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twilightmalachite · 3 years

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Nazuna Nito - Idol Story 3

Author: Akira

Characters: Nazuna, Kuro

Translator: Nev

Proofers: Mika Enstars

"Long~ time~ no~ see~, Ku~ro~chi~n…… ♪"

Season: Summer

Location: Hanging Garden

Mid-September, right after "Poppin' Party"

Nazuna: ♪~ ♪~ ♪

Kuro: ..... Oh, ‘scuse me.

Hey, I thought I could hear a kinda nostalgic voice from over here. So it was you, Nito?

That's right, you've made an official comeback, huh? Akatsuki was also one of Poppin’ Party's[1] sponsors, so I’d heard about it, but—

We've been so busy all over the place, even though we got complimentary tickets, I wasn't able to see your live in person.

Seems neither of us can spend our days lazing around just yet — still got a ways to go before we can take it easy.

Nazuna: ~..... ♪

Long~ time~ no~ see~, Ku~ro~chi~n...... ♪

Kuro: Haha, you switched up the "I will love you forever" at the hook of the practice song into "Long time no see, Kuro-chin."

Compared to when we first met, you've gotten a lot more versatile, haven't you?

The old you would've just clammed up and gotten all panicked, startled and yelling and biting your tongue.

Nazuna: Kuro-chi~n ♪

Kuro: Whoa, don't suddenly jump on me like that. Were you always such a spoiled-baby type character?

Nazuna: Sorry, sorry, I was kiiinda deeply moved ♪ Kuro-chin’s amazing~ Whenever I'm thinking "I'm a little lonely," you'll show up right away!

Kuro: Is that so. It's just a coincidence though; do I really seem like such a thoughtful type?

Nazuna: Yup! You're always thoughtful and kind!

Ever since that time you told me about when you were acting like a delinquent and whatnot at Yumenosaki, you've always been that way ~ ♪

Kuro: You think? Well, aside from that, you suuure are light as ever, huh? Have you been eating properly?

You've been slacking while taking a break from the idol world and started eating nothing but junk food with no nutritional value, haven't you?

Nazuna: What are you, my mom!? Ahaha, that really does feel nostalgic! That's right, that's right, Kuro-chin was always like that!

Kuro: Well, I'm just me. I'm not skilled enough to put on airs. Especially with you, I've always been just the honest Kiryuu Kuro that you see in front of you.

Nazuna: Yeah. That's good, I feel relieved somehow....

Ever since I’ve been back, everyone and everything has been all different from how it was at Yumenosaki, like I got trapped and lost in some weird isekai[2] known as ES.

Kuro: Hahaa. So you're still not used to the structure of ES, Nito.

So that's why you're practicing singing in a place like the hanging garden instead of paying L$ to rent a practice room?

Nazuna: Don't make fun of me~. I'm just being economical and saving money since our finances are a bit tight after spending pretty extravagantly for Poppin' Party, that's all.

Both the L$ system and "Holdhands"[3] basically had their trial runs at Yumenosaki, anyway.

They've become intuitive enough for an idiot to figure it out, even I can use make use of them well enough~

And back at Yumenosaki's broadcasting club, my underclassmen like Makoto-chin loved new technology and stuff like that.

Even if I wouldn't ask, he would explain them in a way even the thickheaded me could comprehend.

This time too, I thought "he probably wants to explain it," and went to see him — and he gave me a really easy-to-understand rundown.

Kuro: Is that so. Haha, you've become a bit better at relying on those around you, too.

Even though it might look cooler to go through life without depending on anybody, if you aren’t at least as prepared as Itsuki to deal with it, that’ll only take you down a painful path.

Nazuna: Ahaha. I'm sure that guy’s being healed by Mika-chin and Mademoiselle too, though.

But I really am happier with flesh-and-blood than a doll. Human body warmth is great, *squeeeze*.... ♪

Kuro: Theere, theeere. Cute little baby, Kuro-mama will completely spoil you....... ♪

Nazuna: Ahaha. What the heck is that, your impression of Madara-chin?

Kuro: Hah? Well, that guy has randomly been extremely involved with me lately for some reason. He might have rubbed off on me a bit—

Akatsuki hasn't had too much work until recently either, so we've both had a bit of free time and been hanging out pretty often.

Nazuna: Hmm. So even the Akatsuki that was basically invincible at Yumenosaki has had trouble getting work?

Everyone's having a hard time, huh? We can't go relaxing now, either~

Kuro: Yeah. I'm sure you got an idea from the chaotic struggles you guys went through while organizing Poppin' Party, but over here, the uproar of the summer restoration—

At our long-standing office RhyLink, the veterans have gotten back a sense of urgency and started their counterattack.

Stuff like, "We reached the peak of Yumenosaki Academy," isn't really grounds for feeling safe and secure or anything. The world of showbiz stretches far and wide, and in the end it's eat-or-be-eaten.

Nazuna: Uu~. Even though we're rabbits~ Even though we're herbivores~

Kuro: That's right. “Even so, we'll bite when we're cornered, if you mess with us you're in for pain~” — you guys have to make that clear, that you're not just helpless little creatures that can only get gobbled up.

But if you feel like you can't take such a bloody warlike atmosphere anymore, you can take refuge where it's safe. Because we'll do the dirty work.

You have a place like that where you can live on as something other than an idol—at college, right?

You set a precedent, Nito. ES seems to be full of guys that can't think of anything except the idol world.

But you're the example that taught us something that should have been so obvious—that there are ways to live outside of that.

There are guys who can give hope to people like that. Quitting idol work might look ugly or uncool or feel like running away, but what’s most important is that you're still alive.

Nazuna: Hmm~. I don't really have any intentions of quitting being an idol, though—

Ahaha ♪

Kuro: What are you laughing at, huh? Nito?

Nazuna: No, it's just that a friend I made at college said something similar to me.

There’s a circle at my college too that does stuff like make announcements and such, and when I met one of my senpais there for the first time, they gave me a really impassioned speech.

They said they had always struggled with social anxiety, and felt scared to talk to people.

But the way I had gone from being similar, and totally silent during my time in Valkyrie, to becoming really talkative and having so much fun with Ra*bits—

They said seeing someone like that gave them courage. They thought about how they wanted to be able to talk to others too, and they knew I was part of my school's broadcasting club, so that's how they got interested in it.

They figured, you won't know until you try, and they started one of those livestreams that’ve been so popular lately.

Little by little they gained more fans and confidence, and now they've decided to pursue becoming a professional announcer or something in that field.

They said, "It's all thanks to you," and showered me with words of gratitude.

Even though I didn't have any sort of intentions like that.

Back during my time in Valkyrie, I just decided to stay quiet because of how my changing voice made me think I couldn’t be a display of the perfect artistry Itsuki was seeking — I was just overthinking, and felt like I had to.[4]

Even when I joined Ra*bits, I was just frantically trying to deal with the problems in front of me.....

The way I was back then, constantly biting my tongue and messing up every time I opened my mouth to speak, I didn't think I could have done something like give courage to somebody.

That’s why it made me really happy. Like, "So it wasn't all for nothing".....

Even though I couldn’t live properly and was getting hurt, and being overlooked because I couldn’t raise my voice, someone told me I helped them feel a bit more at ease when they were struggling.

In that case - the idol Nito Nazuna, and the three years I spent running around all over the place — it feels like they had value...

I got happy thinking about that, and started wanting more and more.

Kuro: Haha. So that's why you came back, Nito?

Nazuna: Yup. There were a lot of reasons, but that's one of them.

You know, when I saw that senpai giving that passionate speech, mistaking me for some sort of big deal, it was the first time I thought this.

That I'm glad I was an idol, I like being an idol, I want to be an idol.

Kuro: You only thought that just now? So late—but then, the reasoning behind it is different for everyone.

There's nothing wrong with taking a path other than the one society has deemed most proper, and it doesn't make you any kind of fraud.

I'm still figuring it all out too, so I won't go and say anything overly self-important.

But if some idiot tries to start with you, I'll send ‘em flying.

If you fall down, I’ll reach out and pull you back up.

Let’s keep walking forward together from now on.

Nazuna: Yeah. Let's become idols together, Kuro-chin.

...I’m back.

Kuro: Welcome back, Nito. At the old rotten Yumenosaki of the past, you were the first "true idol" I became a fan of.

Poppin' Party is Nazuna's comeback live from High-Touch/High-Five event story, for those unaware.

Yeah he just says "isekai." I thought it was too funny to localize. I assume people know this, but Wikipedia defines it as such: Isekai (Japanese: 異世界, transl. "different world") is an "accidental travel" genre of light novels, manga, anime and video games that revolve around a normal person from Earth being transported to, reborn or otherwise trapped in a parallel universe or fantasy world.

Yes, it's the app used to communicate between idols and such at ES.

I wanted to add a note about this because my proofer and I went back and forth about how to phrase it for a long time. To be clear, he does specify that his selective mutism in his second year at Yumenosaki was mostly a self-imposed restriction based on this thought process.

#nazuna nito #idol story #kuro kiryuu #translation

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thegameartist03 · 4 years

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Predictions for DSMP3

DREAM SMP SEASON 2 IS OVER

What an incredible way to end the season. I think we can all agree that when we heard that “You should have payed me more” and saw people start coming through the portal, we all screamed a little bit. I know people may not be happy with the fact that Tommy didn’t burn the discs, but personally I understand why. He and Tubbo have been fighting with Dream for months, I think almost a year, to get those discs back. Tommy was so ready to give up the discs for Tubbo, but in the end, he didn’t have to. Those are his most prized items, to him their value is immeasurable, thankfully in the end his friendship with Tubbo was worth more (and that means a LOT) but I wouldn’t have expected him to just throw away those discs once Dream was defeated. Yes, they caused a lot of conflict, yes, they caused a lot of pain, but it’s all over and done with now. It would have been more cathartic, certainly, if he had burned them, but wouldn’t he have been burning one of his most treasured attachments just like how Dream got rid of all of his?

Anyway, now that that’s out of the way, here are my predictions for Season 3 of the DSMP! Make the most of that rhyme, we only get one season to use it on.

To start, I think the biggest most glaringly obvious development of the next season is the rise of the Eggpire. BBH is clearly under the influence of the Egg, and he’s teamed up to take over the SMP. With Dream out of the way, I’m sure he’s going to take advantage of the current power vacuum to start expanding out and claiming areas. I’m not sure it was entirely unintentional that as Tommy and Tubbo sat listening to the discs on the bench, there was a big red blood vine dangling over a tower in the distance.

Next item on the list, the syndicate! Techno will probably keep recruiting members in secret, then once the Eggpire starts encroaching on other’s freedoms Techno will offer the protection of the syndicate and a way to fight back. The Eggpire is a government so obviously Techno is going to want to take it down. I think the conflict betwixt the syndicate and the Eggpire will take up most of the Season 3 plot.

The revival of Wilbur will be happening! There’s also a good chance that Schlatt will return as well. I’m sure there will be unforeseen consequences for both, Schlatt may try to take over the Eggpire or create some other nation just to tick everybody off.

Now for the characters. I originally was thinking that Tommy and Tubbo would have less of a role, but Tommy is still the ‘hero’ of the SMP and Tubbo has nukes. I think those two will have a big part to play yet, although the main protagonist may switch to someone like Ranboo who is more in the middle of the conflict.

Speaking of Ranboo, he has a lot to figure out! There is a part of him that he doesn’t know how to control that has been helping Dream. As long as no one knows about that part of Ranboo, Ranboo is a danger to himself and others and no one can trust him. Ranboo is probably going to have a lot of development and conflict trying to figure himself out and where he stands. Who knows, maybe we’ll even get an origin story!

Techno and Phil probably won’t change much. Wilbur will probably join them in the name of chaos once he’s back to life. I’m sure Tommy will have some thoughts about that.

Eret, who is now officially king of the SMP, will hopefully keep his redemption next season. As king, his newfound freedom to rule is going to be heavily tested by the Eggpire’s rise. He may merge with the Eggpire, he may join with Techno, he may try and go it alone.

Jack and Niki will continue with the plot to kill Tommy, they might join with the Eggpire and work with them to bring him down.

Fundy, Quackity, and apparently HBomb are all off on their own now, they probably won’t join the conflict unless forced to.

Dream’s role in this story is FAR from over. He’ll probably make a comeback somewhere down the line, maybe to incite chaos at the worst possible moment to regain control.

Even though there’s a lot up in the air, I can guarantee one constant reliable concrete factor that will absolutely 100% happen.

GeorgeNotFound will sleep through the whole thing.

Let me know your guys’ thoughts! I’d love to hear some other theories.

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tcm · 4 years

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Tamango: Black Consciousness Personified in Dorothy Dandridge By Theresa Brown

“They’ll never make me a slave.”

It figures a 1950’s film about a slave revolt wouldn’t...or couldn’t be made by a Hollywood studio at that time. TCM’s beautiful Star of the Month, Dorothy Dandridge, is front and center in this drama. And she has something to say.

TAMANGO (‘58) was produced in Europe and based on a story of the same name by Prosper Mérimée. The film is a microcosm of the Black experience. It’s amazing how this tale beginning in 1820 weaves its way into some current motifs of today. In films like GONE WITH THE WIND (’39), we’ve already seen the slave experience once they’re fully ensconced in America. This European production deals with the Middle Passage and touches on a third rail that Hollywood didn’t have the courage to look at back then. I’m now remembering NO WAY OUT (‘50) and THE DEFIANT ONES (‘58) dealing head on with racial issues and I stand corrected.

In TAMANGO, Dandridge is at the apex of two triangles: one with two men both attracted to her and the other with herself.

One arm of the “triangle” is blonde and burly Curd Jurgens. He plays the Captain of the slave ship who’s on his 12th voyage and knows his way around the Seven Seas. He’s as benign as a the captain of a 19th century slave ship can be. He’s no Captain Bligh, but he knows the value of his human cargo and metes out harsh punishment as he sees fit.

The other arm of the triangle is the slave Tamango. Alex Cressan plays him (in his only film appearance). He is handsome (forgive me for being a visual person) and has a heroic screen presence. Tamango was a warrior and lion hunter in his village. He is not going down without a fight. The other slaves look to him for guidance, though they can’t hold out against the intimidation and brutality of the Captain and his crew. He is a leader to be punished but, while being perversely admired for that leadership, conversely, the Captain does not want to damage his value on the trading block. Tamango’s actions towards breaking free put everyone in danger. And then he sees Dorothy Dandridge.

Dandridge’s character, Aiché, is the Captain’s mistress. She has special privileges on the ship because of that. She can roam as she wishes, sleep in a comfy bed and eat better than the other slaves. See, the truth of the matter is she IS a slave, if she needs reminding; and she’s reminded by the ship’s doctor. He serves as a bit of a conscience for the Captain, but he also wants Dandridge for himself:

“Maybe you’ve got white blood in your veins. But you’re a slave, just like they are. You were sold, just like they were.”

Whatever the ‘perks’ are for being the Captain’s “private property”, she is property. As much as she tries to ignore it, she begins to have the stirrings of something not quite right. It begins with her dealings with Tamango. Giving the rebellious man some water after his skirmish with authority, he puts an even finer point on her position on the ship:

“White man’s trash.”

Her comeback to him:

“What are you? A rusty rifle. A bag of glass beads. That’s all you’re worth. So don’t put on airs with me.”

In spite of the script’s slightly anachronistic dialogue, TAMANGO shows the seeds of Black consciousness personified by Dandridge. On one hand, even if she mainly serves one purpose to the Captain, he does seem to care for her in spite of himself. She’s also witnessing first-hand the struggles of people trying to be free. Her people. We see a leader trying to get a disparate group of people to work together, but who quickly turn on him when the first attempt fails. They have to fight through their fear, to learn how to be a cohesive group against this oppressor. Tamango bides his time and waits for an opening.

Between the oppressor and the oppressed, it is Aiché who has the stirrings of figuring out where she really belongs: go along to get along or literally, take a stand.

TAMANGO is directed by John Berry who also directed TENSION (‘49) and HE RAN ALL THE WAY (’51). He got mangled in the juggernaut of the Hollywood Blacklist after directing a short documentary about the Hollywood Ten. He moved to France when he could no longer get work in Hollywood. When his exile ended, he went on to direct a few television shows and films, among them: CLAUDINE (‘74), THIEVES (‘77) and THE BAD NEWS BEARS GO TO JAPAN (‘78).

It’s so interesting Dandridge chooses this film to work on after coming off her recent characterizations in BRIGHT ROAD (‘53) ~ squeaky clean school marm; CARMEN JONES (‘54) ~ fiery...sassy; and ISLAND IN THE SUN (‘57) ~ sophisticated. Appearing in TAMANGO might just give her a way to speak to her personal experience – supporting and speaking out FOR Civil Rights as an African-American woman in Hollywood as she tries to keep her feet in two worlds. I like everything the movie has to say and what Dorothy is saying by being in it.

#Dorothy Dandridge #Tamango #Black representation #slavery in movies #middle passage #black consciousness #TCM #Turner Classic Movies #Theresa Brown #black women #blacklivesmatter #black films matter

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orangepanic · 3 years

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I saw this “100 OTP questions” by @the-moon-dust-writings and figured I'd procrastinate:

1. Who loves flower crowns more?

Neither of them really, but Asami might make Iroh wear one just to laugh at him.

2. Who is the one who likes to cuddle?

Iroh. Asami likes it, too, but he usually initiates.

3. Who has awful taste in music?

Honestly, both of them. Asami likes terrible dance music and Iroh likes obscure combinations of horns and bells and stuff from different cultures.

4. Who is the meme lover?

Asami thinks they’re funny. Iroh doesn’t quite understand.

5. How did their second date go?

Iroh tried to take Asami somewhere very fancy, but the wait was too long. They ended up making out in a shadowy doorway down the street and missing their reservation entirely. Iroh was mortified, but Asami dragged him around the corner to a low-key noodle shop that has since become their favorite restaurant.

6. How many children do they want/have?

Asami thinks about three. Iroh, as many as Asami will agree to.

7. Who hides the weapons?

Iroh hides weapons for Asami around the house so she’ll always have something on hand. In a drawer in the kitchen, on her nightstand, etc. He knows she can take care of herself… and he stashes weapons for her anyway. Asami rolls her eyes but secretly thinks it’s sweet.

8. Who is the better dancer?

Asami. She likes dancing, and learned formal dancing in school. Iroh can’t dance at all, having skipped out on all his lessons as a child after bribing his instructor. He thought dancing is boring, but likes dancing with Asami and lets her lead.

9. Do/Did they have a theme wedding?

No. They quite deliberately have a very normal wedding, including cutting out a lot of the more stuffy Fire Nation customs because Iroh doesn’t want Asami to feel out of place not having any family present.

10. What do their parents think of them dating?

Hiroshi Sato is livid, and actually tried to have Iroh assassinated from prison. His little girl, marry a firebender? A prince of the firebenders? Iroh’s parents are more accepting. Izumi initially thinks Asami is too young and gives Iroh a hard time about how quickly he got serious, but quickly comes around when it’s clear Asami is very mature for her age. Within a year Iroh’s parents are both hounding him on when he’ll make it official.

11. Are they a super sappy couple?

They are that couple everybody hates.

12. How did they get together?

They meet during the Equalist revolution, but don’t get together until long after. Iroh has a crush on Asami almost immediately, but spends forever sitting on it thinking it wasn’t the right time and trying to be friends until one day he just kind of slips up and kisses her. She kisses him back. It turns out Asami liked him, too, but she isn’t great at reading people and had no idea he was interested.

13. Who asked the other to get married?

Iroh just kind of blurts it out one day.

14. Who stays up too late and makes stupid jokes?

Asami is the night owl. Iroh makes the bad jokes.

15. Who is the nerd?

Oh my god, both of them. Asami is more of the classic nerd. Iroh is more of a dork.

16. Who knows the most obscure facts?

Iroh.

17. Who makes the other a flower crown?

Two questions about flower crowns out of 100?? Changing this to who is more dominant in bed. Asami.

18. Who likes to read?

Iroh. They both do, but he’s much more into it.

19. Who bothers the other person while the other person reads?

Asami. She has the shorter attention span.

20. Who tutors the other?

They both would in different subjects. Asami is better at math, physics, etc. Iroh is better at philosophy and languages.

21. Do they have similar taste in movies?

No. Asami likes gory slasher films and lots of action. Iroh scoffs and thinks they’re dumb. Asami, in turn, thinks his period dramas can be kind of boring, and refuses to count documentaries as movies. But there’s a healthy overlap in things like Vikings and Game of Thrones.

22. How do their personalities complement each other?

Asami helps Iroh lighten up a bit, drawing him out of his shell, and gives him an anchor and a sense of home. She’s more social than he is, and a lot of her friends eventually become his. But she’s also quiet enough and serious enough that she doesn’t tire him out and can feed his need for downtime. Iroh, in turn, loves seldom but deeply, and gives Asami the kind of fierce, unconditional love and stability she needs. He’s also genuinely interested in her projects, is smart enough to follow most of it, and is one of the only people who can occasionally beat her in Pai Sho. They have a lot of fun together just being nerds.

23. How do they tell everyone that they are going to be having a kid/adopting a child soon?

They don’t have to tell anybody. It’s all over Iroh’s face like a big neon sign.

24. Who has better fashion sense?

Asami, but not by much. She’s more up to date with trends, while Iroh’s style is clean and classic.

25. Who will punch someone out if they are rude to their partner?

Hoo boy, both of them. Do not go there.

26. What songs do they sing together in the vehicle?

Neither of them sing in the satomobile. Iroh has a decent voice, but he’s a bit private about it. Asami mostly hums.

27. What other couple would your otp get along with?

Iroh quickly becomes BFFs with Bolin. Asami and Opal aren’t quite as close, but they like each other’s company and have fun as a foursome. They also get along quite well with Pema and Tenzin.

28. Who likes to prank the other?

Iroh tries more often. Asami’s pranks are more successful.

29. Who is the one who loves to take pictures?

Iroh, though generally Korra is the picture taker in the group.

30. How would they react if they found out they were soul mates?

Iroh raises an eyebrow. “Hmm.” Asami only shrugs. They both already knew that.

31. Where would they live?

They like Republic City and decide to stay downtown, first in an apartment and eventually a larger townhouse.

32. What type of dragon would they own, if they could have one?

Whichever one Iroh made friends with. Asami is a bit wary of animals and would need him to convince her it was safe.

33. If they were both vampires, what type of vampires would they be?

The kind that live in a beautiful house with perfect collections that took hundreds of years to make. Iroh has first editions of everything in a giant library, arranged in a complex system only he understands. He’s working on his 14th language. Asami has invented artificial blood and doesn’t miss sunburns. Occasionally she’ll throw one of those big fancy vampire balls just so they can both get dressed up. They’re pretty happy.

34. What would they dress up as, for Halloween?

They once went as Lady Tienhai and the last king of Mo Ce because picking something obscure and historical was the only way to get Iroh into a costume.

35. Can they name each other’s favourite food?

Kind of. They are both really into food, so picking a favorite is hard. But if the question is can they order for one another, absolutely.

36. Do they have pet names for one another?

Asami sometimes calls Iroh “General Hotstuff” when she’s teasing. Iroh sometimes calls Asami “sex pretzel” when he’s 1000% sure they are alone.

37. How do they cheer each other up?

Asami is more of a gift giver. She’ll show up with Iroh’s favorite take-out or make him something in her workshop—anything to make him feel special and valued. Iroh is all about quality time, and will swing by Asami’s office to haul her out on surprise dates. He also gives great hugs.

38. Do they show a lot of PDA?

No. Iroh is very uncomfortable with PDA, especially when he’s in uniform. Asami follows his lead.

39. How old were they when they got together?

Asami was 19-20, Iroh 24-25.

40. Who is the one that would bring the puppy home?

Iroh, 100%. He’s such a sucker.

41. Can they do yoga couple’s poses?

Yes, though Asami is the only one who really tries.

42. What is their song?

They don’t really have one.

43. What does their room look like?

Asami moved in with Iroh, so it’s very basic. White walls, perfectly made bed, a neatly organized desk in the far corner by the window. He’s a total minimalist, having spent most of his adult life on a ship. Asami added a very fluffy comforter in *gasp* a color and lots of pillows.

44. Who would be the one to kill zombies while the other keeps them grounded?

They’d take turns, and at some point Asami would turn it into a contest.

45. Who makes the other breakfast in bed?

Iroh. Asami is a terrible cook.

46. Who loves kids more?

Iroh.

47. Do either of them have a crazy ex?

Not crazy, but Iroh and his ex are not on good terms. He doesn’t like to talk about it.

48. What are their favourite colours?

Asami, purple. Iroh, black. He gets annoyed when people get him so much red stuff.

49. Who likes to cook?

Iroh. He fired Asami from the kitchen, something they are both grateful for.

50. Who is the forgetful one?

Asami.

51. Does either of them know how to fight?

Have you met these people?

52. What do they do for Valentines Day?

Iroh would probably plan something elaborate for them to go out. Asami would plan something sexy for when they got home.

53. Who swears more?

Asami, at least out loud. Iroh mostly swears under his breath.

54. Who has the better comebacks?

Asami. It’s not even close.

55. Who would start a fight with another parent at a bake sale?

Probably Asami, unless it was about the kids. If anyone comes for Iroh’s kids, they’d better hide.

56. Who reads buzzfeed?

Asami.

57. Who is the hopeless romantic?

Iroh, hands down.

58. Do either of them know how to do a handstand?

Asami can manage it.

59. Who can rap better?

Asami, though Iroh is the only one who actually listens to rap.

60. Do either of them want to go sky diving?

Asami would love to. Iroh laughs. “Been there.”

61. What do they usually text about?

Some version of “I miss you” or random pictures of stuff. They generally only text when Iroh is away as they’re both busy during the day.

62. Who is the dramatic one?

Asami has a shorter fuse. Iroh is more ridiculous when he loses his shit.

63. Is either one confrontational?

Not really.

64. What is their favourite cuddle position?

Asami will lay on top of Iroh on the couch like a sandwich. It’s the only position she seems to be able to nap in.

65. Who are their favourite musical artist(s)?”

See above about terrible taste in music.

66. What are their parenting styles?

Iroh covers a lot of the basics. He sets a schedule, makes lunches, tells bedtime stories, is more likely to help with the homework. Asami is the one who gets them around and does most of the interacting with teachers, other parents, etc. They share things fairly equally.

67. Who would be the more laid back one?

Iroh.

68. Who listens to more vulgar music?

Asami.

69. Do either of them have secrets even the other doesn’t know?

Yes. Asami can be secretive about some of her projects, both out of an abundance of caution but also because she likes a big reveal. Iroh keeps some past relationship stuff close, and will occasionally read a steamy romance novel for “tips.”

70. Who is their go to couple for a double date?

Bolin and Opal

71. Do they tip the waiter/waitress on their date?

Iroh tips very well.

72. How do they work out a fight?

Asami yells. Iroh yells back. One of them storms off. The other one waits about half an hour then goes to find them, usually with an offering of food. There are hugs. Somebody cries. Then they finally talk it out before falling asleep together.

73. Who brings home an illegal pet?

Asami. She is less likely to have a pet, but if she does, it’s going to be a weird one.

74. What side of the bed do each of them sleep on?

Iroh is on the side by the window because he likes to get up with the sun.

75. What is their favorite photo of them two together?

There’s a photo Korra took at the beach where Iroh has Asami thrown over his shoulder right before dunking her in the water. This is the picture he takes with him when he’s deployed.

76. Who takes longer in the bathroom?

Asami.

77. Who has more songs on their ipod?

Iroh. If you can call them songs.

78. What movie did they first see together?

Iroh took her to Last Days of the Sun Warriors. She fell asleep. He said the book was better.

79. What do they like to see each other in?

Asami thinks Iroh’s butt looks great in jeans. Iroh got Asami a red silk robe from the Fire Nation and likes to see it fall off.

80. Who makes jokes during inappropriate times?

Iroh.

81. At what age do they discuss the possibility of children?

Mid-20s, though they don’t have them until a little later.

82. What do they love about each other the most?

Iroh likes that Asami is tough and smart and a problem-solver. Asami likes that Iroh is kind and brave and has a strong moral compass.

83. Who is the one that sees the big picture, while the other focus’s on the small details?

They are both big picture people, which is sometimes a problem. Of the two, Asami is probably better at details, but she’s also forgetful.

84. What would they write on their partner’s social media’s for their anniversary?

Asami would probably put up a picture of them and say something brief but sweet. Iroh doesn’t really understand social media and would just paste a heart-eyes emoji.

85. Who is bad at math?

Iroh. He’s not bad, per se, but Asami is very, very good.

86. Who googles everything?

Asami.

87. Who does stuff on impulse?

Both of them in different ways. Asami is generally more flexible. Iroh usually has a plan but makes big decisions completely off the cuff.

88. How do they comfort each other when they are helpless to do anything about the situation?

Lots of physical touch. Iroh will kind of just wrap himself around her in one giant, whole body hug. Asami will spend some time cursing out whomever is causing the issue, then let him lay his head in her lap and give Iroh a good head scratch or massage.

89. What is an inside joke they have?

There was one time they had sex in Asami’s office at Future Industries, so occasionally she’ll drop things like, “feel like coming by the office?” with a suggestive eyebrow waggle. Iroh is, predictably, very embarrassed. Also interested.

90. Who makes the other smile with almost no effort at all?

Asami: *exists* Iroh: *smiles*

91. What is their favourite holiday?

New Years is a big deal in the Fire Nation. Iroh loves his family and likes going home, and Asami has grown to love it almost as much.

92. Who is the one that is calm and collected while the other is angry and destructive?

They take turns. Both of them can have quite a temper when pushed too hard.

93. What is their favourite board game to play?

They’re both big Pai Sho fans, but can get into any kind of strategy game. Nobody really likes to play them though, they're too good.

94. Who accidentally sets something on fire?

Asami. Iroh hasn’t had a fire accident since he was four.

95. Who has the car ready while the other is robbing the store?

Asami. She’d rob the store, too, but no way is she letting Iroh drive.

96. What artist/group did they go to for their first concert?

Iroh booked a private box at the Republic City Opera, thinking that was an impressive thing he should do on a date. It turns out neither of them like opera, and by the end they were both making fun of it.

97. Who sleep talks?

Asami. Iroh thinks it’s funny.

98. Who is the more social one?

Asami, by a long shot.

99. What are their karaoke songs?

Neither of them would really sing karaoke, but Iroh cannot hold his liquor like at all so if he ever got really plastered Asami might be able to drag him up there. By which point he’d be too far gone to have an opinion on the song and would sing just about anything.

100. Who would get up on stage and make a fool of themselves just to make the other laugh?

Asami.

#irosami #this is all canon now #kidding

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multmilk · 4 years

Text

Strawberries and Cigarettes | l.t

Pairing: idol!Taeyong x idol!reader

Genre: angst

Warnings: Use of cigars/smoking, character death, a bit of smut

Word count: 2.6k

He was from SM and you were from JYP. He was a member of 3 boy groups and you were a solo artist. His genre was more of pop while you make rnb. The two of you were working on opposite sides of the world so when you received the news that the two of you were collaborating, you were bewildered.

Now you were sitting alone inside a coffee shop waiting for Taeyong. You knew he was a talented man—a rapper, a composer and a hell of a good dancer. You’ve watched a lot of fancams out of pure curiosity and you were surprised that you had the pleasure of getting to work with him.

“Y/N?” a rich and foreign voice said, looking up at him you felt your heart skip a beat at his appearance. His hair was brown and it had some streaks of gray to it, it was a little disheveled but it still looked good. He was wearing a black long-sleeved shirt that made the veins in his hands more prominent, a dangling earing on his ear that added more charisma to him.

“I’m Lee Taeyong,” he smiled. Ooooh fuck he looks good, his voice sent shivers down your spine. You gestured for him to sit down across of you. This is going to be interesting, you thought.

----

It’s been a month since the two of you worked together. You mostly worked in his apartment, though his members lived there with him, they respected you and treated you like their family. They leave when the two of you work so that you could focus and they wouldn’t create ruckus.

You weren’t fully comfortable with him yet and you know he felt the same way too. You always sat on the edge of his bed while he sat on his chair across you. It was hard to work with someone so new, someone who’s a stranger. You had to be careful with every step you take—and although that being cautious is good, it’s difficult to not voice out your ideas to him because you’re afraid of him judging of what you thought.

You two were working on an album that focuses on the issues of society today. You had two solo songs, he had two solo songs and then there were two songs that features the both of you.

Your first song tackles about the beauty standards of men and women of our generation. How men aren’t allowed to wear make-up because it makes them look more feminine and how women should have this petite figure and if they don’t look what society expects them to look like, they do not belong in this place.

Your next song focuses on gender roles. Women can have a job that is expected to supposedly be for men and vice versa. Also, how people should be respected no matter their chose of job. Whether they are sex workers, drag queens or a waitress—each should be treated equally.

Taeyong’s first song is about corruption in politics and the politicians that don’t uphold the values and morals of a good leader and how in turn, makes a country incompetent and their people ignorant.

His next song is about the challenges faced by the mass. Poverty, treated unequally, high medicine fee and all things in between. What the two of you have worked on alone is a masterpiece.

Right now you were stuck inside his room, diverting your attention towards anything but making the music together. You’ve asked him for help and he did that but working on two whole songs together just seems a bit out of your comfort zone.

“What about pizza?” he asks “I don’t think pizza is a good top-“ you got cut off with his laugh. It was a hearty one too, not the chuckles you hear he lets go once you accidentally do or say something funny.

“I meant maybe you want me to get a pizza delivered? Maybe it’ll help remove this,” he gestured to the space between us, “Tension?” you just laughed, probably because you felt stupid and embarrassed for not catching his drift but you agreed to get pizza.

You and Taeyong are now seated on each side of his bed sharing a box of pizza. For the past hour, you two have been sharing stories and jokes like childhood friends catching up. You’ve learned that he has a passion for understanding arts, he’s really good at playing video games and he likes listening to Drake.

Neither of you initiated to start working on your songs but you liked the time you were using to get to know him. He was kind, gentle and warm.

There were numerous spotlights surrounding Taeyong. The photographer asked him to try different poses and to relax but for some reason, his shoulders were too tense and his hands were shaking a bit. You and Taeyong started hanging around a lot when you two decided to write your music. You two hung out in his apartment where his members stay and spend time with the two of you, you hung out in the convenience store eating ice cream and telling jokes. You didn’t have many friends in the music industry and now you consider Taeyong as your best friend.

He looked good, you thought. He was sporting a gold glittered blazer with a black top beneath it, 3 layered chokers and he was wearing the dangling earrings you loved so much on him.

You walked towards Taeyong and said, “Yong, look at me,” he let out a breathy laugh but kept his head down. Putting your fingers under his chin and tilting his head upwards you ask, “What’s wrong?” he closes his eyes and exhales “I smell strawberries,” your eyes widened at his statement. “S-strawberries?” “Yes, strawberries,” he then looks at your eyes and continues “Before my best friend died, she asked me to fetch her strawberries. So, I went to the hospital and see her having a seizure. Doctors were all around her, her boyfriend was frantic and I dropped the jar of strawberry jam. It was the last time I ever associated myself with the fruit,” then he laughs. You apologize and say that it probably was your perfume but he tucks your hair behind your ear and says that it was fine.

This whole time you were talking the photographer took candid photos of you and Taeyong and claimed that it was good for the album cover already. Taeyong kisses your cheek and feel blush creep in on your face.

You were going to sleep well today.

---

The both of you were in Amsterdam to film your music video. You were dressed in a black laced bustier top paired with black flared pants and Taeyong is wearing a white button up top.

It’s been an hour of filming and Taeyong has been showering you with compliments. Your relationship has gotten to the point where you two flirt shamelessly and honestly, you didn’t have any complaints.

As the crew and directors all were huddled to talk about the next scene, you were out smoking looking at the museums and buildings surrounding you.

“You didn’t tell me you smoked,” Taeyong stalks toward you and keeps his hands inside of his pockets. “You never asked. Want to join me?” “No thanks. I quit after she died,” you nod.

“Do you believe in heaven and in hell?” you ask and then he stands beside you, “Move away from me Yong, you’re going to get cancer from second-hand smoking you know,” “I believe that if we die, we’re just going to live a life with eternal darkness and quietness and loneliness,” he answers your question and ignores your previous statement. “I do believe in God, yes, but if we die and then that’s it. Do you believe in it?” he asks, “I believe that we do go to heaven or hell based on the actions and choices we’ve made in our borrowed time living here,” you say.

“What separates the people who will enter heaven to those who will enter hell? I mean, humans make pretty bad and wrong decisions. If hurting a person, unintentionally and intentionally, is just the basis for us to live a life in paradise or in damnation then I guess we’re all fucked huh?” you both laugh. You throw your cigarette to the trash can near you and stick your hand out for Taeyong to hold.

---

The first time you and him kissed was after your comeback stage.

It was hot, it was messy and you felt like flying. He told you you tasted like strawberries mixed with the after-taste of cigars. You just laugh and continue kissing down his neck.

He tugged at your hair and removed the strap off of your dress. You got on your knees and unbuckled his belt.

As the night went further and your relationship progressed, he had told you that he loves you and that you indeed smell like strawberries. And as much as he dislikes the fruit and what comes with it, if loving you means he has to smell and taste like strawberries for the rest of his life then so be it.

You slept with a smile on your face, head on Taeyong’s chest and his arms caging you for protection.

---

You were hysterical.

You had rushed Taeyong into the ER as soon as your comeback stage had ended. You were supposed to go out and celebrate with him, announce the tour you were having but all your plans had ended once you saw the he had coughed up blood and was having a hard time breathing.

Machines and tubes were stuck in his body, his unconscious body. You held his hand for the longest time that day and you weren’t planning on letting go.

You woke up with Taeyong speaking to the doctor and you saw that they were having a serious conversation. “Taeyong?” he looks at you, a little startled. He ushers the doctor to leave and says to you, “Hey, you should go back to sleep,” you ask what the doctor said and he just simply says that it was a bad bad bad case of food poisoning. You were apprehensive but you didn’t want to push it any further, he needed his rest after all.

That was the first mistake you made.

---

The second mistake was smoking around him. You wanted to stop but it had helped you through the sleepless nights and when you were overthinking.

The third mistake was pushing through with the tour. It was his idea, saying it was the least you two could do for your fans but it was your fault for supporting it.

The last straw was watching him being taken away by the paramedics and staying kneeled and glued to the stage as they rushed him into the hospital.

You arrived seeing doctors moving everywhere and getting paddles and shouting ‘clear’. You couldn’t stand to watch him as they revived his body. So, you took your pack of cigarettes and went outside.

By the time you finished three sticks, you decided to see how Taeyong was doing. Every step you took felt like it weighed tons, like your world was crashing but seeing and hearing the doctors call the time of his death? You felt that the world has ended.

You were screaming and crying and questioning everything and anything. You screamed and screamed until your cries had taken over and seeing Taeyong lying on his bed cold and lifeless, it shattered you.

---

Months after his death, you continued on with the tour.

Today, you were in Amsterdam and was about to finish the last song.

Right before you sung though, Taeyong’s voice rung around the concert hall. Everyone was quiet.

“Hey Y/N. If you’re hearing this it means that I’ve died. I have a few things to say so please listen.

From the first day I met you, I knew that I was going to fall in love with you but the minute I smelt your strawberry scent? I knew I had to distance myself,” he laughs.

“It was hard to though. It was the boys who pushed me to hang out with you more. It would benefit our work after all. Hence, the pizza mistaken as a song topic incident. From that moment on, I found myself liking you much more than I intended to.

Fast forward to all of our shared jokes and stories. Late night ice-cream stops at the convenience store. Breakfast dates. Coffee-stained sweaters and deep conversations while you smoked.

I knew that I fell in love with you the moment that your lips brushed mine. It was special, magical, felt like I was floating on cloud nine. I just let myself fall deeper until the moment you rushed me into the ER when I coughed up blood.

I needed you to stay away from me because I knew that it would happen. I am sorry, I am very sorry, that I didn’t tell you the truth. Maybe if I had told you the truth you would’ve really stayed away from me but I just couldn’t bring myself to tell you and hurt you.

I am a smoker. I quit because my best friend died of second-hand smoking. It was my fault she died, it was my fault I hated strawberries and it’s my fault now that I left you without ever explaining the truth about me.

I don’t want you blaming yourself for not noticing the signs or for keeping on smoking. None of this is your fault Y/N.

I just didn’t want to lose the time knowing that you’d be so cautious around me. No, I wanted us to be as normal as we could ever be. I wanted more time with you but I guess this is for the best.

You deserve so much more this world could ever offer. You are a great person with a great personality, great talents, great body and a great heart.

I want- I need you to keep on using that talent and heart to inspire people all over the world to fight. We have achieved so much together and I want you to use this pain into art.

I loved you and I will love you even if my soul ends up in a cold and dark place. I will love you even if you choose to love another guy. I know, I know that I will be in your heart and that I will always have that one piece saved specifically for me.

I love you and your cigarettes. Your strawberry-flavored perfume scent, your strawberry-flavored shampoo and your taste when I kiss you after you smoke.

Your strawberries clung on to my shirts and sweaters, and it did hurt me at first because it brought back the memories of her but you gave me a new reason to love strawberries.

I love you, Y/N,” as he sings, the whole crowd were in tears and you were sat on the stage clutching your microphone near your heart.

You smile and look up at the ‘heavens’ as he sings,

“Strawberries and cigarettes always taste like you,”

(A/N: This is my first taeyong one-shot and i hope you liked it. i tried to be very angst-y haha. please send in requests aaand feeback is always appreciated!)

#lee taeyong au #taeyong au #taeyong angst #nct taeyong angst #taeyong x reader #nct taeyong x reader #lee taeyong x reader #multmilk #multmilk writings #m.list

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ciestessde · 4 years

Text

NOT My Hero Academia: Part 1 – Ch.7

Only the top 42 students got to move on. The rest went to participate in something else. But I didn't hear what. I wasn't listening… Because I was starting to really feel how nervous I was…!

'The plant's wearing off.'

Midnight was announcing the second event before most of the students even managed to catch their breath. 'Now's NOT the time to lose focus…!' I chastised myself. Looking up at the screen, I read what my next hurdle was: a cavalry battle. Midnight explained that each team was to have between 2 and 4 members. The objectives were normal: Just snag your opponents' headbands while guarding your own.

"And your individual point values start at five, at the bottom! So the student who took 42nd place is worth five points, 41st is worth ten.. Get it? But… Our first place participant is worth… TEN MILLION POINTS!!" If I was nervous before, it was nothing compared that moment.

I felt my blood run cold.

"The higher-ranked students are the ones to aim for… This survival game is a chance for a comeback. It's anyone's game!!"

I wasn't sure I wanted to, but I looked around myself anyway. And, like I feared, the other students were staring at me. 'The eyes on me are just like back in middle school… Except now, they're… hungry… even more hostile.' I tried to ignore the stares, focusing on Midnight's explanation instead.

"The match will last 15 minutes. Each team's points are determined by its members. The rider will wear a headband displaying the total number of points!" A goofy example appeared on the screen -- of All Might being held aloft by some of the other teachers. Arrows displayed their individual points, and All Might wore a headband with the total. "Until the match ends, you'll all compete to grab each other's points and maintain the ones you have." Another image told us the headbands were only fastened with velcro. "Any headbands you grab must be worn around the neck or higher. But the more headbands you've got, the harder they'll be to manage!

"Most importantly, even if your headband is taken… and even if your horse formation is broken… It's not over 'til it's over!" I heard the others discussing what would be easy or difficult about this event. I chanced a glance -- and let out a relieved breath. They'd stopped staring! "Quirks are allowed, so it'll be a brutal battle! However… It's still a cavalry battle!! Maliciously attacking another team with the intent of making them fall will get you a red card! And that means you're out of the game!"

"You've got 15 minutes! Time to form your teams!"

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

All For One watched as Izuku panicked. But, slowly, just as All For One expected… the shock wore off.

Izuku took a few deep breaths. 'Alright! … Alright. I don't need to worry about getting enough points, only keeping the ones I have. That means I can focus on defense, so… Yeah, him… and her…' With a plan now in mind, Izuku looked around to find his preferred teammates.

All For One smirked. From the way Izuku was moving with purpose, it seemed his pupil had already formed a plan.

Izuku, while looking around, spotted Bakugo, who was surrounded by people from all classes, and all vying to be on his team. But aside from that… 'Right. Everyone's sticking to their own class. Mostly because we don't know about the other class's quirks… But everyone knows I don't have one, and with my point value… 'They're avoiding me like the plague!!

Izuku tried approaching one of his classmates, but he didn't even get a word out before they slinked away with a "Sorry…" 'Great… They must figure that the best strategy isn't to hold on to my points the whole time… but to instead try stealing them at the very end! And since I don't have a quirk, they don't trust me to be able to keep it…'

Then, from behind him, the voice of an angel, "Deku! Team up with m-Whoa." "Uraraka!!" Izuku spun and leapt toward her in excitement.

All For One's smile grew larger. The Plant's effects had definitely worn off, and he was eager to see how Izuku performed under such pressure without its effects, after all his training.

"Y-you mean it?!" Izuku asked her, disbelieving. "Everyone's probably gonna come after me for my ten million-" "Yeah, but you'll win if you can just run away," Uraraka shined a smile at him, "and teaming up with a friend… just seems right!" "...!!" "What's wrong?! You got all ugly!!" "You're just so uraraka I can't bear to look at you, Uraraka…"

Snapping back into serious-mode, Izuku said, "I actually wanted to team up with you too, so thanks! Partnering with someone you get along with is definitely the best option!" His panic, finally, was going away. "Now that we've got your quirk, Uraraka, we just need them…"

With only a few minutes on the clock, the two rushed to gather the other ideal members of their team. All For One listened eagerly to Izuku explain his plan; his pupil was performing better than he'd hoped. But would this be enough…?

Tokoyami agreed to join Izuku's team easily.

Iida, though… "... Yes, what Tokoyami said. Despite your weaker nature, you've proven your skills in strategy. I'd expect no less, Midoriya. With our quirks behind you… Yes. I accept as well."

Izuku, Uraraka, Iida, and Tokoyami used the last few minutes to go over their battle strategy a bit more, and before they knew it- "-Your 15 minutes are up. Time to get started," Midnight announced.

They formed their horse. At first, Izuku's plan was to have Tokoyami as the rider, since he was the strongest. But then Uraraka told him about not being able to make herself weightless without becoming nauseous. So, to keep their formation balanced, she was the rider instead and, for prime maneuverability, Iida was in front.

"LET'S GET A BATTLE CRY!! HERE COMES THE STARTING SIGNAL!! BLOOD BEGETS BLOOD IN THE U.A. GRAND MATCH!!" They heard Present Mic over the speakers, "FORMED YOUR TEAMS? MADE YOUR PLANS? TOO BAD IF YOU HAVEN'T!! HERE WE GO!! THE COUNTDOWN TO THIS BRUTAL BATTLE ROYALE!!"

All the teams took up spots along the outside of the arena. "THREE!! "TWO!! "ONE!"

"START!"

The teams nearest Team Uraraka immediately rushed them, and someone's quirk caused the ground beneath them to turn into sand. They were sinking! "Attacked right off the bat by two teams… Tokoyami, give us some air!" Izuku said. Tokoyami, using Dark Shadow, lifted them out of the sand -- they could jump long and high with Uraraka's Zero Gravity this way.

Jiro used her quirk to grab at their headband as her team passed them, but Izuku parried her, using his extendable bo-staff for the first time during the Festival.

All For One was pleased he'd managed this long without it.

Tokoyami then ordered Dark Shadow to cover their blind spots.

"WELL, BARELY TWO MINUTES HAVE PASSED, BUT THE BATTLEFIELD'S ALREADY CHAOTIC!! WITH EVERYONE SCRAMBLING FOR HEADBANDS, IT'S NOT JUST THE TEN MILLION OUT THERE! THOSE OTHER HIGH RANKERS ARE WORTH A SHOT AS WELL!!"

When Team Uraraka landed, they were immediately charged again. This time by- "Huh?! Shoji's alone?! But this is a cavalry battle!!" said Izuku. "We must keep our distance!" Tokyami advised, "Fighting is best avoided!" Right as he said that, a familiar-looking tongue rushed out of the canopy of Shoji's arms. Dark Shadow blocked it before it could get near Uraraka. "Good job blocking, Tokoyami…!"

Tsuyu could just be made out in the shadow on Shoji's back. "Whoa!! Is that legal?!" Izuku exclaimed. "Sure is!" called Midnight. "TEAM ASUI USES HER SMALLER SIZE TO FORM LESS OF A HORSE AND MORE OF A TANK!"

Iida sped them away and out-of-range of Tsuyu's tongue, but they still weren't allowed a breather. Because, out of nowhere… "Getting pretty full of yourself, huh, you bastard!"

… Bakugo came charging at them through the air!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[Beginning]

[Previous Chapter] - [Next Chapter]

Read my original book, Crossroad of Infinity for free right here on Tumblr, on my website, or on AO3!

#villain!deku #villain deku #my hero academia #izuku midoriya #fanfiction

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hvllevator · 5 years

Text

dont need your love | lee jeno

pairing: lee jeno x female reader

words: 940

genre: angst

summary: a one shot that leads to an end of a relationship.

reason of breaking up: infidelity

a/n: aaaa i hope i did well on this. remember that this is purely fictional and i dont think jeno wud ever cheat on his partner.

other members at my masterlist, its on my bio. check it out, thank you!

(gif not mine)

Jeno was often very honest to you. You knew that he would never do anything to break your trust. Admitting even the smallest of mistakes seeing as he never wanted you to be angry with him.

One drunken night, one mistake was all it took for your entire relationship to come crashing down.

Jeno was out with his members, celebrating another successful comeback. He invited you to come with but you exclaimed that you were too tired and that they should have their boys night. Jeno left a kiss on your lips before leaving for the night. Unaware of where his lips would elsewhere be.

One shot, Jeno laughed loudly at something Jisung had said. Feeling the alcoholic beverage pass down his throat.

Three shots, Jeno’s phone rang, a text from you telling him to have a fun night and not to drink so much. It was left unread at Jeno didn’t even bother checking his phone.

Five shots, Jeno’s head started pounding as the loud music from the club rung in his ears. Shaking his head, he saw some women walking over to their way.

Jeno had enough alcohol, once a woman probably around his age clung to him. Her hands roaming his body. He knew it was wrong, his mind wandering off to you. His girlfriend who was waiting for him back home. Jeno felt sick, yet he didn’t move nor do anything to stop the woman from going further.

Your eyes fluttered open, the sun peeking through your curtains. Sitting up, you realized you fell asleep on the sofa waiting for Jeno to come home. Grabbing your phone, seeing no texts from Jeno or from any of his members. He must’ve went home to their dorms for the night.

Jeno woke up with a pounding headache, a load groan left his lips and as he brought up his arm to his head. He felt the weight of a person laying on it. Jeno casted a glance at the sleeping figure beside him, it wasn’t you. Panic ran through him, forcefully yanking his arm back. The once sleeping woman beside him woke up, gripping the sheets close to her body this was when Jeno realized she was stripped out of her clothes. Jeno felt suffocated as he watched the woman scramble to pick up her discarded clothes on the floor. Bowing before her presence left the cold room.

“What the fuck have I done?” Jeno cried out.

You decided to visit them at the dorms, you were always welcome there. The boys loved you and welcomed you with open arms. Bringing some medicine to cure their hangovers and some hot soup to somehow make them feel better. You drove to their apartment.

Pushing your key through the keyhole, twisting it and pushing the door wide open. As you did, a frantic lady greeted you. “You must be their housekeeper.” She stated, a look of confusion plastered on your face.

“Excuse me?” You asked, starting at her from top to bottom. She obviously looked like she was from the nightclub. Her tight dress and high heels. Her messy hair and make up running down her face, gave it away that she indeed had fun with one of the boys. The only question was with who?

“Can you tell Jeno-“ Your breath hitched, “that I had an amazing night. I’ll be leaving now, thanks.” She sauntered away.

You dropped the bags you had gripped in your hands. Head turning from what she just said. Your gaze immediately went to Jeno’s bedroom door as if he could see you from there. Storming up to his room, you pushed open the door rather forcefully.

“Y/N!” Jeno exclaimed, clearly shocked to see you there at such an early hour. “W-what are you doing here, baby?” You examined his room, his clothes discarded on the carpeted floor. Seeing the faint lipstick marks on his chest.

“I should’ve saw it coming.” You scoffed, a glare evident on your face.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jeno questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m not dumb, Jeno. I met your girl out there, and your room reeks of cheap women’s perfume.”

“Y/N...” Jeno stood up from the bed, hands raising in defense.

“You’re a celebrity for fuck’s sake, of course you have women lining up to get in your pants. I just never thought I’d live to see the day you actually caved in.” You snarled.

“It was a stupid mistake, I was drunk I nev-“

“Drunk or not, you should’ve known it was fucking wrong! I thought you were better than this, Jeno.” You interrupted, blood boiling just at the mere thought of Jeno not making any efforts to prevent what just happened. “You knew it was my heart you’re holding.” You whispered.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” Jeno cried out. “I’m so fucking sorry, I-I promise it won’t happen again.” He pleaded, dropping to his knees.

“I’m sure it wont, because we’re through.” You declared.

Jeno looked up, tears flowing from his eyes. Scrambling to stand up. “No, no, no Y/N. You don’t mean that.”

“I do, Jeno. I can’t be with someone who forgets about me after a couple of drinks. It clearly shows how much you value our relationship.”

“I was intoxicated!” Jeno argued.

“That does not excuse you. Goodbye, Jeno. I hope she was worth our relationship.” You turned your back, not even sparing a glance towards him as you marched your way out of his room— out of their dorm. Tears rushed to your eyes the second you stepped out of their home. Weren’t you good enough for him?

#dont need your love #dnyl #nct #nct dream #nct imagines #nct reactions #nct scenarios #nct fake texts #nct masterlist #nct angst #nct smut #nct fluff #lee jeno #jeno #nct dream jeno

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darkpoisonouslove · 5 years

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“What Is the One Thing That Can Never Break?”

Summary: Griffin's not eating, not sleeping, not taking care of herself. She's only working, hoping to prevent Valtor and the Coven from hurting anyone else. No matter what that means for her. She already got hurt anyway. Set after Griffin joined the Company of Light.

Here is an idea that was lucky enough to be remembered after I managed to forget it and I might have gone a little overboard with executing it. Warning for a lot of angst. Please, tell me what you think since this was my first time writing about some of the characters and I want to know how I did! Thanks and enjoy!

A noise in the quietness of the palace typical for that time of night irritated Griffin’s hearing but she ignored it along with her own heart skipping a beat. If anyone was trying to sneak up on her, she wouldn’t have heard a thing. She was safe at Marion and Oritel’s palace. The Coven couldn’t reach her there. It wasn’t herself she needed to worry about. It was everyone else.

The culprit soon gave himself away. Oritel’s armor didn’t do much for stealth clinking in its signature pattern with every step as he approached her. He was always ready for battle to the point where it had made her wonder if he ever took it off. But when he and Marion had announced the news of her pregnancy, it had become clear that they both still had lives outside the war. And Griffin had been happy for them, shutting out all parts of her brain that were hissing it was madness or somehow unfair. It was a miracle that they could retain some happiness in the midst of everything that was happening and relief flooded her system every time they proved that not all was lost. Even if she didn’t deserve it.

She focused harder on her work to convey she was ignoring him on purpose and force him to leave her alone. She needed to work. And he needed to go back to his wife.

He didn’t.

“Won’t you be retiring for the evening?” his voice startled her with the failure of her strategy. “It’s quite late,” the words echoed like a response to her thoughts, like Lysslis’ cackle after one of her illusions had left you shaken by your worst fear and Griffin clawed at the walls of her own mind not to fall into the pit of her memories.

“I still have work to do,” she said, controlling her voice and herself to stay calm. The easiest way to win an argument with Oritel was not to start one in the first place. Not because he always had the right argumentation, but because he was too stubborn to convince no matter how obvious the truth was. It would be ill-advised to fall into that rabbit hole this late at night when she was tired and everyone had already gone to bed. She didn’t want to wake the whole palace by starting a shouting match with him, which was usually the case. Her collected attitude had to convince him she didn’t need his interference so that he’d go back to his queen.

“It will be there in the morning,” Oritel tried, his tone quiet and relaxed–so unlike the king she knew–as if he didn’t want to start a fight either but the fact that he was still there made his best intentions insignificant.

“Debatable,” Griffin gave a curt response, incapable of anything better without exploding. If the Coven struck at night, in the morning their job would be to find what was stolen and return it–and that would only happen by winning the war–instead of preventing them from taking it in the first place and adding more power to their magical arsenal. And that was the best case scenario. Sometimes there were bodies–more and more often–and they couldn’t do anything about that except bury the dead and accept defeat. Try not to let it repeat. But it had repeated too many times already for them to sit idly by and wait for the next strike. “We need to figure out the Coven’s plan.” They needed to get ahead of them if they wanted to save anyone.

“Surely it will be clearer in the morning, with fresh eyes and a rested mind,” Oritel kept his composure in the face of her stubbornness–especially since she hadn’t raised her head from her notes to acknowledge him as she spoke–and she didn’t know whether to be offended or to give him points for trying a logical approach. Either way, it couldn’t sway her will.

“No time for that,” she shook her head as she hastily moved some sheets around to create a feeling of alarm and restlessness that had him shifting uncomfortably under the subconscious influence of her tactic. “The Coven works day and night,” she brought up her knowledge of their process to push him away. He resented the fact that she’d worked for them and she understood. She did too. That would never change. Neither for him, nor for her. “We have to do the same,” she circled the table to force him out of her way physically and figuratively as well.

“I’ll get someone to look at these while you get some rest,” Oritel didn’t get the cue even though he knew better than that.

Griffin’s head snapped up and she glared at him where she’d left him isolated in the middle of the spacious hall. She’d taken over it and turned it into her own kingdom. “I am your best strategist.” Because she knew the Coven so well. Her value lay in the fact she’d made a grand mistake before finally opening her eyes but if it could save lives, she was ready to swallow all unpleasantness that came with that.

“And that’s why I need you in top shape,” Oritel objected. She had to give him credit for keeping himself in check but his cautiousness only made her blood boil. Now of all times he chose to be patient, when they didn’t even have time to breathe freely, not to mention sleep.

“I am more than capable of handling this,” she snapped at him. She’d left herself no choice. She’d left herself no peace when she’d decided to work with the Coven. No rest for the wicked indeed.

“If this is because of the nightmares…” Oritel came closer, leaving her cornered, and the possibility of him trying to provide some comfort by touching her was more terrifying than what he was talking about.

She stepped back, running from the memories of burning fear creeping through her that only Faragonda and Marion’s warm hands in hers and their soothing voices could rid her of. She’d been tempted to pretend that those were illusions she was made to see and not her own dreams. But her torture was her own conscience catching up with her. Too late. It was all too late.

“They’re under control,” she made sure the same held true for her body language even if it was too late for that, too, for Oritel had already seen the truth. Nightmares couldn’t find her when she wasn’t sleeping. Which left her face to face with the horror of reality. But at least she could be useful there. She wasn’t paralyzed by fear. She could help others to keep herself going.

“Griffin, you have to sleep,” Oritel insisted. The firmness of the words as well as his conviction that he knew best brought her a sense of normalcy that she could use even when she didn’t deserve it.

“I will when I feel the need.” She couldn’t remember when was the last time she’d slept well. Probably before she’d learned that the arms that had hugged her every night were those of a soulless killer. Before she’d realized she’d given her heart to a demon. She couldn’t waste time sleeping when he was still out there threatening the entire world in his thirst for power and greatness. Especially after she’d helped him. “Go back to Marion, Oritel,” she held his gaze through the look he was giving her.

You’ll break.

She couldn’t.

()()()()()()

There was a knock on her door. Just on schedule. Marion and Faragonda had become the prison guard checking on her periodically to make sure she was resting and not wrecking her brain over another strategy. As if trying to save them all and win the war was something bad.

She ignored it, pretending she’d finally given in to sleep–though, her recent sleep patterns didn’t lead naturally to that conclusion–so they’d leave without getting in the way of her work. She didn’t have time for the fight that would occur if either one of them were to enter now. She was tired of interrupting herself to hide her most recent project from them as if she weren’t in her own room and didn’t have the freedom to choose what to do with her own time. She was doing the right thing this time and she didn’t need guidance to avoid making a disastrous choice. She just needed them to stay out of her way.

The door opened behind her back, the creaking sound beginning the test of her patience.

“I don’t recall inviting you,” she snapped, harsher than necessary. Marion’s title didn’t give her the right to barge into her room at will. Faragonda wouldn’t be so impolite.

“Shouldn’t you be in bed?” Marion came in and closed the door unmoved by her protests. She had always been strong-willed but refrained from acting like entitled royalty. Telling herself that she was doing it for Griffin’s own good wasn’t a good reason to change that now. Griffin’s right to make her own choices wasn’t revoked by the terrible mistakes she’d made in the past. Or at least they hadn’t informed her of it being taken away.

“I am,” she snipped back without looking at Marion. Technically, it was true, though it could hardly pass for rest. She had sheets strewn around all over the bedspread and the position she was sitting in was killing her back. Her head ached from the numbers swirling in it and her wrist hurt from all the writing. Still, her location on the bed provided her with a smartass comeback that was sure to annoy the queen.

“Yes, just you and all of this paperwork. Seems really cozy to me,” Marion bit back as she came closer, towering over Griffin despite being shorter when they were on equal footing. She bent down to pick up one of the sheets making Griffin pause with her gaze still trained on the paper in her hands but the thoughts in her head were halted as she waited for a reaction. “What is this?” Marion’s voice was quiet now that the contents of the sheet were sinking in.

Griffin looked at the queen slowly, afraid that if she wasn’t careful, she’d break her, afraid that a quick movement would be too much of a shock for the pregnant woman after the digits had left her paralyzed. “The number of casualties the war is taking,” Griffin answered in the same tone of voice Marion had used even though the paleness of the queen’s face indicated she’d already figured that out.

Marion’s gaze shifted to her as she threw the sheet back on the bed as if it had bitten her, her eyes wide like saucers from the panic setting in. “Where did you get it?” she wrapped her arms around herself to shield herself and the baby from the horror invading her system. Her words sounded strained as if she was holding back from taking the information by any means necessary in her desperation to learn whether the digits she’d seen were real and not just one of Lysslis’ cruel illusions.

“I’m calculating it,” Griffin wasn’t too terribly quick to answer. Once the words were out, Marion would know the numbers weren’t a lie. They were painfully real. And that wasn’t even the entire tragedy. “It’s not even finished yet.” It was already so high. Too high. And it would keep growing if they didn’t put an end to the war.

Marion closed her eyes and shook her head as if to get rid of the terrible knowledge and erase all traces of it from her memory. Her hands were on her arms still and she hadn’t moved them over her belly like Griffin had expected her to. She probably didn’t want to connect her unborn child with the reality of the war even in her mind. Which was all the more reason for her to stay out of Griffin’s way and let her work her magic to keep them safe.

Marion looked like she’d snapped out of the grip of the fear when she opened her eyes and cleared a spot on the bed, her movements unhurried and driven by determination, before she sat down and locked eyes with her. “Griffin, you can’t keep doing this to yourself,” she said, her voice full of compassion despite the seriousness she put in the words. There was no irritation at the fact that they were having that conversation for what felt like the millionth time, though, which could not be said about Griffin.

“This isn’t about guilt,” she tried to speak as calmly as she could manage, for showing any annoyance would only make it seem like she was deflecting, but the look in Marion’s eyes made it clear that she didn’t believe her. Probably because the slow pace of speaking was getting on every last one of her nerves. “This is about perspective,” she said, and this time the desperation was in her voice. She needed Marion to understand. “It helps me get some, remember what’s at stake, what we’re fighting for.” She needed that. She needed it more than oxygen when she knew the Coven and it was already hard to believe that they stood any chance against it. And some days they beat them so easily, as if it was a game they were playing, and she felt like crawling into a hole and dying herself at the thought of the people that had perished because of their incompetence. Because of her terrible choices. “Besides, I’m looking for patterns,” she went for a more logical approach as well. Anything that would work. “Granted, most of it is just senseless bloodshed,” she had to look away as she felt bile rising in her throat at the knowledge that it had been him behind some of the carnage at least, “but if there is even the slightest chance to find something that could help us beat them, then it’s worth every second,” she forced herself to finish as she clutched at her pen as hard as she was grasping at straws when it came to defeating them.

Marion’s hand on hers startled her back into reality and she should have been grateful. She never wished to return to the Coven, not even in her thoughts. But the warmth of Marion’s skin made her grip loosen and her determination slip through her fingers, leaving her confused and lost, for it wasn’t what she needed to feel. “Is it worth the wreckage in your head?” Marion asked as if she could see into her mind to almost make her jerk her hand out of her grasp even though that clearly wasn’t the case since she still had the desire to touch her and offer her comfort.

“We need to protect the universe from them.” It was cruel to make her reminding them all of that when she’d been the one who hadn’t realized it on time.

“By tearing ourselves apart?” Marion was convinced that she was trying to steer her away from self-destruction when it was too late for that. The choices that she’d made were like land mines just waiting to explode in her face in her inability to avoid them after she’d been the one who’d planted them. It only made the blow worse when she had to step on all of them if she wanted to reach her goal.

“By any means necessary,” Griffin pulled her hand away, the action leaving her dangerously close to the edge of the bed. “If they win, nothing will matter.” How did they keep forgetting that after witnessing the ruination the Coven had caused? Maybe it was because they’d never been on the inside of things. They didn’t know the Ancestral Witches personally and they hadn’t seen their capacity for evil in the plans. But she had. And it refused to leave her head, hand in hand with every other realization that had come along with the truth about them.

“I understand that,” Marion’s still calm tone was more insistent now, as if conveying a subtle order to Griffin to believe her and drop the subject.

“Maybe,” Griffin spoke, her expression cold like it never would have been in the face of a plea. “But I don’t think you realize what it means.”A wave of heat coming off of Marion meant that the queen now understood her own frustration with the way they’d been treating her as if she didn’t have a clear grasp on the situation. “Daphne will never be queen. The baby may never get to live,” her words were painful to herself but if awakening Marion’s selfishness and self-interest was what it took for her to understand where she was coming from and let her protect them all, it was worth the low blow.

Marion’s hands instantly covered the barely noticeable baby bump to protect the small life inside her from hearing the words. “I know that, Griffin,” she said, her gaze lost somewhere in space as she blinked back tears. “It’s all I’ve been able to think about,” she admitted in a whisper that was so loud it managed to cut through Griffin’s own selfishness to leave her wishing to comfort Marion and shield her from her own words. “But punishing yourself for things that aren’t your fault will not help,” Marion was quicker to speak, eyes focused on Griffin again, begging her to stop hurting herself as if Griffin hadn’t just been the one to push a knife into her back with her behavior.

“It’s a good thing I’m not doing that then,” Griffin said firmly, her gaze cold again as she met Marion’s. She was only berating herself for the mistakes she’d made. It was just a coincidence that those were big enough to take over her entire life.

Marion’s look changed at the face of her stubbornness.

You’ll break.

She couldn’t.

()()()()()()

Griffin didn’t lift her head from the book she was reading at the approaching footsteps sending a clear signal to be left alone. Of course, nothing ever went her way. Whoever the steps belonged to wasn’t deterred by her disinterest in them or the fact that libraries were intended for reading, not conversation. They invaded her personal space and slammed a full bowl of soup down on top of her book.

She looked at it scandalized for a moment before her gaze moved to the culprit. Hagen.

He kept chewing on his own portion unbothered by the death glare she was sending him.

The two of them upheld the staring contest for a minute–she counted the seconds to refocus the anger rising inside her with every wasted but it only flared up as she went through the numbers instead of diminishing as intentioned–with him not breaking eye contact even when he shoved another spoonful of soup in his mouth while her hands clenched in fists. His gaze didn’t leave her face for a moment and finally moved after sensing the rising tension in her or reading it behind the annoyance she was keeping her expression to.

“Eat,” he motioned with his spoon towards the bowl he’d left on her open book and a greasy drop fell from it. It missed the pages by a hair.

He was a man of few words but his behavior was rude and unacceptable without including his carelessness when it came to the books. It was preposterous of him to order her around like that.

“I’m working.” She turned back to her book. She paused at the sight of the food as if it was violent magic threatening to blast her. Just looking at it made her stomach spasm, ready to push its contents out of her system. She wouldn’t be able to eat for weeks after what she’d witnessed the previous day.

“You need to eat,” he didn’t give up, drawing her attention back to him.

“Not right now, I don’t. I need to finish my work,” she stressed the words to get them in his thick head before pushing the bowl of soup away demonstratively but with enough care to avoid spilling its contents all over the pages.

“You skipped breakfast this morning,” Hagen had her whipping her head in his direction, the motion radiating murderous rage that didn’t phase him in the slightest. “And you also didn’t eat at dinner last night. Come to think of it,” he paused with his still full spoon in midair, “I haven’t seen you eat in the past two days. Save for that cookie you ate with the tea Faragonda forced you to take a break for,” he let his spoon back into his bowl and pushed the one he’d left for her back towards her, nearly spilling it over her and the paper.

Griffin jumped up from her chair and almost sent it tumbling to the ground. “Okay, first of all,” she waved her hand sharply, “I don’t know what the hell you were thinking when you brought food into the library.”

“That you have to eat,” Hagen stared her right in the eyes that had to have caught fire by now.

“Secondly, how dare you interrupt my work?” Not to mention her angry rant. Who was he to keep tabs on her food intake?

Hagen opened his mouth.

“And thirdly,” she raised her voice to keep him from speaking, “why are all of you suddenly trying to be my babysitters?” If even Hagen was acting the part, then she couldn’t expect any of the rest of them to leave her be. They would all be fretting over her as if she was a baby when she needed to be left alone to work in peace.

Hagen looked at her for a moment in a way that left her vibrating with the need to move and peel the stillness off her body. He was acting like he had some divine knowledge that she was incapable of understanding. “All of this would go so much smoother and easier if you’d just take ten minutes to eat instead of arguing with anyone who’s worried about you for half an hour.”

Since when was he the wise one? The spiritual guide that was leading them all through life? Last time she’d checked he’d been acting like a smitten teenager, unable to handle his crush on Faragonda. He wasn’t qualified to give life advice where she was concerned and she was burning with the desire to throw all of that in his face and watch him crawl away to lick at his wounded ego but she never got the chance.

“Both Faragonda and Marion are worried sick about you, and rightfully so.” Ah, so that was what it was all about. Now at least his interest in her well-being made sense. “You think nobody saw how you almost fainted yesterday?”

Her heart skipped a beat at the mention and she clenched her fists to keep them at her side instead of covering the wound in her chest. If he’d seen it, there was proof it had happened and she was dying to push that fact out of her mind and erase it altogether like it had never existed.

“You were seconds away from smashing your skull against the floor, no doubt from exhaustion,” Hagen continued, his voice rising as he left his bowl on the table. Oh, he was getting serious now. Enough so to tear himself away from his lunch for a few seconds. How could she not appreciate the sacrifice? “You may not care about yourself, but have mercy on Faragonda and Marion at least because they care too much for you.”

She had to throw the bowl of soup in his face. Both of them. Maybe it would snap him out of his overprotective haze and allow reality to sink in. All over the magical dimension people were dying and leaving mourning families behind. If there were any survivors after the Coven’s raids. And there he was, yelling at her to care when that was exactly what she was doing only to have them all getting in her way.

“I almost fainted because of what we saw on our last mission.” Flashes of red flooded her mind, constellations of blood in some kind of sick tribute to her, tainting her passion for the stars that she’d foolishly shared with him believing it would remain pure with his fingertips all over it. “And that is why I haven’t stopped working,” her arms moved of their own accord at the impulse to hug herself and start rocking back and forth. It was too hard–impossible–to forget even without being reminded of it. Without being reminded of him and that he’d ever existed. “The Coven won’t have mercy on anyone so I can’t afford to stop for food or to spare anyone’s feelings.” Not even her own. She had to figure out the Coven’s plan which would leave her face to face with him. And that was the last thing she wanted to see. But they had to win. And the only way to do that was to go through him. Even if it meant sacrificing her own heart in the process.

“Then stop to save people’s lives,” Hagen reminded her that he was the one she was currently facing and she was glad–probably for the first time ever–to have him standing in front of her. “You won’t be of any help to anyone if you’re unconscious.” Even if he was trying to use logic against her. That was her strong suit, not his. “If you pass out, Marion won’t let you out of bed at least for a week and Faragonda will proceed to babysit you for the rest of time.”

That last part had Griffin grumbling as she sat down and pulled the full bowl of soup towards herself. She would never call the argument compelling–it was the last thing she wanted to hear–but it was true. She choked down the nausea and forced a spoonful of soup into her mouth and down her throat. She couldn’t allow anything–not even their concern for her–to get in her way.

Sometimes she wished they’d never come to care for her and would instead just tolerate her like some of the other members of the Company did. Or better yet, she wished they’d killed her during one of those battles when she’d still been working with the Coven, before she could have made the dark forces so powerful. It would have saved them a lot of trouble.

“What is it you’re working on that’s so important?” Hagen looked at the books, his own bowl in his hands again. He was proving to be a welcome distraction from the spiraling thoughts in her head even if he accomplished it by awakening a budding sense of alarm in the back of her mind as he was looming over her book in a constant threat of destroying it if he accidentally spilled his soup over it.

“I’m studying the magical artifacts and powerful spells of each realm trying to figure out where the Coven will strike next,” Griffin said now that her work wasn’t getting frowned upon so aggressively. The knowledge she had on them and how they operated could be used to foretell their next move.

The Ancestral Witches weren’t stupid, of course. They knew she was well acquainted with the Coven’s inner workings so they were trying to throw her off the trail, some times more successfully than others. Like the day before. She had to keep analyzing quickly and carefully if she wanted to be able to oppose them.

“Do you even taste the flavor of the soup?” Hagen asked, his eyes trained on her face and his look something she could happily live without.

She studied him for a moment trying to process the question, trying to understand why it mattered. “Not really?” her voice wobbled with the lack of an idea of where he was going with that.

“You can’t just stop living,” Hagen used the fact that she still hadn’t rolled her eyes and looked away to get through to her. And in all fairness, that was exactly what she had to do but she couldn’t find any ulterior motive to his words. It was clear why he wanted her to eat but that didn’t mean that he had to keep her company or take care of her mental health and emotions. “If anything, you should live fully since each day can be your last,” Hagen said, uncharacteristically open, especially on a topic that they all looked to avoid since it was too raw and painful to discuss.

She hadn’t expected a heart-to-heart from him but it was true. Just like it was true that she died a little every time she remembered why she’d been working for the Coven, every time she remembered how she felt and why she’d left. Living fully was not an option after the choice she’d made. Surviving was all that was left, although physical death would at least put an end to the torture in her head. She still had to fight for everyone else.

“Let me worry about that,” she let the spoon fall back into the bowl. He’d just reminded her what was at stake. She was done with her break.

Hagen shook his head when she pushed the bowl with the remaining soup away.

You’ll break.

She couldn’t.

()()()()()()

She’d opened her mouth, the yell bubbling in her chest only to be stuck there when a hand closed around her bicep and pulled her away from the soldiers, who were relieved to have her off their backs. She turned to bite off the head of whoever had disregarded any respect for her personal space and autonomy. Her teeth sank into her own tongue instead at the sight of Saladin’s serious face.

“Let them catch their breath,” he hissed at her quietly. He was never one to make a scene, even when he was angry. She had to thank him for not drawing more negative attention to her, and she would if she weren’t right next to him on an emotional level. “They just came back from a battle. They’re tired.”

That was the whole reason why she’d been fishing for details. She needed to know every little thing that could help her make life easier and safer for all of them by predicting the Coven’s plans. It was why she hadn’t even waited for them to get out of the infirmary. Time was of the essence.

“We have no time for rest,” she snapped, drawing a few angry gazes to her back. “We have to figure out what the Coven is doing next.”

“You weren’t in such a hurry when you had to leave them,” Saladin bit back, his voice hushed again so that no one would hear him.

No one but her. The only one his words would hurt since everyone else would agree with him. Valtor had become so powerful because of her. And the Coven had benefited greatly from her strategies. She’d done so much for them that nothing would have been the same without her.

“I’m sorry,” Saladin’s apology was much louder despite the shame that was accompanying it. But it hurt more to hear him blame himself rather than her.

“For what?” Griffin asked, all of her irritation draining away to leave only the emptiness of resignation. “The truth?”

“You’re not guilty for our current situation,” Saladin was always quick to reassure a friend and had easily figured out the direction of her thoughts. Much easier than foreseeing the Coven’s plans was for her. Because Saladin truly was her friend and had cared enough to pay attention and learn to read her. And she was repaying him by forcing him to regret saying the truth that she didn’t like to hear.

“Valtor wouldn’t have become nearly as powerful if I’d just left sooner.” And neither would have she. Their partnership had taught her a lot and had helped her cultivate many skills. But that hardly mattered at the moment. He was doing far more damage than she could prevent and she never would have needed all the power she’d gained if she hadn’t boosted the Coven as well. “I should have never joined them.” If she’d been on the side of the Company from the start, everything would have been different. It would have been better.

“He would’ve found another partner.” The hasty dismissal of her point squeezed her heart with a vengeance.

Griffin shook her head. He wouldn’t have. No one else would have done for him what she had. No one else would have fallen in love with him, unlocking immense power in their convergence. They’d been unstoppable together and it had been clear to anyone who’d ever faced them where that synchronized power had come from. Saladin didn’t want to acknowledge it because it was inconvenient for his argument.

“He wouldn’t have come so far without me,” Griffin mentally shoved back at the memories of all the lines they’d crossed together, all the things she had to regret and not let them in her eyes from where they could leak out into the open and finish her. They had to stay locked away, for they were too offensive to the world she was fighting to protect and the feelings that accompanied them were too dangerous for her to allow herself to fall back into them.

“You’re not responsible for his crimes,” Saladin wasn’t helping, his words pointing to inability to understand the situation at best or willful ignorance in order to spare her feelings at worst. He was acting as if he didn’t know what a partnership entailed, as if he hadn’t seen her work in total tandem with Valtor.

“But I am responsible for my own.” Valtor hadn’t held a weapon to her head. She’d joined him willingly, had done everything of her own volition. She’d killed people with her own hands following her own plans. “I stole spells and artifacts that he’s still using to win the war. What I did makes him powerful even now that I am here.”

She’d taken some of the artifacts with her when she’d left but there’d been too many for her to restore all the losses she’d caused. She’d stolen too much to be able to fix it all on her own. Her only chance was through the Company and she couldn’t stand it when even that failed, for there were no other options. There was no other way for her to be able to live with herself.

“I am responsible for so much evil and I have to fix it before he gets to destroy anything else.” The tears were taking over her eyes just like the thoughts of Valtor were doing to her mind even though she’d promised herself to never let him touch any part of her again, and it was all too much. She needed to go work and collect herself before she could break down.

“Griffin-” Saladin’s voice died in his throat when an agonized hiss left her at the touch of his hand on her shoulder before she recoiled. “You’re injured,” he barely managed as if he couldn’t comprehend what he’d just witnessed, his mind on the other side of the time gap between the last time she’d been on the battlefield and the present moment, and that wasn’t a short distance. She was mostly wielding the books these days, constantly changing and refining her strategies to make them more effective and tracking down Coven members for the rest of the Company to catch.

“I’m fine,” Griffin did her best not to snap as she refrained from touching her shoulder. She just had to hope her face wouldn’t betray any of the pain she was in. The tears had been chased away by the shift in her emotions now that her attention was directed towards the physical injury and the main crisis had been averted.

“No, you’re not,” Saladin insisted with a firmness in his voice that was never there when their arguments were of a more aggressive nature, but now his driving force was care. For her. “You should have that checked.” He looked like he had half a mind to grab her hand and drag her to the medical personnel watching the whole time to ensure she got treated, but was afraid that he might discover another injury she was hiding if he dared touch her again. The warmth of his friendship offered so readily was making it hard to pretend she was okay and more physical contact could make her facade crumble.

“And have the Coven hurt more innocent people while I’m having a minor injury prioritized over the safety of the whole world?” she snapped to keep him away and remind them both what was important. Her shoulder hurt like a bitch but it was nothing compared to the hit she took every time they failed in their mission. “It will heal,” the words didn’t bring her any comfort, “but the people they’ll kill won’t come back.” That was what they had to focus on. It was the only thing that mattered. “We have to act before it’s too late and not repeat my mistake.”

The look Saladin gave her hurt with the pain her behavior was putting him through.

You’ll break.

She couldn’t.

()()()()()()

She heard the quiet steps on the gravel and didn’t try to turn away or pretend she wanted to be left alone. Because it was Faragonda and because she didn’t want to be left alone. That was the thing. She’d never wanted to be alone but the loneliness resided in her no matter how many people were around.

Faragonda sat on the bench next to her–Griffin had had half a mind to just sit on the grass but that would’ve drawn the attention of anyone who happened to walk by even at that late hour–and wasn’t surprised when she saw the tears falling from Griffin’s eyes. She was worried with her eyebrows slightly knit and her lips pursed and that made Griffin wish to turn away again but she didn’t. Faragonda was her best friend. Of course she’d be worried about her. Griffin was worried about herself. Even if the reasons behind that were vastly different from those of her friend.

Faragonda wrapped her arms around her and drew her to herself into a hug that Griffin selfishly accepted even though she shouldn’t have. She needed some comfort, some warmth, and she couldn’t push it away when it was right in front of her just because she didn’t deserve it.

“Won’t you ask me why I’m crying?” she nudged quietly because that was all she had strength left for but it had to be done. She needed Faragonda to do it. Needed her to ask so that she could get it all out because Faragonda was her closest friend and she couldn’t lie to her no matter how much she wanted to. She would be forced to admit what was going on in her mind.

“No.” Such a firm answer. Denial strong enough to make her bleed. Faragonda believed she knew her well enough to tell what was going on inside her head when she wasn’t even sure herself. All that she knew was that it was terrible and she couldn’t put an end to it. And Faragonda couldn’t do it for her because she had no idea what was happening in her mind right now–though, it had been going on for quite some time–and Griffin needed to stop pushing before she could reveal all of that to her. She couldn’t be selfish enough to burden her with that too. She’d already burdened them all with plenty and her personal problems had to stay just that.

She took a deep, shuddering breath as she held on to Faragonda, fingers clutching at her clothes and her head rested on the fairy’s shoulder, though her body was as tense as ever. “Won’t you tell me something to help stop my tears?” That would be the second best thing, small mercy granted to her because her tears were proof of the worst.

“No,” Faragonda whispered as she pushed the hair out of her face so that it wouldn’t stick to her skin and tickle her nose.

The gentleness only had more tears flowing. The fairy was always there for her, ready to help her, but this time she couldn’t. The only way to help her was to carve her heart out and Faragonda would never do that even if it was for her own good. Which meant there was no point in telling her. There was no point in hurting her, too.

“You need to let it out,” Faragonda said, making her wonder if perhaps she did know what was torturing her. She combed her fingers through Griffin’s hair in slow, soothing motions just like her mom had used to do when she’d been little and reminded her of home. The home she’d betrayed by passing its secrets into the wrong hands. Just like she’d done to herself.

“I cry myself to sleep every time,” she sniveled, hating herself for the pathetic sound. It didn’t happen often as she barely slept anymore but the fact that it happened at all was indicative enough of the seriousness of the situation. Maybe admitting it would get something out of Faragonda. Something that… She didn’t even know what she was looking for. Just something that would make it all at least somewhat bearable.

“We’ve all been through so much. Especially you.”

The words were the exact opposite of what she’d been hoping for, especially in Faragonda’s tired voice that was usually mellow but now just sounded drained, and all of a sudden her body gave off the same impression, too, with her fingers just barely moving through the purple locks. As if she didn’t have the strength to be optimistic and all she could do was sit passively and let the events sweep her away as they played out.

“It’s impossible to just keep going on like a robot,” the monotone tone reminded perfectly of one and it was grotesque coming from Faragonda no matter how much Griffin wished she herself could be a robot. Just some parts that Hagen had scrambled together. No emotions, only following orders. Blameless. “You try to focus on the goal but it’s still too much,” Faragonda’s words pulled her out of her fantasy that was as far from reality as her friend was from her usual self. “What we’ve seen, what we’ve been through… It’s something impossible to live with,” Faragonda’s hold on her loosened, her body going limp against Griffin as if all of her energy went into simply getting the words out of her system. “Because even if we win, it will never go away but we have to fight because losing will mean the end of everything.” The words kept going on and on relentlessly, feeding Griffin’s tears and the pain tearing through her heart. She was only thinking of herself when her friends had to go through all of that.

“It’s all my fault,” she cried out, interrupting Faragonda, the agony too strong to allow her to remain selfless and listen to someone else’s problems for once. All she did was burden them with herself and everything else that came along with that. And even if she didn’t want to trouble her friend anymore, she couldn’t keep the words to herself because that was the harsh truth. She’d ruined everything. It was all wrong. Not a single thing had been okay ever since that day…

Faragonda’s voice reached her for a moment through her weeping and the guilt that had cocooned her in its suffocating embrace, “Griffin-”

Her crying drowned out the rest but she didn’t need to hear Faragonda or even look at her to know the persistent worry in her mind.

You’ll break.

She couldn’t.

()()()()()()

Griffin looked at the mirror in her bathroom. Her colorless skin and the dark circles under her no longer bright eyes were pointing insistently towards sleep deprivation and exhaustion even though she’d just woken up. She’d been pulled away from the only place where she could be with the man she loved, for he didn’t exist. It had all been in her head while in reality she’d been sleeping in the bed of a demon. Still, she remembered the warmth of his skin and the security of his arms around her, making it seem like she’d lost something real, like she’d lost everything.

Her reflection spoke the truth that none of the others could see even when she couldn’t hide it from herself no matter how desperately she wished for that.

You won’t break.

She couldn’t. She had already broken. Her life was in shambles, her heart was in pieces, her soul was in halves one of which she no longer even had. What more was there to break?

#winx club #winx griffin #winx oritel #winx marion #winx hagen #winx saladin #winx faragonda #fanfiction #my fanfiction #my writing #what is the one thing that can never break?

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keener-esme · 5 years

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partition

ft: zig novak, frankie hollingsworth & esme song description: a playful night off turns into a huge shock for esme and frankie, adding another roadblock in her relationship with zig. date: april 5th location: the strip club

Esme It was still a surprise, albeit a pleasant one that Frankie had agreed to this outing, but Esme was satisfied enough not to spend another weekend home alone that she refused to acknowledge what a dumb idea it was in the first place. Truly, neither of them looked the ages inscribed on the ID's Esme had managed to get her hands on, but considering the amount of money the establishment stood to make, she wasn't worried. Deciding on one last layer of eyeliner to age herself, Esme was ready, holding Frankie's ID in front of her face. "When were you born and how do you spell your middle name?" She prompted, holding the fake away from her to make sure the records were memorized.

Frankie: Frankie was incredibly nervous about this idea, but Esme seemed excited. She wasn’t going to be the one to let her best friend down. Plus, maybe they would just be turned away at the door. She responded to the question, “M-A-R-G-A-R-E-T and I was born January 13, 1998.” She said with certainty, even if her stomach was flipping and flopping.

Esme nodded at each correct letter, hissing a happy yesss at the conclusion of the equally correct birthday. "Perfect, we're totally in," she announced, handing the card back to her. Turning to the mirror, she fluffed her tamed curls out and smoothed the hem of her dress, feeling herself. If she had to miss yet another weekend with Zig, Frankie was just as perfect company she'd need, and it wasn't as though she ever thought Zig would go with her somewhere like this. "Ready?"

Frankie: took back the ID and put it into her wallet. She still wasn't sure if this was the right idea, but if Esme was excited, there was no backing down. She was wearing the same outfit from Esme's rave party since she wasn't sure how to dress for a club like this. "I guess, I'm as ready as I'll ever be?"

Esme smiled, pleased by the timing. Nodding, she held out an arm for Frankie to accept, and soon they were en route, in line, and after a nervewrackingly long wait, inside the club. "It worked," she squealed beneath her breath once they were inside, ushering Frankie to a table up front. "A grade twelve from my old school told me about this place. I guess they have some hot new act that everyone is losing it over."

Zig had his gaze fixated on the mirror, checking out his physique to assure that everything was in place. His hands moved to adjust the decorative underwear he had recently bought— tight, sparkly, and barely enough to cover the essentials. Topped off with a fresh new pair of boots, he was quite proud of the look he chose for the night. While he only stumbled into the job by accident, he was glad to have found it now. At first, it was a bit awkward to be performing in such scanty clothing onstage in front of an audience, finding the act a little demeaning, to say the least. Now that he was more comfortable and used to the scene, it became much easier. He had even picked up a few new moves from the other guys at work. "Count! You're on in five!" The emcee called backstage, signaling that it was time for his shift to really start. He took in a deep breath, taking one last look in the mirror before standing at bay next to the stage. Peering out from behind, he took note of the decent sized crowd and hoped for a few good tippers tonight.

Frankie: followed Esme inside and joined her friend at the table. "A grade twelve came here?" She kept her voice hushed, hoping that none of the adults around would be suspect. "I wonder what the new act is like then-- I mean, we can't really compare to the old acts but..." Frankie took a shot glass off of a passing tray, knowing she could pay the tab at the end of the night. Anything to calm her nerves at this point. "What do you think he'll be like?"

Esme "Yeah, like the second she turned eighteen," she snickered, sliding into her seat. "Everyone at that school was too horny for their own good." Impressed by Frankie's initiative, Esme reached back to procure her own drink, setting it in front of herself. Scrolling through her phone, she recited the text she received. "Tall, dimples, abs, an ass that won't quit," she repeated, shrugging to Frankie. "So probably perfect," she surmised, her attention pulled towards the stage as the next act was announced.

Zig waited patiently for his cue, and finally, his introduction came. "Our next act coming to the stage is everyone's favorite newbie. He's young, he's hot, he's Russia's greatest love machine. Give it up for: The Count!" And with that, he strode across the stage and positioned himself in the spotlight, tuning out the crowd and beginning his routine. He practiced for quite some time in the mirror beforehand, and he could only pray that his hard work had paid off. It evidently did as the crowd responded with cheers and holler, flooding the stage with bills of varying value. In between his moves, he'd lean into the crowd for audience interaction, allowing a few to place their payment in the elastic of his bottoms. After the song ended, he almost felt proud of the positive reaction he got from those watching. He leaned down to collect any stray bills, and looked up once last time before exiting the stage— that's when he saw them. Two familiar faces were at the front row seats. No, it wasn't his newfound usuals that frequented his performances, but rather two of the last people he'd ever think to see there. Squinting to make out the familiar figures, his eyes widened as he locked eyes with them. For a moment, Zig was frozen in place, unsure of what to do besides collect the last of his bills and rush off the stage. How the hell was he supposed to explain his way out of this one?

Esme listened diligently, smirking at the eager description. "Russian, already my type," she teased, watching as the man stepped into place. It was amusing how much commotion he caused right off the bat, Esme sure that he must have been a fan favorite for some type based off of the reverie. "Well she was right about the ass..." She mused, craning for a better look before he turned around. It took no time for the blood to run cold, Esme's heart dropping to her feet once the male's identity was revealed, and she scrambled, all but throwing herself across the table to cover Frankie's eyes with her hand, sending the untouched shot glass to the ground, the shatter muffled by the music. "We have to go!" She screamed, her free hand grabbing at Frankie's arm to pull her from her chair, clearly horrified.

Frankie: didn't even get to see who it was past the ass. Her eyes were covered and her shot glass fell with Esme's, but at least she got to down it. "Esme! I have to see the dimples and abs! Please--" but she was already getting pulled away from the scene. "Esme, what was wrong with him? Is everything okay?"

Esme wished she had managed some of the liquid down before careening it to the floor, her heart pounding as they left the venue. "No, everything is absolutely, so ridiculously not okay," she answered, her eyes wide and the panic present in her voice. "We need to leave. Now." She demanded, her hand shaking as she requested the nearest Uber. "We just need to be... somewhere else. Anywhere else. This isn't real."

Zig began to pace around backstage, unsure of what his next move should be. He ran a finger through his damp hair and took another look at his lower region, mortified that both Esme and Frankie saw him like that. "You good? You don't look too hot, man," Another act commented as he passed by the newbie. "Y-yeah, I'm fine," He assured the other, clearly lying about his wellbeing. At the very least, he knew he couldn't leave things as they were, but at the same time, he had no desire to face them either. Nonetheless, he hurriedly threw on a pair of basketball shorts, a signature sleeveless shirt, and a pair of slides before walking out towards the floor. The lighting was a bit dim, but as he searched the venue, he couldn't find them anywhere. His next move was to look outside in hopes that he could catch them by the door. He ran outside, only to spot the two a moment later just as they were about to leave. "Wait, wait up!" He called out, managing to reach out and grab Esme's shoulder before they had a chance to make another move. "Wait," He repeated, breathless over his performance as well as his journey to get to them. "I—I'm sorry I didn't tell you." An apology was a start, he supposed. "I didn't... I couldn't tell you."

Esme It was bad enough, to say the absolute least, that she was witness herself to what had just transpired, but having to explain it away to Frankie was a different circle of hell all together, one she knew she would have to face when she heard the familiar voice calling after her. Her face skewed in anticipation, not even knowing what to say to Zig has he caught up with them. "Don't touch me,” she sighed, shaking the hand off of herself and keeping her back turned to him. " I wouldn't want to make anyone jealous, and obviously there are a lot of girls that would be." The comeback was weak, but she was still far too frazzled for creativity in the moment. "I guess dealing wasn't enough of a thrill."

Zig almost flinched at the harshness of her words, slowly pulling his hand away and worrying for the fate of the trust he had tried so hard to build with her. It was as if all of it came crashing down in a single moment. "You're not... it's not..." But he couldn't find the right words to say no matter how hard he tried. "I'm not doing this for the thrill," Though he would be lying if he said he didn't start enjoying himself a bit, "This job pays better than anything I've tried before. I'm not doing it because it's fun or exciting."

Esme told herself that no matter what, as long as she didn't cry, she'd make it through, but she was slowly losing that battle. "Right, the thrill is just a bonus." Zig was something she'd relied on for comfort as of late, so it was nothing short a struggle to flounder in need of being comforted from him now. "Ignoring how blatantly illegal it is, you lied to my face. Unless one of your costumes is a warehouse worker I guess."

Zig wasn't sure how to fix anything at this point, and feared that no combination of words would be able to reverse the damage that was already done. "I told you what I was doing was illegal, and since when do you even care about stuff like that?" Technically, he was being honest when he said that he'd never be able to work the hours and job he does if he didn't lie about his age, but that small sliver of honesty still didn't remedy the fact that he was hiding the bigger picture of it. "I'm sorry I lied. I didn't want anyone knowing I was doing this, especially you." While stripping wasn't necessarily something to be ashamed about, it wasn't a job that had much merit to it, and if his mother ever found out, she'd surely keel over and die on the spot. He had to keep it hidden for everyone's sake. It wasn't as if he planned on doing it for long, just enough to have a decent savings before trying to find a job he could truly be proud of. "But beyond the lying, all I'm really doing is dancing. It shouldn't be that big of a deal, right?"

Esme "It's completely different," she scoffed, her arms crossing over her chest. "There's a difference between lying for good cause and lying to hide something you realize you shouldn't be doing. Don't make this about me," she shook her head. "I care about being lied to, I don't know how else to word it for you." When things were directed to her, her sorrow shifted to anger. "You're taking your clothes off," she corrected dryly. "So what now, are you going to keep doing it?

Frankie: Frankie had frozen when Zig appeared, completely speechless. Why was he there? Then, as they argued, it started to all clicking together. Zig was one of the strippers. Zig was one of the strippers and Esme was rightfully pissed. She crossed her arms as Zig continued to explain, feeling uncomfortable that she had to be their witness. "It's honestly a pretty big deal that your underage junk is practically on display for a crowd... You know?" She really didn't want either of them directing anger towards her.

Esme cringed when Frankie finally spoke, partially from the guilt of making her their audience, and part from the too sensitive words. At least she wouldn't have to explain their hasty exit, she supposed. Glancing at her phone (and having yet to face Zig), she cursed the estimated arrival time. "Can we just walk?" She sighed, desperate for an out.

Frankie: looked at Esme concerned. Walk? It was a pretty far walk, but if she wanted out, "I mean, yeah." They could take a ride from somewhere else. New pickup point.

Zig ‘s eyes widened at the assertion, shaking his head vigorously. “What? No, I’m not getting naked for anyone. I’m literally just dancing up there... but with less clothes on.” Truthfully, it did cross his mind once or twice to start doing fully nude shows, as he knew they paid far better than what he was receiving now. The other acts were constantly telling how much better the money was doing fully nude shows, but he was almost positive that’d be considered cheating, and there was also the fact that he was underage. “I don’t know... would you not wanna be with me if I did? I’m really sorry I lied to you...”

Esme "Okay, you're taking MOST of your clothes off, my mistake!" She shouted, her hands flying up to emphasize her anger. "You had such a problem with Miles and I being friends over something that happened forever ago - sorry Frankie," she directed quickly before whipping around to finally meet his eyes. "But it's okay for you to get pawed at all night. How would you feel if I was up there?" Wringing her hands together to stay calm, she began to pace the few steps of the sidewalk. "I just - what am I supposed to do?"

Frankie: 's eyes went wide at the mention of her brother. That wasn't something she was ready for, but she could deal with that alone when she got home. "Zig, it is a bit of a double standard-- There are other ways to make money, you know. Ways that don't make your girlfriend upset?" She commented. "Es, if you want to walk, we need to start walking now... Before it gets too late?"

Zig 's own anger began to rise at the mention of Miles. "It's stripping not prostitution! You say 'something' as if you guys were playing card games together or whatever. No, you were fucking him. Repeatedly — sorry Frankie," He mimicked her lead, turning his head to face Frankie briefly before directing his attention back to Esme. It was a topic he wanted to avoid from now on, as it seemed as if he would never be able to get through to Esme on that, and it surely wasn't helping that Frankie had to chime in with her opinion as well. He couldn't blame her, as he was the one who messed up, but with both of them on his case at the same time, it became a bit frustrating to deal with. "I don't know. I never thought about it." The answer was most likely yes, of course he'd be upset if it was Esme up there, but being on the opposite end of the situation, he was beginning to realize that stripping was just like any other job— clock in, do your thing, get paid, and leave. "And she's not my girlfriend," He grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest and sighing loudly. "I can't tell you what you're supposed to do," He paused for a brief moment, unsure of what Zig himself was meant to do either, "but Frankie's right. It's getting late, and I have to get back in there."

Esme rolled her eyes at the unnecessary distinction. "Lucky me, they only get to look," she droned sarcastically. The blatant statement towards Miles left her with a grimace, his sister mere feet away and certainly in earshot, and as much as she wanted to defend herself, she knew it was best to move on in her presence. "I'm not his girlfriend," she reminded at the same moment as he, though het tone wasn't quite as harsh. She had no reason not to believe he'd be heading back to the stage, but his hurry stung nonetheless. She pulled her clutch up to pop the clasp, fingering through the cash on hand and pulling out the first few. "Here's for the glass," she recited, forcing the first bill into his hands. "Here's for your breathtaking performance," adding another small stack. "Bill me for all of the freebies, I guess," she hissed, turning back to Frankie. "Uber is up the block, we can just meet him there."

Zig watched as the bills were shoved into his hands. He wanted to take care of everything there and now, but the stage called for him once more, and the manager of the club was bound to be on his case anyways for running out without giving notice. “I don’t want your damn money.” He let the money fall from his hands and onto the pavement before turning on his heels to finish off his shift. “I’m sorry.” Another apology — it seemed as if he was constantly apologizing to Esme, and it was growing to be quite tiresome no matter what the reason was. “But I don’t think I can stop. Not now, at least. I wish you guys didn’t have to find out this way but... yeah.” He was at a loss for words at that point, and was already aware that nothing he could say would fix this.

Esme could feel the tension in her body as he was beckoned back inside, knowing he wouldn't decline. She wasn't sure whether she expected him to accept the funds; they certainly weren't offered from the goodness of her heart, and his reaction wasn't as rude as she deserved, but bitter was what she knew. "Well then you'd better get back up there, Count. Lots more to be made." She ignored the last of his words, softly shaking her head and leaving him with a longing glance. "Come on, Frankie." There was no use trying to salvage the rest of the night, wordlessly walking in tandem until the girls had reached their ride, masking her humiliation the whole way back.

#zigncvak #perfectlyfranks #para #partition

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unexpectedreylo · 6 years

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Bendemption Song Part 2: The Villain’s Redemption Arc/The Anti-Hero’s Journey

First, we have to ask: what kind of redemption arc is Ben getting? Mythcreants.com lists three kinds: sacrifice, temptation, and forgiveness.

A sacrifice arc is one where the redeemed villain does something good and ultimately sacrifices his/her life because of the gravity of the villain’s crimes. Darth Vader is given as an example: Vader kills Darth Sidious to save Luke, but in the process is mortally wounded. I would sort of put Gollum in this category and maybe Severus Snape too. In Ben’s case, a sacrifice arc is possible. I know those of us in Reylo-land don’t want to think about it, but I wouldn’t say it’s totally off the table. But to make you all feel better, I think there are problems with a sacrifice arc in this situation. Of all of the potential redemption arcs to use, this one is the easiest because it just repeats what was done in ROTJ. And “easy” usually carries the least amount of payoff. Two, it’s debatable whether Kylo’s crimes are so great, he cannot be allowed to survive. Fans who want revenge for Han’s death might have one view, Reylos might have another. It’s apparent though that Kylo’s rap sheet isn’t as long as his grandfather’s and Kylo is already showing far more remorse, regret, and conflict than Vader ever did. It’s also clear that Kylo was victimized as a youngster in a way Darth Vader/Anakin Skywalker never was. Palpatine was a manipulator but he used flattery and kindness to snare Anakin while what Snoke did went back to when Ben was a fetus and it’s clear it wasn’t all “nice.” Three, it would collide with some narrative brick walls I will discuss in the third part of my Bendemption Song series.

The temptation arc and the forgiveness arc could end with the death of the character, but unlike the sacrifice arc, these two arcs also allow for the possibility of the character’s survival. Kylo’s arc could follow either one.

The temptation arc is where the character feels pulled to the good side as well as the bad and is in a battle to decide where he falls. Zuko from “Avatar: The Last Airbender” and Spike from “Buffy The Vampire Slayer” are given as examples. Kylo’s line in TFA, “I feel it again, the pull to the light,” signals his own struggle. He’s always being described as “conflicted.” I think this arc is a really good fit for him for this reason. If this is the route they go in IX, ultimately he will choose “the light,” or at least reject the dominance of the dark side over his entire personality. He will learn to integrate his shadow self, to use a Jungian term, and recognize the light side aspects of his personality are a strength, not a weakness.

The forgiveness arc is where the character has already forsworn villainy but has blood on his hands. Furiosa from “Mad Max: Fury Road” is given as an example. I would add Bucky Barnes and Loki from the Marvel Cinematic Universe as further examples. Most of what they are doing is trying to make up for past crimes, earning the trust and forgiveness of others, and reaching the point where they can forgive themselves. Had Kylo turned in TLJ, this would’ve been his arc for sure in IX. It’s still possible, but it would depend on how soon he turns. If it’s early in the movie, then a forgiveness arc might happen. If it’s in the second or third act in the film, then it’s too late for a forgiveness arc to occur and it will likely be a temptation or sacrifice arc instead.

When the writer has chosen the arc for the villain, there are certain things the writer must do to establish redemption.

The anti-hero is at first presented as purely villainous.

TFA largely shows Kylo Ren The Villain Who Does Bad Stuff. He kicks off the movie by killing Lor San Tekka, taking Poe prisoner and torturing him, and ordering his troops to burn down a village. He kidnaps Rey and attempts to enter her mind. He is shown later on as conflicted but he works up the nerve to kill off Dear Old Dad, then he fights Finn and Rey.

The anti-hero is humanized, often through a tragic backstory or showing they have good intentions.

Basically, everything that happens in TLJ. Kylo discards his mask and humanizes himself to Rey and by extension to us. The books reveal Snoke had been messing with Ben since he was in the womb. We learn of the tragic murder Luke almost commits, which turned Ben Solo into Kylo Ren.

Start Dropping Hints

This has already happened in TFA and TLJ. Hints include Kylo’s perpetual conflict, his less-than-enthusiastic reaction to committing Han-icide, his refusal to kill his mother, his lack of enthusiasm for blowing up planets, his bouts of gentleness/empathy/compassion for Rey, etc.. If you want an early sign in IX that Bendemption is going to happen, keep an eye out in the first act for the “Supreme Leader” to do something uncharacteristic for an evil despot. He might refuse to commit an atrocity against innocents, he might save a group of children (to counterpoint Anakin’s Great Youngling Massacre), or he might start to question the whole enterprise of the war. Perhaps he always makes sure Rey and her friends escape the First Order. Maybe he’ll be a “Fulcrum!” You never know.

Introduce A Good Influence

Obviously, that’s Rey. She can’t pick him up and drag him from the Dark Side, as she learned the hard way in TLJ, but she shows him just as she doesn’t have to live in anger, hurt, resentment, and fear, neither does he. She offers him forgiveness and the possibility of life beyond and better than what he has. If there’s any incentive at all for Kylo to change, it’s her.

You might have noticed these movies seem to be big on “girl power.” It’s as though the power of the feminine—all but destroyed by the end of the prequels, corrupted in the “Solo” era, and missing but for a few key figures in the original trilogy—is making a roaring comeback in the sequels. You might also have noticed that Kylo has a big problem with male authority figures (Han, Snoke, Luke) and male rivals (Hux, to some degree Finn). Yet who is the one relative to escape his wrath? His mother. Who does he finally open himself up to? Rey. This tells me Kylo is receptive to the power of the feminine and it’s likely his maternal ties and his deep connection with a woman will play an important part in his redemption.

I believe the original plan for IX was for Kylo to atone with his mother and this part of the story is so fundamental, there was no way to get around it ergo they are going to use footage of Carrie Fisher shot for TFA and TLJ. How they’ll use it is still a mystery. We’ll just have to see.

Less obvious is another good influence, and that’s Han Solo. Not only is Han genetically encoded in Kylo anyway, Han’s actions at the end of their encounter left an indelible mark on him in both a negative and a positive way. I think we’ll see the true beginning of his turn was at that moment; in fact it’s obvious from watching TFA Kylo almost left with his father.

Subtle Shift In Loyalty/The anti-hero goes through a phase of internal conflict, or their inner conflict is revealed/amplified. This is when he is waffling between good and evil./This internal conflict drives him toward Team Good.

While Kylo shows no inclination yet to join the Resistance, his loyalty in TLJ shifts from Snoke to Rey. It’s as close to Team Good as he has gotten in this trilogy so far. Of course, the shift wavers and he retreats to lead Team Evil. But his connection to and feelings for Rey remain, as demonstrated in his last scene in TLJ. This gives us hope for IX.

The anti-hero isn’t ready to be redeemed and he falls back toward Team Evil. This is often due to their own desires or temptations of another character. This usually involves a betrayal. The betrayal leads to them achieving a goal they had become evil in the first place to obtain.

Kylo doesn’t betray anyone besides Snoke but he decides he’d rather be Supreme Leader than be the Resistance’s new lightsaber-swinging hero, which breaks poor Rey’s heart.

Villain Becomes Unhappy With Team Evil/The anti-hero realizes he made a mistake. The goal isn’t what he wanted after all or it backfires on him.

Kylo’s going to find that heavy is the head that wears the crown, isolated and having to watch his back at all times. I don’t see Kylo as an ideologue as I see him as using the First Order to get back at his family and their value system and latching onto Snoke because he feels like he doesn’t belong anywhere else. In IX, that family will be mostly gone and Snoke’s dead. The only things holding Kylo to the First Order would likely be his desire for power and control, despair, guilt, and fear of being on his own. But even those may not be enough. Kylo could question further the First Order’s goals and methods. In addition, I predict Hux will stage a coup against Kylo by turning the First Order’s leaders and money guys, and possibly even the Knights of Ren, against him.

This realization leads him to repent and seek to fight for Team Good.

I think he will likely approach Rey first and once she indicates she is willing to forgive him, he will come to fight alongside her.

The Villain Must Stop A Great Evil And Make A Great Sacrifice

While a new, hitherto unknown threat could be the great evil in IX, I doubt they will introduce one this late in the game. Likely the great evil will be the First Order or something connected to it.

Dave Filoni said during The Clone Wars panel at SDCC 2018 the true conflict in Star Wars was between selfishness and selflessness. In order to be redeemed, Kylo MUST do something selfless. It will likely be something very risky to life and limb to correct his error and stop the First Order. The greater the error, the greater the potential sacrifice will be. I will stress that a willingness to sacrifice your life isn’t an automatic death sentence in film and literature.

It will show tremendous growth if he is also willing to sacrifice the possibility of a life with Rey. As Yoda said in ROTS, you must let go of everything you fear to lose. Think back to how possessive Anakin was with Padmé in ROTS (“you will not take her from me”) versus how Han Solo was willing to let Leia choose Luke, not knowing they’re twins, if that’s what would make her happy. I could see Kylo letting Rey choose another, if anyone, if that’s what she wanted or asking Finn or Poe to take care of her if something were to happen to him.

A willingness to abdicate power, wealth, and status are great sacrifices as well. So is a willingness to completely change your value system and goals. I think Ben will do all of the above.

The Villain Must Show Remorse

In Ben’s case, this is VERY important. I think one reason why some fans are very unforgiving of him is because they don’t think he yet shows sufficient remorse. Regardless, the audience has to believe his turn is sincere by witnessing him acknowledge his misdeeds and express mourning, sorrow, and regret for committing them. The signs are there in TLJ and TFA but we need to see more. I’m talking about big ugly sobbing here. At the same time, he cannot wallow for long in despair and guilt or else he’ll be at best worthless and at worst, he can be drawn back to the Dark Side. He can’t punish himself by refusing forgiveness, kindness, or mercy. Showing remorse has to be cathartic, it cannot be a perpetual state of existence.

I predict that a significant part of IX will be about Ben integrating his shadow self, Kylo. How will he do this? He needs to release his anger, resentment, and hurt instead of clinging to them like a security blanket. He has to forgive those who have hurt him: Luke, his parents, Rey, even Snoke. Most importantly, he has to forgive himself. Once he has done these things, he can finally be in control of his emotions, letting himself feel freely but without being overtaken by them.

The villain finds direction, a problem in need of solving; humbles himself

For a character like Ben, this probably means taking on an insane, undoubtedly suicidal mission on behalf of Team Good, providing insider information on Team Evil, and of course putting his Force-skills—likely in conjunction with Rey’s—to work. He won’t do it expecting thanks; this is to prove his worth, earn trust, and of course, attempt in some way to make up for what he has done.

The villain is forgiven

Rey will happily forgive Ben if he decides to side with her. It seems she has already forgiven him for his pre-TLJ crimes and will forgive him again when the time comes. The question is whether anyone else will. Leia, if she’s alive by that time, definitely. I think Chewie will come around and when he reconciles with Ben, there won’t be a dry eye in the theater. It’ll be a big moment if/when Ben reclaims everything that had once been his or should’ve been his: a relationship with Chewie, the Falcon, Artoo and Threepio, his mother’s cause, etc..

Would Finn forgive Ben? Maybe, especially if it’s for Rey’s sake. Poe would be a hard sell. Kylo Ren had brutally tortured him and he’s not likely to just forget all about it. On top of that, he’s a True Believer. I can see him being very skeptical of Ben turning and not exactly willing to let bygones be bygones. But that’s okay. Not everyone needs to forgive Ben by the time the credits roll.

And then what?

The very end of the arc is the question of whether the redeemed villain lives or dies. I will answer that question in the next part, “Live Or Let Die.”

Check out Part One if you haven’t already!

#reylo #reylo fam #meta #kylo ren #ben solo #redemption #bendemption #episode ix

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deertrackgolfclub · 6 years

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Tiger Woods’ strong finish, Jordan Spieth and Patrick Reed squash their beef and a costly rules controversy: What you missed this weekend

Welcome to the Dew Sweeper, your one-stop shop to catch up on the weekend action from the golf world. From the professional tours, trending news, social media headlines and upcoming events, here’s every golf-related thing you need to know for the morning of Jan. 28.

Rose continues historic tear Justin Rose became No. 1 for the first time in his career last season. Don’t expect the Englishman to cede the title anytime soon.

The 38-year-old turned in a three-under 69 to win the Farmers Insurance Open by two over Adam Scott.

It was far from a Sunday stroll on the front, with Rose stumbling to the tune of three bogeys in the first five holes, and a par on the par-5 fifth did little to alleviate concerns. However, he righted the ship with birdies on the seventh, ninth and 10th holes, subtracting any drama from Torrey Pines’ closing stretch.

“A couple things that didn’t go my way and then it starts to look and feel a bit shaky for sure,” Rose said. “But I always felt somewhat in control. I did a good job today of staying patient and never panicking. I think that was probably a bit of experience coming through that wouldn’t have been the same.”

Experience is putting it lightly. This sounds bombastic, but the numbers back it up: Rose has been downright Woods-ian since the end of 2017. Torrey Pines marked his 15th top-3 finish in the last two years, and his 13th top-10 finish in his last 17 starts. The only thing missing from his 24-month tear is a major, his 2013 triumph at Merion enduring as his lone victory on the big stage.

Of course, he’s currently the Masters favorite. You better believe Jim Nantz is practicing, “A Rose blooms at Augusta!” victory calls.

Tiger finishes with strong Sunday in first 2019 start There was rust, which was to be expected. And his putter didn’t get the memo that hibernation was over. But Tiger Woods’ first outing of the 2019 season, while not memorable, was constructive, highlighted by a final-round 67.

“I think this whole week was good, very positive,” Woods said. “I didn’t quite start out the way I wanted to this week, wasn’t as sharp as I wanted to be, but each and every day it got a little better.”

On the surface, a T-20 finish for Woods should be of little consequence. This was Torrey Pines, after all, Tiger’s de facto stomping grounds, and off that breathtaking finish to 2018, the 43-year-old’s continued comeback is past the point of moral victories.

In that same breath, save for the flat stick, his performance was impressive (10th in strokes gained/tee-to-green), especially so given he had new sticks in the bag. That he hit over 55 percent of fairways on the week, versus 30 percent in his return last year (worst in the field), underlines he’s coming out of the gates in a more formidable fashion than a season ago.

Besides, as Woods noted, the goal is to build towards a certain tournament in the spring.

“If you look at where I was Thursday and look at where I’m at now, Sunday, I got a little bit better,” Woods said. “I drove the ball better, hit my irons a litle bit cleaner. Again, I hit some good putts. Just continue with the track. I have a couple more months of prep before April [and the Masters], so things are heading in the right direction.”

Woods is off the next two weeks before his next scheduled start in the Genesis Open at Riviera.

Spieth, Reed squash beef Fans were expecting—perhaps even hoping for—an icy exchange. At minimum, it promised to be awkward.

Instead, the tension quickly surrendered to a show of détente.

Jordan Spieth and Patrick Reed were paired together on Saturday, the first time they’ve teed it up since the reigning Masters champ took a flamethrower to the three-time major winner in a post-Ryder Cup interview. The strained relationship, with an origin story straight out of a comic book, ostensibly gave golf something it hasn’t had in quite some time: a genuine villain, and discord between two of its stars.

While the former holds, the latter was distinguished by Spieth, who greeted his former American teammate with a hug on the first tee:

Jordan Spieth and Patrick Reed.

Hugging it out. pic.twitter.com/NiMx9IawC1

— PGA TOUR (@PGATOUR) January 26, 2019

Frazier-Ali, this is not.

“Yeah, I laughed,” Spieth said. “I think he did, too. It was more sarcasm towards y’all (media). We’ve seen each other plenty of times at Sony and here and everything’s been the way it normally is. We knew the cameras were on and we knew people were interested in that, so I just thought it would be kind of funny.”

Added Reed: “Literally when we got off the plane (from Paris) it was old news and we all moved on from there.” Granted, that doesn’t jive with what Reed said in December—he told the New York Post that if Spieth wanted to smooth things out, “He has my number”—but hey, all for revisionist history in the name of love.

In one sense, probably for the best that this strife, real or imagined, was defused. It makes for a juicy narrative, yes, particularly in a sport that’s guilty of being overly neighborly. But a player of Spieth’s prestige doesn’t need to be riddled with such nonsense, the acidity outweighing any possible benefits to the rivalry.

And rest assured, a potential Spieth victory at Augusta National—remember, Reed would be the one awarding the green jacket—remains just as tantalizing.

Bryson wins for fourth time in nine starts On Saturday, Bryson DeChambeau claimed he was “just not 100 percent with my golf game.” This after acknowledging on Friday he didn’t have the right sensations and “proprioception”—for those sans dictionary, that’s the the sense of the relative position of one’s own parts of the body and strength of effort being employed in movement—over his shots.

That lack of symphony matter nada.

The World No. 5 cruised to his fifth victory in the last eight months—and fourth in his last nine starts—in Dubai, dropping a Sunday 64 to win the Omega Desert Classic by seven shots. A display even the Mad Scientist had to appreciate.

“Today I was happy with my game. I executed a lot of great shots,” DeChambeau said. “It’s a lot of hard work with my caddie, really grinding and trying to figure out how to take account of all the variables out there—air pressure, firmness values, mile-per-hour on the speed, putts and ball speed, spin rates. We’re trying to figure out as much as possible so I can be as successful as possible, and obviously it’s shown.”

Has it ever. This time last year DeChambeau was barely inside the top 100, his curious ways mostly ridiculed. Now he’s one of the game’s biggest names, a marquee attraction for all the right reasons.

His detractors, of which there are many, still deem his divergent methods fit for a looney bin. Or maybe they’re just blinded by the glare off DeChambeau’s ever-growing trophy case.

A costly, and dubious, rules controversy Even by the notorious rigidity of the Rules of Golf, this is cold-blooded.

In his final round in Dubai, Haotong Li was hit with a two-shot penalty on the final hole because…his caddie was lined up behind putt. A new rule specifies that from the time a player “begins to take a stance for the stroke” until the stroke is made, a caddie “must not deliberately stand on or close to an extension of the line of play behind the ball for any reason.” As Ryan Herrington notes, Li could have avoided the penalty had he backed off the stroke and retaken his stance.

However, video puts the validity of that penalty into question, as Li is barely into the stance in question:

@EuropeanTour this is a marginal interpretation of the new Rule 10.2b @haotong_li good playing. pic.twitter.com/jNxT0aokxj

— Brian McKinley (@brijon5555) January 27, 2019

And you thought the Saints-Rams refs were bad.

The penalty dropped Li from a T-3 to a T-12 finish, which translated to loss of $100,000 in earnings. Li did not speak to reporters afterwards. Not that he needed to; that replay idiotically speaks for itself.

Source: golfdigest.com

The post Tiger Woods’ strong finish, Jordan Spieth and Patrick Reed squash their beef and a costly rules controversy: What you missed this weekend appeared first on Deer Track.

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avengersohyeah · 7 years

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Another Stark

Masterlist

A/N : So this is a request from lovely Anon, i don’t know how to reach out to you, i hope you could find this fic. It turned out to be one long ass one shot, since i’m a sucker for reader background drama so yeah.. i hope you enjoy it (Tony x Male! Brother Reader)

When Tony lost his parents he couldn’t even feel anything. Sadness, pain, regrets, all those things came to him all at once. Numb him whole, he refused to feel any of those emotions. So he shut them out, that’s why he’s numb. Trying to forget everything by partying, drinks, women, but those things could only last for a few moments. And when he’s far away from those things, all the demons of his past creeping their way to his mind. Forcing their way to make him feel them. And at these times, he could only wish for someone. Someone to hold him close, to tell him that everything is alright.

Pepper, she’s been there with him through every sleepless night. Easing his demons away with her touch and her love for him. But that’s not enough. As hard as he denied, even with Pepper’s presence near him it still not enough. He craved for something’s different. Love, not the kind that Pepper gave him, not the kind that he gave her either. A love for people, for someone that you care more than yourself. Not the kind of love between a couple, but the kind of love you feel to your family. Pepper is his family, and all his staff he consider them as a family at some point. But that’s not enough.

Before his parents leave their house to deliver those serums, he didn’t had a chance to tell them good bye. To hug them, to tell them I love you even if he knew that they might not comeback once they drive past the gate. It’s all because of his Dad. A few days before they decided to take the serums with them is the day when he found out. His Dad slept with one of his staff. It was a night when his mother were scheduled to came home from her trip to Paris. He was going to call his Dad and ask him if he could go with him to the airport. That’s before he reached the door of Howard’s office, and heard those sounds. Moans, panting, and profanities that spilled with their heavy breath in hushed tone. Then it all hits him, He’s Dad, even if he claim that he love his mom, still couldn’t get his hands off of another woman. And since that night, he despised his father like nobody could.

14 June 1992

Somewhere across the country, a women is fighting to deliver her baby. The one she never thought would she keep. When she found out about it, it was three months after Howard’s death. So she did what she thought was right at that time. She left the mansion, handing Howard’s secretary her resignation paper. She couldn’t bare the thought that anyone that killed Howard could also go after his child if they found out. Even along the way in her nine months away from the Stark family, she managed to keep a track in Tony’s activity. For precaution, because she is that kind of women that always prepare everything to face the worst. She wrote everything that she know, in case someday her child ask and she can’t explain it with words.

16 years, and she was right about you would want to know the real story about your father. She just goes silent and hand you the box filled with envelopes of letters without address, just your name on it. You took the box and headed to your room. You read every single letters your mother wrote for you. Sadness, anger, guilt, you’re not even sure what kind of emotion you felt at that moment. You rushed to the living room and find your mother sat her, with her head on both palms and shoulders shaking. You kneel in front of her, and you bring her to your embrace while you both letting your tears flow. God how your mother has suffered. You’re not stupid, Stark, who’s apparently your brother has become the news since his parent’s death. Being the genius playboy philanthropist at young age he is draw all kind of attention from the world. But does he know he has a brother? Well half brother. Maybe not, because as what your mother wrote to you, she left without saying anything. But now at least this explained where you got this genius head of yours.

You never thought that finishing school earlier than any other kids in your age is a big deal. But apparently it is for Stark Industries. As a massive company that value young intellegent people, they keep a track in every single school in U.S for someone that is possibly could they recruit to their company. Well mostly they took a records of individuals like you, young, genius, and finish school early must be one of the requirement too. And that’s how Tony find out your existence. The day your file was handed to him as a possible recruit for science team has him shook. His mind went back to the day when he heard his Dad and your Mom in that office. He looked through your files and smile etched on his face. He doesn’t even realize he’s smiling until he felt his cheeks sore. Although he never expect it, but the fact that he still have someone out there that has Stark blood in them warmed his heart. That, and here he read through your files he felt proud of you. The kind of proud feeling those big brother felt when their little brother did something that is so awsome for him. Reading through your achievements, he couldn’t hold the big smile that creeping on his face.

“He has Stark in his blood after all…” He said to himself.

“Who has Stark blood in his ?” Pepper asked as she walked to his desk. She kissed him and then stand there beside him to wait for his answer.

“Would it be weird if I tell you that I have a brother ?” He asked her with one brow raised.

“What do you mean you have a brother ?” Tony then showed her your files and tell her everything happened in that night. She went silent for a long time.

“Come on say something!” Tony breaks the silence

“You want to meet him.” It’s not a question, but a statement because Pepper knows him like the back of her hand. “I’ll handle the meetings for this week but you owe me Tony” She walked to the door and before she exits Tony yelled “I Love you MIss Potts”

When you came home that day you could’ve swear your heart is going to jump out of your chest. There, sitting on your dinning table with your mom, chatting comfortably is Tony Stark. The one that you learned as your half brother just three days before. Dumbfounded, you couldn’t find any words and just walk to your chair in that table like a robot. Sitting in front of someone that you admire secretly felt bizarre.

“Close your mouth, you’ll catch a fly” He said then chuckled

You smiled at that, and looked to your mom, then to Tony again. Somehow it doesn’t feel awkward at all, it felt like it’s normal. All this time you ate with your mother in this very table and you always feel incomplete. You always thought that it’s supposed to be your father. But now seeing Tony here, you finally realized that it is not a father figure that is missing in your life. Your mother has always been one when it’s needed. It is a brother that you’ve been longing for this whole time. When you finally came to this realization, you responded “Welcome home brother…” This earns you all the eyes in the room, your Mom that is visibly crying before she’s now sobbing again. And Tony, he smiled so wide and you can see the tears also pooling at the corner of his eyes. You spend the lunch trying to catch up on each other’s life. Mostly it’s Tony that wanted to hear your stories, what you’ve been through to be this amazing person you are.

“You finished school earlier this year, what’s your plan ? Ever considered in joining Stark Industry?” Tony asked after they finished their lunch.

“Actually when I was in high school I thought about applying to your company..” At this revelation, Tony’s eyes light up, only to be replaced by shocked expression at what he said next “But then i have this i don’t know, desire ? to serve the country.”

“No way… You’re not ! You’re coming with me to my company” He sulk like a child.

“Well you’re to late for three days brother, I just got back from special force recruitment and I’m in the program”

“No Way you’re not even 18… how could they let you in?” He whined

“I don’t know and I don’t care, but that doesn’t mean that we can’t catch up for the lost time.”

“Fair enough… how about you show me around tomorrow ? I want to know everything about you, school, friends, anything, before you go to that special force of yours and make us go Dear John.” At this you just laugh and agreeing to his request.

When you were finally finished your military education, you were sent straight to a secret operation in Middle East. A lot of things happened in the span of four years, and the best thing to you, it’s Avengers. The fact that your brother is Iron Man was surprising to anyone, you included. But what surprising more is that Tony kept his promise not to out you as his brother to the world. At first he was planning to do so, that way you wouldn’t need too join the special force program in the first place. But you refused, you told him that serving your country is a calling for you, and you wanted to give everything you have to do it. And he caved in, somehow knowing each other in such a short amount of time made you both bond faster and stronger than you could imagined.

The day when New York attack happened was the same day when you were in your mission, so you had no idea what happened back in the States. And when you finally got a contact, it’s a months later from the secret base in Tel Aviv after you finished your mission. Given the break to come home, you couldn’t wait to surprise your brother and his team of super heroes. Well, it’s mainly just a reason so you can see the legendary Captain America in person.

Avengers Tower

If Tony isn’t a crazy rich genius billionaire, the recovery of his tower wouldn’t be this fast. It took exactly three months for his Tower could finally function like it used to be. The team were also gathered again after their vacation, minus Clint that nobody knows his whereabouts, and Thor that is in Asgard.

“Spangle you could just ask JARVIS to torn the TV on” Tony said from his seat at the corner of the common room.

“Yes… It still freaked me out to talk to someone I couldn’t see..” Steve scratched his head in embarrassment.

“Well, prepare yourself to be more surprised what Stark have in his Lab..” Natasha cut in with a mug of coffee in hand.

The banter between the ex-assasin and the spangled men were actually pretty amusing for Tony. If only his mind is there at the moment with him. But no, his mind went to all those years ago when he first met you and your mom. The day you spent together doesn’t feel like he’s trying to get to know someone. It felt just like two brothers that’ve been away from each other before they reunite. It’s funny because when he finally get to talk to you more, he saw himself in you. It’s obvious that you have Stark’s brain, even as he hate to admit it, you look way better than him. But the one that makes him grow even fonder of you was your sass. You could give him a taste of his own medicine. That’s why he loved you so much.

He’s been staring at his phone that displayed your picture, the one in your uniform right after your graduation ceremony. A week before you were sent to Middle East to lead backup team in Tel-Aviv Israel. He was sad because he didn’t get to say good bye in person to you. Knowing nothing about when will you come back because it’s classified. Well for other people it is, but nothing can stop him from making sure that he knows when will his little brother come back. He already have a party planned in his head to welcome you. He’s caught up in his head and didn’t hear that Nat have been calling him for a few times.

“Tony.. Tony! You okay ? We kinda lost you for a moment..”

“Yeah yeah…I’m fine just counting time till I could throw another party.”

“You just threw a party few months ago when this building was reopened.” Nat rised her eyebrows in amusement

“Well get used to it, in fact I could throw a party right now if I want…” He replied matter of factly.

Their interaction were cutted off by JARVIS “Sir, you have a visitor from U.S Army’s Special Force.” At this information both Nat and Steve turned at Tony with questioning look. Only to be welcomed with his shocked wide eyed expression.

“Where is he ?” His voice came out calm while his mind is going overdrive. There’s only two possibilities if someone from your commando wants to find him. It could be you, but he remembered you wanted to keep your Stark blood as a secret. Then there’s this possibility where it is one of your team mate that delivering him a very bad news that he never wanted to hear. But the fact that he knows your mission were supposed to be a year long, he couldn’t help his mind to go over the later possibility. He stand up a little bit shaky and unfocused, first time seeing Tony in this kind of state Nat and Steve decided just to follow him in silence.

The three of them reached the door of Tony’s office where JARVIS told them the visitor’s waiting. Nat and Steve could see Tony’s hand shaking as he reached for the handle and pushing the door open. As the door opened, they could see a men with his back to them. His posture was obviously a soldier’s one. Broad shoulder, fairly tall, taller than Tony but still a little bit shorter than Steve. And he wear a complete formal uniform from Army, Steve recognize it everywhere since it’s not that different from back in the days. He was about to ask who are you, but Tony breaks the silence.

“(Y/N) ? Is that you ?” Hearing Tony’s voice weavering only invite him to look at the billionaire. He never thought that he would ever witness the most miraculous thing in his live. There, Tony Stark that he know have a heart of steel, like literally, with tears streaming down his face. He was to struck to Tony’s expression to notice that by now Natasha’s face also turned into that comical slack jawed expression.

The men turned and they could’ve swore that for a flash second he looks exactly like Tony with taller frame. It was until you opened your mouth Steve and Nat completely lost their control of their face “Good to see you brother, I heard you saved the world….” Then he flashed the brightest smile they’ve ever seen.

Tony just dashed into the room and take you in bone crushing hug. Sobbing while mumbling incoherently. Again, Nat and Steve just to dumbfounded seeing Tony crying uncontrollably. It’s like seeing one of those chick flicks where the two sister has been separated for a long time then they met for the first time.

Tony pulled back still snifling “God, I thought they want to meet me to deliver your death news or something..”

You chuckled at him “I’m not that easy to get rid off, besides what makes you think that ? couldn’t you just, I don’t know figure out that it was me ?”

“Well, I did, at first. But then I remembered that you were assigned in twelve fucking months mission in Israel. So my mind drift to the worst possibility.” He confessed

“Wait…. How did you know I was assigned to Israel for twelve months?” You asked, and you could visibly saw him shifted awkwardly “God ! Tony, what I told you about hacking into my commando’s system? How if they found out?” You asked him in annoyed tone

“They wouldn’t, trust me.. but how ? Your mission plan were designed for twelve months?” He countered

“Well, because of someone like you that could possibly hack into our system, I changed the whole plan. They run a simulation then goes with mine, it’s way more efficient, and faster than what the commando made us so..” You shrugged

“You use that Stark brain of yours good.. Anyway have you eaten yet ? I have a chef from France that I hired for a week, you want a steak? Oh wait I’ll get you a steak, you love meat…” He rambled like a mother that saw their children after school.

You cleared your throat “You won’t introduce me to them?” You gestured to the pair that still has confused look on their face.

Tony looked back and drag you with him, at first you thought he was going to introduce you to your favorite heroes, but he dragged you past them, rambling that you need foods more than you need to be introduced to them. You screamed as you walked the hall “It’s honor to meet you Captain, and Black Widow you’re gorgeous I’m a fan..” Your shout were cut short when you turned the corner.

They were still trying to process what they just witnessed in silence untill Natasha speaks “So, Tony just cried..”

“He has a brother…” Steve continued

“Obviously younger one..”

“And he’s in an Army..”

“A Special force..”

“In such a young age…”

“And his rank is higher than yours..” At this, Steve whiped his head to look at Nat in shocked expresion. “What ? you didn’t see it ? He’s Colonel..” Natasha give him her Black Widow smirk

“Shit…” Steve cursed

“Language!..”

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The Striking Absence in the Detroit Institute of Arts’s Diego Rivera and Frida Kahlo Blockbuster

“The number of reverberations between then and now becomes horrible, and frightening, and amazing.” So said Detroit Institute of Arts curator Mark Rosenthal last week, at a preview of “Diego Rivera and Frida Kahlo in Detroit.” He’s right, possibly more so than even he knows.

During the Great Depression, the museum almost went under; the storm of publicity surrounding its commission of Diego Rivera’s epic Detroit Industry frescoes in 1932 saved it, inspiring the city to step in to fund DIA. Having just suffered another near-death experience amid Detroit’s recent bankruptcy, DIA is clearly hoping this show focusing on the art-history power couple’s year in Motor City can serve as a symbolic comeback. It will certainly bring crowds. (The show runs through July 12.)

Of course, by now it is Frida, not Diego, who is the main attraction (see Frida Fever: Iconic Photos of Frida Kahlo by Edward Weston and Others at Throckmorton). The Detroit Institute of Arts’s new crowd-pleaser is unlikely to change that gospel; her mordant self-examination just feels more contemporary than his grandiose political allegory.

And yet “Diego and Frida in Detroit” shows the Rivera/Kahlo pairing in a new light for me. There’s a story to be told—and since we are talking about parallels to the present, that should be told—about their art’s relative merits that is less about our changing tastes, and more about the tangled relationship of art and money, art and power.

The show features work from “Before,” “After,” and “During” their sojourn in Detroit in 1932.

In the first category are examples of Rivera’s stately images of flower sellers, as well as Kahlo’s double wedding portrait of the two—he a giant, she tiny—painted while they were visiting San Francisco in 1931 (this picture represents the first time her self-conscious costuming makes an appearance in her art).

“After” features a focused but wide-ranging gathering of canvasses that give a sense of where they each wound up, aesthetically: Rivera’s stylish, willowy Portrait of Ruth Rivera (1949), his daughter from an earlier marriage; Kahlo’s gory true-crime painting A Few Small Nips (1935), showing a man having just butchered his wife.

But the heart of the show clearly resides in the galleries that chronicle the crucial year of 1932: the large-scale cartoons Rivera made to plan Detroit Industry, his meticulous 27-panel cycle depicting scenes from Ford’s River Rouge plant, which surround the DIA’s Rivera Court, and which are widely considered Rivera’s most important mural work in the United States. Also in these galleries are Kahlo’s series of canvasses and drawings showing her sharp turn towards Surrealism.

Detroit’s Agony

When they arrived in Detroit, the 44-year-old Rivera was one of the most celebrated artists in the world. As the key exponent of “Mexican Muralism,” he had built up a level of art fame that is now probably unthinkable. His retrospective at the young Museum of Modern Art was only the institution’s second devoted to a single figure. The first was Matisse.

His wife, 25, was a brash near-unknown. The two had ejected themselves from the Mexican Communist Party in 1929, but were still celebrity radicals, given to blustery anti-capitalist talk and mercurial symbolic gestures. The commission for Detroit Industrywas $20,000 at the height of the Great Depression, more than $300,000 today. It would be paid for by Edsel Ford, the son of Henry and the chief of the Ford Motor Company, the era’s single most emblematic capitalist name.

Detroit, meanwhile, was deep in the throes of the Depression, swollen with the homeless and unemployed. Ford’s River Rouge plant, which Rivera would depict with such muscular bravado in Detroit Industry, had laid off thousands of workers and was operating at reduced capacity. Pay had been slashed for the remaining workers—River Rouge paid more than $181 million in wages in 1929; two years later, just $76 million. Two months before the couple arrived, workers had marched on that very plant, demanding higher pay. Company security and police reacted with violence, killing six. The result came to be known as the “Ford Massacre.”

Rivera’s Compromise

As he had been everywhere he went on his US tour, Rivera was wined and dined in Detroit. He would remember that Henry Ford was a “true poet and artist” and that Edsel had the “simplicity and directness of a workman in his own factories.” Kahlo seems to have been less enthused, resorting to impotent needling of their hosts, asking Henry, a well-known anti-Semite responsible for injecting the Protocols of the Elders of Zion into the public mind, whether he himself was Jewish.

How did Rivera square the circle of his revolutionary beliefs and his arch-capitalist patron in his head? A book could be written about the combination of industrial romanticization (he claimed that during his visit to Russia in 1927-28, he had seen Ford’s image revered alongside Marx and Lenin) and artistic self-delusion (he believed that if he won the Yankee masses to his mural style, he had secured a public for revolutionary art) at play, but there is no doubt that it deeply compromised him, politically and artistically.

Detroit Industry is a heroic and memorable depiction of factory labor, which is not nothing. It has passed deep into Detroit’s civic symbolism. But the striving enfilade of auto workers who form its central image are stolid, impassive—it is a picture of labor peace painted at a time of labor strife. They are also pointedly multiracial, when in fact the Fords kept their plants segregated.

Most importantly, it is, ultimately, a celebration of the boss: Edsel Ford, inserted in a panel at the corner in the manner of Renaissance paintings of patrons, gazes out benignly. It is a bravura work, but it is also an image that could serve in any PR pamphlet emphasizing Ford’s “progressive” corporate values—which is how it has often functioned.

As his final act in Detroit, Rivera wrote to Edsel Ford, asking him to rehire one W.J. Settler, a photographer with whom the artist had worked. In the words of Rosenthal’s catalogue essay, Settler “had been fired from his job with the Ford Company for smoking in his own home, thus violating one of the rules for employees.”

Edsel Ford did not rehire Settler. On some level, Rivera must have known that he had let himself be used.

Indeed, with some of this in mind, the most famous controversy of Rivera’s career—when, in the ensuing months of 1933, he inserted an image of Lenin (and what Rivera would describe as “a night-club scene of the debauched rich” featuring John D. Rockefeller, Sr.) into his Rockefeller Center mural commission in New York, provoking its destruction—appears to be a desperate grab at socialist credibility after a very public cop-out in Detroit.

Kahlo’s Breakthrough

In the lead up to Rivera commencing Detroit Industry, Kahlo became pregnant. On July 4, 1932, she lost the child. (The DIA show’s public text and audio indicate a miscarriage; the catalogue authors suggest that it was a self-induced abortion; I gather the truth is not known.) The emotion of this event, all the more focused as Kahlo felt stranded in a hostile city, knocked her art in a new direction, with lasting effects.

The painting that compresses all this is the compact, devastating Henry Ford Hospital. A bed floats in a barren plane. On it, Kahlo has painted herself, blood staining the sheets. Red threads branch from her abdomen connecting to various floating objects, hieroglyphic representations of trauma: an anatomical model; a crumpled orchid, inspired by the ones that Rivera had brought her in the hospital; a fractured pelvic bone; and so on.

Rivera’s art was seemingly affected by the loss of the child as well, possibly accounting for the most idiosyncratic element of Detroit Industry. He had been planning a tableau of agricultural labor for the main East Panel. Now this section was taken over by an image of an unborn child, cradled in the bulb of a plant, a bit of personal mythology embedded in this very public statement.

But most importantly to me is how Kahlo’s laceratingly personal Henry Ford Hospital can be read as a kind of rebuttal to Rivera’s mythologization of Detroit. On the side of the blood-soaked bed, Kahlo has stamped the title, “Henry Ford Hospital.” Yet she has placed herself not in the interior of the hospital, but outdoors, exposed in public; on the horizon in the background, Detroit’s industrial architecture is arrayed like a collection of castoff toys—the very structures that her husband was researching with a view to glorify. It is as if the painting were saying, “All is not right in the world of Henry Ford.”

Here, then, is an aesthetic hypothesis: If Kahlo’s work strikes us today as more alive, this is not only because social realism has gone out of vogue in favor of the intimate and the psychological. It’s almost the opposite, I think: Because Rivera became trapped in celebrating his host, he had to step back from the painful reality of the world he was depicting; Kahlo’s art, unencumbered by this burden and focusing on her own experience, actually does express some of that missing reality.

In this case, because Kahlo’s work is more personal, it is also more political.

Ford’s Gamble

There’s one final, long footnote on a part of the story of Diego and Frida in Detroit that doesn’t get told correctly.

Part of the legend of Rivera’s Detroit Industry, cementing its reputation as an enduringly subversive work, is the uproar surrounding its opening. Upon its unveiling in early 1933, conservatives protested the murals as atheistic, communist, dangerous. The debate in the press attracted hoards to the opening. There was even a bloc of workers who organized to defend Rivera’s opus.

Edsel Ford is given credit for having put a lid on the fracas by issuing a statement to those alarmed at the specter of the Mexican artist’s socialist politics that declared, “I admire Rivera’s spirit.” A key detail, however, is that this controversy was very possibly trumped up by Edsel Ford in the first place by planting incendiary stories in the papers. According to current DIA director Graham Beal, when Ford’s assistant showed him the attacks on the murals in the papers, the industrialist is said to have told him that “we’d accomplished what he wanted.”

Why? Ford had been personally bankrolling the museum through the Depression. The Rivera controversy attracted popular attention; the popular attention brought in big crowds; and the big crowds convinced the city to raise the museum’s budget, thereby taking a money-suck off his hands.

But there is another, much more important piece of context that doesn’t get nearly enough attention in telling the tale of Detroit Industry: the Detroit Banking Crisis of 1933, a disaster in which Edsel and Henry Ford played a very, very prominent role. To escape his father’s long shadow, Edsel had moved into banking in the 1920s, heading up the Guardian Trust Company. It expanded rapidly and unwisely, gobbling up smaller banks with real estate holdings that went dramatically sour after the stock market crash of 1929.

Throughout the entire period of the commission, creation, and unveiling of Detroit Industry, Edsel Ford would have been principally consumed with the intensifying crisis. He personally had to inject money into Guardian to backstop its escalating losses. Looking over its books, the national bank examiner would describe its operations as “the worst I’d ever seen.” In February, the government desperately tried to broker a rescue—but the deal would have involved Henry Ford freezing his massive deposits. Instead, the elder Ford threatened to remove them, ensuring disaster. “Let the crash come,” said the man Rivera remembered as a poet.

On February 14, 1933 after Ford refused the Feds’ rescue plan, all banks in the state of Michigan were shuttered. Five days later, on February 19, the first cartoons for Detroit Industry were shown at DIA.

This Lehmann Brothers moment—touching off a cascade of panic—was the immediate context of the unveiling of the work. Banks would not open again until March 24; and the Rivera Court, transformed with Rivera’s murals, debuted on March 21.

Perhaps the controversy that roared up around the DIA murals was fueled by their association with Edsel Ford. Indeed, the same right-wing radio preacher who attacked Rivera’s Vaccination panel as sacrilegious had been inveighing relentlessly against “banksters,” provoking alarming deposit withdrawals from his followers on Mondays after his sermons.

Yet one can also imagine that Edsel Ford might actually prefer, at such a moment, having a spotlight on his support of a left-wing artist’s depiction of labor instead of his role as figurehead of a failed company that was unleashing nationwide economic chaos.

Indeed, Ford’s support of Rivera continues to play that role to this day. Consider the catalogue for the present show, which contains an essay by John Dean titled, “‘He’s the Artist in the Family’: The Life, Times and Character of Edsel Ford,” extolling his “love of place, family, hard work, self-reliance, community, capitalism, and competition.” Dean argues that Edsel Ford’s partnership with Rivera makes him an example of the “businessman as artist.” He does not mention his role in one of the most catastrophic incidents of the Great Depression, despite its proximity to the Rivera event.

A little radical art patronage, it seems, buys you a lot of good PR, and for eternity. But it would be a shame to let the allure of art celebrity occlude what should be the larger moral of this show’s story, one that seems very relevant for the present indeed: Ford giveth, and Ford taketh away.

~ Ben Davis · March 16, 2015.

#diego rivera #frida kahlo #painting #exibition review #review #detroit industry murals #artnet

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