You pressed your brows together as you tilted your head, why was Jimin here anyways? You had been in too much of a rush to think much of it before.

Jimin snorted, “I was going to breakfast but after you rushed past me I figured I’d stay behind to check on you. Like I said, you look like you’ve seen better days. Who cares about Diego? I’m sure he won’t be hurt if you skip.” 

“...Well yeah but…” You trailed off with a frown causing Jimin to peer at you somewhat confused as you sighed, stepping closer to him as you lowered your voice, “...You’re the only one I’m going to tell but...Something is going on here Jimin,” You glanced up at him, your gaze serious and even boarding harsh as you continued, “And I’m going to find out what it is and stop it.” 

Jimin’s gaze hardened a little as he frowned, “Y/n…” He shook his head a little in disdain as you scoffed while stepping away from him. Why was it everyone was so fucking scared? This wasn’t right! Whatever it was! “These people are dangerous...Be careful. I need to go get breakfast for myself and Rosé but...just be careful okay? There’s a reason a lot of us just leave it alone.” His gaze was a silent warning as you nodded reservedly before you let Jimin walk past you. 

Sighing you pinched the bridge of your nose. Why must everything be so secretive?

Breakfast hour was always Jungkook’s favorite part of Seasonella, free food and he could officially go and sleep off the ache of his body for the rest of the day before rinse repeat in this scenario. It was normal to eat with said client and no matter how annoying it was Jungkook would tolerate it when you were just in eyesight. 

No matter how much it pissed him off. You wouldn’t meet his gaze and he knew exactly why, your neck was shamelessly covered in hickies and there was a slight limp in your walk when you showed up, oddly by yourself and it for a moment made every sense in his body tell him to go sit with you and coddle you.

 It was like his conversation with Eva the night before hadn’t even existed, either she was truly dense or she was cooking something up. 

Jungkook didn’t like the way she smiled and laughed with all of her friends, some passing jokes to each other in hopes of maybe buttering him up about how good he was in bed to get one more round in before he’d call it quits. But no amount of jokes or compliments were getting him to budge. He had managed a few smiles and jokes as well but nothing more than playful banter. 

He kept his gaze towards you minimally, but he felt somewhat useless when his gaze met yours, had you been looking at him too? 

Jungkook could feel his outer charming mask begin to crumble at the way your lips quivered and your eyes shooting back down to your untouched food. The sudden need to touch you, to hold you filling his veins. His fingers began to thrum against the table in impatience before he checked his phone, he couldn’t wait, it was nearly killing him.

Jungkook swallowed thickly at how sharp and dry your words over text were, were you actually okay. You hadn’t looked at him once when you got up from the table, your food untouched as you left. He could only sigh and endure the rest of breakfast until he was finally free of Eva’s claws the rest of the day. 

Jungkook’s body was objecting to every sluggish step he took back to his room, it had been awhile since he actually pulled an all nighter, well into the morning hours without any sleep whatsoever. Rubbing his eyes he yawned as he opened the door, quietly closing it as he felt his once tense muscles relaxed at the familiar sight. 

You were curled up against the bed, the large hoody- his as a matter of fact, drowning your body and the hood pulled over your head while you buried in the large pillows. Jungkook felt his lips curve a little into a soft smile as he changed out of his sticky previously sweat stained clothes, feeling relieved to just be comfortable once more as he drew the large thick currents over the window to darken the room before he sat down on the bed. His hand gently stroking your waist. 

What he hadn’t expected was the violent jolt from you before jerking away making him frown. Jungkook had anticipated you wanting his touch after such an...intense night but, maybe he was wrong... His jaw clenched slightly at the way your body tensed and didn’t seem to relax at the realization he was in bed with you. He didn’t even want to think about what you went through last night. 

Not wanting to push your comfort zone Jungkook sighed as he laid down on his side of the bed, your back was turned to him and you hadn’t even greeted him yet. Oh well, words didn’t need to be spoken. Jungkook could only let his gaze longingly stare against your figure that was curled away from him. God he just wanted to hold you, now he couldn’t even do that. 

....

Your mind felt fuzzy, that kind of drowsiness you wake up with when you decide to take a nap at an odd hour and when you wake up you don’t know what time it is and if it’s day or night. You groaned as you rolled over, your muscles gripping at the sight of an empty bed. Where did Jungkook go? 

You were aware you hadn’t been...the kindest...but maybe you were just still reeling from last night. That didn’t mean you didn’t want to see him though...You felt yourself relax at the sight of Jungkook appearing from the bathroom, his lips quirking up a little at the sight of your half awake figure. 

“I have a bath running, we need to get you cleaned up.” Jungkook sat down on the side of the bed as he let his hand stroke through your hair, your body flinched a little at the contact, your poor scalp was still sore from how much Diego had pulled on your hair. Jungkook frowned before tenderly letting his fingers run along your scalp. 

“Thanks.” You replied dryly, a tiny bit of humor detected in your tone while letting your lips tug into a tiny smile, it was hard to keep a straight face when you were around Jungkook, even like this. It was something Jungkook seemed to return so easily, his fingers sliding down to your cheek to gently stroke along it. 

“That’s not what I meant,” He clacked his tongue, trying to give you a scolding look but failing as his lips twisted into a smile, “C’mere,” Jungkook internally sighed, his heart broke for you, he could see how much you were struggling to not instinctively push him away as your body tensed and flinched as he picked you up. You really were trying your best to relax in his grip as he carried you to the bathroom, “It’s not about you being dirty, it’s about me not wanting you to get an infection.” 

Jungkook already had a fresh set of clothes folded neatly on the closed toilet seat as he set you on the counter, tugging off the sweatshirt that covered your body as he sighed. His lips unable to stay smiling as they twisted into a sad frown at the hickies your body sported and bruises on your hips in the shape of fingers.

 “I get it. It was a lot,” He mumbled as he pulled out a hairbrush from his bag that laid on the ground, gently untangling your hair as he refused to meet your gaze, “But I’d never hurt you baby. You know that right? I don’t want you to ever think I’d make you do something you don’t want too. I don’t want to know what happened last night, but I’ll never treat you the way he did.” 

Your shoulders kept tensing and relaxing over and over again as Jungkook finished brushing your hair, finally glancing down at you as he sighed, tears were beginning to streak down your face as you closed your eyes, “I feel so fucking gross.” You finally relented, your hands shaking as you pressed them into your eyes, “I...I...Jungkook...I feel so disgusting.” 

And you did, you felt ruined. Like you didn’t deserve to even be in the same room as Jungkook at the moment. Why would he even want you now? After...after last night...Jungkook hushed you gently as he wrapped his arms around you tenderly pressing a kiss against your head, his heart lurching and it hurt with every beat at the tears you cried, “Shhh, it’ll be okay baby. Just tonight and we’re done. Shhh, don’t cry baby.” 

For the first time you had craved his warmth all over again, letting his arms tighten around you as he cradled you close, peppering kisses against your hair before eventually coaxing you into the nice warm tub. 

It felt normal, as if you weren’t at Seasonella or like Diego and Eva never happened. It was just you and Jungkook, his arms still loosely wrapped around you, his fingers dancing along your skin beneath the water soothingly and his lips occasionally pecking softly against the hickies. As if to make them feel better, as if to make them his even if they weren’t. 

After a hefty amount of coaxing Jungkook had finally gotten you to give in, your fists clenched as you sucked in a sharp breath, “What happens in this bathtub, stays in this bathtub by the way.” You heard him chuckle as you whined, pressing your forehead against the cold tile of the wall, “Do I need stitches? It feels like I do.”

Jungkook sighed as if him staring at your asshole with cheeks spread open was something he did everyday, “No you don’t need stitches. There’s some blood, yeah but that’s just because he didn’t properly prep you. Poor baby.” He let go of your cheeks before letting his hand gently rub against the bruised surface, “I’ll clean it up, outside of it hurting there’s nothing actually wrong. Luckily we can get you some medicine for that.” 

You winced as he spread them back open. You never in your life, thought you’d be in a bathtub with your asscheeks spread just so Jungkook could clean you up. You thought you had gotten past any sort of embarrassment you’d ever feel around Jungkook yet it seemed like he lived to prove you wrong. You sucked in another breath as you felt the soft warm bath cloth rub against the aching puckered ring. 

“There, all better.” Jungkook set the bathcloth down before tenderly grabbing your waist, guiding you to sit back down in the nice soothingly hot water as he pressed another kiss against your neck, “Can’t believe he’d actually do that to you.” He gritted his teeth as he muttered under his breath.

You shifted a little, nibbling against your lip, you knew that wasn’t his invitation to getting you to talk about it but… “It was dark….I doubt he realized it was blood…” You mumbled, you could feel his skin tense beneath you as he huffed. 

“If there was blood involved you can’t tell me you weren’t crying.” Jungkook tried to keep his voice a steady note but he could feel his anger beginning to rise, just the idea made him sick to his stomach. 

You didn’t have the heart to mention he was right, you had cried while mumbling your safeword a fair amount of times when anal got involved, maybe if you had just said something he’d....But did you even want his comfort though? No, you gritted your teeth and dealt with it because you wanted that disgusting human being away from you as soon as he blew his load. 

Jungkook pulled you out of the water, wrapping a warm fluffy towel around you as he carefully dried you off, saying no more on the subject as it was clear neither of you really wanted to talk about it. No, you just wanted to enjoy what time you could with him.

Pulling on the fresh pair of panties and Jungkook helped you tug on the comfy gym shorts before pulling the nice warm sweatshirt over your head, it smelt like him, your favorite smell. 

Sitting down in bed you patiently waited for Jungkook as he typed in the password on your laptop, intending to put something on for you both to watch as he set in on the bed, a knock on the door making you both alert.

You glanced at Jungkook in confusion as he gave you a weak smile, “I know you said you weren’t hungry but baby...you need to eat something.” You frowned a little as you tugged on a strand of hair. Opening the door he pulled out his wallet, paying for the food before closing the door behind him. Taking a seat on the bed as he opened up the takeout boxes, you wouldn’t deny the glee that entered your body at the sight of Chow Mein and Shrimp. 

One bite into your food though immediately made your stomach lurch, your hand squeezing against the wooden chopsticks as you forced yourself to swallow. Jungkook was right, you needed to eat something. It didn’t matter how tasty it was though, it made you sick to your stomach the more you ate. 

One more bite and you had to put down your chopsticks, Jungkook frowned as he noticed your hand covering your mouth, “Hey, you okay baby?” He couldn’t even finish his words before you were already scrambling off the bed at your stomach lurching and your throat constricting. You barely made it to the toilet before you were already throwing up what little you had eaten, dry heaving despite nothing coming up.

You couldn’t stand when people tried to comfort you when you were throwing up and Jungkook got a good taste of that when he attempted the first time he witnessed you hungover. Your vision was blurred with tears as you spat up the vile taste that lingered in your mouth, after a few moments Jungkook entered the bathroom as you wiped your mouth with toilet paper, tossing it carelessly in before weakly pulling the handle. 

Your body trembled as he sighed, pressing a kiss on top of your head, “You good?” He sat down as he wrapped his arms loosely around you. 

“Y-yeah, I just haven’t been able to keep anything down.” Your body trembled once more as you curled against him, letting him pick you up before delicately carrying you back to bed. 

Leaned against him you weakly curled up as you sighed, your head was beginning to throb once more and your stomach ached with a lingering aftertaste of vomit, god you felt so weak and Chow Mein was not as good as you remembered it tasting. Closing your eyes once more you relaxed on top of Jungkook’s laid out figure, his hand tenderly stroking your back as you nudged into his neck. You’d be happy when all of this was over.

Note: I got way too impatient and just decided to post this chapter a few hours early, not that y’all are complaining 😂 Let me know what you guys think about everything going on! It’s a lot to take in! 🖤

(Taglist: Due to a bug on my blog nobody will receive notifications from my taglist so I’ve decided to skip it this update, should things return to normal on my blog the taglist will resume!)

[thebmatt]

FFXIV Write 2021 Prompt #10: Heady

Heady – (of liquor) potent; intoxicating. -OR- willful or rash

Note - This takes place during the finale of 5.0, after the little kid asks if the player is the Warrior of Darkness, but before the Scions gather in the Ocular and send the Warrior back to the Source. The Crystarium is throwing a giant party to celebrate their victory.

Rheika was being subjected to another round of hearty toasting. She’d had a few to drink, but she knew her tolerance well enough to know that she was slightly tipsy and planned not to go any further than she already was. With every toast she pretended to drink, and so far no one had noticed. She wanted to be mostly clear-headed for what had to happen next.

She spotted Thancred approaching the bar and waved him over. The assembled patrons then began toasting his virtues as well, but he managed to weave past them all to get to her.

“Enjoying the festivities in your honor?” he teased.

“Uugggh. Ordinarily I only want this much attention when I’m performing, but these people won’t even let me get a word in to start a performance! It’s a never ending stream of ‘thank-yous’ or ‘bless-yous’ or people asking me to bless them!” she replied, tossing her hands in the air in frustration.

“I notice you’re not partaking much” Thancred pointed out, glancing towards her still-half full tankard.

She scoffed. Of course, he’d notice. He’d probably been keeping an eye on her all night. This newfound protector role he’d adopted suited him well, she decided. It was also kind of, okay really sexy…

No, down, girl. Things to do. “Not yet. Can you gather everyone in the Ocular? The Scions, I mean. And the Exarch. Ryne, too, but I counted her in the Scions, but I didn’t know if you would, so…yeah her too.”

He chuckled. “Give me a little bit and I’ll send them all that way.”

“Thanks, Thancred. Meet you there.”

Reaching into her pouch, she palmed one of her smoke pellets.

A short time later, Thancred led the others into the Ocular. Rheika was already present, wearing the armor she wore as a Shinobi. Her daggers sat her side, and she smelled faintly of the smoke they knew she used to distract opponents so she could hide. She stood in front of the portal that led back to the source, the Exarch’s usual spot when he addressed them all

Everyone, almost by instinct, fanned out in a semi-circle around her.

“Thanks for coming, everyone. I wanted to get you all together before the night got any later. I’ve…I’ve got things I need to say to each of you. Stuff that I didn’t want to wait until the morning. Hell, most of it I didn’t want to even wait until now but…well we’ve been a bit busy.”

All of them nodded, waiting for her to continue.

Rheika walked up to Ryne and embraced her. When they finally separated, she kept her hands on her shoulders, looking her in the eyes, a wide smile on her face.

“Ryne, I love you. I know you had to accept a lot, being the Oracle, but you’ve never wavered in wanting to help, and you saved my life a bunch. I’m so thankful for you and we are gonna spend a lot of time becoming friends, okay?”

Ryne had tears streaming down her face, but she hugged Rheika again. “I can’t wait!”

Rheika let her go and walked over to Alphinaud. She ruffled his hair. “You, sir, used to be an insufferable twerp when I first met you.”

Everyone chuckled, even Alphinaud.

Rheika continued. “I said ‘used to’ and I absolutely mean it. You aren’t that kid and you haven’t been for a very long time. “

She bent down and put her hands around his shoulders. “You’ve had many more successes than you have failures, and they’ve been much more far-reaching. I want you to stop living in the shadow of your mistakes and live for your successes, past and future. Can you do that for me?”

Alphinaud sniffed and wiped a single tear from his eye. “I can. Thank you.”

She nodded, then walked to Alisaie. She also got a hug, but Rheika did not let go when she spoke to her, merely loosened her hold a little. “You’re so amazing, you know that? Trust me, I know Red Magic, and you’re utterly fantastic, and you’ve got a lot more growing to do, so just imagine how much more amazing you’re going to be. Tesleen was not your fault. Please don’t let guilt over her consume you. You have far too much life left to be eaten up by it, okay?”

Alisaie just hugs back harder, choking a sob. “Okay”, she says through her tears. “I’ll try”.

Rheika releases the hug and kisses her forehead. “All I ask, sweetie.”

She lets her go and looks over to Y’shtola, who has been smiling at the outpouring of love from the Warrior of Darkness. That smile fades when she sees that Rheika’s expression is no longer happy.

She looked upset.

Rheika approaches her, arms crossed. “I know you weren’t part of the deception. But you still held things from me. I know it wasn’t long before you did say something, but it hurt that you delayed even that long.

Y’shtola started to respond, then looked away, shame on her visage. “No, I will not defend my actions. You are right. I should not have. You are my friend, one of my dearest, and I treated you as a puzzle to be solved. Never again.”

Her eyes found Rheika again. “I am truly sorry for the pain I caused you, Rheika.”

Rheika smiled and reached forward to hug her. “Accepted and forgiven, Shtola.”

She grinned. “Oh, and do you recall what you promised me the night before we set out for Eulmore? Feel free to make good on that whenever you like!”

Y’shtola arched her eyebrows in confusion, then they shot up as her eyes went ride and she turned crimson. She quickly looked down, hoping no one noticed.

Everyone did, though no one had any idea what Rheika was talking about.

She walked over to Thancred, giving him a cool smile. “You know what I’m going to say?”

He gave a half smile. “I presume you’re going to chastise me for the way I acted these past few years, the way I treated Ryne.”

“And everyone else, too. You hurt more than you realize when you lash out rather than talk about your hurts, Thancred. We all realize how much we rely on you, but that doesn’t mean we aren’t able to have you rely on us when you need it, when you’re the one hurting. No more forgetting that, you understand?”

“I won’t forget anymore, Rheika. I promise” he says, solemnly.

“Good.” She gave him a quick seductive wink. “Remember what you lose when you do, pretty boy”

He also blushed and prayed Ryne didn’t notice. She did, but she wasn’t sure why he was.

Rheika then turned to Urianger. He noted with some distress that her expression had chilled to anger, and he closed his eyes and bowed his head.

She stopped in front of him. “This is twice now you’ve played a game without informing the rest of us that’s gotten people hurt, Urianger. First there was that double-dealing with Ardbert’s crew that got Alisaie poisoned by Renda-Rae, now this. So I’m going to ask you one more time; are you going to honor the promise you made before we dove into the Tempest? ‘No further secrets?’

“Aye, milady. No more. Mine strategizing alone hath proven a bane upon someone too many a time, and I wilt allow no persuasions of any kind, be they mine or elsewhere, to deter me from this.”

“Good. You’re not BAD at this, Uri, but as brilliant as you are, no one can see every angle. The best tacticians work in teams, so that others might see circumstances that we miss. You’re surrounded by some of the smartest people on two stars, don’t forget that. I forgive you, by the way. I don’t remember if I said that already.”

“My thanks, Rheika.”

She smirks at him. “However, you DO owe me, so here’s how you’re gonna pay me back. When we get you all home, you are absolutely not allowed to hide away under that hooded robe ever again. In fact, I hereby ban you from wearing anything with sleeves. Those arms deserve to be seen.”

Urianger looked at his arms, confused. The other Scions chuckled, with Thancred throwing in a “Hear, hear!” for good measure.

She leaned in close to whisper in his ear. “And we can talk later about whether or not you’d like to show me the rest of those muscles later. If you want.”

She pulled back and gave him a friendly innocent smile. Urianger, to his credit, managed to hide his blush short of some faint rosiness in his cheeks.

Rheika turned to the Exarch and frowned. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and exhaled.

When she re-opened her eyes, the others all took a step back. None of them had ever seen her this angry, a fury born of betrayal and pain.

“What’s coming next is not going to be pretty. If anyone wants to leave, I understand. No judgement. If you stay though…well, consider yourself warned.”

No one moved.

She panned back and forth to the others, then nodded. “All right, then.”

She stepped forward to G’raha and poked a finger at his chest. “You’ve talked a lot lately, G’raha Tia. You’ve always been gifted with a tongue of silver. But right now, I’m more than just a bit tired of it. So here’s how this is going to work. You are not allowed to speak until I’m done talking, unless I ask you a question directly. When you answer, you do so with one word. You say anything more than that, or take too long to choose your single word and I will put you on the floor. Am I clear??”

G’raha gulped, then said “Yes”. His voice was uneven. Scared, even.

Good, she thought.

“Did you think I didn’t know, G’raha Tia?”

He cocked his head in confusion. “Pardon?”

She turned and looked back to the portal. “Did you think I didn’t know that it was you under that hood?”

His head fell. “Hoped.”

She laughed. “If you didn’t want me to recognize you, you did a pretty piss-poor job of trying to disguise yourself. That hood didn’t always cover your eyes, you know. I glimpsed crimson under there, more than once. But even before that, did you think I wouldn’t recognize your voice?

He looked up, sadness on his face. “Years”

“NOT FOR ME!” she yelled, whirling on him. “Not for me. I knew, right away, that it was you. So many times you could have come clean, and you didn’t, so I never knew exactly how much to trust you. After all, why would my good friend G’raha Tia need to conceal himself and his intent from me?”

She paused, and begin pacing back and forth before him. Eventually she spoke again. “So why, Graha? Why lie to me?”

He swallowed. “Protect.”

She froze, then slowly panned towards his eyes, outrage practically pouring off of her. “I’m sorry, did you say ‘protect’? YOU DON’T HAVE THAT RIGHT” she yelled.

G’raha reeled, catching his balance on a backstepped foot, before righting himself and returning his gaze to her, looking pitiful.

She continued. “I am SICK to FUCKING DEATH of people deciding what’s best for me and still asking me to risk my life to save their homes or people or the planet. I, and I alone, have the right to decide what I need protecting from! Especially from people who are supposed to be my friends! Instead, your so-called protection put me through an absolute hell to deal with on my own!”

She gestures to the other Scions. “I love and cherish these people and without them I would never have stood a chance in this fight, but they are not the Warriors of Light! They don’t have the Echo, or the Blessing of Hydaelyn. Do you have any concept of how much easier this could have been if you had thought to summon more than one of us?”

G’raha suddenly looked very afraid. “Un…undefended!”

She noticed. “Oh, undefended, I see! You were thinking of the Source, you didn’t want to leave no Warriors of Light to defend it. Fine, I’ll accept that. But there’s four of us, G’raha.” She held up four fingers for emphasis. “You could have grabbed me and Dahkar, or Franks and Fearless, or me and Fearless. Any combination of two of us! But you didn’t. No no, you specifically targeted me. Don’t bother denying it, I’ve seen enough of your past to know this. So here’s the million-gil question, G’raha Tia. Why. Me?”

He closed his eyes, tears streaming down. He opened them again, crimson irises meeting green. “L-love.”

Leather first met his face before he could even blink, impacting his crystal covered cheek. He remembered crying out in pain, and then the next he was on the floor, grasping his jaw. He heard Ryne gasp, then Alphinaud say “That’s enough, Rheika!” He regained his equilibrium in time to see that Urianger is blocking Alphinaud from physically interceding.

“Master Alphinaud, if thou valuest thine health, I beseech thee, be silent. These feelings must needs be aired.”

He turned to see that Rheika has not stopped glaring at him. “What did we talk about that second night at the find, G’raha?”

He tested his jaw. Not broken, thankfully. The crystal didn’t appear to be cracked, either. He wondered if her first is all right, then quickly remembered he was on a timetable. “You.”

She nodded. “So you do remember. I knew you were interested in me, so I told you all about me. I’m not shy about it, after all. Do you remember what you said in reply. Don’t answer that, because I don’t want to hear it from you right now. You said you understood. So you already knew there would never, ever be anything but friendship between us when you locked yourself in this tower, and then you turn around and bring me across the rift, alone, and ask me to save both of these worlds because you think you’re in love with me?”

He had gotten back on his feet, but let her unleash all of her hurt, because he knew he had misjudged her greatly, and he deserved it. “Shame.” is the one word he could think to say.

“What exactly were you thinking would happen, G’raha? That some grand romantic gesture would break through the stone of my heart? Do you think you’re the first person to think that they’re the ‘right one i’ve been waiting all my life for’?”

“No…”

She crossed her arms in front of him. “No, you’re not. Dozens of others before you have tried, thinking I just needed ‘fixing’. You know what happened to them? They have it made very clear to them that they are not to speak with me anymore. Because I do NOT. NEED. FIXING. There isn’t a damn thing wrong with me. And you lied to my face when you said you understood that, just like they did. But your lie? That nearly cost me my life and two worlds worth of others.

G’raha silently sobbed, eyes closed but tears streaming down his face.

“Look at me”

He opened his eyes. She looked back at him, her face neutral.

“The only reasons I’m not going to do that to you are because despite all of that, you did bring hope to the people of that undone future. You built this city as a bastion of refuge and safety to the people of this realm. You protected them for a century. And despite your massive fucking screwup bringing me here alone and lying to me about it, when I truly needed them the most, you brought my brothers and sister across the rift to help me kill Emet-Selch.”

“That’s a lot of good to weigh against the bad of you lying to me and ignoring my wishes, G’raha. And I think you realized how futile your hope was a while back. Am I right about that?”

He nods. “Lakeland.”

“When we spoke alone after the Eaters invaded it you mean?”

“Yes.”

“Got it. So here’s what we’re gonna do, G’raha. You’re gonna figure out how to get the Scions home. Without killing yourself. You’re gonna keep taking care of this city. You’re gonna be one of the voices that helps guild this realm into a bright new future. You do all that, and this godsdamned time you remember what I told you, and maybe we can fix our friendship? Think you can do that?”

He nodded and smiled. “Yes.”

“Good.” She walked past him towards the Ocular’s exit. The others all watched her. “That was it, I’m done. I’ve been holding back drinking too much all evening so that I’d have a clear enough head to say all of that, so now that it’s over, I’m going to drink a lot more. If you all feel like joining me, can’t wait to see you there. If not, see you in the morning.”

She strode out of the Ocular. The twins soon followed, then after a few gazes between each other, the other Scions soon followed, until only G’raha Tia remained.

Despite everything he knew he’d done horribly wrong, he counted himself fiercely lucky that it hadn’t cost him everything. And he looked to the future with a renewed determination to continue repairing that which he’d damaged.

[julyarchives]

Lunar Love || (M)

Stuck between forbidden love and duty to the kingdom, decisions under the moonlight may change everything

→ Pairing: Yanan x Female Reader

→ Genre: Smut

→ Words:  2.8K

→ Contains: Smut; Princess MC; Royalty AU; whole lot of romance

→ A/n: So, we tried a different kind of language for this story, and writing this beautiful romance was really fun! We hope you guys like it as much as we do!

You consider yourself lucky. Being born part of royalty had something to do with that but also being able to live the life you wanted since a little kid was a dream come true. You have everything, a beautiful big royal housing, a lovely mother and a caring father, every luxury you could think of, and many more. Of course, it is not completely perfect, having strict duties and forced into marriage for alliance purposes was not at all part of your dream. But even though you were promised to a faraway prince, you had your own prince, so to speak. 

 Since learning you were to be married, your mother insisted on making you take classes on proper manners and house managing to suit your soon-to-be husband. She left the teaching role to the youngest and studied man in the kingdom. He was sure wise and proper like she expected you to be and it helped that he was a close friend of yours growing up. Yanan was a dream come true to all the royalty ladies you knew, and some commoners as well, and who was to blame…

 Yanan took the role of your teacher against his will, claiming to be needed for studies elsewhere but never leaving nevertheless. He taught you many things as to how to please a man and honestly, it was all dull and you knew it. So did he. When he was certain you two were no longer watched closely by the Queen or any maid answering to her, he'd stop pretending he believed in female submission in marriage and simply enjoyed time with you. 

 That's when things went wrong. Or maybe incredibly right. You learned subtly that even though he was always leaving the kingdom for studies, his heart never parted with him, it always stayed in the royal housing, with you. To claim you loved him from the start is a lie, you didn't even know you were allowed to feel love for someone who was not to be your husband but his actions as the days went by, carefully moving his routine around you so to not force his feelings to the surface got you enchanted in mere weeks.

Once enchanted there were no turnbacks. Your cheeks would flame up as he smiled at you, his smooth and gentle manners captivating your heart more and more. Subtly, just as the wind caressed your faces by the housing lake, you confessed your confusing heart, even if it hurt knowing this lovable man was not to be yours. That day he was your first. Your first love, kiss, and first night awake in someone else's arms. It was also your first tears when you parted ways, scared of never living your love. 

 Since that day your chambers were always filled with flowers, coloring the royal house differently, filling your heart with more love and more longing. The maids designed to accompany you always thought it was the goodwill of yours to be husband and you nodded along, letting your mind dream that to be true. The downside of being a princess was the need to be surrounded by people all the time, your security and comfort coming first, so outside classes, it was incredibly hard to meet Yanan.

 So when he showed up at the door of the main room as you had your daily tea with other noblewomen, your heart almost stopped. Their whispers angered you in envy and jealousy but your eyes were strained in the soft black-haired man standing in front of you. With an elegant bow, he addressed you. 

 "My princess", he kissed your hand as any other man would but the tenderness you felt there was special. 

 "What brings you here?"

 "I was given this message. I was told to deliver it to you to deal with it privately, since I'm closer acquainted with you, my Princess".

 You nodded, lost for words. You quickly unfolded the parchment and you almost dropped it from shaking.

 As the moon sets higher, I'll be waiting by your beloved garden. Be so kind to meet me there after dinner.

 "I- I completely understand, sir. Please take this away and seek to do what you judge best with it. Maybe burn it", the shocked gasps from the ladies brought you back to reality. "Oh, fret not, ladies. It was a mere message from the head maid over my request to more rose waters". 

 You prayed for it to be enough to calm them down and luckily it did. It was not good to have them gossip about what that note was about. They knew better to question you and even better to know you're not supposed to keep a message from a housekeeper. His elegant writing was impossible to not recognize and you smiled gently at him, bowing your head and watching him leave silently. Your heart was euphoric and you knew time was going to pass way more slowly than usual. Thankfully it was the end of the afternoon and soon enough you had to go have dinner with your family and nobles.

 Dinner did no good to you, for it was spent exchanging secret looks between you and your lover, anxiety building up as the clock ticked away the long seconds remaining for your tryst.

 “You look rather distracted, my dear” your mother stated, “is there something troubling you?” 

 “I’m just a little tired, mother, nothing a good rest can not fix,” you said, containing your leg under the table, which was shaking in anticipation.

You tried your best to remain present, but your mind did nothing but wander back to the last time your lips met, your romantic rendezvous rather chastely, but now you were craving his lips like you never had before, dreaming about the feeling of being in his strong arms again.

 Took it long enough, but you were finally excused from the table and accompanied to your room by your loyal maidens. 

 “I shall not be disturbed tonight, for I must heal from this terrible headache” you dramatically touched your temples. “Wake me up only for my morning tea.”

 They bowed obligingly, leaving to fulfill their other duties.

 Wasting no time, you evaded your chambers as soon as there was no one in sight, not even bothering changing from your formal dress, carefully prepared for dinner with guests. You ran away, sneaking around hidden corners that only you knew, and finally, you made it to the gardens.

 Your beloved awaited for you under the pale moonlight, which reflected on his skin beautifully like he was part of the collection of marble statues that adorned the bushes and flowers in the area. He was breathtakingly handsome, and you felt like the luckiest lady in all the kingdom.

 He spared his words as he simply took your hand and, in between giggles, you two ran fast through the darkest spots, finally making it to the forest, where you two could live your romance without being bothered by the real world. Over there you two could be accomplices and lovers, living your fantasy and desires as you please, whilst everything else was dearly forgotten. Far enough from the castle, the moon was the only source of light, and it didn’t take long for his lips to urgently seek yours.

 You blushed, embarrassed from the moan that escaped you as soon as you felt him all over you.

 “I longed for a taste of you, my lady” he whispered between kisses.

 “Me too, my charming lover” you confessed “being in your arms last time only made me yearn for more.”

 He kissed you passionately, but his hand gently found in your, and in between pecs he said:

 “I’ve prepared something for us.”

 You followed him without any hesitation, trusting him with your life and heart.

 A bedsheet spread across the prickly grass decorated with flower petals awaited you both on a glade. You removed your shoes, so did he, and you two stood in the middle of it, now kissing with patience. His hands now caressed your face, kindly guiding you with sweet dominance, and you were completely his.

 "May I touch your beautiful skin, my princess?" He said, hand positioning on the small of your back, ready to untie your corset.

 You nodded and so he did. Although he was undressing you, and you were now more vulnerable and exposed than you've ever been before, his eyes were locked on yours. Even as he slid your dress down your shoulders, dropping it at your feet, he still couldn't stop staring at your face, eyes burning with love, and yours reciprocating in the same intensity. 

 He then proceeded to delicately kiss your shoulders, as he was caring for every centimeter of skin he could see. You longed to feel him as well, so you took his jacket off, then unbuttoned his shirt. Your hands immediately went to his back, his wariness comforting against your palm.

 "Make me yours, my sweet Yanan." You whispered in his ear "for tonight I'm no princess, nor any part of royalty. I am yours and yours only."

 "What have I done to be gifted with such blessings? Or perhaps I'm being tainted with the most beautiful sin." He said, locking eyes with you again, resting his forehead against yours as he held you close.

 "I am no devil as well, but if sinning is drinking from you, then nor a saint I am." Was your final words before pulling him into a passionate kiss.

 Both of your exposed chests were now pressed together, and although this was your first time being undressed in front of a man, you felt no shame. The moment was magically flowing, and it was a bubble you never wanted to come out of.

 Yanan was still a little bit cautious, afraid of crossing any limits, always treating you so gently. You decided to encourage him and guide his hand to your chest, making him gasp with the contact. 

 "Touch me, my love" you said in between kisses 

 "Let's lay down first, darling" he replied, holding you still, so you would do it comfortably.

 You laid against the soft sheets and he positioned himself on top of you. Yanan still had his bottoms on, but somehow that made him more attractive. He put his hand back in your chest, this time more sure of it, and now massaging it lightly while his finger played with your nipples.

 You felt wetness pooling in between your legs, and the bulge in his pants told you he was aroused too, and taking advantage of that, you buckled your hips against his, getting some relief from the friction, small moans escaping both of your lips.

 "Those sounds are heavenly" Yanan whispered, nibbling your earlobe.

 You let out another moan as a response, and to reward you Yanan caught your other nipple in his lips, swirling his tongue around it, making you throb in desire. Your finger intertwined in his soft hair, tugging it to show him that you were liking what he was doing, your moans becoming louder as you did so. He put his tight higher up, so now you were riding it, the jolts of pleasure pooling in your lower stomach.

 "I need you inside me, Yanan" you managed to say, sliding your hand inside his pants and lightly stroking his member.

 There was no time to lose as you felt desperation so strange yet so welcoming to have him. And thankfully his desire matched yours, his moan indicating his own lust. He pulled down his pants enough to get his member free and entered you slowly, eyes locked in yours, his hands finding yours to hold. It was such a special moment, your connection going beyond anything you ever felt, it was physical and emotional, you felt in your soul and when he shuddered from being inside of you, you knew both of you needed him to move.

 "My love, please, I need you", you whispered, feeling the stretch burning so pleasantly. 

 "Any wish of yours is a command to me, my princess", he whispered back, hips moving slowly against you.

 You both moaned at the feeling and you held his hand tighter, his member hitting the perfect spot for you to see stars with eyes closed. Yanan whispered praises at you nonstop, pouring his heart out for you as he picked up speed slightly with his thrusts, his own need clouding anything else. The night felt hotter as he made love to you in a gentle yet intense manner, his voice sending shivers down your spine and his member sending flames up your core. All too soon your hips moved harder against him, a silent plea to release the impending desire burning inside of you. He grunted at that, grinding harder and faster against you, feeling you clench around him. 

 "Let go, my love. Let it wash over you, that desire inside", he moaned, one hand caressing your nipple again. 

 It was all too much for you, eyes closing and mouth opening in ecstasy, moaning nonsense that only your heart knew. That white-hot burning feeling taking over your body and you knew no other man would ever make you explode like him. Yanan followed immediately, voicing his own love for you as he spent inside of you. Your body shook from the intensity of your orgasm and Yanan held you close as he finished with you, both of you a trembling mess. When you both came down from it, eyes staring curiously and adoringly at each other, you couldn't help but smile at him, your free hand moving a lock of his hair behind his ear, his own smile matching yours.

 Yanan laid next to you and you turned to cuddle him, laying your head on his chest, hearing his heart beating as if to the sound of thunder. For a moment you worried for he spent inside of you and your hand shot to your belly, holding it as if your fear became true at the second you felt it.

 "It would be a beautiful child if it had your eyes, my lady", he smiled down at you, knowing what your fear was.

 "I beg to differ, my love. If the child was ever to be born, it'd be a delight to have one with your handsome features", you smiled back.

 "Y/N, I sure feel I am not worthy of your affection, impossibly so of having your body next to mine as we are, but my lady, you have my undying devotion". Yanan's eyes were heavy and the sudden change worries you. 

 "What worries you, dear? Why are you telling me your heart once more?", you sat up, not even caring about your nakedness and he sat up as well.

 "We are not fated together, my lady. We are challenging fate and the palace goodwill just by being close", he sighed, his hand caressing your cheek adoringly, "the King is pushing up the date to your marriage, my princess".

 Your head began to spin and he could only hold you close as silent tears adorned your face. Holding him close, all you knew was that no matter what happened, you'd fight for your love, you'd stay by Yanan's side for the rest of your life, no matter how many years. 

 "If I were ever so brave to challenge fate, even more, my love…", he spoke so low you had to look up so you could understand, "I'd propose a new life for our love. A new start to our hearts, together, on a faraway land. Where no prince will steal my heart's muse from me again".

 His smile matched yours and you knew it was the only way. You didn't answer when he brought up the marriage by being certain a sob would come out instead of words of how you felt like a different kind of explosion would burst in your chest.

 "It is the only way to make our love happen, my sweet Yanan. And if I have to fight until the day of my death for your love, then so I will. You tell me when and I'll run away with you without any hesitation, my love".

 "Tomorrow", his stern voice made you shiver in excitement. So he had plans for you, he was fighting for you and that made tears pool in your eyes. Your cheeks hurt from smiling so much but you didn't even care. "I took the liberty to think of a plan to start anew, my princess, for I knew your heart is a mirror to mine and so will be for all eternity. From tomorrow on, I'm forever yours, my beautiful Y/N".

 "From tomorrow to all eternity, my beautiful Yanan".

[pl-panda]

To Marry a Vigilante: Part 17

MASTERLIST || First || Previous || Next

To Marry a Vigilante: Part 17

------

The altercation with three footballers had several outcomes. First, Marinette was no longer treated as someone weak. Quite the opposite. The smarter part of the school now had a healthy dose of respect for the small french girl when they saw the camera recording Chloé ‘leaked’. The more sport-inclined part of the faculty was devastated by the loss of the three star players, for which they blamed Marinette. 

Erica washed her hands about the whole incident, declaring that the poor souls must’ve just rashly reacted to the gossip going around the school. It still hurt her position a bit. Chloé and Allegra masterfully countered any of her minor lies and started spreading gossip about the head cheerleader instead. It was turning into a cold war, where neither side could get any advantage over the other for long. 

The initial background search turned clean on both of them. Lila’s mother was an orphan, raised in one of the covenants in the mountains before studying law and politology. She now headed the French Embassy, after previously working in Germany, Belgium, and Spain. Lila’s father was a mystery and his name was not given at any point. The Italian girl often changed schools. Usually, she didn’t stay even one semester there. Lack of any family and trusted friends made her move around with her mother often. Boarding schools were too expensive for a then-starting diplomat. At some point, Lila started to thrive in each new school. Her files were nothing but praise since then. 

Erica Layton was born Erica Blake, then Boyle when her mother married a wealthy CEO. Before, she ran a smaller Blake Industry, which merged with Boyle enterprises after the wedding. When Mr. Boyle was shot during one of the Two-face’s robberies, Erica’s mother started to date again. Until last summer, when she married a star baseball player, Lance Layton. The business was clean-ish and there was nothing that could be used against them really. There were some cases of inner nepotism and a bit of discrimination, but it wasn’t even worth a real investigation. Erica herself was truly a mean character, but her good looks, influential family, and good grades made her the “Gotham Academy Golden Princess.”

Damian wanted to get his vengeance. He tried hacking, but Barbara stopped him. It wasn’t as if anything he got that way could’ve been used against her and forging evidence was wrong, and would only hurt them in the long run. Marinette stopped him from going after them as Black Cat, which only agitated him further. He hated the feeling of powerlessness. Well, he loved Marinette more so he wouldn’t go against her orders. 

Sabine also did her best, but she was similarly blocked by Barbara, who went as far as to lock the Bat-computer. A woman of many skills, Sabine was still unable to beat Oracle at hacking. She did make sure to always be available and near the school to intervene if any of the teachers tried to punish Mari unfairly. She was doing the same for Chloé, who she slowly came to treat as her child too, just like Cassandra. 

Allegra tried to get her mother involved, but Catherine Hamilton-Kane was a woman of high morals and would not use her influence to fight dirty games. “That’s how corruption took seed,” she declared. And Gotham Academy, as a private school, was beyond her reach anyway. It still gave Allegra enough power to at least counter Erica and her mother, who was at best negligent and at worst co-operating with her daughter. 

All in all, Marinette and Chloé settled into some form of routine. The school was much better than Françoise Dupont. It was bigger, which meant Lila had a harder time setting up her court. Erica’s power also suffered a major hit when the ‘outcasts’, as the blonde witch called them, took a bit more active role in the events going around. Claude, who was one of the lead actors in the theatre club made sure that no one aligned with Lila or Erica could join. Felix started to slowly push Erica from politics, engaging in subtle games at every front. Even Jon helped by taking over the school newspaper. The guy that was running it previously happily handed over the reins. 

There were few minor dramas at school, like the Witch Club, haunting at the theatre, or the weird carnival. Damian and Marinette didn’t pay it much attention. Claude dealt with the ghost quite easily and met Katherine Karlo, who became his favorite actress ever since. Professor Trent was against including her, but when the usually cheery boy threatened him to quit and take over half of the crew, the discussion was over rather swiftly.

Of course, akumas didn’t make it easier. In fact, they were the biggest holdback. Whenever Chloé and Damian did something too drastic, Lila, Erica, or someone associated with them would become an akuma and then their work was in ruin. Every akuma on their side would earn them ‘pity points’ and serve as ammunition against the Waynes’ front. 

The investigation proved fruitless. Sure, akumas could’ve been traced, but they actually made sure to never come from the same spot. Sometimes, it was a rundown building, other times a flat over a crowded restaurant; a hotel; a public toilet at the bus station. Adrien was moving and making sure not to fall for what got his father. They had no idea how he could be so stealthy. The cameras never saw anyone even similar to him at any of those places. Sabine was now running the rooftops as Shadowbat, not wanting the press to associate the Miraculous team with Batfamily too much for now. She had been using her old assassin suit (still fitting perfectly) with a bat logo on her chest as her outfit. She mostly just worked with Cass. Black Bat and Shadowbat. They were probably most feared of all dynamic duos in Gotham. Silent, ruthless, precise, undefeated.

Of course, peace couldn’t really last forever. About six weeks since Christmas, when Marinette’s birthday was closing in, the first real hiccup appeared. 

--------------

Just before lunch, Marinette’s phone vibrated, as well as several other people’s in the class. When the bell rang, she went to check it. From past experience, she knew that mass messages to students were usually bad. It had Erica and Lila plastered all over it. It was a link to the tabloid article. It opened with a photo of Damian and Allegra, sitting in a coffee shop and drinking coffee. She only read a bit of the content, far enough to reach the first quote of GA student, before storming out. People were giving her pitying looks as she walked toward the cafeteria. She didn’t want to do anything rash until she spoke to Chloé and Allegra. That was a new kind of low for the Mean Girls front. They even dared to attach a message of fake condolences to Marinette. 

Unknowingly, the Bluenette was channeling Damian the whole way, making people jump out of her path. Nobody ever saw the Angel (not that anyone would call her that within Damian’s hearing range, or where one of his multiple informants could inform him) so angry. Suddenly, everyone remembered how she took three football players in less than twenty seconds without getting more than a light bruise on her neck. 

The cafeteria was completely silent the moment she entered. Everyone expected her to rage at Damian, who was waiting next to the doors to intercept her immediately. To their utter and infinite surprise, she instead grabbed his hand into hers and squeezed tightly. A small smile made its way on her face and Damian smirked too. Nobody (but the ‘outcasts’) had any idea what that was about. Didn’t he cheat on her recently, or for a long time?

The two walked past the baffled crowd toward where Allegra and Chloé sat, already waiting for them. There were no words exchanged between the four, but the two blondes nodded like it was a signal. 

Marinette and Damian jumped onto the table in a synchronized show of grace and agility. Everyone stared at them. 

“Hi!” Marinette smiled. Next to her, her boyfriend was glaring at certain people in the crowd. “First, I wanted to thank all of you who actually meant it when they gave me their condolences. You had good intentions, even if they were completely misplaced.”

“Tt. I did not cheat on my Habibti. Not with anyone, and especially not with my cousin!” Damian growled at the silent cafeteria. They didn’t dare to respond vocally, but some lowered their heads in shame. While the relation between Bruce Wayne and Mayor Kane was not that well-known, they didn’t hide the connection. “The first cousin once removed to be precise.”

“Point is, the article is full of fake news and we’ll be dealing with it later. Still, I appreciate your effort.” She smiled at those who weren’t angry. Then, her face turned to the cold mask and she channeled Damian. “Now onto those who mocked us or tried to use it to break me and Damian apart. It won’t work. Stop. Don’t. I can’t see any situation where we would break up, and even then, there is no chance either of us would lower ourselves to dating any of you. I trust Damian with my life. I’m his and he’s mine!” She declared. 

“I’m hers and she’s mine.” Damian echoed. They raised their joint hands before turning to one another and sharing a quick kiss. Many people cooed at the romanticism of the scene. 

Erica and Lila were on the verge of a stroke. This was harder than either anticipated and they were, in fact, slowly losing more than they gained. 

A black butterfly entered through the window behind Marinette. As soon as she saw it, she acted without thinking and grabbed it. Everyone looked at her in panic. They saw the muscles in her forearm tighten and after a short moment a bit of some dark substance leaked through her fingers. When she opened her hand, the butterfly was turned into a gooey mess.

“Not today, Hawkass Junior.” She seethed. Then, she left to clean her hand with Allegra and Chloé following her. She rarely was left entirely alone, especially at school. As they walked, people gave her a loud applause. 

--------

“Why did it not work!?” Adrien raged in his hideout. Next to him, Nooroo was floating with his head bowed. 

“She… she touched it only with her skin. There was nothing to akumatize… master.” The little creature added, forced by the magic of the brooch. 

“But why didn’t the akuma pass through her fingers!?” The hero-turned-villain seethed.

“She… She damaged it before it could…”

“I paid a handsome sum of money to have that article published! It was supposed to either break them up or give me my own Scarlet Moth!” Adrien stomped around his hideout. “Now it’s all for naught! I want their Miraculouses! I want my family back!”

Another figure walked from behind him and pulled him into a hug. In the darkness, the only visible details were her silhouette and a predatory smile on her face. 

“Don’t worry. We will get what we want soon enough.”

“Did you decipher it?”

“Almost. There are several symbols on it that I have no idea what they mean.”

“Hm… I think I might have an akuma just for the occasion. It will require some setting-up though.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll deal with it. Meanwhile…” She said, her grin widening

“No. Get out of here, Witch.” He snapped.

“Spoilsport.” She muttered and walked away. Adrien felt anger bubbling inside him. Someone was so getting akumatized that day.

-------

Masterlist // Next

[apples-r-rubbish]

Institute (13th Doctor x reader) Part 5

Summary: You’re on the run, no doctor, no time.  Word Count: 2.4k AN: I’m going to be taking a lil break after the next chapter, just as I’m moving and I need time to adjust sorry -L x Warnings: none i think  Tags: @startrekkingaroundasgard @penguinwithitsarseonfire​

(PART 1) (PART 2) (PART 3) (PART 4) (PART 6) (PART 7) (PART 8) MASTERLIST

Panic. Screaming. Wind. Noise. Fear. Tense breathing. More screaming. More panic.

“Hold on!” Graham shouted over the monstrous amount of noise. Ryan found a panel and somehow managed to fly the plane on his phone. You were too shaken to understand. O. The plane was finally level. The Master.  You were shaking. Nothing really sunk in. You blinked and you were helped off the plane by the worried trio. You snuck past the guards as Barton spoke to someone official looking. You were in Essex according to Ryan, and now that you were off the plane things had finally begun to fall into place within your mind. You were being stared at by everyone. 

“It’s hard not to stand out, when we look like this,” Ryan groaned frustrated at the suit

“We’ve just been on a night out and we’re going home, that’s all,” Yaz reassured a soothing voice trying to calm you all down. Your phone went off, as did the others. Cautiously you answered it. Barton. “Hello, friends. What, did you think I wouldn't be able to track you? We have your numbers, e-mails, GPS. I even know how many more stamps you need for a free coffee. So close, Ryan. Or should I say Logan? Look up.” You did as he said. On a screen above you all your faces were displayed, claiming you were dangerous. More cursing. “Your passports have been revoked, bank accounts frozen,” Barton continued “We have a record of everyone you know - friends, family, colleagues, everyone you ever followed on social media. Of course, we have cameras everywhere, and now you're wanted for hijacking. Go off the grid see how long you’ll last,” 

In a panic, Ryan smashed his phone, Yaz attempted to call her mum and Graham froze. “Oh and Yazmin is attempting to call her mum, how sweet,” He spat sarcastically. Yaz had rambled into the phone briefly for a second before Ryan grabbed the phone and stomped on it, he did the same with your phone and Graham’s. Then you ran. 

You had finally settled on a building estate, hours late. Bones aching, out of breath and tired.

“No CCTV we should be safe for now,” Graham said, clearly weary from the day. You filled into a half built house. You took a seat on a sort of wall as did the others

“How do we know we can trust you?” Ryan asked suddenly “We don’t know you. The Doctor trusted O, and he betrayed us, how do we know you won’t?”

“You don’t.” You replied shortly “I’m an outsider. You’ve seen me what? Twice before today? Three times because one of them hasn’t happened to me yet. You don’t know you can trust me. But you have to. If I wanted to turn on you, if I had malicious intent I would have ran off with the master, but I didn’t.”

“Who are you really? O said you were a missing person,” Yaz asked inner police woman jumping forward

“I am. Technically. I was recruited by people I know very little about to do a job, told me it was important so I took the role. Wiped me from my old life, gave me a new one,” “How come the Doctor didn’t recognise that person? Surely you would recognise someone like that?”

“Their species, they have a way of cheating death, burn up every cell in their body, change their face and who they are. The Doctor used to be a man, we have 12 other faces on file. The master also can do that, same species same thing,” 

“Who was he?”

“Well, do you remember Harold Saxon? That used to be him,”

“What- I voted for him!” Graham exclaimed

You examined the looks on their faces, “You want to know about my future don’t you, you want to put the pieces together, but she’s said you can’t tell me. One question won’t kill me,”

“You mentioned you were going to die on another planet? How would you know something like that?” Yaz wondered

“This, this interaction. Time isn’t linear. It’s more a big lump, as time travellers, we jump in and out at various points, things aren’t linear things can be changed and rewritten. Surely she told you that?”

“She doesn’t exactly tell us a lot. Who are you to her really?”

“I’m no one important, I think, I don’t know. I get pieces in passing. A bit like a conversation you aren’t a part of yet, just occasional whispers. Her late wife visited me once, and told me to keep track of everything. Keep journals and notes, telling me it would help make things easier, clearer. She was in a similar position, they met when she died and they kept meeting, bumping into each other, in the wrong order, fell in love, nearly destroyed the universe,”  You explained “The doctor trusts me and I trust the doctor. Good enough for me. Also we went on a date,”

“Since we’re admitting things, I stole some of the gadgets from MI6, I’m wearing the laser shoes. Before you ask, no I didn’t read the instructions,” Graham laughed

“I took the rocket cufflinks too,” Ryan smiled

“You utter doughnuts, all of you. But there’s no one I’d rather be on the run with,” Graham turned to you “Even you, you seem to know a lot and I trust you. You’re on the same wavelength as the Doctor and that’s good enough for me.”

“Did you hear that?” There was a noise, and light. Kasaavin. You stepped out the building one by one. 

“The shoe, use the shoe,” Ryan urged

“What?”

“Just stomp or something!” Graham did. A bolt hit a nearby streetlight.

“Your aim is terrible,”

“Graham, just dance.” He did and a few bolts hit the figures. You grabbed the others hands and ran.

The sun was coming up, you hadn’t slept for about 36 hours and whilst Yaz made a phone call, you and Ryan leant against each other in a desperate attempt to stay awake. She hung up suddenly as a car pulled up. Men stepped out, threatening you. Graham came up behind them and waved his laser shoe dramatically

“-and don’t make me do the soft-shoe shuffle!” He stated over dramatically, as you got into the car. You had decided to drive

“Are you sure you’re going to be safe? Driving, I mean, 36 hours is a lot-” Yaz began cautiously

“I’ll be fine. I once stayed a awake for a week on some planet so I could do my job, and the days were 25 hours, this is nothing,” You joked

“Can we go to the institute? Surely they’ll keep us safe?” 

“No, they won’t. Anything linked to present day criminal activity immediately gets you dropped. We deal with time, you so much as breathe wrong you’re dropped,” You explained, “We have to follow their GPS.” You sped off

The hanger was cold and empty. There was a single figure on a chair along with a stand and a screen, you rushed to it. 

“Is she still?” Ryan asked, not wanting to say the word. You checked for a pulse, she was cold. You shook your head, “No she isn’t. She hasn’t been for a while, a few hours, at most, I think.”  Barton appeared on the screen.

“Well done overpowering my people. But did you really think they wouldn't tell me? I have a significant announcement to make, and you, my friends, are two steps behind. As usual,” He mocked

“So what are you? Part alien or something?” Graham asked

“You really don't understand who I am. I build things. I test them. So I let them test a tiny part of me. And now it's time for the global roll-out. I'm proof of concept,”

“As the head of the Bad Wolf institute, I have to ask, what are you testing? Why don’t you stop with the theatrics and murder? Make my job the tiniest bit easier,” You asked, temper flaring

“Look after my mum.” The call ended. You went to hit the screen and decided against instead choosing to make a loud noise. 

“He killed his own mum,” Yaz breathed

“And abandoned her, in a hanger, to rot,” You stated, formal tone back. The screen came on once again, this time to an image of Barton giving a talk. 

“-We told you, of course your lives are private, of course your data's safe. And you believed us. You kept clicking Agree. And now, we can do anything. I can send a text to every device on this planet.”

“Something doesn’t make sense, I’m missing something, I’m being stupid. God why does lack of sleep does this,” You grumbled. A message flashed up on the screen. Humanity is over, you have three minutes to prepare. The statue started spinning. 

“Funny, right? Except, not a joke. We are way past peak human. We've created systems that are smarter and can run more efficiently than we do. So what's our purpose? We must be useful for something. Well, the data tells us we are. We can repurpose. Well, you all can. You know the most efficient type of hard drives on Planet Earth? Humans. Human DNA can store so much data. We're the perfect storage system, which means there are over seven billion potentially incredibly useful hard drives on this planet. All that's needed is to reformat the whole of humanity. Luckily, there's an app for that.” Barton chuckled, tone sinister.

The room was filled with light. The Kasaavin. The hangar door swung open. The master. 

“Move away. Now! I've just had the most infuriating seventy seven years of my life. Have you any idea how hard it is to live through the 20th century? The places I've escaped from. Still, just in time to watch you all pay.” He grumbled, he looked aggressive like a wolf ready to attack. 

“What is it? What the hell is that thing?” You asked, barely giving the others time to react

“Back with us I see? Aw shock was good look on you, shame the Doctor won’t get to see more of it,” He snarled “ If you must know, dear, it converts and transmits. We're transmitting Kasaavin energy around the world all at once into every device, hitting every human being and erasing all their DNA simultaneously. And it’s beautiful.” The energy grabbed Yaz, she couldn’t let go, you tried to pull her off, it wouldn’t move, she couldn’t budge.

“No use. It’ll take her, then you then you, and finally Miss Institute herself, a shame.” The machine stopped suddenly, the figures vanished.

“You were saying?” You replied smugly 

“Sorry. I’ll admit I was close,” The doctor. Relief washed over you. She entered the hangar followed by two other women.

“Two can play at embedding things in history. I knew the Silver Lady was important, and that you built it for a reason, but I couldn't work out why. So I traced its movements through history. And when I saw that Barton now owned it, we stopped by his office. Middle of last year, using your Tardis, I built a fail-safe into that machine. Planted a virus. If it ever detected the massing of a Kasaavin army within its systems - total shutdown,” She explained. The room glowed again, circling everyone. 

“Well Doctor, looks like you’re going to have to explain everything to them,”

“Look, I’ve rigged the Silver lady to send you back your own dimension. And that deal he made with you?” She pulled out her sonic and played a audio clip

‘Barton and these creatures do the dirty work, and once they're done, I get rid of them, having destroyed your precious human race in the process. Win-win-win.’

“Oh,” Was all the Master could manage to say

“Yes that’s your name, don’t wear it out,” She replied before the light increased. And with that the room was empty again, “Everyone alright? Everyone safe?” A chorus of yes sounded of from the group

“Miss me?” She asked a small but beautiful smile on her face, wrapping her arm around you

“Always,” You replied pressing a small kiss to her lip

“I hate to break up a sweet moment but I have questions. Who are they? And are we being replaced?” Graham asked

“Oh these are Noor and Ada, I’m dropping them off back in their timeline, like I could ever replace any of you.”

They were dropped off back in their respective times.

“So where to now?” The doctor asked, flipping a few switches

“The institute for me, I’m afraid,” You cringed, desperately wanting to stay

“What?” She suddenly looked up staring deep into your eyes, clearly hurt.

“I have to warm them, the Master is out there, and we have to prepare. We’ve barely managed to fix everything after the issues in 2015. I do want to stay, I truly do, but it’s hard and I have to look after them,” You avoided her eyes

“It’s ok I get it. Since we’re synced I can say this, whenever we meet up synced or not we have to go on a date, because we don’t know when it’s going to happen so we might as well enjoy it,” She wandered over to where you were stood

“Like time girlfriends?” “Time girlfriends,” She nodded. You kissed her cheek, and she smiled into it, hugging you tightly. 

“Miss you already,” You joked taking steps out of the TARDIS and back into your office the day that you left.

“Are you ok? You’ve been a bit distant recently,” Yaz asked, breaking the Doctor from her thoughts. It had been a few months, since they’d seen you as a group.

“I’m fine,” She replied shortly

“You miss her don’t you?” The doctor ignored the question continuing to focus on the random buttons she was fiddling with. “Look, why don’t you take us to visit your home?”

“Can’t. Shouldn’t. You’ll ask too many questions. It’s boring. Why do you think I ran?” She explained, her usual answers combining into one, “but yes I miss her,”

[radramblog]

on George Lazenby

There are quite a few actors who’ve portrayed the character of James Bond at this point. Sean Connery of course was the original bloke, Roger Moore spent forever with the series, Daniel Craig the current, violent iteration. There’s slightly more obscure cases, like Timothy Dalton’s two entire movies, or the 60s parody Casino Royale film featuring Peter Sellers and David Niven. Don’t watch that one, it’s awful.

Of all these actors, though, none of them have as momentous Big Dick Energy as the first Australian James Bond, the man who only appeared in one of the films, the star of On Her Majesty’s Secret Service: George Lazenby.

To talk properly about this subject, we need some backstory- about both Lazenby and the Bond movies.

After You Only Live Twice, the movie in which Bond goes entirely Japanese, Sean Connery stated he was pretty much done with playing the role. As much as it was a lucrative career for him, he was getting absolutely hounded by the 60s paparazzi, he was on very bad terms with producer Albert Broccoli, and as a result he bowed out of the series (for then). While the casting team wanted to get Roger Moore in at this point, he was busy filming a TV series called The Saint. So they had to find someone new.

Enter: George Lazenby. This motherfucker.

George Lazenby was a model and former used car salesman based in London. Pretty young (29) and good looking at the time, but he had basically zero acting experience. Pretty much all he had was being in an advertisement for Fry’s Chocolates. For the record, Fry’s has been subsumed into Cadbury at this point, though their Turkish Delights still bear the Fry’s name.

No, your headphones aren’t fucked, that video is only playing in one ear.

Now I don’t have a solid source for this, which is a shame, because it’s got to be some of the coolest shit I’ve ever heard an actor do. Before the commercial was released, Lazenby happened to meet Broccoli at the barbershop, and when Broccoli saw the commercial, he thought Lazenby might be the answer to their Bond problem. He gave George a call, asking if he wanted to go do a screentest at their sound studio.

George told Albert that A. He was in Paris about to be filming a movie, and B. They were paying him 250 pounds a day (For reference that’s over 3700 pounds today, or 7000 Aussie dollars). Neither of those things were true. Albert, for whatever reason, was willing to gamble that Lazenby would be a good Bond, so he effectively told him that they’d comp him that money if he was able to come down for their test shooting. In effect, they were paying him an incredible salary to audition for the role of Bond. Obviously, Lazenby agreed to this.

With the potential to end up leading in a Bond movie, Lazenby went out of his way to be as Sean-Connery-like as possible for the audition. He bought a suit that Connery had ordered, but never picked up, and he got a haircut to make him look the part even further.

In the audition, Lazenby was told to throw a stage punch at the stunt coordinator. Lazenby did not know what a stage punch was. Lazenby used full force, and broke the poor guy’s nose.

The casting directors were impressed by his ability to portray aggression. And also the fact that he was basically the 1968 version of a 10/10. At some point he came clean that he absolutely was not an actor, but he was told that he’d managed to convince some of the hardasses in the production company that he was- and what is that but excellent acting?

OHMSS is a…complicated movie to talk about, not helped by the fact that I haven’t seen it in quite some time. Lazenby portrays a very different kind of Bond, lighter-hearted and more polite than Connery, and while some of his acting is obviously rough, it’s helped by the man’s natural charisma. It’s probably the only James Bond iteration who I’d want to actually hang around. It helps that it’s probably got one of the strongest emotional cores in any of the movies, with Diana Rigg’s character of Tracy being an actual romantic interest rather than just another Bond Girl, not to mention the absolute gut punch that is the film’s ending. As much as people have slagged George for his performance, his acting in that final scene is utterly superb.

I won’t get into a lot of the technical details, but the film is kind of a mess. The editor of the previous films, Peter Hunt, wanted to direct the film, which ironically led to the editing of this movie being completely dogshit. The fight scenes are particularly awful in this regard. But overall, I think it’s one of the more underrated Bond flicks.

Lazenby, however, was seriously going through the wringer to make this film. He noted that because he wasn’t a “professional actor”, most of the production team basically treated him like ass and like he didn’t know what he was doing (which to be fair he often didn’t). He was hit with just as much paparazzi as Connery, if not moreso on account of being The New Guy. And allegedly, he was kind of an arrogant ass a lot of the time backstage. As a result, even though he had a 7-film contract, his agent was able to convince him that Bond would soon be old hat, and departed the franchise, with many a burned bridge left behind him. In particular, the higher-ups at Eon Productions were utterly pissed at him for showing up to the premiere looking absolutely nothing like he did in the movie- he’d grown his hair out as well as a beard, seeking to leave that face behind him. “Bond is a brute…I’ve already put him behind me”, he said.

And that’s the main story behind George Lazenby in OHMSS, to my understanding. I’m likely to be wrong on some fronts (I’m still not sure on the numbers re: his pay), but the long and short of it is: this Aussie bloke waltzed the fuck into Eon Productions, got himself the starring role in a fucking Bond movie, and waltzed right back out into the night. Eon eventually got Connery back for one more film, at the cost of the highest salary an actor had ever received for a film at the time (1.25 million pounds of the film’s relatively limited budget, 18.8 million in today’s money).

This would not be the end of Lazenby’s tale, however, but I’m going to skip most of it because there’s only one real thing I wanted to bring up. After struggling to find work (him being difficult had gotten out at this point) and some smaller film appearances, he ended up near-broke on account of alcoholism and multiple nervous breakdowns. He eventually went to Hong Kong in 1973, to meet with Bruce Lee and Raymond Chow to discuss him appearing in the upcoming Game of Death.

The day Lazenby was going to meet Bruce Lee was the day Bruce Lee died. But Lazenby still ended up working with that company to make a trio of films- The Shrine of Ultimate Bliss (not great), The Man From Hong Kong (a cult-classic among kung fu movies), and A Queen’s Ransom (also meh), for which he apparently got pretty decent at martial arts.

Anyway that’s kind of it, I just thought George was cool (I mean he might still be, but he’s like 81 at this point so who knows) and I don’t think that many people know the story behind him. The one-and-done Bond, as it were. And probably still my favourite one.

[twentiethcenturymoviesandtv]

The Princess Bride: Facets of Film

Movie-making is a tough and complicated business.  Once you have a studio sold on your pitch and script, there’s changes to be made, casting to be done, lighting choices, changes to the script, sets to find, costumes to make, special effects to prepare, more changes to the script, camera set-up, studio supervision, and then, possibly, more changes to the script.

In a business populated by that many people all working on the same project, every film is a minor miracle that it got made at all.  

As you may have gathered, making a movie is a huge undertaking.  There’s a lot that goes into it: cameras, music, sets, special effects, costumes, and more, managed by a lot of people who are very good at their jobs.  All of these little elements, which don’t seem that important on their own, all go into piecing together a coherent narrative in a way that makes sense, and looks good, to an audience.  

These elements, cinematography, lighting, costuming, special effects, etc., are the elements that can catch the attention of an audience, taking a ‘good’ film, and turning it into a ‘great’ film, thanks to the powers of movie magic.

See, movies are a very visual medium.  You can have a good story and characters in a book, but you have to imagine what it looks like as it moves along.  In a film, you have to watch what someone else made up.  This can be either an advantage or a disadvantage, and the difference is made entirely thanks to production design.  These ‘facets of film’, the trimmings that make a movie a movie, are vital to visual storytelling, enabling casual movie-goers to interpret what the framing of some scenes is trying to tell them.

Most audience members subconsciously internalize things like thematic costume changes, or a musical cue, without putting thought into figuring out what exactly was getting that point across.  The point is, these ‘facets of film’ are not only for filmmakers or movie critics to think about and fawn over: This storytelling shorthand is an important tool that gives the audience all of the information they need to have, without spelling it all out in dialogue.  Westley as the Dread Pirate Roberts wears all black as visual shorthand that he is dangerous, Humperdinck wears fine clothes to establish status and style, even Buttercup, whose clothing is plain when she is with Westley and uncomfortably bedecked when she is with Humperdinck, is dressed in a way that conveys something to the audience.

In other words, it’s very useful.

A good director knows to use these aspects of ‘storytelling shorthand’ well, as opposed to competently.  Too often, directors can decide to focus the production crew, and the movie itself, in the wrong place, attempting to garner praise for production design rather than substance.

There’s nothing wrong with looking good and being a well-done movie from a technical standpoint, but the balance is necessary.  A good director knows that visual storytelling accentuates its story, rather than overshadows it, intended to get the plot across in the most effective way possible, focusing on what is important: the story and characters.

Much like The Princess Bride does.

The Princess Bride isn’t exactly a blockbuster-style film.  There isn’t a huge budget spent on special effects or huge setpieces, but what is in there is done so with a remarkable touch.  Every inch of this film is designed to look like it takes place in a fairy-tale story, not exactly ‘real locations’, but looking like pictures you’d find in a story book.  That extends to the camerawork.

Camerawork is a pretty big deal in film for obvious reasons.  

The way a director uses a camera can tell the audience a lot, using some shots to emphasize different emotions, or even to get across different feelings to the audience.  Filmmakers use editing of these shots together to tell the story, to move the audience’s line of vision so that it is always centered on the action while also helping to set the mood or leave a visual impression on the audience.

So, does The Princess Bride manage that?

Most of the camerawork in The Princess Bride is fairly standard stuff, wide-shots for action, close-ups for dialogue or emotion, establishing shots for a new location, etc.  However, there are a handful of tricks that are notable: natural lighting used in the shots to make them feel open, spacious, and real, contrasting with artificial levels of darkness in the Fire Swamp, or the upwards-facing shot of Fezzik’s impersonation of the Dread Pirate Roberts, seeming to increase his size and formidability.  Other shots, like the coming-into-focus of Westley rising to point his sword at Humperdinck, are equally effective, in uses of ‘subjective camera’.  There are other, more traditional examples: shots of Buttercup’s abduction from above to make her seem even smaller, and establishing ‘relationship’ shots of people on the same level in the same frame, such as the sunset-lit kiss sequences bookending the film.  Even the editing, while being mostly standard, is given a few moments to shine, such as when the Grandfather is trying to find his place in the story after interrupting to make sure the Grandson isn’t frightened by the Shrieking Eels.  

Still, overall, it’s a fairly simple film in terms of visual style.  The cinematography is aimed at one goal: creating a charming, warm, comforting atmosphere that translates well and correctly conveys the mood of the audience.

This is even more so aided by the film’s score.

It’s fairly obvious that a movie’s soundtrack is integral to its success: a good movie can be elevated to iconic levels thanks to a good score (i.e. Jaws, Psycho, Star Wars, etc.).  In other cases, music can be passable, serviceable, without being bad or fantastic.

In the case of The Princess Bride, the score is….interesting, to say the least.  Instead of a traditional ‘fantasy’ score, the soundtrack was composed by Mark Knopfler, the front guitarist for the band Dire Straits (Money for Nothing, Walk of Life), using synthesizers and acoustic guitars to get the sound of the film.  The score, especially both the instrumental and vocal covers of ‘Storybook Love’ (sung by Willy DeVille) is memorable, overall, if nothing to write home about.  The soundtrack does what it is intended to do: set the scene, notably in the scene ‘The Chatty Duelists’, where Inigo and Westley fight to the stings of the music.  The music overall accentuates the grand, sweeping visuals as well as the tense, exciting sequences, keeping the audience in the story very well.

Speaking of grand, sweeping visuals:

The sets of The Princess Bride overall aren’t really ‘sets’ at all.  The ‘Cliffs of Insanity’ were in actuality the Cliffs of Moher in Ireland, and even Humperdinck’s castle was actually a real medieval manor house.  From Miracle Max’s shack to the Fire Swamp, to Rugen’s torture chamber, the rest of the settings of The Princess Bride do their job very well, creating a fantastical atmosphere that serves the story admirably.  These aren’t the vivid, magical sets of The Wizard of Oz, designed to create an atmosphere of dreamlike fantasy, rather, the settings of The Princess Bride are more intended to create a feeling of Magical Realism, that it is a storybook, but that the locations look and feel familiar and realistic.  This is helped somewhat by the fact that the film itself doesn’t rely on special effects much at all: aside from the Shrieking Eels and the (rather unrealistic looking) ROUSes (saved by the storybook feel of the entire film), there aren’t any real fantasy-specific special effects that other films might utilize.

There’s more to an immersive movie experience than sets, costumes and music, though.  In the end, no matter how impressive, the special effects, sets and costumes don’t really mean anything if the characters aren’t believable.  The movie really rests on the shoulders of the performers: it’s on the actors to try to sell not only their surroundings and story, but the characters themselves, everything from the personality to the emotions.  

In the case of The Princess Bride?

Cary Elwes’s performance as Westley is lighthearted, emotional, and extremely sincere.  He’s charismatic, charming, and makes you believe that he’s exactly as skilled as the story needs him to be.  He also manages to convince an entire audience of the genuine love he has for Buttercup, and is distinct as both his Westley persona and his ‘Dread Pirate Roberts’ persona.  In other words, he’s perfect.

Cary Elwes balances the ‘indestructibility’ that most protagonists seem to possess, seemingly in control of dire situations, as well as the vulnerability necessary for an audience’s sympathy and concern for his well-being, for his goal.  In other words, he manages to pull off a character that seems designed for an earlier time, updating it with a sense of humor and charm that perfectly suits the rest of the film.

Robin Wright is similarly well-suited for Buttercup, as she’s written.  I’ve discussed elsewhere the potential problems presented by Buttercup’s rather uninteresting personality and role in the story, but Buttercup’s Defrosting Ice Queen tendencies are very well conveyed, especially early on.  As I mentioned in other articles, her chemistry with Elwes makes the romance element of the film convincing in the few scenes they have together.  She does a good job with the material given to her, it’s just a shame that there wasn’t more for her to do.

On the other hand, Mandy Patinkin as Inigo Montoya, despite the unconvincing accent, is inspired, with Patinkin bringing both warm humor and ice-cold vengeance and formidability to the role.  Both he and Elwes brought great physicality to their sword-fight sequences, training hard in order to do as much of their own fighting as possible, and it shows in the performances in the final product.  Inigo’s inner conflict is showcased well, with Patinkin providing both the comedic highlights as well as the intense emotional ones, especially his final duel with Rugen.  It is Inigo’s lines which tend to be the most memorable, owing a lot to Patinkin’s iconic delivery.

All three of the main trio play their parts perfectly, but they are only the chief standouts in an entire film full of them.

André René Roussimoff (better known as André the Giant) despite not being an actor in the same vein as the rest of the cast, is iconic as Fezzik.  The instant likeability present in the performance carries strongly throughout the film, with his own fair share of memorable dialogue (which, granted, nearly every member in the cast has).  His physicality isn’t really what makes him such a distinct part of the cast, rather, it’s the character’s heart and humor that makes this performance such an integral part to the film at large.

Similarly (though in the opposite direction), Wallace Shawn is a wonderful choice for Vizzini, his distinct voice and mannerisms giving the character plenty of funny dialogue without entirely removing the threat he poses.  Despite not having a lot of screen time, Shawn manages to make the role iconic instantly, with inflections that make the word ‘inconceivable’ memorable to this day.

Chris Sarandon is perfectly cast as Prince Humperdinck, playing arrogance and control that all come crashing down in the final scene.  Humperdinck is all bark and no bite, appearing confident and competent until he is met by someone who might pose a challenge.  He’s conniving, cold, and disinterested in anything other than his war, making it especially rewarding when he is defeated.

Similarly, Christopher Guest plays Count Rugen with a sophisticated coolness, never really invested in what’s going on or terribly worried about it until that ‘little Spanish brat’ comes for revenge, very well equipped to deliver it.  He plays the final duel scene notably with an increased losing of composure, cluing the audience in to his inevitable demise for the sake of vengeance.

The other characters perfectly hit their mark as well: Billy Crystal and Carol Kane are a comedic team to be reckoned with as Miracle Max and Valerie, with other special standouts including Peter Cook as the Impressive Clergymen (a scene stealer with only one appearance), and Peter Falk and Fred Savage as the Grandfather and the Grandson, respectively.

Every character in The Princess Bride comes across exactly as they should: as characters in a fairytale, fondly looked back on from a place of adulthood.  Each performance is perfectly suited to each character and the type of movie that they are in, with every performance hitting a mix of sincerity and drollness.  These performances aren’t necessarily subtle, but they aren’t supposed to be.  They are heroes and villains, giants and master swordsmen and princesses, acting out a fairy-tale that knows exactly what it is, with tonal consistency that never seeks to outdo the material the actors are given.  These performances are the final piece to cementing this film as a true classic, bringing entertainment to people decades after it’s first release.

In short, the filmmakers of The Princess Bride knew what they were doing.  Everything from the performances to the camerawork gets across every emotion and aspect of the story instantly, with the sets and costumes working to explain simply what’s going on as quickly as possible.  It’s a storybook set to film, both comforting and exciting, and the ending feels right, no matter how many times we revisit it.  

The Princess Bride has long been considered a cult classic, a hidden gem that was looked over by a public who never really knew it was there in the first place.  Even if it never reaches the high peaks of fame as other fantasy classics, it may not be a stretch to hail it as one of the greatest fantasy films (or films in general) ever made, through simple (but not simplistic) substance, if not bombastic style.  

Of course, no movie comes around accidently.  There had to be some work done behind the scenes for this film to have come about.

Join me next time as we discuss the Facets of Filmmaking: the Behind the Scenes of The Princess Bride.

Thank you guys so much for reading!  If you have something you’d like to add or say, don’t forget that the ask box is always open!  I hope to see you all in the next article.

[flowercrown-bucky]

Trouble has never looked so good - But then again, it’s never been wearing a push-up bra before.

Fandom: 1970s!Loki Multi-Chapter

Pairing: Loki x ConArtist!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, drinking, drug references, later death, later smut, crime, loki and the reader are con artists..... It’s a wild one y’all, hold onto yo’ seats.

Word Count: 3084

[Something Wicked This Way Comes - Chapter One] 

Loki’s life on Asgard has become vapid; uninspiring. He’s got the taste for a little danger. 

During a trip to earth, he finds just the danger he’s looking for.

A partner in crime - in every imaginable sense. 

TAGLIST IS OPEN - EITHER COMMENT OR MESSAGE ME IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE ADDED. 

LIFE on Asgard was unbearably normal.

It was fine. If anything, it was too fine.

There was only so much feasting and so many council meetings one could take, you know?

Loki had stalked off to his chambers, muttering to his brother that he needed time to focus his magic.

He didn't, of course. Odin's lecturing on diplomatic decorum had simply become mind numbingly dull and it seemed like the most suitable excuse.

Loki's chambers were in a prime position. It was, after all, the reason he had coerced his older brother into switching with him when they were both around three hundred years old. He was roughly a hundred yards from the palace kitchens, something that well suited his secret midnight-snacking habit, and about as far from the Allfather and Allmother's chambers as he could possibly be, something that well suited his secret midnight sneaking-out habit.

However, the thing he loved most about his chambers, was the proximity to the palace orchard. If he stepped through the doors onto the balcony, he could grip the railings and sort of kamikaze himself over, before dropping the two-or-so-feet distance between him and the floor, and it was this that had made him want to occupy this chamber so badly.

He'd loved the orchard ever since he was a little boy. It was his safe spot, somewhere he had gone to hide from the world, where nothing could harm him or make him feel anything he didn't want to. He liked to take a book with him, and read under the shade of the apple trees until someone came to retrieve him.

It was here he had considered retreating to when he remembered the girl kneeling between his legs.

She was, Loki believed, a princess of Vanaheim, visiting Asgard with her father. Sex was not something that particularly concerned him, but he had left the council hall feeling rather frustrated, and the remarkably attractive woman had practically thrown herself at him.

If a beautiful woman desired to fellate him, who was he to complain?

It was, however, doing nothing for him - so much so he had forgotten she was even there.

"You can stop now." He wasn't entirely gentle when he tugged her off him, opting to do so with the help of a handful of her hair, but ,hey, he was extremely frustrated and she had been no help in the easing of that frustration.

"I can-"

"Nope." He waved a hand dismissively at the woman, leaving her to gather her clothes and dignity from where they'd been discarded in the floor. Girls were far more his brother's thing.

The only satisfying sexual encounter he had ever had had been on Midgard, some ten years before. Her name was Elizabeth, and she wanted to be an actress. With a head of carefully constructed dark curls and unusual violet coloured eyes, she was positively electrifying. She'd liked Loki's regal manner, assumed he was important. He'd been looking for a way to unwind and had yet to find it in a bottle of whiskey. They had, you might say, used each other equally.

He wondered what she was doing now.

Midgard, however, didn't seem like too bad an idea.

The mortals, he thought, were funny. Their funny little ways, their funny little habits, their funny little emotions.

He rather liked that idea. Midgard it was to be, then.

--

Las Vegas, was perhaps, the worst place he had ever been. Crawling with perhaps the worst specimens humanity had to offer, and drowning in immorality, Vegas was perhaps the physical embodiment of iniquity. 

Perhaps the underbelly of the world, Vegas combined all aspects of bigotry - racism, misogyny, pride. Men traded their lives away to pay to warm the sheets of women condemned to a life of misery, destined to while their days away in some clandestine pact with dingy hotel rooms. 

Not Vegas, Loki thought to himself. 

New York, he was not particularly fond of either. It was much too cold and full of self importance. The people were, largely, cold and unpleasant, and the food was something he could never get behind. 

Europe he had not visited for a long while since. It had been stricken by an unpleasant pox last time he had visited, covering the suffering with boils as large as the palm as his hand. He’d begrudgingly lent his healing skills to the ailing people. After all, he really didn’t like the smell of rotting flesh. 

 He wasn’t altogether pleased with the likenesses the people later formed in the name of worship.

In all honesty, they made him look rather greasy and weaselly.

—

Montecarlo, Loki thought, might be a little more interesting than he'd initially thought. Possibly, his favourite place he'd visited on Midgard.

It was like a hive of temptation, the culmination of human greed. Nowhere on earth quite said luxury like a city dressed to the nines, and Loki loved it.

It was far better than his previous visits, wherein he had found the planet stricken by various bouts of violence and deadly plagues. 

1973, with its penchant for sex, drugs and rock'n'roll was far more to his taste.

He had, in the short time he'd been in the city, become very well acquainted with the calibrate of person who liked to visit. Men with enough class to never let an expletive pass their lips within company, but perfectly happy to snort narcotics off the seats of public toilets using a ten dollar bill that was on its fourth use.

Women loyal enough to remain on the arm of one gentleman for the whole of an evening but not opposed to a quick fuck in a back alley from a tall dark stranger with a mysterious smile.

Sex was not something Loki was particularly concerned with, but he did enjoy the sense of power he got from looking directly into the eyes of a man whose wife he had made come undone not ten minutes earlier.

Humans, he noted, were no different to the savage tribes of Muspelheim. They just hid it better, under expensive clothes and university degrees and layers of makeup.

This was not something he necessarily was bothered by. He was having far too good a time for that.

Casinos, he had taken a real liking to. Money was another thing that held no meaning for him, but cheating pompous assholes out of what they believed was rightfully theirs?

That, he could get behind, and it seemed he was not alone in that.

He had been watching you all evening, as you worked your way around the room.

You were dressed to kill, and the man you'd turned your attentions to looked like he would gladly die if it would please you.

One hand stroking his *ahem* ego, and the other stealing his wallet.

You were perfect.

Mischief was on his agenda, and you looked like a wonderful accomplice.

He'd approached you quietly, a gentle hand on your shoulder, his lips by your ear.

"Well, hello." He'd murmured, as you turned to face him. "Who might you be?"

You'd practically preened at the sudden attention, clearly very pleased with the idea of a second conquest of the evening.

"Darling, I'm your worst nightmare." You bit your red painted lip, your eyes trailing the length of him. Your glance was cold, calculating - pretty much everything Loki appreciated in a woman. 

For a moment, he wondered if you were to kill him, how you would carry out the act. He felt almost as if he would appreciate it. 

You looked like a poisoner, he decided. Less messy, less loose ends to take care of. 

“And what, exactly, does my worst nightmare take to drink?” He could feel the smug grin growing on his face. “I am well acquainted with the torment of the unconscious mind.” 

You were taken aback, that much he could see from your face. For someone so experienced with hustling card games, you did not have much of a poker face. 

His smile grew. Unsettling people was one of his very favourite things.

“Champagne.” You still gnawed at your lip, but the reasoning, he could tell, had changed - if he didn’t know better, he’d think you were quite literally biting back a smile. 

“A lady after my own heart.” He replied. “You have good taste.” 

 “Only the best.” You lifted your glass towards him. 

“I’ll drink to that.” 

-- 

The course of the evening made abundant to Loki exactly how you operated. You were fairly certain you had him in the palm of your hand, that much he could tell - and it was certainly amusing to play along with it. 

You played your role well, and that was something he admired. You allowed him to lead the conversation, showering his ego with praise and affirmation. You fiddled with your hair as you spoke, twisting it around your index finger before draping it over your clavicle, trailing towards your ample bosom. 

You occasionally - intentionally - licked at your lip as you spoke, your tongue coyly tracing your plump bottom lip, tilting your head to the side as if to show how truly intrigued you were by what he was saying, exposing a good deal of neck in the process. 

It truly was a shame, he thought, that mortal men were unable to see the brains, the intellect, behind the beauty - or more specifically, the bust. 

Midgardian men were truly unable to see exactly what they possessed, but on Asgard, you would’ve been celebrated, treasured even, for the power of your mind. 

It was a great pity, Loki thought, and rather unfortunate for their wallets. 

You’d kept him on his toes since you’d first spoken. You were keeping him on his toes now. 

He watched you as you spoke to the woman next to you. You were so careful, every movement deliberate, purposeful. 

You played your part well. In a knee-length blue dress, you largely left the curves of your body to the imagination. The imagination, however, was aided by how the material clung to your hips and your more than ample bosom. Almost every male eye in the room was on you. 

You made your way back over to where he lent on the bar. You seemed to enjoy toying with him. As to why, he could not fathom. 

You waved a bottle of champagne in his face, before topping up his own glass. 

“Consider the favour...” You flashed a smile at him that was utterly to die for. “Repaid.” 

He ran a hand through his long hair, catching your gaze. 

If he was an ordinary man, he would be truly fucked. 

“So, tell me.” His voice came out as something closer to a purr than anything else. “How does a woman such as yourself turn to petty crime?” If it were possible to display every element of the spectrum of human emotion in one simultaneous instant, Loki was sure it would look very similar to how your face currently looked. 

Almost as quickly as it had come over you, it was gone. The mask returned and you flashed him a coy grin. 

“What gave me away?” Your left eyebrow quirked. 

“I’m perceptive.” He smiled. “You’re good, I’ll give you that. But I’m better.” 

“What are you, a cop?” Your voice was calm, level. It was almost completely impossible to detect the emotions behind it. 

“Please.” He scoffed. “I have a proposal for you.” 

Your arm dropped to your side. Your face remained unchanged, but the mischief, the slight twinkle in your eye, was gone. 

“Meet me outside the toilets in five minutes.” Your voice was hoarse. You turned away from him with a swish of apple-scented hair, taking a step away from him. 

He reached out, catching your wrist. You stumbled slightly, grabbing at the bar to steady yourself. 

“I’m not interested in sex, if that’s what you think.” His voice dropped. 

“Then what do you want?” You spun to face him. 

“If you show me, I’ll show you.” He grinned at you. 

“Show me, what, exactly?” You asked, intrigued. 

“Everything.” He whispered. His hand came up to your face, taking your chin gently inbetween his forefinger and thumb. He turned your head gently from side to side, before tilting it back. You watched with curious eyes, but allowed him to rest his hand on your forehead. 

He closed his eyes slowly, his consciousness seeping through his body, penetrating your mind. 

--

It was an odd place, your mind. He’d never been in any other quite like it. There had always been a lot going on, in people’s minds. They were.. furnished. Most appeared as a place, at least - a childhood home, a favourite place - but yours was remarkably empty. 

Enormous black units surrounded him, rows upon rows of boxes reaching as far as his eyes could see. The only other thing present within your mind was a chair, upon which you sat. 

It was tall and as black as the shelves. The back faced him, your legs slung either side of it, your elbow resting on the top. Your chin rested on your fist, and you watched him as he adjusted to your surroundings, one eyebrow bemusedly quirked. 

“Fancy seeing you here.” You smiled. “Sorry about the mess. I don’t get a lot of visitors, you know, inside my head.” 

Loki laughed. 

“Your mind is intriguing, little one.” He walked towards one of the units to get a closer look, lifting a hand to open one. It didn’t budge. 

“I bet you say that to all the girls.” You teased.  

“Just the pretty ones.” He tugged again, a little harder. “What’s in these boxes?“

“My deepest secrets.” You replied curtly. “How do you do this, anyway? You don’t get many people who can waltz into your mind uninvited around here.” 

“I told you, you show me, and I’ll show you.” He left the boxes, walking over to where you sat. He circled you a few times, looking around for anything else within your mind. “I am not of this world.” 

“No shit.” You grumbled. 

“Ladies first.” He grinned. “I want to know how you do it. Then you will get your answers.” 

“Then get out of my head.” You replied. “The only person in here to scam is you, and it’s not quite the same when someone knows you’re going to rob them.” 

“Very well.” Loki snapped his fingers. 

You opened your eyes with a gasp as he lifted his hand from your forehead. 

“Never do that again.” You warned. 

He chuckled, lifting his hand to support his head, looking at you expectantly. 

“I’m waiting.” He raised an eyebrow. 

“Where shall we start?” 

--

You leant across the table towards Loki. 

“That one.” You tilted your head towards the left. 

He lifted his head, looking up for the man you’d singled out. The ginger in the double breasted suit? The lanky blonde with the knock knees? The man bun? 

No. 

He knew the one. 

“Clammy hands.” He mused. “Look at the discoloration on the front of his trousers. The pigment has been lost from repeatedly wiping his hands on them. He has sweaty hands.” 

“Can I keep you?” You tilted your head to the side. 

“Why him?” He asked. “How do you choose?” 

“I don’t.” You replied. “They sort of... reveal themselves. They look at me. Stare at me. All I have to do is look back.” 

“And from there?” 

“The art of robbing someone just comes down to sleight of hand. Same as hustling a card game.” You glanced over at the man. “I used to do magic tricks with cards and make people’s car keys disappear as a kid. I picked it up from there.” 

“Impressive.” He leaned back in his seat. “Why do you do it?” 

“This world has not been kind to me.” You sighed. “Besides, life is so much more interesting with a little chaos.” 

He chuckled, placing both of his elbows on the table, hands clasped together in front of his face. 

“Do you fuck all of them?” He raised one eyebrow. 

“Just the pretty ones.” Your face cracked into a wide smile. 

He stared at you for a second. This beautiful, conniving woman in front of him, the poison that resided in your mind, the deadliness that lay in your hands. 

In all honesty, it excited him. 

You’d intrigued him since he’d very first laid eyes on you, and every moment since, that  intrigue had grown. Who were you really? What were you? 

For the first time that evening, it occurred to him that he didn’t even know your name. 

He got the feeling that if he asked, you wouldn’t tell him the truth. You weren’t that stupid. 

You were hiding from something, he was fairly sure. Being in hiding was something he was all too familiar, and if there was anything he had learned in his five thousand years of life, it was how to spot when someone was on the run. 

“I believe you are exactly what I’ve been looking for, little criminal.” He murmured. 

“And what, pray tell, would that be?” You pursed your red painted lips. 

“A partner in crime.” He replied. “A fellow mischief maker, if you will.” 

“You could be a serial killer.” You crossed your arms over your chest. 

“So could you.” He said curtly. “I entered your mind and you’ve just explained how you con and rob people, but yet, here we both still are.” 

You blinked, shifting so you were leaning on your left side. Your expression was thoughtful - you were considering his suggestion. 

“And what exactly do I get out of this deal?” You asked. 

“You saw what I did earlier.” He leaned forwards on his forearms. “I will open your mind to things you cannot currently even begin to comprehend.” 

“Okay. I’ll bite.” You lifted your drink to your lips, taking a sip. “I accept your offer.” 

“I must tell you.” He warned. “You will be playing with fire.”  You set your glass down on the table, before leaning back in your seat. You turned your head to the left briefly, tossing your hair over one shoulder. You crossed one leg over the other as you turned back to face him. Your eyes found his, a gaze that truly seemed to be looking into his soul, and you smiled. 

“Luckily for you, I like to watch things burn.” 

TAGLIST: @possessedjoker​ @amour-delicate

[katyatalks]

MP100 “Characters & Such Official Guidebook” - Interviews ENG Translation

The Characters & Such Official Guidebook was released mid-April 2019 as a guide for all things related to MP100 season 1 & 2. The guidebook also includes interviews with the voice actors of the main five characters (Mob, Reigen, Dimple, Ritsu, Teru), followed by interviews with Director Tachikawa, Series Coordinator Seko, Character Designer Kameda & finally with ONE himself.

Contains a bunch of interesting trivia and conversations (eg. Tachikawa and Kameda looked at fan art before they began the anime, an alternative past for Reigen was once considered, plenty of references to S3 & broccoli arc.) This is a pretty long read, so please enjoy!

Original thread on Twitter here. TN = Translator’s Note "Bold denotes a direct quote of a question,” & “italics denotes a direct quote of an answer.” I’m a little bit inconsistent with where I decide to give full question and answers rather than summaries here...

--

ITOU SETSUO [Mob]

On being asked how he approached voicing Mob during the audition, he says that he went for something flat as Mob doesn’t really inspire “main character” vibes in him.

He takes it as a compliment when he is told that he’s like Mob as a person.

Initially he didn’t think too much of himself in the role as Mob but after being told by co-stars just how well his voice and performance suit the character, he began to believe it too.

On being asked what’s so charming about Mob, Itou says his honesty, and that he doesn’t take a negative viewpoint. Brings up that when Mob is against a foe, rather than “are you my enemy?” he’ll ask “what are you doing here?”.

Itou’s favourite character is Teru, as he thinks the way Teru behaves with his powers originally is the most realistic in terms of standard human nature.

He says the same thing applies to Shou & Touichirou.

The fact that Mob is different is his strength; the fact that he doesn’t think of his powers as anything special. He gives credit to Reigen for Mob thinking this way about his powers.

“At first, Mob-kun suffered because of his powers. But then he meets shishou, who tells him that his powers are just one part of him - this is linked to why Mob-kun is so charming now.”

Mob considers “you shouldn’t use your powers against people” a given fact.

Itou originally found it difficult to know how far he should go adding emotion to Mob’s voice.

Since MP100 is the first show Itou has been a regular & leading part for, he wanted to be the first person in the recording booth for episode 1, and as a result ended up arriving 45 minutes early.

Asked about his favourite scenes from S1 & S2, he mentions the scene that’s stayed with him is when Mob first appears in S1E1.

Has a few scenes he mentions as favourites; he loves the whole Teru vs Mob fight, but especially when Teru is shouting while using his powers as he recalls the passion Matsuoka [Teru] had when recording it.

He mentions when Mob saves Ritsu in S1E8, also mentions that’s something they covered in the stage play, and that it makes him emotional thinking about it.

Says he loves the scene when Mob shouts “Shishou!” as Reigen is ‘killed’ by Sakurai in S1E11.

Mentions S2E1 as well. “Mob-kun doesn’t express his emotions much, but he does then. Showing his powers to another while crying. I remember being glad when I first read the script for episode 1 as it’s a scene I wanted to do. I think of it as the moment Mob-kun starts to change.”

When asked about the stage play, says he thinks the Mob he portrays in the stage play is slightly different to the one he portrays in the anime.

Asks the fans to please continue to watch over MP100 and Mob’s growth, and it would be good if we could all continue to support MP100 as much as we can, from a stage play angle as well.

SAKURAI TAKAHIRO [Reigen]

Sakurai says if he were to have powers he’d probably use them to commit wrongdoings with.

Asked on his impressions of Reigen, says he sees Reigen as an “unbalanced person”, but thought he was mysterious in season 1.

Thought of Reigen as a fraud and not a good person in S1, but with S2 we see his uchizura (private, more ‘real’ self) and real emotions, so his feelings re: Reigen changed from S1 to S2. “It was hard to know who he was, back in season 1.”

“So you felt pretty strongly that he was simply a fraud?” Sakurai; “Well, he lies to people, but at the same time he does actually put some work in (laughs). Clients go home feeling refreshed, so he definitely gives a good massage.”

Calls Reigen eloquent, and that the things that he says are sound. Calls him a good speaker. Brings up his speech to the “claw guys” (likely referencing S1E12). “He can be irresponsible, but he’s got a mysterious intelligence.”

Says that from the middle to the end of S2 there would be as many as 20-30 people in the studio.

Asked about his favourite episodes S1+S2 inclusive, says S2E1 and that the transition from the end of S1 to S2 is smooth with it. “A really fantastic episode”, “you can also see signs of Mob’s growth.”

“On that note, when Reigen hears that Mob got a girlfriend...” Sakurai; “It’s a shock (laughs). His mind goes blank. ‘There’s no way Mob managed to get a girlfriend,’ is what’s running through his mind. He doesn’t celebrate it. Actually, it’s an upsetting thing for him - since Mob would be all over her, Reigen’s business would end up in trouble (laughs).”

Sakurai describes the “Shishou and Deshi” relationship that Mob & Reigen originally have as something that’s quite fabricated and disregards a lot of truths.

“Reigen was an adult floating in limbo for some time, and starts a business in a calculating move. And it starts going well once he meets Mob in their chance encounter.”

“The nickname ‘Mob’ signifies him as a boy without a presence, and yet it’s from that point that Mob starts to grow, and something like a desire for recognition sprouts within him.” [TN: This appears to be implying that Reigen began the ‘Mob’ nickname.]

Sakurai considers Reigen arc 1) a story in which Mob's popularity skyrockets 2) a story in which we see a more raw side of Reigen and start to like him more.

On being asked if there’s any part of Reigen that he sees in himself, starts off with saying that he tends to give out advice to those younger than him (he’s in his 40s and implies he can’t compare himself to someone who’s young in their 20s). Then after knowing what’s running through Reigen’s head in S2; “I suppose we do overlap in one way or another.”

Sakurai says he was very much one of the “mob” (a nobody) in his 10s.

Finally, asked to give a message to fans; “I’d like to do a Season 3, so please continue to love Mob Psycho 100.”

OOTSUKA AKIO [Dimple]

Asked about his thoughts on MP100, Ootsuka says that the art style of the manga caught his eye - he thought it was fun that the anime doesn’t lose the style of the manga while making it more stylish.

Finds in modern manga, the trend is an ordinary kid will get powers by some chance & the adventure starts from there, but found it interesting that in MP100 Mob has had powers since he was tiny & the adventure begins after he comes crying to Reigen with “I don’t know what to do”.

Also enjoys how Mob isn’t exactly the “main character” type. Thinks that it’s a breath of fresh air in the shounen manga genre.

On being asked about Dimple’s charm, Ootsuka; “He’s bad, but you can’t hate him.”

Says that Dimple is ugly but that’s fun, since most of the time mascot characters are cute.

When asked what was running through his mind when preparing for the role of Dimple, he says “dishonesty, slyness.” Acting as if he’s smarter than people but he actually isn’t.

“Speaking of dishonest/sly adults, I feel Reigen is a different type.” Ootsuka; “I’d say Reigen is more dishonest/sly than Dimple... nah, actually they’re about the same. (Laughs)”

When asked if there was anything he finds difficult about playing Dimple, he says that with other acting jobs he finds it hard to play a character where he can’t connect, but “there’s a similar kind of guy to Dimple that lives inside me. So I just go, ‘oi, come out’ (laughs)”.

Says he thinks we all have a bit of Dimple in us.

Ootsuka is also the narrator in MP100. Said that originally he felt there was a difference in the way he played Dimple & the narrator, but that difference kind of became smaller.

He was told to no longer put on a voice that sounds similar to the person Dimple is possessing for season 2, which disappointed him as he wanted to put on a Mob-like voice for when Dimple possesses Mob in S2E4.

Discussion of how director didn’t like Hoshino’s [Serizawa] original takes as they were too silly. [TN: this is mentioned again by Inoue [Suzuki] and Hoshino [Serizawa] in this interview.]

He recalls bursting into laughter over Iwasaki Hiroshi’s performance as Ishiguro in S1E12.

“Reigen becomes able to see Dimple as well in the last bit of Season 1, so he gains another conversation partner.” Ootsuka; “Reigen and Dimple, they both view the other as unnecessary (laughs). So the back-and-forth they have with that in mind is pretty fun.”

Asked about his favourite scenes or episodes, he says the end of S1E3. Dimple’s “Great morning, isn’t it, partner?” line really stuck with him.

Compares Dimple to a dog by Mob’s side.

“Dimple has the kind of face that you just might want to slap (laughs).” Ootsuka; “Well, that’s why I was careful to not give him a too audacious manner of speaking.” Says the interesting thing about his line of work is really having to think about how to say lines.

Also voiced Dimple for the live action adaptation [TN: AKA Netflix ver]. Says it was fun but found it a massive shame that he wasn’t able to bounce lines off of anyone.

“I really didn’t do much in middle school. I was just a chuunibyou (laughs).”

When asked to give a message to MP100 fans, “You guys wanna see more, right? There’s still more to adapt, isn’t there ;) (laughs). So, we can make a sequel to S2 a reality if everyone works together. A ‘if you speak up, then your dreams might come true!’ vibe (laughs).”

He makes a sneaky reference to Broccoli Arc and wanting to see it animated.

IRINO MIYU  [Ritsu]

On being asked his initial thoughts on MP100, Irino states he originally thought it was a lighthearted jokey manga based on the art style and the way the story was introduced, so he was surprised as the story progressed.

States that Ritsu is a relatable character with the issues that he faces (eg wanting something that’s out of reach so hiding your want).

Asked about anything that was difficult to perform as Ritsu, he states his two-sided nature; his general honour-student self and the other side of him.

Says that when Ritsu enters into his darker side, rather than playing some kind of bad guy Ritsu is simply more frank with how he expresses himself. “He lets the emotions in his heart be heard one by one.”

Irino is asked if he personally admires Mob, to which he replies that he’s jealous of the fact that Mob is so unbeatable.

He says Ritsu must also have the experience of looking at Mob and thinking something like, “Compared to him, I’m just...”

States he himself, Ritsu, and just about anyone has likely yearned to become something overwhelming, but we don’t believe in our ability to achieve that.

Following this, interviewer comments that Mob carries feelings of unease in his heart even though he’s so unbeatable. Irino comments that something fun for him with MP100 is that Mob doesn’t really realise how unbeatable he is.

Something that Ritsu admires about his brother is that he doesn’t show off the fact that he’s unbeatable.

“Even with powers, there’s plenty of things you can’t do.” Irino; “Such as not being able to confess to the girl you like (laughs).”

“Seems like even if he abused his powers he’d still be able to turn heads.” Irino; “Because he’s charming - that’s something good about him. That’s why everyone loves him, and why he gives off main-character-of-a-shounen-manga vibes.”

Asked about his favourite scenes/episodes from seasons 1 & 2, Irino says around when Ritsu's powers are awakened in season 1. He found it interesting to watch how his heart becomes disturbed.

"He finally obtained the thing he'd been longing for, but everything around him that was once so calm gets thrown into disarray."

He also liked it when Ritsu stands atop the telephone pole in S1E7.

Speaking in terms of Power Rangers & character colour association, ever since he was a kid Irino has admired characters that are more blue or black rather than red.

Interviewer comments that Ritsu holds the ‘blue’ role in MP100.

After Mob & Ritsu reconcile, Irino states that he feels Ritsu has come to understand his brother more.

“How should I put it; Ritsu is overprotective, or there’s a side to him that’s too fussy over his big brother...” Irino; “but that kind of brotherly love is pleasant to see.”

“In Season 2, Ritsu and Shou go through a joint struggle.” Irino; “Shou’s father has tremendous powers, and he has one fear with that; he doesn’t know when his father will go on a rampage. Their circumstances are similar, in that sense.”

“Truth is, in parts MP100 is quite like your typical shounen manga.” Irino replies that there’s a bunch of great lines in the manga, and importance hidden within casual words.

Following this response he’s asked if there’s certain line(s) from MP100 that have stuck with him, to which Irino replies quite a few of Reigen’s. “During the last part of season 1 when he marches into Claw’s hideout, you get to hear a lot of his thoughts. It’s hard to tell if he’s being truthful with the things he says or if he’s lying, and on top of that he says quite a few important things. That unbalance is interesting.”

“The broadcast of season 2 has already come to an end...” Irino replies that he’d like the MP100 anime to continue and adapt the manga to the very end.

“I’m sure all the fans feel the same way.” Irino; “Everyone worked together as one to create the MP100 anime. For it to continue, we need your support; so please continue to give that to us.”

MATSUOKA YOSHITSUGU [Teru]

Asked his initial thoughts on MP100, Matsuoka says it was that it’s a piece that you can easily empathise with; regardless of if you’re in primary school, middle school, high school, an adult, an old man or woman...

Matsuoka thinks of the anime as something you watch and go, “I’ll try my best tomorrow, too.”

Matsuoka voices both Teru and Tokugawa in MP100. He was first offered the voice of Teru, and then it was decided he’d also voice Tokugawa.

It’s brought up that Tokugawa appears earlier in the show than Teru. “They’re two very different people, so in that sense performing both roles was easy. If they’d been similar characters I think there would be some confusion.”

Regarding Tokugawa, Matsuoka describes him as being quite firmly in the “student council” role with how strict and resolute his character is, in a way that Matsuoka himself very much isn’t.

Describes him as a cool-headed person, but given the way he interacts with Kamuro and is able to persuade him, says he has a hot-headed element to him as well. Matsuoka uses this as an example of how MP100 shows us the multifacetedness of human nature.

Regarding his other character, Teru; describes him as the personification of ‘chuunibyou’. “I think of him as the embodiment of the answer to the question, ‘if you had powers, what would you do?’”

One line he still remembers from S1 is Teru’s “Muscle training? Studying? That’s for ordinary people!” Matsuoka says that there’s a part of him that agreed with that line, and he says that if he were to get powers he’d likely be as conceited as Teru was.

States that Mob’s “From my perspective you’re just ordinary” line also stuck with him.

“From S1E5?” Matsuoka; “Yes - and then Teru replies, 'shut up!', and strangles Mob.” He says that he was really able to project his own emotions during this part and mix them with Teru’s own.

“People can’t change so easily” - Matsuoka says the things that Teru was saying to Mob, he was also saying to himself, like looking in a mirror. Uses this as an example of Teru’s own multifaceted nature.

Matsuoka says that the original Teru we see (who the interviewer describes as having a "poisonous nature" & putting on airs) is simply playing the role of what he considers to be an 'ideal' person, but then that comes away and we're left with the real Teru.

Interviewer makes a joke that Teru gets his personality trimmed along with his hair.

Is asked about Mob & Teru's rivalry, and says "No way, no way - there's no way they're /actually/ rivals." Says the power difference between Mob and Teru is way too big for that to actually be the case - "compared to Mob, Teru is ordinary."

Calls MP100 a work from which you realise "Everyone is a hero, and everyone is ordinary".

Asked on his opinion on MP100 season 2; says that there's more moments that get to you emotionally than season 1. Brings up S2E8 as an example (when Mob's house burns). "Say if that was actually Mob's family who burned in there... I think he'd destroy the world."

Asked about his favourite scenes from season 1 & 2, he says (as previously mentioned) the part where Mob says “From my perspective you’re just ordinary”. He also likes when Teru says to Onigawara, "it must be sad to be ordinary."

He likes the whole of S1E4, and calls Dimple a "famous-saying-production-machine".

Continuing on the topic of Dimple, interviewer says that Dimple is an ally, but teeters between good and evil. Matsuoka; “Setting aside his actions for a moment - the things that he says are essentially evil (laughs). He tries to tempt Mob and the other characters.”

He is asked if he has anything to say to fans of MP100. Matsuoka; “Season 2 is over, and now you’re holding this Character Guidebook in your hands. The fact that we’ve reached this point is thanks to the support of you all, the fans.” [...] “Season 2 brings an end to the grand fight between Shou and his father, but as those of you who’ve read the manga know, Mob Psycho 100 doesn’t end there. The giant broccoli is yet to come (laughs). I personally would like to do the whole of Broccoli Arc. As for when we can do that, I don’t know - I don’t even know if it’ll be possible to do it - but I’d like to believe that we’ll do it. I think that if you all believe in it too, then it’ll become reality.”

TACHIKAWA YUZURU [Director]

On being asked why he decided to work on MP100, Tachikawa; “Naturally, it was because of how charming the characters are.” There’s a lot of main characters who hold immense power, but Mob doesn’t want those powers, which is rare - this is why he finds Mob charming.

He compares and contrasts to Reigen - “[He] has no powers, but puts on a bold front and deceives people… well, that’s a misleading way to put it (laughs).” He thinks Mob and Reigen’s combo is amusing as a result.

He’s asked about MP100s character design, to which he describes Kameda drawing up a whole bunch of ideas. There’d be designs that were similar to ONE’s, and designs that made Mob a bit more handsome, “since at the time, if you looked at Mob Psycho 100 fan art on the internet, there were plenty of depictions of Mob being all sparkly and good-looking.”

“But looking at that, Kameda-kun and I decided we both wanted to go for something more akin to ONE-san’s art. When we showed ONE-san the rough sketches of the more handsome designs, he said ‘they’re attractive - I'm good with that’, but Kameda-kun and I replied ‘no, no - ONE-san, your art leaves more of an impression than this, so let’s go for something more like what you draw.’”

Tachikawa wanted to include the more ‘catchy’ kinds of stories in the anime. He brings up that Mob and Reigen dressing in women’s clothing and infiltrating the school happens in Volume 7 of the manga, but they decided to bring that to S1E2.

Asked about convos that happened with ONE regarding scenarios in the anime - Tachikawa mentions how in S1E11, there’s a segment where a younger Mob and Ritsu are lost in a forest. “I expressed to ONE-san that I’d like to witness why Mob respects Ritsu, to which he gave this idea.”

“In the manga, what Reigen did before he began S&S isn’t shown to us, but we get an implication of his past based on a line he says to do with businesses. I said the following to ONE-san; ‘An insurance salesman, or water marketing?’, to which ONE-san replied ‘water marketing.’”

Also mentions that Tsubomi coming to S&S in S2E8 wasn't something they adapted from the manga, but something ONE specifically created for the anime because Tachikawa expressed he wanted to see that kind of scenario, and then ONE added it as an omake to the manga. [TN: This is mentioned again here.]

He thinks he would have had the choice to handle both the screenplay and the series coordination but decided to ask Seko to handle Series Co-ordination instead.

He is in charge of the screenplay for S2E6-7 (Reigen arc). It was decided that Tachikawa would be in charge of storyboards for S2E7 before it was decided he’d handle the screenplay.

“Do you feel you have an emotional attachment to Reigen?” Tachikawa; “Yes, I do (laughs).” Calls him a character surrounded by mystery back in S1, and other than his courage and the occasional line that would resonate with Mob there’s a lot about him that’s unclear. “But with S2E6-7, we step into his uchizura (more private, “real” self). It’s interesting to see who a character appears to be on the outside, and their uchizura.”

Tachikawa finds stories in which someone falls to their lowest point and then recovers charming - thus, Tachikawa was charmed by S2E6-7 which depict Reigen’s fall and his subsequent recovery. Says that Ritsu and Teru also go through something similar (fall and recovery).

He loves when you can feel the humanity of characters. Says that when you show character development the charm of that character increases, and so does the popularity of the whole work. “I suppose it’s not just me who likes that, it’s all the fans, too”.

Makes a point of mentioning that all the characters have reached a turning point by the end of season 2, apart from Dimple.

Asked on his opinion of Mob, he says he relates to him and he was the type of kid in school to be in a position removed from everyone else. “He’s a character I really like, though I’m told by others that I’m ‘Reigen-ish’ (laughs).”

“I think there’s a few ways you could take ‘Reigen-ish’...” Tachikawa; “To put it another way, ‘shady’. Kameda-kun made that clear to me (laughs). As if I’m feigning friendliness.”

Tachikawa handled the rough layout of the illustration cover (Kameda finalised it). “It’s something I could imagine happening that wasn’t shown to us during S2E8. I thought to myself, it would be nice to show Dimple, Reigen and Ritsu working together for Mob’s sake. A theme of season 1 and 2 is Mob’s growth, so I thought the marathon episode would fit as a cover for this guidebook. As a result of his growth, he’s got people gathered around him…”

“I think Reigen would’ve run with them on the first day they trained together, but then he’d start using the bike instead. Since his muscles hurt (laughs).”

Asked to give a message to fans, he says that all the support from fans gave them a lot of energy throughout the production of seasons 1 & 2. Tells the fans to enjoy the OVA.

SEKO HIROSHI [Series Co-ordinator]

Asked on his thoughts of the MP100 manga, Seko; “it’s a work in which the characters are all charming. This is a misleading way to phrase it, but they’re a hopeless bunch; yet, the way ONE-san deals with them is very warm.”

“They’re not just characters, they’re much like us - nothing but human.”

Asked about how he wanted to deal with coordinating the series; “At the time of season 1 discussions, the most recent volume was around 9. I’d read up to that point and thought that if the anime is covering 12 episodes, then we should reach up to the fight with Claw’s seventh division in volume 6. My thought process from there was, ‘in what way can we make it so season 1 ends there?’, and with that I began.”

Asked if there was anything he fussed over, “making sure to not tar what makes the manga so charming. For example, when Mob reaches 100% for the first time in S1E3, that’s a highlight of the story, and I wanted to keep it that way.”

Reason for the movement of the high school infiltration from Vol 7 of the manga to S1E2 was to help build up to Mob’s 100% in S1E3.

The “student council” part of the manga spans S1E6-7 of the anime. The decision to condense it was due to the anime having only 12 episodes.

Reigen & Mob’s initial meeting being portrayed in S1 is brought up; “In a screenplay meeting with Tachikawa-san, we discussed depicting their initial meeting from Mob’s point of view, whereas in the manga it’s from Reigen’s. It comes up a little later in the manga but we thought it would be good to show their meeting in S1. And, if we ever got the chance to make a S2, we’d have the scene again much like it appears in the manga from Reigen’s perspective. So they wouldn’t be entirely the same scene.”

To being asked if there were any requests from ONE regarding the screenplay of the anime, Seko; “We had a discussion in which he said that while the final part of S1 has a serious atmosphere due to the fight, he didn’t want it to end that way. For that reason I proposed that we could end S1 with the tsuchinoko segment. I think ONE-san is uncomfortable when there’s nothing but seriousness.”

Seko says he had a feeling that they’d get a season 2. Much like season 1, he finished off season 2 in such that way as to give off the impression that there’s more to come.

“Did you struggle figuring out how to start S2E1?” Seko; “Regarding that, I’d already decided that if we were to make a S2 we’d start it off with Wriggle Wriggle.”

A deliberate choice was made to start off S2, and finish S2, with the broccoli (Mob receives the broccoli seeds at the start; broccoli becomes the giant broccoli at the end).

The interviewer describes an important part of S2 as being “hold your emotions dear to you”.

Seko; “Wriggle Wriggle is a pretty silly story, so I thought having a pleasant story after that would keep the balance. I think that balance between silly and serious is representative of what Mob Psycho 100 is.”

“Season 2 has one more episode than season 1, making it a total of 13 episodes. Could you tell us why?” Seko; “The original plan was 12 episodes. Had we kept to that, the scene in which Mob’s house burns would come at the end of part A of episode 8. But Warner Bros. producer Matsuda-san said, ‘I’d like that to come at the end of the episode.’ However, doing that would mean we’d have to give the battle with Claw that follows that a squeeze... so Matsuda-san said, ‘let’s go for 13 episodes then.’” [TN: This is mentioned again here.]

“Are there any scenes from S1 & S2 that you feel an emotional attachment to?” Seko says when Reigen is invincible in S1E12. “The scene in which he scolds the 7th division embodies what Mob Psycho 100 is all about.”

Says that in typical shounen manga the situation would be resolved with a fight but MP100 isn’t like that. “The things that Reigen says are completely justified, realistically. The things an evil organisation does are a crime; the clothes that they wear are weird... (Laughs)”

“Speaking of Reigen, a phrase of his that leaves an impression in S1E11 is, ‘When things get tough, it’s okay to run away!’” Seko; “In conventional shounen manga, there’s the belief that the protagonist shouldn’t run away, but with ‘it’s okay’, ONE-san’s personality shines through. Reigen is truly an intelligent person. The things he does are questionable, yet he has common sense that comes out at strange times.”

“You can’t sum up his character in a single word.” Seko; “I think he’s a respectable person, but he also cons people (laughs).” He enjoys the back and forth Reigen has with clients, and his stinginess and the way he edits ghost photos. “He’s both eloquent and skilled, which is unbearable (laughs). Despite that, he doesn’t rip people off with what he charges. You get the idea that he’s got some sense of ethics, which is calming.”

“He’s simply a difficult character to understand.” Seko; “Honestly, at first I couldn’t understand him at all. It was difficult to think of things that he might say when creating scenes that weren’t in the original manga. But when it became clear to me that he has morals, it all fell into place. I’ve forgotten when exactly this happened - it was at some point near the start or middle of season 1 - but I came to understand the kind of person Reigen is.”

Speaking about Mob, “He’s introverted, quiet and bad at socialising, but he has this immense power inside him... when you hear that, some other works will probably spring to mind, but when you read MP100 you realise this is different. Mob is Mob[.]”

“It’s interesting to see a character as powerful as he is work very hard at training his muscles.” Seko; “And his incentive for that is that he wants to be popular (laughs).”

Seko was in charge of the next episode previews (which Reigen would announce in a meta-ish way). He says that he ran out of ideas of what to end them with by season 2 so they start repeating a little.

Asked to give a message to fans, he says thank you for watching S2 and look forward to the OVA.

KAMEDA YOSHIMICHI [Character Designer]

Asked his thoughts on the MP100 manga, Kameda says he didn’t have much of a clue what direction the story would take upon finishing the second volume. “After Claw gets introduced the story takes on an action-like atmosphere so I thought it would carry on that way, but then the story starts digging deep into uchizuras. I was surprised at that. That’s a true-to-life middle school boy being depicted.”

Kameda says that he took on working on the MP100 anime after reaching the part of mob psycho that explores uchizuras. “The way I felt was, ‘I want us to make a season 2, so we can definitely animate this part. I’m doing season 1 for this purpose.’ (Laughs)”

“What were your first thoughts with the character design?” Kameda; “In the manga there aren’t really any illustrations that are coloured. Even the front covers of the volumes aren’t too expressive with how they use colour. The way lines are drawn is dependent on colour, so the first decision to be made was on that subject, while checking my choices with ONE-san. In the manga, Reigen’s tie is black. But in the anime Mob is painted all black, so I thought it’d be a bit too heavy to leave his tie that way. Reigen was the only one with a coloured illustration in which his hair is painted yellow, so based on that I tried creating a whole bunch of tie patterns - purple, green, blue, pink, etc. ONE-san wanted to go for a blue tie, but I thought that was too salary man-ish, and didn’t give off fraud vibes. The final decision was made based on a colour necktie that the average person wouldn’t buy - it would be pink, wouldn’t it.”

Asked if there was anything difficult after colours, he describes having difficulty trying to figure out how to convert ONE’s style to the screen. “It would’ve been interesting to leave his art as it was for the anime, but it seemed like it would’ve been very difficult to do so.”

Describes ONE’s talent as being the way he applies shadow, calling it very real.

Interviewer follows on this by asking anything else that marks ONE’s art as ONE’s, to which Kameda replies the shape of ears, and describes his struggle trying to replicate the way ONE draws them.

Kameda would correct the ears drawn by the other animators to try and match ONE’s style. Leading on from this the interviewer mentions hearing that Kameda would touch up any cuts that caught his eye. Kameda; “Around 10 cuts an episode.”

Calls Mezato a favourite character of his, to the extent that he volunteered to do the part that she appears in S2E13 (and did so).

Says that S1E5 was the only episode in S1 he didn’t touch, which Fujisawa Kenichi was animation director of. “The character design in that episode is a little different but I thought that episode would be better off with Fujisawa-san’s style.”

Kameda proposed the scene that happens at the start of S1S1 (Mob fighting the “evil apparitions”) by saying he wanted a depiction of a middle school boy fighting with his powers as our start, but he actually proposed it in anticipation of the kind of action we’d see in S2E5. [TN: I think it’s been a rumour for a while that the start scene is from Mogami arc and this sorta confirms that the line of thought there is correct]

The first episode in S2 that they started drawing production work for was S2E5.

When Kameda watched S2E5 what he was most surprised by was Part A of the episode (ie. Mob’s day to day life), rather than the action scenes. “The layout is good, as are the use of bugs as an expression device[.]”

Kameda speaks of S2E7 as a part of Mob Psycho 100 so important to him that if it didn’t exist he wouldn’t have chosen to work on MP100.

He fussed over the press conference and Reigen’s expression(s) when he talks to Mob by the river at the end of the episode.

Interviewer mentions that we don’t see Reigen’s face in the manga when Mob calls him a good person, so seeing it in the anime leaves an impression. Kameda; “we struggled with that cut, but we struggled with Reigen’s expression when he’s walking alongside the river more so. Originally his expression was hidden as he approached, but when the camera pulled in close you could see his face.”

We end up seeing his face the whole way through. Kameda calls Aoyama Hiroyuki (who animated the whole end segment) a “super(hero) animator”.

Kameda makes an edit to Reigen’s expression upon being told by Mob that he’s a good person, with respect to the expression Reigen pulls in the final volume, “when [he] lays bare his real emotions to Mob.” [TN: This appears to be implying Reigen was originally drawn with tears in his eyes that were removed to make sure that the scene in which Reigen finally cries maintains its impact.]

“The performance by Reigen’s VA, Sakurai-san, was amazing... and I loved Mob’s ‘By the way, Shishou. Happy birthday.’ Itou-kun’s way of speaking is so gentle... I can’t quite express the feeling properly, but hearing him say those words, I was brought close to tears.”

Kameda is asked if there’s anything that proved a lot of work, to which he says, “Hmm... there’s a lot of characters in MP100, aren’t there. (Laughs)”.

Describes that he designed ~90 characters for S1. “I thought I’d get to relax a little for S2, but in the end I ended up having to design around 90 more. (Laughs)”

“Some of the main character designs that were established in S1 changed a little for S2, didn’t they.” Kameda; “Ritsu changed a little with S2. In S1 he had a bit of antagonism toward Mob, so I had the hair that frames his face be a little longer to try and hide those emotions.”

“A character’s state of mind is something that can be expressed through their hair.” Says that Ritsu’s hair gets a refresh in the final part of S1 when he’s talking to Kamuro in the park, to represent that the “demon plaguing him is gone”.

He’s asked if there are any characters in the huge cast of MP100 that are memorable for him. He mentions Tarou and Hanako as two characters that were fun to draw as they set the trend for the other “guest characters” in the show.

Also says he likes Mitsuura as a character with high energy who was fun to pose, though he’s unpopular with the animators due to the patterns on his clothes being a pain.

“I’ve mentioned this here and there before, but I really love Shinra Banshoumaru. The reason why I was the animation director for S2E2 is because it’s his entry episode (laughs).”

“Why did you want to draw Shinra Banshoumaru so much?” Kameda; “Because he’s chubby!! The swell of his cheeks, his tummy, his large butt... I’m obsessed (laughs). I was so charmed, thinking, ‘I want to make him even bigger and move him around!’”

He’d do things like add extra belly sways to the storyboards. “I didn’t intend to go as far as I did, but I think I went overboard in a lot of ways (laughs).”

Asked to give a message to fans, Kameda; “I’m happy that you all continue to involve yourselves with Mob Psycho 100. Since we’ve come this far, I want to finish off animating what remains of the MP100 manga. A television season 3 - no, wait, perhaps even a film...? Please be sure to continue to support Mob Psycho 100.”

[TN: this marks the fourth mention of a MP100 film I’ve seen from Kameda, and also marks him as the only member of production staff interviewed in this book to explicitly state anything to do with season 3.]

ONE [Original Author]

He is asked how Mob Psycho 100 came to be. ONE; “I love psychic powers as a theme, so I thought to myself, in what way can I make the most of that theme? How can I add colour to it? Through that thought process, I incorporated puberty, stress, ‘being used’, complexes, unrequited love, ‘shishou’, lies, the dual nature that exists in many things, and so on… then, the protagonist; a passive, introverted person, but someone who is able to become the eye of a hurricane, someone who through the influence of their relationships changes, grows… it was with that foundation that I began developing the plot, and through that process I solidified the setting; this protagonist would have their heart burdened by a buildup of stress and the shift of their feelings, and after passing a certain boundary they’d explode, and their powers would run wild… I thought it would be nice if the manga was a little strange, with the buildup until the boundary crossover being shown to the reader via a numerical percentage value. Ideas for titles included things like, ‘Mob Psycho’, ‘Psycho Helmet’, and ‘Mob Psycho 100%’.”

He is asked to recall how he felt when the MP100 anime was confirmed. ONE; “I was delighted. A lot has happened in relation to Mob Psycho 100, but for me the anime has been the thing to make me the most happy.”

He is asked what he hoped for with the anime, to which he replies the happiness of the fans, and for MP100 to bring a smile to the faces of the staff working on the anime.

What he looked forward to was the way the voice actors and animators would approach the characters, and how they’d flesh out the MP100 world as a result.

“What kinds of conversations did you have with director Tachikawa?” ONE says he doesn’t really remember their initial conversation(s) but he knows that he told Tachikawa that he has the freedom to be as creative as he wants. “I didn’t want to be a nuisance.”

He recalls being told by series coordinator Seko that he may need to shift around a few of the chapters to make the story in the anime flow a little easier.

Asked his thoughts on Kameda’s character designs, ONE; “Amazing. I’d resigned myself to the fact that the characters would get an overhaul for the anime and become more handsome, but Mob has remained Mob, Reigen has remained Reigen. Their anime designs are charming. I was moved.”

He says he holds several pages of character designs drafts that Kameda drew up dear to him, and mentions that the Body Improvement Clubs designs were perfect from the get go.

ONE says that he feels blessed with the amazing voice actors giving depth to the characters, describing how when they’re given voices it feels like they’re alive, and regrets that he didn’t go to recording sessions more.

“How did you feel when season 2 was announced?” ONE: “Season 1 was amazing, so I expected there’d be a season 2.” Describes Tachikawa and Kameda’s hard work, to which he responded with his own. “It was around the time that I was ending the manga, so I buckled down to finish it.”

He looked forward to seeing how the anime would deal with adapting the more “drama” feel of season 2, with human emotions being explored.

He describes his process with writing problems and their solutions in MP100. “Mob & Reigen each have their own way of dealing with a problem, so I’d say, ‘this is how this problem would generally be dealt with’, and from there I’d explore different ways of solving that problem.”

“I let the characters start thinking for themselves - that kind of delusion awoke within me. Like, ‘Hey, Reigen, I’m going to sleep, so think it over for me.’ With that, it became easier to plan.”

He is asked his thoughts and feelings on the anime; he states he doesn’t really watch anime but was reminded of how interesting it can be, and the power of anime as simple entertainment. “I was able to recognise anew just how amazing the production team is. [...] I felt so grateful that they chose to work on Mob Psycho 100, devoting their precious time to really putting their all into the production work. It’s how I’ve felt with every episode. Right now I’ve watched up until the end of S2E5, but I’m already running out of tissues.”

He is asked anything that’s left an impression on him during the broadcast of MP100; “The amount of correspondence I’d receive from overseas Mob Psycho fans increased with the anime broadcast.” Says that it’s amazing that even with a translation foreign fans are able to laugh at the same things, be moved by the same things, etc.

Finally, he is asked to give a message to the fans who purchased the guidebook. ONE; “Thank you for always supporting Mob Psycho 100. The way I see the situation regarding Mob Psycho 100 as a work is as something that overlaps with Mob’s own development. Mob Psycho’s value as a piece of entertainment greatly increased with the powerful aid of the anime, and with everyone who offered a hand, gave their opinions and support, and reached out. I’d always thought to myself, ‘I want to create a manga that’s able to influence those who read it in some way, if only even a little,’ but as it turns out it’s Mob Psycho 100 that has become what it is now thanks to all of you. I’ve still got my eye on what Mob Psycho 100 will become in the future. Nothing would make me more happy than for all of you to continue enjoying Mob Psycho 100.“

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Thank you for reading!

Posted on twitter here.

ONE & Director Tachikawa’s comments on the main five are here.