#simply given we have so relatively little about so many details

[mechanismslorearchive]

heard some people say jonny is cononicaly omni? do you know where this is from?

This is from a twitch clip from Jonny’s streams! I don’t have the link at the moment, but someone asked him quite a while ago about the joke/discourse (brief pause as I am overcome with the specters of discourse past) regarding Jonny d’Ville being homophobic, based on the line in one of the fictions where he asks if Nastya is having one of her “queer orgies.”

Jonny said that he didn’t write that story, so he can’t say for sure what was intended with the line in question, but that d’Ville is, in his mind, omnisexual, and not homophobic. This makes it word-of-god canon, which of course depending on your approach to the text (the text in this case being the albums, fictions, social media posts, and other in-character, official sources) may or may not count as canon in the way that, say, Brookes from Pump Shanty (Bashful) being mlm does. But that’s where it comes from!

[n0phis]

alright boys. big post incoming.

DISCLAIMER: it is 3am upon writing this all down and i am also not a writer

–

i’m gonna start with the more lore-based stuff and add the little physical details as they come! so let’s fuckin explain this, shall we

in the world of this design/my personal hc techno isn’t so much the blood god as he is his champion and/or successor of some sort! partially through birth but in a fated sort of way, where he was just inevitably going to achieve the things required of the champion within his lifetime and thus was blessed from a relatively young age without need for some monumental trial. the blood god’s mantle was granted– the cape he wears– and is of a beast that was essentially the manifested will of the blood god. now i do want to say that i’m unsure whether a lot of techno’s physical features also came from the blessing or if he was born with them; i’m leaning towards born with them to an extent, and imagine him as a similar/same species to that of schlatt and tubbo in my hc! nondescript, varying ungulate features with techno only being half blooded (and lacking the strange sclera & tusks initially, as those do fit with the blessing).

before i get into what the mantle does i’ll talk about the beast itself, because i absolutely fucking love it it’s my squinkly little mythic pig

tales of the boar describe it as a hulking, monstrous creature that could dwarf any hoglin and was covered head to toe in blood-red, serrated quills; suffice to say the mantle itself implies it was more likely to have simply been a mutated hoglin, a rare subspecies, or some sort of thick-furred, primal ancestor. the bushy mane of the mantle is very rough and sharp, but fades into a much softer coat further down the cloak– though it does have hints of red here and there, so perhaps not everything was an exaggeration.

the most pressing question is whether the entire thing is just folklore– if the mantle came from a real beast that existed at all or if it was just such a common tale told by the worshippers of the blood god that he himself heard and manifested the trophy into existence. 

there really is no way to tell, unless you ask a certain old bird.

true or not, the boar’s story is that of an honourable plague. an animal that destroyed everything in its path and always, without fail, won. no matter how many of the world’s finest warriors sought it out, the beast never fell– never came close to falling. it lived a long and prosperous life, ruining others’, and the blood it spilt is said to have given the crimson forests their colour. it died old and happy as its tusks bore through and into its own skull, the crown on the mantle is representative of that– with the added flair of an article of holy clothing, that is. a crown of emerging tusks, not a trophy because of symbolism of some hero overcoming an impossible foe, but of a beast who lived life to the fullest. the unkillable imbuing its own virtue upon the wearer.

the mantle doesnt give so much as it exacerbates, though, granted only to those who, by their own merit, would inevitably live a life like the boar’s.

essentially while the blood god’s blessing doesn’t best the passage of time, it’ still kickass. and techno wasn’t given his chad nature by some god, he was just recognized for it.

the blessing– again, at a young age– also gave him his very striking eyes and tusks! the eyes are inspired by those of a bearded vulture, where their actual function is flushing blood into the sclera to intimidate other animals (which is just so incredibly perfect). it technically isn’t permanent, but is attached to such a minute increase in heartrate that unless he is incredibly bored his sclera is nearly always red. it’s a good way to tell if he’s sleeping, at least? that is if you can’t pick it up from the closed eyes, blanket, and snoring. 

the tusks came in gradually as he aged, and on the topic of physical features his hair is dyed!

the voices (chat) were passed to him along with the mantle, which essentially functions as a selkie style half-pelt that fuses to him, grants him strength and heightened susceptibility to the aforementioned Chat (tm). he’s not a monster by any means when ‘fused’, but behaves slightly more like a big silly dog. or wolf, i guess, given the times he tends to use it. it’s actually the form he’s most comfortable in given how much more durable he is (hence boar guy in his reading glasses chilling up there) but over time without breaks from it the voices grate at him more and more. he kinda took a break from using it after doomsday.

he’s about 6’3 as a humanoid, but closer to 7’ fused with the mantle! it fuses from his chin, down his spine & shoulders to the tail, and finally down his legs.

his forearms, stomach (& most of his back) and neck are almost entirely unchanged minus the scale and build being a little altered! the cape/fabric part actually entirely disappears, and while the action of donning it is a very physical ‘putting it on’, taking it off is more of a mental thing— which poses a challenge when the voices have cause to be particularly loud and he just wants out but can’t focus.

the last few things i’ll touch on is the reception in canon to this, and the effects of the attempted execution.

so nobody but phil and maybe the rest of sbi truly know much about this, it’s actually generally assumed around the server that it’s just whatever strange sort of creature that techno is. 

the stories– and the blood god himself– exist primarily in the nether, and techno rarely ever met with people without the mantle fully equipped and fused. it certainly contributed to his reputation, to the point of others being baffled upon seeing his ‘human form’ after assuming for so long that a bipedal, prickly hoglin was just this freakazoid’s default. he didn’t mind; the less vulnerable the better. and it allowed him to wreak havoc a hell of a lot easier, with a hell of a lot fewer voices telling him to tone it down as opposed to his beta male humanoid form. if the butcher army had known to make him take it off, things could have turned out quite differently. but they didn’t, so they can suck it.

lastly, slightly anticlimactically, and a wee bit differently to the art (which, again, was just the rough design after having these ideas marinating in my brain sauces for 7 months with no outlet), the effects of the totem! there arent veins running down him or the mantle’s face as cool as that would be, because, y’know, practicality, but all of his tusks (since he was fused at the time of near-death) have cracks in them that have been mended with gold! he also has a striking, golden lock of hair directly around the impact site on both forms, and fancy gold irises that compliment his freaky deaky sclera wonderfully.

and there’s my techno shit! i’m probably forgetting a lot, or i just havent thought about it yet and will come up with my answer to any questions immediately upon being asked and no sooner but YOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!! if u read this far ily parasocially

[bakerstreetbabble]

Granada TV Series Review: "The Priory School" (S03, E06)

It's Arthur Conan Doyle's birthday today, and today I return to my series of reviews of the Granada TV series, The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes. Once again, the game is afoot!

The Granada adaptation of "The Adventure of the Priory School" is dramatic and action-packed (particularly towards the end of the episode). But, although it retains some of the major plot points, it bears relatively little resemblance to its source material. Material from the original story is shuffled around, we are treated to a considerable amount of horse riding and bicycle riding, and there's an interesting scene where the main villain, Mr. James Wilder, meets a nasty end in a torch-lit cave. It's certainly an engaging story, but it's not quite the story Arthur Conan Doyle wrote!

Still, there is much to recommend, above and beyond the beautiful scenery of the English countryside. Noted Shakespearean actor Alan Howard portrays the Duke of Holdernesse to great effect. (His long red beard described in the story has been replaced by bushy red sideburns.) Jeremy Brett brings his usual intensity to the role, and Watson is given quite a bit more to do than in the original. The dramatic pacing of the adaptation is quite good, I think, and less dialogue heavy than the original, so the story flows fairly convincingly. As an occasional student of Latin, I also enjoyed the tiny little detail of the headmaster, Dr. Thorneycroft Huxtable (surely one of the greatest character names in the whole Canon), greets all the students with, "Salvete discipuli!" (Hello, students!)

I was intrigued by a dinner scene towards the middle of the episode, wherein Holmes and Watson joke a bit about the origins of the Holdernesse family (they started out as cattle thieves). An outraged Dr. Huxtable gets a little peeved with Holmes' s disrespect of the Duke, which leads to a scene that is not in the original story where the detective shares his deductions on the role that the German teacher has played in the boy's disappearance. It seemed to me that it was a bit out of character to be joking about an aristocrat, as he usually shows great deference to those of high station, but the scene was certainly well played, especially with all the pipe and cigarette smoke that created a visually interesting effect.

Perhaps this is a good point to pause and consider the challenges inherent in adapting Doyle's stories to the medium of television. While they often have their fair share of action and adventure, many of the stories in the Canon tend to be rather heavy on dialogue. We are often given much of the exposition, and often much of Holmes' s investigations, in the form of characters telling other characters what has happened. To make an effective TV drama, of course, the writers have to show rather than tell, and to a great extent, most of the episodes I've watched thus far have done a pretty good job of doing so. Added to the visual nature of TV is the necessity to make stories fit into the format of a 50-minute episode. For some stories this means trimming the plot considerably, while for others it means padding the plot with more material.

Overall, I believe the adaptation of "The Priory School" is one of the better examples of handling the source material in a manner that retains much of the flavor of the original, while demonstrating a willingness to depart from the source where necessary, in order to provide a better dramatic structure for the medium in which they are working. I certainly found this to be a worthwhile installment in the series. Feel free to share your thoughts on the episode, particularly if you have ideas about how much an adaptation should adhere to the original story.

My apologies to anyone who has been following my series of Granada reviews, for skipping last week's post. We had a very busy weekend, and there simply wasn't time to watch an episode and write a review. This review will get us back on track as I near the midpoint of my viewing experience. Thanks for reading!

[construingseacats]

Umireread - Legend of the Golden Witch - Chapter 17: Notebook Fragment in a Wine Bottle

The following contains spoilers for the entirety of Umineko. Please do not read if you are yet to finish it.

This is an interesting one, because while this is de facto the shortest chapter in the series - quite literally just an ending cutscene - this is remarkably dense with important information. Unlike Chapter 9, which was short for seemingly no reason, the emphasis placed here is well earned.

So already we’re off to an interesting start - if we’re fighting for mystery, the bodies never being found is quite a significant hurdle to overcome. Of course, it’s an isolated island, so you could invoke the usual rules and say that they were dumped in the sea or thrown in the forest somewhere, in a way that evaded the police investigation or future discovery. But then you need to construct an argument that someone survived past midnight, and managed to escape police investigation - which would be a relatively tall order, given we have established that the police would be able to search for fingerprints and find traces of the culprit afterwards. How do we explain all of that?

Of course, Notebook Fragment in a Wine Bottle lives and dies on the fact that it doesn’t tell you that half the island was blown up. It dances around this fact - perhaps a little too safely, as I wouldn’t have minded some sort of reference that still encourages the interpretation of magic, such as saying that it seemed like the island had been rained down on by lightning or some other powerful force. The use of 18 is also fun here - with the truth sealed away, the fantasy of the two additional humans has become imbued with magic.

Exceedingly clever work here - of course, Episode 1 is a fabricated tale in a message bottle. Those present are the only ones who have heard that tale - because even we haven’t, at this stage.

And of course, people did imagine what may have happened during those two days. After all, we have Episode 3 through 8 to show for it.

PHENOMENAL work here by swapping from “that” tale, Rokkenjima Prime, to “this” tale, Episode 1. It’s so natural that you’d be a savant if you caught it and realised it was referring to two separate tales.

Referring to Episode 1 as “a tale which didn’t need to be heard” also carries several meanings - on the one hand, it alludes to how the catbox could have been kept shut; how, if it were not for the message bottles, the incident likely wouldn’t have spiralled into the irresponsible sea of forgeries that it inevitably did. And, on the other hand, no-one needed to hear Yasu’s penmanship; a personal piece of vent art that spilled out many emotions that she had bottled inside, now bottled in a more physical sense. But even though this tale didn’t need to be heard, Yasu wanted it to be. Perhaps it was selfish of her - perhaps this selfishness was justified. But consequences be damned, she just wanted someone, anyone, to know of her. No matter the cost.

I honestly cannot believe how excellent the writing is in this section. “Through this notebook fragment” makes the implication that Episode 1 is the truth, that we have seen Rokkenjima Prime - but that’s not what it’s saying at all! It is through the existence of Episode 1 that people will learn the truth, as it sets in motion the wheels for people to pick apart and understand the rules at play, to come to understand the culprit and to come and understand Yasu. Of course, there’s something to say about how Rokkenjima Prime is never truly uncovered, and that the world does not necessarily know the full details of it - but of course, the truth is so much more than simply saying who killed who, right?

Dilettante is a phenomenal choice of word - it’s so entirely accurate to what the story wants to capture. Umineko is not critical of those who delve into worlds and treat them with care and respect, who take the time to understand what they are dealing with. It is critical of those who play with the legacies of others without ever progressing past a surface level interest in the subject.

This chapter! Is! So! Good! Okay, so we’ve now established how occultics latched on to this incident, and - with a surface level understanding, by the use of the word dilettantes a moment ago - proceeded to write their own forgeries while adding their own spins on the massacre, using this real life tragedy to write tropey fanfiction for their own amusement. And these are the people who cannot understand Umineko - who, by not engaging with it any further, lock themselves out of a true understanding and appreciation for what is contained within. You cannot find the truth from the comforts of your armchair, from a position where you neglect any mental challenge in favour of stagnation. It must be actively fought for. It must be earned.

We also confirm the earlier comment about how “this” tale and “that” tale are separate - Episode 1 does not reveal the truth of Rokkenjima Prime. Of course, you can interpret this as the fact that you’re not told who the culprit is, but we both know that’s definitely not what it’s referring to, right?

And we acknowledge that, when this message bottle was written, Yasu had no knowledge of how Rokkenjima Prime would play out - Episode 1 predates it, after all!

So, there’s a big point here, made about attribution. After all, Yasu can’t just name herself as the author in these tales - they’re made for people to learn about her, after all.

Hold up - is this just the North Wind and the Sun once again? After all, Yasu can very easily let people know about her - she just names herself as the author, or better yet, writes message bottles saying “Hi, I’m Yasu, here are some facts I would like you to know about me.” But that’s the North Wind - she’s blowing the facts at people, and if she does that, no-one will learn the true her. People would take a passing interest, but they’d be disinclined to dig much deeper. By using the Sun - to persuade people to find the truth by digging deeper into the tales - while many people may not go that far, she hopes (if not ensures) that someone, anyone, will take the time to understand her. And who she really is.

Anyway, we got sidetracked - the point I was intending to make there was that Maria is a curious choice of attribution. We know she couldn’t pick herself, so why her? I don’t really have a good answer for that, and I’m not entirely sure if this is properly addressed anywhere in the text. My best guess at this moment in time would be that, again, Yasu had a soft spot for Maria - attribution is a kindness that she’s bestowing upon her, that her name will carry on with additional meaning. More cynically, I suppose it could be a case of picking the youngest child, to make people go “hang on, a nine year old shouldn’t be able to write like this”, and encourage people to bypass the surface level and begin investigating who Yasu is. But of these two, I’m leaning towards the former.

This is another one that should be tripping up people digging into the mystery - beyond Maria’s jaw being detached from her body, and nothing else being discovered, we say “there had been many body parts that couldn’t be identified as belonging to any specific person”. That does not match up with what we know about the rest of the murders in Episode 1. Something else has gone on right at the end, here.

Very good choice of words accounting for all outcomes on the roulette - she’ll probably be dead, but maybe Yasu is defeated, or Maria manages to escape the explosion. Similarly, depending on how the final hours shake out, there may or may not be a corpse; she may be mostly unharmed by the edges of the explosion, or her body is eviscerated by it. And of course, Yasu wants people to know the truth, she wants people to know her. That is her only wish. That is Umineko.

After all, even if they desired the 10 tons of gold, they did not solve the Epitaph. It remains out of their grasp.

The winner is the Golden Witch Beatrice. The roulette ball falls into a pocket of rouge or noir. It is the expected outcome, but we have so much to go - we may hope once again that we finally hit the zero. We receive the gold. And deal with the consequences associated with it.

And so the introduction to Umineko comes to a close. A novel and a half worth of content has been consumed - and now the tale can truly begin.

Well, that’s not entirely accurate; we have the Tea Parties to get through, first. But hey - it’s not like anything important ever happens in a Visual Novel Wrap Up Party, right?

[greatwyrmgold]

Scavengers of Hygiea

There's a setting I've been slowly simmering for years. Sometimes diving into details, but none have really stuck. So I figured I'd post an outline here, put the most important details into words, and see what people thought.

The year is...sometime in the mid/late third millennium. Humanity has spread across the solar system, turning the untapped mineral stockpiles of the asteroid belt into new worlds for humanity. (Well, O'Neill cylinders, so more like new islands, but "new worlds" is more poetic.)

But these new worlds do not last forever. Efforts are made to maintain them, of course, but after centuries of operation, the time comes to decommission them. Maybe an accident or collision crippled critical systems, maybe it was depopulated by disease or hostile action or mass emmigration, maybe it was simply bought by someone who wants to use its hull in some radically different type of construct.

When it's time to salvage or reconstruct an old station, most of them get brought to Hygiea.

As the Golden Space Age's end neared, the inhabitants of the greatest belt asteroids searched for ways to remain relevant when asteroid mining was no longer the industrial engine driving humanity forward. Ceres became a hub of trade and tourism, Vesta focused on heavy industry and spacecraft construction, Psyche is the financial heart of the outer system.

Hygieans focused on salvage. In the void of space, it takes relatively little fuel to push even large constructs around, if you can accept long transit times. Hence, having a centralized location where specialists in taking apart or rebuilding space stations makes a certain amount of sense. Hygiea became that location; salvage yards of immense scale orbit the asteroid.

(You might wonder whether there would be enough derelict space stations for a whole economy to be built around them. Well, this setting doesn't have a few thousand space stations—it has tens of millions of O'Neill cylinders. Even if they could be refurbished in a single year and lasted 250 years between refurbishments, there would still be hundreds of thousands of space stations being refurbished at any given time. That's roughly an Earth-landmass-area of derelict space habitats.) (Space is big. Really, really big. Hygiea could have a derelict-refurbishing economy built off of a fraction of that vastness.)

The titular scavengers can be divided into a few groups. The primary work crews are the most numerous, but also the most boring; they handle the ordinary work that. Then we have the inspectors, who check the ship to make sure it's safe for the work crews. They have to worry about a wide variety of potential dangers, from rogue automated systems to stubborn hermits to the third group of scavengers—the poachers.

The space poachers slip into salvage yards and enter the derelicts, either trying to make off with valuable components or squat in a station without many people living there. Either way, the companies running the salvage/refurbishment operations see them as a liability, threatening their profits.

There are other places in the Solar System, of course. There's Earth, sharply divided between vast estates of the uber-rich and densely-packed arcologies full of those too poor to move anywhere else. There's Mars, mired in political debates over whether and how to terraform the planet. There's Titan and its AI overlord. There's a cult of mining AI whose patron corporation was dissolved centuries ago.

But I originally wrote up this setting as a sci-fi D&D setting, so focusing on a part of the solar system full of sci-fi dungeons was obviously appealing. It's probably the most "world-of-adventure"-like part of the setting as a consequence—especially in drafts where I decide to keep some kind of magic.

I'll probably write more about this setting in the future. If you have any specific questions or something, feel free to drop an ask or something.

[haveyoureadthistoo]

A reader's journey

Harder than the anxiety about all the books I won’t be able to read in my lifetime is the guilt of lost time. Even though I can’t remember a period in time in which I simply did not read, there were moments of distance, followed by moments of reawakening.

I know I was simply living life and wouldn’t go so far as to say I regret those moments, but I can’t help the melancholy of coming across a book now that would have resonated so beautifully with previous, less developed versions of myself. I suppose it’ll keep happening as I go through different stages in life anyway, but it made me think back on my journey as a reader.

My parents were not readers. Nor was my oldest sister, who was almost 15 years my senior. I don’t remember seeing books around the house that weren’t my own. My paternal grandfather liked to read national classics and western fiction, but he lived far away in the countryside. I also had an uncle who was a poet and another who was a lyricist, though not necessarily readers.

So I’m not really sure what got me into reading. Maybe it was just genetics. Maybe it was the right teacher. Or maybe it was watching “Matilda” over and over again. Overall I was a very active child who loved nothing more than running around the school courtyard - unless I got a new book to read. Then I would sit hypnotised in the bleachers and read the whole thing in one go, rereading it again and again until it was time to give it back.

We were required to read just a handful of books for school every year, but after a while I started getting books from the school library as well. After my dad died, I got slightly rebellious, not doing all of my homework, forging my mom’s signature on school communications and on one occasion hiding a library book I forgot to return - until my mom found it under the sofa and went with me to give it back, apologise and pay the small fee. I was around 8 at the time and it might have been my first ever reading gap, but I can’t remember if it really came to that or if it was just that one isolated incident.

Apart from school, my only other source of books was an aunt who was a teacher. There was also the occasional old copy my mom would uncover from her childhood archive, like “Pollyanna”. We were not in the habit of going to bookshops and I didn’t really ask for specific new books, I just got whatever I was given and didn’t mind reading xeroxed copies, which would often be the case to save some money at home. And I could colour the cover with sharpies, which was fun.

One memorable xeroxed copy I read for school was of a Brazilian book called “My Sweet Orange Tree”, when I was 10. It’s the story of a somewhat poor boy who develops a loving friendship with an old man and an orange tree, but the old man dies, run over by a car, and the tree is cut when the boy falls ill. It was the first time I cried reading a book, and there weren’t many after that.

Then there came a transient couple of years as I navigated my pre-teens. My reading was steady, but sparse. Until I watched “Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire” twice in a row and decided it was time to get on with the books. I had read the first one when I was 9, but it was a bit of a chaotic experience. Besides, spoilers were not a big thing in the early 2000s, so I was fine just watching the films. This time, though, everybody talked about the details left behind and I wanted to know.

That was 2006. I didn’t have an allowance and money was tight at home, so what I did was start the traditional piggy bank and save every leftover penny from what my mom gave me for school meals, plus whatever little cash I got from relatives on my birthday. One of my aunts had a friend who worked in a big bookshop chain and used his employee’s discount to sell me the books for a lower price. I saved enough money to buy book 4, read it several times until I had the money for book 5, and so on.

Around the same time, I discovered Jane Austen after falling in love with the 2005 adaptation of “Pride and Prejudice” - and with Mr. Darcy, of course. I have no idea how many times I’ve read that book in my life. At that point I was fully back into reading, even if I just reread everything over and over. Luckily for me, my best friend at the time loved stories as much as I did, so we obsessed over books together, exchanged them often and even started buying some cheap, easy novels in English to learn the language.

Once I got into university, it was hard to keep up my streak. The good thing was, I learned about secondhand bookshops and got some jewels to add to my collection. I was also introduced to Book Depository. The currency exchange was so cheap back then, and they weren’t owned by Amazon yet, so I was suddenly getting these unimaginable books in English for very low prices. I had a small scholarship and all the money I got went into books - and concerts, and drinks, if I’m being honest. Still, I wasn’t reading that much, and in retrospect I wish I were. I think it would have helped me navigate my early 20s better.

What finally got me back on track was getting a new scholarship, this time to spend a year abroad. Enter England: beautiful parks, lots of charity shops, cosy cafés and scenic train rides. If that didn’t work the charm, nothing else would. It helped me recover some of the magic that was starting to fade as I got deeper into adulthood. When I got back to Brazil in early 2014, I had a whole suitcase filled with books and notebooks.

I also had a smartphone and my own computer, so the distraction thing took a while to settle. By 2016, a mix of acquired habit and unemployment (which is the realistic word for occasional freelancing) led me to yearly numbers I could never deem possible. It naturally went down over the years, what with work, study and the inescapable social media addiction, but I don’t think it’ll ever go away now. Books are so intrinsically part of my personality, and even my career, that I could never part with them for more than a day.

Even if I did, I know it wouldn’t be forever. Like a true friend, they would be waiting for me with open arms - anytime, anywhere.

[gimmie-a-sammich]

To Rule Them All | Chapter 13 | Time of Love

Pairings: Idol!Ateez/???!Ateez x Fem!Original Characters

Summary: Alexis is about to have the summer of a lifetime traveling the country with some of her best friends following one of her favorite groups, Ateez. Little do they know, there is more to this group than meets the eye. Take a trip into the dark as they navigate a world unseen.

Genre: (18+ Minors DNI) smut, angst, fluff, supernatural vibes 

Chapter Warnings: bit of anxiety, unprotected sex (don't do this please), nipple play, vaginal sex, fingering, oral sex (f. receiving), dirty talk

Word Count: 16.2k

read here on AO3

To Rule Them All masterlist

previous chapter | next chapter

**

When I say time flew by, I meant it wholeheartedly. Between the trip home, packing for months worth of travel, and getting Scout ready to go spend time with grandma Gale I felt like I had no room to breathe. Thankfully, Gale didn’t put up much of a fight when we informed her of the once in a lifetime opportunity, even if we did have to be mum on the details. She didn’t press us much, however it wasn’t too hard to figure out some of what was going on. The comments about us being delusional were at a minimum once Gale figured out the gist of our adventure. She didn’t ask too many questions, simply because she knew we would not have the ability to answer them. Promises were made to check in frequently, both via texts and video calls to make sure our precious fur babies were being well taken care of and to let Gale know we were alive and well. 

The flight to Chicago felt the same in terms of quickness. We were so adjusted to the hubbub of JFK and New York that we weren’t even phased by it at this point. Nikki had relatively gotten over her fear of flying, at least enough that it wasn’t too big of a battle to avoid the airport bar at seven in the morning regardless of how good mimosas sounded. She always sat on the aisle seat since she passed out with her headphones in so Christie and I would have the ability to entertain each other. Per usual, I was in the window seat. Christie was always so gracious to let me have it, allowing me to daydream in the clouds whenever I wanted. 

It was smooth sailing through the sky and the three-ish hour flight went by without a hint of major turbulence. Nikki slept the entire time while Christie and I watched a couple of episodes of Tokyo Ghoul per my request before ending the flight listening to our music seperately. Silence was always welcome and comfortable between us, never awkward. We woke Nikki once the pilot signaled our descent, knowing that it would take a bit to work her grogginess out. 

I let San and Wooyoung know the moment we landed, but Nikki also texted the giant group chat. That chat amounted to sheer chaos 90% of the time, and more often than not I found myself either texting San, Woo, and I’s little group chat or them individually. Thea of course did not answer since her flight had just left a little bit ago, but we still texted our own little friend group chat to let her know we were safe and sound in Chicago. 

Once we departed the plane and gathered our luggage we all kept our eyes peeled for Joon. O’Hare was a huge airport, but nothing compared to what we were used to with JFK. It was near second nature for me to navigate us through any airport, even though I had the worst sense of direction amongst us. Whenever the situation called for it, though, I was able to figure it out, even with the obscene amount of people meandering about.

Joon had thankfully given us a very specific meeting spot, even going so far to send me a picture of the decorative plant and the signage around him. With those clues it was very easy to find him just inside the pickup area. Mingi and Woo had joked with us about having Joon hold a sign with our names on it, but alas we were not provided that celebrity treatment. The lack of red carpet welcome garnered no complaints from me and I could see the relieved looks on Nikki and Christie’s faces when Joon was empty handed. We were greeted with what I assumed was the warmest smile based on how Joon’s eyes were wrinkling above his mask.  

“Glad you made it all in one piece,” Joon joked once we were within earshot. “Maybe now that you’re safely in my custody the nagging will stop.” His laugh was infectious and I found myself giggling along with him.

His words reignited the lingering question in the back of my head. How much of Ateez’s staff knew about us? What were they told our purpose for tagging along on this tour was? I’m sure much of the information was on a need to know basis, but judging on how close both Joon and Angela would be to us they would have to be very high up on that list. Thinking about our purpose and the overall intentions of the guys was something I did my best to avoid in the effort to just enjoy this crazy trip. 

He mentally took inventory of us by looking at the luggage and bags in our hands. Substantial care had been taken by each of us to not over pack even without the faintest idea of what we would be doing the next couple of months. Our lives were confined to a single large suitcase each and what I’m sure were stuffed carry-ons and personal items. Anytime we asked what we should bring it was always the same vague answer of “whatever you think you’ll need.” If anything we always had the ability to run out and buy something if necessary, but therein lied the issue of what limited space we had. 

“Alright, so there’s a car just up here for us and we’re going to head straight to the hotel,” Joon said as he led us outside into the bustling pickup area. There were taxis and Ubers galore, all vying for a space to load up their waiting patrons. Joon maneuvered us with ease towards a sleek black SUV. Another masked man was standing beside it, who Joon quickly introduced as Benjamin, another member of Ateez’s staff. 

Joon and Benjamin grabbed our luggage and made quick work of loading it, instructing us to get into the car regardless of our offers to help. Both took off their masks once in the vehicle with Benjamin taking the wheel while Joon twisted around in the seat to address us. “I have your room keys for you…” he said, pulling out two envelopes from his pockets. “It’s up to you to decide who’s rooming together, but it’ll be two per suite.” 

“Suite?” Christie questioned, eyebrow raised.

“In a sense. They are above the standard double rooms so suite is what I would best use to describe it. Your comfort and privacy is important to all of us.” 

It was quickly determined that Christie and I would share a room since we were already accustomed to living together. There was a reason Nikki didn’t move into our house with us at Derby, and that being the fact Nikki was much messier with her living spaces. Typically speaking, if we ever had to divide between hotel rooms it was usually Nikki with Thea and then Christie and I without much of a discussion otherwise.  

Conversation with Joon was much easier this time around. It wasn’t hard to see that he was inherently kind. That kindness overflowed in the questions he asked. He genuinely wanted to get to know us, asking general questions about our flight and how our initial trip home went, but also asking more personal questions about our pets and just our thoughts about being here. We were much more apt to answer his questions this time around than our first ride in a car with him. Joon was just as happy to answer any question we had for him and I instantly appreciated the open communication he provided. Benjamin was just as friendly. It was clear the two of them were going out of their way to make us feel less awkward about our arrival and new participation in the tour, something that was much appreciated by the three of us. 

With the amount of talking the drive to the hotel seemed to take much less time than it actually did. However, due to the traffic we hit Joon and Benjamin had to head straight back to O’Hare to make sure Thea wouldn’t be waiting alone. It all was in the air of caution, but the act did not go unnoticed among us.  

Again they unloaded our luggage, offering apology after apology that they couldn’t help us bring it up to our rooms. Of course we paid it no mind, caring much more about them getting Thea than helping us with our bags. Both bid us farewell with quick nods and smiles, leaving us alone to enter the hotel. 

“Feels a bit more real now…” Nikki mumbled as she looked through the glass doors.

“Think of all the ‘you up’ texts you’re going to be getting now that you’re only doors away, “ I teased, earning a laugh from Christie. 

Nikki just glared, but the lack of quick witted response was very out of character for her. She had been very forthcoming about her late night excursion with Mingi, even if we had to force it out of her initially. It wasn’t hard to tell something happened during the late hours of the night when she asked to take the later half of the drive. Nikki was usually tough to crack, but once we pestered her enough we got most of the details. We may or may not have teased her endlessly for sneaking out like a high schooler, but she took it in stride. There had been something slightly askew with her though, not enough to press her about, yet enough that Christie and I noticed. Maybe it was nerves about the trip, maybe it was more, but she was definitely off. 

She took off into the lobby with a small shake of her head. Christie and I both had a confused expression on our faces when our eyes met, but followed Nikki towards the elevators without comment. The ride up to our floor was unnaturally silent, but not filled with discomfort. The silence continued even after the elevator doors opened and as we began walking down the hallway. Our rooms were across from one another three quarters of the way down the hall.

Nikki leaned against the door frame after she dropped her bags. “I’m going to get my things situated and chill for a bit… especially before Thea gets here. If you guys figure out that we’re doing anything, let me know okay?” She wouldn’t make direct eye contact with us, but gave us a quick smile before unlocking her door, dragging her suitcase and bag in behind her. 

Ah. Nikki was most definitely in one of her moods. She often got like this and needed to be in the comforts of her own space, alone. Something we learned early on in our friendship was to respect her wishes and give her the ability to decompress and regroup on her own time. She would come out of her cave to talk to us when she was ready. 

Christie sighed once the door shut behind Nikki, glancing at me briefly while she unlocked ours. The bags were growing heavier on my arms and I was thankful that Christie held the door open for me to lug everything inside. Joon was telling the truth when he said we had an upgrade from the typical double room, but I think he intentionally understated what we were truly getting. 

“They really can’t do anything small, can they?” I said, looking around the suite.

It had a designated living space with a chaise lounge couch, coffee table, and comfy looking armchair with a perfect view of the TV. Situated in the corner was a refrigerator and wet bar, complete with a microwave and keurig on the counter top. It was legitimately a two bedroom suite, meaning Christie and I would each have a room and bathroom to ourselves. Having to share a sleeping space was never an issue for us, and honestly it never would be, but the additional layer of privacy was going to be welcome. 

“Well, at least we know Nikki will really get her space if she needs it,” Christie said while she walked towards one of the two bedrooms to claim it. 

“Think we have cause for worry yet?” I asked. Instead of walking into the opposite room I plopped down on the couch. It was much comfier than I had taken it to be from first glance. The chaise portion let me completely extend my legs comfortably and I relished in the stretch after being cooped up in the airplane and car for so long. “She’s been off since Atlanta.”

Christie’s head poked out from the door. “No, I don’t think so. At least not yet.” She pursed her lips, wheels clearly turning in her head. “This is a lot. And she does like to keep things in… but she’s still acting semi-normal most of the time. If it goes much longer, yeah, we should pin her down. But let’s give her a little bit. Maybe being around Mingi and Seonghwa again will pull her out of it.” 

I reached for one of the pillows, hugging it against my chest. “Or it’ll make it worse. One or the other. AND we remember the last time we were in Chicago… right? So maybe that has a little part to play in it, too.” 

Christie’s laugh echoed throughout the suite over the memories of our last Chicago trip, nearly drowning out the knocks on the door. I groaned, not wanting to get up since I had just gotten comfortable. Christie exited her bedroom just as I made a dramatic effort to stand. “I got it, Sunshine, no need to disturb yourself.” I rolled my eyes at her in response to her teasing tone, but relaxed back into the couch nonetheless. 

“What’s so funny?” I immediately perked up at the voice, or rather voices. “We could hear you cackling from the hallway.” I could easily see Wooyoung standing in the open doorway once I sat up, Yeosang and San right behind him. Woo’s smile widened when he laid eyes on me. “Jagi.” 

Wooyoung entered the room without so much of a formal welcome from Christie and leapt straight towards me. With how much force he came at me with I was surprised at how carefully he eased me back into the couch cushion. He had somehow managed to peel the pillow out of my arms, too, laying squarely on my chest. 

“Chicago is a city that is woefully unprepared for us,” I laughed. My voice and giggles were muffled thanks to the pressure on my chest. Woo dug his head into the crook of my neck, his entire weight resting on me so I was trapped beneath him. “Miss me or something?”

He resituated his arms on either side of my head, propping up on his elbows and tongue just peeking through his toothy smile. His bangs were draping into his eyes, and god damn was it a nice view having him on top of me like this. He dipped down to press a quick kiss before rolling off to lay beside me with an arm bent behind his head. 

“Someone was a little eager to get in here…” Yeosang said with a shake of his head. His arm snuck behind Christie once the door was closed behind San and him. There was no evidence of shyness or embarrassment this time when he leaned in and kissed Christie’s temple. 

She eased into him like it was second nature, making Yeosang smile against her. “Clearly.”

“Because you weren’t?” Wooyoung retorted, sticking his tongue at both of them. 

“Yeah, yeah, Woo. We were all a little excited,” San added, stepping around my suitcase and bag still in the middle of the room. His hand found its way to my cheek. You would think with how many times I had this man smile at me now it would lose its appeal, but it was just as dazzling as that first day in the green room. He kissed my forehead, that smile never fading from his lips. “Which room are you taking, jagi? I’ll grab your bags…” 

“Ever the gentleman, Choi San,” I said with my own beaming smile. I motioned towards the room opposite the couch. San grabbed my bag and suitcase without any further comment, taking them out of the living area with that grin still plastered on his face. 

With minor protests from Wooyoung I pulled myself off the couch to follow San, Wooyoung hot on my tail. Christie and Yeosang went into her room to finish unpacking. I needed to do the same, plus I don’t think neither Christie nor I were complaining about a little down time with the guys. In reality we were all a little drained from the flight and early morning and I need to relax or something before this date with San tonight. 

“What is everyone else doing?” I asked once the three of us were in the room. San had placed both of my bags on top of the bed before he sat down on the chair in the corner. Wooyoung on the other hand, made himself right at home by sprawling out on the bed next to my suitcase and bag. 

“Mingi went to see Nikki…” San began, earning a snicker from Wooyoung. San shot him a look before continuing. “Jongho is waiting around here for Thea. Hongjoong, Yunho, and Hwa are at the venue checking over things before the show tomorrow. They wanted to do it now in case there were any changes, that way they weren’t worrying about things tonight.”

At the mention of tonight San’s eyes immediately became brighter and I couldn’t help the smile blooming on my face. He had been entirely tightlipped about the date even with my endless pestering for the tiniest hint. All I ever got in return was a smile and laugh, always followed by a you’ll have to see. Wooyoung apparently knew whatever San had planned but would not spill either despite my best efforts. Even Christie said she was completely unaware of what San had in store for the two of us, but I could tell by her face that wasn’t the entire truth. 

I unzipped my suitcase and moved it around so it wouldn’t land on Wooyoung. It was stuffed to the brim, filled with as many clothes and shoes as I could manage into my packing cubes. I took out my toiletries bag, taking it with me into the bathroom. “Speaking of tonight… do I get a hint yet or am I still going in blind?” I popped my head around the doorframe to look at San. He simply shook his head at my question, chuckling softly while he looked at the ground. “So blind then.” 

I busied myself in the bathroom, unloading my things onto the counter and the shower so I wouldn’t have to worry about doing it later in the night when I would be even more exhausted. Even now I felt the effects of our early morning and flight threatening to overtake me.

Hands sneaking around my waist shook me out of thoughts. I hadn’t heard San come into the bathroom, but now I was looking at him pressed against my back through the mirror. His chin had settled onto my shoulder, eyes locked onto mine through the glass. His fingers teased their way underneath the crewneck I was wearing to trace lightly along my stomach. Both of our dimples were on full display with how large our smiles were. 

“My treasure…” he murmured, lips finding the hollow space beneath my ear. “Let me spoil you tonight. I’ve been looking forward to this since I last saw you… indulge me in wanting it to be a surprise. So please… no more questions.” His eyes flicked back to the mirror, watching my face intently as he continued dragging his lips along my throat and jaw. My hand found its way into his hair, snaking my fingers through it loosely. Lips turned up in a smile against my skin when I dropped my head back onto his shoulder, granting him better access to my neck, gaze never wavering. This simple act had me near breathless. San’s eyes fluttered shut only briefly, opening enough to look back at me through his eyelashes, never pausing his ministrations against my neck. 

I tightened my fingers in his hair, my other hand finding a home on his forearm across my abdomen. “Who would I be to take that away from you, then? I’ll just continue waiting impatiently.” 

He hummed against the column of my throat in approval, eyes crinkling into a smile. “Good girl.” San’s arms tightened around me just as he began pressing his lips firmly against my neck, a stark contrast to his ghosting brushes. Never had someone looked at me the way San was at this moment. Brown eyes were full of adoration that was easily seen once he placed his chin back onto my shoulder. “I’ll pick you up at six, babe. And that is the only thing you are getting out of me about tonight.” His words were as direct as his gaze, leaving no cause for follow up questions.

San took my hand in his hair within his, detangling my fingers carefully. He kissed the tip of each one before stepping away, leaving me feeling weightless from the missing pressure on my back. When he brought my hand to his lips I felt like an absolute princess in a little fantasyland. “I wanted to make sure you got settled in, but I promised Woo that I wouldn’t take up all your time since we have all night…” he immediately blushed at his words, dropping his head with a meek smile. “That sounded a bit presumptuous of me- I’m sorry for that.”

The last word I would use to describe him would be presumptuous. “Not at all, Sannie.” 

His hand cupped my cheek. “I like when you call me Sannie, my treasure.” If only he knew what else I called him, but now was not the time to mention that he was most commonly referred to as Santini or simply Tini by my friends and me. He was clearly lost in my eyes for a moment, only to snap himself out of whatever daydream played through his head with a small laugh and a grin. “I’m getting distracted. Six o’clock, dressed and ready.” His fingers resting on the nape of my neck pulled me closer. The kiss was soft and sweet, but much too short for my liking and left me wanting more. “I’ll see you soon, okay?” 

San gave me one final peck before walking out of the bathroom, pausing to smile in the doorway. He told Wooyoung to behave himself, followed by a snicker from the latter. He said a warm goodbye to Christie and Yeosang before the door shut behind him. It didn’t take long to finish unloading my things in the bathroom with the absence of San, and when I reentered the bedroom Woo was still lounging in the same position on the bed. 

Wooyoung scooched himself further up on the pillows, patting the empty space beside him. I shoved the suitcase to the floor to sit cross legged on the bed in front of him. I placed my elbows on my knees, letting my head rest on closed fists to look at Woo, contemplating how I wanted to proceed. There was a question that had been burning in my head, and instead of letting it eat at me I figured it would be better in the long run to ask. Now that I had Woo in front of me grinning like the Cheshire cat I was second guessing my decision to ask him instead of San first, but there was no turning back now. 

“I have a question.” 

Woo raised his eyebrow, damn tongue coming back through his teeth. “If it’s about your date…” he mimed zipping his lips and throwing away the key, looking even more mischievous than normal.

I shook my head. “No… it’s about this.” I gestured around the room, opening my arms wide in hopes that would get my point across without getting too detailed yet. “In general.”

This caught his attention and he further adjusted himself on the bed, leaning forward off the headboard to look at me more intently. A look of confusion crossed his face, but once he figured out what I was questioning it turned into concern. “I may have an answer for that… but before you ask what you need, let me say this. San and I- we both like you. We both enjoy your company. And you like both of us, do you not?” I nodded, his eyes meeting mine fiercely as he spoke. “I don’t think it needs to be more complicated than that, honestly. Does that answer anything?”  

“But… are you both okay with it being that way?” 

Laughter escaped his lips as his hands came towards me, landing behind my elbows on top of my thighs. He tugged at my joggers, rubbing the material between the pads of his fingers.  “Of course. Are you?” His expression flipped back to genuine concern. The last thing either of them would want would be me questioning this situation, and that was written all over his face.

Being here was making my head spin more than I originally anticipated. The date with San was looming and here I was sitting in bed with Wooyoung. I had made out with both of them, been intimate with both of them, and neither seemed to bat an eye at it. It did seem backwards that I was questioning things following said events, but in those moments I assumed I wouldn’t be spending an entire tour with them. 

Apparently I was silent for too long. Wooyoung slid even closer, placing his legs around mine, circling around me while he pulled on my hips to bring me forward. Seriousness was in place of his typical humor. “Jagi, there is no need to overthink this, I promise. As long as you’re happy with both of us, we’re happy. Don’t be worried about jealousy or anything like that, that’s not a thing with San and me, and it especially won’t be a thing with you. We may joke about it, but we’re both just glad you’re here with us. So, I’ll ask my question again… are you okay with this?”

His eyes were searching mine, but doing nothing to give away his own thoughts. “I guess I just needed to hear you say everything is fine out loud. But yeah, I’m good with this. All of this.” 

Relief visibly washed over Woo. He reached for my hand, locking his fingers tightly. “Ask Sannie too if it makes you feel better. He’ll have the same answer. Honestly, we should’ve had this conversation with you before bringing you here and just acting like it’s nothing and everything is normal. That’s our fault… and I’m sorry for that.” 

I fully intended on asking San the same question, simply for my own peace of mind. Until then, I would take Woo’s word for it and would do my best not to stress any longer. There hadn’t been cause for worry up to this point, but it wasn’t out of the ordinary for me to conjure something out of thin air. 

“It’s just…” I sighed, running my free hand through my hair. Might as well let it all out. “It’s surreal having both of you want me, for lack of better words.”

Wooyoung laughed even louder. “Ah. Well, Alexis… you’re hot as fuck.” I snorted and rolled my eyes and smacked his chest softly, but that did nothing to deter him. “It’s beyond that though, in all seriousness. I don’t know if I could explain it to you, so I’m not even going to try. Just take it for what it’s worth, yeah? If we didn’t want to be here… to put it bluntly, we wouldn’t be, and neither would you. ” 

The room was unnaturally quiet with neither of us speaking. His words weren’t harsh by any means, the furthest from that actually. But the air of certainty around them was something I wasn’t expecting. I pursed my lips, chewing on the inside of the lower one while searching for what I wanted to say and coming up empty handed. Woo sighed and uncrossed my legs, latching onto the bend in my knees. He hooked my legs around his waist while he wrapped his arms around my torso, splaying those ungodly hands across my back to pull us closer. I let myself relax into him, dropping my head onto his shoulder. Maybe I was stressing myself over nothing. Maybe exhaustion had finally caught up and was making my emotions all over the place. Or, just maybe, the reality of what was happening hit me like I ran straight into a brick wall.  

“Get out of your head,” he murmured, lips pressed against the side of my head above my temple. I felt each breath he took blowing softly on my hair. There still wasn’t anything I could bring myself to say and honestly didn’t think anything really needed to be. All I needed was some reassurance, something Wooyoung easily provided. The more he and I interacted the more I saw this side of him, even if it had just been through texts and video calls up until now. 

I let my eyes close. “Thanks, Woo.” His giggle blew out a huff of air and without warning he shifted his weight, toppling us sideways. 

My leg was pinned uncomfortably beneath his hip but with how tight Wooyoung latched onto me there was barely anything I could do to move. The giggles from Woo continued at the expense of my struggle against him. With a substantial amount of effort I tugged it free, letting me relax much more comfortably against the mattress. The lack of help earned him a narrowed glare and a soft shove against his chest. His smile in return was absolutely blinding and so large his nose was scrunching in an absolutely adorable way. 

“Now, my treasure… what are we going to do until your little date this evening?” He tapped his lips as if deep in thought. Neither his face nor his words showed the faintest sign of jealousy, putting my mind even more at ease. Before I had a chance to make a suggestion his eyes lit up. “Wait… what are you wearing?” 

I raised my eyebrow at him, laughing softly. “Are you really suggesting what I think you are?” 

Those plump lips puffed into a pout. “Pretty please? You don’t even know what you’re doing, how are you going to know what to wear?” The shift from full pout to teasing happened in a split second. He had a point, not that I would admit that to him. Woo sat back up, grin in full effect. 

I propped myself up on my elbow. “Fine, but I need to shower first. Airports and airplanes make me feel gross.” 

“I think you’ll need some supervision with that. You know, just to make sure you're clean for your date.” He was biting his lip suggestively, the corner turned up into a smirk. I shoved him back down onto the bed. He landed with a surprised huff before scrambling up to his elbows. “What was that for?!”

I climbed off the bed, rounding the corner to stand at the foot of it. I couldn’t help but smile at him. He knew exactly how much of a little shit he was being judging by the smirk that was still plastered on his perfect face. “You, Jung Wooyoung, are absolutely ridiculous.”

“That’s not a no.” He slid to the edge, situating himself so his legs were pressed on either side of mine. Hands skated up along the backs of my thighs, moving so slowly they were rucking up the fabric of my pants. Eyes were heavy when they met mine, his thick eyelashes almost obscuring his gaze completely.  When he leaned in further his chin settled into my stomach. The combination of his big brown puppy dog eyes and slightly protruding lower lip were threatening to crumble my resolve. 

I reached for his face, leaning down and stealing a quick kiss, but holding him in place as I pulled away. “Not this time, Woo… maybe in your dreams,” I teased, reaching behind to unhook his hands that settled right below my ass. 

With how dramatically Woo flung himself down onto the bed you would have thought I ripped his world to shreds. Arms were outstretched across the bed before he brought one forearm to cover his eyes, sighing deeply. “If only you knew what happened in my dreams, treasure.” 

“You are so dramatic.” 

Woo didn’t budge, only stuck out his tongue and waved me away, hand dropping limply onto the bed. So damn dramatic. I rolled my eyes even if he couldn’t see. I walked into the bathroom, stopping to grab a pair of shorts and a t-shirt from my suitcase along the way. Even with the events of the backroom frequently replaying in my mind I was not ready to parade my naked body in front of him just yet. 

The shower felt heavenly. I stood in there much longer than I probably should have with Wooyoung waiting in the bedroom but I couldn’t bring myself to move. Showers had a weird way of easing my racing thoughts and I was taking advantage of the endless amount of hot water. Letting the water cascade down my face always brought me back down to earth. I was in need of a slight reality check and the shower was giving me the space to comb through the jumble that was my brain. It was much easier to calm down following the conversation with Wooyoung, but I wouldn’t be entirely settled until I spoke with San too. 

Immediately my thoughts redirected towards the date with San tonight.  Where were we going? What would we be doing? Would it be awkward? Holy shit, was I going to be awkward? I had what seemed like an endless amount of questions bouncing around, none of which had an answer. It had been years since I’d been on a first date, not that the last one had been anything too spectacular in retrospect, but nonetheless going on a legitimate date felt like uncharted territory. 

With a deep sigh I finally pulled myself out of the drizzle and turned off the faucet. The bathroom was filled with hazy steam even though I remembered to turn the fan on. I wiped off the mirror as best I could to do my skincare and prep for makeup. Within minutes I was done and had thrown on clothes to begin the arduous task of deciding on an outfit. Whatever I chose would directly impact both my hair and makeup, so unfortunately that would need to be decided first. 

Wooyoung was exactly where I’d left him: body sprawled out on the bed, feet firmly planted on the ground. Of course the drama queen hadn't moved an inch while I was showering. With how still he was I assumed he was asleep, especially since his forearm was still covering his eyes. The only movement was the slight rise and fall of his chest. 

“Are you really sleeping?” I half laughed, arms crossed at the sight of him. 

“You implied you would shower with me in my dreams… can’t blame a guy for imagining that.” He turned his head to look at me, eyes just barely peeking beneath his arm and still very clearly pouting. 

“Again… dramatic.” He scoffed at me as I sat on the floor to pull things out of my suitcase, shooting off a quick text to Christie as I plopped down. She was a necessary member of outfit selection, and while I trusted Woo not to do me wrong I wasn’t sure how well he’d handle me going into meltdown mode. It would have been just as easy to walk across the suite but I didn’t want to barge in on her and Yeosang. Text was definitely the safer option. 

I was so engrossed in pulling potential things out of my suitcase that I almost didn’t notice Wooyoung crawling to the ledge of the bed. It wasn’t until the low humming that I finally looked up to see those big brown eyes peering down at me. He looked almost childlike with his chin resting on his hands, legs bent at the knee and feet kicking back and forth in the air. I sighed at him, glancing at the mess of clothes beside me. Half my suitcase was out on the floor. Dresses, rompers, shoes, shorts, everything that had the potential of being a viable option was completely strewn about. Still, I felt hopelessly lost. 

“Okay, you gotta help me weed out.” My eyes were pleading with Woo’s for the tiniest bit of help. The smirk never left his face, but he did lean further over the edge. “Dress or no?”

“Most definitely a dress.” Christie’s voice rang through the room suddenly.

I had become accustomed to her ninja steps since living with her. She still frequently scared the shit out of me when she snuck around, but the jumpscares were much less intense. Wooyoung on the other hand nearly jumped out of his skin, tumbling face first to the floor and cursing the entire time. His hands flung out just in time to catch himself, but the damage was done and now he was strewn out on the floor among my clothes. 

“Are you a fucking assassin or something?” Wooyoung stammered, glaring at Christie and Yeosang standing in the doorway. He quickly moved to a seated position, leaning on an arm outstretched behind my back

Christie returned the look, and walked further into the room. “You’d be first on my list if I was, Woo.” 

Wooyoung scowled further and somehow the glaring intensified. “Good luck with that one.” 

“Yeah… real great comeback,” Christie responded with an eye roll, sitting down at the edge of the bed above us while Yeosang took a seat in the corner armchair. She pulled her knees to her chest, surveying the pile of clothes. She pointed to a short green number. “That one first.” 

“This one too,” Woo grabbed another from the pile. It seemed as if the two were going to be going head to head with outfit selection as well. They were going back and forth for no reason and this was just going to be another way for them to compete for god knows why. 

They continued, each picking out something and thrusting it into my hands. Once my hands were full I went into the bathroom to begin the fashion show, listening to them sling one liners at each other while Yeosang and I shook our heads at the two of them.

***

Per usual, I was rushing up until the last minute. At 5:53 I was swiping on a final coat of mascara while Christie lightly sprayed the waves tumbling down my back with hairspray. Everything came together perfectly, with Wooyoung taking victory in the outfit battle. The dress itself was a flattering light blue with a dainty white floral pattern that just barely dusted the floor. The deep v neck and open back showed the perfect amount of skin without making the dress too risque. It hugged my torso, accentuating my lean frame before flowing out slightly just below my rib cage. 

“Beautiful, my love.” Christie was beaming at me. She adjusted the bow at the back of my dress that tastefully broke the openness, making sure the ends were even. “Are you ready?”

With a smile I took a step back from the mirror, turning around to face her directly. “Yeah, I’m ready.” Nerves hadn’t quite settled in yet thankfully. I was more excited than anything, a much nicer turn of events. 

I grabbed my phone and small clutch off the bed, having laid it out so I wouldn’t forget it before Christie and I went to join Wooyoung and Yeosang in the living area. Wooyoung immediately stopped talking to Yeo when we walked in, mouth dropping slightly at the sight of me. As he stood up he grasped my wrist, lightly pulling him into him so his other arm could wrap around my body. 

“Sannie’s a lucky guy,” he hummed, thumb tracing lightly along my back. He shot a look at Yeosang on the couch. “I guess you’ll have to do for tonight, Yeo.” 

His best friend kicked the back of his knee, buckling it out from underneath him. Woo only stumbled slightly, catching himself quickly. “Don’t think I won’t cancel on you,” Yeosang said. His face was cold, but the tone in his voice gave away the joke. “But, you aren’t wrong. You do look beautiful, Alexis.” 

Blush formed on my cheeks at his compliment, a smile blooming at the same time. Before I had a chance to respond Woo pulled me closer, pressing his face flush against my cheek and squeezing his fingers possessively around my waist. “I swear, Yeosang, you better not be making a move on my girl now.” With a quick turn of his head, his lips found their way to my cheek. They stayed for what seemed like forever, another way of Wooyoung staking his claim. 

“I think you mean my girl, Wooyoung,” Christie said offhandedly as she walked back into her room. Even without seeing her face I knew she was rolling her eyes, the tone of her voice and overall body language giving that away to me instantly. 

Woo didn’t bother responding, but finally peeled his lips off my cheek just as there was a knock at the door. Once again, his fingers tightened and his lips brushed my cheek briefly before he walked towards the door. He positioned himself perfectly in front of it, only opening it a crack.

“Close your eyes, Sannie. It’s a surprise.”

I rolled my eyes. Apparently we were back to dramatics. I heard San chuckle softly from behind the door, along with a second unmistakable giggle. What I couldn’t see was whether or not San complied with Wooyoung’s ridiculous request. All I could do was stand while Woo swung the door open, stepping aside so I could finally see San. 

He did, in fact, comply with Wooyoung’s request, and looked utterly handsome standing in the doorway, even with his eyes squeezed shut and a huge cheesy smile stretched across his face. He was dressed head to toe in black, his dress shirt tucked in with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. 

Wooyoung grabbed San’s arm and tugged him in the room. Ever the good sport, San kept his eyes closed and that smile on his face, bracketed by his deep dimples. His head was shaking slightly, a soft laugh coming from his lips. 

“This is entirely unnecessary,” I said with a laugh of my own. “You’ve been extra dramatic today.”

This earned a laugh from everyone in the room, including Hongjoong who snuck in behind San carrying a large paper bag with some chinese restaurant’s logo on it. Wooyoung stuck his tongue out at me, but otherwise said nothing. 

“Absolutely necessary, treasure. Now, San-ah, open.” Wooyoung stepped to the side, completely removing himself from San’s line of sight. “Tell our girl how amazing she looks.” 

San finally opened his eyes. I didn’t think his smile could get any larger, but damn was I glad to be wrong. Dimples were deep in his cheeks, brown eyes sparkling as he looked me up and down. “Our girl is always beautiful, Woo… but she does look absolutely amazing.” 

He stepped towards me, eyes locked on me like there wasn’t anyone else in the room. Latching onto my waist he pulled me in for a sweet kiss, opposite hand finding my cheek. “But tonight, you’re all mine,” he murmured, letting his fingers brush along my cheekbone. 

I melted further into him. “All yours, you say?” San eased his mouth back slowly, kissing the smile off my face. Following a peck to my nose and forehead we broke apart, but San’s arm never left my waist while he held me to his side. 

“Car’s ready for us downstairs, jagiya. Are you ready to go?” His voice was low and sweet as he tilted his head towards me, letting his head rest lightly on top of mine. 

At that moment Christie returned from her room, quickly stepping towards me with purpose. “Not yet.” Once she reached me she gave San a soft smile, reaching for my forearm. She was clutching a gold chain, the pendant dangling between her fingers. 

I recognized it instantly, and while I didn’t want to leave San’s embrace I took his hand off my waist. He didn’t fight me in the slightest when I took a step towards her, turning around and sweeping my hair off my back and around my shoulders. After I squatted slightly, she swung the chain around, situating the gold and blue pendant perfectly just beneath the hollow of my neck. Her papa’s evil eye was one of her most treasured possessions and one she kept close to her at all times. It wasn’t the first time she’d given me the honor of wearing it, having leant it to me in times she felt I needed extra protection. Each time I heard the same words: “For the additional safety of my grandparents watching over you.” This time was no different; she whispered the words so softly they were lost to everyone else in the room, meant for my ears alone. 

“Perfection. Now you’re ready.” Christie readjusted my hair, fluffing the waves back down my back. “You best have her back at a decent time, Choi San.” Her green eyes were glinting as she teased him. 

San reached for my hand, curling his fingers through. “She’ll be back here safe and sound, don’t you worry.” 

She looked pleased, placated by his words even though I knew she was not naive enough to believe I would be back in the room this evening. When her focus turned off me she jumped slightly before a small smile formed on her face, finally noticing Hongjoong. “When did you sneak in here?” 

Hongjoong shifted on his feet side to side. He had just entered the room enough for Wooyoung to close the door behind him and with how silent he had been there was no wonder Christie hadn’t noticed him. “I followed San in here, but didn’t want to interrupt anything…” His smile was almost as soft as his gaze. He clutched the paper bag close to his chest, still swaying side to side in place.

“Well on that note… Yeo, we have our own date to attend.” Wooyoung held out his hand, beckoning Yeo towards him with his fingers, a huge grin plastered across his fast. The gesture was similar to San’s just moments ago, done I’m sure on purpose. 

Yeosang stood up with a sigh. “It’s not that exciting, Woo.” His low voice was shaking with laughter.

Before he moved too far, Christie took hold of his bicep. Standing up on her tippy toes to reach, she pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Her lips lingered there for an eternity, Yeosang smiling with his eyes squeezed shut the entire time. The act was reminiscent of Wooyoung’s dramatic kiss earlier, something that Woo also seemed to notice based on his snort. I couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped. Christie was definitely being a bit bratty this evening, letting her slightly territorial side sneak out jusssstttttt a bit. I wasn’t surprised that she was acting that way towards me, but now it seemed to be extending out to Yeosang. Wooyoung seemed to be bringing that aspect of her out more lately for reasons I hadn’t quite figured out yet. 

Wooyoung never dropped his hand while he waited. Yeosang did in fact take it, but only to pull Woo’s palm to his mouth, licking quickly. In quick retaliation Wooyoung smacked him lightly on the back of the head. Bickering immediately ensued. Hongjoong rolled his eyes at them, stepping out from the door for them to mosey through.

“And San-ah,” Woo paused in the doorway, barely turning his head to look at us through the corner of his eye. That side profile was absolutely to die for, chin and jawline sharp. A smirk crept onto his face, tip of his tongue poking out slightly. Eyes became dark, filled with hazy lust. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

San laughed. His thumb slid along mine before continuing up my arm, sweeping around so his hand could rest on my hip. A shiver shot up my spine when his fingertips ghosted along my back. “That leaves little to the imagination, Woo.” Fingers roughly dug into the skin around my waist, a much different touch than the brushes he just laid across my back. San applied further pressure, bringing me closer to his side so his lips could press onto my temple. It was a small act of possessiveness, but an act nonetheless. 

Yeosang literally pushed Wooyoung the rest of the way out the door. “Wooyoung, nobody needs to hear any of this,” he said with an eye roll. Of course, Wooyoung complained and argued. I could hear it continue down the hallway with a perfect picture of Yeosang scolding but laughing, hands still on his shoulder blades to force him to whomever’s room they were going to have their own little date in. 

With their exit Hongjoong finally moved from his spot in the corner, gliding into the room and plopping himself comfortably on the couch. The large bag was set on the table and he started pulling out the containers while Christie sat down beside him. Quick goodbyes were said and smiles were exchanged from Christie and I, then San and I were finally walking out the door hand in hand. 

I could not get over how affectionate this man was. There wasn’t a moment when San’s hands weren’t somewhere on my body even on our short walk to the car out front. Hands tangled together. Arms around my waist. Hand pressed to the small of my back. Kisses placed on my forehead, temple, back of my hand. Conversation was just as easy, never an awkward silence. I still couldn’t get over how easily we seemed to mesh together. 

The man even held the door of the car for me, standing beside it with a loving grin once he pulled his mask down and an open arm. “Have I mentioned before how perfect you are, San?” My smile was huge, and even though I was shaking my head at him slightly he didn’t seem to mind. I don’t know if I would ever get used to this type of treatment. 

He took my hand, bringing it to his lips while I stepped into the car. “I just think you should be treated the way you deserve.” He slid in beside me, hand immediately resting upon my leg. 

I smiled when I met Joon’s eyes in the rearview mirror. At least he was a familiar face, and it confirmed my thought that he knew most of the reasons why we were here. Honestly, it put my mind a little more at rest knowing it was him and not having to meet someone new.

“Do I get a hint yet?” I asked, leaning my head onto his shoulder. I wiggled my arm behind his, hooking my index finger around the thumb on my thigh.

San hummed and I could feel the vibrations coming from his body. He tapped his fingers on my leg, thinking how he wanted to answer. “Hmm… Well we’re going to dinner.”

“Well no duh, Choi San.” I couldn’t help but giggle. What a lame hint. 

He laughed along with me, leaning into my shoulder. “You didn’t say how good of a hint it had to be.” 

“Joon, help a girl out,” I pleaded with the man driving. 

“Sorry, Alexis… sworn to secrecy on this one.” 

I groaned, but quit pestering them both for information. San and I continued talking the entirety of the twenty minute drive to wherever we were going. The way he gazed at me as I spoke was something out of this world, like he was hanging on to every single thing I said and storing it to memory. Occasionally he would lean in for a quick kiss, that perfect smile never leaving that perfect face. Things were just… easy. Easy to the point something had to be off, but I kept pushing that thought out of my head. 

“Alright, babe, here we are,” San said once Joon pulled in front of a very small, fairly nondescript building. It was just outside of downtown, with very few cars parked in front of wherever we were. I was entirely confused but San just smiled at me before he opened the door, not bothering to pull a mask on this time. Joon said that he would be right outside if we needed him and to enjoy ourselves. 

I grasped San’s outstretched hand once again, loving the familiarity of his strong hand around mine. “Alright Sannie… do I get to know now?”

He pulled me in close, not caring how exposed we were being out in the open. There wasn’t another soul around, at least not that I could see, but it still made me nervous. “Dinner, my treasure. And one I hope you don’t forget.” 

Of course, not a real answer of where we were, what we were eating, anything. It was so damn difficult to be annoyed at San when he looked like that, staring at me with so much excitement and hope. The sky behind him had begun changing colors, making his all black clothes stand out and once again I was speechless by just how gorgeous he was. 

Hand in hand he led me to the front door, typing in a code to unlock it. When the door opened I finally realized where we were and I completely understood why he was so tight lipped about it. San must have seen it finally click, but only smiled at me, adding a wink for good measure. We were standing in a completely empty waiting room filled only with a podium.. A hostess was standing and waiting for us. 

“Thompson, reservation for 2?” she asked pleasantly when we approached her. The use of a fake name didn’t surprise me in the slightest. 

San nodded, flashing her that stunning smile of his. “Yes, that’s us.” His fingers curled into my hand further. 

She smiled at us and motioned to the stairs behind her. “Take a seat wherever you like at the tables down the stairs. It’ll be about thirty minutes before we are ready for you, but we will bring out drinks and amuse-bouche while you wait.” 

With a quick thanks San and I took off down the stairs. He pulled me to the furthest table, taking the time to pull my chair out before sitting on his own across from me. As always, that smile never left his face. Those damn dimples were so endearing. My own had to be out just as often with how much he made me grin. 

“I know I’ve said it before, but you do look beautiful,” San said with adoration, only pausing when the hostess arrived with two cocktails and tuna rolls, placing them on the table between us. He continued speaking once she walked away. “Have you figured it out yet? Christie approved immediately when I said I wanted to bring you here. I didn’t want to tell her exactly where we were going, but she was pretty pushy once I asked her if you liked sushi.” He laughed, and I could only imagine the conversation between the two. 

Once we entered the building it finally registered that we were at the hidden sushi speakeasy in Chicago. It had amazing reviews, and was a place I had been dying to try. Sushi was one of my favorite foods in the entire world and the omakase experience offered here was supposed to be out of this world. 

“She has a habit of being pushy when it comes to things like that.” I joined in his laughter. “How you got a reservation this quickly is beside me… but I couldn’t be more excited about it.” San beamed at me and took one of the rolls from the plate while I took a lengthy sip. 

Thank goodness for that drink, because I needed a little bit of something to ask San his feelings about this whole situation. There was never going to be a great time, but I would much rather get it off my chest before we were too deep into the date. Wooyoung had definitely talked me off the ledge and provided a majority of the reassurance I needed, but he was only a fraction of the people involved. I needed to hear the same thing from him.

“So… I had a little bit of a conversation with Woo today.” I took another sip. Might as well just rip off the bandaid right? “Just about, well all of this.” 

San sighed and reached his hand across the table, extending his fingers to ask for my hand. I happily gave it to him. The instant it was in his grasp his thumb started tracing along my skin in the most reassuring way. “I know, jagi. He messaged me about it.”

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. “Of course he did.” 

“Don’t be upset with him, Alexis… he cares about you. WE care about you.” His thumb applied more pressure now, as if to emphasize his words. “We both need to apologize for not talking to you about everything before you were thrown in. We got caught up in the moment and didn’t really think about how it could affect you… so please forgive me for that.” San shook his head, flicking his eyes downwards for a moment before returning to gaze at me. His eyes were so soft, full of concern as he watched the emotions rolling across my face. “All I want is for you to be happy. I couldn’t care less about Woo and I’s feelings about it all but I know you do, babe. I’ll say the same thing he did. I’m glad you’re here. Yeah, it’s not a typical dynamic, but it’s one that we both wholly embrace because it means being with you. There are no issues on either of our ends. So, Alexis, my treasure… are you happy?”

For the first time I saw a hint of uncertainty cross San’s features, thankfully only for a split second. It wasn’t surprising in the slightest that San would also be a little worried about my response, especially now that we were sitting across from each other on a legitimate date. I don’t know what all Woo had told him about our little conversation. As annoyed as I was, I was a little thankful that he brought it up to San first since it saved me from having to explain everything. Now it was my turn to offer up reassurance now that I had received mine. 

“I’m the happiest I’ve been in a very long time, San.” His chest heaved with the exhale, accompanied by a squeeze to my hand. Seriousness left his face, letting a smile creep back in. “I had a lot going through my head about being here and it all hit at once. It’s a lot, to be honest, and it all feels very surreal. But I’m really, truly okay with everything, regardless of it being a little unconventional. I just needed to know that you were both okay, too.” 

Our hands broke apart with the hostess returning with a second small plate containing oysters. San cast her a soft smile at her while I said thank you as she walked away once again. The pause was needed on my part, a brief lull for my brain to regroup. 

“And that, my treasure, is all I care about,” San said softly. “Now… less serious talk?” He held up his drink, nodding at me to do the same. With a laugh I raised mine, staring at that gorgeous face with a smirk. “To you, my treasure. And to what I hope is the first of many unforgettable nights.” 

“Cheers to that, and also to you, dear Sannie,” I added. He beamed at the addition. At the clink of glasses and his request, the serious talk ended. I glanced around the room while I sipped, taking another oyster after I finished the tuna roll. Nobody else had entered the little waiting room and while I hadn’t been keeping track of time we had to be nearing the official reservation time. 

My speculation was proven true when the hostess returned once again to escort us deeper into the building to the main dining area. Our names were the only two written on the chalkboards on the tables, meaning we were the only ones who would be enjoying this experience that was typically meant for ten. 

“San, you didn’t,” I gasped once I sat down. This was insane, and I couldn’t imagine the price he paid. 

He kissed the top of my head, brushing the hair off my shoulders to fall down my back. “I sure did. I told you I planned on spoiling you.” 

I took his hand once he sat down next to me. “And spoiling me you are. You did not have to do this, really. I would have been content with pizza and a movie.” 

San laughed. It was beginning to become one of my favorite sounds in the entire world. Deep and so full of joy that it made it impossible not to just grin at him like crazy. “I know you would, and don’t think that won’t happen either. But you deserve to be spoiled to the fullest and I intend to do just that.” 

Our conversation paused once the chef came out, a woman named Naomi. She looked absolutely fierce, but was extremely kind and welcoming. Just by looking at her you knew she meant business and definitely knew her way with cooking and knives. Sake started running freely once Naomi started preparing the entirety of the seventeen courses we were set to enjoy. Naomi made the overall experience a million times better than I could have anticipated, laughing and joking along with San and I. 

I nearly died when she asked how long San and I had been together. San came up with an extravagant story of how we first met, telling her that we were celebrating our third anniversary tonight. Of course, I went along and took my role very seriously, adding how much my parents loved him and playing everything up to the max. The entire act was only taken further the more San drank. He was not going overboard in terms of alcohol by any means, but even the smallest amount seemed to have a significant effect on him. Words of affection were constantly rolling out of this man’s mouth by course twelve. The lines of what was played up for show and what was legitimate were becoming more blurred the longer the date went on. Naomi was a dream though, giving San and I space to talk between courses since we were the only patrons for this reservation time.

“It’s not that often I see a young couple so in love,” Naomi said fondly as we finished eating our final course. Two hours flew by like it was nothing and it was hard to believe it was now coming to an end. “You two have both been a pleasure this evening… thank you for choosing to spend your anniversary with us.” 

My cheeks instantly became flaming hot. Hopefully they weren’t as red as they felt, because holy shit. I mean, yeah we were laying it on a little thick, but it was really just a backstory we were playing up… not our actual interactions. I wasn’t expecting someone else to equate us to, well, love. Don’t get me wrong, San was amazing, but love wasn’t something I had even let enter my mind.

San chose this moment to lean over, brushing my hair behind my ear. “She makes it very easy, let me tell you.” His gaze was heavy, smile soft, eyes only for me. Fuck. “Thank you. This was incredible.” He took my hand again, pulling me to stand next to him. 

“Definitely something to remember, and the food was amazing. Each and every bite,” I added. Naomi gave another smile and nod, thanking us one more time before she and the bartender disappeared for a moment. It was our sign to go as well. 

Even with all the sake I was proud to say I was not drunk. Tipsy, maybe, but definitely not to a point where I would regret any decisions. Clearly San was feeling just as good, and the minute we were back in the car with Joon his hands were all over me. After a few minutes an arm wrapped around my shoulder, the other coming across my waist, caging me against the car door. Part of my brain was concerned about what Joon was thinking, but the other half was to transfixed on the words coming out of San’s mouth to care.

“I had plans for dessert, my treasure.” He was barely audible. “But if it’s okay with you, I’d much rather get back to the hotel.”

I was speechless for a moment, taking everything in. The arm around my shoulder slid across my skin, fingertips dragging to grip the nape of my neck. The pressure was making me delirious and San was inching those full lips closer with each breath. “I like the sound of that.” My voice was a whisper that was quickly swallowed by San’s lips coming onto mine. 

All thoughts completely went out the window. Fingers raked into my hair, pressing our lips together further as they tensed against my scalp. His tongue wasted no time in entering my mouth, tangling with my own while he wound his way through every inch of it. My back moved to press against the car food and I scrambled to grab onto something, finally settling on the side of his shirt. I was kissing him back with just as much passion, letting my tongue loop along his. These kisses were intoxicating and now that his other hand was digging into my hip I was losing myself even more. 

San’s lips slowed down allowing us both to catch our breath and compose ourselves just a little for the remainder of the drive. My lip caught in his teeth once San pulled away. He chuckled slightly, but his eyes remained dark. “I can’t get enough of you, fuck.” Voice continued to be low, although Joon thankfully had the music relatively turned up. San’s hand ran down my side and his fingers tensed on my hip. “Behaving myself is becoming more difficult, jagi… but I can hold out a little longer.” 

Our foreheads nestled together briefly since he thankfully hadn’t pulled completely away from me. “You call this behaving?” I teased, tugging on the side of this shirt. Saying I was enthralled would be an understatement, and all I wanted was his lips back on mine. Every single fiber in my body wanted him and each second I felt more desperate for him. 

I swear this man growled, more or less groaning while he continued to press into my skin firmly with his fingertips. His breath was hot against me, very clearly struggling to hold himself back. With a sigh he closed his eyes. He pressed his lips back onto mine, so full of longing that I could almost taste the need. Those lips were moving so damn slow, his tongue sliding back into my mouth languidly. “My treasure...” San continued kissing me in between words, lips never completely separating from mine. “You have no idea what I have in store if I can have my way with you tonight.” 

He completely pulled away from me now, a smirk on his face while I was left completely flustered and breathless. San kept his hand cemented on my thigh, rubbing firmly. His face was still flushed with a bit of pink and lips were swollen. We had to be close to the hotel now and I don’t know about San, but I was more than ready to get out of the car and away from Joon’s eyes. 

Thankfully my speculation was right, and within minutes we were back at the hotel. Joon didn’t say a word to us as San opened the door, although he gave me a quick wink and a smile through the rearview mirror. I was too far gone to even consider being embarrassed. San’s hand reached out, taking me from the car so swiftly I didn’t have a chance to stumble. Not bothering to put a mask on, we both quickly said thank you to Joon before he pulled away. 

He looped his arm around my back, tucking me close to his side. San smiled when I wrapped mine around his waist, letting us tumble together into the elevator. Lips attacked me the instant the elevator doors closed. I was pinned against the back wall by his chest and arms, and if the door opened on any other floor we would be found in a very compromising position. 

“San,” I half moaned. The kisses he was placing on my neck were accompanied by perfectly placed sucks, dragging his lips and tongue as he moved. One hand had a firm grip in my hair, the other on my ass. It was absolutely intoxicating, mixing with the dizziness from the alcohol. “We need to pause this, really. Someone could-” 

I was shut up by San’s hand moving around to my throat, flexing softly around it while he crashed his mouth back onto mine. “Let them,” was all he said, pressing our bodies together so tightly I could feel every hard inch of what was hiding in those dress pants. Kisses became deeper but San continued to keep a semblance of control even though my brain was begging him to let loose. 

The elevator lurching to a stop was what caused San to finally relinquish his grip around my neck and unfortunately remove his lips. The smile he gave me with his heavy eyes was nearly enough for my knees to give out. With a slight pull against my ass he tugged me away from the wall, positioning both of us so he could hide his very evident hard on. I ended up in front of him, both his hands now resting on my hips so we could walk through the hallway with a bit of decency. Steps were a little awkward at first, but we quickly came into a rhythm without tripping over one another. 

“1672, jagi,” San whispered into my ear, letting his lips linger for good measure. Using his hands, he steered me through, twisting my hips if we needed to turn. Fingers clutched more tightly the closer we came to his room, lips brushing softly on my hair and ear. 

He reached around me to unlock the door, his dick digging into my back. Clearly that was intentional judging by the smirk he gave me when I turned to kiss his cheek. He took me further off guard by spinning me around so we were back face to face. Our lips met again while he backed me into his room. The door was kicked shut in a hurry once we were inside. 

“Treasure,” he breathed. Hands coasted up my body, disturbing the fabric of my dress as they moved. He continued stepping us back into the room until we were feet away from the bed. “I can’t even begin to describe how much I crave you.” I clung to his hips, pressing us together so I could get some sort of pressure on my dripping center. San had worked me up so easily and I needed some sort of relief. “Since that first kiss, jagi, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. This pull I feel towards you…” he trailed off with a sigh, choosing to kiss me instead of finishing the thought. This one was sweet, his tongue tracing intricately around my mouth. A hand had moved to hold my back my hair, the thumb caressing my cheek while his other hand was tilting my chin upwards to give him the best angle into my mouth. It quickly turned hungry, but he tore his lips away with another sigh. 

My chest was heaving and my brain was reeling. There was definitely something different between him and I, something I also hadn’t been able to put my finger on. We were drawn to each other like magnets in an unexplainable way. 

I slid my hands up his chest. His shirt was much softer than I expected and the material hugged every single muscle in his chest and back exquisitely. I fingered the top button, looking at him through my eyelashes. Our eyes met, and holy hell. This man was staring at me with equal parts lust and adoration through heavy lids. “I do hope you realize I feel the exact same way about you, San.” 

His mouth twitched up briefly into a smile before hunger became the only visible emotion. “I can’t keep my hands off you, my treasure. I desperately want to know every inch of your body.” Lips began ghosting across my skin in conjunction with hands moving to tease the bow at my back, tugging the ends to untie it. Now that the bow wasn’t keeping the dress snug my bare breasts were threatening to completely fall out of the now loose material collecting around my chest. “There isn’t a single part of you that will be untouched by my fingers.” Said fingers danced across my shoulders, easing the thin straps over my shoulders. Breasts were on full display now. San’s mouth moved lower to drag across my shoulders and collar bone, thumbs rubbing my nipples. “Nothing left untouched by my lips.” 

I took the opportunity to undo his buttons while he continued to pull down my dress until it fell in a crumpled pile on the floor, leaving me only in my thong. My fingers fumbled slightly on the buttons when his hands started exploring my body, but eventually all were undone. His fingertips were leaving goosebumps with how lightly they were brushing along my skin, but he avoided spending too much time along my breasts and thong. San’s eyes were locked on to me and turning darker by the minute as he took in every inch of me. Typically I would be embarrassed if anyone looked at me like this, but as always I was comfortable with San. 

“You, my treasure, are more perfect than I imagined,” he said softly, teeth biting into his lower lip. He slid off his shirt, letting it join my dress on the floor, giving me a front row view to that perfectly toned chest. “So beautiful.”

God damn this man was fine. His body was immaculate, looking like it had been chiseled out of marble. Pictures and seeing on stage could not compare to having it under my hands. His chest and stomach were firm, his breathing becoming deeper as my touch moved lower towards his waistband. San’s lips connected with my neck again as he pulled me closer, both of us moaning at the contact of our lower bodies. His fingers dug into my hips, grinding further into me. I needed more.

“Jagi,” he murmured, lips never straying far from my neck. His hands moved lower to hook into the sides of my underwear to play with the fabric, absolutely teasing me and making me grow even wetter. “I want to pleasure you in every way imaginable.” 

I couldn’t take it any longer. The need for him was overtaking me and damn near unbearable. “Then take me, San.” 

Without another word he gently pushed me back onto the bed. I moved to the middle of it, not breaking eye contact while San moved slowly with me. His body hovered above me briefly with his elbows positioned on either side of me before he slotted his mouth back onto mine, pressing his bare chest onto me lightly. I wrapped my hands through his black hair, pulling him as deep into me as I could. Every small movement of his hips had his dick rubbing along my thinly covered center, causing stifled moans to escape my mouth. 

A particularly pronounced roll of his hips had me whining, his name coming from my mouth. “Sannie.” He rolled his hips again, and I could feel the smile on his lips. “Please, I need you.” 

A soft laugh came from his lips as he moved to press kisses along my throat, tongue dragging along the skin. San continued his ministrations down, sucking and nipping as he went until paused above my breasts. “Baby,” he breathed, thumbs rubbing smoothly over my nipples before he pinched and rolled them between his fingers. I gasped, earning a smile of appreciation from him. “I intend on taking my time with you.” His mouth latched onto one breast, tongue swirling around my nipple. 

Part of me wanted this man to do anything he wanted to me and let him take his sweet ass time in whatever way he saw fit. The other half wanted to rip his pants off, climb on top of him and ride him like there was no tomorrow. But, fuck, his lips felt heavenly around my breasts, biting and sucking while one hand was pinching the nipple not under attack but his mouth. The other hand migrated lower and lower, finally teasing along the outside of my thong. 

San pulled off my nipple with a small pop, both breasts littered with teeth marks and mottled red and purple from his work on them. “So wet for me, babe,” he slid a finger across the soaked fabric, pressing softly onto my clit. “I can’t wait to taste you…” 

“Fuck, San,” I moaned when his finger finally entered my core. He sat back on his heels, finger teasing in and out slowly. Thumb started circling my clit, pushing my thong further to the side. His golden skin stood out gloriously in the dim room, emphasized wholly by the black pants still clinging to his thighs.

Looking at me through heavy, hooded eyes only for a moment before he leaned back down, licking and brushing his lips down my body. He idled above my thong, eyes flicking up as a smile pulled across his face. Licking his lips, he pulled his fingers out, hooking them into the material and tugging down. I raised my hips slightly so he could remove them completely, dropping them out of sight. 

He nestled himself lower, spreading my legs further apart so he could lay comfortably. Hands wrapped around my thighs as his tongue licked my slit slowly, holding me against his face while he sucked my clit. I moaned, tangling my fingers through his hair. San groaned, pressing his face deeper into my pussy and eating me out like a man starved. 

Every movement of his tongue was sending a shockwave through my system, each suck and flick across my clit threatening to send me over the edge. San dug his fingers into my thigh, quickening the pace of his tongue when I tensed my fingers, inadvertently pushing his tongue in further. He hummed against my clit, swirling his tongue. The orgasm hit me hard, stars flooding my vision. San’s hands were thankfully keeping my lower body in place, my hips rutting against his face.

The languid strokes of San’s tongue rode me out of my orgasm, but it was clear this man was not done with me. My arousal glistened on his face when he pulled away, swiping it off with his fingers. His mouth closed around the digits, eyes closed and moaning at the taste. “There’s one for me, baby girl…” He began kissing along my thighs, mixing small love bites in between each sensual movement of his lips. Fingers reentered, a whimper escaping my throat as my head rolled back. I had barely come back down and was already feeling overstimulated. Head was barely seen over me, pupils blown out as a hint of a smirk showed. “But one isn’t nearly enough for me.” 

His mouth latched onto my clit once again, this time nipping and sucking with absolute fervor while two fingers worked in and out of me quickly. The combination of quick flicks from his tongue and him bending his fingers, beckoning me to cum, nearly had me spiraling again. The sounds that were coming from my mouth were obscene. Heavy moans and whimpers accompanied by the wet slurps of his tongue along my pussy. It was positively lewd. 

“My treasure,” he mumbled, tongue swiping firmly over my clit before sucking so hard it was borderline painful, but quickly turned to pleasure. It was addicting. I gasped at the feeling, making San pause for a moment. “Baby,” his voice was softer, his tongue giving kitten licks and fingers slowing, “I need to know what you like. If it’s too much…” 

Always so concerned. I smiled, running my fingers through his soft hair. “More, Sannie, it feels-”

The sentence was incomplete. San sucked harder this time, jolting my hips into his face as I screamed his name with the suddenness. He moaned into me, sucking my clit with hungry enthusiasm. Two fingers continued pistoning in and out of me, curling upwards at the perfect moments. This orgasm hit me harder than the first, crashing over me like a tsunami. I shuddered against, his tongue running deliberately through my slit to take every drop of me into his mouth. 

“So fucking good, baby,” he said, adding to the many words of praise he was giving my while kissing up my body. Again he took the time to abuse my breasts with his mouth, taking inventory of every sound of pleasure coming from me. 

Our mouths reconnected. He hadn’t bothered to wipe the remnants of my second orgasm off his face and I could easily taste myself on his lips and tongue when it entered my mouth. When San let the full weight of his body down I could feel how much his cock strained against his pants. 

He pulled back to run his thumb over my lips. I opened my mouth and wrapped my lips around it. Moans escaped him when I sucked and and swirled my tongue around, an echo of treatment his dick received in the backroom only a couple of weeks ago. He rutted against me, clearly needing release. It was the first deviation from the aura of control this evening, want and desire easily apparent on that flawless face. 

“Babe,” I breathed. His thumb slipped from my mouth, strong fingers now clutched my chin, angling my face so he could have the access he needed to kiss and nuzzle into my neck. “I need you, and I need you desperately.” 

He growled, pressing his dick soundly against my center. I reached between us, taking his clothed length into my hand. Biting my neck, I could feel his eyes flutter shut and his breath come out in pants when my hand slid upwards along his length. I knew he had a very clear vision for how he wanted this night to go and I was intentionally interrupting said plan. “Fuck, treasure. You are making this…” 

I pressed my palm over his dick more firmly, a hiss escaping his mouth while San ground into my hand. For the first time this evening I held some control and I was loving every second of it. “Making it what, Sannie?” My voice was oozing with sweetness.

San’s lips were off me in a flash. Leaning back to his heels he undid his belt and pants in a hurry, eyes boring into mine as he licked his lips. Gone was the control he had been exuding, now he looked ready to completely destroy me.  

The pants were thrown on the floor, joining every other article of clothing. Now a completely naked San was perched on top of me, staring down at me with a feral hunger. He was stroking his cock slowly before he lowered his body down onto mine. A hand clasped around my throat, applying enough pressure to make me dizzy, cockhead teasing the folds at my entrance. 

“I’m going to show you just how much you’re mine, treasure.” His voice was a low growl. That alone made my arousal surge higher.  

I tried to move beneath him. The need to feel him inside me was overtaking every thought racing through my mind. But San pulled back, only letting his dick continue to tease at my entrance, brushing unbearably with every movement. “San,” my voice a pitiful whimper as I squirmed beneath him, “Please. Quit being a tease” 

A smirk crossed his face. “Tell me how badly you need me, how much you want my dick inside you.” San had the power back in his hands now. As much as I enjoyed my brief little powertrip, seeing him like this was making me wetter by the second. 

I grabbed onto his torso, my fingers digging into his bulging back muscles. “San please,” fingers flexed against my throat, a moan breaking up my begging, “I need you inside me.” 

At my words he crashed his lips onto mine, a mess of teeth and tongue going at each other relentlessly. Dick eased into me slowly, letting my body adjust to the stretch until every inch of him was inside me. 

“Fuck,” San groaned. He eased out at an agonizingly slow pace, pushing in just as slow. His dick felt like absolute heaven. 

San kept this pace, rolling his hips slowly and moaning into my mouth. I could feel every bit of him at this rate, the head dragging across my g-spot. When my fingers laced into his hair the tempo finally increased. He fucked like he danced, every thrust fluid yet pointed. 

He leaned upwards, pulling my hips with him. At this angle his thrusts hit deeper and the knot in my stomach was tightening with each one. His fingers were digging into my skin, hard enough that I would surely have bruises. His dick drove him into me harder and quicker, moans and whimpers filled with San's name coming from me freely. 

Sweat was forming across San’s golden skin, glistening in the dim lighting. His thumb applied pressure onto my throbbing clit, rubbing smoothly. With each circle I teetered closer and closer to the edge. “Give me another one, jagi.” 

I came undone at his words, back arching further off the mattress as I screamed. San’s body tumbled on top of me, hands cupping my face as he rode me out of the orgasm. Hips rocked against me slowly, lips brushing sweetly across my skin. 

“My perfect, perfect treasure.” His thumbs stroked my cheeks, but the rolling of his hips still hadn’t stopped. I was becoming increasingly sensitive and even these small motions had another orgasm looming. “So beautiful.” He slotted his mouth against mine, the kiss purposeful and ending with a sharp bite to my lip. “You… you make me greedy. I want more. I need more of you.” 

I moaned, his hands roaming to massage my breasts, teasing my nipples in between his fingers. The feeling was mutual, but my head felt hazy from the last three orgasms and words were not forming. Instead I kissed him, giving his full lip the same sharp bite before I pushed him off me softly, forcing him to land beside me on the bed. 

“You already have all of me, Choi San,” I said as I moved to straddle him, hovering over his hard length. San’s hands coasted up my thighs, our breathing becoming heavy pants. 

I eased myself down, the stretch of his dick easy to take. My head rolled back, eyes closing. I reached for San’s chest for some stability, pressing down on that board chest as I slid back up his length before lowering down just as slowly. It was San’s eyes that rolled back, hands coming to my hips to hold me in place. 

He sat up, weaving his hands into my hair, our chest flush together. His heart was pumping just as quickly as mine. His kiss stole the breath out of my mouth, my arms wrapping around his neck and into those black locks in an effort to bring us closer together. That was impossible, of course, we were already as close as humanly possible… but I couldn’t get enough of the feeling of his skin against mine. 

This time, it was me who set the pace, quick enough that we were both receiving the friction we desired, but slow enough that we could feel the other entirely. My clit brushed against his pelvis with each motion, adding to my own pleasure. This position was entirely intimate, the words San whispered between our passionate kissing only adding to the closeness between us. 

“Alexis.”

“My most precious treasure.”

“You are mine.”

“You will always be mine.”

I was on the edge of crashing over the cliff again, the knot slowly becoming tighter and tighter. I knew my body couldn’t handle much more. “San, baby… cum with me. Please.”

Fingers tightened with San’s moan. “Fuck, jagi.” 

He lowered himself back down onto the bed, keeping his forehead pressed against mine and his hand laced my hair so I was forced to move along with him. The other hand migrated back to my hip, holding on so tightly I gasped. He held me in place, slamming his dick into me, chasing his own release for the first time tonight. Moans filled the air, mixed with expletives as my walls clenched around him. 

“Jeezus fuck, San,” I screamed, cumming around him a fourth time. 

San hit his own high seconds later, painting my walls white and moaning my name between panted breaths, hands tugging my hair as he came. Thrusts slowed as we came down together, lips meeting in soft kisses. San pulled his softening length out of me entirely before pushing us both back up into an upright, seated position. He gently took my legs, wrapping them around his waist before taking my arms and placing them around his neck.

“You, my treasure…” he laughed softly, burrowing into my neck and peppering the softest kisses imaginable. “You are magical.” Strong hands began massaging my tired back muscles. As awake as I felt, exhaustion was starting to trickle in. One hand moved to cup my cheek. San’s gaze was soft when his eyes met mine. A smile formed on his face before he lightly tapped his lips against mine. “Can we manage a shower, jagi?”

I laughed. “My legs are absolutely jelly, Sannie.” 

“Job well done on my part then,” he teased, nuzzling his nose against mine. His fingers splayed across my back. “I got you, baby. I promise.” 

“None of my things are in here…” I protested slightly, even though I wanted nothing more than to soak up in a shower with him. “Can we at least go get…”

San shimmied us to the edge, his feet now planted on the floor. A mischievous smirk was plastered on his face. “It’s already here, my treasure..” He laughed at my raised eyebrow. “I may have asked Christie to grab whatever you would need in case you decided to stay with me tonight… Woo and Yeo picked it up and brought everything here while we were out.” 

I smiled, shaking my head slightly. Of course he would think of everything. Nothing slipped his mind, something I was quickly becoming more fond of. “How are you so perfect?”

In one motion San stood and eased my shaky legs onto the carpet, keeping a strong hold of my waist. “All I want is to make sure you’re comfortable and taken care of, my treasure. At a minimum you should have the things you need.” His eyes were sparkling, smile just as bright. 

Damn. This man really was everything. 

He led me towards the bathroom. My legs were wobbly but with San’s grip there was no fear of them giving out on me. Just as he said, all of my shower supplies were set neatly on the bathroom counter along with a pair of pajamas and a change of clothes for tomorrow. I’d have to also thank Christie for going above and beyond and thinking of everything. I grabbed what I needed for now, handing it to San to put in the shower. 

I got a glance of myself in the mirror and I couldn’t help but giggle. I looked like a fucked out mess. The waves in my hair had long since fallen, sticking to random places on my body from sweating. My mascara was smudged, but impressively enough it wasn't running down my cheeks. Skin was still flushed and littered with bruises and bites. I quickly took one of the makeup wipes and rubbed my eyes, not wanting to look like a viking with eye black in the shower. 

San came behind me after he turned the shower on, snaking his arms around my waist. “So fucking beautiful,” he mused, pressing his lips to my cheek.

Once the water temperature was to his liking, San brought me into the shower, never letting go of my hands as I stepped through the glass door. He kissed me as the water fell around us, speaking so softly it was nearly drowned out by the drizzle. He showered me with praises, lips ghosting all over my skin as he washed my body. Every touch was intimate, but lacking any sexual motive. San truly did want to take care of me, and this was another indication of that. 

This form of treatment was foreign to me. The only time Austin took the time to care for me was after an exceptionally terrible outburst. Even then the motive behind the uncharacteristic softness was nefarious, a way for me to look past his countless monstrosities. 

San was nothing like that. Every tender touch and word was as genuine as his dimpled smile. 

We were in the shower for what felt like hours. I relished in the feeling of San’s hands caressing my skin. My own were roaming his body, imprinting every curve of his muscles to memory. I wanted nothing more than to stay in this moment for eternity, but my body ached and my eyes grew heavy with tiredness. I became more reliant on San’s arms to hold me upright, something the man noticed immediately. 

He reached around me, turning off the shower. “Let’s get to bed.” 

San wrapped one of the fluffy towels around me carefully before disappearing out of the bathroom. He returned in a pair of sweatpants and one of his t-shirts held loosely in his hands. I smiled, reaching out for it, but San kept it out of my grasp. Instead, he stepped closer towards me, tugging the towel off my body and haphazardly throwing the shirt over my head with a laugh. 

“Was that necessary?” I giggled once I popped my head through, twisting it around to work my arms through. The shirt landed mid thigh, covering me just enough. 

“Entirely necessary, I’m afraid.” San grabbed the sides of his shirt, tugging me closer. 

His hands glided down my body, pausing on my ass for just a moment before continuing to my thighs. With absolutely no effort I was hoisted up, legs quickly encircling his waist to help support my weight. We were both laughing as he walked us out of the bathroom towards the bed. 

“I’m guessing this was also necessary?” 

San kissed my nose before dropping me on the bed with no warning. I bounced against the mattress, giggling even louder. “You catch on quickly, treasure.”

He climbed in after me, pulling down the duvet and adjusting it to cover us completely. I settled easily into San’s open arms, the invitation to snuggle into his chest accepted without question. He enveloped me completely, hands stroking along my arm and through my hair. 

“Sweet dreams, my treasure,” he whispered, lips barely skimming the top of my hair. 

“Good night, my mountain.” It was the first time I said something so intimate, words of endearment beyond the typical babe and baby. A puff of breath hit my hair and I could feel the faint outline of a smile when his lips connected with my head again. 

With the steady rise and fall of San’s chest I was quickly being lulled to sleep. My brain was finally quieting when a thought came crashing through it. One that was equal parts exciting and terrifying. 

Falling for San was going to be easier than I ever thought possible.

[neonradiation]

Album Review: 'A Sense Of Unease' by Kiffie

Key Quote: "It’s a real ‘heart on your sleeve’ collection and well worth repeated listens".

I’m not quite sure how many of these songs I’ve heard before, but I do know that many have featured in my ‘Indie Synth 2023’ Spotify playlist over the past few months. So, it’s a pleasure to hear them again as part of this 9 track album released on 31-Oct-23…

1.The End

We start at The End with this haunting piano-led ballad which musically grows throughout the song length. Vocally, I can see how this may not be everyone’s cup of tea, but I like how Kiffie’s voice contrasts with the bubbly synth-laden music. Lyrically, it’s quite an inspiring uplifting song despite the title.

2. Hard To Breathe

A beautiful piano melody circles through this heart-felt song about a relationship breakdown. I love the descriptive title of this one - for those that have been there, it says it all.

3. Take A Break

The introduction to this hits the right note with me immediately. Put very simply, this is Synthpop perfection! The vocals sit smoothly on top of the whirling arpeggios and this is my favourite song so far.

4. Goodbye At Last

Beautiful piano instrumental with strong hooks. I can see why Kiffie thought there was no need to add any words as it speaks volumes already.

5. All Yours (Feat. Voyage)

Two massively contrasting vocal styles on this one and the song works well because of it. Voyage’s break-neck speed rap also contrasts vividly with the steady rhythm of the piano. Overall, this is a change of direction to what we’ve previously heard. 

6. Sense Of Unease

The album title track and lyrically this song really hits home. Again, Kiffie’s vocal style adds to the song’s overall Sense Of Unease. The chorus is very catchy and almost too sing-a-long given the song’s title.

7. Learning To Sing

Although this is another piano-led song, it has a slightly different feel to the others. The unusual backing vocals give this a hymn-like quality. Lyrically, it takes us through the seasons - happily landing in Summer where the lovers reunite.

8. One Look

Musically, this one has a jaunty upbeat feel but does feel a little on the bland side relatively speaking. Lyrically, I like the repetitive ‘One Look’ hook throughout but feel overall, it’s just a little too ‘wordy’ for my taste.

9. The Light Inside

Unexpected but very welcome guitar introduction which develops into piano and synth finale. Again the chorus is catchy and this has all the ingredients of a great pop-song. I’d also like to hear any remixes done of this song which might perhaps make more of the guitar riffs.

This album has been a pleasure to listen to and I’m keen to explore Kiffie’s extensive back catalogue of other material. As an album it hangs together extremely well. Perhaps if it were me I’d re-order some of the tracks - but that’s hardly a criticism when all the tracks are so accomplished. It’s a real ‘heart on your sleeve’ collection and well worth repeated listens.

Kiffie Contact Details:

Bandcamp: https://kiffie.bandcamp.com/album/a-sense-of-unease

Twitter: https://twitter.com/Kiffie8

Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/artist/2q2LMTb1sa4cyQf7anGxNm?si=UC2FC5KFRT6-UaOa0-Ns4A

Soundcloud: https://soundcloud.com/kiffie8

[gazrgaley]

Manifestation of a Monster(chapter 35)

As they strolled along, walking cane at hand. Milo continued to despise the passing automobiles. Once he wasn't in such excruciating agony, though, they didn't seem quite so terrifying. Despite not fully understanding the intricate details, their intended purpose was more obvious now. Yet another way humans found to make commuting much faster. However, he nevertheless kept a safe distance from them by walking as close as possible to the building's walls. Grendel, on the other hand, didn't appear to pay any attention to them. He crossed the street without looking many times and narrowly avoided being struck.

But all of that was background noise to what was really on his mind. He fished around in his pocket for the bottle of pills Richard had given him. Undoubtedly, they were useful. But this was odd in its own way. Kaw-Sekhmu were immune to the effects of anything a person might eat or drink. They could only take in nutrients that had already been eaten and absorbed into the bloodstream of another living creature, preferably a human. They didn't have a bloody flavour, but his recent consumption of blood had left him with an uneasy feeling. The aftertaste was reminiscent of crude oil, natural gas, salt, cellulose, and coal. But that may have been an effect of his illness.

They moved along in relative silence. Milo rambled on mindlessly in an effort to divert his attention. Asking, "Who was the woman on your phone?" He didn't give a damn but was hoping to divert his mind from the things he feared. Knowing Grendel, he assumed she wasn't anyone of importance.

When questioned, Grendel simply shrugged. "No one," he said, taking an increasing interest in the street signs.

There was something off about his answer. He often did have extensive conversations with his potential victims. Giving them one last taste of what he considered a good time before they perished. He would get them high on whatever popular mind-altering chemical was in fashion at the time before feeding on them.

But it seemed like a step too far to pose for a photo with his victims. Though technology has evolved, the etiquette of not being too forthright about your familiarity with the deceased remained the same. Although Grendel was a bit of a slob, he wasn't completely thoughtless. But Grendel did something unexpected when Milo voiced his concerns.

Grendel whirled around abruptly. "Milo, cars aren't that fucking terrifying. Get over it." They both stood in silence. It was uncommon for Grendel to be short with anyone, especially toward Milo. Grendel's jaw hung open for a second as if he couldn't believe the words were actually coming out of his mouth. A moment later he turned as if nothing happened. Pointing down the street. "Maybe two more blocks, south of here, I believe."

They went into the building and up the stairs without exchanging a word. A number and the physician's name were written on a little placard and hung on the door. "Are you sure this is the right place?" Grendel asked.

There was a brief moment when Milo looked in his direction. We were following your directions, this better be the place, he wanted to say. "That's what Richard called him." He murmured as he pushed open the door.

The two were welcomed by a dim interior as Milo tentatively knocked on the smoke-covered window. An instant later, a woman with a harsh expression pushed it open. Her blond hair was tied up in a careless bun. She looked at them both with suspicion, as if the pair of them were a pariah. Her skeletal index finger curved around the glass and pointed at the handwritten sign. "Every day, from noon to 1:00 p.m., our offices are closed for lunch." Her voice was harsh and empty as if she repeated this line over and over. "You can take a seat over there if you have an appointment." She indicated a nook with three seats and a magazine-covered table.

"I need to talk with Dr. Constantine, but I do not have an appointment." Milo started to say. "As soon as you finish lunch, that is. We can wait." He quickly added as he took in the woman's disapproval.

"You'll have to schedule a meeting." She hastily presented a card to him. Make an appointment by calling this number, and then coming back. Milo shuffled the business card in his palm and studied it curiously.

"Why can't he just see Milo now?" Grendel asked as he pushed passed Milo to confront the woman directly.

Milo was going to respond, to tell her he was willing to jump over their meaningless hurdles. He may have even been kind about it. When Dr. Constantine strolled by the window. With a quick glance, he halted what he was doing as his face drained of all colour. Nearly dropping his clipboard as he composed himself. Soon after, he joined the pair in the lobby.

"I'm very sorry, you don't need an appointment." He looked at the receptionist in a peculiar way. "These are associates of Richards. Assuming that either of these gentlemen enters for whatever reason. I need to know immediately." Suddenly, she turned her gaze to the two of them with interest. Giving them a simple nod and then cautiously sliding the window shut she disappeared.

"My sincerest apologies for this. For obvious reasons, we can't just let anyone in." He drifted off, refusing to look either in the eye. "Considering you are friends with Richard, you are welcome to come whenever you feel fit. For whatever reason. I feel like I can tru truuu truust you." He said with an unconvincing smile.

Milo and Grendel glanced at each other briefly. This certainly was a novel concept. Most of Richard's leverage came from being connected to the two of them. It was surely a strange feeling knowing he now had this power over both of them.

As Milo followed, Grendel was left behind with the magazines. "Why did you decide to come in today?" He asked as he led Milo into one of the back rooms. The room was dreary and reminiscent of the morgue where he had awakened. Perhaps stainless steel had become the standard. "Have your symptoms gotten worse?" He spoke his question with worry and apprehension mixed in.

Milo paused for a moment as he pulled the pills from his pocket. "No. In fact, I have been feeling much better because of these pills you gave me."

The physician looked at him with bewilderment. "What are these tablets, I've-" He examined the bottle more closely. "Who gave these to you?"

"Then it wasn't you, as Richard said, was it?" Milo Asked. Why would Richard want to tell a lie? At that moment he knew something wasn't right.

As he shook his head, the doctor expressed his disapproval. "Your lab results haven't even been run yet. I wouldn't count on them to arrive till tomorrow." He looked at the tag closely. "I wouldn't have prescribed anything to you yet."

"Should I stop taking them?"

"I guess this could work." Dr Constantine considered the tablets as he spoke. "The Netopuri are my primary clients. A great number of the younger ones used this as an alternative to feeding on humans. It uses synthetic blood created in a laboratory. As far as the Kaw-Sekhmu, I can only speak from what little limited experience I do have but I see no reason why this can't be effective for you as well."

This went against everything he knew to be true. To stay alive, he would need authentic human blood. He wanted to shout at the doctor. But the anger passed as fast as it came. It hadn't been the man's fault he knew little about the ones that were closes to the source, Such as himself.

For the Netopuri, this may be an ideal answer. But for the more ancient Kaw-Sekhum, this would have not benefited them. This would not be the answer he was looking for. Certainly not permanently. They may use it as a filler. His very survival and extended lifespan depended on draining the vitality and power of human beings.

But he was unable to tell the man any of this. There were numerous things he had kept secret from his people throughout the years. As an outsider, He would have to keep even more from him. Even if he were a medical professional, he couldn't chance it. There was a great deal more to lose than gain. He took the tablets begrudgingly but otherwise seemed unconcerned.

"Was there anything else?" Dr Constanine inquired as he shuffled awkwardly from one foot to the other. Milo could barely manage a head movement in response. "When the results of the blood test come back, I'll give you a call. You're good to keep consuming them." Pointing at the bottle. "In a few days, we can have a more in-depth discussion regarding our future steps."

Milo didn't think there was any way this doctor could be of any use. Moreover, he was confident that the Pills wouldn't help. When he returned to the lobby he was greated by Grendel interlocking the pages of all the magazines. And somehow finding comfort in his strange behaviour. At least he seemed like he wasn't suffering from whatever ailed Milo.

[incorrect-koh-posts]

If you search Krol Tredowaty in Polish you mighy find images of Baldwin IV. An early take. Very cool.

Oh, thank you for pointing that out to me! 💛

Have some lovely Baldwin IV cover illustrations for Zofia Kossak's 1937 novel The Leper King (Król Trędowaty):

I'm particularly fond of these two - I think the minimalist art style suits both the subject and our leprous boy quite well, and I like the design the artists chose for his cloak and veil.

I also came across a rather pretty Polish cover for the Bernard Hamilton book:

My version of the Kossak novel (published in Germany in 1964), sadly, looks quite boring in comparison:

And while we're on the subject: I have to admit I rather enjoyed Kossak's take on the events in the Holy Land between roughly 1176 and 1187. Of course, it is very old-fashioned in terms of its writing style, and far from historically accurate - but considering that it was published in 1937, long before most of the decisive academic works we know had been written, I think Kossak nonetheless did an admirable job with presenting the historical events in a way that is both comprehensible and somewhat entertaining. Being nitpicky about the details while having access to almost a hundred years' worth of further research would be a little unfair, in my opinion.

That said, I'm not sure this is the right novel for you to read if you are simply looking for some good sauce about Baldwin, since Kossak's portrayal of him is a bit of a mixed bag. In some instances, her Baldwin resembled the wise, gentle king we know from KoH very closely, but in others, he came across as whiny and wallowing in self-pity, acting much more childish than he should. (Remember: In that time and place, men were considered legal adults at the age of fifteen.) So, what I missed in Kossak's Baldwin sometimes was the inner strength that - according to the chroniclers - he must have possessed in spades. His mother Agnes of Courtenay, by the way, receives a similar treatment and is presented as an overweight clucking old hag, which is, unfortunately, the default characterisation she is given in older historical fiction.

Apart from that, though, The Leper King was a hoot. This may be just my particular brand of weirdness talking - I'm currently writing my thesis about medieval German literature, so go figure - but I unapologetically love those early literary takes on Baldwin & Co. Their differing characterisations of the various historical figures are always fun to compare, sometimes I merely get a good laugh out of them while other times I end up being surprised or even genuinely impressed. This novel, somehow, managed to pair the WTF-factor with moments that I found genuinely heart-warming and dialogue that was by turns either well-written or absolutely laughable.

To be fair, some of this can probably be chalked up to the translation because - let's face it - many things that sound fine in any other language become very odd, all of a sudden, when translated into German. Towards the end of the book, for example, Kossak covers the Hattin episode and thus briefly tells how Eschiva and her sons retreated into the citadel at Lake Tiberias when Salah ad-Din laid siege to the city. Upon hearing this news, Kossak's Raymond exclaims affectionately "Meine tapfere Alte!", which is best translated as "My valiant old lady!", and if that isn't the funniest shit ever, then I don't know.

What I also found particularly wholesome - though of course not historically viable - was the way Kossak depicted the relationship between Baldwin and Raymond. For some reason, she seems to think Raymond was Baldwin's uncle (when in reality he was his first cousin once removed), but the "favourite uncle & favourite nephew" dynamic she builds between them really works for this novel. As a Raymond fangirl, it was also quite refreshing to read something that showed him as both sympathetic AND ambitious and, for once, didn't make him do the whole "cackling evil relative who is after the crown" act.

In the German translation, Raymond repeatedly calls Baldwin fondly "Mein Junge" und "Mein Kleiner", which literally means "my boy" and "my little one". I'm not crying, you're crying. Baldwin, in turn, refers to Raymond as "Oheim", which is an old German term for "uncle" (specifically: the brother of the mother - imagine that: Raymond as Agnes of Courtenay's brother! 😂). Hence, while it is simply a genealogical mistake and historically speaking, of course, a cartload of bollocks, it nonetheless warms my heart that this novel chose to present us with the one and only depiction of a literal "Uncle Tibs".

So, yeah - this was a fun read.

[shuinami]

Why I love Nawi and Malik...

Kay, before anyone crucifies me, I only look at 'The Woman King' as a work of fiction, not as some documentary. If you look at it as a work of art that has something to say, rather than an attempt to recreate real life events (which it's not, and that's really not its goal), you might find it is a very beautiful movie, centring empowered and beautiful dark-skin female characters.

Spoilers Under the Cut

Also, I have both bad eyesight and bad memory (I watched it twice before having these thoughts), so if this was all obvious or I got some details wrong... sorry 💀!

I'm not to take away from the many other aspects and stories of the movie, it's just that this one stood out to me as someone who loves romance in media (when it's not forced). In fact, I like that this story is relatively minor in comparison to the bigger plot-lines going on in the movie.

Whilst I made a lot of new observations on a second watch, especially about the secondary characters, the thing that clicked the most with me was why I felt like Nawi and Malik's 'bittersweet ending' was actually so feel-good, despite them not getting together. I did like them, but on a second watch, the meaning of their relationship fell together like puzzle pieces.

Put simply, looking at each other helped them look at themselves, and what they really needed, which was not and was never even close to being each other.

Malik comes to Dahomey, resigned to subordination to Santo, who he "grew up with", despite Santo being a content, enthusiastic slave-trader, who sees Africans as a means to an end, rather than as human beings. We see his views again, when he tells Malik at the auction that he is "lucky it's not [him] for sale". Santo sees Malik as beneath him, and doesn't genuinely respect his humanity or half of his identity by constantly referring to Africans as "savages".

When Nawi sees Malik, she questions his identity and reiterates his permanently liminal place in the world between whiteness and his Dahomey background (which forces him to do the same). Meanwhile, she's on her own journey, in the liminal space between suppressed daughter and empowered Agojie, where her interest in men sets her back on her journey to achieve Agojie status.

When they meet again, she gives him a symbol of "courage and strength"; Malik literally says, "I have nothing to give you".

Later, when he 'buys' Nawi's freedom, she is rightfully outraged because 'owning' or 'keeping' her is not freedom. Malik does try to give her freedom (with the key), but as he said earlier in his own words, he cannot: he doesn't have anything of value to give Nawi.

This one may be down to my bad eyesight, but I believe he tries to wash the blood from her hands and can't. He cannot take away her identity, her aspirations or her scars, including the ones on her heart, which she references.

He details his plan about going to England which, on first watch, just seemed like an odd thing to say, given that... England was not welcoming to Africans/black people, not even until more recent times. I think this just furthered emphasised how much "nothing" Malik had to give Nawi. He wanted to take her away from her people, her home (to a place that, in reality, was no safer), in attempt to 'protect' her, but she never needed his protection, especially not as an Agojie and she also never wanted it either (like when he offers to walk her home and puts out his hand for her to take and she jumps down by herself). Freedom and safety for her is the freedom to be Dahomey and to participate in her community and her culture.

As with the knife/sword and the information about the opp tribe building numbers with other tribes from their night-meeting, Nawi takes what little she sees as helpful from Malik once again; Malik bought her a European-style dress, but she only wears, what was considered, the undergarments. Nawi refuses to be slowed down ("In Brazil, women wear long sleeves, long skirts," "How do they run?" "😁😬🙂..."), particularly by the influence of a man.

In the end, the Agojie come out on top in battle.

Santo urges Malik to escape, still with slave-trading on the brain, taking Africans in bondage at gunpoint onto the boat. Here we see Malik finds what he really needed, which is exactly Nawi gave to him. It was not her that he was looking for ("My mother sent me here to find myself and I found you"), but it really was the "courage and strength" to be secure in his identity, including his Dahomey roots, and to not be silent and complicit in the oppression of Africans. As stated by King Ghezu at the end of the movie, "[to enslave a people????] you must first convince them that they are meant to be bound", and Malik has finally seen "the majesty, the beauty" of Africa/ns - more than ever, he cannot stay silent whilst he watches his people in bondage.

Whilst he doesn't polish off Santo himself, yet again, what Malik does do is help Africans empower themselves; all he does is cut a rope (?), which anyone could have done, so long as their hands were not tied by a slave-trader.

Then, in their final scene, Nawi is trekking home with her Agojie sisters, after battles where one of her best friends and her mentor, Izogie, who she aspired to be like, able to be pierced by a spear and feel nothing, who told her to "never give her power away [to a man]" were lost. Malik looks up at her from a distance, she stops to acknowledge him with a nod, as if she 'sees' him and she turns back around to walk with her people. Her power and freedom are her own, her power and freedom are bound to her culture, to her community and to her sisters, definitely not to a man from a foreign land that she met a few days ago.

As Izogie said (and the first rule is to always listen to Izogie 😉!), Nawi does not give her power away. Instead, really she shared a piece of it with Malik, who had been looking for the wrong thing but, ultimately, found right and legitimately took action to stand up to oppression.

Them parting ways was just... it just puts a smile on my face in a way I never thought something like that could.

[robininthelabyrinth]

We’ve heard Jiang Fengmian as WWX’s bio father, now it’s time for Lan Qiren as secretly his father. (Please no Wangxian for this one!)

ao3

“You want me to what,” Lan Qiren said.

“Be the father of my child,” Cangse Sanren said. Simply and straightforwardly, as if that were just a thing people said.

Casually.

To their friends.

To their – as far as he knew – platonic friends!

“You’re married,” he stressed.

“Yes, Qiren-xiong, I’m aware,” Cangse Sanren said, her eyes bright with mirth. “I was even there through some of the festivities. Though not all, of course, since the bride gets sent away far too early at these things, and of course then there was all the liquor –”

“Cangse Sanren,” Lan Qiren said through gritted teeth, wishing not for the first time that his friend had an actual name rather than merely a title – something he could use or not use to emphasize his feelings on the subject.

She laughed at him, because of course she did.

“Let me explain,” she said, probably because she sensed that he was considering stabbing her if she didn't. “Lao Wei and I –”

“Aren’t you older than he is?” Lan Qiren asked, dubious. “Possibly by several centuries?”

“Humans call their husbands that,” Cangse Sanren said, waving her hands at him. “Don’t bother me with details.”

“…you’re human, right?”

“Of course! This is the fourth time you’ve asked, and the answer hasn’t changed. Why would you ever think otherwise?”

“The way that you continuously refer to – no, I’m not letting you distract me this time. Explain yourself!”

Cangse Sanren giggled into her sleeve. “We want children,” she said. “But he can’t, you see. Wrong parts. So we need someone else to be the sire, and I want it to be you.”

“Why?”

More giggling. “Because I like you. And why not?”

“And Wei Changze agreed to this?” Lan Qiren asked, slightly appalled. He knew Cangse Sanren well enough to assume that the answer had to be yes, and yet still...

“Yes, he did, but you’re welcome to talk with him directly. In fact, I encourage it.”

“Perhaps I will,” Lan Qiren said.

Wei Changze was a pleasant person, even if he and Lan Qiren weren’t direct friends – Lan Qiren was a bit too inflexible and serious, Wei Changze a little too free-spirited and light-hearted, so they’d never entirely bonded, but they were both very fond of Cangse Sanren in all her strangeness, each in their own way, and that was enough of a basis for a decent relationship.

“I’d be honored if you would agree,” Wei Changze said when Lan Qiren asked. “You’re my wife’s favorite person besides me – why not you?”

Lan Qiren could think of many, many reasons why not.

“I don’t want to impact your relationship with her,” he said cautiously, and Wei Changze blinked at him as if to say how would it do that? “If jealousy were to arise…”

“I don’t think that will be a problem,” Wei Changze said.

“…you understand that if I agree to your proposal, I would be sleeping with your wife.”

“Oh yes,” Wei Changze said. “Several times, I hope. We've got to make sure it takes, after all. On that note, can I watch?”

Lan Qiren was a man aware of his dignity. It was beneath his dignity to flail around like a teenager.

He flailed regardless.

“You don’t have to let me if you don’t want to,” Wei Changze said, but he was pouting. “I guess. I just think it’d be hot, that’s all.”

Lan Qiren put his head in his hands.

“You’re bright red,” Wei Changze observed. “Does that mean you’ll do it?”

“I don’t even like Cangse Sanren that way,” Lan Qiren said, voice muffled by his palms. “I mean, I like her, but I don’t – like her. Romantically. At all.”

“And I’m very happy about that,” Wei Changze said soothingly. “As is she, being as she married me and not you. You don’t need to have romantic or even sexual feelings about her, you just need to platonically bang her a few times.”

“…I will do it provided you never refer to it that way ever again.”

“Deal,” Wei Changze said, and grinned, waving his wife in through the door; she bounded in like a lion on the hunt, smelling blood.

“Additionally, we should be clear about what we expect regarding the child,” Lan Qiren said, even though he was already being carted along to the bed by Cangse Sanren’s excessive momentum and Wei Changze’s entirely unnecessary assistance in removing his clothing. “Obviously any child will be yours in every respect, legally and emotionally and otherwise, both of you, but if possible I would still like to see him –”

“Of course,” Cangse Sanren said agreeably, removing his pants. “Whenever you like.”

-

“Something is wrong,” Lan Qiren said firmly.

Yu Ziyuan scowled at him, even as her husband frowned thoughtfully. “Cangse Sanren is a rogue cultivator,” she said acidly. “It is not unusual for rogue cultivators to go a few months without contacting their friends in the cultivation world.”

“We have an agreement that she would come by once every season or else send word. She has not missed a single instance, and yet now she does.”

“Why would she agree to meet so regularly with you? We barely see her once a year, if that,” Yu Ziyuan asked, and Lan Qiren knew her issues with Cangse Sanren were actually issues with Jiang Fengmian, but it still irritated him to be used as a pawn in their troubled marriage.

“If you do not intend to help me search, then just say so,” he said heavily. “I fear that something has happened to her, and I intend to find her; I would like your help, but will proceed without it if need be. If all is well and she just decided not to come, and also not to send word or any other sign, then I will apologize for the inconvenience and repay you any monies expended. But if not…”

“I will help,” Jiang Fengmian said, and Yu Ziyuan looked on the verge of exploding.

“I’ll leave you to sort that out,” Lan Qiren said, shaking out his sleeves and leaving at once. As per their agreement, Cangse Sanren brought Wei Ying to the Cloud Recesses once every season or else sent word explaining her absence – the lack of any word this time was deeply troubling. After all, in the end, despite Cangse Sanren’s relatively humble goals and low-key life, there was always that doom said to be associated with those who left the immortal mountain…

He worried.

He’d planned to tell Cangse Sanren about He Kexin’s death during her present visit, had hoped that Wei Ying’s presence might help lift Lan Zhan’s mood after the loss of his mother and give him some comfort – Wei Ying was Lan Zhan’s favorite person in all the world, bar none, and he had waited so anxiously, if wordlessly, for him to arrive during the month that they expected Cangse Sanren and her family to come. And yet the days ticked by and he didn’t arrive at all…

Lan Qiren worried.

Still, with Jiang Fengmian’s help, and of course the Nie sect’s – Lao Nie hadn’t hesitated to agree, even though unlike Jiang Fengmian he did not have a personal connection to either Cangse Sanren or Wei Changze and was acting wholly on account of his friendship with Lan Qiren – they would be able to cover a great deal of the cultivation world, especially given that Cangse Sanren disliked both Lanling Jin and Qishan Wen and was unlikely to venture into either of their territories.

They would find her.

He hoped that they would find her.

-

“Well, that was a meeting full of revelations,” Lao Nie said, eyes curved into crescents of mirth. “The only thing that would have made it better is if you’d ended your sentence with ‘so fuck off’. You know, so that it would’ve been ‘Because he’s my biological son, so fuck off’.”

“It isn’t anyone else’s business,” Lan Qiren said querulously. “I don’t consider him my son – he’s Wei Changze’s son! His surname is Wei for a reason! The exact mechanics of his conception are private-”

“Are they? Too bad, I’d have liked to hear about it.”

“Lao Nie!”

“What? It’d be hot.”

“Wei Changze said the same thing,” Lan Qiren grumbled. “What is wrong with all you people? Anyway, that was not my point; we can discuss your sexual titillation later. My point is that Wei Ying should not have a shadow cast over his parentage – I should not have had to reveal that fact at any point.”

“You had no choice,” Lao Nie said, not without sympathy. “Given that Wei Changze was a former disciple of the Lotus Pier, Jiang Fengmian had the better claim to custody absent that fact. Never mind that you were Cangse Sanren’s close friend, or that they came to visit you more often; never mind that Yu Ziyuan is to this day only barely able to restrain her jealousy and hatred of the pair of them and would be made miserable by the boy’s presence on the Lotus Pier, and possibly make his life miserable in return; never mind that Jiang Fengmian already grossly favors the boy over his own children, a surefire recipe for disaster…you had to say what you said, Qiren. Wei Ying will be better off at the Cloud Recesses.”

“He’ll be a disaster at the Cloud Recesses,” Lan Qiren said, rubbing his temples. “He’s as free-spirited as his parents were. That’s the only hesitation I have…if it weren’t for all the other things you mentioned, Yu Ziyuan’s jealousy and the favoritism and all that, I would think he’d be better off among the Jiang.”

“He will make a very unique Lan,” Lao Nie acknowledged. “But he’ll be an adopted cousin to your nephews, and they’ll grow up as brothers. A-Zhan will be delighted.”

“Yes,” Lan Qiren said, acknowledging the point. At least there was that. “Yes, he will.”

“Maybe I’ll have a talk with Jiang Fengmian,” Lao Nie said, more to himself than Lan Qiren. “That poor Jiang boy, no one deserves to grow up with a real-life person being ‘another person’s child’. Perhaps I’ll see about inviting the boy over to the Unclean Realm more often. A-Sang could use a playmate…”

-

“You’re weird for a Lan,” Jiang Cheng said.

“That’s because I’m not a Lan,” Wei Wuxian laughed. “I’m a Wei! Lan Zhan’s a Lan, Xichen-da-ge is a Lan, but I’m not. Don’t let the white robes mislead you.”

Jiang Cheng coughed. “That’s not – what I meant.”

Wei Wuxian blinked at him.

“Well,” Jiang Cheng said, abruptly looking extremely awkward. “Your father’s a Lan, isn’t he? Teacher Lan.”

“Oh, that! No, he’s not. Easy mistake to make,” Wei Wuxian assured him. “Lots of people think that, what with me knowing the Lan sect rules backwards and forwards and upside down – mostly so that I can haggle my punishments down when I break them, that's how I learn them best – but actually I’m Wei Changze’s son.”

Jiang Cheng’s face was red. “But…my dad said…”

“He helped,” Wei Wuxian conceded, tapping his nose meaningfully. “That’s why I’m so pretty! But Wei Changze was the one that wanted me, Wei Changze’s the one who gave me his surname; it’s his grave I sweep during Qingming. If you like, you can think of me as having been adopted into the Wei family; that’s common enough, isn’t it?”

“I guess so,” Jiang Cheng said, blinking. And then he said, sounding doubtful, “Do you really know all those rules?”

“All of them! You have no idea how much trouble you can make with a good set of rules.” Wei Wuxian grinned. “Want to see?”

“I – can we?”

“No,” Nie Mingjue said, stepping into the room. He looked tired, as always, but Wei Wuxian thought that there was never a time when he didn’t, certainly ever since he became sect leader too early. Lan Xichen was always worrying about him, and Lan Qiren, too, and since they were worried, Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji had figured they might as well get in on the action. “Not in the Unclean Realm you can’t. Save it for the Lotus Pier, since the Cloud Recesses are too wise to you now.”

“No one is truly wise to my wicked ways,” Wei Wuxian boasted, and Nie Huaisang poked his head out from behind Nie Mingjue’s back and waved – he’d been dragged away to saber training, leaving Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng to try to make friends without him. Without Lan Wangji, too, which was even more unfair; how was Wei Wuxian supposed to represent the gentle snow and wild wind without his other half?

Stupid seclusion. Wei Wuxian was with his uncle in disliking it even when it was necessary.

Though Jiang Cheng was kind of cool…

-

“This is,” Lan Qiren informed Cangse Sanren’s memorial tablet, “entirely your fault.”

Despite her son’s newfound demonic cultivation skills – or his taste for revenge: he had taken the burning of the Cloud Recesses very personally, and the attack on the Lotus Pier, and so on his best friend Jiang Cheng, very nearly as badly, and that, somehow, had inspired him in new and even more uncontrolled ways – there was no response from the grave.

And yet, somehow, Lan Qiren suspected that he could hear her laughing at him.

[robobee]

Would it be alright if we got more of your lore on Henry cheng's family? The snippets we get are absolutely fascinating 👀

i’m about to ruin your day anon because i freely admit it changes every single time i talk about it.. however. I do have some iterations i come back to because they’re fun. Let’s go.

Canonically we know: several children, henry middle child, dad’s a clever man she met in hong kong he was fine but seo couldn't bear it, dad is in the lab trying to replicate bee.

I dont like this for many reasons. i’ve straight up modded mr cheng out for an entirely different character description. I DO kind of consider this canon in my head ngl so everything else fudges bc of it. Character details: - buys patents and pretends they’re his el*n m*sk style. He may be smart at business but he doesnt know a THING about tech or science. his r&d department does every little thing for him. Including bee. He is functionally a succession character i.e born into wealth and kind of an immature baby because of it. - For this reason he is fundamentally incapable of relating to henry or seondeok’s drive for something More: he is happy where he is, he doesn’t know why seo can’t just stay home and be #female, he doesn’t know why henry can’t just stop being such a bummer (shy+somber during a family party a YEAR after he gets kidnapped) and hopes his son grows out of it because he’s really annoying to have near the rest of the family + not worth ruining the vibe. - net worth possibly greater than the ganseys’ combined if you count stock prices. And YET he gets upset with henry breaking shit because hes fundamentally an asian parent . it’s about the principle (of yelling at your children). - i dont think he’s EVIL i just think he genuinely just does not particularly give a shit. think shiv with catherine, henry disconcerts him and his solution is that he simply wont look at henry. - tbh here is the point i just sub in my readymade OC darion cheng for him if i need to hash any lore out

As for the rest of the family, I definitely rotate the layout-- i think henry being the youngest child makes more sense given seondeok’s timeline. But even if he isn’t there’s only one real pregnancy after him, maybe twins to make the ‘several’ descriptor accurate. Seo’s definitely FULLY checked out after around, <5 years of henry being around. I usually settle around 3-5 kids. >older brother, older sibling, henry, twin 1 , twin 2 [5] >older brother, older brother, henry [3] >older brother, older sister, older brother, henry [4] >older brother, older sibling, henry, youngest daughter [4] >older brother, older sister, older brother, henry, youngest sibling [5] I prefer the last 3. i do always specifically see One sibling actually making the effort to check in on henry (like.. Once in 3 months), always the oldest one bc he would have had the most time with seondeok before she went crazy. AKA he’s the one with a relatively normal family life. He fulfills the helen/declan narrative role of older sibling is convinced theyre my parent. has a minimum 10+ years of difference from henry.

The next sibling(or sibling pair) ignores him like their life depends on it. Henry WHOM. never met him. He makes them uncomfortable because they dont know WHAT happened to him he just feels a little too autism-coded for their liking. on a psychological level they’re jealous THEIR time with mommy was cut short when she went crazy and decided to keep custody of only henry and never ever see them. Ergo he’s the 8 year old enemy. they’re the ones most aligned with dad’s POV.

IF there is a youngest sibling(s) (<5 years’ difference) i feel she tries the hardest to get henry’s attention and fails every time. Either he wants her VERY clear of the fairy market business/associated risk or he just has completely washed his hands of his father’s family by the time she gains sentience. Its sad bc i feel he could he a good older brother if he tried or was yk, given the chance to interact stably with the rest of them growing up. but alas.

all in all, henry is his mother’s son and the rest of his family are his father’s children. THAT is the most important distinction. good old divorced family slay /j.

WILDCARD ROUND! AUS! -> love focusing on how henry identifies as korean specifically and not chinese. henry having a different father than the rest of his family would absolutely explain how he’s essentially kept apart from the rest, how his actions are looked at with a sharper eye, why he resolutely sticks to his mother and doesn’t even like, think about being like This Is Insane Maybe. > love niall being his dad. Hilarious to me when he’s a half-lynch but absolutely HATES it. > love an entirely random fairy market guy being his dad & seeing henry across the room and going HEY! WHY DO YOU LOOK LIKE ME! And instead of talking henry BOOKS it shes a runner shes a track star > mr cheng IS henrys dad but henrys like. No. not to me. And he’s like wh… son.. And henrys like Shh. And damn i guess it do be like that

I have a touch of the ‘tism so i made an infographic as fast as possible

Seondeok and her own mother is something i could be insane about also but i wont :sob:

[lepusrufus]

Wrong victim

Pure comedic self indulgence because we all need a funny break before shit starts to really go down in To bargain for immortality. Set quite a few years after the game events, around 2025, and is pure ridiculousness so enjoy.

////

Her response to being unceremoniously shoved in the back seat of a car that looked like it's seen far better days was merely an annoyed grunt. It turned into an eye roll when the man that climbed in after her pulled everything out of her pockets. 

"Wouldn't want you calling anyone," he said with a toothy grin while waving her phone in front of her. 

"Trust me, that won't be necessary," she replied in a deadpan voice. It's not like she would call the police, she wanted them involved even less than her kidnappers probably did. As for other people she could reach out to, a phone call would be redundant really. "Do be careful with it, I'd hate to lose the photos of Daniela sleeping upside down." 

After maybe ten minutes of driving down the barely illuminated outskirts of the city, and having her pockets emptied, dagger included, the burly man driving pulled up inside a parking lot. It was large and overgrown with weeds and vines reclaiming spaces that had been left without human activity for who knows how long. The lamp posts were nothing more than useless concrete pillars as they provided no illumination, resulting in her pitiful captors having to use flashlights as they made their way into the dilapidated factory. 

Nicole sneered at the sight of collapsed walls and rusty metal walkways, reminding her of the one particular Lord she couldn't stand the sight of. She decided a distraction was needed from unpleasant memories. 

"Abandoned factory?" She whistled. "How many cliche movies have you guys watched?" 

She let out a chuckle when the man that had previously taken her phone shoved her ahead. Hopefully they wouldn't tape her mouth shut, there was so much fun to be had by mockery alone. 

It didn't take long before all three of them entered a dimly lit room, numerous candles placed all around, either on desks or candle supports nailed to the walls. The three more people inside were wearing long black robes and white masks covering their faces. Nicole had to laugh. 

"Oh so you're that kinda crazy." 

"Shut the fuck up and stay put," the man holding her hands behind her back said while pushing her into a chair. 

He then moved to a table and Nicole couldn't help but scowl at how unceremoniously her beloved dagger had been thrown on the wooden surface. Afterwards, he put on a mask not unlike the others, except with red streaks going down from the eye holes, and started to prepare something in the middle of the room. The others joined in on the task, all but the one man that had been put in charge of making sure Nicole stayed put. Because of course she could easily escape five people much bigger than her at any given moment. 

She decided to take a look around, at the various dusty books opened on pages she couldn't quite make out from where she was sitting. A few pages were laying around, either with diagrams or with scribbled notes. Had she really stumbled upon a cult? She couldn't wait to have a laugh about it with her family. 

"So," she started, craning her neck a little so she could see her captor's face. "Who you gonna sacrifice me to huh? I wanna know before you slice up my throat or whatever you're planning on." 

A confused and suspicious look was thrown her way, surely due to the complete nonchalance she spoke with about what would surely be her untimely death. "The… the devil," was his unsure reply. 

Nicole let out a small laugh. "Oh trust me, you do not want to meet her. Though devil is not quite the word," she continued despite a few other pairs of eyes landing on her. "Maybe a pissy fungal overlord with an unhealthy obsession for crows. Yes that's more like it," she finished with another chuckle. 

The man with a slightly different mask, who seemed to be their self appointed leader, got up from where he was nailing something to the floor and walked up to her in a few long strides. His eyes were barely visible, but anger was clearly distinguishable. 

He pulled out a knife, old, rusty and with a black worn out handle so typical of a kitchen utensil, and so incredibly ugly compared to the beautifully ornate daggers that decorated her home. She had to laugh when the dull blade got pressed to her throat. 

"Will you shut up for one minute?!" He raised his voice slightly, as much as someone who was doing something they didn't wish to be caught doing would dare to. It didn't deter her though. 

"Oh sweetie this is just what foreplay looks to me," she started with a grin that made her wish she had fangs like the better part of her relatives. "But please do me a favor and stay quiet, there's no fun in hunting if my darling finds you within five seconds due to you screeching like a broken squeaky toy." 

The man blinked for a few seconds, taken aback both by the words and by the apparent passivity towards having a knife at her throat. He stayed like that until one person that was working with some ropes behind interjected. 

"Of all the people you could've taken, how did you find this unhinged bitch?!" 

"I'll take that as a compliment," Nicole said, bending slightly to the side so the person that had spoken up would have a clear view of her sickly sweet smile. 

After that exchange, her captors seemed happy to move things along quicker, working in silence and begrudgingly ignoring any remarks she would throw their way, including an observation on the downright dreadful quality of the rope they had. Quality that she regrettably got to experience when her wrist and ankles got tied to the nails in the floor, having her lay down in a starfish position. It kind of reminded her of sprawling on the bed she shared with Cassandra simply to annoy the brunette. 

After loudly reciting something in latin, the leader bent down, same rusty knife in hand, and tipped her chin upwards to expose the neck. She did let out a wince when the blade sunk deep in her flesh and got dragged downward, towards her chest, leaving behind a choking sensation and the taste of copper in her mouth. The knife however only made it to the base of her neck, before the sound of metal crashing caught everyone's attention. 

"What the fuck," the man whispered, thankfully pulling the blade out so her skin had the time to begin stitching itself back together. She still had to turn her head around and spit some blood that made its way into her mouth. 

Before anyone else had a chance to speak up, the door was kicked open, one of the rusty hinges breaking completely, to reveal a rather angry Cassandra with her sickle in hand, ready for bloodshed. 

There were a few seconds of stunned silence before the blade was unceremoniously thrown into the first person's skull, spinning through the air for only a few meters before getting embedded into the bone with a sloshing sound. Anyone else trying to escape through the one door was met with a similar fate. One person had their knees kicked inwards before a knife held at the same belt as the sickle came down to slash their throat. Another had their head smashed to bits against the nearest wall in the blink of an eye. And last, the burly man that had driven and kept an eye on Nicole, had his heart ripped through the bottom of his ribcage when Cassandra shoved him against one of the tables, scattering the books and papers that were by then stained crimson. 

The remaining man, the leader, got grabbed by the shoulders and forcefully shoved into the same chair she had been sitting in not too long ago. 

"Stay put and I'll let you live," Cassandra spoke, all the cruelty polished over decades upon decades of sporting the title of the family's most sadistic coming through those few words. 

He gulped and nodded, eyes glossed over by the pure human terror now so unfamiliar to both of them. 

She then turned around, expression softening like a switch had been turned behind golden eyes. "Nicole," she started, barely an edge of concern and irritation at the sight of her wife's bloody skin. 

"Hi babe." The self satisfied grin almost had the brunette chuckling while she retrieved her sickle and Nicole's things. 

The weapon was used to cut her free, a grimace pulling the corners of her black lips downward at the same quality observation her wife had priorly made, no doubt. A hand was offered to Nicole to pull herself up, while the other presented the familiar dagger that was gifted to her so many years ago. 

"Will you do the honors love," Cassandra asked, with that beautifully sadistic smile. 

"Of course," came Nicole's reply as her hand wrapped around the leather covered handle. 

With some of the wretched ropes gathered from the ground, Cassandra made quick work of the man's hands and legs, securely tied to the chair and voice frantic. 

"You said you would let me live!" 

Cassandra laughed, a low ominous sound, while grabbing the mask and throwing it on the floor. She did love to see the terror in her victims' faces after all. 

"Unfortunately my wife made no such promises," she finished with a forceful pull of hair that kept his head in one place as she moved to the back of the chair. 

Nicole approached with the dagger already out of its holster and tapped the blade's point against her lips in thought for a few moments. She could simply slice his throat and be done with it, or stab him and leave him to bleed out, choking on his own blood. A hum made its way past her lips. No, no that would not do. 

She grabbed a fistful of the man's shirt, pulling it up almost to the neck. After a few mental measurements and approximations were made, the tip of the blade finally found its way into muscle, drawing thin trails of blood and pained screams. It took a good five minutes to carve all the intricate details she wanted to, the swirling patterns cutting cleanly through skin, courtesy of her wife keeping the blade sharp and in top condition. 

After she was content with the level of detail, and screams subsided to pathetic sobs, she took a step back and, with a hum, looked at Cassandra for a reaction. 

"Oh dearest," the brunette said, looking over the man's shoulder and down at the bloody cuts on his abdomen and chest, forming a crude yet not unfitting replica of the Dimitrescu crest. 

At the adoration that made its way past the cruelty in her wife's eyes, Nicole smiled and gingerly took a hold of her unoccupied hand, bringing it close to her lips and leaving a small kiss and a barely visible blood imprint on each knuckle. 

"I take it that you approve of my… design choice," she asked with another glance down at the jagged lines that formed their family's symbol. 

"It's wonderful," Cassandra replied, fangs shimmering slightly in the low light, exposed from the proud smile that tugged at her lips. 

A gorgeous smile, really, that made something swell inside Nicole's chest no matter how many times she saw it. Truth be told, her rendition of the crest was quite lacking, never having had the artistic skills to quite capture the intricate details that formed it. Nevertheless, if it brought a smile to her wife's lips, she was more than content with it. How unfortunate that it had to be ruined. 

She let out a sigh, still holding Cassandra's hand. "Too bad those pigs at the BSAA would quite disapprove of us leaving such things behind. Oh well," she shrugged, bringing the hand she was holding over to the man's abdomen. "Better it be ruined at your hands." 

The next second, claws dug deep into flesh, slicing the muscle and everything underneath all the way up to the throat. It left five deep gashes over the fine cuts of her dagger, but the satisfaction did not dwindle. On the contrary, when the gurgling sounds finally stopped and the body went limp, her smile was still there, turning into light laughter when Cassandra licked her fingers only to visibly cringe. 

"Say what you will about the dungeons, but at least we feed our livestock well," she spat, taking out a napkin from a pocket and wiping her fingers clean. "But with that disgusting thing out of the way, let me help you with that," she continued, grimace morphing into a sly smile when her eyes landed on Nicole's still bloody neck. 

She gave her no time to disagree, not that she would, before she pushed her backwards slightly into the edge of a table. Nicole wasted no time in lifting herself up on the wooden surface, bringing their faces just a tad closer to being on the same level. 

Cassandra dipped her head down, lips leaving teasing feather-like kisses on her jaw before lowering even further so she could drag her tongue up the length of her neck. It made a shiver run down Nicole's spine, that turned into an impatient tug of her wife's hair when the motion was repeated again and again, until no traces of blood could be seen on her neck, save for the crimson stains that made their way to the hem of her shirt. 

Their lips met in a hungry kiss, full of fangs and smeared lipstick and the taste of copper so familiar to the both of them, albeit for different reasons. When Nicole's hands went to the first buttons of Cassandra's blouse, their kiss was broken with a sly smirk. 

"This is such a dreadful place for such things, don't you think," the brunette said, all too amused by her wife's exasperated sigh. 

"You started it," Nicole complained, but before the words were fully out of her mouth, she was tugged off the table and on the way out, ready to get back home and have a laugh about the irony of her capture. They would have to pick up where they left off at a later time. 

[gunterfan1992]

Episode Review: ‘Together Again’ (Distant Lands, Ep. 3)

Airdate: May 20, 2021

Story by: Jack Pendarvis, Kate Tsang, Hanna K. Nyström, Christina Catucci, Jesse Moynihan, Adam Muto

Storyboarded by: Hanna K. Nyström, Anna Syvertsson, Iggy Craig, Maya Petersen, Serena Wu

Directed by: Miki Brewster (supervising), Sandra Lee (art)

Across Adventure Time’s ten season run, the show explored a bevy of “mature” themes and story ideas—topics, like love, sexuality, depression, and grieving. The show also touched upon death, but the emphasis was usually placed on the emotional toll of a loved one dying, not really what happens when you die. We knew there were Dead Worlds and Death. We knew that there was reincarnation. But how does it all fit together? What does it mean? How does it work?

With “Together Again,” we finally have many of the answers.

This special opens with a marvelous fake-out episode simply called “Finn & Jake,” that sees the two steal a magical cartoon of 50-flavor ice cream before rescuing Turtle Princess and LSP from the clutches of the villainous Ice King. This is all deliberately anachronistic and over the top. Ice King is back to his season one ways, Finn has both arms, and he is still wielding his golden sword that he lost in season two’s “The Real You.” There’s lolrandom dialogue and silly monsters; it’s like a parody of seasons 1-2. But then, this adventure starts to get all wonky, and in time Finn realizes that he is in a some sort of trance or illusion: one that ends with Jake being buried in the ground. Suddenly, Finn awakens from his reverie. He’s an old man. And he’s dead. We’re then presented with a new title card that lets us know the episode is actually called “Finn & Jake Are Dead.”

Holy Glob! They actually went there.

Turns out Jake died years before Finn, so naturally Finn is super excited to see his best bud. But something’s wrong—he cannot find Jake!! They planned to spend eternity together. But all that Finn can find is his very own psychopomp, Mr. Fox (voiced by Tom Herpich, whose purposefully stilted line readings are the epitome of delightful). Finn rightfully assumes that Jake is in a different Dead World, and so, being the ball of spunk and energy that he is, he demands to meet with Death, only to discover that there’s a New Death in town (voiced by Chris Fleming). The episode eventually explains that New Death was the son of Death and Life, and after New Death killed his father, he became the sovereign of the afterlife. New Death hates his job and decides to just blow up all the Dead Worlds so he doesn’t have to deal with it all. (I won’t get too much into the details here, because there would be a lot of story to parse out.)

Finn soon learns that Jake has reached nirvana in the 50th Dead World, where there is nothing but peace and serenity. Finn nevertheless tracks down Jake, pulls him from paradise, but in doing so, accidentally lets New Death in, who promptly obliterates Elysium, sending all the enlightened souls—including those from different levels of the afterlife—to the 1st Dead World. This gronks up the afterlife, temporarily halting the reincarnation process.

Well, Finn and Jake are rightfully ticked, and so they haunt the material plane looking for Princess Bubblegum. She’s not home (more on that later), but Peppermint Butler is! After Ghost Finn and Ghost Jake explain the situation, Peppermint Butler tells them what to do: They need to find Life and explain the situation. The duo manage just that, and Life is rightfully angry that her kid has stopped the transmigration of souls. After Life gives Finn a McGuffin sword that can hurt Death, Finn and Jake return to his abode. A brawl ensues wherein we learn that New Death has been possessed… by none other than that spirit of the Lich.

That’s right, it’s the Lich! He’s back, and boy is he evil.

The Lich explains that by possessing Death, he can destroy the afterlife, thereby destroying a key aspect of reality. Naturally, Finn and Jake are not cool with this, and they engage in combat. After Mr. Fox grabs the McGuffin sword and uses it to annihilate the Lich and New Death, he is proclaimed the New New Death and sets everything right. Finn is slated to be reincarnated, and Jake is slated to return to the 50th Dead World where he and Finn will one day be reunited. As Finn is pulled into the wheel of souls, Jake suddenly decides to go back with Finn, too, “Just for fun.” The episode ends with a card letting us know that the episode is neither called “Finn & Jake” nor “Finn & Jake Are Dead.” Instead, it is “Finn and Jake Are Together Again.”

As they say, “And there wasn’t a dry eye in the place.”

If you were to tell me several years ago that the last episode to star Finn and Jake would revolve around them dying, I think I would’ve been upset. Not simply sad, but rather frustrated because “they all died” can feel like a cheap ending. But with “Together Again,” it all works. And a large reason that it works is because the show goes all in with their ideas. Finn and Jake don’t magically leap back into their old life (no, no, they very much do bite the dust). Instead, the special emphasizes the cyclical nature of life through the transmigration of souls. The episode ends with a beautiful scene of Finn and Jake, bound together as soul-brothers, being reborn into a new, mysterious (possibly Ooo 1000+?) world. It’s both aesthetically and emotionally pleasing; it doesn’t feel off the way over finales might. This is right. This is the way life works. “Round and round as nature goes,” and all that jazz.

I loved the series explanation of how death works. It seems that souls land in a specific Dead World, where they ‘marinate’ for a bit, presumably being rewarded or punished based on their life in our meat reality. After a time, they are then reborn. This process repeats, with each soul reaching higher and higher levels of enlightenment until they hit nirvana, which is the 50th Dead World. So in a sense, Adventure Time has a roughly Buddhist cosmology with a dash of Greco-Roman mythos thrown in for flavor. (As to what happens after a soul stays in the 50th Dead World for a long period is anyone’s guess, but I’d speculate that when all the souls in the multiverse have been purified and land in the 50th Dead World, they will all collapse into one another and form one perfect Monad. Perhaps this is the sphere of perfection that the beings who merged into Matthew thought they were connecting to? Who knows! It’s anyone’s guess!) I was a little disappointed that we didn’t get to see who Death, Prismo, Life, etc.’s boss was, but perhaps that’s a mystery better left up to the imagination!

One minor thing that I loved about this special was the number of characters who made cameos as well as all the callbacks that were made to previous episodes. Regarding the former: Finn and Jake’s canine family show up (including the oft-forgotten Jermaine!), as do Tree Trunks and her myriad husbands. Tiffany plays a major role in all these shenanigans as a “death cop” of all things. There is a delightful rogues gallery stuck in the 1st Dead World (including, among others, Maja, Sharon from “The Gut Grinder,” and Wyatt). In the 50th we find Ghost Princess and Clarence happily at peace next to Booshy, the weird spirit mentioned in the Pen Ward classic “High Strangeness.” As far as callbacks go, perhaps my favorite is the clap (from “James Baxter the Horse”) that Jake taught to Finn in case they ever do get separated in the afterlife. And of course, there are myriad references made to “Death in Bloom,” the episode that planted the seed for what this would grow into.

Going into the special suspecting that it would involve Death, I was curious how they were going to handle Miguel Ferrer’s character. (In case a reader is not aware, Ferrer played Death in episodes like “Death in Bloom” and “Betty,” but he sadly passed away a few years ago). The producers’ choice to feature him in a non-speaking cameo—despite playing a relatively significant role in the story—was wise; I’m not sure if I can articulate the exact reasons, but something about his role felt appropriate and not gross, as some post-mortem memorials can be. Speaking of which, the wonderful, lovely Polly Lou Livingston was featured for the last time in this episode as Tree Trunks, happily in heaven with her literal harem of husbands. It was funny, it really was, and I’m sure that Polly Lou would’ve gotten a kick out of seeing it on screen. (Also, this is a pro-Tree Trunks safe space. Any Tree Trunks haters will be chucked into the 1st Dead World with Wyatt.)

The biggest mystery in this whole thing, for me at least, is the question of Princess Bubblegum and Marceline. Several years ago, I wrote an essay about what could’ve happened to them in the Ooo 1000+ universe. I speculated that they peaced out and left Ooo behind. In this special, neither Bubblegum nor Marceline are to be found in the Candy Kingdom—Peppermint Butler seems to be the one in charge, given that he is now wearing Bubblegum’s crown. Likewise, the duo aren’t anywhere in the Dead Worlds either. Maybe the two of them skipped town and got a duplex in the Nightosphere? Who knows… I just want my favorite gals to be OK!

All things considered, “Together Again” was a marvel: An episode that managed to feel like a series finale even more than “Come Along with Me” already did without taking away from the series itself. An episode that managed to make the idea of dying funny. An episode that brought back the Lich in a way that wasn’t forced. An episode that made Mr. Fox the New New Death. An episode that gave us a beautiful ending to Finn and Jake’s story… as well as the beautiful beginning to a new one. I said it on Twitter, and I’ll say it again here: “Together Again” was the end of a sentence in a book with infinite pages. Truly, the fun will never end.

Mushroom War evidence: Everything takes place in the Dead Worlds, so not really. Perhaps a more eagle-eyed viewer can inform us...

Final Grade: That’s right, I’m gonna do it...

Post-script, I actually messaged Jesse Moynihan to ask about his writing credit. He told me that it was for an unused story idea that he had developed. I’m not certain, but I’ll bet it was a part of the cancelled TV movie they were trying to make during season 5, since that would’ve seen Finn and Orgalorg journey to the various Dead Worlds.

[synchronousemma]

27th September: Emma first sits in mournful thought of any continuance

Read and comment on Wordpress

Read: Vol. 1, ch. 1; pp. 1–7 ("Emma Woodhouse, handsome, clever, and rich" through to "Depend upon it, a man of six or seven-and-twenty can take care of himself").

Context

Miss Taylor marries Mr. Weston. Emma is sad.

The choice of date here is somewhat arbitrary. Jo Modert places this occurrence in “late September” (p. 57): Emma laments that "many a long October and November evening must be struggled through at Hartfield, before Christmas brought the next visit from Isabella and her husband" (Austen, vol. 1, ch. 1; p. 2), and Mr. Frank Churchill's letter on the occasion of Mr. Weston's wedding was dated "Sept. 28" according to Mr. Woodhouse (ibid., vol. 1, ch. 12; p. 63). Monday was the most popular day on which to get married in England in 1813 (Schofield, p. 67), though the majority of the population would have been beneath Mr. and Mrs. Weston in rank and fortune, so those statistics may not be representative of them in particular.

Weddings in the early 19th century were much smaller affairs than they are in Western culture now; relatives weren't likely to travel far for them, it was uncommon to buy a new dress for the day (rather than simply wearing one's Sunday best), and even if one did, it was not be likely to be white (expensive and hard to clean), and one would certainly wear it again. The bride and bridegroom would marry sometime in the morning, between 8 A.M. and noon, before attending their wedding breakfast. The breakfast was presumably hosted at Hartfield, given the wording of "The wedding over and the bride-people gone, her father and herself were left to dine together" (Austen vol. 1, ch. 1; p. 1). Recognising this detail--never explicitly stated but tucked away in a subordinate clause--allows us to realise how stark Emma’s sense of impending isolation must be.

The afternoon or evening after the wedding, Emma and Mr. Woodhouse dine, after which Emma reflects on the loss of Miss Taylor as Mr. Weston naps. Later that night, Mr. Knightley visits, and he and Emma argue about Emma’s claim to have brought about the marriage.

Readings and interpretations

Emma Woodhouse, Handsome, Clever, and Rich

Among all of Austen's novels, the opening sentence of Emma is likely behind only that of Pride and Prejudice in fame. Austen scholars’ close readings of this and the following sentences tend to emphasise how their seeming lightness and contentedness belie their actual foreboding (which foreboding is noticed by readers either on their first reading, or only on subsequent ones--no one can quite agree).

Thus Linda Bree:

This single, solid sentence immediately reassures the reader that we are on conventional fictional ground. The narrator gives us the full name of Emma’s Emma, her age, her social circumstances and something of her character. It is easy to read through the sentence without paying much further attention than this. […] Only when dwelling on the detail of the sentence with more attention than we might be inclined to pay at this stage, will a reader detect slight caveats: ‘seemed to unite’ rather than ‘united’, ‘very little’ rather than ‘nothing’ to distress or vex (pp. 96-7).

David Amigoni, who reads the opening passage for what it can tell us about the novel’s narrative technique, notes this effect as well: “The fact that Emma ‘seemed to unite some of the best blessings of existence’ implies a distance between appearance and reality" (p. 22).1

Who is Speaking Here?

The question of to whom Emma “seemed” to unite these blessings also arises. Who is speaking in Emma, and whose point of view are they expressing?

For Amigoni, it is the “implied reader” to whom Emma “seems” to be blessed (said reader is assumed to value “good looks, cleverness, wealth and domestic comfort,” but is being encouraged by the narrator’s “playfulness and irony” to take a broader view); for Finch and Bowen, it is the “gossiping […] community” of Highbury, whose opinions the narrator is revealing without subscribing to (p. 6).

But not all scholars read these first lines as those of an impersonal narrator selectively inhabiting someone else’s point of view. Massimiliano Morini suggests that the narrator themself is unsure, or at least that the reader cannot trust in the narrator’s knowledge:

In the space of a few paragraphs, the narrator shifts from a “negative” to a “positive” mode: in the first sentence, he/she adopts an external point of view which forces him/her to make conjectures about the real state of affairs (Emma “seemed to unite some of the best blessings of existence”); whereas in the second, he/she falls back on a positive perspective which allows him/her to establish the “real evils indeed of Emma’s situation.” This kind of oscillation produces epistemological uncertainty, because readers cannot be sure whether the narrator knows or does not know about people’s morals and feelings, about past and future events (p. 420).

However one reads these lines, the uncertainty over who is speaking at any given time is one of the major textual strategies of Emma. The reader not always being able to tell for sure whether the narrator is presumed to be revealing objective truth, or is merely mediating the opinions and the wording of one or more characters, allows for the mystery surrounding the hijinks that follow.

A Worthy Employment for a Young Lady’s Mind!

The tone of this day, to my mind, is one of Emma continually attempting to be cheerful and continually being brought up short (as when she laughingly calls herself “a fanciful, troublesome creature,” only to inadvertently depress her father, who misunderstands; Austen, vol. 1, ch. 1; p. 5). For Marshall Brown--whose thesis is that, though some other critics have tended to read it as idyllic, contended, and optimistic, the central feature of Emma’s atmosphere is depression--“surface hilarity” often covers real doubt (p. 19). On this moment see also Jan Fergus:

Emma undermines Mr. Knightley’s implied criticism of her by saying playfully, “‘Especially when one of those two is such a fanciful, troublesome creature! […]” Mr. Woodhouse, the complete egoist, thinks Emma must mean that he is the fanciful, troublesome creature. She has to explain very quickly that she is the target of her own joke, that Mr. Knightley “‘loves to find fault with me you know—in a joke—it is all a joke’,”), although Emma knows of course that Mr. Knightley really does criticize her. […] Emma has made a joke against herself as a way of pre-empting and containing Mr. Knightley’s criticism (p. 76).

The first scholarly reading of this evening as a whole that comes to my mind is Michele Larrow’s. In an essay whose thesis is that Mr. Knightley must learn to feel sympathy for Emma as the novel progresses, she describes the evening thus:

[N]ow that [Mrs. Weston] is gone, we are told, Emma needs someone to “meet her in conversation, rational or playful.” Mr. Knightley soon enters the story to enliven Emma and her father’s evening and offer her conversation. […] Rather than offer emotional support, Mr. Knightley enumerates for Emma the good reasons for the marriage, which she already knows. When he says that Emma “‘cannot allow herself to feel so much pain as pleasure’,” Mr. Knightley wants her to control her emotions […] Mr. Knightley criticizes Emma’s purported matchmaking when he tells her that Mr. Weston and Miss Taylor “‘may be safely left to manage their own concerns.’” With no sense that he is trying to “manage” Emma’s concerns, Mr. Knightley explains the problems with her matchmaking: “‘You are more likely to have done harm to yourself, than good to them, by interference’.” Thus, in the first chapter we see several themes that will return: Mrs. Weston’s being a model of affection and amiability, Emma’s feelings of loss and loneliness without Mrs. Weston, and Mr. Knightley’s preference to judge and guide Emma rather than to offer her sympathy (n.p.).

Amigoni’s view of Emma and Mr. Knightley’s disagreement in this chapter, and the reader’s probable interpretation of it, is more ambivalent. He writes that, though “Emma asserts her correctness in emphatic terms, the implied reader, reading Emma ironically from the perspective established by the narrator,” may disagree (p. 25). When Mr. Knightley insists that Emma has merely made a lucky guess, his

speech does two things: first, it provides us with an alternative to Emma’s perspective; and, second, it creates an expectation of development, that Emma will move beyond her own perspective. Knightley, who shares the narrator’s attitude to authority, expresses the view that Emma will be completed when she comes to know the ‘worthy employment for a young lady’s mind.’ This sense of proper feminine worth is a recurrent topic of Mr Knightley’s speech about Emma (p. 26).

The question of whether and when Mr. Knightley shares the narrator’s viewpoint is a fraught one that will doubtless be returned to repeatedly in this project. For now, what interests me about this argument is that we’ve come in at the tail end of the events that have led up to it: we have no direct insight at all into what actions Emma actually undertook to “smooth[] many little matters,” or what “little encouragements” she gave (Austen vol. 1, ch. 1; p. 6). Scholars may argue about whether the text leads the abstraction of “the reader” to believe Emma’s assertion, and what this means for the structure and techniques of the novel, but their arguments in that regard are probably based more or less entirely on whether they themselves were inclined to believe Emma at this stage of the novel. The narrator’s irony may cause our suspicion--then again, the demonstrable results of Emma’s putative effort at matchmaking may inspire our confidence, at least at this juncture, in Emma’s future endeavours.

Discussion Questions

1. For those who have read Emma before--does anything come through in the language of this opening section upon rereading that was not apparent on a first reading? For those who have only seen adaptations--does anything about the novel so far surprise you?

2. What kind of atmosphere is conveyed to you by the opening of Emma? Does it seem cozy and comforting to you, or depressed and constricted? As Marshall Brown asks, “Would you like to live in Emma’s surroundings, in a village called Highbury” (p. 5)? And can our personal associations with a novel alter what we think of its tone?

3. Who is speaking in the opening of Emma, and whose point of view are they expressing?

4. What do we think of Emma and Mr. Knightley’s first argument? Who do we think is likely to be “right”? Is the metric of “correctness” a useful one to use?

Footnotes

1. For other close readings of the opening sentence, see Bradbury (for whom it suggests “a disparity between the moral and the social scale,” p. 340); Brownstein (who notes, among other things, its contrasting “worldly” and “religious” registers; p. 218); and Dry (who calls its syntax “formal” and “non-idiosyncratic,” approximating a “rigorously impersonal” style).

Bibliography

Amigoni, David. “The Elements of Narrative Analysis and the Origins of the Novel: Reading Jane Austen’s Emma and Samuel Richardson’s Pamela.” In The English Novel and Prose Narrative. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2000. 1753.

Austen, Jane. Emma (Norton Critical Edition). 3rd ed. New York: W. W. Norton & Company, [1815] 2000.

Bradbury, Malcolm. “Jane Austen's Emma.” Critical Quarterly 4 (1962), pp. 335–46. DOI: 10.1111/j.1467-8705.1962.tb01434.x

Bree, Linda. “Style, Structure, Language.” In The Cambridge Companion to Emma, ed. Peter Sabor. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press (2015), pp. 88–104.

Brown, Marshall. “Emma’s Depression.” Studies in Romanticism 53.1 (Spring 2014), pp. 3–29. DOI: 10.1353/srm.2014.0036.

Brownstein, Rachel M. “Why We Reread Jane Austen.” In Why Jane Austen? New York: Columbia University Press (2011), pp. 195–236.

Dry, Helen. “Syntax and Point of View in Jane Austen's Emma.” Studies in Romanticism 16.1 (Winter 1977), pp. 87–99. DOI: 10.2307/25600065

Fergus, Jan. “‘Rivalry, Treachery between sisters!’ Tensions between Brothers and Sisters in Austen’s Novels.” Persuasions 31 (2009), pp. 69–88.

Finch, Casey & Peter Bowen. “‘The Tittle-Tattle of Highbury’: Gossip and the Free Indirect Style in Emma.” Representations 31 (1990), pp. 1–18. DOI: 10.2307/2928397

Larrow, Michele. “‘Could He Even Have Seen into Her Heart’: Mr. Knightley’s Development of Sympathy.” Persuasions On-Line 37.1 (Winter 2016).

Modert, Jo. "Chronology Within the Novels." In The Jane Austen Companion, ed. J. David Grey et al. New York: Macmillan (1986), pp. 53–9.

Morini, Massimiliano. “Who Evaluates Whom and What in Jane Austen's Novels?” Style 41.4 Rhetoric and Cognition (Winter 2007), pp. 409–33.

Schofield, Roger. "Monday's Child is Fair of Face." In Family History Revisited: Comparative Perspectives, ed. Richard Wall et al. Cranbury, NJ: Associated University Press (2001), pp. 57–73.