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giveemhales · 4 years ago

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Moodboards for Sterek AUs: 22/?

For @sterekvalentineweek Day 3

Secret Crush

4 times Stiles gave Derek a valentine, and 1 time Derek decided to return the favor.

The story can be read under the cut or on AO3!

1st grade

Derek was new, and that’s what causes the whole fiasco.

Well, not exactly new. He had been at the school since the school year had started back in August, and it was now February. But he was new in that it’s the first year anyone in his family has ever attended public school. Born into a powerful pack of werewolves with a history spanning back centuries, he had been raised surrounded only by werewolves and humans who knew about the supernatural. None of his relatives had ever gone to public school, as the risk was deemed too great to send children out in public where they may accidentally reveal their true nature. Derek and his siblings were supposed to be home-schooled, as was tradition.

However, times were changing, and their emissary had suggested the children should start attending public school. Not only was it to help the children learn how to handle being around humans and in public, but also the hunters were becoming more aggressive, and it was advised that they act as much like normal humans as possible so as not to raise suspicion.

So Derek and his older sister, Laura, were the first werewolves in the Hale pack history to go to public school. It was their first year for both of them, Derek in first grade and Laura in second. They had spent the years before learning how to control their shift under the guise of home-schooling, and the family was confident they would blend right in.

They did blend in, for the most part, never letting their eyes change color and holding back growls no matter how angry they became. But apparently, there was more to being human than just looking the part. There were all these rules and customs that everyone seemed to know except them. Derek rarely minded his family’s social faux pas, honestly never really noticing them. But on this one occasion, everyone noticed, and he was particularly upset.

It was Valentine’s Day, a holiday which his family never celebrated (why did humans need a holiday to show their adoration for their mates? How strange). The lack of experience with the holiday is why nobody in the family realized it was customary to bring “valentines” to school to share with classmates, and that’s why he arrived empty-handed.

When all the other students set up their boxes in which to receive treats, he watched in confusion, which morphed into dawning horror when he realized everyone had gifts to hand out except for him.

Derek had hoped he could slip under the radar, receive the gifts like everyone else and then maybe bring double the treats next year to make up for it.

The teacher had a different idea. The teacher scolded him in front of the whole class for being irresponsible and inconsiderate, and told him that if he had nothing to share, then nobody could share with him. He had to sit in the corner by himself and think about what he had done wrong (he was 6 years old, he didn’t have money or a calendar, this hardly seemed like his fault).

So Derek sat in the corner by himself, not only having to hear all of the other kids laugh and have a great time, but also smell the delicious treats thanks to his werewolf nose. He was used to being on his own at school, not having made any real friends, but it hurt so much more knowing he was being purposefully excluded. He had to fight hard to hold back his claws, and even harder to fight back tears. He hated this stupid school and the stupid humans in it and their stupid rules and traditions and just wanted to go home.

When the school day was finally, blessedly over, Derek shuffled out of the room with his head bowed and shoulders hunched, not wanting to see the smiles on all of the other kids’ faces and not wanting them to see the frown on his, unable to help feeling like they were mocking him.

He made it out the front doors of the school, and thought he was finally free, but stopped when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

He turned with a scowl. It was a student in his class named Stiles. Derek wasn’t really friends with him. They had played together at recess a couple of times and he seemed funny and nice, but it wasn’t like they had ever spoken outside of school.

Derek began to wonder if he was wrong in his categorization of Stiles as nice, because he could think of no reason for any of his classmates to stop him except to gloat. Before Stiles had even said anything, Derek was already seething, thinking about the treat Stiles had brought that everyone had gotten to try except for him. While most of the students had just brought candy, Stiles had brought clearly homemade sugar cookies, and the scent had had Derek salivating in his isolation.

Before he could snap at Stiles in anger, however, Stiles thrust his hands forward in an offering. Derek looked down and was surprised to see he was holding two cookies, each partially covered by a napkin.

“Sorry Mrs. Johnson was so mean to you today. She said that we weren’t allowed to give you any valentines but I think that’s mean and dumb and I don’t follow mean and dumb rules. So I saved you a cookie. Actually, I saved you two cookies, one of them is for your sister because I figure if you didn’t bring any valentines then she probably didn’t either and might have also not been allowed any treats, which would be so sad because what’s the point of Valentine’s day besides the treats. If you eat them both, though, that’s okay because you didn’t get any candy or anything so I think you probably deserve two cookies. I would give you even more cookies but I only had the one that was already for you, and then the extra one my mom packed in my lunch box. I wanted to eat that one and then I also wanted to eat yours but I realized I shouldn’t because my mom already gave me a cookie last night so I really don’t need another and also my mom bakes all the time and most people don’t get to try the greatness of her cookies and so I have a respons- responsabl- responsibit- it’s my job to share the cookies.”

Stiles finally quit his rambling to stare expectantly at Derek, who was staring back in shock. He shoved his hands forward again, until Derek finally took the offered cookies.

Derek didn’t even get the chance to say thank you before Stiles was talking again, telling some story about a time he forgot his shoes at home and how that was way worse than forgetting some valentines. He kept talking before he noticed the bus was beginning to leave, and sprinted off without so much as a goodbye.

Derek looked down once again at the cookies, and saw there was a note included. Written on a sticky note in first-grader scrawl, it said Sorry the teacher is so mean. You can be my BVF (best valentine forever). Valentine was written three different times, the first two times crossed out as he clearly wasn’t positive how the word was spelled.

Derek did end up giving the second cookie to Laura, and he found he didn’t mind because he knew the note was all his.

4th grade

Derek still didn’t particularly care for Valentine’s Day, his introduction to the holiday forever tainting his opinion, but he had still come to find himself excited about the impending sugar.

There was a storm cloud over this Valentine’s Day, though, at least for Derek and definitely for Stiles. Ever since first grade, Derek had looked forward to the homemade treats Stiles would bring, baked with love by his mother.

Derek knew that wouldn’t be the case on this day, though, because Stiles’ mother had passed away a couple of months before.

Everyone in the small town knew about it, rumors constantly spreading about the sheriff’s new drinking habits. Nobody seemed to notice the effect it had on the young boy. But Derek did.

Stiles had become more withdrawn in the months leading up to his mother’s death, presumably having to deal with her illness, but it was like he shut down once she was gone. The boy who once talked a mile a minute now was silent, except for the occasional whispers to his best friend. His absences became more frequent, and he stopped bringing a lunch to school, instead having to buy cafeteria food he would rarely eat. The worst part though was the scent of grief that constantly clung to him.

Derek saw how badly he was affected and could only hope that he would heal with time. Derek wished he knew how to help, but he still hadn’t even figured out how to make friends, let alone how to help someone cope with the loss of a parent.

So Derek knew he wouldn’t be getting any baked goods on this day, that he probably wouldn’t be receiving anything from Stiles. He just hoped that the teacher wasn’t as rude about it as his first-grade teacher had been.

Derek was proven wrong though. Stiles hadn’t brought cookies or anything of the like, but he had brought valentines. For every classmate, he had a red piece of paper which he had folded into a heart and marked with their names. They weren’t perfect, but they were definitely better than most nine-year-olds could do.

Derek was so touched at the small gift, and seethed when he saw none of the other students saw it for what it was. He even saw one student throw their heart in the trash (which Derek made a point to dig out and keep for himself because that heart was something Stiles had spent time on and deserved to be cherished). None of the students realized how kind Stiles was. That while dealing with grief, which was probably made even worse with the holiday bringing on a reminder of a tradition he could no longer partake in, and a father who himself was probably still grieving and didn’t remember he was supposed to get valentines for his son, Stiles had still made sure he had something to give to his classmates. This gift was far more valuable than anything any other student had brought.

Derek was even more touched when he realized that there was a note written inside of the heart, too. He carefully unfolded it, making sure to keep track of how he did it so he would be able to refold it, and read what was inside.

Don’t tell Scott, but you’re still my favorite Valentine.

It was made even better when he realized the other heart he had, the one from the trash, had no note, meaning Stiles had written a note especially for Derek.

Derek gave Stiles the warmest smile he could from across the room and vowed to keep that note forever.

6th grade

Derek was quick to realize Valentine’s Day was not the same in middle school as in elementary. For one, there was no making mailboxes or handing out valentines. If you wanted to celebrate the holiday, you had to do it on your own time.

The second major difference was that “like-liking” someone was a thing, and lots of girls “like-liked” Derek. Derek was apparently one of the cutest guys in the grade, and that helped immensely with his popularity. He had finally been able to make some friends, which was nice.

Derek wasn’t really a fan of all of the attention he got at school, though. He would have preferred to just spend time with the couple of best friends he had made, and ignore all of the people who wanted to be his friend solely for his status.

He knew Valentine’s Day would give some girls the perfect opportunity to confess their “feelings” for him (they didn’t even know him!) and Derek was not looking forward to it.

Derek had been correct in his assumption, and by the end of the day, three different girls had asked to be his Valentine, and he had to kindly reject them all. It was far too much for him, and he was exhausted by the end of the day.

Before he could go home, though, he had to stop at his locker to grab a textbook he needed for class.

He was surprised, and a little bit disturbed, to find a box of chocolates in his locker. It was definitely too big for someone to just slip through the slots, so someone would have had to break into his locker to get it there.

Derek immediately felt all of his annoyance of the day growing. Why could these girls not leave him alone?

However, when he leaned in to grab the box, he caught a whiff of a scent that had him calming down.

Stiles.

Suddenly, Derek found he wasn’t too upset. It wasn’t at all surprising that the boy knew how to break into lockers, and Derek found himself inexplicably preening at the thought that the boy still wanted to be his Valentine.

Taped to the bottom of the box was a typed note with no signature, clearly meant to anonymous. Derek likely never would have known who it was if it wasn’t for his werewolf senses.

The note simply read “Why don’t they let us hand out candy anymore? Middle school is lame. Don’t worry, I won’t let them ruin the holiday for you (everyone knows the sweets are the whole point). Hope you enjoy the chocolates, valentine.”

On second thought, Derek realized he probably would have been able to figure out it was Stiles, just based on the note. He could practically hear the words in Stiles’ voice. He would still let him think he got away with being anonymous, though.

Maybe middle school Valentine’s Days weren’t so bad, after all.

10th grade

Derek just knew this was going to be the worst Valentine’s Day ever, and he wished that he could just skip the whole day. He would totally pretend to be sick so he could stay home except that werewolves can’t get sick so he doubted that would fly with his parents.

Derek had broken up with his girlfriend, Paige, just a couple of weeks before. He knew that in the grand scheme of things they weren’t that serious, they hadn’t even been together for a whole year, but he had felt like he was madly in love with her.

He was healing, of course, and, for the most part, had moved on. But Valentine’s Day would just be a reminder of what he was missing (it stung every time he remembered he never got the chance to celebrate Valentine’s Day with her, he had been secretly excited to finally have a real significant other to be romantic with). That, and due to his popular status, the day would either bring on pitying looks from all of the students who thought his relationship was somehow their business, or flirting from girls who thought they now had a chance. Knowing his luck, probably a combination of both.

Derek groaned when he walked into his first-period history class and saw a heart-shaped balloon tied to the back of the desk he usually sat at. This was absolutely the last thing he wanted to deal with. He thought about just sitting at a different desk but figured it was better to go ahead and throw away the balloon before class started so as to avoid drawing any attention.

When he got to his desk, he saw a note tied to the string of the balloon. He opened it and a smile bloomed on his face when he was met with typed words.

Of course! He had been so focused on Paige that he forgot about the annual tradition Stiles had begun in the sixth grade of leaving secret gifts with notes for Derek.

Stiles wasn’t even in the class so Derek didn’t even know how he had known which desk was his, but at this point, nothing Stiles did could really surprise him.

I know they may not be the usual sweets, but I figure with this, you can tell anyone who bothers you that you already have a valentine. You know I’ve always got your back, Valentine.

The note just reconfirmed for Derek that it was from Stiles.

The gift cheered him up immensely, and he felt his qualms about the day beginning to melt away.

~~~

The day dragged on until lunch, made better by the balloon Derek carted around, which actually did help keep people away.

Derek was sitting at his usual spot with his friends when he hears a commotion from the other side of the cafeteria, and turned to see what was going on.

It seemed everyone turned to look, although he’s not sure if they can all hear. It was easy enough with his enhanced senses, though.

Derek could make out Stiles standing up on a table, looking down at a girl with strawberry blonde hair. The rest of the people at the table had faces ranging from shock to embarrassment, except for one guy who looked like he was fuming. Derek honestly didn’t know if that table was where Stiles usually sat, or if he had just decided to crash.

“Lydia, today, on the most romantic day of the year, I must make my feelings known. I know you are a goddess and I am a mere mortal, but my heart sings for you and I can no longer hide it. Reject your other suitors, for none see how brightly you shine like I do. Please accept this token of my affection, and be my Valentine.” Stiles opened up a thin box he had been holding to reveal a heart-shaped cookie cake.

Derek cringed in second-hand embarrassment, especially when he saw people giggling and filming the whole thing.

“I’ll think about it,” the girl responded in an airy voice. She was too far away that Derek couldn’t tell if she was being mocking or serious.

Stiles’ grin didn’t leave his face as he stepped down from the table. Derek saw him offer Lydia the cookie cake, but she held her hand up in rejection. Stiles shrugged and held the box closer, then grabbed his friend, who Derek recognized as his best friend Scott, by the shoulder and rushed out of the cafeteria.

Derek found himself fuming. At first, he thought it was at the way everyone was laughing at Stiles after he put himself out there, and the way the girl didn’t even appreciate what he had done. But he realized that wasn’t what it was, not really.

It was jealousy.

Derek had always cherished the tradition he had going on with Stiles (although he supposed it was mostly one-sided and it was secret), and it had made him feel special. Now he felt like it meant nothing. It was nothing more than Stiles feeling bad for the kid who once had a bad Valentine’s Day.

Derek abruptly shoved away from his table and stood up. He grumbled an excuse about having to be somewhere and stomped out of the cafeteria, annoyed he had to drag the balloon from Stiles with him. All he wanted was to pop the dumb balloon and shove it in a trash can, but knew he would regret it if he decided to do that in front of a cafeteria full of people.

As Derek stormed down the, thankfully empty, hallway, he heard a voice. He froze when he recognized that it was Stiles’ voice. He immediately hid himself against the wall, then rolled his eyes when he realized Stiles wasn’t even coming toward him, but seemed to be having a conversation in the hallway perpendicular to the one Derek was in. Derek knew there was no reason to, but he couldn’t help but eavesdrop.

“I just don’t understand why you did that! You know Lydia would never go for you!” That was Scott’s voice, and Derek couldn’t help but feel offended on Stiles’ behalf.

“Thank you for your vote of confidence, Scott. I feel like the more pressing issue that you could have mentioned is the fact that I don’t even swing that way, which would have been a much less hurtful thing to say.”

Derek froze. Had he heard that correctly? He felt guilty realizing he had listened to Stiles out himself, but felt frozen in his spot.

Scott sighed explosively. “Okay, so then why did you do it?”

Stiles gave an equally dramatic sigh. “Because Lydia asked me to, duh. Besides the fact I’m too afraid of her to say no, she gave a compelling argument. She’s currently fighting with Jackson and wanted to piss him off and make him jealous, and you know I’m always down to piss Jackson off. Plus, she said she would get a cookie cake and let me keep it, which, as you can see, she did. Plus, it’s not like I have a reputation to uphold. This isn’t even the most embarrassing thing I’ve done this year.”

Scott laughed. “Oh yeah, you mean like wooing the same person for years but not even telling them it’s you? Or talking to them?”

Stiles hissed out a “shut up” in anger, but Derek tuned out the rest of the conversation, feeling like he was on cloud nine.

Scott must have been talking about all of the gifts Stiles had been giving to Derek. Which meant it did mean something, and that Stiles actually had feelings for Derek. Not for Lydia, who didn’t even appreciate Stiles.

Derek spent the rest of the day feeling like he was floating, proudly holding his balloon through the hallways. It wasn’t until the end of the day that Derek that the way he was reacting was a bit over the top unless…

Did Derek also have feelings for Stiles?

12th grade

Derek felt like his heart was about to pound out of his chest, and he was certain he had already sweat through his shirt. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt this nervous.

It was Valentine’s Day, his last one before he went to college. He knew if he didn’t do anything, it would be fine. Stiles would probably give him an anonymous gift like every year, and it would be a nice thing to reminisce about one day. It would be the same as always.

But Derek decided he couldn’t let things stay the same, and he was about to throw a wrench in Stiles’ plans.

He wasn’t sure at what point he had begun to develop feelings for Stiles, but he had realized in tenth grade after he heard about Stiles’ feelings that they were definitely there, and at this point they had become too deep to ignore. He wanted to be Stiles’ valentine but he wanted it to be for real this time, and the only way to make that happen was by telling him. And desperately hoping that he hadn’t completely misinterpreted everything.

Derek had arrived to school over half an hour early, parking right next to Stiles’ usual spot to make sure he didn’t miss him. He wanted to catch him in the parking lot, to hopefully stay out of the way of prying eyes.

It had seemed like a good idea, but now he was left stewing in his own anxiety, thinking about everything that could go wrong and wondering if he should back out now before it was too late. He even wondered if he shouldn’t have made his younger sister hitch a ride with someone else so that at the very least he would have company, but he knew she would only make him more stressed. Sisters were evil like that.

Fifteen minutes before school began and Stiles finally arrived.

It was now or never.

Derek got out of his car just as Stiles did, and called his name. Stiles jumped in shock and turned to face Derek. Derek caught a whiff of nerves off of him, but he didn’t run, so at least that was a good start.

“Can I talk to you real quick?”

Stiles looked surprised, but he nodded and approached Derek. “Uh, sure. Did you want to go inside, or…”

“No, we can talk out here. Actually, it’s better out here, because I have some stuff. In my car, I mean. So it’s easier if it’s here and I don’t have to carry it and we can just talk here now.” Derek realized none of what he was saying was making sense, and felt dread pool in his stomach when he saw the confusion growing on Stiles’ face. God, why was this so hard?

“I just wanted to say- uh- Happy Valentine’s Day. Well, that wasn’t all I wanted to say, but- One sec.” Derek ducked into the back of his car, glad he had an excuse to collect himself for a moment.

When he reemerged, it was with a box which he placed on top of his trunk. He was grateful to see that Stiles hadn’t fled.

Derek looked down at the box, avoiding eye contact with Stiles to the best of his ability, and began pulling out items one by one. “In second grade, you brought me a brownie, one that had heart-shaped sprinkles that your mother had baked. In third grade, it was an equally delicious cupcake.” He pulled out a brownie and cupcake (both store-bought and certainly not as good as Stiles’ mother’s baked goods, but baking was not his strong suit) and shoved both into Stiles’ hands, continuing on before Stiles could interrupt him. “In fourth grade, it was a folded heart, which I now realize was very impressive, since I’m about double the age you were when you made ones for the whole class and just this one took me about 20 tries.” He gave out a self-deprecating laugh, and once again handed the item to Stiles. “In fifth grade, it was a heart-shaped lollipop. In sixth, a box of chocolates. Seventh, conversation hearts.” He realized Stiles’ hands were too full to hold anything else, and began placing the items onto the trunk next to the box instead. “In eighth grade, it was a teddy bear. Freshman year, it was chocolate covered strawberries. Sophomore year, you gave me a heart-shaped balloon, which was actually quite useful.” He had to lean back into his car to grab the balloon, since it had been too big for the box. “Last year, it was roses. And all of it began in first grade, when you decided the nobody kid in the class with no friends deserved to have something nice, no matter what the teacher said, when you gave me the best cookie I have, to this day, ever had. You told me then, and for years to come, that I was your valentine. And as much as I loved that, I want something more. Will you be my real valentine? Will you be mine?” Finally, he pulled out a heart-shaped cookie, covered with pink icing and the words Be Mine written on top.

Derek finally looked up at Stiles, who had his mouth open in shock. He smelled like a myriad of emotions, and Derek was having difficulty getting a read on him. As the seconds passed, he began to get the sinking feeling he had royally fucked up.

“Are you kidding me?” Stiles finally burst out, and barrelled on before Derek could even figure out what part he was reacting to. “You’ve ruined my ten-year plan! I have been secretly wooing you- or at least I thought it was secret- for years, and today was going to be the grand finale! I was going to confess that it was me all along and then I was going to offer you a kiss and if it was weird and you weren’t interested I had some chocolate kisses to give you so I could play it off all cool, but then if you were interested we were going to have a great, romantic first kiss. But you have out-romanced me in one fell swoop! How dare you!”

Derek stared back in shock. He felt.. actually he had no idea how he felt and wasn’t even sure what part of that he was supposed to react to first.

“Well, what do you have to say for yourself?” Stiles demanded, although Derek could see the smile hidden on his face.

“Uh… is a kiss still on the table?”

“Chocolate or real?”

“What do you think?”

Stiles pretended to think about it for a moment. “Well, after that grand romantic gesture, I would say a real kiss. But I do know you have a sweet tooth, so it’s hard to say for sure…”

“How about this? You kiss me now, and then after school we go on a date and finish that whole bag of kisses together. And all this store-bought shit I got you. Sound like a good compromise to you?”

Stiles smirked. “Sounds perfect, Valentine.”

After that, Derek helped Stiles put all of the gifts into his Jeep, and then they walked hand and hand to the school, not even caring they were probably late at this point.

Suddenly, a thought hit Derek, and he froze, causing Stiles to stumble and then turn to him with an expectant eyebrow raised.

“Wait, you said ten-year plan. Have you actually been wooing me this whole time?”

Stiles blushed, and it was the prettiest thing Derek had ever seen. “Well, not exactly. But after I gave you that cookie in first grade, I saw the way your eyes lit up, and when you smiled at me, well, my little 6-year-old heart knew you were going to be the only Valentine I’d ever need.”

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youarejesting · 4 years ago

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Kisaeng (BTS)

[Masterlist]

Beta: @bluewhale52, @janetfraiserdeservedbetter Genre: historical, drama, adventure, comedy, feel good, slice of life (if you lived in the 1654), spy’s (espionage). Rating: Teen and up Summary: Mulan disguised as a soldier, went to war to spare her father and save china. The bangtan boys disguised as concubines, went to an all womens home and saved a small village. Words: 12154 Announcement: This is part of a reverse trope project with castle bangtan. I am happy to have made this and for everyone who helped support along the way.

Winters End 1654 Hanseong,

Today my mentor Bang Si-Hyuk taught me the history of the Qing invasion and the passing over of the Ming to Qing era. We discussed the Qing Calendar and the offerings of princesses made to King Dorgon. Bang-seodang (teacher) told me I was a child for not understanding that there was a place for everyone. Men would fight in the wars and women would stay home and bear children. He is telling me this as news has spread that we are going to war and it is only a matter of time before they call for us. But when I think of my family and my sister, I want to protect them. I don’t want to fight in the war even if it is for my country. Leaving will only put my family at risk.

Kim Namjoon.

Namjoon placed down his brush and wiped his palm of ink that sometimes smudged. With a deep sigh, Namjoon got ready collecting his satchel, and headed to the town. Namjoon arrived at the small well-frequented building. The building held all the information of the residents in town and was also a place for people to send letters. That’s where he spent most of his days reading and writing correspondence for the villagers.

He had received the earliest message about the impending war. There was only so much he could do to protect his family and he feared the coming announcement of deployment. Every available man was to go, leaving the women and children to fend for themselves. The women would have to tend the farm and care for the younglings which would only work if they stuck together.

The problem lay with the men who would be allowed to stay behind due to business, like the butchers and the barmen and anyone who would swindle or pay their way out of deployment. These men were shady and wouldn’t hesitate to exploit and hurt the women left behind unprotected.

Namjoon was in the middle of writing another love letter for one of the many present flower boys (beautiful men) within the town. Today’s letter was to someone Namjoon had written to on many occasions and yet never had the pleasure of meeting in person.

My dearest Kim Seokjin,

There is no one who can compare to your beauty. A man such as yourself would be ever so popular and have gardens of beautiful flowers for you to pick. But there is a part of me who wishes that I may be the sweet flower that you might choose. That I could be the one to make you smile. The one who can make a long day feel like it was nothing when you come home.

“How does that sound, Miss Ahn?” Namjoon looked up, his expression deadpanned. He never expected his tutor to teach him the importance of reading, writing, history, poetry and Confucius’ philosophy, only to waste it on love letters from pining women addressed to the same two young men every week.

Part of him felt sorry for the two men, but another part of him felt jealous that these two men had the entire pick of women from the town, and he was stuck with his lessons. The constant “Scholars life is one without women” Bang-seodang (teacher) preached whenever he noticed Namjoon’s eyes wander from his books out the window at the young ladies giggling.

Namjoon finished with the letters and handed them over to Hoseok, the delivery man whom he only ever saw in passing; the man was so energetic and gangly. He had an odd tone of voice but it always sounded chipper.

Namjoon had only the briefest of moments with the young man. “Here for the mail,” Hoseok called, and the letters were placed on the counter along with two coins for his hard work and he took the money and letters and headed on his way.

Hoseok took a stack of perfume scented letters from his bag and rolled his eyes. Seokjin was a popular young man, only to be outdone in recent years by Taehyung.

The things Hoseok had to go through to deliver the mail was honestly scary in itself. He found it best never to stand around too long; best to simply hand over the mail and leave.

He had a few regular customers he enjoyed spending a short time conversing with. Today he was delivering mail to the Noble Kim household. He walked in, nodding to the servants, and promptly followed the steward.

“It seems the young master has mail once more,” The steward called and Hoseok was beckoned inside. He bowed low and shuffled quickly and quietly across the room where the Kim family were having breakfast.

Hoseok knelt down and began taking out multiple letters addressed to the second son. “Father I don’t want to go to war,” Seokjin protested adamantly, slamming his rice bowl down onto the table.

“It is the way things are, how they’ve always been.”

“Why don’t they send a few girls, why do they get to sit around at home? It isn’t fair”

Hoseok had heard about the possibility of war from the postal office. Any messages to and from the city passed through himself which left him privy to important and secret information. He did feel a tad nervous for his sister and mother. He wanted to stay home to protect them, but only a few men with jobs important to the community got to stay behind, men who provided essential services like the postman. The problem was that only one could stay behind and unfortunately, it would not be Hoseok to represent the post but the old man who ran the office.

Hoseok wished he could just dress as a woman and stay behind but that was a crazy idea; men who did that were either shunned as cowards or killed. He handed over the stack of letters and moved on his way, bowing again before backing out of the room, leaving Seokjin with his hands full of letters of adoration and sickly sweet perfume.

Letters again; they each began talking about the war wishing he came back safe as if he had already left and had resigned to his fate. Those words dwelled in Seokjin’s head more and more and made him feel ill and bitter. He tried not to crease his forehead. He didn't look good when he was angry.

If only he could be a girl and laze around without a care. He would play and frolic in the gardens and he would have an easy life.

Seokjin read each letter slowly and sighed. Of course, he was handsome, and these women had their way with words. Every day, the letters became more profound and he could feel his ego rising.

Seokjin sighed once more, a growing habit for the day as he got dressed. He looked fit for a Nobleman, his hair tied in a top knot manggeon (mesh headband that stops baby hairs sticking out) preventing any hair from falling in his face. He then wore his gat (hat) with fine jade bead gatkeun (beads that hang from their hat).

He thought he looked quite smart and with his small pouch of coins around his neck, wandered from the estate. His father had ordered swords, readying for the war to come and had sent Seokjin to pick them up from the blacksmith.

Seokjin held his hands together behind his back and casually strolled through the streets, trying to keep his composure. He nodded at a group of giggling girls but his smile fell soon after he passed them. They were so lucky, they weren’t taking up arms to fight for their families. No, the women had it easy.

Amidst his fuming, he accidentally made eye contact with an old drunk man who looked him up and down and smiled crassly. Seokjin shivered in disgust. Part of him wondered if he could pass as a woman; he had a pretty enough face and perfectly plump lips.

He didn’t have much time to think as he arrived at the blacksmiths. He walked into the room and saw a shirtless young man, smithing. Beside him, an older man, presumably the man’s father, was shoveling coal into the fire.

“Jungkook, we have a customer,” the older of the two smiled at Seokjin before resuming his work.

Jungkook dropped his things and grabbed a towel, drying his chest of sweat. He headed to the wooden table by the entrance, draping his Hanbok over his chest and thin waist to appear more decent in front of the handsome nobleman.

“Good morning, Sir, what can I do for you today?” He smiled a particularly wholesome little smile, teeth a little big but endearing.

“I am here to pick up the order of swords my father ordered?” The nobleman smiled.

“Your name sir?” Jungkook sat at the desk and opened the ledger. Though Jungkook wasn’t a nobleman with extensive education, he still knew how to read and write basic words associated with smithing.

“Kim.”

“Kim, Kim, Kim...gardening tools.... no, aha the swords! Yes, sir, that will be 100 mun a piece sir.”

“I should have enough here,” he smiled, placing down a pouch that made a heavy ‘clink’ sound as it hit the wood.

Jungkook emptied the pouch and counted the coins with expertise, then handed back the change and the silk floral pouch it came in. He fetched the swords and carried them over; they were expertly made by him and his father.

“Thank you,” Jungkook smiled and began explaining in detail the care and features they added to the handcrafted metal weapon. “Three foot long single-edged, weighted and balanced”

Guiding the customer out, Jungkook handed over the two swords and held the door open for the handsome young man to crab walk from the smith’s shop. He looked completely out of place holding such dangerous weapons, and he pitied the young man. He was the son of a nobleman and would definitely be expected to set an example.

Jungkook had on many occasions sparred with his father and was able to hold his own in a sword or unarmed fight. He wondered if his father would be okay alone. He would be exempted due to his job and physical condition, but he was getting older, would he be able to work on his own without getting hurt or sick?

Scooping up the bag of tools, Jungkook told his father to take a break and that he would deliver the tools and bring back some fresh fruit from the Kim farm. He poured his father a glass of tea then left.

As Jungkook traveled through the crowd to reach the fields across town, he passed the small bar. Inside, he could hear the raucous of unsavory street merchants discussing how they were going to bribe their way out of deployment. They had plans to pay the royal officials and take over the town when all the men had left. It seemed that all they wanted to do was cause havoc to all the families and businesses, and blackmail them into paying a safety fee.

He pressed on, trying not to think about his father being exploited or worse, given his current state. While musing, he arrived at the small farmhouse on the edge of town and was greeted by a handsome young man.

“Hello, Can you hold this?” The young man smiled, handing over a large rope. Placing down the bag of tools, Jungkook gladly held the rope tightly in his palms.

Taehyung raced to the other end of the rope and secured it in both hands, he looked up with a grin before shouting, “Okay pull!”

The young man who had arrived at the farm was confused but he pulled the rope nonetheless. Taehyung pulled back and the two were suddenly in a heated tug of war.

Taehyung giggled and the young man seemed to give it his all. It was a battle of strength and the farmer’s son wasn’t particularly muscular as he very much neglected most of his farming duties for foolish games so it was only fair that the young delivery man bested him.

“Good game, you are pretty strong for someone so young,” Taehyung patted the Younger man's head before scooping up the rope.

“Isn’t this a child’s game?” Jungkook eyed the rope draped over the older man’s shoulders.

“Sometimes it helps pass the time to act a little childish, and it made you smile so you thought it was fun too right?”

“I enjoyed it, thank you for the game, I am here to deliver tools for your family.” He said now looking more serious.

“Ah yes you must be the blacksmith, you look like a blacksmith. All work, no fun.” Taehyung tapped the younger man’s nose before turning with a flourish, humming as he went, beckoning the smith to follow.

“I have to work to take care of my father,” He pouted, Taehyung enjoyed the boy's childish nature, the two could definitely get up to some mischief.

“My name is Taehyung,” He smiled, gesturing to the large box in the shed and removing a small pouch of coins from his satchel.

“Jungkook,” He sighed, placing the tools down and gratefully accepting the money.

“What are you going to spend it on, sweets?”

“Uh, it's for my father's medicine,” Jungkook laughed, making Taehyung feel a little sorry for the kid, he was so young and yet working so hard already.

Taehyung with his unwavering curiosity decided to tail the boy once they parted, not trying to be discreet, just walking a few paces behind and whenever the boy turned, Taehyung gave him a smile and wave. Lost in thought for a moment, Taehyung didn’t take notice of the boy in front of him until they were colliding, fumbling with the empty porcelain soju bottles.

As Jimin fell, he pulled each bottle to his chest and held them; though the impact was quite jarring, the bottles were safe. Jimin lived with his grandparents and they ran a business selling rice wine which was popular but didn’t make them a lot of money. They couldn’t afford to replace any new bottles.

It was his job to deliver the full bottles to the bar and bring back the empty ones. If any bottles were broken, the bar would pay for replacements. That was the rule, but if they were broken during delivery, the money came out of his family’s pocket.

“I am sorry,” the man who had run into him was polite and gentle, helping Jimin to his feet and dusting him off, “Let me help you carry some of those, I promise I will look where I am going.”

“Thank you for the offer, you can carry this half” He offloaded a few from his arms.

“I am Taehyung by the way, who are you?”

“Oh, I am Jimin,” he smiled, thankful for the help. The two journeyed through the vendors until they arrived at Jimin’s family business, “Gran, I have a friend who helped me,” Jimin called.

“Oh let me see him! Oh he is quite the looker, Jimin, if only you were a girl, what is the use of you being so pretty if you can’t lure in handsome young men,” she joked playfully, this was their running joke that Jimin was so pretty.

“I can lure in handsome men just fine, see if I was a girl I would have too many suitors. I wouldn’t be able to pick,” Jimin laughed.

“If you were a girl then you wouldn’t have to go to war.” Jimin’s heart sank knowing his grandmother really didn’t want to see him leave.

“That would be one way to get out of the army,” Taehyung laughed and Jimin’s grandmother handed him a plate of rice cakes. The two boys wolfed them down happily, bonding over their love of sweets and games.

Taehyung left and Jimin was getting ready to close up shop; he lifted a large porcelain vase of Soju and carried it over to the butchers. The butchers were not the nicest of people; they were affiliated with the outlaws, the ones Jimin heard talking about taking over the city when the men left for war.

“Yah!” Yoongi called, seeing the graceful form of Jimin from the top floor of the liquor store. “Jiminie.”

“Hey Yoongi, I am here to trade.” Jimin smiled up at him and he nodded, coming down.

“Alright, dad’s got your meat pack ready, it's all freshly cut.” Yoongi handed over the basket.

“Have you been preparing for deployment?” Jimin asked him, it seemed the secret war was not so secret as it was all everyone was talking about. The boy always meant well, this innocent question asked by anyone else would not have ended so well.

“I am not going, Jimin, my dad has bribed the officials trying to get as many men as possible to stay behind so that they can take over the town. there isn’t much resistance when the only people left are the elderly, the women, and the children.”

“You should think about staying too, maybe I can convince my father not to threaten your family and their shop.”

“I can’t; it’s punishable by death if you try to avoid your duty.” Jimin sighed, “Gran thinks I should just dress up as a lady and stay behind and protect my family.”

“You could definitely get by as a lady, you would just have to work on a few things,” Yoongi hummed looking him up and down. He eyed Jimin up and down wondering if Jimin could really do it, lie to the officials, and say he was a girl.

He would have to stay in the Kisaeng house; he couldn’t stay with his grandparents, because if he was found out they would all be killed. Perhaps Yoongi was thinking too far into this, but he really did like Jimin. He was the only person who knew who he was and yet still wanted to be his friend.

“Maybe that might be an option, I don’t know how my grandparents will do on their own being so old; the shop barely makes enough money for food as it is.”

“Look, if you can’t stay, I could try my best but it’s alcohol, and you know these men love to drink,” Yoongi said honestly, “they will probably go through all the supplies in a week and everyone else will struggle.”

Yoongi sighed, watching the boy leave looking rather forlorn; perhaps he shouldn’t have told him.

Spring 1654 Hanseong,

Today, I, Kim Namjoon, have done something stupid. I dressed as a girl but it seems like I wasn’t the only one. Five other idiotic bamboo shoots have no clue what they are doing. Stepping foot into the kisaeng house was taboo, only women and eunuchs were allowed entrance. But the officials have been bought out by the corrupt street merchants, the kind who plan to take whatever women and land they see fit. We are all honestly praying for a miracle, that no one will find out we are men, some are better at hiding it than others. We will see.

Kim Namjoon

Namjoon was rudely awoken by the call of war. He guessed today was the day. He dressed slowly, in no hurry to give his life away. Departing his room with little thoughts of breakfast, Namjoon heard the soft sniffles from his sister who was mournfully packing. There was not enough room for all the beautiful dresses so she had left many behind.

He wanted nothing more than to stay, if only to protect his sister in their own home and let her keep her luxuries of dresses and books.

Namjoon knew women were not allowed to read or write but he made time every day teaching his younger sister or letting her sit in on lessons when father was away working in the palace.

Namjoon hugged his sister, trying to comfort her as well as to calm his nerves. “Do you need me to walk you home, I can carry your bag?” He said trying so hard to prolong the moment.

“No brother it is okay,” she paused. “You are going to come back, you're smarter than any of the men out there. You’ll return, I know it.”

She scooped up her bag and left the house, waving from the front gate. Namjoon was sure he wouldn’t get away with his plan. But he packed a few of his sister’s bigger dresses, hoping they would cover him entirely. He grabbed a subtle pink chima (skirt) and sky blue jeogori (jacket), looking at the two items, they honestly looked complicated but he knew logically which items went where.

Namjoon did his best stripping from his masculine clothes and getting to work. He wrapped his chest and followed the order he believed for the under skirts and silks. Once fitted, he was exhausted; wrestling fabric wasn’t easy. He didn’t want to be late or leave room for doubt, so he settled for a simple braid.

He followed behind his younger sister, by a few yards, trying to mimic her walk and mannerisms, hoping that he could pass as a girl. He ducked past some officials keeping his head low until he saw the beautiful residence. A collection of young girls were already lining up with their belongings.

As fathers and brothers were going to war, some children were left without parents. This meant the children were rehomed into other families. The young women old enough were left in the kisaeng house (home for courtesan), where girls were taught how to be wives before they were sent to the matchmakers.

Hoseok had secretly been stealing his sister's clothes, trying to perfect her style of makeup. The two had such similar feminine features, the only difference was Hoseok’s athletic body. It wasn’t hard for him to slowly get the hang of her makeup and hair routines. Honestly, Hoseok thought he had a real knack for braiding hair.

He tried to round out his lean build with some makeshift breasts, but he couldn’t get them the same size; that and they had a tendency to slip. He had his chest wrap on but it was too loose around his chest and the fact he didn’t have boobs made the whole thing shift and the rice pouches he had slipped right out.

He deemed himself ready, heading out towards the kisaeng house with his coin purse on his hip. Lining up, he couldn’t help but blanch at the poor excuse of a woman standing in front of him.

Her hair was not at all perfect like his, but he seemed similarly dressed. Hoseok looked down at his own green jeogori and red chima, for a brief moment he wondered what the young girl was going through. Her family must be torn apart by the war; without a second thought, he tapped the tall woman on the shoulder, only to be greeted by Namjoon, who he recognized from their brief encounters at the postal office.

Almost revealing their identity, Hoseok covered his mouth. As the officials passed by, the two disguised men bowed politely behind their fans. The stuffing in Hoseok’s chest wrap slipped to his waist making his chest obviously lopsided. Namjoon’s face contorted in an attempt to keep his composure.

Hoseok’s laugh came out uncharacteristically deep but he remembered why he was laughing, he was trying to appear feminine. Turning his body away, he faced Namjoon, “Let me fix your hair, sweetie, you must have been upset having to see your brother leave.”

“Ah thank you,” Namjoon said with a sweet soft voice. The two turned away from the officials so that Hoseok could fix his breast dilemma and also tame Namjoon’s hair before the two of them were found out as fakes. After doing a beautiful updo where Hoseok added one of his spare combs for decoration, he turned Namjoon to face him in order to add a little makeup from his floral coin purse.

Seokjin felt betrayed by his family; his father lied about the three of them going to war. It seemed as a Nobleman he was exempt, and as his older brother was the firstborn he was also exempt in order to carry on the family name.

Seokjin however was the spare son. This meant he was expendable. He was begrudgingly on his way to the front gate of town ready to hand over his ID and his life to some stupid war when he heard the uncharacteristic masculine giggles from the line of young women waiting to spend their days pouring tea and strolling through town while he trekked the countryside and fought for his life and theirs.

He followed the sound, eyes catching on two rather tall figures, and it didn’t take long to recognize Hoseok’s face. He couldn’t forget the face of his mailman and he had to admit it was a bit of a feat that he and the rather tall looking young man were both trying to pass as young women. Seokjin looked down at the sword on his waist and contemplated seriously about joining the two.

He caught sight of a beautiful silk chima in a brilliant dusty rose color, he leaned over the counter, “Excuse me, ma’am, I would like to buy this beautiful set for my sister before I leave.” He exchanged some of his coins making sure he had enough for what he had planned. He threw in a veil as well, not to cover his beautiful face but to offer to the taller man he saw with Hoseok, whose jawline was just a little too masculine.

Seokjin got dressed behind the postal office; he stepped out once more making sure to cut in line in front of Hoseok. Seokjin offered the tall man ahead of him the pretty lace veil which matched his outfit. “For your jawline, it is too prominent you must appear more dainty,” Seokjin muttered with a swish of his skirt. He was thankful he hadn’t fallen on his face with how much fabric encircled him.

The tall man took the offered fabric wrapping it around his face only to have Seokjin swat his hands away, “You are hopeless.”

“Ah Namjoon, this is Seokjin,” Hoseok gestured between the two.

The boys spent a few moments brainstorming new names and identities, in order to really get into character.

It didn’t take long for the three to reach the front of the line; they had taken to preening each other, trying to help one another appear more feminine. Seokjin almost anticipated Namsoon’s refusal but when he wasn’t pushed out, it was Seokjin’s turn. Stepping inside, he was met by a woman dressed in a brilliant dark grey chima and orange Jeogori. Her eyes had a sharp glint. The smirk on her face was prominent as she brushed her small fingers across her chin. “What brings you to my home, young lady?”

Jungkook was camping a few paces into the tree line behind the blacksmiths. He hoped he could look after his father and not get caught for staying home. He saw the officials handing out exemption passes and he knew he couldn’t leave. Not when the enemy had such large numbers behind them.

Jungkook went hunting, he didn’t want to bother his father by being an extra burden on their small supply of food. Catching something significant for dinner, Jungkook did his best to prepare the meat and then cooked it over a small fire.

The shadows crawled across the ground as the sun bowed behind the hills. Jungkook wondered if life could be this easy without wars and evil, if there could be harmony and peace one day.

Jungkook heard a commotion in town and frowned, going to the edge of the forest to listen. “The King has heard people have paid their way out of deployment, anyone caught will be sentenced to death. Come forward now and you will be spared and sent off with your fellow men.” The man read from the scroll, looking about the village. “We will now commence inspecting every household”

A few men stepped forward, walking to the front gate and signing their deployment. A few retreated and were cut down by the bite of the swords from the royal guards. There was running coming from his left and a small figure spoke quickly; “Run, the guards are coming”

Jungkook followed after the thin figure and the two stopped at the nearest window and climbed in. They were caught by a young woman dressed regally in orange, grey, and gold, “Good evening, can I help you?”

“Uh… we um?” Jungkook was embarrassed.

“I will happily help two young ladies such as yourself, but, you will have to dress quickly if you wish to make dinner”

Ladies? Dress for dinner? Jungkook was confused, the sound of the royal guard growing louder as they searched for any men hiding from their duties. He looked up at the woman catching her eye, she smirked knowingly.

“You wouldn’t want the guards catching you underdressed now would you?” He realized then that she was offering them refuge.

The two nodded, taking the clothes thrown in their direction, rushing to dress. The woman helped tie their jeogori before leading them out to the Sigdang (dining hall). She led them to a table filled with some other strange looking ladies, some of which Jungkook could have sworn were in disguise as well. Was that Taehyung?

Taehyung smiled seeing the two new additions to their group. He recognized the blacksmith anywhere and smiled trying to get the young man’s attention. Giggling when he did just that, Taehyung hadn’t spoken with Jungkook for long the day they met but he knew those wide curious eyes. They looked just as confused when Taehyung handed him a rope that afternoon by his family's farmhouse.

The woman was in on it, when Jimin and Taehyung came up with the idea, they didn’t expect Jimin’s Gran to not only hear their plan but also support it. She went out of her way to speak with the woman known as Hojang (head of house).

The bargain was to take in the two gentlemen who would protect the women and to provide free wine for the building next door. Kisaeng was a place where women could stay and learn all the things a woman should know before marriage.

Next door, however, was the tea house, at least during the day. At night it was filled with men, mostly guards and officials who would drink and dabble with opioids in the company of fine young women.

These women were not forced to be there, but those who chose to be would leave with their coin purses filled. Some of the money was used to fund the house, and the rest was pocket money they could spend on new silks and anything else they desired.

Taehyung learned quite a lot about this during the days leading up to the deployment. The Hojang held such a big presence; she moved with grace and did business with the best.

Jimin’s Gran had painstakingly obtained the silk and hand made clothes tailored to her grandson’s and Taehyung’s bodies. She also taught them how to sit, stand, walk and dress like a lady. The two were doing rather well but the hojang scrutinized every little detail that they should work on in her home.

Taehyung could see she expected nothing less than perfection from her girls and she wouldn’t make an exception for them. She would make proper ladies out of them if it took everything she had, and perhaps a little more.

Gran had always taught Jimin things that she loved herself. Jimin remembered dancing with his gran every afternoon, when he was young, the two would hold beautiful fans and perform. Jimin would do anything to make his gran happy.

The Hojang picked up on this early, pleased with his form but it didn’t last long when he opened his mouth. Though his voice was sweet, the words and drawl were masculine and crass.

Jimin was surprised when Taehyung and himself were joined by more young men in dresses. He didn’t think anyone else would have the guts or the stupidity to join the house. He tried to fight the smirk that stretched across his face when he saw the three young men sitting across the table.

The Hojang had laid out the rules that they had to obey while living in her house: they were not to touch any of the women, they were to share a room by themselves, they were to only refer to themselves as their female alter egos, and they were to act like graceful ladies at all times.

Jimin greeted the newcomers. “My name is Park Jimin” He smiled sweetly. He was glad his name was widely used by both girls and boys or he would have to remember something else.

“Namsoon,” the tallest smiled, holding out a large hand to shake but immediately retracted it with a small shy smile. ‘Definitely a boy.’ Jimin thought.

“Seojin,” the broad shoulders were giving Jimin mixed thoughts. However, no matter if they were a female or male, Jimin knew this person was beautiful.

“Hye-Seong,” a cute voice said, surprising Jimin. The voice was a little nasally but it belonged to a man none-the-less. The group turned to the two newcomers dressed in beautiful silks and ribbons, their hair braided down their backs.

“Yoonji” A familiar deep drawl spoke, making Jimin drop his chopsticks looking over at him shocked. Jimin looked Yoongi over, seeing that the young man actually made a rather beautiful woman, he almost felt himself blush.

“My name is uh… Jeong-suk” Jimin found it almost laughable.‘Jeongsuk’s build was almost unbearably muscular in the outfit, it wasn’t fitted to him at all. He looked like he was an overloaded dumpling the way the fabric worked over-time to conceal him.

“Hi, My name is Taeyeon, it is nice to meet everyone” Jimin laughed at how deep Taehyung’s voice sounded before he lifted the pitch.

Yoongi couldn’t believe his father talked him into staying only to have it backfire. Yoongi thought finally he would be able to get away from his father and the immoral activities he orchestrated.

Now he was pretending to be a woman, this was probably the biggest disrespect he could have ever felt. He almost wanted to walk out onto the streets and hand himself in. He would take death over the humiliation.

“Alright ladies everyone at your table will be sleeping in your quarters, the token on your table is the room color you will be staying in,” Hojang clapped her hands. Yoongi looked at the token on the table and Jimin lifted it for all the occupants to see the Yellow wooden piece “I would like you all to bathe and get to bed as quickly as you can, as we have lessons tomorrow. And I will not have any giggling or you will be eating bean soup for the whole week.”

The girls obeyed the Hojang’s instruction and started filling out. Yoongi watched in amusement at the kid he had met in the forest leaning away practically in fear of the women passing by.

“I would like the yellow table to please stay behind.” The Hojang announced.

Yoongi sighed, wondering what this woman had to say to him and his new friends. Once the room was empty, the Hojang addressed them.

“I am happy to house you all, but you will follow my rules and I will teach you what you need to know. I will have you getting men to empty their pockets and you won’t have to do anything more than throwing them a coy smile.” Humming, the Hojang looked at them all over, eyes settling on Yoongi’s making him feel vulnerable.

“I can see who has good intentions, and I can see who thinks that women have it easy. I will show you what it means to be a woman, the struggles you will face.” She gestured the group to stand. Yoongi struggled, trying to get up as he was stepping on his skirt. He really tried to correct himself, but it was too late the fabric under his foot tore. The Hojang sent a disappointed and disapproving glare.

“Miss Namsoon, your sister is here, I have warned her to not refer to you as her brother nor Namjoon. I have told her if anyone finds out you are men, you will be killed. Your room is secluded across the courtyard and has its own private hot spring. So please bathe there and nowhere else. If I find out you are perving on my girls, I will turn you into eunuchs.”

Yoongi swallowed audibly. He felt respect for this woman. But he was also scared of her.

Summer 1654 Hanseong,

The past three moon cycles have been particularly painful. I have seen so much and started to really appreciate what women have to go through, if only from the first lesson that left us all so exhausted. The list of expectations of a woman before she could even be considered for marriage is frightful. The Hojang confiscated my books and ceased my ability to speak freely. My mentor explained Confucius’ teachings on how important it is to speak your mind and be true to yourself. But the first lesson from Hojang was not the same. I am proud to say I have grown, I now truly see how important words are.

Kim Namjoon

The day began with cleaning their sleeping quarters and heading to the sigdang, where they were to cook their own meals as was expected of wives (unless of course, they were wives of noblemen who had servants). Namjoon looked at the ingredients rather unsurely, he had no idea what one was supposed to do with them.

He was a smart guy, he knew what everything was and how it ended up together, but the process in between wasn’t something he was familiar with. He saw Jimin take the rice and begin washing it without instruction. Jimin explained his family worked with rice for their business, making rice wine and that his gran was particularly fond of rice cakes.

“Why do you wash the rice?” Seo-jin curiously asked, Namjoon turned and watched the younger man work confidently with the ingredients.

“To make it fluffy,” he smiled, “you have to wash the rice to get the frothy stuff off the top of the water.”

The Hojang had invited a wholesome old woman for the cooking class; her small plump figure held such a firecracker personality. She spoke so lively and made the whole lesson amusing.

“Now chop them into half-moons,” the woman smiled. “Be careful of your fingers, curl your hand into almost a fist and hold the knife against the back of your knuckles to prevent slipping and losing a finger.” Namjoon was trying to follow the instruction, but he heard an exasperated sigh from Yoonji.

“Stop, let me.” It was impressive how Yoonji’s hands moved so quickly and precisely while cutting the vegetables.

Namjoon knew at this moment cooking wasn’t for him but judging by the wonder in Seojin’s eyes, it resonated more with him. Taking his notebook out, Namjoon thought it best to write down the instructions the woman was giving on cooking so that he might be able to learn and practice.

The Hojang had other plans, taking the book from his hands and leaning down. “Ladies shouldn’t burden themselves with reading and writing,” her words were bitter through the clenched teeth of a forced smile. She clearly didn’t believe what she was saying as she herself could read and write.

Namjoon realized that this was a privilege only for the king, the nobleman, the officials, and scholars. Namjoon realized that he had yet to meet a female scholar.

The house had been given some free time from the grueling lessons. Honestly, if Hoseok had to pour tea again and have the Hojang smack his elbows with the thin bamboo stick whenever they stuck out too far, he would rip his hair out. On top of that, it was frustrating not to be able to speak out and stand up for himself without getting another sharp tap across his hand.

The boys had all sat in the room that night discussing how the Hojang was abusing them for her own pleasure. “It has to be to get back at us for being male and suppressing her.”

The chance to be free was something important to Hoseok. He was a mailman for a reason, and that reason was to move when and where he wanted to, never be tied down and confined to one place.

Being held up in the kisaeng house was making Hoseok restless, so during this free time, there was nothing that could stop him from racing out from the cage he was supposed to call home. Taking to the streets, it was market day and vendors and merchants were in the town square selling anything and everything he could think of and more. With his coin purse on his hip, he began walking with a practiced giggle.

He almost resented the persona he was to live with, enforced by the hojang. Perhaps it was just because he was thinking of the woman, but Hoseok could swear he felt her gaze. Looking over his shoulder there she was standing on the front porch, parasol in hand, staring directly at him, as if to mentally remind him of the damned curfew.

Could that woman relax at all? Could she just learn to chill and have some fun for once? Hoseok huffed; some fun would probably make her less cranky, but he couldn’t see her acting nicer, that in itself was a scary thought.

Hoseok went past his home and saw both his sister and mother outside playing with the children they took in after he had left. He smiled; they looked happy and healthy and that was reassuring. ‘Perhaps I was worried for nothing.’

As he was heading back, he started wondering if he should have gone to war and defended his country. He shook his head; it was too late now, he had to accept his fate no matter how grueling it got.

Scuffing his feet on the way back to the town square, a sly smile creeping across his face at the thought of the scolding he would receive for doing something unladylike, like walking ungracefully.

“I have to get back, the Hojang will be expecting me.” A small feminine voice spoke, so timid and laced with fear. Hoseok looked down the small lane to see some of the young ladies from the kisaeng house cornered by a much larger group of royal guards.

Hoseok paused, looking on wondering if they were trying what he thought they would do. He didn’t have to wait long to confirm that yes, in fact, they were. He stepped closer. “Ladies, we all have to head home now. We can’t keep the Hojang waiting,” Hoseok said a little cutely.

“We are just talking, come join us,” one of the guards said. “The more the merrier.”

Hoseok was guided over, he would have smacked away the guard��s hand on his lower back but it would reveal his identity.

He tried to squirm from the older man’s grasp. He smelt like alcohol. Amongst the women was Seojin, standing there looking concerned as he was eyed by the plethora of strong men.

Seokjin looked at Hye-Seong, he didn’t know why but he was tense. On a regular day, he was always unbothered, he was taught that as a nobleman there should be nothing he feared, not even death.

Why did he feel so vulnerable? This was so unlike him. It was like he couldn’t say or do anything as one of the men pointed out how ‘cute’ he was while sliding his hand down Seokjin’s back.

He felt a sense of dread, he honestly had never felt so scared in his life. Scared of what these men might do to him, what they might do when they found out. He was spared from any horrors he could think of when he heard a familiar voice, one that he usually cowered under.

There she was, the hojang. She slowly closed her parasol and fastened it shut with a ribbon, before looking at the girls. “Head back home and you can start the dinner preparations early,” she smiled reassuringly.

Hye-Seong gestured for the girls to go and Seokjin took a moment trying to muster the courage to leave. “Seojin, head back.” A soft hand landed on his broad shoulder, the Hojang was smaller than him and Seokjin had no idea how strong she was but she looked at him and he knew nothing could hurt him.

Walking away he looked back and felt a swell of admiration for the woman who didn’t bow in front of the palace officials. They stepped forward and he felt scared once more, she did in fact look smaller in front of them despite never faltering.

Seokjin and Hoseok waited behind the Hojang, the two floundering on whether to go for help or to stand in her place. Suddenly, three figures barged past Seokjin with determination. Jimin, Yoonji, and Jeong-suk were all shoulders and fists stepping in front of the Hojang.

“Ya, you have a problem?” Jimin’s voice was sweet and yet laced heavy with warning. It took the men by surprise as Jimin moved like he was dancing but ended up driving one of the men’s faces into the ground. Still, with his sweet expression, he said with a sense of finality, “We will be going home now.”

It took a long time for Jungkook to get used to having people around his age constantly in his presence. He never had any big brother figures, it was just him and his father and they mostly worked in the shop. Of course, Jungkook’s father taught him many important life lessons, and he was thankful for them.

There was just something that grew in Jungkook like he had been locked up in his mind when he was working in the blacksmiths. It took a long time but eventually, Jungkook felt his shell break, and all his thoughts and feelings could be let out and expressed.

Nurtured by the open and honest environment in the kisaeng, he found himself no longer hiding away from the women, but instead connecting with them. Jungkook always took laundry duty for his sleeping quarter; he loved the smell of the clean fabrics and he also enjoyed the time with the women by the stream.

One would start singing to pass the time and the others would join in, they each made songs and they would sing it a few times until it felt right. Of course, Jungkook had his favorites and he would sing them as he strolled around the enclosed gardens.

Just one day, if I can be with you, Just one day, if I can hold your hands, Just one day, if I can be with you Just one day, just one day If only we can be together

For some, it was easy to adjust to the new way of life, for Taehyung it was not, with an abundance of energy he tried his best to expel it all. At first, he found a ball, and he and Jimin went outside to kick it around but were scolded by the Hojang who said “Women shouldn’t be seen doing anything masculine,” and apparently that included running around, playing sports, or just anything Taehyung deemed fun.

It wasn’t for lack of trying; Taehyung would find a new activity and a new area in the house or in the inner courtyard. He would barely set up or have a few moments of fun before he heard the voice that haunted him even in his dreams.

“Taeyeon, follow me,” Taehyung sighed, dropping the small ball he had been kicking between him and some of the young girls, perhaps he was a bit of a bad influence. He walked slowly after the Hojang. Mentally cursing her and stepping quickly in an effort to step on the back of her skirt so she would trip but she was too quick.

She led him into a small room he hadn’t seen before and he got nervous; was he being punished for disobeying the rules? He eyed the bamboo cane in her hand while she moved about the room and made up two desks. She placed a sweet flower arrangement on one and a stiff parchment pinned to a board on the other.

“Sit and watch, and then I will let you have a go. I promise you will have fun.” She explained how to grind the dyes and how to mix them perfectly before she began painting the flowers within the vase.

Taehyung was fascinated by the way the picture came to life, although there was a moment of confusion and doubt before it all came together. She spoke slowly, describing her technique. “You will develop your own technique that will feel right to you. Feel free to come here often and practice, let out your energy.”

“I can?” He seemed excited.

“A lady can do dainty activities, ones that are seen as beautiful and feminine.” She said softly.

“Why do you have so many rules?” He blurted out and winced, ready for a scolding but only felt a soft pat on his head.

“They aren’t my rules, no man will marry these ladies if they don’t meet these basic standards. Ask any man who they want to marry; they want someone who cooks and cleans, who doesn’t speak too much and is beautiful and feminine.” She sighed, “I would teach them how to read and write, but they are not expected to. I would teach them to fight and protect themselves but then they will not be seen as desirable young flowers, they would have too many thorns.”

Taehyung nodded slowly, and following the Hojang’s directions, began setting up his paints and parchment. He was allowed to paint whatever he wished. When he was done he frowned. “It doesn’t look nice.”

“What do you mean? Look at the depth you created here, you have such a good style, Taeyeon. Keep drawing until you grow comfortable and like what you have painted, but I will keep this one. Your first painting is precious.” She began to leave, “Don’t stay up too long, you have more lessons tomorrow.”

“Miss Hojang, I have a question?” Taehyung's voice was soft and curious as he turned away from the canvas. “If you could do anything that you ever wanted, what would it be?”

“Goodnight Taehyung,” she gave a small chuckle, smiling for the first time since Taehyung met her, and his opinion changed at that moment. She wasn’t as evil as he first thought.

It wasn’t long until Taehyung had told the whole group about the hojang; how she was actually a really considerate woman, who had nothing but good intentions for the girls she was protecting.

The boys talked about how the expectations were so unfair, that the girls should learn how to protect themselves and they should be educated. “I wish I could just teach them how to defend themselves,” Jimin hummed. “I learned from a young age how to fight, I could definitely show them some things.”

“I could teach them how to read and write, you could teach them how to fight,” The idea sparked inside Namsoon, they headed off to the hojang to present the idea, who agreed to their proposal.

Jimin led the class through the stretches thanking the girls for their cooperation, he had been teaching for two months and the girls were getting rather good. They really loved these new classes, they were so unlike what they were used to. It was hard for Jimin to teach his class in a dress but he made it work. Jimin had never felt prouder when he heard of stories of the ladies in the tea house defending themselves and others against rowdy patrons.

He also helped Hye-Seong with his dance practice, it seemed he really liked the class. Hyeseong mentioned to Jimin after their first dance class how he had never felt freer in his life, and after a few more, Hyeseong was moving his body freely to the music.

Jimin loved the idea that his friends enjoyed things that could be considered feminine, just like the things he liked. Maybe he wasn’t odd for liking dancing if his friends enjoyed art and simple house chores and cooking.

Yoongi had snuck out to speak with his father not because he particularly cared for the man, but he just knew his father would be angry if he didn’t report to him. He was climbing over the fence when he heard a cough behind him. “Yoonji where are you going?” Jeongsuk asked in a tiny voice.

“I have to see my father,” he spoke softly, trying not to wake anyone else up, “You should go back to bed.”

“I will come with you,” Jeongsuk smiled, climbing over the fence with Yoongi who sighed. The two walked along the dirt road until they arrived at the butchers.

“Wait here, Jeongsuk,” Yoongi spoke seriously, and quietly gestured to the spot just outside the lights of the street lamps. “I will be back.”

“My name is Jungkook,” He grabbed the sleeve of Yoongi’s jeogori before he pulled it off and helped him change into his masculine clothes and tied his hair up. “I know we aren’t supposed to tell each other our names but I need to say it, I need to feel like me for a little bit.”

“Yoongi,” he patted the younger boy's head, “Stay here Jungkook.”

He walked inside, nervous to see his father, and to hear what he would say. Meeting his father’s gaze across the room of laughing drunk men, his father stood up looking as harsh as always. “Where did you run off to?”

“The officials came, they were killing everyone, I just went off for a bit until they lost me.”

“Where have you been, you look awfully clean.” A slur drew Yoongi’s eyes from his father. Yoongi knew he would have to answer truthfully or he would be found out and beaten.

“I was hiding at the Kisaeng house,” he sighed.

“At the kisaeng house?” his father said. “What, are you pretending to be a girl?”

“Yes, I am,” he said, ears a little pink, and perhaps he should have just taken the beating.

“No son of mine is dressing as a woman!” His father shooed Yoongi, his hand pointing to the door. “Get out, I didn’t raise you to become a whore.”

“I only used it as a place to hide, I am back now.” Yoongi sighed nonchalantly, trying to get his father to calm down.

“If you don’t get out, I will kick your ass,” his father said, taking long strides until he was towering over his son. “I didn’t raise you for twenty-six years only to have you acting like some delicate flower. You always looked too much like your mother.” He raised his hand to hit Yoongi. Without flinching or shying away Yoongi waited for impact but it never came. A hand had clasped around his father's wrist.

“Hey, let’s just go back,” Jungkook said, letting go of the butcher’s hand then towing a struggling Yoongi behind him.

“Let me go,” Yoongi hissed as they were walking back to the house. “He was right, I am a disgrace, why am I prancing around in dresses when I am a man?”

“NO!” Jungkook grabbed the older man, thankful that he was stronger. “If there is one thing I have learned about my stay here, it is that women aren’t weak, they aren’t to be looked down on.”

“Good for you, I don’t need this disrespect.”

“Why do you care so much about what your father and those bad men think, you know they are scum. You aren’t, Yoongi. You left and you are a good person,” Jungkook protested.

“Did you not see what was on the tables?” Jungkook said. “Land deeds, they are strong-arming women and children from their homes, taking ownership of land that isn’t theirs. We must use what we have to our advantage.”

“What do we have, dancing and the ability to pour drinks for men.”

“I don’t know but if we don’t do something, your father and those men will only make things worse, you have nowhere else to go.”

How Jungkook got Yoongi to come back with him he would never know but he was thankful he did. As the two climbed over the wall to the kisaeng house, they were unaware of a pair of eyes watching them.

Summers End 1654 Hanseong,

Things have gotten worse. The officials have suspected someone in the kisaeng house is a man, it won’t be long before they send someone to investigate. We are trying to figure out how we can hide them and their extra appendages, but the situation doesn’t seem very hopeful. If things keep going the way they are, the town will become slaves to the merchants and no woman or child will be safe from their wrath.

Yeong-hui (Hojang of the Kisaeng house)

There was an abrupt knock at the door, startling the Hojang. She sat up and began dressing, as a woman should never be seen underdressed, then she opened the door. The steward bowed low before relaying a message. “There are officials at the front gate, asking to enter the premise.”

Yeong-hui didn’t waste any time. Tying her hair as she walked, looking regal as always, she stopped at the front gate and signaled for the doors to be opened.

“Miss Yeong-hui, we have heard multiple rumors that the Kisaeng house is harboring a fugitive from war—” one of the officials started.

“I will stop you right there,” Yeong-hui interrupted. “You have the right to search the property only when my girls have woken and dressed appropriately. It is perverse for you to even insinuate that I would allow you to enter while they are sleeping. You shall be allowed entry in when the sunlight reaches the Jing (gong) in the town center.”

Yeong-hui gestured behind them to the Jing and the man went to argue.

“No exceptions. Cooperate, or when you find there is no fugitive within these walls that you have barged into for nothing more than a story,” she eyed their Baji (lower part of a man’s hanbok), “well then I guess I could use a few more eunuch’s to help with chores now, don’t I?”

The men squirmed and the man leading the search party faltered.

“I would also like to see the confirmation letter from the king as I want proof you are allowed to step foot into my home,” Yeong-Hui added.

“Fine, we will get permission from the King. We will return at the specified time and nothing will stop us searching the premise and the ‘girls’ within the walls,” the leader of the search squad huffed before steering his men away from the front gate.

Yeong-hui headed inside, waking the young women early. She raced to the secluded sleeping quarters where the boys were staying. She saw them all sleeping haphazardly and smiled fondly.

She saw Taehyung wrapped around Namjoon, he was upside down on the older boy's futon hugging his calves, his face pressed between the scholar's ankles. Jungkook had his torso draped over Hoseok’s legs and his foot dangerously close to Seokjin’s face. Jimin’s head was on the eldest’s wide shoulders and even though Yoongi was the first away his pale thin arm stretched across the futon and was sweetly held in Jimin’s grasp.

They had all grown so much and had learned important life lessons that she was happy to be a part of their growth.

Without a moment longer, she woke the boys with a clap and a call. “Ladies, it is time to get up, the officials are sending a search party to find any man hidden within the kisaeng house.” She said, and what happened next was like a flash of lightning before the deep rumble of thunder. The boys jolted out of their beds, then a barrage of young girls burst through the doors, clutching bags of makeup, hair accessories, and armsful of fabric.

“You have to get up and get ready, the officials are coming!” Some of the ladies shouted, helping the men get dressed without batting an eyelash, ignoring the fact that they were all practically shirtless. Yeong-hui smiled softly, it seemed she had underestimated the ladies, how they had found out about the boys, and even took care of them.

It was pleasant to see them all coming together. If only they could change the way men and women interacted, if only they could show women were more intelligent and stronger than they were perceived to be.

The Kisaeng house started breakfast early. Yeong-hui explained that she would have the girls present themselves to the officials one by one and each of the boys would be placed randomly in between the girls. It would draw too much attention if the odd-looking ladies were to meet the officials one after another.

The officials came and started their interrogation. After the first group of girls was individually interviewed and scrutinized, Seokjin headed inside. If anyone could pass, it would be him. The Hojang smiled, sitting on a magnificent seat at the head of the table while the officials were off to the side, on less elaborate cushions.

“This is the beautiful Seojin, she has become the best cook in the house,” Yeong-hui smiled, and the officials blushed when Seojin blew them a kiss after taking a seat gracefully.

“Alright, next” the official stuttered after receiving a wink. Seokjin had passed.

After the next group of girls, Jimin walked into the room. As his long elegant legs strode in, there was a presence around him that made all the officials tense. He moved with allure and as he sat in perfect posture, the sleeve of his Jeogori slipped revealing a dainty shoulder and sensual clavicle.

The officials were sweating profusely, shifting in their seats. “This is Jimin, she is a dancer would you like to see?” The Hojang gestured for Jimin to begin, and Jimin started moving slowly with a delicate wave of the fan.

The officials were quick to decide and Jimin raced off smiling coyly. Another group passed and this time Hoseok came in, acting cute and charming the men. Yoongi’s turn then came, and his small frame and soft features helped him pass. When it came to Taehyung, he gave the officials his powerful gaze and devilishly said, “I can show you that I am a woman, if you want,” while playing with the hem of his skirt.

Yeong-hui was almost in stitches; something about the way these boys shamelessly flirted for their freedom had her choking back her laughter. Namjoon stepped in wearing a soft veil. “Miss Namsoon is quite a shy girl but she loves when some of the visitors to the tea house read to her.”

“Men such as yourselves would be ever so popular and have gardens of beautiful flowers for you to pick. But there is a part of me who wishes that I may be the sweet flower that you might choose.” Namjoon giggled slightly making the men nervous with such forward words “That I could be the one to make you smile. The one who can make a long day feel like it was nothing when you come home.”

Last was Jungkook who sang a song he had made to the group of men and talked about making friends whilst doing the laundry. Jungkook was allowed to leave and the men finished their search of the property before leaving, albeit a little flustered and a little sheepish for their antics earlier that morning.

The house was lively for the young women who had sensed the weight of the interviews and therefore felt the celebratory relief. Yeong-hui allowed the boys to run around and play freely; they and a few young women began kicking a ball around the inner courtyard.

As the group dwindled, Yoongi was left sitting on the porch, his head tilted back, eyes shut enjoying the breeze. Yeong-hui grabbed a bottle of the Park family's best soju and two ceramic glasses, then moved across the hand-polished wooden floor before sitting down, legs dangling over the edge beside Yoongi.

“You care for a drink?” Yeong-hui smiled softly waving the bottle in her hand. Yoongi nodded, moving to take the bottle as he was younger, but she began pouring for him. She poured elegantly and effortlessly, making no mistake as if she was demonstrating in front of the class.

Yoongi thanked her politely and the two began drinking in silence. It didn’t take long for Yoongi to spill all his troubles, expressing his struggles from the beginning.

“I can’t touch him, I will have to leave the town, my father won’t allow me to stay. He has a pile of land deeds so even if I found a place somewhere, he likely owns it.” Yoongi downed the next glass. “I could show him how good women are, that they aren’t delicate flowers, that they can plot and scheme and m I could probably steal the land deeds right from under his nose.”

“Well, why don’t we do just that?” Yeong-hui smiled, and the two began plotting an elaborate coup to retrieve the land deeds. Yeong-hui walked slowly, leading Yoongi back to his quarters but when they got close, they could hear Seokjin’s voice shouting.

“I knew it! I knew those words sounded familiar! You have been reading my letters?” Seokjin said “...have gardens of beautiful flowers for you to pick. But there is a part of me who wishes that I may be the sweet flower that you might choose.”

Hoseok was cackling and pointed out, “he didn’t read them, he is the one who wrote them!”

“What do you mean?” Seokjin asked, his voice almost dying down.

“The women in town would pay me to write love letters addressed to you,” Namjoon said cautiously, and the group laughed.

Autumn Chuseok (Harvest festival) 1654 Hanseong,

It took a lot of planning and preparation but everyone was willing and ready to do their job. Tonight was the Chuseok festival; the tea house was open and the ladies of the kisaeng walked the streets dressed elaborately, inviting men inside to drink at a fee.

Usually, each young woman would bring in men who looked like they were of noble status. They were advised to stay clear of any man wearing the bandit emblem. Tonight, however, it was encouraged. The unsavory men were led inside and shown all the respects of a nobleman if not more. The women were working undercover and they weren’t going to let the operation down.

Within the tea house were Seokjin, Yoongi, and Jungkook. While working, Yoongi was explaining who was who, and soon they had their targets. The boys split up, getting to work trying to impress the merchants, and having them each pay more and more money for some alcohol.

Yoongi as Yoonji was making quick work of his targets, whispering filthy things in their ears and having them drink until they were inebriated. Then he took their coin pouches and moved on to the next unsuspecting victim, who was also a member of his father’s gang.

Across town, Jimin, Taehyung, and Hoseok, accompanied by a handful of the kisaeng, headed to Yoongi’s father's home. Jimin was quick to move up the side of the building, slipping upstairs while the men were drinking boisterously downstairs. Jimin was light-footed and found the small box hidden just as Yoongi had described.

He took the box, it was heavy with deeds, gold, and more, and as he moved to escape, he bumped his foot on the side of the table.

“Did you hear that?”

Jimin froze.

“Good evening would you men be interested in going to the kisaeng tea house? We have many delicious festival snacks for you to try?” Taehyung said playfully and the men blushed to see a group of women poking their heads into the butcher’s home.

The men looked flustered and eventually refused to say they had to stay and take care of the place. Jimin was able to escape and the group graciously began heading back to the kisaeng house.

They were almost back safe within the kisaeng walls when they heard a shout.

“Hey!” The group froze, Jimin hiding with the box in the middle of the group. “You dropped this” The man smiled, blushing profusely having to talk to a stunning Taehyung.

Taehyung took his handkerchief and smiled, “thank you.” The group continued on their way, hurrying inside the house where they met Namjoon, working hard over a desk.

In the days leading to the coup, Namjoon and Yeong-hui had taken a census of families within the village. They found that the gang had been procuring land for many years before the war.

Namjoon, with the newly acquired land deeds from Yoongi’s father’s house, was now dividing land and profits, ensuring each family would have a home and land to live on.

The next morning, the members of the gang were regretful of their night and were in foul moods. Yoongi’s father marched to the kisaeng house and began pounding his fists on the doors, demanding to enter the premises.

Yeong-hui signaled the doors to be opened, and the man entered, alone. He stepped forward, looking at the group of women dressed in baji and holding weapons. The man spotted Yoongi standing on the far end of the inner courtyard.

Yeong-hui walked through the group of women until she stood in front of Yoongi who was dressed as a woman and was not at all ashamed. “You stole from me, you little rat?” Yoongi nodded. His father’s face was bright red, “I will kill you!”

The women moved with a loud cry and the man faltered, releasing a mocking laugh. “You think you can hurt me?”

“Yes, I believe we can,” Jimin smiled, standing in front of the women, just in case the man was an unexpected fighter. He was a street merchant after all and they weren’t known for fighting fair. However, it seemed the women were holding their own, as they started knocking the man to the ground.

Spring 1655 Hanseong,

With the power restored, the people are thriving, the women are stronger than ever. The land is now divided, ensuring there are better harvests and more trade among the vendors. I have been working to teach the girls in the kisaeng how to read and write, training them to be scholars. Seokjin and I are planning to present the young women in front of the king, as well-educated scholars.

Seokjin has been around a lot. Having perfected his cooking skills, he happily teaches the women his favorite dishes. Something about being free and independent and able to make his food makes the man happy. He likes how free he feels, admitting he originally thought it was the women who were free to do whatever they wanted but he was wrong.

Yoongi has found he has a real talent for playing some of the instruments, and he and Jungkook spend their days making songs. Hoseok and Jimin enjoy dancing and are some of the best dancers, and Jimin also spends his time teaching the young ladies how to defend themselves. Jungkook has made light-weight weapons for the women who find themselves in the ways of fighting.

Taehyung teaches Art and keeps things in the kisaeng house light with sports and games. It wasn’t long before a new age began, the age of female growth.

Let’s just say when the fathers, brothers, and husbands return home from war they will be in for quite a shock, as every family now owns the land and the land deeds are under the women’s names. The women are all stronger, smarter, and happier.

Every day the Hojang fights to liberate her girls more and more, we help however we can even if we have to dress up as women to do it. As for the Hojang, Miss Yeong-hui, whose name means eternal play, she has changed her name to Jester. She is now working on a project to use some of the young women trained to fight for future espionage.

Kim Namjoon

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redisriding · 4 years ago

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The Right Swipe - Chapter Four

A Court of Thorns and Roses Modern AU Fanfic

All character’s belong to the wonderful Sarah J Maas.

Tag List: @superspiritfestival @duskandstarlight @perseusannabeth @courtofjurdan @omg-aelin @keshavomit @rainbowcheetah512

“What about this one?”

“No, it still doesn’t look right.”

“How are you both bigger and smaller than me at the same time?”

“All my suits are tailored to me, they’re not the cheap off the rack stuff you buy.”

“You say that like I own more than one suit.”

“Don’t you?”

“Nope. One suit. I wear it weddings and funeral, that’s it.”

“Then why do you need to wear one tonight?”

“Because, Rhys said this place is fancy, as in dress code fancy. They have some stupid rule about wearing jackets.” Cass sighed. He thought it would be easy to borrow something of Az’s to wear tonight for his date with Nesta, they were roughly the same size. Turned out Az was both leaner and slightly taller than he, and when the former got his clothes tailored, they looked stupid on the latter. There was no point asking Rhys, if Az’s jackets didn’t fit Cassian, Rhys’s definitely wouldn’t.

Az cocked his head to one side surveying Cassian. “Why are you bringing her to this place anyway?”

“Because it’s fancy and she’s the kind of girl who you have to bring fancy places.”

“Perhaps, but you’re not fancy—.”

“Thanks?”

“No, hear me out. You have been talking to this girl and you like her, correct?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re getting dinner so you can get to know each other better, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“But this guy,” Azriel gestured to Cassian standing in front of him in an ill-fitting suit, “Is not who you are. You don’t go to fancy restaurants that have dress codes and names of food you can’t pronounce or alcohol you can’t afford. And this girl…Nesta?”

“Nesta.”

“She has been getting to know you over the last week and a half too. She must like you if she’s agreed to go on a date. Do you not think she’s going to realise pretty quickly that a fancy restaurant is not your scene at all.”

Cassian sat down on the end of Azriel’s bed and put his head in his hands. He did not need this right now. He was nervous enough about his date with Nesta he didn’t need his best friend to undermine his plans for the evening with logic.

“I don’t stand a chance with her if I don’t take her somewhere nice. I know she’s been on dates with other guys, I’m sure they’ve brought her to the best places in Velaris. I need to go all out if I want to impress her.”

“Who cares where other guys take her, she’s single and going on a dat with you, so it clearly hasn’t worked out with them.”

“All the more reason to go all out.”

“Be real Cass, you don’t stand a chance with her at all if she thinks that you really are whoever you’re pretending to be tonight. Sooner or later it’s all going to come tumbling down.”

When he looked back on it later Cassian would realise that not only were Azriel’s words true, but they weren’t really intended for Cassian. They were words that he wanted to say to someone else. Someone who had lead him to believe that they were one thing, a thing that Azriel fell in love with, and when that person revealed their truth, his whole world crumbled.

But in the moment, confronted with his own insecurities, Cass didn’t react the way he wished later he had.

“That’s the thing though Az, girls don’t like the real me.”

“Girls like you—.”

“No Az, they don’t! Girls like you, they always have. Mysterious Azriel, he’s so handsome, he’s so smart, he’s so talented,” Cassian was aware that his tone had turned mocking but it was too late for him to roll back on it, “they liked you before you had fame and money, they sure as hell like you more now. If you weren’t so terrified of having your heart broken again then maybe you would see it too.”

He knew he had said the wrong thing the second the words were out of his mouth. Regret flooded Cassian as Az recoiled from him as if he had been dealt a physical blow.

He stood from the foot of his bed where they both sat and headed for the door.

“No, Az, I’m sorry I didn’t mean that…I just—.”

“Good luck on your date tonight Cass,” Azriel said cutting him off. “I hope for your sake you don’t fuck it up.”

Azriel’s words, his wounded expression, bounced around in Cassian’s head an hour later as he stood outside the entrance to the House of Wind.

Okay, that was a lie. He couldn’t standing still. He was pacing up and down the sidewalk, no doubt wearing away the soles of Azriel’s shoe’s he had stuffed his feet into. They were the only thing he wore that fit.

Cassian didn’t think he’d ever been as nervous in his entire life. Then again, he had never been on a proper date before.

He’d had drinks before. When they were in school, he would hound Az into asking one of the girls who hung around the hockey team out for milkshakes, and convince her to bring a friend for Cassian. It always ended the same though, he would gaze longingly at the girl, trying to strike up conversation, while she would have eyes for no-one but Azriel. It was pathetic, and Cassian remembered being awkward, but never nervous. Maybe because Azriel’s presence meant there was no real chance of anything happening. No risk of being rejected by someone he really wanted.

Later he would sometimes ask Emerie for a drink as a prelude to their evening. He liked the company.

But he had never been on a ‘try to find out if we’re compatible enough to spend the rest of our lives together over the course of a dinner’ date before.

And he was terrified.

He desperately wanted to run his hands through his hair, a nervous habit of his. He had tried a couple of times too. Only then to remember that he had gelled his wild mane in place in order to look presentable for tonight.

The doormen eyed him as he paced back and forth, like they knew he didn’t belong there. If there was one thing that Cassian learnt living in the mountains however, was that you should never show weakness. Not to the wild creatures that lived in the forrest, not in the face of the potentially deadly weather, and certainly not in front of the battled hardened locals.

So, he met those stares right back with a menacing one of his own.

His fingers found the soft petals of the rose he held. He had bought it for Nesta from one of those carts that rolled around the city, catching men unawares as they strolled with their ladies. He knew it was an over priced and cheesy but it had felt right.

He might not be the kind of guy who wears suits and eats in fancy places often, but he knew that if he had a girl he would absolutely dote on her. And so a single rose seemed like a good place to start.

It was on what felt like his millionth time passing the restaurant that he saw her. Crossing the road towards him, she emerged from the bustle of pedestrians like Aphrodite from her shell.

Cassian’s world seemed to slow. The nerves that flooded his body became still. The only thing that he was aware of was his breathing and her.

Nesta. Nesta. Nesta.

Something deep inside of him was called to the surface at the sight of her.

She was every bit as stunning if not more than she was in her pictures, brought to life by movement.

Dressed in a simple, yet elegant grey dress, her hair was coiled on top of her head. It was then that he remembered her bio, how apt it was, a queen that he would have to earn.

“Cassian?” She asked, her expression quizzical as she neared him.

“Hi—,” Cassian squeaked. Squeaked! He hadn’t heard his voice that high since his balls had dropped. Loudly clearing this throat, he tried again. “How are you?”

Better.

“Good thanks. How are you?” She came to a stop, looking up at him with deep stormy eyes that cut right to his core.

His head emptied as he gazed down at her. She was so much smaller than him, her head reached the middle of his chest. Her body was soft and curvy; deliciously feminine, but her face…the pictures didn’t do her beauty justice. The depth of her eyes, which she had lined with kohl for dramatic effect. Her high cheek bones. And Cassian didn’t allow his gaze to drop to her lips, which she had painted a deep red. It was sinful.

He was still motionless, gaping like a fish, when she moved. Stepping closer to him and rising up onto her tiptoes, she placed a hand gently on his shoulder to steady herself. A jolt of electricity shot through Cassian, his senses suddenly shocked back into action.

He leaned down to meet her. He went to his left as Nesta went to her right. Instead of bussing cheeks, he ended up colliding with her mouth.

His lips met hers.

It was only a gentle brush.

And only for a second.

But it was fireworks.

Like a star exploded somewhere inside of him.

Cassian’s fists clenched as he tried to restrain himself from grabbing Nesta and pulling her onto him right in the middle of the busy street.

A small laugh came from Nesta as she stepped back. Her cheeks were stained faintly pink.

It only added to her beauty.

Cassian felt his own cheeks heat, and knew that in comparison he resembled a tomato.

He looked down, away from her for a moment, and cringed. The rose was a crumpled mess in his thick palm. He flushed further. He wished he could hide it, or dump it in a bin somewhere, but Nesta had already seen.

“Eh…this is for you,” he thrust the rose awkwardly at her.

Nesta accepted the rose with a wry smile, “You shouldn’t have.”

“I really shouldn’t have,” Cassian sighed, “I’ve already ruined this date and it hasn’t even started properly.”

Nesta didn’t seem to hear. She looked down at the rose, rubbing one of the crushed petals between her finger tips.

Cassian just watched her for a moment, unsure what to say. Maybe he should call the whole thing off now, to save whatever dignity he had left.

But when Nesta looked back up at him, something in her face had changed. “So, shall we go in?”

————

Nesta had to suppress a laugh. The date was going badly. Terribly even. It was categorically, beyond a shadow of a doubt the worst date that she had ever been on.

Cassian was not what Nesta had expected at all. The person sitting across the table from her was not the sexy mountain man from his pictures, whom she had been messaging for the last week and a half.

Another lesson in online dating, she supposed, you really need to meet a person in order to get to know them.

But that was just it. Nesta didn’t think she was getting to know Cassian at all.

Instead, she was on a date with the person Cassian thought she wanted him to be.

She should have guessed when he had first suggested that they get dinner at the House of Wind that it was somewhere he thought she expected to be brought, rather than somewhere he would ever actually go.

Nesta had been to the House of Wind on many occasions, most recently a few days previously when she had met another Swipe date, Eris, here for drinks. A fact that Nesta thought was best not to mention to Cassian.

The House of Wind might be fancy, but it was cliché. The kind of place men brought women to lubricate them - socially, with alcohol - before they brought them home to their bed.

Sure, that was what Eris had done, wasn’t it?

On the many previous occasions that Nesta had been at the House of Wind she had never seen a guy like Cassian there.

The type of guy who, in an attempt to look presentable, used so much gel in his wild hair that it more closely resembled a helmet. Who cobbled together a suit, that clearly neither matched nor belonged to him, in order to meet the dress code.

The type of guy who brought his date a crumpled rose to impress her.

The gesture was so tender that something hard inside Nesta’s chest had cracked at the sight of it.

Thomas had only bought flowers to appease Nesta after an argument. ‘Now let us forget about all that’ he would say to her. Flowers were a sign that he was done arguing and wanted to sweep the matter under the rug, resolved or not.

Nesta glanced at the rose that was lying on the table beside her. She knew, regardless of how this date ended, she was going to bring it home and put it in water. And then, when it eventually died, she was going to press it gently between the pages of a book and keep it forever.

A memory of this night.

That she was deserving of someone who cared about her.

Cassian cared. He cared about impressing her, about making sure she had a good night. He cared so much about what Nesta thought of him that it was stifling any attempt of getting to know him.

And he was nervous.

That much was apparent when he clumsily bungled their greeting.

He still had lipstick on his face from when he’d accidentally kissed her. It had only been the faintest of brushes of their lips, but Nesta’s heart had leapt.

Something had ignited inside of her like a burning fire.

More than it had when Devlin had taken her to his bed the night before. Even with his head between her legs she hadn’t felt that much of thrill.

So Nesta didn’t tell Cassian about the lipstick.

“Everything okay?” She asked, as Cassian looked up from the bill that had been handed to him.

“Eh…yeah. It’s just…” he blanched.

“Yes?”

Whatever he was going to say he decided better of it. “Nothing,” Cassian shook his head, “I just need to make a quick call. I’ll be right back.”

Cassian hurried away from the table, towards the door. Once he was out of view, Nesta leaned across the table and picked up the bill.

Ah.

She figured she hadn’t known he was ordering $100 glasses of whiskey. She probably should have said something, but she didn’t want to emasculate him. Other men she dated would not have reacted well to that.

Beckoning for the waiter, she pulled her credit card from her purse.

The date was truly awful, and yet Nesta found herself utterly endeared.

———--

Across town, squeezed into a tiny little sushi restaurant, Elain laughed. Harder than she had laughed in a very long time.

Maybe it was the foreign feeling of food warming her belly, or the Sake that she had been sipping, but Elain was pretty sure it was the company itself.

“That’s not true!” She giggled at Lucien’s latest punchline.

“I swear it on my life,” he said, his eyes going wide, sincere.

“I still don’t believe you.”

“Scouts honour!”

“I bet you weren’t even in the Scouts.”

Lucien laughed, raising his hands in the air, caught. “Okay, I was not in the Scouts…But that doesn’t make it any less true.”

Elain giggled again. Lucien was not only more handsome in person, but his easy and charming nature had put Elain at ease from the beginning.

“Elain.” Lucien said, his laughter dying.

“Yeah?”

“I think this place is closing.”

“What? Oh!” Elain looked behind her to find the restaurant empty and the staff beginning to clean up. Tucked into a little nook, Elain felt like her and Lucien could have been in a world of their own.

Elain glanced at her phone. There was a text from Feyre in their sister group chat, wishing her and Nesta good luck on her respective dates, but it was the time that had Elain jumping up.

“Oh figglesticks, the time! I must hurry if I want to make the last train.”

Lucien gave her an amused look. “Figglesticks?”

Elain felt herself blush, “Sorry, I’m just used to being with children all day. It’s bad to swear.”

“I think it’s very sweet,” he said with a soft smile, “Let me just pay and I’ll walk you to the train.”

Elain made a move to pull her purse from her bag but Lucien stopped her with a gentle hand on her arm, a shiver went through her. “This is on me,” he said.

“You’re very kind,” she said, blushing again.

It had been a long time since a man had done anything like that for her. In an instant the warm mood of the evening evaporated, fear overtaking her. What if Lucien was only paying because he wanted something from her in return? Was she safe walking with him to the train stations? What if he dragged her down an alleyway and had his way with her? Leaving her cold and crying with no way to get home.

Elain closed her eyes and focused on her breathing. This were the kind of intrusive, anxious thoughts that she had been working to overcome with her therapist.

There was nothing in Lucien’s behaviour tonight to suggest that he was anything other than a nice guy.

“Ready?” He asked, returning from paying for their meal.

“Yes.”

He offered her his arm as they stepped out into the cold autumn night.

“The nights here are beautiful,” he said, gazing up at the clear nights sky.

“Velaris is the best place to go star gazing.”

“Sure looks that way.”

“Have you been here for Starfall?”

“Not yet, I’m looking forward to it.”

“My sister always throws a huge party to celebrate. It is really spectacular.”

“I can only imagine.”

The continued like that, strolling along on the empty streets, looking at the sky, chatting about nothing in particular until they reached the train station.

“So…” Lucien said, coming to a stop, “I had a really great time tonight.”

“Me too!”

“You sound surprised?”

Elain shrugged, “I guess I didn’t really know what to expect.”

“Would you maybe like to do it again sometime?”

“Yes, I would really like that.”

“Good,” Lucien smiled.

He hesitated for a moment, before deciding to lean in.

Elain held her breath, her fingers wrapping around the keys in her pocket. A pathetic weapon, but one that might make the difference if she needed it.

But Lucien simply brushed his lips to her cheek before pulling back. “Safe home, Elain.”

#acotar fanfiction #The right swipe

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blackfemmecharacterdependency · 4 years ago

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1. Red Tape and Red Lines

Nanefua lived before what they now call “The Fall.” She used to tell stories of green fields for miles and miles. Of trees that grew all sorts of fruits - each fruit from a different tree. Vegetables from the earth. Creatures that we see in picture books that used to live in the sea, and even roam the Earth. She would say, “But, that was a long time ago,” and top it all off with a sweet chuckle and a very inspiring, “And with the right leaders, it may be ahead of us again still.”

She believed in a future where society could exist again, for all. She dreamed of a world where we all had what we needed to survive, as well as things that we wanted - pleasures of the world to grant us some happiness while we occupy our space here. I’ve always liked to think that she dreamed of this each time that she went to sleep. I like to think she was dreaming of it the last time she went to sleep, in our little hut in the Outskirts. I like to think that beyond this world, she went to another, one where she had trees with fruits again.

As we buried her in the earth and I watched Baba draw himself a map of exactly where and put it into his favorite book, I let myself dream that Nanefua was in a better place. Not just in some homemade plot identified only by a hand drawn guide. That was the first dream that I can remember ever having, and I credit her stories. Because the world around me was nothing to build a dream upon. The world of my day was anything but fruitful, was as far from good as I can even describe to you…

The Fall. It happened before Shani was born. It happened when her parents were too young to even remember. They DIDN’T put it in new books. They didn’t make new books. They didn’t keep places open that did provide books. That was what made Nanefua faithfully believe that books were invaluable. She kept every one that she owned, collected every one that she found, and bought every one that she could afford.

When the homeless were being relocated outside of the city and lower income households were being pushed further away from the city, Nanefua at least had a van to her name. She was content to live in it, as she wasn’t the best at haggling and that was what they were doing a lot of to get into homes in what was now called The Outskirts. She, like many women, paired up with a man to get into a space. It was a very small apartment, and he fortunately was good at maintenance, because The Fall stopped a lot of building ventures. Many of the apartments in the area were incomplete and abandoned. All of the empty homes of people who died were up for grabs. Squatters rushed into those, and landlords never came to collect.

It was like people in the city refused to think about them for a while, probably simply hoping that they would just die, out of sight and out of mind. Having a male roommate was good for a lot of things. He built several shelves for all of the books she had, even though he didn��t know WHY she held on to something that was becoming obsolete, and he wasn’t bad looking, either. A little short, and stocky, but he was strong and had a nice smile.

Nanefua and her roommate were not in love. They barely even liked each other. But, they were human and they had needs. Baba was born in the beginning years of The Fall in a small apartment, with barely running water and scheduled electricity. When Baba was 3, the apartment’s original owner sent their emissary to collect payment. Nanefua thought this would eventually happen, so she had been saving up as much as she could. It wasn’t enough. They took what she had, gave a date for the rest and took her roommate to work for it.

She never saw that man again. Emissaries became the norm. They came with muscle behind them, with unfair contracts and rough consequences. She took her toddler and her books and they lived in a packed van and she posted near a well that she would steal water from. Every now and then, she would check the old apartment to see if Baba’s father had come back. When he was 6 was the last time. She saw the emissary bring in a construction team. They were going to work on the apartment, finish some things up... More people couldn’t live in the city and now, middle class folk were forced to live in these apartments.

Middle class no longer existed, they just didn’t realize that yet. Most of them began working JUST to be able to live in their homes. They had to hustle and scrape for other needs - food, water... She was content to build a little hut near the well. The owner of the well hired her to collect payment from anybody who wanted water from it and allotted her a certain amount herself. She used the land to grow food. The soil was better back then. The water was better back then.

By the time Shani was born, the ecosystem outside of the city was abysmal. Working was done to survive. Rich people lived in the city and the further away from the city you lived, the further away from wealth, health and happiness, and the closer you were to death.

Shani wondered when she was little, “Was there a sickness? Like, a plague or pandemic? Was there a natural disaster? Was there an economic crash? How did things get so bad? What caused The Fall?”

“The rich was greedy and didn’t care if they killed everybody, as long as they had.”

Long story short, ALL of those things happened. Natural disasters, illnesses, every bit of misfortune... but they simply let them die. Pushed them out, forced them away. Let them die. The Fall is what they called it. They acted like it was something that happened. Like the system wasn’t up against these people all along. The system had been messed up. They just finely tuned it with the more money that they made.

That was the world that Shani inherited, but she also inherited the books. And Shani LOVED books.

Her mind worked a little differently than the people around her. From the time she was able to recognize things and respond to others, that had been a truth about her. Her mother had learned to read before all of the school systems became privatized, and since her grandmother purchased as many books on teaching and learning as possible whenever bookstores began to go out of business and funding was cut for libraries - Shani never had a shortage. Reading became something that only the privileged had the best access to. The privileged, and Shani’s family... maybe a few other poor families.

Whenever libraries became obsolete and the buildings began being repurposed, only librarians cared enough to collect all of the now “useless” books and they banded together to get cheap properties and hold the books there. It would have been criminal to refer to these places as libraries. They didn’t receive funding. They couldn’t order other books, and they didn’t have fancy systems or regular staff to keep everything in the best order.

So, after a few years, the Dewey decimal system was no longer at play. They simply had signs saying that if you dropped off books, you could trade them for others, and if you took any books to keep, to please try to leave another to borrow. After another few years, they had signs that just said: Free Books. Nanefua gathered as many as they could fit into the hut. Shani fortunately began reading very early as a result.

True, learning to read from a book was extremely different from the computerized learning systems of the privatized schools, but the alphabet had not changed, and most people underestimated the purpose of books. By the time she was 4, she knew how to both read and speak in several languages, because she had been shown books since she was able to say her first word. Mama and Baba disagreed on what that word was, whether Mama or Nana, but the moment any of them heard it, Nanafue said the girl was ready to start looking at letters and words. She would teach her herself.

After all, she had survived mostly on things she learned just from looking into her own book collection. Baba was a miner, and often had to travel and send money to them from wherever he was on location working. Shani got used to not seeing much of either of her parents as a small girl. Nanefua raised her for the most part for the first 6 years of her life. But, whenever Nanafue was gone, she had to get used to being alone. It was a long year. Time worked really different for little kids, whether or not they were having a ball. And she was not.

Her mother was bused into the city for gardening and landscaping. She did yard work through a firm and was sent to various properties to spend ours cultivating their yards and plant life. She had picked it whenever she was 5, and had been stuck doing it since then… only advancing to harder, more grueling work in fields and on large pieces of land as she got older. Whenever Shani was little, her mother spent most of her time working at a pomegranate farm. It was a very lucrative industry, and being one of the best, her mother made enough money to get her considered for schooling.

The tests for outsiders to get into city schools were much more difficult than they were for the rich people. Outskirts kids had to work harder and smarter to even get noticed, and their parents were charged brutally in order to take every potential step to gain access to a school.

It didn’t help that Shani’s mind didn’t work like other people’s did. They often thought that she was showing off, or trying to make them feel stupid whenever she would have conversations with them. It taught her not to speak too freely. But, that helped her learn to write things down. Sometimes, she couldn’t focus and needed to write many things down. Regardless of her speaking situation, or her focusing habits, she got into one of the best schools in the city whenever she was 5...

But her parents couldn’t afford to actually send her.

Instead, they sent her to a less expensive Montessori school, on the merit of her acceptance into the Academy of Superiority. The school masters worked with them on paying her fees and she also was assigned several chores to help compensate. She was exceptionally good at organizing and cleaning up, and whenever she took summer breaks, her teachers would alert her of what they would expect to be known in the upcoming years so that she could homeschool for the summer while they saved up for tuition.

They applied for the scholarship program each year since she qualified at age 7. It wasn’t until she was 10 that she both was granted access into AoS under the work program.

Riding into that part of the city sent her mind into a whirlwind…

#Story Concepts 01: No Saviors in the Wild #No Saviors Story #BFCD Story Concepts by Nesha #stories #original content #Nesha Writes

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rainydawgradioblog · 4 years ago

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RDR Essentials - Hip-Hop/R&B (4/21)

RDR Essentials is a weekly newsletter of alternating genres that outlines key releases of the past month, upcoming events around Seattle and happenings in the specified music genre.

Made in collaboration between Rainy Dawg DJs and the Music Director.

Releases:

Armand Hammer & The Alchemist - Haram

New York rap duo Armand Hammer have become known for their dreary, dense, and thought-provoking poetry, often paired with gloomy instrumentation and symbolic storytelling. Haram, the duo’s newest full-length album, marks billy woods and Elucid’s first collaboration with one producer for an entire record. The Alchemist lends his ear to the pair on this album, providing an eerie, haunting and emotive soundscape that still sounds like nothing the legendary producer has made in the past, pushing his own boundaries and proving that he is capable of evolution even after a career spanning two decades. Tracks like “Indian Summer” are laced with a menacing energy, while “Falling out the Sky” sounds almost summer-esque, like the sun peeking through an otherwise dark place, beginning with an abstract verse from Earl Sweatshirt, centered around mentions of the sky, space, and supernovas. This track starts a three-song run of the record’s only rap features, as well: “Wishing Bad” contains a furious verse from Curly Castro, transitioning with a more than menacing audio sample that forebodes in an echoing fashion: “There’s a lot of blood early on here”. This next track,“Chicharrones”, is one of the most fear-inducing beats the Alchemist has concocted thus far, and acts as an anger-fueled climax of the record. Quelle Chris delivers a seething verse, focusing on police brutality, not from a perspective of fear or sadness, but rather unrestrained rage, rife with references to George Orwell’s seminal Animal Farm but grounded in a clear disdain for the police. “If you off the pig/ Is you offin' pigs or offerin' figs?/ Oh, you big and bad?/ Blowin' hay and sticks, huffin' bricks” Quelle Chris chides in the chorus: “off the pig” likely refers to not eating pork as a convertee to Islam, in reference to the album’s title, “haram”, meaning “forbidden”, and the record’s stomach-churning cover art. The chorus seems to call out those who claim solidarity and yet “offer figs”, a phrase with roots in the biblical tale of Adam and Eve, who, in shame for their behavior, cover their genitals with fig leaves.

These guest features reinforce the record’s themes of drug abuse, class theory, racism, and the cultural ramifications of the “forbidden” in all its forms. Those who use the forbidden to cope, those who are able to get away with doing the forbidden, and everything in between seems to manifest within the record’s walls. As with every Armand Hammer release, however, it is the energy and poetry of these two MCs, seemingly almost psychically connected, that makes their staggeringly dense words so potent. At every turn, the two seem interlaced. Elucid brings invigoration to his verses, combined with sung choruses that sound as raw as can be, like on the solo track “Roaches Don’t Fly”, with soaring guitar riffs carrying an explosive verse (“My new name, colonizer’s can’t pronounce”) swelling to an enormous sung mantra: “You don’t gotta be here if you don’t wanna.” Elucid’s unique style of delivery often sees him, as many have noted, emphasizing unexpected syllables in his words, leaving his performances consistently engaging. Billy woods’ signature vignette-style storytelling and dry, dark humor are intact once again as well. The first verse of “Indian Summer” sees woods start a track as menacingly as one can (“I swore vengeance in the seventh grade/ Not on one man, the whole human race”), leading to a chilling tale of a man’s past in drug sales using a job cutting grass as cover, with detail to spare, painting a clear scene of “the stink of gas in the evening” and “the intoxication of counting cash in secret.” Highlight “Squeegee”, too, sees woods providing an unbelievable lesson in telling a full story in a short amount of time, chronicling a man’s attempt to turn his life around: eating healthy, working out before dawn, and barely smoking weed. Ultimately it’s all for naught, as paranoia takes over. He wonders if someone will follow him home, he wonders what his neighbors are doing, and it seems that old habits creep their way back in: ‘The taste in his mouth just like before.” It’s a chilling vignette, and undoubtedly one of woods’ best verses to date.

The album ends on an emotive high note; if “Chicharrones'' was the angry climax, “Stonefruit” is the album’s explosive and heart-wrenching finale. Elucid’s sorrowful chorus makes clear a turn inward, after an album focused so heavily on societal ills. “I don’t want to lose control” he repeats: “I’ve got so much left to undo.” Finally, billy woods delivers the album's most painful and emotive verse. Woods seemingly chronicles a rocky relationship perhaps interrupted by a sudden passing, a relationship filled with strife (“Said ‘OK’ to save face, but she never forgave”) that is yet anchored by an irrefutable love. The beautiful instrumental turns into a droning, and the euphoric emotional climax is once again drowned out by the ills it is surrounded by. This album is dense, difficult, and often a hard listen. But if one chooses to give it the attention it asks, it is more than rewarding enough, and once again proves billy woods, Elucid, and The Alchemist as three of the best artists we’ve ever seen.

- Casey Chamberlain

Kenny Mason - Angelic Hoodrat Supercut

Atlanta artist Kenny Mason is beginning to make a name for himself. After his impressive Angelic Hoodrat last year and a standout feature on Denzel Curry & Kenny Beats’ UNLOCKED 1.5 remix album, the 26 year old is back with a sequel project, Supercut, and continues to impress with his astounding mix of rock and rap. The project is a tightrope act that balances the genres, bringing trap beats, triplet flows, and bedroom guitar passages in equal measure. Rap cuts like the excellent “A+” featuring Denzel Curry see Kenny bringing technical flows and quick wit to the table, alongside standout “Much Money” which sees Freddie Gibbs making an appearance, bringing his signature swagger and Instagram-story quotables.

However, the most impressive aspects of the record are where things begin to change up, seeing Kenny swing more into rock and indie territory. “Play Ball” feels like a teenage anthem, accompanied by driving guitar riffs and bouncy drums and vocal mixing more reminiscent of a live performance at a house show than a recording booth. Opener “43”, too, immediately sets the tone, with a powerful sung chorus and heavy guitar rhythm and booming drums. Perhaps the biggest highlight, however, is the two-part “Pup”, which sees a low-key first half blend into a spacey and introspective second half. Not only is the production here at perhaps its most interesting of the record, combining gritty guitar and a pulsing trap beat, but Kenny’s songwriting stands out as well, with a strong emotive performance and personal lyrics highlighting insecurities. If there’s any critique to be had of this record, it would be that it most certainly feels like a part two of the first Angelic Hoodrat (in fact, the record’s title even makes it sound more like a deluxe than a separate album). Yet, Kenny’s style is most certainly exciting, reminiscent in equal measure of contemporaries across the musical spectrum, from Jean Dawson to JID. If refining his sound means putting out music as impressive as this, then Kenny Mason is on the right track, and is one to watch.

- Casey Chamberlain

Benny the Butcher & Harry Fraud - The Plugs I Met 2

Benny The Butcher has rocketed to heights previously unknown in the last year, with his full length project with Hit-Boy, Burden of Proof, being his biggest project yet, and seeing him steer into different sonic territory, moving away from the grimy Daringer and Alchemist production he had become known for on projects like Tana Talk 3. 2019’s The Plugs I Met was the epitome of that sound, and it’s perhaps inevitable that Benny would move past it at some point. Plugs I Met 2, however, feels like a marriage of those two sounds, sounding like a true sequel to the first project while still pushing into new territory and incorporating bigger features. There’s nothing as grimy here as the first album’s “Sunday School” or “Dirty Harry”, but tracks like “When Tony Met Sosa” and “Plug Talk” carry that same energy.

Highlights include “Overall” featuring Chinx, where the production feels like a brilliant mix of the street sounds and the lavish flashiness of Benny’s wordplay, alongside heavy drum kicks and incredibly dense production. Harry Fraud produced every track on the project, and this consistency shines. Each track sounds different from the last, but they fit neatly together. Even the tracks that tone down the energy feel just as lyrically impressive, such as “Live By It.” The features are mostly standout as well, with guest verse from 2 Chainz, Rick Hyde, and more. Overall, this is a solid project and logical sequel to the first Plugs I Met. Those who miss Benny’s grimy, TT3-era sound may be disappointed not to hear it return on every track here, but for those who remain impressed by Benny’s newfound flexibility, Plugs I Met 2 will no doubt remain a worthwhile addition to the Griselda catalog.

- Casey Chamberlain

Denzel Curry & Kenny Beats - UNLOCKED 1.5

Not content with waiting for the already-announced sequel to release, Kenny Beats and Denzel Curry return with a batch of remixes of tracks from last year’s excellent UNLOCKED with UNLOCKED 1.5. Featuring guest production and verses, this collection feels less like a full project on its own and more of a playful invitation to collaborators to make something brand new out of an already energetic album. The original UNLOCKED made clear its influence from MF DOOM, Madlib, and a host of others, seeing Kenny Beats branch out into new, cartoony territory and seeing Denzel Curry flex his lyrical prowess on a non-stop barrage of high-octane tracks. 1.5, in comparison, takes many of those rambunctious verses and places them over entirely new production. Standout “So.Incredible.pkg”, with production by the great Robert Glasper brings a jazzy and laid back energy, where Denzel still feels right at home, followed by an excellent and sly verse from Smino. “Cosmic.m4a [The Alchemist Version]” brings in the legendary producer for a brand new beat with beating drums and piano passages, alongside a vengeful, if not far too short, verse from Joey Bada$$. “Pyro” sees bouncy new production from Sango, with a witty and childlike feature from Kenny Mason. The highlight, however, has to be “DIET_” which, as the standout of the original project, with Denzel’s ferocious and guttural delivery inspired by the late DMX now enhanced by an effortless verse from Benny the Butcher, marking an unlikely but incredibly fulfilling appearance. The original UNLOCKED was a lighthearted project that showcased the talent of Denzel and Kenny Beats. 1.5, while not necessarily a fulfilling EP taken on its own, is something of a victory lap for the duo and their friends, a fun counterpart to the original project and a flexing of creative muscles.

- Casey Chamberlain

AG Club - Fuck Your Expectations PT. 1

When AG Club titled this album “Fuck Your Expectations”, they meant it. Fans, like me, who became hooked on AG Club after their debut melodic rap masterpiece Halfway Off the Porch, have been patiently awaiting a completed “Fuck Your Expectations” since its anticipated debut date in the summer of 2020. After months of waiting, with a few eclectic singles sprinkled in, AG Club decided to fuck our expectations once again by only giving fans part one, released April 2nd, with part two expected (I’m hesitant to use this word) on April 30th. Although it’s not the drop fans were expecting, it’s more than enough to tide us over. AG Club, now only composed of Jody Fontaine and Baby Boy on vocals, brings a fresh and exciting energy on this album that is more comparable to their early singles, like “Holy Shit” or “Ay, G”, than it is to their last full release. Tracks like “NOHO”, composed solely of bass and percussion, and “Columbia”, which features a blaring horn like they just brought the cavalry out, are the album’s “bangers”. AG Club hasn’t settled - they still have chips on their shoulders - and these songs prove that. To round the album out and further their pattern of genre-warping, tracks like “HOT PINK” and “A Bitch Curious” mix R&B, indie pop and rap to produce a completely new sound for the group. And just when you thought your expectations were certifiably fucked, the “A Bitch Curious” instrumental suddenly morphs into an EDM beat around three minutes in. Although it’s filled with an absurd amount of interludes for a nine track album, this project will still leave you saying: “Thank you AG Club, may I have another?”

- Charlie Darnall

BROCKHAMPTON - ROADRUNNER: NEW LIGHT, NEW MACHINE

The visuals for BROCKHAMPTON’s latest record say a lot about it. The video for “BUZZCUT”, the album’s opener, is a glorious clusterfuck of outdated animation and strobing color. On Spotify, every song is accompanied by a video of each vocalist’s face slowly morphing into the next. The self-proclaimed boy band’s visuals, although abrasive at first, are full of depth; every scene in a video or clip has spot on color pallets, an energy that accurately mirrors the song and an attention grabbing theme. And ROADRUNNER is equally as dense. Sonically, the album can range from the aggressive, east coast rap inspired “BANKROLL” to the all acapella, gospel inspired “DEAR LORD”. Between these polar opposites, lie eleven eclectic, constantly morphing tracks. “WINDOWS” is an eerie, acoustic laced song about all the boys being “outside your window” (oh no!) Following it, however, is the accessible and breezy R&B/pop track “I’LL TAKE YOU ON” featuring the legendary Charlie Wilson. “DON’T SHOOT UP THE PARTY” contrasts a beat that could send an Ibiza nightclub into a frenzy with passionate lyrics about racial injustice and the media and government’s inability to condemn white mass shooters. In the spirit of a “new light”, BROCKHAMPTON decided to include features on this album - a first time for the boy band. In both popularity and sound, these features are equally as eclectic. Features range from industry titans, like A$AP Rocky, to smaller, indie pop artists like Baird. Amongst the album’s themes of religion, hedonism and new beginnings, you will find density, both instrumentally and lyrically.

- Charlie Darnall

Young Stoner Life - Slime Language 2

The second installment of Young Thug’s Slime Language series is undeniably essential. Young Thug and Gunna together are arguably two of the biggest figures in rap right now. Do you have a cousin or sibling in middle or high school? What about a friend in a fraternity? I’ll bet you $100 they’ve both heard a Young Thug or Gunna song in the past week. Both these Atlanta artists have transcended your average rap fan; their songs might be on your dad’s favorite radio station. And I think they’ve realized that. Out of the many things this album succeeds in, its greatest accomplishment is playing into the popularity its creators have achieved. Features include Drake, Lil Baby, Lil Uzi Vert, Travi$ Scott, Skepta, Kid Cudi and even the controversial YNW Melly. The beats are accessible and lend themselves to millions of streams. Tracks such as “I Like” and “Trance” model the more melodic side of Travi$ Scott’s sound with a low tempo and spacey synths. “That Go!” sounds like Playboi Carti had a beat to spare after finishing Whole Lotta Red. In terms of lyrics, there isn’t much to say. Gunna and Young Thug are still two of the biggest rappers alive, they’re still quite wealthy and they’ve made sure to mention that, although their lines seem to prioritize memorability. Every song is either hard enough to make a JV basketball team go nuts, melodic enough for late night drive or bouncy enough to make your mom go “oh, this is fun!” The album plays on many established themes and styles, but I asked myself two questions after I first listened and these are the answers I came to: Is it trying to be popular? Yes. Is that necessarily a bad thing? No.

- Charlie Darnall

Upcoming Releases:

MIKE- Disco! (6/21)

New York rapper MIKE has released a steady stream of incredible, personal, and beautiful records over the past few years, and it seems he is gearing up to release another project, titled Disco! this June. The rapper’s raw delivery and soulful production has brought him to the forefront of the burgeoning abstract hip-hop scene, and projects like 2019’s Tears of Joy and the seminal May God Bless Your Hustle have garnered not only critical acclaim but a fanbase of passionate fans. The lead single for the project, “Evil Eye” provides a gorgeous sample and instrumentation and a short but sweet verse, and is a perfect taste of what is sure to be another personal and important record from one of the best rappers currently working. Disco! arrives June 21st on MIKE’s label 10k.

- Casey Chamberlain

Paris Texas - “BOY ANONYMOUS” (5/14)

Compton-based duo Paris Texas have announced their debut EP, BOY ANONYMOUS. The group has made a splash with the project’s lead singles after dropping the explosive “HEAVY METAL” earlier this year. The group mixes rock and rap, and brings a ferocious energy to their music while staying introspective. The group’s name comes from the 1984 movie of the same title, often cited as Kurt Cobain’s favorite film. The duo has released two other tracks prior to the project’s release, “FORCE OF HABIT” and “SITUATIONS.” The eight-track EP is out May 14th.

- Casey Chamberlain

#rainy dawg radio #paris texas #mike #young stoner life #ysl #ag club #denzel curry #kenny beats #benny the butcher #harry fraud #kenny mason #armand hammer #the alchemist

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resonanteye · 3 years ago

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via https://resonanteye.net/horror-movie-reviews-day-one-the-horror-of-everyday-life/

horror movie reviews: day one, the horror of everyday life

a series of reviews, two each day, of horror movies.

day one, movie one: # alive.

1: half the people are crazed and trying to kill the other half of the people, panic and mass casualties, violent infection, etc – yes, it’s 2020-2021 thank you, continue

2: infected people trying to get in and infect people who are quarantined, aggressive mental illness -yes, yes

3: your neighbors are all worse than you ever knew -yes. yes

4: cops eating each other -please do go on

5: oh no several days how will you ever survive with only ramen

two whole days of lockdown

6: so you’re warned to have plenty of food and water, yet you don’t immediately fill up the bathtub at least, or the sinks. and you don’t go into the zombie neighbor’s abandoned apartment to see if there’s food

7: too much tech, not enough walkie talkies. I doubt.

8: I get it, people expect the end of the world to be like, a switch flipped, but no. this shit draaaags forever

9: the golf club is reminiscent of funny games. maybe an intentional nod to his change in mental state

10: slapstick!

11: finally, foraging.

12: the Mormons are at the door

13: we have skipped two weeks, without water or food?

14: and finally the lights out- wouldn’t that go before the running water?

15: oh the melodrama. don’t be a moron, but this magical dude has been alive a month without water

16: Kim Yu-bin is keeping track of her shit. I bet he gets her killed. nice waterworld callback with watering the plant.

17: of course he’s that stupid, he’s the protagonist and you’re a competent woman in a movie. how else would it justify you endangering yourself for him?

18: oh, wait. he HAS water? from where?

19: finally the tech is worth a damn. and she’s feeding him, which is ok because yes helping each other matters but

20: ok yes the tech is nice, good point, this is a scene from hackers vs zombies. slapstick is fine. zombie big mad. give me back my hand you bastards

21: Jun-u. I had been ignoring his name the entire movie. This is a bad habit of mine with zombie stuff.

22: finally some decent fuckin plot movement. there’s kids, in a good movie he’d have to kill one. instead, a treasure trove of all the survival gear. it’s handy when someone else did the preparation FOR you. I mean damn

23: oooh she’s only alive to help HIM. what a fucking surprise

24: reminds me of the pandemic “share a window” website crossed with a gentle, normal mukbang (not a weird fetish feeder one)

25: the zombies are going hooome. the zombies are going hooooooome

26: ok yes sounds scary, looked scary but it seems like there’s only five of them at her door

27: she’s skilled. of course. melee fighter. I like that this isn’t the dumb-ass slow zombies, nor the superhuman ones. just regular people.

28: another pile up!

29: don’t drink koolaid from strangers, but spam? NO NOT THAT EITHER. of course there will be cannibals in this that aren’t sick, that’s another nice callback (the road) (dead alive). I’m still holding out hope a kid zombie gets killed, although it’s unlikely at this point.

30: holy fuckin generational-divide-monologue for the ages

31: oh damn a gunshot in South Korea.

32: look, Kim, I wasn’t given any backstory for you, but I really want you to outlive “regular dumb guy”. the suicide subplot is going nowhere and we both know it

33: it’s never a good look to be fighting zombie hordes on the stairs. I don’t know why, it just isn’t good. just stay in the damn apartment. please.

34: regular Joe, you are doing the right thing by staying behind, keep that up.

35: FUCK THIS SHITTY APARTMENT

36: finally, machine guns. sorry, I’m American. I’ve been waiting for an hour and a half for logic to set in

37: where are they even going? she’s cooler than him, why isn’t she getting messages? so I guess his Instagram saved her? is that a subversiveon of what I’ve been complaining about? I think it is.

7/10 excellent slapstick, callbacks, just enough humor without ruining the narrative. subversive ending in that he’s only in the movie for the sake of saving her life, and neither died. points deducted for lack of depth to the woman in the film, too much depth for the guy, and for showing us a lack of water then changing that enough to keep someone alive for 20 days. (also, he didn’t even fill up the sink, the hell)

number two, day one: condemned

this movie is about squatting, a lifestyle I’m too familiar with. let’s see how close to the mark it gets. oh, and zombie infection stuff. that too.

1: the supe is always the strangest thing in any building in NYC. always. this isn’t a narrator. this is realism.

2: when will rich kids learn that poverty isn’t an aesthetic? when will something that poor people authentically live through, be safe from commodification and the thievery of the privileged? where does class/cultural appropriation end? why are people using their yacht money on a tiny fuckin house? find out on the next episode of generation x, when we discuss the occup- wait no- this is just a zombie flick. sorry about that

3: I know she’s saying other shit on the phone but all I hear is “the rain was such a blessing”

4: montage is always good with good music over it. going anywhere in the city is basically a montage in reality

5: cigarettes cost 14 bucks in New York holy fuckin shit I’m old

6: ominous: “what could be worse than where you are now”, teens having sex, neon lighting, drainpipe footage, “what difference is a day gonna make”, “I won’t make the same mistake like I did in Vladivostok”

7: this bondage shit on the third floor is giving me a real, serious flashback to a job I did briefly which paid incredibly well. every time these characters show up I have a flashback, every time I watch this.

8: every character in this movie is someone I’ve met. every fuckin one. even cookie. I hate that and love it at the same time. I don’t know if you’ve ever lived in bad beat city but this is accuracy.

9: the glitch hallucination is wonderful. don’t show me people’s bad dreams, though. it’s a waste of film. especially someone’s dream who doesn’t know that squats don’t get the garbage picked up. at least he was gentle about her tourist status. (yes, that was fucking gentle. she’s visiting, but they LIVE there. he’ll show you the life of the mind)

10: the colors in this movie reminds me of Mermaid in a Manhole, an amazing movie itself- this is a compliment

11: yes punk means you puke and say “did you SEE that” yes it does

12: the way sickness spreads in close, unmaintained quarters is accurate too. these old buildings were originally tenements and were notorious for being built in a way that contributed to outbreaks of diseases. ny poverty history

13: the glitch used as stand-in for visual mirage is again amazing and continues to be throughout

14: that walk up all the stairs after a day at work to complain about the horror of everyday life, with a back crack and sore feet.

15: the cops are also accurate

16: the plot takes a nice strong left turn here, and it’s perfection. since the development of the plot cookie was leading us to doesn’t matter to the people in this building, it’s better to truncate it. and then we can get to business.

17: yes. if you die in a squat, you’re getting rolled in a carpet and left blocks away. you’ve got to. nobody’s gonna kill you but nobody’s going to be on the street over your ass either.

18: guitar axe skyline lightning. that may be a summary of the whole movie.

19: absolutely pitch perfect “you ruined new york city” rant for the ages

I used to live there

20: if the building wasn’t shit, this would be a nice Shining callback

21: FAWKKING

22: this movie just will not let you have any expected outcome. it’s brilliant.

23: I’ve lived in a brownstone that had a cellar which connected to every building on the block and beyond. that was in Philly, but the construction of this landscape is perfect.

full disclosure- I own this DVD and have watched it a lot. it’s one of my favorite movies, structurally and visually, and I think it’s one of the best horror movies made this decade.

#true stories

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purplesurveys · 4 years ago

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1184

survey by xflirtykaosx

Alphabetti Spaghetti (2/3)

F o r e v e r - y o u r s - F

Do you fancy any celebrities? If so, who? KIM TAEHYUUUUUUNGGGGGGGGG

Do you watch any FBI shows? Which ones? No.

Have you ever been to a festival? Which one? I don’t think so.

Do you have a fireplace in your house? Hell no. Just the idea of having a fireplace considering where I live and the general climate we have all year makes me nauseous haha.

Do you have a hot flask? I’m not so sure what you mean but if you’re referring to tumblers like Hydro Flask that keep drinks hot/cold for a really long time then yeah, I have one.

What decade were you four in? 2000s.

Do you like the TV show Friends? I love it. I haven’t watched an episode in a while, but it’s always a go-to for me whenever I feel really really really down.

Do you like the feeling of cat fur? Sure, it’s pleasant. Same with dog fur.

Go girl, go; G

Do you have a back garden? Not really a garden but we do have a sort of backyard; basically some space behind the house.

Do you have a gentle touch? Idk...depends on what I’m holding or touching, I guess? Like I would obviously hold an infant as gently and gingerly as possible, but I wouldn’t pay as much attention if I’m holding something ordinary like my phone.

Do you like girly programmes like Gossip Girl? LOL at girly. Who says Gossip Girl and literally any other show out there has to be for a certain audience?

Do you ever use gloves? Only when I order from Frankie’s since they provide gloves with their meals.

Do you prefer gold or silver? Silver.

Are you a greedy person? What makes you greedy? A little bit, when it comes to food hahaha. I don’t like sharing and I get angry if someone eats a portion I already called dibs on.

Have you ever seen a gypsy? No.

Hold on honey, I'm here. - H

Do you have any bad habits? What? I pick at my nails - either set - when I get tense. I also tend to get a liiiiitle bit reckless with my money, if I do choose to spend. I’m pretty self-disciplined for the most part, but I let that go as soon as I give myself the green light lol. Exhibit A would be me spending a total of nearly P7,000 just this week alone on BTS merch...

Do you know anyone called Helen? I don’t think so. My dad has a cousin named Helena, though.

Have you ever watched a documentary about Hitler? Not directly related to him, but I remember watching Night Will Fall in high school.

Do you put hm in a lot of your survey answers? Not a lot. Occasionally, though.

When was the last time you went to hospital? What was it for? May last year. Blood and urine tests.

Do you like HP (Harry Potter)? Who's your favourite character? I didn’t grow up with it, but it’s not as if I’m a passionate anti. It’s just not my cup of tea, even after trying to read the books.

Do you spell it honey or hunny? I never spell it as hunny unless I’m saying it sarcastically or playfully with friends.

Are you afraid of this Swine Flu Hype? That’s gone now, right? We’re dealing with something else entirely.

In the end we all die broken. - I

Have you ever been to Ibiza? Nopes.

Do you take ice in your soda/fizzy drinks? I don’t really have a preference as I don’t regularly consume fizzy drinks anyway, as long as it’s not lukewarm.

Who do you think is a complete idiot? Anyone supporting the government at this point is a good runner-up.

Do you often wonder what if? Sometimes. But I also find it a waste of time, so I don’t dwell on them.

Have you ever seen an Igloo? I haven’t.

Do you get ill often? No, almost never.

Do you ever imagine you were not human? What did you imagine you were? No, this has never come to mind.

Do you like sexual innuendos? If it’s not too trashy, sure.

What is your IQ? Idk, I’ve never had it checked.

Do people often call you irrational? I’ve never been called this before, at least not to my face.

Do you think the name Isis is pretty? ...Welp, not anymore.

Do you get itchy eyeballs? That never happens. Is that even possible?

Do you know what ix stands for in roman numerals? 9.

Just breathe baby, breathe. - J

Have you ever been in jail? I have a very vague memory of visiting a prison with my parents before, but I no longer remember why I was there.

Do you like JD (Jack Daniels)? Nahhhhhh. Had a tiny sip of it once, found it absolutely nasty.

Do you get jealous easily? Not anymore.

Do you tell a lot of jokes? Yeah. I like making people laugh, so I drop jokes whenever I can whether I’m in a formal or informal setting.

Do you finish school/college in June? When I was in college, my school year ended every May. Before that, the academic calendar ended every March.

Kiss me, kill me, thrill me. - K

Do you know a girl called Karla? Yeah, one of the managers at work is a Karla but I don’t work with her. I also went to grade/high school with a girl named Karla; she was my friend for a while as well, but we grew apart over the years.

Did you watch Kenan and Kel? Nope.

Do you prefer kisses or hugs? Depends on the person, I guess. But in the context of being in a relationship, I do love being kissed.

Do you like Korn? I don’t listen to them.

Do you like watching films with Kung Fu in them? Not in particular.

Lessons learnt the hard way are the best I've ever had. - L

Do you like Lady Gaga? She’s okay. I’m not super crazy about her but I tend to like all the stuff she puts out.

When was the last time you had lemonade? Wow, it’s definitely been a while. Maybe a year or so ago? I don’t get to have it a lot; usually only when it’s offered at hotels or resorts when I go on vacation.

Do you ever lie to save your own skin? Sometimes, but I never let the lie be too big just in case it bites me back in the ass one day.

Do you think llamas are cute? Sure.

Do you use Lol a lot? Yes.

Do you think you are lucky or unlucky? Neither.

Melody in my heartstrings. - M

Do you like Mac and Cheese? Loooooove mac and cheese, especially truffle mac and cheese.

Do you ever eat at McDonald’s? What's your usual? Not very often tbh, but I do like McDonald’s. I don’t eat it frequently enough to have a usual order; I get whatever I feel like having at a given moment. And since we’re here, I’m gonna be plugging the BTS Meal, in stores 5/26! HAHAHA

Do you like Medieval games like 7elda? You mean The Legend of Zelda? I do love that franchise, but I don’t like the medieval genre as a whole; I just happened to grow up with the Zelda series and Nintendo as a whole, so I’ve taken a liking to it.

What's on your mind right now? That it’s Monday again tomorrow. I feel like I’m starting to get burnout :/ I’ve definitely noticed I haven’t been being 100% at work lately...but it could also be because the weather is crappy hot again, which makes it a lot harder to work and keep focused.

Is money in your opinion, the root of all evil? It’s part of it.

Do you like Mr and Mrs the show? I’m not familiar with it.

Do you read murder mystery books? Which ones? No.

Do you find Mystical stuff fascinating? Not really.

Nobody loves me, what a change. - N

Do you know the name of your local shopkeeper? We don’t have those here.

Have you ever been called nerdy? I’m sure I’ve been.

Are you you truly a nice person? I hope that’s what people see and think.

Do you overuse nouns in your sentences? I like using adjectives, for one; but I don’t exactly know how you can overuse nouns hahaha.

Do you know anyone personally who is a nurse? Yes, I have several relatives who are in nursing.

Only you - it always has been. - O

Do you obey authority or deliberately disobey it? Obey for the most part.

Is there anything in your room that is an Octagon? What is it? I don’t think so.

What odor can you smell in the room you're in now? The neutral scent my aircon is blowing out.

Do you get offended easily? I think sensitive would be a more fitting word.

Have you ever been to Ohio? No.

Do you ever say Oi? Sure, but not frequently.

Do you spell it OK or okay? I use both; I don’t have a preference. What I avoid is ‘K,’ though.

Are you older than the number day you were born on? Yes.

Have you ever watched the film the Omen? I haven’t.

Name one thing you always have taken for granted? The basic things, I guess, like breathing.

Have you ever had an operation? On what? Never.

Do you like things in a set order or doesn't it matter? As much as possible I do want things to be organized, yeah. I get restless if I see a very messy spreadsheet or Powerpoint, for instance.

Do you have a habit of overreacting? I was a lot more...theatrical in my reactions before haha. Not so much these days; I’ve toned down a lot.

Do you think Owls are nice? Sure.

Do you know what an Oxymoron is? Yup.

Have you ever tried Oyster? Yessssssss I love them and now you’re making me crave them :(

#survey #surveys

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fuwafuwamedb · 4 years ago

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Demons in Fuyuki Pt 2 (Hakuno, Gilgamesh, Kirei)

Previously: 1

The morning light came in warmly, embracing her with a loving embrace that left her shifting slightly in bed. Her eyes opened to blue skies and lush green trees outside the window. Her body shifted, feeling the silkiness of her outfit that had coasted out of its proper state as she’d slumbered.

It was a great morning. A lovely morning.

Today, in fact, she would have a good day. She could feel it in her bones. If she went out with this attitude and took pride in the world of magic and its hand in hand embrace of the divine, she would experience nothing but happiness.

Of course, then her eyes took in the room.

The darkened ceilings with their patched up wooden ceiling boards. There were wires that were exposed, leading to a singular light overhead that held a string. She could see the minimalist décor and the spartan furniture. A desk, a bed, a small table, and a small chest of drawers composed the room. Other than that, there was not even a proper rug on the floor or set of curtains over the window.

Hakuno looked down.

The blanket she had was finer than the one that had been here last night. She’d fallen asleep under the strangest blend of wool that had ever been formed into a blanket, its edges had been covered in a satin trim, no doubt to prevent fraying but, in doing so, left the feet of to freeze at the slightest touch.

It’d been such a poor blanket, but not this one.

Size alone said this crimson and black blanket was at least twice the size. The fabric material was soft and warm, made of a thick fabric that she couldn’t place. It had replaced her poor gift from the church easily and entirely, leaving her to glance around again for any signs of her old blanket.

In glancing around, she noted her outfit had changed as well.

The slip she’d been adorned in was missing.

Well, it was gone from her person at the very least.

In the place of her chaste, white slip that went under her habit, Hakuno found herself in a black silky number. Its straps were over her upper arms now, having fallen from her shoulders. The fabric had puddled around her middle due to the length and- now that she was pulling back the blanket, someone had gone further.

A set of panties and garters led lower.

Someone had dressed her without her consent.

Not only had they done that, they’d dressed her in probably the most risqué of attire that one could have gotten her. A glance to the door showed that the thing was ajar, exposing her just a bit to the hallway.

She didn’t have other attire options.

That was where the whole pious nun cover came from. She had given up personal possessions for the life devoted to the church. She’d made sure not to wear any perfumes or adorn herself with any makeup. Her life and her state of being were to be presented as bare and empty.

However, there were footsteps coming now.

There was no time to dwell upon who had done this. No time to think about how to avoid trouble. Hakuno grabbed her habit and slipped it over the clothing she wore. She pulled the blanket from the bed, folding it as quickly as she could and carefully looking around.

There was not much time and that priest, if suspicious, would look around this room.

Her eyes drifted to the ceiling patches.

A floorboard creaked not far from her room. For now, Hakuno shoved the blanket beneath the mattress and began to grab her veil for adorning her head. She was just shoving her hair underneath the headdress as she saw the priest.

“Sister?”

“Good morning, Father Kirei.” Hakuno gave a low bow, doing her best to cover up any indication of her racing heart. “What brings you to this end of the church?”

“You missed the morning mass.”

“I did?!”

The man nodded.

God would forgive her. There was no place of worship or time of worship that restricted one’s goodliness and wellbeing more than any other time or place. Religious belief was between one and their heavenly spirit, not the mass and their prominence in the church.

“Would you care to join me privately for a religious prayer? Perhaps to beg His forgiveness for your tardiness.”

“I would hate to take you away from your duties, father.”

The last thing she wanted was to be in a room alone with this man, especially in the central part of the church. There was no missing the way he avoided the light. His eyes were too bleak, too sharply focused. It was as though he were preparing for a kill rather than checking on the wellbeing of one of his flock.

The man shook his head.

“Sister, may I remind you that god is above all else. One’s devotion to their god should be absolute, without hesitation or perception of earthly duties. While we may fast and partake in the cilice to show our devotion, there are many who would be tempted by the devil’s hand. Vain, selfish beings, unworthy of the protection of the divine and the comfort they find in their faith may stray from their daily worshipping of god, but it is those like ourselves who must hold their faith resolute.”

“The lord is about forgiveness.”

“Oh?”

The man moved closer, leaning in.

“Do you think that the lord approves of vain attempts to stop the aging of man? Do you think that we should encourage the selfish ways of human beings and endorse the way that others try to avoid confronting their own pains and vices? Should we allow one to think that their own actions can save them alone?”

…Yes.

That sounded like a few great things to do, especially the pains and vices bit when those were too great. Support was needed. Community.

Something in that gaze kept her silent though.

“You will learn properly about faith in this church,” Father Kirei told her. “Withstanding the pains of life, experiencing the losses and poverty of man, only then can one be close to what is truly human. Only then can one think themselves a follower of their faith.”

And that was no doubt the talk that sent everyone running, claiming it was donations alone, Hakuno thought to herself. She was tempted to leave herself.

“I will wait for you in the basement prayer rooms,” he told her. “Finish your cleanings, since I see that you are caring for your space that you’ve been given… where is your blanket?”

“I took it to be washed,” Hakuno lied. “Regular cleaning encourages health.”

That sounded like something that he would approve of.

The man glanced at her. “And your dressing now?”

“I have been dressed. I merely had my headdress a bit loose.”

“I see.”

She was a shit liar, but the man turned. It looked like he had no reason to wonder about truth or lies. The moment he was gone and his footsteps were descending the stairs, Hakuno rushed to her bed and pulled the blanket out. She had to use the desk to get up to one of the roof patches, pulling it aside to see the small crawlspace.

It was a waste. The blanket was beautiful and would become dirtied in this spot, but she couldn’t let it be found.

Her undergarments for the day were too form fitting and slick, all but caressing her when she moved. Even as she descended down the stairs and went to visit with the priest, she found herself mentally cursing.

There was nothing pious about wearing such lewd garments beneath her religious attire. There was nothing pure running through her mind when she would feel the garters press lightly to her thighs and legs.

The demon made prayer long, speaking of verses from the Old Testament. Fire and brimstone, smiting and anger; she heard nothing of hope or comforts. They reviewed the morning mass’ donations, the man making several large donation collections go towards cleaning and maintaining the church.

“Soon, the donations will have saved up enough to bring more of those who’ve abandoned their god to their renewal of faith. I intend to expand the main room, to bring more seating and stone walls to this building.”

And she could see him affording that easily.

“May I help look over the finances?”

“To what end?”

“Perhaps to see if any donations have faltered.” Hakuno smiled as best she could. “Perhaps there is a crisis of faith that has brought me here.”

The man gave a small nod, turning and leaving the room.

The answers had to be here.

Of all things, finances would show discrepancies. There would be signs of finagling and ill intent amongst these records. The man was so easily able to decide the portioning of money, whereas all the places she’d been lingered and asked opinions. Even the finest businessmen that she’d worked with before had faltered in making such bold decisions.

Somewhere-

“Those books are fake.”

Hakuno paused, glancing over to the blond in the corner.

“The priest never shows his true ledgers to anyone,” the man purred. “This is a test, one of which you are failing.”

“What do you mean, failing? I am looking for-“

“Do not lie to me. Your lies cannot stand on any ground, shaky or otherwise.”

He moved forward with that being said, his arms leaning over her person and lips moving close to her ear.

“You did well in hiding my gifts, little sister. Tell me, do you still wear the clothing I gave you this morning or did you find a clever place to hide them. I found the blanket I gave you, but the clothes…”

“It was you?”

He leaned in close, his forehead pressing to hers.

“H-How did you know about the blanket’s location?”

“The patches in the ceiling were made on purpose. Them and a floorboard are the only true places to hide anything. Not to worry, I took the blanket back before the priest could find it. He’s currently turning over your room for any signs of sin.”

The man’s fingers brushed against her thigh, feeling the straps of the garters beneath.

“What a sinful sister of the cloth, wearing such things while working. Does it bring you pleasure, I wonder.”

“No one is without sin, not even the foreigner who mourns his friend.”

Dangerous words.

She could see those eyes flash, the man’s hands stilling on her person.

“I have raised armies and slaughtered countless men,” the man warned quietly. “I’ve taken the innocence of more women than this city has people, all with the full knowledge that they would go to their men without their innocence and chastity intact. I-“

Hakuno pressed her hand over his lips.

Looking up at him, she shook her head.

“I don’t know why you think you are a demon, but there is only one here whom can be called such a thing. Your sins are only the pain of mortality. I can’t tell you prayers or cleanse your spirit, but I can tell you this: I guarantee I’ve killed more demons than you’ve slaughtered in men. And I’ve cleansed more of this world than you’ve ever corrupted.”

At his silence, she leaned forward, pressing her lips to his cheek.

“Thank you for the warning about the demon, son of god. I will be more careful in the future.”

She’d look for the ledgers tonight, once the priest was asleep.

In the meantime, she’d find him and give praise.

His false books were beautiful.

#drabble #drabbles

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voidselfshipp · 4 years ago

Text

I dont have a title for this

Quick fic abt me,illya and napoleon from the Man from u.n.c.l.e

Ok to rb

Cw: mentions of anxiety,picking at lips and bleeding.

Napoleon and illya stood there at the entrance of a popular bar around the us,theyd been assigned a quick but important mission, and their New coworker for this mission is waiting inside that bar.

They enter looking around for her,there she was,at the back, glasses slightly fogged up by the steam coming off her tea.

Jerico was sitting lost in her own thoughts, concentrated on her drink.

A sudden burst of energy snap her out of her thoughts indicating Someone was close to her

--miss von terra--napoleon said, kissing her knuckles

--oh well, hello--she said with a soft smile, stopping napoleons hand from taking off her bracelet.

Nobody had quicker reflects as hin,except her, illya sits, with a huge grin on his face-- not a good look on you mister Solo-, trying to show off?

The american Turned to his russian companion who looked away, he then sat and shrugged--just testing you...

--uh huh--jeri hummed handing them a file-- here you go gentlemen,ill be seeing you back at the hotel, zuwiromoh, xazyyzannevimoh~, (night, gentlemen)

She left the money for her drink and took her purse walking exiting the bar, the night Sky was clear, Air currents started to blow,the walk home would be long.

The men were left to their own devices, wich would result into a bit of trouble the Next day.

Loud noises and two men arguing woke jerico up, the woman jumps out of bed in her silk green pijamas, her hands seemed to glow bright green, barely being able to hit something she missed her targets.

--woah!--napoleon said--you almost kill Us!

Jerico scowled recognizing the voice--well you guys just let yourselves in, im allowed to defend myself...

--we uh , we didnt meant to wake you--illya added.

The slightly transparent fabric shone as the morning sun hit it, it made her look even more beautiful, the men there thought.

--gentlemen eyes up here, gracias--(thank you)-- jer Walked to the kitchen grumbling insults.

Napoleon shook his head and went back to work with illya marking the sightings of their target in a map laid on the round table.

Jer Ate her breakfast alone in the kitchen, sighijg she then went back to her room, changing her clothes to more presentable ones.

She gets carried away though, the morning Sky was prettier than she remembered.

She lets out a handfull of air leaning on the Windowsill, softly humming to herself.

--What is she doing?-- the russian Man asked, his companion shruggs and both go peek behind her door.

Her foot trapped as she sang -- give her sunshine

Give her pleasure all the while

Turn her thoughts from clouds of Gray

Give her strenght to face each day....--the russian tugged at the americans vest signaling its better to leave her alone.

However the american refuses, as he takes a closer look entering her room and leaning on the drawer.

-- give her laughter,be her friend

Stay besides her till the end

But,in giving all else above,

Dont forget to give her love

But,in giving all else above,

Dont forget to give her love...--as jerico finished singing napoleon claps,it mades her jump suddenly turning at him.

--nice voice, preciosa (gorgeous)

She scowls Rolling her eyes--no te enseñaron sobre la privacidad nene?, guárdate los cumplidos para las otras (they didnt teach you about privacy dude?save your compliments for the other chicks).

She took her purse, and Walked past illya--anyway we Will be late for our targets meeting in the café right infront of us--she took the map and picked up her cat who was sleeping soundly besides the chimney,the cat hissed as shes put in a purse.

--nice cat--the russian Man said petting the animal--what is her name?

Jeri cooed in her mind seeing this dangerous russian spy melt for a cat, her names Canela

--it means cinnamon In spanish da?

She nodded, Napoleon rolled his eyes and the three of them Walked to the café infront of the hotel.

They all sat in a quiet corner, ordered drinks at sat there.

Anxiously jeri makes her bones pop, picking at the skin of her lips.

--stop that--illya said putting a hand over hers-- youll make your lips bleed

Jer quickly stopped biting her lip looking away-- oh sorry..its just a habit.. a very very bad one

--ive never seen a spy that had anxiety--the american said-- are you alright?, do you want Us to take care of this?

She shook her head-- no no..ill be okay, thanks though

They quietly recorded and listened to their targets conversation.

At this Point illyas hand never left jericos wich made her smile softly, diverting her eyes to the russian Man every once in a while.

When their target left they paid for their drinks and Walked behind them.

As the russian and the terran woman held hands without noticing her free one brushed against the americans.

He played dumb and grabbed her hand too, unaware of this she walks faster almost dragging the two men behind her as the target quickly fastens their steps.

--we'll lose Him come on!

Illya in a divertion throws himself at the taxi the target was about to take

Napoleon follows behind him doing the same.

Jerico is left there to wonder --oh brother--she said amazed--...how are these two still alive?!-- she ran towards them acting all scared.

--Be more carefull!you could have ran them over!--She kneeled besides the two spies, her hands softly held the their hands--my loves! Are you alright?!..

Both men look at eachother surprised then looking back at her nodding.

They stand up--you should be more carefull! I swear my lawyer Will hear about this--Two other spies approached, who acted as cops to detain the driver and the target-- just let me get my hands on him!

--its alright my love!--illya followed her lie--we are alright

--Yes my dear theres nothing to worry about...lets go back home...come on--napoleon took her hand and illya her arm as the three of them walk back to the hotel.

Jeri starts to giggle pulling both men closer to her--nice job guys

Both men smile-- well--napoleon said-- you were great too

--da, very convincing angry Lady

Jeri rolled her eyes and didnt let go of them.

They went back to her room in the hotel, and sat on the sofá talking softly.

The night came and jerico went to change in something more comfortable, the american and the russian spies would Keep working as she decided to go to sleep.

Just as shes about to, Napoleon enters her room--excuse me...

--oh hey, come in-- he approaches her-- whats up?

--you dropped this at the cafe--he handed her a bracelet-- I wanted to give It back--she extended her forearm And he put the Jewerly on,holding her hand afterwards and kissing it.

Jerico giggles grabbing napoleons tie and pulling him down kissing him.

He kisses back hugging her waist.

--Not bad cowboy ...

The Man rolls his eyes kissing her again-- good night dear-- they smile and he leaves her alone.

Laying down on the bed she sighs turning off the lights, she makes herself comfortable as her cat curls up besides her.

Its maybe around midnight when she wakes up, her throat dry as a desert.

Her feet dragged her to the kitchen,serving herself a Cup of water chugging it down in one sip.

She then is going back to sleep,but turns around to see napoleon passed out on the table and illya still half awake.

Jerico sighs sitting besides the russian--to sleep

--nyet...

--illya its late come on

He shakes his head.

Huffing she pulls out the chair, straddling his lap by sitting on it.

--bed. Now.

The Mans cheeks turn bright red and nodds, picking her up by the legs and walking back to the room where they lay on the bed and cuddle togheter.

The russian Man is fast asleep when napoleon decided to join them.

Jeri hugged him from behind pulling him closer-- look who decided to join us

--Well.. I cant help myself with you, something About being in your arms is irresistible to me..

She rolls her eyes kissing the back of his neck--night cowboy

--Night baby

And as illya pulls her closer she falls asleep,feeling secured And happy.

#napoleon//solo #illya//kuryakin #mentions of anxiety tw #anxiety mention #bleeding mention #f/o fic

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mcfreakin-bxtch · 5 years ago

Text

Are You With Me?

Pairing: Arthur Fleck x Reader

Warnings: NSFW (not too graphic), some angst? Trigger warnings

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: Y’all getting fed today. My first Arthur Fleck fic! I’m still taking requests and prompts so please send them in! <3</p>

Masterlist

Gotham could be so beautiful at night when it wanted to be. The lights flashed through my apartment windows, the city always so bright and alive despite the darkness that crept through. On these nights I imagine that I’m some where’s else, far away where the sun would always shine and there were no signs of danger when walking on the sidewalks. I had been saving money since I started working, hoping that one day I would be able to reach my goal; deep down I think I knew it was never going to happen for me, but it never hurt to try.

The mornings were easier, that was when I barely had any costumers. Being a prostitute and working at the popular brothel in Gotham city had its perks despite the dangers that came with it; it made a lot of money and that’s all I cared about. Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t my first choice. But it’s my only choice of surviving in this god forsaken city.

Most of the men (occasionally women as well) were crude and rough. One of my costumers – whom I never bothered to learn his name – were always rough to the point of blood in particular and the only reason why he was still allowed to come around was because of the money he threw around handsomely; my boss had told me to suck it up and accept the payment. I’ve gotten used to it by now, being bruised and battered by the residents of Gotham.

However, there was one man that had showed nothing but kindness and understanding towards me, and always made it a point to visit frequently. I waited for him now, late in the evening. He was always punctual with our little appointments, and he greeted me like I was his lovely wife waiting for him to come home from work. I only indulged in this little fantasy of his to humor his money, or what little of it he had. I would feel guilty afterwards, he was genuinely a gentle and caring man and I knew he was mentally ill as well – which I never looked at him differently for. At least that was what I could see on the surface.

There was a knock on my door, followed by a small ‘it’s me’. I sighed gently, taking another drag of my cigarette – it was nothing but ash at this point – and unlocked the door to let him in.

Arthur Fleck grinned at me, shuffling into the small but comfy apartment. The news was playing in the background in the living room, the story of the three men killed on the subway bringing Arthur’s attention to the screen. He had an odd look in his eyes as he scanned it, and it made me feel a little uneasy. Like he was proud of the murders that took place.

“Did you hear about this?” Arthur asked suddenly.

I sat down on the couch next to him, legs curled under me as I propped my head in my hand. I never seen the men before, and a sick part of me had hoped one of them was the man that made a habit of hurting me during his visits.

“A little,” I answered. “It’s Gotham for you though. So much hatred and disgust.”

I couldn’t decipher the look he gave me, it left as quick as it came. He pulled out a cigarette, lighting it up and taking a deep inhale. I watched as he did, waiting for him to bashfully give her the look; though he had grown more comfortable with me and our physical relationship, I was still the one who had to initiate the act.

Except this night was different, Arthur was different. One look into his eyes and I could tell something was off, he was changing. Time would tell if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Putting out the cigarette in her ashtray, he turned to me fully.

“I look at it as a good thing.”

I frowned at him, not understanding where he was coming from.

“I mean-.” Arthur stuttered as he tried to find the right words. “They were cruel. The world is better off without them.”

I knew that Arthur did not have an easy life. Society did look and treat him differently just because of the fact that he was a little different from the rest of them; damaged, unhinged. He had every right to hate them, to resent them, but to take it to this level? It was dark, dangerous, and I was starting to wonder on if I should let him into my home anymore.

“Yeah.” I licked my lips. “But that’s no reason to murder them. I mean we’re supposed to be better than them, right?”

Arthur shook his head, his legs bouncing furiously. I could tell laughter was bubbling up in his chest and he was trying his damnest to keep it down. He started to let out the chocked laughter anyway, doubling over in pain as they continued. When he first explained his illness I was admittedly awkward and scared around him. It took time for me to become used to it and to look at it as simply a normal thing; I spent a week trying to make up for it as an apology.

“How was your day?” I asked softly, running a hand up and down his back as he calmed down.

“It was… it was okay.”

“Job?”

Arthur put his head down in shame. “I- I got fired.”

I gave out a small gasp. “What for?”

He seemed embarrassed, and I almost changed the subject before he spoke up. “I brought a gun with me on the job. They found out.”

I froze. Arthur sensed this and shifted uncomfortably, not meeting my gaze. I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts. I mean I had a gun, bought it once I took the job for protection, so it made sense that Arthur had one as well for the very same reason.

“Okay… where is it now?” I finally asked.

Arthur shifted, pulling the pistol from the back of his pants, setting it down on the coffee table. I eyed it up, burning holes into the table.

“Are you… are you upset with me?” Arthur asked quietly.

I slowly shook my head. Placing a hand under his chin so he would look at me, I climbed onto his lap, his hands hovering over my hips before softly placing them down. His breathing picked up a little at the proximity, body shaking from the contact.

“It’s just for protection, right Arthur?” I asked softly, gazing into his eyes.

He nodded. “Just for protection.”

I leaned in then, waiting for him to give the okay before pressing my lips into his chapped ones. I could feel him becoming hard under me, and I rolled my hips against his. He moaned into the kiss, tightening his grip on my hips. I invited it in, moving my lips from his to place kisses on his jaw and neck.

“Wait,” Arthur gasped out after another roll of my hips.

I leaned back, hands playing with the hair on the back of his neck.

“I don’t have much now,” he said, voice shaking. “It’s okay if you want me to stop. Or leave. I just… I just wanted to see you.”

If it were anyone else, I would’ve already kicked them to the curb. But sometimes I imagine that I was someone else, and that I could actually let myself fall in love freely with Arthur Fleck. Maybe I already have. Maybe that’s why I only shake my head with a soft smile, kissing him deeply before shredding off his jacket.

“It’s okay,” I whispered into his ear. He shuddered, whimpering as I ran my fingers through his hair.

It didn’t take long for our clothes to be thrown carelessly on the ground and for him to be inside me. Usually I was the dominant one, which was just fine by me. But Arthur was full of surprises tonight, and pushed me down on the couch, hovering over with a new kind of intensity that shook me to the core.

“Oh!” I gasped as he thrusted in, not giving me a chance to adjust before starting a brutal pace.

I splayed my hands over his bony back – every visit ended with me telling Arthur he needed to take care of himself – and tightened my legs over his waist. He buried his face in the crook of my neck, panting as he moved wildly. I couldn’t lie, this new side of him was endearing and exciting.

Arthur placed a kiss on the skin of my neck where it met my shoulder, and bit down hard.

“Jesus – shit Arthur just like that,” I moaned. “You’re doing so good, keep going please!”

These words fueled him, letting out a quiet growl before pounding into me. The couch shook from it, and I was sure I would be hearing complaints from the occupants of the building; I couldn’t find it in me to care.

I placed a hand in between our bodies, circling my clit with vigor. My walls clenched around his impressive girth, and it didn’t take long for the both of us to reach our peaks, his mouth swallowing my moans. He collapsed on top of me but I welcomed the weight, holding him to me as we caught our breaths.

“Thank you,” Arthur whispered into my lips.

It took several moments before Arthur pulled out of me with a soft groan, getting dressed and placing a blanket over our laps.

“Is that man still bothering you?” He asked.

I sighed heavily. This was a question he asked daily after walking in one of the ‘appointments’. The face of the man that left bruises and cuts on me was burned into his mind, who simply laughed at Arthur’s face as he gave one final, painful thrust as tears streamed silently down my face. Normally I would’ve had the door locked and Arthur would’ve knocked but he was in a rush to show me his new joke book and I barely had a chance to get the door when the man dragged me to the couch.

I yelled at Arthur to get out and cried the entire night, immediately calling – he was the only one I ever allowed to call – him after to apologize.

“Not really,” I lied smoothly.

I could see he wasn’t buying my lie, but he kept his mouth shut to which I appreciated.

The rest of the night was spent just talking, sharing jokes for his joke book. When he left, boldly placing a hand behind my neck to pull me in for a passionate kiss that honestly left me breathless, I couldn’t help but think about the men on the subway and the gun that once sat on the table.

…

The next time I saw Arthur Fleck was the night before The Murray Show and the night after the death of the man was announced; I immediately thought of Arthur and his gun. He excitedly told me that was going to be on, and I felt happy for him, proud even despite the dreading news. This was his dream, and it seemed as though he was getting a second chance at life. He deserved it after all.

But he changed significantly, and I knew something was wrong when he first walked in, barely giving me a chance to say hi before he was on me. The lovemaking was rough but gentle that left me wanting more. It took me a second to realize Arthur was saying my name.

“Sorry,” I mumbled.

He gave me a soft smile in return. “I got you something.”

Clothes back on and fixed, he reached next him to his jacket, where it laid on the floor next to my bed. It was wrapped – I could tell he wrapped it himself – and small. Arthur was anxious as he handed it to me, watching as I unwrapped it and opened the small box. Inside was a beautiful ring, a small pearl wrapped in the middle. It looked cheap, definitely not worth much but it was still so beautiful and it made tears build in the back of my eyes. But then I thought of the man, and my stomach sunk.

Clearing my throat and setting the ring down, I was close to breaking down and forgetting what I had to discuss with him when I saw the rejection on his face.

“Arthur honey,” I sighed, scooting closer to him until I felt his thigh pressed up against my leg. “I um- I have-.”

“You don’t like it,” he interrupted harshly.

“That’s not it!” I quickly interjected. “It’s beautiful Arthur. It’s just… I’ve been watching the news.”

His body stiffened, but I continued.

“I understand if you get angry at this, and I’m not jumping to any conclusions-.”

“I killed him.”

I stared at him, mouth agape. He said it so nonchalantly, as if we were discussing dinner. It felt like I was chocking on air, the shock hitting me like a tidal wave.

“Y-you k-killed him?”

Arthur brought a lit cigarette to his lips. “Yeah. He was hurting you. It was only a matter of time.”

I shook my head, trying to comprehend what he was telling me.

“Have you seen it out there?” Arthur asked before I could utter another word.

He waited for my answer, but I could not form any coherent sentences.

“It’s crazy,” he continued. “Something needs to be done, and there are people out there that are actually noticing me! I’m the only one who’s taking action right now, and I- I want you to join me.”

My name flowed from his lips with such love and devotion it hurt. It hurt because now I could only see him as a murderer. He wasn’t the same Arthur I invited into my home, my body, the man that I had fallen in love with despite convincing myself I haven’t. And yet somehow he still was.

“Arthur,” I struggled to keep my voice steady; I hadn’t realized I was crying until he wiped a tear from my cheek. “I don’t think I can. This is wrong.”

Arthur’s legs started to shake as he shook his head. “No no you’re not – you’re not thinking clearly!” His voice was starting to rise, and I couldn’t help but feel frightened from it.

“What have those people ever done for you, huh?!? You’re just like me, overlooked, used, and stepped on by these people! Take control!”

His ramblings were making my head spin. It felt as though the air was constricting around them, but oddly enough I still felt safe around him; I was confident in my Arthur enough to know that he wouldn’t dare hurt me on purpose.

“What do you plan on doing on that show Arthur?” I whispered.

Arthur sighed, roughly throwing his jacket and shoes on. I could only watch as he did so.

“Are you with me?”

I mulled over the situation. I never enjoyed violence, had thoughts of them but never acted upon them. But I couldn’t help but feel joyed over the news of my abuser’s death. And Arthur was right, no one really cared about me, I had no family left that cared; he was really the only one I had left. The only one that had only showed me love and kindness. This world was a dark and cruel place, but was any of this right or justified?

“Can I… do I have time to think about it?” I croaked. “It’s not a yes, but it’s not a no either. I just need some time,” I added for good measure.

Arthur grinned, rushing over to place a sweet chaste kiss. “Of course, my love.”

I stared at the ring after Arthur left. Slipping it on, I pondered over his words and the fear of what tomorrow would bring. I only hoped that no matter the outcome, Arthur Fleck would be okay in the end.

Tags: @riverquartzuniverse, @beepbeepyabitch, @smol-flower-kiddo, @teenagedirtbagg2, @goththespian

#joker #arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck #smut #angst #joaquin pheonix #joaquin pheonix joker #arthur fleck x you #joker x reader #joker x you

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lovemesomesurveys · 4 years ago

Text

survey by xflirtykaosx

Alphabetti Spaghetti (2/3) F o r e v e r - y o u r s - F Do you fancy any celebrities? If so, who? Alexander Skarsgard.

Do you watch any FBI shows? Which ones? Nope.

Have you ever been to a festival? Which one? Yeah, a couple local ones.

Do you have a fireplace in your house? Yes.

Do you have a hot flask? I do not.

What decade were you four in? The 90s.

Do you like the TV show Friends? I never got into it like everyone else seemed to.

Do you like the feeling of cat fur? If petting a cat, sure. Not when it’s all over my clothes.

Go girl, go; G Do you have a back garden? No.

Do you have a gentle touch? Uhh I don’t know.

Do you like girly programmes like Gossip Girl? Not that one in particular, but I like other shows some might consider “girly.”

Do you ever use gloves? If I need to for some reason.

Do you prefer gold or silver? I like both.

Are you a greedy person? What makes you greedy? I’m sure I can be in some ways.

Have you ever seen a gypsy? No.

Hold on honey, I'm here. - H Do you have any bad habits? What? I have a lot of bad habits. One is face picking, which I’ve been doing more lately due to stress and anxiety. :/

Do you know anyone called Helen? No.

Have you ever watched a documentary about Hitler? Probably for school.

Do you put hm in a lot of your survey answers? I thought you said “him” and was referring to Hitler and I was like uh, no?? Anyway, yeah I do say that a lot.

When was the last time you went to hospital? What was it for? For myself, it was back in September 2012 for surgery.

Do you like HP (Harry Potter)? Who's your favourite character? Yeah. I wasn’t a hardcore fan, but I did enjoy the movies.

Do you spell it honey or hunny? “Honey.”

Are you afraid of this Swine Flu Hype? I was. That was a big thing at the time. We had no idea COVID would be coming, though...

In the end we all die broken. - I Have you ever been to Ibiza? I took a pill in Ibiza actually to show Avicii I was cool. Ha, if you know, you know. Anyway, no, I have not.

Do you take ice in your soda/fizzy drinks? I don’t care for ice to be honest, but if I get a drink from a restaurant or fast food place I’ll just say light ice. I never use ice otherwise.

Who do you think is a complete idiot? Me.

Do you often wonder what if? Only all the time.

Have you ever seen an Igloo? I haven’t.

Do you get ill often? Yes.

Do you ever imagine you were not human? What did you imagine you were? No, not seriously. Only when surveys ask what animal you’d be or something.

Do you like sexual innuendos? Not really my thing.

What is your IQ? Above average. Those things don’t really mean much, though.

Do people often call you irrational? Not that I’m aware of.

Do you think the name Isis is pretty? Sure.

Do you get itchy eyeballs? Yeah. Gotta love seasonal allergies.

Do you know what ix stands for in roman numerals? 9.

Just breathe baby, breathe. - J Have you ever been in jail? No.

Do you like JD (Jack Daniels)? Nope. Or any alcohol.

Do you get jealous easily? I haven’t felt jealous in a very long time.

Do you tell a lot of jokes? No. I very, very rarely tell jokes. I don’t even recall the last time.

Do you finish school/college in June? I graduated college back in May of 2015.

Kiss me, kill me, thrill me. - K Do you know a girl called Karla? I did in middle school.

Did you watch Kenan and Kel? I haven’t in a long time, but yeah I did.

Do you prefer kisses or hugs? I mean, it depends. Although, right now I’m not feeling up for either. I just feel gross.

Do you like Korn? I liked a couple songs.

Do you like watching films with Kung Fu in them? No.

Lessons learnt the hard way are the best I've ever had. - L Do you like Lady Gaga? I like a few of her songs.

When was the last time you had lemonade? I’m not sure, but I know it’s been quite a long time.

Do you ever lie to save your own skin? It’s happened.

Do you think llamas are cute? Sure.

Do you use Lol a lot? No.

Do you think you are lucky or unlucky? Well, I don’t believe in luck.

Melody in my heartstrings. - M Do you like Mac and Cheese? Yeah.

Do you ever eat at McDonald’s? What's your usual? Not often, but if I do I’ll either get their breakfast burritos and hash browns or a Big Mac and fries.

Do you like Medieval games like 7elda? Nah.

What's on your mind right now? What I want to try and eat for lunch.

Is money in your opinion, the root of all evil? It’s part of it.

Do you like Mr and Mrs the show? I don’t know what that is.

Do you read murder mystery books? Which ones? Yes. That’s all I’ve been reading for the past couple years. I’ve read a ton.

Do you find Mystical stuff fascinating? That’s never really been my thing.

Nobody loves me, what a change. - N Do you know the name of your local shopkeeper? We don’t have those here.

Have you ever been called nerdy? Yeah.

Are you you truly a nice person? I think so, but it hasn’t shown the past few years because I just feel like I’ve been hardened and more shutoff due to reasons.

Do you overuse nouns in your sentences? I’ve never thought about it.

Do you know anyone personally who is a nurse? No.

Only you - it always has been. - O Do you obey authority or deliberately disobey it? I think I’m pretty law-abiding.

Is there anything in your room that is an Octagon? What is it? *shrug* I’m not spending time looking for something.

What odor can you smell in the room you're in now? Nothing at the moment.

Do you get offended easily? I think sensitive would be a more fitting word. <<< Same. I’ve always been sensitive, but damn it’s been bad.

Have you ever been to Ohio? No.

Do you ever say Oi? Not regularly, but yeah I’ve said that.

Do you spell it OK or okay? “Okay.”

Are you older than the number day you were born on? Yes.

Have you ever watched the film the Omen? Nope.

Name one thing you always have taken for granted? It’s just crazy looking back when I thought things were bad and it was nothing compared the last 6 years. It doesn’t seem nearly as bad now and I’m like damn, I’d take that over this.

Have you ever had an operation? On what? I’ve had several.

Do you like things in a set order or doesn't it matter? I need some order.

Do you have a habit of overreacting? Ohhh, yes.

Do you think Owls are nice? I don’t know.

Do you know what an Oxymoron is? I do.

Have you ever tried Oyster? No, and I have no interest in trying it.

#personal #text #survey #surveys #categories #abcs

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wallwriterstuff · 5 years ago

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Only For A Night

Characters: Mammon and Asmodeus (Obey Me) because I'm a sucker for Mammon being a good big brother

Warnings: None, maybe a little angsty in places, a bit of self-doubt but nothing major.

Words: 2609

Summary: Asmodeus is consumed by lust, but it doesn’t always mean what people think it does. While preparing for work, Asmo reflects on what it really means to be the Avatar of Lust, and just how tired of it he is.

Avatar.

Noun.

Meaning – an incarnation, embodiment, or manifestation of a person or an idea.

Lust.

Noun.

Meaning – strong desire.

Verb.

Meaning – to have a strong desire for a person or thing.

So many people misunderstood that word. Lust had been linked to sex since time immemorial and Asmodeus had been one of many in a long line of souls to fall prey to the misconceptions that word carried with it. He heaved a sigh, cupping his hand to bring some of the warm water up and over his bicep. Red eyes glowed as they watched the suds fall from his skin, nose twitching to inhale the scent of jasmine that was left behind - he’d have to pander to yet more of those ill-informed buffoons in just a few hours and he wasn’t honestly ready to play the part today. The moment he finished the shoot he’d be expected to attend The Fall with his entourage, to endure succubi crawling all over him and demons flocking from every corner of the club just to attach their name to his, if only for the night.

He was so tired of it.

Everybody thought the Avatar of Lust was all about sex, driven by pleasure and obsessed with appearance. To the outside world Asmo was as shallow as a kiddie pool, and nobody ever took him seriously enough to see otherwise. Well, everyone except his brothers. They were always the ones to see past the front he put up, remembered there was more underneath that mattered. He was sure there was going to be dozens of demons vying for his attention tonight, their fingers trailing his skin and their lips by his ear whispering things that made his skin crawl and his desire flare. The thought was enough to make him nauseous. He didn’t want that tonight. He wanted to sit with Satan perhaps, read a good book and exchange views on it. Maybe Mammon needed him to do his accounts again with him? Figure out how far in the red he was?

Asmo took a deep breath and sank under the water, relishing in the silence and stillness the water offered. Demons were always tempted by one sin or another, but the pull was strongest when it was a sin they specialised in. How was Asmo supposed to convince anyone he was as three dimensional as any of his brothers when the very sin he embodied set him up to fail every time? You could lust for more than just somebody’s body. You could lust for the finest wines and the best clothes, or maybe you strongly desired to travel and feel the sense of wonder that came with it. Some people lusted for attention and craved to be at the centre of it all, while others lusted for the quite seclusion of a life lived far from people, surrounded by nature and all it’s beauty. The problem was, people only ever seemed to associate lust with sex, so Asmo was bombarded with demons who wanted to seduce him and taste the pleasure he could offer.

How the hell was he supposed to say no when they appealed to the very sin he embodied? Lust was his greatest temptation in whatever form it came in and it had taken him centuries to temper his desires to the point where it was possible for him to go out and about without having a meltdown. Lust wasn’t like pride or greed. Arguably, himself, Belphie and Levi had suffered the most when it came to adapting to their sins, struggling to fight something internal that wasn’t a physical habit. Asmo felt his lungs start to burn and he surfaced with a gasp, blindly reaching for the face cloth he’d left on the side to wipe the water from his eyes.

He could remember the day they’d first come back to the House of Lamentation, the utter disgust he’d felt at seeing his room and knowing it was not good enough for him while simultaneously disgusted with himself for turning his nose up at someone’s charity towards him. He had been a good angel once, one that was admired and adored for his beauty and his generosity. Nothing was ever too much for Asmodeus to help with and when he became a demon he was supposed to just…take? It felt backward, abnormal, and that was without the constant strong desire pulling him in every which direction the minute he stepped out of their front door.

The feeling was so strong it had moved his body of its own accord. Trying to ignore his desire to go into certain shops, to smell specific flowers, to chase certain figures that were pleasing to the eye…that had felt like a giant magnet had been trying to tear his skin off whenever he tried to turn his back on the temptations. It was physically painful to avoid what he wanted, because he wanted it more badly than anything else in the Devildom, felt he might actually die if he didn’t have it. He leaned his head back, huffing slightly. All of this worry wasn’t going to do his skin any good. He’d get wrinkles, or worse, acne. The very thought made him shiver and he pushed himself out of the water to begin drying off. The sound of the water rushing down the plughole only served to heighten his anxiety, every little drop rushing away feeling like sand dripping through the hourglass, counting down to the inevitable photoshoot that would become a night on the town.

The photoshoot wasn’t something he honestly minded. He had always been adored and admired, he had never had any problem with grabbing attention and that hadn’t changed after the fall, but the Celestial Realm had admired him for the things he did for them. What could he do for the Devildom? His talents had been diminished when his Celestial powers were lost, leaving him with virtually nothing to offer the Devildom, nothing except his body. It was Mammon who had come up with the idea first to go into modelling, calling it a sure shot to make money. It filled his pockets nicely enough to suit his purpose but it gave Asmo the solution he needed to. It filled his need to give into his lust for attention, he wanted eyes on him and this was the perfect way to achieve that, but it also gave him a way to give back. He knew he was good looking, and people liked looking at beautiful things. He was a treat for the eyes, and the attention he got made him thrive, spurred him to do it more. His beauty routine and the career it spawned had quite frankly saved him.

There was always a theme to work with as seasons faded in and out and fashion designers rose to fame and fell again, so it curbed his spending habits just a little by forcing him to desire only what was fashionable in the moment to his fans. His desire to be beautiful had left him the face of many different beauty products, simultaneously satisfying his desire to have his face everywhere and to be raking in the kind of money you could only make as an influencer at the top of their game. All that money meant he could satisfy his urge to be surrounded by luxury, hence the opulent rooms he’d designed for himself. No, his beauty routine, his photoshoots, his design career even, they all satisfied his urges and kept him sane, but the social side of his life in the spotlight was draining to say the least. Sitting in his robe, Asmo stared at his reflection, dull red eyes staring back at him through damp, limp hair. He looked nothing like the Asmodeus people expected to see but the thought of the long night ahead was truly harrowing today.

It was the anniversary of their fall from grace after all.

A knock on his door made him perk in his seat but his eyes didn’t stray from the mirrors surrounding him.

“Come in?” he called out. Mammon was the last person he’d expected to see at his door today of all days, yet still there he stood, tall and lean with his shades on. He sauntered over with such confidence, a bright smile on his face as he slapped a stack of money on the tabletop beside Asmo’s makeup bag.

“Here ya go Asmo, everything I owe ya!” he was absolutely radiating pride, so much so Asmo blinked a few times to see if his eyes were mistaking him and it was actually Lucifer who had walked in instead. He didn’t bother to check the stack of notes, knowing his brother always came up good when he finally got around to paying him back.

Mostly.

Sometimes.

Honestly, today he was just too tired to check.

“Thanks, Mammon.” He murmured, reaching for his spray. He’d already used his favourite hair mask, now it was time to whip out the old heat-protector spray and his blow dryer. Mammon raised an eyebrow at him as the roar of the little motor echoed around the room, Asmo taking his time to carefully brush out each strand to get it dry and just the right kind of bouncy. He didn’t need his hair falling flat before his big shoot. Mammon didn’t leave, watching him go through the motions robotically as he put on his headband to start applying his make-up.

“Say, Asmo? You er, you feelin’ okay?” Mammon asked him. He’d taken off his shades now, blue and yellow eyes shining with concern. Asmo spared him the briefest glance in the mirror, scowling as he applied his foundation.

“Mammon! I know I’m not looking my best right now but I am still glowing thank you!” he scolded. Mammon sighed, head shaking.

“I didn’t mean that! You’re…well you look like you usually do I guess?” he floundered for a moment, making Asmo beam at him amusedly.

“And what might that look like?” he purred, resting his chin on his hand as he stared at his brother through the mirror. Mammon jumped, the weight of his stare proving too much. Asmo just couldn’t help himself, not when Mammon was so easy to fluster. Only Levi could outrank Mammon when it came to who blushed the quickest. Mammon folded his arms, weight rolling from hip to hip as he fidgeted.

“Ah forget it will ya? I was tryna be nice but if you’re gonna be like that…I just thought you might wanna talk about something.” He grumbled, turning on his heel to leave. Asmo’s smile fell slowly, watching Mammon get further and further away from him. His brother, the Avatar of Greed of all people, was concerned enough for his welfare to ask about him? How many people could he say that for?

“Mammon.” His name had escaped his lips before he could really think about, his hands falling into his lap as he ducked his gaze. “Maybe I do want to talk about it.” He said quietly. Mammon paused at the doorway, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly before he trundled back over and took a seat on the raised edge of his bath.

“Sure! Sure ya can talk to me! I’m the GREAT Mammon after all, great at listening. I can do that.” Mammon rambled, almost as if he was trying to give himself a pep talk. Asmo briefly questioned the sanity of his choice before turning fully on his stool and leaning back against the counter behind him with a sigh.

“I’m just so tired.” He complained. Mammon squinted, looking awfully constipated as he nodded for him to continue. Asmo realised it was a look he’d never seen before on Mammon’s face. Concentration.

“Tired of what?” Mammon prompted.

“Of people.” Asmo huffed, “I’m tired of people, Mammon. I’m tired of them throwing themselves at me and whispering all that filthy nonsense like they do. I want to just do my photoshoot and let that be that.” Mammon blinked at him, slowly processing what he had said. Not for the first time, Asmo started to second guess his choice.

“So…you don’t want to go to the after party and have a bunch of succubi throwing themselves at you?” he asked slowly, looking at him like he didn’t quite believe him. Sighing in annoyance he turned back to his mirror and reached for his beauty blender.

“I know I am incredible company Mammon but that doesn’t mean I always want to be somebody’s arm candy for the night. I’m capable of more, you know? I designed an entire fall collection once but does anybody talk about that? No! It’s all about the length of my-“

Asmo paused, searching his dull red eyes for an honest answer.

“Yeah yeah we get it!” Mammon was quick to cut him off, hands fluttering as his wide eyes looked anywhere but Asmo for a second. The Avatar of Lust was carefully starting to apply the contour lines to his face now, his eyes rolling to his older brother briefly before focusing back on his reflection. Mammon was very quiet for a while before he quietly asked,

“Is it that bad?”

“Yes.” He said softly, “If someone waved a stack of money in your face, would you refuse it?”

“Of course not!” Mammon’s answer was immediate, and then he flinched a bit. “It’d be impossible not to.” He admitted quietly, brows furrowing. Asmo knew he understood then, a deep sigh escaping him as he nodded.

“Exactly, I feel the same way when people throw themselves at me. Sometimes I really don’t want to but…it’s impossible to refuse the temptation.” He heard the flat note in his voice and tried to smile, but there was no warmth or mirth there at all. He didn’t feel glamorous at all and that was preventing him from looking the part, but he couldn’t let his fans down on this shoot! His routine and his sanity depended on it!

“Perhaps-“Mammon pushed to his feet and pushed his hands down deep into his pockets, looking bashful, “-I mean maybe I could come with ya and, well we could go get dinner or something after? Give you an excuse not to go yanno?” Asmo blinked, staring at his older brother in surprise. Had Mammon actually had a smart idea for once? It could work, if they thought he had plans with his brother. Mammon was another big name, someone who regularly had cameras on him, they’d get lots of attention to fulfil Asmo’s need for it without any of the interruptions – nobody was stupid enough to approach Two of the Seven Demon Lords while they were clearly on a private outing. Mammon however was already backtracking, clearly panicking he’d said the wrong thing, but Asmo was grinning at him now, his smile dazzling as it always had to be, should be.

“That’s a perfect idea!” he laughed, “Oh Mammon thank you! However can I repay you?”

“Pay for dinner.” Mammon said instantly, already batting away the hands reaching for him. Asmo giggled, feeling lighter somehow now.

“Of course!” Asmo wiggled the stack of cash Mammon had just paid him back with, “Ristorante Six it is!” Mammon’s smile slowly grew, head nodding enthusiastically. Asmo settled back into his makeup routine with renewed vigour. He’d need to look his best after all, for his big dinner date with Mammon. His big brother had unknowingly saved him from a fate worse than death tonight, and he was more than grateful, even if his fate had been changed only for one night.

#OBEY ME #obey me mammon #obey me asmodeus #asmo #avatar of lust

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pinesconessecrets · 5 years ago

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Secret Santa for Trustintoast

((Happy Holidays @trustintoast ! I’m your secret santa! You wanted “Awkward Nerd Love”, mixed with “Casual Everyday”, and “Pinescone vs. Disney World”, So I tried to combine them a little. I’m sorry that it’s Disneyland, instead of World–I’ve only been to DisneyWorld once, but I’ve been to DL multiple times, so I thought it would be easier to explain. I’m also sorry that I cut it much shorter. I wanted to make sure you got your gift, but I initially had more planned with them at the park. I hope you still like it. And if not, I could come back and fix it up for you. Thank you for the wait. I hope you had a happy holidays. Enjoy your gift!))

—

“Sunscreen?”

“Check!”

“Change of Clothes?”

“Double Check!”

“Money for Souvenirs?”

“Triple Check!”

“Backpacks for everyone to carry their supplies?”

“Check Check Check! We’re good babe.”

“Well, I would expect nothing less from my favorite organizer.”

The man in the passenger seat blushed at the compliment, hiding behind his phone.

From the backseat came, “I want to get some Mickey Mouse Ears!” followed by a thump thump thump!

The driver scowled in the rearview mirror at his brother, “Greg, we’ll get you your Mickey Mouse ears, but please stop kicking the back of my seat. It’s not going to make me drive any faster.”

Another voice from the backseat exclaimed, “I WANT BABY YODA!!!” followed by an even louder THUMP THUMP THUMP!

“Ahhh! Mabel, what are you, five? Don’t kick the back of my seat!”

“Why do you get shot gun, Dip n Dots!” The female voice, now identified as Mabel Pines, pouted.

“Because I’m the one with the map!” The passenger, her twin brother Dipper Pines, explained.

“Your map is literally your phone, open to google maps! Anyone of us could have done it.”

“But no one would look as cute as Dipper,” The driver, Wirt, said with a light dusting of pink on his cheeks.

“Ewwwww, gag me with a spoon!” Mabel groaned, sinking into her seat.

“No being gross and mushy on this trip,” The last rider, Greg, huffed. He gave his brother’s seat another thorough kick.

“Hey! Greg! Knock it off! I can still turn this car around!” Wirt warned.

Greg rolled his eyes, leaning over to whisper in Mabel’s ear, “Yeah right. We’re stuck in traffic. We’re not going anywhere.” Mabel snickered.

“I heard that!”

The two backseat passengers snapped to attention, biting their bottom lip to keep from further chortling.

“Also, we’re going to Disneyland, the “happiest place on earth!” I think a little mushiness is to be expected,” Dipper said, turning to look back at his sister.

“Yeah, but we’re in a car for the next 2 hours, and if I have to listen to you two flirt, I think I’d rather walk the rest of the way.”

“You’re just bitter cause you have no one to flirt with.” Mabel gasped, a hand to her chest, “You wound me dear brother! How dare you say such slanderous and true words!”

Dipper rolled his eyes, turning back in his seat.

“Hey! Why aren’t we playing Disney music? This is a road trip to Disneyland! Shouldn’t we be jamming out to some classic hits?” Mabel leaned forward, trying to grab the aux cord.

Dipper smacked her hands away, “Ugh, no Mabel! How tacky can you get!”

“You’re tacky!” Mabel snapped back.

“YEAH, I AGREE, THIS CAR IS TOO QUIET! WE NEED SOME DISNEY MUSIC!” Greg shouted, siding with Mabel.

“We’re going to be there for hours! We’ll get plenty of Disney cheer at the park,” Wirt tried to protest. He just knew that if they played that music, he’d wind up with a headache.

But both his and Dipper’s words were quickly drowned out by the two excitable chantings of “Disney Music! Disney Music! Disney Music!”

“They’re not going to stop…” Dipper muttered.

Wirt groaned, wanting to slam his head on the steering wheel, “I know…”

Dipper whipped back around, glaring, “Fine, you heathens! You win!”

“YAY!!!!”

“YAY!!!!” The two simultaneously cheered.

Mabel leaned back over, triumphantly taking the aux cord as her prize, and plugged it in to her bedazzled phone. She turned the volume up to the max.

“Hawaiian Roller Coaster Ride” from Lilo and Stitch filled the car.

Dipper slammed his head back into the headrest, “Hooray~” He droned.

Mabel sneered evilly, “Oh don’t pretend like you hate it Dipstick! In fact, If I remember, I believe it was you who wanted to play the Frozen 2 soundtrack in the car, on the way back from the theatre.”

Dipper lit up like a Christmas Tree. He began stuttering weakly in Wirt’s direction, as if trying to save face, “T-that’s only because the soundtrack was really good this time, and had an air of folk that the first movie severely lacked. It made Frozen 2 feel more genuine to the original story. I was just really impressed this time–”

“Right…Right…Oh but wait…which song was your favorite again?” Mabel asked, putting a finger to her cheek, pretending to think. Then that wicked smile returned, full force, “Oh yeah! It was “Lost in the Woods”!”

“Mabel, NO! STOP! Have mercy!”

But there was no mercy for those who cursed Disney music.

“Wait…which one was Lost in the Woods again?” Wirt asked. He thought back to the movie, trying to remember which of those songs would be Dipper’s favorite. Was it the lullaby song? Or the one Elsa sang?

Mabel and Greg’s eyes sparkled with ill intent; Dipper ducked low into his seat, but there was no escaping, no hiding.

Not when Mabel had control of the radio. And with that innocent question, the song that followed was an 80’s-esque rock ballad.

“Oh…Oh. Y-yeah…this makes sense,” Even Wirt couldn’t hide the slight curl of his lips. He cast his boyfriend a sidelong glance.

Dipper looked out his window, longingly. He wondered if it wasn’t too late to throw himself out of the passenger side door, into oncoming vehicles.

…But they were stuck in the deadlock of traffic, so that plan was quickly, and regretfully, forgotten.

—

“Hi, can I get 8 breakfast Jack meals–”

“Wirt, I want pancakes!” Greg whined.

“Greg, they don’t serve pancakes–” “Actually they do. You can do the mini pancakes, or the Jumbo Breakfast platter,” Mabel pointed out.

Wirt looked at the menu, eyebrows rising, “Wow, when did they add that?” It had been a very long time since he’d eaten here. This fast food chain was more recognizable in the west coast then the east.

“I want the Jumbo Breakfast!” Greg shook the driver’s seat.

“Greg, are you going to finish that? I don’t want to buy something unless you’re sure you’ll eat it.”

“Silly ol brother o’ mine, I’m a growing boy! I can totally eat all that,” Greg patted his stomach like it was a djembe drum. His stomach growled back, as if to second it’s owner’s proclamation.

Wirt muttered dejectedly to himself, “And the syrup in the car…that’s just an accident waiting to happen…”

“Sir…you’re holding up the line…” the timid voice on the speaker mumbled.

“Yes, I’m sorry. I’m very sorry! Just give me one more minute,” Wirt apologized; he didn’t expect breakfast to be this stressful. He was almost certain that when he was little, ordering breakfast on a road trip was a simple endeavor.

Then again, Wirt easily accepted what his parent’s ordered for him.

“Can I order a milkshake?”

“Mabel, It’s 7:30 in the morning,” Wirt looked at her in abject horror.

“…And?” Mabel so eloquently put it.

“Guys, come on, can’t we just make it simple?…Dipper you’re fine with what I ordered, right?”

Dipper flashed his lover a guilty smile, “Well, um, actually, I was going to ask if I could order from the lunch menu instead…I prefer their lunch over their breakfast…”

Wirt was utterly betrayed, “E tu?”

Dipper put his hands together, mumbling a soft, but pleading, “Sorry, and thank you!”

Wirt sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Everyone hurry up and tell me what you want–exactly what you want! Because I really don’t want to waste this poor lady’s time any further, and the cars behind me are starting to angrily honk their horns.”

And suddenly the car was filled with a cacophony of different requests.

“One at a time! One at a time!” Wirt cried, trying to figure out whose request was who’s.

Was this what it was going to be like from now one, being the driver of a road trip? Endless chatter, constant bickering, and indecision when ordering food–topped off by off key singing to the same playlist for the next couple hours. Oh this was not looking good for his sanity.

“…Sir…” the voice on the headset whimpered, sounding even smaller.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! Just one more second. I promise!”

The car behind him rammed their horn. When Wirt peeked in the rearview window, he could see an elderly woman flipping him the bird.

—

When he pulled up to the window, the lady who handed him the food was shaking, her eyes big and fearful. She shrunk back when Wirt took the bags from her hands, as if she was expecting him to yell at her.

Wirt understood that anxiety so well, he once more apologized for the commotion, and slipped a 20 dollar tip into her hand.

When he pulled away, the lady seemed a little less on edge.

—

An hour later, and Wirt’s resistance was starting to crumple.

After 20 songs, food sitting comfortably in his belly, and more than a couple loving looks from his boyfriend, Wirt was beginning to enjoy the ride.

He even did the unthinkable, and turned up the dial on the radio when “I Just Can’t Wait to be King” started up. The look of shock– quickly followed by glee– from his family’s faces was priceless.

And when he joined in singing “When Will my Life Begin” with the rest of them, he knew he was doomed.

Goodbye Sanity. T’was nice knowing you. Come back soon.

—

As soon as they arrived, Wirt had to keep a tight hold on the back of Greg’s shirt, because the teen was desperately trying to run off.

“Greg, I don’t care if you’re 13 now, you stay by my side until we get inside the park. I don’t want to lose you on the bus, or have some weirdo try to kidnap you.”

“Ugh, Wirt, stop treating me like a child–” Greg huffed.

“Well, you have a habit of getting us into trouble,” Wirt said, though he quickly realized the person usually getting them into trouble was himself.

“No you!” Greg snapped, though his smirk was playful.

“No You!” Wirt snapped back, also smiling.

They stuck their tongues out at one another.

Meanwhile, Mabel was dragging her brother violently towards the buses, her excitement having reached critical, “Come on Dipper, quit dragging your feet! We’re here!!! Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!”

“Mabel, stop pulling, I need to tie my shoe. I’m gonna trip. M-Mabel! Wirt, help me! She’s gone mad!”

“Mabel Madness! I’M COMING FOR YOU BABY YODA, YOU WILL BE MINE!” Mabel cackled, sounding like a disney villain.

“Wirt!!!!”

—

“Okay, so we should start at heading for Adventure Island and work our way around,” Wirt traced the map with his finger, showing their destined path.

“I think we should go counterclockwise, cause the more popular rides will get populated in the evening, as more guests arrive,” Dipper argued, tracing the map opposite Wirt.

“BABY YODA! We gotta start with Galaxy’s Edge, because that’s going to be the most crowded of all! We want to get in a few rides early,” Mabel chimed in, vigorously pointing at the newest area.

The three bickered about what to do, until they realized there was one more person with them, and turned to Greg to be the tie breaker.

Greg looked at the three expectant faces, trying to decide who would be the right choice.

He should side with his brother…but then again, Dipper was well organized…on the other hand, Mabel was his best friend…but Wirt usually knew best…but Dipper and Mabel had been to Disney before…but– “Um…Um…Maybe, we could…flip a coin?” Greg finally suggested.

The three young adults groaned.

“Greg, there’s three of us, and there’s no such thing as a three sided coin,” Wirt reprimanded.

Greg squinted at his brother, then turned to address the twins, “Well then we’ll flip for Mabel and Dipper’s plan, since Wirt has been eliminated from making a choice.”

“Hey! Wait! What? Greg!”

—

Galaxy’s Edge was packed when the four walked through the gates. Like a can of sardines, the group shuffled slowly through the crowds, trying not to get separated. Wirt kept one hand tightly on his brother’s, while the other hand clung to the back of Dipper’s jacket. The waving bodies made him feel nauseous and claustrophobic, but he swallowed it back, determined not to get sick so early in the day.

Everything would be fine as long as they stuck together.

At least, until Mabel saw her baby yoda plush hanging from one of the open stall shops–at which point, she made a mad dash for the store, barreling a way through. Many people ducked out of her way as she ravenously charged for her prize.

Within seconds, the path she had carved was swallowed up by the park goers.

“Mabel, get back here!” Dipper yelled, but she was already gone. “Wirt, can you–?”

He didn’t need to be asked twice. Wirt craned his head to keep his eyes on her. It wasn’t hard when she was wearing a glittery red sweater, and matching sparkly headband.

However, just as he spotted her long brown hair fluttering, he felt his brother’s hand slip out of his hold.

He whipped his head back around, catching a glimpse of green as his brother slipped under people’s legs, heading towards the giant Millennium Falcon building

“Greg! W-wait! Get back here!” His voice croaked– but just like his brother, and Dipper’s sister–it was swallowed up by the crowd.

Panic began to bubble up in his stomach. Wild thoughts flitted through his head–one after the other, each one worse than the last. Getting lost in a big place like this– this was not good! And Dipper was dragging him in one direction, while his brother was running in the other. He stuttered over his tongue, trying to find the words to stop them, but bit his tongue in the process. The bodies swayed to and fro, pushing him and pulling him; his hands were clammy, and he could feel his own grip loosening. The feeling of anxiety mounted, as his vision grew spotty.

Not good, not good, not good, not– Dipper intertwined their fingers, squeezing, and all the previous anxieties melted away. They were stopped in the middle of the walkway, with a few annoyed people passing them by, but Dipper was looking at him with a composed smile. Dipper wasn’t often composed–they were both nervous, stuttering messes in the worst of situations. But right now, seeing Dipper’s relaxed composition, and having the man’s hands tightly holding his, he could see those few glimpses of bravery, of excitement and calculated analytics–one of the many reasons he fell for the man in front of him.

“Don’t worry, everyone’s got cell phones. Nothing’s going to happen. We’ll grab Mabel, and then find Greg. He’s right, you know? He’s not a baby anymore–you don’t have to worry so much about him. It’s going to be okay Wirt, just breathe. I’m here. We’re going to have fun today, I promise. So relax, and just breathe.”

Those simple words were a great start, though Wirt knew it was still going to take some convincing.

He took a deep inhale through his nose, releasing a shaky exhale from his mouth.

“Right…fun. We’re here to have fun.” He inhaled once more; his second exhale was steadier, “…Okay. Let’s go save the poor sales clerk from your sister.”

Dipper’s smile turned to something more bubbly; it was clear he was just as excited to be here as the other two. After all, this was Dipper’s whole childhood, of course he would be geeking out–especially when his favorite franchise finally had its own area. But he was still trying to stay cool for his lover, and Wirt truly appreciated that level headedness right now. Dipper squeezed Wirt’s hand one more time for boosted confidence.

The bodies swayed, but Dipper and Wirt swayed with them, keeping afloat in the massive ocean of Star Wars fans.

—

From there, the group went from each area to the next, riding the different attractions, and exploring the many stores offered. Lines were long, sometimes 40 minutes long, but the group kept distracted with playful banner, and dumb word games.

Mabel lugged her new Yoda doll in her arms, cradling it like a newborn baby. Dipper swore he could even hear her cooing to it from time to time.

Greg ate a churro that was sprinkled with blue candy powder–the “light side” churro saber.

Wirt was spooning the last of his frozen lemonade into his mouth, reluctantly wearing a pair of Sorcerer’s apprentice, Mickey Mouse ears that Greg had put on him.

Dipper stared at his family, feeling a calming bliss that he often didn’t get to experience by himself. As he watched his family, trying to decide where to go next, what to do next, Dipper blessed his lucky stars–When you wish upon a star playing in the back of his mind–that he had such a perfectly crazy, but loving family.

Wirt looked over, noticing Dipper’s stare, and he smiled bashfully, cheeks pink. “What are you looking at?”

“Nothing, just…I’m having a good time,” Dipper replied.

“Even with this heat, and this crowd?” Wirth inquired.

Dipper leaned his head briefly on Wirt’s shoulder, and for a second–just a second– he braced his hands around Wirt’s arm, holding him like they were a lovesick, brand new couple, “Yeah…Is it preemptive to say that I don’t want this day to end?”

Wirt laughed, the blush rising to the tips of his ears, “Well, it’s barely noon, there’s still plenty of time left in the day–so, yes. But I think I know what you mean.” Wirt ducked down, kissing Dipper’s sweat soaked, bang covered, forehead, “For my first time here…I thought it was going to be a lot worse. But I got to say, with you and Mabel here–it’s still pretty hectic…but much more enjoyable.”

Dipper’s eyes widened, “This is your first time here at Disney?” “Dipper, I lived in Massachusetts for most of my childhood! Of course it is!”

Dipper eyes started to sparkle, “Well then, I got a lot of lasting memories to leave you with.” He liked the challenge already.

Seeing the adorable, childlike expression on the 19 year old, made Wirt laugh even harder, “Well I look forward to seeing what you pull off!”

Dipper started babbling excitedly, “Oh man, we have to go on the Matterhorn next! It’s pretty fast, and a little wild, but really fun. And it’s two to a seat…so maybe you and I could share a—AH! Ohhh, I just remembered. The matterhorn macaroons are the best–you have to try them, although that’s located at the Jolly Holiday Bakery! But we’ll make sure to get some. I’ve got the perfect plan for hitting all the rides and best locations in the most amount of time, even with the long lines. Hmm, I guess I have to show you “It’s a Small World”–it’s not super fun–kinda annoying, but it’s a Disneyland staple. But if we’re going by Disney staples, then we gotta do Big Thunder Mountain, Splash Mountain, and Space Mountain. Ohhh I gotta figure out what to do for lunch. There’s so many good choices–but also really crappy ones, so be careful. Don’t worry, me and Mabel know the best…Mabel–Hey, hey, Mabel! Where should we go to lunch!? It’s Greg and Wirt’s first time at Disney! We gotta make it special! Mabel, did you hear me?”

Hearing that it was their first time, Mabel squealed excitedly, and began babbling alongside her brother, the two practically speaking codes. Greg and Wirt watched the two in amazement, both intrigued, and horrified–well, mostly Wirt is horrified– at the shift in fanatics.

“I wanna go on Indiana Jones! And Oh, Pirates of the Carribean, we have to ride that too! I wanna see Jack Sparrow! Hey, hey Wirt, should we get autographs since we never got them before?” Greg chimed in, the enthusiasm contagious. This gets Dipper and Mabel squawking even more eagerly.

“Is it true that they have giant Turkey legs here? And something called “Hidden Mickeys?” Wirt asked, trying to keep up with the rest of his family. He didn’t want to feel so out of the loop, but maybe playing along was a little much, considering the effect it was having.

The twins looked like they’re going to explode at this point, ready to burst with all their Disney trivia and knowledge.

Wirt sighed, mumbling softly to himself, “I’m just thankful I didn’t plan a trip to Disneyworld. I’m scared to see you guys planning out your day there.”

The conversation stopped dead. Dipper and Mabel turned, eyes wide, pupils dilating. Wirt realized too late, that they had heard him.

And suddenly, the conversation turned to plans for next year, and tickets to Florida, and overnight stays at cheap hotels. Epicot, and Animal Kingdom, and the water parks in summer–all the special foods and treats that Magic Kingdom had over Disneyland. His mumblings had gotten Greg excited, thinking they were really planning to go there next summer.

The idea was ludicrous, but watching Dipper’s face, red with nervous joy, the gleam in his eyes, and his dimples deepening as he laughed, the idea didn’t seem so irrational.

Although, Wirt would prefer a trip with just the two of them, if they were to do something that huge. Much as he loved his brother and Mabel, a place that big would be too much stress, and Wirt would really just like to focus on one thing at a time: that one thing being Dipper, in this instance.

In order to stop the delusions from continuing and hope from blossoming, Wirt clapped his hands, and declared, “Before we start making plans for next year, let’s worry about today. We’re only burning daylight if we stand here talking about what ifs. Dipper, you promised you’d make today memorable, so let’s make some memories. I…I want to know more about this…Matterhorn macaroon.”

It sounded strangely mature, but also incredibly dorky. He flushed as the words left his mouth.

But Mabel had run and taken Greg’s hand, dragging him off, and Dipper had wrapped his arm around Wirt’s, pulling him along, which must have meant that his little speech had worked.

He didn’t know what was going to happen next, or if today would be anymore hectic–of course it is, Wirt, you’re at a theme park, and you don’t even like rides–but, if nothing else, today would be an adventure.

And Wirt quickly learned through dating Dipper Pines, that any adventure, big or small, was always going to be worthwhile, so long as they were tackling it together. And unlike Gravity Falls, there was likely to be less crazy, paranormal anomalies happening around them; they were less likely to get hurt, or fall into danger here at Disneyland–hopefully.

They would cross that castle bridge when they got to it.

#pinescone #pinescone secret santa #Wirt #Dipper #submission

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