#imagine if andrew had been able to understand this

[corner-collects-rocks]

au where kevin taught the foxes french but just didnt fill neil in on that little tidbit bit of information so any time he dropped lore about himself in french all the foxes would have to pretend they didnt understand what neil was saying. (looking at you specifically that one scene in chapter 5) imagine how different the book wouldve been. just a silly little thought

[mpregandproud]

Isaac II (Part 10)

Time is flying by. It's been 5 years since my last delivery and Isaac and I have talked a lot about our life plan. While we have always dreamed of having a huge family, and we really have, we haven't had any more children since Andrew, Adrian, Jon and Michael were born.

And it's not because we didn't try, because shortly after Sandra, Cal, Patrick and Isaac became parents, we were overcome with an immense sense of fatherhood. But apparently men, just like women, have a time in our lives when we stop being fertile. As there are still not so many men with the capacity to get pregnant, there is not much information about it. But after three years of trying and failing to get pregnant, considering our history, our doctor told us that we are going through male menopause, andropause he called it.

I did not take the news well, although in the end, at 53 years of age, it was more than expected. If after giving birth to the quadruplets I was unable to regain the shape I had before giving birth, after the news this was mission impossible. I drowned in food the anxiety I felt knowing that I would never again be able to generate life.

You'll say I'm an idiot. After giving birth to 21 babies in two decades, and expanding the family with grandchildren, who would want to have more children. Really, anyone you tell that we wanted to experience pregnancy one more time would think we were crazy. It took me months to understand what the people around me were thinking, but it's complicated for someone who has built so much of his life these past few years around his pregnancies, this new scenario was complicated.

The good thing is that I had Isaac and the kids by my side at all times. My sister and my friends Lucas and Adam were a great help in understanding that I had to enter a new stage in my life, the grandfather stage. I already had six grandchildren, the children of Sandra and Cal and Patrick and Isaac, wonderful, beautiful children. Although I was still raising my youngest children, the prospect of more grandchildren filled me with excitement.

Dylan, Nate, Philip, Edward and Cristina, now out of college and working, introduced us to their various partners. Dylan had met Jessica, a beautiful girl who was Miss of her country, I can't remember where is she from. Cristina had Veronica as a girlfriend, and apparently they don't want to have children, they say they prefer to be the cool aunts. Edward is very reserved, but from time to time he let slip the name of a girl named Pamela. Philip was dating Peter, coach of the local soccer team and son of my friend Frank, whom I never imagined as part of my family. Nate, on the other hand, has inherited my husband's gift for flirting, so every now and then he would come home with a guy or girl he had just met and with whom he was already planning his life forever.

Sandra and Cal are still happily in love. They have decided to continue with Cal's parents' business, and not to resume their studies. Little Samba is the most handsome boy in the world, no wonder, having the parents he has. They got married a year after becoming parents, in a small ceremony with their immediate family and little else. They wanted an intimate celebration to celebrate their love with those closest to them.

Bruce, Ken, Charlotte, Ivana and Jason have started their college experience this year. This is not the case of Patrick, who decided to stop for a year to be able to raise his children with more attention during the first months. He and Isaac combine their studies with part-time jobs from Monday to Friday and full-time on weekends. Both have made their first steps as photographic models. As their parents we helped them as much as possible, although we were surprised by how clear their ideas about their life as a couple were. They lived in a small house that allowed them to live comfortably, but without too many expenses, in order to save and be able to progress later on. Two teenagers were giving a life lesson to four grown adults.

A few weeks ago, on the birthday of their sons Anton, Ian, Benji, Liam and Zach announced to us that they wanted to get married. They had been living together for a long time and deeply in love, so I guess it was the inevitable step in their lives. I cried like a little girl when Patrick told Isaac and I that he was getting married. In addition to the excitement of seeing a son get married, there was also the emotion of seeing myself very much reflected in the story of these two boys who, at just 20 years old, were living intensely the life they wanted.

Two months after the announcement, the big day arrived. Little by little the guests arrived at the venue. All our children and their respective partners, nieces and nephews, friends, some teachers, colleagues from work and sports teams… the room was filling up waiting for the two lovers. Sandra attracted many stares, especially from those who did not yet know that she was pregnant again.

While keeping an eye on our youngest children, I ran into Lucas and Adam, both impeccably dressed in gray. It seemed unbelievable that these two men my own age had this physique, with no exercise according to bastard Lucas, and I look like I'm eight months pregnant. It doesn't help that I've given birth to a good portion of the guests at this ceremony. And it also doesn't help that my husband has insisted on keeping me fat because it makes him so horny. I look more and more like my father.

After a few minutes Isaac arrived accompanied by his brother, Dan. The groom looked gorgeous in his navy blue suit, bow tie and a flower in his lapel. You could see him standing there looking so handsome and nervous waiting for Patrick to arrive. When he walked up the aisle he didn't talk to anyone, he was staring at the door of the venue, he was a bundle of nerves. Even with those nerves on edge we could see why he was dedicating himself to being a photo model. The boy was the spitting image of his father Lucas when he was young, the same Lucas I was madly in love with as a teenager.

Five minutes later Patrick arrived accompanied by my husband Isaac. Isaac looked spectacular, and I was reassured to see that he had also put on some weight in recent years, not as much as I had, but he was not as thin as when we first met. Although he has aged more than I have, he looked like a handsome mature Hollywood actor in his navy blue suit.

Our son stepped forward a bit when they arrived near the altar. The poor guy only had eyes for his future husband, Isaac. He walked briskly over to where he stood and took his hand, smiled at him and kissed him on the cheek.

“Hold my hand you too, I'm about to burst into tears from excitement,” Isaac whispered in my ear as he sat next to me in the front row. I pinched his cheek tenderly and gave him a peck on the mouth.

After a few minutes of speeches from friends and family, Dylan, our oldest son and the master of ceremonies, invited the grooms to dedicate their vows to each other. The first to speak was Isaac.

“Patrick, I can't believe we're here, on this day we've dreamed of so much. We've been dating for six years, but I think I remember being in love with you for as long as I can remember. You were the mischievous little boy with the charming smile that I always wanted to play with when my parents took me to your parents' house. As luck would have it, we connected and time brought us together in a way I never imagined we would with you. I think all of us gays are scared to take the step of starting a relationship with our best friend in high school, but I will never, ever regret kissing you at the end of the hallway on the second floor of high school. You have given me the five most beautiful children in the world and you have filled every second of my life with light. I want to share with you the rest of our lives, expand our family and the happiness we share. I love you,” Isaac said. The audience applauded and he, deeply in love, kissed Patrick.

“What can I say now?” began Patrick, which was followed by some complicit laughter from the audience. “The gift of gab has never been my strong suit, but I've been writing down what to say now for weeks. I come from a huge family and grew up watching both my parents love each other deeply. I don't think I was ever aware of how much I wanted to build something that looked even the slightest bit like what the two of them had built. From a young age I knew I was gay, and I don't know why I thought that because of that very fact I wouldn't have the ease of having children that my brothers did. But then you came into my life. The boy I have been in love with since I was 5 years old. Our love was complicated, for some people we are like cousins and for others even brothers, but for me you have always been my best friend, and now the father of my children and the man with whom I share every moment of my life. You kissed me that fall day in high school, and my life changed forever, everything made sense. Since that moment I have wanted to share every moment with you. My friends and siblings know that I am not able to have a conversation, no matter what the topic, without mentioning you 20 times a minute, you complement me and you have made me grow personally and emotionally. Can I ask for more? I don't think so. I can't wait to put the ring on your finger and make official in the eyes of the law what has been official in our hearts and family for six years now. It will be the first step in the rest of our wonderful lives. I want you to join me on this journey. I love you, Isaac,” Patrick finished, planting a kiss right there for Isaac.

Dylan uttered the relevant questions and they both responded with a resounding “yes”, to which our eldest son told them “you can kiss the groom, or should I say husband”. The two melted into one, kissing passionately. The guests were clapping and throwing petals and rice at them. Lucas, Adam, Isaac and I were in the front row, four 55-year-old men crying like babies watching our sons united in marriage and sharing their happiness with everyone.

They went on a honeymoon in the Caribbean, and when they returned they told us that in a few weeks they would be moving to the big city because of a job offer they had both received. A modeling agency had noticed their wedding photos and wanted to sign them, for which they had to move to the city, where they would find the best job opportunities.

Since their departure we spoke to them very little, as they had an impossible schedule of photo shoots, catwalks and interviews. A year after their wedding, taking advantage of the fact that Lucas and Adam were with us at home, we made a video call with them. They looked overjoyed, deeply happy with their life together. They told us how they were balancing parenting their five children with a career as demanding as modeling.

“Dads, we have something to tell you, that's why we called you”, Isaac said on the other side of the screen. “We found out a few weeks ago and we wanted you to be the first to know. Isaac and I are going to be dads again, we're pregnant", said Patrick.

The end of Isaac II

This story will continue…

[uniiiquehecrt]

I'm thinking in terms of actual real life experiences I've had when I say this, but I'd imagine part of what makes being a Thor enjoyer so frustrating in 2024/MCU's phase 4+ era is that... you're effectively not allowed to enjoy your favorite superhero.

I once had a conversation with a close friend of mine during a casual outing, and without going into very many details, this particular person is an enjoyer of Ragnarok, and enjoys Tailka's work overall. Now, I should say right off the bat: there is nothing wrong with these opinions. Everyone is entitled to like what they like and enjoy the work of creators just the same as other people are allowed to dislike them. For this particular post, I'm not here to get into fandom wars or "reasons why taika waititi is a terrible director" beef. I have other posts in line for that. But what I will say is that I already knew this about my friend, so it never surprised me when the topic of Thor came up that it would be a point of disagreement.

The issue I've found that continues to circle in the general space of "being a Thor fan" came when I expressed that I don't like Ragnarok, I do think Thor was funnier (and just better overall) before Ragnarok and therefore Taika's involvement, and quite frankly Taika had very little business taking on the mantle of director of a superhero franchise he has never liked or understood in his life just because he had mouths to feed. (There are other opportunities to fulfill that. And filmmakers know going into this industry that it's all gig-based and - if they're smart anyways - work around that.) I hadn't even gotten a chance to go through all of the reasons WHY I feel that way, of which I have had before compiled an organized list of about 16 talking points off the top of my head, so as far as that particular discussion goes... it didn't go anywhere. We were busy at the time.

But namely what I want to talk about is this:

The response I was given, in summary, was something along the lines of "well I think Thor was boring, and he wasn't my cup of tea, so I'm glad he changed."

But, you see, there's just ONE small issue with that: Thor isn't meant for everyone.

In fact, no character is meant for everyone. So why is it that Thor needs to change to be "for everyone" and be the MCU normies' "cup of tea" when no other character has to? Why does he need to lose his core identity (both as a character, as a franchise, you name it, it's been done) just because people like my friend don't understand him as well as Tony Stark or Spider-Man? And why should Thor fans have tow watch their favorite superhero get stripped down and turned into something completely divorced from the character, world and cast we were first involved with from the beginning?

Nobody at any point has been able to answer me that besides "well just because I didn't like Thor personally."

Iron Man won't appeal to everyone. Neither does Captain America, neither does Spider-Man, beloved as even Spidey is. They have their own quirks, their own villains, their own storylines... Every superhero has a core to them that their stories revolve around. He's from DC, but Superman, for instance, has the core of: love, justice and the American Way. Therefore, his stories revolve around challenging that core, and making Superman prove it. Steve Rogers/Captain America has a similar core. Justice, freedom and the American Way, is what I'd mostly boil his core down to. Thor's is "love" all around. I've written about that '(here)' in my post about his 2011 themes. Maybe it's different for other fans, but for me personally? I adore that about Thor. It's one of the many reasons I'm drawn to him over any other marvel Super besides Spider-Man. (not you tom holland ... yes you andrew garfield...)

So when I go to Thor for entertainment, I'm going to him above the other superheros because I want a story that revolves around HIS core and how Thor goes about reckoning with his challenges. I also go to MCU Thor specifically for his quiet, kind, regal nature. I come to him for his gravitas, his passion, his relationships with his cast of companions.

I go to him for high-sci-fi action/adventure, or for the "what if we took norse mythology and made it an alien superhero" route they took him in for the MCU. I go to Thor because he IS different from the rest of the Avengers... and that's the point.

So when someone says to me: "Well Thor wasn't for me so I'm glad he changed", or "Well I really liked Ragnarok because Thor kind of become more in line with the other Avengers"... they're fundamentally missing the point of why Thor has a fanbase at all.

[emry-stars-art]

YES, PLEASE AND THANK YOU @snazzy-jas-z-is-a-fan-of !!

(Find the royal au writing masterpost here 💕)

And I’ll do an art-only version of this post for your reblogging pleasure here :) there's always always more to be said about this so I might make another post on the same topic but later

Anyway onto the juicy stuff

Okay so. Evermore and Palmetto both have glove etiquette, but in Evermore Nathaniel never had to worry about it, because he was expected to constantly be wearing gloves from first day he’s able to after getting nasty scars on his hands. Except for when he’s working or helping Nathan work. The nobles and specifically Prince Riko made it clear that they had no desire to see how ugly his hands were. (This is also why he has a habit of wearing a little of his hair down on the left side; it helped cover the scars on his cheek that ruined his pretty complexion.)

Then he comes to Palmetto and Day introduces him to a whole new set of rules. Gloves are a common and important part of dress and fashion, but people are also able to decide whether or not to wear them at any given time. The only real rules on gloves are when not to wear them; you always take off gloves to eat or drink, and to offer your hand in greeting or service.

Nathaniel gets to kind of ease into it; he’s not around anyone important enough to need to offer proper greeting or help, so mostly he takes his gloves off to eat in the servants quarters, where he doesn’t deal with more than curious glances. There’s a lingering fear of letting anyone important see his hands, no matter what Day says to assure him otherwise.

Then Nathaniel becomes the prince’s guard. Nothing changes for a while - the prince has always been more self-sufficient than most - until one day Nathaniel sees the prince eyeing the fall from his horse. (Really Andrew is trying to get up the courage to dismount, because even if the fall isn’t actually an issue for him, his fear of heights sometimes catches up to him when dismounting horses.) Nathaniel understands by now that he’s allowed and expected to help, so he reaches out - and remembers. He’s also acutely aware that the prince hasn’t yet seen his hands, then also also acutely aware of how serious Day was about the proper etiquette, and slips off his glove. The prince gives his hand a curious look, but accepts the help and all but crushes Nathaniel’s hand in his as he finally makes the fall. Even on the ground, though, he doesn’t let go quickly. Instead, the prince’s thumb brushes once across the back of Abram’s hand and he turns his hold, pulling Nathaniel’s hand up to examine it. The only thing keeping Nathaniel in place is the bone-deep instinct that he isn’t to deny anyone, especially a prince. Maybe the prince would decide he didn’t actually want to see Nathaniel’s hands and Nathaniel could go back to wearing his gloves with little more than a strike to the cheek for making the prince look at them.

But the prince does no such thing. He drops Nathaniel’s hand and continues on as normal. Nathaniel does his best to do the same, but that’s probably the first kind skin to skin contact he’s had in years. He isn’t recovering as quickly as he imagines he should.

(Meanwhile Andrew was NOT about to let an opportunity to hold Nathaniel’s hand slip like that, and he finds that he doesn’t mind the roughness. Most other guards were pulled from a much more privileged crowd - usually who had some callouses or scratches at most. Nathaniel’s hands show Andrew that this one isn’t all bark and no bite. Andrew… really likes them.)

Gradually, Nathaniel (likely soon or now Abram) gets used to taking off his gloves. He doesn’t without reason, it takes him a while not to feel naked without them, but it only takes a few more instances for him to realize that the prince truly doesn’t mind his scars. Helping the prince from his horse becomes easy habit (GS isn’t necessarily tall, but neither is Andrew. No step stool = Abram’s help).

Maybe there’s even a few times Abram is completely gloveless when he’s around only Day or the prince. He finds himself hiding his hands subconsciously when he’s not thinking about it, but he’s never once told to cover up.

Then Abram is kidnapped, taken back to Evermore. All the same rules are enforced and more. In this case, gloves aren’t all that different or upsetting. That much is okay.

It’s when he gets back that things change. Since he’s blind for a while, he’s relying much more on touch and hearing. It’s also a good tactile reminder; if he were still in Evermore, he would never be bare handed. This is when he truly gets used to not wearing gloves. (During this time he’s also touched more gently and more often than ever in his life. Others’ bare hands on his naked skin to care for scars and rashes and fever, first Day and medics and then Day and Prince Andrew. Abram finally, finally realizes that this is what he’d been missing. He actually finds himself calmed and cared for in being touched.)

Even when his sight returns, Abram only wears gloves out of doors or to formal events. Slowly and so, so carefully, Andrew finds more small reasons to touch Abram’s hands, and Abram always finds rationalization to accept. Then Abram even leaves his gloves in his saddlebags or pockets when they go out.

Winter hits. Abram has very few burn scars on his hands, but even the simple knife scars can seize and ache in cold weather. By now Andrew is very attentive to Abram’s pain or discomfort, so he notices. Abram’s hands hurt.

So Andrew buys him new gloves, lined with soft, warm fur. Abram is both pleased and disappointed - pleased because any gift from Andrew is a good gift, and disappointed because the prince expects him to wear gloves again. But the first time Andrew sees Abram wearing them indoors, he says easily, “They’re to keep your hands from the cold. Wear them only as much as you need.” (Because, again; he’s not going to admit it, but he loves Abram’s hands.)

It probably takes a long time for Abram to get accustomed to much more touch. He likes holding the prince’s hand, he’s used to that this far into their courting, but anywhere else with anything more than clinical intent - sometimes including with clinical intent - he gets overwhelmed very easily.

Andrew is careful with him. Like we mentioned in the last post, Andrew’s had about six to eight years longer to get readjusted to wanting and touching; Abram is essentially starting fresh. It’s a lot for him to handle.

(Don’t worry, though, I promise they figure it out. Just like they always do, in every universe, for all of our mental health.)

[pascaloverx]

To Begin Again

TWELVE

Summary: You're a new teacher at a large and influential school. It's a risky step for you, as you've been running from your ex for almost two years. But when Dumbledore asks you to take on a class at the renowned Hogwarts, you can't refuse. However, your life as a newly arrived teacher won't be easy. Especially when the other teachers don't seem eager to make friends. Or rather, two teachers in particular: Sirius Black and Remus Lupin.

Author's Note: Welcome, dear readers. Please leave your comments if you enjoy fanfiction. This fanfic takes place almost in the real world (with the addition of werewolves) and is not a wizarding fanfic. There will be some differences and changes in things from the Harry Potter story or other fanfics in the HP universe, but I promise to do my best writing this fanfic. There will be a love triangle coming in this fanfic. So, dear readers, just as in this fanfic it's meant to imagine Remus Lupin as being Andrew Garfield and Sirius Black as being Ben Barnes, now I present to you the fancast of Severus Snape as being actor Enzo Vogrincic. Imagine him as Snape if you can.

ELEVEN THIRTEEN

A week later, things haven't improved. You managed to convince McGonagall that it would be best to change rooms, at least. The current issue is your emotional connection with Lupin. He feels too much, always intensely. For a man who barely expresses his feelings, he feels too much. And even by avoiding him physically, his feelings seem to have an absurd strength in reaching you.

"Are you sure this box isn't too heavy?" You ask Bellatrix, who as your new bathroom mate, is helping you with the move. McGonagall decided to switch you and Peter Pettigrew's rooms. So Sirius will have Peter as his next-door neighbor, and you'll have Bellatrix. It's better than having to avoid Mr. Black every day.

"I'm stronger than I look, sweetheart. I believe this is the last box. I said it would be quicker if I carried the boxes and you organized the room, right?" Bellatrix responds proudly, pleased to have been right. Thanks to her, you'll soon be able to go teach without worrying about organizing anything when you return to your room.

"Pay me back by coming over for a glass of wine tonight. They say it's good to have company for a nice wine on cold nights. What do you think?" Bellatrix says with a mischievous smile, and you can only think that drinking might help you forget your troubles.

"I think it's a perfect idea. I'll stop by your room later for wine," you say, kissing Bellatrix on the cheek. Strangely, she purrs when your face gets close to hers. She immediately kisses the corner of your mouth and leaves with a victorious smile. Unfortunately, you don't even have time to process what's happening in your life because you have to teach your students. So you rush towards the classroom.

The classroom has a distinct atmosphere. Ron and Hermione are sitting apart from Harry. Draco is relatively close to Harry. Pansy is sitting next to Luna. It seems different but not so bad. You had an idea of how your class would be. However, seeing your students like this, you thought of a more unique artistic dynamic.

"Today, we will work on ourselves. Before anything else, know that art resides within the artist. So everything you produce in this class will be a piece of yourselves. The main task is to create a painting that captures your essence. But before you worry about that, understand that the painting itself will be a project that will take several classes to complete. Today, we will focus on yourselves. I want everyone to think about something you like and something you dislike about yourself. One thing you admire about yourselves and another you despise. Does anyone want to start?" You ask the class of students in front of you, hoping someone will raise their hand and spare you from the awkwardness.

"I like being dedicated. Knowing more than most because I'm capable of it. What I don't like is how that can come across as arrogant or overly ambitious. I hate overthinking things." Not surprising anyone and saving you, Hermione Granger responds first. You look at her with pride, nodding as if to reassure your student that her account is important.

"I like how easily I can become attached to someone. Just give me a bit of affection and I can latch onto you. But unfortunately, I tend to develop expectations, and when those expectations are shattered, I become a mess," Ron Weasley opens his heart while holding Hermione's hand, as if she's supporting him, and looking towards Harry.

"I like being fearless. I enjoy adventuring, especially with my friends. And I don't like being aggressive, having a short fuse," Harry says, looking at both Draco and Ron, as if justifying his attempt to be less aggressive towards Malfoy. And so almost all the students went on pointing out what they liked and didn't like about themselves, until only Draco Malfoy was left.

"I like being better than most people I know. But I don't like the fact that it bothers me that feeling superior doesn't actually make me better," Draco admits reluctantly. You're pleased that he managed to share this. You speak to your students, observing them carefully as the school bell signals the end of your class. Everyone seems at least to be trying to take you seriously. As your students file out of the classroom for break, you begin packing up your things when you hear a knock on the door. Turning to look, you find Snape and Sirius standing side by side. Snape looks like a lost puppy who just found its owner, while Sirius appears genuinely furious.

"He wanted to speak with you, the one who helped him the day he lost his memory. Conveniently, now he has no idea what happened," Sirius replies sharply and straightforwardly, clearly in a bad mood. You understand that Snape is a risk for him, but the truth is, the Snape before you seems clueless about what transpired.

"I actually wanted to thank you. I have no idea how I ended up here or why I was in that forest, but I have a feeling you were the angel who saved my life. Right now, I'm going back to the United States to reclaim some of my life, and I wanted to say goodbye with my gratitude. Thank you so much, beautiful lady. If I ever come back here, you'll be the first person I visit." Snape speaks so passionately that it seems he has developed an extra fondness for you. Perhaps his heart holds more memories than his head. He catches you off guard by gently holding your face and kissing your cheek. Then he pauses in front of you for a few moments, gazing at you kindly. Before he can try to kiss you, Sirius pulls him back.

"I'm sure your brain hasn't forgotten basic manners. You don't just kiss someone like that, especially if you don't know if they're single. Can you imagine if you made the mistake of kissing her without her consent in front of her boyfriend? I think it's better if you show your gratitude by leaving." Sirius speaks impatiently and defensively, as if he were your boyfriend or something. Snape apologizes again, looking frightened, and quickly runs off. Clearly, he has lost his memory. Sirius would never scare him off like that if he were the Snape with memories intact.

"Expecting me to thank you for this is a waste of our time. Nice performance—it almost seemed like you were jealous, by the way," you say as you walk, followed by Sirius, who from your peripheral vision doesn't seem pleased at all.

"Were you going to let that repugnant man put his hands on you?" Sirius questions angrily, as if you were about to allow something horrible to happen.

"We both know what he did, but he doesn't. I wasn't going to let him touch or kiss me inappropriately. But that's hardly any of your damn business, Sirius. Go take care of your love life and personal affairs and leave mine alone." You turn, looking directly into Black's eyes, who huffs at your words. He's furious, but you don't care. You warned him that you wanted to stay away from him and Lupin.

"My love, it's hard to believe what comes out of your mouth when your eyes say you want me. I'm flattered that you want to play cat and mouse with me and Lupin. He might obey you, but I won't. Do you know why? Because I know there's a flame inside you that burns for me. And as long as I can, I won't let that damn flame go out." Sirius says, coming so close to you that you feel he could easily become a part of you. He seems angry but determined. You look at him for a moment, then place your hand on his chest for no apparent reason and lean in.

"You're going to end up hurting yourself by doing this. Because I can guarantee that even if I become a blazing inferno of pure desire for you, I will never let you get close to me in the way you imagine. Do us both a favor and give up." You speak so fiercely that, in the back of your mind, there is even a desire to bite Sirius's face. You particularly think this is the werewolf part of you speaking. You turn like a storm and head to your room, leaving behind an aroused and disappointed Sirius.

When you get to your room, all you can think about is how much you'd like to lie down on the bed and sleep. But soon you'll have to go drink wine with Bellatrix. So, you spend some time finishing tidying up your room and taking a good bath. When you get out of the bath and put on your robe, you hear someone knocking on the door. You find it strange because you're almost certain Bellatrix is supposed to be giving a lesson right now. But after tying your robe, you open the door. Remus Lupin stands in front of you, wearing only jeans and a shirt. You think he looks sexy, and unfortunately, from the little smile he gives, he knows you think that.

"What are you doing here?" you ask, leaning against the door and watching Lupin continue to stare at you as if you were a statue to be admired.

"I need you to let me in." That's all he says, while his feelings are too jumbled for you to understand. Something must be wrong. You move your head pointing into the room and let him enter.

"Your feelings are a complete mess. It feels like you can't focus on anything." You say looking at him after closing the door. He looks at you like he's in conflict with himself. That's when you realize you need to make him focus on something. Going against your own words, you do an impulsive act after waiting for him to organize his feelings. You approach Remus and kiss him. It should be a peck on his lips and you should walk away. But something pulls you closer, making you give Lupin another kiss. He leans you against the door, holding your waist, while he supports you against the door. There is a lot of excitement being felt. You know that every second the kiss intensifies, you want more and so does he. And then you throw Remus onto your bed.

"I'm being sabotaged. I had this theory since I transformed on a night that wasn't a full moon. But now it's concrete. The night you arrived here, someone let me out of the safe place where I should have been locked up near the cabin. Sirius and I thought it might be in our heads. A few nights later, I transform outside of the full moon. And now, I discovered that the lock on my little private prison was broken from the outside." Lupin speaks eloquently, and you're glad the kiss served some purpose. It seems crazy to think he might be sabotaged by someone, but it makes sense.

"Do you have any idea who it could be?" you ask, approaching Lupin, who looks distraught. You crouch in front of him, running your hand through his hair. Then the memory of the last time you saw someone crouched in front of him, looking at him the same way and with the same care as now, hits you. Instinctively, you fall back onto the floor, feeling embarrassed.

"You saw me and Sirius the other night. That's why you feel like we don't belong to you, isn't it? That's why you're running from us as if we were a disease? You're afraid of being left out," Remus questions with such confidence that it feels like he can understand you completely. You look at him, confused, while still on the floor, wearing only your robe. Lupin extends his hand to you to help you up. You take his hand and stand up. The two of you stare at each other while he waits for a response.

"If you want verbal confirmation, yes. I saw you two, I witnessed your love and how devoted you are to each other. You can't expect me to get in the middle of an already built relationship." You still speak very close to Lupin. He smirks, as if he finds what you just said adorable.

"If he and I are accepting you in the relationship, you're not getting in the middle of the relationship. Can't you see that we both want you?" Remus says and you put your finger on his mouth to make him shut up.

"You came here to talk about someone sabotaging you. Focus on what's important." You talk changing the subject. While you doesn't want to do romantic things right now, you are intrigued.

"My main suspicion is Bellatrix." Remus Lupin speaks, catching you off guard. You never thought Bellatrix could do anything to Lupin. However, you don't know their story well, and personally, you're a newcomer here. At that moment, someone knocks on your door a few times, distracting you.

"Who is it?" You speak loud enough for the person to hear, while also placing your hand over Lupin's mouth to prevent any misunderstanding.

"Hey, it's me, Bellatrix, your next-door neighbor. Just letting you know I've finished my last class of the day. I'm heading back to my room to take a shower, and then I'll be ready for your company. Sound good?" Bellatrix speaks loudly, and as you deal with Lupin's disapproving look, you begin to consider how to respond.

"Agreed. I'll be in your room as soon as I get ready here," you reply. After hearing Bellatrix enter her room, you remove your hand from Lupin's mouth.

"Are you really going to meet her?" Lupin asks, judging you while also appearing concerned. You look at him slightly uncomfortable.

"I know you believe she might be messing with you now. But to find out for sure, you'll need someone close to her to gather information. Unless you want Sirius to seduce her, I think I'm a good option," you say, being rational. Besides, playing detective could be fun.

"I feel uneasy about both possibilities. And you know that," Remus says, sounding like an overprotective boyfriend. You nod in response, assuring him that you'll be careful despite his concerns.

"Let's find out who's messing with you. Together," you say, a bit awkwardly. Remus gives you one last once-over and quietly leaves. You can't help but think that the hunt for the saboteur is officially on.

[just-your-average-tangerine]

Song of the day: September 17 2024

Small Red Boy by AJJ

About AJJ:

AJJ is an American folk punk band from Phoenix, Arizona, originally formed in 2004 as Andrew Jackson Jihad. Their lyrics handle themes of shyness, poverty, humanity, religion, addiction, existentialism, and politics. Singer/guitarist Sean Bonnette and bassist Ben Gallaty co-founded the band, and have remained its only constant members throughout. The band has released eight studio albums to date, with their most recent, Disposable Everything, having been released on 26 May 2023.

(Via Wikipedia)

About Small Red Boy:

In this moving song, Sean Bonnette imagines himself having a symbiotic encounter with his child self — whom he has compared to the figure of Cody in the album’s opening track. He fantasises giving himself a fulfilling, loving, perfect childhood. While he says he “[doesn’t] think [he] had a particularly super, super awful childhood,” putting himself in the situation of the child-rearer is a way for him to understand and make peace with the parental mistakes that might have hurt him during his real childhood.

"Allow yourself to empathize with the people of your past—when you become the age that they were, it helps let go of a lot. […] When I’m trying to figure out the things holding me back in my life these days, looking back is a good place to start." — Bonnette to Paste Magazine, August 2016

Thanks to this approach, Bonnette becomes able to fully embrace his present and future, to deal with his neuroses and his trauma, and to transform himself into the positive and driving force that he needs to get through life as he bridges 30 years old.

“The imagery in the song is the devil coming out of yourself", he says later in the interview. Here, for Bonnette, learning to understand the demons that shaped you is an essential step to fully loving yourself.

(Via genius.com)

[coffinbrotherr]

Istg I keep seeing videos in my recommend that have either Andrew or Ashley sprites in the thumbnail and it's always in the lines of "shock storytelling is BAD" or "this needs to STOP" (I'm not providing examples as to not install a witchhunt but if youve seen them, you know EXACTLY who im talking about.) and I dont...I don't get why? Like, ok genuinely I'm having an actual hard time understanding why because being disturbed and being made uncomfortable is quite literally the definition of horror, so why is it a problem now.

To I guess throw my hat into the ring, I'd like to explain why i personally think incest integral to Tcoaal not only because I'm just fucking tired of seeing people not like the game just because of that aspect and I'm not knocking those people because of it because people can not like things for specific reasons, for example I am not one for horror involving teeth or the mouth so I tend to ignore horror media that prominently use those as setpieces. I'm mainly talking about people that bash it without actually playing it and people that see it at surface level and just make a Baseless assumption because to me and obviously a lot of other people as it still has great reviews, Tcoaal is wonderfully written and that IS thanks to its incest themes.

We see that throughout the game, Ashley obviously loves her brother, not only in the romantic sense but also in the power dynamic. While some aspects have yet to be revealed about thier relationship as we still only have two chapters, Ashley obviously manipulates Andrew and has since they were little as evident by the hide and seek flashback. It's incredibly obvious that Ashley likes control over people and since she doesn't really have anyone else that's closer to her, she uses Andrew exclusively as he's always been there with her figuratively and literally. While this behavior definitely comes from a sense of loneliness and fear of losing the one person that tolerates her as not even thier own parents wanted to stay around them let alone her, I think it also comes down to enjoying the control. Genuinely think about the story of the game for a sec, could you imagine being in that exact situation we see the siblings in. The closest thing we can even relate it to is covid, and we could at least still leave the house to an extent and have things sent to us that we wanted. Imagine going through all that not being able to leave, literally having the bare minimum of food being dropped off to you and being FORCED to stay inside not with a slap on the wrist but with active threats of death even though you know other people get to freely live outside peacefully. Not only is that terrifying but it gives a lot more insight to Ashley's character as she's literally stuck in a place she cannot control in an unfounded situation that is positively awful, but she does have one thing she can control, she has one person she can make exclusively hers and make him do whatever she wants through manipulation and the connection with love. The same goes for Andrew as we know Andrew was at least a bit more popular with people to the point where he even had a girlfriend (Julia) and to have literally all that stripped away from him is tragic, however for him there's one more person he can interact with, one person that cares about him and truly does love him in a way only they can share. It's a beautifully horrific way of telling a story because on the outside, it just looks like "oh hah hah, that's the incest cannibalism game" but if you actually played it you would see not only is the writing genuinely funny but also incredibly smart with its subtle meaning and player interpretation. It's NOT glorifying incest, it is actively showing an incredibly toxic relationship that was made through the circumstances and actions taken with both characters and to say it's just "shock storytelling" or "it's just trying to glorify incest" is just wrong, it's using the incest to further the narrative and that's why I personally find this game to be my favorite work of horror.

But that was just my interpretation, I'd love to hear your guy's views on it because I'd love to further the discussion and potentially add to my analysis as this was just something I wrote at 12:30 AM in bed. I could go on and on about my personal analysis but a lot of it would just be me being genuinely pretty annoyed with the games detractors and overall just make for a poor reading experience.

[denimbex1986]

'On a recent winter day in New York when the sun was shining, Andrew Scott rushed into a coffee shop between recording sessions for an upcoming series.

“I’m scheduled tighter than a teenage pop star,” he said, beaming.

The interview had been postponed once, and the location was switched at the last minute to save Scott some time in traffic. But he sat down fully engaged and eager to start talking. Immediately, though, a passerby tapped on the storefront glass and asked for a photo. Scott, without a grumble, sprinted out to oblige, even though the gesture seemed more like a command (“You’re under arrest,” joked Scott) than a polite request.

Scott, the 47-year-old Irish actor, is in demand like never before. That’s partly due to accrued good will. A regular presence on stage in the West End, Scott is known to many as the “Hot Priest” of “Fleabag” or the cunning Moriarty of “Sherlock.” Soon, he’ll play Tom Ripley in the Netflix series “Ripley,” adapted from the Patricia Highsmith novel.

But the real reason Scott’s time is short right now is Andrew Haigh’s new film, “All of Us Strangers.” In it, Scott plays a screenwriter working on a script about his childhood. The film is gently poised in a metaphysical realm; when Adam (Scott) returns to his childhood home, he finds his parents (Claire Foy, Jamie Bell) as they were before they died many years earlier.

At the same time, the movie, loosely adapted from Taichi Yamada’s 1987 book “Strangers,” balances a budding romance with a neighbor ( Paul Mescal ), a relationship that unfolds with profound reverberations of family, intimacy and queer life. In a dreamy, longing ghost story, Scott is its aching, shimmering soul.

“The challenge of it was to try to go to that place but not gild the lily too much,” Scott says. “As an actor, I have to be in touch with that playful side of myself and that part of you that’s childish. I was actually quite struck by how vulnerable I looked in the film.”

Scott’s acutely tender performance has made him a contender for the Academy Awards. He was named best actor by the National Society of Film Critics. At the Golden Globes on Sunday (Scott wore a white tux and t-shirt), he was nominated for best actor in a drama.

Scott has long admired actors like Anthony Hopkins, Judi Dench and Meryl Streep — performers with a sense of humor who, he says, “are able to understand what you feel and what you present.” Scott, too, is often funny on screen (see Lena Dunham’s medieval romp “Catherine Called Birdy” ). And even in quiet moments, he seems to be buzzing inside at some discreet frequency. Something is always going on under the surface.

He’s been acting since he was young; drama classes were initially a way to get over shyness. Scott’s first film role came at age 17. He has often spoken about seeking to maintain a childlike perspective in acting. In that way, “All of Us Strangers” is particularly fitting. On Adam’s trips home, he sort of morphs back into the child he was. In one scene, he wears his old pajamas and crawls into bed with his parents.

“So many of the things that are required of you as an actor are a sense of humor and some ability to be able to put yourself in a situation. Because it’s all down to imagination,” says Scott. “For me, that’s the thing you need to keep. That’s the thing — because I started out when I was young — I don’t want to move too far away from. Like when kids go, ‘OK, you be this and I’ll be this.’ That ability doesn’t leave us. What does leave us is a lack of self-consciousness. Our job is to hold on to that.”

Haigh, the British filmmaker of “45 Years” and “Weekend,” began thinking of Scott for the role early on. They met and talked through the script for a few hours.

“He’s a similar generation to me. He’s a tiny bit younger than me, but he’s from the same generation,” says Haigh. “He understands that experience.”

Scott came out publicly in 2013, but his natural inclination is to be private. “I feel like I’ve given so much of myself in the film, you think you don’t want to give it all away,” he says. He describes “All of Us Strangers” — which Haigh shot partly in his childhood home — as personal, but not autobiographical in its depiction of the alienation that can linger after coming out.

“Mercifully, I feel very comfortable for the most part. But it stays with you that pain, and it actually makes you more compassionate, I think. Because we shot in Andrew’s childhood home, that sort of threw down the gauntlet in relation to how much of his own personality he was giving,” says Scott. “I wanted it to be sort of unadorned, unarmored and raw. That’s why I think there’s such tenderness in the film.”

Scott has sometimes recoiled from how sexuality is talked about the media and in Hollywood. He recently said the phrase “openly gay” should be done away with. As of late December, Scott hadn’t yet watched “All of Us Strangers” with his parents, though he planned to.

“The best way to express it is to say I’ll be very sensitive to how they watch it and how they feel about it, and how it makes me feel them watching it,” Scott says.

The tenderness in the film is also owed in part to Scott’s chemistry with Mescal. On-screen chemistry is an amorphous quality that the film industry has long tried to turn into a science with camera tests and marketing that flirts with real-life romance.

But for Scott, it’s something different. He and Phoebe Waller-Bridge had chemistry, overwhelmingly, in “Fleabag,” but that didn’t have anything to do with sexual attraction. Pinpointing that quality is something Scott pondered during Simon Stephens and Sam Yates’ recent staging of Chekhov’s “Uncle Vanya” at the National Theater. Scott played all eight roles, meaning he essentially had to have chemistry with himself.

“Chemistry isn’t just about sexual chemistry. It’s something to do with listening, and I think it’s something to do with playfulness,” Scott says. “Your ability to listen to someone and take note of what someone is doing is chemistry. You have to wait and see what the other actor is doing.”

A few moments later, Scott will have to rush out just as quickly as he arrived. But before that, he leaned back, naturally lit by the winter sun, and pondered whether “All of Us Strangers,” in the nakedness of his performance, had taken him somewhere he hadn’t before been as an actor.

“Yeah, I think so,” said Scott. “Or else to return to something that perhaps I’ve been before.”'

[ninyard]

HI this is NOT the codependency in the nest anon but shoutout to you and that anon for getting my wheels spinning on this. so. im kind of just imagining kevin spiraling to the point that he can’t even look at exy anymore. truly cannot even think about it bc thinking about the sport his mom made, the sport he played with riko, the sport that made him who he is, is all a bit too much.

also thinking about the absolute media circus that’s going to erupt specifically around kevin. not only with the whole skiing statement, but also surrounding the foxes win, and obviously also concerning riko’s death. and Literally All Of It just comes back to that grief — for his mom, for riko, for who he could have been had none of this ever happened. and his main method of coping (throwing himself into exy and not thinking about it, if you can call that coping) does not work here.

(i also think that he finds himself missing the number two tat just because that was familiar, at the very least, before he forcibly pulls himself away from that thought).

Kevin not being able to look at exy is such a valid point to make bc if he's hit with the overwhelming grief of his mom dying and Riko dying it's just like all of a sudden, the reasons behind why he played exy are just gone. his purpose!! his life!!!!!! everything he stayed alive for is just suddenly too painful to even think about

and then him going through all of this, mourning both his mom and Riko at the same time, all while every sports magazine and exy media wants him as their headline cover star. gossip magazines with paparazzi pics because back then nobody cared that a celebrity was hurting or mourning; it just made people want those pictures even more. he literally cannot escape it. if he stays inside, he thinks too much about it, but for once in his life he can't go to the court, he can't look at Andrew because as much as he knows he didn't kill Riko, it still hurts too much to think about the snapping of his arm and the sound of his screams. he can't talk to Neil, for a while, because he was there. Neil saw it happen and he didn't. is it jealousy? is it anger, or sadness? nobody understands completely what he's going through. he can't go out in public because people are just dying to talk to him and get the front page exclusive.

and then he covered up his tattoo <24hrs before Riko died. he covered up. his tattoo. and less than 24 hours later Riko was dead.

it's all just so painful and so isolating and so lonely for him. he blames himself, he's happy, he's sad, it's confusing. Jean might've been the only person who could've somewhat really truly got how he was feeling, but even then, the way Kevin felt was too personal and too unique to him and what he went through for Jean to fully understand it in the way Kevin needed someone to

[dreamwritesimagines]

Garden of Secrets - Extra Scene 1

A.N: So I got very inspired and excited by your wonderful asks and comments my loves! ❤️ I hope you like this extra scene, it was inspired by this ask ❤️ 

Well.

This was quite shocking.

Josie couldn’t decide whether she wanted to laugh or freeze. She had been staring at the letter for the last minute, the lines quite simple to understand and yet she couldn’t wrap her mind around them;

“By the way, I’m engaged now to that annoying artist I mentioned before. I’ll send you the details about the wedding.”

“My love?”

Josie blinked a couple of times as Bess made her way to her, then wrapped her arms around her waist from behind to rest her chin on her shoulder.

“Bess,” Josie said, holding up the letter. “Would you please read me the last part of this letter? Out loud?”

Bess pulled her brows together, then her eyes skimmed the lines.

“By the way, I’m engaged now to that annoying artist I mentioned before. I’ll send you the details about the wedding— this is lovely, who’s getting married?”

“Oh so I’m not imagining this,” Josie murmured and Bess let out a small laugh.

“Who’s getting married?”

“My sister.”

Bess pulled back slightly. “…Clover?”

“Jesus Christ—do you think she’s kidnapped?” Josie asked as she stepped out of Bess’s arms to make her way to the drawer to pull it open. “Is she writing to me from an asylum of the sort? Would I even know if she was in an asylum?”

“I don’t think people in those unfortunate places can send letters my darling,” Bess threw herself onto the bed. “Besides, the address is the same is it not?”

“It looks like her handwriting…” Josie muttered to herself as she pulled out the letters and Bess let out a laugh.

“What are you doing?”

“Listen to this;” Josie said as she opened one of the letters. “I’ve also met one of the most infuriating artists in the entire world, his name is Benedict Bridgerton and I cannot even begin to explain just how much he vexes me. He followed me around the museum I had to attend the other day, and auntie saw it. I admit that he’s very good looking, but he is very much aware of it so I suppose that convinced him that every lady must be under his spell. It’s so annoying, I hope he leaves me alone the next time we see each other. ”

“Aw she said he’s very good looking!” Bess said. “Did not take that long to fall under his spell I take it?”

“Another one,” Josie said, pulling out another letter. “I decided that I hate Benedict Bridgerton, that artist I told you about in my last letter. He had the audacity to show up at the same flower exhibition I attended, ask me for a dance for that night’s ball in front of auntie so I had to say yes, and then came to the ball near the end of the night and dared assume I was heartbroken for not being able to dance with him. Can you believe that? Josie, can you believe the audacity this man has?”

“Why was he late?”

“I have no idea and it’s not even the last of it,” Josie said. “This gossip paper wrote about me and Benedict Bridgerton and auntie seems convinced that I could have feelings for him when all I feel for him is annoyance. As if that’s not enough, he decided to— this goes on and on.” Josie threw the paper on the table. “Line after line about this artist, about just how much she hates him and how much he annoys her, and she is marrying him?”

“Who’s marrying who?” a voice reached them and Josie turned her head. Andrew gave her a big smile and wiggled his brows before entering the room, carrying a bowl of dried fruit. “Who has made my beautiful wife so displeased this early in the morning?”

“Were you not spending the night at Martin’s estate?” Bess asked, tilting her head and Andrew shrugged his shoulders.

“I don’t think I shall be spending any night at Martin’s estate again, my dearest cousin,” he said, flinging himself next to her and Bess shot him a look.

“Lover’s spat?”

“Lover’s separation, more likely.”

Bess hissed in a breath. “Ouch, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, worse things happen every day. It’s not like I woke up to his dead body next to me.”

Bess slapped his arm. “Ugh, when will you let that go?”

“Never. Your late husband, may he rest in peace, managed to surprise you for once in his very short time with you and you think I will let that go—how long were you married for by the way, when he tragically passed away? A year?”

Bess rolled her eyes. “Shut it.”

Andrew let out a chuckle. “He lasted longer than I thought he would. I was sure he would have died on his way to chapel.”

“So did I,” Bess pointed out and Andrew tilted his head.

“Josie? Who’s getting married?”

Josie held up the letter and shook her head. “How is she marrying him?” she asked. “She keeps saying she hates him in all these letters.”

“There’s a thin line between love and hate,” Andrew said wistfully. “Will you two tell me who’s getting married or…?”

“My sister,” Josie murmured without looking up from the letter and Andrew gasped.

“Aw, our Clover is getting married?” he asked, pressing a hand on his chest. “I feel emotional. It feels like just yesterday that I met her and she gave me a list of everything that my father’s gardener was doing wrong in our garden—”

“Do you think he’s forcing her?” Josie asked, her brows pulled into a frown. “Because if he’s forcing her into anything, I’m going to have to kill him.”

Andrew and Bess exchanged glances.

“Fun.” Andrew deadpanned. “It’s been a while since I last saw someone kill someone.”

“Stop encouraging her—I feel like she would tell you if she were being forced,” Bess said quickly and Andrew threw a raisin in the air, then caught it with his mouth.

“Does this mean we’re going back to England?” he asked. “I mean don’t get me wrong, I love Spain but...I’d like to see that house father left us at the very least.”

“Left you, you mean.”

“You’re my best friend and technically my wife so what’s mine is yours, we’ve been over this,” Andrew told Josie and turned to Bess. “I’m sure we can find someone to die next to you there too Bess—”

He was cut off when Bess grabbed the pillow and smacked it at his arm, making him chuckle and reach out to pull her into a tight hug.

“Sorry!”

“I hate you so much,” Bess said with a smile before her head snapped up. “Wait, I think I also have a house there somewhere as a part of my inheritance.”

“Ah, I forgot about that!” Andrew exclaimed. “Yes you do!”

“I mean it’s a small one, but it’s still something.”

Andrew nodded his head. “Almost makes up for the fact that he died next to you to leave you that house.”  

“Andrew, so help me God…”

Josie clicked her tongue and folded the paper in her hand.

“Do you two think it’s safe?” she asked. “To go back?”

“Didn’t you say your parents were not in London?” Andrew asked. “I’d say it’s very safe. And even if they do show up there, we can handle them. I promise.”

Josie thought for a moment, nibbling on her lip before she rolled her eyes.

“Fine,” she ended up saying, making Andrew clap his hands together and Bess let out a giggle. “I suppose we’re going back to England.”

[ifitmeanslosingyouthenno]

though i am bruised, face of contusions (know I’ll keep movin')

day 22 whumptober prompt: bleeding through bandages | reopening wounds | “oh, that’s not good” 

tw talks of rape / non con (non explicit)

it was dark by the time neil stumbled to the familiar parking lot of wymack's apartment building 

he wasn't ready to face andrew yet, and he couldn't deal with his teammates concern right now

back in may he hadn’t imagined he would be able to walk into a middle aged man's apartment willingly, a place he associated with safety

today had been rough enough he needed safety

wymack had proven so far that he wouldn’t hurt neil, neither physically nor... he wouldn't hurt neil

he hadn’t expected to take so long, had no actual idea what the time was but if the sun was down in the middle of summer it could be past 10 pm 

every step is an agony against his side, against his back, deep in his belly 

every breath burns and every inhale reminds him of the fact that he's worn his binder for too long 

he can't bear the idea of taking it off right now 

wymack had made neil keep the spare key, but neil lost it somewhere during the day's events, so he knocks on the door instead

wymack wrenches the door open like he wants to take it off its hinges, but a mix of surprise and concern wash out the fury on his face when he sees neil

"where the hell have you been?" he demands, looking neil up and down, pausing more than on one place. it makes neil shiver. "andrew

got back from columbia hours ago. matt called me to say you weren't with them. what the hell happened to you?"

he's looking at neil with too wide eyes, trying hard to pretend he's not worried

if neil looks at all how he feels he kind of gets why

he can't make himself answer wymack, not when he's trying to pretend today didn't happen, not when he's trying to forget everything 

"can i stay here for a little while?" he settles on, despite knowing it doesn't answer anything

"shit kid what the-" 

he goes to grab neil to haul him inside, but neil flinches away out of habit, everything from today too fresh in his pained psyche

he can't make himself look wymack in the eye, there's an apology in the tip of his tongue

from the corner of his eye, he sees wymack take a deep breath 

"just come inside"

he follows wymack, wrapping his arms around his middle 

he trips on his own two feet before he reaches the living room, having to catch himself on the wall at his side 

"oh that's not good"

the words slip from his mouth before he even thinks about it but thats okay

his vision is blurry, the world around him tilting to the side and wymack is right there in front of him with the phone pressed to his ear

"neil’s back, i need your help"

no, no, knowing wymack it's probably abby on the phone, neil doesn’t need her, doesn't need anyone's help, he can deal with this on his own-

"i don't need abby"

"you're covered in fucking blood josten, i decide that you need abby"

"i can stitch myself up, i don't- she doesn't need to come" 

"she says she's on her way"

neil groans, fight spilling out of him just along with his own blood 

well if she's on her wait he might as well-

"can she bring me some pads?"

"you got that?" he says into the phone, and neil slowly sinks into the floor, wincing as he sits with his back against the wall, waves of pain shooting up his spine 

its okay, hes okay, he can handle this, its nothing he hasn’t handled before, he can leave this behind along with the countless other times 

wymack grunts, still talking with abby,"ask him when you get here" 

he pauses for a second, and if neil were any more aware he'd think of his pause as worrisome, of his gaze too suspicious

but he doesn't notice either, too focused on breathing through the pain and locking the memories away

"neil"

he snaps his eyes open, putting away the memory of dark eyes and ginger head and a leering smile 

wymack is looking at him

neil just hums

"abby’s asking if you've been getting the testosterone shots"

he's far too tired to understand the relevance of the question but answers yes regardless

"she says with how long you've been taking them you shouldn't be getting your period"

neil freezes, eyes wide as he stares at wymack without actually staring at him

the ghost of hands and lips on his skin threaten to overtake him, the weight on top of him is suffocating, the pain inside him ripping him in half 

he can't fucking breathe

his hands are digging into his sides, tearing open the wounds he'd hastily bandaged with part of the hoodie he managed to steal 

there's something too much like understanding in wymack's gaze 

how did they figure it out?

his voice is a trembling whisper, "please don't"

the word burns on the way out, and it echoes in his head, the memory of it being ignored earlier that very day too many times along with "no"s and "stop"s too fresh to stop his skin from crawling

he digs his fingers deeper into his side, until he feels the blood blooming freely again

god he just wants to rest, he just wants to take a break

he's so fucking tired

"not today", he says softly

wymack's gaze softens uncharacteristically, but instead of the pity neil was expecting there's pain and grief in his eyes 

"okay, abby asks how heavy the bleeding is, for the pad"

if he had any blood to spare, he'd blush, out of shame, out of rage, out of defeat

"very"

he hangs up not long after, and despite neil wanting to drown in the silence wymack doesn't let the silence drag

"do you want me to call the cops?"

that startles neil so much he almost laughs, almost

"there's no use in that"

"you could press charges"

he's reminded of when he was younger, the first time at only 13 when he'd come to mary and told her he'd been raped by an adult at his school, how angry she had been at him, how she'd called him stupid and an idiot for letting it happen, how when he'd timidly asked if he should tell the cops she'd slapped him

how he just had to suck it up and deal with it

how it was something that happened sometimes

"no"

he didn't tell her when it happened again

he didn't tell her any other time that it happened again 

"he paid when i made smashed a bottle in his head"

that's too much information and nothing at all at the same time, but neil didn't even wait around long enough to see if he was alive, bleeding and hurting and with glass stuck in his side

he ran as soon as he could

to his relief, there's no judgement in wymack's face, no anger, no disgust

its enough he releases the tightness of his arms across his abdomen and he gasps involuntarily at the pain of the scratches and torn up skin and the deeper wound in his side 

"come on, you're bleeding through your shirt, let's start getting you cleaned up"

i kinda lost track of the prompt and got carried away but i kinda liked what came of it at the end funnily enough second fic with dadmack and like the third fic with a less painful ending fkksd title from cut my lip by twenty one pilots

[sirfrogsworth]

I really don't want to talk about this anymore.

I've had way too many strangers making assumptions about my genitals which I find deeply uncomfortable. They can't seem to fathom that I care about body shaming as a whole and do not pick and choose which parts of the body I think are okay to be shamed. Maybe people are unaware that I have been fat shamed all my life and so maybe I'm sensitive to any body part being judged. I've talked about boobs and stretch marks and labia and penises and have a pretty consistent history of discussing body shaming in general.

If you want to know the actual details about my junk... well... you're gonna have to woo me. I'm talking a proper romancing. I want poetry and flowers and dinner at a super fancy restaurant like The Pasta House.

Moving on...

I've been informed that "small dick energy" is just a metaphor and anyone who felt shame or hurt feelings by this expression should just explain this to their feelings and they will then magically go away.

Because feelings are always logical and able to understand subtle nuance.

Imagine it was "fat person energy." It's a metaphor to describe people like Trump or Sarah Huckabee Sanders or Chris Christie or Roseanne. People who are loud and insufferable. It's not meant to insult the good fat people.

Doesn't really work, does it?

If you get frustrated when conservatives use mental gymnastics to justify something, please consider avoiding this tactic yourself.

This expression is rooted in body shaming. It relies on the idea that "small penis = bad or insecure." Just seeing the words "small penis" in a negative connotation is plenty to trigger dysmorphic feelings.

Again, Greta's response was what it needed to be. It was the exception that proves the rule. Andrew Tate deserved that and more. But the torrent of body shaming that followed that epic comeback was depressing.

I'm not saying anyone is a bad person. Sometimes people dig in and try to make excuses because they don't want to be considered the bad guy. But I am not saying anyone is bad here. I'm just trying to improve awareness.

And I understand it sucks to lose such an effective insult from the arsenal. Trying to shoo away asshole cis men online is exhausting and it is nice to have something easy and reliable to say to get them to fuck off. Giving up an effective tool like that can be frustrating. But sometimes doing the right thing sucks.

I'll leave you with this image someone added to the original post. I think this sums everything up pretty well.

[no-where-new-hero]

LANTERN HILL CATCH UP POST AT LAST! Analysis under the cut so the post doesn't destroy everyone's timelines.

CH. 2:

LMM really knows how to put her heroines on the torture rack of family disapproval. We just went through Valancy's under the Stirlings and I know Emily's off by heart, but there's something even more terrible about the way Jane is treated because she's not 29 and therefore somewhat more acquainted with life, nor does she have Emily's soul-armor of imagination. As an object of belittling, she has very little to shield herself when her entire world is her unpleasant family around her. Love this line, I've definitely been there too lol.

Sometimes Jane thought drearily that there must be something the matter with her when there were so many people she didn't like.

CH. 3:

Jane got up and walked out of the summer-house and around the garage, past the lonely dog-house that had never had a dog in it…at least, in Jane's recollection…

Disappointed (Dog)House.

Again Jane felt a thrill of understanding. So this girl was afraid of people, too.

Jane is an unusual socially-centric LMM heroine from what I can tell. Valancy and Emily disappear into blue castles or nature to cope. Anne is intensely sociable, but she wins over everyone: she's never allowed the grimier side of humanity to put fear in her. So the fact that this is what stands against Jane and Jody marks a change: they would like to partake in the freedom of society but mores stand against Jody and Grandmother stands against Jane.

CH. 4:

Ahem. Mother's complete and utter lack of compassion for Jody is where the problems begin to arise, I see. I'm also a bit impressed that Jane is able to see her mother's "weakness" so unerringly at 10. It shows how the circumstances of always living in terror of Grandmother has provoked a trauma response of being too precocious at reading people. Grandmother continues to make my blood boil. This following passage REALLY shows LMM's mastery in making the most of an economical scene:

She stood in the doorway and looked at them. You could feel the silence spreading through the room like a cold, smothering wave. "What does this mean, Victoria...if I am allowed to ask?" "This is...Jody," faltered Jane. "I...I brought her over to give her my doll. She hasn't any." "Indeed? And you have given her the one your Aunt Sylvia gave you?" Jane at once realized that she had done something quite unpardonable. It had never occurred to her that she was not at liberty to give away her own doll.

And Jane DOES have a blue castle! Of course LMM couldn't leave her without a coping mechanism. Calling it a "moon spree" is absolutely delightful and henceforth anytime I fall into daydreams I'm going to call it a moon spree.

CH 5:

All she knew about him was that his name must have been Andrew Stuart, because mother was Mrs Andrew Stuart.

Okay not gonna lie this broke my heart a little. She doesn't even know his name qua his name. It probably had never been directly spoken to her. I have to say I love her audacity (even if unintended) in dropping the bombshell question in the mother of Grandmother's tea party. I can only imagine the tempest in the teapot that followed Jane's departure.

But the most terrible thing about it all was that there was something now that could not be talked over with mother. Jane felt it between them, indefinable but there. The old perfect confidence was gone.

And this stuck under my skin. Of course Jane would avoid the subject like the plague, but what's keeping Robin from providing her daughter with some necessary context? Grandmother's prohibition on mentioning him seemed mostly directed at Jane. I'm sure more about Robin will unfold, but keeping in mind a lot of stuff other people have posted about her, I think her cardinal sin is this kind of selfish immaturity. She has learned to love her daughter, probably because Jane insists on being self-reliant, but because of that she probably can't see what she can do to help Jane's suffering.

CH 6:

Mary did not tell Jane that she firmly believed the old lady had poisoned the dog. You didn't tell children things like that and anyway she couldn't be dead sure of it. All she was sure of was that old Mrs Kennedy had been bitterly jealous of her daughter's love for the dog.

MRS. KENT ENERGY. I feel certain someone else in the book club brought this up, but wow the resemblance is strong with this one. And a way into deciphering Teddy's character based on Robin? Certainly, the selfishness and immaturity doesn't seem a stretch to imagine.

"I expect you to obey me without argument, Victoria. You cannot have your own way all the time. Other people's wishes must be considered occasionally. Please oblige me by making no further fuss over a trifle."

Okay of all Grandmother's travesties, this one takes the cake for me. I want to slap the daylights out of this woman so badly.

CH. 7:

Kenneth Howard has peaked eyebrows...brother under the skin to Barney Snaith. Now, all jokes aside, Jane projecting onto Kenneth Howard kind of hit a personal nerve. And the fact that it's yet another thing that Robin can't talk about...like, WOMAN. Please be normal about men to your 11 year old daughter or neither of you may ever recover. I'm curious how this thread will be taken up again later.

CH. 8:

Something about the fact that Robin can't even tell her own daughter that she did a good job in front of Grandmother, no matter what Grandmother herself thinks, makes me wonder what kind of threat Robin finds herself under. Because Grandmother so determinedly "loves" Robin, she doesn't seem likely to wield sarcasm against her. Yes, she kind of orders her about and turns her into her doll, but that's less active cruelty than what she says to Jane. What is Robin so afraid of that prevents her from supporting her daughter? That Jane will be harmed if she seems too loved, like her dog? Yet if Robin is that aware of what's going on and doing nothing about it--dramatically saying that its too late for them to escape--then Robin is literally as damaging to Jane's well-being as Grandmother is.

[pascaloverx]

To Begin Again

SIXTEEN

Summary: You're a new teacher at a large and influential school. It's a risky step for you, as you've been running from your ex for almost two years. But when Dumbledore asks you to take on a class at the renowned Hogwarts, you can't refuse. However, your life as a newly arrived teacher won't be easy. Especially when the other teachers don't seem eager to make friends. Or rather, two teachers in particular: Sirius Black and Remus Lupin.

Author's Note: Welcome, dear readers. Please leave your comments if you enjoy fanfiction. This fanfic takes place almost in the real world (with the addition of werewolves) and is not a wizarding fanfic. There will be some differences and changes in things from the Harry Potter story or other fanfics in the HP universe, but I promise to do my best writing this fanfic. There will be a love triangle coming in this fanfic. So, dear readers, just as in this fanfic it's meant to imagine Remus Lupin as being Andrew Garfield and Sirius Black as being Ben Barnes, now I present to you the fancast of Severus Snape as being actor Enzo Vogrincic. Imagine him as Snape if you can.

FIFTEEN SEVENTEEN

Sirius regained consciousness some time later, while you were tending to the boys' injuries. Harry had woken up just minutes after the young man, whom you suspect to be Sirius’ brother, had left. However, Sirius hasn’t said a word since he realized where he was. He stares into the distance, occasionally seeming like he’s about to speak to Harry or you, but nothing comes out. All you hear from him are murmurs of agony, likely due to the wound on his arm. Surprisingly, Draco and Harry have been cooperating well while you’re all trapped in this makeshift cell in an unknown location. The bars confining you are made of an extremely resilient material.

"Professor Y/L/N, do you think we can take a bath once we get out of here? I can't stand the stench of this place anymore. It's like it's seeping into my soul," Draco asks while helping you change Harry's bandage. Harry, who had been expressionless until now, lets out a soft, faint laugh. You’re not sure if Malfoy noticed that he managed to make Potter smile, but you feel a bit of relief in being with your students during such a difficult time.

"I hate to agree with Malfoy on this, but the smell of this place is making my nose burn. Especially with all of us stuck here with Draco, who gets sweatier the more scared he gets," Harry comments softly but with more clarity. Draco looks at Harry, almost unable to comprehend how a boy who was suffering so much could still have the strength to tease him.

"Very funny, Potter. But professor, don’t listen to what Harry’s saying. I’m only sweating because it’s too hot in here. Actually, smarty-pants, everyone’s sweating here," Draco remarks in a more playful manner, not intending to offend anyone. Both boys smile as if they’ve reached a common understanding. You watch them, and your heart reminds you that you must protect them, especially since it’s likely that Harry’s parents are dead and you promised Draco’s mother you would take care of him.

"Hey, boys. When we get out of here, I promise this awful stench will just be a memory of the time we survived together. And everyone will be able to take a nice bath and put on as much perfume as they want. Deal?" You step in on their playful banter, trying to give them a sense of certainty—not just about the bath or the end of the stench that assaults your noses, but about getting out of there. Something lights up in the boys' faces. They seem to believe in you.

"Professor, can you fix my godfather?" Harry’s simple yet desperate question makes you feel the weight of the world on your shoulders. The Potter family was hurt right in front of him, and it’s obvious he’s worried about his godfather. Sirius is all he has left. You nod in confirmation and gently run your hand over Harry’s head, giving him a soft, comforting touch.

"I'll try. But I need a favor from both of you. Cover your ears and think about something you want to do when you're back at Hogwarts. Whether it's causing trouble in class or taking luxurious baths, just close your eyes and cover your ears." You don't want to tell them, but the darkness makes it likely that Sirius is in worse shape than he appears. Before anything else, you need to make him presentable—you don’t want to traumatize them. They immediately, without further discussion, do as you say. You then turn to crawl over to where Sirius is. The light in the cell is terrible, but you manage to make out Black after some time trying. Sirius has eyes full of anger and tears streaming down his face. His hair is a mess, as if he had run his hands through it repeatedly. When he looks at you, it seems like you can connect with him.

"No." That’s all Sirius says as he contorts himself to press more tightly against the cell wall, moving away from you. You watch him, but you don’t approach any closer.

"It's not your fault. If there were a way to undo all of this, I know you would." You speak softly, trying not to raise your voice so Harry and Draco can stay at peace, or at least be spared from extra worries.

"I watched them burn. I saw James's desperate face as the flames grew. And now, I see his son here, desperate for a way out of this situation. And it's all my fault!" Sirius criticizes himself so angrily, as he beats his hands against his chest. You walk over to him and take his hands in yours. Firmly, you pull his hands away from his chest.

"Your best friend died because of whoever set his car on fire. Because of whoever trapped us here. Never because of you. But we can try a way to escape. Get Harry and Draco to a safe place." You look deep into Sirius’s gray eyes as you explain what needs to be done. Your heart is heavy because the only way out of there could cost someone’s life, and you hope that if something bad is to happen, it happens to you.

"Y/N, I’m useless for any damn plan you have. I have a wound in my stomach that's been bleeding for hours. If there’s a way for you and the kids to get out of here…" Sirius says, his voice trailing as if speaking requires an immense effort. Your main urge is to cry, out of fear of losing him. But you promised yourself when you woke up in this damned cell that you would stay strong until you were safe. You then reach into your coat pocket and show Sirius a small vial you found there.

"Narcissa left this in my pocket. Now I can only think that she knew what was going to happen. But it doesn’t matter. The vial contains a small dose of moon dust. It will make me transform. That way, I’ll have the strength to break the bars that trap us all. What I need from you is to take the kids and keep them out of my sight. At least while I’m a wolf. Then get out of here." It seems crazy, everything he's proposing. But it's the best he can do. Ensuring an escape for the three of them. Honestly, at the beginning of your time at Hogwarts, you never imagined you’d be sacrificing yourself for two boys who constantly bicker with each other and a man who drives you mad in the worst possible way. But now, it's what you want to do.

"I’m not leaving here without you. Especially if it means leaving you behind transformed. If anyone tries to…" Sirius seems a bit distraught by his own thoughts about the worst that could happen if they follow your plan. You gently touch his face, letting out a deep sigh.

"I don't want anything bad to happen either. But we need to take the risk. The kids are terrified. And we don’t even know how the others are. Lupin might need you. Taking this risk is a small price to pay." You want to convince yourself almost as much as you want to convince him. Fear is inside you, making you dread the idea of transforming, but there’s no time or space for your terror.

"It's not a small price to me. Risking you… it’s not going to happen." Sirius is stubborn, and his persistence almost seems like there's another way, but there isn't. You look into his eyes once more, then pull him in for a final kiss. Just in case you don't make it.

"No matter what happens next, take the kids, keep them away from me; preferably, don't come back here. I’ll be hoping that you can get back to Hogwarts safely." You say as you pull away from Sirius. He doesn’t seem happy with your decisive tone, but he nods, as if even though he disagrees with you, he’s determined to save his godson and cousin.

“Survive, Y/L/N. Don’t make me have to bury you.” Sirius says, and with some effort, he gets up. He walks over to Harry and Draco. You can’t hear what he says to the boys, but you watch them move to a corner of the cell, huddling together as Sirius covers them with his body. You take one last look at them and then grab the vial. Seconds after smelling it, you feel your transformation begin, and everything becomes blurry. Your awareness of what’s happening fades, but you position yourself as far from the boys as possible and hope for the best.

You wake up not knowing what happened, dressed under a soft bed. Your body is too sore, but you know you transformed. You hope that the kids and Sirius have gotten out of the cell. You hope you are in Hogwarts, but that hope quickly fades.

"I'm glad you've woken up. It took quite a bit of effort to get you here. But I would never let anyone harm the former love of my life, even if she tried to kill me a few times and betrayed my trust." Severus Snape says as he enters the room where you are. Shit, he must have kidnapped you while you were unconscious. And now you're in his hands.

"What are you planning, Snape?" you say, somewhat irritated, while sitting up slightly from the bed, staying at the edge of it. Snape moves closer to you and looks at you with tenderness.

"I want a fresh start for both of us. And I’m willing to tell you everything you want to know. About who is behind the terrible things that have happened to you. All in the name of your forgiveness, mi vida." He says as he holds your hand and kisses the top of it. You then brace yourself for Snape's revelations.

TO BE CONTINUED...

[fcble]

GREAT THINGS, PART II

"For God's gifts and his call are irrevocable." — Romans, 11:29.

In which Haksu's life falls apart. FEATURING: Kang Haksu, Lee Taein, Yoon Mingeun, Lim Byeonghwi, Fable ensemble WORD COUNT: 6.7k WARNINGS / NOTES: Discussions of stalking and blackmail, more heavy-handed religious themes. You can read the first part here! Not very proofread. Sorry in advance for the mistakes I definitely made. I wanted to finish this closer to the beginning of April than the end but it is what it is. I also fucked up the timeline a little bit compared to some other pieces. This is the more canon one.

DECEMBER 2017

You pass Taein's little tests with flying colors. You’re Hercules, and these are your trials. First, your one month trial period. In the beginning, it is hard. There are days when you think you can’t make it at all, when you think maybe it would be better if you gave up, that a mediocre life is not so bad. After all, most people live mediocre lives. You aren't most people.

Second, it becomes apparent by your third or fourth day that the other trainees—namely Mingeun and Jaeseop—have a vendetta against you. Mingeun leads the independent dance practices, because he has the most experience, despite being the second youngest in the room. It throws you for a loop at first—how one nineteen year old can have the same amount of idol training as everyone else combined. You don’t enjoy taking direction from him. He singles you out, though you don’t trip over your feet any more than Andrew or Intak, and asks you to repeat sections over and over again until he’s satisfied. He isn’t good at giving instructions. He’ll tell you that something is wrong, crossing his arms with his back to the mirror, but not what exactly is wrong. It doesn’t take long for you to realize he’s doing this on purpose. He doesn’t want you to succeed, and he’ll hold you back himself. You won’t let yourself be bullied by someone younger than you, so you force yourself to take his advice seriously and listen earnestly. It’s a battle of wills, and you’re going to win. 

Jaeseop is a different story. He treats you differently because you’re an outsider. He’s been with Zenith Entertainment the longest because Taein is his uncle, a fact that you learn not from him, but from Kiyoung, and then do your best to take in stride. It becomes even more important for you to impress him. He holds you at an arm's distance anyway. You can't understand it. He seems so protective of everyone else, drawing a clear line between you and them. You try, again and again, to get to know him. He gives you the cold shoulder every time, answering your questions in short sentences or single words, like he’s mimicking Intak’s speech patterns. You have to be on his good side, because you know he’s reporting everything that relates to you back to Taein. You imagine what he says about you: you don’t fit in, you’re different, they would be better off without you. The thoughts keep you up at night, despite the bone-deep tiredness that you haven’t been able to shake since you joined the company.

Third, Taein extends your trial period weeks and months at a time. You make it through your first month, and he seems surprised to see you in his office again, come the new year. He changes it up on you, amending the parameters of your old deal.

“A month isn’t nearly long enough to learn how someone works,” he tells you. “Take a job, for instance. A new employee doesn’t immediately know everything about the position, or fit into the workplace culture. There’s always a training period.”

You haven't had the type of job he's describing, so you sit in his office and nod along. Your trial month becomes a two month trial, then a three month trial. You wear down Jaeseop and Mingeun one at a time, until they have no choice but to acknowledge you.

When your third month is over, Taein doesn't say anything. You assume you passed all his tests. You're officially a trainee now, a member of whatever Taein is planning.

Then it's summer, and everything changes.

You're going to debut. Of course, you knew this from the beginning. So did everyone else, because that's what you told them the day you joined.

Your debut announcement comes in the newly renovated meeting room. You were unaware there were still changes being made to the building, of construction going on on the floor above you. You chalk it up to being so intensely involved in your training.

Nevertheless, you sit in a spinning chair at the end of a long table, the lights dimmed to illustrate the presentation that Taein and his assistant, Yuxuan, are giving on your upcoming debut. Your group name is Fable. Your debut is slated for August 8, 2018, your twenty-first birthday. It must be fate. Your concept will be representative of Korea, and Intak is writing your debut song. More importantly, you’re going to be the main vocalist. You can feel Mingeun’s murderous gaze from across the table.

After the group announcement, Yuxuan pulls you aside and tells you Taein wishes to speak with you, individually. You don't know what that's about, but you agree. You assume he wants to speak to everyone individually.

When you’re in Taein’s office again a day later, you aren’t worried. Then he locks the door behind you, and you start to worry. You feel like you've spent more time in here than practicing with the rest of Fable, though you know that can't be right. It's the way time stretches and slows when you're sitting in front of Taein.

“You’re in a very unique position,” he says.

“That’s an interesting way of putting it,” you say. You can’t show weakness. “I want our deal to continue through my debut.”

“No.” Taein’s response is immediate. 

“Then Eunyoung-ssi will learn of your infidelity,” you say, almost apologetic.

“And you’ll ruin any chance you have of debuting.”

That would be a problem for you, but you have to pretend it doesn’t matter. You shrug. “You’re so close to finally debuting a group. Isn’t this what you left SM to do? You’ve spent so much time and money on us. It’d be a shame to throw it all away now.”

You can feel him faltering. You’ve pressed all the right buttons. You push them further. “I’m going to be the face of Fable, and you’re going to make that happen.”

Taein leans back in his seat. “So that’s what all of this is about. You’re desperate for your five minutes of fame. I can’t make anyone famous. It won’t fall into your lap.”

You hold his gaze. “You can buy it. I want every opportunity that Fable gets. If there aren’t any, you’ll make some.” You assume he has deep pockets. He can’t produce an idol group without them.

“There are other, easier ways to become famous,” Taein says, sounding almost amused. “Being an idol is a fickle position.”

It's the position you chose. You won't back down now.

"You drive a hard bargain," he continues. "I seem to have been backed into a corner." It doesn't really seem like that to you, but you keep your mouth shut, in case he decides to change his mind.

“You’ll be the face of Fable, and in return, you’ll keep my secrets to yourself.”

You nod again, this time maybe too enthusiastically. “Deal.”

Taein holds his hand out and you shake it, suddenly feeling lighter. You’re going to debut. You’re going to do great things.

“Jaeseop spoke highly of you,” he says as he unlocks the door.

You pause. “He did?”

“He admires your tenacity and your ability to work with people who don’t want to work with you. He also said you might be more stubborn that Mingeun, which may not be a compliment.”

You beam at the praise. You choose to interpret that last part as a compliment.

You’re halfway out the door, a skip in your step, when Taein stops you again. “One last thing. What were you studying?”

"Business administration," you answer. "I dropped out at the end of the school year."

He nods. "It suits you. You should consider going back."

You aren't too sure what to make of that.

APRIL 2021

You build your house with paper cards, yet you’re surprised when it comes tumbling down. You think you should have seen it coming. There were signs: Taein started work earlier and left later. Sometimes he’d stay overnight, locked up in his office, doing God knows what. You try to ask Jaeseop about him. He brushes you off and tells you not to worry. You spend a few days in that limbo between caring and not caring, poking your nose where it doesn’t belong and minding your own business.

Then the news breaks. It comes from Mingeun in the group chat—nothing more than taein’s wife is divorcing him lol. Then he changes the subject and asks if anyone’s seen his headphones. Jaeseop confirms it a minute later, then asks if you can all not talk about it.

It slights you more than it should. You know Mingeun and Jaeseop are close. You know Mingeun never takes no for an answer. You still want to be part of that in-group that gets to know the full story as it develops. 

When the news breaks in public a couple of days later, you keep track. That’s your responsibility, after ll, your finger on the pulse of any news, good or bad, about you and about Fable. You read through the reputable sources, then the less reputable ones. They talk about Taein’s past: his first divorce, his less than amicable departure from SM Entertainment, how a small company could finance a debut with as many promotions as Fable had—and all the opportunities you had. Then the next major news story breaks, and everyone forgets about Taein.

Not you. You can’t. You walk on eggshells around him, though to be honest, you don’t see him much. You know his schedule well enough to avoid him.

Until the day he asks to see you. He corners you—it seems like he knows your schedule just as well as you know his—as soon as you arrive back from a photoshoot. He stands outside the entrance to the parking garage, smoking a cigarette. Daewoong looks unfazed.

“We need to speak,” Taein says. You’ve barely had the chance to step outside.

You nod silently. You saw this coming. You watch him flick the ash off the butt of his cigarette and discard it to the ground.

You follow him into the building, and then up the elevator, still in silence. You’ll have to defend yourself soon, and you need the time to think. You can broker another deal with him. You’ll have to. You’ve grown too lax in your position, too self-assured and confident that nothing could go wrong, because nothing goes wrong until it does. You’re the face of Fable. You have more bargaining power now than you did four years ago when you were no one.

“Have a seat,” Taein says, unlocking the door to his office. You can’t remember when he started locking it.

You sit. He locks the door behind him, and that’s when you begin to think you might be in trouble.

You watch him sit in his much nicer seat and start up his computer. He’s looking at the screen when he asks, “Do you know what I wanted to talk to you about, Haksu?”

You weigh your options. You have a guess. It’s a very good guess. You don’t know what he wants to hear. It knocks you off balance.

“I can hear the gears in your head turning,” Taein says. He’s still not looking at you.

“I have a guess,” you say, perfectly neutral.

“I’d like to hear it.”

You take a deep breath. “You want to talk about our deal.”

“Precisely. You should have said it with more confidence.” Now he tears his gaze away from the screen to give you a once-over. You bear it.

You begin to lay your pieces in front of you. “The footage is irrelevant now. If I were to reveal it, it’d destroy both of us.”

You have more to say, but Taein interrupts you. “You, more than me. So you understand. It’s time we close that chapter of our lives, once and for all. We won’t need to speak of it again. It will be like it never happened.”

“Until you marry again and cheat once again.”

Taein laughs. “I’m old, Haksu-ah. I doubt I have a third marriage in me.”

He treats marriage and divorce like toys. You despise it. Marriage is a sacred covenant, not something to play with and discard. You want to weaponize it against him, but it’s difficult when he doesn’t share the same ideals as you.

“I want the other part of our bargain to stay the same,” you propose.

Taein's smile nearly vanishes. “No, I don't think so.”

Truth be told, you’re accustomed to all the good things that have come your way. The solo television appearances and jobs and endorsements and advertisements. You take it all in like a man starving. You can't give that up.

“I’m the public face of Fable,” you say. “You made me into it. Without me, who do you have?”

“It might be time for a change,” Taein muses. “Someone else can take the lead. I think Byeonghwi might be a good choice.”

He can’t be serious. Byeonghwi could never do what you do. None of them could.

“Wouldn’t it be strange?” you press. “To have someone else represent the group? The fans and the public are used to me.”

“You’re a member of a group,” Taein says in a tone that leaves little room for argument. “You’ll have to share the spotlight.”

That’s the last thing you want to do. You’ve worked hard for your place in the sun. You can’t just concede it. You grasp for straws, trying, desperately, to come up with a trump card. You find yourself lacking one. It’s no matter, you tell yourself. You found one before. You can find one again.

You swallow back any sort of lesser argument. “Fine.”

“I'm glad we're in agreement,” he says pleasantly. “You can keep the photos, if you'd like. Or you can post them online, if you'd like that more. It was never about them anyway.”

The world tilts dangerously around you. “What do you mean?” you ask, unsure if you want to hear the answer.

“All you got from them was a chance,” he says. “I will admit you forced my hand in accepting you as a trainee. Everything after that was your work.”

“Then I would have debuted anyway? I would have been the face of the group anyway? I could have shown your wife the pictures and you wouldn’t care?”

Taein nods. “It would have been unpleasant at the time. It was a surprise my marriage lasted until now.” 

You understand, suddenly, the appeal of violence. Taein, sitting directly in front of you, is the root cause of every problem you've ever had as a member of Fable, and even before that. It would be so simple to reach across his desk and—. You stop yourself. You spend too much time with Mingeun.

"Blackmailing your boss really isn't a good look, Haksu-ssi," Taein says, clearly oblivious to the thoughts racing through your mind.

You shift in your seat so that you're sitting on your hands. He seems so smug and self-confident, wielding his superior intellect over you. You can’t stand it.

"You went along with it," you say. You try to stay calm. You can feel your control slipping away from you. "You said we had a deal."

"We did," he concedes. "I would have upheld my side of the bargain no matter what. You're the one who constantly thought about it. I ask to speak to you, and the first thing you always said was something related to your blackmail. Clearly, it was important to you. You brought this upon yourself."

That was good. You know that. You wouldn't be here, if not for your investigative skills. You earned your spot, in more ways than one. And yet, there’s something about the way Taein speaks, about his tone of voice and his choice of words that make you feel like a child being reprimanded by an adult well-versed in the ways of the world. You know nothing, and he knows everything.

"It was a pleasure working with you, sajang-nim," you say, voice tight. You're not going to cry, but you think you might scream.

Taein smiles at that. “I don’t think it was for you. I appreciate your sentiment nonetheless.” 

You don't take Taein at his word. You can't. He's shown, now, that you can't trust him. You think you're playing checkers, and he's five steps ahead of you in chess. Two can play at that game. You made a bargain with him before, when you were younger and more naive. You have the experience now. And you know Taein's reputation is far from spotless.

This time around, you have a bit more money and a lot less free time. You refuse to let go of your bargain, and more importantly, you want to get Taein back. So you hire a private investigator, a middle-aged man who’s supposedly good at his job, near the high end of your budget. You do it all online, staring at your computer screen only at angles at which no one else can see it. You lay out the bare bones of your situation through emails: this is your boss, you’re a lowly employee, you’re dissatisfied with the current state of the company, you want to know if he has any sort of illegal dealings. It's a bit of a jump from the third point to the fourth, but the investigator doesn't ask. 

He gets back to you a couple of days later. You open the email minutes after it arrives, curling up on one end of your apartment’s couch with a coffee. It’s straightforward and professional. You skip over the pleasantries and focus on the important part, where the investigator has written Lee Taein’s company, Zenith Entertainment, is partially owned by Ahn Jinguk, one of the sons of Danyoung Group chairman Ahn Changok. As far as the financial state of the company is concerned, all business is legitimate. However, unless you are the heir to Samsung or Hyundai and capable of outbidding the Ahns, I will no longer be investigating Lee Taein. I wish you luck in your future investigative endeavors, should you still be interested. As a next possible step, I have attached some information about a few other individuals of interest.  

Underneath all of that is a series of names, occupations, and pictures of everyone else with a stake in Zenith Entertainment. You think you might have seen some of these people around the building before, though their names are unfamiliar. 

You’re so focused on your phone screen that you don’t register Mingeun coming up behind you, until he says, “What’re you looking at?”

His breath ghosts over your ear as he leans on the edge of the couch and peers over your shoulder. You jump, clicking your phone screen off. “Nothing.”

“I wasn’t born yesterday,” Mingeun says. You can practically hear him scowling. He’s been more of a nuisance than normal over the past couple of months, ever since Jaeseop told him he wasn’t going to be part of their upcoming promotions because he’s technically still on hiatus. “So? Talking to a girl?”

You take a moment to respond. You could tell him the truth. Now that you and everyone else know what he’s been through—what Taein put him through—you think he’d understand your decisions, even if he’s a terrible Catholic and the one time you brought him to Mass was a disaster.

“It’s a long story.”

Mingeun drops into the seat next to you. “I have all day. I didn’t think you were the type to date as an idol.”

You flush. "I'm not dating anyone. Can we talk somewhere more private?"

You don't know where Eunsu and Byeonghwi are, but you don't want to risk them overhearing your conversation, should they interrupt.

Mingeun raises an eyebrow. "Sounds exactly like what someone who isn't dating would say. Your room or mine?"

You know Mingeun's room is akin to a pig sty. "Mine."

As it turns out, your bedroom isn’t much better. It’s not like you get visitors, because you don’t have a girlfriend. You sit on your bed. Mingeun sits on the floor. There isn’t much more space in the room. Your desk is entirely monopolized by your laptop and a stack of notebooks. Your desk chair is being used as a bar stool in the kitchen, though it’s a bit too short for that.

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” you begin, because Mingeun seems a bit too fixated on that. “This is related to how I joined the group.”

Mingeun’s expression turns hostile. You can practically see him remembering your first few trainee days.

You pick and choose your words. You’ve parleyed with Taein; you can have this conversation with Mingeun. 

“I also made a deal with him,” you say, as if you two are one and the same, “though it was a bit different from yours. I discovered he was cheating on his wife. I exchanged keeping that information a secret for a debut.”

“You blackmailed him.” Mingeun’s voice is an icy monotone. “Then you came in here and took my spot.”

It sounds bad when he says it like that. You never took anyone’s spot. If you had, then Mingeun wouldn’t be here at all.

“I didn’t,” you say, but he barrels over you.

“You did. I was the best vocalist until Andrew-hyung joined, and then I was the second best vocalist until you came along. When you’re third best, you might as well be nothing. It means you’re not good enough. You’re not talented enough, you’re not skilled enough, you haven’t worked hard enough.” He’s standing now, beginning an erratic circuit around your room. 

You let him cool down a little before you speak again. “I’m sorry,” you offer, as if that's going to fix anything.

He fixes you with a baleful glance, and you're suddenly thankful he hasn't punched any holes in your walls. It looks like he's inching closer and closer to it, hands balled into fists, jaw so tight he might pop a vein. You're surprised that he doesn't have permanent indents in his palms from his fingernails.

“Did you know,” he says slowly, “that a few months before we learned we were going to debut, Taein-nim cut me from the lineup? For you.”

“I didn’t know,” you say softly, staring at the ground. “It worked out for you.”

"It did not 'work out' for me," Mingeun says, air-quotting your words back at you. "If it 'worked out' for me, I would be in NCT right now. It 'worked out' because Jaeseop-hyung argued for me. He managed to convince Taein-nim to debut me as well."

All of this is news for you. You wonder how long Mingeun has kept all of this bottled up. The last three years, presumably. Almost the same length of time he spent lying about where he grew up and what his childhood was like. There's nothing you can say to reassure him. You know this, because you've tried before. Mingeun isn't a conversationalist. Once he gets worked up about something, the dialogue becomes one-sided and there's little to do but wait until he cools off.

You present him with a question of your own anyway. "If you had an opportunity to do what I did," you ask, "would you have done the same?"

You know that if you were in his position, left with no choice but to disguise your identity, to hide who you truly were in order to debut, you'd do it.

Mingeun only glares at you. "I don't want to know what you're up to anymore. I don't care."

He doesn't answer your question. You take that to mean he agrees. He storms out of your room, and you give him a few minutes on his own before you follow to retrieve your coffee.

You can’t make another deal with Taein. For once, you’re out of ideas. You have no cards left to play, no aces hidden up your sleeve. You’ve been the face of Fable for three years. That will have to be enough.

The change comes quickly—faster than you thought it would. Byeonghwi is the one with the extra schedules: the solo endorsements, the variety show appearances as a representative of the group, the music show MC position. Those were yours, once upon a time.

When the opportunities do start coming your way again, it's never you alone. It's you and Eunsu, or you and Byeonghwi, or you and Andrew. Once you stop to think about it, all those pairings make logical sense. You and Eunsu are basically inseparable in Fable's group shows, because you're always hanging onto him. You and Byeonghwi and the two faces of Fable. You and Andrew are the backbone of the group's music as the main vocalists. It's infuriating. You despise it.

Your current situation has you and Byeonghwi as guests on a radio show, promoting your soon-to-released album alongside a mostly rookie cast promoting their soon-to-be released film. It was supposed to be you and Eunsu, but Eunsu’s older brother passed away recently, and he left for home a few days ago.

You told Daewoong you’d be fine going by yourself. He gave you a rather disinterested look and said the program’s director requested two representatives. 

When you're sitting in the radio program’s studio, comically oversized headphones on the table in front of you, it almost feels like normal. As long as you pretend Byeonghwi isn't sitting right next to you. Before you’re on air, you make polite conversation with the actors. There are three of them: two young men and one young woman. You try, as you sit there, to match their faces to the film poster on the wall behind them. It’s a bit difficult, because the film is some sort of gritty, post-apocalyptic one, and their faces are covered in fake blood and gore.

You do your best. You’re charming. You’re cordial. You’re kind. Byeonghwi tries to join the conversation twice, and you ice him out subtly both times. He takes the hint. No one else seems to notice.

Then the host begins the show, and you’re on air. It’s just as much of a performance as being on stage is, and you don’t disappoint. You introduce yourself: you’re Haksu from Fable, in charge of the group’s vocals. Then you introduce your sixth mini album, 환호작약, releasing in two weeks. The tracks were all written by your group members, and the title track, 멋, is an upbeat trap anthem driven by a taepyeongso. You’ve worked hard for this, and you hope everyone will listen to and enjoy the songs.

You’re comfortable, relaxing as the film cast introduce themselves and their characters. You learn the movie’s plot follows three high school students who become trapped in their school when the apocalypse begins. Cut off from the outside world, the students quickly turn on each other, forming and breaking alliances. In line with that—and not with your album—the radio program’s episode is themed around school. You’re prepared, like you always are, your mind full of anecdotes and advice, though you were never a good student. Byeonghwi wasn’t either. The two of you are here regardless.

The first question tackles favorite subjects. You’re seconds away from responding, leaning into your microphone to speak. Your favorite subject was, of course, art. You’ve been in choirs all your life. It’s what made you want to become a singer.

So when the host turns to Byeonghwi and asks, “Byeonghwi-ssi, since you’re the youngest, could you go first?”

You disguise the beginning of your sentence with a cough.

Byeonghwi seems a bit surprised, but he recovers quickly. “I liked PE a lot. When I was in high school, I was on my school’s soccer team. Growing up, I wanted to play professionally.”

The eyes of one of the actors—his name has slipped your mind already—light up, and he launches into his own similar story. This must have been planned, and you weren’t involved. You’ve never been athletic. You survive Mingeun’s dance practices and that’s enough for you. The two of them embark on a lengthy conversation about Son Heung-min that the host has to interrupt to steer the show back on track.

For some reason you weren’t consulted on, all the questions are directed towards Byeonghwi, not you. He talks about clubs—his soccer team again—and cliques—how he transferred to high school in Seoul and developed a poor reputation because he sat in the back of the classroom and was absent often, a story you and your fans have heard countless times before—and preparing for the suneung. He didn’t even go to university. You did, but no one asks you for advice. You sit in silence as he gets a faraway look in his eyes, recounting cram schools and private tutors and self-discipline.

Everyone seems oblivious to your plight. The film cast laughs along with Byeonghwi’s stories, the same way they joked around with you before the program started.

Then comes the program’s main event, posing the same question the film’s cast deals with: who would you choose to survive the apocalypse with? As per usual, Byeonghwi goes first.

“Haksu-hyung, of course,” he begins. That was a given, but it means you now need to choose him as well. When you and Eunsu planned your responses, you both agreed to name each other. You had no such agreement with Byeonghwi.

“He’s reliable and everyone likes him. People are drawn to him. He’d be a good leader,” Byeonghwi continues. “And Yejun-hyung. He’s smart and would definitely survive.”

You have to admit you like hearing speak so highly of you.

When it’s finally your turn to speak, you say, “I’d pick Byeonghwi.”

A reason isn’t in any of your plans, so you make one up on the spot. “His athleticism makes him a good asset, but he might leave me behind if we had to escape,” you joke, before quickly moving on. “I’d also want Jaeseop-hyung.”

Your first pick, had you been in a real apocalyptic situation, would also be Andrew, but you doubt the three of you are some sort of survival situation dream team.

“He’s reliable and we get along well,” you finish.

You don’t speak much for the rest of the program. You sulk quietly instead, because Byeonghwi and the actors are doing most of the talking, and no one bothers to include you in the conversations. It would have been better if Daewoong let you go alone.

The on-air light finally clicks off, and your torture ends. You pull your headphones off, happy to be free of the weight. Byeonghwi stretches in his seat, a bright grin on his face. “That was fun! Did you have fun, hyung?”

You grunt out a noise that could be positive or negative. Of course he had fun. He was the one who got to speak. All you did was introduce yourself and your new album. Your sole consolation is that the main focus was on the actors, not on the two of you. You’re the face of the group. It just feels wrong for anyone else to represent the eight of you. 

You grit your teeth and bite your tongue and force a smile to your face for the usual round of polite goodbyes and closing remarks with the show's host.

Byeonghwi beams brightly. “I hope we can do it again.”

You echo his sentiment out loud. Inwardly, you know that once is more than enough for this experience.

After that, the promotions of your latest mini album come to a smooth close. The night of the recording of your farewell stage puts everyone in a good mood—until Mingeun ruins it all.

He’s in the dorm when you arrive, which is a surprise, because he spends most of his time with the band. You didn’t think he wanted to see the rest of the group during the promotional period he was excluded from.

You also didn’t think he was part of your little after party—a kickback, according to Andrew. The distinctions between types of American parties have never been of interest to you.

No one else minds. Mingeun slips in like he was just at your music show performance, though he’s drinking water, not alcohol. He’s standing in the kitchen, shoulder to shoulder with Eunsu, when he suddenly announces, loud enough for everyone to hear, “Haksu-hyung has something to share.”

You, leaning against the counter amidst your conversation with Andrew, do not, in fact, have anything to share. You play along anyway. “A toast,” you say, raising your soju bottle. “To our successful promotions.”

You didn’t win a single music show this time around, but there are another measurements. Your sales numbers are good. Your fansigns are successful. No one experienced a life-threatening scandal.

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” Mingeun says. He’s not raising his water bottle. You lower your drink.

You watch Jaeseop’s gaze ping-pong between the two of you, more curious than anything.

Mingeun takes a seat in your desk chair. “Haksu-hyung wants to tell us how he became an idol.”

You want to do nothing of the sort. You know it won’t end well. No one—not even Andrew—is drunk enough to hear it.

“He told me recently,” Mingeun continues. “I thought everyone else might want to know.”

“There’s something we don’t know?” Byeonghwi asks, ever innocent. You assume there are a lot of things he doesn’t know.

You try to downplay it. “There isn’t much to say. I wanted to be an idol, and I managed to find Taein-nim, who was willing to give me a chance.”

To your horror, Jaeseop speaks up. “To be honest, I’m curious about that too. Your story’s never added up, and Samchon doesn’t like talking about you.” He starts to count on his fingers. “I recruited Intak and Kiyoung-hyung. Mingeun and Eunsu knew Samchon from SM. Andrew and Byeonghwi passed the audition. You don’t fit into any of those categories. So?”

You know that. You wince at the reminder. You can feel the weight of everyone’s eyes on you, even Intak and Kiyoung, who might as well be a world away in the living room. You swallow roughly. Your throat is dry and your hands are sweating. You put your drink down before you drop it.

Mingeun spins around in your chair. It almost looks like he’s enjoying himself. “You were enthusiastic when it was the two of us. What happened?”

You trusted him. Out of everyone, you thought he’d understand you the most, and despite all his prickliness, you know that he’s trying and he means well. Usually. You also know Jaeseop and Byeonghwi and Andrew and probably Kiyoung would find your actions deplorable. 

“I thought you’d understand,” you say, picking your words carefully. You discard “sympathize” and “relate.” 

Mingeun nods slowly. “I guess you were right about that.”

That boosts your ego by only the most miniscule amount. It can’t compare to the dread swirling in your stomach. 

“Will one of you explain?” Jaeseop bursts first, nosy as he is.

“Sorry, hyung,” Mingeun says. “We’re going to say some unpleasant things about your uncle.” Then he turns to you. “I’ll help.”

Jaeseop shrugs. “I’ll survive.”

The room is silent, except for the pop of Andrew opening another bottle of beer with his now empty one. Mingeun, clearly reveling in the attention, says, “Haksu-hyung could have predicted Taein’s divorce before he became a trainee.”

“I don't get it,” Byeonghwi announces almost immediately.

“You knew,” Andrew says, surprisingly calm. 

You nod, suddenly feeling mute. Mingeun is telling your story, and for once, you don't mind.

“I still don't get it.” Byeonghwi again, of course.

“Blackmail,” Mingeun announces dramatically. “Haksu-hyung won’t admit it, but that’s what it is. He caught Taein-nim in some uncomfortable situations, and used it to become a trainee.”

It sounds much more dramatic—and much worse—when Mingeun puts it like that. His words are met mostly with silence. You stare at the kitchen counter, unwilling to make eye contact with anyone. Your secrets are revealed to the world, and strangely, you feel lighter. You didn’t Mingeun about all the time you spent staking out Zenith Entertainment and him, by extension. You don’t think you’ll ever tell anyone that, and your burden settles on your shoulders again.

“Is that accurate?” Jaeseop asks, oddly calm. Almost like Taein when he’s mad, you realize. 

“Yes,” you answer without looking at him. You like the spotlight, but right now, this is the worst it’s ever felt. Defensively, you add, “It wasn’t hard.”

Eunsu shakes his head. “Remind me never to get on your bad side.”

You don’t think you have a bad side. It was just one of the choices you had. Desperate times and desperate measures.

“At least it wasn’t revealed through the tabloids,” Mingeun says, waving his water bottle through the air. 

“This isn’t about you,” Andrew says. He’s a few paces farther from you than he was when you were talking earlier, and more than halfway through his second beer.

Mingeun ignores him. “It’s not that bad. I get it.”

“Not that bad?” Eunsu repeats. “I think it’s pretty fucking bad.”

You wince. You didn’t think he’d oppose you like this. It’s weird, because it seems like Mingeun is almost on your side, despite bringing up the topic in the first place, and you’ve never seen the two of them disagree on anything. 

Then Jaeseop says, “It’s not surprising that he’d do that.”

You think he’s talking about you, but then he adds, “My uncle. His first marriage ended the same way.” He almost cracks a smile. “I didn’t think you’d catch him.”

Byeonghwi’s eyes are wide in annoying innocence. You assume he’s wondering what happened to respecting your elders and filial piety. You’re surprised too. You know there’s little love lost between Taein and Jaeseop. You didn’t think he’d understand your logic.

“So,” Mingeun says, spinning in your chair, “does anyone else have any deep, dark secrets they'd like to share?”

"No," Andrew says. "I know not to tell you secrets."

“Would you don't have told us?" Jaeseop asks.

“I don't know," you admit. You don't like that Mingeun was the one who shared it, but the reaction you received was better than you expected. Jaeseop isn't kicking you out of the group, and if Andrew and Eunsu look at you like you have some contagious disease, well, you'll live. 

"How long did you do this for?" Kiyoung calls from the living room.

You freeze. You never told Mingeun that. He stormed out before you could get very far. You wonder if you should lie. After all, Taein said it didn't matter. You could have done this on your own. The reception is fine now, but if you tell them it helped you become the face of the group when maybe, it was supposed to be someone else, they might turn on you.

You make your decision, and pray for forgiveness.

“Not long. Like Mingen said, I used it to become a trainee."

"There were easier ways," Jaeseop says, another clear echo of Taein.

“What made you stop?" Kiyoung asks, staring intently at you.

"I didn't need it. I could do it on my own." Half lie, half truth. "I didn't want to ask for too much. It didn't feel right.”

Eunsu snorts, "Didn't realize you cared about morality."

You're trying to make it into Heaven, so you do care.

Kiyoung doesn't quite seem to believe you, but he drops the subject.

The mood never recovers, despite Byeonghwi's best attempts. You can't tell who's to blame: you, for your actions all those years ago, or Mingeun, for his insistence on the subject. You fade into the background of your own group's private party, hit with a sudden stab of fear that maybe this is your fate. Maybe you'll have nothing left. Maybe your group members are witty and charismatic and charming, and all they needed was the chance your fall from grace is now providing.

You won't let that happen. You can't let that happen. After all, you're destined for great things.

[camillafanfiction]

Africa Calling - Part 1

September 1979

Camilla stretched her arms and with a little sigh sat down on the comfortable sun lounger by the pool again, her legs bent in front of her chest. The first half of September had been unusually warm this year and it was wonderful to soak up the sun. Charles, who was sitting on the sun lounger next to her, was still fiddling with his new video camera. Earlier this month he had captured Tom’s first day of school with it and just yesterday he had filmed how little Laura was taking more and more firm steps, almost running off now.

After a little less than one month after Lord Mountbatten’s death it seemed like Charles was finally starting to really enjoy life again. With Camilla and her wonderful warmth and joie de vivre it felt free and simple, carefree and somehow just… perfect. In April, right after Laura’s first birthday, Andrew had been called to Rhodesia and would be staying there for the foreseeable future without much furlough, much to Charles’s delight. If he had his will, he would probably have moved in by now, Camilla knew. Well, in a way he had, at least since Uncle Dickie’s death anyway… He was spending more time with her children and her than ever before and whenever he was off duty he came around. Camilla, too, felt much happier since they spent so much regular time together, but they both knew, too, that they had to be more careful than ever. With Tom turning 5 in December and having started school on September 3rd, he began to understand and talk more, so they were very careful to not let anything of their love show in front of him.    

“Hey, Miss Sexy!”, Charles suddenly said and held his video camera directly at Camilla, who was looking absolutely to die for in a rather small stunning red bikini with white polka dots. One and a half years after Laura’s birth, she’d lost almost all of the baby-weight and looked most perfect, though she had never really bothered about her weight. She’d also grown and nurtured her hair and it was now falling over her shoulders in almost long, golden waves. He loved that length on her, it made her look like a goddess.

Camilla tilted her head towards him, tried to look indignant and breathed a shy “No pictures, please!”, but after a second failed miserably and was only able to splutter and almost fell off the sun lounger. 

“Silly girl,” Charles grinned with a shake of his head. “I’m not taking photos, I’m filming you.” And indeed, he was sure he’d taken the most amazing clips of her, capturing her wonderful laugh, her beautiful body and pretty surely he’d even managed to highlight her incredibly sexy venus dimples that he loved so much. 

“You’re an idiot.” She rolled her eyes as Charles’s lens came way too close to her cleavage and she playfully put her hand in front of it. “No, no, no,” she laughed. “You’re being naughty, Sir.” With one smooth, quick movement she grabbed the camera and carefully pushed it to the side and into the grass. 

“And you’re being cheeky, Miss,” he retorted, saving his camera before he snatched a kiss from her, which suddenly led to a playful tiff, heating up the whole situation out of nowhere. They’d made love not too long ago, earlier this morning, but the tingling and prickling still hung in the air and flushed through both their bodies. Camilla hadn’t planned on it, but she’d fallen madly in love with Charles again just around her 30th birthday last year. Charles, on the other hand, had never stopped loving her and was still head over heels in love. He was crazy about her and would probably be all of his life. At least he couldn’t imagine a day in his life where didn’t love or want her.

“Let’s continue this conversation in bed,” Camilla breathed against the Prince’s mouth. “My legs can’t wait to hear what your hands have to say…”

x

Camilla looked at Charles in surprise, then laughed and threw her head back, looking absolutely sexy without intending to. “You must be joking!”

Charles shook his head and stroked tenderly over Camilla’s naked back. “I’m being very serious, my darling.” he replied, but he could read on her face that she was still trying to figure out if he was taking the mickey out of her or if he’d suddenly gone mad because of his suggestion.

She turned to her side, presenting her wonderfully full breasts. “Darling, you can’t be,” she shook her head.

“But I am,” he insisted, kissing her collar, which made her smile.

“Are you sure you’re not in some kind of a post-coital bemusement or something?”, she giggled, teasingly running her index finger over his stomach and down to his crutch. It made him moan and she grinned again, lovingly and sexily at once. 

Camilla noticed very well how much will-power it took Charles to push her slightly away. “Let’s talk about it with a sober mind, maybe at tea time when we’ve recovered from that wonderful orgasm?!” he suggested with a smirk, making no secret out of just how much he loved that lusty lush life with her. 

“Are you talking about mine or yours?” she teasingly poked him in the ribs and they both laughed. Then she propped herself up on her elbows. “How about before the children are running and rampaging around us again?”

x

Later that day the lovers sat in the garden again, right in the grass with Laura chasing around them as good as she could. The sun was still up in the sky and bees and butterflies were humming in the air. Camilla had well avoided the topic they’d been talking about earlier that day, but she could read on his face that wasn’t through with it yet.

“Lovey,” he nudged her, “I’ve been very serious when I asked you to be my official companion for Rhodesia. You’re the perfect fit!”

Camilla shook her head in disbelief. “In your wildest dreams, darling.” How could Charles seriously consider her as an official companion for the handover of Rhodesia? She was just a mum and housewife and, most of all: his affair.

“You’re absolutely underestimating yourself, darling.”, Charles contered. “Let me tell you why you’re perfect.” He kissed her palm. “Firstly, you’re happily married to Andrew and he’s the leader down there. So, obviously, you want to be with him at that particular event, you’re a proud army wife after all.” He heard Camilla’s chortle, but chose to ignore it. “Secondly, because you’re happily married nobody’s going to think anything when you’re accompanying me.”

“Despite all our friends and the rest of high society…” Camilla interposed with an amused grin.

Charles shook his head and placed his index finger on her mouth. “Thirdly, you know how to behave, are a perfect companion and, first and foremost, you make me very, very, very happy. Just imagine a grumpy Prince of Wales at such an important event…”

“And your family would, of course, totally approve,” she replied ironically, rolling her eyes.

“Well, Uncle Dickie can’t complain anymore and Mummy actually thinks it’s a nice idea.”

“Your mother thinks ‘it’s a nice idea’?!” Camilla raised an eyebrow.

Charles shrugged his shoulders, his face unimpressed. “Yes.”

“There’s no way I’m going to get into a plane for what, 13 hours?!”

“Not even for your favourite little prince?” Charles looked at her with puppy eyes. 

“Darling, I’m going to embarrass you… the monarchy… I’m just… you know… your devoted old house wife friend from the countryside…”

“You’re the perfect consort, my darling.”, he encouraged her. “And I’ll reward you graciously”, he whispered into her ear, which made Camilla giggle.

“Fool,” she laughed, but then got serious. “I’ll think it through. But don’t put your hopes up.”

Charles rolled to the side, a content smile on his face. For the moment that was all he needed to know.