#need color interacting with more of the wider ‘cast’ and my life is yours | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

garagnon-gallery · 4 years ago

Text

Guide to Food photography

from culinary nutrition----

by Anna Pelzer

The Best Food Photography Settings Ever

Awesome Cookery Recipes for Your Next Project

Do you want to photograph your recipes but aren’t sure where to begin? Food photography opens the door to so many possibilities, such as Instagramming, writing e-books, product photography and more! It’s also a creative outlet and a fun way to work with color and express your own style. As a food photographer, I’m often asked for tips about how to take great photos. Let’s get started with this introduction to food photography!

Camera

First up, you need a camera! If you are just starting out, you may want to begin with a point-and-shoot because of its low cost and its ease of use. You can learn the basic functions of a point-and-shoot in a few minutes. (Like the name says, you just point and shoot.)

A DSLR is steeper both in price and in learning curve. I won’t get too technical, but DSLR stands for ‘digital single lens reflex’. This means when you take a picture, the camera opens up its shutter, the image reflects on to the camera’s internal mirror, and then on to the sensor. I started out using a point-and-shoot, but switching to a DSLR made a world of difference in clarity and color representation. A DSLR also gives you much more control in different light situations. For me, the price difference was worth it. If you have someone in your life who is really good at finding deals online, this may be a great way to find a used DSLR.

However, whether you are using a point-and-shoot, DSLR, or a phone camera, the basic principles of composition are the same.

Creating Bright Images

Shutter speed, aperture, and ISO are the three elements that affect the brightness of your images. Let’s talk about them in a little more detail.

Shutter Speed

The speed at which the shutter opens can be slowed down to allow more light to hit the sensor in low light situations. I do this on dark, gloomy days or in the fall when it gets dark early. However, with the shutter being open longer, there can be more blur and therefore you might need a tripod. As a rule of thumb, I shoot handheld at 1/125th of a second – you may have a steadier hand than I, but below 1/100th of a second, I use a tripod to avoid camera shake (this results in blurry images).

Aperture

Aperture refers to the width of the opening of your lens. Opening up the aperture lets in more light and also creates a shallow depth of field, resulting in more background blur. This effect allows you to draw the viewer’s eye to where the camera focus is. The lower the number, the wider the aperture. Thus, if you want a sharp focus in one area with a lot of background blur, you may choose a lower number such as 3.2 or 3.5. If you want background objects to be more in focus – a wider depth of field – you may choose a higher number, for example, 11 or 14 (remembering that this won’t let in as much light and you will need to adjust shutter speed or ISO).

ISO

ISO refers to your camera’s sensitivity to light. It is the element I would adjust last, after shutter speed and aperture, because having a high ISO can affect the quality of your image, creating “noise” especially in the darker areas of the photo. I try to keep ISO below 500, but in a dark situation, if I don’t have a tripod and my aperture is already wide open, I will go higher.

Using Light in Food Photography

My preference is to use natural light whenever possible. Professional lights are available however, I would recommend getting familiar with your camera and using natural light before making that investment.

The most important thing is to avoid, as far as lighting goes, indoor kitchen lighting as it casts a yellow glow on your food. If, however, you have food that you want to photograph and it’s 5 pm on a rainy day in November, and you have no choice but to use your indoor lighting, turn your white balance to the Tungsten setting. This will add more blue to your shot and neutralize the yellow.

Another thing to consider is which direction you want the light to come from. Back lighting is the technique I use most. I usually prefer to stand facing my subject on a table with a window on the other side of the table. I find the way the light hits the subject to be the most pleasing to my eye. But try letting the light hit from the front and the side and see what you prefer most! Depending on the weather and the type of dish I am photographing, my preference will sometimes change.

On a dark day, if using back lighting, you may need to bounce some light back at your subject to reduce shadows on your food. You can purchase reflectors designed for this purpose from photography stores. You could also use foam core, poster board, or anything on hand that is white. In a pinch, I have even used napkins and a roll of paper towel!

Composition

If you were to draw two vertical lines and two horizontal lines evenly across your image, dividing it into nine squares, then having the point of focus at one of the intersections adds compositional interest to the photo. This is known as the rule of thirds and is why you may see this on your camera or photo editing software.

One possibility would be to place your main subject near the front and have other blurred out subjects behind, to lead the viewer’s eye through the photo.

Vertical or Horizontal Photos?

Try getting one good shot of each. Vertical works well for Instagram and Pinterest, while horizontal is ideal for blogs, banners and Facebook.

Angles

There are a few common angles you can use to successfully photograph food:

A 45 degree angle shows food as if you were sitting down to eat it. This is one of my favorite angles, as it shows a beautiful texture. There will usually be more focus towards the front of the dish.

Shooting from top down (directly overhead) can show the entire dish in even focus (if everything is the same height), but you lose some of the texture.

A straight on angle can be used to show height if, for example, you are showing a stacked sandwich or a drink.

Styling

A crucial point to food photography is to have your food looking its best. I like to add some raw vegetables or herbs alongside cooked foods to add more freshness to the dish, especially if the meal is brown, such as chili. I soak herbs and greens in cold water for about 30 minutes before using and remove any wilted ones. I add garnishes for color and interest, preferably ones that show something that went into the dish – such as a basil leaf in a pesto.

Plating

If you are making steaks and one is perfectly browned and looks better than the others, put that one in front or on top and make it your camera focus.

In food photography, full bowls are desirable. Even if your normal serving of soup only fills up half the bowl, fill it up for the photo! I stop before it reaches the point of overflowing, although you may want to experiment with drips – many people make that part of their style. It can be helpful to use smaller plates, bowls and other serving pieces in food photography, as large ones can overwhelm the food and make it more difficult to make those full bowls. sauces can soak into the food

When you are setting up your shot, reserve some sauce to add once you figure out your perfect angle. I always take a few shots before adding dressing to a salad because the leaves can start to wilt quickly from the oil and acid.

Best Food Photography Props

Use neutral props that keep the focus on the food. Avoid busy, distracting patterns on plates as the food can become lost in the photo. My favorite dishes are gray or white and matte, so there is no glare shining back at the camera and the food is what stands out.

Another thing I highly recommend using is a wooden background board, which you can purchase from Etsy, My favorite board was made from an old barn door! With wooden boards, I again look for a matte finish to reduce glare, as well as interesting textures.

I prefer to use clean backgrounds so the focus is entirely on my dish. However, you may want to display some of the ingredients around the food to show part of the cooking process. Other options for adding interest include colorful napkins, flowers or unique serving utensils. Check out secondhand shops for some great vintage finds.

Also try using a hand model to show interaction with the food!

5 Suggested Props for Beginners

Wood background board or large cutting board

Monotone plate and bowl

Vintage cutlery (check out thrift shops)

Cloth napkin or a dish towel

Stemless wine glass or Mason jars for smoothies or parfaits

Do not let a lack of props or a hand-me-down camera stop you from creating. You can create amazing art on a plate just by having fresh and colorful food displayed in your own unique style. Remember that good food photography takes time to master and it’s OK if you don’t love your photos right away. Practice as much as you can and enjoy the process!

WE WELCOME COMMENTS ABOUT OUR WEBSITE TO MAKE A COMMENT

on my email control click below on CLICK HERE and choose mailto:[email protected]

tell us what you like about our website or what you don't like, and what you would like to see in the future.

WE HAVE MANY TUTORIALS ON PHOTOGRAPHY

FOR BEGINNERS, INTERMEDIADE, AND ADVANCED PHOTOGRAPHERS.

#comfort food #best food photography #food photography cameras #how to photograph food

5 notes · View notes

quagmireisadora · 5 years ago

Note

Hey!!! Could you please write Jongyu soulmate au? Something like Jonghyun is abused by his previous partner and comes to the hospital for treatment. Jinki is the one treating him. Though it's first meeting, they find out they are soulmates. Ending is upto you but I would prefer happier one!!! 🖤🖤🖤 Thank you in advance!! 🤗🤗

A/N: “I would prefer happier one” Wow, Rach, what shade! (I love you).

T/W: mentions of physical abuse. Also, I am not a professional therapist, so please regard this as fiction only.

——

“And… what do you do for a living?”

The man continued to grin like his life depended on it. Jinki supposed it was a charming expression when its owner wasn’t in a cast that kept his arm stretched out to his side. Like an inordinately large bird caught mid-flap.

When he got no response, he pursed his lips and sat back in his chair. “OK,” he decided. “What would you like to talk about?”

More grinning. More silence. More ogling at the bookshelves and framed certificates. A scratch of the cheek, but nothing beyond that.

This wasn’t going to be easy. But it never was, if Jinki were honest with himself. When a patient was too heavily medicated for their pain, they could barely pay attention to their surroundings, much less interact. All the information Jinki had gleaned so far was from the man’s medical file, handed to him by the nurse who accompanied the patient. Kim Jonghyun, it said, was thirty years of age and living with his partner who he had a physical altercation with three weeks ago–an altercation so violent it ended with him in the hospital.

“Well, if you don’t feel like talking, that’s fine,” Jinki decided, folding his arms across his chest. “Is there anything else you’d like to do instead?” He waited knowing he wasn’t going to receive any kind of acknowledgement. When a minute of expected silence passed between them, he nodded his understanding. “OK. That’s fine,” he said, then searched through his drawers to bring out a small basket of stress balls. He offered it with a nod of encouragement. “Go on. For the good hand. It’s actually a great way to exercise when you’re recovering.”

A slip in the grin, a tentative look between basket and back. A small shake of the head, easily missed if Jinki had blinked.

He nodded again as he withdrew his offer. “OK, then. We can spend your sixty minutes just… sitting here and doing nothing? How does that sound?” he suggested in a friendly tone.

A few blinks that looked like guilt.

“Jonghyun ssi,” Jinki raised his palms between them in a placating gesture. “We are all here to help you. If that help is sitting here and doing nothing, I’m more than happy to give that to you. But,” he conditioned. “In my experience, talking about it is always a little bit better.”

Silence continued its reign between them while one waited patiently and the other shifted in his seat like it’d suddenly grown painful spikes. A small hint of fatigue stole onto the man’s face now, like sitting here was taking a toll on his existence. Like it demanded far too much of his strength.

Jinki glanced at the time for a moment. Forty-eight minutes to go. He smiled again with reassurance. “Actually. Maybe we should cut this session short. The weather’s nice today, isn’t it?” he motioned to the window behind his seat. “I’m sure you’re wanting to sit in the sun instead of this stuffy office?” he gestured to the door. “Please. One of the nurses will help you.”

The guy hobbled to the door like he couldn’t wait to get away. But he did turn and give one last look; a look somewhere between a grimace and that same empty-eyed grin. And then he was gone.

——

“Broken rib,” Gwiboon pointed at the x-rays and shrugged. “Dislocated shoulder. Lesions… when they brought him in last month, I thought this guy went through a shredder,” she snorted without humor. “We patched him up but he’s got a long way to go–as you’ve seen,” she motioned to Jinki.

He hummed. When Jonghyun hadn’t shown up for their appointment that day, he decided to speak with his doctor. Just so he could build some context to work with. “How long was he with this guy, did you say?” he asked.

Gwiboon shrugged again. “Police records said four years. Yeah,” she agreed when she saw the shock on Jinki’s face. “He was really convinced this… asshole was the one. Same story as always.”

He touched his forehead, horrified. “That’s… that’s terrible.”

“Mm hmm,” Gwiboon showed him other charts with bloodwork. “He’s healing really fast, but I’m not sure he’s all there. Something like this… it always makes them lose some parts of themselves, you know?”

“What, the matching symbols thing again?” he raised his eyebrows.

“As usual,” she sighed.

He shook his head in exasperation. “Unbelievable.” He’d seen these kinds of cases before: people who clearly didn’t belong together but had tried to nonetheless. People who weren’t soulmates but had pretended they were, because it was easier than searching for their other half. It was easier than giving up the search. He’d seen people who’d tried to force two mismatched pieces of a puzzle together, only for it all to end in unnecessary violence and pain.

Gwiboon went around her table and slumped into her chair. She looked as exhausted as Jinki felt.

“Did you…?” he tried after a few minutes of silence. “Have you seen what he had? The symbol on his hands?” he asked.

She made an incredulous face at him. “Of course not! That’s so personal!” she chided. “Come on, man. That’s not something we should be fixing.”

He nodded, apologizing repeatedly. “You’re right. I’m just–it’s stupid how common this stuff is. People are… just settling for the wrong choices. Even when they can see those choices are hurting them. I mean, four years is such a long time to take this sort of… abuse. Without wondering: am I really supposed to be living like this? Is this what my life is going to be from now on?”

Gwiboon shook her head at him. “You should be the last person I have to say this to–” she began. “But some people just… accept that’s as good as it gets for them,” she explained. “Some people accept what little they can find. Even if it’s hurting them, even if it’s clearly not good for them. Even then, they live with what they have. It’s a self-worth thing,” she added. “You have to pull him out of that kind of thinking, there’s only so much I can heal with bandages.”

Jinki wondered about that for a while as he read through Jonghyun’s charts. Broken-spirited, it translated to. Brokenhearted. He pondered on that for a long while that day, trying to think of a way to move forward.

On his subway ride home that night, he thought back to the man’s demeanor, to his strange out-of-place grin. Four years, he shook his head with disbelief. Four years was an excruciatingly long time, maybe Dr. Kim was right:the man had lost something along the way. Maybe it’d be something hard to retrieve. Maybe it wouldn’t make its absence known immediately, maybe it would take four more years to discover the place it had once resided in.

Jinki hung off the safety straps as the train wound through a tunnel, and wondered where he could start.

——

The answer to that made itself known two weeks later, when Jonghyun decided to attend his therapy session of his own accord. He opened the door carefully, peeked in like a timid and lost puppy. And when the nurse opened the door wider for him, he stood in place with some indecision.

Jinki smiled at the man, doing nothing to hurry him along. He didn’t say a word, wanting to leave all the talking to the other.

Curious eyes roved over the room again, this time with more cognizance than Jinki had realized the man’s gaze could hold. There were no drugs in these eyes, he noted. This was as conscious a patient as he could expect. He followed with his own interest.

The cast on Jonghyun’s arm was still in place, but somehow looked less awkward than before. The vest attached to the cast was covered by a woolen sweater–white, with a small dot of spilled food. He wasn’t grinning, he wasn’t afraid this time, but he appeared to stall at the most insignificant of details–a joint in the wall linings, a tiny dent on the corner of a shelf, a frame hung not quite straight. He neither made a move to correct the aberrations, nor shared his thoughts. He simply watched, simply blinked for several moments and moved on to the next irregularity.

When he finally took a seat, Jinki leaned back in his own. Again, he waited.

Maybe Jonghyun wanted to wait too, the idea occurred when he maintained his quietness. This time, there was nothing in his expressions to say he was disturbed, nothing to reveal that he was troubled. There was nothing that pointed to him needing help, much less wanting it.

If this was a competition over who could last the longest with nothing but tranquility around them, Jinki was willing to play. If this was indecision on where to begin, Jinki was willing to wait. If this was no more than stubborn silence, Jinki was willing to allow that too. This treatment couldn’t begin until Jonghyun willed it to.

The second hand continued to glide along its path while they watched each other.

From his place, Jinki discovered several tattoos on his patient. They weren’t large, which told him they weren’t meant to be on display. Even so, he could tell they had a meaning to them, each one of them. He noticed the man’s hair was mostly dark with some stray shocks of auburn hidden in the mass, like they’d been deliberately combed over to hide the color. A pair of simple black ear studs, and several piercing holes that currently sat empty. Maybe stowed away for when he was ready to leave, maybe lost on the way to the hospital. Jonghyun didn’t seem to be the kind of man who wanted to make a statement with his presence–at least, not a loud or blunt one. There were several latencies in him. Several portions of him were implicit, detected only in hints, when he moved a specific way or turned his head to face a specific direction.

Jinki read him, read his peace, and found a heavy turbulence under the still water.

When the man’s hazel eyes traveled to Jinki’s notepad, they betrayed some curiosity in them. But it was never given a voice. Nothing was ever spoken between them. Jonghyun utilized every single second of their sixty minutes together as he liked, as he wanted to.

Jinki smiled when his patient stopped at the door and turned, but he respected the sanctity of that silence, too. He never breached it.

——

Another week went by and Jonghyun returned, no longer limping or sporting bruises on himself. Save for his broken shoulder, he looked healthy enough to walk out of the hospital whenever he liked.

That was, until he opened his mouth to speak.

“Why do I have to keep coming here?” he asked. His voice was low, but it had a lightness to it. Like he’s been crying just before he’d been brought here, or been yelling at the top of his lungs until someone had restrained him and forced him to this wing of the building, to the psychiatrists.

The query wasn’t entirely unexpected. His wounds were healing, his bandages were coming off one by one. It could well be that in Jonghyun’s eyes, there was nothing else that needed to be fixed.

Jinki took a long, calm breath in before replying. “Dr. Kim Gwiboon,” he nodded. “She… suggested you’d like to talk to someone–you know, the kind doctor who’s been looking after you all this time,” he reminded, gesturing to the chair across from him.

“Does she think there’s something wrong with me?” Jonghyun remained standing in his place, but there was uncertainty in his speech. “With–with my head?”

“Do you think there’s something wrong with you?” Jinki tilted his head curiously. He didn’t wait for a reply and continued. “You seem fine,” he observed. “But if you want to stay a while, maybe we can have a chat?”

Jonghyun blinked. “A chat,” he mumbled. “What about?”

“Hmm,” Jinki crossed his arms thoughtfully. “Anything you like, really,” he shrugged. “This can just be a friendly conversation, if that’s all you want.”

“No,” Jonghyun refused. “No, not a friendly conversation. You want to talk about just one thing… all of you want to talk about just one thing,” he spat and touched his forehead in distress.

“And what would that be?”

“Don’t fuck with me,” Jonghyun warned.

“I’m sorry,” Jinki continued patiently. “But I really don’t know. Do you–maybe want to tell me what this one thing is? So I can avoid bringing it up?”

“I’m not a child you can trick into–”

“I–” Jinki shook his head. “I don’t think you’re a child, Jonghyun ssi. Far from it. I think you are an intelligent adult man, who is more than capable of taking care of himself. Now,” he paused and put his notepad away. “We’ve done our duty of physically rehabilitating you. What you’d like to do from this point onward is entirely your choice.”

There was a clear struggle in Jonghyun’s face. He wanted to stay, he wanted to talk. But he also didn’t want that–because of what it signified, because of what it would mean if he asked for help, verbalized it. This was a war between his ego and his rationality.

It took him a good fifteen minutes of shifting on his feet, pacing around the space, making it halfway to the door of the office, before he relented and finally. Finally took a seat.

He looked at Jinki with apprehension. “You… really mean it? We can talk about anything?”

Jinki gave him an amicable smile. “Of course.”

——

“I… I don’t know where to begin,” Jonghyun admitted with a shake of the head.

They’d decided to move outside on Jinki’s suggestion. There were no other patients about, but the sun was bright and the wind was quiet. The sprinklers had passed over the grass some time ago, and the scent of wet mud hung around them. They walked along a paved path for a while before taking a seat on a bench.

“Tell me about yourself,” Jinki prompted. “About your family life.”

The patient blinked, looking around them, seeming clueless. “I… I have a mother. And a noona. I–I like to think I’m close to them.”

“Why do you say it like that?” Jinki interrupted. “Do you sometimes get the feeling that you aren’t close to them?”

Jonghyun sighed. “No, I–I don’t mean that…” he shook his head, played with loose strings on the hem of his hospital-issued shirt. The motion flashed a glimpse of the dark symbols on his fingertips, but Jinki decided not to pay attention to them.

“I mean… I want to believe that the amount of love I have for them is the amount of love they have for me.”

Jinki simply nodded, continuing to listen.

“I… I used to go to an art school, as a child. It–I remember liking it. I remember liking what they taught there. It felt like a place where I could fit in. But… but I had to leave it for normal school. Because of difficulties,” Jonghyun explained.

“You mean financially,” Jinki asked for clarification and received a nod. “Was it because of something in particular?”

“My father,” Jonghyun replied. “He left us.”

Jinki made a mental note to come back to that, but stayed quiet for the time-being.

“So… after that. I just went through school like everyone else, went through the classes they taught. Tried to keep my head down and study. Tried to be. A good kid and. And I guess… I guess that’s all.”

“OK,” Jinki shifted to face the other. “What was your experience at normal school like, in comparison to your art school days?”

“It…” Jonghyun paused to think about it for a while. “It wasn’t–I suppose it also has to do with growing up and mood swings and all that. But I didn’t feel like I belonged, not as much as I used to,” he nodded. “I… maybe that was because I no longer had the friends I used to have. Maybe it was because nothing was interesting to me. Maybe–I don’t know,” he shook his head again. “I didn’t like it. So I dropped out.”

“How old were you when you decided to drop out?” Jinki inquired.

“Sometime… in the middle of first year. Vocational school.”

“So tell me what your interests were at this time,” Jinki cued. “Because it sounds like the school was doing a poor job identifying what you wanted to learn. So what was it that you wanted to pursue by dropping out?”

Jonghyun looked embarrassed for a moment, but it wasn’t an uneasy embarrassment. There was a hint of pride in his expression, like he didn’t regret this part of his past. “I used to be in a band,” he revealed. “I… I played bass guitar. Some friends and I would get together and. And I was a big fan of Seo Taiji,” he smiled a little at that.

Jinki smiled with him. “Tell me more about that time,” he encouraged.

“There–” Jonghyun frowned with some confusion. “There isn’t much to tell, really.”

“Are you sure?” Jinki asked.

“Well… yes?”

“Because when you talked about you being in a band, when you talked about the music you liked,” he noted. “Your face… I don’t even know what that was–but your face lit up. It was like a light went on inside you and you found. Some kind of happiness. That’s what it looked like from the outside,” he related. “Is that what it felt like?”

Jonghyun worried his lip. “I… yes,” he ventured, then grew more confident. “Yeah. I think those years, quitting school and making music with my friends. My mother hated that, and. And she thought I had no future, that I was throwing everything away but. That was the best time of my life. I think I was the happiest in those years.”

“I completely agree,” Jinki reinforced. “Just watching you talk about those memories is enough to tell me that.” He shifted in his seat. “So you wanted to go on and be a professional musician?”

Jonghyun started to nod, but stopped. “I… no, I think I just wanted to keep making music. I didn’t–it never occurred to me that it could be something to do. For a living. We just. Hung out, all us friends. We spent time together. We enjoyed what we did. And then we went home.”

Jinki listened patiently. “Do you still meet up with your friends? For these jam sessions?”

“No…” Jonghyun sighed. “No. They–all the others found jobs. Some of them went back to school. Some of them… just moved on. And I was left,” he shrugged. “I guess I was just. Left behind.”

“OK, let’s look at that for a moment. How did you feel about that?” Jinki inquired.

“How… how do you mean?”

“So you said–” Jinki gestured. “Music gave you happiness. Or, making music gave you happiness. When your friends stopped hanging out with you, you could still make music on your own, couldn’t you?” he pointed out. “You could play your guitar and sing by yourself, you could still do that, even without them.”

“Ye-yeah… I guess,” Jonghyun shrugged.

“So why is it that you sound so… I don’t know, do I sense disappointment when you talk about your friends going their separate ways?” Jinki prodded. “Why do you sound like that? Why is it that it affected you so much, when you could still make music on your own? When you could still be happy on your own?”

“Well…” Jonghyun looked like the answer was obvious to anyone and he didn’t need to spell it out. “Because they left.”

“So what?”

“They left me.”

Jinki smiled. “So how did you feel about that?”

“I…” Jonghyun looked down at his lap. “I don’t know. I felt… betrayed?”

“Absolutely,” Jinki agreed. “You felt betrayed. I think that you’d finally found your place again, you’d finally found somewhere you could fit into again. You’d finally found a way to be happy, and share that happiness. And now that was gone. And that made you feel betrayed. Because it wasn’t just about making music, it was about–” he motioned for the other to go on.

“About… about hanging out, I guess,” Jonghyun looked up at the doctor and tried. There was a sadness in his voice. ‘It was about being together. All of us.”

Jinki leaned back and smiled. “Let’s take a few minutes here,” he encouraged.

——

“Is something making you nervous?” Jinki asked before they started their second session, only a few days later.

Jonghyun hadn’t had much else to share on the park bench. He’d related other stories from his past and talked about times when he’d felt let down or when he’d found some semblance of hope for a future. He’d opened up, not by much, but still. It was something, and Jinki was grateful to have that something to work with.

When they’d ended the session, he requested they meet again before the full week was up. It was an indicator that he’d been comfortable sharing his thoughts with someone else, that he wanted someone to listen to what he had to say. But when Jonghyun had shown up, he’d idled around the room for a while before asking for a glass of water.

“Do–do you think I’m a burden?” he asked out of the blue, having gulped down three whole glasses one of the other. Some of the water had spilled onto his clothes in the rush and his breath raced a little when he dabbed at it. He didn’t seem like he wanted to be there, in those short moments. He didn’t seem sure about this.

“What do you mean by a burden?” Jinki asked back.

“I…” Jonghyun struggled. “I don’t want to keep coming back if I’m. If this is a hassle to you.”

Jinki took a deep breath. “Why do you feel the need to leave a good impression on me?” he inquired, but didn’t wait for a response. “I think you should sit down and catch your breath first,” he offered.

The other did as he was told, but kept his silence. He looked around the room, glancing once or twice at the doctor, but never long enough to hold the man’s gaze. When he reached for a fourth glass, he was stopped.

“You don’t need to be nervous about anything,” Jinki assured. “Like I said, we’re just having a conversation.”

He still looked unsettled, and Jinki didn’t try anything further to convince him. He decided once again to bide his time and let Jonghyun take the lead.

“I… I don’t feel good,” he began after some time, then added in clarification. “About myself.”

“Can you explain that to me?” Jinki requested. “What does that mean. What specifically do you not feel good about?”

“I don’t know–” Jonghyun hesitated. “I… when I see the people around me. My friends. My noona. They’re happy. They seem to be doing well for themselves. But. But here I am,” he motioned to the room. “In a hospital.”

Jinki considered him for a minute. “You say that like it’s your fault you’re in a hospital.”

“Well, yeah–”

“Lets,” Jinki motioned for the other to stop. “Let’s put a pin in that and come back to it later. Talk to me about… give me some more examples why you feel like you’re not doing well but others are.”

“I… they have good jobs. They’re making money. They have great relationships. They’re,” he nodded. “They’re living good lives. They’re living happy lives.”

Jinki nodded. “Are you saying that you’re unhappy?” he asked.

“I…” Jonghyun sighed. “I guess it should’ve been obvious to me that I wouldn’t be as happy as them. I don’t have a GED, I didn’t go to college, I don’t have a stable job. I’m–yeah,” he slumped back in his chair. “I’m not as good as them.”

“Do you think you hold yourself to an unrealistic standard?” Jinki asked him after a while.

“No,” the answer was immediate. “No, society has standards that we all need to meet. To survive. And if we can’t, then. It’s our fault,” Jonghyun nodded. “The people I know meet that standard–I don’t. Because I didn’t live the way I should have. So… yeah.” He scratched his head. “I don’t feel good about myself.”

“How do you think other people feel about you?” Jinki tried. “Your friends and noona and all those people who you say are doing well for themselves. How do they see you?”

“I… I don’t know.”

“Do you think they like you?”

Jonghyun ran his good hand over a thigh as if wiping the sweat off of it. He huffed out a slow exhale. “I… I think some people like me.” He shifted in his seat like it was sharp and uncomfortable again. “I try to be good, I try to be. Polite. I try to be a decent human being. I mean, I can’t give to charities but I try to volunteer for things when I can. So. I think people like me.”

“You think people like you,’ Jinki repeated. “Has anyone ever said as much to you?”

“I… not in so many words, but the way they behave around me,” he nodded. “I think they like me.”

“OK,” Jinki accepted. “So let me summarize what I’ve heard you say so far,” he began. “You’re an intelligent man who can draw rational conclusions from his observations. You can clearly provide reasons for the statements you make. You’ve said that the people in your life like you because of their behavior towards you, you’ve said your friends and your noona are good to you,” he listed. “Is that correct so far?”

“Y-yeah…”

“But then you say you’re not as good as them,” Jinki pointed out. “You say these people like you despite the fact that they–as you put it–meet society’s standards, while you don’t. What does that tell you?”

Jonghyun blinked at him for a while, unable to give any form of response.

“Does it maybe say to you that these people don’t care about society’s standards, or–let me put it this way,” Jinki held his palms up between them. “Do you think that the people who like you, do so despite the fact that you aren’t doing as well as them and that you don’t meet society’s standards?”

“I… I don’t know if I could go as far as saying that–”

“Why not?”

“I mean,” Jonghyun began, but didn’t have an argument to back himself. He fumbled for more words but nothing came to him as a solid justification.

“You aren’t holding them to gunpoint to like you,” Jinki offered. “And they’re not obligated to like you. So why do you think they like you?” he continued on that line of questioning. “Why do you think these people, who are doing better than you, still like you? Why do they keep hanging out with you, why are they still close to you, despite their lives being so perfect and happy, as you put it?”

“M-maybe…” Jonghyun murmured, his voice shaky. “Maybe they just…”

“Don’t you think there must be something special about you?!” Jinki proposed loudly. “Don’t you think that–these people who are leading happy and wonderful lives, and living to a much higher standard than you. Don’t you think that, instead of being content among themselves, they like you. So they must be drawn to you because there is something brilliant and wonderful inside you that attracts them to you?”

“N-no…” Jonghyun sniffled, wiping under his nose. “No, I don’t think there’s anything I have to offer–”

“Don’t you think that’s possible?” Jinki spoke over him. “Because that’s what I’m hearing. That despite not meeting this so-called standard, you must have something absolutely exceptional within you, that everyone can see, but for some reason–” he held his hands up in question. “And I really don’t know what this reason is. You can’t see that in you.”

The other shook his head as his eyes watered. “No…”

“Let’s pause here for a bit,” Jinki spoke in a softer tone, backing off. “How are you feeling?”

But Jonghyun couldn’t answer. All he could manage was a broken sob.

——

When Jinki arrived at the ward, Jonghyun’s vest was gone and the shoulder cast was being taken off.

Gwiboon stood grinning at the man, looking more pleased with herself than with his recovery. “There you go!” she exclaimed. “How do you feel?” she asked, checking his elbow. There was a diamond tattooed on the outside of his newly exposed wrist, and Jinki caught a dog on the side of his ribcage when the man pulled his hospital clothes back on.

“Any discomfort?”

Jonghyun slowly moved his arm pack and forth. “It feels a little… different,” he murmured, nodding. “But it doesn’t hurt.”

“I’ll give you some exercises you can do. No arm-wrestling for a while though!” Gwiboon joked and they chuckled. “Right, I’ll leave you to rest. We can talk about physiotherapy later tonight. Hmm?” she nodded and patted Jinki’s shoulder as she left.

“You must feel freer now?” Jinki asked their patient. “I remember when I’d had a fracture as a kid. Don’t think I’ve ever been so bored in my life,” he chuckled.

Jonghyun smiled. “You’ve both been so kind to me,” he said to his lap, fumbling with his hands. “I can’t thank you both enough.”

“It’s our job,” Jinki easily replied and shrugged the issue aside. Instead, he motioned at the other’s palms with a nudge of his chin. “You’re quite the tattoo enthusiast?” he asked of the symbols on Jonghyun’s fingertips, knowing full well that’s not what they were, but unable to bring himself to be brazen about it.

“Ah… no,” ten fingers were spread out for him to study, the thumbs marked with identical circles and the rest with varying sizes of crescents. Phases of the moon, the cypher that Jonghyun would’ve used to search for his soulmate. “It’s my mark,” he needlessly clarified.

Jinki kept his own clammy palms hidden in the pockets of his white coat. There was an odd intimacy in sharing one’s symbol. It was a private thing, something not so carelessly flashed to strangers. One would need to have a lot of confidence, or simply be past caring, to be so open and ready to share them as Jonghyun was in that instant.

“He… he had stars,” the murmur came, a thumb rubbing against a wrist. “On the backs of his hands. He had stars. And I thought–how perfect. We must really be made for each other,” he looked away at that. “I really believed it, right until the end. Maybe… maybe some of me still does.”

“We’ll talk about that later,” Jinki stopped him, then gave the man’s ankle a squeeze. “Right now, focus on getting better. Dr. Kim was showing me x-rays of your ribs. It’s looking very good,” he gave an encouraging smile. “And your noona was here too, wasn’t she? I could tell she was related to you, you have the same eyes,” he chuckled.

Jonghyun grinned. “She brought me side dishes she made herself. Hospital food isn’t so bad but… sometimes I really miss eomma’s cooking.”

“You’ll be eating her cooking in no time,” Jinki promised and waved. “I’ll see you around.”

He went back to his office, but he couldn’t concentrate on work. All he could think of was ten moons, held only a few inches from his face and radiating a warmth unrivaled by even the sun.

——

“I want to talk about something you mentioned last time we met,” Jinki started their third session.

The heat had been raised, the blinds drawn. The windows were thick triple-glazed panes but even then the sound of rain pattering against them carried in. Jonghyun looked more relaxed and more at ease than he had ever seemed in their time working together. Perhaps the cast coming off had made more than a physical difference. Perhaps the man was simply settling into these sessions as if they were a welcome routine.

“I want to talk about fault,” Jinki continued. “You implied that your landing in the hospital was somehow your fault. And I really want to understand the logic behind this thinking because–” he shook his head. ‘You are a healthy person. You didn’t starve yourself, you didn’t overwork, you didn’t strain yourself in any way. This wasn’t you drunk driving and then having an accident. Right?”

Jonghyun nodded slowly. “R-right. But–”

“But you still blame yourself, I know. I know you’re going to come up with evidence to support your theory–” Jinki interrupted him. “I know because like I said, you’re a very intelligent person. And the smarter you are, the easier it gets to beat yourself up. I know this, because I’ve seen this before. Lots and lots of times. So,” he clapped his hands together. “Let’s do something else. Lets look at where this blame is coming from, because I think that would be more helpful,” he suggested. “Is that alright with you?”

“Yes…” Jonghyun hesitated, then said with some more certainly. “Yes. I think you’re right”

“OK, great,” Jinki said. “So. Let’s go back to–” he flipped through his notes. “Let’s go back to what you were saying the other day about how your father left your family and then years later your friends did–something similar, they left you behind, and you felt betrayed.” He looked up at his patient. “Do you think betrayal is common in relationships?”

“I… I’m not sure about betrayal,” Jonghyun replied.

“OK, what about getting hurt?”

He nodded at that. “Yeah, I think people get hurt in relationships.”

“Can you give me an example, a general situation in a relationship where someone gets hurt?” Jinki asked. “Just off the top of your head.”

“I would say… I would say cheating on someone,” he answered. “Yeah, cheating. Or lying about something. Or being–not being a good person.”

“OK, stop there,” Jinki held up a finger. “What do you mean by not being a good person? What does that mean?”

“A… I guess a criminal?” Jonghyun replied. “Someone… someone with bad intentions?”

“Yes,” Jinki nodded. “Yes, you’re right. Someone with bad intentions, someone who isn’t a good person. If you get into a relationship with someone like that, it can hurt you. Right?”

“Yeah,” Jonghyun accepted.

“Do you think you have bad intentions in your relationships, Jonghyun ssi?” Jinki countered.

“I don’t–I don’t think so?”

“You don’t think so or you know so?” Jinki cornered. “Because there’s a big difference between: I don’t think I have bad intentions and I know I don’t have bad intentions, right?” he raised his eyebrows.

“Right.”

“So which is it?”

Jonghyun sighed. “I… I try to be a good person. I try to be–I try not to do things that would hurt someone.”

“So someone who tries to be good,” Jinki put his hands side by side. “And someone with bad intentions. Do you think they are one and the same person?”

Jonghyun opened his mouth to make a rationalization, to debate over the subject, but then shook his head.

“No, you’re absolutely right there, they are not the same person.” Jinki smiled at the other. “So is it safe to say then, that Jonghyun ssi, you are someone who doesn’t try to hurt people in relationships? That you try to be good, and you try to be loving, you try to give it your all and be the best you can be for the person you’re with?”

“I… I wouldn’t say it like that, but–” the other nodded after another moment’s uncertainty. “Yes. I try to give as much as I can.”

Jinki took a long and thoughtful breath in. “OK,” he said. “So talk to me about–this guy you were living with. This man you thought was your soulmate.”

“What’s there to say…”

“I would think there’s a lot!” Jinki chuckled.

“He was… he was loud and happy and. And he liked to go clubbing. He liked parties. He liked to cook for us, and he ate a lot. He liked watching winter sports. He enjoyed… he was a very intimate person,” he blushed. “And he… he liked to hang out with his friends. He liked to–”

“You’re telling me all these things he liked,” Jinki stopped him. “But you don’t count yourself in that list,” he shook his head and frowned. “Do you mean to tell me that this guy, who you lived with for four years, liked all of those things more than he liked you?”

“I…” Jonghyun wavered. “I mean, we were in a relationship so obviously–”

Jinki waited, eyebrows raised.

“Obviously…” the other mumbled. “Obviously he had some affection for me…”

“OK,” the doctor sat back. “Fine. So I’m going to jump to another subject for a minute here, if that’s alright. Have you had any other relationships before this one?”

“N-no… I wanted to wait to find my soulmate,” Jonghyun answered.

“And do you think you found your soulmate when you found the man you were with?” Jinki posed. “Or, no let me ask you something more important than that: what do you think a soulmate is?”

“Someone… someone who matches well with you,” Jonghyun nodded with confidence. “Someone who cares for you, gives you love and respects you and. Someone who you spend your life with because you are. Because it feels like you’re destined to be together.”

“So you said some really interesting things there,” Jinki smiled wide. “Some very profoundly great things. But lets focus on the first thing. What do you mean by someone who matches well with you?”

“The symbols, of course,” Jonghyun put his hands out to prove his point.

“So… if you can find a match for the symbols on your hands, you think you’ll have found your soulmate. Is that correct?”

“Isn’t—isn’t that how it works?” Jonghyun asked, frowning.

Jinki gave half a smile. “Why don’t we go back to what you said right after: someone who loves you and respects you. Do you think that matching symbols is… is a guarantee of that? That the person will love and respect you?”

“I…!” Jonghyun’s eyes widened. “Yes, of course, it is–”

“So you think that if you match symbols with someone, they would never hurt you?”

“Yeah, of course they wouldn’t!”

“So then why do you think you’re in this hospital, Jonghyun ssi?” Jinki asked frowning and motioning to his office. “Why, if you found your match, are you sitting here in my boring office and talking to me about these miserable things?”

Jonghyun opened and shut his mouth a few times. “Because… because it’s my fault–”

“But I thought you said you try your best to be a good person in your relationships,“ Jinki shook his head. “Are you saying you didn’t try to be good this time? Are you saying you tried to be hurtful and mean and that’s what caused the fight? That’s why you landed in the hospital?”

“N-no, I’m saying that…” Jonghyun took a deep breath, but he looked flustered. “I’m saying that I–I did what I could to save our relationship. But. But I failed at that and now… and now I have to live with that failure!”

“Was it your failure, though?” Jinki asked. “Was it because of your shortcomings that this happened to you?”

“Yes,” the answer was immediate. “I should’ve done more. I should’ve been better. I should’ve been a better boyfriend, a better soulmate, I should’ve–”

Jinki sighed. “What kind of failure hurts you like this?” he asked in a soft voice. “Two broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder, black eyes, broken nose, internal bleeding–” he looked at the other with bewilderment. “What justifies a punishment like that?”

Jonghyun shook his head and looked away. “You don’t understand.”

“Then make me understand,” Jinki readily replied, his tone still kind. “Make me understand, what you did so wrong that you blame yourself for everything that hurts you in your life. Tell me what your fault was to be beaten to within an inch of your life. Tell me what your fault was for your friends to grow out of playing music as a band. Tell me what your fault was for your father to leave the family like that.” He tilted his head in sympathy. “Tell me so I can understand, because I really don’t.”

——

Jinki fixed his hair before he rang the doorbell, fussing over the bouquet in his hold and waiting on the steps. The house was beautiful, with plastered walls and a porch held up on dark stone posts. It sat in the hills, just on the outskirts of Seoul. A set of stone stairs led up to the garden, where several neatly trimmed bushes and carefully pruned plants lined the property boundaries. In the setting sun, the blue roof tiles shimmered like sapphires.

A tall man swung the door open and grinned. “Hyung!” Minho said and held his arms out for a hug. “You made it, haha!”

“He’d killed me if I missed this,” Jinki joked and they laughed until Jonghyun walked into view with two glasses of wine. He looked healthier and, somewhat happier than he had twelve months ago, when he’d been discharged from the hospital.

As soon as their eyes met, he grinned too. “Hyung,” he said in a warm voice. “You’re here.”

“Of course,” Jinki smiled.

They ushered him in where other guests sat chatting and laughing. There was a table overflowing with gifts and bouquets and other offerings of congratulations. There was music in the background and food was offered to him wherever he turned. On a wall in the dining room hung an expensive-looking guitar, surrounded by framed photos of a very happy couple–a grinning Minho and an adoring Jonghyun.

“So I heard your flight was delayed?” Minho asked him, holding out a plate of cut fruit.

Jinki picked a few into his bowl and mumbled a thanks. “Yeah, the weather hasn’t been too great so they pushed it to tomorrow. It’ll be a bit of a hassle when I get there, but as long as I make it in time for my own presentation slot,” he shrugged.

Minho hissed in wonder. “Yah… a conference in the south of Greece. Doctors sure know how to party, eh?” he laughed. “Anyway. It’s good you could come. Jonghyunnie hyung was so anxious–”

“How’s he been, by the way?” Jinki asked in a low tone. It had been several months since they had put a halt to their sessions. Jinki had seen the full spectrum of Jonghyun’s growth until then, and he’d deemed it time to consider letting the man venture out into the world on his own.

“He’s been good,” Minho nodded. “Some stress with the new album coming out, but. He’s doing well. Says it energizes him to work under pressure.” He looked across the room at his soulmate and the sheer amount of love in his eyes was undeniable. When Jonghyun turned to him and smiled, he blushed.

“You’ve been good for him,” Jinki complimented, patting his arm. “You give him a lot of happiness. That’s what he always needed.”

Minho blushed some more, but shot him a salute. “As you ordered, sir!” he joked, and in the action Jinki noted the now-familiar, perfect cherry blossom in the center of the man’s palm–his symbol. His cypher. Holding no more meaning than the fact that it existed like a random mark on the man’s skin. Jinki grinned and nodded when the other excused himself.

Inside his own fists, snug within the pockets of his heavy coat, a pair of suns flared loud and bright.

#jongyu #long fic #shinee #rachanasapre #jjongsmonth

23 notes · View notes

boxxie · 5 years ago

Text

A Deal with the Devil [Baxter & Alastor]

A song fic based off a roleplay I did between Baxter and Alastor. The song is The Other Side from The Greatest Showman. Not really good at writing Alastor but I tried.＼(´▽｀*)/ . . .

Darkness enveloped the room, interrupted only by the dim light cast from the single room’s occupant. Their lure was lit, casting eerie shadows across the various machines and chemicals that were crammed into the small space. The occupant’s skin was an ash gray, their clothing consisting of a dark lab coat, long pants, rubber gloves, thick boots and a small fedora. Yellow goggles perched over tired blue eyes. The fins lining their face drooped, exhaustion weighing them down. How many days had Baxter been trying to perfect this experiment now? He was intelligent, no doubt, but he lacked supplies.

His suppliers had simply taken his money and ran. No one cared, it was Hell after all. This was possibly the lowest the anglerfish demon had ever been, but he refused to ask for help. Charlie was already doing enough by letting him use the hotel's basement as a labratory. He growled, his head hitting the table as another head ache began to form. Except this time, static seemed to follow. Baxter only had a few seconds to wonder what had caused it before he heard a soft chuckle.

The scientist jolted upright, spinning in his chair to face the much taller form of what could only be the Radio Demon. His eyes were a startling red, a yellowed smile stretching from ear to ear. A crimson pinstriped coat, matching dress pants and bow tie made the staff he was holding stand out. The tip was covered in a small microphone, the device seeming to be the source of the static. "Ah, my friend. Just the person I was looking for." He had been keeping an eye on Baxter for days now, noticing how much worse off he looked. It could be the perfect time to increase his ranks, when such a valuable asset was clearly at their wit's end.

"What do you want, Radio Demon?" Baxter scowled, having seen him here and there in the hotel. They had never interacted before this moment. Hell, Baxter rarely associated with the rest of the hotel employees. His eyes narrowed when Alastor grinned wider, holding a hand out to Baxter. The color around them seemed to melt away, leaving reality in a startling display of black and white.

"Right here, right now, I put the offer out. I don't wanna chase you down, I know you see it." Alastor's voice flowed through the room, almost as if it were a song. His hand was still outstretched, inviting the shorter demon to take it. "You run with me, and I can cut you free. Out of the drudgery and walls you keep in."

Seeing as how Baxter was refusing to accept, Alastor pulled his hand back, humming softly. He snapped his fingers, the colors returning to the room, but much more vibrant and lively. "So trade that typical for something colorful!" He threw his head back and laughed, hearing the crack of his neck following. "And if it's crazy, live a little crazy! You can play it sensible, a king of conventional-" Alastor leaned foward so he was towering over Baxter, smiling as the anglerfish demon shot him a glare. "Or you can risk it all and see~"

"Don't you wanna get away from the same old part you gotta play? 'Cause I got what you need. So come with me and take the ride, it'll take you to the other side!" Alastor didn't give Baxter a choice this time, pulling the shorter demon towards him with a twirl. "'Cause you can do like you do, or you can do like me-" He spun Baxter, who had immediately began to struggle against the contact.

Baxter found himself relieved of the Alastor’s clutches in that next moment, but he wasn’t free yet. He was caged, spot lights shining down on him out of no where as if he were a prized attraction at the circus. It was undoubtedly the Radio Demon's influence.

"Stay in the cage, or you finally take the key!" Alastor dangled a wispy green key in front of Baxter, but when the scientist grabbed it, the key vanished. "Oh, damn! Suddenly you're free to fly~ It'll take you to the other side." Alastor sang, watching as Baxter got to his feet with fire in his eyes.

"Okay, my friend, you wanna cut me in-" Baxter spoke, sarcasm dripping from his voice like venom. "Well, I hate to tell you, but it just won't happen." He got closer until he was standing directly by the bars, staring angrily at Alastor. "So thanks, but no. I think I'm good to go, 'cause I quite enjoy the life you say I'm trapped in."

Baxter looked at his gloves, inspecting them as if they were more important than the situation at hand. "Now I admire you, and that whole show you do. You're on to something, really it's something." Of course he knew about the power the Radio Demon held. He had been in Hell when the deeds were broadcasted, but he knew he would never associate with someone so open and public with their killings. "But I live among the swells, and we don't pick up peanut shells." Baxter looked up. This time, he was smirking. "I'll have to leave that up to you."

The anglerfish demon reached into his lab coat, pulling out a device that faintly resembled a gun. "Don't you know that I'm okay with this uptown part I get to play? 'Cause I got what I need, and I don't wanna take the ride. I don't need to see the other side!" He pointed the gun at the bars, a red beam firing at the steel cage. The laser cut through the steel like butter, leaving a hole big enough for the scientist to step through. "So go and do like you do, I'm good to do like me!" He burst from the cage, eyes sparking triumphantly. "Ain't in a cage, so I don't need to take the key! Oh, damn! Can't you see I'm doing fine? I don't need to see the other side!"

Alastor clucked his tongue with disappointment, walking closer to Baxter once more. "Now is this really how you'd like to spend your days?" He looked to the corner, stocked high with brandy and unpaid bar tabs. "Whiskey and misery, and parties and plays?"

Baxter crossed his arms, scoffing softly. "If I were mixed up with you, I'd be the talk of the town." His head lowered, darkening the angered expression he wore. "Disgraced and disowned, another one of the clowns."

Alastor's expression lightened, the demon once more touching Baxter. This time, however, it was merely his shoulder. "But you would finally live a little, finally laugh a little.." He waved his hands as images of the mad scientist performing various experiments seemed to hover in the air. "Just let me give you the freedom to dream, and it'll wake you up, and cure your aching. Take your walls and start 'em breaking. Now that's a deal that seems worth taking!" He pulled back, his voice unusually calm. "But I guess I'll leave that up to you." Once again, Alastor held his hand out.

Baxter stared at the images for a moment. He recognized them. The first experiment he ever did in Hell, keeping a patient's head alive without the body for two weeks. The time he created a slime monster that had nearly destroyed the entirety of Pentagram city. The time he built a device that allowed him to teleport short distances to avoid running into other demons when all he needed was a glass of water. They were all successful, much better than what he was struggling with now.

Baxter suddenly felt tired. Tired of being overworked, tired of finding himself alone, tired of failing. He hesitantly took the Radio Demon's hand, giving it a firm shake. Light shined brightly from their entwined grasps, the scientist had to cover his eyes. When the light died down, he found himself feeling the weight of his work finally catching up to him. He sighed, his shoulders slumping. "I think I should head to bed."

“Yes, yes! Rest up, my friend.” Alastor smiled, watching as Baxter turned away to head up stairs. The thinnest traces of his power were still visible, a light red veil, invisible to Baxter, slowly sapping his strength. The fish demon yawned, rubbing his eyes under the goggles and mumbled in agreement. Once Baxter had fully left the room, Alastor’s smile grew sinister, a dark chuckle soon following. “I must take care of my cohorts. They’ll need to be at full strength very soon.” His eyes flashed red, the sound of static growing louder and louder as the Radio Demon vanished in a puff of red smoke. The only thing left behind was a small radio, ready to call on Baxter at a moment’s notice.

#Hazbin Hotel #Hazbin #Baxter #Alastor #Radio Demon #Song #Hazbin Hotel Fanfic #Fanfic #Fanfiction #Songfic #The Greatest Showman #Based off a Roleplay #Hazbin Hotel Alastor #Hazbin Hotel Baxter

3 notes · View notes

cupidmarwani-archive · 5 years ago

Text

Come Into the Water (3/15)

After setting the photo album aside, Sarah decides to head down to the shore. It’s not very crowded, the midday sun hidden behind a layer of puffy grey clouds, and the waves look strong but not overwhelming. She rolls up her pants to her calves and walks out the slider, hopping over the railing of the porch and finding herself with her toes in the sand and the ocean air on her face in a different way than it feels when she leaves through the front door. If she squints, she can make out dolphins in the distance, leaping in and out of the water playfully. They have their pods. Social creatures, smart, friendly. Together. A smile tugs at Sarah’s face as she walks through the sand.

She steps only a couple feet into the surf, letting waves lap at her ankles as she wonders toward a cove of little tidepools and caves dipping into where the beach has curved up into a mild cliffside. Something about them calls to her. All of them have little microcosms living inside, rippling in the wind and with the occasionally washes of new waves rolling over where the rocks have divided things up. She goes to one of the biggest, with anemones and starfish and a scuttling crab. Colorful, alive, beautiful, so alluring that she can’t help sitting on the wet rocks and reaching a hand into the cold water. A handful of little fish skitter away, although she’s free to skate her finger across the top of an anemone to feel it stick to the pad for a moment before she pulls away.

Sarah does it again because it feels interesting and she needs sensations that don’t hurt, she thinks. She’s earned it. Then her fingertips trace over the top of a little red starfish, and it’s then that she hears a heavy splash to her right. Immediately she jerks her hand out of the pool and looks around for the source. There seems to be no one else around, or any animal big enough to make a sound like that, but she’s unsettled.

“Hello?”

A humming trill answers back and Sarah stands up, instantly wrinkling her nose over how wet and clingy her clothes are. She hates when they cling tightly, stick to her skin and often go see-through to reveal more than she’s ever prepared to show. Although she can’t be certain, she thinks the sound came from near the caves and makes her way over carefully, almost falling a couple times and managing to sustain a long scrape on her right bicep.

“Is anyone here?”

“Here,” an accented voice calls, a little husky and strained. Sarah scans the area and sees no one, close to giving up when the voice calls to her again. “Look down.”

She does as told and sees the most beautiful woman she’s ever laid eyes on, her wet hair framing her face and lips pouty, splashing a little pathetically in the shallows. But she knows that face. This is Ava. When Sarah studies closer, she can make out Ava’s body and tail, surrounded with a silver web like starlight.

“Holy shit.”

“Can you help me?” Ava asks. The water ripples around her again. “I’m stuck.”

“Yeah.”

Sarah wades over, hating the slimy feel of mossy rocks beneath her feet, but approaching Ava nonetheless. She feels the moment she gets too close, because the tip of Ava’s tail brushes her shins and Sarah flinches so badly she nearly falls yet again. She keeps her eyes down, then, so she doesn’t find herself looking at the human part of Ava’s body.

“Do you just need help getting back out to the water, or…?”

Ava lifts her tail and arches more of her chest out of the water, revealing netting tangled around her body and what appears to be a hook in her side. Poor thing. Sarah should help her. She can’t leave her here, and Ava asked for her help specifically, so she’s got to figure this out and help her. She starts at the tip of Ava’s tail.

Most people would be freaking out about this, she thinks. A real life mermaid is here, and she’s beautiful, and she’s friendly. She’s trapped, too, which is a danger if someone else had found her and taken advantage of the fact that she can’t get anywhere. Thankfully the wire isn’t too thin, so it doesn’t cut into her palms when she starts to pull at it. This would be faster if she could cut through it, but she doesn’t have a knife with her. So she tries to be gentle, easing the knots free so the net will unfold flat again. She doesn’t know how fragile or sensitive Ava’s tail is, but she can hear her breathing harshly, see the water moving with ribcage.

“You’re okay,” Sarah says. “I’ll get you out of this. My name is Sarah.”

“Ava.”

She nods like she didn’t already know and manages to get Ava’s tail freed fairly quickly because the tangles aren’t too bad. But her chest is a whole different story. It’s tightly wound around her, including her arms and her breasts, and there’s the fish hook in her side to deal with as well.

Sarah can’t look. Well, she can look at the fish hook. She was training to be a doctor before this. But everything else, it makes bile rise in her throat, makes her feel dirty and disgusting. Like he made her feel. She can’t look at Ava’s bare chest because it’s wrong and she knows better. Her hands flutter uselessly above Ava, not sure where to go to avoid touching something she shouldn’t. She knows what those touches feel like.

“Please, just help me get out.”

The desperate tone to Ava’s voice takes precedence, and she forces herself to take a deep breath and get to work, still pointedly keeping her eyes on safe areas like Ava’s shoulders. Not her waist. Not her… nothing like that. She can’t. But she starts untangling carefully, wary of unwanted contact or touching the fish hook. As she loosens the grip the net has, Ava’s breathing calms down and she stops twitching restlessly in the water.

“Almost done,” Sarah soothes.

She reaches the last of it and pulls the net away, then casts it onto the rocks instead of the ocean so it won’t tangle around another hapless victim, perhaps one who can’t call for help like Ava did.

“Thank you,” Ava says, smiling brightly and stretching before remembering the fish hook in her side, quickly curling back up with a wince. “Shit.”

“I’ll take care of that.”

Sarah places one hand flat on Ava’s stomach- and doesn’t notice how warm and soft her skin is, where it hasn’t been burned by the rope friction- and the other on the hook. She should be doing this somewhere sterile, have stitches and bandages at the ready, but she can’t just bring a mermaid to a hospital. So she carefully eases it out, apologizing every time Ava winces or tenses in response. Blood drools from the wound, but not too much, thankfully. If she’s lucky, maybe it’ll heal on its own.

Another beautiful smile, more at ease this time, stretches across Ava’s face, and then she’s cupping Sarah’s face and pulling her in for a salt-water kiss. It’s too much, but she doesn’t have time to pull away before it’s over and she’s a little dizzy. It wasn’t a bad kiss. It felt nice, but now her throat is closing up and she’s only thinking about the way he felt when he kissed her. He had grabbed her neck, not her face. His hands were bigger, colder.

“I have to- I have to go.”

She stumbles to her feet and leaves Ava behind, still bleeding a little and no doubt confused, but at the very least she’s now safe. Sarah doesn’t have to add that to her list of anxieties as she hurries back home where it’s safe. Where she’s safe. The door opens easily because she didn’t lock it. She doesn’t know where the key even is, actually. And now she’s in the living room surrounded by the moving boxes and it just feels like she’s surrounded by a past she doesn’t know how to control or overcome.

Her clothes are soaked with salt water, and her scrapes are starting to hurt. She doesn’t know what to do next, short of opening one of the boxes of clean clothes, which she doesn’t want to do. It feels like a lot, and she’s had a long day already. She went to see Olivia (and Noah) and met Ava, and if she’s honest, that’s more social interaction in a single day than she dealt with in a whole week before she came here. No wonder she’s tired.

She looks to the three books sitting on her floor, and goes over to one of the clothes boxes. All she has to do is open it and get something clean to wear. It’s not hard. Three steps: one, open the box; two, get out something to change into; three, put it on. She shouldn’t be struggling this much with it, especially when she’s supposed to be getting better. For all that it’s worth, she has her exhaustion to show for the progress she’s made. This is the easiest thing she’s done all day. And if she’s going to eat today, it would have to be at dinner like Olivia invited her to, which means she absolutely needs clean clothes. And if she doesn’t go to that, she has her first appointment with her new therapist in the morning, anyways.

Sarah digs her nails into the cellophane packing tape, which absolutely fails to break it open. That’s the sharpest thing she has. Fuck. She feels her eyes start to burn with tears and she hates it so much. If only she could go back in time, keep her life from spiraling so completely out of control like this.

Just then, someone knocks on her door and she almost screams in frustration. Instead, she stares at the box a little more until a voice cuts through the wood.

“Hey, we brought you some dinner, thought you might be hungry.”

At Liv’s voice, she knows she has to open it. Olivia and Maggie have been kind to her, and she doesn’t want to burn that bridge. Sarah drags herself to the door to open it, revealing Olivia holding a few containers of takeout and Maggie with Noah balanced on her hip.

“We got a little of everything,” Maggie says. “Take your pick.”

She doesn’t want to, but Sarah’s been taught to be a good host. Her chest tightens, but she steps back into the house and opens the door wider. “Come on in.”

Throughout dinner, Sarah is quiet because it’s easy. Maggie talks about her students while she feeds Noah bites of dinner between her own. Olivia mostly stares wistfully out the window, quieter than earlier in the day, but pleasant to be around nonetheless. What little energy Sarah has left depletes itself. By the time they leave, she can barely keep her eyes open, but hauls herself back to her box of clothes and painstakingly peels up the tape until the flaps open and she’s face to face with tightly packed, soft clothes that she didn’t throw away with the others and don’t irritate her skin or bring up bad memories. She pulls out a tee shirt and boxers, but doesn’t bother digging deeper for more clothes.

She doesn’t have it in her to even rinse off, only to change into dry clothes and collapse on her couch with cushions that aren’t even soft or comfortable. Her mattress might be better, but it’s farther away, and she doesn’t want to go to it. Instead she settles with her head on the arm rest and remembers Ava. The rope around her, the hook in her side, the pain inflicted upon her by a careless fisherman who thought himself above caring for the safety of sea life.

Ava’s more beautiful in person than in the pictures, even hurt, and she had been so gentle when she pulled Sarah in for a kiss. She’s sweet. In that moment, she was the mermaid in the photo album, but otherwise, Sarah has to wonder why she suddenly disappeared from the photos. Something could have happened, like it did to her at school, but somehow she doesn’t believe Maggie or Olivia would ever hurt someone.

The thoughts wrestle with her consciousness until fitful sleep drags her down.

@bookreader525 @sextonsharpwinhalstead @sarahreeese @bipeteypie @sapphiccsharks

#ava bekker #sarah reese #chicago med #reesker #fic #mine #ciwfic

13 notes · View notes

ummaannex · 6 years ago

Text

on art, activism, and how much instagram fucking sucks: a conversation with curator Eva Respini

For people my age and younger, talking about the internet is like talking about gravity. Omnipresent, widely accepted-- but largely impossible to understand, and absolutely inescapable. Though for myself and most of the people I know growing around it has been a part of our lives, this isn’t the case for everyone.

The museum’s exhibition of “Art in the Age of the Internet, 1989 to Today” casts a sometimes humorous, oftentimes bewildering, but mostly what I see as a withering eye at the internet’s constant assault on our everyday way of life. Its curator, Eva Respini-- the chief curator at the Institute of Contemporary Art in Boston, where the exhibition originated, sat down with me to talk about what motivated and inspired the exhibition and whether we all really are as doomed as it can make us feel.

Sena: Can you tell us where you’re from, and a little about your line of work?

Eva: I actually don’t have a hometown. I had a very peripatetic upbringing-- I was an immigrant. I was born to an Italian father and a Norwegian mother who met in Thailand. I was born in Paris, and I’d lived in 6 different countries by the time I was twenty. I came to the United States for university, and essentially stayed. So I’ve lived my adult life in the US (though I am the only member of my family to live here) but really have come to where I am in my work and who I am as a person with a really global perspective.

Sena: As someone who’s had kind of this global upbringing, and with the internet being something that a lot of people view as pretty American, or western at least—what’s it been like to communicate how the internet has affected artists from a more global perspective in your Art in the Age of the Internet exhibition?

Eva: Well, the thing about this exhibition that was really challenging, is that so much could be included. My job and work as a curator is to select, and to give a platform to a certain number of artists. I’m bound by architecture, I’m bound by budgets, I’m bound by very real constraints of what I can show, what I can bring, what I can ship—and from a conceptual point of view there are many, many artists across the globe that would have been great, and still could be great in this topic, but I had to boil it down to what I thought was right for the context in which I work.

So the show is pretty international, I thought it was really important to have perspectives from a variety of different global points of view, and that’s to speak about how the internet is not widely available. It’s widely available in the US and most of Western Europe, but there are large regions of the world where internet access is not available for a variety of reasons…and there are certain works in the show that speak to that reality in one way or another—

Sena: Like the ‘Great Firewall’ piece.

Eva: Like ‘The Great Firewall,’ yeah— which is by a Chinese hacker, artist, activist, who made a work about those restrictive parameters around the internet in China, and made a fantastic piece which serves as almost a sort of…path to resistance against these restrictions placed by the Chinese government…But there are other artists who speak to the possibility of the freedom of the internet. For example, artists in the Middle East whose pieces speak to what happened in 2010-2011 with the Arab Spring and the uprisings there. Where different social media platforms and citizen journalism gave insight for those of us who were not on the street, allowed people to bypass traditional media outlets which were only broadcasting one point of view, and allow the world to see what was really happening.

Sena: So, building from that point—in your tour yesterday night you said that the exhibit wasn’t one of the internet, but about the internet. Can you speak a little more to how you think the internet is impacting how people engage, how we interact, how we organize—and what you think that means for where we’re headed?

Eva: I mean the internet has just fundamentally changed who we are—and everything about our culture—personal relationships, how we date, how we shop, how we eat, how we travel.. but I think also, more importantly every industry whether it’s manufacturing, research, academic work… has all been fundamentally changed by the internet.

And I think what we’re understanding now is that the internet is essentially a set of social relationships. It’s a sociopolitical construct, and that’s what I’m really thinking about with this exhibition…and that has not just changed our culture and how we live, but also how we see ourselves and how we understand ourselves in others. And I think most alarmingly recently, how we understand our reality and the truth. We’re understanding that the internet and the echo chamber bubbles that have been created by it, have far-reaching influences. Policy, politics, how people vote, or don’t vote, or aren’t able to vote. We’re understanding the more nefarious underpinnings to what—when the internet was first founded in the 1960’s, essentially was a more utopian ethos of interconnectedness and universal knowledge. Being able to share knowledge across this platform through space and time. I think we see now that this more utopic ideal certainly has not come to pass.

The flipside of that is that we also see a great deal of activism recently which has been given a platform through the internet. The #MeToo movement, Black Lives Matter—a lot of this activity was either started on or given a platform by the internet. So, in that sense it gives me a little hope too that there is still some sense of being a democratic place where anybody’s voice can be lifted.

Sena: A lot of the themes featured throughout the exhibit are centered around women—and I remember you saying that you wanted to make sure to center the work of women that have been kind of sidelined as the internet and internet culture have come to prominence through the years. Can you speak to that sidelining and how things may or may not be different now?

Eva: I don’t think it’s any secret that women and people of color in many fields, but especially in the art field have not had the due, or the visibility and platform that their white male counterparts have had. What I found in my research, is that in the mediums of video, photography, and digital media—there are a lot of women working. A lot of women working alongside men, but a lot of women also working quietly on their own, and without their due. I think there’s something about those mediums—because they’re not the traditional mediums of painting or sculpture with their long history. To do them you don’t have to go to the academy, or the art school. There’s sort of a sense that you can practice those mediums in a way that may allow for a wider variety of practitioners.

I found that there were a lot of women who have been very prescient. Judith Barry, Lynn Hershman Leeson—these are among the women who I see as very key early figures who in the 70’s, 80’s, 90’s who were making really radical work which still feels contemporary even today…and that became a kind of theme that emerged—it’s not where we started but I think the internet is a space that allowed a lot of women to come and have a voice and a platform.

Sena: Pivoting a little—one element of the exhibit is this idea of performing the identity online and self-performance…I did a little research, and you have a sort of massive Instagram following!

Eva: *laughs*

Sena: Your page is pretty awesome by the way.

Eva: Thank you.

Sena: But with you existing as this sort of public figure—and one whose profile is growing, do you think you fall victim to those same sorts of traps of identity performance? Do you think you present yourself pretty honestly online?

Eva: You know it’s funny, because recently I’ve been thinking about quitting all my social media. I quit Facebook a long time ago, I quit Twitter, and I only have Instagram. And the reason I started Instagram is because I thought it was fun, I’m a visual person, it’s a visual medium, I enjoyed looking at it. It came out of a sort of genuine, personal place, like I think it does for most people when they started social media. It was about connecting and seeing what other people were seeing, and I think especially in the beginning, it was a very creative medium and still is—but it’s become very commercialized now. It’s all ads! I feel like whatever algorithm that’s organizing my feed is one that is making me feel less and less connected to the people I sought to originally connect with. So—I think it’s still a pretty genuine expression, I think at this point if it’s no longer fun for me, I’ll just…

Sena: Call it quits.

Eva: Yeah, stop. Because it’s not for me. It’s not about advertising myself. I get paid through my job—I don’t need it for revenue—so if it’s no longer fun that’ll be it for me.

Sena: Widening that lens a little bit, what was your relationship with the internet growing up, especially having lived in all these different countries and places. What sites were you on, when did you get into it?

Eva: Well I’m old enough to remember what life was like before Google, before smartphones, before social media.

Sena: The dial-up days!

Eva: Oh, yeah. I mean that noise...

Sena: It’s like burned into your brain.

Eva: Exactly! I think I only got a cellphone when I was in college—just to give you a sense of where I fall generationally. I still have that kind of memory of not pre-internet exactly-- but pre-internet in terms of the way we understand and interact with the internet now.

I was never particularly interested in technology, I was never a computer science person, I’m not a programmer. So for me the interest in the internet has always been through images and kind of social and political conversations. The social media stuff I was interested in like Friendster and MySpace, was all about “What bands are playing?” or “Who can we connect to?” It was much more about social interaction rather than coming at it from a technical background—something I do not have. And I think that’s a reflection in the show as well—that you can see my interest is, well how has this technology, how has this platform-- created these kinds of social relationships that exist currently and shape who we are as a society.

*this interview has been edited for clarity and length*

--For those who haven’t seen it, the UMMA is putting on an art experience centered around the exhibit tonight at 7-- there you can see more of Eva’s incredible exhibition and eat free food, so...

47 notes · View notes

thisisawesomeness1825 · 6 years ago

Text

oops, i (fake) love you, ch. 07

vii. Annabeth

"Okay, so what's gonna be our backstory?" Annabeth asks after she took out a pen and paper from her bag. Percy sits across her, fiddling with the loose thread of his pillow.

"I don't know. Maybe one day you wake up and you realize that I'm an awesome person after all," he offers.

"That's impossible. They won't believe that."

"Me being an awesome person or you suddenly not hating me?"

She gives him her signature glare. "Both."

Leaning her head back, she thinks about how to convince everyone with the supposed authenticity of their relationship. Obviously, it's impossible not to arouse suspicion when you suddenly date your enemy. Most people would likely think that they're onto something beyond dating, which is what they're actually doing in the first place. Nevertheless, they still need to achieve everyone's acceptance, especially Percy's friends, if they want to be successful with this mission.

"How about we just stick with the truth?" she asks. Percy looks up curiously. "I think it would be more believable to tell something that actually happened, than making something out of the blue. Then we can just tweak it up a little bit."

"That's reasonable," he says in agreement. "Do you think the pool incident would be a nice starting point?"

"Well, how would you make a story around that?"

"For a start, we'll use the same facts. After swim practice, I stumble upon you drowning in the pool, and I came to save you. Then, probably you realize that I wasn't really a 'jerk' as you initially thought," he explains, using air quotes for the word 'jerk'.

Annabeth nods. That seems like a good plan. "After that realization, we both apologized for being rude to each other. And as part of the apology and for saving me, I treated you out for dinner," she adds.

"Then, we exchanged numbers and began secretly seeing each other until we agreed to go out officially," Percy finished. He glances at her. "Do you think that's enough?"

"I suppose so. It seems believable enough." She shrugs. "Not that I'd consider doing that in real life since you're not exactly the best person to be around."

"Gee, thanks for the support."

Annabeth tucks her notes in her bag and brings out a color-coded planner with matching sticky notes. The use of different colors makes it easier for her to organize her stuff, as time-consuming it may seem. "So, when can we start our swimming lessons?" she asks. "I can't do it next week since I still have to organize the Freshman Welcoming Party, but my schedule is free after that."

His eyebrows bunch up like a confused kid. "Are you okay with meeting every Wednesday and Friday after next week?"

"Yep. That's settled then," she confirms. "Did you read lesson outline for the next topic?"

"Uh yeah? I did," he admits with hesitation like he isn't sure whether he actually read it or not. "Although, I wasn't—"

Without a warning, she moves closer to stare at his eyes. She cuts him off with a soft smile, "I like how green your eyes are. It makes me want to lose myself in your gaze."

Annabeth waits for a moment for that to sink into Percy, and the blush that appears on his cheeks makes her grin wider. "Um, thanks?" he mumbles.

"That's flirting," she says, as she leans back to her personal space. "You didn't really read the outline, did you?"

"I did! But I wasn't able to finish it," he exclaims. His eyes meet hers. "How do you do it so effortlessly?"

"Well, it takes confidence to be able to do that without stuttering. And some flowery words to make it effective. Basically, it's just like giving a compliment but with extra frostings."

"Frostings?"

"Yeah. To make it more appealing," she says. "It worked for you, didn't it?"

He shrugs, but there are still faint traces of red on his cheeks.

"Anyway, there are several forms of flirting, but that's the easiest thing to learn," she says. She crosses her arms on her chest. "Try it on me. Flirt with me."

"Um, you're...nice?"

Annabeth rolls her eyes. He clearly doesn't give the effort to do it. "C'mon. You're not trying."

His eyes squint like he's trying to find something to compliment. "Your hair looks nice today," he says at last.

Her expression doesn't change, but she supposes it is better than the last. "I guess that's better. Keep practicing that."

"Okay."

She brings up the latest scoresheet. "So, I gave you a score of 80 out of 100 today. There's still a lot of room for progress so you better step up your game."

"Yes, ma'am."

Piper

If there's something Piper is good at, it's sensing whether someone is lying or not. And as of now, her senses are flashing red flags around Percy.

Friendship-wise, she wants to believe him. She wants to agree and be happy that he's now finally found someone—even if it is in the shape of his old nemesis, Annabeth Chase. God knows how many times she's spotted him casting longing and sad glances to their fellow friend Rachel that in a way, it makes her ache for him too. All she wants for him is to be happy, and not constantly stuck in the friend zone.

But more importantly, she wants him safe and happy, and not at the mercy of his old enemy. Piper doesn't know for sure, but she feels that there is something fishy in the relationship between Percy and Annabeth. Although they are trying to be open with their relationship, something still feels off. And she wants to figure out what.

"Hey, guys! In here," she stage-whispers, beckoning in the empty classroom behind her.

Jason, Leo, Grover, and Rachel enters after her, and she closes the door stealthily like a spy. You can't blame her for wanting to take advantage of the opportunity to be one.

"So, no one saw you come in here?" she asks. Everybody shakes their head. "That's great."

"Why the emergency meeting, Beauty Queen?" Leo asks.

"First of all, don't call me Beauty Queen. And second, we need to talk about Percy's love life."

"Well, that's interesting," Jason quips. He looks around them for a second, then his eyes widen. "Oh, that's why Percy's not here."

Piper raises her eyebrow at the amused look in Jason's face, then turns serious immediately. "Anyway, didn't you notice something strange with Percy earlier?"

"You mean, aside from suddenly having a girlfriend that he didn't tell us before?" Grover asks incredulously.

"Yeah, Percy and Annabeth's interaction certainly looked forced," Rachel says. "I confronted him about it earlier, but he denied that it was fake."

"Do you think he's lying?" Jason asks. Grover gasps suddenly. "Oh no! What if Annabeth's holding him hostage, and she makes him lie to us about it?"

"You certainly have a wide imagination, Grover," Piper deadpans. She turns to everyone. "Anyway, if Percy and Annabeth are really hiding something from us, we need to catch them red-handed."

"And how would we do that? I'm up if it involves seducing Annabeth," Leo says with a wink. "You know, girls can't get enough of me."

Piper rolls her eyes. "No, the plan doesn't involve seduction, but we need them to slip up from their act if they are indeed faking it."

"We need to probe them about their relationship until they slip up," Rachel suggests. "I'm thinking some of us would have to go on a double date with them."

"Yeah! In that way, we can see if they really are being serious or are just faking it," Grover adds. "So, who's going to pretend to be a couple?"

"They must be compatible with each other," Jason suggests. For a second, Piper sees his gaze drift to her, but that might just be her imagination.

"I'm thinking you and Piper," Rachel suggests with a shrug. "You two seem like the most compatible couple for me."

The suggestion makes Piper's cheeks flush for no reason at all. "That's not true! I can be compatible with Leo or Grover."

Leo smirks at her. "I like how you want to be my pretend girlfriend Mclean, but I think you and Jason are fit for the job."

"How about you Grover?"

"I'm in with Rachel and Leo's suggestion," Grover says. "Besides, fake dating Jason couldn't be too bad, right?"

Jason blushes to the tips of his hair. It's adorable, Piper thinks. No, wait, her mind backtracks. He's a dork. It's adorkable.

"Okay," Piper agrees. "Are you okay with it, Jason?"

"Uh, um, yeah. Sure."

"Cool."

Annabeth

It feels weird to be fake dating your enemy. Much more a boy she used to crush on.

Okay. There. She said it. For all that deeply buried anger and feelings of resentment, it might be impossible that there once existed a universe where she used to like Percy Jackson. Used to. The use of past tense is very important.

But before their feud, it might not be that hard to believe considering they've hung out with each other for five years. From the first time they met when they 7 on that muddy playground up to the time when they were 12 and things began to get awry, they've been practically attached to the hip. Since they were neighbors and classmates at the local school, most of their free time was spent around each other—joking, playing, and basically being a kid. He'd never left her even if he found out that girls have cooties (which is so not true), and the first round of acne began to show up on her face.

It might just be the influence of Taylor Swift's 'You Belong with Me' and other songs that were popular then, but she started to see her best friend as a boy, and a cute one at that (although she supposes, in a scrawny kind of way).

Anyway, she's way past that crush, and any feelings she has for him are now transformed into anger and bitterness.

For the first time, she actually sits beside Percy in their mythology class. Interestingly, few of their classmates are surprised. "You ready for later?" she asks.

"I think so." He turns to her. "Do you think we should have pet names?"

Pet names sound like a bit of a stretch. She doesn't really understand why people prefer to be called babe, sweetie, and other cutesy stuff which sound like overripe fruit. "Nah. I don't do pet names. Besides, it seems a little awkward to do that."

"Sure."

Annabeth turns back to her desk and picks up her book. Time shouldn't be wasted doing idle things when she can opt to spend it on productive activities.

"Hey, Annabeth?" she hears him ask, and her gaze shifts from the book to him. "Yeah?"

"You should wear your hair down more," Percy says. He grins at her, much like the boy she used to hang out with. "It makes you look like a princess."

She remembers hearing that same phrase ages ago when a little kid of ebony hair runs up to her on the swings and tugs at her curls.

"Let go of my hair!" she tells at the boy.

The said boy, with green eyes alight with mischief, grins at her toothily. "You look like a princess."

Against her will, her lips turn up into a smile. "Well done. You've earned yourself some brownie points," she says.

"Great!" He smirks at her. "Looks like you're not too hard to please."

"Oh, I'm hard to please, alright." Like a kid who opened her gifts early, she beams at him. "Seems like you've got yourself a challenge, Jackson."

"Huh, good thing I like challenges then."

Once the lunch bell rings, Annabeth is already walking down the hallways. Her last class before lunch ended early, so she's got quite a brief free period. Good thing when she finally reached the cafeteria, Percy is the only one around yet on the table.

"Remember the plan?" she asks once she's finally seated beside him. She lays her hand palms up on her thighs. "Don't forget to hold my hand."

Percy still looks a little uncomfortable, but he manages to hold her hand without flinching. "Yeah, I remember."

"Why is your hand so clammy?" she complains. She's not really fond of holding hands; that sort of thing just makes it difficult to move around knowing that you only have one hand that is free to use. Percy's sweaty hands don't really make it better.

He frowns at her. "I don't know. Better get used to it."

Just then, the rest of Percy's friends arrive at the table. Grover greets them first, "Hey!"

Piper smiles apologetically at her. "Sorry we got off on the wrong foot yesterday. We're just really shocked by the news. It's not like every day Percy suddenly gets a new girlfriend. Much more someone he used to fight with."

"It's fine. I understand your point," Annabeth says. She looks at Percy for a small smile and lightly squeezes his hand. "We're just glad that you accepted it."

Rachel looks at them skeptically, like she's nowhere near accepting it.

"Anyway," Piper clasps her hands, "Welcome to our little friendship circle. I'm Piper."

"I'm Jason," the blonde boy with glasses says as he extends his hand to her. "Grover," says a boy with the goatee.

"Hot Leo at your service," a scrawny boy with dark unruly curls exclaims with a wink.

"Hey," Rachel mutters under her breath.

"Now that we're all acquainted, I hope you don't mind us asking but how did you two get together?" Piper asks.

"Actually, it started in the pool. I was closing the pool when I saw her flailing on the water, and I just dived in after her. There was no question of whether we're friends or not," Percy says.

"And I realized that we aren't all that much different and that he doesn't suck so bad as I used to believe. We sort of had a long talk after that," Annabeth adds. "And a dinner, then we exchanged numbers. We decided to keep it low since we're not entirely sure where this will go."

"Up until we agreed to be official," Percy finishes with a small smile.

Grover, Jason and Leo nod like they're now agreeing with the story. Rachel just sort of raises her brows in the story, like she's not sure whether to believe it or not. Piper just smirks, like she's up to something really interesting. Or trouble.

"Great! How would you like to go on a double date with Jason and I this Saturday?" she asks.

A/N: Sorry for the late update! My writing time got held up since I binged watch Brooklyn Nine-Nine, and I'm still caught in the cuteness that is Jake and Amy. Anyway, sorry for this crappy chapter, I didn't really liked how this turned out.

Also, my classes start next week, so this might be the last regular update for now. I will try to write if I have the free time, or if I really get motivated to write the chapter.

Lastly, don't forget to leave your thoughts on this!

#oops i (fake) love you #my fic #percabeth #pjo #hoo #fake dating au

21 notes · View notes

kondo-hijikata · 6 years ago

Text

Pairings: Established Kondo/Hijikata Rating: M Summary: It’s simple. Peddle medicine and find purpose. But after Hijikata is caught in a downpour that leads him right into Kondo’s arms, he realizes things are a little more complicated than he’d like to believe. [AO3]

<< Chapter 3

.*After the Rain*. Chapter 4

Tendrils of honeysuckle twisted fragrant blooms over the outer stone wall, bringing embellishment and vitality to a modest silver nameplate that bore the words Sato Residence. The habitant butterflies and hummingbirds were unfazed when Kondo hurried by their earthly paradise of flora, still impassively flitting about even when he swept beneath the bough that had grown over the main entryway.

That wasn’t to say a proper welcome wasn’t in order, however.

“Kat-chan!”

Kondo unclasped his hat and pulled it free with a shake of the head, his chin immediately lifting to the woman who stood up on the porch before him. At her side were a young girl and boy, each flailing and cheering while jumping about in delight. “Uncle came to visit! Uncle, uncle!”

“Shh!” she hissed, swatting at the space around them. “Not so loud!”

“Nao-chan, Gen-chan! Hello!” Kondo offered a wave to help placate their excitement and then turned back to Nobu, his voice falling as serious as his expression. “I’m real sorry for showing up like this without notice, but I rushed over the moment I got your letter.”

“Oh, Kat-chan, please. Do you not see these kids right now? You’re always welcome here.” She guided the children a few steps back to give him room. “Come on up!”

With a nod, Kondo placed his hat and the cloth-covered box he’d carried on the wooden floorboards, before pivoting to toe off his sandals. “Sorry for the trouble,” he said out of polite habit (and over little voices now chanting, “Big feet! Big feet!”), while bounding up to join them on the porch. Within seconds, tiny arms were tossed around his legs to deliver enthusiastic hugs. Kondo’s shoulders dipped forward so he could place one hand atop each child’s head and he greeted them with warmth. “Hey, you guys.” However, worry was written across his features when he looked to Nobu again. “How is he?”

“Besides his usual stubborn self?” The words alone were harsh but they’d been delivered with the same fondness Nobu always used when talking of her brother. She crossed her arms and one hip leisurely swung out to the side. “Doing better, thankfully. He’s still feverish but at least he’s finally in bed.”

Kondo exhaled with relief, his lashes falling as he nodded once. In the background, he was vaguely aware of teeny toes stepping on his, their owners continuing to yap about the extraordinary size of his shoes.

“Ugh, the strings I had to pull to get him to rest, Kat-chan…” Blowing out a breath, Nobu’s brow creased and she tilted her head. “You should’ve seen him this morning. Flushed! Sweating! Exhausted and grumpy, and completely unreasonable. But he was so insistent on getting dressed, no matter what.”

Connecting the dots, Kondo felt color rush to his own cheeks then and his eyes parted a little wider. “Oh no…”

“I felt so bad that it came to sending a courier and worrying you like this. But with Hiko-chan out giving lessons like the good husband he is…” Nobu closed one eye and raised her shoulders a touch. “Honestly, that letter was the only way I could convince Toshi to get himself back in bed this morning. Even then, he was up and about soon after, pacing.” A beat. “He was really looking forward to seeing you today.”

Raising his palm to his cheek, Kondo huffed as his features softened and he peered off to the side. Soon after, his focus crept back up to her with a shy apology. “I’m so sorry for the trouble, Nobu-san.”

“What are you sorry for? You know best of all that obstinacy and flair for drama are traits around these parts!”

In response to that bit of truth, Kondo could do nothing except stifle the laugh which demanded escape from his tongue. So, the pot was calling the kettle black again… His hand fell and he absently pulled at the hem of his hakamashita to keep himself in line; the last thing he needed was another Hijikata on his case for something minor, especially when Nobu could be just as irascible as Toshi—if the mood was right. “Hardly,” he finally replied, not daring to agree with her assessment, no matter how accurate. “Anyway, I’m just glad he’s okay.”

“He’ll be fine. And speaking of the other dramatics in this family.” Nobu’s gaze appropriately fell to her children then. “All right, you two, that’s it! Let’s give him some space.” The girl of seven, Nao, pouted before releasing Kondo as her mother insisted but her younger brother, Gennosuke, made no such move; he clung even tighter, then lifted his chin. “Is Souji-niichan coming?”

“Souji, huh,” Kondo exhaled. “Afraid not. He stayed home today since Uncle Toshi caught a cold.”

“Aww…”

Kondo grinned and ruffled Gennosuke’s hair. “Don’t worry, you’ll be seeing him soon.” It was a promise he’d have to make good on, for as much as this boy wanted to see Souji, Souji had wanted to accompany Kondo on his visit here; the deadpan look and manner with which his brow had twitched upon hearing the remainder of his day would be spent with Gen-san were almost comical. Alas, though, Kondo had known war tales and tea would pale in comparison to the potential thrill of antagonizing Hijikata when he was already contentious and moody. His decision to come alone had been made in the best interests of all.

In all honestly, he’d felt awful about breaking the plans which occupied Souji’s excitement for the last few days, and even sought his permission to do so; unimpressed green eyes had fallen half-lidded with a sigh. “Hijikata-san is ruining my life as usual, I see.” Despite the warranted complaint, Souji had turned on his feet afterward and wandered in the direction of the sitting room, all as Kondo’s palms met in appreciation before taking off, himself.

He’d make the blunder up soon enough. For now…

Upon hearing Nao call his name, Gennosuke let go of the leg he’d wrapped himself around, instead favoring to chase his sister across the porch and through open shoji. Kondo used this opportunity of newly granted freedom to retrieve the elegant box he’d set down earlier. Picking it up, he offered it to Nobu once she finished gently scolding the children again for their noisiness.

“Nobu-san, it’s not much, but…”

“Kat-chan!” she admonished. “You never have to bring anything.”

“I know, I know. But I ran into a fruit vendor and couldn’t pass this up though, look.” Reaching for the tied ends of fabric, Kondo loosened them slightly and fragrance drifted up from inside.

“Ara?! Peaches?!” Nobu exclaimed. “They smell so good!” She inhaled again and a large smile graced her lips. “Oh, Kat-chan, Toshi’s gonna be so happy, you don’t even know. Between you visiting and bringing these? I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s cured in a split second.”

Kondo smiled widely at that, a hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck. “That would be ideal, wouldn’t it?”

“Only one way to find out! C’mon,” she said with a wink and toss of her head, “let’s go see how bad of a mood he’s in.”

Companionable silence descended as Nobu led Kondo down a long stretch of porch and then around the corner, leaving them both standing at the threshold of a closed door.

“Toshi,” Nobu called softly while placing her palm against the entrance. When no reply came she tried again. However, upon being greeted with quiet for a second time, she carefully slid the shoji aside and peered in with Kondo leaning over her to do the same.

“Ah…” he whispered, lingering a moment more before righting himself. Nobu looked up at him with questioning eyes and Kondo nodded once to offer his agreement. And just like that, the door was closed as quietly as it had been opened.

“You know, Kat-chan…” When Kondo offered to carry the box for her as they began walking again, Nobu only hugged it closer. “I’ve known my brother for almost twenty years at this point and it’s still hard to believe that that…innocent face he makes while sleeping belongs to him.”

“Mm?” Kondo chuckled.

“Almost makes me believe in those ridiculous stories about shapeshifters…those scary ones that really do terrify the hell out of you when you’re younger but you never want to admit it.”

“Are you admitting it now?”

“I guess I am!”

Suppressing what would have been a hearty, resounding laugh, Kondo managed to control the volume of his amusement and then agreed. “You have a point, though. Angry Toshi is certainly scary Toshi.” A beat. “And it’s always a good idea to stay on his good side…unless you’re brave.” Upon arriving back at the front of the house, he cast a glance toward the main gate and his lower eyelids lifted just a touch. “Souji is brave.”

“Oh, that kid is a master of getting under my brother’s skin for sure. But make no mistake about it!” Nobu stamped one foot to drive her point home. “Toshi cares deeply for him. I know, if just from seeing how he interacts with my own.”

“Heh, I know it, too!” Kondo crossed his arms with a grin pulling far into his cheeks. “Those two may be like oil and water, but in some cases, oil and water can actually work together, you know. I can’t imagine my life without either. Everything just feels…” Affection swelled in his chest and perhaps had him speaking a bit too openly. “…so complete.”

“That’s good,” came the matter-of-fact voice at his side. “Because I can’t imagine Toshi’s life without you in it, either.”

With a blink, the contented expression fell from Kondo’s face and when his attention turned back to Nobu, he found her studying him with an inkling of pensiveness. “Oh…um—”

“Ne.” She cocked her head toward the kitchen. “You comin’ in?”

“Ah, Nobu-san, I don’t wanna put you out or anything. I just came to make sure—”

“Here, then. Since you’ve been insisting on carrying them.” Nobu thrust the peaches into Kondo’s arms. “Now you’re useful. Follow me.”

“I—” Kondo pursed his lips when he received a very familiar piercing gaze over her shoulder and the sight of it had him immediately relenting. “Mm, right. Yes, on my way.”

Tiny crimson baubles dangling from Nobu’s hair pin danced with a laugh just as animated. “That’s more like it! My last name may be Sato but never doubt I’m a Hijikata through and through!”

“Believe me.” Kondo stepped into sandals (small and uncomfortable, but they would do) waiting on the finished stone floor of the kitchen and set the box on a counter. “I’m smart enough to never dream of doing that.” His gaze drifted around the space and he watched while Nobu approached the pot that had been set over a small flame. The air smelled of comfort—of burning wood and appetizing rice porridge.

“I want to talk with you about some things, but I need to take care a few odds and ends in here first.” She picked up a hand towel to protect herself from the heat and then slid the cover off just enough to look inside. A billow of steam rose from within and the lid was immediately replaced. “Am I right to assume you’re gonna fight me if I tell you to go relax in the sitting room?”

“Who could possibly just sit around when there’s porridge to garnish and other things around here to do?”

Nobu huffed out of her nose. “You’re a good man, Kat-chan.” She opened a nearby cabinet and procured a jar. “Impossibly humble, but certainly good.”

“So, those scallions over there…which knife can I use?”

“Taku.” However, Nobu was grinning softly as she nodded toward a drawer. “Any one you want.”

“Got it.” With that, Kondo plucked the light green stalks from the vegetable basket, brought them to a free area of countertop, and began dicing. Across the way, Nobu removed handfuls of pickled plums from the jar and began extracting the pits.

“You know,” she started, while nimble fingers worked at their task with quickness and efficiency. “I’ve known you for a pretty long time too, but I don’t know if I ever thanked you. Have I?”

“Thanked me?” Kondo asked, his tone gentle and rising with curiosity. “For what?”

“Toshi’s my brother, but…well, I suppose it sounds a little silly since we’re so close in age, but I also think of him as my first son. After our parents died, someone had to step up and I guess it was just in my instinct to be the one who would.”

“It’s not silly at all. That explains why Toshi is so strong.” Chop, chop, chop. “Because Nobu-san is.”

“Cht…please.” Her voice fell, but Kondo could hear the smile she tried to conceal. “Anyway, he was our family’s little prince and I just wanted him to have a good life, especially after all that happened. And I still do.” Kondo finished his task then and peered over at Nobu; she stood still, her digits paused in mid-action of pitting with her chin raised and eyes focused on the wall before her. “It’s tough, though, the balance of having my own kids and everything.” Her shoulders shrugged and she went back to her work.

“I can only imagine…”

“That’s why we tried sending Toshi for that apprenticeship. Everyone here was so adamant on turning him into a successful merchant.” Nobu cocked her head. “But we all know how that turned out.” A beat. “…Bowl’s over there if you wanna put those scallions in something.”

“Well, I’m not following…didn’t it turn out for the best?” Kondo asked, while doing as he was told. “I mean, sure, the textile business didn’t work out but now he’s so good at selling your family’s medicine, so…” He drifted off when Nobu quietly chuckled, and then joined her with a small laugh of his own. “What?”

“That’s the point I’m getting to, Kat-chan. You’re always so encouraging, always have something good to say. Can Toshi do no wrong in your eyes?” She looked up to meet his gaze.

“Uh…I mean, no one is perfect.” He set his mouth in a line. “I’m certainly not, so how could I expect that of someone else?”

The corners of Nobu’s mouth twitched further with fondness. “If you want my opinion, I don’t think the reason why he’s so good at medicine peddling is because of his apprentice work. Maybe he learned some skills there that helped, but…” She paused. “I think it’s because you drive him to do his best.”

Kondo finally turned all the way to face her. “…Me?”

“Toshi was never exactly going down the wrong path, but I still worried about him,” Nobu spoke while tossing the readied plums on a dish and gathering discarded portions in her palm. “He wasn’t happy with the idea of just owning a shop or even inheriting our land. And I agree. I think he’s made for something different.” She discarded the refuse in a bag, then found Kondo’s eyes. “Something more.”

He licked his lips and glanced at the floor, as guilt began to pang within his stomach. What Nobu was saying sounded positive, but Kondo wondered if there was an ulterior motive to this conversation that wasn’t so promising in the end; after all, he’d been the one to tell Hijikata it was all right to have not finished the apprenticeship, that it’d been okay to not want to spend his life on a farm.

Kondo hadn’t said any of it lightly or with the intent of frivolous enablement; the words had been meant to both comfort and appeal to Hijikata’s best interests—but perhaps his best interests hadn’t aligned with the vision this family had for their youngest. And if that had caused a wedge between them…

“Kat-chan…” The kindness in Nobu’s voice brought Kondo back to her. “What I’m saying is, I wasn’t sure how to set him on the path to finding happiness. But I think you can. Or, that you already have.” She closed her eyes and with a huff, shook her head. “My older brother would go crazy if he heard us talking now because I know for damn sure he doesn’t agree. But, this world is changing. And I think we should all be able to chase what we dream of most. Like…what makes us excited to get up in the morning, instead of just living out of obligation.”

A choppy breath left Kondo’s lips then and his chin fell in a strong nod. “I agree.” His hands met his waist before a second guess made him wonder if it was too direct a stance; he therefore settled on crossing his arms before him instead. “I agree with that so much. Especially with my situation.”

“It’s what I’m doing too, after all.” Nobu grinned. “I have my family. That’s really what I wanted more than anything. And I want each of them to lead the best life possible, but it’s hard to keep tabs on them all, especially with…” She patted her midsection.

Kondo stared at her in confusion—and then it clicked. “…Oh.” His spine went a little straighter. “Oh, wow! That’s…that’s great news! Congratulations!”

“But when your family’s growing, everything’s so busy all the time. I can’t always be there for Toshi.” Nobu put out the flame beneath the porridge and once the bubbling background noise died out, she turned back to Kondo. “So, thank you for being the one who is.”

Absentmindedly itching at his jaw and then massaging the side of his neck, Kondo’s gaze fell down and off to the side. “Um…it’s…” He found himself incapable of stopping his own shy grin then. “It’s mutually beneficial. If you think I’ve done him any good at all, well…you should hear about all he’s done for me. It’s incomparable. I mean, if it weren’t for Toshi, then I—” His words trailed off when he noticed the softness falling from Nobu’s expression. “Sorry, I’m…talking a lot, aren’t I?”

A huff. “Oh, no.” With a swift turn to the counter, she braced the heel of palms against it and pushed her lips out. “Not at all.” Nobu’s tone dropped. “But maybe I have.”

Bewildered, Kondo caught onto the conflicted expression that was ascertainable even from seeing just the side of her face. His mouth opened but he stopped himself before speaking again, as the clear shift in demeanor indicated something profound had happened right under his nose without him even noticing.

“...Nobu-san,” Kondo ventured gently, taking a step toward her.

“Kat-chan, look. This might be overstepping. And maybe it makes me a terrible sister who can’t mind her own business. But.” She drummed her fingertips twice before pushing away from the edge, and when their eyes met, concern was clear and present in hers. “Has Toshi…” Nobu shook her head once with a wince before finally giving in. “Has he talked to you about this long trip he’s planning to take?”

Kondo blinked.

And though he couldn’t say he’d been surprised by her question, his heart seemed to grow a mind of its own as it began pounding hard against its ribbed enclosure. Then, from that central place in his chest, an ache swelled and burned—permeated right from the core to paralyze him.

Or at least that’s how it felt, for in that moment, it seemed to Kondo that he’d forgotten how to speak.