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wonderfulworldofmichaelford · 3 years ago

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Psycho Analysis: Suicide Squad Team A

(WARNING! This analysis contains SPOILERS! Seriously, as soon as you click that read more, you’re gonna be smacked with SPOILERS! Don’t say I didn’t give you ample warning this time!)

The world’s in danger yet again, and Amanda Waller is in need of some expendable forces to take on some dirty jobs in the name of preserving peace. Last time she did this, it seems like she hired the wrong people. Nice guy Will Smith Deadshot? Bland, boring Killer Croc? El Diablo, who became attached to a bunch of reprobates after spending a couple hours with them? The only one who was useful in that squad was Katana. She had their backs, could cut all of them in half with one sword stroke just like mowing the lawn, and her sword traps the souls of its victims. Unfortunately, she was decidedly not expendable, so what is a girlboss like Waller to do?

Easy: Assemble a brand new squad of criminals to do the dirty work. Harley and Boomerang are the only ones she brought back, because let’s be real, they’re the only ones we give a damn about. Filling out the rest of the squad are the stoic, craggy crackshot Savant; the handsome, German spear-thrower Javelin; the alien warrior Mongal; the frothing, psychotic animal Weasel; the confident and all-powerful TDK; and Blackguard, who is literally just a guy. Together, this team gets deployed to Corto Maltese to do what no one else can do, and with skills like theirs, they are absolutely unstoppable!

They all fucking die before the opening credits.

Motivation/Goals: Considering the goal of the squad is to shave time off their prison sentences by going on the mission, it’s ostensibly the reason every single one of these goons accepted the job. Savant and Weasel are pretty well established in this regard; we get to focus on Savant for much of the opening, so we can get a sense of him, and Weasel is stated to have murdered no less than 27 children. So, yeah, they need to do this mission.

The rest, though? Who knows! Why are Mongal, Javelin, and TDK in prison? How did they even get an alien like Mongal? What did they do to land in the position they’d need to go on a suicide mission? Why doesn’t this movie have flashy, intrusive cards explaining everything to us in a throwaway gag in a montage?!

Blackguard, at least, has some other motivation. He sold out the entire squad to the military of Corto Maltese, which is why they’re ambushed. Now, there’s actually some ambiguity here: Did he do this of his own volition, and was this a complete surprise, or is it, as it is heavily implied, all part of Waller’s plan and she let this happen as a diversion for the other team to get in unnoticed?

Honestly, though, it doesn’t matter what their goals are. They’re all dead within five minutes of the movie starting, with one exception.

Performance: So, the reason these guys are even worth talking about is because, despite their minuscule screentime, all of their actors manage to cram in enough humor and characterization that they’re all pretty fun and likable. Michael Rooker is as stony and stoic as ever as Savant (until he hilariously isn’t), Flula Borg’s Javelin is really sweet and charming in his interactions with Harley, and Pete Davidson’s Blackguard is just amazingly douchey and pathetic. Special mention goes to Nathan Fillion’s TDK, who has an utterly endearing and unwavering faith in his astoundingly crappy ability to… detach his arms. It’s honestly kind of beautiful. Then there’s Weasel as portrayed by Sean Gunn, who is just a hilarious crackhead of an animal man.

Final Fate: Literally every single one of them die horribly thanks to Blackguard’s betrayal. He’s the first to go, because as soon as he walks out saying “Hey guys, it’s me, the one who contacted you!” he literally has his face blasted clean off. The rest go soon after. Mongal, in one of the most astounding moments of idiocy I’ve ever seen, leaps on a helicopter despite Rick Flag telling her specifically not to. Her weight and strength send it careening out of control, which leads to it shredding Captain Boomerang to bits before exploding, burning her alive as she painfully screams and writhes in agony. TDK gets his arms shot into Swiss cheese, leading to him bleeding out since even detached they still are part of him. Javelin is also shot, but gets a dying moment with Harley where he passes her Checkov’s Javelin. Finally, after witnessing all of this carnage, Savant completely loses his shit and tries to swim away, leading to Waller blowing his head up.

You may be wondering what happened to Weasel. He appears to drown as soon as the Squad deploys, because despite being actually smart in this movie, Waller forgot to make sure everyone on the Squad could swim. Thankfully, this lovable child-murdering crackhead rodent was just sleeping, and wakes up in the first credit scene.

Best Scene: Obviously, it’s their one and only scene. It’s a magnificent slaughter that puts the X-Force scene from Deadpool 2 to shame.

Final Thoughts & Score: I’ve gotta hand it to James Gunn. Even though these losers are only onscreen for a few minutes, they all get to cram a lot of charm and personality into that time, to the point it’s actually kind of sad seeing them all die. It’s a beautiful mix of comedy and tragedy. Since their screentime is so limited, though, I’m mostly going to be grading them on style, performance, and so on rather than on villainy like normal. They are all bad guys, as they don’t really get a chance to redeem themselves like the other Squad, so I’m still counting them as villains, which means they could potentially score above an 8 (which is the highest score I’m willing to give heel-face turn villains, because they end up being better as characters in general than as villains).

I’m also not going to talk about Boomerang (I’ll talk about him when I review the original Squad) or Harley (because she not only lives, but deserves her own solo Psycho Analysis). Now here we go, from best to worst:

TDK

If you thought anyone but TDK would get top marks, you’re sadly mistaken. Seeing Nathan Fillion proudly wield the insanely lame power to detach his arms to lightly tap soldiers on the head and gently grab their guns is a sight I never knew I needed to see until this movie. The fact he just seems so darn proud about this power that he doesn’t even bother to use in any way that would be remotely useful is honestly really endearing. Frankly, the sheer fact they adapted Arms-Fall-Off Boy in any way is enough for me to give him a 10/10.

Weasel

Weasel is just disgustingly delightful. He’s just a horrible, nasty, ugly little bastard… But he’s kind of adorable? He clearly has no idea where he is at any given time and is just so goddamn freaky that I can’t help but love him. The fact that, despite being a character who in the comics is noteworthy only for dying on his first mission with the Squad, he manages to survive the entire movie is pretty impressive. Hopefully he comes back in the future, but either way he gets an 8/10 from me.

Javelin

Honestly, aside from Boomerang, his death stung the most. He’s just so cute and charming, and he doesn’t even get to fling his javelin at anyone! Thankfully, he passes it on to Harley, and boy does she ever get to use it! He’s so cute, I have to give him an 8/10. I just wish we got more of him.

Savant

Savant is just an absolutely hilarious bait-and-switch. We follow him through the prologue, with everything seeming to point to him as our main character and the Squad leader. He’s stoic, he’s cranky, and he has impeccable aim… and then we get to the beach and he just freaks the hell out and starts screaming and crying and running away like a little bitch. Seeing Michael Rooker act like he’s shitting his pants after playing a badass like Yondu is just the sort of hilarious subversiveness that James Gunn loves to do when you let him loose. The fact that he looks like, to paraphrase the TVTropes YMMV page for the movie, a “cyberpunk Tommy Wiseau” is the icing on this 7/10 cake.

Blackguard

I was prepared to hate this guy just based on how lame Pete Davidson’s costume was, and you know what? I do hate him. But I love to hate him. He’s just an utterly pathetic scoundrel and a coward, true to his name. The fact he is the first to die, as just about everyone predicted, and is killed absolutely gruesomely makes any annoyance he could provide moot, and his freeakout over being seated next to Weasel on the plane is actually kind of funny. I was originally going to give him a 6, but you know what? He can have a low 7/10. He’s like the only member of this particular Squad to actually do anything evil, so I gotta give him props for that.

Mongal

Let me make this perfectly clear: I do not blame James Gunn or actress Mayling Ng. I’m not actually mad at either of them for what they chose to do, because it is ultimately hilarious and sad. It suited the narrative of the film, and I’m not actually, genuinely mad.

With all that out of the way, Mongal is one hell of a stupid cunt. It is one thing to cause your own death with your stupidity, it is something else entirely to cause the death of a beloved character with your poorly planned attack. The fact she didn’t take into account how her weight and strength would effect an airborne helicopter makes one wonder if she is really supposed to be based on a character who can take on Superman and live to tell about it.

Let’s compare her to two similar characters to really show how bad she is. Like Blackguard, she is directly responsible for a death on the beach, Blackguard being responsible for everyone by selling them out and leading them into an ambush (and yes, I’m including him as well), and Mongal killing Boomerang with the chopper. The difference is, Blackguard’s betrayal was deliberate, he meant to sell the team out, he was actively doing something evil there, while Mongal killed Boomerang out of sheer idiocy.

Now, let’s compare her to Zeitgeist from the similar bloody massacre that occurred during X-Force’s deployment in Deadpool 2. Like Mongal, he accidentally kills a teammate. The difference is, in the case of Zeitgeist, he only accidentally melted Peter, it was a freak accident, and ultimately it does get undone by the end. Meanwhile, Mongal made a conscious, stupid decision and ended up killing her squadmate with her own idiocy. She sucks, hardcore. I don’t do this lightly, but I’m giving her a 1/10. Villains just don’t get much stupider than her.

I will giver her this, though: the makeup work on her is good. She’s lowkey kinda hot if I’m being honest. But being hot and having good makeup does not a good villain make.

#Psycho Analysis #The Suicide Squad #Savant #Michael Rooker #Javelin #Flula Borg #TDK #Nathan Fillion #Weasel #Sean Gunn #Mongal #Mayling Ng #Blackguard #Pete Davidson

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brokenmusicboxwolfe · 2 years ago

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You know, while Santa Claus: The Movie actually is as bad as it’s reputation, something occurred to me as I watched it….

If it were a Rankin and Bass animated special, and got rid of the first half of the film, it might not be horrible. Most those stop motion specials, would be hard to take as live action too.

Look at the story. An elf that’s into inventing gets a chance to go “high tech”. It goes disastrously wrong. Like hate mail from kids level bad. As a result the elf thinks Santa doesn’t love him anymore, so he runs away to go prove himself. Unfortunately he find himself exploited by a corrupt manufacturer. An ending that shows that Santa, the symbolic parent, still loves you when you goof up would be totally in keeping with the usual cheese…sorry…sentimentality…um…spirit of a holiday special. Honestly all sounds fine for vintage tv animation.

That hypothetical animated special could be a seasonal classic up there with The Year Without a Santa Claus. However, actual movie proves I was 100% right as a kid to not want to see it (though I think I had a comic adaptation).

Still, if you held me at gunpoint and told we I had to chose between this and Rankin and Bass specials ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas (aka Questioning blind faith will cause a vengeful Santa to punish everyone**) and Nestor : the Long Eared Donkey (aka You’re mama will die and you will have a miserable time, but hey, one day you will get to do manual labor hauling a pregnant lady around as a reward), well, I’d watch Santa Claus: The Movie. Probably.

Best moment? Going “OMG! It’s Liz Shaw!” when actress Caroline John unexpectedly turned up for the tiniest of bit parts. What? I’m a Doctor Who fan!

** I am an agnostic, and a questioner by nature. As a child I took it REALLY personally when it suggested that people like me are bad guys that will keep Santa from visiting your town. I was bullied enough being a non-believer in the bible belt. And one on! What kind of Santa won’t visit a whole town of kids just because of ONE letter from ONE kid! Skipping the kid I could understand, even if it seems out of keeping with Santa’s nature, but to punish town where all the other kids were writing perfectly normal letters is simply mean. Santa should NOT BE MEAN!!!

Sorry, all these decades later I am still angry about it.

#santa claus the movie #santa claus: the movie #movies

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intercoursefluids · 4 years ago

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The Impromptu Sleepover Part 1

“Alright! The adults are asleep what do you guys want to do?”

Alya being Alya, decided to take over the sleepover to celebrate Marinette’s friends finally realizing (or in most cases finally speaking up) about Lila’s lies.

“Swordfight!”

“Movie Marathon!”

“Let’s play truth or dare!”

Different ideas all resound from the girls currently huddled in Marinette’s room, all the boys trying to pretend they didn’t exist.

Only nine people were there, Adrien had wanted to come to the sleepover, but his dad wouldn’t let him.

These 10 were the only ones from her class to come back to her and apologize once they realized who the real victim was.

Marinette almost couldn’t believe her eyes when Alix, Alya, Kagami, Chloe, Nino, Kim, Max, Nathaniel, and Marc came up to her asking for her back.

The only ones who had actually believed Lila’s lies were Alya, Max, and Nathaniel but the others still apologized for not speaking out for her.

This group apology and cry session that immediately followed ended up with them holding a sleepover to celebrate their reconnection.

One thing Marinette forgot about though. Was the fact that Chat Noir would come to hang out with her on Fridays.

Which is why, when pebbles started hitting her window. She damn near had a heart attack when everyone else noticed immediately stopping their conversations.

“Mari, Love, Darling dearest. Who, might I ask, is throwing pebbles at your window?”

Every single one of her friends look at her with shit-eating grins as Kim blinks up innocently at her like he didn't just confirm for everyone there was in fact someone outside throwing a rock at her window.

Persistently.

With a deep sigh, Marinette grabs a lightsaber and spray bottle from the back of her closet.

"Alya, I am giving you permission to film this. I am NOT, however, to post this to any social media, and no one except for those in this room are to ever see the footage unless I give explicit permission otherwise. Understand?"

Alya nods frantically pulling out her phone as she and Marinette climb up to the balcony.

"Oh, Romeo Oh Romeo. Where art tho Romeo?"

Chat Noirs sarcastic call sounds from below with a bouquet of Alstroemeria, Amaryllis, and Blue Irises.

Alya hides behind the railing, just out of Chat Noir's sight as she films the interaction.

With a deep sigh, Marinette turns to Chat with regret and sorrow written all across her face, making Chat pause.

"Princess? What's the matter-"

"I'm sorry Chat Noir. But it's over."

The stricken look on his face almost makes Marinette feel sorry for him.

Almost.

"I don't understand? Did I do something wrong?"

With another deep sigh, Marinette runs a hand over her face.

"It's over Chat."

Faking tears, Marinette ever so slowly pulls the lightsaber from behind her back turning it on making the red illuminate half her face.

"I have the high ground."

Marinette sniffles for good measure as Alya finally catches on. Turning her phone back to Chat to see him looking like he was about to cry before it finally clicks.

His face goes blank as he stares up at one of his best friends.

"I hate you so much."

Marinette cackles as he pulls out his baton, stretching up to her balcony to be face to face with her.

"I can't believe that guy calls you 'Angel'. Your halo hides your horns too well and- Ladyblogger? What are you doi- Eep!"

He cuts off abruptly as Marinette squirts him in the face with the spray bottle making him reel back with a yowl.

In his haste to get away, he knocks himself off balance starting to fall over backward until Marinette grabs his bell yanking him forward.

"Okay, that is it! I'm going home and I'm telling Ladybug you're picking on me."

Marinette wheezes, trying to get her breath back and just giving up. Climbing down her skylight to collapse in a pile of giggles.

Chat and Alya both follow her down. Alya pushing her off her bed so Kim has to catch her before she hits the floor.

"Please Alya. PLEASE, tell me you got his reaction on film."

Alya smirks showing the video currently saving to her phone.

"Of course I did. Now we have a new guest here now assuming that Chat wants to stay for the sleepover."

Chat's eyes widen, looking every part the excited kitten.

"Can I?! I've never been to a sleepover before!"

All of the girls gasp in horror, surrounding Chat as they search through drawers and Marinette's closet.

Marinette, always one step ahead, runs to chat.

"Go in the bathroom, detransform put these on, and come back out. I'm assuming your Kwami eats camembert cheese since you constantly smell like it. I swear no one here is going to find out your identity or even try if they don't want me to put them on blast with all of the dirt I have on them. Now go!"

Chat is shoved into the bathroom, the door slamming shut behind him. Doing as he is told in fear of Marinette, Chat detransforms catching Plagg as he cackles in the air.

"Oh, I like her! She'd make a great kitten, with how easy it is for her to cause chaos, just how I like it!."

Shaking his head at his cackling Kwami as he got dressed. Putting the mask Marinette made him on trying it securely around his head. Stepping out to find Marinette coming back with a LARGE tray of food and everyone else huddled around Alya's phone.

Chat can't help the startled yelp he lets out when Alix pulls him down to her, gently petting his hair as she glares at Marinette.

"You're a monster Marinette. How could you do that to him?! Look at his face! His little baby face! He looked heartbroken!"

Marinette snorts at the playful scolding.

"Let him go, Alix. Go find your own stray."

Alix snorts as Marinette pulls a blushing Chat to her hugging him close. Marinette sits down dragging him with her as he buries his face in her hair. Too embarrassed to speak.

He doesn't have a babyface. Does he?

"Awe come on Mari, you found the cutest one the least you could do is share him!"

Everyone laughs as Kim makes a grab for Chat just for Marinette to pull him closer to her.

"Noooooo, this is MY alley cat! Go find your own!"

Chat Noir would never admit how hard he had to fight down his purr when Marinette started petting his hair.

You know. Before he lost that battle and a purr sounded loudly through his chest.

"Please stop. It's not fair and you're embarrassing me. Mariiiiii! Stooooooop."

Everyone laughs when Chat complains for Marinette to stop, even as he starts to melt into a puddle on her lap.

"One of these days I'm going to tell M'lady on you and she's gonna dangle you from the Eiffel Tower."

Now, under normal circumstances, everyone would be worried, but it's hard to be serious when one of Paris's superheroes is melted in a puddle in your friend's lap with a purr so loud it's hard to understand him.

"I'm pretty sure Ladybug would dangle YOU from the Eiffel Tower for being in a girls room this late, without letting her parents know. Even more, so that you detransformed in front of us. Still want to tell Ladybug on Marinette?"

Everyone turns to Marc, Nathaniel's adorable spouse as they radiate badassery.

Chat's purr stutters before starting up just as loudly again.

"I will no longer be telling M'lady."

Marinette snorts leaning back on her chaise as Chat adjusts himself so he's laying between her legs with his head on her stomach. Facing the rest of the class as Marinette plays with his hair.

"Are you guys dating?"

"Of course they are Cesaire. Ridiculous-!"

"Utterly ridiculous!" "Ew! No!"

Are the two different responses that cut Chloe off. The group finishing Chloe's catchphrase as Marinette and Chat Noir look at the rest of the class in disgust.

"Okay, first of all. Chat what the HELL do you mean 'ew'? Marinette is a babe, and everyone in this room has had a crush on her at least once before. How dare you say 'ew' like you would never date her you would be incredibly lucky if she even considered you."

Alya states with a finger in Chat's face.

Alix, Alya, Kagami, Chloe, Max, Kim, Nathaniel, Marc, and Nino all looking incredibly offended for Marinette even as she blushes and tries to hide her face.

"Guys, stop! And what do you mean all of you? Half of you are dating each other!"

Chat snickers at her distress, pulling out his burner phone and snapping a picture of her face.

"Okay, there may or may not be a literal 'Queen Marinette Club" or 'QMC' for short. We even have several social media accounts dedicated to giving you the credit you deserve. Before you ask this started that one time we went to Gotham and you answered all of the Riddler's riddles and yelled at Nightwing and Robin for their poor fashion choices and called Batman a furry when he tried to stop you."

Surprisingly Nathaniel is the one who answers instead of Alya as she pulls out her phone.

"We didn't even start the club! It was some people in Gotham who did. Max is the one who found out about it."

Sweet Marc, sweet sweet Marc never knowing when to stop before Marinette popped a blood vessel from blushing so hard.

"Poison Ivy, Harley Quinn, Cat Woman, The Riddler, the entire Batfamily (Batman included), and even some of the Waynes follow the accounts. Not to mention the other celebrities you've befriended like Mr. Stone and Ms. Nightingale."

Max reads off of his phone, seemingly proud of Marinette's followers.

"Even my mom follows you, Mari. That says something."

Chat looks up cackling as Marinette tries to suffocate herself with a pillow, Plagg rolling around on her hair as he clutches his stomach.

"Dang! Pigtails has some, what's it called? Clout! You're famous, kitten!"

Marinette whimpers from behind the pillow, her face practically radiating heat.

Chat snorts before turning back to the group.

"Number one I am well aware that Marinette is awesome and that I would be the luckiest man in the world to have her as my girlfriend. However, she's basically my little sister, same as Ladybug. Sorry to burst your bubble, Alya. Number two, she already has a boyfriend, has for a little over a year now, and he scares me. I am not testing if I really have nine lives cause he would take all of them. Number three, can you show me the 'QMC' accounts I want to follow them."

The room is silent as Marinette glares at Chat.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that? Princess? It's not like this is new informa-! They didn't know did they?"

Marinette reaches under her, pulling out a very nice-looking dagger from under the cushions of her chaise.

"Say goodbye to eight of your lives Chat. I need a new black fur hat."

Chat yelps scampering away from Marinette on all fours as she lunges for him with Plagg chasing after them laughing.

They keep running around the room until they pass Kim and he reaches out and grabs Marinette, trapping her in his arms.

"Okay, nice knife. Not sure where you got it nor do I want to know. Second of all, what's this about a boyfriend?"

Everyone surrounds her as Alix pulls the dagger from her hands putting it back under the cushions.

"Why haven't we heard of any boyfriend? Are you out of your mind?"

Alya's calm tone is very misleading as Chat hides behind her.

"He didn't want anyone to know just in case people claim for me to be a gold digger. Scratch that, I didn't want anyone to know so he didn't get sued for assault if anyone called me a gold digger and he found out."

Chat snorts.

"Yeah, you, definitely a gold digger. You know, since you didn't even realize who he was for the first 5 or 6 months of your relationship."

Marinette's glare does nothing as a blush covers her face.

"We don't speak of it Chat. I can and will still skin you."

Everyone looks at Marinette in shock.

"Okay, so all we know is that they are a he. He is rich enough to make people assume Marinette, Marinette of all people, is a gold digger and they are in a secret relationship. Who is it?"

Max looks up from his phone, where he is no doubt taking notes.

Marinette looks at the ground mumbling something that no one but Chat can make out thanks to his super hearing. He laughs and walks over to her phone unlocking it as Marinette finally answers.

"Damian Wayne."

Everyone looks at Marinette in a mix of shock and confusion before Chloe bursts out laughing.

"Only you Marinette. Only you would get over your crush on a millionaire heir to fall for a literal billionaire heir without even realizing it."

She breaks off into hysterical laughter as everyone turns to chat who is now on Marinette's computer connected to her phone as a facetime call takes place.

It answers on the second ring to someone who is most definitely NOT Damian Wayne.

"Hey Pixie Pop! Sorry, but I had to steal the phone from demon spawn. He was trying to kill me and Dick with a spoon and lunged for his phone as soon as it started ringing. Me and Dick were closer so we grabbed it and are now trying to find somewhere to hide so he doesn't actually kill us. Dick wanna say 'Hi'?"

Everyone hears a shout of 'sure' from someone out of the frame before the phone is passed over to someone who looks much like the first, except they are older and have no white streak in their hair.

"Hey, nettie! How's school?"

Chat smirks, covering Marinette's mouth as she tries to reply. A door slams shut as the two guys hunker in the near darkness, a lock clicking into place.

"School is great thanks for asking. Could be better but we are all getting by."

Two faces appear on screen looking a mix between worried and angry.

"I swear to god if you are holding Pixie Pop for ransom you will have the rage of all of Gotham fall upon you."

Chat just looks confused before remembering that he's wearing a mask and is holding Marinette's mouth shut.

"Oh! No, I'm not holding her hostage, we're friends. Chat Noir, Parisian superhero at your service. I just wanted to prank her boyfriend, she's having a sleepover and I was invited."

Their expressions immediately relax.

"Oh good. I was worried about what would happen when everyone else found out. Especially Damian."

Both boys shudder and smile as everyone else in the room comes into the frame.

One of them opens their mouth to speak before a loud bang comes from the door. Two equal looks of fear take over their faces.

A second later a loud bang fills the air as the door basically explodes open, high-pitched screams of terror fill the air before all is silent a new face filling to screen.

"Sorry Habibti, my brothers are imbeciles with death wishes. What do you need?"

"Wow, Habibti? I didn't know you felt that way about me Damian, or should I give you a pet name too?"

Chat's grin SCREAMS mischief, as Damian looks down an ice-cold glare in place.

"Let go of my girlfriend before I fly down there and skin you alive regardless of her wishes."

Everyone shivers at the pure venom in Damian's voice as Chat lets go holding his hands up in the air as he grins.

"Sorry, sorry. Letting go."

Marinette and Damian both glare at him before turning to each other, both looks immediately softening.

"Sorry, Shaytan. I'm having a sleepover and Chat outed our relationship and decided it would be funny to call you."

His smile is so gentle it shocks the rest of Marinette's friends.

"Don't worry, it's not your fault the Cat is a moron. I miss you. When do you think you can come back?"

Both of them choose to ignore Chats highly offended 'Hey!' as well as everyone else in the room with Marinette.

"That depends on when you want me there and when I can catch a flight."

Damian sits down at a table pulling a laptop to him as he sets up his phone so she can still see him.

"Well I want you here now, and I can have you a flight soon enough if I ask Father to get the family jet ready. If I work fast I can have you here by tomorrow morning, if not sooner."

Marinette looks shocked.

"You can't just ask your Father to get a plane ready just for me Damian!"

He glances back at the phone before going back to his computer.

"Why not? Everyone here loves you and if you're worried about the cost of it I can assure you a single minute of your time is worth far more than a measly plane ride."

Kim and Alya make cooing noises at the two from the sweetness of it all as Kagami steps up wrapping her arms protectively around her.

"Before you make any more trip plans you are going to tell me what you plan to do with Marinette in the future. I will not allow her to be some temporary girlfriend if you aren't serious about her."

Damian turns back to the phone looking past Marinette to acknowledge the others for the first time since the call started.

"I can assure you I don't want Marinette to be temporary. I plan to marry her and I truly couldn't care less if any of you have a problem with it."

Marinette's face invents a new shade of red as everyone coos over how cute that is. After getting over their initial shock of course.

"Habibti, do you want them to be able to come with you next time you come over? I can have father speak to their parents if they don't agree right away."

"Are you sure that would be okay?"

Marinette's timid voice makes Damian look away from his computer.

"Why wouldn't it be? If you don't want them to come with you then they don't have to, I know that you have some trouble with a few of your classmates. Seeing how late it is there I would have thought these were the ones who didn't turn on you or came back once they realized how idiotic they were to leave in the first place."

"Rude, but true."

Damian chooses to ignore Alya.

"No I would like for them to come, it could be fun! I'm just worried about space and where everyone would sleep."

Damian snorts.

"You have nothing to worry about, if you don't want them to stay in a hotel they can stay with us in the manor, there's plenty of space. And if there isn't enough space you can just sleep with me in my room."

He finishes off with a cheeky grin as Marinette sputters.

"You can't just say stuff like that Damian! It was bad enough that you said you planned to marry me, you don't need to add sharing a bed to the pile!"

Damian has the audacity to look confused.

"What do you mean? I never hid my plans to marry you nor my feelings, I don't get what the big deal is about sharing a bed anyway. It's not like Alfred would let us do anything and we wouldn't even have the chance with the circus monkeys I call brothers."

Several offended voices with 'I heard that!' 'Excuse me?' and 'You love us and you know it!'s all sound from his end.

Alix and Kim are basically collapsed onto each other as they wheeze at his bluntness.

Marinette sighs resting her head on her hands with a 'why do I even bother?' before looking up again.

"Fine, how is next weekend for everyone. I know Adrien will want to be included and I don't think he has anything going then. It will give me enough time to convince everyone's parents if need be and pack."

Everyone agrees and they end the call. Damian and Marinette saying their respective I love yous and Goodnight/Good mornings.

"I'm going to duel him."

"Kagami NO!"

Kagami looks Marinette dead in the eyes before smiling.

"Kagami yes."

#maridami #daminette #marinette x batfam #dc x mlb #Fluff interactions

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kyotakumrau · 4 years ago

Text

2021.04.06 a talk event at Meguro Rock-May-Kan film screening at Namba Hatch with Kyo and Shinya - PART 2

Report by とあ on twitter (topics are not reported in order things happened, I followed the order they posted, 1st and 2nd session are mixed)

"What is Shinya's hair colour called? Is it okay to copy you [and dye my hair the same colour]?"

Shinya: Violet rose.

Fujieda: How about copying?

Shinya: It's fine.

Kyo: ... Violet rose?! It's called violet rose? (laughing)

Fujieda: It's sounds like a song title.

Kyo: Like our next song? Doesn't sound exciting at all (laughing).

Kyo: Did you name it Violet rose yourself?

Shinya: No, when I requested pink shade I got this colour, when I asked what colour is it I got told it's Violet rose.

Kyo: It's not pink at all.

"Which place is painful to get tattooed on?"

Kyo: It's said that the hand's palm and back of the foot. The one on this hand was done by the person who did the tattoo on my back, but she lives in Germany. She told me it's easy for the colour to fade on the palm. That's why she told me she will use an ink that's not approved in Japan but will not fade, and she did it for me.

Fujieda: It's really not fading.

Kyo: That's why she used some weird ink. Suspicious one, with something bad for people in it.

There are four small tattoos on this hand

(during this talk Kyo was showing his palm almost all the time)

Shift of conversation to the topic of tattooing a giraffe on Fujieda's back.

Kyo: A giraffe going all over your back to your thighs.

Fujieda: And the head would be on the neck?

Kyo: No, on the shoulder. So when you move your arm the giraffe's head would move as well. If I had a machine I could do it on you.

Fujieda: When there's a chance.

Kyo: Eh, if there's a machine?

(*there's a brilliant word play here with 機械・machine and 機会・opportunity both being read as 'kikai'🤣)

Kyo: Then I'm going to get the machine and tattoo you. Using that not approved ink from Germany.

Fujieda: No no no, we're talking about different 'kikai'.

Fujieda: "I'm in trouble eating too much. What should I do?"

Kyo: Eat!

"What do you drink when you wake up?"

Shinya: Cola.

"What lip balm do you use?"

Kyo: Cola flavour.

"A drink you like"

Kyo: Ehm... Dekavita, Oronamin C, things like that. But it's not good to drink those too much.

"Favorite chocolate sweets"

Kyo: Ehm... there are too many. ...Ah, but I love cheap sweets.

"When you eating a candy do you suck it till the end or do you crunch it?

Kyo: I crunch it from the start.

"Your favorite Japanese sweets"

Shinya: Ichigo daifuku (rice cake with a strawberry)

"Anything special about Namba Hatch, first time in a while?"

Shinya: Not really. First time since we played here and not for a show. It's feels quite empty.

Kyo: I have something I buy every time I come to Osaka, but I'm annoyed because they weren't sold. Half of me is made of sweets! I always buy 3 or 4 flavours of Curl before going back but I couldn't find them.

(*Curl is a corn puff snack)

Kyo: I never talk to the shop clerk, but this time I checked the shop few times and couldn't find it so I asked. I got told they only have cheese flavour so I got it and left.

Kyo: But don't send me Curl. It'd be troublesome to start receiving so many Curl packs. I'd get them myself.

Before I bought 4 packs to take home but by the time I was home I only had one left.

"What type of dogs do you like?"

Kyo: It's a secret. You'll know eventually.

Shinya: small dogs.

"What colours do you like besides members colours?"

Takavayashi: How were those colours decided? By the hair colour?

Kyo: That's what I think?

Shinya: They were decided without my knowledge.

Takabayashi: it's pink for you, right? Although it doesn't really match you?

What colour do you like best?

Shinya: Black.

(two if them look at each other in silence and laugh)

Takabayashi: How about you Kyo?

Kyo: Pink!

"Merchandise item you like"

Shinya: I guess the travel pouch.

Fujieda: Are you using it?

Shinya: Today I brought a smaller one.

Fujieda: Eh? You use it...

Kyo: He said he doesn't. The size is wrong.

Fujieda: Btw where's your bag from?

Shinya: It's from MUJI.

Fujieda: How was the hot pack? It's warm!

Handed it to Kyo

Kyo: Yeah, it's warm... but it was supposed to be released last time.

Fujieda: Eh? Saying that does it mean it was your idea??!

Kyo: Yup. Actually I wanted to have it last year, last year end was cold right? But the design wasn't done in time.

That's why it didn't come that time, just now. Niw it's not needed anymore. ...I hope you can use it next winter.

(*aaaaah so that's why he was poking at Fujieda so much about it☹️ it'd have been great last December!😆 but it'd definitely be useful next winter!!😊)

Fujieda: That's true, let's use it next winter. And it can also be used as a power bank so that can be used now.

Power strip.

Fujieda: Before this event Shinya was using this backstage. There aren't enough outlets backstage.

Kyo: Lol... is there really that few outlets backstage?

Fujieda: Well... not that few. But he was using it.

Kyo: Huhm.

Kyo (looks at Shinya): what is that, drawn on it?

Shinya got the power strip in his hands.

Shinya: That is cats who got electrocuted.

Kyo: Those are cats? Why cats?

Shinya: Who knows.

Fujieda: But isn't it cute?

Kyo: Yup, ...I guess it is.

Kyo likes the hoodie.

Kyo: The design in the back was drawn by the person who is my tattoo artist after I asked.

Fujieda: Why a hoodie?

Kyo: Eh?If its something to use it at home... you can't use a heat pack at home. Only a loony would use a heat pack at home. It's better to just turn on the heating. So it'd be crazy to use heat packs at home.

Kyo: and then you also won't use the pass case. And no use for the travel pouch at home nor the sticker...

Fujieda: What about the tote bag? Shinya is using it, for his shoes etc.

Shinya: I'm using it. I didn't bring it today though.

"In an old interview you said that because you couldn't afford to stay in a hotel you slept in the car and thought of sleeping position like yoga, what kind of position was it?"

Kyo: I said that?

Takabayashi: In a magazine interview I think? Didn't you said you didn't stay in a hotel?

Kyo: Saying I slept in the car, it must have been when traveling?

Kyo: You're sitting, right? There's someone next to you so totally no space. Saying it's like yoga, so like this, your head goes down and your legs go up, kinda have to turn around

Shinya: I thought then Kyo had a great idea, when I tried it, it was comfortable.

Kyo: I've put a plastic box in the legs and used it for my head, rose my legs, like L shape.

Fujieda: Is that really comfortable?

Kyo: Yup.

Takabayashi: There won't be any swelling, if you raise your legs.

Kyo: But in the past, when we got to the venue I was in that position some fan suddenly opened our car's door. I was so upset she saw the L shape position.

Fujieda: It's also hard to believe someone would just suddenly open your car door.

"How do you like your meat cooked?"

Kyo: rary rare

Fujieda: You mean to grill it only a little bit? Like sizzle siz..done?

Kyo: Yup.

Fujieda: How about you Shinya?

Shinya: Medium rare.

Kyo: You don't eat Yukhoe? (*dish similar to tartare steak)

Kyo: Isn't it rary rare?

Shinya: But that's special.

"A song you just hum"

Kyo: the '♪gohan ga susumu gohan ga susumu♪' one

"Do you look at the needle when you get an injection?"

Kyo: Fixedly. I also watch when I'm getting tattooed.

"You should know that ZARAME DONUTS bacon donuts will come back, so don't worry."

Kyo: .......? What? How do you know that?

Fujieda: When we were in Nagoya we got told the same. That for now they are gone but they will be available again.

Kyo: Uhm... Who are they? Why do they know this? Are you the shop's spy or something??

"A vegetable you like"

Kyo: what spring veg are there?

Fujieda: Bamboo shoots and so on.

Kyo: Bamboo shoots!

"What are you into right now."

Kyo: Sneakers and Bugs Bunny.

Fujieda: Batsu Bani?!

Kyo: Batsu Bani lol

Fujieda: What's that? Batsu Bani?

Kyo: It's a character...

Fujieda: Eh? Do you know it?

Takabayashi: Of course.

Fujieda: Batsu Bani... I have no idea. I didn't bring my phone so I can't check... What kind of character is it?

Kyo: I said.

Fujieda: Baksu Bani?? ...ah! Bunny! It's a rabbit?

"What fabric softener do you use?"

Shinya: No preference. Something smooth

Takabayashi: Not the pods?

Shinya: No. Water... should rather say liquid.

Takabayashi: I'll look for it next time.

Kyo: Any softener would be okay for me, but there's Fafa, isn't the bear super cute? Have you seen that commercial? Where the bear falls on the towels. It's very cute. Watch it. It's on the net. It makes me feel better even when I'm irritated.

Fujieda: So at the moment you like two characters, FaFa bear and Bugs Bunny.... !!! Bugs Bunny! You meant Bugs Bunny!

Kyo: You finally got it 😆

#dir en grey #kyo #京 #shinya #talk event #爆音会 #目黒鹿鳴館gig #translation

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lastbluetardis · 3 years ago

Text

Sacred New Beginnings (1/?)

Summary: James Noble thought he traded away his chance at love and a happy-ever-after when he signed a contract with a record label that turned him into an international celebrity. But a chance meeting in a dive bar may prove him wrong.

Ten x Rose AU, @doctorroseprompts

This Chapter: Teen, ~5500 words

Note: Er... surprise? This idea has been in my head for months but my brain took it and ran with it this weekend. I plotted the whole thing and am gonna try to update every weekend. I don’t anticipate this being more than like... 7-10 chapter? I’d love to keep it under 5 chapters but that might be trimming things down too much for my liking. Anyways, I really hope you enjoy this little story!

AO3

Flashing lights and shrieks of his name greet James the moment the back door to his armored car is opened. His head of security ducks out first and James can only see a mass of feet and legs but it’s more than enough to let him know it’s a heavier than usual crowd. Not surprising, considering the news of his latest break-up just dropped while he’d been flying back from a visit to America.

He slides out of the car, helped by hands that pull him as much as guide him through the throng. He ignores the shouts of his name—telling him to look left or right or up or down or every combination therein—and the barrage of questions and jokes that aren’t funny.

Was it you or him that ended it?

Three weeks, is that a new personal record?

Another notch in the bedpost, eh James?

Got another beau lined up yet?

If you’re looking for candidates, what do we have to do to get our names in the running?

“Ignore them,” he mutters to himself, too quietly for anyone except his security team to hear.

In answer, one of them gives his shoulder a reassuring squeeze as they reach his front door. Someone has already unlocked it for him and the darkness within is a blessing he’s all too willing to be shoved into. The cacophony muffles once the door shuts, and finally he’s alone, a rarity for him. If it’s not his security, it’s personal assistants and writers and producers and photographers and the paparazzi.

Or his lover of the month, as the papers have taken to calling his partners.

But nope, his home is empty and quiet and bloody freezing. A shiver ripples up his spine as he treads to the thermostat controller. Summer finally released its hold on London, and the muggy heat has been replaced with a damp chill that burrows down into his bones.

Several button-presses later, James hears the familiar clank of the radiator and he can smell the heating kick on. It’ll take a while for his house to warm up, so James keeps his peacoat on for the time being as he putters around his home, checking the fridge and the cabinets. As always, they’re well-stocked. He hasn’t had to do anything as mundane as grocery shopping in the five years since his YouTube channel full of acoustic covers of popular songs went viral and landed him a lucrative deal with a prestigious record label. Only in his wildest dreams had he expected to find fame and fortune in the hobby he loved so much—for it to have actually happened still took him by surprise, as though any minute he’d be told “it was fun while it lasted, but it’s time for you to leave wonderland now.”

Shaking his head of those thoughts, he goes to the antique dining table that can easily seat ten people, which is great for holidays or in-home meetings, but just plain depressing every other day of the year. A stack of mail has piled up, and he spends the next five minutes attempting to sort it before giving up and telling himself he’ll look at it in the morning, once he’s not quite as groggy—transatlantic flights always take it out of him.

Instead, he rootles around his fridge until he comes up with the necessary items to make himself a ham and cheese sandwich. With the prospect of food in front of him, James realizes he is starving. He shoves a whole slice of ham in his mouth while he assembles his pitiful meal, heaping on lettuce and sliced tomatoes as though that’s enough to negate the pile processed protein and greasy chips he layers in for crunch.

It’s tastier than any sandwich as a right to be, and he nearly makes himself a second one before catches sight of his phone screen and the slew of incoming notifications. His work is never finished, is it?

There are several texts from his publicist, Donna, welcoming him home and congratulating him on not making an arse of himself just by trying to walk up the front drive of his home. (To be fair, he felt entitled to channel his inner crotchety old man and tell reporters to get off his damn lawn if they encroached on his personal property.)

“Though some photos are surfacing of your trip to New York… Anything you need me to get ahead of?”

He rubs his fingers into his eyes, knowing she’s probably referring to his last night out in the city, where he went bar hopping until the wee hours of the morning to try to forget the text his subsequently-ex-boyfriend had sent him.

Thanks for everything, but I need to focus on my career. Cheers mate.

The career that James had kickstarted for him by introducing his rising actor boyfriend to several of his friends in the film industry, because James had been so damn desperate for affection that he’d once again let the wool get pulled in front of his eyes.

And so James had reached out to mates who lived in New York and they’d all gone out and acted half their age and had a wonderful time once James forgot about why he’d gone out in the first place.

But none of that now. Nope. No sir.

“Not that I’m aware of,” he replies. “Let me know if you catch wind of anything.”

Despite the fact that he only just got home and he’s jetlagged and still feeling the effects of his night out in New York, James can’t stay in his house right now. It’s so quiet that his brain is creating its own white noise. He can’t stand being in his head on a good day, and today is not a good day.

He grabs his keys and wallet and makes for the back of the house. His property is landlocked with the back gardens of other houses; the paps have learned the hard way that James is dead serious about protecting his neighbors’ privacy and will not hesitate to phone the police to arrest and sue anyone caught trespassing on private property to snag a photo of him. James hosts dinner for his neighbors several times a year and buys them gifts any chance he can to show his appreciation for their patience and tolerance.

In the dead of night, he slips out into his back garden, the crisp October air burning his lungs in the best way as he ducks his way through the neighborhood, his feet taking him far away from the crowd of reporters that are still stationed in front of his own home. Hopefully they’ll all have dispersed by the time he gets back. Perhaps he should have turned on music or a movie or something, made them think he was settled in for a lazy night in.

He wanders aimlessly for a while, enjoying this taste of freedom and trying to remember the days when he could leave out the front door of his flat without any fanfare.

It’s dark, and thick clouds obscure whichever moon phase they’re in, but the street lamps glow yellow on the damp pavement, lighting his way forward. A crisp autumn breeze ruffles his hair and the leaves, sending them tumbling around him and skittering across the residential street that’s so much quieter than the bustle of New York. It’s good to be home, though.

He arrives at a bus stop and catches one headed into the city proper. It’s no secret that James lives in London, and therefore the general population has gotten used to glimpsing him on the tube or walking on the street or frequenting pubs. He knows people snap quick photos of him, and he’s always happy to stop and pose for a selfie with respectful fans, but mostly he’s left alone when he’s out by himself like this.

Nevertheless, he hears the excited undertones of people trying to inconspicuously point him out to their oblivious friends. He keeps his head down, mindlessly opening and closing apps on his phone for something to do as he pretends he doesn’t notice them. He won’t be on the bus much longer anyway.

Several people get off the bus with him, including a group of teenage girls who are whispering heatedly among themselves. It’s almost funny, watching them debate amongst themselves before one of them approaches him.

She’s red-faced but determined as she blurts, “Can we get a photo?”

“Sure thing,” he says good-naturedly, inclining his head for them to come closer. “Need me to take it?” He holds out a lanky arm and flops it around a bit. “Got a longer reach than any of you.”

He’s certain one of the girls is about to start crying with joy as they all nestle into his side and hand him a new-model iPhone. Damn, it’s fancier than his own. When he was their age, he had an old flip phone that lost reception if he breathed on it wrong. It was a tank though—he’d dropped that thing hundreds of times, and nary a scratch.

“Do me a favor,” he says, handing the phone back to its owner, “and don’t ping our location if you post to social media, yeah? I appreciate it.”

“You’re my favorite person ever,” one of the girls squeaks.

His face splits into a grin and he tucks his hands into his pockets. “Is that so?”

The girls spend the next five minutes chatting with him about music and how they’ve been following him ever since his YouTube days. He listens and chimes in every now and then when they ask him a direct question, but he prefers being passive in exchanges like this, content to hear peoples’ stories. It makes him feel normal, if only for a little while.

Finally, they take their leave, and James turns in the opposite direction even though the destination he had in mind is down the street the girls had just taken. But he’s been burned far too many times by encounters with seemingly innocent fans, only for them to begin following him around and showing up outside his house to talk to him again. He makes a point of not drawing out public encounters with his fans.

He wanders down a street he’s vaguely familiar with, figuring he can backtrack in a couple blocks. The night is too beautiful for him to be upset about needing to take a detour.

Everything looks different in the dark, the glow of neon signs bathing everything in hues of greens and blues and pinks and yellows. Shops and restaurants are mostly shut up for the night, their windows dark or blinds drawn. Dingey motels with pay-by-the-hour rates are in full swing, as are the pubs that have a revolving door of people in varying states of intoxication.

Deep bass that he can feel all the way in his chest catches his attention, and he gets turned around a few times, but he eventually finds the establishment: Bad Wolf Brews. At first, he doesn’t think it’s open, and that he must be mistaken about where the music is coming from, but the heavy front oak door opens, and he realizes the glass on the door is tempered so that the interior lights don’t shine through. The music is clear and heavy and vibrating in his bones. He doesn’t think twice before catching the door before it closes and slipping inside.

The air is humid and smells of sweat and stale beer. Bodies are writhing and gyrating to the rhythm blasting through invisible speakers. The acoustics are phenomenal; none of the layers are lost and the sound quality is nearly as good as if he were listening to the record at home on his own stereo system.

The lights are low, and he’s sure he trips into a few people in the minute it takes for his eyes to adjust to the dimness, but finally, he’s at the bar. There are three open stools, and he claims one between a blonde woman and a red-haired man as he wonders what the hell this dive bar serves. He can see beer taps, but he’s more of a cocktail guy. He must look as lost as he feels, because the bartender hands him a menu that looks like it was hand-written and then photo-copied. It jives with the overall vibe of the pub.

The bartender checks in with him a minute later. James opens a tab and orders a sidecar sans sugar, and is pleasantly surprised by the quality. Not to make assumptions, but he’d figured an establishment such as this would have cheap liquor. If the alcohol in his drink is cheap, it’s well masked.

When he’s drained the last drop and about to signal for another, a hand rests on his shoulder. “Can I buy your next round?”

James looks up into the face of a stranger. It’s a woman with striking green eyes and a disheveled pixie cut. Judging by her crimson cheeks and glazed eyes, she’s three sheets to the wind. There’s buzzed, then there’s drunk, and then there’s plastered. He prefers not to let himself get to that last category, and by extension, he doesn’t really like to associate much with people who won’t remember the night come morning.

“Thanks, but I’m good,” he says with his most charming grin. “G’night.”

He has no idea if the woman knows who he is, but the way she shrugs and saunters to the gentleman sitting beside James, he doubts it.

He gets clumsily propositioned a few more times and always politely declines with a smile. So far, nobody here seems to recognize him and he is going to ride out this anonymity for as long as it’ll last. It has been too long since he’s been able to sit in a pub and drink quietly. Well, quietly, insofar as crazed fans or paparazzi aren’t harassing him—the music is loud enough that he’s sure to have ringing in his ears for a few hours once he gets home.

But he’s not really in any rush to get home, and so he orders his fourth cocktail before making his way to the loo. Alcohol goes right through him, and it’s nearly gotten him in trouble on tour a time or two.

There’s no line, but the loo is crowded, and he tries to ignore the double-takes as he stands in front of a urinal to take care of business. If he wakes up tomorrow morning to find that someone snapped a photo of him having a piss, he’s going to lose his goddamn mind.

Bladder tended to, James keeps his head ducked and shoulders his way back into the bar. His stool is unoccupied, and when he steps forward, he realizes why. A purse sits on it, seemingly reserving the seat but he can’t figure out for whom. He’s about to take the cocktail the bartender hands him and stand against the shadowed wall when someone picks up the purse.

It’s his blonde-haired stool mate. She flashes him a broad grin that lights up her entire face and squeezes something deep in his stomach.

“Saved your seat for ya,” she says with the ease and confidence of someone who’s known him his whole life.

“Thanks,” he manages through a suddenly dry mouth.

Feeling like an idiot for standing and gaping, he slips into his seat and downs half his new sidecar in one go. It’s as though the ice has been broken now, and she turns to him, her elbow on the counter and her cheek propped on her fist.

“Pretty sure you could outdrink a fish, mate,” she drawls, smiling again in that easy way that does too many strange things to his insides. “You’ve been knockin’ ‘em back for over an hour now.”

Has it really been that long? James checks his watch, and yup, it’s half past ten. The paps should be gone from his house by now, but he feels no draw to leave this place. The alcohol has left him pleasantly tipsy and warm, but he’s more drunk on the fantasy that he’s just a normal bloke having a nice night out in a newly-discovered dive bar.

“Fish don’t really drink though, do they? They absorb water through their gills via osmosis,” he replies, and he wants to bite his tongue off because what the fuck was that??

This woman, whatever her name is, doesn’t seem to mind his answer though, because her face scrunches in a giggle. His body is hot and throbbing with more than drink now, and he wants to hear that sound again but his brain has stopped working.

“Is that so different from you absorbin’ alcohol through your bloodstream?” she muses, finishing off whatever is in her short tumbler.

“Can I buy your next round?” he blurts rather than responding to her question, which he’s almost certain was rhetorical.

Her smile melts into something softer, something private and a little shy. “If you’d like.”

“I do.” He flags down the bartender and glances at his new companion expectantly.

“Gin and tonic,” she says. She thanks the bartender, then James when she takes her first sip. “I’m Rose, by the way.”

“James,” he says, feeling stupid because his face is plastered all over London, which likes to boast that it’s the home of international celeb James Noble. But wouldn’t he seem more of an arse if he just assumed this gorgeous woman knew who he was?

Nevertheless, his stomach sinks a bit when she snorts into her drink and says, “I thought it was you.”

“Yup, it’s me,” he forces, his voice flat. He hides his frown with his glass, knocking back the rest of his sidecar like it’s a shot. The room sways slightly with the violent motion of his head, and maybe he’s slightly drunker than he’d thought.

If Rose catches on to his sudden sour mood, she doesn’t mention it. “What brings you here to Bad Wolf?”

He shrugs and blows out a noisy breath. “I dunno. Went for a walk, ended up here.”

“Those are the best sort of adventures.” She hums wistfully. “Sometimes you find what you didn’t know you needed when you let yourself get lost.”

That observation is far too astute for his current state of mind, so instead he says, “Would you like to dance with me?”

Her eyes flicker across his face for a brief moment before she says, “Okay.”

He hops down from his stool, but Rose hesitates, clutching her purse and coat awkwardly. The bartender helpfully tells her to keep them on her stool, and he’ll keep an eye on it. Rose flashes him a grin that James would rather she flash at him, but he realizes that is utterly absurd, so he simply rests his coat on top of her things to better hide them from view. He then holds out his hand for her. Her palm is soft and warm against his as he leads her to the crowded dance floor.

They find space towards the back of the pub, hidden in the shadows of a hallway that states it’s closed off to patrons. And of course, of fucking course, right when he rests his hands on her hips to find the rhythm of the song, a new one comes on, and his own voice belts from the speakers.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters. He loves his music—he made it, after all—but he can’t help but feel pretentious and more than a little silly to dance to it like this.

Rose, however, grins and says, “Oh, come on, this is one of my favorites.”

She catches his hands where he’d loosened them at her waist and forces him to grab hold of her. She’s wearing high-waisted trousers and a top that leaves a sliver of her belly exposed. His thumb grazes the skin of her bare side, and it’s enough to send tingles through his body. Rose, meanwhile, slings her arms around his shoulders and begins to rock her hips from side to side in sync with the bass, embellishing the motions until she looks absolutely ridiculous but so, so beautiful.

He can’t help but grin and laugh, and he mirrors her movements until they’re both dancing like idiots to his music.

“This is how my baby brother dances,” she explains, bouncing up and down while twisting her hips. “We have regular dance parties together.”

“How old’s your brother?” he asks.

“Just turned four.”

He blinks, and blood rushes from his face. “And… and how old are you?”

“A perfectly legal twenty-four,” she drawls, reaching up to flick his nose. “You can start breathing again.”

Thank fuck.

“That’s quite the age gap.”

“My mum got remarried when I was nineteen,” Rose says with a shrug. “She and my stepdad didn’t waste much time.”

“Clearly,” he mutters under his breath.

“It does feel a bit like they’ve started over,” Rose confesses with a too-stiff shrug. “New family, new life, and I’m the interloper.

There is no way this vivacious woman in front of him could ever be considered an interloper, but before he can tell her that, she continues, “Mum does her best to assure me otherwise, but still. It’s hard to watch all the things Mum and Dad are able to do for Tony—that’s my brother, Tony—when Mum struggled so much as a single mum with me.”

“Your dad’s not in the picture?”

A sad smile pinches her face, and he regrets asking.

“No, I never knew him. He died when I was a baby.”

“I… I’m so sorry.” Well, he’s totally buggered this all up, hasn’t he? He wracks his brain on how to salvage the easy banter they’d had at the bar, but draws a blank.

Rose seems to realize they’ve lost the mood, but she breaks out into a lazy grin and says, “Since you seemed so opposed to dancing to your own music, it’ll please you to know a new song’s on. C’mon, show me your moves.”

He’s not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, and so he follows her lead, watching her dance her heart out until her cheeks are pink and her hair is damp with sweat. He’s sure he doesn’t look much better, since he can feel the perspiration beading down his back and beneath his arms, but he can’t bring himself to care. Tonight has been the most fun he’s had in a very long time. Clubbing in New York had been a lark, but he’s been swarmed by his American fans half the night, and had been busy drowning his latest heartbreak to fully enjoy it. But here, now, with Rose, it’s like he’s any other bloke in a pub, chatting up a pretty girl he wants to get to know.

Their bodies are wrapped around each other with the ease and grace of partners who have known each other for years, and he forgets that he has known Rose for all of a few hours. He never wants this night to end. He wants to cling to this fairytale and pretend that the clock isn’t about to strike the proverbial midnight.

But time marches on as always. The clock really does strike midnight, and the bartender begins to clear people out of his establishment. James is as exhausted as he is exhilarated, no longer drunk on booze but rather the company of Rose and the magic they made together by simply dancing the night away.

They head back to the bar to retrieve their coats and her purse, and to close out their tabs. James slides his credit card to the bartender and asks him to charge everyone’s tab to his card. If the bartender is surprised, he hides it well. A few minutes later, James is signing off on the receipt of purchase of several thousand pounds-worth of alcohol. His personal assistant is sure to be confused as hell when she wakes up to see the charge. He fires off a quick warning text to her so she doesn’t open up a fraudulent charge claim.

James salutes the bartender, knowing he’ll come back to this pub as often as he can until he’s found out and this place once again becomes somewhere that’s overrun with his fans.

The night is refreshingly cold when he and Rose emerge into it, a nice change after the stifling, sweaty heat of the bar. However, she hunches her shoulders against the chill, prompting him to wrap his arm around her waist and tug her into his side, all too eager to lend her some of his body heat.

“Can I walk you somewhere?” he asks, glancing around the street that is now full of the drunken patrons who’d been in the pub with them. They all disperse in different directions, stumbling home or to a different bar that is still open. “Or wait with you ‘til you catch a cab?”

“Yeah, sure,” she says, pulling up her phone to order a ride. She taps on the screen for a few quiet moments then says, “Done. Should be here in a few minutes.”

They descend into a slightly awkward silence that James wants to break, but he can’t think of anything clever to say. So he says nothing, and finally headlights wash over them, momentarily blinding them before a taxi pulls up.

“D’you wanna share?” she asks, opening the door to the back seat.

Is she as reluctant to leave him as he is to leave her? Or is she being polite and eco-friendly by ride sharing? Nevertheless, he nods and slides into the back seat beside her.

There is something incredibly intimate about sitting with Rose in the dark interior of the taxi, and he feels like he’s fifteen and wondering how to hold his date’s hand after a cheap night out at the cinemas. He fists his hands together, knotting his fingers until his knuckles pop.

The driver goes to the address Rose provides first, and all too soon they’ve arrived.

“I’ll cover the fare,” he says when she makes to hand over some bank notes to the diver. “It’d be my pleasure.”

She hesitates, but nods, then opens the door to climb out of the car. His pulse quickens as he watches her walk away with nothing but a, “Goodnight.”

“Can you wait just a minute?” he asks the driver.

“Meter’s still runnin’,” he grunts.

“That’s fine.”

James scrambles out of the taxi. “Hey, Rose?”

She turns back to face him, frowning.

“I… er… I had a great time tonight,” he says lamely, but her frown relaxes into a smile. “It was fun. With you. I had fun.”

“Yeah, me too,” she answers.

He licks his lips; his mouth is bone dry and his pulse pounds in his ears, making his vision throb with each frenzied beat.

“Do you… do you maybe wanna do it again some time? Hang out together? I… I’d really like to see you again,” he says, cursing his clumsy, fumbling words.

She scrutinizes him for a long moment, her expression indecipherable. His stomach sinks. Maybe this was a one-off, a story for her to tell her mates.

You’ll never guess who I met at the pub last night. James Noble! He paid for all my drinks and we danced like idiots.

He stews in his misery of doubt, and just when he’s about to tell her to forget about it, she slowly nods.

“Yeah, okay. I’d like that.”

“Really?” he asks, a hopeful edge creeping into his voice.

She laughs. “Really.”

“Brilliant!” James fumbles in his pocket for his phone, and he thrusts it at her. “Give me your number? I’ll text you. Or call.”

He rocks back and forth on his toes and heels, waiting for her to finish up with his phone. He has a sudden, potent bolt of panic that she’s snooping through his private messages or photographs for something to use against him to make a quick profit, but before that panic can take root, she hands his mobile back to him. It’s open to a new texting conversation.

From: 🌹 Bad Wolf Girl 🌹

Now I’ve got your number too 😉

He beams at the name she’s given to herself in his contacts, then he pockets his phone.

“I’ll see you later,” he says.

“You better,” she replies with that knee-weakening smile he’s grown to love over the course of the night. “See ya.”

“Bye.”

He stands there like a moron until she’s safely inside, then he turns back to the taxi and climbs in. The deserted streets streak by as the driver takes him to his neighborhood. He never gives his address though; he always chooses a destination a few streets away, just in case.

James generously tips the driver and bids him goodnight before slipping into the night to his home. He was right: the paparazzi are gone. There is no fanfare as he slips his key into the lock and lets himself into his house. It’s warm and cozy, but still too quiet for his liking.

Between the plane ride and his night out, he feels greasy and disgusting, and indulges in a hot shower before bed. He washes Rose’s scent off of his body, an intoxicating blend of jasmine and vanilla that’s as sweet as it is musky.

He’s groggy by the time he crawls into his giant, king-sized bed and burrows deep into his mounds of pillows and duvets. One of his ex-girlfriends once teased that he turns into the marshmallow man when he sleeps.

His sleep is deep and dreamless, and when he awakes with the sun the following morning, he feels more refreshed and invigorated than he ever remembers being. He’s got a full day of meetings with his songwriting team to brainstorm his next album, and he is ready.

But first, he checks his phone. There’s nothing from Rose, which makes him a little sad, but also nothing from his publicist, which is always a good sign. If ever she messages or calls him first thing in the morning, it always means there’s some sort of dumpster fire to put out. Usually a dumpster fire full of compromising photos of him.

He makes a point of not Googling himself, but he does occasionally check his social media pages for new posts about him, wanting to know when, where, and how his fans came across him in the wild. He easily finds the photo that he took with the group of teenage girls, and makes a point to like the original post and type a quick, “Nice to meet you all. Thanks for chatting with me last night - J” in the comments section. He snorts to himself as his comment blows up within seconds.

But other than some grainy photos of him riding the bus, he can’t find any other photos of himself. Nothing of him wandering the streets or drinking in the pub or even having a wee in the mens’ room. And best of all, there’s nothing of him and Rose. No photos of them dancing together or sharing a cab. If Rose has a social media account, it didn’t post any sneaky photos or bragging stories about dancing all night with James Noble.

He can’t quite believe it; he managed to have a fun night out drinking without it all being thrown back in his face the next morning. Within seconds, he’s grinning to himself and pulling up Rose’s contact information. It’s still in his phone, further proof that his night with her wasn’t some sort of jetlagged fever dream. She was real.

“Good morning. I hope you slept well. Thanks for last night.”

She responds almost instantly. Good morning to you too. I should be thanking you for paying my drink tab and taxi fare 😉 And for being an excellent dance partner.

“The pleasure was all mine, on all counts.” He sends that message, then types out a new one, “I’m gonna be in meetings all day (yes, I know it’s Sunday), so please don’t be discouraged if I don’t reply. But I’d really like to see you again. Want to do dinner or drinks or coffee or something?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, needing to make himself presentable for when his driver picks him up in an hour. Yet he can’t help but check his phone every three seconds, until finally there’s a message from Rose.

Yeah, I’d like that. I work ‘til five most nights, but I’m free after that. Or we can wait ‘til the weekend.

With spirits lighter than they’ve been in months, James steps out of his house with a broad, stupid grin that the ever-present crowd of paparazzi are all too happy to photograph.

#ficandchips #dwfic #doctorroseprompts #doctor who #ten x rose #ten x rose au #james x rose #yet another iteration of james and rose lmao #romance #meet cute #light angst #musician au #my fic #sacred new beginnings

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true-blue-megamind · 3 years ago

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FAN THEORY THURSDAY – Why Did Metroman Retire?

Happy Almost-Friday, everyone! And even though Minion threatens to smother everything he cooks in old Limburger cheese each time I say it: SPOILER WARNING!

Yes, I know, it’s three a.m. and it’s technically Friday, but I’m still calling this Thursday night, and there’s nothing you can do about it.

Okay, let’s be honest, Metroman is a character who seems, on the surface, to require little explanation in the film Megamind. He’s only present in the beginning and end, and we spend half the movie believing he’s dead, and we learn that Metroman has done something almost unheard of among superheroes: he’s chosen to retire. The question is: why? There is a tendency to think that he's simply a spoiled rich boy who, (in his social life, at least,) does what he wants without regard for others, but is that really fair? Or could there be other possible reasons? Well, let’s take a look at a few fan theories that may explain why he chose to abandon heroism for a music career.

Metroman Didn’t Want to Be a Hero

Although he’s clearly based on—and perhaps even poking a little fun at—the Man of Steel, Metroman was no Superman. (I mean, okay, he was technically a super-man, since he had strength, speed, and powers far beyond what a human would possess.) Except, here’s the thing: he’s not a carbon copy of the Man of Steel; Metroman and Superman have completely different lives and personalities. This remains true despite the fact that they share a similar origin—that of being aliens from a dead planet—and identical powers—including laser-vision and flight. Even their code names are comparable. However, if we look deeper, it becomes obvious that Metroman and Superman are two very different characters.

Superman is all about being an upstanding hero. Although he can be annoyingly persnickety, and sometimes displays nearly oppressively unyielding strictures about right and wrong, one thing you can say about the Man of Steel is that he’s generally integral. He is exactly what his public image portrays him to be: a Good Guy through and through. The same isn’t true of Metroman, and in some ways that makes him a more complex and interesting character.

The childhoods of the two heroes are extremely different. As I’ve mentioned in Why Was Megamind Raised in Prison, when a boy, Metroman was a bully, not only making young Megamind an outsider and the object of everything from teasing to physical attacks, but also inspiring other students to do the same. Superman, on the other hand, far from being a bully was bullied by Pete Ross. Rather than using his powers against others, he was too responsible and good-hearted to use them even against Pete Ross. Metroman is adopted by super-wealthy parents, and is essentially a trust-fund baby, while Superman was adopted by a farm family. He grows up with a good work ethic and hometown values. Indeed, this economic discrepancy continues into adulthood. As far as we can tell, Metroman doesn’t need to work and has no job outside being a superhero. Superman, conversely, has to earn a living as a journalist. Finally, in the majority of comics, Superman avoids most public appearances, unless he feels they serve some beneficial social purpose. Indeed, he goes to great lengths to keep his identity a secret and avoid the public eye as much as possible. The first time we see Metroman in the film, however, he is basking in a crowd’s adoration at the dedication of a museum in his honor. Indeed, in the original script, then called Mastermind, Metroman’s real identity seems to be widely known. (In case you’re wondering, this is where the name Wayne Smith, commonly used in the fandom, originates from.) So, we see that these character are actually very different: one is a hero strictly for the greater good, and the other, while he certainly does a lot of good things, is also in it for the fame.

This may seem like I’m being harsh toward poor Wayne Smith, but his flaws do not, in fact, make him a bad person. The issue is that we’re comparing him to Superman who, while still certainly imperfect, is intended to be a better-than-average person in every way, including moral. Make no mistake, Metro City’s former hero isn’t any sort of villain; what he is is normal. If we’re honest, most of us would be pleased by wide-spread accolades and honors. He reacts to positive fame the same way nearly anyone would because, at his heart, he’s really just a typical guy. That is the material point: Wayne Smith really only wants to be an average citizen—a music star, perhaps, but still a relatively ordinary person. In that way, he and Megamind are alike: they both desire, more than nearly anything else, to be normal. The key difference is that Megamind’s sincere and driving concern for his city also makes him ideal for becoming a hero. (You can learn more about this particular fan theory in The Warden and in Megamind and Identity.)

So, why did Wayne Smith become a Defender in the first place, then? Again, I’ve briefly touched on this in previous posts, but it appears likely that Metroman was pushed into heroism just as much as Megamind was pushed into supervillainy. Because he was a bully with superpowers, it’s likely that adults around him realized something had to be done about Wayne. Otherwise he was a danger. So, they constructed an environment—the Li’l Gifted School—where he could be conditioned to seek the praise of others as well as to fight Megamind, who had been singled out as his future nemesis. (In fact, that conditioning is probably why he opted for a career that would put him on stage, aside from a probable love of music.)

Because the path chosen for Megamind involved more hardships and pain, it’s easy to forget that Metroman was in essentially the exact same plight. However, the fact remains that these were both children, and they were both being coerced into perceived destinies they didn’t want. Neither of them were given a choice and, in the end, both of them cast off the expectations pressed upon them to become the people they really wanted to be. The difference is that, because of our natural biases, Megamind’s rise to Defender of Metro City seems more noteworthy than Metroman’s step into Mr. Average Joe. The truth, however, is that both characters were basically doing the same thing: being true to themselves.

Metroman May Have Had Health Concerns

We know Megamind and Metroman are close to the same age—although the latter appears to be about a year rather than days old when he lands on Earth—but what that age is is open to supposition. We know, however, that they are almost certainly in their thirties, probably in their mid- to late-thirties. (Take a look at How Old is Megamind for more information about that.) However, we can see that Wayne is already going gray around the temples. Of course, some people’s genetics simply cause them to go gray earlier, and that’s certainly a possibility, but one fan theory suggest there may be more going on. The idea has been put forward that Wayne’s super-speed may be having an adverse effect on him, forcing his body to work overtime to keep up. The resulting physical stress could be making him age prematurely.

That’s not the only factor to consider. As hard as heroism may have been on his body, the effects on Metroman’s mind would have been even greater. Before the events in the movie, Metro City’s authorities—and, indeed, all its citizens—became too reliant upon their superhuman hero, and as a result that hero was run ragged. That isn’t a mere hypothesis. A scene that was storyboarded but never included in the final film makes Metroman’s plight perfectly clear. We see him being called from one end of the city to the other for everything from a massive explosion to an old lady needing help opening a jar. Keep in mind that, when hearing a cry for assistance, the hero would likely be unable to tell who truly needed him urgently and who was simply making unnecessary demands, thus he would have to rush to every call he heard. Even the city’s law enforcement seems to take him for granted, refusing to take criminals he just hand-delivered to jail because they’re on lunch break. The cumulative effect is that Metroman looks nearly frantic with stress.

youtube

This is important because, aside from the obvious mental and emotional concerns, this sort of stress accelerates aging as well. According to an article in the Huffington Post, when glycation and telomere shortening, as well as the over-oxidation, are caused by enduring heightened stress for prolonged periods of time, it can result not only in graying hair and premature wrinkles, but heart trouble as well. Even the memory can be affected, as one study by the University of Wisconsin found that stress can age a person’s brain up to four years faster than normal, and contribute to cognitive problems later in life. (The study was part of a presentation—you have no idea how badly I wanted to write that word in all-caps—and is thus currently unpublished, but information about it can be found in an article from Over Sixty.)

Metroman Retired for the Good of Everybody

As you can see, in a strange way, having a super-powered Defender was actually crippling Metro City. In fact, it may be truly damaging to the local infrastructure and official organizations. Youtuber Olaf Scholtens, in his video Megamind: Power and Identity, uses the metaphor of an airplane manufacturer to explain what’s going on. (If you’ve read my own post Megamind and Identity, you’ve seen this before.) Engineers and factories put a lot of effort and expense into making certain aircraft are as safe as possible, but what would happen if they felt they could confidently assume a superhero would simply catch any plane that crashed, saving everyone on board? Safety standards would probably become far more lax, and people might be in far more danger as a result. Given the way that nearly everyone in Metro City seems to assume Metroman will always save the day, it’s possible that, within the urban area, the same thing could be happening with things like building code enforcement, large construction projects, and even public safety measures. Bridges might not be properly built, fire hazards might not be addressed, and, given the blasé attitudes of the cops in the storyboard, law enforcement officers might not even be bothering to keep an eye on things. By retiring, Metroman forced the city to become more self-sufficient again.

That, however, may not have been the only problem Metroman was trying to solve. Remember the whole discussion about the former Defender’s school boy bullying and the apparent conspiracy to turn one boy into a hero and the other into a supervillain? It’s possible Wayne may have felt remorse for the former and found out about the latter. Having battled Megamind so much in the past, he also may have realized that the blue man never actually hurt anyone, and in fact went out of his way to stage their confrontations in abandoned places. (Again, you can read more about that in both Megamind and Identity and The Warden.) It may be that Metroman real “brilliant plan” wasn’t simply to fake his death, but in doing so to prod Megamind into becoming a hero and thus accepted by society.

There is an alternative theory, put forward in a Reddit post, that Megamind and Metroman’s parents may have known one another, and may have sent both children to Earth with the intention of them becoming a dynamic duo, fighting evil together with Megamind as the brains and Metroman as the brawn. This could have been what Megamind’s father meant when he told his son: “You are destined for greatness.” While there is very little support for this in the movie, it would explain why, in the vast cosmos, both of the young survivors were sent not only to the same planet, but even to the same city.

Whatever the reason may have been, one thing is certain: there certainly is some evidence that Metroman intended his one-time nemesis to become a hero. One of his lines, after Roxanne and Megamind discover he’s still alive, supports this. You know the one. “If there’s bad, good will rise up against it. It’s taken me a long time to find my calling; now it’s time you find yours.” Then, of course, there is another line, when Music Man is watching his former enemy take the role of Defender of Metro City: “way to go, Little Buddy. I knew you had it in you.”

If Metroman really did purposefully help Megamind step into heroism, that could also explain why he didn’t stop Megamind from taking over the city—perhaps he trusted the blue man not to harm anyone and to eventually come to his senses—as well as why he refuses to overtly help defeat Titan. He does, however, clearly subtly assist Megamind, as the latter almost certainly went back to Wayne’s hideout to scan his appearance and voice into the holowatch. All of this together makes it seem quite plausible that Metroman not only wanted to retire, but also wanted the blue man to take his place.

Megamind and Metroman by White-Night-56 on Deviant Art

Maybe this means that, now that Megamind is the Defender of Metro City, he and Music Man occasionally get together to commiserate over the more difficult aspects of being a superhero and joke about the old days.

It’s also quite possible that all of these fan theories could be true. The film Megamind is, among other things, surprisingly subtle, complex, and subversive for an animated movie. Every time I dive deep into some aspect or other of the plot, I am once again impressed by the amount of thought and detail that went into this work. No wonder Megamind—and its characters—have so many dedicated fans.

#Megamind #Megamind movie #Metro Man #Metroman #Wayne Smith #Megamind fan theory #Megamind fan theories #DreamWorks #hero #Defender #Metro City #fan theory #fan theories #Fan Theory Thursday #Megamind fandom #Youtube #megamind

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twdmusicboxmystery · 3 years ago

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TWD 11x06: On the Inside - Analysis

Okay, how did everyone like this episode? I loved it! It might be my favorite episode of the season so far. Partly because of all the horror movie vibes and jump scares. I thought that was delightful. And Lauren Ridloff did an amazing job. But more than that, it's because of all the symbolism and what I think this represents. Seriously, I think I might have like fifty-six theories come out of this one episode, LOL. Not brand-new theories, but just connecting symbols in a way I haven't before. For now, let's talk about the broad arcs here and what they mean.

***As always, spoilers abound below for 11x06. Don’t read until you’ve watched! You’ve been warned!***

Basically, we’re following two storylines in this episode. The first is Connie and Virgil. The second is Daryl, Leah, and the Reapers. I suppose you could call Kelly and Carol looking for Connie a third story line, but given that they're searching for Connie, it's really just a subplot of Connie's arc.

Connie and Virgil:

There are a lot of people saying that they might be setting Connie and Virgil up as romantic partners. I think that's probably the case, for a lot of reasons. They were very purposely put together in this house. After the episode, Angela Kang talked about how Virgil basically had to suppress part of his heart in order to get through the death of his family. That's why he seemed a little bit villainous when we first met him with Michonne.

Actually, we're seeing a major theme here that we've seen with other characters. Near the end of the episode, Virgil tells Connie, "I lost myself for a long time." It's very reminiscent of what Michonne said to Carl in 4x14. It's a theme we see where the character goes through some kind of trauma, and the aftermath of that trauma is very much a PTSD thing. They lose themselves to insanity for short time, but then someone is able to bring them back. We see this with many characters over the years. And this is something they're doing with Virgil. So this was Virgil kind of coming back to reality. Michonne gave him the chance to come back first, but he also says that her giving him that second chance led him to Connie and he sees that as Providence.

So basically, A.K. is saying that Virgil lost a big chunk of his heart when his family died, but he's rediscovering it here with Connie. And that's very important. I can't imagine them saying that, or him having this kind of arc, if there isn’t going to be a romance between them. Which, for the record, I think is cute. I totally ship it. (Totally objective over here. As always, of course. ;-))

But the big question is, what does this foreshadow? I'll give you three guesses and the first two don't count.

I think this is a foreshadow of Beth and Daryl. I'm sure you're shocked to your toenails. I'll give you a moment to recover. Good? Okay.

A lot of us got Alone vibes from this episode. Just the two of them in house together. The undercurrent of possible romance between them. There's even a hug at one point.

Actually, the white, plantation style house with the white pillars immediately struck a cord with me. Back when they were filming the missing scenes from S5, they filmed in a house just like this one. it wasn’t the “white cabin” as we always refer to the house Emily was seen going into. But it was next door to that one and had a sign up about not mowing the lawn because it would be used for filming.

I don’t know if this is actually the same house, but I’m willing to bet that this will end up having parallels to something we see when we finally get those missing scenes.

Once they get inside the house, we see Connie holding the door shut against walkers. It's very reminiscent of Daryl doing that at the funeral home in Alone.

The thing is, I don't even think callbacks to Alone are the big cheese. (For the record, we also saw them around Kelly, but I'll get to that in a minute.)

Because more than being a call back, this is a foreshadow. It represents some time in the future when Beth and Daryl will be together inside the CRM and trying to escape. Remember that “No Exit” sign in Beth’s cell?

We have a situation here where Connie and Virgil are trying to get out and there's literally no exit. All the doors are locked, they’re being trapped everywhere they go, they get separated. Even when Connie is in the wall, looking at Virgil, she wants to warn him of things, but she has no way to get into the room with him. There's literally no exit for her.

There are so many parallels to Beth and Daryl.

They emphasize the fact that Connie is lost. After getting out of the cave and walking around for walkers for so long, she clearly lost her bearings and doesn't know where she is or which way to go to get to Alexandria. It puts me in mind of the scene from 6x10, where Carl was talking to Judith and said if she was ever LOST and needed to find her way HOME, she should use the North Star. This is another way in which Connie is being paralleled to Beth. She's lost and needs to find her way home.

Virgil talks about wanting to get Connie HOME. To get her back to her family (which just so happens to be her sister). Of course there's the undercurrent of romance.

I also couldn't help but notice outlets throughout the episode. This house is very dilapidated and dirty. There's grime and rust and darkness everywhere. But we can very clearly see the outlets on the walls, as though they’re brand-new. I believe that's to draw our attention to them. Outlets suggest power, which suggests lamps or batteries.

Remember how I said that the whole battery theory is about resources and that it indicates the CRM? This is why I think this house represents the CRM. And I'm not at all saying that at some point, we’ll see Beth and Daryl running through a house together, as Connie and Virgil do here, trying to escape some threat. I think this represents a much bigger arc of them being inside the CRM and trying to get out. It will probably span a lot of episodes, maybe even multiple seasons.

At one point, we see a red coda pendant hanging in the window behind Virgil. Remember that, via the Matrix theory, red represents the outside world that TF is currently unaware of, and of course Coda suggests Beth. That’s a big part of the evidence for this template being a foreshadow of Beth and Daryl.

I’ll go over all the background details tomorrow, but pretty much every detail I found suggests what I've laid out here. I'm going to do completely separate post on the awake/asleep theme as well as the mailbox theme. That one stemmed from last week's episode (11x05), but I haven't gotten a chance to post it yet. And of course we saw the mailbox feature prominently in this episode as well.

We also have a situation where Virgil basically tells Connie to go on without him and that it’s very important to him that she gets home. And then he gets stabbed, and she not only saves him, but pulls him out of the house. We’ve always said that we think there will be a time when Beth will save Daryl. I think this is a foreshadow of it.

I think we'll have a situation (again, much bigger than what we see here in the single episode) where Daryl will be willing to sacrifice himself, his life, to get Beth back to Maggie. Of course she's not going to allow him to do that, but he'll probably be hurt very badly.

(And for the record, I think we've seen foreshadows of this and other arcs. Daryl getting hurt when fighting Alpha was probably a foreshadow of the same thing. I'm sure we could identify others.) I think he will be hurt and Beth will save him, and that will happen as they’re figuring out how to get out of the CRM.

To touch on Kelly’s side of things, we see her find a camp that Virgil and Connie had previously been at. She finds Connie’s stuff there, and the orange backpack that Virgil must have left behind. The thing that jumped out at me here is that, in the foreground, we saw ropes around the camp with cans attached as an alert system.

That was featured very prominently in Alone, both because Daryl set up something like that at the funeral home and also because the other half of that episode was about Maggie/Sasha/Bob and they did the same thing in their camp. So again, major callbacks to Alone, and to what this is probably foreshadowing.

But my favorite thing about this was connections that I made. Things that kind of confirm events we’ve suspected in 4B, but have never been able to prove. Let me explain.

First, there’s the reunion between Connie and Kelly. And this really jumped out at me. Not only because it's two sisters reuniting, but because of the way it was shown.

When approaching Connie, Kelly is crying and says, "I'm sorry." And that's out of character or out of place in any way. She’s sorry that for what happened to Connie and that it took them so long to find her. All that is completely understandable. But at the same time, Kelly has no reason to feel bad about what happened to Connie. It wasn't her fault, and she's been a dutiful sister looking for her intensively ever since.

But I think the “I'm sorry” will make a lot more sense if we hear Maggie saying it to Beth, given everything that's happened, and especially what happened in S5. I mean, Beth did get left behind.

The other thing is that when they see each other and then hug, the background music almost sounds angelic, like a choir. I mean, they really wanted this to be a big deal, the reunion between these two sisters. And not that the Kelly and Connie's reunion isn't a big deal. It's very sweet, but I feel like this a foreshadow something much bigger. And what other reunion between sisters could qualify for something like that except Maggie and Beth, who didn't get the reunion in season five?

We’ve always said that Connie was a proxy for Beth, and that the cave-in, followed by her being missing was a parallel to Beth’s arc. So, this arc ending in Connie finding someone she’ll eventually have a romance with and then finding her sister is makes me very hopeful for what we'll see when Beth returns.

I have to say that this is kind of a relief to me. Because of Daryl's line back in Still about how, "you ain't never going to see Maggie again," I’ve gone back and forth about whether Beth and Maggie will actually get a reunion. Yes, there are plenty of ways to explain away that line, and I don't disagree with any of them. But I’ve still been really back-and-forth about whether this is going to happen. After seeing Connie and Kelly really reunite, I have no doubt that eventually will see a Beth/Maggie reunion. Yay!

Next, is the fact that Virgil and Connie talk about how the people living in this house lured them into a trap.

This is talked about very much anymore, but was always but what happened in Alone was always so wonky to me. I know it was supposed to be, but the whole thing felt like it was orchestrated somehow. I mean, what happened to the dog? We hear barking, but we didn't actually see the dog again, because when Daryl open the door all the walkers were on the porch. But how did that many walkers get up to the porch without them hearing it?

When Beth and Daryl sat in the kitchen staring at each other, they heard the cans rattle and then at the dog bark. I think that the idea was that Daryl thought it was the dog moving the cans and that's why he was going to open the door and get it to come in. He didn't understand that there were walkers there. But why didn't they hear the walkers? More importantly, why would that many walkers go up to the door if they couldn't see any humans on the inside? It's completely weird behavior for walkers. And then when Beth leaves the house, she just happens to be picked up by a car?

Like I said, I just always felt like the whole thing was really orchestrated, but even at Grady, we were never told that it was. Gorman suggested to Beth that they happened upon her accidentally. Of course, Gorman is the opposite of trustworthy, but we also understand better now the way that these episodes are often approached. We sometimes see things from one character's point of view over another. Clearly, Slabtown was seen from Beth’s point of view, so if she couldn't see the truth about what happened, that's why we couldn’t neither.

My point is, in this episode, Virgil says that he and Connie were herded there like prey. These feral people apparently went to the camp (Kelly says the left in a hurry and something was very wrong, and I think she's right. Given that Virgil and Connie left all their stuff behind; Connie would not have left behind her slingshot on purpose). Which means the creatures came to their camp, scared them away, chase them toward the house, herding them that way, in order to eat them.

Now, I'm not saying that's specifically what happened in Alone, but I think it kind of proves that what happened was an orchestrated trap that was set up to capture Beth.

And we do get the sense from what Noah told her that Grady purposely left the strong behind and took the weak. So, I'm not sure if Beth and Daryl were actually herded toward the funeral home. From what we saw, it really was more like they happened upon it. But I'm wondering if once there, someone observed them, or observed them approaching, and decided that they would be optimal targets. Given that Beth was injured (which they would have known if they saw Daryl giving her the piggy back) obviously it would always be her that was taken, while Daryl—obviously the more survival-oriented of the two—would be left behind.

And I love this connection because it proves (as far as we can prove theories 😉) that there are things they haven’t shown us, not just in S5 with the missing 17 days, but reaching all the way back to S4.

The other thing that's just kind of cool to consider is that, as I said before, the other half of the episode was about Maggie/Sasha/Bob, right? There are a lot of things that their sequence foreshadows as well. And in the episode, Maggie is specifically looking for Glenn, not Beth. However, given that this episode with Connie and Virgil also featured Kelly, Connie’s sister, looking for her, it just doesn't seem like it could possibly be a coincidence that the other half of Alone was Maggie searching for someone. What I’m saying is that both Alone and this episode, 11x06, foreshadow what will happen when Maggie and Beth reunite. I'm sure I could go into the details of Alone find a lot of connections, but I don't have time to do that right now. Maybe during the hiatus. Maybe. ;-).

Daryl and Leah:

Okay, I guess we need to talk about Daryl and Leah’s part of this episode as well. I don't have as much say about the symbolism for them. This is really more about where this is going.

Daryl tortures Frost, which I'm sure some people are going to have a problem with. But A.K. said that this is really about Daryl wanting to stay on the inside with the Reapers. As I said after ep 4, Frost is smart and he understands what Daryl is doing. A.K. said he did exactly what Daryl wanted to do him to do here. Daryl wanted him to give them a basic location but not an exact one. In other words, to tell them the neighborhood but not the exact house. And that's exactly what Frost did. Angela says Daryl did this because he was trying to save Frost’s life. Unfortunately, by the end of the episode, we see that didn't work out so well. But he was attempting to save him.

You have to watch the details closely to pick this up, but the first house that Daryl, Leah, and Carver go to is not the house Maggie is in. That's why Daryl says they should stick around and look around for things, because he knew Maggie wasn't there and wanted to give her time to escape. But the second house we see them go into is where Maggie and co are hiding under the floorboards.

At first, it seems to be empty, but when Daryl comes downstairs, he sees the place where they might be hiding and slides the rug over it. In the end, Carver sees it and checks, but Maggie and the others have already made their escape.

I had to stop and think about that for a minute. Since Beth wore yellow and we think yellow equals life and escape, I would have thought the yellow house would be where Maggie and the others were hiding and then escaped from. That would've made more logical sense. But actually, the yellow house was a decoy.

It gave me a whole new insight into the meaning behind the color yellow in TWD universe.

I still think yellow represents escape, among other things. But it also represents looking for someone in the wrong place. Even if you think about Rick’s mini death fake out in 7x12, there was probably only 12 feet between where Michonne thought he was (right side of the screen being eaten by walkers) and where he actually was (left side of the screen coming out of the yellow carnival car) but still, she was looking for him in the wrong place and assumed he was dead because of it.

I also thought of the Glenn situation in S4. Maggie looked for him on the school bus (yellow). And in both cases, it was because that’s where Rick/Glenn were last seen, but what was UNSEEN was how they ESCAPED. So, TF was looking for them in the wrong place.

And I’m sure something similar will happen with Beth during the missing 17 days. It doesn’t really change what we believe happened with Beth, but it makes me want to re-examine every yellow reference we’ve ever seen on the show, which is probably hundreds by now, lol.

At one point, Carver is coming down the stairs and Daryl runs over to him and starts talking really fast. He says that they (Maggie’s group) will not to come back here, that it wouldn’t be smart, etc. The first time I watched it, I remember thinking that Daryl was being really obvious. It made him seem nervous and like he was hiding something. And he probably was somewhat nervous. The reason he ran over Carver right then, is because he didn't want Carver to see the hiding place where Maggie and the others were (because Daryl himself noticed it when he was coming down the stairs).

But the other thing to remember is that Daryl knows Maggie and the others are down there. He was using this to give them information. He talks about how the Reapers have walls and weapons, twenty people inside their town, etc. That is also him getting Maggie information so she would know what they're up against. It was actually very smart on his part, even if it kind of tipped Carver off.

By the end, they returned to Pope and find that Frost is dead. I thought it was super weird and creepy that Pope started laughing when Carver said they had lost Maggie's group. That's very out of character for him. Angela Kang said Pope was purposely playing mind games to make Daryl and Leah paranoid, but even so. That laugh was just maniacal.

So, not sure exactly where this is going, or what Pope's plans are. He kind of suggests that maybe Frost turned on Daryl and sold him out before he died. I doubt that's true, but Pope also strikes me as the kind of guy who, if he's decided Daryl is an enemy, doesn't actually need proof of it. So, we'll just have to see where this goes.

Okay, that's it for today. I'll do details tomorrow. How did you all like the episode?

#beth greene #beth greene lives #beth is alive #beth is coming #td theory #td theories #team delusional #team defiance #beth is almost here #bethyl

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ao3bronte · 4 years ago

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Butter

I have been utterly enchanted by the spoiler images Zag keeps posting of Chat Noir and Ladybug's rooftop dinner date in the movie and I simply had to write about it for Christmas because it's so darn romantic! I've also been honing my food writing skills, which I hope you'll enjoy as well! This story is part of the @mlsecretsanta exchange and I was paired up with a Tumblr user named @yuki-sukinomoto. I hope they like what I have put together for them. Also on AO3.

Like many people around the world, Adrien has a special place in his heart for Disney films. He and his mother had enjoyed many a fireworks celebration at Disneyland Paris, not to mention the mini-vacation he'd taken with her at Disneyland Hong Kong while they were there for Father's flagship store opening. Even now, he regularly enjoys flipping through the archives of Disney+ just as frequently as he does his other streaming services; there's nothing like a rewatch of a favourite film to get his mind off the bigger shadows lording over his life.

He's halfway through his last year of lycée when it occurs to him that he hasn't watched Ratatouille in ages. There are only a few animated films set in Paris that he can think of off the top of his head and he's always enjoyed the romance of Un Monstre en Paris more than the trials and tribulations of a rodent gourmand. It warrants a look though, especially since he's got nothing better to do; the glacial December rain is no place for Paris’ favourite cat.

“Anyone can cook, but only the fearless can be great.”

Something about that statement resonates within him, like the missing piece of a puzzle finally slotting into place. Adrien gawks at the screen, then down at his fingers.

“I’m pretty much fearless,” he murmurs, the cogs of his brain suddenly propelling into motion. “And if that Linguini guy can learn how to cook, then so can I!”

That evening, Sous Chef Maurice humours the youngest Agreste when he strides into the kitchen and affably demands to be taught how to cook. The spritely blond’s attitude has always been world’s away from his boss’ brusque, frigid demeanor and Sous Chef Maurice welcomes the change of pace, if only to lighten up the evening as the snowy skies grow dim.

“So, where do we start?”

“With the basics, of course,” Sous Chef Maurice responds, tapping away at the mounted iPad on the wall nearest to the pass. “Watch this video and familiarize yourself with the classical knife cuts of French cuisine. Once you’re finished, bring three large carrots and two bulbs of fennel from the garde manger to my station to practice.”

“Yes, Chef!”

And so, with all of the flagrant gusto of an Agreste on a mission, Adrien watches the videos and does exactly as he’s asked. Wielding the chef’s knife is a bit of a task but he manages not to amputate any fingers, much to Sous Chef Maurice’s relief. All in all, he ends up with a fairly decently sliced pile of carrot batonnets on one side of the cutting board and half a julienned fennel bulb on the other.

“That’s all? There are several other techniques you’ll be required to master if you want to learn to cook.” Sous Chef Maurice frowns beneath his wiry moustache. “Cut a medium and small dice from the batonnets. And as for the fennel, slice the rest of the bulb into wedges. Monsieur Agreste requested it braised this evening.”

Adrien’s tongue wriggles out between his lips as he hacks the carrots into even smaller pieces. “What’s braising?”

“A cooking technique,” Sous Chef Maurice replies, “One you’re about to learn in a moment. Now chop.”

“Yes, Chef!” Adrien flashes his million watt smile before diving head first back into the task that was given and quickly catches on. He’s no Guy Savoy, of course, but he manages well enough with the careful precision of a boy who secretly destroys things for a living. Once he’s finished, he watches as Sous Chef Maurice crafts the rest of the evening’s dinner beneath the copper hooded hearth, stirring and seasoning every dish. Spreads of freshly baked bread and Saucisson Sec jostle for space on the platter, nestled in among wedges of Crottin de Chavignol and small jars of stone fruit jam that remind him of summer. On the burner, Sous Chef Maurice reverently sautées tomatoes in a magnificent French oven until buttery tender.

“Why, exactly, have you decided to learn how to cook all of the sudden?” Sous Chef Maurice asks as he sprinkles a fragrant chiffonade of basil over the tomatoes. “Don’t you have enough on your plate, so to speak?”

Adrien shrugs. “I was watching a movie and realized that I don’t know how to cook anything.”

“And now you suddenly have the inspiration to become a chef?”

“Not exactly,” Adrien says, passing him the pepper mill. “Cooking is...daring. You have to be fearless to be a great chef!”

Sous Chef Maurice begins to chuckle. “You’re doing this to impress a girl, aren’t you?”

“I…” Adrien’s jaw practically drops to the floor. Why didn’t he think of that sooner? Ladybug wouldn’t be able to resist his Chat Noir charm if he could pull off the ultimate homemade dinner for Christmas! She’s always appreciated his do-it-yourself gifts over the ones he’s bought her over the years...he could ask about her favourite foods and create a holiday masterpiece for her to devour as the perfect Christmas present, just for the two of them! “Yes! How did you know?”

“I was a young man once too,” Sous Chef Maurice points out, shaking his head with mirth as he turns his attention back to the hearth. He pulls the olive oil braised fennel from the oven and slathers a huge spoonful of buttery fava bean purée onto the serving platter, smearing it across the china like a streak of bright green paint. Then, he artfully stacks the braised vegetables over the purée and drizzles the juices from the pan in haphazard circles from a height, dressing the dish like Father would a high fashion model. Adrien can hardly believe his eyes as Sous Chef Maurice sprinkles Maldon sea salt on top and places it onto the pass, ready for service.

“Like modelling, cooking is an art. It requires patience and mastery,” Sous Chef Maurice explains, turning towards the youngest Agreste with a smile playing at the edge of his lips. “If you’re serious about learning how to cook, I suggest you start studying the books of Paul Bocuse.”

“Do you think Father will let me?”

“I heard you discussing your latest school project with Mme Sancoeur just yesterday in the dining room. Perhaps you can change the focus of your study to better suit your interests.”

The lightbulb above Adrien’s head suddenly flickers to life. “Yes! Thank you so much! You’re the best!”

As Adrien races from the kitchen to the dining room in a frenzy of inspiration, Sous Chef Maurice simply wipes down his knives and smiles.

Cooking, as it turns out, is easier said than done.

The first task on Adrien’s check list is to find out what Ladybug likes to eat. She doesn’t really know what to make of Chat Noir’s sudden barrage of questions about what her favourite meat is or what types of soft cheese she likes to spread on freshly baked baguettes. But she’s spent years by his side at this point — his chaotic behaviour always seems to stem from some haywire plan to prove his worth — so she goes along with it as he goes along with her crazy ideas; trust has always been integral between the two of them.

The second task is to watch as many cooking TV shows as he possibly can. Adrien stays up into the wee hours of the morning bingeing Masterchef and soaking up every detail he can memorize. Always salt the boiling water before cooking pasta; add acid to bring out the flavours of your food; season, season, season! Instant coffee powder accentuates the subtleties of chocolate; toast the spices to release their full potential! Adrien writes it all down and figures that it can’t be that hard to break down a whole chicken for roasting — the judges make it look so easy!

“Merde! I am so sick of this stupid—Plagg, transforme-moi!” Adrien growls that very afternoon after mistaking the back of the chicken for the breast...again, “Cataclysme!”

(Sous Chef Maurice finds the smoking pile of chicken soot in the bin later that evening and doesn’t have the heart to ask.)

There are two weeks left until the beginning of his school’s winter holidays and Adrien is bound and determined to host an evening that Ladybug will never forget. Anaïs gives Chat Noir permission to use one of the transparent bubble tents on his restaurant’s rooftop patio as a favour after de-akumatizing him back in September; Le Cochon Joufflu gives him a live edge cheese board to use in exchange for getting his beloved kitten down from the chestnut tree hanging over the patio. Ladybug mentions that she loves strawberries the most out of all of the fruits and Chat makes sure to stop by the Dupain Cheng Boulangerie Patisserie to order a Frasier for pickup in two weeks time.

It’s all coming together...kind of.

The cooking bit is still an issue. Adrien has figured out the difference between the top and the bottom of the chicken (after an embarrassingly long time, though he’ll never admit it). Yesterday, Sous Chef Maurice taught him how to put the mirepoix on the bottom of the roasting pan first, then settle the chicken on top.

Seems simple, right?

Except how much of what goes into the mirepoix? What’s the ratio again? Adrien pinches the bridge of his nose and tries desperately to remember on his own, especially after Sous Chef Maurice nagged him for looking things up too often on the iPad. Cooking is supposed to be about instincts and...well, Adrien’s aren’t proving to be very reliable. Is it two parts celery to one part onion and carrot? Or does he have it all mixed up again?

“I have a secret to share with you,” Sous Chef Maurice says, standing alongside Adrien as they peel potatoes together. “It’s the secret ingredient to make a woman fall in love with you, even when you’ve made a mistake...what do you think it is?”

“Is it...love? Like, when you’re cooking from your heart?”

“That helps, certainly, but it’s not what I had in mind,” Sous Chef Maurice reaches into the wash basket for another potato, “Let me give you a hint. It’s as quintessentially French as it gets.”

“...camembert?”

“I—” Sous Chef Maurice takes a weary breath. “...no. It’s butter. All French cooking tastes better with butter. In fact, no meal is complete without it.”

“Don’t tell Father that,” Adrien says with a grimace.

“What Monsieur Agreste doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” Sous Chef Maurice raises his brows conspiratorially. “Besides, it makes a world of difference. It’s delicious. It’s decadent. It’s a chef’s little secret. And if you want this girl to fall in love with you, there’s no better way than with butter.”

“Really? She’ll fall in love with me right away?”

“I promise. It’s one hundred percent guaranteed.” Sous Chef Maurice plops a package of Charentes-style butter in front of him. “No woman can resist a homemade meal made with French butter. Just a little makes a world of difference to the richness of the taste and tonight, I’m going to show you how.”

To Adrien’s unlimited delight, Sous Chef Maurice teaches him how to make the creamiest, silkiest mashed potatoes to ever grace his palette. His knees weaken at the thought of Ladybug sliding a spoonful of his mashed potatoes past her lips...he can imagine the way she’d groan just like he had when Adrien had finished whipping what felt like an entire block of butter into the spuds. His body burns and tingles with the notion of her enjoying his creations and he doubles down in the kitchen, taking it upon himself to slather the skin of his chicken with an obscene amount of butter before popping it into the oven and hoping for the best.

It comes out perfectly.

“Happy early Christmas!” Chat Noir delights, opening the little door to their plastic bubble tent for Ladybug. “I know we promised to exchange gifts on the 23rd but I...I just really couldn’t wait any longer!”

“Why am I not surprised, Kitty?” Ladybug rolls her eyes and bops him on the nose. “Did Anaïs give you permission to use this?”

“Of course he did,” Chat responds, pressing his hand to his chest in mock-insult, “I am a cat of honour! I don’t just go stealing things without permission.”

“Mmhmm,” Ladybug teases him, tapping his bell as she climbs inside. The supporting structure of the transparent dome is decked out with sparkling fairy lights, adding a warm ambiance to the table and chairs set for two. “Is that a bottle of wine?”

“Yup,” Chat confirms, latching the door behind him and scurrying around her to pop the cork. “It’s a 2001 vintage. I picked it myself.”

“Fancy!” Ladybug’s smirking tone falters for a moment as she takes in the elaborate spread. “Did you...is Anaïs picking up the tab for dinner too?”

“Not exactly.” Chat pulls Ladybug’s chair out from the lip of the table and gently drapes her serviette across her lap once she sits down. “I made you dinner tonight.”

“Uh oh.” Ladybug starts laughing. “Is there an ambulance parked outside?”

Chat sticks out his tongue and sits down across from her. “I took lessons! And I had a little help from a professional.”

“So it’s safe to eat? Should I call the hospital just in case?”

“Very funny. And no. Everything here is edible. I know because I tried it.”

“Just because it’s good enough for an alley cat—”

“—hey now, I have a very sophisticat-ed palette!”

Ladybug’s eyes sparkle with mirth. “Come on then, Kitty. Show me what you’ve got.”

“As you wish, M’Lady.” Chat bows his head and pulls the aluminium foil off of the dishes with a flourish. “May I present to you your dinner this evening. It’s roasted chicken with mashed potatoes and a frisée and endive salad.”

Ladybug’s eyes bug out of her skull, much to Chat Noir’s delight. “You made all this yourself?”

“I did!”

“And you made this...for me?”

Chat practically preens with delight. “It’s all homemade. I’ve been practicing for weeks.”

“Wow…” Ladybug trails off, her stare bouncing from dish to dish. “I’m...I’m speechless, Chat. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome!” Chat whoops, jumping up to serve her. He carefully places a chicken thigh onto her plate and scoops a dollop of mashed potatoes beside it. “These are the best mashed potatoes you’ll ever eat, by the way.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Ladybug responds, her voice wavering a little as he spoons out the salad. “They smell good though.”

“That’s because they are good!”

“...I’m still skeptical.”

“Buuuug!”

The conversation between them flows like the wine from their bottle, leaving them both a little lightheaded and enchanted by it all. It’s warm in their garden igloo, an Eden of good company and beating hearts cocooned against the December chill and the gently falling snow cascading from the heavens. Chat wishes he could spend the rest of his life like this, laughing and joking with Ladybug over a homemade Christmas dinner made just for the two of them.

“Well?” Chat asks as Ladybug takes a dainty bite of his roast chicken. “What do you think?”

“It’s...it’s actually pretty good.” Ladybug chews thoughtfully, her cheeks flushing pink.

“Yes!” Chat narrowly keeps himself from pumping his fists into the sky. “Try the potatoes!”

Ladybug leans forwards to dip the tines of her fork into the exquisitely satiny spuds and Chat holds his breath as she brings them to her lips.

This is the moment she’s going to fall in love with him!

thump thump

Tentatively, Ladybug opens her mouth.

thump thump

She slips the fork between her lips.

thump thump

Chat can hardly breathe as her eyes flutter closed.

“Oh wow.” Ladybug moans, driving her fork into the potatoes and shoveling an enormous helping into her mouth. “Thish ish so goo!”

Chat truly can’t help himself and starts giggling with glee, every nerve ending in his body firing as his heart nearly bursts in his chest. “I knew you’d like them!”

“I love them,” she gushes around another mouthful. “You have to teach me how to make them.”

“Or I could just make them for you again.” Chat grips the edge of the table so firmly that the wood creaks beneath his fingers. “You know, next time I make you dinner.”

To his absolute elated delight, she doesn’t even sass him. “Deal. But bring your own bowl next time, this one’s all mine.”

Their Christmas dinner lasts long into the evening, their teasing and laughing comments as breezy as the winds coming off the Seine. It’s safe here, just the two of them together, tucked away from prying eyes and miscreant moths looking for trouble. Through it all, she talks and tastes and laughs like an indefatigable hybrid of Brigitte Bardot and Aphrodite. There’s no doubt she looks at him differently now, the stars reflecting in her eyes no longer just the reflection of the fairy lights in their snowy igloo. His heart beats a thousand times a minute as she snags him by the wrist while he tidies their empty plates, stopping him dead in his tracks.

“Dinner was amazing,” Ladybug says, still seated beneath him. “I can’t believe you made this all yourself.”

“Anything for you, M’Lady,” Chat breathes, his voice shaking from the heat of her touch.

“I’m not sure how to thank you.” Her eyes trail away for a moment and glance outside at the falling snow pooling around their dome. “Actually, I think I do.”

With a small, tentative smile, Ladybug tugs him down to her level and ruffles his hair when his jaw drops open at the sudden proximity. He’s helpless when she gets into his space and she knows it; it’s why she’s always got the upper hand whenever they’re together. He turns to jelly as her expression turns mischievous — he knows she’s up to something, but what? What could she possibly be thinking? Chat glances down at her lips before catching himself, dragging his eyes back up to meet hers once again.

“L-Ladybug?” Chat’s voice cracks, pitching up into the stratosphere. She giggles and he feels like dying and flying all at once.

“I think you deserve a well done kiss after all that hard work.” Ladybug tips her head to the side and grins as he begins to stammer and splutter all over himself. “But where? On your cheek? On your forehead?”

Gently, she wraps her fingers around his bell and steadies him, fully aware that he might just come crashing down on top of her. She hovers a hair’s breadth away and hesitates only for a moment before pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

It only lasts for a fleeting moment but Chat swears the world grinds to a halt on its axis, stealing the ground from his feet and the air in his lungs. She kissed him. She kissed him! She honest-to-goodness kissed him — by her own volition! On the lips! She kissed him on the lips with her mouth! Her lips touched his lips! They kissed! They kissed!! They kissed!!!

“Not that your reaction isn’t sweet enough,” Ladybug teases, bopping him on the nose to shake him out of his reverie, “But what’s for dessert, Kitty Cat?”

Chat Noir may be Paris’ number one cat hero, but tonight he’s nothing but a puddle in the wake of her smile. “One Christmas Frasier, coming right up!”

#miraculous ladybug #lovesquare #mlsecretsanta #ml #ladynoir

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sagamemes · 4 years ago

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critrole sentences — thursday by night, part one. here and below the cut, there’s 160+ lines of dialogue from with the first installment of the two-part show. themes in these sentences are supernatural, survival situations, danger and murder.some more casual things dropped in there to spice things up... but mostly it’s about weird or bad things happening. go wild with horror and supernatural and zombie aus. change names, pronouns, diction, anything to your liking. tw: death, violence, uh... consumption of humans, gore mentions.

❝ i'd say you're dead to me, but, you know. you're dead to everybody. ❞

❝ he's wearing my jacket. if you get blood on my jacket, i'm gonna be very upset. ❞

❝ they like disney films. cheese. amazon gift cards. ❞

❝ maybe they have some leftover chinese. ❞

❝ finish it. finish it, i dare you. ❞

❝ are you gonna suck [name]'s blood?! ❞

❝ if we break the magic, everything comes back to normal, that's how these things work. ❞

❝ it's probably just sean. he works so late. ❞

❝ we're gonna get the fuck out of here, and we're gonna take you with us. ❞

❝ look at my teeth! ❞

❝ come and sit down, have some tea, it's just what you need. ❞

❝ don't fucking jump out and scare me, i'm gonna fucking attack— ❞

❝ i never get this kind of positive feedback, i'm actually liking this. ❞

❝ he's your [petname/friend/brother], man. make sure he's gonna... ❞

❝ you're actually the person i'm most concerned about. ❞

❝ it doesn't look like you're in a lot of pain, i can't tell? ❞

❝ yeah, you guys are fucked. ❞

❝ it's the only door the keycard won't open. /i don't know why./ ❞

❝ don't think i don't have plans. ❞

❝ we would be doing so well if [name] was with us right now. he would know what to do. ❞

❝ this looks like a really crazy game that you're playing. ❞

❝ we don't tell [name]. ❞

❝ you're nothing without us! ❞

❝ i found a bunch of pencils. ❞

❝ somehow, he looks less creepy. ❞

❝ you're here to keep everybody safe. ❞

❝ i just kicked someone in the face and they laughed! ❞

❝ you wanna switch? i take the dagger, you take the giant sword? ❞

❝ whoever comes out, it's not gonna go well for that person. ❞

❝ i am not going to kill you. ❞

❝ /i/ am not going to kill you. ❞

❝ you really need to keep me safe so i can get us out of here. ❞

❝ i'm gonna be honest with you. not all of this was the plan. ❞

❝ how do i end? ❞

❝ do you usually touch things that look like they're gonna explode? ❞

❝ what did we learn about drinking the tea? ❞

❝ there are, for some strange reason, lucky charms in the cabinet. ❞

❝ those might also be worth some money. ❞

❝ you guys have your own language. ❞

❝ you and i will just get out of here. ❞

❝ i wanna eat [food/"food"] again. it was really good. ❞

❝ if you're really squeamish, it's gonna get a little weird. ❞

❝ how well and intimately do you know [name]? ...could you recognise him by just—parts? ❞

❝ you could've lied and i wouldn't have known that! ❞

❝ knock... seven times when the coast is clear. no one knocks seven times, that's ridiculous. ❞

❝ i gotta get to the office. ❞

❝ dad's coming back any second now. ❞

❝ evil people don't pinky-swear! evil people middle-finger-swear! ❞

❝ is anything safe? i mean, come on. ❞

❝ can i take my shirt off—? ❞

❝ what's the matter? you love lucky charms! ❞

❝ we're really thankful that you're here, but... ❞

❝ oh man, this is intense. i'm not even sure this feeling is a high, i don't know what this is. ❞

❝ i've been busy all week. ❞

❝ that's a very good keycard. ❞

❝ the wedding is probably not happening. ❞

❝ welcome to terrible decisions in my life. ❞

❝ she'll freak out. ❞

❝ i convinced [name] that i'm on her side. ❞

❝ i really like [name] but i kinda feel like we should kill her. ❞

❝ half the people you've talked about i've never heard of. ❞

❝ you stay close to me. ❞

❝ [name]'s a goner. ❞

❝ mushrooms have never sat well with me. ❞

❝ life needs things to live. ❞

❝ how cute is the rat? ❞

❝ there's still time. things can still get weird. ❞

❝ it's gonna get a little weird and i'm so sorry. ❞

❝ will it explode if i touch it? ❞

❝ do we get a refund on the wedding gift? ❞

❝ they're saying that if things go pear-shaped, they're gonna fuck us and take care of each other. ❞

❝ i could ask upstairs. ❞

❝ we're all kids when we're in the jaws of a werewolf. ❞

❝ i mean, if you're gonna be a big girl about it. ❞

❝ okay, if shit goes down, i'll help you. ❞

❝ this is not a riddle, i don't have time for that shit. ❞

❝ i feel funny. i'm really hungry. ❞

❝ i'm glad you asked though, it's very polite. ❞

❝ you don't wanna go upstairs. ❞

❝ only i know. ❞

❝ we can't tell [name], they were about to get married! ❞

❝ this doesn't make any sense, but so much sense, at the same time. ❞

❝ you have some weird people working here, you know that? ❞

❝ [softly] jazz hands. ❞

❝ i didn't seem like it was possible to win. ❞

❝ if things go pear-shaped, i got you. ❞

❝ can i just quickly admit that i don't know the layout of the building at all? ❞

❝ pick up the ashes! ❞

❝ have some tea. we'll explain everything. ❞

❝ something is wrong. ❞

❝ quick note: we could get out of here and leave everybody else. ❞

❝ oh my god, i killed someone? ❞

❝ something is wrong, including the giant sign on the wall painted in blood that says ‘ something is wrong ’. ❞

❝ this place is even more trashed than normal. ❞

❝ wow. you /love/ me. ❞

❝ is this one of those magician tricks where you're telling me to pull a certain card and i don't realise it? ❞

❝ i've been wanting to get you in one of my games for a while. ❞

❝ i love the impulse for violence. ❞

❝ evil people don't pinky-swear! ❞

❝ we are in a survival situation! ❞

❝ i ate a rat, baby! ❞

❝ don't burn the company down [when/while] i'm dead. ❞

❝ could somebody get me out of wherever the fuck it is that i am? ❞

❝ i know you're not supposed to be in this meeting. ❞

❝ how much you overestimate me. ❞

❝ you are super cute and all but could you get me out? ❞

❝ [name], this is messed up! [other person] and [other person] are dead! ❞

❝ [name]... [i/you] don't drink tea. ❞

❝ hey, that was a tough night, but i'm sorry, are you okay? ❞

❝ you're huge! you can like, deadlift a house, you can't bust down a door? ❞

❝ what the fuck happened to you?! ❞

❝ i feel like you haven't /earned/ that kind of information yet. ❞

❝ it doesn't taste right. ❞

❝ i hate to rush into anything too hastily. ❞

❝ oh, yeah, right, you're married. ❞

❝ i'm having fun in the most terrifying way possible. ❞

❝ now we all know how you feel about us. ❞

❝ i'm just terrified i'll still have a deadline if i ever get out of here. ❞

❝ stop sticking your fingers in your mouth! ❞

❝ i never know what you're talking about. ❞

❝ maybe there's a way to undo it. ❞

❝ i feel like this is real life. ❞

❝ [it/she] thinks you're the nicest, sweetest, most wonderful person. ❞

❝ we're gonna find a phone. ❞

❝ there's a lot of work to be done. ❞

❝ i'm judging you hard. real hard. ❞

❝ i don't know what any of these buttons do. ❞

❝ i don't see his head. ❞

❝ i think we're all fucked up. ❞

❝ we keep the lights on at this place. ❞

❝ we've never fucking drank tea. ❞

❝ you know me: this is not a riddle. ❞

❝ it was like breakfast pizza and... gyros. ❞

❝ i'm gonna club her in the back of the head, and then we're gonna run off like bandits. ❞

❝ don't judge. ❞

❝ sorry about the stabbing. ❞

❝ well, ask me no more questions and i'll tell you no more lies! ❞

❝ man, you're nervous! ❞

❝ the fuck are you talking about?! ❞

❝ it's not safe out there, shut the—! ❞

❝ [name], show me your hands! ❞

❝ you think this is magic? ❞

❝ i was born in a box. ❞

❝ this is like jumping out of an aeroplane without a parachute but knowing it's foam underneath. ❞

❝ we said that we would look after each other. ❞

❝ everybody's a kid when you're a vampire. ❞

❝ everyone here, i don't know why, kinda likes me. i'm an idiot, but they do. ❞

❝ [name] must be so worried. ❞

❝ i'm sorry i told you you look like shit right after everything happened. i didn't think about it. ❞

❝ i just punched through the floor. ❞

❝ it's not that cute. ❞

❝ you know, you should never meet your heroes. ❞

❝ they're kind of refreshing. don't judge, man. ❞

❝ you're my best friend. /they're/ my best friends, but they're /married/, they have to help each other. so you and me—... ❞

❝ everybody likes me here. ❞

❝ you keep me alive—we all live. ❞

❝ i ate a /man/. ❞

❝ of course! of course, i know what's going on; that's my job. i know what's going on. ❞

❝ i have a good mind for these things and you know what? my intuition is saying i go first. ❞

❝ i think that's a compliment. ❞

#what do you mean it's not october yet #* meme.#* sentences.#sentence starters #sentence meme #rp sentence starters #rp sentence meme

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kjhmyg · 4 years ago

Text

christmas/ny (drabble)

pairing: jungkook x reader | jungkook x oc

genre: fluff, steamy at the end

words: 1.7k

summary: re!couple celebrating christmas and ny with jungkook after the holidays

a/n: um first of all, sorry. this is so bad im cry but also it’s kinda ok? idk. sorry anon if this isn’t what u wanted. i’ll try again next year 2022 lmao

𝄖

As patient as he is Jungkook can’t wait for your nightly call. You try to stay off your phone for the most part being back home, leaving time to talk to Jungkook only when it’s dark out. Of course, some days you miss him so much that you break that rule to sneak in a couple of texts or photos. Today’s not one of them.

Unfortunately, he had missed your earlier call. Horrified seeing two notifications of your failed attempts to reach him, he’s decided not to do anything else till he hears your voice.

Jungkook shoves a spoonful of Suga’s homemade microwave spaghetti into his mouth, eyes not leaving his phone.

“You’re staring at that thing so hard the screen’s going to crack.” Suga judges him from across the table.

“I’m expecting a call.”

“Yeah, I know.” He sighs, “But it’s not like your phone’s on silent. It’ll ring once she⎼”

Jungkook jumps within the first few seconds of his phone lighting up, your name flashing across the screen. Leaving Suga to himself, he rushes into the room and takes a deep breath before accepting the call. “Hi.”

“Hey you.” Your chirpy voice makes him smile. “Missed you earlier.”

“I know, sorry. Was busy. Did you have fun today?”

“It was okay. We got a cute little tree and I managed to do some really last minute shopping because I just found out my cousins will be here tomorrow night.” You sigh. “Did you miss me?”

“So much. I hate being apart, you know that.”

“Well I did offer you to come home with me.”

Jungkook had declined again. He doesn’t think it’s the best time to introduce himself to your family yet. Though, he had no qualms about letting your dad know. Funny enough, you decided not to. But you’re certain you heard your grandmother telling him about the couple photo you have as your homescreen.

“Maybe next time.” He hums, thinking about the possible future.

“I think my dad will like you.” The sound of your giggles has him cheesing so hard.

“Is that why you chickened out on telling him about us?”

“I did not! The timing isn't right.”

“Sure baby.” He laughs. “You’re not embarrassed of me are you?”

“I’m embarrassed someone like you is even interested in me.” You both laugh and let the silence engulf you. “You know I love you right? I hope we can spend the holidays together next year.”

“I hope so too.” There’s a tiny amount of sadness in there if you’re listening right.

“I might not be able to call you the next few nights. Since my cousins will be over. I promise to text though.” You say.

“That’s okay.” You hear the smile in his voice. “Just have fun okay? I’ll be here when you get back.”

“One more week.”

“Right. One week. Seven days. I’m sure I can handle being without you till then.”

“Merry christmas my love.” You send him a kiss over the phone.

“Merry christmas to you too.”

When the call ends ten minutes later, he trots back outside, face looking even worse than before. Suga, now done with his food, shakes his head disapprovingly as Jungkook takes his seat and goes back to the sad, cold dish in front of him. “You’re pathetic.”

𝄖

Jungkook holds his breath as the train slowly comes to a stop at the platform. Yesterday was the first day of the new year, which means today’s the day you come back. He’d planned out his route. First he’d get coffee and bagels to-go with chocolate danishes for you, in case you hadn’t had anything during the long trip. Then a short stop at the florist to get you a single rose before going off to the station.

It gets messy as everyone starts alighting and he struggles to catch you among the crowd. That’s when you come into view, head popping out between other random faces, wrapped in a beanie and scarf. Your face lights up when you see him, making hurried steps and dragging your luggage behind you.

“Jungkook!” You squeal, running into his arms.

He kisses the side of your face. “Hey stranger.”

“I’m so happy to see you.” You say, squeezing him tight. “How are you?”

“You’re asking me that as if we aren’t constantly texting each other.” He laughs, handing you the rose and letting you cling onto his arm with your luggage in his other hand, headed for the car.

“I know I’m just trying to break the ice.”

Inside the comfort and warmth of the car, he kisses you deeply. Something he’s been looking forward to for the last three weeks. “How’s that for breaking the ice?”

You roll your eyes but a smile plays at your lips as you properly adjust the seat belt. Gasping when you’re handed chocolate danishes, you pout at him, “You’re so sweet. Come here.” It earns him more kisses which he happily accepts.

In the back seat you notice an odd shaped item, in purple wrapping, done quite messily. “What’s that?” You ask knowingly.

“A surprise.”

“I have one for you too.” You smile smugly.

“Yeah? Can’t wait.”

On the way back, you give him a run down of what went on back home. When he ended up confessing that he hadn’t done anything special for the holidays, not even with Suga, it made you feel bad. Even though he tries to assure you he didn’t want to celebrate it anyway.

Back home, you lug your baggage into the room and dig something out of your bag. A packet of cookies lands on Jungkook’s lap as he takes a seat on the floor in front of the couch. “For me?”

“Mmhm.” Nodding, you tear open the paper bag, behaving more excited than he is. “My grandma said she packed this for my friend. She winked when she told me that. And I’d already brought some back for Hana. I think she knows.”

“About us? How?”

“She’s always been nosy.” You giggle. “I guess she doesn’t want you to get left out.”

“Aw. She’s kind just like you.”

“Wait!” He pauses, startled by your hand on his, stopping him from pulling one of the cookies out of the bag. “Hold on.”

You get up and run to the room. Carrying as many pillows as you can with a comfy blanket somewhere in between, Jungkook watches as you make a barrier with the pillows and spread the blanket over him. Then, you’re off to the kitchen.

After a minute of cabinet doors opening and closing and the clinking of glasses, you come back with two mugs of hot cocoa, marshmallows on top of course. Just the way your dad makes them. You place it right next to him then push the coffee table all the way forward to make more room to spread your legs. You put on a lame christmas movie on netflix, then snuggle up next to him.

“Now it’s a real christmas party.”

Jungkook laughs, holding you close and kissing the top of your head. You do the most unexpected things at the most random times. But he appreciates the way you always try to make sure he’s not left out. “Thank you baby.”

You grin up at him and watch carefully as he takes the first bite of the cookies. His eyes go wide and you nod knowingly. It’s your grandmother’s famous recipe. One even if you had, wouldn’t even be able to replicate its taste. He hums in delight, stuffing his mouth with one cookie after the other.

“So. Let me guess what happens after cookies and cocoa.” He says after finishing almost half the packet.

“What?” You ask, eyeing him.

He reaches round the side of the couch and pulls out the odd package you had seen in the car. ��Presents?”

“Presents!”

You run back to your room and appear with a small wrapped box. The rule was not to buy anything that costs more than your monthly rent. You both had agreed to this a while back. Which was difficult for Jungkook because all he wanted to do was to spoil you with expensive gifts.

“What is this?” Jungkook holds the box to his ear and shakes lightly. “Hm.”

“Wait I think I can guess what mine is.” You giggle, pressing into the soft parts of the wrapping.

“Okay then you go first.”

“Okay.” Tearing away the wrapping carefully, you find inside a soft, pink bunny with funky eyebrows. On the bottom of its little feet, there are hearts and in those hearts are both your names embroidered with a plus sign in between. “Aww no this is so adorable. I love it so much.”

“It’s not a diamond necklace but⎼”

“No this is so much better. Thank you.” You give him a hug with the bunny squished between your bodies. “It strangely reminds me of you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah it’s weird and I like it.” You giggle, pinching his cheek. “Now open yours.”

The wrapping comes off easy and he immediately realises what it is as the box comes into view. He looks at you for a second before unboxing it and pulling out a matte black polaroid camera. Jungkook takes his time with it, carefully looking at it from each side.

“Do you like it?” You ask. “I know you like taking photos so I thought you might like this.”

“Y/N I love it.” He smiles, bringing the viewfinder to his eye and getting a feel of it, then putting it down to focus on you. “Let’s take one together.”

You scoot next to him as he loads the film cassette. Then hugging his middle, he hooks his arm around your shoulders and your faces press against each other. He clicks the shutter and you both wait for the film to develop.

It comes out perfect, both your smiling faces perfectly in frame and even bunny made it in which makes Jungkook laugh. He can’t stop staring at it, holding it by the edges so carefully like he’s afraid he’s going to ruin it.

“I love you.” He says, looking at you when he finally sets it down.

“I love you too.”

He kisses you, tasting of hot cocoa and love. You’re being pushed onto the pillows with the blanket beneath as Jungkook hovers over you, pushing the hair out of your face. As Jungkook removes his sweater, you pull your shirt over your head. Jungkook smiles down at you, kisses you, then reaches for the camera. “Merry fucking christmas to me.”

You shimmy out of your jeans and hook your ankle over his shoulder. Snap. “And happy new year baby.”

#jungkook drabble #jungkook fic #jungkook scenarios #bts scenarios #myfic #rainworks #drabbles;re

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artificialqueens · 4 years ago

Text

Me and You Together, 4/10 (Taywhora) - Ortega

fic summary: The cardinal rule of having flatmates is that you Do Not Catch Feelings For Your Flatmates, because everything inevitably goes to shit and gets made horrifically awkward. A’whora and Tayce both know this, but being in first year of uni and making good decisions have never really gone hand in hand.

a/n: fam this response is crazy it really is…thank u all so much for the love, kudos and comments, i’m so sorry if i’ve not managed to reply to urs yet but know that i’ve read them all and cherish every one and i will get round to replying and yelling some love and thanks at u soon!!! pls enjoy this chapter in which A'whora does not possess the flat’s shared brain cell at any point. that being said, i wish all the readers of this fic a very pleasant italicised ‘oh’ xo

last chapter: January-Tayce and A’whora still had unfinished business from a night out and a hungover morning in December.

this chapter: October- The gang make plans for their first year together, Tia gives everyone plans for the evening, and A'whora has a realisation that will change the dynamic of her friendship with Tayce forever.

***

“Bimini, what is it you’re actually doing?”

A’whora’s intrigued by the way her flatmate’s sitting on the sofa: legs crossed, notepad in one hand and a cigarette in the other, and looking deep in thought. They’ve not long since stretched over the smoke detector with a sock, having long since established nobody in the flat minds them smoking indoors as long as the windows are open. Lawrence is beside them on the other end of the sofa having been to all the lectures that’re required of her already today and has got a bright pink, blue and purple-flecked ball of yarn hanging from two knitting needles, with which she seems to be knitting some sort of cosy accessory. It’s a wholesome picture that’s playing out in front of A’whora, one that’s miles away from the raucous, drunk nights they’ve all shared in the first month of uni so far.

“Okay, here’s what it is,” Bimini starts, clicking their long nails together. “I am making us a freshers bucket list, and I want your input.”

“Ooh!” Lawrence perks up beside them, and A’whora, interest piqued, picks up the bowl of pasta, butter and cheese she’s spent all of five minutes making and crosses the room to sit beside her flatmates.

She knows it’s only been a month so far, but she really loves everyone she’s living with. For a start, there are four of them that take classes at the art college (the ‘art hoes’, as Tayce calls them), so they all get to walk to lectures together and hang about between classes and workshops with each other depending on how their days are going. Bimini is almost always in the flat, with not a lot of contact hours making up their journalism degree, so they’re a comforting presence for A’whora to come home to at whatever hour of the day, always asking how she is and always offering to make her coffee. Tia is sweet and funny (if ever-so-slightly grating to her at first) and they’ve bonded over being the only two flatmates seemingly able to keep the place clean and tidy. Lawrence is endearing and big-hearted, if A’whora spends half her life hoping that her next prank isn’t involving her in some way (Ellie is usually the butt of them). Ellie herself is one of A’whora’s closest flatmates; they’ll often stay up half the night finishing prototypes or assignments together, all while watching a film which they have spookily similar taste in- they’ve agreed on 101 and 102 Dalmatians, Hocus Pocus, and The Wizard of Oz so far.

And then there’s Tayce, who A’whora thinks is both the absolute carbon copy of herself and yet also so different, the yin to her yang. Tayce has been her closest friend in the flat since day one when she booted the door to her room down and dragged her out of her emotional stupor, and that’s really what’s set the tone for the rest of their friendship; Tayce, upbeat and motivating, constantly and infectiously helping A’whora feel the same way even when she doesn’t want to go out, or doesn’t feel like dragging herself out of her room for a chill flat night with the others, or even when she just feels like a heap of shit. She’s such a fun and positive person to be around, relentlessly optimistic and goofy, and she brings out that side of A’whora too. As opposed to during sixth form and high school, where she’d put up a front to make sure nobody fucked with her, A’whora finds that at uni she can be the person she truly is and let her guard down a little.

This includes being open about her sexuality for the first time ever. She’s out to her family (for the better or worse), but nobody else back home knows (not even her friends) and she wants to keep it that way for now. But at uni things are different- nobody knows her here, nobody has these preconceived ideas of who she is and who she has to be, so she’d taken the plunge and been open about everything. None of the others had cared of course, in fact they’d all been too excited about the fact there’s not a single straight person in their flat comprised of four lesbians (Tayce, Lawrence, Tia and A’whora), one bi (Ellie) and one pan (Bimini).

“What’ve you got so far?” A’whora asks Bimini, sitting down on the sofa opposite her two flatmates.

Bimini reads off their notepad. “Casino night, bottomless brunch…get the train down to Newcastle, have a big night out, stay out all night an’ get the first train home-”

“Christ, that’ll be a challenge for me, you know I get sleepy around midnight,” Lawrence chuckles.

Bimini shrugs. “We’ll just get you an IV drip of Ellie’s Monster, you’ll be alright.”

“What else’ve you got?”

“That’s it so far.”

A’whora spears a pasta spiral, tilts her head in thought as she eats it. “Get drunk in a lecture.”

“Aw, good one!” Lawrence cries enthusiastically. Bimini, for their part, frowns with disapproval.

“Wait, no! Not a good one. Not a good one at all. It’s alright for you art school bitches, you’ve got some lectures together and you can coordinate, where does that leave me n’ Tia?”

“I guess that leaves you…downing a bottle of five pound chardonnay on the back bench of a lecture hall like a tramp with a drinking problem,” Lawrence shrugs, A’whora yelping out a laugh as Bimini shoves Lawrence with their foot.

Just then, there’s movement in the hall and as A’whora turns around she’s greeted by the sight of a tired-looking Tayce and Ellie walking into the kitchen. They shrug off their coats and take off their shoes and dump their bags on the kitchen table with a huff before they walk over to the others. Tayce spreads herself out over the sofa that A’whora’s sitting on, thudding her feet onto her lap without asking permission, to which A’whora instantly pushes them off her and gets a glare and a smirk in return.

“Lawrie, are you knitting?” Ellie laughs, sitting on the arm of the sofa beside her.

“Yeah? And?”

Ellie snorts in amusement. “Just didn’t realise we were living with a wee granny.”

“Well actually, bawbag! I was in the middle of making you a scarf because I can’t stand to listen to you talking shite about how you’re cold every time we leave the flat, but I can leave it if you want,” Lawrence explains. A’whora thinks it’s funny how Ellie backtracks immediately; she can’t tell if she’s blushing or just out of breath from scaling their block’s stairs. Bimini gains control of the conversation, tilting their head in intrigue.

“How were your lectures, huns?”

“Shit, thanks for asking,” Tayce groans, thudding her head down dramatically against the sofa cushions. “I don’t know, I just can’t concentrate when I’m getting talked at for an hour at a time. I need to be doing stuff, you know?”

“Feel that,” Ellie joins in, deflated. A’whora can sympathise- she loves the practical elements of her course, but not so much the lectures. She’s glad she shares a lot of them with Ellie, and the two of them can dick about and text each other and doodle designs in their notebooks while keeping one ear on whoever’s speaking.

“Well if you want to be doing something, you can help us with this,” Bimini suggests, explaining the bucket list they’ve been making.

The girls get settled and the ideas start to flow, Lawrence putting her speakers on for background noise as they all come up with new and increasingly more chaotic exploits. Ellie suggests trying every cocktail in Levels which gets scribbled down into Bimini’s notepad, and Tayce suggests going to Levels sober, which doesn’t get afforded the same appreciation. A’whora comes up with crashing the catered halls for breakfast one day, which they all agree is a good idea but the chances of it actually happening are low considering the earliest riser in the flat is Tayce and even she doesn’t waken up til half nine on a weekend.

“What’re some clubs we’ve not been to yet?” Bimini asks, shrugging. “Could put those down, try an’ visit every one in the city?”

Lawrence snorts derisively. “You go to Underground if you want your phone stolen, Velvet if you want to be bullied by fifteen year olds in the toilets, and Crystal if you want to subject yourself to painful misogyny and probably some light sexual assault.”

“So none of those, then,” Bimini murmurs.

“Those are all really het as well, though,” Ellie wrinkles her nose up in distaste. Then her face lights up as she gets an idea. “Oh! Put down Pride in July.”

“Nice one,” Bimini nods as they scribble down Ellie’s suggestion, the others making little hums of approval.

The conversation goes on for quite some time. Halfway through it Tayce seems to decide she’s bored of lying down and instead moves to sit on the floor between A’whora’s legs, asking her to play with her hair. They’ll do this sometimes- it’s a routine they fall into, A’whora being able to style Tayce’s endlessly long, straight hair and Tayce finding the whole thing therapeutic. They have a lot of little routines like this: they’ll sit close together on the sofa during a flat movie night and take turns leaning on each others’ shoulders, spontaneously give each other hugs at random points throughout the day, trace patterns into each others’ palms when the other seems stressed.

It’s nice. A’whora’s never really had a friendship like this, soft and caring and kind. In school her group was the kind that made catty jokes about each other then buffered them with a “love you!” afterwards and took kissy-face group selfies only to bitch about each other on a private group chat mere hours later. If it was a wolfpack then it was rabid and cannibalistic, and it had seemed like a full-time job ensuring she was never the runt of it. What she’s got with all her flatmates now- especially Tayce- makes her feel like she can finally breathe.

“What about the Centurion Challenge?” Lawrence suggests with a small gasp, breaking A’whora’s reverie as she expertly twirls Tayce’s hair into a loose and chunky French plait.

“Jesus Christ, Lawrence,” Ellie mutters in amusement.

“What’s the Centurion Challenge?” Bimini asks, pulling a face.

Lawrence gives a blythe shrug as she elaborates. “A hundred shots in a hundred minutes.”

A’whora ruins Tayce’s braid in shock, her hair untwisting itself from the braid as if it’s outraged too. The cry she gives joins in harmony with that of Tayce’s and Bimini’s. “A hundred shots? You’d fucking die!”

“Not of vodka! Obviously not of vodka! I know we all have one communal brain cell between us but Christ, can one of yous not use it?!” Lawrence protests. “It’s a hundred shots of beer. Don’t shit yourselves.”

“Aw, well that’s alright then,” Bimini pipes up sarcastically. “What’s actually wrong with Scottish people? Is your breastmilk spiked with whiskey? What d’you get instead of Cow and Gate formula, just cocaine?"

“Actually, a hundred shots of beer sounds more doable to me,” Tayce shrugs, and A’whora can feel her relax against her lap.

“I’d need to change it, I can’t stand beer,” A’whora considers. Ellie cocks her head in consideration.

“Well what alcohol do you like?”

“Fucking none of it,” A’whora laughs. “Cocktails. Vodka cokes. Anything where there’s juice to cover it up.”

Tayce twists her head to look up at her, a little twinkle of mischief in her eye. “I think the challenge ceases to be a challenge when it’s reduced to one hundred watered down shots of Woo Woo, Rory.”

As the others blurt out a laugh A’whora glares down at Tayce, but she can’t help but break out into a giggle too when Tayce grabs her knee and gives it a playful wobble, letting her know she was only joking without even having to say a thing.

A’whora’s not sure what time it is when she hears the front door swing shut and Tia emerges from the hallway, her long hair all messed up from the seemingly ever-present wind outside and almost obscuring the bright smile plastered on her face. “Hey, huns!”

“Oi oi,” Tayce greets her from her position on the floor. “What’s got you so smiley?”

“Nooothing,” Tia smirks, dragging the word out playfully. “Just got an invite to the night out of a very cute girl in my MT society…and she said you guys can all come too. Pres at her flat and then out to The Avenue. Evening plans sorted?”

“Oh, love that!” Bimini gives an enthusiastic clap. “Go on then, who’s the girl? Whose night are we crashing?”

“Her name’s Veronica,” Tia smiles bashfully. “She’s so lovely. Honestly, she wouldn’t mind you coming! She’s got one of the big flats over at Gourock Court so it’s not like it’ll be packed.”

“You don’t exactly want to go to a party that’s not going to be packed,” Ellie screws up her nose. She looks unimpressed and her tone is flat. “And even if it is, I don’t know if I’m in the mood for a flat party with a ton of new people, Tia.”

A’whora’s face drops and she locks eyes with Lawrence simultaneously, who’s got an equally incredulous look on her face. “Els, are you unwell? You never turn down a night out.”

Ellie shrugs quietly, not giving much away on her face. Tia, obviously keen to move to the girl she’s crushing on, carries on persuading her. “C’mon, Eleanor, don’t be such a fucking…square! It’s the musical theatre society, we’re just a walking Pride festival who all happen to be able to hold a tune. There’s loads of fit lesbians?”

“Well if I wasn’t convinced before, I sure am now,” Tayce purrs, a little smile appearing on her lips and a cheeky twinkle in her eyes. A’whora feels her laugh come out weakly. She doesn’t know why, but an odd, uncomfortable feeling lodges itself in her gut. She can’t quite put her finger on what exactly it is or why it’s put itself there.

“And there’s gonna be so many musicals on the playlist!” Tia continues to insist, despite being met with Ellie’s sour face. “I know you’ll love it! They’d probably even play stuff from Shrek if you got them drunk enough.”

A’whora can’t help but scrunch up her nose in distaste. “Hey, I’m only coming if they play fucking…normal people music as well. I’m not gonna be sat in a room with twenty white kids trying to rap to Hamilton or whatever the fuck it is.”

Tia rolls her eyes, plants her hands on her hips in exasperation. “Calm down, A’whora, you’ll still get all the top 40 dance-pop shit you love so much.”

“To be honest, it sounds class. And The Avenue’s always good,” Bimini cuts in calmly. A’whora does have to agree with that. They’ve not been there in a while- the bar across the road from the city’s most popular LGBT club- and its selection of early 00s pop princess tracks combined with its deal of two vodka mixers and a shot for a fiver makes it a guaranteed good night out.

“Well it seems like we’re all down, even if this stroppy cow isn’t,” Tia smiles happily, sticking her tongue out at Ellie for good measure. Ellie finally heaves a world-weary sigh, rolling her eyes dramatically as she relents.

“Ugh, fine! Fine, but this Verruca or whatever the hell she’s called better be the hottest bitch on the planet for you to drag us all out with your MT weirdos, Tia Maria,” she grumps. Tia ignores her bad mood and lets out a cheer which the others join in with, and A’whora resolves to interrogate Ellie about her Bitter Betty attitude later on. Preferably when they’re both drunk. That always makes things easier.

In the melee of excitement, Tayce twists round from her position on the carpet, folds her arms and rests them on top of A’whora’s thighs. “Right. You need to come help me choose an outfit if we’re going out. I need to look fit.”

A’whora smiles with pride. “Ooh, personal stylist duties? I’m honoured.”

“Well I’m hardly gonna ask Tia, am I?” Tayce giggles quietly, and A’whora joins in like it’s a little secret they’re sharing. “Or Ellie. She’d just send me out in one of her bodysuit/skirt combos. I swear to God that girl is like Marge bloody Simpson. Open up her wardrobe and she’ll have twenty sets of the same outfit. Serial killer behaviour, that.”

At this point A’whora is laughing so much that it draws the attention of the others, who eye them with suspicious stares. “What the hell’s so funny?”

A’whora gives Tayce a mischievous look. “Tayce just called Ellie a serial killer.”

Tayce yelps in outrage at having been called out, and as Ellie narrows her eyes Tayce leaps up from the floor and tugs A’whora off of the sofa with her. “That’s taking it out of context, you absolute hound! Come on, help me pick something.”

Tayce’s fingers stay curled around A’whora’s hand all the way down the corridor and into her bedroom. It’s a feeling that A’whora likes because it makes her feel close to her friend, and Tayce taking her hand is like an affirmation and a reassurance all in one; that she likes her, that their friendship has reached the level where hand-holding has become acceptable, that A’whora is worthy of being liked, of being someone’s friend- their real, proper friend. The validation sets her heart off like a flare. It’s nice to feel wanted.

A’whora perches on the edge of Tayce’s bed as she scrapes the coat hangers in her wardrobe and throws outfits onto the bed like a tornado, each more gorgeous than the last and all ones Tayce would look stunning in. That’s something that always strikes A’whora about Tayce; just how beautiful she is, how absolutely blessed with the God-given good genes. The way she looks serene and ethereal without makeup, walking to lectures in the morning with the sun hitting her face and giving her skin a glow. The way she paints for a night out and knows how to accentuate everything about her face that’s already perfect, a feat that would seem like an exaggeration if A’whora hadn’t seen it for herself to confirm it’s true. She frequently finds herself having to hold back from giving compliments to Tayce because if she started she’d never stop.

“Okay, first thoughts are…” Tayce announces unnecessarily loudly, and A’whora laughs at the way she’s talking as if she’s a stylist on a morning TV show. “…I’m thinking something black.”

“Of course you are,” A’whora interrupts with a laugh. “Tayce wearing black. How predictable.”

Tayce gives her a shove on the shoulder that’s too hard and makes her fall back against the mattress. “Shut up! I’ll wear something other than black when Lawrence wears something other than purple, how’s about that?”

The pair of them giggle at the joke as Tayce rifles through the clothes she’s shortlisted, holding up a black leather jacket and a black bralet with an intricate lace hem. The combination makes A’whora’s eyes fly wide open in appreciation.

“This?” Tayce raises an eyebrow at her inquisitively. The fact she’s obviously seen her reaction makes A’whora feel a little self-conscious and she doesn’t particularly know why. “Because I’m wanting to wear either my wet-look leggings or my black vinyl skirt with the zip up the front, and I don’t know if that’s too much leather effect stuff?”

“It’s too much,” A’whora nods, physically unable to help her honesty. “Also I think you should wear the skirt because you’ve got good legs and you should get them out any chance you get. But also the bralet won’t go with it because it’ll make your proportions all wrong.”

Tayce smiles appreciatively as she throws the bralet back into her wardrobe as if A’whora’s given her a command and not a suggestion. “See, this is another reason why you’re the queen of outfit advice. Bimini wouldn’t give me this level of honesty, they’re too nice.”

A’whora feels a warmth spread in her chest at the compliment, but she doesn’t show it. Instead she snorts, nods in agreement. “Yeah, because you could come out dressed in a pair of child’s pyjamas and they’d still say they love it. They’d say it’s very Y2K or something.”

Tayce lets out a cackle before holding up the skirt and leather jacket, humming in thought. “Okay, so you’re saying ditch the jacket but keep the skirt.”

“Yes.”

“And ditch the bralet.”

“Yes.”

“So you want me to go out in a skirt and a pair of heels and nothing else,” Tayce raises an eyebrow at her, and as A’whora bursts out laughing and protests she has to fight off a blush at the thought of her best friend topless in heels. Topless in heels and a vinyl skirt. Topless in heels and a vinyl skirt with a zip that could just be pulled down to leave her in-

The heat floods A’whora’s face like she’s been smacked and she shifts on the bed in an attempt at dissipating the feelings that’ve hit her like a tsunami. Inappropriate. Weird. Way too weird. Don’t do that again.

“What about the bright blue fur coat you’ve got? Because you could have an all black outfit with that as a bit of colour,” she suggests, shrugging lightly in an attempt to pretend that she hadn’t just been thinking about Tayce in the way she had.

Tayce’s face lights up and she points at A’whora with one hand and reaches into her wardrobe with the other. “Love that. Okay, top?”

“Are you addressing me? I’ve never topped for anyone,” A’whora attempts a joke. If Tayce can make jokes like that to her then she can do it right back.

“That’s very clear, baby,” Tayce shoots in response without missing a beat. Before A’whora realises it, she’s flexing her toes. What the fuck is happening to her? She needs to steer this conversation back on track.

She thinks for a second. “You’re a size eight, right?”

“In theory. The amount of pot noodles I’ve been chucking down my neck since I moved in is very quickly rendering that a distant memory, I’ll tell ya,” Tayce says, as she leans against the door of her wardrobe and folds her arms.

“I’ve got a black lace bodysuit that would go with that. It’s a ten so it’ll fit. D’you want to try it?”

“Well despite the fact a skirt and a bodysuit was the very thing I just roasted Ellie for always wearing…that sounds lush. Thanks, Rory Roo,” Tayce agrees, the nickname-of-a-nickname setting off the click of a small pilot light in A’whora’s heart. She’s about to ask if she wants to come try it on just now when she hears both their names being yelled from the kitchen.

The pair of them head back through to find that Tia has changed the playlist on the speakers from the chilled-out, calm acoustic one that had been playing to her early 00’s tunes. Combined with Bimini half-singing, half-yelling along to Murder on the Dancefloor and the blast of the extractor fan as Ellie stirs something in a big metal pot at the hob, it’s a far cry from the calm, cosy scene that A’whora had witnessed in the kitchen some hours prior.

Ellie had been the one who had shouted on them, and she whips around from the cooker when she realises that Tayce and A’whora have come through. “I’m making dinner for me, Bims and Tia, you wanting some?”

“Depends what it is. Come on, talk it up, Ellie. Give us some options,” Tayce shrugs with feigned disinterest, and A’whora can’t help the bubble of laughter that bursts from her mouth as Ellie narrows her eyes at her.

“It’s spaghetti and meatballs, and your alternatives are fuck off or die,” she shoots back savagely, and the whoop of shock and laughter that goes up from the others soars above the music and the fan. Tayce laughs good-naturedly in spite of the barb.

“I’m joking, ‘course I’ll take some.”

A’whora wrinkles her nose. “You’re making meatballs for a meal that Bimini is gonna eat?”

“They’re not real ones, dipshit,” Bimini pipes up from over on the sofa. “It’s that Birdseye Green Cuisine shit, innit.”

“Birdseye Green Cuisine shit,” A’whora repeats disdainfully. “If you ever go on The Apprentice, Bim, Alan Sugar’s gonna shit himself at your selling abilities.”

Tayce snorts, tries and fails to cover it up. When her eyes rest on A’whora they share a little smile, and A’whora’s grows bigger when she thinks about the way they’re both so in sync all the time.

“They’re nice, I promise! Veronica’s talked them up loads, she told me she’s been trying to eat more veggie things,” Tia insists, with an entirely unnecessary namedrop of her crush. A’whora relents and says she’ll have a small bowl before jumping out of her skin as Ellie bangs the spoon against the pot somewhat aggressively with a face like thunder.

Before A’whora can ask Ellie about her bad mood, Tia speaks again as she scrolls her phone to change the song. “Honestly, Ellie, you’re a star for doing dinner. Thanks so much.”

“Aw, don’t be silly, doll! It’s nothing!” Ellie turns around from the hob and bats the compliment away, shooting Tia a dazzling smile in return. It’s funny the way her demeanour seems to instantly do a complete 180 at the praise, and it makes A’whora wonder what’s changed.

She’s distracted, though, by the way Lawrence enters in her dressing gown with her hair up in a towel, obviously having come straight from the shower. She pouts and whines in a very un-Lawrence way as she lingers at the doorframe between the hall and the kitchen.

“Guysss, does anyone have an ID they can give me for tonight?”

“What about your friend? Who was it…Rosé?” A’whora shrugs, and Lawrence fixes her with a wide-eyed stare of incredulity.

“Oh my God, A’whora! I never thought about asking the girl I’ve been borrowing ID from since the start of uni! Thanks for that!” she says sarcastically, Bimini giving a yelp of laughter and A’whora leaning off the countertops and swiping at Lawrence in retort. “She’s using it. She asked her girlfriend and her flatmates for me but they’ve all got plans. I felt like a fuckin’ daytime TV charity advert.”

“For just one pound a week, you could help an underaged child get blackout drunk on triple trebles,” A’whora puts on a dramatic, concerned voice, proud of the way it makes Tayce blurt out a laugh.

“It’s such fucking bullshit,” Lawrence huffs, leaning against the fridge and folding her arms. “I mean my eighteenth’s in five days and I’ve been drinking in parks since I was fourteen, how can I not just be let into a fuckin’ bar?”

“Grow up and order a fake one,” Ellie shakes her head with incredulity, smashing the wooden spoon against the pot again with a bang-bang-bang to get the excess pasta sauce off.

“Just you pipe down, hen, you shouldn’t even be at uni. In fact, have you even completed primary yet?”

The two girls stick their tongues out at each other, a mirror-image of petty bickering that makes A’whora laugh. Luckily Bimini steps in, shrugging as they open their purse.

“Here, babe. I’ve still got my course friend’s provisional from when she dropped it on Gordon Street when she was off her face. I ain’t given her it back yet an’ I’m sure she wouldn’t care if you borrowed it. She’s chill.”

Lawrence accepts enthusiastically, bouncing over to Bimini and thanking them gratefully. A’whora watches her face drop, though, when she takes a look at the photo.

“There’s no way this’ll work.”

Bimini tuts and shakes their head, the picture of casual composure. “It’s fine, babes, they never look properly anyway.”

Lawrence drops the hand that’s holding the license to her side and fixes her friend with an astounded glare. “Bimini. This girl is black.”

As the others screech with outrage and mirth, Bimini waves Lawrence’s concerns away blithely. “It’ll be dark! It’s fine! Asttina an’ you have both got similar…well…you’re both girls, an’ you’re about the same height. Give or take a few inches.”

“Christ. I’m going to have to just forward roll past the bouncers, aren’t I? Then draw a fuckin’ club stamp on my arm in Sharpie.”

“Oh my God, stop moaning!” Ellie sighs from her position at the hob, bangs the spoon again for emphasis. “Look, I’ll ask Pippa from flat 2, alright? You both have brown hair, so…that’ll probably be enough.”

A’whora thinks it’s interesting the way Lawrence doesn’t shoot something back in her foghorn of a voice like she normally does. Instead she smiles warmly, dashes over to the kitchen where she hugs Ellie from behind, squeezing her tightly at the stomach and making her flinch in surprise.

“Thanks, Ellie-Bellie,” she sing-songs, swaying her aggressively from side to side until Ellie bats her away, flicking the spoon in a way that threatens to shower them both in marinara sauce.

“Right, that’s plenty. Don’t even do things I enjoy for that long.”

“When’s this gonna be ready, Els?” Bimini shouts through as Lawrence lets go. “ ‘Ave I got time to do my makeup before it?”

Ellie shrugs. “If you can do your makeup in ten minutes.”

A’whora kicks her leg out in Tayce’s direction and jerks her head towards the hall. “Do you want to try on that bodysuit before tea?”

Tayce nods enthusiastically in agreement, so they go back along the corridor with a shout to the others telling them they won’t be long. A’whora holds the door of her room open for Tayce and her heart sinks in embarrassment when she realises she forgot to make her bed this morning.

“Sorry about the mess,” she apologies, to which Tayce gives a cry of a laugh in response.

“A’whora, have you seen my room? You’re fine, kid, don’t worry.”

A’whora thinks that’s true- Tayce’s room is a state, but somehow it seems to suit her. Tayce’s room with the crowded bulletin board, desk covered in sweet wrappers and sketches, floor carpeted with clothes that need washed and outfits that didn’t make the cut. The cracked picture frame on her window-sill of the first selfie the six of them all got together on the first night of freshers and the huge cheese plant that sits next to her bedside table, Tayce’s pride and joy. They’re all little intricate shards that join up to form a perfect picture of her personality, and A’whora thinks it’s sort of perfect.

She looks out the bodysuit from its neatly Marie Kondo-d place in her wardrobe and hands it gently to Tayce. “Try it and see. It’s a small 10 anyway so it’ll probably be fine for you.”

Tayce accepts it gratefully and hooks a finger around both of the straps, letting the rest of the material fall out of its perfectly folded little parcel. She gives a little gasp of appreciation as she looks at it. “Oh yes, baby. I think this’ll do just fine.”

A’whora feels good- proud that she’s managed to find the perfect piece for Tayce’s outfit, to help her look as inevitably gorgeous as she knows she will. The smile on her face falters, though, when Tayce shoots her a wink and leans against the wall with her shoulder. “This is gonna get me someone I can pop off my acrylics for, I can tell. You’ve got the best taste, girl.”

“Are you actually going to try and get with someone tonight?” A’whora injects a laugh into her question that she’s banking on sounding genuine, otherwise it comes across as accusatory and that’s not what she means it to be. Or is it? She doesn’t know. “You know how messy nights at The Avenue always get. Last time we were there Lawrence got so drunk she told us she couldn’t see, remember?”

Tayce laughs her off with a shrug. “Well then I’ll just have to be careful with my drinks, won’t I?”

A’whora gives a false laugh, tries so hard to get it to meet her eyes. Why is she so pressed about this? She gets with girls on nights out too, she’s brought the occasional one night stand to the flat. Tayce is allowed to do the same.

So why does she feel ever so slightly gutted?

If her smile looks fake (which it is) then Tayce doesn’t notice, and she only shoots her a smile as she opens the bedroom door. “You’re an angel. I’ll pop this on then be back in five.”

A’whora takes the opportunity of Tayce having left to make her bed, and as she does so she feels lots of little thoughts dart around her mind like minnows, none of them staying in the same place for long enough to be able to be deciphered. She manages to catch a few before they flee away and she clings to them, turning them over in her head: why does she feel so bothered about the prospect of Tayce finding a girl at the party, talking to her and making a connection and laughing at her jokes? Why had it felt like a punch to the gut when Tayce was joking about doing so? Why does she have this part of her that feels like an idiot for setting Tayce up to look her best and knowing that it’s for the benefit of somebody else, somebody that doesn’t know her like she does?

And then her bedroom door opens and A’whora turns around and lays eyes on her best friend. Tayce in her high heels and bare legs and the skirt with the zip. Tayce with her baby blue fake fur coat and her straight, dark hair tumbling over its shoulders. Tayce in the bodysuit- A’whora’s bodysuit- with the lace and the mesh that clings to her chest like it was designed just for her. There’s something about the fact that she’s wearing something that belongs to A’whora that makes something inside her chest tingle, the fact it’s a little piece of her in Tayce’s jigsaw puzzle that seems to fit regardless of the difference.

“What d’you think?” Tayce smiles, all too aware of how drop-dead stunning she looks.

And then the realisation hits A’whora like a train.

Oh.

Fuck.

She’s screwed.

#rpdr fanfiction #rpdr uk #ortega #me and you together #taywhora #uk2 #lesbian au #university au #british au #college au #freshers au #roommate au #tayce #a'whora #friends with benefits to lovers #lawrence chaney #ellie diamond #bimini bon boulash #tia kofi

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