#if you made it this far. thank you for indulging in my delusions and also

[beef-unknwn]

clawdeen got dat dawg in her y'know what I'm sayi-💥

[ajgrey9647]

one not being to focused on carving their own pumpkin because they're too worried about the other getting hurt while carving theirs :( + Jason/"Tommy" (for some reason I'm picturing them in that Alt World Drakkon made? Where he got to play superman and Jason taught kiddies karate with Lauren~)

An Autumn Day in His Utopia/Delusions of Normalcy

Waking up in the mornings was different these days. After a deep, restorative sleep with none of the usual nightmares and worries, ‘Tommy’s’ hazel eyes cracked open into the bright sunlight streaming in through the window near his bed. The sky outside the glass pane was a vivid, iridescent blue with nary a cloud to be seen.

The teen sat up in the bed, glancing about the beautifully appointed room, a far cry from the old days of bare, lumpy mattress, musty smells, and sparse furnishings. One of the best parts of this new life was there was no longer any sharp yelling, quick tempers, vicious verbal dress-downs, or the ominous cracks and thumps of breaking furniture.

Pushing aside the lush green comforter, ‘Tommy’ stood to look out into the courtyard below. He’d taken some creative license with the weaving of his perfect world, incorporating elements that he’d always found himself drawn to from among the many places he had lived with his ‘old parents’.  For this reason, the scene outside was reminiscent of the Midwest in terms of vegetation and weather.

A light breeze gusted, rustling the brilliant red, orange, and yellow leaves across the frost tipped blades of grass. There was a nip in the air that made one’s nose tingle inside with the cold, but that was also invigorating. It was going to be a lovely day in October and, barring any interference from otherworldly attackers, it promised to be his oyster.

‘Tommy’ crossed to his closet, the abundance of warm flannel and corduroy a delight under his fingertips. No more threadbare, stained, secondhand garments for him ever again. No more suffering with the skin of his bare arms rough from gooseflesh, his chest tight from the chill penetrating the thin cotton of his t shirts.

Pulling on a green and white flannel button up and green pants, the boy easily opened the door to the hallway, no longer fearful of what might be awaiting him on the other side. Smelling the crisp, distinctive odor of bacon frying from downstairs, his mouth watered and the grumble from his stomach made him chuckle.

Nothing roused his appetite more than a cool autumn day!

Galloping down the carpeted stairs, ‘Tommy’ noted his faithful servant, Finster, standing at attention beside the curved end of the bannister.

“Good morning, sir! Sleep well?” he asked, solicitously, giving the teen a respectful bow.

“I did, indeed, Finster! Thank you! Breakfast smells delicious!’ ‘Tommy chirped, moving into the kitchen.

The small, white figure followed him, sweeping up a tray bearing a small collection of white, covered china plates and a tall, crystal glass of orange juice as his charge took a seat at the polished mahogany table. Finster artfully arranged the dishes containing the bacon, eggs, and toast before ‘Tommy’s’ ravenous gaze.

“Any plans for today, sir?”

Plucking a slice of toast coated with strawberry jam from the proffered breakfast, Tommy munched it thoughtfully as he considered the wide array of options to him. With such a picturesque fall day, it seemed the thing to do would be to indulge in all the classic activities that autumn presented.

“Hmmm… I’m thinking about making a trip out to Mitchell’s Orchard. Maybe enjoy some apple cider, take a hayride, walk the corn maze. Feed the baby animals,” he grinned, relishing the wholesome innocence of it all. “And, of course, carve some jack-o’-lanterns.”

Finster nodded sagely.

“Wonderful, sir! Will you be driving there? I can have Cranston bring one of your cars around.”

‘Tommy’ shook his head.

“Nah, I think I’ll just take my bike, get some fresh air and sunshine. The Orchard’s not too far.”

Crunching a piece of bacon, the teen had another thought.

“Have the other servants gather some firewood and prepare to have a bonfire tonight. I want hot dogs, marsh mellows, hot chocolate…the works! Invite everyone!” he exclaimed, feeling flush with excitement at the prospect of being surrounded by so many attentive, admiring, loving faces.

“Excellent idea! I will have them start immediately! Is there anything else I can do for you, sir?”

Scrapping the chair back from the table, ‘Tommy’ eagerly bounded into the living room, scooping up his green knapsack from the side table near the front door.

“That’s all, Finster, my friend. I’m heading out now, but I’ll be back around dusk. Hopefully, those invading beasts will give me at least one day off. However, I’m prepared in case they decide they want to rock and roll again!”

Moments later, the wheels of ‘Tommy’s’ bike crunched over packed gravel and out onto the roadway. His long dark locks lifted about his shoulders in the still chilly wind. Considering his immense powers, a bicycle helmet was a non-issue for him and he decided to forgo the covering in favor of the sensation of flying over the pavement. The city skyline cast jagged edges into the bright blue off over his left shoulder, the buildings towering over the ant-size populace below them.

The knap sack bounced against his lithe, graceful back, the reiteration of his body in this universe much different from Lord Drakkon’s muscle-strapped, intimidating physique from the Coinless World. Here, ‘Tommy’ was a handsome, young teenager, his skin smooth and unblemished, no rope-like, snaking veins creeping up his neck into his jaw and cheeks like a high collar. His shiny mane was a solid warm brown hue with no trace of grey.

Reverting to his teen years in an idealized form meant that ‘Tommy’ was getting a second chance, a do-over of his chaotic, abusive, and violent younger years. In this universe, he felt no desire to attack, fight, scream, or menace. Others looked at him not in fear or anger or horror or disappointment, but fawned over their resident hero, desired to befriend him, to please him.

Why couldn’t things have always been this way? Then he wouldn’t have had to become the meanest, wildest motherfucker who ever lived. He could have had friends and possibly even a soulmate, a deep, passionate love that he would be able to trust and confide in.

‘Tommy’ shook his head, forcing the uncomfortable musings from his mind. He was going to have a good day and not dwell on the shit that loomed over him in another life. The instinctive, vigorous motion extended down his upper body and arms, causing the front of his bike to wobble erratically.

“Fuck!” he snarled, Drakkon’s harsh, deadly tone slipping back into existence.

The powdery loose gravel under the tire pulled the bike into an almost slick skidding towards the edge of the road. Braking made the slide worse and ‘Tommy’ ended up dismounting the out of control contraption. Landing in an untidy heap that was not the picture of grace he was accustomed to in this world, the teen quickly regained his feet, brushing the small pebbles and dust from his pants.

“Goddammit!”

A hand on his should nearly made him shriek in surprise.

“My lord, are you alright?” a warm, concerned voice asked, tinged with a touch of awe.

Spinning around, ‘Tommy’ found himself face to face with Jason Scott, the dark-haired teen who he’d made a karate instructor in this kaleidoscope universe. He was dressed in a long sleeved red and black flannel shirt and red jeans, the thick material unable to hide the Red Ranger’s muscular build.

“Uh, yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just hit some loose gravel,” the green-clad teen stammered, caught off guard by those beautiful midnight eyes.

‘Tommy’ felt his cheeks flame, embarrassment mixed with an explosion of papery-thin butterflies into startled flight. This reaction was not completely foreign to the dictator, merely annoying. He didn’t like the way his stomach twisted in knots and words jumbled in his brain when in Jason’s presence, much like when they were in high school together before he’d returned to Rita.

But this Jason was not ‘his’ Jason, not the Coinless Jason. That unfortunate Ranger was still locked securely in his palace, psychotic and traumatized and broken. Yet, it didn’t matter. Standing out in the open with Jason like this, without the other boy being under heavy restraints and yelling and cursing his name, was odd.

Dark brows scrunched together in worry.

“Forgive me, but you seem distracted, sir. Is there something I can do to help?” Jason tried again.

‘Tommy’ stared at the other teen, struggling to know what to say, feeling foolish standing here like he was addled.

“I was just wool-gathering,” he finally muttered. “It figures I’d find a way to ruin a perfectly beautiful day by ruminating on the past.”

The Red Ranger looked confused by the statement but didn’t press the issue. Instead he flashed a somewhat bashful smile and nodded towards ‘Tommy’s’ downed bike.

“Allow me, my lord,” he offered, striding over and righting the bicycle before wheeling it back towards the other teen. “Not to sound impertinent, but where are you headed?”

“Mitchell’s Orchard,” ‘Tommy’ whispered, feeling a tingle arc through his hand when his fingers brushed Jason’s as he took possession of his bike.

He hoped his gasp hadn’t been audible to the Red Ranger.

“Beautiful day for it, sir.”

The awkward teen dug the toe of his sneaker into the grass nervously, heart thundering while he worked up the courage to ask a rather mundane question. Jason was standing so close ‘Tommy’ could smell his comforting scent and feel the warmth radiating off his body, his aura still a protective one even here where Drakkon was the invincible hero.

“Would you want to go with me?” he finally blurted out, hating the high-pitched, girlish tone that accompanied the question.

The Red Ranger blinked in surprise, his full lips parting.

“I’d be honored to, sir!”

‘Tommy’ then waited while Jason wheeled his bike from the garage and waved to his parents in the front window of their living room. Mr. and Mrs. Scott appeared to beam with pride that their son was in the company of such a revered superhero. They looked nothing like their real-world counterparts, both individuals in this universe healthy and happy.

‘He should thank me for that,’ the disguised Drakkon hissed to himself. ‘I let him have a good existence here.’

“Ready?” Jason smiled, hiking a leg over the seat of his bike.

‘Tommy’ forced Drakkon’s anger and frustration to the back of his mind and returned the friendly grin.

“Alright, let’s go!”

A short time later, both boys steered their bikes into the entrance of the large orchard. Large bales of hay were stacked about haphazardly, errant leaves snagged in the rough strands. A small number of families milled about, staring into the little pens housing the baby goats, pigs, and rabbits as their children laughed and shrieked with soft muzzles whispered the edible offerings from their hands.

A large green tractor was situated off the left; it was attached to a trailer with wooden slats for seat and its floor obscured with more hay. The hayride skirted the outside of a large pumpkin patch where one could select their very own to take for their perfect jack-o’-lantern. The corn maze was beside the pumpkin patch, the wispy stalks rubbing in the breeze.

‘Tommy’ pointed at a wooden building in the middle.

“I don’t know about you, but I could use a drink. Want to grab some cider?”

Jason nodded as he engaged the kickstand on his bike.

“That sounds great, my lord,” he answered, not seeing the frown crease the other boy’s face.

Clearing his throat, ‘Tommy’ patted the Red Ranger’s shoulder.

“I appreciate the respect, but you can call me ‘Tommy’ today, ok?”

Jason’s dark eyes appeared uncertain or uncomfortable; the other teen couldn’t decide which.

“I’ll try. It will take some getting used to, uhh, ‘Tommy’,” he answered. “Just feels wrong to be so familiar.”

The teens entered the small store and were assailed with the strong smells of apple, cinnamon, pumpkin, and a touch of pine. Wrinkling his freckled nose, ‘Tommy’ looked over his shoulder at Jason.

“I think we’re going to permanently smell like fall after being in here!”

The Red Ranger laughed, following the other boy toward the front counter.

“I think you’re right.”

The woman working the concessions was stunned almost speechless when she saw who was patronizing their establishment.

“My lord?” she squeaked. “What can I get for you and your friend today?”

‘Tommy’ gave her a broad, hero smile, causing her to become more flustered.

“We’ll both have apple cider, please. And two apple cinnamon doughnuts.”

The poor lady nearly tripped all over herself to get the requested goods for such an esteemed patron. Her eyes skimmed the selection of powdered confections, huffing while she tried to pick the two doughnuts that were the most perfect specimens.

Returning to the visitors, she passed them the drinks and food.

“No charge for you, of course, sir! Please let us know if we can be of any further assistance!”

‘Tommy’ flashed his winning smile again.

“Of course. Thank you, beautiful,” he teased, giving her a wink that made her swoon.

Both teens walked outside, munching on the sweet doughnuts and sipping their cider as they considered what activities they wanted to partake in. Finishing off the rest of his beverage and smacking his lips, ‘Tommy’ tossed his empty cup in the trash bin and Jason soon followed suit.

Impulsively grabbing the Red Ranger’s hand, the dictator tugged him towards the large tractor orchestrating the hayride. So caught up in the beautiful day, with the delicious fragrance and cool breeze, its bright colors, ‘Tommy’ truly relaxed into the enjoyment of the day, thoughts and memories of his past and of Drakkon securely stored in the back of his mind.

The excursion on this wonderful autumn day was like nothing ‘Tommy’ had ever experienced before. He’d not had much use for such wholesomeness and childish wiles, usually ending up running from the cops or engaging in some type of physical scuffle with someone who’d pissed him off. He was someone who always had acquaintances, not friends. In the past, ‘Tommy’ preferred to hole up somewhere hidden, enjoying a smoke, a drink, maybe some ass if the mood took him.

Not cavorting about an orchard with his enemy.

‘Tommy’ had pulled and tugged on Jason’s wrist so much as he’d excitedly drug the Red Ranger from activity to activity, that the other teen was starting to develop light bruising and pain in his forearm and elbow. But the obvious joy sparkling in the hazel eyes made the discomfort worth it.

Together, the two boys had taken numerous rides about the orchard in the hayride, trekked the corn maze a couple times, fed and stroked the baby animals, drank more cider, and climbed the assembled hay bales constructed for daring adventure. And, of course, they each selected a bright orange pumpkin fresh from the patch.

They’d laughed and joked and cut up, their cheeks tinged pink with the chilly air as the day began to dip towards early evening. Beginning to feel the first tugs of exhaustion, Jason had suggested an idea to his new friend.

“Hey, it’s getting late, Tommy. Do you want to come back to my house and carve our jack-o’-lanterns?”

Looking up at the sky that was slowly deepening in color, ‘Tommy’ decided he could be late to his own bonfire. And perhaps Jason could be convinced to accompany him there as well? He wasn’t ready to part from the Red Ranger just yet.

“I’d like that, Jase.”

Balancing the pumpkins precariously as they peddled their bikes, they somehow managed to make it back to Jason’s without dropping them onto the road. Jason ducked into the house to grab sharpies and a couple of sharp knives.

“Have a good time, Jase?” his mom called from the living room as the teen hunted in a cabinet for a large bowl to collect the seeds for later roasting.

“Yeah,” he answered absently. “We’re going to carve some pumpkins out on the driveway.”

“’Tommy’s here? At our house?” his dad marveled. “I’m glad I decided to finish all the yard work yesterday!”

“Perhaps he’d like to stay for dinner?” his mom exclaimed, jumping from her place on the couch to inspect the contents of the fridge.

Jason didn’t appear to register the question as he disappeared out the door again. He smiled at ‘Tommy’ sitting on the pavement, each pumpkin nestled side by side in preparation for their amateur plastic surgery. Settling next to the other teen, Jason laid out their equipment and laughed.

“I have no idea what kind of face mine is going to end up with,” he managed. “How are you going to do yours?”

But ‘Tommy’ didn’t hear Jason’s question. His hazel eyes were locked on the sharp, deadly carving knives laying on the pavement by their thighs.

‘Such dangerous, wicked things capable of so much damage,” he mused. Like right now for instance, he could easily grab the black handle and thrust the blade into Jason’s side, into his belly, his back, his face. Blood would flow, possibly spray if he snagged an artery, the liquid pulsating with each racing, self-defeating heartbeat. Jason would try to run, he had no question, coating the driveway, the grass with the scarlet fluid before he blacked out and collapsed.

‘Tommy’ felt his hands tremble as they sat atop his knees. He watched as the Red Ranger picked up one of the knives and began to attempt one of the jack-o’-lantern’s triangular eyes. His eyes vividly followed each thrust and tug of the blade down the stiff rind.

Unbidden, his mind cast back to a grimmer place and time. A cold, stone cell in the dimly lit dungeon of his palace. Defiant dark eyes blazing in fury but hiding a frightened child’s terror as they locked on the small, shiny blade in Drakkon’s gloved fist. Swearing and threatening even as the chains restraining his arms to the hard wall clanked when he yanked uselessly and helplessly upon them.

“Fuck you, asshole!”

An evil, feline laugh.

“Such language, you little Red bitch! But keep running that smart-ass mouth of yours! Please do! It will make your tears that much sweeter!”

Tearing the already tattered red shirt from his prisoner’s body, smirking at the flinch backwards into the wall, the panicked panting. Dragging the point of the knife through the warm, quivering flesh, blood rolling in rivers from the numerous small cuts before an eager tongue lapped up the coppery-smelling liquid. Jaw clenched tightly, eyes now squeezed shut, fighting the screams of pain that would be pointless here.

Then failing.

Tears and blood and screams, pleading and begging, the frantic tinkling of rattled chains, the smell of panic and desperation. Now the teasing tongue moving to sample the salty drops rolling down bruised cheeks.

“Tommy?”

A warm hand covered his icy one still perched on his knee, making him visibly jump.

“What!” he nearly barked, still in the throes of a remembered torture session, hazel eyes pooling to black.

Jason flinched back, removing his grip on ‘Tommy’, his eyes fearful now, mirroring those of Coinless Jason in another time.

Panting, ‘Tommy’ licked his lips and gradually settled back into the present moment.

The bright orange flesh of the pumpkin partially carved in front of Jason helped to ground him.

“Sorry,” he tried. “I was doing it again. Wool-gathering.”

He tried a shaky grin.

‘If Jason hurts himself cutting that stupid thing, I’m liable to set on him like a rabid dog,’ ‘Tommy’ realized. ‘And I actually don’t want to. I want things to be different here.’

“It’s alright,” Jason responded, shifting his position on the ground to face his friend. “I meant what I said earlier. If there’s anything I can do to…”

His statement was cut off when ‘Tommy’s’ lips descended on his own, pressing against his mouth shyly. It wasn’t the lewd, tongue-laden kiss that Drakkon frequently forced upon Coinless Jason, but a close-lipped peck.

The Red Ranger’s eyes widened as ‘Tommy’ pulled his head back, nervously waiting for Jason’s reaction. The dark-haired teen licked his lips slowly, thoughtfully.

“Wow,” he breathed softly. “Ummm…thanks?”

‘Tommy’ felt his cheeks redden. He felt so foolish and dumb and worthless. Why the fuck did he do that?

“Can I have another?” Jason whispered, his fingers gingerly entwining with the other boy’s.

Leaning over, the Red Ranger brushed his mouth to ‘Tommy’s’ freckled cheekbone, making the teen hiss, fire heating his face.

“Jason?”

“What?”

“Why don’t we abandon this project and go somewhere more private?” he growled, his eyes tracing the Ranger’s full lips.

Later, once the bonfire was in full swing and Finster had started to worry, ‘Tommy’ appeared but seemed to be avoiding the throng of admirers seeking him out for accolades. His lips were still slightly swollen and felt almost bruised from the intense make out session. He’d really struggled to control his feral urge to pounce, to be aggressive and controlling.

The anticipation of the next planned tryst with Jason made the delayed gratification worth it.

[euphor1a]

🪶📜 ꒰ writer’s tag! ꒱˖♡

𐚁 ͏͏ ᳝˚ INSTRUCTIONS: recommend 5 or more of your own works that you would rec to someone asking what they should read first & explain a little bit about the work. these can be the most popular, the ones you think are underrated, or your own favourites! then tag five other writers!

𐚁 ͏͏ ᳝˚ TAGGED BY: ellie ✨ @kookthief <3! thank you for thinking of me lovely ^^

𐚁 ͏͏ ᳝˚ TAGGING: ummmmmm @yeonjun4beagles ; @writingmochi ; @agustdakasuga ; @hoshologies and @park-jimin-isnt-real (no pressure or anything ofc! feel free to ignore!)

Play with me | cyj – one-shot

A fan favorite (not only here, this is pretty popular on ao3 as well 🤭)! Not that I’m too surprised about it. Gamer!au is vastly enjoyed and tbh everything about this fic is so straight forward aksgjagj. You get your gamer boyf choi yeonjun, needy baby reader, a bit of tears and misunderstanding (bc duh, i wrote it), self-indulgent smut and some comedy as a bonus! People loved it, and I did too 😆

Yin to my yang | jjk – one-shot

Literally the most aleyna thing ever to aleyna. That’s all I will say. A heap of emotions from the start? ✅ Growing up together? ✅ Idiots in love? ✅ A lot of crying? ✅ Confessions at the last possible moment? ✅ Make-up sex for all the time they wasted? ✅ This didn’t get much love (read feedback), so I recommend it strongly!!

Boyfriend chronicles | kmg – series

There’s nothing more self-indulgent in this world than writing down your own delusions and then adding a somewhat legible plot to it so that y’all don’t point and laugh. I think a lot of people will enjoy it moving forward (this only has one cute lil’ prologue so far) <3 because c’mon now, who the hell doesn’t like a big puppy giant absolutely worshipping the fuck out of you until you start believing in love again </3

Weak for you | kth – one-shot

A fic that pushed me out of my boundaries and made me realize that I can indeed write longer fics 🌬️! Yep! I strongly used to believe that I’m incapable of hitting word counts like 10K and so on. But I proved myself wrong with this one <3! A bit underrated compared to some of my other stuff. Maybe because it’s not for everyone, but I do know that boxer!tyun enthusiasts are pretty large in number 👀! You can give this one a shot of you enjoy boxer aus and emotional rollercoasters 🎢 and steamy times obviously —

Literally all my thirst drabbles

A brief peek inside my head. You don’t even have to read it all, you can just skim through the warnings and the internal functions of my brain will be crystal clear to you. Also, a lot of people seem to enjoy them <3! Saur 🤭 I definitely recommend ✨! Maybe you will find out that you share a few braincells with me after reading these 🤝🏼

[fatuilady]

— 𝐜𝐫𝐲 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭. (NSFW)

✦ word count : 1.7𝐤

✦ feat : 𝐆𝐍 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 , [𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐭] 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐞

✦ cw : 𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 , 𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫𝐬 , 𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐬𝐦 𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐚𝐥 , 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐬 , 𝐝𝐚𝐜𝐫𝐲𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚 , 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝖎𝖓 𝖜𝖍𝖎𝖈𝖍 :

— a certain fatui member is insistent that those of his level of importance don't have time to spare to waste on crying. little did he know, his rival intended to take him up on his statement all with the intent to conclude just exactly how much it takes to make a harbinger cry.

'Harbingers don't cry. It's below somebody of my position.'

The fatui's most valued redhead wore his confidence through his infamous, upturned smirk. He held his relaxed arms knotted together in definite security, crossed against his chest as he lifted his chin to further assert his prior statement. Though he spoke in a self-assured tonality, cockiness resonated in his ultimatum.

It was surely said to coax a remark from you, it was too obviously laced with brimming arrogance to not be some form of verbal mouse trap. It was amusing, how he attempted to retain his mirage of false strength.

'Is that so?'

You pursed your lips, allowing him to add to his curiously delusive ideology. His impudence was mildly beguiled and for the first instance in the whole of your passive-aggressive rivalry, his nerve began to agitate every one of yours. Challenging him with a simple three-part chuckle, you observed him as he shifted his posture. Just how much would it take to change his thesis?

'Tears come from weakness, something that I refuse to display.'

On it's own, it was a rather insensitive statement, considering he was by no means unshakeable. You both knew very well that he was going to contradict himself strongly in due time.

He was going to eat those words.

And he was going to like it.

You tied each finger into the auburn wefts atop his head, stray hints of frustration collecting together as he writhes, shifting and squirming. It was something you had discovered in the moment: he was incredibly hair sensitive. The way your nails dug into his tender scalp, pulling on every fibre sent electrical pulses through his skin.

Tugging sharply, you craned his head to the left. From such stark force, he stumbled, both on his feet and on a choked out groan. It was laughable, how quickly the tables turned at your hands.

'Harbingers don't cry?'

His previously smirking lip now quivered as you projected your words right into his ear. Admittedly, he made his statement with an absent mind. Would he have expected such a one-dimensional outlook would leave him back exposed, red-kneed as his rivalling other half forced each of his four limbs into the hardwood?

Would he have expected to warm up so easily to the situation?

No, but it was more likely than he thought.

You alleviated your grip on his hair, consequently dropping him onto his palms. He flinched once more as his forearms quaked, barely able to support the weight of your hefty boot on his lower back. He should have been thankful you blessed him with permission to keep his pants, however the elemental energy you emanated stung his bare back, torturing him as he shivered with anticipation.

'Pathetic, really.'

With utmost care, he peeked behind him through the space between his quivering forelimbs.

Childe's usual front, being the fatui's most infamous prodigy, didn't allow him to show any sign of submissiveness, however, what he saw flushed him with a feeling he'd never even considered before. It was one of desperation.

One of want.

One of need.

A critical shadow cut across your face, cast sinisterly over your newfound sadistic smile. It bore into him, made him feel queasy, weak at the joints. It was wrong for him to feel excitement prickle upon seeing you assert him in such a way. It was wrong for him to betray the very rules of his nation in the name of his own masochistic desire. It was wrong for him to want to brand the outlines of your sick face into his mind with a hot iron. It was wrong for him to indulge in the very actions he enjoyed inflicting on others.

Yet, it felt right to entertain them.

It felt right to submit and toss the coin to it's most opposite face.

It felt all too right to fall prey to his feral instincts.

'P-please...'

The address was barely audible in ordinary circumstances, but in a barren room, it was alarmingly loud. So loud that Childe couldn't recognise his own voice. It was subordinate, faltering and breaking apart with every syllable. The eleventh harbinger had never uttered such a word in his life; it was an address to a superior, something someone of his recognised status would never dream of choking out underneath someone he held such strong taunting against.

You caught ear of what he uttered, much to his controversial dismay. It was indeed a delight to hear on your part. Pressing your boot further into the base of his spine, you revelled in his weary whimpers. For such an accomplished warrior, he seemed particularly weak to human touch. Perhaps it was a double-edged blade, performing so well that no opponent could touch him also meant that in this irregular instance, he upheld the resistance of a flimsy piece of parchment when it came to withstanding another's force. Entertaining this now obvious forbidden fantasy of his, you unsheathed one of the two foils, a particular favourite from your personal arsenal, from the holsters on your back. It was thin, made rigid with elemental energy in the same way that he materialised his own blades.

They suited you well in previous duels, never once had they failed you against the tyranny of the Fatui, so it was unlikely they would betray you against an unarmed, unhelped and so clearly sexually frustrated opponent.

Such a weapon would not have intimidated him usually, in fact, he also knew how to use it perfectly well and precisely. This time, it struck a kind of taboo enjoyment within him. You performed much differently to him in the dance of battle: he was a jack of all trades, you were more concentrated as a master of one. As you leaned into him once more, you traced the charged edge over his shoulder blades, feeling the muscles underneath contract and tense under your fervorous guidance.

Your control was indeed as masterful as he expected, possibly even too much for him.

'What was that?' You mused, through an invasive grin.

He gasped, the last of his depleting reasoning was begging him to come to his senses. It was quickly fading away into mere electrical impulses that made him twitch with every subtle move. Sabre now pressed to his throat, he felt the power of your vision burn into his skin, adam's apple resting uncomfortably on top of the honing edge.

You were waiting impatiently for a response, minutes elapsed and you quickly discovered you would have to coax it out of him. Digging the blade in further, you forced him onto his knees just so he could avoid an accidental demise.

Truthfully, he wouldn't have minded going out this way. If it was to a more despised enemy, he'd turn his nose at even the thought, but with you, his mind wandered like a lost puppy.

'p-please, m-m...'

He seemed as though he was going to choke out another few syllables, but caught himself, or more likely, became tied up on his own tongue.

'I want that in words,'

'f-a-ah~ p-please, [NAME] I-I'll beg, I swe-swear-'

Before he could finish his statement, you disenchanted your foil, allowing it to lose its structure, falling into a long strand connected to a handle. With a careless flick, it coiled around his neck thrice, all whilst leaving an arm's length of cord, more than enough for you to tug on sharply. He jolted upwards, vocals breaking as he wailed.

'Then beg.'

Childe's eyes widened, the sheer cold was like lightning, superconducting across his skin. It felt euphoric, pinning and placing freezing, soothing pressure on each and every torn muscle. Brimming tears started to swell in his waterline.

How utterly humiliating.

'[N-NAME]...m-ma-' he took a moment to swallow back the saliva pooling in his mouth at the sultry thoughts beating him up below, 'm-make me cry.'

'Is that what you want, pretty boy?' He crumbled at the nickname.

'p-prove m~me wrong...'

And there was all the confirmation you needed.

Taking your chance to dual wield your two rapiers, you disenchanted the other and with one forceful swoop, lashed it right across his bare back.

The initial sound was one of pain, but in mutual desire, he melted into the succeeding throbbing, the stinging coaxing unholy sounds to tumble so effortlessly from his lips. He was very well already on his way to Cloud 9, mind spinning with wishful stars as his vision became blurred.

'youre so pretty when you cry,' you cooed, knowing his pants would be far beyond uncomfortable at this point. Another lash.

'f-gahh~ pl-plea-'

Again.

'It's- too- too much,' you leaned down to kiss his blushing earlobes, listening to him sob over his embarrassing request, 'I- n-need t-'

Again.

'Touch yourself? how crude.' Biting the handle of the cord around his neck, you used your now free hand to hook around the front waistband of his pants. 'Go ahead. That is, if you're so desperate to be vulgar.'

You traced the wicked serpents tongue over his back this time.

A thought quickly came to pass. Your vision trinket illuminated a gentle hue as you crystallised the surface in front of him. Puzzled, initially, he only realised it's purpose when he suddenly saw his reflection gaping back at him, scarlet faced with glazed eyes. You had made the surface reflective with elemental energy, all with the purpose of allowing him to see himself come undone at the seams.

'Are you going to begin? or are you to embarrassed to watch yourself?' Leaning into his other ear, you could feel the hot air from his panting, 'would you rather me drag you like a dog all the way back to Snezhnaya so the Tsaritsa can look upon you in this condition?'

The sounds of his muffled moans and wet slapping of raw skin started to fill the room. Just like that.

'I hope you intend to clean this mess you're making, Ajax, you're leaking all over the floor.'

You were more intent now just to watch him cradle himself to desperately over your mere presence alone, how could you resist disrupting him with occasional thrashing, causing him to jerk his hand harshly.

The eleventh harbinger was foaming at the mouth, growing more non-verbal with every shot you took at him like he was merely just a discarded hilichurl training dummy. It was a cocktail of eroticism, pleading whines, tortured whimpers and shameful cries all shaken up as one.

Childe wasn't usually one to complete his process so quickly, mostly saving the build up, so this was something new for him. He made eye contact with you through the makeshift mirror, the look in his eyes telling you he was about to pop. He had discarded his concern for volume long ago, keen to ride out the feeling under your stern supervision. He figured it was drawing to a close soon, so gave it his all.

You didn't like that.

One of your whips wrapped itself around his working hand, tugging it forcefully away from his work. For a brief moment, he had allowed himself to indulge himself to a point where he forgot who's mercy he was under.

'Ajax.'

You trailed your tongue across his salty cheek, the intoxicating taste of your victory turning the flavour sweet.

'Just who said that you could finish?'

It was a guarantee that you would make him cry about it.

This was a mistake on his part.

But boy, was he glad he made it.

© 𝖋𝖆𝖙𝖚𝖎𝖑𝖆𝖉𝖞 .

[lavienjin]

important ass-et | pjm

Summary: You've been tasked with a very important job that you absolutely can't fuck up. After a long day at work, you're at your wits end and who better to end the evening with than your boss?

pairing: CEO!jimin x employee!reader

word count: 8,489

rating: 18+. this work is not suitable for younger audiences.

genre/au: office romance au, coworkers to lovers (?) | smut

warnings: sir kink • mirror kink • spitting • light bondage • squirting • oral (m. & f. receiving) • dirty talk • dom/sub themes • alcohol consumption (not drunk!) • safeword mention (not used!) • impact play (pussy, ass, and thighs baby) • name calling (bitch, slut)

author's note: this self-indulgent thing is for the lovely siya aka @missgeniality! surprise! but not really since i've been teasing this for a HOT minute huh? this is also my first full length fic for the lovely folks over at @btsgoldnetwork! thank you for accepting me into the network! anyway, i do hope you enjoy it, let me know what you think! constructive criticisms are always appreciated!

credits: smoke texture

m.list | ao3

Tick. Tock. Tick.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

When you open your eyes again, you're met with the scowling face of one Park Jimin, lines settling deep into the crevice of his face as he looks at your report silently, eyes darting between line after line of what you've written. Gulping, you school your features into a mask of neutrality, unwilling to betray the nervousness you're currently feeling as you maintain your breathing to endure the scolding that's bound to happen. The waiting is agonizing, the perfectionist CEO in front of you scrutinizing every verb and word choice with pursed lips, pen marking on the margins to make scathing notations on what could be improved upon.

You didn't come this far only to fail. After working for his company for almost eight years of your life, you've managed to climb the ranks quickly, proving yourself with every challenge dropped in the palms of your hands. When the CEO himself approached you in your tiny cubicle, asking you to meet him in his office, you were sure that it was the day you were getting fired and you paced nervously in front of the large wooden doors, thinking about all the mistakes you've done in the past, tears threatening to fall before you push open the doors and await your fate. To your surprise, you're still hired. He lifted an eyebrow at your panicked state, but didn't ask anything as he dropped a large burgundy file on the sleek mahogany table in front of you, an uncaring smile dancing upon his lips.

"I heard you're the best of the best. Show me. Make me proud."

His words still ring in your ears, motivating you to this day. Yet back then, as you perused the file, what you saw was an impossible task in front of you because you were just tasked to lead the audit team for a hotel establishment under Jimin's rule. You should've known than to accept the offer, but something trapped you into saying 'yes'; maybe it was the charisma and sheer power rolling off of the young CEO in droves or the sweet tone of approval in his voice when you signed the non-disclosure agreement, but your mind was off elsewhere when you sold your soul to the devil that day.

Park Jimin has disrupted your simple life since then.

You were giddy at first - trying your best to meet his impossibly high expectations of you by spending night after night in the office. Some days, you don't even go home with the amount of work you had to do; sleeping in the office break room and eating cheap ramen to tie you over. Lately though, you've been feeling frustrated, your needs not being met as you focus on the mountain of paperwork threatening to pull you under and Jimin's offhand flirty comments leaving you absolutely hot and bothered. You've made an effort to ignore your delusions. After all, why would someone like Park Jimin ever want you? With no family name or money to back you up, you're insignificant at best.

"Good," Jimin clears his throat and hands the report back to you. Looks like that's all the praise you'll receive after slaving on the report for two whole weeks. "I've made a few comments on the margins. Please fix them by tonight."

The stress must have made you brave because for the first time, you foolishly snapped, hands balled into fist at your side as you fixed your icy glare towards your boss. "It's 6pm and I'll fix the changes tomorrow."

Jimin blinks, the only twitch in his otherwise cool features that show his surprise. He furrows his brows, tapping his pen against the dark table as he clenches his jaw, sizing you up. The long seconds accompanied by only the clock causes your head to swim, the silence palpable as he looks like he could kill you where you stand. You chastise yourself briefly before opening your mouth to apologise.

Just as the words begin to leave your lips, there's a cat-like grin on Jimin's face as he leans back against his plush white chair, hands folded across his chest. "Answer a few yes/no questions for me."

It isn't a request.

"You've come here to work, is that right?" Jimin leans forward and threads his ringed fingers together before placing his chin on top of it.

You nod.

Jimin stands up then, gliding over towards the edge of the table, propping himself there momentarily. His eyes never leave yours and there's a glint of something dark; something predatory in his gaze. "I'm your boss. Is that right?"

You gulp and nod hesitantly, mind churning in an attempt to find out where he's going with this line of questioning.

"And" - Jimin draws himself to his full height, prowling towards you languidly with his hands in his pockets - "if I asked you to do anything, you'd do it, right?" Jimin drawls the last word, letting it hang in the air as his face leans close to yours, only a hair's breadth between your noses.

You gulp, nodding weakly as you feel yourself get swept away by the intimidating man in a grey suit that surely costs triple your wages for the year. Your own panicked reflection stares at you from his dark sunglasses and he brings his ring-clad fingers to remove them from his face only to toss them carelessly on the table. Jimin tilts his head, colourful tresses falling on his forehead and framing his face, as if he's waiting for something.

"Y-Yes," you squeak out, eventually realising that he wanted to hear an answer from you.

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, sir."

He lifts his hand and gently cups your trembling face, a dark look in his features that you can't name. Your body betrays you when a gasp leaves your lips, knees threatening to buckle if he comes any closer. There's a dial-up tone beeping through your mind, the roaring of your blood mixing with the fog of desire rendering you useless and all you can do is to maintain your steady breaths, counting the seconds as you wait for him to move.

Jimin's lips turn from a simple smirk into a cruel smile. You can see the flame of excitement in his eyes as his pupils dilate and you bring your knees together as you feel the dampness from your arousal threatening to leak down your thighs.

He chuckles upon releasing you, sauntering away towards his desk and plopping down on his chair as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened; as though he didn't just cause your heart to fall into a thousand floors below you in fear and… in desire.

"Finish it by tonight," Jimin's voice calls out as you dismiss yourself from his office, clutching the burgundy folder against your thrumming heart.

---

Flipping through the notes Jimin left, you gnaw on the inside of your cheeks, thinking about his soft, pillowy lips that were mere inches away from your face and the cologne that has since infiltrated your brain. You've always admired Jimin and you'd be lying to say that you don't find him attractive, but even with the few flirtatious comments he's said towards you in the past, you've never found him so… appealing.

No, you nag firmly as your brain comes up with possible images of a naked Jimin. We are not doing this today.

Huffing out a sigh, you try once more to focus on your work and for some time, the distraction helps. You're well into finishing your first page of corrections when the last employees wave their goodbyes, encouraging you to stay strong. Sitting alone in the dim office, you let your tired body slump forward, putting your head in your hands. You glance at the bottom corner of your laptop screen to find that it's 8pm, which explains why your stomach is growling with hunger. You check through your favourite app for any deliveries, only to find that you're suddenly without appetite for anything they're currently offering. Ah, well, looks like it's another cup noodle day for you.

Making your way to the office pantry is like second nature to you. Hell, this entire office is already becoming your second home. There's a blanket at the very bottom drawer of your desk and extra supplies like a toothbrush, deodorant, and some simple makeup for when you need to look presentable the next day. Showering is easy since the office has a gym on the bottom floor too. All the office needs is a functioning stove and you could probably sell all your furniture to move in permanently into the space. Your musings put a smile on your face as you chuckle while you wait for the water to finish heating up.

"You look nice when you smile."

Whirling around in shock, you're met with your smirking boss leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed in front of his chest.

Embarrassed, you quickly drop into a bow before turning your attention towards the singing kettle. The surprise from unexpectedly seeing him in the pantry causes you to touch the hot piece of metal and you jump backwards, clutching your injured hand and dipping it in your mouth. Heat flames your cheek and you can't bring yourself to meet Jimin's eyes, so you stare resolutely at the bright red packaging of the cup ramen instead.

"Are you okay?" There's genuine concern in his voice that makes you look up. Jimin's eyebrows scrunching slightly on his forehead as he moves closer towards you.

"Yes" - his eyebrow quirks upwards - "...sir," you answer swiftly, ripping open the ramen package and pouring out the hot water into the cup before making a move to dash away, clutching the warm styrofoam in your hands.

There's a quiet, disapproving tsking sound and Jimin's arm shoots out in front of your chest, barring your escape. "Cup ramen is bad for you. If you're hungry, come with me."

"I still have work to do," you mumble weakly, trying to get as far away as you press your back towards the counter.

"I know. I assigned you that work. And I believe we had a chat earlier about doing exactly what you're told to do, didn't we? Hmm?"

When you don't answer immediately, his jaw tenses and, in one swift moment, he rips the styrofoam cup away from your hands to slam it on the counter. "Come with me," he commands quietly and circles his large hand around your wrist as he tugs you with him, ignoring the weak protests falling from your lips.

You stop struggling eventually, letting him drag you to the elevator down to the basement. It's not until he unlocks the car door - a sleek black Tesla that probably costs half of the houses in your neighbourhood combined - and opens the passenger seat for you to slide into that he lets go of your wrist, gesturing with a mischievous bow and a wink.

"Thank you," you mumble as you duck into the car. Jimin simply nods, closing the door after making sure your feet are inside. As he walks towards the driver's side, there's a strange coiling in your stomach as you take in the scent that is so wholly Jimin mixed with the smell of the luxurious leather seats.

"Where do you want to eat? Don't worry, I'll pay." It's with those words that you realise you've left your purse on your desk and another wave of embarrassment washes over you, causing your hands to shake as you attempt to buckle in.

As though he's sensing your distress, Jimin leans forward, warmth radiating from his body, as he helps you push the metal in the slot. You don't know how much your heart can take anymore. And you're unsure if it's intentional, but you feel Jimin's hands linger on your waist, your skin searing underneath the white blouse. When he pulls away, you gasp, feeling his fingers skirting over your exposed thighs and you clamp your lips in embarrassment, noting the devilish smile and the quirk of his eyebrows before you quickly turn away.

A quiet chuckle comes from his direction as he starts the car, drumming his fingers on the black, leather steering wheel. There's an occasional clink of metal as his rings hit one another and it takes everything in you not to look at his beautiful hands. You can imagine them though, and you close your eyes momentarily, reminiscing at the strong grip he had on your wrist, though your eyes snap open when your mind delves deeper in your thoughts, pulling an image of Jimin wrapping those very same fingers around your throat.

Oh my, if cup noodles aren't good for your overall physical health, Park Jimin is not good for your mental well-being.

Jimin plays some music as he drives, a smooth jazz beat that thumps across the car filled with expensive subwoofers. Your ears perk up when you hear him humming, voice lilting as it plucks notes out of thin air, harmonizing beautifully with the low tones of the saxophone. You can't help but slide your eyes to his handsome face, marveling at the way he's moving his body as he sings along to the rhythm. The lights blurring past your speed enhances the rainbow in his hair and you're awestruck.

How can a man be so beautiful?

Jimin must have sensed your eyes on him because he flashes you a grin, perfect rows of teeth glinting at you like a toothpaste commercial. He laughs freely when your cheeks redden and you glare at the road, wishing the car had an 'Eject' button you can push to get you out of this situation. Although your heart betrays the calm demeanor you're trying to project, you can't help the smile that forms on your lips and you realise that it's the first time that you feel comfortable and relaxed in the presence of your boss.

When he stops the car, you gawk at the grand building that stretches so high up, you can't see the top even as you careen your neck. There's a marvelous statue made of gold where small throngs of people walk on the steps on either side, all of them dressed in refinery. Feeling out of place in your simple black pencil skirt and white blouse, you turn to Jimin, eyes pleading towards him to take you somewhere else, but he pays you no heed, already exiting out of the car and tossing his car keys towards the valet before crossing over and opening your door.

"Come," he commands, holding out his arm towards you.

Your eyes turn into slits as you regard his hand, yet you gingerly loop your own around it anyway as he helps you stand. There's a ripple of gasps around you, but before you can figure out what's happening, Jimin's already whisking you away, reminding you to be careful as the marble steps tend to be slippery.

"I hope you like Italian. You didn't say anything in the car and it's been a while since I've been here. I hope the menu is to your liking," Jimin whispers as he leans closer, his breath tickling your ear.

You nod mutely, staring at the large glass doors ahead of you as it swallows the people inside. The ripples of murmurs start again, but as you're about to turn your head to see the commotion behind you, yet again, Jimin captures your attention and your eyes fall back to his side profile.

"Do you like wine?"

You shrug nonchalantly. You're not much of a connoisseur for alcohol, preferring to get drunk on liquor that costs $5 or less. "I like reds," you answer simply.

Jimin makes a humming noise and he slips from your grasp to put his hand on your lower back. The electricity that runs down your spine at the contact causes you to gasp and you stumble slightly forward before his hand shoots up to wrap around your sides.

"Careful," he whispers low.

Finally, you reach the top of the stairs pressed up against Jimin's side and you can note the stares that are thrown your way. What is this place anyway?

"Mr. Park, please, come in," the bellman greeted him warmly, bowing low as he opens the wide door for you.

"Chase. How's the family?"

You blink at the colorful man, surprised that he knows the man's name, let alone make small talk to an employee. It's not that you think Jimin's cold-hearted, but billionaires like him don't tend to care for people like you. Perhaps you've judged him too harshly.

The bellman and Jimin exchange a few pleasantries, laughing at a few shared stories before he says his goodbye, whisking you into the grand, golden building.

The inside is just as luxurious as you'd imagine, tall marble ceilings and plush scarlet carpet trailing to the receptionist desk at the far wall. A gigantic, crystal chandelier glints in the room, swaying gently as it refracts beams of light to dance on the walls. The conversations within the space are hushed, people leaning towards each other intimately. A beautiful, white grand piano is playing on its own in the center of the room, a haunting melody filling the space. There's a few seating areas scattered about the corners of the lobby, gentlemen dressed similarly to Jimin pointing at thick reports and looking sternly at their phones while sitting back on dark chaise lounges.

Jimin veers left, squeezing your waist in indication because you momentarily forget that he's there, too transfixed at the movie set-like interior. You notice the look of surprise on the hostess' face when the two of you enter, but it disappears quickly when she puts on a mask of professionalism, bowing quickly at you.

"Mr. Park, it's a pleasure to see you again. Same table, sir?"

Jimin doesn't talk to her as affectionately as he did with Chase, but he still calls her by her first name and without a name tag on her lapel, you are even more impressed by his memory.

She takes you to the seating by the window where the view outside is of a garden with soft lights filtering from the ground. Placing a menu on your side, she rattles off the specials for tonight, though your knowledge of Italian food is rusty and you can't quite figure out the dishes she's suggesting. The hostess leaves you with a quick bow, letting you know that the waiter will be there shortly with some water.

"What do you think?" Jimin asks without looking up from the menu, legs crossed over the other as his hand rubs his chin in thought. "Anything caught your eye yet?"

Quickly scanning the menu, you find some familiar words like lasagna and beef and your eyes widen when you see that there aren't a lot of zeroes next to the particular number. Maybe you should come here again, treat yourself to a beautiful dress and a wonderful evening with yourself. "I'll have the lasagna, I think. You?"

Just as Jimin starts to speak, the waiter comes to place two glasses of water in front of you, introducing himself quickly before asking if you're ready to order. You point at the menu in lieu of actually saying words, afraid that you'll butcher the Italian words and become more of an embarrassment in front of your boss.

"I'll have the usual. Oh, and a glass of wine for the miss. Anything from '96. Red, please, " Jimin smiles warmly at the waiter, gesturing at you with an open palm.

The waiter bows after repeating the order and informing you that the food will be done in twenty minutes. When he departs, you're hit with the sudden realisation that you're alone with your boss in a fancy restaurant and the awkwardness of having nothing in common starts to creep under your skin. So, you busy yourself with staring straight outside the garden, ignoring the pointed looks that Jimin throws your way. Your mind is in a frenzy. Jimin's always been a kind boss, but he's also been somewhat cruel with his remarks on your performance, expecting nothing short of perfection from all his employees.

Does he treat all the female employees like this? A sudden thought worms its way to your mind. You can't help it, but you feel a pang of something akin to jealousy, but that's ridiculous. Sure, you find your boss extremely attractive, but you don't want to date him… right?

"Penny for your thoughts?" Jimin's voice cuts through your daydream and you turn your head to find him smirking as he drinks from the glass. The only warning you receive is a waggle of eyebrows and then he's fucking with you; allowing streaks of water to dribble down the column of his neck, Adam's apple bobbing as he takes in a large gulp.

Don't think about the dampness between your legs. You're only going to make it worse! You groan inwardly, resolutely looking away from Jimin. Yet, as you hear the clinking of rings against glass, your eyes find their way towards him again. Jimin's using a napkin the wrong way. He's patting the front of his shirt dry, that much is evident, but then, he brings it to his mouth, tugging the pillowy lips to bring attention to how pink and utterly kissable they are.

You take a shuddering gasp, legs locked tightly in place underneath the white table cloth. Much to your relief, the waiter returns and captures Jimin's attention, rattling off French names and you assume they're discussing the wine pairing for the night. It takes a while for him to choose and you use the time to really look at him.

His colourful hair is the newest addition, he's been indecisive about which colours to choose from, so he decided that the most logical option is to have all of it. Then there's his hands. You've heard laughter from inside his office when his friends come over, teasing him about how cute he is and how dainty his fingers are, though you frankly can't see it. The man is intimidation walking on two legs. You've thought about those hands ever since he gripped you in the pantry and again when he's plastered you by his side as you walk through the doors of the hotel. Finally, there's his jaw. Smooth and sharp that you'll let him cut you over and over again. Although it's definitely not on purpose, you find the tensing of his jaw incredibly attractive and you've made simple mistakes over the past few weeks just to irritate him. You're not sure how a man can be so perfect; like he's made to literally cause suffering for all mankind because of his beauty.

You blink when you realise you've been staring at him, long after the waiter has left your table. Jimin doesn't seem to mind, giving you a wink when you come to your senses. He leans back against his chair, hands resting on his knees like he's the king. Like he owns the place.

Oh.

Oh.

"Do you… own this place? Wait, is this the hotel you assigned to me/" you ask dumbly, not really expecting an answer.

Jimin laughs anyway, bringing his hand to cover his mouth as he nods. "I own a large part of the building, yes."

"And all the people here?"

"I hired them. I'll let you in on a little secret, but you have to promise me that you won't breathe a word to anyone."

Jimin leans closer and as if you're pulled by a magnet, you do too, faces meeting at the middle, so close to one another that if you scooted your chair forward, your noses would bump.

"Most of the staff here have been in prison."

That's not a sentence you expected to hear.

You balk, but he continues. "I give them a fresh start by working here and if they do a good job, they can continue to climb the ranks. Being in customer service isn't easy, what with having to deal with so many rude customers, but I hope it gives them a new purpose in life." There's a wistful look in Jimin's eyes, a momentary lapse of silence before he opens his mouth again. "The audit I've placed in your hands? You're right. It's this very hotel and everything involving these employees. From their room and board, which they get for free as soon as they sign the contract, to their families. That's why I've been so hard on you. I know you'll do a tremendous job, and you've exceeded my expectations so far, but this is important to me."

As he finishes his sentence, he leans back on the chair, a small, shy smile forming on his lips. Maybe one day you'll find out why he's doing all this, but your heart blooms with pride; with joy, at the epiphany that you're working directly under a CEO that cares a little too much about people. Not that it's a bad thing.

The food arrives shortly afterward and you find that it's much easier to talk to Jimin after knowing his secret, promising him again and again that you won't say anything to anyone. The waiter returns once more as you're digging into the lasagna, bringing a bottle of wine and showing the two of you the label before he pours it into your glass. You'd be a goddamn liar if you knew what the cursive French words said, but you nod in thanks anyway, bringing the red liquor to your lips, swirling the liquid around slightly as you take the first few sips.

Fuck. This wine is better than sex.

You close your eyes, relishing in the way it coats your tongue. The bitter liquid has a sweet, chocolate aftertaste that's so delicious, you can't help the sigh that escapes your lips. You hear Jimin's tittering chuckle and when you open your eyes, he's staring straight at you, an amused smile on his features. Cheeks flushed pink, you set the wine glass down and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, hands trembling as you pick up the silverware to eat again. Dinner resumes with quiet conversations and at one point, the lights start to dim and your waiter comes back with a tea candle and a small vase filled with roses, setting it on the end of the table closer to the window.

This feels-

"...feels like a date, huh?" Jimin laughs, shaking his head to the side, unaware that he just finished your sentence in your head.

You press your lips together, trying to hide the demure smile that's threatening to take over. And perhaps it's the fact that this is the best conversation you've had with a guy in combination with the delicious wine you just finished, but you gaze into Jimin's dark eyes.

"I wouldn't mind if it is."

Giggles burst from your stomach as you take in his shocked expression. For the first time in the many years you've worked for his company, you've never seen him so wide-eyed before and, dare you say, eager.

"Your dessert, sir." The voice of the waiter seems to shock the both of you, heads snapping to his direction as he presents two bowls of vanilla ice cream. "It's on the house. Please, enjoy the rest of your evening."

You stare at the bowl in front of you, mind churning with possibilities on how you can turn the tables on him. Jimin's always been the one teasing you; is it so wrong that you want it to be your turn? With a wink, you scoop the ice cream in your mouth, letting some of it dribble on the corners of your lips as you bring your tongue to swipe the stray streaks. A quiet moan leaves your lips as you lick the spoon clean, pulling it out with a soft pop. There's a telltale sign of hitched breathing coming from the man in the grey suit and his hands shoot forward to grip at your wrist, a flame of desire burning behind his eyes.

"Don't you fucking dare."

You're not sure what he meant by that exactly, but you break free from his hold to do it again, eyes never straying from his handsome face. You relish at the shadow that passes through his features: jaw locked tight as he glowers at you, pupils so dilated that it turns his irises black. He growls in warning, silently commanding you to stop, but you don't care, the alcohol in your system makes you brave as you forget the embarrassment you've endured that night.

When the bowl is thoroughly emptied of ice cream, you take your finger and dip it in, humming as you coat your digit in the cold sweet cream before popping it in your mouth, eyes closing as you suck.

"Okay. That's it." Jimin whispers harshly, slamming his chair back as he grabs your wrist and pulls you up. "Send the bill electronically," he barks at the poor waiter, who could only bow in respect as he scurries away.

---

"You," Jimin roars when the elevator doors close. In an instant, he's trapped you effectively with his body and you're unable to move without meeting either of his hands that are slammed to the sides of your head. "What the fuck was that?"

Giggling nervously, you play with the hem of your pencil skirt as you look up at him through your lashes, tilting your head slightly to give him an innocent smile. "What's wrong? I was only eating ice cream." You bat your eyelashes for added effect, the stain on your panties growing wetter as you anticipate what he'll do next.

You're surprised, but not really, when he wraps his pretty, ringed hand around your throat, giving it a slight squeeze in warning, a sinful gasp leaving your lips when he looks at you with those lustful eyes.

"You're a fucking brat is what's wrong. And I see that you're not the slightest bit trained." Jimin's breath is hot as it fans across your cheek. As you're about to retort, he rolls his hips forward, dragging his erection against your stomach. Your eyes widen at the drag of his cock, eyes rolling backwards when he presses his knee between your legs and digging it harshly on your wet cunt. You grind on the sensation, moaning wantonly in the confined space.

"Pathetic slut," he spits, tipping your chin harshly upwards to meet his glare. "Look at you, all needy and panting when I've barely touched you. Fuck, you've ruined my pants."

Your walls flutter at the derogatory pet name, hands finding their way to grab at his collar to pitch him forward, needing his lips on yours immediately. Of course, Jimin doesn't indulge you, pulling away just as swiftly to flip you over, your cheek pressed firmly on the cold mirror of the elevator as he loosens his tie, using it to bind your wrists together.

"The safeword is 'audit'," he growls into your ear, his back firmly pressed on yours as he rolls his hips again, directly on your cunt. "Say it, so I know your head is useful for something."

You repeat the word back to him and though you know resistance is futile, you make an attempt to loosen the tie, only to have a firm hand swat at your ass. You groan at the pain, loving the way it causes your legs to shiver as you feel him press up against you again. Though you would typically prefer some privacy, it excites you to be doing something so indecent where people can walk in at any moment.

Cold metal grazes your heat as you feel his fingers drag across your panties. You arch your back and push into his hand, whining at the contact. Jimin chuckles, unrelenting in his slow pace as he traces alphabets on your clothed cunt.

"Already wet for me, dearest? Would you like me to fuck you here? Right now? Where someone can catch us at any point in time?"

You can't form a coherent sentence, tongue laden only with moans that almost resemble his name. Your breath fogs the mirror of the elevator, chest pressed up so tightly against the metal that you struggle to breathe. Jimin rucks your skirt up around your waist and strips you of your ruined panties, presumably stuffing it in his pants, a moan leaving his lips when he sees your glistening cunt for the first time. There's not a moment of hesitation when he plunges his middle finger in, the loud squelching mixed with the sounds of your moans rattling the walls of the elevator.

"Pathetic cunt," Jimin hisses and uses his other hand to tip your chin upwards, your eyes instantly meeting your reflection. The girl in front of you is disheveled, clothes wrinkly and eyes glassy as you take in the evident pleasure written on her face. "Look at you, so beautiful like this. So submissive."

When Jimin inserts another finger in your cunt, you abandon all your thoughts. You scratch the mirror in front of you, unable to find purchase in anything as your cunt gushes arousal down your legs, making a mess on the floor. Then, to your horror, the elevator dings. Your attempt at pushing Jimin off of you is met with a slap against your thighs as he picks up the pace.

"Jimin, fuck, please," your mind tries to form coherent sentences, but he takes the moment to run his thumb on your clit, halting your thoughts immediately.

Your cunt seizes his fingers when the elevator doors open and to your surprise, a grand office greets you instead of some poor shocked souls. Walls lined with bookshelves and a gigantic window on the far end casts the moon's light on a large oak desk. There's sofas in the center of the room, a glass coffee table settled between them, and a large persian carpet nestled underneath.

"Surprised?" Jimin laughs, still thrusting into you albeit he switches to a more languid pace this time. "Your cunt wrapped around me real tight when you thought we were going to get caught. Is that what you want, bitch? You like the idea of possibly getting caught?"

He doesn't let you answer, working his fingers inside of you as you howl his name. "That's not my name, slut. You'll be referring to me as 'sir' from now on," he growls, fingers curling inside you to drag across your g-spot.

After a few more thrusts, he leaves your pussy empty as he struts out of the elevator, sucking on his sodden fingers as he winks at you, his reflection smug in the mirror. You try to gather what energy you have left and you stumble after him, hands bound together and legs weak from a high that you haven't quite achieved.

---

"Tease," you pout, bottom lip quivering as the tears threaten to fall from your eyes when you regain your senses. How can a man this beautiful exude so much power?

Jimin chuckles at that, leaving his chair to lessen the distance between your bodies, rings digging painfully on your cheeks as he grips them tightly. "Tease, am I? Pray tell, how am I the tease?"

"You knew we were going to be in this office, didn't you?" you challenge. "The elevator just automatically spits us here. There's no way we were going to be caught."

Jimin laughs, shrugging his shoulders in confirmation. "I believe I wasn't the one enjoying myself. I'll make it up to you, hm? Come here."

Foolishly, you close the gap between your chests fully and Jimin dips his head lower to capture your lips in a chaste kiss. His hand tugs at the strands of your hair and you gasp, letting him run his tongue all over yours in the process. You can faintly taste yourself and you're raring to go again.

"On your knees, darling."

The dampness that pools between your legs threaten to spill on the floor as you watch Jimin finally unbuckling his pants, revealing his thick, veiny cock into his cold office. You gulp at the saliva that's about to spill from your slack jaw and you pant heavily at the sight of the red, weeping head, wondering if it'll even fit inside you.

He strokes his length a few times, groaning as his gaze drifts towards yours, whose eyes are wide in fascination. "Open," he pants, leaving traces of precum on your lips.

Moaning, you do as you're told and Jimin abruptly shoves his cock into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat in one go. You gag around his length, the burn causing fresh tears to roll off your face, but it's so good. With shallow breaths, you swallow around his length as your hand cups and plays with his balls. The sound of Jimin groaning above you is music to your ears. Your pace starts out slow, saliva clinging to his length and down your chin. Hollowing your cheekbones lets you hear more of those sweet sounds stumbling from Jimin's mouth and so, with one more shallow breath, you increase your efforts until his breathing stutters and he removes himself from you with a hiss and a hard grip on your head.

"If I knew what that mouth could do, I'd fuck you sooner," he rasps, breathing still heavy despite the tired smile he gives you. "Do you want to cum, darling? Creammy cock and make an absolute mess of yourself?"

You nod almost too eagerly.

Chuckling, Jimin moves to sit on his office chair and leaves you on the floor, crooking a finger towards you and patting his leg. With trembling legs, you pad slowly towards his lap, the tie binding your arms together making it hard for you to balance. Your blouse is sticky with a mixture of sweat and saliva, making your skin crawl. All you want is for Jimin to rip it all off, seam to seam, leaving you naked and breathless in front of him, but you say nothing as you get closer, breathing in the heady scent of his cologne instead.

Gingerly, you place both your legs on either side of the chair, trying to balance yourself in the tight space as you lower your aching core. Jimin's not helping, hands gripping firmly at the handles of the seat and a smile dancing on his lips. "If you want to cum, do it yourself, slut," he taunts, rolling his hips upwards to glide his cock on your entrance.

With what little bratty attitude left in your body, you begin to slide across his length instead, smearing his pants with your arousal. You let the moans tumble freely from your lips, mutters of expletives and his name wedged between the sounds as you continue to build your high. A triumphant smile graces your lips as you see Jimin shudder, eyes closing halfway before his grip leaves the chair and slams firmly on your ass. You keen, head thrown back at the pain, yet your cunt gushes out in response, soaking the front of his pants completely.

Jimin tuts as he chuckles, lifting you up and away from his lap and placing you face first on his oak table instead. "My slut still needs to be trained, huh? I guess the earlier punishment in the elevator isn't enough for you, hmm?" Each word is punctuated by a harsh slap on your ass, the flesh reddening with every contact from his hand.

"Ah - Jimin - no more!" you cry, tears flooding your vision at the onslaught of pain and pleasure.

At the mention of his name, Jimin growls, thrusting two fingers harshly inside you, already knuckle-deep as he curls his fingers inside your velvet walls as he continues to spank you with his free hand. "That's not my fucking name, and you know it. I have in my hands a pathetic slut who can't even follow simple instructions. What's going on in that pretty head of yours, hmm? I bet it's the thought of my cock fucking you raw on this table," Jimin laughs as you struggle, another swat on your ass makes you fall flat on the table, unable to keep your legs up any further. He takes the opportunity to land a firm hand across your weeping cunt, massaging the sensitive bud with the tip of his fingers when you shudder at the contact. You don't have to look behind you to know that the table is coated with a new layer of varnish. "You're not done yet, are you? We haven't even fucked yet. On your knees, baby."

"...Sir," you whimper, letting the force of his fingers bring you closer to the edge of oblivion.

"Good girl. Fuck, if you wanted to be punished, you should've just said so. Instead you try and try my patience. Look where that's gotten you?" He ends the statement by ceasing all movements. "Bad girls don't deserve to cum, you know?" he taunts, mocking laughter slipping from his lips as he watches you howl and thrash against the table, orgasm rudely taken away from you.

With those words he slips his ring-clad fingers away from your cunt, the force of the removal causes you to squirt some more, warm juices gushing out of you in waves. Jimin hums his approval, loving the little spasms that wrack through your body..

Jimin walks over to where your head lays and smiles, threading his dainty fingers on your hair to tug your face upwards. Your eyes are unfocused, too lost in the way he's looking at you; at the prideful smirk on his lips. His other hand comes to stroke your cheek before placing his thumb on your lips. His smirk grows into a full-on smile when your eyes close and your mouth opens, sucking and mewling around his digit. "Had enough, slut? Are you going to be a good girl now?" he whispers softly as he places a tender kiss on your sweat-covered forehead.

You nod, letting his thumb go before replying. "Yes, sir."

"Good. Relax, let me take care of you, okay?"

Jimin drops your head gently on the table, smoothing out the strands away from your face as you sigh against his gentle touch. As he walks to the other side of the desk, his fingers don't leave you, always touching a part of your body before it stops to rub circles on your lower back. You moan, arching your tired back to feel more.

"Would you prefer if I give you a massage here," he asks while he digs through your sore back momentarily before Jimin's fingers trail lower and push two digits deep into your cunt, "or here?"

Your head snaps upwards, a guttural sound ripping itself from your throat as Jimin thrusts languidly inside your sopping cunt, relishing in the tremors that shake your body. His free hand massages your ass in an attempt to soothe the smarting flesh caused by his wicked hand.

"Ah - fuck - sir," you gasp, feeling his tongue on your clit as he continues to curl his fingers inside, bringing you dangerously close to the edge with just a few strokes. Jimin hums, the vibration making you rut against his face as you struggle against your binds.

"Can you squirt again, baby?" he moans between licks. "Wanna drink you up."

"I don't know - fuck, fuck, right there, right there. Shit, I'm going to - ah - gonna cum, please, please let me cum, sir!" you keen, gripping the ropes that bind you on your back. Your face is marked with splotches of drool and tears, but you don't care that you look like a mess because Jimin's face is about to be just as ruined.

Jimin thrusts his fingers faster and his mouth sucks up all the juices that dribble freely from your cunt. He's unrelenting as the fire continues to spread across your body, the familiar waves making your toes curl. You're unsure what words you're panting out at the moment, brain and pussy filled with Jimin, Jimin, Jimin, but after a particularly deep thrust, you soak the front of his expensive dress shirt with your arousal, a high-pitched whine bouncing off the walls of his office as you finally reach your end.

His thrusts slow before stopping completely, moaning as he removes his arousal-covered face from your body. Jimin makes quick strides to loom over you before dropping his face to capture your lips in a heated kiss. He pries your mouth open with expertise, tongue chasing yours as you moan, tasting yourself. The kiss is sloppy, drool freely running down the column of your throat as he continues to fuck your mouth with his tongue. When the two of you part, gasping for air, Jimin's eyes are glassy, his jaw set as he takes a hold of your chin gently.

"Open."

Eager to please, you do as you're told, opening your mouth wide and extending your tongue outwards. Jimin tips your face upwards towards him and there's a slight movement from his jaw and throat as you realise what he's about to do. A fat glob of spit falls on your tongue and you moan, shutting your eyes. Jimin does it again, filling your mouth slowly with a pool of saliva and your own arousal. You keep the mixture in your mouth, still parted slightly, so he can see your obedience.

"Good girl. Swallow."

And as you do, your cunt clenches painfully over nothing. You whine against his hold, hands completely numb from the tie and you have no upper body strength left to keep you up. Jimin kisses you chastely once more as he places your head on the table. Moving back to the other side, he unties your wrists with deft fingers, massaging them to get the blood flow going.

"Hands and knees on the table," he commands, voice ringing from all directions.

Limbs trembling and bones screaming with exhaustion, you force yourself to comply, even as you hear your joints popping from the tension in your body. Praise trickles out of Jimin's mouth with careless abandon as he massages your hips, voice low as he remarks how good you're doing, turning your body pliant in his hands.

And - oh, there. Jimin's cockhead rubs against your weeping cunt, slapping it against your clit a few times only to bury himself all the way to the hilt, a groan slipping from his plush lips as your walls clench around him. You buck your hips backward in an effort to get used to his length, silently begging for him to move slowly at first.

"I should've fucked you ages ago. Fuck, you're so tight, baby."

Jimin ruts slowly into you, a small bit of mercy, as he lets you adjust to the stretch of his cock. You shudder at the slight burn, the fullness inside you making you writhe on the wooden table as you wiggle your hips. There's a chuckle from behind you as Jimin unsheathes himself, leaving only the head, before abruptly slamming his cock wholly inside. Your muffled whimpers and pants do nothing to stop his movements as he continues, gradually building up momentum until he's rapidly thrusting his cock deep in your pussy.

For the second time that night, Jimin brings you closer to the edge of pleasure, flame erupting from your core as he snakes a hand to play with your clit. He's unrelentless, his desire to drive you crazy fueling the snap of his hips, especially when he brings a knee on the table to fuck you deeper, the angle causing his cock to brush repeatedly on your g-spot. With only a few more thrusts, your battered cunt spasms, walls flutter tightly against his length, and you see stars when you close your eyes. There isn't enough time to give him a warning as you cum and you scream his name as you flood his table again.

Jimin growls your name, his high also rapidly approaching as his hands leave your hips to grip your hair in a makeshift ponytail, pulling you away from the table. "Fuck, this cunt was made for me. I'm going to fuck you full of my cum." His words send fresh shivers down your spine as you keen, muscles screaming with exhaustion and overstimulation as he continues to pound his cock repeatedly inside you. "Yeah? You like the idea of walking around filled with my cum? Oh, fuck, baby, you're going to be the death of me."

With a final grunt and a stutter in his hips, Jimin cums, heat filling your insides as he paints it white and you moan his name in reverence, tightening your cunt to milk him of his cum completely. He removes himself from you with a groan, eyes dark with lust as he watches his arousal oozing from your cunt. You groan tiredly when you feel his fingers fuck the cum back inside, a silent instruction to keep it in for as long as you could.

A pleased hum leaves his lips at the sight of you on the table and with a gentleness that he hasn't displayed all night, he lifts you up and carries you to the dark sofa in the center of the room, dropping your tired body on the heaps of pillows. Though he had instructed you to keep his cum inside, he leaves momentarily and comes back with a handkerchief, wiping the lower part of your body as you try to steady your breathing.

"Let me take you home. You've been wonderful," he murmurs as he sits next to you, lifting your head so it rests on his lap. His hands massage your battered limbs and you whine, the strain beginning to settle in from fucking on a hard surface.

"I have work to do…" you whisper. "This was only supposed to be dinner."

Jimin chuckles, pride twinkling in his eyes. "I'm the boss. I'm commanding you to worry about work tomorrow. After all, you've already proven yourself to me plenty." He opens his cellphone then, talking in hushed noises as his hand drifts to play with your hair. You only hear bits of conversation as your eyes droop close, the exhaustion catching up to you, rendering you close to sleep.

Your eyes snap open when Jimin whispers your name, still stroking your hair. "Come on, let's get some sleep. I've reserved a room already." He helps you up and goes to the elevator, picking up your ruined panties along the way as you blush, trying to fix your appearance to look semi-presentable.

"Do you want to know something funny?"

You tilt your chin in his direction, having just finished putting your hair in a bun.

"Our room number is 69."

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Posted: 6.22.21 at 2:20am CST

[moon-stars01]

First Impressions

Mingyu x Reader

Author:Deko

Summary:In which Mingyu is a regular and your positive your into him.

Gene:fluff,Swearing,Romance

Rating:General Audiences

~First Impressions~

You'd developed a crush.

One, which you'd hoped was fleeting because you only ever saw him around once a week whenever he'd come into your shop.

He was peculiar in the way he carried himself, he'd nestle himself in a corner and play with a trinket he found interesting and made himself laugh on plenty of occasions.

To others, you guessed, he might look half insane laughing to himself like that – but to you, you found it rather sweet.

Sweet, because he indulged in the company of himself. So few are lucky to have enough confidence to carry themselves freely without reserve or judgement, so while he struck you as peculiar, you also found him irresistibly charming for this fact alone.

He came up to you one day and completely shocked you out of your daydream – and you shuffled to hide your book to make it look like you were actually working.

He met your eyes, "Do you make this stuff?"

He pointed around the shop, and you tried to focus on the question but your mind was more drawn to the fact that his voice did not match his pretty face. You'd always imagined him more soft spoken.

"Y-yeah. Well, no" You exhaled slowly, calming yourself down. "Some. My dad makes most of it."

Ahh, wonderfully spoken. Beautifully enunciated.

He hummed in wonder, and you saw a faint smile trace his lips for a moment, before it disappeared.

He said nothing more and began to walk out of the shop.

You gasped, not wanting him to leave. He'd finally talked to you and that's all he'd had to say? The shop was empty so now was your chance to... say something, anything!

You leaned over the wooden counter, "My name's Y/N!" you half shouted, grasping onto the edge.

Really? Your name? That was the best you could do?

He turned around, eyes wide in wonderment, before they softened at the sight of you. "I'm Mingyu. See ya."

He shoved his hands in his pockets, walking away. He used his shoulder to push open the door and left the shop without another word.

You slumped back in your chair and took your book back out from its hiding spot, and tried to focus on the words. You were sour upon him leaving, his presence alone had always made you feel giddy, and the shop suddenly felt colder without him there.

—0–0–0–0–

The next day, Mingyu came in.

This shocked you because he never came in more than once a week; you wondered what must have been so important.

Shock was evident on your face, and when your eyes locked as he walked in the door he wore an unreadable expression.

You watched him out of the corner of your eye as you were stacking wooden toys and trinkets onto the shelves, and noticed that he wasn't acting the way he usually did. He seemed off.

You bit your lip and approached him quietly; he didn't look at you though, as you spoke into the air – only able to admire his side profile.

"Is there anything I can help you with?" You treaded carefully, sounding a little too meek for your liking. You didn't like the effect he had on you.

He looked to be lost in thought for a moment, before turning to look at you. "What kind of gifts do girls like?"

Your heart sank into the floor.

As your eyes trailed his face, gaze sweeping over his perfectly symmetrical features from his soft brown eyes to his pretty pink mouth you realised the insanity of your previous sentiments.

Of course he had a girlfriend, look at him for gods' sake.

You masked your sadness aptly, not wanting to make him uncomfortable. It wasn't as if he'd lead you on or anything, you'd just been living in your own delusions for far too long, allowing them to manifest into actual feelings.

"The things my father makes..." You walked ahead of him around the corner and through shelves, using your index finger to indicate you wanted to be followed, "Are good for tourists, and gifts for old people."

You lead him to a little corner of the shop, one that only stocked the things that you yourself had made. It was your father's idea.

"As for me, I like to make prettier things. Things other girls might enjoy." You used your hand to gesture up and down the shelf.

Mingyu looked at you for a moment with a quirked brow, and then set his gaze to the shelf.

You watched on as he reached out to touch the eclectic weeping willow you'd made. It had taken you forever to create, hence the maybe a little outrageous price tag. You'd had many customers grumpily try to haggle the price with you, but you were fond of it, maybe you didn't really want to let it go.

"You made this?" He questioned, gaze still on it. His long fingers were delicately tracing the decorative beading on it.

"Yes." You murmured shyly, clasping your hands behind your back.

"It must've taken you a long time." He noted.

"It did." You couldn't really think of much else to say, so you continued to watch his form.

He finally leaned up, as if breaking away from his transfixed state. You'd be lying if you said you weren't flattered.

"I'll take it, then."

You blinked up at him, "Are you sure?"

He raised his eyebrow at you, small smile playing on his lips.

He picked up the tree and set off towards the direction of the counter without another word, prompting you to follow.

You rushed ahead, pushing the small wooden entryway to go behind the counter, before meeting his eyes again.

He placed the item down and you looked back up at him, searching his face for any uncertainty.

"Can I ask you a question?" You murmured, avoiding his eyes.

He put his elbows on the counter and sat his head in his palms, watching you expectantly. "Sure."

Too close, he was too close!

You stepped back a fraction, hopefully to an unnoticeable degree. "Is the person this gift is for...special?"

The prying question left your mouth with little hesitation, and he too answered without it.

"Yes."

You watched as he pulled out his wallet and started fishing out notes, but you stopped him with your hand, lowering his gently.

"Then it's on me."

He looked at you, "Huh? No, I couldn't." He ignored you and set the money on the counter anyway.

"I made this a long time ago" You whispered gently, scanning the item to let the system know it was no longer in the store, "It's collecting dust here. You've also given us more business than I care to admit." Your tone was teasing when you looked up at him.

Again, his expression was unreadable.

"Would you like me to wrap it?" You asked, fighting down a sigh.

"Yes, please." His nice voice sent your heart into mini palpitations, and turned your stomach into a fluttering mess.

Stupid, traitorous body.

"Just a moment then." You took the item and walked into the back, exhaling deeply when you were out of ear shot.

You carefully wrapped the tree in bubble wrap, before setting it onto some pink wrapping paper and folding it all together nicely. You sealed it with tape before you heard the entry way doorbell ring.

You left the item in the back and wiped your dewy hands on your pinafore. Stepping out, you looked at the older woman who'd stepped into the store.

"Welcome!" You smiled at her, not familiar with her face. It was always customary to welcome newer customers, the regulars never cared quite so much.

She smiled back and set about the store, and you turned back around to go and retrieve the wrapped gift.

You brought it back out and noticed the money was still sitting on the counter, so while his attention was diverted in his zoned out state, you sneakily placed the money in the bottom of the paper bag, and put the wrapped gift on top of it – effectively hiding it.

"Here you go." You set the paper bag in front of him, and he took the handle and let it fall to his side.

"Thank you." He gave you a quick smile before heading out, and this time instead of using his hands like a normal person, or even his shoulder like he had the day before – he used his foot to push the door open and set out.

You watched his hair fly around in the wind as he stepped outside. The door shut and the bell jingled – leaving you to watch his figure through the glass doors.

His hair was so fluffy. You sighed, putting your elbow on the counter and resting your head in your palm. You wondered what it might be like to run your hands through it.

Sadly, though – that wouldn't happen any time soon. Any girl worth spending 89 dollars on an artisanal craft tree, must be special indeed. It seemed rather frivolous.

—0–0–0–0–

The next morning passed without any drama, and you found yourself during lunchtime nose deep in a book. This week had been slow, dreadfully slow – despite Mingyu and his more than occasional visits – to bring you out of the ordinary.

Your dreamlike state was shattered with a loud ringing of the entry bell, signifying the door had been opened with a little more force than necessary.

A gasp caught in your throat at the sight of Mingyu– and while you were overjoyed at his visit (3 days in a row was a new record) you couldn't help but notice the scowl on his face.

"Y/N."

He'd never said your name before, it sounded like heaven coming from him. But maybe a little bit of slipping from the clouds and plummeting down to earth kind of heaven because his tone was heated.

You watched as he rummaged through his pant pocket, before he pulled out a familiar wad of cash.

He unceremoniously dumped the notes onto the counter in front of you, and his eyes drew you to them, even though the first thing you wanted to do was look away.

"I said no. Why did you do that?" He sounded affronted, and he ran his pretty long fingers through his soft mop of hair to emphasize his frustration with you.

You wanted to say sorry, but you weren't. And if not for a faux apology, what were you supposed to say to that? So you kept quiet, hoping it would pass.

He narrowed his eyes at you sharply, and if gazes could kill...

"So, do you just go around giving away the things you make to anyone for free?" The angry set of his jaw was as frightening as it was handsome. You knew this boy – you'd been watching him for so long. His goofy, light-hearted demeanour could not be clouded with a foul mood.

And as if you were psychic, your silence seemed to stun him. He'd come in here hoping for a reaction and when he realised you weren't going to give him one it calmed him down. You watched as his tense stature relaxed, and his frown mellowed out.

"My sister loved the gift, by the way." His tone had gone soft, "She said it was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. I thought so too."

Your heart rate quickened – his sister? You had a nasty habit for jumping to conclusions. It's not as if he'd come into a craft store to buy handcrafted wooden condoms.

Your heart had a pessimistic way of thinking, you'd liked him so much and for so long that your brain turned to non-functioning mush in his presence, clearly.

His sister. The tree was for his sister.

You chewed on your lower lip, trying to concentrate on evening out your breathing and heartbeat. To no avail, naturally.

His gaze was on you so strongly you could feel it. "Aren't you going to say anything?"

"I'm...sorry?" Wow it's like you didn't even try to be convincing.

"No you're not." He chuckled, low and quickly – and it built up into laughter much lighter "You're not sorry at all."

You looked away, caught.

From your peripheral vision you saw him slide the notes over to you, even closer than they were before. "Put the money in the register. Now."

His tone didn't leave much room for debate, it was low and persuasive and you found yourself trembling at the thought of saying no.

"I want to watch you do it."

You detected hints of flirtation in his tone but you didn't want to get ahead of yourself, so you reached out to grab the money and just get it over and done with, but he was quicker.

He snapped the money back up and held it between his middle and forefinger, just for the purpose of keeping your gaze. "And don't try this again, I live too far away to keep coming back like this."

You tilted your head in question, he lived far away?

You held your hand out and he gave you the money, allowing you to put it in the register underneath his watchful gaze.

You shut it, and looked up. "Satisfied?"

He grinned at you, "Very..." A pause,

"Don't sell yourself short, don't ever try to give some guy free things, especially when they're so beautifully and carefully crafted."

You felt mildly affronted by his accusations. "What do you mean by some guy?" your lips fell into a thin line, the previous mood shattered. You chose to ignore the latter half of the sentences flattery.

"I don't know. Maybe if some guy you like comes in with his friends and charms the pants off of you and I don't know... you just give away your things for free."

You gave him a look of complete confusion. Was he daft?

"I like you, jerk."

Your hands came up to your mouth, as if it would do any good. Why had you said something so rash?

His eyes went wide, and if you didn't know any better you might have seen his face flush.

"What, why? You don't even know me..." He scratched the back of his head, "For how long?"

How coherent of him?

"Why? Because I can. I might not know you but, that doesn't mean I don't want to! And, uh, a while..." You huffed indignantly at the end of your mild outburst.

"No, god I mean..." He ran a hand through his hair, "I wouldn't say I like you, it's more of a crush... I don't know how to explain it, how can you like someone you don't know? You know?"

He had a fair point, in all his jumbled musings, perhaps blurting out your affections so carelessly made him think you were someone who used those words often.

"Well..." you thought, deflecting, "how can you have a crush on me then? Or whatever it is you want to call it."

"I asked first."

You almost scoffed, folding your arms. "Because I see you looking around and you're always happy. This is my father's store, and it makes me happy seeing you happy inside of it."

How many times did you just use the word happy?

He looked pleased at your admission, a sweet sly smile playing at his lips.

You sighed, "Now you."

"Alright" he shifted his balance onto his other leg, looking far taller and more imposing than he should have for someone so pleasant. "You make me curious, that's why."

Huh?

He rolled his eyes at your blank stare of confusion, "You make me curious. Whenever I come in you scramble to hide the books you're reading, to pretend like you were working." There was laughter in his voice, "It's cute..." he leaned in closer over the counter, "and it makes me so curious, I always wanted to know what you were reading."You felt your cheeks warm in embarrassment, "You could've just asked."

"No..." he hummed in reply "Because I spent my time in here day dreaming about what you might be reading. It entertained me."

You huffed, "Nice to know I'm a good source of entertainment."

"And whenever you look over at me..." He ignored you and carried on, "And I notice from the corner of my eye and look back, you always look away. Why do you do that?"

All of this time he'd never let on just how attentive he was to you. Knowing this embarrassed you to no end.

You didn't answer him.

"Why do you do that?" He tried again, his voice sounded closer than before. He looked so handsome with confusion lacing his features."I don't know." You bit back shyly

"You're a shit liar, do you know that?" he bit his lip and gave you a once over, "I'll ask you one more time, why do you look at me like that?"

You played with the frills on your sleeves out of nervousness and pat down your store pinafore one too many times than was necessary, desperately needing a distraction from your ever fluttering stomach.

"Y-you know you're nothing like I thought you'd be." You muttered

He smirked and gave you a look as if to say, 'no shit.'

"Wrong answer." Was what he whispered back instead.

The two of you just stood there staring at one another, and you couldn't discern whether or not the silence was comfortable, or unbearable.

You could've sworn his eyes darted to your lips for a moment, but the spell was broken when the bell sounded and a customer came in through the door.

"Welcome!" You got out, albeit breathlessly.

You met eyes with Mingyu again, and he looked as if he was on the brink of saying something. He sucked in an annoyed breath and looked away. But that façade didn't last long because a second later his attention was back on you.

"What time do you get off?"

Your eyes darted to the clock. 5.20. You had 10 minutes left but you'd rather clock out early than have to wait through the tension of, well, whatever the hell you'd call this.

You watched as your final customer left after looking around extremely briefly.

"Now." You whispered, taking off your pinafore gently and setting it beneath the counter.

You went out back for only a moment and switched the power off, coming back out to meet Mingyu.

Your nervousness was palpable, and you patted down your jean skirt that was beneath the pinafore, hoping that your blouse was presentable enough.

It felt like time was moving very slowly as the two of you walked out of the store together, his beautiful features were darkened in shadow – illuminated only by the soft cloudy light emanating from the glass doors.

The two of you slipped out wordlessly, but not before you flipped the sign at the door around to 'Sorry! We are CLOSED.'

—0–0–0–0–

Mingyu took you to a park that was close by, and while the sun wasn't out shining, there was a real charm to the dull grey – with little hints of blue dotted throughout the sky.

The two of you sat on a bench overlooking a field of grass and trees, with flowers scattered about, growing in sparse groups.

"You know, I'm sorry for teasing you." He murmured, looking forward.

You smiled, only a little.

You often day-dreamed about Mingyu taking you out, but back then he didn't have a name to his face. He was just the smiling boy who'd come in whenever he felt like it, with no routine.

But now that you knew the kind of flirtatiousness and deadly charm of which he was capable, it got you to thinking. Just what exactly was it that you liked about him? He had every right to tease you, and to question – because in his eyes you were just a silly girl with an even sillier, baseless crush.You turned to look at his side profile, marvelling at the perfect sculpture of it. "You are?"

"Yeah. Can I tell you the truth?" There was an odd sort of smile on his lips – that met somewhere between a grin and a grimace.

You nodded – hopefully he caught it in his peripheral vision.

"At first I was annoyed with you – for telling me you liked me so carelessly. I thought maybe you'd said it to lots of people before me, I got jealous I suppose." He leaned off to the side of the bench and sat back up with a daisy in his hand, and when he started picking at the petals you supposed it was to put his energy somewhere. "But seeing the way you act when I even... look at you. The way you look at me, it's..." he sighed softly, thoughts dribbling off into nothingness. You hadn't even realised he thought so deeply about you, you felt awful for making him uncomfortable – even without realising it."What I'm trying to say is that I understand you." He finalised "I'm drawn to you, too, more than I can understand why."

You smiled softly, suddenly feeling very warm.

"But, you don't know me, Y/N." He looked at you – looking far too beautiful in all his earnest composure. "Can you live with that?"

"For now." You whispered, "But I meant what I said before, is it so wrong to want to get to know you?"

"Which..." He inhaled and reclined into the bench, legs splayed out in a boyishly charming manner "Which me did you start to like, how was I?"

You thought about the confusing question for a moment, "You smiled a lot. Made a lot of weird, goofy faces at inanimate objects my father and I made. Ridiculously charming stuff." You giggled "And you'd always buy the silly things that my dad loves and I loathe. You know, the wooden sculptures with odd anatomy. I told him there was no market for it, but you became the market." You bit your lip to keep from laughing harder.You paused, "I'll only be a little upset if that isn't the real you."He pulled his lower lip through his teeth and turned to look at you, there was something indiscernible about his gaze, "Only a little?" he whispered.

A.Lie.

"Yeah..." You trailed off

"Do you make it a habit to lie?" he scoffed, turning away from you. "I already told you, you're a bad liar."

"'Shit', I believe was your adjective of choice."

You watched him grin, if you were brave enough to call it that. "I'm serious, Y/N. If you want my truths you have to give me yours, it's the only way we can figure out..." his index finger flicked between the two of you in an exaggerated gesture "Whatever this is."

He was right. He was probably always right.

"I'd be upset, but I'm sure I could get used to every part of you."

Satisfied, he seemed to drop it. "Good, because it is a part of me, before you that is."

You quirked your brow, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You make me nervous." He concluded simply.

"I make you nervous? You never let that on, at all." You murmured, truthfully confused.

Mingyu seemed very well put together. He was a person who you'd always assumed never gave two shits about the thoughts of other people. But the more time you spent with him alone, the more you realised your awful habit of projecting personalities onto people was a dangerous game to play.

The Mingyu you had feelings for was only a small part of his personality, there was more depth to him than he let on.

"I'm a better liar than you." He was looking at you fully, now.

It was silent for a while before he spoke up again, "My mom took me to this area when I was a little younger during the holidays. You didn't work at the shop at that time but I vaguely remember seeing your face. I loved the eccentric toys your father made, so I always asked my mom to bring me back."

This was news to you, you didn't remember him at all. But listening to him recollect so fondly about your store made your heart swell with pride. That's all your father had ever wanted, a homelike store full of warmth and treasures people of all ages could enjoy.

The store was especially bustling during holiday season and irrevocably dead during off season, so it was understandable you didn't recognize his face.

"I always drive down here when I get the time. I feel at home here for some reason because I have good memories of the store – it was so magical and big when I was a kid, not so much now, naturally."

"Yeah, you're huge." You cut in.

He snickered before continuing on, "Since I felt at home in your store I always got a little comfortable, entertaining myself. But then I noticed you looking at me once, and I don't know what it was about it, but, something happened to my heart that day."

You blinked a few times, trying to absorb all of this information. He was a wonderful speaker – his voice was so calming and deep you found it hard not to fall in.

"Your heart?" You questioned delicately, just trying to make sense of the connection the two of you seemed to have – which until today had gone severely unnoticed.

"Yeah. And before I knew it I was nervous, I couldn't act the way I usually did because I was afraid it would scare you off or something. I felt like I couldn't be myself around you, you were too beautiful for that." He ran a hand through his hair after the statement, and you felt blessed to have seen him do it up so close.

"That's...shallow. You were willing to change who you are, for me? Because you thought I was pretty?" You laughed lightly at the notion

He raised his eyebrow at you and leaned in close, "Shallow?"

You swallowed at the close proximity.

"You never answered my question, and I've been so truthful I think I deserve an answer..." He ran his tongue along his lower lip, following the teasing lilt in his tone. He was teasing you, and he wasn't attempting to conceal it this time.

You knew exactly what question he wanted the answer to.

'Why do you look at me like that?'

He fucking well knew the answer to it too, and you wondered if he was 50% kindness and 50% mischief – maybe 60/40.

But you were certain, even after everything he'd divulged to you – you'd take all 50% of his teasing, of his bullying and smirks and eyebrow raises and every other bloody thing that came along with Mingyu's personality – if it meant you got to see him laugh with glee from time to time.You'd gotten caught up in your thoughts while watching him, and you shook your head to shake you out of the dazed reverie.

"You were doing it just now." He fell back dramatically into the bench, leaning his head back "Christ."

"Sorry."

"No you aren't!"

You giggled, then.

"No really. I am, I'm sorry. I didn't ever want to make you uncomfortable. That's the truth. It was the last thing I wanted." You felt a little ashamed of yourself, at not ever being able to hide your feelings well.

Your inability to do so had caused the person next to you a great deal of confusion.

"Whoever said I wanted an apology from you? I love the way you look at me. But I told you before, I'm curious." He shifted close to you, impossibly so. Close enough that your thighs were touching – but his were clothed.

"If you don't tell me, I'll kiss you."

You looked at his mouth and had to fight back laughter. That was a threat? Oh boohoo, that would be awful.

Perfectly annoyed by him, you grabbed gently at the collar of his shirt and brought his mouth to yours. He let out a low, pleased noise – melting into your touch.

His lips felt like heaven on yours, they were soft and warm – and the noises of pleasure he was making was doing little to stifle the rampant thumping of your heart. He kissed back with fervour, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into him further.

When it had all gotten too much, he pulled away slowly and hesitantly, before putting his head into the crook of your neck and letting out a soft sigh. "That was unfair." He whispered, leaning back to look at you. "You're avoiding giving me an answer."

"Are you done being a brat or are you going to admit that you already know the answer?" You wound your arms around his neck and played with the back of his hair, admiring the feel. It was as soft as you'd imagined.

"Is it so wrong to want to hear it from you?" He murmured, leaning forward and pressing his lips to yours again quickly.

You laughed softly into the little space between you, effectively ignoring him.

"I really am sorry about liking you so early. But I think it'll be very easy to like all of you,Mingyu." You hoped you sounded sure.

"You're not sorry." He bit his lip, smiling through the gesture.

"You're right." You whispered, leaning up and placing a delicate kiss to his forehead, and lingering far longer than necessary;

"I'm not."

[sloppy-butcher]

Can I get some hcs for Freddy x reader who have like very love/hate reltionship? Like they annoy eachother constantly but still seek each others company. Thanks!

This is the first time I have ever tried writing for Freddy and to be honest, I am quite nervous I did him wrong. Please forgive any ooc characterizations i may accidentally give him - i tried my hardest to make him accurate to the 80’s version (yes, this one will be based on old freddy not the new one (2010 remake), hope that it okay <3) i also hope that you don’t mind if i make the reader a killer as i am only comfortable writing for freddy when the power dynamics are equal

Thank you for the request and i hope these are good enough for you 

Headcanons for The Nightmare (Freddy Krueger) with a Killer!S/O who have a Love/Hate relationship

When you are an obedient little dog, when you kill mercilessly and the Entity grows fat from your bountiful supply of food, the spider-god showers you with rewards. Most forms of these appreciations take a physical appearance (new and terrifying outfits to adorn during your daily workouts or new weapons for you to play with). But there were some gifts that were intangible, and otherworldly and oh so irresistible to you - dreams. The Entity lets you sleep if you do well in trials and sometimes even offers you sweet, beautiful dreams. They were indulging at first, so totally vivid in their detail and color that you could almost lose yourself completely in their daydreams. It was a spider web most wonderfully and intricately made. A labyrinth of the mind. But it did not take you long to notice the spider lurking in the corners of his creation.

You spotted him often hiding under the shadow of trees, just standing there in the corner of your eye - one look and he would vanish without a trace. You would have thought nothing of the strange occurrence had it had only happened once and in only dreams. During your walks in between realms, you’d spot the man through the treeline. He was unmistakable in his silhouette and in the way his eyes glowed a horrid orange. You did not fear him however, he was no worse a monster than you were. Rather you were annoyed by his presence in both reality and dreams. 

You bend down and pick up a rock, turning it over in your hands testing its weight and size. “Hey!” You shout at the man who halted his retreat into the dark, night wood at the sound of your voice. “Stay out of my fucking dreams, asshole!” You throw the rock at him, narrowly missing him and instead, striking a tree.

“Such a temper.” A hoarse voice coos from somewhere behind and you spin around to meet it. It was him, moving faster and quicker than air and appearing next to you, closer than ever before. You got your first good look at him. His skin was a sore pink leather and he smelled like smoke. “Trust me, sweetheart, I would if I could. Your dreams,” He takes out a hand covered in razor-sharp knives and mockingly strokes the hair out your face, “, are so boring.” You snatch his hand away from your face, barely noticing the sting of blades in your soft palm and the trickle of warm blood down your forearm. You did not grimace, did not cower, and did not back down. He grins at your defiant expression. “And here I thought you’d thank me for giving you the chance to live in such a wonderful world. I’m hurt,” He feigns agony, his free hand placed sorrowfully on his chest, “, good work always goes unappreciated.”

You scoff and show your teeth. “I would prefer nightmares if it meant I wouldn’t get to see you.” The man laughed and flexed his knife-fingers, fresh blood oozing out your wound.  

“Oh babe, you and me both. I don’t like this babysitter gig anymore than you do.” He leans closer grinning with his horrible yellow fangs, the scent of a recent kill seeping off his tongue. “I prefer nightmares anyway.” 

“You look like a nightmare.” You spit into his face, finally letting go of his weapon and glaring at him. He laughs again.

“You are a feisty one. I think you and I are going to get along fabulously.”

Of course, he did not heed your warning for that very same night you saw him again in your dreams. Though now, he made it a point, not to hideaway. He approached you and actively talked to you, following you around your dream like a resistant plague. He commented on your shit reality, on all the things you could have wanted to dream of, and yet you only wanted to be in an empty field at the brink of dawn. He shakes his head and degrades your poor taste with even more snarky comments. You knew you couldn’t do anything to him while in his dream but in the physical world - well, that is a completely different story. 

If he was going to bother you while you slept like a buzzing mosquito, you decided to bother him when you were awake. In the real world he was much less intimidating, that aura of cosmic power that bubbled around him while in a dream state, was not present in the night air and you smirked at his weakness. You mentioned his height, asking how anyone could be scared of such a small man. He’d lash out, swinging at you with both his blades and his harsh tongue.  He was easy to toil, easy to wind up but a task to deal with. Freddy could take a punch to his pride and deal out damage times 10. 1 mean-spirited remark deserves 10 more. 

Freddy thrived on this back and forth. Ordinarily, he would turn his nose up at the idea of bickering with another killer - sure, some of them were fun, simple minds with which to bend and manipulate in dreams but most were already so twisted in their own self-delusions that well, he just didn’t find them all that interesting. But your mind was sharp and quick, built in the skull of a hardened murder professional yet dainty enough to still yearn for the sunlight world of goodness. A perfect balance. It had been a very long time since last Freddy had had a conversation of equals - a real conversation where the table was not shifted in the favor of either one. If he said something that crossed a boundary or hit a nerve (a task he sought out to do almost every night) you would turn on him, shoot daggers at him with the sole intent of murdering his little ass. Sure, it never really scared him but there was no denying that in a way, to spare with an equal really turned him on. To be challenged. 

There were times when he would become too much. Like the static on a dead radio station, he would drone on and on about a certain topic he knew would heat your blood. Always poking his stick deeper and deeper into the bear until you’d bite. Luckily it was quite simple to turn him off - just don’t sleep. You never really needed to rest in the Fog anyway, tiredness never made its claim over your bones even after a long day at work. Sleep was merely a reward, after all, a gift that could be refused if so desired. If time could be recorded within the Entity’s world, then the longest you had gone without sleep, and without seeing that little creep, would have been 2 months. He had really pissed you off when in a dream he produced a small songbird and made you watch as he melted its skin off - all for sport. A sight that did not necessarily make your skin crawl but one that irked you. It was always a game with him, a competition to see who would break first and try to strangle the other. And, to be dead honest, it was starting to annoy you more than anything he could say or do. So you stopped seeing him, stopped dreaming, and stopped seeking him out in the woods. You were tired of always trying to be bested and frankly, his childishness was wearing you thin.

But there was no denying that in that quiet that ate up the space where Freddy used to stand, a strange loneliness would grow incredibly heavy and dreadful. You missed his rather repulsive company, his witty and sharp tongue always keeping you on edge and on your toes. There was no way you could stop your head from turning around to look for him, seeking out his small frame among the dark wood. It was lonely without the flies, silent and decaying slowly.

For the life of him, Freddy tried to move on. He had never tied himself to one person before, never allowed himself to latch on to anyone save for his favorite little toys. But with you it was different. It was fun to annoy you, it was fun to torment you in dreams. It was even fun when you reeled at him, hackles raised threatening to kill. It was exciting, it reminded him of the joy of being powerful and alive (in a sense). And when you never took his bullshit sitting down, when you'd raise to meet his call, oh how it set fire to his heart. To be challenged. He could feel himself wither away, the interest that you had sharpened only seemed to dull and break off in your absence. He’d hate to admit it, but he missed you. Missed your noise and missed that sweet dream of yours.

Both of you are too prideful to confess to the other that you were lonely. But when, one day, you find yourself dreaming a familiar vision, that built-up residue of solitude melted and you turned to face Freddy eagerly.

“Did you really think you could not sleep forever?” He crossed his arms over his gloating chest, a snake tongue flickering victories in between teeth. “I always get my prey.” You smirk, not surprised in the slightest by his rather rude welcome back. You look around at the grassy field surrounding you both shining a brilliant emerald, the sun feeling warm on your back, and the fresh, clean air carrying with it the scent of spring flowers. 

“Aw, you missed me, Frederick?” You tease him with his unused full name, casting a devilish side-eye to the dream-demon. You see a flicker of panic, alerting you that you had hit the nail on the head before he spits and loudly proclaims,

“Don’t be so far up your own ass!” His golden eyes gleamed pure hatred at you. “It's not a hat.” You laugh at the face of the fuming man, knowing that despite how his actions appeared malicious and distasteful, there was no feasible way to deny that the dream he had made for you was spectacular and expressed something deeper than just surface-level annoyance. 

[thebrownblog]

The Year of Our Lord 2020

I was in New Orleans when the world truly went nuts. It was surreal, I flew out to meet my friend on the 5th of March when it was still kind of a big joke (looking back, I don’t really know why it was), and in the 7 days I was down there it all became real. It was still the source of jokes and one-liners when someone coughed at the bar on Bourbon Street, or when I had a hay fever sneezing fit. I flew back in to Montreal on the 12th. By this time, when I yawned at the airport someone nearly jumped right out of their skin. I arrived just in time to be part of the first group of quarantined folk in Canada (cheers to being part of history!).  

I remember those weeks in mid-March as being intense, scary, and...unprecedented. Not really seeing another human for two weeks is no fun at all, and something I pray to avoid having to do a second time. ‘Unprecedented’ is a word that has been used over and over again this year, because we’ve been living through the unknown since that aforementioned week in March. The faith that society would pull together in a crisis, that even the more grotesque politicians (ahem Boris, cough Trump) would step up and lead...that nothing too bad could ever happen to us in the shiny West, has been eroded. The safety blanket is gone, we see how fragile things really are, and how so much of what we took for granted was an illusion.

They say the novel coronavirus mainly has serious effects on people with pre-existing conditions, ‘comorbidities’ as they call them in the US. Well it turned out that western society had a fuck-ton of those things, and now I often feel like it’s become this revolting, sick thing made up of polarised extremes. Some days it feels like half the world is sitting at home in front of the TV, terrified that the virus is stalking just outside the front door like Michael Myers in a Halloween movie (I was like this at the start before I turned off the news and put Netflix on), while the other half are in a collective delusion/mass psychosis in which the virus doesn’t exist, and somehow every government in the world (despite how obviously incompetent most of them are), along with every health worker on the planet, have somehow pulled off the world’s greatest conspiracy just to stop them eating in at McDonald’s. To me it looks like being a giant, screaming baby denying everything which inconveniences you somehow (for an even clearer example of this behaviour, check out this year’s shambolic US election).  

And no, I’m not here to pick sides or insult people, I’m calling it all as I see it when looking back on the year as a whole. I’ve personally flip-flopped with my own feelings and thoughts many times, and it’s normal in an evolving situation. There is legitimacy to questioning the measures at times if you’re prepared to have a reasonable, adult conversation. In fact, there’s legitimacy to most (not all) opinions in life if you’re prepared to do this. Sadly this is a skill that seems to have by and large died a terrible death in recent times. Another crucial thing that would help dig us all out of this shitheap is people possessing the ability to change their mind about something when presented with new evidence instead of doubling and tripling down no matter what. It’s okay to be wrong and make mistakes, seriously. Acknowledge it, apologise if you need to, and move on for the better. Oh, and if you’re offended by any of this, take a hike, seriously. I don’t care.

I’ve never been down the conspiracy rabbit hole, but yes I have felt anger at the restrictions because I want to live again instead of exisiting and holding on, it’s simply human nature at work. I want to see my family (at Christmas this stings worse than ever, and I will go in summer no matter what), I want to travel, to do work I get pleasure from again (and not from home, sitting alone). Today this feels like a year wasted. You can always make more money, but time is something you can never get back. 

If you’ve stuck with reading this up to this point, you’re probably ready to call the Samaritans, but there’s no need. It would be pretty difficult (and incredibly false) to write a glowingly positive piece about 2020. My emotions have been like a yo-yo all year. Sometimes life has been almost normal despite the pandemic, and other times it has hit me in the face all over again. In spite of everything I have had good times this year, and I am grateful for the friends I’ve made over the years here, without whom all this would have been 10x worse. I’m also grateful to have my own place, I feel this would have been truly horrendous if I was sharing a living space like I have for most of my adult life.

Oh, and the defeat of Donald Trump in November certainly didn’t do me any harm, even though I’ll never understand how he got that many votes!

I am also grateful for all the free time I have had this year to indulge in many old pleasures I haven’t had so much time for in years. Reading through all seven Harry Potter books at the park probably wins the prize, but honourable mentions go to my eternal comrade Stephen King, as well as all the films of my childhood and adolescence that made a strong come back this year. Thanks go also to the PS1, PS2, and the XBox/XBox 360. For real, there is genuine comfort and refuge in nostalgia. When the present is crappy, look to the past. You’ve probably worked it out already too this year, but if not, try it...seriously. Just don’t get lost.

It was also nice reconnecting with a lot of old friends I hadn’t spoken to in years at the start of this covid story, but sadly it does seem that all that sense of unity didn’t last very long.

Nevertheless, there’s no doubt that being outside in summer and autumn was better than being cooped up indoors now. I don’t like this time of year at the best of times, so it’s no surprise I barely feel like getting out of bed some days presently.

I’m down, but not out however. All things must pass, covid included. It is my personal feeling that the next three months will be as bad, if not worse, than what’s gone before, and then things will slowly but surely begin to change and improve. I’m not sure we’ll ever go back to the way things were, but the way things were was far from perfect anyway. We’ll just have to wait and see, we’re still like mushrooms in this scenario; kept in the dark and fed shit. Life has been on pause most of the year, and it still is, frustrating as it is.

As for the future, there’s still not much to do other than hold on for a little while longer, but I’m sure when this shitstorm is over there are changes to come. I’ve certainly had plenty of time this year to think and reflect! When I can I’ll make the changes required to improve my situation, wherever the opportunities happen to be on the map.

Happy New Year, Death to 2020.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Why Is It So Hard for Democrats to Act Like They Actually Won?

By

Rebecca Solnit

November 19, 2020

When Trump won the 2016 election—while losing the popular vote—the New York Times seemed obsessed with running features about what Trump voters were feeling and thinking. These pieces treated them as both an exotic species and people it was our job to understand, understand being that word that means both to comprehend and to grant some sort of indulgence to. Now that Trump has lost the 2020 election, the Los Angeles Times has given their editorial page over to letters from Trump voters, who had exactly the sort of predictable things to say we have been hearing for far more than four years, thanks to the New York Times and what came to seem like about 11,000 other news outlets hanging on the every word of every white supremacist they could convince to go on the record.

The letters editor headed this section with, “In my decade editing this page, there has never been a period when quarreling readers have seemed so implacably at odds with each other, as if they get their facts and values from different universes. As one small attempt to bridge the divide, we are providing today a page full of letters from Trump supporters.” The implication is the usual one: we—urban multiethnic liberal-to-radical only-partly-Christian America—need to spend more time understanding MAGA America. The demands do not go the other way. Fox and Ted Cruz and the Federalist have not chastised their audiences, I feel pretty confident, with urgings to enter into discourse with, say, Black Lives Matter activists, rabbis, imams, abortion providers, undocumented valedictorians, or tenured lesbians. When only half the divide is being tasked with making the peace, there is no peace to be made, but there is a unilateral surrender on offer. We are told to consider this bipartisanship, but the very word means both sides abandon their partisanship, and Mitch McConnell and company have absolutely no interest in doing that.

Paul Waldman wrote a valuable column in the Washington Post a few years ago, in which he pointed out that this discord is valuable fuel to right-wing operatives: “The assumption is that if Democrats simply choose to deploy this powerful tool of respect, then minds will be changed and votes will follow. This belief, widespread though it may be, is stunningly naive.” He notes that the sense of being disrespected “doesn’t come from the policies advocated by the Democratic Party, and it doesn’t come from the things Democratic politicians say. Where does it come from? An entire industry that’s devoted to convincing white people that liberal elitists look down on them. The right has a gigantic media apparatus that is devoted to convincing people that liberals disrespect them, plus a political party whose leaders all understand that that idea is key to their political project and so join in the chorus at every opportunity.”

There’s also often a devil’s bargain buried in all this, that you flatter and, yeah, respect these white people who think this country is theirs by throwing other people under the bus—by disrespecting immigrants and queer people and feminists and their rights and views. And you reinforce that constituency’s sense that they matter more than other people when you pander like this, and pretty much all the problems we’ve faced over the past four years, to say nothing of the last five hundred, come from this sense of white people being more important than nonwhites, Christians than non-Christians, native-born than immigrant, male than female, straight than queer, cis-gender than trans.

Supreme Court Justice Samuel Alito just complained that “you can’t say that marriage is a union between one man and one woman. Now it’s considered bigotry.” This is a standard complaint of the right: the real victim is the racist who has been called a racist, not the victim of his racism, the real oppression is to be impeded in your freedom to oppress. And of course Alito is disingenuous; you can say that stuff against marriage equality (and he did). Then other people can call you a bigot, because they get to have opinions too, but in his scheme such dissent is intolerable, which is fun coming from a member of the party whose devotees wore “fuck your feelings” shirts at its rallies and popularized the term “snowflake.”

Nevertheless, we get this hopelessly naïve version of centrism, of the idea that if we’re nicer to the other side there will be no other side, just one big happy family. This inanity is also applied to the questions of belief and fact and principle, with some muddled cocktail of moral relativism and therapists’ “everyone’s feelings are valid” applied to everything. But the truth is not some compromise halfway between the truth and the lie, the fact and the delusion, the scientists and the propagandists. And the ethical is not halfway between white supremacists and human rights activists, rapists and feminists, synagogue massacrists and Jews, xenophobes and immigrants, delusional transphobes and trans people. Who the hell wants unity with Nazis until and unless they stop being Nazis?

I think our side, if you’ll forgive my ongoing shorthand and binary logic, has something to offer everyone and we can and must win in the long run by offering it, and offering it via better stories and better means to make those stories reach everyone. We actually want to see everyone have a living wage, access to healthcare, and lives unburdened by medical, student, and housing debt. We want this to be a thriving planet when the babies born this year turn 80 in 2100. But the recommended compromise means abandoning and diluting our stories, not fortifying and improving them (and finding ways for them to actually reach the rest of America, rather than having them warped or shut out altogether). I’ve spent much of my adult life watching politicians like Bill Clinton and, at times, Barack Obama sell out their own side to placate the other, with dismal results, and I pray that times have changed enough that Joe Biden will not do it all over again.

Among the other problems with the LA Times’s editor’s statement is that one side has a lot of things that do not deserve to be called facts, and their values are too often advocacy for harming many of us on the other side. Not to pick on one news outlet: Sunday, the Washington Post ran a front-page sub-head about the #millionMAGAmarch that read “On stark display in the nation’s capital were two irreconcilable versions of America, each refusing to accept what the other considered to be undeniable fact.” Except that one side did have actual facts, notably that Donald J. Trump lost the election, and the other had hot and steamy delusions.

I can comprehend, and do, that lots of people don’t believe climate change is real, but is there some great benefit in me listening, again, to those who refuse to listen to the global community of scientists and see the evidence before our eyes? A lot of why the right doesn’t “understand” climate change is that climate change tells us everything is connected, everything we do has far-reaching repercussions, and we’re responsible for the whole, a message at odds with their idealization of a version of freedom that smells a lot like disconnection and irresponsibility. But also climate denial is the result of fossil fuel companies and the politicians they bought spreading propaganda and lies for profit, and I understand that better than the people who believe it. If half of us believe the earth is flat, we do not make peace by settling on it being halfway between round and flat. Those of us who know it’s round will not recruit them through compromise. We all know that you do better bringing people out of delusion by being kind and inviting than by mocking them, but that’s inviting them to come over, which is not the same thing as heading in their direction.

The editor spoke of facts, and he spoke of values. In the past four years too many members of the right have been emboldened to carry out those values as violence. One of the t-shirts at the #millionMAGAmarch this weekend: “Pinochet did nothing wrong.” Except stage a coup, torture and disappear tens of thousands of Chileans, and violate laws and rights. A right-wing conspiracy to overthrow the Michigan government and kidnap Governor Gretchen Whitmer was recently uncovered, racists shot some Black Lives Matter protestors and plowed their cars into a lot of protests this summer. The El Paso anti-immigrant massacre was only a year ago; the Pittsburgh synagogue massacre two years ago, the Charlottesville white-supremacist rally in which Heather Heyer was killed three years ago (and of course there have been innumerable smaller incidents all along). Do we need to bridge the divide between Nazis and non-Nazis? Because part of the problem is that we have an appeasement economy, a system that is supposed to be greased by being nice to the other side.

Appeasement didn’t work in the 1930s and it won’t work now. That doesn’t mean that people have to be angry or hate back or hostile, but it does mean they have to stand on principle and defend what’s under attack. There are situations in which there is no common ground worth standing on, let alone hiking over to. If Nazis wanted to reach out and find common ground and understand us, they probably would not have had that tiki-torch parade full of white men bellowing “Jews will not replace us” and, also, they would not be Nazis. Being Nazis, white supremacists, misogynists, transphobes is all part of a project of refusing to understand as part of refusing to respect. It is a minority position but by granting it deference we give it, over and over, the power of a majority position.

In fact the whole Republican Party, since long before Trump, has committed itself to the antidemocratic project of trying to create a narrower electorate rather than win a wider vote. They have invested in voter suppression as a key tactic to win, and the votes they try to suppress are those of Black voters and other voters of color. That is a brutally corrupt refusal to allow those citizens the rights guaranteed to them by law. Having failed to prevent enough Black people from voting in the recent election, they are striving mightily to discard their votes after the fact. What do you do with people who think they matter more than other people? Catering to them reinforces that belief, that they are central to the nation’s life, they are more important, and their views must prevail. Deference to intolerance feeds intolerance.

Years ago the linguist George Lakoff wrote that Democrats operate as kindly nurturance-oriented mothers to the citizenry, Republicans as stern discipline-oriented fathers. But the relationship between the two parties is a marriage, between an overly deferential wife and an overbearing and often abusive husband (think of how we got our last two Supreme Court justices and failed to get Merrick Garland). The Hill just ran a headline that declared “GOP Senators say that a Warren nomination would divide Republicans.” I am pretty sure they didn’t run headlines that said, “Democratic Senators say a Pompeo (or Bolton or Perdue or Sessions) nomination would divide Democrats.” I grew up in an era where wives who were beaten were expected to do more to soothe their husbands and not challenge them, and this carries on as the degrading politics of our abusive national marriage.

Some of us don’t know how to win. Others can’t believe they ever lost or will lose or should, and their intransigence constitutes a kind of threat. That’s why the victors of the recent election are being told in countless ways to go grovel before the losers. This unilateral surrender is how misogyny and racism are baked into a lot of liberal and centrist as well as right-wing positions, this idea that some people need to be flattered and buffered even when they are harming the people who are supposed to do the flattering and buffering, even when they are the minority, even when they’re breaking the law or lost the election. Lakoff didn’t quite get to the point of saying that this nation lives in a household full of what domestic abuse advocates call coercive control, in which one partner’s threats, intimidations, devaluations, and general shouting down control the other.

This is what marriages were before feminism, with the abused wife urged to placate and soothe the furious husband. Feminism is good for everything, and it’s a good model for seeing that this is both outrageous and a recipe for failure. It didn’t work in marriages, and it never was the abused partner’s job to prevent the abuse by surrendering ground and rights and voice. It is not working as national policy either. Now is an excellent time to stand on principle and defend what we value, and I believe it’s a winning strategy too, or at least brings us closer to winning than surrender does. Also, it’s worth repeating, we won, and being gracious in victory is still being victorious.

[Rebecca Solnit’s first media job was in fact-checking and her last book is the memoir Recollections of My Nonexistence. She’s sent a lot of mail to her nieces and nephews during the pandemic.]

[punkscowardschampions]

Buster & Rio

Buster: Where's Nance? Rio: She was with your parents last I saw Rio: but that was a while ago so Buster: Typical Buster: Oldest trick in the book for when she doesn't wanna talk to me Rio: Can't imagine why Buster: 'Course you can't Rio: 🙄 Buster: Yeah, like I was saying, always a pleasure Rio: Where? Buster: Exactly Rio: Hm Rio: I'll tell her you're looking for her, I guess Buster: Don't Buster: She'll find a new hiding place Rio: What have you done then? Buster: Cheers Buster: Really nice of you to assume it's all my fault Rio: you aren't the one hiding Buster: I'm not a pussy Buster: If something needs to get said, I'll say it Rio: That's why she's hiding then, I imagine Buster: I didn't ask you why, just where Rio: is it that pressing? Buster: What 'cause I'm gonna ruin all the fun she's having? Buster: You've got the wrong sister there, babe Rio: well it sounds like it Buster: I don't need your permission Rio: Why do you need to be a dick? Buster: To her or to you? Rio: Her, obviously Rio: It's not that deep Buster: I'm not being a dick to her Buster: I was last night, which is why I wanna talk to her Rio: Oh, so you wanna apologize Rio: you can't force her to accept it, probably wait for her to come out from wherever she is Buster: Did I say that? Buster: I've got nothing to be sorry for Rio: For God's sake Rio: I forgot how tiring you were Buster: It ain't my fault its been years since you've been able to keep up with me Rio: Please Rio: your memory is as selective as your participation Buster: Your memory is as unreliable as your mum's baby daddys Rio: I don't need this from you today Buster: Name a day you do need it, I'll check my calendar, like Rio: You're so unfunny Buster: I ain't the entertainment Buster: You wish Rio: Neither is my family Rio: sorry to disappoint Buster: It's alright, like I said, I'm used to you disappointing me Buster: Ancient history Rio: Heartbreaking Buster: It makes no odds to me if you can't hold your nerve, drink or your head high Buster: That's your problem Rio: None of which you'd know anything about Rio: you're the only one here with a problem, obviously Buster: Which one of us are you trying to convince? Buster: Either way, I'd work harder at it if I were you Rio: like permission, I definitely don't need your advice Rio: there's no need for conviction, you don't like me, I don't like you, it's simple Buster: There's every need for conviction when it's the pretence you're actually tired of Buster: I understand putting the one, big, happy family spin on things for the kids but we ain't that and you ain't supposed to buy into your own bullshit Buster: You don't wanna be here, don't put that on me Rio: Don't project your bullshit onto me Rio: You wouldn't know, because you don't, but I turn up to events Buster: Just own yours Buster: I know 'cause I can still read you, neither of us have to like it, but it's true Rio: Just leave me alone Rio: don't think about me Buster: Don't cry, you'll fuck up the photos Rio: You wish Buster: You wish I cared Rio: yeah Rio: pleasure, right Buster: [brings her a drink like drown your sorrows but doesn't stick around cos rude hoe] Rio: [gives it to her mans like no thank you] Buster: [LOL love that power move] Rio: [has to be done] Buster: [also how awkward that her man is at this fam function, please don't be cringe Caleb] Rio: [at least you're the least bothered in that sense, you know you bomb enough] Buster: [and you're your dad's fave too so best behaviour with you] Rio: [hopefully you're not looking as messy by this age sir] Buster: [good lord I hope not you'll be the one ruining those photos if you are] Rio: [just put him on the side so you can crop him out] Buster: [#mood and defs crop out shit nan] Rio: [she'll be on fine form, everyone hide she lives to shade] Buster: [Grace just crying cos she only a bab and she already getting shaded] Rio: [no prisoners baby] Buster: [no offense Meena but none of us are living rn] Rio: [soz your wedding is tense] Buster: [thank god there's not loads of them] Rio: [we been derailed though you two think of a flimsy excuse to talk again] Buster: [is Gus still alive or nah that's my last question I promise] Rio: [nah, if we said OG he died when Pablo, that's 22, so a year before the twins are born] Buster: [sad times] Rio: [okay so later, like a time that you've both had to be on it with the drinks etc] Rio: you find her? Buster: No Rio: you still want to? Buster: Forget it Buster: She wants to stay mad Rio: don't you approve of that though Buster: Of martyrdom? Fuck that Rio: nah Rio: being angry, doing your own thing Buster: If that was what she was doing Rio: well, she's with June, obviously Rio: but they seemed content enough Buster: Whatever Rio: Whatever then Rio: enjoy the remaining festivities Buster: Obviously Rio: not been that bad Rio: my nan thinks you're SO impressive, know you love that Buster: Compared to what? St Paddy's? Christmas? My 10th birthday? Buster: I know I'm impressive, I could give a fuck what she thinks Rio: What was wrong with your 10th birthday? Buster: What's wrong with any of them? It was just an example Rio: it sounded like some deep trauma you should repress is all Rio: maybe I already had, idk Buster: I can afford a good therapist, it'll be fine Rio: Yippee Buster: You don't have to lose any sleep over me, babe Buster: Dreams aside Rio: You've been working on your jokes Rio: glad you've spent your time wisely Buster: 'Course you are Buster: So invested in my success, yeah? Rio: Sure Rio: not that I spend enough time laughing at jokes that aren't funny without needlessly indulging you too or anything Buster: Dump your boyfriend then Buster: He's got fuck all going for him if he ain't funny Rio: How do you know I'm talking about him? Buster: Educated guess Buster: 'Cause I am Rio: Well you're wrong Rio: and my dad really isn't that funny Rio: or he thinks I'm still five Buster: I ain't wrong that he looks like he has to sign his name with a cross Buster: And I could've told you that, about your dad Rio: You're just being rude with no basis for it, but I'm not after help with my homework even if he was that thick so what would it matter Rio: I'm sure Rio: why didn't you offer you unnecessary, 'expert' opinion this time then? Buster: I have a solid basis for your lack of standards, but fair point, it doesn't really matter to me Buster: And 'cause you can't even accept my offer of a drink Rio: if high standards means being here alone, you can have it Rio: it wasn't an offer, it was parallel to assault with a 🍹 Buster: If you're that scared to be alone, I'll see you in the shrink's chair once we've given it at least a couple more years to let the trauma accumulate Buster: You never used to be so afraid of everything Rio: I'm no more scared of being alone than you're scared to be with someone Rio: what else am I meant to be afraid of? Buster: Other than acting like I threw a glass of straight brandy in your face? Rio: You weren't trying to give me a drink, you were trying to prove a point you didn't have Buster: Let's not pretend you have any idea what my motivations are/were/could be at any particular point in time Rio: I'd have to join in the delusion you aren't transparent first and honestly Rio: not got the time Buster: 'Cause you don't Buster: 'Course* Rio: Be well busy teaching my boyfriend to read and write, apparently Buster: There's so many delusions it must be necessary to maintain in order to just be with him that neither of us have the time to list them all Rio: It doesn't really matter to you, remember? Buster: Cheers for the reminder Rio: You're so welcome Buster: I feel it Buster: Your nan has such a welcoming vibe Rio: No doubt ⭐ boy Rio: try being your sister, or my brother Buster: She loves it Rio: Judging like God gave her the go ahead? Rio: I know Buster: I meant Nance loves a chance to play the victim, but yeah that too Rio: She'll be over it 'fore the night is out Buster: Don't underestimate her Rio: Yeah, that's me Buster: Well, everyone knows the opposite is reserved for your boyfriends Rio: I highly doubt anyone but you is thinking about it at all Buster: If that idea brings you comfort, you can have it Rio: How generous Buster: Why are you wearing that? Rio: What do you mean? Buster: It's a simple enough question Rio: Too simple for words Rio: because it's a wedding Rio: what else would I wear? Buster: I'm not your stylist Rio: then don't act like it Buster: I ain't Rio: Maybe I don't like what you're wearing Rio: you don't have to announce every thought in your head Buster: I didn't express an opinion, I asked a question Rio: I know what you're saying Buster: No you don't Rio: Then tell me Buster: You've already made it clear that you don't want me to Rio: That's why I asked you to Buster: I don't have to announce every thought in my head, remember? Rio: Fine Rio: well I'm not going home to change, can you handle that? Buster: What if I can't? Rio: I know you can Buster: Fine Rio: Do you want a drink? Buster: Are you gonna throw it at me? Rio: I've got manners Buster: Shame Rio: 😏 Rio: if you're missing playing, there's room at the kid's table Buster: I'm gutted that you don't wanna play a game with me, that doesn't mean you get to push your luck that far Rio: You don't seem like you're in a playful mood Buster: What mood do I seem like I'm in? Rio: So I can't read your motivations anymore but I can still read your moods? Buster: Come on Rio: You seem Rio: annoyed Rio: uncomfortable, like the rest of us Buster: Is that you finally admitting that you're uncomfortable? Rio: I never said I was having the BEST time Buster: Alright, let's have that drink then Rio: as far as non-solutions go Rio: one of the better Buster: You know me well enough to know if it ain't the best, I ain't interested Rio: That's why you ain't brought a plus one, yeah Buster: Yeah Rio: You seem bored too Buster: You don't have to read my mind for that one, it's just common sense Rio: So I'll get you that drink Buster: Cheers Rio: Slainte Rio: [gonna have you get waylaid by your dad and Drew at the bar] Buster: [when you come and literally drag her away from them when you realise cos you don't have to read her mind there either] Rio: [we all know Drew's already getting lowkey creepy at this age, never mind any dad angst or embarrassment 'thanks' as you awkwardly give him his drink] Buster: [when it's been so long since they've touched each other that he can't even speak so just gotta shake his head for that don't cos he didn't do it for the thanks] Rio: ['you already said it for the drink' and a shrug that you can barely keep steady and even because being this close to him but we're pretending this is very casual 'we're even'] Buster: [a shrug that exactly mirrors hers for that beautiful cinematography and matching mood but forcing that eye contact cos gotta pretend you're unfazed] Rio: [maintaining it long enough to take the first sip of your drink, then going to walk away again] Buster: [putting his hand on her wrist just like he did a second ago when he dragged her away from that delightful pair because we've started something now] Rio: [looking down at his hand on your wrist because you cannot] Buster: [unhanding her because you know you have to not because you want to] Rio: ['enjoy, yeah?' and looking back up as you go] Buster: [just staring at her nbd and nothing to see here people] Rio: [a shameless moment whilst you walk back to this boy] Buster: [excuse you sir] Rio: [like so soz her level of investment in you has plummeted rn] Buster: [I'm dying because this lad is probably saying something to her and does she care? NOPE] Rio: [tryna have your own moment like hold up] Buster: [Ava as the only other person he gives a fuck about at this whole function/in the world you've gotta distract him so he doesn't go over there/do something stupid] Rio: [at least you're 8 and will have no qualms in doing so] Buster: [have a cute moment between yourselves so he calms down] Rio: [ask him to dance or something] Buster: [you gotta] Rio: [not that this will help her, just sneakily looking how cute they are] Buster: [just casually reminding her of what a sweet boy he used to be when they were younger] Rio: [and he's good with kids which is so important to you for obvious reasons] Buster: [omg it makes so much sense why they have so many kids now even more than before] Rio: [mhmm Buster: [we is so clever] Rio: [the cleverest] Buster: What mood am I in now? Rio: A much better one Rio: even if you'd like to deny it Buster: I'm not about to deny it, she's the best thing my parents have ever done and you heard what I said that means for my interest Rio: It's nice Buster: I'm capable of nice Buster: It just suits everyone to forget it, including you Rio: I've never said you weren't Rio: it suits you for people to forget, anyway, if you wanted it otherwise, you'd remind them more often Buster: Not tonight, there'll have been others though Buster: Yeah, like I said, it suits everyone Rio: My memory isn't selective Rio: this night or any other Buster: Call it whatever you like Buster: The end result is the same Rio: No it isn't Buster: Tell me how it's any different Rio: I still have memories Rio: that you can't do fuck all about Buster: Memories that make no fucking difference to now Rio: That's your opinion Buster: It's a fact Buster: There isn't a single one you could share with me now or vice versa that would lead to our reconciliation Rio: because we don't want it Buster: 'Cause it's bullshit Buster: It might as well have happened to someone else for all the relevance it has to who I am Rio: Yeah, because you don't want it to make a difference Rio: that's what I said Buster: Yeah, you're the expert on what I want Rio: Don't need to be, that's what you're saying as well Buster: What I'm saying is that it doesn't matter, it's not about whether I want it to or not Rio: Fine Buster: There are loads of things that have a bearing on my day to day live and how it looks going forward, and like it or not, all the summers I wasted here with you as a kid ain't one of 'em, oddly enough Buster: *life Rio: as I said, WE don't want it to matter Rio: so, unsurprisingly, I don't care Buster: Say it like you mean it Buster: You're supposed to kill your darlings, babe, not give 'em the one punch and call it quits Rio: Whatever, have you sufficiently proved to yourself how un-nice you can be too now or? Buster: It's about what you don't wanna prove to yourself though, more than anything else Buster: You're scared if you really hurt me, you'll like it Buster: And you don't want that 'cause you do care, even if it's only for the me in your memories Rio: I'm not scared of that, or to admit I care, because I'm not a sociopath Rio: we're related, like it or not Buster: I'm not a sociopath just 'cause I don't like the fact we're related Rio: You'll get over it Buster: You're supposed to say, 'nah you're a sociopath 'cause....' I've probably got loads of the traits you could pick from Buster: But since you didn't, what if I can't? Rio: I don't think you are one, your narcissistic trait will take that blow hard, I know Rio: There's no choice Rio: I've got plenty of relatives I like less than you, as you're aware Rio: they don't just go away, even if you try to Buster: There are always choices and there are always gonna be relatives I like less than you Buster: But Rio, what if I can't get over this? Rio: Don't take the piss Buster: I mean it, you know I do Rio: Then you know I don't have an answer Buster: You have to if I don't Rio: The only way blood doesn't matter is if the person fucks up so spectacularly you can disown them Rio: even then, not really Rio: so yeah, have some kids you don't want, acquire a drug habit that you do Buster: I've got the latter, I can't say it's especially helping Rio: not really though Rio: just at parties, yeah Buster: You don't have to worry about me Rio: I'm not, just asked a question Buster: I go to parties all the time so it's hardly an occasional thing, but alright, to answer your question, yeah Rio: everyone does though, like Rio: that's alright, that's normal Buster: Only you would find a way to be insulting and reassuring at the same time Rio: Yeah, I'm well sorry if you thought you and your friends were unique Buster: Not those cunts, just me Rio: That's very nice Buster: So are they Rio: Why are you friends with them? Buster: If not those cunts then a bunch of others Rio: But I'm afraid to be alone? Buster: [a big Fearghal style loud lol] Buster: Touché Rio: [shaking her head like 😏] Buster: You reckon I should be more like Nance then, yeah? Isolate myself and pretend human connection is unneccessary Rio: Obviously not Rio: No one wants to be alone Buster: No one's good enough for me, babe Buster: You were the first to prove it Rio: Fuck off Rio: you so obviously fit right in with your friends, that's the truth Buster: I give it 110% same as everything else Rio: I never had any doubt Buster: Good Rio: Even if I had, your socials leave little to be desired in the twat factor Buster: And yet, you can't look away Rio: if you think a car crash is aspirational Buster: You may be one of my poor relations, that doesn't make me a poster boy Buster: Find your own access to high society, Eliza Rio: I'm not your anything Rio: and I've got no interest in that either Buster: Well done then, on both counts Rio: Bye now Buster: For now Rio: Unfortunately Buster: Fuck off Rio: excuse you? Buster: Lie better or don't bother Rio: You can pretend I'm just devastated to see you go, if it makes you happy Buster: That isn't something I need to pretend Rio: There you go, head in the ☁s again Rio: you're welcome Buster: You wish Buster: Stop daydreaming about me, the nights are already so fucking long Rio: You're lucky I don't tell people how weird you are Buster: Go ahead Rio: You think I won't Buster: I dare you Rio: Don't Buster: I double dare you Rio: You know I can't Rio: no one would believe just how weird you are Buster: You can do anything you want, you just have to want it more than you care about what the consequences are/could be Rio: I'm sure they'd just put you in very expensive therapy Buster: And I wouldn't have to see you any more Rio: That's what you want then Buster: Don't you? Rio: I already said, there are people I dislike more around Buster: You know there's only so many boyfriends you can parade in front of me before I kill one Rio: You're not going to kill anyone, you're not a sociopath, remember Rio: and I'm not parading anyone, they're just there Buster: Just saying, like Buster: You might wanna reconsider your rankings Buster: And I didn't say I wouldn't feel guilt or whatever else Rio: Of course you wanna be on top Buster: You don't want me to be? Rio: Why would I want that, Buster? Buster: You know why Rio: Not when me and all the wasted Summers as kids are nothing but a footnote Buster: Don't Rio: You said it Buster: What would you rather I said? Buster: Tell me Rio: Not every thought in my head Buster: Come on Rio: What do you want me to say? Buster: A thought in your head, not every Rio: Alright Rio: you're pretty drunk, that's what I'm thinking Buster: I'm not that drunk, if that's what's stopping you Rio: I could say more if you were Buster: I'll find some brandy, you can say it at my funeral Rio: Things aren't that dire, come on Rio: they're quite a sweet couple Buster: If you say so Rio: you don't think so? Buster: I don't know what kind of couple they are Buster: I barely know them Rio: Yeah but it's a nice story Rio: very boy/girl next door romcom Buster: Knowing what you want in the first place is a better story Buster: They wasted years they could've been together Rio: They might not have been right for each other before Buster: If you're right for each other then you are Buster: You do whatever it takes Rio: Maybe Rio: sometimes you can't Buster: They were the only things stopping themselves Rio: So you can't be happy for them? Buster: I didn't say I wasn't Rio: You still want a supermodel wife then Buster: I don't care what she does, it's not about that Rio: What is it about Buster: What she's like, obviously Rio: You have grown up Buster: It's what happens, yeah Buster: Unless you die Rio: Cheery Buster: I told you, I ain't the entertainment Rio: Alright Buster: Don't marry him Rio: I'm not marrying anyone Buster: Ever? Rio: I mean right now, we're 14, for God's sake Buster: You can't marry him now, I'm saying don't marry him when you're old enough to Rio: we've not been going out long Rio: who knows where I'll be or with who when I even think about that Buster: You fancied him back then though, when I was gonna marry a supermodel Buster: I know you did Rio: that's not what I was trying to say with Rio: I don't think I'll marry him Rio: it's just nice for the people it happens to Rio: like your mum and dad too Buster: Probably use an alternative word to nice if you say anything about it to them Rio: I wasn't planning to Rio: not got a deathwish Buster: [😏] Buster: It wouldn't be very cheery, having one Rio: Doesn't mean I'm the entertainment Rio: just polite Buster: Just as well, polite isn't entertaining Rio: If I wanted to entertain you, I could Buster: But you don't Rio: don't I Buster: Do you? Rio: be well weird if I wanted to, wouldn't it Buster: Depends who you ask Rio: You're the only one in this chat Rio: but not in the room Buster: Rio Rio: yes Buster: Do you wanna dance with me or not? Rio: We could do that Rio: that wouldn't be weird Buster: [comes over and we back on that wrist holding bullshit because of course we are, like you could just let her walk over to wherever you're gonna dance but no] Buster: [stop pulling her around boy you'll give yourself away] Rio: [we all know she's so shamelessly #intoit so good luck keeping this casual] Buster: [remember where you are and that your whole family is here please] Rio: [we know we're starting with a pretense of dancing 'near' each other but just keep 'accidentally' touching and getting closer] Buster: [shamelessly love that] Rio: [like you can't outright slow dance can you even if you really wanna] Buster: [we'll let you at the party but there's no chance of getting away with it in front of the fam unless you somehow did a Twilight prom moment outside lol] Rio: [wish some of these kids would take the initiative to 'force' you to like you're getting fake married lmao] Buster: [@Grace it's your time to shine babe] Rio: [god bless] Buster: [realistically her boyfriend is probably gonna appear to dance with her properly and Buster is gonna be livid] Rio: [sadly, yes, neither of us are thrilled but can't be like no I would rather keep dancing with my cousin so, just sadly watching him go over your mans shoulder] Buster: [he has to go punch something that's not this dude's face] Rio: [don't blame you] Buster: [please don't hurt yourself boy, I know you don't care but it is a wedding thank you] Rio: [at the very least, you don't want the drama of the whole fam being like what happened why etc etc] Buster: [genau dr phil] Rio: [even later, like, Tommy and Meena have pissed off time, which is so weird about traditional weddings] Rio: where are you Buster: Why? Rio: just asking Rio: i wanna know Buster: Well don't Rio: sorry Buster: Where's he? I wanna know Rio: he went home a while ago Rio: paper round in the morning Buster: He's tall for a 10 year old Rio: alright Rio: you can have that one on the house Buster: Why can't he get a real job? He's old enough Buster: Older than you Rio: I don't know Rio: doesn't want one, doesn't need one Rio: his family are minted Buster: Who the fuck doesn't want one? Rio: Are you gonna get one? Rio: he's focusing on school, like Buster: What's he focusing on a paper round for too then, cardio? Rio: Probably Rio: why are we even talking about this, it's so boring Buster: Why are you even going out with him, if he's so boring? Rio: do you actually want to know, really Buster: Yeah I do Rio: 'cos it's easy, simple, straightforward Buster: Jesus Christ Rio: what Buster: What do you mean, what? Buster: Can you hear yourself Rio: There's literally nothing wrong with that Buster: If you're a divorced mother of two looking to get back out there Buster: Instead of like, the hottest girl I've ever seen Rio: you can't say that Buster: I can say whatever the fuck I want Buster: I can't do anything Rio: you're Rio: this is a headfuck Buster: It always has been Rio: I know Buster: Yeah Rio: that's why we need easy Buster: Fuck that Rio: fine, be better than me Buster: There is no better than you Rio: Buster Rio: just Buster: I don't care Buster: It's true Rio: we can't do anything with this Rio: what do we do Buster: You should know anyway Buster: How I feel and how I don't Rio: you aren't as good a liar as you'd like Rio: you can't just talk away this, or one of us would've Buster: I mean you should hear it from me Buster: Instead of all the bullshit you have to Rio: okay Rio: I'm listening Buster: When I see you I can barely stay standing but when I don't, I can't fucking breathe Buster: If I was anyone else I wouldn't win the fight, it'd get called off Rio: I miss you, like, I always miss you, since we were little Buster: It's just constant Buster: Everyone acts like it's meant to get better, or worse Rio: we should've grown out of it by now Rio: probably Buster: Don't Rio: I can't Rio: and I don't think I want to, even if I could Buster: I know what I want, I'm not a kid Rio: you want a lot of things Rio: if we Rio: that could fuck up all the rest Buster: Yeah Rio: but Rio: do you ever feel like Rio: if we did, it'd be less obvious somehow Rio: I feel as blatant as you say I am Buster: I don't reckon it could be any more obvious, whatever we do Buster: Is that why your boyfriend left? Rio: Sort of Rio: he wanted me to go with him but I didn't feel like it Rio: for obvious reasons Buster: I'm not sorry Rio: I know you aren't Rio: I don't need you to be either Buster: What do you need from me then? Rio: I want you Rio: to admit you want me too Buster: You said I want loads of things, but none of them matter as much as you Rio: what if no one would talk to us again Buster: I'll talk to you and you'll talk to me Rio: promise Rio: you can't ignore me Buster: You're right, I can't Rio: you do though Rio: so don't Buster: I swear Rio: okay Buster: It will be okay Rio: when have you ever been okay with okay Buster: Touché Buster: Fine, it'll be the best Rio: it would be though Buster: I know Rio: think about it Buster: I've been thinking about it for days Buster: I went to a party last night to try and stop Rio: did it work Buster: 'Course not Buster: I don't want it enough Rio: I don't want him enough Rio: I said it's easy Rio: but it's the opposite, actually Rio: on paper, it should be but when I actually have to do it Buster: You don't live on paper Buster: And you don't have to be with him Rio: we have to try, don't we Buster: We have Rio: how is just seeing you better than anything anyone else has ever done Buster: I'm better than anyone else Rio: you just want me to say it back Buster: That's not why I said it, but obviously you will, when I prove it to you Rio: I wish Buster: [a location that a wedding guest should not remotely be like an office or storage closet or whatever where he's been] Rio: have you been there this whole time Buster: Why is that all you've got to say to me? Rio: You know I'm coming Rio: I started this conversation asking where you were Buster: How long ago did he leave? Rio: not long after Tommy and Meena did Rio: whenever that was Buster: You just wanted to keep me waiting then Rio: that's not what I want at all Buster: Good Rio: you know what I want, yeah? Buster: I know exactly what you want Rio: and you're gonna give it to me, right? Buster: I'm gonna give you everything Buster: Including things you didn't know you wanted Rio: Jesus Buster: Rio Rio: you can say that out loud for me Rio: we've not been that alone in Rio: forever, maybe Buster: We've never been this alone Rio: it's weird Rio: how many memories I have that feel like just me and you Rio: but they couldn't have been, really Buster: 'Cause that's how we wanted it Rio: bit mean, really Rio: but I'm always with my brother and sisters Buster: I don't care Rio: it's hard to, right now Rio: and then Rio: you were more fun Buster: I still am Rio: you can prove that Rio: if I ever escape everyone trying to stop and talk to me Buster: Don't make me have to come and get you Buster: We may have been blatant but we can't be stupid Rio: I know Rio: even if you did make that sound really tempting Rio: unfair Buster: I'll do it, I just want you to know that I know it's not a good idea Rio: I'll be good Rio: but only in a fun way, obviously Buster: You don't have fuck all to prove to me, you know that, yeah? Rio: yeah Rio: a bit though Buster: I'm serious Buster: You've never been boring, not even close Rio: I'm still gonna make this the best you've ever Buster: It will be 'cause it's you Rio: I need you to feel how badly I want you Buster: I've wanted you for so long Rio: how long Rio: tell me Buster: Come on Buster: You know it's always been you Rio: remind me Buster: Any girl I've ever touched, I've never even wanted to unless I'm thinking about you Rio: I can't stop my brain from thinking about you Rio: how much better it would be if it was you Rio: how much I'd rather Buster: Don't stop thinking about me Buster: If this is the only chance we get or if it's not Buster: Whatever happens, whatever I say or do when I sober up Rio: I can't anyway Rio: even if you were the worst person in the world Buster: I have been a cunt Buster: I'm sorry Rio: forget about it Rio: me too Rio: we know why Buster: No, listen Rio: but it's okay Buster: It's not okay Buster: I love you Rio: you can't just take all this back Rio: just 'cos we're drunk Buster: It'll still be how I feel whether I'm drunk or not Rio: I mean you know I'm not going to forget Buster: Good, don't Buster: I'm in love with you Rio: I've imagined you saying that Rio: so many times Buster: It's real now Buster: I mean, it always has been real for me, but I'm actually saying it, no takebacks Rio: [gonna have you turn up now] Buster: [how obviously he would've trashed whatever this room is when he was mad and sad lol] Rio: [just looking at the room then at him 'cos we doing this] Buster: [using whatever to block the door because you haven't waited this long to risk getting interrupted however unlikely that is given how long he's been in there and how far away they are from the wedding shit] Rio: [gonna say it's an office type moment so it can be a desk and you can hop up on that] Buster: [because your height difference is ridiculous and also that's a mood] Rio: ['is this really happening?'] Buster: [kissing her really intensely so she knows it is and let's take a moment to appreciate and contrast that to their awkward childish first one and die] Rio: [when you'd be dying because how good it is confirms everything like oh shit] Buster: [we know it'd be the same for him so thank god you don't have to worry about being quiet because he is the loudest character we have lol] Rio: [if there was ever a time and a place for a first time moment tbh] Buster: [love it for you guys even though he's gonna have to tell her to take off her own dress so he doesn't rip it cos we that extra and peeps would notice that however drunk and oblivious they have been thusfar] Rio: [when you're so 😍 about that though] Buster: [no chill ever gotta start as you mean to go on] Rio: [likewise, just taking the opportunity to tell him everything you ain't been allowed in between kisses] Buster: [same cos he's already dropped the L word before she even got there so we know he can't shut his damn mouth] Rio: [there's no way she ain't saying it back in person] Buster: [I'm the opposite of mad about it] Rio: [when you can't pretend you don't, like it's just all out there now you've started, tomorrow will be interesting] Buster: [good lord I hope at least you can manage to keep the bruises to a minimum/out of sight of the boyfriend she still has because yeah there's gonna be enough to deal with] Rio: [good luck with that lmao] Buster: [gurl you gonna have to work some makeup magic we all know it] Rio: [or just avoid him like we know you wanna] Buster: [please dump him asap though] Rio: [we clearly are and it'll probably be messy 'cos thinks you've liked him for ages and like yeah you been cute but also not really] Buster: [soz boy but also not soz boy] Rio: [you'll survive honey] Buster: [but for them what is the craic like are y'all gonna stay barricaded in here forever or go back to the reception like nothing happened or go home like you have not thought this through] Rio: [you can probably stay in here 'til one of your parents texts like excuse me where are you, and that'll probably be to go home] Buster: [realistically Baze will wanna go home before Ali cos her and Tommy are besties and baze are antisocial bastards lol] Rio: [exactly dr phil, when you just both gotta think about that like okay] Buster: [giving her his jacket cos 1. he wants her to have it because this may never happen again/all the reminders as if you haven't literally left bruises boy please 2. nobody would question why he doesn't have it/she does because the state of them all and the fact it's not an inherently coupley thing to do necessarily 3. if she had to she could say it was her boyfriends because he is also a rich boy and boys suits lowkey always look the same unless you go wild with it 4. that'll give her a reason to have to see him again/strike up a convo which he obvs wants and so do we] Rio: [1. yes 2. yes 3. yes 4. yes that is all, do we wanna have any more drunk chatting 'cos easily could or do we wanna skip to the AM] Buster: [I think we should to show they're not like instantly regretting/ignoring each other cos that's not the mood like all the goodbye kisses as soon as he realises he can't just ignore the fam/actually has to go would be EVERYTHING] Rio: [truly, hence he's barely out the door and] Rio: I miss you Buster: I love you Rio: I love you a lot Buster: I love you more than anything else Rio: You're making me so happy Buster: Good Rio: I wish I coulda gone with you Buster: You are coming with me, just not in person Rio: Yeah, I know Rio: I just like you best in person Buster: I'll see you tomorrow Rio: What are we doing? Buster: Whatever you want Rio: you then, cool 😋 Rio: might be willing to make a more detailed plan in the AM, see how I feel Buster: I'm fine with plan A Rio: It'd be really beyond awkward if you were regretting it already Rio: so I'm glad to hear it Buster: Being forced to leave, not doing it sooner, how I've treated you for the past however fucking long, that shit is what I regret Rio: We'll find time to make up for the lost now Rio: you're here for a bit, yeah? Buster: Yeah Rio: Good Rio: it won't be that hard to find time and opportunity to be alone somewhere Rio: can't force family fun on us constantly Rio: they'll be recovering from this majority of the time Buster: They can't force fuck all on me, I came 'cause I wanted to see you Rio: Well, I'm very glad you did Buster: Me too Rio: I swear I'm dreaming Buster: You're not, babe Buster: I can still taste you Rio: Fuck Rio: that makes me weak Buster: Everything you do makes me weak Buster: Just as well you can't tell anyone, like Rio: Who, me? 😏 Rio: I'd rather it was just for me anyway Buster: Yeah, you Buster: You know exactly what you're doing Buster: That dress, for example Rio: If you're going to ignore me, I have to make sure it's as hard as it is for me to ignore you Rio: the smallest but only victory I reckoned available to me Buster: I understand not reckoning I was gonna rip it off you but don't sell yourself too short Rio: so, you're only human, and everyone's looking Rio: but you know I wore it for you Buster: I do, so just this once I'll forgive you for saying I'm only human Rio: 😂 Rio: we can brainstorm what I can call you instead then Buster: Like, if you were disappointed in any of what I just did, you could've just said so Buster: Don't have to humble me that hard Rio: Oh, please Rio: you know what you just did Rio: and that I've not recovered, can't see it happening any time soon Buster: It's taken me years to try and recover from the first time we kissed, I'm not sure you'll find me that sympathetic, given that I never did succeed Rio: I get it, I'm not sorry for that either Rio: even if I should be Rio: only sorry we didn't do it more than once Buster: I should've kissed you every day after that Rio: You should've Buster: You know failure isn't an option for me though Rio: It wasn't a failure Buster: It wasn't good enough, that's the same thing Rio: it still made me feel Rio: everything Buster: But you're flawless, it needed to be perfect Rio: I wasn't any better, it was both our first time Rio: how could you have done any better, at, how old were we even Buster: If I hadn't been a pussy about it then it would've been better Rio: well, I still thought about it every time I touched myself after so Rio: I'm not mad about it Buster: Jesus, don't say shit like that when I can't touch myself at the thought of you doing it, you're supposed to be the one with good manners Rio: but you like it when I forget them Buster: Yeah but there's a time and a place and it's not right now in this car with my entire family Rio: 🤐 Rio: sorry Buster: No you're not Rio: I could be persuaded to be Rio: but I like thinking about it a lot, so it'll take a lot Buster: Tell me Rio: Tell you how much it'll take or how much I like thinking about it and exactly what Buster: Tell me what you like to think about and I'll decide if I want you to be sorry or not Rio: What haven't I thought about you, that's an easier question Rio: all the things I want you to do to me, everything I'm going to do for you Buster: Your boyfriend gives you easy, I know what you actually need Rio: you do Rio: you're better than a boyfriend Buster: I told you, I'm better than anyone Buster: Except you Rio: I'll show you that I know Buster: So how many of 'em did I do, these things you want? Rio: I'm pretty perverted Rio: we won't run out of scenarios or settings any time soon Buster: Is that a promise? Rio: Yes Rio: if you want it to be Buster: I want you here but I'll take that Rio: tomorrow Rio: I'm going to be so desperate for you Buster: Fuck that, I'll call you when I get back Rio: You know I'll still be at this party Buster: So go back to where we were Rio: Tell me when you're back, if I go now I won't be able to wait for you Buster: You don't have to wait for me Rio: I do Rio: I want you to fuck me and yourself at the same time Buster: Have I fallen asleep? Buster: I've definitely had this dream Rio: if you were asleep, I could make you cum Rio: can't be blamed for a wet dream Buster: If I'm not, I'll pretend to be Buster: Only my mum and dad aren't Rio: do you know how to be quiet though, babe Buster: I can do anything Rio: then can you think about me being there with you in the car Rio: tell me how you want me Buster: If you're on my lap I can be quiet Rio: I'll have a lot more bruises to show for it Rio: but I want that Buster: Any sounds I did end up making would only be for you to hear, I know you want that too Rio: They are just for me Buster: They haven't always been, our neighbours have definitely heard me before, but now they are Buster: And they're always 'cause of you Rio: I love how loud you are Rio: I wanna hear it more Buster: Tomorrow Rio: but for now, I can make noise for the both of us Buster: Yeah, be really loud for me Rio: I will Rio: though if I'm on your lap you'll have to try and make me quiet Buster: It's okay, I'll give you my fingers to suck, it'll keep you so quiet Rio: 🥺😳🤤 Rio: please Buster: Say it again Rio: Buster, please Rio: I want you inside me in every way possible at once Rio: you can't be close enough Buster: Fuck Rio: I can almost feel it Buster: Tell me what it feels like Rio: like I can't breathe, can't think, like all I can feel is what you're doing to my pussy, how fucking good it feels Buster: But you can feel what you're doing to me too, can't you? Rio: Of course, how could I not Rio: you're really big Buster: And everyone moves loads in their sleep Buster: I can't be blamed for that either Rio: Not at all Rio: and I can't be blamed that there's no room in the car but on you Buster: 'Course not Rio: though obviously, I wouldn't want a seat if there was one Buster: Obviously, you want what I want Rio: you know I don't have any underwear on, don't you Buster: I can tell Buster: It's allowed to be the one thing you're allowed to make easy, I reckon Rio: I can't help but be easy for you Rio: if you don't like it, you'll have to teach me a lesson Buster: You're so wet that you can easily take all of me but that's my fault, not yours, I can't help doing things that I know you'll really like Buster: Or that I want to give you everything Rio: I'm ready for you, daddy Buster: You love me, yeah? Rio: I love you so much Rio: you're just Rio: you're mine, aren't you? Buster: I'm yours and you're mine Rio: I'm all yours Rio: for always Buster: Forever Buster: It's always been me and you and that's never gonna change Rio: Promise Rio: I need you to stay with me Buster: I'll swear on whatever you want me to Buster: You know I need you more Rio: I'll believe you, because the alternative is not and I can't handle that Rio: I want this so badly, however we make it happen and work Buster: You can trust me Buster: Whatever it takes, I'll literally do anything for you Buster: There's never been a time when I wouldn't have Rio: Don't leave me again, okay Rio: I'm too happy right now Buster: There are no words good enough, I'll prove that I'm not going to with my actions though, okay? Rio: Okay Rio: I do trust you, really, and I do know, knew, how you felt this whole time, really Rio: it's just a headfuck how fast we've gone from the pretense to none at all Buster: I can't remember wanting to go anywhere without you, not for a single day from when my memory starts Buster: It was a headfuck how much of my life revolved around being with you or wishing I could be Buster: But I'm not a kid any more, I'm not scared Buster: And nobody can tell me what to do Rio: I thought I could make your life better, and mine too, I won't pretend it was entirely selfless, if we kept as much distance as possible Rio: that those thoughts and feelings would go away, that it'd be better for you to hate me, even if that fucking killed me Rio: but it just, didn't work, nothing was better Rio: lots of shit was much worse, and I missed you like hell Buster: I know Buster: I've been able to do everything I've ever decided I wanted to and loads of things I just had to, really fucking well, except not love you Rio: you can love me now Rio: shouldn't I be the only person who's say so matters Rio: I want you to Rio: and to love you back Buster: You're the only person who matters to me like that, end of story Rio: we'd be good together Rio: everyone would think so if things were different Buster: You were my best friend too, you know that, even my fucking twin couldn't understand me the way you did Buster: Whenever something happened whether it was shit or good I just wanted to tell you Buster: We were good together, they made things different, took all of that away from me Rio: I know Rio: we can have that again, if nothing else Rio: why shouldn't we Rio: you can tell me anything Buster: Fuck everyone else Buster: I hate them Rio: No you don't, not everyone Buster: Alright, the majority then Rio: 😏 okay, probably Rio: but shh Buster: Don't shh me, you just said I could tell you anything Rio: I suppose I did Rio: you didn't realize I'm a really crap girlfriend Buster: I've already realised that's bullshit Rio: Dan would probably disagree Rio: if he knew, like Buster: Yeah well, he'd love to disagree with me purely for the sake of doing so Buster: And I'd rather we had fuck all in common Rio: I mean, more like the bruises he didn't give me but you know Rio: I'll dump him Rio: when you've gone Buster: That's his own fault, if you were my girlfriend I wouldn't leave without you Rio: I didn't want to go Buster: He should've stayed with you then Rio: I didn't want that either Buster: Behave, you know what I'm saying Rio: I'm just saying Rio: not as stupid as you reckon Buster: Him or you? Rio: him Rio: I don't think you called me stupid, not tonight anyway Buster: Is that why you like him? Buster: It shouldn't be, 'cause if anything he's stupider than I reckoned for not being willing to put up a fight for you Rio: No Rio: it's just, I already knew him, when we came back properly Rio: didn't really know anyone else Buster: And you already fancied him Rio: not really Rio: he was cute but Rio: you didn't put me on your list either Buster: I could've told you puberty wasn't gonna do him as many favours as me Buster: I'm not that stupid, babe, then or now Buster: I know I can't marry you Rio: it was just a game Rio: you could've pretended Buster: I don't wanna pretend with you Rio: Do you even want all this Rio: you know, the wedding, the church Buster: I want you Buster: Nobody's gonna let us celebrate it by buying us toasters and champagne flutes, but if we could, I would Rio: yeah Rio: it don't matter Buster: We still belong to each other Buster: And I still choose you Rio: I'd rather have you than any of that Buster: It doesn't have to be either/or Buster: It can't look like theirs but we can do whatever we want in secret Rio: you're so cute Buster: I'm just saying, if you want something I'll get it for you Buster: Whatever it is Buster: I'm not your shit boyfriend, I don't give up Rio: you don't need to get me anything Rio: just stay in my life, that's all Rio: even if you have to marry a supermodel Buster: If I can't marry you, I won't get married Rio: it's a deal Buster: Okay Rio: I love you, Buster Buster: I've missed you so much Rio: I know Rio: I haven't even asked how you've been Rio: what you've been doing, 'cos it's been forever Buster: Don't Rio: I don't wanna know or you don't wanna say Rio: or both Buster: You already know Rio: but you're alright, yeah? Buster: I never settle for just alright, do I? Rio: you know what I mean Buster: What do you want me to say? Rio: you don't have to lie Rio: tell me how I can make it better though Buster: It is better now Buster: Like I said earlier, you don't have to worry about me Buster: Even if it wasn't better, I can handle that Rio: 😔 Buster: Come on Rio: 🥺 Rio: okay Buster: Please don't be sad Rio: I just can't think of you being sad Buster: I'm not any more Buster: I've got you Rio: it'll be better Rio: I'll look after you Buster: I love you Rio: I love you too Rio: I swear I don't even know half the people who are still here Buster: You should be here with me Buster: This house is so fucking quiet Rio: I could easily change that Rio: maybe we can have a sleepover one night Buster: We can Rio: like old times Rio: but better Buster: I won't headbutt you this time, like Rio: 😂 Rio: I appreciate it Buster: Did I ever do anything right as a kid or what? Buster: Fucking hell Rio: Plenty of things Rio: we know there was more stopping us than any awkwardness that happened Buster: Yeah Rio: but fuck that now Rio: they've got no right or need to know Buster: Don't worry, I've learned from my parents what not to do Buster: We won't get caught Rio: neither of us is stupid Rio: I want you too bad to fuck with it Buster: All we have to do is keep things the way they used to be in front of everyone Rio: we've kept it up for ages Rio: at least now, we know it's 100% fake Rio: no doubt Buster: Exactly Rio: You do have to come back more though Rio: or I'll die Buster: I'll think of a reason Rio: Use your big, educated brain, boy 😜 Buster: An idea'll come easily once you're not distracting me Rio: not even sent you any pictures Buster: Me either Buster: But I should shower so Buster: Maybe I will Rio: How many pleases do I have to say to make that maybe a definitely? Buster: Let's see Rio: 🙏 Buster: You have to say it though Rio: Hmm, emojis aren't gonna cut it, noted Rio: Pleeeeaaaaaase Buster: Like you mean it Rio: Insincerity either, okay Rio: Please though Buster: Please, what? Rio: Please send me pictures of you Buster: [does obviously] Rio: More Buster: [he's extra so you know he will] Rio: you're perfect Buster: For you Rio: only for me Buster: Yeah Rio: all for me Buster: I'm all yours now Rio: not gonna take any pictures of my face 'cos I'm just 🥴 now Buster: You're beautiful Rio: That's you Buster: It's not a competition, thank Christ Rio: Awh, baby Rio: I'd let you win Buster: You winning means I win Rio: then you're so welcome Buster: Good Rio: [sends pics from the desk] Buster: We're gonna have to break back in before I leave Rio: or find another desk Buster: I'm looking at one right now, trying to decide whether or not it would break Buster: You'll have to tell me what you think, when you come over Rio: oh Rio: or we could just try and hope for the best Buster: Okay, I'll protect you if it does collapse Rio: I know you will Rio: you love me Buster: And you trust me Rio: with my life Buster: I'll never let anything or anyone hurt you Rio: Only you Rio: and only how I like it Rio: 'cos you know me better than anyone Buster: Some of those bruises are gonna be there after I've left Rio: mhmm Rio: they need to be Rio: I need all the reminders we can get away with Buster: You can have as many as I've got time to give you Rio: you're so lovely 🥰 Rio: I'll take pictures every day, show you how they're healing Buster: Don't forget Rio: Never Rio: when they've nearly disappeared, you come back, yeah Buster: 'Course Rio: 🧡 Buster: Rio Rio: yeah? Buster: Tomorrow, things won't just go back to the way they were before, will they? Rio: I can't do it Rio: I seriously can't Buster: You know I mean everything I've said, yeah? Rio: Yes, and I'm not going to forget any of it Buster: Please don't Rio: I promise Buster: I'll say it all again if I have to but Rio: How could I forget Rio: when I've wanted to hear all of this for so long Buster: You know why Rio: but we can do it Rio: we can keep this secret Rio: I can't go back, can't do what we were Rio: I was bad at it Buster: We both were Buster: And you know how much I fucking hate being bad at things Rio: So, jump with me Rio: you can't keep one foot on the ledge, like Buster: That a dare? Rio: I'd rather you want it, if it's all the same to you Rio: but I can't say I'm above it Buster: You're all I want Buster: The rest, it's not just for me Rio: then I'm yours and that's all there is to it Rio: we'll work out logistics in the morning Buster: If you aren't still there, like Rio: 🙄 Rio: the twins are 💤 in the coats Buster: My dad had to carry Ava in, she wasn't waking up for anything or anyone Rio: Don't blame her Rio: I'm about my ma's size but don't reckon I'm getting away with it Buster: Are you tired, baby? Rio: You know I am, its your fault Buster: I can carry you tomorrow Rio: I'm gonna dream about it Buster: If I can fall asleep, I will too Rio: I'll make sure you do first Rio: manners, babe Buster: I don't think that's the reputation I want though Rio: who am I telling suddenly 🤨 Buster: Not the point is it Rio: You don't need to prove anything to me Rio: there's nothing you haven't already, like Buster: There's always more to prove Rio: I won't complain Rio: show me how good you are so I can't ever forget Rio: 🤤🤤🤤 Buster: [a video because we starting as we mean to go on as being extra bitches] Rio: BABY Buster: I told you Rio: but Rio: that's not allowed Buster: Are you complaining after you said you wouldn't? Rio: No Rio: What's the opposite of complaining? Buster: So you approve? Buster: I'll take the praise then Rio: My nan will love you even more Rio: got me on my knees Buster: Another reason to keep the secret as I obviously can't risk losing her admiration Rio: Obviously Rio: though I'd love the chance to get her to hate me more Buster: We can do that Rio: can we? Buster: You know me, trouble follows me anywhere, it's not limited to Chelsea's confines Rio: Stop tempting me, but don't ever Buster: It's a deal, babe Rio: You have no idea how bored I was without you around Buster: Yeah I do, I've had to entertain myself Buster: Nobody else can come close to keeping up Rio: well you are very entertaining Rio: so I'm jealous of you, if anything Buster: You and everyone else who has had the privilege of meeting me, like Rio: 😏 Rio: you're adorable Buster: Seriously though, all the girls I was talking to earlier were so fucking boring Rio: earlier today or in general Buster: I meant earlier, as in when you were busy with your boyfriend, but it's not any different in general Rio: Hmm Buster: What? Rio: Nothing Buster: Come on Rio: Really, nothing Buster: Bullshit Buster: Say what you wanna say Rio: I just don't like thinking about it Buster: It's not something you have to think about any more Rio: I know, just being stupid Buster: Don't Buster: You're not stupid Buster: I shouldn't have said it, I just meant that I'm lucky to have you Rio: I really know, ignore me, well, ignore that Buster: No Buster: 'Cause if I ignore it you'll still be thinking about it, but without telling me that you are Buster: Then I can't make you feel better Rio: I don't want you to think I'm like that though Buster: Would you rather I think you don't care? Rio: No Rio: you know I do though Rio: but I'm not a crazy bitch, or only a bit Buster: I wanted to kill your boyfriend as soon as I saw you with him, I don't reckon there's any room for me to judge Rio: that's what I wanted though, at least partly Buster: I'll happily kill him for you, it'd be easy Rio: 🙄 that is NOT what I meant, let the record show Rio: asking you to commit murder seems like a further down the line deal tbh but appreciate the level of commitment, baby Buster: Let the record show that I'm planning to say he started it by smacking me with a newspaper Buster: And also that I know exactly what you actually meant Rio: 😂 Rio: point is, it's only my business if you make it so, and you didn't bring no plus one so Buster: You wouldn't have been jealous if I had Buster: It's too obvious that I don't give a shit Rio: I definitely would have Rio: it doesn't take much, not with you Buster: Maybe but so would whoever this hypothetical girl is 'cause wherever you are is the only place I'm looking Rio: Risky Rio: lucky boys aren't that bright usually Rio: or maybe no one's mind goes there, you know Buster: If hers had it'd be easy to turn around, but gaslighting isn't really my idea of a fun night Rio: can think of better Buster: You and me both Rio: though now isn't the perfect time for vivid fuck flashbacks as it looks like my mum might actually be ready to go Buster: I reckon you meant to say that actually there couldn't be a more perfect time Rio: damn, payback is swift Rio: I just forgot you were in the car with your fam, I swear 🤞 Buster: [hitting her with all those reminders of everything that happened in such glorious detail because he is that bitch 100% like okay if your memory is that 'unreliable' don't forget that this or this happened] Rio: like Rio: I deserved that but I don't deserve you Rio: oh my God Buster: You deserve more Buster: [Hitting her with everything he's gonna do to her tomorrow because 100% that bitch too] Rio: Buster Buster: Rio Rio: I want you now Rio: be here Buster: I'm here Rio: Make me feel better Buster: [we're obvs going in even harder with what it would be like if they were actually together rn, he may not have jimothy's way with words but the enthusiasm and urgency are unparalleled] Rio: I'm gonna need your fingers again Rio: or my lips are gonna be unholy big from the bruising Buster: Then you better take 'em Buster: Or I'll have to just kiss you everywhere else tomorrow Rio: can't I have both? Buster: 'Course you can Rio: You spoil me Buster: You deserve that too Rio: I am being really good Buster: How good? Rio: My legs are crossed and my mouth is 🤐 Rio: you'd be proud Buster: Oh I am Buster: I'm very proud of you, baby Rio: Daddy 😖 Rio: you're making me squirmy Buster: No, keep still Rio: I'm trying so hard Rio: but every time I think of you kissing me all over Buster: You're gonna need to try harder until I can actually be there to keep you still myself Buster: Do it for me now and no matter what, I won't stop kissing you when we're back together Rio: I'll do it Rio: not do it, actually Rio: hands to myself, I promise Buster: You know I trust you Rio: I wanna cover your whole face in kisses Buster: I love kissing you Rio: we can do it all day, can't we Buster: Yeah Rio: I'll never get tired of your face Rio: you're so pretty Buster: It's been so hard not to look at you Rio: you're going to struggle even more now you've seen everything Buster: I know Rio: I can send you pictures of how I'm really looking underneath Rio: make it even harder 😋 Buster: Can you? Rio: Right now? Buster: Right now Rio: [the sneakiest of partial nudes you can manage rn] Buster: Jesus Rio: if Edie was 💤 I could do better but Buster: It's even hotter that you did that even though she's not Rio: You told me to Rio: I'll do anything for you Buster: How early can you meet me? Rio: Depends what we're doing Rio: separately or otherwise, 'cos that changes the answer Buster: My mum and dad won't be keeping tabs on where I'm going or who with Rio: Mine either Rio: but I don't usually go out with my friends at the crack of dawn, sadly Buster: Haven't you ever accompanied him on his paper round? Rio: No, I'm not losing beauty-sleep for that Rio: but I will pretend to, that's a good idea Buster: You should get some actual sleep then Rio: no Buster: Behave, by the time you get home it'll almost be time to leave again Rio: but if I'm bad, you'll have to come get me sooner, right? Buster: Keep doing what you're told, you know that's what'll get you what you want the soonest Rio: Alright, I'll try Rio: even though I feel drunker than I am 'cos of all this Rio: high, like Buster: Me too Buster: The way I feel now, I reckon I could stay awake the full week I'm here and not have any regrets about it Rio: like I literally wanna be with you all the time Rio: I missed so much time with you already Buster: Fuck it, we'll stay up Buster: You're better than a load of lines, I won't even need 'em Rio: we can get 'em, if you want Buster: Do you want to? Rio: I'm not just saying no, like Rio: might need 'em, could be fun Buster: Okay Rio: Ryan'll get it, give him a shout when we wanna Buster: 'Course he will Rio: ? Buster: The cunt thinks he's in love with you, you do know that, yeah? Rio: he's just full-on Rio: probably all the coke Buster: No, he's full on and in love with you Rio: he can't be, we've barely had a 1x1 chat in our lives Buster: Like I said, he thinks he is Buster: He don't have to know you well for that Rio: well anyway, he gets decent gear, that's all that matters, yeah Buster: So I won't beat the shit out of him until after he's handed it over, fine Rio: your schedule is too full to be beating up anyone, 'scuse you Buster: It'll barely take a second Rio: second too long, sorry Rio: I'm that needy Buster: Is Edie asleep yet? Rio: Lemme see Rio: you know when you 👀 someone too hard and it's like they feel it then they're 👀 right back Rio: she always does that, so gotta be sneaky about it Buster: I always thought Nance or Junior were doing that but every time they were actually just sleeping Rio: Seriously Rio: slightly worrying how much they could sleep through Rio: but also good to know 😏 Buster: It only seems like they slept shit loads 'cause we never did Buster: I was fighting it until the last second so I could spend more of them with you Rio: Me too Rio: I don't even feel like that kid anymore, most of the time, thinking about what you said Rio: maybe it doesn't mater but I know I miss it, shit was simpler, if not perfect Buster: It's alright, I remember her, in spite of what I said, and I know she's not gone Rio: Maybe Rio: I think Eds is asleep Buster: Definitely, when you smile at me it's the same one Rio: You'll make me emotional Buster: I don't mean to Rio: I know Rio: just not used to this Buster: What? Rio: It just isn't like this, wasn't Rio: it's just been different, with any boyfriend I've had Buster: Different how? Rio: It's hard to explain Rio: like, they're nice but it's like, shallow, surface level Buster: You don't have to explain, I know what lads are like Rio: more than that though Rio: like it just didn't mean very much to me Buster: You wanted to hear it from me Buster: I'm sorry that I made you wait until tonight Rio: It was worth the wait Buster: You are Rio: You're special Buster: You'll make me emotional Rio: It's okay, baby Buster: I'm not used to feeling any of this Rio: me either Rio: we can slow down if we need Buster: No, I'm not gonna fuck this up Rio: You won't Buster: I can't Rio: No, you can't Buster: I won't lose you again Buster: I wouldn't be able to handle it Rio: Buster, it won't happen, I can promise that Rio: that is the last thing I want, I couldn't want anything less Buster: I'll make sure you don't ever want that to happen Rio: likewise Rio: you won't need anyone else for anything Buster: Unless I wanna have a fight, like Rio: you don't think I can hold my own? how rude Buster: I taught you everything you know, 'course you could Rio: maybe I learnt some new moves since Rio: try me 👊💋 Buster: Well there's no danger of you throwing a newspaper at me, you already told me you haven't been out delivering Rio: Oh my God, it's not MY paper round, let me live 🙄😂 Buster: Get a better boyfriend and I will Rio: I've told you I'm dumping him Buster: Yeah Rio: You really want me to get another one, yeah? Buster: Don't Rio: I don't want another boyfriend, you know that Buster: Nobody but me Rio: No one else, ever Buster: I've deleted them all Buster: Every girl I was talking to before Rio: I love you Buster: I need you Buster: It has to be you Rio: It's me Rio: I'm for you and that won't change Rio: 'cos I always have been Buster: It's not just that I've not felt like this before, it's that I know I won't ever again Buster: For anyone but you Rio: That's how I feel too Buster: If I have to lie every weekend to come back and make this work, I will Rio: There must be a decent excuse Rio: some school-related bullshit that they'll approve of Rio: I'll put my less sleepy more sober brain to it Buster: Me too Rio: what are you doing, are you in bed? Buster: [a bed selfie that he doesn't mean to look adorable in but does cos snuggly] Rio: oh Rio: why are you so sweet Buster: Am I? Rio: 👼 Rio: that's what you look like rn Buster: Well then, I could say I'm going to your nan's church every Sunday Rio: 😂 it's well believable you've found God Rio: if you were actually a good boy she'd probably 💀💀 so double win Buster: Yeah cheers, I've had a religious experience Buster: Now I know what heaven feels like and how hot angels are, I'm converted Rio: Shut up 😏 Rio: God really does do it for 'em, though Rio: they all compete over who can make the best cakes for pastor Rio: dread to think how many of 'em he's having affairs with Buster: Or seeing someone who is everything they'd disapprove of, that's what I'd do if I was him Rio: I don't think you should change your career plans, babe Buster: Religion is less of a career, more of a hobby Rio: is if you're faking it Rio: wonder if they'd go in for that on your uni apps though Buster: Definitely would Rio: you're welcome Rio: +points for multiculturalism if you go to my nan's church Buster: I'll see you there Rio: what's in it for me? Buster: Getting to share a hymn book with me Rio: 🤔 Rio: tempting, I'll definitely think about it Buster: Tempting is me in my church clothes, obviously Rio: Okay, I can't deny that Rio: you looked so good today Buster: You look so fucking good every time I see you Buster: But you should post more, it's really frustrating when you don't Rio: Yeah? Rio: How frustrating? Buster: As frustrating as when you walked away from me earlier and I wasn't allowed to stop you Rio: That bad Rio: that was like Rio: painful how much I didn't want to Buster: Almost as bad as dancing Buster: It's painful any time I can't look at you or touch you Rio: I just wanted to dance with you like anyone else could dance with their partner Rio: but more, obviously Buster: We'll go out before I leave Buster: Do it properly Rio: then we can dance EXACTLY how I wanna Rio: which will be way more frustrating but then we can find some dark corner and you can do something about it Buster: Like I said, I'm having a religious experience Buster: 'Cause that sounds like heaven to me Rio: I can be your angel Rio: if you keep blessing me Buster: You are Rio: You're fucking godlike, baby Buster: If I had the power, you'd be here with me right now Rio: I can be Rio: I can't speak to you Rio: still in the car Rio: but you can give me your sermon, like Buster: Everyone's definitely asleep, yeah? Rio: except the driver Buster: Well yeah, but if his eyes ain't on the road, you're at risk of more than getting caught Rio: He's not looking at me Buster: Good Rio: Please, daddy Rio: let me hear your voice Buster: [we calling and we all know what's up and that it'll be fire so that driver better be chill] Rio: [Ali will be keeping a motherly snoozy eye really she's not that shwasted and irresponsible] Buster: [we love you gal] Rio: [no shame from you two though, from the off] Buster: [literally start as you mean to go on, running so JJ can walk tbh] Rio: [tbh x2] Buster: [you've felt bad about it for long enough lads, I don't blame you for having no shame now] Rio: [you can feel bad when everyone finds out, for now the secret is yours lads] Buster: [they gotta eventually fall asleep together on this phone because literally their thing, we'll wake you when you get home gal] Rio: [absolutely Buster: [do we wanna do our skip in this convo or a new one?] Rio: [hmm, let's do it in this one] Buster: [how are we even gonna lol] Rio: [maybe she hangs up when she gets home 'cos he's snoozing and she doesn't wanna wake him but that wakes him up?] Buster: [good idea] Buster: You're home Rio: Yes Rio: you're meant to be sleeping Buster: No, I'm meant to be staying awake with you Rio: it is unacceptable how perfect you look when you're asleep Rio: how dare you Buster: You look perfect whatever you're doing Buster: I'm not mad Rio: Good Rio: because I'd just hate to have to make it up to you 😋 Buster: I'm spoiling you, remember Buster: Not the other way round Rio: How could I forget when you're so good at it Buster: I won't let you Rio: how did you get me to sleep so fast Buster: Just that good, babe Buster: Like you said Rio: too good for anyone else Buster: Yeah Buster: They don't deserve me Rio: I'll do everything to keep being deserving Buster: You don't have to do anything Buster: You're just that good too Rio: 🥰 Buster: I'm so glad that I'm gonna be able to get to know you again Buster: Properly, like before Rio: It'll be good Rio: to have someone to really talk to and trust Buster: You don't feel like you have that? Rio: it's different Rio: like I have my friends and we can go out and have fun and talk about the day to day Rio: and I've got Mum and June and the girls Rio: but I look after them, I'm not bringing my shit to them, you know Buster: Yeah, I know what you mean Rio: just being the oldest, isn't it Rio: and moving somewhere late, when everyone's been friends for years, it's just not going to be that deep Buster: Exactly Rio: You get it Rio: you're the only childhood friend I have, really Buster: You've got Nance too though Buster: She's not constantly with your brother, to her dismay, like Rio: Yeah, that's true Rio: you know you're different Rio: in lots of ways, not just the obvious Buster: She's probably not secretly in love with you as well, granted Rio: 😂 Don't Rio: I know it doesn't make logical sense Rio: that it'd be the same Rio: but it wouldn't, it's weird to even think that about her Buster: It wouldn't be the same, like you said, in so many ways it can't be Buster: I've always felt like this about you and it's always made sense to me Buster: Why wouldn't I? Rio: I don't see why it's so bad Rio: if someone gets with their childhood sweetheart, people don't say it's fucked up 'cos they 'grew up together' Rio: that's why it's so lovely, you know Rio: we weren't in the same house, we weren't literally raised together day to day in the same way by the same people Rio: maybe I've just talked myself into thinking it's okay because I want it to be but I don't care Rio: if no one knows, no one is getting hurt Buster: It is okay, it's not like you're my sister Buster: That'd be fucked Buster: I saw you less than most people see their childhood friends, which you're right, nobody would have a problem with Buster: If you got with that kid who dared us to kiss, for example, everyone would think it was well sweet and he was a little cunt so Rio: Little cunt is a bit harsh but I see your point 😏 Buster: We've established your memory is unreliable Rio: You wish Buster: He wishes 'cause then you could've ended up with him Rio: I'll have to hunt him down and break the bad news Rio: god knows where he is Buster: Don't Buster: You'll only refuse to let me beat him up either Rio: You can't beat up everyone who's ever known me, babe Rio: I'll never see you Buster: Just the ones that fancy you Rio: Past tense Rio: unless he's really kept it going all these years, which would be slightly worrying Rio: in that case, you might have to Buster: Unless he's had a serious brain injury or a gay awakening it'd be present tense again as soon as you tracked him down Rio: you make me feel so Rio: good Rio: in all the ways Buster: You're flawless, I keep telling you Buster: Fucking beautiful, smart, hilarious, really caring, even to me when I was being a bigger cunt than that kid Rio: that doesn't mean I can handle that without melting into a mess of Rio: I don't even know Buster: I can easily handle carrying you, we also established that, so don't worry Rio: I want it Rio: carry me to the bathroom and take off my makeup because I can't be bothered Buster: Leave it, I'll do it for you for real Rio: You don't care the state I'll be if we do that? Buster: No, 'cause you won't be in one Buster: Flawless is flawless Rio: well, don't say you weren't warned then Buster: I don't need to be warned that your skin isn't naturally shimmery, I'm not an idiot Rio: You're perfect, that's what you are Buster: You do remember where I live, right? You wear less makeup than any other girl I've ever met Rio: 😂 Rio: so many girls at school I wanna politely come at with a makeup wipe Rio: less is  more Buster: I've literally had to throw shirts out and all we did was dance Rio: Don't get me started on the shades of tan Rio: I don't know who they think they're fooling with that orange orange Buster: Ava's gonna start on all this shit soon Buster: Fucking hell Buster: I actually won't have time to beat up any lads for you, sorry Rio: I understand Rio: you have a few years though Rio: get some practice in Buster: It's Chelsea, I'm lucky she ain't already started Rio: it's depressing really Buster: She shouldn't be growing up here Rio: it's not consolation to say I think it's much of a muchness everywhere but Rio: you just worry about them, regardless Rio: Billie don't wear makeup ever but it's not like she don't give me grief still Rio: just different ways Buster: Yeah Rio: not lecturing you though Rio: you know Rio: didn't have to beat up boys for Nance and it's still stressful, yeah Buster: I still do, just for different reasons Rio: That hasn't got any better then? Buster: No Rio: I thought she seemed pretty off Rio: she's gonna have to do something about it, or your parents are for her, a big something Rio: current approach clearly isn't cutting it and you can't be expected to shoulder that Buster: She won't do fuck all about it Buster: That's what our fight was about Rio: Ahh Rio: it can't be easy, like it won't be, whatever she has to do Rio: but neither can her day to day, surely Buster: 'Course it is, stop rolling over and taking it, easy as that Rio: for you Rio: if she knew how to do that, wouldn't even be an issue, like Buster: I've told her what to do Buster: If she stands up to them instead of being such an easy target, it'll stop Rio: some people just ain't made like that Rio: if she fucked it up, it'd make it worse, right? Buster: She's a McKenna we're all made like that Rio: My brother ain't like that either Buster: It's different for him Buster: Only having sisters and no proper dad Buster: He still wouldn't let anyone say or do the shit Nance is letting them get away with without at least getting your mum involved Rio: He isn't how he is because of any of that Rio: that's just who he is Rio: and he just chooses to not fully be that with outsiders so they have nothing to say Buster: Alright, I'm not having a go at him Buster: I can't when I'm as bad Rio: I know Rio: and I get the frustration at her, I really do Rio: just don't reckon going on the offensive with her is gonna help at this point is all Buster: She ain't talking to me so there's fuck all I can do anyway Rio: She will Rio: give her some space whilst she's here, she should chill Rio: and we can too Buster: I wasn't gonna invite her along with us, like Rio: Would be a bit rude Rio: and counterproductive to all our plans but Buster: Where are we going? Rio: everywhere worth going, obviously Rio: but tomorrow specifically Rio: 🤔 Buster: Today specifically by now Rio: Oh yeah Rio: God, I'm gonna be knackered Buster: I'll take care of you Buster: Starting with taking your makeup off Rio: maybe we could just pay for a cheap room somewhere Rio: spend the whole day just taking care of each other Rio: can always go somewhere in the PM Buster: It's not gonna be cheap, who am I? Buster: Do you want a pool, babe? Rio: It can't be that expensive or they won't let me in 😂 Rio: but we could splash out on a pool for a day, like Rio: my funds stretch that far Buster: You don't need any funds Buster: And shut up, you've never looked any less than 5 star worthy Rio: you can't pay for everything Buster: Yeah I can Rio: You know what I mean, boy Buster: I know you can't stop me Rio: Buster 😒 Buster: Baby Buster: We're not fighting about it Rio: I'll get us food and 🍾🥂 Rio: then I'll say okay Buster: I love you Rio: I love you Buster: Do you wanna sleep? We can set the same alarm and then I'll come pick you up Rio: We should, that's a good idea Buster: Or I could just leave now Rio: I could sneak you in Rio: but could you sneak out Buster: Again, who am I? Buster: There's nothing I can't do Buster: Especially when it's that easy Rio: You'll have to prove that you can keep quiet again 'cos there's no way we're leaving until you've fucked me Buster: With that kind of incentive I really can do anything Rio: 🥰 Rio: I'll be waiting then Rio: everyone here is dead to the world, will be for hours Buster: Have a nap, I'll wake you when I'm almost there Buster: Put your phone under your pillow, like Rio: Okay Rio: I'll try Buster: Good girl Rio: that doesn't make me wanna leave you Buster: Shhh Buster: Close your eyes Rio: I mean, you can't make me Rio: 😋🤭 Buster: Not yet Buster: But if you know what will happen Rio: We are supposed to be quiet, you're right Rio: if you're not up to punishing me and keeping me quiet, then I'll just have to be good Buster: Don't underestimate me Rio: Never Rio: I'm just telling you what I want Buster: I ain't forgotten Rio: 😶 me Rio: I'll be good now Buster: Yeah? Buster: 'Cause if I have to call you right now and tell you to be, you're in actual trouble so Buster: Really think about that Rio: 😖 Rio: best behaviour Rio: gonna really think about what I've done Rio: how to make it up to you Buster: You've got loads of time Rio: tell me about it Buster: [does tell her about how she can make it up to him in glorious detail obviously] Rio: FUCK Rio: be here so I can be really, really nice to you Buster: On my way Rio: but Buster: I know, this is why you need to sleep, then it'll feel like I'm there sooner Rio: but won't you be lonely without me, daddy? Buster: Yeah but before tonight I always was Buster: I can handle it Rio: I hate that Buster: It's okay Rio: no Rio: but it will be, from tonight Buster: Rio, listen, you can't promise me that and you don't have to Buster: I can handle it, I don't want easy, remember, and neither do you Rio: Maybe I can't Rio: but you won't be lonely, I can promise that Buster: You can't stay up forever, you know Rio: neither can you Buster: I'll sleep when I'm back Rio: I can keep up with you Rio: you said as much Buster: Yeah, I did Rio: There we go then Rio: don't fight me, babe Buster: How else am I gonna see those new moves you mentioned? Rio: we can fight like that Rio: just don't be mean to me Buster: I'll be nice Buster: You'll see Rio: but me first Rio: you've earnt it Buster: So have you Buster: And I'm stronger than you Rio: 🤤 Rio: can't be mad about that Buster: You won't be Rio: you make me feel small Rio: in a good way Rio: safe Buster: Good Buster: 'Cause you are safe Rio: Of course Rio: no reason I wouldn't be Rio: but it's still a nice feeling Buster: Like how you make me feel less alone Buster: I wasn't technically Rio: Yeah Rio: it's just Rio: right Rio: I've had boyfriends, so I can say Rio: it doesn't feel like this, just because of that title, supposed closeness Buster: I don't need a girlfriend to know it's right Rio: I wouldn't like that Rio: if you did Buster: Me either Buster: But I know that's what some people would say, if they found out Rio: it's not like you haven't slept with other girls though Buster: That's different to giving a shit about other girls though Rio: I guess Rio: but how much did I, how much do most people our age Buster: You care about everyone Buster: It's not just part of your night same as having another drink or line Rio: but I care about you more than I have any of them, that's my point Buster: And mine is, from on outside perspective it looks like you've tried harder than me Rio: I get it Rio: you can try Rio: like that Rio: if you want Buster: No Rio: I'm just saying Rio: if you need to Buster: Don't say things like that Rio: I have to Rio: I'm not going to let you not be sure Buster: You think I'm not? Rio: No, I think you are Rio: but I need you to know you've got the opportunity to test it, if you do need it, at any point Buster: I need you, that's all Rio: Okay Buster: Yeah, it is Buster: I'm not gonna change my mind and nobody's gonna change it for me Rio: I won't either Rio: I love you Buster: Your name was there among the first load of words I ever learned, don't forget that Buster: I've loved you my whole life Rio: you'll make me cry Buster: Don't cry, I'll shut up Rio: Don't Rio: you say all the things I wanna hear Buster: I wanna make you happy Rio: you do Rio: this is Rio: beyond happy Buster: No crying then Rio: I can't help it, baby Buster: I know but I can't hold you yet Rio: I won't cry when I see you Buster: You're only allowed to do that kind of shit when you're walking down the aisle Rio: Understood Buster: If we can't get married, you can't cry when you see me Rio: unfair Rio: but not your fault Buster: Yeah it is, I really want all the presents Rio: 😂 Rio: Exactly Buster: Not to mention, if you look that fucking good as a guest Rio: That's just dangerous Rio: less trying not to cry, more dying to get back down the aisle as quick as humanly possible 😍 Buster: I'm fine with dangerous, you know that Rio: I will not be fine with keeping my hands off you Buster: So touch me Rio: in front of the lord and the pastor? Rio: not to mention the guests Buster: I don't care Buster: Do it Buster: Whatever you want Rio: oh Rio: that's fucking hot Buster: It feels like ages since we last touched each other, which is bullshit 'cause before tonight it'd been years, and every part of me knows that, but Buster: I hate that I'm not already there Rio: It's true, it's hard to stop once you start something Rio: especially when that something feels as perfect as this does Buster: I'm gonna have to just live here Rio: If only Buster: You'll hide me, yeah? Rio: of course Rio: you know Chelsea will miss you too hard Buster: Clear out under your bed, like Buster: 'Course, I'm all that place has going for it Buster: Other than the coke being decent and abundant, I'll give 'em that Rio: and your school Rio: even if our system is better Rio: does any school here have the same 'connections' 🤔 Buster: They can get a new Head Boy and I can succeed anywhere Buster: Even catholic Rio: 'course Rio: you're a very good boy, after all Buster: I look like one anyway Rio: 👼 Rio: Okay Rio: come live in my bed Rio: under it Buster: Okay Buster: Sneak me in Rio: You're here? Rio: 🤩🤩🤩 Buster: I mean, I could have the wrong farmhouse, it's been a while Rio: I know you wanna see Dan that bad but that's really mean, babe Buster: Fuck's sake, he's literally the boy next door Buster: Hilarious Rio: I'm so glad you think so Rio: dunno if it counts as the trope if there's a shit ton of farmland between Buster: You really did want that love story, yeah? Rio: Shh Rio: I want you Buster: Make me Buster: 'Cause I want you so bad right now Rio: [Let him in gal] Buster: [don't give them away 🐈s we sneaking] Rio: [at least like Crim, they probably shout all the time for no real reason lol] Buster: [yeah always playing and chasing each other and being cray] Rio: [live for that danger] Buster: [we all know it because there's no way he's not making out with her the second she appears like just wait boy] Rio: [at least your mother is drunk and your sibs will be asleep/could think it was her boyf like mind ya business for a sec everyone] Buster: [Ali is probably asleep too at this point like it's gotta be early AM af] Rio: [we ain't having y'all get caught this quick lol] Buster: [imagine lol #gameover] Rio: [by the grace of god, you're so extra always] Buster: [literally carrying her upstairs as we speak so we rest our case] Rio: [live your best life lads] Buster: [is gonna actually take her makeup off for her and it'll be such a MOMENT bye] Rio: [the intimacy, bye] Buster: [when you do still look beautiful af though he's not even just hyping you] Rio: [like you never wear foundation or any shenanigans 'cos don't need] Buster: [we all know that moment will turn into him kissing her everywhere ever which will turn into every Simon x Alisha gifset ever] Rio: [god bless, get you a man] Buster: [it makes me lol like I don't remember it being such a thing when I watched the show but he's just always doing it appaz] Rio: [when you about that life] Buster: [Buster is so thanks for that blessed content] Rio: [I want 'em to fall asleep for a hot sec for that risk of peeps waking up for the day, like they should be fine but just 'cos 1. it's cute 2. we playing with fire always] Buster: [1000% approve for all those reasons and also it's believable like they literally have not slept and are drunk so] Rio: [exactly] Buster: [we know y'all are exhausting yourself with your antics] Rio: [only so hard you can front] Buster: [The effort of trying to be quiet in itself would kill you both so] Rio: [chatty caths] Buster: [mhmm] Rio: [when you can feasibly make more noise than him 'cos it could be Daniel so you're shamelessly using that to your advantage like you know he ain't gonna get you back later] Buster: [the perils of that posh boy accent] Rio: [loling imagining one of 'em like ew but typical and then being like wait...is that] Buster: [you're not getting rumbled today boy shut your mouth] Rio: [you can and will go ham in the hotel] Buster: [and it'll be fancy and you'll live your best lives just try not to break the bed as you have a habit of doing] Rio: [start as you mean to go on I reckon] Buster: [what do you think should wake them up like a toilet flush or something so you think its later in the morning than it is?] Rio: [that sounds legit and the kinda thing that would make you panic] Buster: [I know it's a big secret and everything but fairplay for waking up cos I would not] Rio: [lol hard same] Buster: [at least they can look at their phones and realise it's not 10am or whatever time they think it is and calm down] Rio: [back to not giving a fuck real quick] Buster: [should we let them go back to sleep or make them leave?] Rio: [I vote it's late enough that you could go get coffee n breakfast somewhere before you can check in] Buster: [and it feels like a mood to be like let's leave rn if they were shooketh and don't wanna risk it happening again if they fall back asleep] Rio: [exactly, you may as well tbh] Buster: [have a sleepy snuggle whilst you're doing the longest car ride back to civilisation lol] Rio: [that'll be a nice moment] Buster: [all the softness forever thank you] Rio: [nice throwback to the very first time we did 'em and they had that soft af coffee morning] Buster: [yaaaas but you don't have to wear Nance's clothes this time babe, you're welcome] Rio: [would be a very weird flex] Buster: [Christ knows what Buster is wearing though cos he would've got changed after the wedding when he went home but I doubt it was into a lewk because you were meant to be sleeping and I doubt even more than you got changed again before you then left your gaff] Rio: [we keeping it casual today] Buster: [we know they both look great anyway] Rio: [when do they not] Buster: [it's rude] Rio: [no wonder you lowkey wanna repopulate the earth] Buster: [love it for you] Rio: [think they have the most kids now p sure] Buster: [they do though gutted its not the 11 you OG wanted lads but it is still more than Ali which was the goal so] Rio: [we not falling into that trap again lol] Buster: [unless a face is literally perfect we mustn't] Rio: [cheeky gal] Buster: [do we want anything to specifically happen that we need to write down or do you just wanna leave this here like] Rio: [we can probably skip I reckon]

[roominthecastle]

Hi Room, What do you think about the finale? Any theorys about why Katarina did that to Red? And what do you think about the Stranger? Thanks!

To me, the finale in general felt okay, which is strangely comforting bc it wasn’t bad. I’m good with an “okay”. “okay” is an improvement (like I still feel TBL is trying while – to use a concurrent example – GOT gave up on itself and its fans spectacularly). There are individual moments that are more than okay to me (DEMBE, the team work, esp Liz & Red, esp esp Liz taking charge and that tiny moment of synchronized tea drinking) and others are less than (e.g. the conclusion to the conspiracy plot is kinda… ?!), but overall I like how S6 played out and my excitement for (lucky number) 7 is intact. Things are in motion and interesting again, and I finally gave myself permission to do a proper, full-scale re-watch during the summer, maybe attempt to chart the timeline, too, which is sth I never expected to consider doing again. I’m even gonna read the comics. In short, this season pulled me back in the Zone.

the rest is behind a cut due to length – @ mobile app users, apologies as always

Red’s identity, Dom’s story, and Liz’s side of these things

The Stranger: Masha was bound to figure out you aren’t who you say you are. What I can’t figure out is Dom. Why would he tell her all that?Red: In an attempt to help her move on.The Stranger: And she believed him?Red: She did. So much so that she‘s decided it’s safe to bring her daughter home.The Stranger: I know Dom meant well. He shouldn’t have told her that story.

So… having seen this scene, I def have more doubts than before, anon, but I still believe that the gist of the Rassvet story (including Red == Ilya) is true. This is (imo) why Red tells Dom “I know the broad strokes, I know who I am, but I need to hear the details you used to sugarcoat the ugly truth to make it look like a fairytale”, i.e. something that Liz has a tendency to swallow (see changed man!Tim or every paternity test they show her), something she was eager to embrace here, too, despite the obvious holes bc – as she told Ressler – “it is sweet and safe, so I’m gonna overlook things that don’t add up and hope it doesn’t come crashing down on me this time”. But it does. Every time.

Whether we like it or not, this is a consistent trait in Liz, this willingness to settle for a sweet, simple story over the messy, complicated truth even when she has misgivings (see her going at Red in 219, “It wouldn’t kill you to lie just once to make someone feel good.”). She’s not stupid, she’s just scared and unsure, imo (and so is Red but, unfortunately for Liz, being pathologically secretive is still what soothes him). But when there is no sweet story available to make Liz feel good/safe or it’s no longer sustainable, that’s when she grows restless/angry and goes on the offensive until she feels safe again. She did this w/ Tim and then w/ Red, too (she literally locked both of them up to gain control), and both times we can eventually hear her say “I was scared of you but not anymore”, and both times she expresses love for a safe & sweet idea and not the full reality of these men who cannot live up to that idea, so the cycle starts up again (well, not w/ Tim as he is now dead but Red is still in the running.)

It doesn’t really matter if the answer she gets is incomplete or untrue. As long as she can make herself swallow it, as long as it brings a sense of security, she will go for it. Tim played along w/ this and that fantasy bubble collapsed every time. Red never did and never will indulge her w/ sweet delusions but by doing so, he also reduces their “feelgood” time together. He hides behind her father’s identity but for her, he breaks cover repeatedly, which to me further signals that he doesn’t wish to take on the roles associated w/ this identity in her life, which clearly clashes w/ her park bench claim of “this is who you will always be to me”. And given Liz’s track record w/ these self-soothing declarations, I think we will once again see her being contradicted.

Having heard of what’s happened btw her and Red, I think Dom decided to tailor the truth to give them a quick-fix. His story brought a sense of safety/certainty that Liz craves – sth Red refused to offer when he told her he had a secret and he had to keep it and refused to give her any embellished feel-good alternative. But now he is on edge bc some of his secrets have been spilled and it was done in a way that maximizes his discomfort (by making him look like a hero when he considers himself anything but, and, ultimately, by undermining his control over his own “narrative” around Liz). I believe this is part of the reason why he tells Dom that he likely made everything worse by telling her that story.

I hope next season they will be pushed to face more of the actual truth together – in all its ugly, messy glory – about what exactly happened and, more importantly, why. Because we still don’t know much of that. Dom only offered a taste but now Katarina is back to mix some sour to the sweet (I am hungry as I am typing this, can you tell ;)

The Stranger: well, we barely have anything to go on here but what we have is already intriguing, i.e. he grew up w/ Red, he seems to know Dom and Katarina personally, he seems to have some serious tradecraft background + connections, and he is among the v few who is trusted w/ Red’s secrets, so he is inner inner circle for sure (and he’s played by Brett Cullen, so… yes please). I still think the childhood pledge from the Rassvet story is an element of truth (it just fits our Red way too much + I see it reflected in “Cape May”), so I think these 3 (the Stranger, Red, and Kat) were likely childhood friends and they all picked similar career paths (or it was picked for them), so the Stranger is likely Russian, too.

Katarina continues to puzzle me to no end, I freely admit. And I am enjoying it (for now anyway). The finale offered some really interesting details here, imo, and I think Red’s 2nd meeting w/ the Stranger is the most revealing.

Red tasked his mysterious friend to locate Katarina bc Ressler’s dig for his real identity triggered an active search for her, too. The Stranger finds her and hands Red a picture saying, “It’s her. I’m telling you, Raymond. Paper trails. The passports. The travel. It’s her.” What we can immediately conclude here is that they didn’t even know what Kat looks like now since it’s not the picture the Stranger used to identify her but her signature methods/movements (knowledge of this implies a close working relationship in the past at the v least). And since he doesn’t hand Red the pic to ask him to confirm it’s her but to show him what she looks like now, we can also conclude that Red had no idea what she looks like now, either, which means that he hasn’t seen her for almost 3 decades and, apparently, he would have been fine w/ maintaining this arrangement if it hadn’t been for the security risk Ressler’s digging exposed them to.

This conclusion lines up nicely w/ two (imo very important) things established in previous episodes:

Red’s hallucinations at Cape May – he sees Kat the way she looked in 1991/92. His mind couldn’t conjure her present image bc his last memories of her are almost 30 years old. This in turn implies that the Hobson’s choice event took place around this time, as well, and that was the last time he saw her. It was the last time Dom saw her, too, if what he tells Liz in “Rassvet” – that it was 28 years ago – is true.

Katarina being dead – whatever happened to Kat, her own father considers her as good as dead now. So does Red and Dom blames him for this loss, going as far as saying he killed her.

Dom: These boxes are all I have left of my daughter.

Red: If Katarina were standing here instead of me, if it were she asking you, what would you tell her?Dom: It doesn’t matter because she is not here and she’s not asking.Red: But if you could tell her–Dom: I can’t!

Dom (to Liz): If my Katarina was still here, she would have let me know. [… her mother sent a letter hoping it] would find her alive. I picked it up because I knew it never would.”

Liz: You said the name Masha Rostova had been lost to history until the manhunt. Now it’s out there and someone’s looking for me. It’s my mother.Red: Lizzie, your mother is dead.

Her mother was dying, Kat never showed. Her daughter was being hunted and it was televised globally – Kat never showed. And clearly neither Dom nor Red expected her to as they both seem to consider Katarina dead despite being aware that she is still out there somewhere. Moreover, they both believe that Liz is better off thinking her mother is dead than knowing whatever the truth is (so it cannot be too good). Add to this Red’s latest remark to Liz – “your mother can’t hurt you” – and things truly get weird and interesting. Was Kat subjected to some special session w/ Krilov, too, that somehow “extinguished” parts of her, practically rendering her old self “gone”? This would be my current best guess (just a shot in the dark, really) and I know it’s crude sci-fi territory but this is TBL we’re talking about.

Whatever happened to Kat, Red was involved in it, and we have several remarks to back this up:

“All the money, all the time and effort, all the favors in the world cannot possibly equal what you took away from her.” (Red, 216)

“There was a woman and her child. Both were doomed. Both would die. I could either save one or lose both. I chose the child. It was the worst thing I’ve ever had to do in my life.” (Red, 319)

“I’m not sure Elizabeth will ever be ready to learn what you did to Katarina.” (Dembe, 422)

“[Katarina] is gone because of choices you made.” (Dom, 320)

In “Cape May”, Red hallucinated forgiveness/absolution from Katarina but we don’t know if this is how she actually felt. It could have been just Red trying to make himself feel better about doing what he felt to be necessary. Katarina in the present doesn’t seem to be in a forgiving mood, tho. She clearly expected to be contacted and she clearly considered Red’s presence a threat.

Red: If Moscow is looking for Katarina, if Agent Ressler’s inquiry has reignited their search…The Stranger: Then I know that could be bad.Red: I want this done before Masha’s daughter comes home.

So… your guess is as good as mine here, anon. All we have for now is a whole lot of vaguing and very little concrete info. I agree, it feels there’s sth more to this but there’s just so little to go on, it could be almost anything. What we can conclude is that the Stranger and Red (and Dom) have stayed away from Katarina for almost 30 years and if it hadn’t been for Moscow’s freshly reignited interest in finding her, this complete lack of contact would have remained. They didn’t even keep direct tabs on her since they had no idea what she looked like or where exactly she was or that she was a threat to Red (otherwise he would have approached her differently, imo).

They clearly do not want Kat to be found – the precise “why” remains to be seen. Red’s first words to her are a warning – “it’s not safe” –, and I think he truly went there to make sure she wouldn’t be scooped up. That was his immediate objective. If she were found, the consequences would reach Liz and Agnes, and heading that threat off is what ultimately motivates Red here (→ “I want this done before Masha’s daughter comes home.”). He didn’t look too enthusiastic to make contact. He didn’t want to, he had to.  And he didn’t tell Liz, which suggests that he wants this separation to remain, which suggests that something is up w/ Katarina that goes beyond the usual “you can’t be in her life bc it’s dangerous” reason. Dom stayed out of Liz’s life, too, for safety reasons yet Red told him to find Liz if anything happened to him. That doesn’t seem to be the case w/ Kat at all. Red himself stayed away from her yet he went to find Dom after Liz “death” and returned several times after that for advice or simply for his company.

The meeting w/ Kat wasn’t a social call and it did not feel like a romantic reunion, either. Red just looked sad and tense to me. And he clearly did not expect to be stabbed, so I don’t think that bit was part of any planned performance. Why he received that treatment is another good question. Kat has clearly come into the possession of some new info that compelled her to go on the offensive. It could be related to their past and that vague remark about what Red did to her OR it is about something more recent that Red wasn’t aware she was aware of?? Right now this moment feels like a convergence of two separate threads: Red came to warn her based on “undisclosed plot point A” and Katarina reacted to him based on “undisclosed plot point B”.

Oh, I love this song, anon. Antis can keep pointing at that awkward kiss (that he doesn’t even initiate, she keeps pushing her face into his) as evidence of some ~epic romance~ all they want, but once again they fail (and/or refuse) to see things in context and “Cape May” was already pretty clear wrt Red’s feelings, I agree. and the finale lines up w/ it, too, which is nice.

Red hasn’t seen her in 30 years yet he only decided to contact Kat bc her looming exposure threatened Liz and Agnes, and when he is shown a picture of her, this is his reaction:

Not exactly what I’d expect from a dude in love (even if it were unrequited). He had a way more emotional reaction to Dembe’s return and he only left like a week ago. This is more like how you react when someone shows you photographic evidence of Bigfoot chilling in their hot tub w/ a beer. And now we know Red knew all along that Katarina was alive, so him “designating” Liz as the woman he loves and confessing (several times both to her and others) that without her he has nothing to live for and saying her name as his last word speak volumes already. So if they wanted to sell Red/Kat, they have already undercut themselves on multiple fronts here by giving literally all the romance tropes to Red/Liz. But I don’t believe they are selling R/K, it’s just another smoke screen + Kat is part of a past both Red and Liz have to settle for the sake of their future. And settling the past is always easier and more fruitful to do w/ a living human than w/ a ghost or a hallucination.

Yeah, I think it’s there to signal that they (Dom and Kat included) go way back and were/are close, like you said. and to indicate shared Russian roots, perhaps. As I said above, I still think Red is Ilya and the Stranger is likely Russian, too, (and so is Dom), so using Liz’s original Russian name makes sense in this context of “Russian togetherness”.

and Red sometimes calls her Masha around Dom, too, bc that’s what Dom calls her bc that’s who she still is to Dom. And I think that’s why Red calls her Elizabeth bc that’s who she is to him, which is a nice little detail further emphasizing that his main/defining connection to her is the present one just as James keeps saying. Or as Red puts it on-screen

I can def see both sides here, anon, and more. Knowing what we know about Red, both are likely among the multiple reasons that underpin his behavior in this scene. Yes, on the one hand, he was pressed for time and wanted that Kat thing done as soon as possible. On the other, he was also kinda closed-off as if he were trying to hold back emotionally as well as physically, which I think flows from 2 main sources: 1) he feels uncomfortable w/ the labels Liz wants to push on him (ever since the pilot he’s been displaying a preference for “partner” and not “father” and he might be reaching his saturation point) and 2) he is still heartbroken and afraid to put himself out there again w/ Liz after three major betrayals in a row. He’s already had a sort of baseline distress due to how emotionally vulnerable he is to Liz at all times, so after this latest heartbreak I think he is just trying to take things slow, leaving space and time for Liz and himself to figure out a mutually acceptable way to fit together.

She’s been using his heart as a knife block to satisfy her own needs and I think it’s making him less and less willing to force himself into slots that feel uncomfortable to him. She just decided that him playing dad and grandad is what suits him but a week ago she thought life in prison suited him the best. I mean… that’s not how you relationship. At all. Relationships are ongoing negotiations where all involved need to consent to their “roles”. It’s not “I hate you now, so I will put you in prison” and then “I love you now, so stay for dinner”. After everything that’s happened, I am not surprised Red is pushing back a little here for the sake of (what’s left of) his own sanity. He is a deeply flawed, problematique human being but he is still a human being and not a toy.

Liz and Agnes are the most important to him and he would never ever force his preferences on them, I completely agree. But that doesn’t mean Liz should be allowed to force her preferences on him esp when those change so often and so drastically bc she clearly doesn’t know what she really wants from him yet. I think this realization is finally truly dawning on this guilt-ridden, lovesick idiot and that’s part of what we see in this scene, esp in that “I don’t wanna intrude” comment that really does feel like a pointed retreat from her abrupt park bench declaration. But of course there is no negotiation w/o talking and that’s what Liz wanted to do before Red shut her down, so…

bottom line (that’s been the same for 6 years): these 2 need to talk.

[deliadexaerisofficialuniver-blog]

So, I actually have suffered from Capgras delusion ever since taking a blotter loaded with a lot more than the small dose of LSD I had requested back in North Carolina. (got it from a friend of the people I was with at the time.) I know it was laced with other drugs from the taste/smell/effects, and I wonder if meth was one of them. Regardless, the delusions only got worse after I was actually on Meth in Las Vegas a few months later, and have been a great difficulty in my life. Anyone familiar with how I've at times had delusions mistaking new people in my life for other people I've met before, yes, that is Capgras delusion. That thing I mentioned in my old twitter last September? Capgras delusion. It's not something that just goes away, and in combination with the partial facial blindness I've also experienced since the drugs I took in NC, it makes life a bitch. It's something I constantly have to fight to function at all on a day to day basis, along with the fear that someone could take advantage of knowing I have that delusion to betray my trust.

Interestingly I was also afflicted with erotomanic delusions for a time after that experience, however it was easy to see in retrospect that the erotomanic delusions were deliberately implanted by the people I was around. It really just reinforces my intuition telling me that I was around people who wanted to hurt me, drive me crazy, make me seem crazy, make me actually crazy. That one's a bit easier to move past and fight, but anyway, I'm really thankful for this video. It's empowering to be able to put a name to the delusion you're experiencing, and say "that's me." It makes it less scary to talk about, whether it's to your doctors and therapists, or openly. It makes it easier to accept that when I thought people were trying to trick me, and twist my brain up, that that's exactly what they were doing. It makes it easier to begin undoing the damage they wanted to inflict on my life.

Anyway, this is probably the top reason why I would never let anyone I love try Meth, and just one more reason to be glad I decided that I never want that poison in my brain again. It literally just feeds you lies and illusions. Not worth it. I can't say I'd really recommend that anyone try any street drug because it can be fucking dangerous, you don't know if you're getting what you asked for, or something else, something more, something deadly. That being said, I'm not ashamed to admit that I've had enjoyable experiences with LSD in safe environments that didn't end up causing me harm since then, when I knew what I was taking and that I could trust the people around me. That doesn't mean I'd ever recommend it to anyone because, whoah, you could end up getting some cocktail of shit you didn't want trying to obtain it, or some huge dose, or it could interact badly with your brain, or you could be around people who take advantage of your suggestible state, etc., but it falls into that category of drugs where I'd say the drug itself doesn't have morals, people do, but Meth is just not that kind of drug from my experiences. As far as I'm concerned it's pure poison. It's not worth it for the high, it's not worth it for any effect on ADHD, It's just not worth it. You could end up with delusions for fucking ever. I'm not gonna recommend any drugs for anyone anyway since I'm not a doctor, but holy fuck, do not make the mistake I made. Do not take Meth, or take the risks which could lead to you unknowingly taking it if you can avoid it at all. Don't let anyone force it on you if you can help it at all, don't buy into the peer pressure or indulge your curiosity, just don't do it. Period.

[nomanwalksalone]

ON RESPOKE

by Réginald-Jérôme de Mans

A reaction to the response of a friend.  That friend, the prolific #menswear blogger Dirnelli, frequently models his secondhand bespoke suits.  What he calls “respoke” is suits made by a custom tailor for someone else, altered to fit a new wearer.

As Dirnelli points out, today the process of getting something made has been unnecessarily romanticized, largely because it has become so rare and rarefied.  Customization has been nearly unattainably priced as well as difficult to even find, even if recently a number of cheaper custom clothiers have cropped up.  

It generally isn’t those that Dirnelli has in mind.  

Instead, it’s the sort of custom clothing that clothing writers prefer to dress up with the term “bespoke”: luxury custom clothing made by a quality tailor, with all of the careful detail work and invisible painstaking construction that implies.  In other words, even while denying the romanticism of the process, he subscribes to the romantic idea that a suit with someone else’s name inside the coat pocket would tell a tale, that a tailor would have labored in the grand tradition of the art to create an enduring work that lived up to that stranger’s hopes and expectations, and through the use of generous inlays and tucks of cloth, even up to the hopes and expectations of that stranger’s heirs.  

It’s a secondhand romance, and as such a way to get into that tale on the cheap, my friend suggests, since today quality tailoring can be very dear indeed.   Secondhand bespoke clothing – like any other personal indulgence that consumerist shills term an “investment” – can be purchased on the secondary market for a tiny fraction of its initial price. 

Despite my comparatively limited wardrobe (I’ve hardly ever gotten rid of a suit or sportcoat, and have kept everything I’ve had personally made for me), I do want to volunteer my own perspective.  I, too, have used good tailors to have things made for me, and have had recourse to use competent tailors to alter vintage clothes to fit me.  Importantly, Dirnelli’s respoke approach presumes certain important things: finding a secondhand custom suit that fits you tolerably well before alteration and has enough inlays and other allowances of cloth and other components to be expanded or otherwise, and an extremely good alterations tailor. 

Finding a quality used suit that fits relatively well isn’t particularly easy.  You need to rule out anything that might have been fashionable when it was made but that would look like costume today.  One cutter recently told a hapless writer that today the only people ordering his extremely expensive custom clothing were “crooks, cranks and cripples,” which should remind us that custom clothing is made for a specific person’s features… and irregularities.  A  good custom tailor will have shaped the chest, back and shoulders of a suit, pitched its sleeves and balanced the fronts and backs all based on a particular person’s body.  Finding a custom suit whose particular irregularities tolerate your own is, again, almost as romantic an idea as finding a soulmate whose irregularities complement your own.  Things like sleeves that are too long or too short, or a jacket that is too long, often require very difficult, very difficult alterations, without any guarantee they’d be carried out properly.   

For all secondhand custom is going to require some alteration, and the romance of respoke is that that suit is still in some way a partially uncarved block of marble – a presumption that there are enough resources and materials left in the suit by a good tailor to lengthen, widen, recut or otherwise adjust.  Good custom suits traditionally have extra cloth even in the trouser cuffs, presumably so that your heirs of different height can have the legs let out – after all, our leg length is unlikely to change unless we’ve spent time in zero gravity or on the rack.  For the same reason, many good custom suits traditionally only have two (out of four) working buttons at the jacket cuff: working buttonholes mean that it’s difficult to alter sleeve length (since working buttonholes can’t easily be invisibly stitched up), so having two remaining sham buttonholes provides a little leeway for moving the sleeve length. 

More improbably, Dirnelli assumes the availability of a genius alterations tailor. From everything I’ve seen of his fit pics, he has one, and that fellow’s work is worth its weight in gold – and probably charged accordingly. My first Paris alterations tailor, although also a trained custom tailor, turned out to be an awful huckster I wouldn’t recommend to hem pants, despite coming to me with the highest praise of one of the prime movers of the early Internet fora.  And indeed, anyone who can undertake the significant work needed to alter shoulder padding, close up or open vents, re-set the collar, or any of the other sensitive operations Dirnelli’s had carried out needs to be a highly trained tailor, generally not the person behind the counter at the local dry cleaner, even if most of those do have some sort of stylized suit baste in their windows (do they buy those things out of prop catalogs?).  Changes to one aspect of a suit can affect the rest of it in visible ways, from the pitch of the sleeves to the front or side balance (that is, whether the fronts and backs or the left and right sides of a suit jacket hang in alignment and at the same distance from the ground).  As such, it’s a complicated form of surgery to make someone else’s custom clothing fit, even if their basic measurements or proportions seem similar.

Given the complicated work needed to make someone else’s suit fit, it’s important to bear in mind that that alterations tailor, like a bespoke tailor, had to start somewhere in fitting his customer.  Dirnelli points out that a first fitting with a new custom tailor is usually far from perfect. It must also be the case for an alterations tailor.  The stakes may be somewhat lower, perhaps by an order of magnitude. Competent custom tailoring, made anywhere, is very expensive.  Competent alterations are cheap only in comparison.  In my experience, a really good alterations tailor can work wonders, provided that the starting point – the piece of vintage clothing as is – more or less already fits to begin with.  But that really good alterations tailor is incredibly hard to find.  Good custom tailors may have one on staff, but they generally only work on their own clothing, unless you’re an existing customer.  Really good independents seem to literally be one in a million.  And I limit this discussion to tailored clothing – I wouldn’t suggest anyone try to have someone else’s custom shoes altered to fit unless you’re willing to have a custom shoemaker rebuild them on your own last at a shocking price.

As Dirnelli himself has recognized, the pursuit of bespoke, even dead people’s bespoke, is an expensive habit.  Competent alterations are reasonable only in comparison to what it would take to have a custom tailor actually make the garment for you.  However, that pursuit of secondhand bespoke for bespoke’s sake (having a suit that fits) is only part of what makes bespoke clothing interesting for many of us.  The other part of it is being able to have something made in the cloth, style and colors that we want. I like, and thus have ordered in most of my suits, two-button jackets with double vents, moderately slanted pockets, and trousers with no cuffs, with side adjusters instead of belt loops.  While none of these are particularly rare or baroque details, it’s not likely that someone’s cast-off clothing is going to have those. To say nothing of the fabric I want or any other details (linings, etc.) that I might specify in my more inspired or foolhardy moments.  Even if they’re usually greys and blues in simple English wools. Or, if it comes down to it, the cut one prefers – I tend to like, even if it is self-delusion, the softer draped cut of a couple of British tailors… it is not usual to find those and dangerous to push an alterations tailor to try to change an existing suit’s cut dramatically. The more he or she has to change, the closer it comes to having a suit recut or remade out of an existing one, at resultant expense and revelation of any limits in the skill of the alterations tailor.  

Nonetheless, I’ve dabbled in having custom items altered, recently – thanks to Dirnelli’s introduction to a consignor, a custom Francesco Smalto suit made for Francis Veber, who directed one of my favorite movies.  It featured all the exquisitely difficult and flamboyant details of the best French tailoring, from unnecessary hand-picked seams down the length of the trousers to lapels with very affected notches and a raised milanaise buttonhole.   I knew I couldn’t confide it to any old alterations tailor, taking it instead back to the firm where Smalto himself used to cut before striking out on his own (as they’re making something for me, they accepted this on the side).  They did a wonderful job, but I can’t deny that making this respoke a reality required all the romance Dirnelli appeared to deny – the luck of finding something that initially made its potential felt, the opportunity to use an alterations tailor who carried out his work with care and love, and the investment of resources and time.

[phosphorescent-naidheachd]

Evaluating Sansa’s Betrayal in AGOT

@ John Hodgman, I cordially invite you to fight me over these comments in your 2016 intro to A Game of Thrones: The Illustrated Edition: “After all, it’s Sansa’s escapist addiction to the old tales and the romantic pablum of Florian and Jonquil that fuels her great, catastrophic betrayal of the actual humans around her.” 

Although I’m a huge Sansa fan, I’m not one of those people who believes that she bears no culpability for the consequences of having told Cersei about her father’s intention to take them away from King’s Landing. BUT. To call her actions not merely a betrayal or even a catastrophic betrayal, but a “great, catastrophic betrayal” is utter bullshit, and by focusing solely on Sansa’s “escapist addiction” to romances, you’re flattening the factors behind her (admittedly poor) decision to trust Cersei, and indeed the factors behind her willingness to buy into those romantic songs in the first place. I understand the point you’re making, but I also think you’re rather overstating it.

Let’s break this claim down piece by piece, shall we?

1. Sansa’s “escapist addiction” to romances

There’s no denying that Sansa loves romantic tales and ballads, nor that---thanks to a sheltered childhood---she mistakenly believes them to be unalloyed truth. However, look at the context of her upbringing. Sansa has been raised in a patriarchal society that encourages her to believe in these songs, largely because they reinforce existing social roles and make her easier to control. Moreover, it’s clear that as of the beginning of AGOT, no authority figure has seriously tried to teach Sansa otherwise. I don’t believe this was done maliciously---I think that her parents and Septa Mordane don’t want to disillusion her quite yet, and assume that there’s still plenty of time left to teach her the realities of the world before she leaves Winterfell. (And if it weren’t for the death of Jon Arryn, they might even have been right! Though I also think there’s an element of self-delusion at work in this line of thinking, as I’ll get into later in #2.) I also get the sense that Sansa sometimes slips through the cracks a bit because she isn’t a ‘problem child’; Sansa is far from perfect, but she’s generally well-behaved and she naturally fits into the idealized Westerosi conception of a noblewoman. The gaps in her education and emotional maturity aren’t as immediately glaringly obvious as, say, Arya’s are, and that makes it easy for a busy adult to put those gaps on a back burner to deal with some nebulous time ‘later’. (Arya slips through the cracks too, but it’s a different set of cracks, if that makes any sense. Despite their differences, both Sansa and Arya are failed by prescribed Westerosi gender roles, but that’s a discussion for another day.)

Also, anyone who is reading ASOIAF for pleasure doesn’t really have a foot to stand on regarding enjoying escapist fantasies, IMO. The world of ASOIAF may be “brutal”, as you say, but that doesn’t mean visiting it isn’t a form of escapism. Fiction of any form is inherently escapist, even as it often acts as a mirror that forces us to confront aspects of our own reality. (I don’t know if I’d entirely agree that GRRM has “captured the authentic meanness of the medieval world” either, by the way---he notoriously makes certain aspects of life in Westeros worse than they were in RL medieval Europe---but that’s also a conversation for another day.)

To be certain, Sansa internalizes fictional narratives more than your average reader of the series, but that’s partially because, at least on a surface level, her life easily could become one that belongs in the songs she loves. For instance, long before King Robert suggests betrothing Sansa to Joffrey, it’s not wholly in the realm of fantasy for her to dream of marrying a prince; considering her position in life, it’s a solid potential actuality. (Once again, more on this later in #2.) Sansa doesn’t fully understand what being part of a song would mean for her---that is to say, high romance generally necessitates high tragedy---nor does she fully appreciate the responsibilities and costs associated with becoming royalty, but considering she’s eleven/twelve years old in AGOT? That’s perfectly normal for a noble girl her age, even within the context of the universe of ASOIAF. (Are there exceptions to this? Absolutely. But that’s what they are: exceptions.) Just look at Alla and Elinor and Megga Tyrell!

Furthermore, while there’s an element of escapism to Sansa’s love of songs---when we first meet her, Sansa can’t wait to go South and have her ‘real’ life begin---I would argue that Sansa doesn’t actively indulge in much escapism or self-delusion until after the Baratheons arrive at Winterfell. Even after seeing Joffrey’s cruelty at Ruby Ford, she forces herself---and him---into the narratives that she loves and has been implicitly taught that she should emulate right up to the point where denial becomes impossible (i.e. her father’s execution). This is because one of Sansa’s innate survival/coping mechanisms is her ability to lie to herself as much as to others; we see this most clearly in AGOT and in AFFC.* So when the events at the Ruby Ford occur in AGOT, Sansa’s initial instinct is to ‘forget’ what actually happened. (This is aided by the fact that Joffrey had been plying her with wine---far more, we’re explicitly told, than she’s ever been allowed to drink before.) It isn’t just that she doesn’t want her golden prince and fairytale future to have been a lie---though that’s certainly a key motivator!---or callousness towards a peasant boy or frustration with her sister’s refusal to play according to societal rules (though these are both certainly present), but it’s also that she’s being questioned about events in front of an audience... in front of individuals with tremendous power over her, both because they’re royalty and because they’re her future family members. 

As Sansa has undoubtedly been taught, once a woman is married, her first loyalty must be to her husband and his family over the family of her birth. And while it’s true that betrothed is not the same thing as married, betrothals seem to be taken relatively seriously in Westeros. You can certainly argue that had Eddard Stark been aware of Joffrey’s true nature earlier, he would have broken the betrothal, but A. Sansa has no way to know that, B. breaking a betrothal is much easier said than done when dealing with royalty, especially when you’re going to be in close quarters with them for the foreseeable future, and C. as we’ll realize later, Ned is perfectly willing to let the (pretense of a?) betrothal stand if it will allow him to further investigate Jon Arryn’s death. What happened on the banks of the Trident was terrifying, it happened quickly, Sansa was tipsy, and if she speaks out one way or the other she’ll have to make a choice between her sister or the man who is going to be her husband... with deeply unpleasant consequences for herself (and likely Arya as well) regardless of which version of events she chooses to support. With all of this in mind, it’s easy enough for her to convince herself that it’s all a blur. So while Sansa’s (likely subconscious) decision to ‘forget’ what happened on the banks of the Trident isn’t admirable, it is understandable. 

Ultimately, it isn’t Sansa’s fascination with romantic songs that fuels her poor decisions so much as it is the society that encourages her to believe in them. If notions like ‘baseborn < trueborn’, ‘outer beauty = inner goodness’, and ‘proper behavior = rewards’ weren’t given weight in real life---even if only on the surface---it would be much harder for her to cling to the version of reality that the songs are peddling. 

Once again, none of this is to say that Sansa lacks all culpability for her actions due to her socialization. Sansa’s decisions are her own. My point is merely that her “escapist addiction” to romances isn’t the true root of the problem... it’s the society that created and perpetuated those songs to begin with.

*In AFFC, Sansa has consciously begun the process of being Alayne all the time as per Littlefinger’s words. (How well she’ll succeed in this---at least in the short term---is impossible to predict until we get TWOW.) She also has subconsciously transformed the memory of her encounter with Sandor Clegane during the traumatic Battle of Blackwater Bay into one that fits better in one of her beloved romances; in this altered memory, rather than threaten her in a sexually-tinged manner while holding a dagger to her throat, Sandor merely steals a kiss and a song. 

Note that Sansa began this subconscious transformation of her memory in ASOS by adding in a kiss and taking away the dagger: “He'd come to her the night of the battle stinking of wine and blood. He kissed me and threatened to kill me, and made me sing him a song”. By the time AFFC has rolled around, however, she has seemingly eliminated the memory of his threats altogether, while still keeping in the kiss and using language vaguely reminiscent of a wedding’s cloaking and bedding: “She could still remember how it felt, when his cruel mouth pressed down on her own. He had come to Sansa in the darkness as green fire filled the sky. He took a song and a kiss, and left me nothing but a bloody cloak”. 

2. Sansa’s betrayal of her family in King’s Landing

Sansa and Arya are both criminally unprepared for life at court in AGOT. This is somewhat excusable in that if Jon Arryn hadn’t died, they wouldn’t have needed to be prepared yet. However, anyone with a particle of political sense could have seen that there was a solid 90% possibility of Sansa becoming betrothed to Joffrey someday. There just aren’t that many daughters from the Great Houses of the right age in the Seven Kingdoms at this point in time. Add in the fact that the current king considers Eddard Stark his brother and was once betrothed to a Stark himself, and the likelihood of Sansa being chosen doubles or even triples.

So why haven’t Sansa’s parents and septa furthered her political education beyond knowing her sigils and courtesies? (Both of which are certainly important, but there’s only so far Sansa can go on them alone.) Sansa’s a tad young for a betrothal, but she’s not so young that her parents shouldn’t be making plans in that direction... Catelyn, after all, wasn’t much older than AGOT!Sansa when she was first betrothed to Brandon Stark. And even if they haven’t started making plans for Sansa, it’s very odd that Robb, the heir, is still unbetrothed at fourteen/fifteen. 

The real reason, of course, is the Doylist one: GRRM needed to write it that way for the plot to work, just as he needed both Stark girls to be poorly chaperoned and without a proper retinue of ladies-in-waiting. From a Watsonian perspective, however, the primary answer is that both of the Stark parents---but particularly Ned---are suffering from PTSD from the events surrounding Robert’s Rebellion and subconsciously don’t want to teach their children these things or to plan too far ahead into their futures; to do so would mean acknowledging that their children are growing up and will eventually have to leave their circle of protection. This is especially true for their treatment of Sansa and Arya, since according to chivalric sexism, noble girls are ‘innocent’ and in need of protection longer than their male counterparts. Ned Stark in particular seems to feel the urge to shelter and indulge Sansa and Arya, likely due to the trauma of having watched his 16-year-old sister’s death. Besides, there’s always something more immediately urgent, which makes it easy for both parents to procrastinate. This isn’t to say that the Starks didn’t impart valuable lessons to their children, but at the end of the day, they still neglected certain key areas of their children’s education.

Unfortunately, not only are the Stark children unprepared for court politics, but no adult takes any steps to fix this problem once they know that the King is riding to Winterfell. No ‘onscreen’ steps are taken to prepare the Stark girls after Sansa’s betrothal to Joffrey is fixed, nor while traveling on the King’s Road, nor even during their time at King’s Landing. In fact, the closest we see to Sansa getting an education on what ruling might mean is when her septa takes her to watch her father acting as Hand in the throne room, and he is less than pleased about it: “He caught a glimpse of Septa Mordane in the gallery, with his daughter Sansa beside her. Ned felt a flash of anger; this was no place for a girl. But the septa could not have known that today's court would be anything but the usual tedious business of hearing petitions, settling disputes between rival holdfasts, and adjudicating the placement of boundary stones”. On one hand, Ned does have a point in wanting to protect his eleven-year-old daughter from hearing about the Mountain’s deeds; talk about nightmare fuel! On the other hand, he can’t protect her forever, and he brought a seven-year-old boy to watch an execution; there’s clearly a bit of a gender-based double-standard going on here.

Instead, the girls are poorly chaperoned by a single elderly septa, which is just begging for trouble... and trouble indeed arrives, starting with the events on the banks of the Ruby Ford. If Arya had been properly chaperoned, she never would have been able to run off to play with Mycah (the butcher’s boy), and if Sansa had been properly chaperoned, she wouldn’t have been placed in a position where she was the sole eyewitness to the incident with Joffrey, Arya, and Mycah. But that’s just one incident, you say? Don’t worry, there are plenty of others, the clearest one being the time that Septa Mordane gets drunk and falls asleep at a feast, leaving Sansa entirely at the mercy of Joffrey, Sandor, and anyone else who might walk by.

Moreover, Ned knows that the Lannisters aren’t trustworthy. He knows that something is rotten in King’s Landing. Arya gets a very vague warning (“We have come to a dark dangerous place, child. This is not Winterfell. We have enemies who mean us ill. We cannot fight a war among ourselves”) from him, but Sansa doesn’t even get that. I’m not saying that he necessarily should have told Sansa about his investigation, mind you---that’s a large burden to place on any child, AGOT!Sansa is not good at intentional deception yet, and she likely wouldn’t have initially believed him anyway. This doesn’t change the fact that Ned should have told her something to help prepare her for the very real dangers of King’s Landing. He should have known better than to believe that keeping Sansa ignorant would keep her safe; just look at the brutal murders of Aegon and Rhaenys Targaryen for a start...

Yes, the Queen and Prince are directly responsible for Lady’s death, and yes the king is indirectly responsible for not stopping it, but once again: Sansa is a preteen girl. Of course she doesn’t want to believe that the family she’s going to marry into is truly at fault for the loss of her direwolf or that all of her long-held dreams are just illusions. It’s easy as a reader to say that that event and the murder of Mycah should have been warning enough for Sansa, but from Sansa’s perspective it’s not nearly so clear, especially since Joffrey framed his torture of Mycah as traditional courtly behavior (i.e. ‘defending’ Arya, who is a highborn maiden and the sister of his betrothed). For one thing, Sansa doesn’t have all the clues we as readers do to let us know that the Baratheon-Lannisters are Bad News(TM). (In fact, unlike the rest of the Stark children, Sansa has no notion that there might be serious enmity between the houses of Lannister and Stark---as opposed to just between Jaime Lannister and her father---until it’s too late.) For another, while her father might have protested Lady’s execution, he still went along with it in the end without much of a fight, so it’s not as though the royal family are the only ones to have ‘betrayed’ her. Besides, her father is still friends with Robert and she’s still betrothed to Joffrey... that wouldn’t be the case if the royal family was untrustworthy or cruel, would it? Of course not.

When Ned tells the girls that they’re leaving King’s Landing, he never actually explains why and he refuses to let them so much as say goodbye to anyone. It’s only natural that Sansa is confused and upset by this! From her perspective, this drastic action came out of nowhere. She certainly doesn’t understand that going to Cersei is dangerous or a betrayal. She sees it as ‘my father’s being unreasonable, so I’m going to go to my mother(in-law-to-be) and ask her to talk some sense into him and fix everything’.

While Cersei was the one to push for Lady’s death, Sansa has otherwise only ever gotten a sympathetic impression of Cersei; when around Sansa, Cersei has appeared solely as a courteous queen and the dignified victim of her husband’s drunken abuse. If Sansa wants to stay in King’s Landing, who else can she go to? Her father refuses to listen to her protestations or to explain anything to her, her septa only says that she shouldn’t question her father, and most of her other acquaintances don’t have any sway over her father’s decisions. That only leaves the Royal family, but Sansa finds King Robert too intimidating to approach alone. (“The king could command Father to let her stay in King's Landing and marry Prince Joffrey, Sansa knew he could, but the king had always frightened her. He was loud and rough-voiced and drunk as often as not, and he would probably have just sent her back to Lord Eddard, if they even let her see him.”) And although Sansa believes herself in love with her “gallant prince” Joffrey, she seems to find him intimidating too, if this quote of hers from a feast is any indication: “Sansa looked at him and trembled, afraid that he might ignore her or, worse, turn hateful again”. Ultimately, that leaves Cersei as Sansa’s only real choice.

Sansa is short-sighted and selfish when she tells Cersei what little she knows of her father’s plans, but she isn’t actively trying to choose sides in a war, let alone betray anyone. She’s a preteen who just wants her life to go back to what it’s ‘supposed’ to be according to what she’s been taught; what, up until now, it more or less has been. Right now, the worst thing she can imagine happening is what’s already happening---her father forcing her away from the glittering court, from her beloved Joffrey, and from her future as Queen. She knows her father will be angry with her for disobeying him, but it will all work out for the best this way, right?

3.  How “great” and “catastrophic” Sansa’s betrayal actually was

Finally, let’s tackle the “great, catastrophic” part of Sansa’s betrayal. When Sansa goes to Cersei, she’s largely only confirming what Cersei already knew. And how did Cersei know this information? Because Eddard Stark himself told her as part of his warning. (In fact, if we go by the calculations by the brilliant people who put this exhaustive ASOIAF spreadsheet together, there were 3-4 days in between when Ned confronted Cersei and when Sansa went to her.) The only new information Sansa provided Cersei with was that her father wanted to get herself and Arya away--something that Cersei had likely already surmised--as well as the date, time, and location for that departure, thus giving Cersei a more complete and specific understanding of Ned’s plans. 

In practical terms, this means that the primary consequence of Sansa informing Cersei was to negate Ned’s ability to get Sansa, Arya, and other members of the Stark household safely out of King’s Landing before shit started to go down. (Of course, keep in mind that even if Sansa hadn’t gone to Cersei, the success of that plan wasn’t a forgone conclusion.) Now don’t get me wrong, if Ned’s plan to get his household out of the city had worked, that would have been a tremendous improvement over what happened in the original canon timeline, not only for Sansa and Arya, but also for the many innocent Stark retainers who were killed by guards at the Red Keep and for poor Jeyne Poole. That said, it wouldn’t necessarily have changed all of the catastrophic things that happened to the Stark family as a whole. Chances are good that Ned still would have been executed for his ‘treason’ or been quietly offed in his cell. And once Ned was killed, the North’s involvement in the war became pretty much inevitable. Any consequences beyond that are difficult to accurately predict due to the butterfly effect, but I highly doubt the Starks’ lives would have been all rainbows and butterflies. There’s a war ahead, and their enemies include people like Petyr Baelish, Tywin Lannister, and---unless they end up allying with (f)Aegon in this AU---eventually Varys and Illyrio Mopatis. The remaining Starks’ lives probably would have been less traumatic than in canon, but that’s not exactly a high bar to clear, y’know?

Conclusion:

What happens to the Starks in ASOIAF in general and in AGOT in particular is catastrophic... but Sansa’s actions in AGOT are not the primary cause. Petyr Baelish, Lysa Arryn, the Lannisters, the Boltons, the Freys, Varys... even Ned and Catelyn Stark themselves are more immediately at fault for what befalls the Stark family than Sansa. (Which isn’t to say that all of the above parties are even remotely equally culpable!)

One of Sansa’s tragedies is that she embodies and does everything her society has told her she ought to be and do as a Westerosi noblewoman and she still gets screwed over. Everyone gets screwed over by the Westerosi patriarchy, highborn and low, man and woman; even girls who naturally fit into the mold of Westerosi womanhood and possess almost every possible societal advantage aren’t safe. As many of our protagonists of ASOIAF learn, following the chivalric rules of the songs will aid you to a certain degree, but it will only protect you as long as everyone else is playing by those rules too; and, as Petyr Baelish warns Sansa---though admittedly not without external motives---“life is not a song”.

That said, a portion of the ASOIAF fanbase has misunderstood part of the point of this series. Yes, unalloyed belief in the romantic songs is stupid and will only lead to self-delusion and disaster and heartbreak, but that doesn’t mean that we should discount the songs altogether either. Don’t get me wrong: many of the messages propagated by Sansa’s songs are bullshit. The good are not always beautiful, and the beautiful are not always good. Most people aren’t entirely ‘good’ or ‘bad’. ‘Moral’ choices are not always rewarded and ‘immoral’ choices are not always punished. In fact, there isn’t always a clearcut ‘right’ moral decision available, just different gradients of bad ones. Heroism isn’t always sallying forth with a sword, and sallying forth with a sword is not always heroism. A person’s social status or adherence to social ideals is no indicator of their quality as a person. And so on. 

However, it is in romantic songs like the ones that Sansa so loves that we also find ideals worth striving towards... ideals like selfless love, loyalty, justice, kindness, duty, and mercy. Just because those ideals may not reflect reality or may be warped by an imperfect society is no excuse not to try to make them reality when and where we can, whether we are successful in it or not. In fact, it is because reality does not always reflect or reward these ideals that they are so important. Without hope for something better and a willingness to work towards it, we’re left with a world filled with only Tywin Lannisters, Petyr Baelishes, Cersei Lannisters, and Gregor Cleganes... and that would be a sad world indeed. 

When Sandor Clegane says the following to Sansa in ACOK, we aren’t supposed to agree with him: “There are no true knights, no more than there are gods. If you can't protect yourself, die and get out of the way of those who can. Sharp steel and strong arms rule this world, don't ever believe any different". The truth lies somewhere in between the brutality of so much of the world and the perfection of the songs. Most knights may not be ‘true’ knights and the ‘truest' of knights may not be actual knights at all, but that doesn’t mean that the concept is without value. That doesn’t mean that the purpose of ‘true’ knights is worthless. You shouldn’t count on being saved by the actions a ‘true’ knight or by acting like a ‘true’ lady, but you should evince the best qualities of those roles yourself.

ASOIAF is absolutely about death and betrayal and despair, but it’s also about love and loyalty and hope. It’s about existential romanticism and existential triumph. It’s about looking the abyss in the eye, but refusing to let yourself become it.

I think you understand this, at least in part, because you yourself say in the introduction that “This [the fact that so many of the characters suffer, often pointlessly, and fail] may sound very bleak and cynical, but it ends up being the glory of the novel. Because it makes the triumphs, when they come, more earned, human, and exciting. It reminds us of and honors our own victories, helps us make sense of our own reversals, and warns us against our vanities.” 

A Game of Thrones may not be “very kind to fantasy”, but I would argue that GRRM is quite fond of fantasy; he just wants us to remember that neither the trappings of high fantasy (crowns, tourneys, magic, wars, etc.) nor true heroism ever come without a cost. 

In conclusion: I understand where you’re coming from, and I understand that you didn’t have the necessary amount of space in your introduction to go into this level of detail, but... (ง'̀-'́)ง

[mindmeafterdark]

An In Person Hang Up with @OneCheekyGal

Kai:

-The evening with Maxwell was long gone from my thoughts, seemingly eons ago, replaced by something much more enduring, and in a shocking turn, transformative. There truly hadn’t been anything like it since I’d suffered the loss of Cora. I had remained rooted in the past, as much as I tried to run from it, I could never escape the weight of her death. Though there were times my languishing had waned, it was a constant backdrop, training behind me for longer than a lifetime. 

That was until I’d happened to call for an appointment at the Toy Box and reached Camille. Her voice and its every inflection had been identical to Cora’s, my physical and emotional responses had confirmed it. Despite this haunting similarity, I felt unweighted and firmly rooted in the present instead of lost to the past. That was most notable in my expanding interest in Camille. 

Though the sound of her voice had initially initially hooked me, I realized there was something more that was luring me. The conversation may have been ordinary to any observer, insignificant even, but it was nothing of the sort. The underlying nuances may have escaped anyone else, but once her voice had captured my attention, I was entirely engaged. The evolution of her reactions, from distracted to considering to flustered to laughing and finally the abrupt farewell, she seemed to be affected as well. Without having seen her or had any true personal exchange, I was at the genesis of a building attraction, something I thought was an impossibility for me. I’d repeated her name several times during the intervening hours, reveling in how it felt on my tongue. 

And we were about to meet. 

The sun had burned away all cloud cover as the hours passed by or I would have left to arrive at the earliest opportunity. Instead, I had too much time to mull over how to present myself for this second first impression with her. It may have been lunacy to feel such a way before laying eyes on a person, but I was not going to take for granted this rebirth of feeling captivated. I finally landed on a brighter, blue t-shirt and casual slacks as opposed to darker attire. It suited my new locale, especially given the heat and proximity to the ocean. After a shower, a shave, a taming of my hair, and a very light application of cologne, I’d dressed and headed to my car. It was a short drive away and I parked just around the corner from Camille’s shop with five minutes to spare.  I walked up to the door, anticipation peaking, and used the back of my knuckles to knock.- 

Camille: 

*Somehow, as the day moved along, I worked to find a way to put Kai and his coffee voice out of my mind. I filled my day with cleaning every single display that was set up in the shop, straightened and re-straightened bottles on shelves, I even wiped down the water feature wall. The few customers who came through the store in person, I scrutinized the sound of their voice only to end up disappointed when I concluded none of them belonged to him. 

I was beyond curious and as the hours ticked by I began to worry. I didn’t want to lose my cool when he was here the way I had over the phone. At least over the phone he wasn’t able to see embarrassment on my face. I needed to take back control, if for nothing else than to feel like my normal, confident self. 

After checking the clock for the millionth time, I knew that was a lost cause. Time had started off with moving entirely too slow even while I had been cleaning as a distraction, and then suddenly, without any warning, it sped up like it was the white rabbit...late for a very important date. I scoffed at myself for that particular train of thought and went in search of my own white animal. Betty had kept her distance from me all day which was odd for her, then again, she always had been a good judge of my moods and must not have appreciated the energy I had been putting out in my efforts to forget the way a certain conversation had affected me.

Time had ticked down to minutes now, and my nerves had returned in full force. I didn’t like the way it made me feel. In my search, I found Betty curled up asleep on top of my desk next to a sample box of novelty masks that had been sent to me by a company in the hopes that I’d place an order with them. Originally, I had been on the fence about them, but now, as an idea formed, I could see their appeal. 

Choosing the female version, I returned to the front of the store and removed the mask from its plastic, slid the loops over each ear then checked myself out in one of the changing room mirrors. My laughter at the sight of the pink-lipped mouth and black ball gag printed on the front of the mask was immediate and left me feeling more like myself. This was exactly what I needed...there was no way he’d be able to disarm me like he had earlier on the phone while looking at this. 

As I adjusted the wire nose piece to fit better, I continued to laugh. All humour ceased when I heard a knock at the door, because of course he would knock! I had left it open for him, but given the way he spoke, I really shouldn’t have been surprised he was the proper knocking before entering type. 

After one last glance in the mirror, I moved to the door and swung it open with a smile...not that he’d be able to see it beneath the mask.* Hello, Kai? *snorting at myself, I shook my head and stepped aside, purposely not looking too long at him out of fear that I’d lose the return of my normal self.* Of course you are, duh. Nobody else asked for an appointment tonight. Please come in. 

Kai

-Anticipation mounted as I waited for her to open the door and just when she did… muttering about my name, I broke into a chuckle on sight of the mask she was wearing. It was an instant reminder I’d forgotten one, not that I needed it. It had been easier in Texas to roll around without one for the sake of appearances. I couldn’t help but continue to laugh as I stepped in. The ball gag mask commanding my attention for its bold humor.- Camille… I don’t even know your safe word. -dropping my lips close to her ear as she closed the door behind us, I whispered one more word.- Yet.

-Not the best of lines, but not the worst either, at least I hoped. While she finished locking up behind me, or attending to whatever business she had at the door, I had the opportunity for a better look . Her stature would have her tucked perfectly below my chin, just where Cora would fit. Her hair was also the same, rich color Cora had pinned into curls, though Camille wore it straighter, the light catching the nuances of natural highlights. With every detail a piece of the puzzle filled in for my wishful heart. I wanted her eyes… needed her eyes, but I knew no image of her could be complete so long as she wore that mask. Even with part of her face undercover, I was moved by something unseen, an electricity in the atmosphere, something beyond comprehension, but definitely sensed. I was determined, one way or another, to get the full picture before I left. 

As I stood in the store, my eyes scanned the area to see what I could see. The place was impeccably kept, I could even scent the cleaner in the air, though it wasn’t at all off putting like a hospital. From the water feature wall adorned with some suction cup sex toys, to the candid and organized displays, nothing appeared to be placed without thought or careful consideration.  I absolutely loved the idea of Camille owning a shop brandishing all the wares for proper kink, and sexual indulgence. I awaited the attractive proprietor before venturing any further into the store, after all the visit had become as much about her as procurement, if not more.-

Camille: 

*The sound of Kai’s laughter upon seeing my mask was enough to convince me they deserved a spot on my shelves, it had done exactly what I had hoped for, slid me straight into a familiar ease. I was used to making people laugh, I enjoyed it, and I enjoyed the sound of Kai’s particularly when it continued as he stepped inside. 

I had already turned off the OPEN sign so I took my time making sure the lock was twisted into place after closing the door. I was feeling proud as a peacock until he spoke. Thank the gods of kink my back was to him when he made mention of not knowing my safe word. UM WHAT?! That was not a normal thing to say to someone even if that someone happened to be wearing a ball gag mask. And holy hell, his voice was right there. Next to my ear. He had gotten close enough I could just barely smell the scent of whatever cologne he was wearing through my mask.

My mind went completely blank, offline, blue screen of death level inoperable. I was back to the phone call from this morning speechless all over again. Shitshitshit. 

How does a person even reply?! Should I pretend I didn’t hear him? No. Only a deaf person could claim that. And more importantly, since when does Mr. Speaks-Like-He's-From-Another-Time-And-Knocks-On-Doors talk like that? He was nowhere near flirting with me on the phone this morning...wasn’t he? 

So. Many. Questions. Zero answers. I was in trouble. 

Fortunately, as I turned around from the door, his attention was not on me. I took the reprieve to shake my brain back online only to realize...DUH, of course he would know about safe words, everyone and their mother knew what that was. And really, thanks to the 50 Shades of Trash, safe word talk was far from uncommon. Maybe he was just messing with me. I blamed the mask. Definitely was not going to order those fuckers. Absolutely not. 

Control. Where had it gone? I needed to regain it, at the very least of myself and return to being a professional. If that was still possible...Likely not, but I was willing to live in my own delusions for as long as Kai was in my shop. Deciding the shock value of my mask had worn off, I removed it and stepped closer to the counter to set it aside, and in the process, found my cheeky side...not exactly the professional I was aiming for but far better than the bumbling mute I had just been. 

My smile was still in place as I spoke, this time I made sure to take a proper look at his face since my previous avoiding tactic hadn’t worked at all.* Can’t say I remember the last time I had a need for a safe word, Kai. *I held back a cringe at my far too honest answer, I couldn’t take it back now. Not wanting to leave him too much time to interpret that confession, I spoke again.* So...what can I help you find tonight? 

Kai

-Even with my back to her, I could sense Camille’s fluster; I thrived off of it. I liked having such an impact on her, mostly because I had been bewitched by her in the course of a phone call. I could feel her movement, she was closer to me but to my right. My grin widened into a lopsided smile when her confession slipped, providing me insight. I was emboldened, confident, ready to get her out of that mask. 

I turned and stepped closer simultaneously, bringing my eyes up to find hers, and that was when the world flipped end to end. Everything engaged all at once, realization dawning that if my mind was playing tricks that it had executed to perfection. The atmosphere was sparking like a live wire. I stepped even closer.

The world stopped then spun. 

Stopped. 

Spun. 

Blurred out of focus.

Zoomed back into clarity.

My vision tunneled, magnetized to her. Gods...by the air I breathed, her every flawless feature was there. From the warmth of her eyes flecked with mischief, to the sweet bow of her lips with the slightest, unique upturn at their corners and her perfectly auspicious nose, she was the very image of the love I’d lost. I was sucked into the vortex of my past, her name on the tip of my tongue but I would not speak it. The beautiful woman who stood in front of me was very well, breathing, and undeniably of modern times. 

I’d been stricken by the familiarity in her voice, but seeing her identical resemblance, there was no passing it off as the fantasy of a wishful mind and a weary soul. With everything in place, the sight of her ignited a backdraft of reactions, and urges I had to immediately suppress. I did not want our first meeting to end up our last. I wanted to be her last first. My hope had been dismantled when Cora’s soul had dispensed…but now it was as if I could see that I was standing on the precipice of something that defied explanation. 

I was curious. Did she feel anything at all stirring in her bones?  Was I alone in this welcomed haze of déjà vu? I wanted to ask her. I wanted to know. I was fighting my own impatience. My heart stuttered in my chest, beating some erratic rhythm I couldn’t quite call to order, but I found a raspy form of my voice and did my damnedest to call my sanity to order.-

I am quite finicky about this particular item...perhaps you can show me to your stock of nipple clamps? 

Nothing novelty. -a slight command had returned to my tone, praise the Gods. 

Heart. Hammering. 

I was unused to being caught off guard, but I waited for her answer like she was on the cusp of revealing all the mysteries of the universe and a free round trip to the seven wonders of the world.-

Camille: 

*I didn’t know what to make of the silence that followed my question. Was he suddenly feeling shy about what he wanted to look at or was he mulling over my admission and coming to realize my sex life had been as stagnant as a murky puddle on the side of the road. I hoped it wasn’t that. I could work with coaxing out what he wanted to see, but I didn’t think I could recover from the alternative. 

Embarrassment began to burn my ears but before it could creep onto my cheeks he answered and relief flooded the blush, washing it away like a candle being snuffed out in the rain. 

Nipple clamps. 

He wanted to see nipple clamps. I almost laughed. In all my years, I never would have guessed he’d say that. It was a rare occurrence when I couldn’t figure out what someone might ask for prior to them telling me. It was a weird feeling to be taken by surprise like that, but the weirdness gave way to a thrill of the unknown akin to the way it felt when riding a rollercoaster for the first time. 

My lips twitched and I nodded as I moved past him, still keeping a mindful distance while heading toward the room hidden by the heavy black curtain, I spoke to him as I drew the curtain back and tucked it behind a hook.* Do you know what style you are looking for? 

*Moving deeper into the room, I grabbed a few varieties off the display on the wall as I listed the types for him, figuring if he decided upon staying where he was, I could bring them to him to look at, though something inside me I couldn’t exactly identify hoped he’d be curious about what else was behind the curtain, and might want to look at more than just nipple clamps. Not to make a larger sale, but to lengthen his visit.* Alligator clamps, with and without teeth, tweezer clamps, string and bead clamps for longer wear, magnetic clamps, spring tension rings that work with piercings, nipple suckers. Vibrating clamps. 

*I grinned proudly at my variety as I turned around and found he had definitely followed me and was practically next to me, so I used my hands as a table to spread all the styles out for him to inspect, curiously waiting to see which he would be drawn to.* 

Kai

-I couldn’t help myself from following her into the room I knew had been partitioned because of the types of items found there. I was lured to her in a way that failed definition, and was for more than her being a doppelgänger.  I felt like I could breathe for the first time in damn near a century. I looked around the room while she plucked some of her wares to share, impressed that her inventory was definitely quality over novelty, not that her shop was free of those items. It was the balance she struck that I respected. I didn’t want to make her uncomfortable, but my instinct was screaming not to back off. Her scent was… subtle, cherry blossom-esque, earthy, delicately floral and faintly sweet, too. 

I could tell she took care in selecting the clamps she did, my mouth hooking up at one side in a grin as she held them out. I picked up the vibrating clamps, setting them aside on the nearest shelf. I brushed my fingers over the nipple suckers, though I admired their mechanics, I set those aside, too. My eyes raised to hers, noting she was concentrating on what I picked, and I wanted to draw out all the suspense I could. In the end I left the Alligator clamps with teeth, black-tipped tweezer clamps with a weighted chain and… a stunning and expensive looking pair of butterfly clamps. I was not permanently discarding the other options, but I was engaged and had particular intentions that hopefully would result in extending our evening. Lifting the butterfly clamps, they struck a particular cord in this moment with her.-

I’m sure you know that most instruments of pleasure and pain have a history that came before their current use? -grinning, turning the clamps in my fingers, pleased with their weight-

These I have a true affinity for. They were invented by women, Japanese seamstresses, and originally called clover clamps. They were used to hold fabric in place so that the hand stitching was impeccable. I love their simplicity and strength. How the tension increases as you pull on their ends. The way they can bring about pain with a slow burn, like a good whiskey down your throat, is also divinity. 

Now, tell me, Camille, what is it that I set aside you would add back to my selection? -I raised a brow, awaiting her reaction and further insight into what her own taste might reveal-

Camille:

*Never before had I been so curious as to what someone might choose from my offerings. With each item Kai had put aside, I felt a tiny bubble of excitement grow and grow, like air being pushed into a piece of gum. Would it pop all over my face or would I be able to suck the air back in my lungs and control the gum without embarrassment. I wasn’t sure. Most customers checked the back of the packaging where the price sticker was always placed when considering items they were wanting to buy, he didn’t even bother looking. I couldn’t decide if that meant he was trying to impress me or if he actually cared about what he purchased, and that the price wasn’t part of the decision making process for him. 

It was as he began describing the history of a particular set of clamps that I decided his interests were that of someone authentic and not just some guy who thought a kinky lifestyle was the next cool thing to do. I was impressed. The bubblegum bubble in my stomach threatened to blow wide open, stretching dangerously thinner when he asked his question. 

The tone was one of someone who was used to being in control and the subtle command wasn’t at all off putting. In fact, I smiled at him as I sat down his choices, away from the ones he made clear were not to his liking, and moved back to the display wall. 

I hadn’t originally shown him everything I stocked. My initial selection was to gauge his true interests. Now that I had rather safely assumed price point wasn’t a concern for him, particularly after he kept the more expensive items, and discarded the lower end, entry level clamps, I knew what I wanted to show him. I took my time browsing my selection, I knew exactly where they hung on the wall, but if he was wanting to see what I would add to his options I needed a couple steadying breaths before turning back to his scrutinizing gaze. 

I wanted to impress him, now. I wanted my choice to go home with him and earn a place among what I was starting to imagine was a rather extensive collection of items he knew how to expertly wield. And if I was really being honest with myself, I wanted him to remember this appointment tonight every time he looked at this particular item, and be reminded of me. 

As I turned away from the display wall and popped open the packaging, I slid one of the wide flat disks out and held it up. To anyone else it would be mistaken for a delicately designed nipple shield, but I knew the secret it held.* I think you did a great job weeding out the clamps I showed, and instead of putting one back in the pile, I’d add this instead. 

*Returning to stand in front of him again, I reached for one of his hands and lined up the opening of the shield to his pinky finger.* Most people overlook the use of a nipple shield. It’s usually designed for comfort of the wearer and generally chosen for personal expression with all the different types of designs you can get them in. But these ones are different. They can still work with any of the clamps you’ve picked out but…you see this outer ring right here? *I slowly twisted the ring I knew he was watching and waited until he felt the tiny circle of points close in around his pinky finger. Gradually, I twisted the ring a little further to demonstrate the degree of control he could have with them while showing how they could add another layer of pain when combined with any clamp he wanted to use.* 

 Kai:

-She. Was. Stunning. Every reaction she offered complimented mine before it with a remarkable ease. I could sense her anticipation and it only multiplied my own. Her smile held an enigmatic allure, one I was sure came natural and was not practiced. 

When Camille set aside the clamps I’d selected and seemingly the options I’d discarded, the urge to say “good girl” was hard pressed to die on my tongue. I hadn’t taken her for anything less than savvy, but when she turned to go seek something new, the tension in the smaller room stretched like a rubber band, escalating my ambitions. She’d held out, and didn’t that just whet my appetite.

It was in that span of drawn out moments, I became aware my attraction was not to an unfinished past, or a recollection of love.  Time had changed me. Experiences had forced my growth. Modern influence had weighed in on my adaptation. I realized I had shed the Kai I was a near century ago, evolved into a different man, and with that my understanding deepened. It was Camille who drew the man I had become.

My eyes followed her and only her. I wasn’t trying to see what she was looking for, and when she turned away, my staring was unabashed. I blew out a quiet breath on sight of her pert and curved ass, small waist, and the strong shoulders of her petite frame. Her body cinched and swelled in all ways enticing. The opportunity to admire her physical attributes was both a privilege and an indulgence that only served to elevate my attraction. 

She multitasked as she turned back in my direction, opening the packaging while she walked, then revealing what she’d chosen. A sleek, brushed metal, thin disk, simple in design, a nipple shield of some variety. Curious, I raised a brow. Behind her casual words I sensed something more, and she did not disappoint that expectation.

When she took my hand, a surge of blood rushed through my veins as if her touch could conduct electricity. My grin hooked up at one corner as she slid the shield onto the tip of my finger, providing me explanation in a tone of voice that was sensual, and pleasing. When she turned the ring in demonstration, the points pressed into my skin, the biting sensation against the nerve endings of my finger inciting a riot of reactions. 

I was impressed.

I was aroused. 

I was captivated. 

I was admittedly a little smug at her reveal. I wanted insight into what turned her on and she had delivered beyond my wildest imaginings. Not only had she shown me something about her tastes, she had nailed mine. It didn’t matter that the clover clamps may have indicated my own preferences, making it less than a guess. What mattered was that she had paid attention, and what that exposed. My grin widened as my eyes raised, getting caught on another unintentional moment of show-and-tell. In subtle outline, under her green blouse, was most definitely a pierced nipple. My gaze quickly darted to the opposite side to answer my next question. And, yes, she had completed the set. I swallowed a groan, wanting to explore the entire landscape of her mind and body. My eyes finally made it to hers as the ring continued the pinch at my finger, and her hand had not dropped from mine.-

I am thoroughly taken with these. First, I’ve never come across them. Second, they pair with my taste consummately. Third… 

-I paused, knowing what I was about to say was more dirty than gentlemanly, but time was of the essence.-

Don’t you find that far too often the nipples are overlooked as an erogenous zone? 

Camille:

*I had never been one to seek out the approval of another. EVER. Not as a child, or teen, or even as an adult and absolutely not in any of my relationships, platonic, familial or romantic. It just wasn’t who I was as a person. I have always known who I was and had always been content with that. My self-awareness was strong, and stronger than that was my inability to yield to the approval of others. I had always taken the approach of if someone didn’t like something about me, that was their problem, not mine. 

And yet...

With the look in Kai’s eyes as I showed him how the nipple shield worked on his finger, and the way he spoke about them fitting in with his tastes, I felt the bubble of gum explode inside my stomach, leaving behind a desire to seek more of his approval. I didn’t know what to do with this feeling or myself, and so, I continued to stand there, staring into his eyes, listening to him speak in that coffee voice I found oh so irresistible. Until he asked a question I normally would have side-stepped like a landmine because I was still a professional, and knew better than to get tangled up in the inappropriate with a customer. 

And yet…

My head was nodding immediately and my mouth was running away with my agreement before my brain could even find the emergency break.*

OH MY GOD. Yes. I can’t even begin to tell you how many times my nipples have been disappointed in the past. I mean, what is the point of a gal piercing the damn things if she doesn’t want them to be played with?! That alone should be an open invitation, if you ask me! They are not an ornament you put on display on the mantel above the fireplace, never to be touched and only appreciated. And they are certainly not meant to just be looked at because they are pretty! Nipples deserve so much more than to be overlooked. They are not wallflowers. *I ended my single-breath tirade in a huff then laughed as I shook my head, feeling the burn of embarrassment high on my cheekbones.* 

Shit. I did not mean to unpack all of that *my hand moved in the air between us* on you. I’m not apologizing though, because it’s true...I’m just usually a lot better at filtering my thoughts around clients, but damn, if you didn’t hit a sore spot for me. Hell, I have even said those exact words before. 

*As I came to that realization, my eyes narrowed slightly in suspicion.* You don’t know any of my exes, do you? *Speaking more to myself, I shook my head and muttered my own reasoning of that away before I went with the next most ridiculous reason on the list of how he could say something exactly as I had myself.* 

I can’t imagine any of them knowing you and not mentioning it to me at some point. Mind reader then. That has to be it. There is no way you could ask a question so succinctly worded that it sounds like I was asking it myself. 

*I was so singularly focused on his question, I didn’t have time to consider all the revealing things I had said, least of all being the fact that I admitted to having my nipples pierced, I could die of mortification over that later, when I was alone like a normal girl would.* 

Kai

-Camille continued to impress and my amusement was instantaneous, expressed in a low chuckle, as she revealed her own frustrations. I was not a spy, nor a friend of an ex, or otherwise positioned to have known how my question would affect her. I had stumbled onto rose gold, which was somehow the color that bloomed in her cheeks, probably at the realization of her disclosures. 

The animation in her features only heightened her beauty, the way her eyes widened in kindred recognition, the way she huffed in exasperation as an exclamation point on a valid argument, and the casual dismissal of her assumed oversharing with a wave of her hand. 

I was taken with her candor and how her thoughts poured out without reserve. There was only one stutter, and not in her speech, but when she referred to me as her client. A fact for certain, but one I was immediately intent on changing. Camille deserved someone who could show her nipples proper attention. By the sounds of her venting, she’d suffered a string of disappointments and lackluster attempts in this department. 

Excitement tightened my jaw and stiffened my cock at the mere thought of an opportunity to show her how good it could be if she were put in the proper hands. My past relationship had been chaste; despite her aplomb, Cora and I had remained fairly traditional. My expanded experience only came after, and was predominantly male-oriented. 

Here and now, I was every ounce the modern man and not at all bound by antiquated formalities. Something cemented in me at the realization. In a world of possibilities that encompassed reincarnation and biologically immortal super humans, we should be unbound, and not destined to repeat the preceding cycle. It was a divergent path, one I would take without hesitation into undiscovered territory. 

I laughed easily, nodding my head in agreement to all she said, laughing more when she suggested I might be a mind reader, if I wasn’t an acquaintance of one of her exes. Comfortable, emboldened, all ice obliterated, I was ready to delve into every point she had left me to answer.-

I’d have a difficult time being a friend to anyone who neglected any nipples so egregiously, Camille. And while I credit your powers of deduction, I am not a mind reader, either. Admittedly, my eye for detail did reveal something before you confirmed it...I am a sucker for pierced nipples. -A sideways smirk hit my lips as I chanced another glance, making sure she caught it. It was well worth the risk of getting smacked to reveal my interest.- 

We do have a problem though, if I’m being upfront. You have everything and more I want to purchase, and I would certainly and solely support your business as a matter of taste. But, you see, I would rather ask you out. -leaning in, I wanted the weight of my inhale and exhale to register- And, if I were so fortunate to have you agree, I’d make sure your nipples were never wallflowers, or adorned with piercings for naught.  -I stepped back, wanting to give her the physical space to consider my words- I don’t want to be a client, if it means a conflict of interest. 

Camille: 

*His reaction to my unsolicited tirade made me laugh. A lot. The formal speech paired with the topic of pleasuring nipples was a dichotomy enough that I almost missed him admitting to already knowing I had piercings. The realization brought some levity back to the moment and I fought hard not to cross my arms over my chest. I felt exposed despite being covered though the smirk that followed his confession left me feeling more empowered than embarrassed, and my grin up at Kai was a genuine one.

The curve of my lips faltered when he spoke of a problem, and my brows knit together as I quickly went over in my mind how things could have taken such a turn for him. I thought things were going perfectly. He liked the product samples I showed and even seemed pleased when I tested the nipple shield on his finger. 

Much like when we had spoken on the phone earlier, he got straight to the point before I could even ask what the issue was, when he was done, my mouth fell open in surprise. He wanted to ask me out?! Not even if I was psychic could I have seen that coming. More to the point, he was willing to shop elsewhere despite liking my product lines  just to prevent any kind of conflict of interest for me. 

I was stunned silent for a few seconds, overwhelmed by the way he had moved in close and spoke low, reminding me of the way he had sounded earlier through the telephone. Except now, I had the added benefit of catching the scent of him and seeing his face and watching the way his lips moved as he spoke. Oh boy. 

I licked over my lips and pulled the bottom one between my teeth as my heart hammered away erratically in my chest. I knew my answer, and I offered another smile to him as I reached out to remove the shield from his finger.* Well. It’s a good thing I am the boss, isn’t it? While I normally say no to these kinds of situations, I’m finding it really hard to follow my own rule at the moment. 

*I slid the shield back into the packaging, closing it then waving it between us a little before picking up the rest of the items he previously said he wanted.* You don’t have to shop anywhere else unless that’s what you want, though I don’t see anything wrong with you supporting my business and us going on a date. *I moved past him, making my way toward the cash register and speaking over my shoulder to him as he followed behind.* I have no doubt with all of these items you are going to buy, my future nipples will be very happy. 

Kai

-I loved her laugh. Adored it. I wanted to record it so I could replay it. Of course, it wouldn’t bear the same effect if I did. It was that it was in reaction to me and its unforced quality laced together by the bell-like tone and uninhibited sound of it. Apparently we were done in the backroom, but I didn’t have time to raise any objections. I had a grin plastered on my face for a multitude of reasons. She had said yes, but it was not that simple. It had flustered her, I had noted it in the quiet that preceded the drop of her bottom lip, followed by the press of her teeth into it before she landed on her answer. She wasn’t done then. She took the shield off the tip of my finger, repackaged it and waved it in front of my face, a silent admonishing for even the consideration of me shopping elsewhere. Finally, there was the admission that I was essentially an exception, worth breaking a personal rule for. I did not take that lightly. I turned on my heel as her petite yet curvy body easily slipped by me. 

I normally did not follow, but she was also an exception for me. She might even succeed in getting me on my knees and under her command, were the circumstances optimal. That was a self-revelation I wasn’t expecting, as I had never submitted or even considered it. Those cards were going to be held close to the chest. For now. 

She earned a laugh that ended on a groan when she mentioned her future nipples being very happy. Even in jest, that told me she was thinking about me in a certain way, I welcomed the innuendo. As I met her at the counter, I had to resist joining her behind it. Instead, I remained a gentleman, ignoring the instinct to behave otherwise.-

Does the fact that you’re ringing me up also mean you’re kicking me out? Early bedtime, Camille? -I wasn’t about to let the night end so easily, but would respect any request she made. While I watched her carefully add up my tab, it dawned on me why she had hung up during her call, I must have flustered her then as well. That small epiphany increased my heart rate. If she felt an attraction just during the course of our discussion, maybe there was more than just coincidence to our meeting. Now, standing in her store, she couldn’t end it as she had abruptly done with our call, but she was giving it the most valiant of efforts with the move to close the sale. Toying with a small vibrator on a counter display, I kept my tone purposely casual.-

And after you answer that, tell me, do you like to be the boss in every aspect of your life? -my eyebrow lifted as I awaited her eye contact, along with her reply.-

Camille: 

*Hearing his laughter behind me when I joked about my nipples had a smile growing on my lips. I couldn’t help it now that he had made his interest in me known. I wasn’t sure that he was finished browsing, however his request earlier had been about nipple clamps, and we had successfully taken care of that. If he wanted something else, he could book another appointment. I had reached my limit of trying to maintain my professionalism while under such a scrutinizing set of eyes. 

I needed fresh air and food and to be out of my shop. It had been quite the day, that was for sure. As I scanned each of the items and set them aside, I gave him his total and pushed the card machine toward him, assuming he wouldn’t be paying by cash, before starting to bag things up. It was customary that I added a few sample items when someone made a larger purchase, and I wasn’t about to let Kai go without his. I rummaged through the box of samples below the counter, choosing the flavoured lube packets and condoms I thought were the best of the bunch as I answered his questions.* 

Yes, I am kicking you out, but no, not for early bedtime. *I smiled as I dropped the freebies into his bag then grabbed one of my business cards, flipping it over to the side that was blank, then grabbed a pen from the cup beside the register that was in the shape of a naked female torso.* It’s been a long day, and because I hadn’t planned on staying late, I didn’t bring dinner with me when I came in this morning. We can arrange another time for you to browse the rest of the shop, if you’d like? I’ll be better prepared then. 

*I lowered my gaze to the business card and wrote my cell number on the back before dropping that into the bag along with the receipt that shot out the top of the debit machine once he had entered his card and PIN. I held out the bag for him to take, and grinned because I had yet to acknowledge his last question. It felt like my answer would be one that carried some weight for him.* Do I like to be the boss in every aspect of my life? Not really. I mean, I am pretty type A with work, but outside of this shop, I’m less so. At least that’s what I like to think. I guess it just depends on the situation, really. 

*Nodding to myself as I finished answering his question, I reached below the counter to grab my purse and fished out my keys. He hadn’t said anything yet, and I wasn’t sure what to make of his silence. I hoped I hadn’t answered in a way he thought was boring like the nipple clamps he’d discarded earlier. Then again, I hadn’t asked him any questions, maybe he was insulted or simply didn’t have anything to say now that he had his answer. I blew out a breath and summoned up my lady balls. I could ask questions, too.* Do you want to join me for dinner? Have you eaten? It will only take a couple of minutes for me to close up. 

Kai:

-I watched Camille’s every move and as I did so, it occurred to me she was literally doing it, an in person hang-up. I refused to display my shock as she filled my bag with various accessory items either out of habit or propriety, slightly stunned. A part of me found humor in her blunt and verbal kick to the curb as it reminded me of my past love, and the spine she possessed. I almost laughed when she said that she was indeed kicking me out, confirming what I had thought. Perhaps I had been too forward...

That thought was quickly quelled and my ego soothed as she disclosed why she was actually booting me, and a pang of upset struck me, as she clearly stayed past closing time at her own expense. I would find a way to make that up to her as I never wanted to inconvenience anyone, let alone someone I was interested in pursuing. While she wrote what I presumed was her number on the back of the business card, I weighed the idea of asking if I could take her for dinner but before I could offer, she answered the question I had forgotten I asked. A grin tilted my lips up on one side as she satisfied my curiosity about her out-of-business preferences and images flashed in my mind...images of her in ways I really shouldn’t have allowed myself to indulge in. 

As she blew out a breath and gathered her belongings, I was about to speak up but she beat me to it, and my resulting smile was full blown. I wouldn’t have cared if I had just finished a six course meal, I would have developed an appetite just so I could take her up on the offer.-

I would love to join you,on one condition...You allow me to buy? - I held up a hand in anticipation of her protest, signaling I wanted to explain.- It’s the least I can do after I was the one who delayed your dinner. You’d also be doing me a favor since I’m just getting acquainted with the area. Aside from those things, if I’m being upfront, I cannot express how much I want to get to know you better, and that is after a mere thirty minutes in your company.

-I hoped she wouldn’t change her mind after my emboldened statement, but something told me Camille wouldn’t have asked in the first place if she was at all hesitant, and her independent spirit and self-assured nature only served to increase my attraction to her.-

Camille:

*I tried not to fidget as I waited for Kai’s answer on whether or not he wanted to join me for dinner. There was something unsettling about asking someone out that always left me feeling...overexposed. Sure he had indicated he was interested, but that didn’t mean he was looking to go on a date with me right away. The possibility of being rejected was still very real in my mind, and as I waited, I bit down on my bottom lip to stop myself from saying anything else. This wasn’t like our phone call earlier in the day where I could hang up on him because I was feeling out of my element and flustered. It was intimidating to put myself out like that even when I already knew he liked me. 

He saved me from too much internal debate on how to react to a rejection gracefully when he accepted and then demanded to pay. I was stunned and began to shake my head as he lifted a hand and continued on, explaining why. Was it not enough that he spent a large amount on products? It felt too much. I didn’t know what to do with that and laughed in disbelief.* 

Please don’t feel bad about keeping me. I was the one who agreed to the appointment tonight, I could have told you tomorrow when you called. *I really wanted to argue about paying for dinner since I was the one who asked him to join me, but again, there was something I couldn’t quite put my finger on that suggested I was better off not pushing the topic. Just like I could have said otherwise, he, too, didn't have to offer to pay. I smiled lightly and nodded my head.* 

I can play restaurant guide for you, sure. There are actually a bunch of great local places that are walking distance from here. Just give me a couple of minutes to take care of a few things. 

*I thumbed through the key ring I still had in my hand and locked up the register, grateful I had taken care of removing all the cash minus the regular float before Kai had arrived. I'd balance the day’s earnings in the morning. Next was returning to the room Kai and I had been in, flicking off the light switch and making a mental note that I’d have to return the items I’d left on the floor display back to their spots on the wall. Normally I’d pull the black curtain closed but instead left it open to help remind me when I opened for the day tomorrow. Last, I returned to behind the counter and flipped off the rest of the light switches along with the water feature wall, leaving the bubbling to continue behind me, just without its accompanying purple glow. 

When that was complete, I hooked my purse over my arm and gestured to the door. Next to it, I pressed the away function on the alarm panel and unlocked the door, opening it wide for Kai to exit first then followed behind him, sliding my key into the lock and twisting it to secure the door. He hadn’t said anything in the time I took to close up, but now that we were outside, I could leave my worry about being professional inside the shop and grinned up at him.* 

Maybe leave that in your car before we go? And then you can tell me how you feel about Thai food. *I gestured to the bag he still held and laughed at myself as I realized I had just contradicted the answer I had given him before about being bossy in all aspects of my life, but before he could call me on it, I quickly added.* Unless you’d rather take a bag of nipple clamps to dinner with us, it doesn’t bother me any. The staff there know where I work. 

*There was a gleam in Kai’s eyes that I wasn’t entirely sure was from the glow of the neon CLOSED sign that hung above my door, but as he held my gaze so intently, I got the impression he wouldn’t be bothered either. It was a look that left me feeling emboldened enough to grab his hand and lead him down the sidewalk, away from my shop, his car, and into the evening together.*

[briangroth27]

Joker Review

I was not excited to see Joker based on the trailers that seemed determined to excuse and justify Joker’s (Joaquin Phoenix) madness and motives with a sympathetic light. While it is well-shot and well-acted—and if you enjoyed it, I’m glad you got something positive out of the experience—I thought the movie confirmed my impression of the trailers and I wasn’t a fan.

Full Spoilers…

Arthur Fleck is a sad, lonely man with vague mental illnesses who can’t catch a break in life or love. His life does suck and he does get dealt several bad and unfair hands, but nothing this movie did convinced me to feel sorry for him because I know the monster he’s going to become. It’s the same way I don’t care about real-world rapists’ “bright futures” being put in jeopardy by being held accountable for their crimes and have no sympathy for mass shooters’ sad histories of being turned down for dates. In the end, society is a problem, but how Arthur reacts to it is all on him and what he becomes is reprehensible, so I found it impossible to connect to him even before the villainy. Maybe if he were an original character—or even a Batman villain who does have a spark of good intentions and true tragedy to them, like Mr. Freeze, Poison Ivy, or Two-Face—I would’ve cared about him, but the Joker has far too much baggage to be painted as a tragic figure, and drawing this character so close to being an anti-hero who’s right to act like he does is gross. Even if the adoration he gets from the rioting crowds after the car accident is his imagination (much like he imagined Sophie (Zazie Beetz) thought stalking her was charming at the beginning of their “relationship”), he still felt that hero-worship throughout the movie from the protesters adopting his clown persona so I don’t think it makes a big difference if that one post-accident scene was real or not.

I didn’t like the choice to make most of his laughter part of his illness either, as that took a huge part of the character’s outlook/personality and sense of “humor” away by making it something uncontrollable. It’s also an antiquated and harmful view of mental illness in a time when we’re fully aware that mentally ill people are far more likely to be the victims of violence than the perpetrators. Continuing to draw mentally ill people as violent criminals is something that needs to be addressed and updated in the larger Batman canon too. Like so many other choices here, explaining his laughter takes away the scariness the character previously had. I have no problem knowing who Joker used to be, but knowing why he does what he does (even just trying to convince us that he’s an “agent of chaos”) is too much information in my opinion. My preferred Joker is one who’s unpredictable and incomprehensible, where trying to puzzle out his motives either leaves you dead or drives you insane (like it did Harley Quinn). I also want more variety in his crimes, not just a series of revenge killings for personal slights and abuses. Give me everything from trying to patent Joker Fish to deadly laughing gas attacks to just wanting to pie Batman in the face for Christmas. During his big debut on TV in this film, I was wishing we could see a classic caper instead (even though yes, hijacking a TV show is something Joker would do). Confining Joker’s victims to people who personally attacked him also takes away from the threat he poses: if you treated him well, you’re totally fine here.

While escalation to more indiscriminate victims is possible, as one of my sisters pointed out, the movie works really hard to justify everything he does with grounded motives in what feels like an attempt to say “see, anyone really could be pushed to this breaking point!” It’s not enough that Arthur’s co-workers don’t like him, one of them (Glenn Fleshler) has to essentially trick him into getting fired. Arthur’s obsessive love of TV personality Murray Franklin (Robert De Niro) turning dark can’t just be a result of Arthur being a stalker who dreams of being a comedian even though he’s not funny, Murray also has to personally insult Arthur in front of the city/nation. It’s not bad enough that Arthur’s mom (Frances Conroy) abused and lied to him his whole life, but his secret “father” Thomas Wayne (Brett Cullen) also has to be a horrible rich person. I totally get that Thomas would be furious about Arthur touching Bruce (Dante Pereira-Olson) and I’d be enraged too, but Thomas’ anti-poor sentiments set him against Arthur’s social situation and in the end it felt like we weren’t supposed to see his and Martha’s (Carrie Louise Putrello) deaths as a tragedy, but as a reaction to the way they treated the lower classes (since the riot is so closely tied to the way Arthur reacts). On a side note, Martha really just isn’t ever going to speak or contribute to a story at all beyond being a victim, is she? Anyway, my reading of Joker’s “you wouldn’t get the joke” line at the end of the movie was that the Arkham interview scene occurs after Batman had appeared and everyone’s favorite “badass” hero grew up to protect the system (the “care to explain the joke?” question is intercut with scenes of the Wayne murders). This Bruce would totally embody the “Batman’s a wealthy guy who beats up poor people” take that’s been going around for the past few years (just imagine how this Thomas was raising Bruce, instead of the good man that Thomas usually is), particularly since it was apparently someone protesting for fair wages and equality that murdered his parents. The clothing styles do look the same in that interview scene as in the rest of the film, rather than being 90s styles or later, but arresting some fashions and technology even as time moves on is hardly a new design choice for a Batman movie/animated series. Even if that’s not the joke that Arthur means in that final scene, I fully believe that’s the Batman that would come out of these events, and who wants that?

If the joke that Arthur references is that the world put all this meaning on him that he didn’t intend, it’s not a very good joke because he has a whole speech explaining that on TV. I believe Joker when he says he’s not political—he’ll take revenge on anyone, rich and poor alike—but having the protesters adopt his ideology and imagery is a really weird choice given who he is in the comics. Even though he doesn’t have anything to do with the protests themselves (though he does egg on the riots during his speech, as what he says about his own mistreatment by society is also what they’re feeling about theirs), the filmmakers saddling “his” movement with the language of the real-life left (like "resist") is extremely questionable: why are the filmmakers trying to make this monster a heroic inspiration (even if misunderstood) for what would be the social justice side? In The Killing Joke, Joker argues that one bad day will drive anyone insane, which seems to be what this movie wants to say too (with “insanity” framed as a “reasonable” reaction to a broken system). However, the end of The Killing Joke reaffirms that the world isn’t like Joker and one bad day won’t push most people to villainy, since he fails to break Gordon, Barbara, and (once it became an in-continuity tale) Batman. Joker has no one to make that argument, and instead has Joker give a speech on TV about how it’s totally justifiable to go on a murder spree in reaction to being mistreated because “this is what you get.” No thanks.

If the “joke” is that none of this happened at all, well then…why are we here watching his self-indulgent delusions of persecution and oppression?

If they wanted to make a movie about a sympathetic man turned bad by a cold system that hurts people who do nothing but get sick, they should’ve made a Mr. Freeze movie. A film about someone who goes to increasingly extreme lengths to change the world for the better while being labeled as crazy by society? Get a Poison Ivy film into production. Want to explore a villain with good intentions and a society divided between the rich and poor, with how you’re treated by people, the law, and the world left up to chance on how you were born? Then this should’ve been a Two-Face movie. There’s merit to saying that there are problems with our social system and that it fails people who have no other support network, for sure. And lots of bad guys have been successfully drawn with some core good idea that they take off the rails into full-blown villainy as they commit increasingly evil acts. The Joker is not one of those villains. He doesn’t have a logical point and shouldn’t be painted as right in any way.

Again, on a technical and performance level Joker is a well-made movie and I’m glad if you found something worthwhile here, but I vehemently disagree with its entire premise of making the Joker understandable and especially with trying to paint him as something of an anti-hero with a twisted point who’s justified in acting the way he does. I was bored and couldn’t get past the knowledge of what Joker becomes. This is just not for me. Oh well; on to the next movie!

Check out more of my reviews, opinions, and original short stories here!