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yoditopascal · 3 years ago

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Aliit (Part Four)

It's my birthday today so here's my gift to you <3

Warnings/Tags: Din Djarin x Reader, Boba Fett x Reader friendship, Rated Mature for future fight scenes and possible smut? Reader is named because I hate using Y/N, Reader is also BIPOC, voice kink, plus sided reader

Masterlist//Previous Chapter

The Crest

Just as Boaz had predicted the sky opened up and began to pour down on them as the four set off on blurrg and cart to find the Jawas’ Sandcrawler, Boaz caring the child on her hip in a satchel, making sure his head was protected from the wind and rain with a cloak she had wrapped him in. The troop continued their trek for the rest of the night, silently trailing side by side, as day broke the group finally came upon who they were looking for. Having set up in a ravine the group watched as the Jawas looked through all the shiny new parts they had acquired from Mando’s ship. As they approached, Kuiil greeted them in Jawaese but he and the others could see the Jawas frantically jump to their weapons as they saw the Mandalorian on the cart with his pulse rifle at the ready.

“They really don’t like you,” Boaz said from her mount as she trailed along the side of the cart, the child now sitting in her lap still comfortably situated in the satchel. “Well I did disintegrate a few of them.” typical Mandalorian she thought as she rolled her eyes at him, weapons first, questions later.

“You need to drop your rifle,” Kuiil warned as they saw more Jawas emerge from the different compartments on the upper levels of the Sandcrawler. Bo knew that he was going to object before the words even left his mouth, separating a Mandalorian from his weapons was like trying to separate a Sarlacc from its sandpit. “I’m a Mandalorian, weapons are part of my religion,” Mando said as he moved his finger to hover over the rifle trigger. Kuiil stopped as the Jawas on the ground began to creep closer to them, some of them audibly cocking their blasters. “Then you are not getting your parts back.”

With a deep sigh, the Mandalorian said fine and placed his rifle behind him on the cart. As the two of them dismounted a Jawa came up to them and pointed to Mando’s blaster at his side while speaking aggressively in Jawaese. “And your blaster.” Kuiil added. The Mandalorian turned in a huff and gave the Ugnaught a pointed look but Kuiil simply nodded his head to him and began to walk over to the Jawas that were starting to calm down.

“Don’t worry Mando, the kid and I will keep an eye on your stuff,” Boaz said as she dismounted. She took up the seat the Mandalorian had previously taken up on the cart, the child behind her leaning over the edge of the cart looking around curiously. With another sigh, he removed his blaster and handed it to the woman before going over to sit on the ground with Kuiil and the Jawas.

After deliberating for a little while in their native language Kuiil turned to the bounty hunter to translate “They will trade all the parts for the beskar.”

“I’m not gonna trade anything. Those are MY parts.” The Mandalorian was already getting irritated with the situation at hand. “They stole them from me .” As tempers flared both Mando and a Jawa began arguing with each other, Mando’s Jawaese much more broken and choppy than Kuiil’s. The Jawa chuckled as he turned back to Kuiil laughing with the others. After realizing that the Jawa had said he sounded like a Wookiee the Mandalorian lurched his arm back and shot fire out of his gauntlet at the Jawas.

“Whoa no! Easy!” Kuiil grabbed Mando’s arm, stopping him from roasting the Jawas. The Ugnaught turned his attention back to now irate Jawas, telling them that the man beside him was a Mandalorian and couldn’t give them his armor and asked them what else they could trade for the parts.

The Jawas looked amongst themselves before nodding their head towards the cart where the child and Boaz sat. As the other two turned around they saw three Jawas, one poking and prodding at the kid, the other two grabbing at Boaz’s boots, where she had blaster rifle ammunition strapped to, and vest, analyzing them to see if they were worth anything to them. Boaz chuckled at them, completely used to their behavior by now and not as alert as she normally was.

“Get away from him!” The Mandalorian roared louder than she’s ever heard him, causing her to jump slightly and the Jawas to flee back to their group.

‘There must be something else.’ Kuiil pressed on in their language. The Jawas turned to converse amongst themselves one last time before answering him, the whole commune chanting the same thing over and over again.

The egg, they wanted the egg from the cave.

Both Kuiil and Boaz sighed and pinched the bridge of their noses at the same time. “Egg? What egg are they talking about?” Mando asked as the Jawas began leading them into their mobile home.

Once inside the Jawas started up the engine and began leading the group over the hills to the beast’s cave, along the way Boaz informed him that they were, in fact, leading him to fight a mudhorn that’s been running them off its territory these last few weeks. They were caught trying to steal its egg and well, mudhorns never forget. Mando could have sworn the Jawas chose the bumpiest path they could find leading up to the mudhorn’s cave, the man was bounced left and right inside the time cockpit of the fortress and even headbutted Boaz a time or two while she was briefing him, all the while the Jawas laughed and continued to poke fun at his misfortune of being too tall for the ride.

They got as far as they could go on in the metal fortress, after stopping Mando and, following much protest from Boaz, the child in his floating pram walked out of the cargo hold of the Sandcrawler and off to the Mudhorn’s cave on foot.

Boaz was nervous, more so for the baby than anything, the pair had been gone for a few hours now and the longer that time ticked by the lower she felt her gut drop in her stomach. Sitting off the side of the ramp of the cargo hold, the young woman swung her legs back and forth, thinking back on the last few days of her life.

“We shouldn’t have let him go alone.” she finally spoke, cutting the tension that she felt in the air as Kuiil approached to check up on her.“You sound almost worried.” Kuiil teased, trying to somewhat lighten the mood “Yeah, for the kid. Mando can take care of himself.” she said waving him off, while she was a little worried for her new acquaintance she was much more concerned for her little green friend.

“I’m glad you hold him in such high regard then.” Kuiil wouldn’t outright say it but he could sense that she was uneasy with the Mandalorian’s decision to go without them, only taking his bounty and blaster rifle with him.

“He's a Mandalorian. I have no doubt in his abilities to protect himself.” even though she tried to make the word Mandalorian come out with as much distaste as she had used previously, Kuiil was able to pick up that she had actually meant that in a pleasant way, he was actually quite surprised with her new perspective of their companion and hoped that it would stay that way.

As time continued on the Jawas grew more and more impatient, even threatening to leave a few times. ‘Just a little while longer’ Kuiil pleaded with them, as Boaz began unloading their cart on the off-hand chance that they did end up leaving without them. Checking the crate that had been brought along on the cart Boaz pulled out her modded vibro-axe and one of Kuiil’s smaller blaster rifles strapping one to her back and the other to her thigh, she was contemplating leaving Kuiil behind with the equipment and going to look for them herself.

‘Fine. Go without us.’ Kuiil waved the Jawas off in frustration as they started to close up the ramp, Bo walked up to him about to tell him about her plan to go and get the others when Kuiil shouted waving past her, causing the Jawas to stop.

Just coming from around the small rock ridge Boaz turned to see Mando, looking worse for wear clutching the mudhorn egg, with the child sleeping in his pram beside him. As he came closer the Jawas excitedly flocked to him, swiftly taking the egg from him, wasting no time cracking it open to eat at its gooey insides. After handing it over to them Mando walked up to the woman and Ugnaught with broken pieces of his armor tucked under his arm, surprised that they were even still there.

“You look like shit.” Boaz chuckled as she folded her arms across her chest taking in the full extent of the damage he took to his armor. “I’m surprised you waited.” the Mandalorian was talking to both of them, she could tell, but he held eye contact with her under his helmet for a brief moment as if contemplating on telling her something.

“ I’m surprised you took so long.” Kuiil interrupted turning his back to the two as he went back aboard the Sandcrawler to collect the Razor Crest parts.

After packing up the four of them left, Mando on the cart with the parts and the child who was still sleeping peacefully in his pram beside him. Every so often Boaz would peek over from her mount at the child, he was out for a while now and she was getting worried.

“He’s been sleeping for a long time.” From her voice, both men could tell she was getting anxious. Mando stuck his arm out gently rocking the pram to see if the child would wake up but he didn’t, he let out a snore and snuggled closer to his bedding.

“Was it injured?” Kuiil asked over his shoulder from the front of the group, Boaz had looked him over multiple times before they set out back to Mando’s ship, she couldn’t find any injuries on the outside and she had hoped he hadn't had any on the inside either.

“I don't think so, not physically” Mando answered after a pause, letting go of the pram he faced forward, looking at the back of Kuiil’s head once again deep in thought “What exactly happened out there?” Boaz asked. Mando had tried to explain to them after the Jawas had left that the kid had used some kind of magic to levitate the mudhorn just before he passed out, “I still don’t get it.”

“Neither do I.”

Upon returning to the Crest Mando thought the ship looked worse off than he remembered, the hull was almost entirely gutted leaving just a metal frame. “There’s no way we're gonna get this to work without a full maintenance facility.” Mando began circling around the crest looking for a good place to start but found that everywhere he looked needed some type of repairs done, this was going to be a lot of work. “This is gonna take days to fix,” he said with a sigh, he was grateful for the two guiding him all this time but he wasn’t expecting them to stay and help him get the Crest back up and running.

“If you care to help, it might go faster,” said Kuiil. The Ugnaught had already dismounted his blurrg and was beginning to rummage around in his tool caddy looking up at Boaz; he waited for a reply not expecting her to stay and help. The woman gave a shrug and dismounted going for the tool caddy as well “What the hell, I don't have anything to do right now anyway.”

“There is much work to do,” Kuiil said, handing Mando a power tool so the trio could begin.

It took the group three days to finally get the Razor Crest functioning, during that time the kid had rarely woken up, only getting up to eat when Boaz would bring him something. On the fourth day, the kid seemed to be doing a lot better so Boaz sat out and played with him in the dirt. It was mostly just the kid playing while she watched and interacted every so often, the night before she and Mando had gotten into an argument as she helped him repair the durasteel parts of his armor, he was still adamant about taking the kid in for the bounty and that's all she could think about. There was no way she was going to let Mando take the kid in, not if she could help it. Hatching a half-assed plan Boaz picked up the kid tucking him back into his pram before setting things into motion.

Sorry Kuiil.

Back with the others, Kuiil looked over the Mandalorian’s shoulder in the ship’s cockpit as he tried powering up the engine. Both men sat back in their seats with a sigh as the jets whirled to life, they had finally gotten it up and running. After packing up food and supplies in the haul, the Mandalorian strapped the sleeping child into one of the copilot seats in the cockpit before coming back out to say his goodbyes.

“I can’t thank you enough.” Mando said as he helped the old Ugnaught pack up the last of his tools “Please allow me to return and give you a portion of the reward.” Kuiil held up his hand, stopping the Mandalorian; they had been down this path before.

“I cannot accept.” he paused for a moment looking at something behind Mando but went back to what he was saying as he climbed down the haul’s ramp and mounted his blurrg.

“You are my guest, and I am therefore in your service.” The Mandalorian nodded his head before continuing to offer the Ugnaught something, anything to show his gratitude.

“I could use a few crew members of your abilities, and I can pay handsomely.” Once again Kuiil waved his hand off at Mando, “I am honored, but I have worked a lifetime to finally be free of servitude.” The Mandalorian sighed, knowing that he couldn’t change the old man’s mind “I understand. Then all I can offer is my thanks.”

“And I offer mine.”

Looking out, Mando's eyes rested on Boaz’s blurrg that stood idly, tied to Kuiil’s blurrg and the cart. He hadn’t seen her since she stormed off last night, he had wanted to say goodbye properly and hopefully patch things up before he left but he knew, that too was most likely a lost cause. “Boaz-” he began, he wasn’t quite sure what he was going to say but Kuiil got the gist of it. “Miss Wrotek will come around eventually. Until then thank you, on both of our behalf, for bringing peace to my valley.”

With a nod of his head, the Ugnaught watched as the Mandalorian began to close the haul. “Good luck with the child!” Kuiil shouted, it almost sounded like he wanted someone else to hear him too. “May it survive and bring you a handsome reward!”

The Mandalorian nodded his head to the Ugnaught once again as the haul closed completely. Taking up his seat in the pilot chair, the Mandalorian started up the engines once more before taking off into space.

#din djarin x reader #din and grogu #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #the book of boba fett #grogu #baby yoda #pedro pascal characters #reader is bipoc #aliit

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awakenthereveal · 4 years ago

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A CRIMINAL MASQUERADE

CHAPTER 4 – PATHETIC DESPERATION

MASTERLIST

“Be my partner for the night”

Haknyeon quietly turns the corner to see a woman in a black dress walking away, her black gothic gown ghosting the ground and revealing a fragment of her black boots. Her hair, assumably jet-black, but due to the lack of lighting, Haknyeon is unsure, bounces with every panicked step she takes, her pace gradually picking up as she climbs up the stairs. Haknyeon, unable to help his curiosity, follows her as she ventures through the mansion, unaware of what he’s about to get himself into.

Following the woman leads Haknyeon into the middle of a hallway, where she has randomly frozen. He fears he has been noticed, that his footsteps weren’t quiet enough. She slowly turns and Haknyeon freezes when they make eye contact. Her hair is raven and is styled in a simple bun hanging loosely on the back of her head, under the flickering light of the candles that align the wall and reveal her ethereal features. Her obsidian orbs are twinkling with anger despite the dim lighting, accentuated by her black mask that was encrusted with small diamonds and finished off with feathers. Her lips are pulled into an unamused frown.

“You were following me,” she finally says, her voice honeyed and intimidating. Haknyeon has no idea how to respond to something as dark and bland as what she said.

“I assume you’re asking me why?” He guesses uncertainly and awkwardly, adamant in fear.

“Indeed, I am. Now answer my question,” she demands, placing her hands on her hips, that are hugged by the gothic ballgown she has adorned.

“Erm, I suppose I was just curious…” Haknyeon mumbles in embarrassment, realising how stupid he sounds saying the reasons he prepared in his mind. He wishes that there is a hole of some sort to swallow him whole since this situation is extremely awkward. They stare at one another in silence, unable to read one another. Haknyeon cringes internally while his expression remains stoic, seemingly indifferent to the situation and the woman before him reciprocates his expression.

“HAKNYEON DEAR, WHER ARE YOU? I HOPE YOU HAVE A PARTNER!” He hears his mother faintly call from downstairs. He curses under his breath as his stoic expression becomes one of desperation as he glances at the woman in desperation.

“Can you do me a favour? Please?” He begs hastily as if he is being chased by something or someone ominous. “Be my partner for the night. Just to get rid of my mother for the night. Please.” He requests, hopefulness and pathetic desperation lacing his voice. He hates putting himself in a situation like this, but he needs to find someone to at least pretend to be his partner or else he will be endlessly pestered and most likely punished for not being present to be bragged about.

“What will I get out of this?” The ravenette inquires, crossing her arms over her chest and raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t know. I’ll pay you if you want. Just please agree to this,” he answers in a panic as he fears the worst. He knows that his mother would most likely lock him up in his room with minimal food if he doesn’t find a partner and give her a presentable image. He chews his lip at the mere thought of the punishment he received the first time that horrible thing happened, his heart accelerating.

“Fine, as long as I get payment. I may be a skilamalink dame, but I have an ounce of sympathy left in me,” she agrees, linking their arms with an annoyed sigh. “Be sure to know that I shall keep my sauce-box shut, sealed tightly.”

“Whatever floats your boat,” Haknyeon says with a relieved smile. The pair head down the stairs together in silence. Haknyeon prays that his mother does not embarrass him in front of the woman beside him, for she is, dare he say, far more attractive than anyone else in the room. Plus, he has already revealed weakness in front of her and he doesn’t want anything of the sort to repeat itself.

As the pair approach the dance floor, Haknyeon throws his mother, who is smiling brightly with an underlying tone of authority, a nervous glance before offering a hand to the woman, whose name is still foreign to him. Her black-gloved hand gracefully accepts his and he takes this as a cue to place an arm around her waist while she places her hands on his shoulders. Haknyeon curses himself internally for the blush that creeps up his face from the awkward proximity of them, unfamiliar to the feeling of being so close to someone as attractive as the goddess before him.

“I hope this isn’t too awkward for you,” Haknyeon muses as they waltz around the room to the melody of the orchestra playing live in the background. They’re in their own world, ignoring everything around them. The unfamiliar presence of a refreshingly nonchalant woman is more comforting than the presence of his damned mother, who fills him with nothing but dread and fear which he has, unfortunately, become accustomed to. His thoughts are making him feel so stupidly pathetic, eliciting a subconscious scoff from him.

“You okay?” The woman’s brash voice pulls him back into reality and out of his angering and heart-weighing thoughts. He nods and she does, too, though she is unconvinced.

“May I ask you something?” He inquires, hoping that he can take his mind off of the things that are no longer going to happen to him yet still linger in his mind.

“Sure,” she allows.

“I never got your name, what is it?” He asks. Now that time has passed, he feels more comfortable with the proximity that they’re in.

“Hyun, Nam Hyun, what about you?” She answers. Before answering her question, he smiles, liking her name. It sounds pleasant to his ears.

“Haknyeon, Ju Haknyeon,” he finally says. She, unlike him, remain stoic, nodding curtly. They fall into silence once again, leaving Haknyeon with his toxic thoughts. He needs a distraction. Badly. Before his mind continues to predict the worst despite the chances of it happening are close to nothing. He doesn’t realise that he has subconsciously pulled Hyun closer to him, tightening his fingers around her waist.

“Haknyeon, are you sure you’re okay? You’ve got me close to you, you’re grip is tight as hell and you’re spacing out,” Hyun complains, glancing around to ensure no one heard her. The first thing Haknyeon sees when he opens his eyes again is those of Hyun’s. He gulps, his heart pounding uncontrollably in his ears. He is afraid that Hyun could hear his heartbeat.

“I feel like my thoughts are suffocating me, I want to get out of here,” He whispers pathetically, resisting the urge to break down in her arms.

“Then let’s leave.” She proposes. With that, they leave the dance floor for one of the rooms upstairs and Haknyeon feels ungodly amounts of nervousness wash over him.

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caligobeltrao · 4 years ago

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I for one would love 2 hear ur thoughts on the hannibal novel 👀👀 - bloodybrahms ☺

ahhh thank you BB!! <3 I’m gonna throw it under a cut bc I know people aren’t gonna want my ramblings clogging up their dash lol.

Edit after I’ve written it: Holy shit this turned into a monster but tbf I did say I was going to rant. I think I miss writing college essays...

Also, I would like to note bc I’m about to bitch, I do still love Hannibal and Clarice and all of the franchise. Hell, I even love book Hannibal because I’m garbage and want to be special. So yeah. It’s a fond bitching.

Okay where to fuckin begin man... This novel was a fucking Shit Show, my dudes. It was like baby’s first fanfiction.

Let’s just jump in, shall we?

So by now, having read both Red Dragon and Silence of the Lambs, I know Harris injects of lot of sexual shit into his novels, fine whatever, but the amount of pedophilia is insane. Like, Red Dragon with the grandmother threatening to cut his dick off by holding it in between scissors????? And then we have Mason Verger, worst human on the planet. Like jfc I’ll go into him specifically more later but just. Men. Why does it always have to be sexual.

Like that time Clarice wasn’t wearing a bra and she wanted to prove to Paul Krendler she wasn’t wearing a wire so she flashed him her tits?? Unnecessary, Harris. Bullshit on all counts.

Next, poor Ardelia Mapp. So he clearly wrote out her accent in Silence, which frankly reads racist since to me it seemed like he did it every time a character of color was met but he didn’t for Clarice’s Southern accent except for this book when she was talking to Ardelia. Now, that’d be a cool way to show how close they are, sure, but it just... She didn’t show up enough to warrant that reaction from me, plus all the other casually racist shit he throws in.

Ardelia’s literally there as the wise Black best friend to help Clarice along. She doesn’t feel like her own character, she’s only there in conjunction with her, or doing something for her. She was the fucking valedictorian for Christ fucking sake, she also works at the Bureau but if her department was mentioned it was only once in passing. She was not a full character which fucking blows because she could’ve been so cool.

And real quick before I forget, I hate how she’s treated in the end. I do like she gets a reference and that brainwashed Clarice sent her an emerald ring and a note saying she was okay, but Ardelia was abandoned by her best friend (that she had lived with) with not even a phone call and they will never see each other again and I think Ardelia knows it. It sucks and I’m heartbroken for this woman.

I’m gonna touch a little bit on the racism too. Now I’m white and not the most qualified to talk about this shit, but I do wanna mention it because it makes me mad. There’s just so many unnecessary slurs, any POC is more of a background helper character to Clarice than anything or a foil.

For example, Evelda Drumgo. She starts us off. Badass Black woman who runs a drug cartel. She chooses to shoot at Clarice and risk her baby’s life, and we have Clarice wash the baby off and save his life. Then Evelda’s mother is written as irrational when she slaps Clarice for visiting the baby in the hospital; I get Clarice’s impulse, but that woman just lost her daughter because Clarice killed her. I would’ve slapped Clarice too, even if it was a totally justifiable shot.

The baby himself is used as a foil throughout other parts, most notably to me when Clarice goes to visit Mason the first time. There are two Black boys from a foster home playing in a room with a camera so Mason can watch them, and it shakes Clarice up a lil bit because of the baby, but it says she’s getting more used to it.

Now this is half and half well written and shoddy to me. It’d be a cool moment, if the whole incident wasn’t nearly completely forgotten for the rest of the book shortly afterword. It could show growth, if Clarice had any growth to show.

And then the Romani people who are literally just used and thrown away. Sickening. Also very broadly used the stereotypes we hear which Sucks; the three we meet in any sort of depth are pickpockets, one was already in jail and Pazzi used his leverage as a police officer to get her to do what he wanted and threatened to have her baby taken away from her permanently, like it was just bad. And then the man got killed. Pazzi let him bleed out. Asshole.

The slurs. I could take out all of them and pretty much have the same damn thing. Like I get showing negative aspects of characters and just because a character’s racist doesn’t mean the author is, but with the characters already being as shitty as they are, fully didn’t need it to make them worse. Entirely unnecessary. Racism or the character being racist has no impact on the plot is the major thing, I think. And you can replace that with anything along those lines, like sexist, homophobic, transphobic. It didn’t impact the plot, they can still be shitty, you just don’t need to use them.

This also goes in reference to Margot being a lesbian. And the transphobia holy shit, it was disgusting. Harris had Clarice think something so cruel and unnecessary it’s like my guy why was that even remotely something we needed to hear. We didn’t. I wanted to stop reading because that’s not my Clarice, first and foremost, and second, this is supposed to be the character we LIKE. And now I don’t like ANYBODY in this damn book.

And he treats Margot like shit too, and Barney.

Their friendship was beautiful and great and finally for once something nice was happening in Margot’s life and I was happy reading it, and then FOR SOME REASON Margot goes to shower in the same room as Barney after a workout, which makes no sense, and then Barney tries to force a kiss on her (and he was hard, Harris made that very clear) and she had been sexually assaulted by Mason her brother and ruin the whole damn thing and none of it would have changed any other piece of the novel if you removed it!!!!!!!!! Entirely unnecessary!!!!!! And Barney had the gall to say well I couldn’t help myself like none of that was realistic in the slightest, she never would have went in the same room to shower with him.

Something you need to do is basically get some suspension of disbelief from your reader and maintain and stretch that as you go, right? Well mine was gone at that moment.

Also side note Margot is basically just there to show how shitty Mason is for the umpteenth time. Her whole thing is lesbian sexual assault victim.

Also heavily implied she was a lesbian because of the sexual assault. And we rarely see Judy, her girlfriend, so. Bad. Bad all around.

Circling back around to Clarice and how disappointing she is in the books as compared to the movies. Well, Clarice is also a poorly written character. She’s 1000x better in the movie. Hell, she’s even better in this book than she was in Silence, but that’s not fucking hard.

Pretty much all the characters are so flat they don’t even classify as two dimensional.

Like sure, maybe we wanna say Clarice didn’t really solve much in the first book and was just handed everything because she was a trainee and that’s what Hannibal wanted.

Like if you remember the John Mulaney sketch of Delta Airlines where he’s just going “Okay!” and running to the next place he’s told, that’s Clarice.

Okay so why does she get goaded into all this shit now? She should know better. She should know how to handle herself better. Like she messes up basic fucking shit like clearing a room before untying Hannibal, which was stupid, she seems oblivious to some of the politics at work even though she’s been in the FBI for like 7 years now, she would at least have more fucking contacts than Brigham who died in the beginning and Jack Crawford who died at the end by rolling over in his bed to his dead wife’s side and Ardelia who would be near the same level as Clarice I guess but I still don’t know her damn department???? Like you fucking network.

Plus after her final fall from grace with the FBI, we meet or are told of random side characters that go no where and do nothing just to say “hey look at my special little girl, everyone likes her and looks up to her!!” Why? Because she caught Buffalo Bill 7 years ago and then never got a promotion or even worked with the BAU? Again, it does not make sense. People may pity her? But a random girl in the lab wouldn’t be fangirling. Starling herself said her career had gone nowhere because of the politics and not sleeping with Paul. You need to show me why she’s likable in her actions not others words.

We spend more time away from her than with her anyways but Jesus.

AND HER IN THE ENDING. She was fucking BRAINWASHED????? Bull FUCKING SHIT. He completely ruined anything he even remotely might’ve had in this cluster fuck of a novel.

Case in point, difference from the movie, Hannibal spends weeks (possibly? it’s left purposefully vague and I’m guessing that’s because Harris didn’t know the ins and outs and wanted his novel done) meticulously brainwashing Clarice, he had stolen her father’s bones and she’s so far gone at that point she doesn’t care, and the whole scene where Paul is getting his brain eaten? Yeah, she happily indulges and when he insults her, she asks Hannibal for more. Fuck you, Thomas Harris.

And Hannibal’s a Gary Stu, fucking fight me.

In the movie he either is or he’s tap dancing on that line, don’t get me wrong, but in the novels it’s insufferable because it doesn’t seem earned. The pigs didn’t attack him because they didn’t smell fear on him. No. He’s easily able to drug and brainwash Clarice and take her as his lover. No. Go away. He’s so smart and one step ahead and can manipulate anyone and everyone into doing what he wants and blah blah blah shut up! A character being perfect isn’t interesting even if he’s evil!! We all know he’s never truly in danger because of how Harris writes him and that’s boring!!

And I personally have a pet peeve where the villain is described as a monster or unstoppable. That’s boring and I no longer care about your story. I know 9 times out of 10 your main character is going to find a bullshit way around the impossible and kill it. Or it’s just like a default personality and nothing else is added to it. And that’s Hannibal.

I’m on Hannibal Rising now and, spoiler alert, he’s very bland as a character. (Also Harris switched some details in the novel which kinda annoys me like get your own canon right my man but whatever.) The plot itself is pretty fun? I guess? Like there’s action and stuff and I’m enjoying that. But it’s the same set up where Harris’s Gary Stu always wins, like he was 13 in the book when he killed the butcher. Let. Your. Characters. Lose.

Also even more racist shit but what did I expect really.

Anyways, I have no idea who I’m supposed to root for in the novel because all the characters are just kinda shitty. It really just boils down to Harris not showing any redeeming qualities or actions from any of his characters. I liked Margot for a while out of spite but she never really went anywhere and the way she killed Mason (btw she sodomized him with a cattle prod to get his semen bc side plot and then stuffed his Moray eel down his throat and somehow I still don’t think that’s the worst part of the novel) just. No thanks really.

All the random little side plots were also pretty not great. How many time does Harris have to say Pazzi of the Pazzis? Like I fucking get what you’re going for, even if I hadn’t watched the movie I’d be like, “Oh this dude’s gonna get hung outta that window, dope,” the literal first time. Stop treating your readers like idiots.

And then Margot’s side plot was that the will their father left said she needed a biological heir to inherit because he was pissed she’s gay and we needed the homophobia I guess, so Mason got everything, and she was helping him with the Hannibal shit because he’s pretty incapacitated duh, and in return he would give her his jizz so Judy could be artificially inseminated and they could have a child and get some of her inheritance. I don’t care. It was all very gross, and Mason kept saying shit like suck me off you’ve done it before, I won’t be able to feel it anyway, maybe Judy’ll suck me off you think she’d like that. It’s all gross.

And I guess this is a good a time as any to finally start on Mason. So a great rule of writing to make everything work better and give your story more depth is to give everyone both positive and negative traits right, even and especially the bad guys? Like, rules can always be broken if you’re a good enough writer, but I believe I have established that Harris isn’t quite there yet, to put it nicer than I have.

Mason is one bad trait after another. It’s like when Harris was bored of constantly writing about plain ole pedophilia, he threw a dart at a board of horrible things and landed on topics such as: pedophilia but make it incest, extreme sadism, sadism but against children now, and good old fashioned racism! Fucking Cordell was supposed to collect the children’s tears after Mason would make them cry and put them in martinis for him. Realism went out the goddamn door real fast with this novel y’all. Like a fucking Scooby Doo villain over here.

And he loves talking about being a sadistic pedophile, he will literally not shut up about it to Clarice when she first gets there telling her about his trip to Africa and this portable guillotine he has and just. I get it was probably like trying to make her uncomfortable on purpose because he’s a Freak, but it went way too far if only because it was annoying, not even uncomfortable for me as a reader. I was bored real quick. Get to the shit I actually wanna know.

And it sucks because of the weird, over-the-top way of how he died, I got zero satisfaction from his death. I couldn’t even be like, “Well at least Margot got her revenge,” because that’s not how she originally wanted to kill him!!! She wanted someone else to extract his semen for the insemination but couldn’t find anybody to do it for her, and then Hannibal, whilst tied up, said use a cattle prod and you won’t have to touch him and when you kill him you can blame it on me, and I’m pretty sure even if she hit his prostate right every time and he COULD cum from that alone in addition to how his body is Fucked Up now, it would’ve been a lengthy, gross, and re-traumatizing experience for her because all she wanted to do was avoid seeing and touching her brother’s private parts again, which I think is a totally fair and rational desire.

So I have to live with the fact that she was desperate enough to not lose the house and business because of her homophobic father to go through her childhood trauma again. There’s no place in this book that has a somewhat positive conclusion.

Even the very last bit where Barney has a girlfriend and a ton of cash from Margot, all he wants to do is see every Vermeer in the world right? Well, because Hannibal and Clarice are in Buenos Aires where one of them is on display, Barney gets spooked and has him and his girlfriend leave before he can see it and it ends that bit with he never got to see it ever so he didn’t even complete his dream!!!

Also for good measure, Harris throws in that Hannibal and Clarice enjoy having sex regularly. For no reason. Just letting us know.

I know this seemed like just a bitch fest, because it was, but I kinda sorta enjoyed it? It kept my attention at the very least. It’s really disappointing because like I said, I love the movies, all of them, and have since I was little. To see the original not stand up to that image in my mind is a little heartbreaking. Especially Clarice. She was a strong female role model to me, but turns out she’s... just kinda there. And her ending is that of her no longer being herself and getting that agency taken away from her.

There is a reference to her waking up from a sleep, if she is asleep (that’s kind of how he worded it), that kinda let us draw our conclusions on whether she was just brainwashed into being good for him or if she was willingly going along with this and was in love with him I guess and it felt like a slap in the face. She turned from a hardworking, modest country girl working her way up to the FBI into a female Hannibal. Which on the surface sounds kinda cool because we love luxe serial killers, but that’s not what she wanted or who she was set up to be. And to insinuate that she would even remotely consider choosing that path for herself is at its best an insult to her and at its worst a complete erasure of her background, what little character Harris did set up. It also completely erases my own connections to her, as a girl from a small town myself who has bigger dreams than this and also... a good, strong set of morals. He just tossed that out the window.

Obviously if you’re on this blog, you like slasher x reader shit, and this is a novel with a slasher x a person, right? So why am I so mad about it? Because the whole point of this blog and reader insert fanfiction in general is that you are taken as you are and loved wholly as yourself and that you are worthy of that love (in a fictional setting, not really loving people who are like this, which I think we understand but I want to clarify). She was not taken as she was. He is not in love with her, she is not in love with him. She was transformed into what he wanted out of her. He couldn’t get her to be Mischa, his first plan, so he made her like himself. And the fact that he was so easily able to do it makes me upset, and even more so is that it’s not written like it’s weird or wrong. It’s written like they’re in love and this is a good thing.

He may have been going for the classic “everyone is capable of doing bad things” stuff we see a lot, but we got that from Margot already. And Barney, for stealing Lecter’s stuff and selling it. And Paul, and the entire FBI for turning on Clarice, and the kidnappers, and Pazzi, and random shitty side characters. And none of it was particularly well written or made some sort of strong statement. It just was. And that’s not a good enough basis for a novel.

Anyways, if you made it this far holy shit you’re a saint and I love you, let’s be friends?? <3 Have a good day y’all, thank you BB for giving me permission to ramble.

#bloodybrahms #ask #no joke i spent like 5-6 hours total writing this i had a Lot to say

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nate-santos · 5 years ago

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Am I Alive? || Nate & Remmy

Nate didn’t often let people into his life. The few friends he had were the result of long and tiresome interactions as they slowly infiltrated his careful barriers. His own assistant had never been to his house and never knew where he was from. But something about Remmy felt...familiar. They’d both been through hell, though Nate would never pretend to know what war was like. They seemed like kindred spirits, and Nate wondered if he might actually have found someone who could compliment his neuroticism. Plus he knew better than most how hard it was to acclimate after a traumatic event and he wanted to help any way he could. So he donned his puffiest coat – offering more cushion should something happen. He also made sure to grab his sturdiest umbrella, one that he’d reinforced should any fish come flying down at him. The medical examiner had said four people had died so far, and Nate was not gonna be the fifth. After carefully making his way to Coffee Plus, he set up his little area and ordered a latte, waiting patiently with his hands cupped around his mug for his potential employee to arrive.

The offer for another job was extremely enticing, but Remmy would have to make sure it didn’t pay too much, because they could lose their disability if it did. And then, no more writing off Moose’s food, no more HSA, and no more cheap meds. But Nate seemed like a really nice guy, and he seemed to know how Remmy felt. How hard it was to reintegrate into society after witnessing something that inherently changes you. Inside and out. This time, they made public transport didn’t make them late but catching the bus early. Coffee Plus was the station they’d met Deirdre outside of, and if they didn’t get thrown in front of a car again, then it would already be a better meeting. They’d even tried their best to clean themself up this time. Combed their hair, put on their best jeans-- the only pair with no holes or rips-- and their nice jacket. When they arrived, they had to pause a moment outside, give themself that little pep talk that usually given in front of a bathroom mirror. But Remmy’s room didn’t have a bathroom mirror, despite the landlord saying they were going to replace it two weeks ago. The little bell chimed as Remmy pulled the door open and they glanced around. There, in the corner. Right wher eNate had said he would be. He looked almost as nervous as Remmy felt, bundled up in a puffy coat, tucked into a corner, cupping his coffee. They waved as they approached tentatively. “Nate?” they asked. “It’s um-- Remmy. Hi.”

A large grin spread across Nate’s face as Remmy appeared. Thank god they actually showed up. He shifted in his seat and motioned for them to sit. Nervously, his hands fumbled with the pages of one of his old sketchbooks, one that before this morning he hadn’t looked at in years. It made him want to start drawing again, drawing things that weren’t buildings at the very least. He’d have to thank Remmy for reminding him how much he’d loved doing it. “Hey! Nice to meet you!” He held out his hand, careful not to bump into anything. “I’m so glad you came! You want something to drink?” Nate caught his usual barista’s attention and waved her over. “I personally like the lattes, but everything’s really good!”

Remmy noticed the way Nate stayed tucked into himself and close to the table, but didn’t think it was anything they needed to point out or think about. They took his hand, giving it a firm shake. His hand was large and warm and it reminded Remmy of Dario’s hand. They smiled back. “Nice to meet you, too! Finally.” They slid into the booth across from Nate, glancing around. The coffee shop was small, but had that busy, local atmosphere. It was different from any place they’d been in Bangor. “Oh, um, sure! I’ll just have a um...Americano? Thanks!” Looked back over to Nate once the lady took their order. They had their sketchbook tucked under one arm and their eyes fell onto the one Nate had on the table. “Thanks for um-- agreeing to meet me. And-and offering me a job. And...all that other stuff.”

Nate grinned and took a long sip of his coffee. “Really, it’s nothing. I uh, you seem like good people!” He chuckled nervously, trying not to think about how cold their hand was. He drummed his fingers on the top of his sketchbook and fell silent for a moment. It had been years since he’d shown his drawings to anyone when it wasn’t work related, but this...sort of was. “The job is mostly menial, nothing too exciting, but I could definitely use the assistance.” He shrugged, thinking about the kid currently interning for him. Bobby was next to useless, especially when it came to moving samples around the office. “But whether you take the job or not, I’m happy to have met you!” He began to slide his sketchbook over, his knee bouncing at a hypersonic rate. “Plus I never get to trade art with anyone! Not trade trade, but like...look over pieces...share, that sort of thing.”

“You seem like good people, too,” Remmy said back. This was nice. This felt nice. And normal. Pleasant, almost. They eyed his sketchbook, before setting theirs on the table as well, still holding tightly onto it. They’d never actually shown anyone else their stuff. Except some of the other officers at the camp. “Oh, um-- I’m not sure mine are gonna be really good enough to like...compare to yours, I’m sure. But I’m glad I get to see yours! I’ve never exactly….shared this kinda stuff before. Wasn’t exactly um-- encouraged in the troops.” Stop bringing the mood down, Rem. They shook their head. “But, I mean-- I’m good with menial things! And physical labor. Also good at running errands! Whatever you need! If um-- you decide you like me.”

Nate laughed, wringing his hands anxiously in his lap. “Oh, definitely no comparing here! That’s the worst thing artists can do, really. Everyone’s styles and strengths are so different, like…” He reached out and opened his book to a rather choppy looking portrait. “Soft lines, not my thing. But straight edges, flowing concrete, somehow that I can do.” A hand reached up into his hair and began to twirl. “I’m sorry you weren’t uh...encouraged. Art’s….soothing. Even if what you draw isn’t.” Nate had specifically not brought the book he’d kept right when he first found himself in White Crest. All the images in there were charcoal drawings of pure angst, sadness and desperation. These sketches weren’t great, but they at least weren’t morosely depressing. “Well I already think I like you!” Nate grinned, hoping he wasn’t coming on too strong. He hadn’t realized how desperately he’d needed something as normal as coffee and a job interview, even as lax as this was.

��Really?” Remmy asked. They leaned in a little more when Nate opened his book, gazing in with wide eyes. “Wow, that’s so good! You’re really good.” Hands tightening on their own book. “Oh, it-it’s okay. I don’t think I coulda done anything with it, anyway. I guess it just helps...occupy my mind. I don’t mean like..busy work, or whatever, but yeah-- soothing. Like you said, it’s...soothing…” They remembered how the group therapist had encouraged writing or drawing as an outlet. Remmy had taken quite to it. They liked drawing what they saw, copying down detail in an almost hyperfocus manner. “Well, I think I like you, too! You’re really nice and open and...not weird. If that makes sense? Not that weird is bad! I’ve just met a few...really weird people, too.”

Nate nodded, sucking down more of the hot bean juice. “Like I said, anyone can be an artist. Doesn’t matter if you do anything with it. Just so long as it makes you feel good.” He shrugged, his eyes falling to his lap and his cheeks flushing. Nate never could take a compliment. “I cannot promise that weird won’t end up popping up,” he laughed nervously. What was he supposed to say? I’m normal now but wait till I die in some freak accident and come back trying to eat your brains? “But I’m glad I’m not the weirdest person you’ve met here. I mean, I hope.”

“Hey, a little bit of weird isn’t bad. Don’t they say like, normal is boring or whatever?” Remmy grinned. “You’re not, definitely not. I think the woman I met who tried to push me into a car is the weirdest I’ve met so far.” They shrugged it off. Deirdre was a mystery they didn’t really wanna think about right now. The waitress came back with their order and they took it gratefully, taking a long sip. “Um…” they pushed their notebook over towards Nate, a little tentative, a little shy. “I-if you wanna look.” Though they would never admit it, as they weren’t sure of their own talent, their eye for detail gave them the ability to draw from life fairly well. Thin pencil lines, sketchy figures, and some doodles of animals riddled the sketchbook, an unorganized mess, unlike every other aspect of their life. Some drawings layered on top of others, like stacks of photos. They sipped their coffee again.

Nate smiled, a touch of sadness in his eyes. “I respectfully disagree with those people. I’d take normal over weird any day.” Nate’s life was already filled with too much weirdness. “Wait- like she was shoving you into a car or...throwing you in front of one?” Nate’s brow furrowed and he felt oddly protective over this person he just met. “Of course I wanna see!” He reached out, delicately turning the pages of the sketchbook. It was practically exploding with creativity. Lines and shades he’d seen but never really seen, it was so unlike his personal style and so refreshing. You could see real heart. “These are amazing, Remmington. Remmy? Which do you prefer?” He glanced up for only a moment before being sucked back into the book.

“Kinda...both? I’m not really sure. She said she wanted to test something and almost threw me into a taxi. It was fine, obviously, but I got kinda mad at her after that,” Remmy said, as if getting thrown in front of a car was a normal thing. In all honesty, it just didn’t strike them as odd. After all, they’d stuck their hands into a live case of TNT before. Was getting hit by a car really that much different? They felt their chest tingle as Nate delicately flipped through the notebook, suddenly so nervous they couldn’t even drink their coffee, just hold the cup tightly. “What? Really? Y-you think so?” Swallowed. “Oh, um-- either! Either is fine! I don’t mind.” They rolled their bottom lip between their teeth nervously. “I just...like drawing what I see. Nothing special…”

Nate’s mouth dropped open and he had to actively think about closing it so as not to be overly rude. “She- on purpose?? Yeah! I’d be mad too!” Nate nearly had a heart attack just thinking about the ordeal. But he looked back down to the drawings to distract himself. They were really good. Not professional, but that didn’t mean anything to Nate. He actually felt most professional artists were stuck up and rarely creative. “Yeah, Remmy, these are awesome!” He beamed up at them. “I like what you see.” It had been so long since Nate had really stopped to look around, flipping through Remmy’s sketches was like being unafraid to wander through town. It felt free. “You should keep this up. Seriously. Even if it’s just for you.”

Remmy couldn’t help but give a shy smile. “Th-thanks. I, um-- I will. I haven’t had much time lately between all the...stuff, but...I think I’ll try and make time.” They smiled over at Nate, finally relaxed enough again to sip their coffee. “So, um-- do you like, design the buildings and stuff? Or just do more like...blueprints stuff? I’m not-- sorry. I don’t mean to sound like...rude, but I’m not really sure what architects do, like a hundred percent? I’m totally willing to learn though!”

Nate cocked his head to the side. “Like all the getting shoved towards taxis?” He frowned, hoping Remmy wasn’t befriending people that would willingly shove them into oncoming traffic. It wasn’t entirely unheard of in White Crest, especially in the seedier areas. Yet another reason to never leave his house. “Oh, yeah! It really depends on the project, and most of what I get to do around here is restoring some of the town’s older buildings, making sure they’re up to code while maintaining the historical integrity of the design.” He smiled softly, taking another sip of coffee. “But every once in a while someone wants to build an entirely new house or business, then I get to flex my creative chops.” He sighed dramatically. “Those fun projects don’t tend to come around as often, though, so sometimes I just teach a class at the college.”

“Yeah,” Remmy sighed, “like that.” They still hadn’t parsed out Deirdre’s actual intention with doing that. Was it to see if Remmy would move? If they would let her? If they would get scare and run away? It still baffled them, but she hadn’t been eager to talk after that, so the answer would likely never come. So Remmy would concentrate on the here and now. “Wow, that’s so cool! I had no idea that’s what architects actually did...do you go to the houses and like actually help build stuff? Or do you just do more of the like...drawing and planning stuff?” They couldn’t help but be excited by all this. They’d always loved learning new things, even if public schooling had made them feel inadequate. “And you get to teach at the University?? That’s SO cool!”

Nate frowned, already feeling the twinge of protectiveness over this person he’d literally just met. Remmy had already been through so much, they needed a soft place to land, not a place where people literally threw them into oncoming traffic. But he would drop it- for now. Not like he was in any position to go hunting down this person, and to do what, exactly? Yell at them? Punch them? Neither of those things were in Nate’s wheelhouse. “I don’t do too much building, but I do get to visit the sites sometimes to help oversee everything! A lot of what I do is actually project management and organizing the construction crews, but I’ve gotten to know most of the crews around here pretty well, so they send me progress photos and stuff. It’s really cool to see an idea you have come to life right before your eyes.” Nate paused, smiling sheepishly to himself. “It’s really not that cool, most people find it kinda boring. But I love it.”

“Oh, I think that sounds amazing!” Remmy blurted, without thinking much. They reigned themself back in sheepishly. “Sorry. I just-- I don’t think it sounds boring at all! I think that sounds amazing. Getting to do something that actually changes the world around you...even if it’s just a building. And seeing it in progress? That’s just…” they trailed off a bit. “That’s incredible.” They took another long sip of the coffee, realizing it didn’t much taste like anything. It didn’t fill any sort of need inside of them. Not like it used to. “It sounds kinda lame but...when I was younger, I think I always wanted to do something that could, like, change things for the better. I guess that’s why I thought going into the military might...you know. Be like that.”

Nate’s eyes lit up. He so rarely spoke to anyone, let alone about his work, it was refreshing to be able to gush about it to someone who thought it was as interesting as he did. Well, maybe not as much, but at least Remmy was feigning interest! “I’m glad you think it’s interesting! I could definitely tell you more about it, and I mean, if you come help out, you’d get to see a lot of it first hand, too.” Nate knew exactly what they meant. It was the reason so many of his high school peers had enlisted, not knowing what else to do but needing and wanting to do something. He smiled softly, feeling his body loosen a bit from the tense ball it had been in. “I’m Sorry. If it wasn’t, I mean. Like that. Doing something for the better. Or that’s presumptuous- was it?” And he tensed right back up again as he stuck his foot in his mouth.

“Oh, yes! That would be great!” Remmy said excitedly. They had no idea someone would think they were just pretending, because Remmy didn’t have it in them to lie or pretend. “I’d love to learn all that stuff! Even if I’m no good at it, I think it’d be cool to know!” They sipped the coffee again, their legs twitching excitedly. Remmy had never been this excited before. Was this was it meant to find something they loved? “Oh, um-- I think it was, a little. I don’t um-- it’s hard to explain. I think there’s better ways to change things, but...it felt like my only option. I wasn’t the smartest or funniest or strongest. So...that was pretty much it.” They shrugged. “But, I mean-- as far as job offers go, I um-- think I’d be happy to come work for you. I-if you’re still looking.”

Nate sometimes felt like he was looking in a mirror when he talked to Remmy. They’d only known each other a short while, but he felt like he understood them in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time. Sure, some of that might be how excited they were about architecture, but it was something more than that, too. Nate remembered what it felt like to be so lost, heck he was still unbearably lost. But when he did what he loved, it wasn’t quite so unbearable. It was part of the reason he hadn’t tried to just end things. Seeing Remmy light up like this, it ignited something in Nate too. “I would be more than happy to have you join the team, Remmy.” He grinned, holding out his hand more confidently than before. “Welcome to the family.”

Remmy couldn’t remember the last time they’d been this excited. They couldn’t remember the last time they’d felt this hopeful. Sure, it was just an assistant job, helping out around Nate’s firm, but it was more than anything they could’ve hoped for in coming to White Crest. Being a security guard was easy and it paid the bills, but it wasn’t exactly the most riveting job. After being in the field for so long, Remmy had found life wasn’t exciting anymore. Remmy took Nate’s hand eagerly. “Thanks, Nate. Really, thank you so much.”

@whatsin-yourhead

#remmy1

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triviaggukcore · 6 years ago

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her blooming flower | one

prologue / one / two

→summary: you’ve known him since you were just a young girl during his trainee days. He watched you grow into a woman, but he’s always hated you from day one for whatever reason it may be. To you, he thought of you as a nobody. But what you weren’t aware of was a secret that he never wanted you to know.

→pairing: enemy!jungkook x dancer!reader

→word count: 7.6k

→genre: angst, fluff, maybe smut??, some humor

→warning: implied smut

→a/n: hi guys, it’s finally here! I’m so sorry it’s been almost two months! It’s been super hectic from having family over the break and having no time to write. And it became even more hectic as my schedule became packed when coming back to second semester of school. I had theatre rehearsals every day after school until 6pm to prepare for our musical back in January with so much homework and chores to do, and then I was gone with my dance team at Disney World for 4 days which also didn’t give me any time to write, and missing three school days. I had to make up a bunch of work to bring up failing grades which had me super stressed out. Now that it’s February, it’s competition season and this past Saturday was the second contest. I’ve just been constantly tired physically, mentally, and emotionally where I just lost so much motivation to write. But I definitely took time in between my spare time to try the best I could. So thankfully, it is now here and the good news, I have a two week break before last contest. I will say this series will have a bit of slow updates. It just all depends on how packed my schedule is. But most of all, I would like to thank you all for being super patient with me, I really appreciate it sweeties! I would also like to thank @9uk and @stxrrysuga for being wonderful helpers into keeping me motivated and writing just a few small details that’ll help me get going.

Another side note, I’d like to credit and thank @dearmyjimin for granting me permission to use a concept she made on her blog which I was desperate and in such need for this series since I felt like it could absolutely be perfect for the storyline. Once again thank you!! The concept is based on 3J! That is all I have to say as you all should read and find out what it is.

So here it is finally! Chapter one! Enjoy!

It was dawn when you had woken up, your eyes drowsy from the lack of sleep you had been getting the last few days. The constant late nights because of work had kept you up at ungodly hours of the night. You tried to get fewer hours but you knew you needed the money so you stuck with the long hours and your days dragged on, each one seemed longer than the next. You sat up and sighed softly as you climbed out of bed while grabbing your glasses and putting them on. Your mind clouded with thoughts of what was going to take place later today, so you walked over to your desk and took a glimpse of your planner that you created almost a year ago.

Today, at 8am, you have breakfast with your best friend Jess, a contemporary lesson at noon, then lunch at 1pm, and then game night at Taehyung’s, including a no work shift today.

Okay, not so much to do today. Thank God. You grabbed your phone and put some music on shuffle with your mini speaker, then made your way over to the bathroom. You did your daytime skincare routine after doing your business on the toilet. While washing your face, you wondered how could you get this far in life. No, you’re not famous. You thought it would be kind of a scary career. But you still wanted to dance and create amazing pieces for artists for the wish of sharing your work to the world. Plus, you have choreographed for some artists before.

You’re not always booked for appointments with idols, but your schedule does get tight due to the fact that you work. You basically have a job at this cafe in Seoul, and you’re still working at your mom’s studio, hosting classes every Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday night. You usually teach contemporary and ballet but you have taught some hip hop classes too, due to the fact that you’ve choreographed for some idols as an example. It’s been requested by many residents who take your classes for you to teach more hip hop. And you might as well take that chance to balance all the styles out.

Looking at your face in the mirror after washing your face, you also thought about how life was for you when you moved to Korea. You missed your friends from back home, but you also love it here too. And you made some decent close friends here too, especially Jess being the closest friend you see literally every day. And of course, you can’t forget the Bangtan boys. You grew close with the boys over the years, they basically became your family. You always had fun with them, whether it was game nights or through video chat. And you have a very special bond with each of the boys, nothing was ever different from how you all acted with each other.

They adore you a lot, and you were like their very own little sister that they look out for. They all found you sweet and sincere, prestigious, intelligent, and super adorable. Well, except Jungkook. He, being the only one who disagrees, finds you as the exact opposite. He’s got one hell of a grudge against you. All because of a damn smoothie you accidentally spilled on him a couple years ago. You find it super confusing and a little dumb that he treats you like shit over that incident. Although, it saddens you too as you took the blame upon yourself, coming up with the many excuses in your head. Maybe he was having a really bad day and you just so happened to ruin it even more. If you were paying a little more attention, you would have caught yourself and not spilled your smoothie on him. Then maybe, just maybe, you could have had a better introduction with each other and become friends.

Jungkook loves to criticize and pick on you. Everyday. That’s no surprise to you. But you don’t usually conduct to anything he does to you, and it made him full of annoyance from how you wouldn’t try defending yourself (more so, argue). But there’s a reason why you don’t. If you ever stood up against Jungkook, you’re sure that he will probably laugh his ass off at your pathetic self. You don’t think you could ever try to face him with defense. It doesn’t work that way for you. Sure, it hurts you. But you find it useless to do so. And being the sweet person you are, you’re not gonna want to come out as some bitch.

No matter how much you respect him and treat him nicely, your presence is what makes him irritated. The man has got a grudge against you.

Sliding out of your pajamas, you threw on a random outfit and then you sat down at your vanity set and decided how you were going to look upon your face and hair. After 30 minutes, you were already putting on a pair of shoes at your front door. You grabbed your bag and car keys, and you were out the door of your apartment. Shortly then, you were on the road.

“Okay, so here are all my ideas for the boys’ next comeback. I’ve been working on this for a couple of days now and I thought I’d share them with you!” Your friend Jess said, dropping a plain journal in front of you next to your plate full of breakfast. You picked up the journal once you set your vanilla latte down and opened the journal, flipping through the ridiculous full pages of notes and ideas followed up for BTS’ comeback.

You gave her a glance, “You are crazy. Are you seriously helping them find new concept ideas? I thought they already figured that out.”

She shrugged, “Not exactly. Besides, they asked for my help so I could have better ideas on what music to produce with Yoongi and Namjoon.”

“A sexy comeback darker than the Love Yourself: Tear and Wings era?” You read aloud, “Sounds kinda…”

“Kinda good right? I think it’s time they now get into that, and besides, they’re all adults now that Jungkook became one.” She mentioned.

“You do know he’s been an adult for a few years now.”

Jess glared at you, “And him being an expert shirt lifter was only the beginning of his little bad boy era.”

The thought of Jungkook and his image only made you feel weird. He grew up drastically and puberty hit him harder than a truck. Instead, it was more like god and the devil worked together to mix cute and hot in their mixing bowl but decided to go with he’s gonna make every person gush in adoration and suddenly they get down on their knees and are thirsty hoes. But, there’s no denying that he really had you gawking at him. After all, you do like the man.

You nodded, “Wow, how logical.” Your sarcasm erupted as you took a sip of your latte. She hummed, “You know it’s true. Anyways, what’s going on for you today? Are you coming to game night?”

“Yeah, I am. I have a contemporary class to teach at noon, then lunch, and then I have a whole day to myself until game night. I think I might do some shopping, maybe go to the book store and read a few novels since my package arrived there. If I have time, I might just work on my poetries.” Yes, you write since you found your love for novels. Thanks to your dad’s career. He’s the best selling author in the country and back in yours.

“Speaking of dance,” Jess started, “Did you hear about 3J Studio?’

Yes, 3J as in J-Hope, Jimin, and Jungkook, the BTS dance line. They built a dance studio for those who want to have exclusive dance lessons with the boys. Millions of people have signed up for classes just so they can stand a chance to be coached by the boys. You were yet excited and definitely going to their first class on Saturday.

You nodded, “I did. Jimin and Hoseok told me about it. I’m really excited about this Saturday.” You smiled. “Me too!” Jess gushed, “Are you planning on attending?” She asked. “Of course! For sure I’m taking Jimin and Hoseok’s class.”

“Oh, but not Jungkook’s?” She raised an eyebrow. You sighed, “I mean, I’m not sure if I want to. I know he’s a great dancer and I’m certain he’s going to be an amazing coach but do you really think I want to feel the awkward tension where his blood literally boils around me? I’m not sure if I even want people to be speculating his hate for me. That’ll just put him at risk.” You fiddled with the thin straw in your latte, stirring it.

“But it’s not like he would ever talk to you in front of his students, would he? He’s an asshole, don’t get me wrong. Yet, I’m pretty sure he’s not an ass to treat you like crap.” Jess stated, “There’s no way he would do that to you in front of many people.”

“I guess you’re right.” You shrugged. The guy always puts you down and even humiliates you, he probably wouldn’t do that in public otherwise it would defame his image. The people wouldn’t even know who you are anyways. You’re only specified as, BTS’ friend, BTS’ music producer, Jess’ friend, Min Yoongi’s wife’s friend. It’s pretty much anything with you labeled as a friend of the band.

“He’s such a dumbass.” Jess shook her head. You looked up at her, “Hey, don’t say that about him. You know that’s not nice.”

She rolled her eyes and glared at you, “Really? Y/N, You’re defending him when all he ever does is bitch at you? He’s one hell of a brat who’s still stuck up on that smoothie mess! He makes me want to shove my foot in his face.”

“But you know he doesn’t have to like me right? Come on, Jess. Besides, the accident was my fault anyway.” You said softly as your eyes wandered somewhere else. “You really like him, don’t you?”

Your head snapped back at her, “Just because I like him doesn’t mean that has to do with what happened in the past.”

“Oh, so defending him and constantly worrying about his health along with your care and support in every accomplishment he achieves doesn’t mean anything to the way you feel about him?” Jess caught you there. “It’s not that I… I don’t know, Jessica.” You sighed, holding your cup firmly with both hands, “I respect him whether he doesn’t like me or not. My feelings don’t matter. He would never feel anything romantic for me. Besides, he has a girlfriend who’s definitely prettier and has a more slammin’ body than me.” You awkwardly locked a piece of your hair behind your ear.

“And this is where I call you stupid.” Jess looked at you, “That girl could never compare. She’s only got a pretty face but not a nice personality. Plus, you’re freaking gorgeous. More than she is. I don’t think you have any idea on that she’s only dating Jungkook for the attention and the fame.” She ate a bite of her egg sandwich, speaking in a mouthful, “The girl is a hooker but Jungkook being his gullible dumbass self believes she loves him for him.

You sighed, “Of course.” He loves her.

“And 5, 6, 7, TILT. Excellent!” You complimented, watching through the mirror as everyone in the studio did a tilt from the floor and rolled into fetus position. “So that whole 8-piece, just remember that it’s very very subtle, not too much energy until after the tilt, which you want to push your legs up and extend them like a whip but as light as a feather. Have grace with the tilt. 5, 6, 7, UP!” You demonstrated by being an example and showing your students the technique.

“She’s good isn’t she?” Jimin said with his arms crossed as he observed your teaching skills and your charismatic moves. “I’m really surprised she declined the trainee offers from the entertainment industries.” Hoseok nodded in agreement. A chuckled then came along, “I’m not.” Jungkook smirked.

“Dude, you’ve been going against every word we say about her.” Hoseok crossed his arms to face Jungkook. “Since day one.” He specifically added. Jungkook narrows his eyes as if he couldn’t comprehend what Hoseok was trying to get at.

But only the blind wouldn’t be able to tell that Jungkook bears a deep, stubborn grudge on you. And his attitude towards you contrasted too much from his members for them to not notice his behavior. It was an issue constantly swept under the carpet to not escalate things given Jungkook’s temper, but the matter has finally rose from dust. “Yeah that’s right, did she do something to offend you or something?” Jimin looks at Jungkook worriedly. The both of them kept going on about the issue of you, pressing Jungkook to the end of wits.

“Yo, if you have seen...another side of her she’s not showing to us,” The three of them slowly spin to watch you conduct the dance class. The smile on your face when you teach, and the way you go about asking every student about their struggles and issues—make Hoseok doubted the words that came out of his mouth. You looked genuinely passionate in this company, and it couldn’t be that you put up an act in front of evil intentions for so long. As long as however many years. Jungkook remains his gaze on you for a while, before his hands are coming up to rip off his hair from his scalp in frustration as he groans. “I-It’s not like that..! It’s just.. just the sight of her irks me!” He knew he sounded like a brat hating on someone as innocent as you for no reason at all. But before he could save himself from further embarrassment, you are strolling towards his triangle of friends with an anticipated look cast on your features.

“What are you guys talking about?” Your voice interrupts his rant. The three men stare at you in expressions you can’t make out—you couldn’t tell what they were thinking. Then the both Hoseok and Jimin shot Jungkook looks.

“Uh…” Jimin darts his gaze back and forth his two friends, before pulling you by the arm away from them. “Come on, let’s get a drink.”

And with that, you and Jimin walked out into the hallway to the studio kitchen where there were a few staff eating lunch. “So are you going to join us this Saturday at our studio?” You took out a bottle full of cold water from the refrigerator when you opened as Jimin leaned on the wall next to him. “Definitely. I’m excited what you guys have in store for your lessons and I’ll be taking them all too.” You took a couple sips from the water. Jimin looked at you with a raised eyebrow, recalling that you are taking ALL the lessons, “And by all, you mean you’re going to participate in Jungkook’s class too?”

You clenched your lips together in awkwardness, “It wouldn’t be fair if I didn’t take his but yours and Hoseok’s would it?” You sighed, “And besides, even if he cared, he’ll forget I’m even there. He’s going to have a class filled with people, and his main focus is his students.” Leaning against the counter backward, you always felt awkward talking about him with his members, and it wasn’t because you didn’t want to say the wrong thing at all. His hyungs were always lecturing him about you and never accepted the behavior he acted upon you. They didn’t know what really happened the day of the stupid incident because he never liked to talk about it or else he would have been made fun of or worse. They don’t even know why he’s held a grudge against you for so long. So what is the problem? When will he man up and get over it?

Jimin sighed, “At least you’re not an asshole like him.”

“Truth or dare?” Taehyung looked over at Jess as he popped the question.

“Dare.” She smirked.

After playing Jenga, Uno, checkers, and a whole bunch of other games in Taehyung’s house, everyone, including some of the boys’ girlfriends, are sitting in a circle on the floor with beers and snacks playing truth or dare. And unfortunately, Jungkook’s girl, Yuna couldn’t be there. But you felt relieved and happy about it. She’s just as worse as Jungkook. Pretty yet mean and nasty to you.

“Funny you guys are bickering but since you all ate my jjigae, I haven’t gotten a single bowl of it you hungry ass pigs!” Jin exclaimed just when Taehyung and Jess bickered over who has the best shoes.

“It was some good shit though.” Taehyung’s mouth waters, “I wish I could have more.”

Jin mumbles something under his breath and takes one huge gulp of his beer.

“Okay moving on. Truth or dare, Y/N?” Jimin turns to you. You kept your knees close to your chest, looking down as you weren’t prepared for your answer. You were always unsure and nervous about whatever choice you choose. You could feel everyone’s eyes on you, especially Jungkook with his little smirk.

“Ummm… truth?” You weren’t sure but went with it anyway. “Who was your first kiss?”

And that question almost made you shit yourself, “W-What?” You could feel your eyes widened.

How the hell were you going to tell that you’ve never kissed anyone before without feeling embarrassed?

“I’m sure she doesn’t want to reveal her privacy.” Namjoon noticed the nerves just by the position you were in. You were hugging your knees which were up to your chest. Jess even looked over at you in such worry since she’s the only one who knows you haven’t had the experience.

You gulped and stuttered, pushing up your glasses, “I uh… I actually never kissed anyone before.” You said softly as you looked down.

Taehyung raised his eyebrows in surprise, “What? No way. Seriously?” You looked up at Taehyung and looked at all the other reactions. They seemed just as surprised as him.

“That’s surprising.” Yoongi nodded in agreement. Jungkook rolled his eyes in annoyance, “Not a surprise to me, I mean look at her.” He looked over at you in disgust and you only looked down in shame. You felt so embarrassed and disgusted with your own self with not having any experience with a guy at all.

Jess glared over at him just as her blood was boiling, she could beat his ass at any second now, “Shut the fuck up, you ass. She doesn’t need your nasty opinions.”

Jungkook shrugged, “Like I care.”

“I think it’s great that she’s never kissed anyone, Jungkook.” Nari, Taehyung’s girlfriend, spoke in regards to defending you. Nari is sweet and soft, and even a creative person. She’s a cosmetologist in makeup and is definitely talented in making so many makeup combinations. She’s short and a few years older, around the same age as Taehyung. She has gorgeous glowing honey skin with long black colored curly hair, and lovely blue eyes. She’s just as beautiful as Taehyung and to you, they’re considered the most beautiful couple ever.

“It’s a good thing, stop being an ass Jungkook,” Jimin glared at him. You sat there awkwardly but you gave a little smile at Nari for giving her defense.

“Don’t mind him, Y/N. It’s good that you haven’t had your first kiss. You don’t need one, not even a guy. You’re a strong independent woman who doesn’t need a man.” Hoseok, who was sitting beside you, smiled at you with a good rub on your shoulder, “And you are also a beautiful woman.” He added, being sweet and full of sunshine as always. You could feel yourself blush and get shy at his compliment, “Thank you.” You nodded.

Of course, Jungkook shook his head unsatisfied. He knew that you never had a boyfriend. Everyone knew. And he was sure that you weren’t ever going to get one. But what he didn’t know was that you were definitely talking to someone as opposed to be dating soon.

“What do you mean she’s talking to Jonghoon?” He asked Taehyung as he looked at him in disbelief. It was the next morning and the two boys were in the kitchen making themselves some breakfast.

Taehyung glanced over at Jungkook from where he was cutting tofu, “What do you think I mean?”

While sighing, Jungkook bit his lip in question while he shook his head, “You’re kidding me right? He’s a frat! Does she not know that?” Was he actually for real? There’s no way you could be talking to some player. Jonghoon is a friend of Taehyung’s who used to be a trainee at BigHit. He’s damn beautiful and looks like he could be related to Taehyung. Tall, caramel skin, built, an unreal God like face, yet he’s definitely one hell of a man who only hooks up and has one night stands, leaving girls the very next day. Jungkook wasn’t very fond of him because he knows he isn’t the type of guy himself to play around with women.

“Apparently not.” Taehyung shrugged, “I tried telling her that he’s not what she thinks he is, but she didn’t listen.”

“She’s stupid! You could have told Jonghoon to back off! He can’t talk to her! She’s not realizing that fucker could slip his hand in her panties and fuck her! She’s not into those things! She’s not ready and she shouldn’t be anywhere near him” He exclaimed in anger.

“And why all of a sudden are you sounding like you care about Y/N?” Taehyung raised an eyebrow at him, he could sense the protection Jungkook had for you.

“You’re fucking crazy. I don’t give a crap about her. I’m just saying that she shouldn’t be talking to him because he’s not good for her at all.”

Taehyung hummed, but he wasn’t convinced, “Okay, whatever you say. But I can’t forget to add that she’s going on a date with him later this afternoon.” He smirked.

“WHAT?!” Jungkook looked at Taehyung as if his eyes could pop out of his sockets.

“Yeah, you heard me. A date. Where two people who are attracted to each other go and hang out to be romantic and shit like that.” Taehyung kept his little smile, waiting for Jungkook’s major defense mode.

“It’s definitely not an attraction or going to be romantic when really he’s gonna take her home and get in her pants.” He growled and his tongue poked out of his cheek, “She’s not going on that date. I have to go tell her this after I eat breakfast.”

It was around two o’clock in the afternoon and Jungkook took forever to find out where you were going on your date with Jonghoon. Jess could not answer his calls from her being occupied in the studio with Yoongi, Jonghoon wouldn’t tell Taehyung exactly where he was meeting with you, Jimin, Jin, and Namjoon had no idea of you going on a date. That was left with Hoseok who had been stuck in the 3J studio finishing his choreography for his first class tomorrow, had known exactly where you were going to meet Jonghoon. The Lounge Cafe.

It was a twenty minute drive but he didn’t care. He needed to find you and prevent you from hanging out with Jonghoon. When he arrived, the cafe was definitely modernized although that wasn’t the point. His eyes roamed the cafe from sitting in his parked car and that’s where they landed on a familiar girl wearing a cream floral dress, sitting alone outside at a table while reading a book. It was you.

With honesty, Jungkook thought you looked stunning. Maybe because he’s never seen you all dressed up. But your presence somewhat attracted him. His eyes read your look. The way your hair flowed from the light breeze, your adorable wide eyes blinking as you flipped a page, the way your posture is. Undoubtedly yet not realization, Jungkook always had thought you were beautiful without even saying you are. You are just naturally attractive. He wondered what life would have been if you weren’t so irking… or if maybe just things went the right way between you two. Would you two have become friends? Would there have been any feelings of? Well, that’s not that he would know of.

Before his thoughts could go any further to drive him away distractedly, he snapped out of them since he was here for a reason. Jungkook got out of his car, taking his keys, phone, and wallet and slipping them into his sweatpants as his made his way over to you, knowing of the arrangement with Jonghoon. When he reached you, he was already infuriated just as he took a seat in front of you, “Why are you wasting your time?”

You looked up from the page you were reading of your book to find Jungkook sitting right there with an incensed expression on his face. What the hell was he talking about? “Excuse me?” You questioned.

He let out a hollow laugh, “The guy isn’t worth the time, Y/N. Are you blind?” Your eyebrows knitted together in confusion, “You mean Jonghoon? How do you even know him?” Most of all, how did he know about this? Jungkook shook his head, “He is a friend of a friend I have. And he has a reputation Y/N. He doesn’t take too fondly to girls… that aren’t experienced.” His thumbs circled around each other as his fingers were interlocked.

You sighed, “And why do you care? You don’t know if he’s really like that, Jungkook.”

His eyes rolled in exasperation and looked at you, “Look Y/N, I know what I’m saying. I know that douche too well and you are just walking into one of his traps.” He nodded in assurance. “How did you even know about this?” You asked, “First of all, this is my business that you’re barging into. I don’t think he’ll even do such thing to hurt me.”

Jungkook leaned towards you, “He will use you for a bad purpose and break your heart, Y/N.” His voice deepened, “So don’t cry when he leaves you stranded and broken.”

You giggled, not believing him, “Please, he won’t.” You crossed your arms while leaning back on the chair, “And if that doesn’t work out and I end up wrong, then lesson learned. I like him.” You shrugged in yet confidence. Jungkook studied you in distaste with a hum, “You are so blind huh? Not just in sight but in judgment.”

That’s when you just had enough. What rights does he have to be telling you this? You were done kissing his ass, “Judgement? Who are you to tell me this? Why can’t I just like anyone for crying out loud? Are you that surprised at the fact I’m probably going to start dating?” You asked.

Jungkook nodded with no expression, “Obviously yes, as no guy would ever be interested in you anyways.” He shrugged as he sat back. You looked down in distress. It was true, but yet you just had a strong feeling that Jonghoon was actually interested in you, “At least it feels nice when someone is interested in me...” You said quietly.

“As if any guy would.” He said expressionlessly. You have yet nothing to say and he got the message that you were done listening. He got up from his seat as he looked at you with no sympathy, “Don’t blame me if he tears you apart.” And with that, he walked off. You sat there, not knowing what to think. You didn’t want to believe him because you were already over with him being an ass. He couldn’t be telling the truth… right?

The clear skies with shining sun soon faded when dark and grey clouds have flown into them. It would have been much better as a delight to maybe brighten up the day a little and not ruin it for you after what just clearly happened.

Jungkook on the other hand just did not care about what was going on with you and Jonghoon. Or does he because of the guy’s reputation with girls? No, that didn’t matter to him. If Jonghoon did anything to mess with you, then it was your fault for not listening to Jungkook. And he basically told you so. No fucks were given in the end.

At the end of practice at BigHit’s dance studio, Jungkook sat down on the floor with his back against the wall and grabbed his phone. Seeing an odd countless amount of messages from Jess, he was confused. She seemed worried and angry, but why was she?

Jess (4:33pm): Jungkook, idk where you are right now and honestly i don’t care but y/n hasn’t come home and i’m fucking worried.. Like seriously.

Jess(4:33pm): Can you look around and see if you can find her?

Jess(4:36pm): If you don’t, just know your hair won’t make it to the morning :)

Jungkook groaned in annoyance and responded.

Jungkook(5:02pm): Are you serious?? Do I really have to do this? Why can’t you just ask any of the other guys?

Jess(5:07pm): For one, Yoongi is at the studio but he is working on your comeback so he is out of the question. Hoseok is with Family at the moment, Jin is probably asleep, Jimin is out with Taehyung somewhere and Namjoon… I’m not sure where he is but you’re in her area and I need someone asap as my car is out of gas unless I’d be doing this shit my fucking self.

Jungkook(5:08pm) I could just give you money or bring gas to you. I literally have no idea where she is and I am nowhere in any mood to even find her.

Jess(5:12pm): See you’re the last fucking person I want to ask anyway but I need you to do this cause I’m working on something for Mr. Bang and if it’s not finished I am screwed. So just text Namjoon as he was the last one to talk to her after you decided to be an ass before her fucking date. Which I'm tempted to smack you for doing but you’re right about this guy which is why I'm extra worried… so just for my fucking sanity please jungkook. I’ll pay you back in whatever the fuck you ask for, games etc. just do it.

Jungkook(5:14pm): fine, but let this be the last fucking time you ask me to do something with y/n involved. I give no fucks about her or whatever she does with that douche just an FYI.

Jess(5:15pm): you can say that all you want but I know you Jungkook. Just find her, and if that fucker has hurt her tell me so I can plan his fucking funeral.

Jungkook(5:17pm): What is this, you’re not believing me now? In what aspect do you mean by knowing me? As if. But whatever, you can do whatever you want. If she ends up hurt, I’ll tell you. But it’s her fault and I don’t care anyway. She’s a stubborn pain in the ass and is the last person I ever want to put in my car no offense.

Jess(5:18pm): Whatever Jungkook, you act like a douche on purpose but I won’t argue with you as you’re just as hardhead as yoongi. So just find her, I have shit too before Mr. Bang has my head on a pike.

Jungkook(5:19pm): alright fine. I’ll keep you updated if I find her or not.

Jess(5:21pm): Thank you... You really don’t understand how much I am thankful that you are doing this. She is like a daughter to me. So yeah I gtg Mr. Bang is yelling at me now lmao

Jungkook(5:22pm): I mean I guess lol… I’m only doing this for you.

Jess(5:23pm): it won’t only be me in the end, but thanks.

Jungkook(5:23pm): no problem

Jungkook sighed in annoyance and hung up slipped his phone in his pocket. Do I really have to do this? Yes, of course, he does. He’s not that much of an ass to reject doing a favor for someone who needs it. And if Jess is that damn worried about you, then he may as well go out and find you. Jungkook grabbed his backpack and carries it on his back after putting his sweaty towel in and zipping it up. Walking out to his car, he thought to himself, what happens if he doesn’t find you at all?

During the car ride, he went to various places that he could in order to find you. Locations that may seem where you might be based on where you probably like to go. And he even went to the most random places too. He’s driven around everywhere in Seoul basically trying to find just you.

An hour passed and you were not found. Jungkook was in utter anger and stress that he’s wasted on time looking for you. He just wanted to go home badly to rest, and at that point for finding you everywhere, he’s given up. He shook his head and turned his car around to his way home. How was he going to tell Jess that he didn’t find you?

Although it was one question that he was focused on, there was another one that he just couldn’t help but keep thinking about the most. Is she okay?

The thought if it makes him worry a little. And it was odd. Where could you possibly be that you suddenly disappeared all day? Then suddenly while driving down a road, he found someone familiar walking on the sidewalk with their head down. Their outfit just seemed to look too much like what you were wearing earlier. Your figure and the way you walk even caught him off guard. With curiosity and hope, Jungkook slowly drove up close to get a better look of you, and as soon as he was just there, it was suddenly and thankfully you, walking with your head down.

To be sure of it, Jungkook rolled down his window and slowed down next to you, “Y/N?” The familiar voice caught you off guard and caused you to turn. Surprisingly, you found Jungkook in his black luxurious car right next to you. And it was definitely bad that he could see your face full of sadness and regret.

Jungkook, who was ready to pop off his madness and yell at you, studied your face. Your eyes were puffy and watery, your nose was red and cheeks were a peachy color. You had been crying and for some reason, his face softened. It was weird seeing you cry and it didn’t make him feel good inside at all.

“Go ahead, laugh at me.”

Jungkook stood there with trying to keep no expression on his face, but he only blinked, “I… I’m not going to,” he said quietly and he took a deep breath with his chest rising, “Get in, it’s gonna rain soon and Jess is worried sick.”

You shook your head with your arms still locked, and making no eye contact with him, “No thanks, I’m fine.” You turned to walk off in the same direction you were heading. That wasn’t until “Y/N please.” Jungkook watched you walk away. But you just kept walking. You knew you didn’t want to deal with him. But he wasn’t going to let you walk away from him.

“Y/N please stop.” His voice arose and it sounded quite like a demand. But that didn’t stop you from turning around with a pissed look on your face with tears streaming down your cheeks. “And why do you care?” And at that, Jungkook stays silent for a while.

You couldn’t be bothered to turn around to face him properly, for your insides were seething with rage and your heart felt empty to the core. Jungkook was right, he always was. The things he said to your face, how badly he spoke of you, and now this, about the guy who you thought was pretty decent—and something about Jeon Jungkook being right about everything is making your jaw clench in anger as you recall the buried grudge he has for you. Why must he keep meddling in your life? Right now, you wished he just disappeared off the face of earth. That way, your life would be much, much easier. You wouldn’t have to keep caring about your stupid feelings getting hurt and being the constant target and Jungkook’s antics.

And that’s the worst part. Feelings.

You’ve been harboring them for him god knows since when and you are afraid to open up about it to him. There’s this side of you Jungkook always fails to see and you doubt he ever will. Even if he does, it is highly unlikely that he would even care. And that is the question bothering you most as of the moment.

Why did he fucking care?

With your back facing him, you missed how he churns on his inner cheek and doesn’t know where to put his gaze. The rain pattering on the concrete floor didn’t provide him with the answers he needed. He directed the question back to himself and he realized he could not give closure as well.

With a sigh, he spoke, “Because I hate seeing you sad when it’s because of someone else hurting you like no one should or I shouldn’t.”

“I know you’re upset but can you please get in the car for my own good sake to get you home and save you from being sick at least?” Without a word, or looking at him, you walked past him and your shoulders barely touched as you walked to the passenger side of his car. That gave him a slight tingle in himself as he’s rarely been that close to you.

On the way back home, it was pure silence in the thin atmosphere. Jungkook gave glances to you here and there but you never once took a glimpse at him. And your position was obvious. You were sitting with your legs tightly closed and your fingers were brushing against each other as you only looked out the window, keeping your emotions as stable as you could. But it was so difficult to just give in and not cry. Then you realized, how could you be so stupid to not listen to him? He was right. You were angry. Not at Jungkook. But yourself. You felt bitchy. So bitter. Yet it was wrong to be that way to him. Although he has had a big hatred for you, you just can’t ever treat him the same. It just doesn’t work that way for you, which is a big problem. You’re too nice.

“He hurt you didn’t he?” His soft voice snapped you out of your thoughts, that you didn’t even realize he was already parked in front of your apartment. You gazed over at him and by the look on your face, Jungkook felt a little pang in his heart. Eyes puffy and glossy, your nose and cheeks peachy. He has never seen you cry once before, not even has he seen you express a sad or depressing emotion. He’s always seen you smile.

“Yes. And I let him.” Your voice cracked as if it hit the flu. Jungkook clenches his lips as he caught your eyes blink with tiny little tears, “What did he do?” You shook your head, “Just something that I learn my mistake from. It’s nothing-“

“Y/N” He started, “What did he do?” He stared at you with a straight face, almost like a demand. And it wasn’t that he was forcing you. He needed to know.

You sighed quietly as you could feel the slight order from him and you just couldn’t say no to him. “He groped me.” You vocalized in a shaky tone. Jungkook could feel his blood boil fast and kept calm, “Where did he touch you, Y/N?” His voice lowered.

“I c-can’t tell you-“

“If you can’t tell me, then point to where did he touch you.”

You gulped and your heart thumped rapidly, “Um…” You didn’t want any trouble at all and you were so hesitant in just telling him Jonghoon’s attempt to getting in your pants. But Jungkook could tell what he tried to do when you stuttered and look down at your most private area. As soon as you picked your head up at him, your tears were already swimming around your eyes, “H-He-“ you tried to speak but you were cut off by Jungkook’s hand grabbing you and pulling you onto his lap with your legs straddling him, in which you began to let out a breathy cry. His arms engulfed around your fragile figure and he held you tight in his arms, your response with burying your face in his neck with your hands on his hard chest as you sobbed in his neck.

But this was weird. You’re sitting on your enemy’s lap and he’s comforting you. He’s practically holding you in his own arms and you’re letting him. Ye his comfort made you feel safe… and you didn’t want to pull away. You didn’t even dare to. His soothing fingers stroking your hair as his hand rubbed your back slowly but keeping a light grip on you.

Jungkook on the other hand, he didn’t know what in the hell is he doing or what he was thinking. Why is he holding you? Why did he grab you and suddenly felt that he needed to protect you? He was in rage deeply inside and one of these days when he finds Jonghoon, he’ll make sure he doesn’t have his perfectly straight teeth.

You were glued to each other, the steady beat of his heart making you never want to open your eyes. Some nights, you’d lie awake just thinking about what he would say if he ever felt guilty about what he did and here it was. And somehow, it was so much more than what you asked for. But you also were wary. The bigger part of you, though, knew he was being sincere, that he held this crushing guilt over his head over what happened between you two for the past five to six years.

”You don’t deserve this,” he softly spoke up along a sigh, “You’re too special and fragile…” He added.

Wait what? You pulled away from his neck and looked at him, “What?” Your cold soft voice barely could be audible. Jungkook got a better glimpse of you up close—broken and terrified. And it sure damn stabbed his own heart deeply. He locked a piece of your hair behind your ear as he stared at you, “I know I was an ass to you earlier but I know that what I’m about to tell you is what I really mean to say. You’re too unique and wonderful for him. He’s nothing but a scumbag looking for a just a fuck and you don’t need that. You need and will get a guy who will treat you loyally and kindly with all of his love for who you are. Any guy would be lucky to have you, Y/N. Wait for him…the right one will sweep you off your feet.” His thumb rubbed your hip softly and the feeling warmed your skin.

You blinked. Is he really telling you this or are you just dreaming?

He sighed, “Just trust me.” He said softly. Jungkook reached his hand up to your face and wiped your tears gently with his thumb, “You’re so beautiful…” And it was true to him. Being this up close to you, he was able to see your flaws but they resembled how gorgeous you are. You shook your head, you didn’t believe that “I’m not that-“

“Yes, you are.” He cut you off, “Honestly, you’re so attractive and stunning, don’t tell yourself you’re not beautiful when you have seen yourself in the mirror.” He looked into your eyes, deep into them.

And you just didn’t know what else to say because his brown doe eyes caught you off guard. Neither of you could look away and it’s like your eyes were having a never lasting conversation with each other. You could feel your own pupils dilate the more you looked closely into his, and you could have sworn that his eyes looked at your lips then at you. But you also didn’t think he did. And at that moment, it was when you come to the realization of what was going on, causing you to clear your throat, “Um..” you hummed, which had Jungkook probably get the memo too. You looked down awkwardly as your mind was going crazy but you remained calm, “Thanks for the ride… and listening.” You said softly. Jungkook eyes darted elsewhere but you with a blank expression on his face, “Yeah,” he started, “No problem.” He said and he just sat there, his tongue poking out of his.

You slowly got off his lap to the passenger side and got out his car, grabbing your bag as you fixed yourself and closing the door afterward without saying a word. Making your way into your apartment, you didn’t dare to look back. After locking the front door, you leaned your back against it, questioning what just happened.

You almost kissed your enemy.

#jungkook x reader #jeongguk x reader #jungkook imagine #jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook au #BTS jungkook #bts imagine #bts scenarios #enemies to lovers au #bts smut #her blooming flower #hbf

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kariachi · 5 years ago

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Some more for the First Pass AU. This time a segment of a proper meeting.

“Dar~lings, quick reminder that I spend most of my patience on the actual children and don’t have much left to spare~”

Quickly everyone quieted down, the loudest yellers seeming to melt into their seats. Nobody knew what Monett would do if she finally snapped under the stress, but she’d never been afraid to punch somebody and had endeared herself to the whers. Not that that was turning out to be difficult, mostly requiring things like being respectful and kind. If you couldn’t manage that, well, nobody wanted you in the settlement anyway.

“Much better, thank you, loves. Now, in a calm and orderly manner-” Wate was the first to return to his feet, and this time the rest of those at the meeting kept quiet and listened.

“Look, I get it, I’m a cat person too, but right now we have to be focusing on animals we need and we just don’t need them. Firelizards take care of pests just as well without causing ecological damage-” A murmuring of ‘why did we even bring cats’ came from some of the crowd, silenced by a wherrish rumble. “Between the firelizards and the dogs a lot of our working animal needs should be filled. If we want them as companion animals well, we can always import them once we’re better established.”

“What about those big cats Ned’s dad made,” Cengiz asked, standing, “can we maybe do something with them?”

“Those things were vicious,” Ned answered from the back, “the mentasynth fucked with their heads.”

“But could we breed that out? They could be useful for day hunting, maybe as companions too, scratch that cat-lover itch.” The hall went quiet as it became clear that none of them really knew enough about mentasynth to know for sure.

“I’ll ask Windblossom about it before the next meeting,” Monett finally said, jotting it down on one of her hundred pieces of paper. There was a mass nod among the others. This was acceptable.

“There’s a question,” Heber called, “have you got what we’re doing with all those damn sheep figured out?”

“I’ve talked to Sorka and Sean,” Monett replied, “dragons ferrying people and goods are allowed free range on the sheep. Might not take out all of them, but it should cut the numbers enough for us to manage the rest.”

“Some of us would prefer they not take them all out, really.” Triesa rose as the other surrendered the floor. She fidgeted slightly. “We were planning to bring this up at the next meeting, but the rest of the miners and I, we want to cut off from Fort ahead of schedule and dedicate our time wholly to the settlement.” Well, they certainly got everyone’s attention.

“Are you sure,” Monett asked, face screwing up in concern. A lot of the crowd mirrored the look. There was a reason they were all splitting their time, mostly to do with the security that came with Fort for the time being. They had a secure base of operations from which to work, and they intended to utilize it fully. Sonia joined Triesa.

“The work will go faster if we just say fuck it and dive in,” she said. “Being able to actually do a full day’s work every day is going to make a massive difference in how long it is until we can actually get out of this crowded shithole.”

“Plus!” Enthanda jumped up as she spoke- “We’re pretty sure there’s more to the caves! We’ll have to knock through some walls, but we can expand our usable space!” Monett chewed her lip, but Vasan joined the fray before she got the chance to speak.

“Our first large-scale greenhouse just needs final construction, and if they’re going to be working full time then that should be possible relatively quickly?” He looked to the women, who nodded.

“We can focus on finishing that first set of pillars first, if you need.”

“Fantastic! If we put some of the local, fast-growing plants in there we could be getting harvests within a month of completion, if not sooner! Plus fish harvests for added protein!”

“We’ve been making good time with the barns, could have them all finished within the month if we go full bore!”

“Once they’re done then we can start working on gathering up those feral goats, dogs, and fowl, maybe start bringing the llamas down if we can get the fencing built up.”

“We’ll still need some extra hands for that, but if you’re not afraid to put in some elbow grease-”

“If we were, would we even be here?”

“You guys’ll need food when you’re starting out though, will we be able to get enough from Fort down to you?”

“I don’t see why not, Monett’s managed to get us everything else-”

Said young woman just stared as the meeting devolved once more into organized chaos. Thankfully this was at least chaos with a purpose and not another argument about what was worth bringing along. At least twenty seemed keen to dive headfirst into their work, with more happy to follow after. And everyone seemed enthused by the idea of the schedule being brought forward, more work being done, the promise of getting out of these crowded caves and from under the thumb of the previous generation.

Well, most everyone. Several people, Mari included, looked like there were some speakers they wanted to lock in a broom closet for their own wellbeing. Mari in particular looked shocked that she was thinking it.

“Quiet,” Monett eventually called, “you’ve all been heard!” She looked around as everyone stayed standing, waiting for her opinion. “Call me overprotective, but I don’t like the idea of you all being so far away for so long. But, you’re right about needing to speed up our work, and I trust you all to know what you need and what you’re doing. So, the group representatives and I will meet up later this week to determine a schedule for getting people moved out there full time. Is this agreeable?”

The representatives of the various fields called their affirmative- Mari a little hesitantly, but she was still watching Vasan so nobody took it too seriously.

“Alright then.” Monett didn’t look too enthused either, but the brush of her wher’s nose across her hand seemed to calm her. “Now, if we could move onto the next item on the schedule- What the Fuck Do We Call This Place: Round Four. I believe Kayphas had a suggestion for something referencing the llamas…”

#fanfic #first pass au

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victorluvsalice · 6 years ago

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Magical Monday: Pern AU II -- Fandom Weyr

So -- at the end of last week's longer-than-I-freaking-expected post about my main Valice/Pern AU, Pern Crash, I mentioned that I hadn't even gotten to my other main AU idea. So let's talk about it now! This AU is called Fandom Weyr, and it's like Secundus in that it's a multifandom mashup set in a specific location -- in this case, in and around an isolated weyr on Pern. The idea is that the weyr (where the dragons and dragonriders live) and the holds (basically towns) it services are on an island away from the main Pern continents, and things that one might taken for granted in Pern don't work quite the same way there.

. . .Yes, it is essentially a "I like these parts of Pern, but not those parts" fix-it AU. Less creepy forced sex, more colors of fire lizards for everybody. XD I never fleshed this one out as much as I did Pern Crash -- mostly because I've only read two actual Pern books, Dragonsong and Dragonsinger, plus flipped through a "guidebook" on the world and its history, so I'm not sure if I know the setting quite well enough -- but I did come up with a few specific ideas:

-->The four main fandoms involved are Corpse Bride (natch -- Burtonsville becomes Everglot Sea Hold, with Finis and Maudeline as Lord and Lady Holder; William is a super-successful fisherman under them); American McGee's Alice (again natch -- Arthur was a successful Harper in Oxford Hold, as they're generally the teachers on Pern, with Bumby being a healer -- though not one anyone likes); Discworld (with none other than Vetinari running the Weyr! Sybil is Weyrwoman and breeds whers (a stumpier version of a dragon that can't fly, but can see better at night for rare night threadfall) in her spare time, and the Watch makes up a wing of dragonriders); and Portal 2 (GLaDOS is the Head Woman of the Lower Caverns, responsible for the day-to-day runnings of the weyr, with Wheatley and Chell as kitchen drudges under her. Also Cave Johnson was former Weyrleader and that was as hilariously horrifying as you think it was).

-->The island consists of Fandom Weyr, a few tithed Holds, and a few small Crafthalls -- for Harpers, Healers, Woodworkers, Metalworkers, Glassmakers, Paper-makers, etc. There's also the Unseen Crafthall, which seems to be doing some odd experiments with the results of some of the other halls. . .

-->The dragons and fire lizards of the island have developed some genetic mutations thanks to being largely isolated from the mainland (obviously, they can teleport there if necessary, but mostly they stick to their own turf). In the fire lizards, this has resulted in new colors (all the noncanon colors from Nest o'Flitts); in the dragons, it's resulted in the standard Impression rules (het women on golds, het men generally on bronzes and browns, gay men generally on blues and greens, with the occasional woman on the latter) relaxing. While queen golds still seem to Impress to women exclusively, all other colors now Impress to anyone of any sex or sexuality. There's also more steps taken to ensure the safety of candidates on the sand -- Vetinari is not in favor of potentially useful people getting injured or killed by anxious baby dragons trying to find their life partner!

-->The whole "mating flight" thing, where the feelings of a dragon getting ready to mate kind of overwhelm their rider, still happens, but all candidates for dragonriding are told immediately about this sort of thing, and steps are taken to ensure that nobody feels used in the aftermath of a mating flight (mainly by having couples stay together during flights so they'll have sex with someone they know and trust instead of possibly a random stranger). Incidentally, this sort of thing is why Alice turns down the offer of becoming a dragon rider when she gets it -- she does not want any part of that. (Victor is disqualified because he can't stand going between -- a dark, airless, sensationless place that dragons visit when they teleport. Gee, I wonder why my Victor with his established fear of total darkness wouldn't like it?)

-->I'm still figuring out how Corpse Bride would happen here -- there's no real "magic" on Pern (it's actually sci-fi! Though you do have telepathy and telekinesis), so I'm not sure how Victor encountering Emily would work. Currently I have it as he just finds her corpse while out practicing for his upcoming arranged marriage, figures out who she was, and exposes a visiting Barkis as a murderer as a result, but. . . *waggles hand* American McGee's Alice is a little easier -- Bumby trying to kill the whole family for Lizzie rejecting him, Alice spending years in a catatonic state in a place of healing, Bumby taking over her case once she wakes up, and Alice learning the truth and killing him in revenge can happen regardless of location. I figure she goes holdless for a while to escape the law before being picked up by a dragon searching for new riders.

I also wrote two pieces of fic (I tried to "Pern up" some of the names in these, but I don't know if I would continue to do so going forward -- trying to remember to misspell them is a bit of a pain in the ass):

Parole Officer -- Vitor and Aliss meet the Weyrleader and discover what he has in mind for them

The Unlikeliest Dragonrider -- Vitor and Aliss attend a Hatching at Fandom Weyr, and someone very unlikely Impresses. . .

So yeah, that's my other possible Pern AU. Dunno if anything more will come out of it -- obviously I put a LOT more effort into Pern Crash, where I'm on more familiar ground setting-wise -- but it makes a fun thought exercise, doesn't it?

#magical monday #pern #fandom weyr #apparently I never had a tag for it before #fortunate it was all mixed in with the Pern Crash stuff #I like this idea mainly for making Pernified versions of characters from various properties #giving them fire lizards and dragons as applicable #but I don't know if I know enough about the Pern universe to do anything major with it #I'm not really THAT interested in Pern beyond the Menolly books #and fire lizards #we'll see where any of this goes #queued

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over-roaming-waves · 6 years ago

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Turn Turn Turn

Rating: SFW

Charaters: Yuma Tsukumo, Yugi Mouto, Atem, Yusei Fudo, Jaden Yuki, Carly Nagisa, Jack Atlas, Yami Bakura, Ryou Bakura, Malik Ishtar, Isis ishtar, Mai Valentine, Jounouchi Katsuya Mentioned: Seto Kaiba, Mokuba Kaiba

Pairings: Puzzleship, Visionship, Theifship (slowburn), Scoopship, More to be added.

January

“O.K., you can do this Yuma. Just go in there and say you want to join. Right then, it’s not like they’re going to kick you out because you’re just start, or you’re too young, or anything like that. And it’s definitely not likely that they will call my sister and tell her everything. O.K., O.K. …Kattobingu! “

He opened the door.

“Hey there, I’m Tsukumo Yuma and I’m here to-“

“Join the gaming club, but don’t tell your sister because she doesn’t know.”

Yuma look where the answer came from and saw a man with platinum blond hair and skin that was several shades darker than his own. He was reading a guide book for a game called Monster World.

“How did you-“

“Please, you were stand in front of the building for 30 minutes. Most everyone heard some part of your inner monologue when they came in.”

“Malik, please don’t be so rude. It was not long ago that you were in his position,” a woman with the same shade of skin and the distinct air of an older sister around her came in. She bowed, which made her black hair flow over her shoulder, “Welcome, I am Isis Ishtar and this is my younger brother, Malik. If you’d like, I’ll take you to the next room and we’ll see about getting you some more information, as well as creating your character for our role-playing game.”

Yuma was escorted inside, thou he saw Malik mimicking his sister behind her back.

He was brought into a big room, with a table near a kitchen area. The table was occupied a figure hunched over an RPG… thingy that kept them hidden from view, only allowing a view of the person’s arms. In a chair on the left side farthest from the cover, there was a man with two different shades pf brown in his hair, the top part being lighter than the bottom part. He seems occupied by his phone. On the brunet’s opposing side, he spotted two blonds, a man and a woman, with a chair between them. On the man’s left, there was a black-haired woman. She and the man were holding hands.

Deep breath and…

“Hello, I’m Tsukumo Yuma and I wish to join your Game Club. I am going into my third year of middle school and want to be more honest with who I am. Please take care of me!”

He bowed so far down, he felt like one of those wooden birds that go up and down, mimicking a drinking bird. He doesn’t hear anything from the other members but he could feel their stare as they look at him and his outfit that he bought behind his sister’s back. He’s sure that grandma knows already but…he’s scared that Akari would hate him if he told her. He’s still starting out and… this was really the first place that he went to as a man. That poster on the pole felt like a sign that he should be himself. That there were people would accept him as Yuma.

He felt like maybe this was a mistake. Maybe he’s too young. Maybe he needs to do more to be able to join. Maybe-

He smells a chocolatey scent. Someone was walking, put something down (cups maybe?), and walking again. He felt someone guide him up, where he saw bright blue eyes stare down at him.

“It’s O.K., you’re doing fine.”

The blue-eyed masterpiece escorted him to an empty chair, where he gave Yuma a hot chocolate. (Was that what he put on the table?) he then started talking again in his velvety voice.

“We’d be glad to have you as a member. Isis is just getting some paper work for you to make it all official. Unfortunately, several members including the founder are not here at the moment but you can be introduced to the members that are here. I am Fudo Yusei, and I am like you in body.”

“wow, that pretty good up until that last part. Hey there, I’m Jaden Yuki. Oh, right, I meant Yuki Jaden. Well, what I mean is my personal name is Jaden. I was born and raised in the USA, so I’ll warn ya right now that I will mess up on social niceties. And like Yusei so weirdly said it, I’m a Trans Man. I’ll get your character sheet, ‘kay?” shouted the two-toned brunet, who had put his phone down to look at him with his soft brown eyes. He left his chair to get the sheet.

“Right”, the blond woman said, “You can call me Mai Valentine and I was assigned male at birth. As you can see, I disagreed with that decision. The idiot next to me is Jake Atlas, who is Cis and is dating the only other Trans woman in the place, Carly. The silent Dungeon Master who is rudely ignoring our guest is Bakura. (he heard a grunt by the covered man) You probably have already met Isis and Malik, so that would be a bit redundant and the others can introduce themselves when they come in.”

Then Mai started to explain the rules of the game, how to set up his character, how to roll for the stats, and other such thing while he was filling out the papers Isis gave him … until he heard Jaden yell.

”HOLY SHIT! GUYS, ATEM IS PREGNANT!!”

____________________

“So, you’re preggers, hon?”

“… I wanted to tell you AFTER I told our close family and friends. I already expressed my displeasure in my IDIOTIC, BUBBLE-HEADED, TRATOROUS SISTER telling everyone with an internet connection my current status about something I told her in private!”

“While I’m sure got that by how quickly the post got deleted. I’ll put the congratulatory gifts given to you away for a better time. Call me Curious George but when would you have told your more… distant relatives?”

“ …. When everyone else would know. By the way, how would you think the members of our gaming club would feel about being part of a ceremony that my family is putting together?”

“Pay for the outfits and you’ve got ‘em, Sweetheart.”

____________________

The Kame Game Shop was always slow at 2 in the afternoon. Jaden liked it that was. It gave him time to work on his secret job. Only three people on the planet know that Haou, the author of the hit series Gates of Eterniea, was a trans man living in Japan. He loved taking people to new world with amazing adventures. He also liked his privacy. Honestly, Jaden probably needed his job at Kame more for his mental heath more then anything.

It keeps him from going into that place he can’t go. where bad things lurk. Wher-

*DING*

“Yug’ why didn’t ya tell me sooner”, shouted the blond that just came in. The blond was none other than Yugi’s best friend from high school, Katsuya Jonouchi, who goes by Jou.

“About…”

“da baby!”

“Well, that’s why I called you. And sent an email. And texted you.”

“… Ya know da Kaiba takes things when we’re testin’, buddy.”

“Really? Well, maybe Seto-kun should revise his policies then. I’ll talk about it with Mokuba when he comes to the next meeting.”

“… Sorry, I fucked up, Yug’”

“By the way, do you have a suit?”

“…why ’da ask about ‘dat?”

“Well, Mama, Ji-chan, and Atem’s parents want to have a wedding.”

“But ya already married ta ‘im!”

“Yeah, but they probably wanted to have a ‘proper’ ceremony. Plus, it could be a fun anniversary gift.”

“Tch, Rich Folks.”

“By the way, can you please tell Anzu, Hiroto, and the others about the Ceremony?”

Jou leaves, no doubt to tell Yugi’s other friends about the party that’s going to happen.

“Jaden?”

“Yeah, boss?”

“Let us tell the others about the ceremony, O.K.?”

“’Kay.”

Now then, how do the Band of the Pejuleum get through the Cave of Despair….

____________________

At the second ever time that he came into the Domino City Gaming Club, he saw two people with spikey black hair that had a rim of red at the edges. Thou they had the same hair, they had vastly different styles, one in head to toe black clothes with a tattoo on his right arm, the other in a grey business suit. He was too far away to hear the words so he jogged over to the two.

“Hi there, I’m Tsukumo Yuma. I’m a new member of the Domino City Gaming Club. I hope we can be good friends,” Yuma exclaimed as he bowed to his seniors of the club.

The two turned and… whoa, they both looked so weird. The tattooed one had blond bangs that frames his purple eyes, who looked at him kindly. The other, who somehow had darker skin than Yuma’s own, looked so excited at him(?) with his red (?!?) eyes. The red-eye guy, who had blond streaks in his hair to go with his blond bangs, went into a speech that he said with such enthusiasm that it felt like he was trying to sell him on an epic game that he just played that he wanted to share with everyone.

“Welcome once again to the Domino City Gaming Club! I am the founder and fanatical backer of the club, Atem La Lune. The handsome man next to me in my Husband, Yugi. I’m sure you’ve met the secretary of the DCGC, a little nickname I gave our illustrious club, Isis Ishtar, as well as one of our greeters. The brunet giant setting up the duel disks is Seto Kaiba, and the child with the wild black mane is Mokuba. Mokuba is genderfluid, and they indicate what gender they are by wearing a bow in their hair if they wish to be referred to as female, and leaving their hair down if they want to be man at that time. If I’ve read the notes from last time correctly, you were already introduced to Mai, Jaden, Yusei, Jack, Carly, Malik, and Bakura. I apologize for anything that the latter two would have done t-“

“Oy, don’t try that shit with me, you short-ass brat. You were telling your blond Bunny that you got knocked up last time. The least you could due is not act like some fucking saint.”

Yuma saw the white-haired Bakura (he saw him fully when he knocked out the cardboard-thingy after Jaden say that Atem was going to be a papa) charge at Atem. Atem looked ready to fight the white-head when Yugi stopped it in its tracks before proclaimed the weirdest announcement.

“O.k. just want everyone here to know that Atem and I and having a Wedding ceremony, courtesy of the matriarch of the La Lune clan, and all DCGC members are invited and are allowed to bring a guest. This is a formal affair so Atem will pay for any clothes that you would need. I expect to see most of you there.”

“You’re already married,” Shouted Jake.

“Mother insisted on it as an anniversary gift. But if you don’t want to go…”

“Hell yeah I’m going!”

“Woo!”

Yuma stared on as each person there offered their congratulations, their condolences, and their RSVP.

“Things tend to hectic here,” Yuma turned to see another white-haired guy looking on, “But I think that it just gives this group a unique character, don’t you think so?” The snowy haired guy looked at him in fondness. “Bakura Ryou, my brother’s looking for the right personal name, so he’s been going by the familial name for now.”

Yuma smiled, “Yeah, I think it’s good.”

He just knows that this will be a good year.

#TransAtem AU #TurnTurnTurn #yugioh 5d's #yugioh gx #yugioh #ygo #yugioh zexal #fanfic #fanfiction #Talkin' about my dumb-ass Aus

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thesinglesjukebox · 5 years ago

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The Singles Jukebox Celebrates 30 Years of Rhythm Nation 1814 (a Janet Jackson retrospective)

Janet Jackson’s had one hell of a career. It’d be glittering even if you were to cut the album she released 30 years ago this week out of history. And historic is what Rhythm Nation 1814 is, not like a war, but like a discovery; it was groundbreaking and influential and so much pop released in its wake owes it a debt of gratitude. The album contained seven top 10 singles in the U.S., each with indelible melodies, state-of-the-art beats and vivid music videos. Janet was always on the radio, always on TV, and welcome everywhere she went. She endured the failure of two albums and the weight of family baggage before reinventing herself, seizing artistic control and having one of the longest and brightest imperial phases of any pop star. Sex positive, romantic, assertive and wise, she’s an icon whose brilliance comes as much from how her songs make us feel about ourselves as they do about her.

Her familial connections might help explain her, but they didn’t define or limit her. She’s a sympathetic performer, an innovator in the development of music video as an art form (someone in her camp needs to fix up her spotty presence on video streaming sites, people need to see these videos in HD) and a smart, underrated songwriter in her own right. There’s a lot of Jackson in Beyonce, in Rihanna, in Britney, and in any woman who makes us smile and makes us dance. Because she did all those things over and over again.

Here’s a bunch of songs by Miss Jackson that moved us, or just made us move:

Katherine St Asaph on “Nasty” [8.14]

Date the quote: “[His] dance cuts have a format-friendly, artificial sheen … but she seems more concerned with identity than playlists.” This is not from 2019, about a post-Spotify pop star (I cheated a bit, leaving out a reference to “Arthur Baker dance breaks”) but from the ’80s. Specifically, it’s from the Rolling Stone review of Janet Jackson’s’s Control, the first half of which is a review of a comparatively nothing Jermaine Jackson album. This was typical: if press didn’t dismiss her as an biographical afterthought who happened to still sing, they wrote about her alongside her family, and specifically her brother. (This continues to this day: Note the sustained attention given to her response to Leaving Neverland, which ultimately was to join her family in condemning it.) The line everyone quotes is “Ms. Jackson if you’re nasty,” but more pointed is one of the lines that precedes it: “my last name is Control.”

The lyric to “Nasty” is full of that sort of role-reversal, like a swordfight where one guy yoinks the other guy’s sword — the sword being the “nasty groove.” But said groove possibly illustrates the lyric even better. Made by producers/former The Time members/future creative partners Jam & Lewis out of big ’80s percussion, plus clanks and repurposed orchestral stabs from an Ensoniq Mirage, one of the earliest sampling keyboards, it doesn’t sound martial exactly, like some of Jackson’s later work, but certainly sounds stark. It sounds like a challenge, one Janet takes up: her past soubrette voice drops to a throatier register, then is stoked into roars. The beat’s not quite its own thing; “Nasty” resembles experiments like Herbie Hancock’s “Metal Beat,” and in turn much of New Jack Swing resembles it. But how Jam & Lewis described it was a rapper’s beat — now standard for pop or R&B singers, from Destiny’s Child to Ariana Grande and Billie Eilish, when they want a tougher image. Meanwhile, Britney took Janet’s soft spoken-word interlude “I could learn to like this” and extrapolated an entire career from it — and covered it, unusually early in her career — but simplified it, mostly collapsing the context of family ties and dignity and creative control onto one axis: sex. But what they’re all doing is asserting this kind of Control.

Part of appreciating songs from the ’80s and ’90s is prying them out of the clutches of the era’s pop-culture jokification– I do like MST3K, but their sort of snappy “Nasty” joke is kind of what I mean. More than one article/restaurant review/listicle attempts to identify, meme-ily, Janet’s idea of “nasty food” (Janet’s answer, dubiously, was whole squid). A certain comment by a certain head of state gave the song a late-breaking sales boost But put on some ’80s radio (or a contemporary playlist of people copying ’80s radio) and wait for “Nasty” to come on. The rest of the radio will flinch.

Kat Stevens on “What Have You Done For Me Lately?” [8.67]

“What Have You Done For Me Lately?” is a sparse, angry snap of a song, the overspill of weeks and months of gradually-building resentment. It’s taken a nudge from bezzie mate Paula Abdul for Janet to fully admit her relationship has gone sour: her once fun-loving, adoring beau has become complacent, content to put his feet up on the sofa and take Janet for granted. Should she leave? She loves him! Or does she? Should love really feel like a heavy weight, pressing down on you? Like your stomach won’t stop churning? Like letting the phone ring out unanswered rather than deal with his temper? Like maybe it’s your fault that he’s like this? “Who’s right? Who’s wrong?” Janet is determined to make a decision with a clear head, but the anxiety and hormones are bubbling underneath (“I never ask for more than I deserve…“). Thankfully Jam & Lewis are on hand with a clinical, whipcrack beat — snap out of it, Janet! The tension manifests itself in her zigzagging shoulders, hunched and strained and contorted, primed to lash out – just as he walks through the door! Janet is wary, but her dude is on his best behaviour, puppy-dog eyes, I’ll do better from now on, I swear. They dance perfectly in time together, remembering the good times: all is forgiven. Surely Janet hasn’t fallen for the same old lines, doomed to repeat the cycle? Paula is rolling her eyes: ugh, not this bullshit again… Then, as the happy couple laugh together over dinner, Janet glances back at us, and the smile falls from her face. The decision has been made. As soon as Mr ‘Not All Men’ leaves for work in the morning, she’s putting her passport in a safety deposit box and setting up a secret savings account to fund her getaway. The plan is in motion. You’ve got one life to life.

Thomas Inskeep on “Diamonds” (Herb Alpert ft. Janet Jackson) [6.80]

After “The Pleasure Principle,” this might actually be my favorite Janet Jackson single (even though she’s technically the featured artist on it). “Diamonds,” written and produced by Jimmy “Jam” Harris and Terry Lewis for Herb Alpert’s 1987 album Keep Your Eye on Me, is, in all but name, a Jam/Lewis/Janet record — with a few Alpert trumpet flourishes. The beats rock hard, and Janet delivers what may be (and certainly was at the time) her most IDGAF vocal: you’re gonna get Miss Jackson (because you’re clearly nasty) some diamonds, aren’t you?

Alfred Soto on “The Pleasure Principle” [8.43]

For all the banter over the years about the cold and steel of Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis’ beats for Control, the coldest and steeliest they had no hand in creating. Songwriter Monte Moir, like Jam and Lewis also a The Time alum, stumbled on the title first: “I had to figure out what it was I was trying to say, I just stumbled into the title and realized it fit.” Sung by Jackson in her airiest, most insouciant coo, “The Pleasure Principle” starts with bass synth and cowbell before settling down into a matter-of-fact tale of a night of sin. To visualize the concept, choreographer Barry Lather put together one of Jackson’s most iconic videos, a masterpiece of athleticism involving chairs. Too cold and steely for the audience, or perhaps the hype cycle for a sixth single had exhausted itself: “The Pleasure Principle” missed the top ten in the summer of 1987, stopping at #14. So ignore the single mix and revel in Shep Pettibone’s Long Vocal Remix.

Kat Stevens on “Let’s Wait Awhile” [6.60]

Can you have an erection-section classic that’s primarily about abstinence? “Let’s Wait Awhile” has all the features of a late-night Magic FM request slot regular: soft electric piano, finger clicks instead of drums, lyrics about promises and feelings and stars shining bright. But this message is about trust, not lust. It takes courage to admit that you’re not ready, and it requires faith in the other person that they’re not going to be a dick about it. I remember the advice columns in Just 17 repeating over and over that as Informed Young Women we shouldn’t be pressured into sex, which was all well and good until it actually came to the act of Doing It, whereupon the fug of hormones and internalised misogyny meant that all rationality went out of the window. It’s the sign of how strong and confident Janet is in her relationship, that she can be ‘real honest’ and discuss her concerns freely with her partner, without worrying that he’s going to a) dump her b) tell his mates that she’s frigid or c) ‘persuade’ her round to his point of view (*shudder*). If he’s not willing to wait, maybe he’s not such an ideal person to be doing this sort of stuff with in the first place? I can hear the dude whining to his mate now: “I took her out for dinner and all I got was a perfectly vocalised key change!” Just 17 would be proud of you, Janet.

Jessica Doyle on “Miss You Much” [7.83]

A little context: in March 1989 Natalie Cole released “Miss You Like Crazy,” a ballad built for Cole to sing wide about longing. In June Paula Abdul released the third single off Forever Your Girl, “Cold Hearted,” whose video made a point of its group choreography. And then in late August came “Miss You Much,” the first single from Rhythm Nation 1814. Did Janet Jackson have beef with her ex-choreographer? Was that the kind of thing people talked about, in the pre-poptimist, pre-TMZ era? Because in retrospect “Miss You Much” looks like a dismissal of “Cold Hearted,” cool and upright where the latter was David-Fincher-directed sleazy. (By contrast, the director of “Miss You Much,” Dominic Sena, had already treated Jackson with respect in the video for “The Pleasure Principle.”) But also “Miss You Much” plays as a broader statement, a refusal of expectations. There’s nothing sad or ballad-like about it. There’s that opening high of “sho-o-ot,” and then Jackson’s on a roll: it’s all about her, the deliciousness of her feeling; she can barely bother to describe the “you” being missed so much besides the blanditries of smiling face and warm embrace. The power in “I’ll tell your mama/I’ll tell your friends/I’ll tell anyone whose heart can comprehend” isn’t in the longing; it’s in how much she relishes being the one who gets to do the telling. By 1989 she was in control enough to not have to utter the word once. “Miss You Much” isn’t a deep song, didn’t set out to accomplish as much as the title track or later songs like “That’s the Way Love Goes” or “Together Again” would. But thirty years later it still looks and sounds like (what we now call) a power move.

Katie Gill on “Rhythm Nation” [8.57]

How does one try to condense the reach and influence of “Rhythm Nation” in a single blurb? Entire articles have been written about this song and video (because really, you can’t talk about the song without talking about the video). It’s influenced singers, dancers, directors, choreographers. It won a Grammy as well as two MTV Music Video Awards when those awards actually mattered. The choreography is perfect. Jackson and her dancers move with military-like precision, flawlessly executing maneuvers and creating a dance that would almost instantly become part of the popular consciousness. The sound is amazing. That bass groove is so tight, adding a layer of funk which the guitar takes to further levels. The tune is an absolute earworm, the chorus is iconic, and Jackson’s vocals are at the best of their game. But I think the most important part of “Rhythm Nation” is that this absolute banger of a song, this masterclass in choreography, has remarkably idealistic lyrics. Jackson’s “Rhythm Nation” yearns towards a racially and socially conscious utopia as it attempts to unite people to join together and create this utopia. In a lesser artist, these lyrics would be out and out corny. But when wrapped up in the final package, the lyrics go from corny to believable. Suddenly, the idea of the whole world helping each other or rising up in protest doesn’t sound so far-fetched.

Alfred Soto on “Escapade” [7.67]

With solo credits as common as hair metal solos in Janet Jackson music, I often listen to tracks like “Escapade” and wonder: what did Janet Jackson contribute? Lyrics? Sure. But she has to write them around a Jimmy Jam-Terry Lewis melody, no? Or, as is no doubt the case, she comes up with her own vocal melody to accompany their chord progressions. According to Jam, the trio had “Nowhere to Run” in mind: first as a cover song, then as inspiration. “Escapade” hopscotches away from the sense of danger animating the Martha and the Vandellas chestnut; in 1989, into the eclipse of a grim decade for black lives, looking forward to Friday and drinks and friends would have to do. Over Jam and Lewis’ unrelenting thwack, Jackson sing-songs a valentine to a shy boy whom she hopes will join her in — what? The sheer euphoria of the bridge — a melody as bright as a returned smile — suggests worlds of possibilities when the check’s cashed and the night’s young. After all, MINNEAPOLIS!

Leah Isobel on “Alright” [7.14]

Rhythm Nation might have more banging singles, and it might have songs that more directly diagnose the ills of late capitalism, but no song on the record better encapsulates its utopian aims than “Alright.” Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis famously left the high end of Janet’s songs empty to provide space for her delicate soprano; here, they fill the low end with vocal samples, percussion, submerged synth blats, and tense bass licks. Instead of singing high for the whole track, however, Janet buries lyrical references to magic spells and the end of the world in her lower register, where they blend into the rest of the song. It’s only on the chorus, and particularly on her swooping vocal runs as she riffs on the phrase “you’re alright with me,” that she surfaces from the swirl. On a record where she spends so much time and thought discussing what’s wrong around her, here she takes the time to see and acknowledge what’s right. I don’t know that I’ve heard a better sonic analogue for finding relief from chaos: one voice against a wall of voices and sounds, getting lost and being found over and over to the comforting rhythm of a pop song.

Edward Okulicz on “Black Cat” [6.57]

“Black Cat” was never the huge stylistic U-turn it was perceived as. Janet’s brother had dabbled in rock guitars, and this is in that vein too, while still being of a piece with the other songs on the album. Where it succeeds is because it doesn’t just lean into rock, it’s as credible a rock song as it is a dance-pop song — the riff, which Jackson wrote herself, kicks ass, the drums shake a room as much as the cavernous thuds of her contemporaneous singles, and the song’s melody and the fierce vocal performance straddle both worlds. And if you don’t like the mix there’s like 900 different versions with 2000 different guitarists — only a slight exaggeration. Its overall success is testament to Janet’s persona, sure, because nothing she released could have failed at this point, but you can’t go to Number One with single number six off an album without your usual co-writers and producers unless you’ve written something that connects with listeners and performed it with power. The way she slams down on “don’t understand… why you… insist…” is a moment of perplexed, angry humanity in the middle of a song that tries to understand something tragic — the corrosion of drugs and gangs on young people’s lives — and while the soloing is a little hammy, the song escapes being embarrassingly corny. Because in fact the whole song kicks ass.

Pedro Joao Santos on “Love Will Never Do (Without You)” [8.71]

One of the greatest pleasures in getting into Janet is how deliriously bold all of her work is. A story, if you will: how Jimmy & Terry stepped in to support her emancipation and helped her invent new jack swing all within Control, before taking the formula apart in Rhythm Nation 1814, aiming for pop that was both a manifesto against bigotry and, between a balm and a corrective, a rush of love. It was designed for high impact, meaning it would’ve always been a pop juggernaut — the material was there, even if the marketing was oblique, which it was. Instead of a glamour shot in Technicolor and a flirtatious title, the 12 million copies sold feature a stark black and white portrait backed by a call-to-arms; the pop froth is smattered around the backbone of topical anthems.

From single to single, A&M skittered between the two sides and amassed consecutive top 10 singles, but it was the last calling card that proved career-defining. At first, “Love Will Never Do (Without You)”’s hard-edged beats scan identical to “Rhythm Nation”’s sonic matrix: belligerent and completed by Janet’s frontal vox, only in this instance driven through a more feminine marketing (the music video is a blueprint). That’s the first trick: she unexpectedly launches into the first verse in a tentative, lightly hostile lower register (“like a guy would,” said Jimmy Jam, as it was to be a duet) and keeps it until the chorus wraps up. It’s pop as friction. By the second verse, Janet goes up an octave and matches the now-bubbling passion at the forefront. The tiny synth countdown drives it into a perpetual unfolding, each time emerging to add more (vocal) layers to the cacophony and threaten to wrap it up, before coming back in force.

Janet’s head voice soars up to the grand finale, a pop cataclysm of an ending, one of the best in recorded history — which applies to the entirety of “Love Will Never Do,” a simultaneous pitch for chaotic head-over-heels energy and blockbuster status. It’s a bizarre ride and a joyous knockout: the honeymoon phase juiced into one relentless beast of a banger, one that changed pop for good.

Jackie Powell on “State of the World” [6.67]

“State of the World” deserved a music video. At its heart, this is a dance cut with a little bit less of the hard rock that roars in “Rhythm Nation.” In content and in sound, this track is a sequel and that’s not a criticism. It’s an expansion which encourages a foot tap by the listener and includes an absolutely integral bassline that drives this track through and through. While the song clocks in at under five minutes and could have been a bit shorter, its chorus, which crescendos in clarity and volume, makes up for it. In addition to Jackson’s delivery on the verses, which is rather understated, the sound effects which illustrate “State of the World” aren’t too kitschy. The cries and crashes aren’t as apparent as in brother Michael’s “Earth Song” for instance, and that’s appropriate. The politics had to run as smooth as the bass on this track, and they did. They didn’t serve as a distraction, but rather as an asset. Janet was the master of New Jack Swing, and while folks look to her brother’s album Dangerous as the most successful of this genre, Janet experimented with it first. The percussive repetition, serves a purpose for Jackson on the record. It maintains the same intensity throughout as it reflects exactly what she has to say. Lyrically, I wish that Jackson explained how her “Nation” would “weather the storm.” To this day, homelessness and poverty are issues that affect people continuously. Jackson states the cornerstone rather than the specifics, and maybe that’s okay. It’s something that in 2019 we need more than ever. While unity appears so far out of our reach, Janet attested as early as 1991 that we can’t stop and shan’t stop.

Thomas Inskeep on “The Best Things in Life Are Free” (with Luther Vandross, BBD and Ralph Tresvant) [7.60]

To soundtrack his 1992 film Mo’ Money, Damon Wayans (who wrote and starred in the critically-derided box office hit) called upon superproducers Jam & Lewis, and they did work, producing or co-producing 13 of the album’s 14 tracks and writing or co-writing 12 of them. The soundtrack’s lead single was very pointedly a “look at all the cool stars we got together” move, featuring superstars Vandross and Jackson duetting, along with a brief rap bridge from Bell Biv DeVoe (credited here as BBD) and their New Edition compadre Ralph Tresvant. Released as a single in May 1992, it’s a perfect summertime smash, simultaneously airy-light and slammin’, with Vandross and Jackson weaving in and out of each other’s vocals effortlessly. BBD and Tresvant pop in with a nothingburger of a rap (Tresvant gets a label credit for literally uttering one line, the song’s title) that at least serves to provide a modicum of grit to the proceedings, but no matter: Jackson especially sounds breezier than maybe ever, while Vandross seems to float above the record. The two are magical on a track perfectly suited for them (credit Jam & Lewis, of course), and the result is a minor classic.

Jonathan Bogart on “That’s the Way Love Goes” [7.86]

A little over a year ago I rather overshared in this space when discussing Madonna’s “Erotica,” released a year before this single. A year makes a lot of difference: by the time I was listening to Shadoe Stevens count this down on American Top 40, the summer it became the longest-running #1 hit any Jackson family member ever had, radio pop was no longer a dirty, soul-damning secret, just a daily companion, a window into a more colorful, adult, and interesting world than the ones I knew from books. I would probably have had a healthier relationship to romance and sexuality, in fact, if this had been my introduction to overtly sexual pop rather than “Erotica” — both songs share the technique of a sultry spoken-word refrain, but Janet’s is actually grown-up, with the confidence of a woman who knows what she wants and how to achieve it, with none of Madonna’s juvenile need to épater les bourgeois. As it happened I didn’t particularly connect to “That’s the Way Love Goes,” having reached the stage in my adolescence when getting a charge out of raspy-voiced men singing about political instability felt like the more gender-appropriate inevitability. It wouldn’t be until years later when I returned to re-examine the radio pop of my youth with maturer ears that the amazing miracle of this song fully dawned on me: those pillowy guitar samples plucked from songs where raspy-voiced men sang about political instability, but pressed into service of a loping, candlelit coo: equal parts seduction and vulnerability, Janet singing with the authority of someone who had already conquered the world about the grown-woman concerns that really matter: love, and sex, and the impossible beauty that results when they intertwine.

David Moore on “If” [8.33]

Janet Jackson sang explicitly about “nasty boys,” but I was, to use a term my son’s preschool teacher used to describe him, a timid boy, and I soaked up the privileges of maleness with a corresponding fear of performative masculinity. My love of women through childhood was paired with a deep-seated self-loathing that snuffed out friendships, made me uncomfortable in my body, and sparked intense, violent fantasies directed toward unnamed aggressors in my mind, all those “bad guys.” I wouldn’t be able to reflect on any of this until adulthood. But there was a point in preadolescence when the contours of the trap started to become discernible, and Janet Jackson’s “If” was both a cherished song — one I would listen to rapt in front of MTV or on the radio, legs haphazardly splayed behind me — and was also the uncanny soundtrack to my discomfort: a muscular, menacing, alien object that completely unnerved me, made me a supplicant to its rhythm, got into my head and into my guts, made me move, if only for a minute, in a world that glanced contemptuously toward — but stood defiantly outside of — that toxic timidity. I was the woman telling the man what I wanted, and I was also the man obeying; I was the dancer and I was the floor, too. On “If,” Janet Jackson and Jam & Lewis tamed the New Jack Squall that her brother unleashed on Dangerous with Teddy Riley, insisted upon its lockstep subservience to her mission and her groove, and pointed to an R&B futurism that was barely a twinkle in pop music’s eye in 1993. The result is simultaneously mechanistic and wild, rolling waves of noise that you quickly learn to surf or risk drowning in them. That same year, I also found inspiration in angry men, many of them likely nasty ones, the same men I would have assiduously avoided in person and fought off in my dreams. But Janet Jackson kept me honest, reminded me that my anger was a tell for my underlying cowardice and shame. There is never a hint in “If” that her hypothetical proposition — too strident for any coyness or the suggestion of flirting — could ever be satisfactorily answered. Not by you anyway. No boy, nasty or timid, could meet Janet Jackson’s challenge; she’s mocking the guy who would even try. By the time you hit that cacophony of a middle 8 break, defibrillation on an already racing heartbeat, you’re defeated, more thoroughly than any bad guy you might have dreamt up. You’re not ready for this world — you’re not, so you can’t, and you won’t. But what if…?

Jonathan Bradley on “Again” [5.67]

It sounds like a fairy tale: billowing keys, Janet’s tinkling voice, and no drums to earth the fantasy. “Again” was from John Singleton’s Poetic Justice, not a Disney picture, but it shimmers with its own magic anyway. The melody is gorgeous: listen to Janet measuring out the descending syllables in “suddenly the memories came back to me” like they’re sinking in as she sings the words. (She repeats the motif on “making love to you/oh it felt so good and so right” — this is a romance where the sex is as fondly remembered as the emotions.) Janet Jackson is such a versatile performer, and for all the bold strokes and blunt rhythmic force of her best known moments, “Again” is a treasure all of its own for being none of these: it is tiny and tender and sparkles with a real joy that is all the more wondrous for sounding like it could not exist outside of a storybook.

Scott Mildenhall on “Whoops Now” [4.83]

Even outside America, there’s a widespread tendency for people, in search of a lifetime’s grand narrative, to define everything that happened before The Day The World Changed – a coincidental proxy for their childhood, youth or adolescence – as a simpler time. It’s a convenient illusion for anyone in the world lucky enough to be able to believe it, whose formative years were insulated from war or suffering and can be instead defined by the most carefree scraps of pop culture. In that respect “Whoops Now” holds great temptation, it being the breeziest brush-off of burdens, with an all-over Teflon disposition. It’s therefore an almost fantastical ideal of ’90s radio (and still one of Janet’s most played in the UK); a warm and fuzzy-round-the-edges memory of which on closer inspection, the details are inscrutable. Janet, aloft in a proletarian reverie, relates a confusing tale of overnight shift work, a hindrance of a boss and the consequent curtailing of her plans for some fun in the sun this weekend with her friends (who, judging by her extended roll call, seem to mostly be record execs, producers and performers, as well as dogs). Narratively, it’s difficult to tease apart, but all you need to know is that hurrah – she somehow ends up on holiday anyway. A story that sounds more like something from an expletive-laden segment of Airline thus becomes the most casual celebration of the apparent inevitability of positive resolutions when you’re a globe-straddling megastar, or perhaps just a kid in the back of your parents’ car with the radio on. With that certainty of happiness and universal balance, and the belief that it ever was or could be, it’s fantasy upon fantasy upon fantasy. But no bother: Anguilla here we come.

Nortey Dowuona on “Throb” [6.86]

I started listening to Janet Jackson as a happy accident. Her songs were on Atlantic Radio, but nowhere else. I barely heard her music growing up and only knew of her massive career, and not the music that made it so huge.

So when I first pressed play on “Throb,” I was kinda scandalized.

Because it was so directly, overtly sexual, and confident about it. Janet was ready to get down and dirty, without all the mind games, patronization and bullpuddy packed all over it. The lyrics are pretty straightforward, and there are only ten lines of lyrics. Its pretty clear what Janet wants, and she’s gonna get it.

Plus, the bass was slamming, it slunk around my neck and just rested there while the air horn synths washed over my eyes, blinding me. The drums then stepped over me and plucked me up, with cooing and cascading moans and grunts swirled around my body, shredding me to pieces —

Then the song ended. And it was over.

I honestly, can’t really say why this is my favorite Janet song, but I can say that you should probably play it while having sex, and while thinking about having sex, and play this late night in the night if deciding to have sex. I know this’ll be the first thing I’ll play if I have sex with anyone.

Thomas Inskeep on “Throb”

In the summer of 1993, I’d just finished my second freshman year of college, in my hometown. (I’d gone to college straight out of high school in 1988, and dropped out without much to show for it, 16 months later.) One of my best girlfriends had herself just graduated from college and was back at her parents’ house, job-hunting. We were both past 21 and looking for a place to go dancing, and we found it in the nearest big city, Fort Wayne, Indiana, about 45 minutes away. It was a short-lived gay bar — so short-lived I don’t even recall its name, sadly — with a dance floor roughly the size of a postage stamp. I don’t remember meeting anyone there, ever. (I didn’t drive at the time, so Julie always had to, so it’s not like I could’ve gone home with someone anyway.) I don’t remember anything about the bar — except its dancefloor, and the fact that they had a decent DJ on the weekends, who mostly played house music, which I loved. And there were three songs that got played, in my memory at least, every single week. (And Julie and I really did go just about every weekend that summer.)

The first was Bizarre Inc.’s “I’m Gonna Get You,” an ebullient diva-house track which topped Billboard’s Dance Club/Play chart in January but was just peaking at pop radio in June. The second was, really, the gay club record of the year, RuPaul’s “Supermodel.” It peaked at #2 on the Dance Club/Play chart in March, but never left gay clubs at all through 1993. When that got played at the club, I would, week-in, week-out, “work the runway,” lip-syncing my ass off. (It’s just that kind of song.) And the third was an album track from a newly-released album (that would, in fact, eventually be promoted to dance clubs at peak at #2 on the Club/Play chart), Janet Jackson’s “Throb.” This song went where Jackson never had before, both musically (it’s a straight-up house jam) and lyrically (it’s a straight-up sex jam). Its lyrics are minimal but to the point: “I can feel your body/Pressed against my body/When you start to poundin’/Love to feel you throbbin’.” No subtleties there! Accordingly, Julie and I would spend the song grinding up against each other on a tiny riser at the back of the dance floor, because why not? And because it’s fun.

26 years later, ‘Throb” still kills. And throbs.

Maxwell Cavaseno on “Runaway” [6.50]

My childhood managed to dodge the oceanic nature of pop thanks to being struck between two extremes. My father usually kept the car full of rap, via cassettes of assorted rising stars of the moment (Big Pun, Nas, Various Wu-Tang Soloists) or whatever was playing via Hot 97. Meanwhile my mother typically wallowed in a realm of AOR pop a la Amy Grant or the likes who you could never remember anything about. If there was anything majorly important in the history of pop music from 89-98, lemme tell you, that shit didn’t happen anywhere near me. However, one of the few memories that did manage to linger on was “Runaway.” It was a record that managed to ethereally sneak up to me like some kind of weird creep that I just couldn’t understand with its weird foreign instrumentation simulating orientalist visions and Janet’s background vocals harmonizing like a bunch of Buddhist Cats sneering a la Randy Savage’s “nyeeeah.” Whenever I trailed along in supermarkets or tried to keep busy in waiting rooms, I could comprehend what happened on other songs I liked in the outer world like “Take a Bow” or “Kiss From A Rose.” But this? How did you rationalize all of these gliding vocals crooning and this swarm of glittery noises when you have barely any understanding of the world around you, let alone music? No matter how much further away and away I’d get from whenever it was meant to be a single, it could still disruptively appear in the wild and send the whole day into a state of disarray. It’s so alarming to know now as a grown adult that I can personally summon this ifrit of a single, rather than think of it as some sort of rare sighting of trickster energy (all the more bolstered by Janet’s ad libbed teasing of supposed imperfection and other-human excess) that isn’t meant to be heard more than once in a blue moon. To be honest, I may just forget altogether after the fact, the same way I never remembered the name of the song even when considering it for review. Just that “nyeeeah” hung around in my memory.

Danilo Bortoli on “Got ’til It’s Gone” [6.17]

In Joni Mitchell’s “Big Yellow Taxi”, a cut from her 1970 album Ladies of the Canyon, she sang of impeding progress as a form of destruction (“They paved paradise/And put up a parking lot”). Often seen as as environmental anthem, actually, she was looking back at the sixties, and then seeing, right ahead, a decade that showcased no promising future, only aching skepticism. This resulted in one the purest, simplest lines she has ever written: “Don’t it always seem to go/That you don’t know what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone”. Almost thirty years later, Janet Jackson conjured those same thoughts, conveying, instead, a different meaning. The Velvet Rope was her very own game of smoke and mirrors, and intimate and often misleading look at her private life. Lying at the center of that album, there is a delicate tribute. “Got ‘til It’s Gone” features a well-placed sample from that line culled from “Big Yellow Taxi.” The context is entirely different however. Here, the same words are uttered between confessions of love. It helps, then, that “Got ‘til It’s Gone” is, in reality, a talk. It’s the way Janet asks “What’s the next song?”. It’s the way Q-Tip responds “Like Joni says.” It’s also the way he asserts finally: “Joni Mitchell never lies.” The brilliance of a sample travelling three decades is that it is deliciously meta. The concept of truth, in Janet Jackson’s universe, is interchangeable. That way, she, too, can never lie.

Josh Love on “Together Again” [6.86]

Together Again was originally conceived as a ballad, and no wonder – it’s a deeply sentimental (borderline treacly, if I’m being uncharitable) song about death and angels and reuniting in the afterlife in heaven. Deciding to record it as a surging house jam instead was an absolute masterstroke, and the result is one of the most purely joyous, transcendent moments of Janet’s career. The idea of carrying a lost loved one in your heart and feeling their spirit in the goodness you encounter in the world, and even the thought of one day joining together with them again in the great beyond – “Together Again” makes you feel that joy rather than merely verbalizing it. So many of us say that when we die we want those we leave behind to celebrate our lives rather than mourn our passing, but Janet is one of the few artists to really bring that radical acceptance of impermanence to life.

Thomas Inskeep on “I Get Lonely” (TNT Remix) [7.43]

Allow me to be cynical for a moment: Janet Jackson, in 1998, is still a superstar. But in the past five years, she’s only had one R&B #1, ‘94’s sex-jam “Any Time, Any Place” (assisted greatly by its R. Kelly remix). So if you’re thinking “What do we do to get Janet back to the summit,” what do you do? Well, it’s 1998. How about calling in Teddy Riley? Better yet, how about he gets a helping hand from Timbaland? And the best: how about Teddy brings his merry men of BLACKstreet with him for a vocal assist? Ergo, “I Get Lonely (TNT Remix),” now label-credited to “Janet [she was just going by “Janet” at the time] featuring BLACKstreet.”

And you know what? It’s genius. The idea, brilliant. The execution, top-notch. Riley on the remix, with instrumental help from Timbo, with guest vocals from BLACKstreet: it’s more exciting than the original (which was already quite good), has a little more junk in its trunk (those should-be-patented instrumental tics that Timbaland is such a wizard with, ohmygod, much like Janet’s big brother’s vocal tics), and the duet vocals are superb (especially as it was so rare to hear Janet singing with others at the time, and every member of BLACKstreet save Riley was a great-to-marvelous singer). Presto! Two weeks atop the R&B chart in May 1998, along with a #3 Hot 100 peak. Mission accomplished — and fortunately, it works even better artistically than it did commercially. Everybody wins!

Pedro Joao Santos on “Go Deep” [7.14]

That The Velvet Rope’s party song is so heavy on gravitas and spine-tingling urgency speaks volumes. In an album so hellbent on carnal and psychological openness, the party of “Go Deep” goes deeper, and makes sense. It’s not just the top-20 banger it factually was, and it’s not just hedonism for the sake of it. That is, if you don’t divorce it from the wounds of longing, manipulation, abuse and distress being sliced fresh. Tension lies within this absolute romp, placed midway through the red-hot catharsis of Rope. It might be that the party acts as a salve for the trauma. Though it isn’t put into words, you can hear it subliminally: Janet’s hesitant vocal; the evocative, near-melancholy synth fluctuating about. You can even imagine the words as portals: making friends come together as support; the sexual come-ons not just because, but maybe as physical relief for the pain.

A bare-bones lyric sheet would give you nothing — but music as context goes a long way. And the music itself from “Go Deep” gets me in raptures after all these years, from that ridiculous boing (perhaps best known from “I Can’t Dance” by Genesis) to the bass driving it, all chunky and rubbery, and the dramatic string arpeggios in the middle-8. If there’s got to be a template for urgent, carnivorous Friday night anthems, let this be the one — and keep it in context.

Leonel Manzanares de la Rosa on “You�� [7.00]

The Velvet Rope carries a strong and fascinating legacy; It is rightly praised as a predecessor to both mainstream R&B’s exploration of the intimate (the body) and the spiritual (the soul) in the continuing decades, and to the experimental scope and atmospherics later adopted by today’s so-called “Alt-R&B,” and this extraordinary mixture of elements is never more efficient than in the album’s third track “You.” The song is, first and foremost, a triumph of production genius. Jimmy Jam & Terry Lewis’s use of space, and the dynamic at play between the then-cutting-edge electronica ingredients and neo-soul’s earnestness and sensual themes, should itself be a case study for aspiring producers, but it’s the way Janet’s vocals are performed and filtered through the track that take the song to unsuspected levels of greatness. There is something in the breathy, low-pitched verses that exudes unadulterated eroticism, and when the post-chorus harmonies kick in where things really become ecstatic. In several interviews, Janet herself defined this album as “baby-making music”, and I can safely bet that “You” is the song she was thinking about. And its echoes still reverberate today, not only in the sound of R&B to come, but in the fact that thousands of people were conceived to this very beat.

Edward Okulicz on “Free Xone” [6.83]

I remember it only vaguely; it was 1995, and for drama class we had to do a performance based on a social theme using a combination of media and methods. I was in a group with a big Janet fan, who decided to use her music as the basis of a combination spoken-word, mime and dance performance on racism. I only understanding the themes in the abstract because I was young, sheltered, and white. I knew racism was a thing I didn’t like, but it wasn’t an existential threat to me. Two years later, on “Free Xone,” Janet would speak directly to me and tell me of a bleak present with the promise of a better future. Janet told it like it was, and still is for many: if you are gay, despite the fact that love is love, a lot of people are going to hate you or at least be uncomfortable around you. Homophobia isn’t just violence or hostility, it can be any kind of social rejection, and it can happen anywhere, as it does in the anecdote in the first part of the song, where a pleasant conversation with a person sitting next to you on an airplane sours because of it.

Janet Jackson is a dancer, but she didn’t dance around anything if she didn’t have to. She leaned into her status as a gay icon out of love, not necessity. But she made her social justice songs out of both love and necessity. Hating people is so not mellow. Love and sex are never wrong. Janet Jackson has never resiled from that belief, and never shied away from putting it in song. I’d grown up listening to Janet Jackson, but I’d never thought of her as an ally for myself, and it was intensely comforting to hear that she was on my side when nobody else seemed to be (Meshell Ndegeocello’s “Leviticus Faggot” the previous year had more or less convinced me I’d die in the closet).

In 2019, her funk here sounds a little dinky, the transitions between the soft groove and the raucous party bounce are kind of awkward, and the weird song structure sounds like it was cut and pasted together, but it’s a collage of compelling pieces. It got quite a lot of play on the alternative youth station here, the one whose listeners were at the time generally terrified of a) pop superstars, b) Black artists, and c) dancing. Someone thought the kids needed to hear this, and they were right. “Free Xone” helped my nascent consciousness come to grips with earlier songs that I’d just considered a good time before. Its story is less common in the Western world, now, but it’s still true as history for some, and as present for others.

Leonel Manzanares de la Rosa on “Tonight’s the Night” [4.50]

I’m a sucker for good covers; we usually tend to give songwriting, the cult of the inspired author, and the concept of originality a certain mystique that grossly overshadows the importance of skilful creative interpretation and re-invention. But many of our most important singers are essentially covers artists — Joe Cocker, Tom Jones, Bettye Lavette, a huge number of blues and jazz singers, most of the 50s-60s Greenwich Village folk scene — because of course we need these musicians to give these tunes another dimension, whether stylistic, generational, or purely emotional. Also, a song’s perspective can change dramatically because of who is singing. “Tonight’s The Night” works with Rod’s gravelly, rugged voice, and, although it can sound a bit creepy by today’s standards, the arrangements carry it beautifully, but in Janet’s sexually adventurous, musically exuberant The Velvet Rope, it acquires a new dimension, a far more interesting one, might I add. From Janet’s view, and the brilliant decision of not changing genders in the lyrics, her version alludes to bisexuality in a way that makes complete sense within’ the album’s core subject matters, and works wonders within’ its production philosophy. Stewart later presented his live renditions of the song by saying “This is an original by Janet Jackson”. No one will refute that. It’s her song now.

Alex Clifton on “All For You” [6.86]

“All For You” is the first Friday night you go out with your new college friends and that utter sense of freedom where you realize the night is yours without a curfew. It’s sparkling fairy lights in the background, a disco ball overhead, at a roller rink or at a club with a fancy light-up dancefloor, maybe a stolen swig of rum on your tongue. It’s the moment you see someone new and your heart falls into your stomach with no prior warning, and you suddenly know you’ll do anything to talk to them. You simply have to; it’s an animal urge, chemicals and hormones whizzing through you and making it hard to walk because you’re giddy. Maybe you’re braver than I am and you go talk to the person who’s snagged your attention, but maybe you hang back with your friends and pretend you’re not watching out for your crush while also dancing stupidly with your new friends. There’s a pure exhilaration in this song that many have tried to emulate but few match the ease with which Janet performs. She’s flirty and sexy like no other, but “All For You” also makes you, the listener, feel flirty and sexy too — something about it worms its way into you and becomes the shot of confidence you need. Lots of people can write songs about dancing at the club, but Janet turns it into a night you’ll remember for the rest of your life.

Jibril Yassin on “Someone to Call My Lover” [7.00]

Does falling in love always feel the same every time? It’s one thing to keep pushing on in life but what’s striking about “Someone to Call My Lover” is how infectious Janet’s optimism is. Built on an Erik Satie riff by way of the band America, Janet recast herself as a woman excited to love again. Let it be on the record – long-term relationships are fucking terrifying. Moving on from the dissolution of a marriage is disorienting and the songs that use Janet’s divorce as inspiration on All For You share a tentative yet firm belief in renewal.

She uses “maybe” on “Someone to Call My Lover” the way one throws out a “lol” after shooting their shot – you don’t even have time to catch it amid her grocery store list of wishes for her future love. “Someone to Call My Lover” hits all the right places thanks to the careful and immaculate production but it’s Janet’s sincerity that marks it as her best twee performance.

Will Adams on “Son Of A Gun” [5.20]

Given All For You’s post-divorce setting, it was only appropriate that after the aural sunbeam of the title track and giddy optimism of “Someone to Call My Lover,” Janet would do a 180 and proceed to rip him a new one. The opening taunts — “Ha-ha, hoo-hoo, thought you’d get the money too” — against the throbbing kick bass set the scene, but the true genius of “Son of a Gun” comes from its sampling and modernization of ultimate kiss-off song “You’re So Vain.” The classic bass riff, once soft in Carly Simon’s original, is now razor-sharp. The cavernous drum beats sound like you’re trapped in an underground dungeon. All the while, Janet mutters burn after burn right into your ear (“I’d rather keep the trash and throw you out”) before Simon launches into the “I betcha think this song is about you” refrain, sounding like a Greek chorus confirming Jackson’s digs. The album version carries on until the six-minute mark, with Carly Simon waxing poetic about clouds in her coffee and apricot scarves in an extended outro. The video version wisely excises this in favor of guest verses from Missy Elliott, whose reliably grinning performance shoves the knife in deeper. In both versions, however, Janet’s menace is preserved. Forming a trinity with All For You’s preceding two singles, “Son of a Gun” showed just how versatile Jackson is, and how adept she is at encapsulating the messy, complex emotions of an ended relationship.

Will Adams on “All Nite (Don’t Stop)” [6.17]

I had been looking away from the television when it happened. By the time I’d heard the gasps from my parents and I glanced up at the screen, the cameras had cut to an aerial shot of the Reliant Stadium in Houston, where the 2004 Super Bowl was taking place. My 11 year old brain couldn’t process exactly what happened from my parents’ concerned murmurs, and having completely missed the incident (there was no YouTube back then, see), it would take years for me to understand the impact that the “wardrobe malfunction” had on culture and Jackson’s career. The greater impact was to be expected — the six-figure FCC fine on CBS (later dismissed by the Supreme Court) and conservative handwringing about the moral decline of the country — but Jackson in particular suffered unduly. There was the blacklist, ordered by Les Moonves, which kept her off CBS, MTV and Infinity Broadcasting. Jackson’s appearance at that year’s Grammy Awards was canceled. Late-night talk show hosts turned it into monologue fodder, usually grossly and usually at her expense. The controversy hampered her album cycles well into the Discipline era. Meanwhile, Justin Timberlake remained entirely unaffected. His career would skyrocket two years later with the release of FutureSex/LoveSounds; he became a Saturday Night Live darling; he performed solo at the Super Bowl’s halftime show in 2018. This alone puts Damita Jo and “All Nite (Don’t Stop)” in a more sympathetic light, but even then, pop radio missed out on a truly brilliant song here. Janet acts as the Dance Commander, taking the opening guitar lick from Herbie Hancock’s “Hang Up Your Hang Ups” and turning it into a lasso with which she throws you onto the dancefloor. The percussion percolates, each sound placed perfectly to create an undeniable groove. Because of the blacklist, it didn’t even break the Hot 100, and the video was also subject to its own asinine controversy — the few video channels that managed to avoid the blacklist edited out the sexual content, including a scene were two female dancers kiss. Even fifteen years later, it feels like we’re still reckoning with how Jackson was treated in the aftermath. But there’s an inspiring resilience in “All Nite (Don’t Stop)” reflected in the smile she bears on the Damita Jo cover; its unabashed sexuality in the face of all the backlash makes it an even better listen today.

Kat Stevens on “Strawberry Bounce” [7.17]

I like Janet best when she takes risks, whether that be controversial subject matter, a new image or a change of musical direction. Old faithfuls Jam & Lewis are still a solid presence on Damita Jo, but on “Strawberry Bounce” we see Janet plumping for a left field choice in the then-unknown Kanye West. The result is an intriguing Ryvita, all brittle handclaps and feathery faux-ingenue whispering, on the verge of crumbling into nothing. It’s so light that there’s no bassline, just a queasy glockenspiel tinkle and Janet’s butter-wouldn’t-melt sing-song. I keep wondering to myself: why have Janet and Kanye chosen to present a song about working a shift at a strip club in the style of an Aptimil Follow-On Milk advert? Is it a subtle reminder that sexy times may eventually lead to night feeds and dirty nappies? It doesn’t help that instead of a proper beat, we have Jay-Z muttering ‘BOUNCE!’ as if he’s grumpily shooing a dog off his lawn. It’s confusing and uncomfortable, yet compelling and convincing, and I’m still listening. The risk has paid off.

Will Adams on “Rock With U” [5.83]

“Just Dance” is often thought of as ground zero for the rise of dancepop and eventually EDM in the US, but it had been brewing for over a year before the Lady Gaga song topped the Hot 100 in early 2009. From 2007 onward, the increased interest in incorporating elements of disco via four-on-the-floor beats and faster tempos created some indelible hybrids, particularly in the R&B world: “Don’t Stop the Music”; “Forever”; “Closer”; “Spotlight”; and “Rock With U.” While most of those songs stuck to traditional verse-chorus pop structure, “Rock With U” proves that sometimes simplicity is best: A house arrangement of arpeggios and basic rhythms. A single verse, repeated three times and interspersed with wordless vocalizing with nearly no variation, save for Janet’s whispers. All this, combined with the glorious one-shot video, creates a hypnotic effect, like the song will go on forever. On a recent Song Exploder episode about “Honey,” Robyn said of dance music: “It’s about putting you in a place where you’re in your body dancing without thinking about when it’s gonna end. It’s more about the moment and how it makes you feel.” This is the heart of “Rock With U”: an invitation to get lost in the music, forget about the outside world, and just rock.

Maxwell Cavaseno on “So Much Betta” [5.67]

The beginning of the 2010s was way too challenging in retrospect and I regret every minute of it. “So Much Betta” was a song I first heard in a mix by Robin Carolan, now best known for founding and guiding Tri-Angle Records, but for a brief period operated a side-blog called “SO BONES” where he’d pontificate about random gems of pop, R&B and rap but in a way that made records feel gross and sinister. Suddenly Cassie’s “My House” was a ghost story, Vanessa Hudgens’s “Don’t Talk” would be compared to Takashi Miike’s Audition, and so on. In retrospect I think of the Capital P Pop songs of the decade that I’ve responded to enthusiastically like “TT,” “Cheyenne,” “Strangers,” “Somebody Else,” “Backseat,” “Lac Troi” or the dozens of others there is at least usually a despair or gloom I can at minimum project onto the record even where it might not be obvious. And that comes from hearing Janet Jackson whisper over a record that sounded like some toxic goo from out of the dregs of the Rinse.FM swamps I’d often thought to be “the coolest” sounds, before cutting through over glistening synths that felt like a phantom of not Janet per se but her brother’s past. It was a song that felt v. strange in 2010 well after MJ had died with the listless echo of the Pop Monarch feeling less like a dream-like invocation and more like a degraded copy of a copy in its grotesquery. Enough can be said about how cool and timeless and bright and powerful Janet at her best can feel. But it deserves an acknowledgement that she could also make a song that was so evocative in all the most unpleasant of ways.

William John on “Unbreakable” [6.67]

“Unbreakable” as an adjective is applicable to those rare, unending, strong relationships between people, whether they be romantic, platonic, familial, or, as has been intimated in relation to her song of the same name, between performer and audience. But it’s also a word that can be used to describe oneself, and one’s ability to traverse adversity with stoicism. The first song on Jackson’s most recent album doesn’t sound defiant – more “stroll to the supermarket on a warm summer’s evening” than an escapade to Rhythm Nation. But courage manifests in different ways. Jackson’s breezy delivery, which takes on an ecstatic form in the song’s chorus, is indicative of her self-assurance at her status; she’s embracing the languor allowed to her as a legend. She may have been removed of her clothes in front of the whole world a decade prior; she may have spent her whole life in the shadow of her infamous relative – but she hasn’t faltered. She’s still here. As she greets her listeners in her inviting whisper at the song’s conclusion, she notes that it’s “been a while” since her last missive, and that there is “lots to talk about”. But her listeners aren’t impatient; there’s always time for Janet. Her story has always been one of control, of poise, of excellence. Long may it continue.

Pedro Joao Santos on “Dream Maker/Euphoria” [5.17]

When I get to delve deep into a legend, as with Janet, I tend to hit the ground running and have them release a new, great album a few months later. Not having heard 20 Y.O. and Discipline, I was shielded from the Janet-isms from the ’00s and viewed Unbreakable as a proper continuation to her legacy, instead of the grand comeback it actually was — hackneyed artwork, halted tour and all. Janet got the upper hand, finding her reunited with Jimmy Jam & Terry Lewis, in a steadfast gaze in a steadfast gaze over airtight, pensive and giddy R&B. An exemplary return to form, incidentally devoid of all the raunch, bathroom breaks and Kioko.

One older Janet-ism survived in a marginal capacity: the penchant for interludes, continued here in only two moments (aside from endearing sneezes and spoken-word outros): one was the bizarre preview for a Target-exclusive full track; the other was “Dream Maker/Euphoria”. A precise inflection point scribed upon the passage from “side 1” to “2” — even if things threaten to get a bit pedestrian and humdrum in the last half. The track itself is a dual mood, yet a continual trek through the glow of a renaissance. A seemingly old groove recalling the Jackson 5 gets dusted from the vaults for the first part. That’s ear candy for ages in itself, a web of vox so intensely feverish and melodically preternatural. It gets looped tantalisingly, then it transcends onto the next level. Full-on rapid eye movement: keyboards and ambience make up the sound of eyelids opening to meet a purple, unreal sky — suspended between worlds, a dream dimension of utopia and the reality where those ideas must coalesce. “I guess the dreamer must be awake,” Janet concludes after envisioning a “perfect place” exempt from “jealousy, abuse or hate,” “war, hunger or hate.”

Janet’s four peak-era albums alone prove she’s been excelling at world-building where and when the world was far from ready. In “Dream Maker/Euphoria,” it isn’t so much the stark condemnations of Rhythm Nation 1814, but its more hopeful fantasies, articulated through the confident tone of Control, set to the type of innovative musical reverie The Velvet Rope predated, softened through janet.’s sensuous filter. But more than the touchpoints of yesteryear, the essence of “Dream Maker/Euphoria” lives in its manifestation of the future: how tangible and expansive it might just become, if given a chance.

#Janet Jackson #writing #music

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love-transparentstudentarca-blog · 7 years ago

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