#the learning French fear of ‘an I taking too long to say this number’ is haunting me

[gg-ladybug]

I was laying in bed, and suddenly remembered that oh yeah, they speak French in miraculous ladybug.

My caveat is: Hawkmoth questions his goals with every number Mister Pigeon goes up. Have you SEEN their numbering system? It’s no easy read, and it’s FILLED with maths.

Sure duex is quick enough and relatively common, but Mr Pigeon quatre-vingt-dix-neuf? He’d have to say each damn syllable and NOT miss a beat.

[theworldisyourlobster]

80 year old knees

I live in the servants quarters of a beautiful building in the 4ieme.  On the map I see I am near Pretzel, the jewish district with its lunch time queues of pitta hungry tourists and locals alike.  

I live on the 6th floor, in a 12 metre flat.  Pros include: my toilet is separate, so is my shower and sink.  I have a little corridor area I use as a cloakroom.  Slight issue is this door does not lock, something to do with French legalities.  My bed is a mezzanine, I am convinced I might die climbing down the ladder on a toilet run at night.  My bed is a  single in which I am just the right size to reach the walls on either size.  I like it.  

Finding this place was as easy as it was hard.  Where after month of moving from one to another sublet, and the panic of paperwork I might need, a family friend mentioned that they might know someone, someones wife’s sisters husband who lives outside of Paris.  J was 80 years old, I understood he was Spanish and his contact was a landline number.  Multiple voice messages, calls and then more complications because of my inadequacy of maintaining a phone number. 

After multiple meetings and reassurances, all of which were communicated through an email address which he shares with his wife, moving day was upon me.  After a challenging hour of up and down puffing down the stairs in which I grabbed at all my suitcases with the utmost determined possessiveness, for fear that my 80 year old may die on the 4th round up the stairs. He told me he was impressed with my strength, he said now that he was older the stairs hurt him everywhere, his knees, his back. He use to be a sports man, practicing Tai Chi in his youth. I held fast to my Ikea bag - hoping to evade any gallant effort which might process him. Visions of cardiac arrest filled my conscious. How would I tell my distant family friend that I had killed their wife sisters husband who lives outside of Paris. Once my things were up six flights, J pointed at a heavy looking air-conditioning unit.  Not only heavy its size and dimensions made it unwieldy to carry.  I could not grasp it well enough  to carry it alone, it made a boom boom noise each step I took it  down.  J said he did not like the boom boom. We spent some time engineering a carrying device made of cord and strings, we both looked doubtful.  We had 8 flights to go to the cellar, it was dusty dark and smelled like wine.  He told me his grandson had carried it alone.  I asked how old his grandson was.  26, how old are you? 24, maybe when I’m 26 I’ll be able to carry it alone too.  

After all that puff puff, we went to copy the keys.   He reassured me that this would be easy.  Unfortunately we found that the key man did not have the right key size, it was agreed I would return on Mercredi.  J smiled at me apologetically, I said I didn’t mind, I told him I had come to learn nothing is ever really simple or easy. We both sighed at the thought of the stairs.  He sighed again and I thought we would laugh once more about the ongoing stairs. Instead he turned to me and said, Kati ( is how French people pronounce my name)  What you say about life , it is never easy, is true.  But sometimes, sometimes life is very easy.  His accent meant he heesed the words, easy was eahsee.

Once I was left alone and looked around my 12 square metres.  This was home now.  I noticed I could not see my keys.  It did not take me long to survey the 12 square metres in which I now lived. Keys are no where so I looked again.  Although I didn’t put it past myself my dear 80 year old knees must have nabbed them absent minded from excess of stairs. 

I called and texted, emailed even.  An hour later reply came.  And then another hour later J called to say he was downstairs.  He asked if I could come down to meet him.  He handed me the keys and with a simple ‘Life is never easy’ 

[oro-e-diamanti]

The one where Ethan is pretending

Description | When you bump into Ethan in Paris, you fail to mention that you know exactly who he is. You’re not sure how long you’ll be able to keep it up when he asks you out for a drink.

Content | Fluff

Pairing | Ethan x gn!Reader (with the exception of one female pet name)

Word Count | 2071

Taglist | @ginny-lily @ethaneskin @tabi-toast @mywritingonlyfans

***

There was no way you were staying in the same place that Måneskin had just arrived at. There was no way, you kept telling yourself. Paris was a massive city, the number of available hotels in the hundreds, maybe thousands if you had to guess. And yet, somehow, you had managed to pick the one place one of your new favourite obsessions would spend their time. You knew it didn't mean much, the hotel had more than a couple of rooms and with your luck, you wouldn't even catch a glimpse of them. But as you kept scrolling through Instagram, seeing pictures of people meeting the four Italians in front of the place you had checked into mere days ago, you couldn't fight a little bubble of excitement forming in your chest.

Well, you told yourself you wouldn't get your hopes up. And you definitely wouldn't hang around in front of the hotel or in the lobby. You had booked your solo trip to Paris months ago, after dreaming about visiting the city for most of your life, and you would be damned if you wouldn't stick to your itinerary and enjoy your holiday. However - you had gotten up at what felt like dawn to go queue up for the Louvre and spent the last couple of hours there, so you decided that a nap was the way to go if you wanted to continue exploring the city in the evening. Fortunately, the walk back to the hotel wasn't long.

You had made it to the last corner before entering the street you were aiming for, when two giggling girls ran past you, unceremoniously bumping your shoulder and sending you tumbling. You were fully expecting to hit the ground, but instead, a pair of strong arms caught you and brought you back to your feet. A pair of strong arms belonging to a strong chest that you came face-to-face with, belonging to a gorgeous face, belonging to Ethan Torchio.

"Tu vas bien?" His broad French accent confused you, momentarily forgetting about the little detail that you were, in fact, in France, as you stared at the drummer in front of you, who was still protectively holding onto your upper arms.

"Huh?" Was the immensely intelligent answer that thus left your mouth.

"Oh, not French?"

"No, definitely not French." You finally said, taking a step back from him to avoid the increasing awkwardness you were feeling about being touched by him, while the two girls who had previously knocked you down were now lingering around the two of you suspiciously, not coming close enough to be rude, but obviously desperate to get their own piece of Ethan. "No, just a tourist."

"Me too," Ethan smiled. "A tourist, I mean. Well, kind of. I'm here with my band so it's not like we have time to do a lot of sightseeing."

He briefly turned around to look at the two girls who still seemed frustrated at you hogging his time and gave a small wave before turning back to you. It was the movement that made you realise he had the most gorgeous red rose tucked into the waistband of his trousers. Well, it used to be the most gorgeous rose - after your little crash, it had bent in the middle, the top hanging only by a thread, in the most miserable fashion.

"Oh, no I am so sorry!" You gasped, carefully grasping the delicate petals that were on the verge of breaking off. "I must have crashed into it when you caught me."

"Don't worry about it," Ethan said, softly, and pulled the stem from his waistband. The flower looked even more tragic now, in all its crushed glory. "A fan gave it to me a few minutes ago."

"Huh?" You surely proved yourself articulate in this conversation. You mentally hit yourself, angry at yourself for being so easily flustered.

"There are a few fans waiting in front of our hotel, because we're in a ... band ... and things."

Apparently, your awkwardness was contagious. Also, it was becoming increasingly obvious that Ethan thought that you had no idea who he was.

"Let me get you a new one," you suggested. "There's a flower shop just two doors down from the hotel - I mean, I am staying there, too, so I know."

He smiled at you with a serenity and calmness that had your heart soaring. You decided you'd be willing to buy him a million roses if only he kept smiling at you like that for a little longer.

"Well, I've got to go now, but it would be rude to refuse your offer. Meet you in the bar of the hotel at 8 tonight?"

No way this was happening. You almost gasped, but at the last moment managed to keep your cool, outwardly. On the inside, you were a mess. Bumping into the drummer of one of your favourite bands was a wonderful chance meeting as it was - but this almost sounded like a date. Now, of course, Ethan wouldn't be asking you out on a date. That would be ridiculous. But there was also no way you would miss out on a chance to meet him again. Preferably without those two giggling girls that were still standing behind him, watching every move of your interaction but luckily too far away to hear what you were saying.

"It's a d- uh, deal," you quickly recovered before almost spitting out the word date instead. Ethan chuckled.

"Right, see you later, then, for our... deal."

He had seen right through you anyway, you thought. But he was still laughing, so it wasn't all that bad - right?

With another quick touch to your upper arm, Ethan walked past you, turning around just one last time.

"My name is Ethan, by the way. You can tell me yours tonight."

Oh, you would.

***

The rest of the day was... well, restless. You couldn't nap because your mind was a whirlwind and your stomach was twisting with excitement. So instead, you had made sure to get the prettiest red rose you could find in the flower shop down the street - while slightly wincing at the price that a shop in the center of the city of love demanded - and put it in a glass the hotel receptionist had been nice to give to you. Then you had decided that there was no way you would manage to relax before 8, so you allowed yourself a few hours simply wandering through the city, no real destination, no itinerary for once, just a nice long stroll with nothing but your thoughts.

At five past eight - being slightly late was still cool, right? - you did a quick check-up in the mirror, realised you were not going to get any happier with your appearance whatever you tried to do at this point, grabbed the rose from its makeshift vase, and left your room.

It only took you a second to see him when you entered the little bar on the ground floor of the hotel. Even in the dim light, the white blouse that he had already been wearing when you met for the first time stood out like a sore thumb. Long dark hair fell over his back in a silky fashion. You had never wanted to touch anyone's hair more.

You took one more deep breath and then walked over to Ethan, smile on your face and rose in your hand.

"A rose for the handsome gentleman?"

Ethan almost jumped, apparently not having heard you coming, but quickly a smirk spread over his face while he stood up.

"I'll take the rose and your name, then."

"It's Y/n."

Ethan greeted you with a soft kiss to your cheek, before taking the rose, pulling your chair back, and inviting you to sit. It was almost ridiculously romantic and if it had been anyone else it would have seemed over-the-top and off-putting, but with Ethan it seemed sincere and fitting.

"Glass of wine, Y/n?" He asked as he casually waved the waiter over to your table.

"Just one. I want to get up early tomorrow for some more sightseeing."

***

It didn't end up being just one glass. It ended up another one and then a bottle shared. But it also ended up with three hours of talking, laughing, teasing, and slowly moving your chairs closer together until you were basically sitting on the same side of the table. You had asked him about his band - still trying to cover up that you knew exactly who they were out of pure fear that he'd reject you for being a fan - and he has asked about your job, your life, your family. In fact, you only left the bar when the waiter had started throwing you annoyed looks while demonstratively cleaning the tables around you.

"I'll bring you to your room," Ethan chuckled lightly as you waited for the elevator. His hand was on the small of your back and it was spreading tingles all through your body. You were standing close enough that you could smell his perfume, a light yet musky scent that encapsulated everything about him.

As soon as the elevator doors opened, he lightly pushed you inside and you found yourself not minding him leading you like this. You pressed the button for your floor, leaning against the wall as you studied the man in front of you. He was a thing of beauty, no question about it, and when he smiled down at you the way he was right then and there, he made you feel like one, too.

"I had a lovely evening, Y/n. Is there any chance I could get your number?"

What a question, you thought to yourself. You'd be mad to refuse him!

You dug your phone out of your cluttered bag. You had switched numbers just a few weeks ago and had not yet learned the new digits by heart. Quickly, you switched it on - and your heart sank. Oh crap. You had completely forgotten about this.

The lockscreen of your phone was a picture of Måneskin.

As you looked up, you realized Ethan had seen. And, contrarily to the reaction that you were anticipating, he was wearing a massive grin.

"Ethan, I am so sorry, I should have told you immediately when we met but I kind of just stumbled into this and you were explaining you were in a band and I didn't know how to say-"

"Dolcezza, calm down. I've known all along."

"Wait - what?"

He didn't explain. Instead, he pointed to your bag - your tote bag - your Måneskin tote bag.

You truly felt like the least intelligent life form on earth.

"I've been carrying that around all day, haven't I?"

While your embarrassment grew, face heating up, Ethan grabbed your shoulders and pulled you into his body. His arms tightly wrapped around your body and you could feel his giggles in his chest, as your head was pressed against it. You didn't hesitate in reciprocating, clinging onto his torso, slowly swinging from side to side. Both of you caught in a tipsy stupor.

You only stopped when the elevator arrived at your floor, both of you stumbling out and dragging each other to your door while clinging on. When you reached your room, you let your back lean against it, pulling Ethan along so you were standing face to face, smiling at each other shily and yet never breaking eye contact.

"Why didn't you say anything?" You finally asked. He stroked your cheek, leaving goosebumps. He had now gotten so close that you could feel his breath on your, drowning in each other.

"I liked pretending."

And then he kissed you. Boldly, unafraid and passionate. You melted like putty under him, letting him take control while letting yourself fall, as his lips moved against yours.

You only pulled away enough to get another glance at him, before once again searching your bag, now one-handed, so you never quite had to let go of him. A small triumphant sound escaped you as you located the key card. Holding it up next to your face, you shot the man in front of you another smirk.

"Why don't we keep pretending? At least for tonight."

It wasn't an offer he was going to refuse.

[enamouredfae]

♡ Pick a Card ♡

What does the person you have in mind think about you!

This is a short and sweet pick a card where I look to tell you how the person occupying your thoughts thinks about you. These can be things they want to say, but feel they can't; the feelings they have for you, the fears and the longings that have to do with you; perceptions of you, etc. This can be a specific person you know or someone you will meet in the future, it can even be a part of you. You can ask about your future spouse, love of your life, twin flame, soulmate, ex, friend, inner child, past self, etc.

Before picking a card ask and meditate on:

"What does [person] think about me?"

then intuitively pick the pile(s).

Disclaimer: I want to remind you that most of the messages are very open to interpretation, and the first "clear" meaning of the message isn't necessarily the right one for you. For example, "i know nothing about you" could mean that they don't recognize you anymore or that you don't share enough information about yourself, but it could also mean that this person is a stranger to you atm. Pick up on the nuance that feels right to you. If you feel like a card isn't accurate or does not resonate, you are most likely right. Don't take the reading as fact. Trust your intuition, and do tell me in the feedback the parts that feel right and the ones that feel wrong, I'd love to hear different interpretations on messages too!

This reading is for entertainment purposes only.

This is a timeless reading for the collective, therefore it is likely that some messages will not resonate with you. Please only take the messages that do! The messages that do not, are meant for somebody else. Remember that the future is never set in stone and that you possess free will! Love you! ♡

Pile 1 ✧ Leaf

leaving, fall, falling in love, drifting through life, lack of control, being pushed around, recipient, yin, withering away, slowly dying, depressed, walked over, easy-going.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ *:･ﾟ✧

Who are you thinking about?

introvert | same age | taller | whip | book | 11 | 26 | 2 | 8

they could be someone you had an argument with or an argumentative person in general, intelligent, secretive, they may have a higher education and be seen as an expert in their field, there may be a power imbalance, dominant, disciplinary, manipulative, you may have written in your journal about them, there may be a secret involved in this connection, using sexuality as a tool of persuasion, coercion into kink/sexual situations, knowledgeable in sex, secret sexual relationship, you may learn a lot from them, they could be a teacher, sexy, they could be abusive please be careful, you may not know them yet or they could be hidden from you atm, thoughtful, critical.

8 might be their life path number. they may be born on the 26th or the 8th. themes of the 8th house in astrology might arise a lot in their life. they may have 8th house or Scorpio placements. you may have significant 8th house synastry.

11 might be their life path number. they may be born on the 11th. themes of the 11th house in astrology might arise a lot in their life. they may have 11th house or Aquarius placements. you may have significant 11th house synastry.

2 might be their life path number. they may be born on the 2nd. themes of the 2nd house in astrology might arise a lot in their life. they may have 2nd house or Taurus placements. you may have significant 2nd house synastry.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ *:･ﾟ✧

What do they think about you?

"i wish you tried harder."

"you've outgrown me."

"right person, wrong time."

"your expectations are too high."

"is it because i remind you of them?"

"you didn't seem interested."

Pile 2 ✧ Key

key to one's heart, locked away, hidden, protected, only few can open, key tattoo, looking through the keyhole, looking withing, treasure, opening up to the world.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ *:･ﾟ✧

Who are you thinking about?

ambivert | gray or blue eyes | younger | stars | moon | 16 | 32 | 7 | 5

divinely guided and blessed union, synchronicities are prevalent with this connection, feeling like the universe participated in you finding each other because of how unlikely or based on luck it feels, wish fulfillment, dreaming of/about each other, knowing immediately, being a muse, somebody well-liked in their job, popular, you may meet at night, you may know them from work or meet them on vacation, manifesting a person, feeling like a blessing to someone, hopeful, visionary, aquarius/cancer and/or 4th/11th house placements, 4th/11th house synastry, they may have a hidden side, famous, dream come true.

7 might be their life path number. they may be born on the 7th or the 16th. themes of the 7th house in astrology might arise a lot in their life. they may have 7th house or Libra placements. you may have significant 7th house synastry.

5 might be their life path number. they may be born on the 5th. themes of the 5th house in astrology might arise a lot in their life. they may have 5th house or Leo placements. you may have significant 5th house synastry.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ *:･ﾟ✧

What do they think about you?

"i find pieces of you everywhere i look."

"our love is what movies, books, and songs are written about."

"please start putting yourself first."

"i don't know if i want to be near you, or to be you."

"i play the song that reminds me of you."

"i'm manifesting you."

Pile 3 ✧ Fleur de Lys / Lily

french, royal, pure, faithful, gardner, gold, feeling reborn, motherhood, 100 years of love, fertility, strong morals, growth, in bloom, spring/summer/fall, not a cat person.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ *:･ﾟ✧

Who are you thinking about?

different ethnicity/nationality | blonde | tattoos and/or piercings | man | lily | 28 | 30 | 10 | 1 | 3

they may identify as male, or embody a lot of masculine/yang energy, they may be older than you, very peaceful, you may feel like you can tell them any secret because they are very discreet, they may feel or describe themselves as a "grandpa/grandma" or dress like one, they may be very mature, they might've had to grow up fast, they can feel very serene and like a safe space, they could be the "calm" friend that you just recharge with, enjoying each other's company in silence, they may remind you of your grandpa/grandma, they may be a mentor, they may often talk out of experience or randomly say something very wise.

1 might be their life path number. they may be born on the 28th, the 10th, or the 1st. themes of the 1st/10th house in astrology might arise a lot in their life. they may have 1st/10th house or Aries/Capricorn placements. you may have significant 1st/10th house synastry.

3 might be their life path number. they may be born on the 30th or the 3rd. themes of the 3rd house in astrology might arise a lot in their life. they may have 3rd house or Gemini placements. you may have significant 3rd house synastry. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ *:･ﾟ✧

What do they think about you?

"i'm scared of being vulnerable."

"i don't feel the same way you do."

"if we're lucky."

"i always check your horoscope too."

"you're romanticizing toxic things."

"you're my safe space."

Pile 4 ✧ Knot

balanced, harmonious, interconnected, interlaced fingers, hair knots, sacred geometry, synchronicity, self-sufficient, symmetry lover, 444, four-leaf clover.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ *:･ﾟ✧

Who are you thinking about?

green or hazel eyes | older | colourful hair | rider | child | 1 | 13 | 4

they may be a mailman or a delivery person, incredible conversations that can change your perspective on things, immature, naive, happy inner child, enjoys simple things, young, may be a student atm or when you meet, appears into your life with a new beginning, or causes a new beginning, they may be a very trusting person, could literally be a child (under 18), could come with huge announcement, constantly changing, unpredictable, hyper, could have a child together, may have met them during some sort of visit, helping them grow, may see you as a child, trustworthy.

1 might be their life path number. they may be born on the 1st. themes of the 1st house in astrology might arise a lot in their life. they may have 1st house or Aries placements. you may have significant 1st house synastry.

4 might be their life path number. they may be born on the 13th or the 4th. themes of the 4th house in astrology might arise a lot in their life. they may have 4th house or Cancer placements. you may have significant 4th house synastry.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ *:･ﾟ✧

What do they think about you?

"i know nothing about you."

"i want us to grow old together."

"cupid ran out of arrows when it came to us."

" i still think about you, i can't let you go."

"i'm obsessed with you and it's not pretty."

"i write you in my daydreams."

Pile 5 ✧ Fork

forks from twilight, great cook, picky eater, a pick-me-up, eating with a specific fork, collecting forks, separation, falling/sliding through the cracks, bifurcation, neptune.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ *:･ﾟ✧

Who are you thinking about?

brunette | straight or wavy hair | extrovert | woman | dog | 29 | 18 | 11 | 2 | 9

they may identify as female, or embody a lot of feminine/yin energy, friendship, loyal, dependable and helpful, humble, "bitch", may be very compassionate but also may be inclined to pitying people, may be a person who is blindly loyal to people that do not deserve their loyalty and love, "we accept the love we think we deserve", very giving and loves giving, golden retriever as a person, supportive, could be codependent, animal lover, a person in your friend group, or any group you belong in, wants to receive love, but even when they don't, they still give the other person their all, requires a lot of attention, athletic, active, optimistic, feels the need to help and people please because they feel like that's the only way they'll deserve love.

11 might be their life path number. they may be born on the 29th or the 11th. themes of the 11th house in astrology might arise a lot in their life. they may have 11th house or Aquarius placements. you may have significant 11th house synastry.

2 might be their life path number. they may be born on the 2nd. themes of the 2nd house in astrology might arise a lot in their life. they may have 2nd house or Taurus placements. you may have significant 2nd house synastry.

9 might be their life path number. they may be born on the 18th or the 9th. themes of the 9th house in astrology might arise a lot in their life. they may have 9th house or Sagittarius placements. you may have significant 9th house synastry.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ *:･ﾟ✧

What do they think about you?

"please don't break my heart."

"i hate us."

"you're one more reason for me to stay."

"you hurt me."

"it's like I'm looking in a mirror."

"our relationship isn't balanced."

Pile 6 ✧ Dolphin

swimmer, psychic, sensitive to one's environment, perceptive, being able to read people easily, intuitive, protective, paranoid, healing, freedom, in tune with emotions.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ *:･ﾟ✧

Who are you thinking about?

LGBTQIA2S+ | brown or black eyes | shorter | key | garden | 33 | 20 | 6 | 2

they may be the key to your social climbing, you may meet them at a party or social gathering, you may meet them when celebrating smth or in a venue, they may be very social and inviting, open-minded, party person, they are very important to you, they feel like a revelation, they may make you realize smth about yourself, opening lots of doors, they will reveal their secrets to you and vice-versa, they will open you to a whole new social group, opening up to the world, they may hold the key to your soul-tribe, one of the few people who could open you up, they see right through the facade you show the world, hidden treasure in a crowd.

3 or 6 might be their life path number. they may be born on the 6th. themes of the 6th house in astrology might arise a lot in their life. they may have 6th house or Virgo placements. you may have significant 6th house synastry.

2 might be their life path number. they may be born on the 20th or the 2nd. themes of the 2nd house in astrology might arise a lot in their life. they may have 2nd house or Taurus placements. you may have significant 2nd house synastry.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ *:･ﾟ✧

What do they think about you?

"i've outgrown you."

"i'm longing for your touch."

"i won't change for you."

"i wish you knew how much you've helped me."

"stop trying to change me."

"together for a good time, not a long time."

Thank you for reading! Love you all.♡

You can buy me a coffee if you feel called to do so! This is never necessary, but always appreciated! ♡

[jeglaerenorsk]

Small or long update 😂.

3rd trimester in my pregnancy now. Emotionally & physically it's a rollercoaster daily. I might cry, might get angry, annoyed, sad, happy, content, at peace, worried, all of it.

School started in late August - I have still now September 11th not started with math, been busy with pregnancy & birth preparations & getting baby stuff. I am now almost 2 chapters behind. It worries me but I'm thinking today is the day.

My teacher sent a message on Friday that she's worried I'm falling too far behind (me too girl). So pray for me that I can learn this well and get good grades so I can finish before baby girl comes.

And yeah, it's a girl 💗👑🩰☺️🧸.

Still stressed about not being sure about name... I have like maybe 20 items left to get and still to pack hospital bag and have birth plan meeting this week, birthing classes I have tons of this month and next. Yoga I can start today, have both yoga and Pilates tomorrow.

I have still not started cooking for the food to have ready for after birth.

And I still haven't finished a plan for my mental health at hospital. After I think it's fine, I have 2 friends that I'm sure of will be there, then I have 2 other I'm a little bit unsure of but they say they will come and help. I have found a place my dog can stay 1 week. Still haven't found anyone to walk here 🥴. I have the plans in order to get car ready for winter and baby. Apartment is 70% ready, just because I want to fix it ready for Christmas I say 70%.

I have some ideas for after birth, like the first 4-5 months. But I'm mostly anxious about how will my mental health go. How will I be able to handle setting boundaries with my family when I know they will react badly and how can I prevent me getting hurt... Logically I know it's the right thing. But I know their words will hurt me. And I'm also so excited/anxious to see my baby's mood and personality. Like who are you? Are you like I imagined?

Also the fact that everything will get more expensive makes me a little bit more worried. But I also try to remind myself, God is good, God provides, I got what I need and God made us creative.

I have to plan even more to really feel like I got this 🙈....

My fear is that she will run after birds when she can run and my biggest fear is birds so what am I supposed to do. I scream and a part inside of me dies when me and my dog needs to go besides the swans 😭😭😭😭. So seriously, I know it's too early to worry about it. But I don't want her to have fear because of me but also, for God's sake stay away from the birds🙏🙏🙏. Even with my friends, I get heart attack if they walk too near.

Probably i will say we can see them from distant and blah blah "they're nice huh". 😂😭��. (because calling birds devils probably isn't good mothering 🙈even if that's what I feel🥴).

And yeah, language working is going shit too, same as with school. So please send positive thoughts and prayers.

I want to take language classes, first start at home with the baby for language training and then maybe in fall next year stay 3 months in Spain or France or Italy. Arabic will still be introduced to her since my friends speak it, Spanish because I have family that speaks it, Swedish and Norwegian because of we speak it in our family and English because I use it so much. Italian and French we will see.. But I haven't decided where it's best to go with both baby and dog and of course the money is number 1 factor. Rent and electricity/AC/heating/car.

But its a dream and idea, and maybe it will not happen.

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 301: All My Todorokis

Previously on BnHA: We learned that when a bunch of superpowered villains are suddenly set loose with nobody around to stop them, things get fucked pretty quickly. Old Man Samurai and a bunch of other useless people decided to make “I pretend I do not see it” their new mantra, and resigned. Endeavor had a moment of despair on account of being crushed by the guilt of having ruined the lives of himself, his family, and basically everyone else in the entire world. For various reasons the heretical notion of “person who has done bad things feels sorry for doing them” sent fandom spiraling into a meltdown, so that was fun. The chapter ended with the entire Todoroki clan descending upon Enji’s hospital room to have a dramatic chat about Touya and All That General Fuckery.

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi is all “here’s the story of how Baby Touya slowly went insane trying to win his father’s love.” It’s a tale full of subverted expectations and heartbreaking inevitability, and also like twenty panels of the cutest fucking kids who ever existed on planet earth, who are so fucking cute that I can’t stop thinking about their cuteness even with all of the horrifying family tragedy unfolding around them. It is absolutely ridiculous how cute they are. Touya is out here pushing his tiny body past its limits because he inherited the same obsession as his dad and neither of them can put it aside even though it’s destroying them, and yet all I can think about is Baby Shouto’s (。･o･｡) face. Anyways what a chapter.

so I have to confess that even though I managed to avoid being caught off-guard by the early leaks, the number of people reblogging my Endeavor posts from earlier this week and using the tag “bnha 301” kind of gave me an inkling that this chapter will include more Tododrama lol. that said, I don’t know anything else about it, so we’re still good spoiler-wise

AHHHHH FLAHSBAKC AHHHH. omg I know I typoed the shit out of that, but I’m just going to leave it lol I think it’s fitting

holy shit holy fuck. so this is Rei and Enji’s first meeting, then??

yepppp, oh shit

so wait, I know this is not even the slightest bit important, but are they meeting at Enji’s home or Rei’s? because I always figured that Enji was the one with the super-Japanese aesthetic, but maybe that was Rei’s side of the family all along

(ETA: from what I found during my very brief google search, omiai meetings are often held at fancy hotels or restaurants, so maybe that’s what this is.)

there’s such a period drama feel to this setting. like it’s so outrageously formal fff how can anyone stand this kind of atmosphere though seriously

OH THANK GOD

I mean they’re still stiff af but at least they’re not rigidly sitting in seiza and staring at each other unblinkingly anymore lol. Enji’s actually got his hands in his pockets now. why is this somehow almost cute

oh damn it’s the flowers

Rei seems so subdued and it’s so hard to get any idea of what she’s actually thinking. I want to see her side of this dammit

but anyway, so at least from Enji’s perspective it seems like even though the marriage was arranged and he picked her because of her quirk, he still loved his wife and wanted to do right by her. the fact that he was watching her and noticed that she liked the flowers, and remembered that detail for all these years -- there’s a reason why Horikoshi’s showing us this. we know what’s going to happen later on; we know how much fear and violence and breaking of trust is coming up ahead, and while it may seem like this scene is serving to soften Enji’s character further -- which to be fair it is -- it also helps drive home the full impact of his abuse. that it’s so terrible not only because of the trauma of the abuse itself, but also because of the way it retroactively destroys all of the good things as well. this could have potentially been such a sweet scene, but it’s inescapably tainted by the knowledge of what’s to come, at least for me. and that’s just brutal

anyways, shit. is the whole chapter going to be like this?? feel free to toss in something I can actually make a joke about sometime, Horikoshi

oop, back to the present

omfg lol

“are you all right” “NO I’M NOT ALL RIGHT WHAT THE FUCK.” “oh, right, because of all the stuff that’s happened with me abusing you and you having a mental breakdown and being hospitalized for ten years and then our son coming back to life and killing thirty people, right, right. I almost forgot.” whoops

omfg you guys I’m loving this new and improved steely-eyed Rei. I’m loving her a lot

and what do you mean “part one” fkjds how long is this going to be. TOO MUCH DRAMA FOR ONE CHAPTER TO HANDLE

oh, hello

yeah I’ll say you did. didn’t seem to bother you much at the time, though

HMMMMMMMMMMMM

Dabi Is A Noumu intensifies even further. anyways though would you fucking look at this boy lounging on this moth-eaten couch doing his best DRAW ME LIKE YOUR FRENCH GIRLS impression wtf

Dabi what if you actually had killed him??? what would you feel?? satisfaction?? regret?? anything at all?? tell me your secrets goddammit

who are you talking to buddy

Fuyumi-chan, Natsu-kun (is it common for brothers to address each other as -kun?? can’t recall seeing that in many other anime, but hey), and “dot dot dot,,,,,, SHOUTO” lol thank you so much for this bountiful heaping of Tododrama Horikoshi we are blessed

AH, WHAT DID I SAY THE OTHER DAY

ULTIMATE MELODRAMATIC THEATER CHILD. “I’M JUST GOING TO LIE ON THIS COUCH SHIRTLESS AND ALONE AND MAKE SPEECHES TO MY FAMILY MEMBERS WHO AREN’T THERE AND SAY THINGS LIKE ‘WATCH ME IN THE PITS OF HELL’ WITH A STRAIGHT FACE BECAUSE NO ONE’S THERE TO JUDGE ME.” WELL JOKE’S ON YOU MISTER CHATTERBOX BECAUSE I AM IN FACT JUDGING THE SHIT OUT OF YOU LOL

(ETA: and on a more serious note, it’s interesting to see that “look at me”/”watch me” theme being used again though, because we see that same sentiment uttered repeatedly by the younger Touya in the flashback. well kid, you definitely got your wish at last. don’t know what else to say.)

OKAY HORIKOSHI HAS DECIDED THAT’S ENOUGH FUN, TIME FOR MORE FLASHBACKS

oh my sweet precious lord

just as cute as we left him. giving us a child this cute when we all know full well what’s going to happen to him is just unspeakably cruel though

HOMG

I’m fucking speechless. you broke me, congratulations. what am I even supposed to do with this

I can’t get over this. moving forward my life will be split into two distinct parts, B.P. (Before the Pout) and A.P. (After the Pout)

and meanwhile there’s ALL THIS BACKGROUND ANGST BUILDING UP, AND I CAN’T EVEN FOCUS ON IT. Touya’s arm and cheek are covered in bandages (I’m guessing this is shortly after that “ouch!” panel we got some chapters back), and Enji is deliberately avoiding training with him because he doesn’t want him to hurt himself further. I can’t fucking get over the irony that all this time everyone thought Touya had died because Enji pushed him too far in his training, and it turns out that it’s the opposite -- the tragedy ultimately happened because he didn’t want to push him. but I’m jumping ahead of myself though I guess

by the way,

remember this?? just wanted to remind you that it exists just in case you forgot

so now someone is talking and basically saying that Touya is the exact opposite of what Enji was hoping for when he decided to start playing with quirk genetics

-- okay hold up

...lol no, never mind. for a second I thought “holy shit he looks kind of familiar WHAT IF IT’S UJIKO OMG” before I remembered that Enji would have recognized him during the hospital capture mission if that was the case. so NEVER MIND, PROCEED

IMAGINE THAT, ENJI DOESN’T QUITE SEEM SATISFIED WITH THIS SUGGESTION OF QUITTING NOW

(ETA: how the fuck did this man go around saving 62 towns in a single day what even is All Might.)

[clicks tongue several times] trouble a’brewin’

MEANWHILE BABY TOUYA HAS UNFORTUNATELY INHERITED HIS DAD’S STUBBORN STREAK

KLDIHWOEIJFL:KSDJ

!!!!!!!!!!!

oh my god. oh my god. what is this chapter. WHAT IS IT

so now Touya is all “YOU JUST DON’T UNDERSTAND MY MANLY DESIRE TO BURN MYSELF ALIVE” well you got her there champ

THEY’RE TOO CUTE. OH MY GOD. HIS FURIOUS LITTLE TEARS. HER CHUBBY LIL FACE. HIS STUBBY LIL FISTS. SOMEONE HELP ME

also are they just home alone lol or what. “hey Touya, you’re what, like six now?? do us a favor and look after your baby sister for a couple hours for us would you? make sure not to set yourself on fire or anything.” WHAT COULD POSSIBLY GO WRONG!!

now it’s nighttime and Enji and Rei are arguing, presumably about his decision not to train Touya anymore

whew. okay. so, a couple of things here

1. first of all I think this conclusively shows that Enji really was trying to do the best he could for Touya. he stopped training him as soon as he realized it was hurting him, but Touya was still determined so he tried to make it work anyway, and even visited doctors to try and figure out if there was anything they could do. then, once they were absolutely sure that it wasn’t going to work, he tried multiple times to explain to Touya why they had to stop. he didn’t just abandon him out of the blue, which is really important to note. “no matter how much I tried telling him...”

so yeah, that debunks another common fandom accusation. so by the time he finally makes this decision, which we all know is going to turn out horribly, it’s basically because he’s already tried everything else he could think of. which, by the way, still doesn’t mean he handled this right. but at the very least he was taking Touya’s feelings into account and he was trying, and he didn’t just abruptly toss his son aside (at least not yet)

2. buuuut, then there’s this panel right below all that

which is the other side of it. if he’d just quit like the doctor person advised him to, that would have been the end of it. Touya would still have been upset, but he would have eventually gotten over it and the family would have moved on and possibly even been happy. but what happens next happens because Enji can’t let go. he still has this maddening urge to surpass All Might, and so he and Rei keep having more children, and then Shouto is born, and Enji finally has a kid he can start projecting all of his hysterical ambitions onto once again, and everything starts spiraling out of control soon after

though p.s. none of that is Shouto’s fault though!! he’s one of the few good things to come out of this whole mess and I’m very happy that he exists. the tragedy is that his dad fucking lost his mind over his quirk and fucked everything up. but that’s on him, not Touya or Shouto

anyways, SLKFJLSHGLKJL

I CAN’T FUCKING TAKE THIS YOU GUYS??? LOOK AT THAT LIL BUTTON OF A NOSE??? I’M LOSING IT HERE???

AND TOUYA JUST SEEMS DEVASTATED OMG

because children aren’t stupid, after all. he understands that his dad is still looking to surpass All Might. and so he feels like a failure, and feels like his dad is trying to replace him because he wasn’t good enough. and even now, isn’t that what the adult Touya is trying to prove?? that he was good enough after all?? “I’ll show you what happens when you give up on me, dad”?? “I’ll show you what I can do”?? fuck my life fuck everything

AND YOU CAN SEE THE TOLL THAT IT’S ALL TAKING ON REI GETTING WORSE AND WORSE AS WELL OH GOD

really nice touch here with the panel outlines becoming all shimmery from the heat of Endeavor’s flames (and/or becoming more unstable as the family gets closer and closer to their breaking point). but man, Horikoshi I can’t handle this, please show us more cute kids or something I can’t

GKELKWFJLDKSHFLKL

WITTLE BABE. BEEB. BUBS. SMOL. lkj; oh ouch a piece of my heart just detached and latched onto him huh look at that

TODOROKI “I’M SO SMALL AND I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT’S GOING ON AND I DIDN’T ASK TO BE HERE” SHOUTO AHHHHH

crazy how they all just seem to know right off the bat lol. kid doesn’t even have object permanence yet, let alone a quirk. but do they care?? IT’S THE HAIR, RIGHT. WE’RE ALL THINKING IT, I’M JUST GONNA COME OUT AND SAY IT. they knew the minute they looked at him lol

AND MEANWHILE TOUYA IS OFF HAVING UNSUPERVISED TRAINING/CRYING SESSIONS IN THE MOUNTAINS OR WHATEVER, AND, UH OH

are those blue flames yet?? they seem pretty close

(ETA: this is one of the few cases where the manga being in black and white is infuriating lol.)

OH MY GOD AND STILL

so it’s not like he was so disinterested that he didn’t notice what was happening, and he was still trying to stop it and get through to him. trying to reassure him that it wasn’t the end of the world and there were other things he could do with his life, but this one particular thing just wasn’t going to happen

fucking hell. it’s agonizing seeing how close they actually were to fixing it. if he’d only said the right words, or if he’d realized at this point how destructive his obsession could be to his kids, and backed off from putting that same pressure on Shouto. we came so close to possibly having a happy ending

AND ALSO THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH ANYTHING BUT PLEASE LOOK AT HOW TOUYA IS LIKE THREE AND A HALF FEET TALL AND HIS DAD IS LIKE NINE AND A HALF FEET. Touya barely comes past his knees flkjlkg. the Todoroki household must have been so filled with like plastic stepstools to reach the bathroom sink and all the little baby toothbrushes, and baby gates to keep the kiddos out of the important grown-up rooms and stuff. and also days-old half-empty cups of water and stale crackers and hot wheels and my little ponies strewn everywhere

“BUT EVERYONE AT SCHOOL SAYS THEY’RE GONNA BE HEROES” a wild Deku parallel appears?? how bout that

I know this is like a pivotal moment in the Todo Tragedy and all, but fucking look at this lil dumpling

“sup bro, it’s me, the manifestation of your fears of inadequacy and lack of fatherly affections. a GAAA. ba-baAA-baa [gurgling baby sounds]”

OHHHHH IT’S THE SOUND OF MY HEART BREAKING OH NO

HE WANTS TO BE LIKE YOU ENJI. good lord somebody please just get this family some therapy

“DAD YOU IGNITED IT IN ME” flkjslkj nope, nope. not ready for this pain here

baby Shouto, would you like to weigh in on this affair? “DA!! ba-ga-daaa, [pacifier chewing noises]” oh my, you don’t say. so insightful for one so young

OH MY GODDDDDD

IT’S SO DRAMATIC BUT ALL I CAN THINK ABOUT ARE THE SHOUNEN WOOSH LINES SURROUNDING FOUR-MONTH-OLD SHOUTO LOL HE WAS LIKE THIS FROM BIRTH OH MY GOD I AM DYING HELP

SHOUTO YOU’RE RUINING THIS ENTIRE CHAPTER!?!?!

“yo, the fuck kind of family was I fucking born into” oh, son. if you only knew. IF YOU ONLY KNEW!!

(ETA: lmao I got so distracted by the ridiculous cuteness that I glossed over the fact that Baby Touya seems to possibly be aiming at him?? it’s hard to tell because he’s also super out of it from heatstroke and may just be losing control in his attempt to show off his upgrade.)

ANYWAY THAT’S THE END EXCEPT WHAT’S THIS LAST LINE OMG

ffffff. and we’re in for ANOTHER chapter of this next week?? MORE drama?? MORE BABIES?? MORE OF EIGHT-YEAR-OLD TOUYA’S SLOW DESCENT INTO MADNESS. MY HEART CAN’T TAKE IT, BUT ALSO YES PLEASE SIGN ME UP

[miraculousfanworks]

Writer Spotlight: Mikauzoran

The Miraculous Fanworks Discord server is introducing the creator spotlight! Each month, one artist and one writer will have their accounts and content promoted on our social media accounts. This month's writer of the month is Mikauzoran! See the artist of the month post here! Mikauzoran is a fantastic fanfiction writer! She has written for multiple server events, zines, and more. We've interviewed Mikau about her writing, history, advice, and thoughts about the show! 1. How long have you been writing in general?

I started writing short stories almost as soon as I learned how to write, and, before that, I told anyone who would listen the stories I came up with orally. I’ve been inventing stories for as long as I can remember, and my mum assures me that I was inventing stories even before that too. I first started writing novels when I was around ten or twelve, and I completed my first one at fifteen. I’ve written several more (original fiction and fanfiction) since then, and I don’t plan on stopping any time soon.

2. How long have you been creating for the fandom, and what's your favorite part of the process?

I started writing The Rejects Club in December 2018, and I published the first chapter on January 11, 2019. This January will be my three-year anniversary of publishing content in this fandom. I’m considering holding a prompt giveaway event because three is one of my lucky numbers, and it seems like an appropriate milestone to celebrate. I think my favourite part of the process is the ideas stage. I love when the new ideas start flooding in and all I have to do is take notes on whatever napkin or scrap of paper is at hand. Things get a little harder when I have to sit down and iron things out and make everything work as a cohesive whole. That part of the process in and of itself is very rewarding, but the initial stage of the project when I’m filled with enthusiasm and inspiration for a new idea is the most fun.

3. Has there been anything in particular that influences your style?

I would say that the biggest influence on my writing is what I read. My mum always read to me as a child, so I grew up on the classics. Consequently, I developed a love for and still read a lot of old books. My favourites are French and English novels from the eighteen hundreds and early nineteen hundreds. Alexandre Dumas (Père), Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Lewis Carroll, Charlotte Brontë, Gaston Leroux, Victor Hugo, Jane Austen, George Eliot, and Maurice Leblanc have all been big influences on me. Shoutout to H.P. Lovecraft and Sir Terry Pratchett. I hope to one day write as beautifully as Lovecraft and with Pratchett’s wit. If I could trade my own style for anyone’s, it would be those two.

4. Do you have any advice you'd like to give to other creators?

Read voraciously. When you come across a new word, look it up. When you read a description or piece of dialogue and think, “Wow. That’s really good”, write it down in a little notebook and then use those notes later when you’re writing to get inspiration for how to phrase things. Don’t lift it word for word because then it won’t sound like you, but figure out how to say something similar in your own voice. The filmmaker Kurosawa Akira once said that when you read, you should do it at a desk with a notebook at hand. Analyze what you read and see what you can learn from it. My other piece of advice is to use everything. Everything bad that’s ever happened to you. Your greatest joys. Your failures. Your fears. Your regrets. Your victories. Your heartbreaks. That horrible meal you had at that greasy restaurant with abysmal service. That bright red leaf that drifted down and landed on your head. That time you played basketball in the pouring rain. That song that’s stuck in your head. That painting that moved you to tears. That terrible movie you saw the other day. Use everything from your life in your stories. It will make them feel more real…because it is real.

5. How do you think the identity reveal is going to go? Feel free to write something quick if you want to!

In canon, it will probably be a dumpster fire, honestly. I anticipate drama and multiple timelines and Marinette losing her memories at some point before the identity reveal finally sticks. I’m sure it will be a rollercoaster. What I really want, though, is something calm and fluffy. I want Ladybug to realize that her partner is struggling and needs her support, and then I want her to say “forget the rules. I need to be there for him”. I’ve written several stories like that such as Everything, I’m Learning to Love (Walking Away from Things), Behind the Masks, and Depressing Christmas Carols with Chat Noir.

Mikau can be found here on Tumblr @mikauzoran and on AO3 under the name Mikauzoran. Some of her works include I'm Learning to Love (Walking Away from Things), Your Hands Hold Home, and Drunk Ladybug on My Balcony? Yeah. This is Fine. Go check them out! Interested in being featured? Come join the server!

[flaminpumpkin]

Small treasures

“Five more minutes,” Bruce grumbled as he distantly heard the door open through his sleepy haze.

There was some shuffling sound around the room and then it was flooded with bright morning light as Alfred mercilessly opened the heavy curtains, the rays of sunshine hitting the Bat right in the face, making him scramble for the covers to hide his sensitive eyes. 

“Very well, Master Bruce. Breakfast will be ready for you in the kitchen.”

He was so used to Alfred’s barely hidden exasperation after all these years that his words took longer than usual to register with Bruce. A frown appeared on his face as he finally realized what was wrong with the butler’s statement. 

Alfred never served breakfast – or any meal for that matter – in the kitchen. 

He would rather shoo everyone out with a spatula full off batter than let anyone eat where he cooked. Bruce couldn’t even count the number of times he had seen Dick or Tim appear in the dining room with a sheepish look, a thoroughly exasperated Alfred hot on their heels. 

Pushing the sheets away just enough to uncover his head, Bruce peeked over his shoulder at the still open door, eyebrows knitting further in confusion. 

“What?”

Something caught his eyes. 

There was a piece of yellow paper on the nightstand. An origami bat, he realized after finally deciding to emerge from the sea of sheets and pillows he had buried himself in during his sleep. He reached for it and took the little paper animal gingerly between his fingers, eyes focusing enough to read “unfold me” written in elegant cursive right at its center. 

Bruce did as he was told.

Dear Master Bruce, 

My words most probably confused you as the kitchen is a place I do not tolerate for anyone to eat in. But, need I remind you, there always has been one peculiar occasion where I allowed you to do so.

A.

Bruce stared at the note, confusion growing. 

Oh.

His eyebrows raised a bit, pleasantly amused. There was indeed one occasion Alfred would let him eat in the kitchen while he worked. What did the kids put Alfred to this time? 

Led by his curiosity, Bruce climbed off the bed, fully awake now as he put on a shirt, and padded out of the bedroom, towards the kitchen. 

No one was there when he arrived, which wasn’t odd per say but he had learned to be cautious over years of attempted surprise parties. There was a plate though, on the little table, with French toasts that smelled like butter and cinnamon and a cup of coffee with probably enough sugar and cream that it didn’t even taste like coffee anymore.

It was a breakfast Alfred had always prepared for him on the morning of his birthday after his parents’ death. He would put the plate on this same table and work silently as Bruce happily ate, the two of them sharing the same space in the simplest way. It wasn’t a grand gesture but it had meant the world to him nonetheless.

Another little origami bat was waiting for him, propped against the cup. A small smile tugged at his lips.

Bruce put it aside before starting to eat, careful not to stain the paper with coffee or grease, only taking it again once he had cleared the table and washed his hands. He unfolded it with the same care as the first.

My happy place. 

(Took a piece of bread. Alfred said yes. Thank you.)

Cass

The dance studio on the third floor. 

A while back, Bruce had decided to redesign one of the biggest rooms on that floor in a place where Cass could dance that wasn’t the ball room. He had wanted for it to be a place only for her, where she could express herself and spend time however she pleased, without anyone bothering her. His greatest recompense had been the radiant smile on her face before she had locked himself in there and played music until late that night. 

The next course of action wasn’t too hard to guess so Bruce quickly folded the paper back into its bat form, slid it in the pocket of his pajama pants, along the first one, and headed for the next place.

As expected, he found another bat in Cass’s dance studio, tucked into the folds of a bright orange knitted scarf. There was a running joke between his kids saying that it was because Bruce always forgot to take a scarf with him during winter that his Batman voice sounded so bad.

One thing was for sure, he would not forget this one.

Hey B, remember that time you told me you were proud of me and then proceeded to suffocate me with your muscles? Just kidding, you give great hugs. Like, super comfy, 10/10. But yeah, go there next.

Steph :p

He huffed at Stephanie’s words, eyes rolling with fondness. He remembered perfectly what she was referring to. 

The young woman had been staying in the manor for a few days that time, Alfred being keen on keeping her under careful observation after she had been hit with a new type of fear gas while on patrol with Dick. She had continuously apologized to Bruce, blaming herself for Dick’s injuries. 

Until the third day, where he had found her reading in the library, curled up in one of the love seats. Before she could utter a word, he had crouched down and grabbed her hands firmly.

“You do not need to apologize or blame yourself for anything, do you hear me? You managed to drag Dick and yourself out of this building while under the influence of fear gas when most would have stayed frozen in place. I’m sure he will agree that a few scratches and broken bones are far better than what would have awaited him if you hadn’t been there. I’m proud of you, Stephanie Brown. More than you’ll ever know.”

After that, she had thrown herself at him and Bruce had hugged her for the better part of an hour until Alfred had come to fetch her for some blood analysis. 

This time, when he walked into the next place of this little treasure hunt, he found a laptop, sitting open on the table next to one of the windows. The windows of the library were wide and high and the spot where the next gift awaited was one of his favorites. 

So he let himself sink in the armchairs cushions and started to play the video.

“You better not ruin this, Todd,” Damian was saying, standing next to the piano in the lounge of the west wing, violin already positioned on his shoulder.

Jason was scowling at the piano in front of him, focused.

“Just take the lead, brat. I’ll follow.”

“Could you two focus, please?” Tim said off camera.

The other two huffed with the same affronted look towards the camera.

Then the melody started and both of their faces softened. It was gentle, melancholic. Almost sad if you asked Bruce. But he listened with a smile on his face, bemused at the sight of his two quick tempered sons playing with a soft kind of intensity together, Jason following Damian’s lead flawlessly – probably the result of hours of practice. It was truly beautiful and he knew that the melody was one of Damian’s compositions. 

But it was over too soon for Bruce’s taste so he played it a second time, closing his eyes. And then a third as he read the next message, only heading for the next place once it was over.

Blah blah blah, some cute shit about us bonding, blah blah blah. Just get your ass to the garage old man.

Ps: Remember your Aston Martin? I think I scratched it a bit but I’ll blame it on Timmy anyway. 

Jay.

Bruce knew exactly which car Jason was talking about (and knew perfectly that he didn't scratch it). An Aston Martin DB5 he had inherited from his father. Nobody had driven it in ages when Jason had brought it up during dinner one evening, not long after he had taken him in. 

“Isn’t that James Bond's car?”

“It is. But it’s been so long since the last time I used it, I’ll probably need to pop open the hood before anything else if I want to drive it again.”

“Can I help you fix it?”

Jason’s eyes had been so full of hope and excitement when he had asked Bruce. He had laughed before agreeing. The next day, Alfred had had to come and pry them away from the car for lunch because both of them had forgotten about eating in their eagerness. 

He noticed a tape case on the board as he approached, in front of the wheel. Bruce opened the door and climbed in so he could reach for it easily. On the piece of paper tucked between the clear case and the tape, Bruce could see every song scribbled, one in each of his children’s handwriting. He recognized a song by The Clash in Tim’s handwriting – of course – and Midnight Sonata in Damian’s. The other titles and artists were mostly lost on him, except maybe for that Belgian one Cass listened to a lot.  

I can’t count the number of times I fell asleep there while you worked and you had to carry me back to my room.

Dick

Bruce couldn’t recount either.

Although he remembered fondly the first time Dick had fallen asleep in his study, curled up in one of the seats across his desk while he worked on some urgent papers for WE. They both had been so young. Bruce being completely new to parenthood, he had seeked out Alfred who had only fixed him with a blank stare before sending him back.

“Don’t you dare wake up this child, Master Bruce.”

He had actually managed to pick up the gangly child without waking him up, even if rather awkwardly, and had carried him all the way to his bedroom uneventfully. Only to trip on one of Dick’s schoolbooks once there, nearly dropping him. 

They had both elected not to mention it to Alfred and, to this day, it was still something only the two of them knew about.

When he arrived at his study, another message was waiting for him in the seat Dick used to sleep in, along with a gift card for that 24 hours coffee shop that had opened recently in downtown Gotham. Bruce let out a breathy laugh at that.

I know you always listen when I play, Father. Why do you think I leave my door open when I do?

D. Wayne

And here he thought he had been smooth. However, he should have expected that his son would pick up on his habit of passing by his room while he rehearsed with his violin. 

But Bruce couldn’t resist the pull in his chest. Damian was a gifted player, just like Jason, able to translate raw emotions in barely a few notes. It always put his mind at ease, smoothed out his most troubled thoughts even for only a few moments. He had caught everyone at least once, standing outside of his youngest’s door, listening to soft melodies in a rare moment of peace. 

It was silent moments shared with everyone, brought together by Damian's deft fingers. Something he had been doing knowingly and willingly apparently. It made it all the more special for Bruce.

There was no gift when he went searching for the next clue in Damian’s room. Or so he thought.

Sitting on his son’s music-stand along with yet another yellow origami bat, was an open partition. It was still in work, Bruce could tell. Notes were hastily written with a pencil, a few stains where some had been erased. Nothing out of the ordinary for Damian and his creative mind. Except for the title.

Ode to Family. 

Thankfully, no one was around to witness the shuddering breath that escaped him as he read. He exited the room still unable to breathe normally, heart so full he almost felt like suffocating, and walked towards his next – and probably last – location.

You spent hours trying to teach me how to dance the waltz there after I told you I wanted to take Steph dancing for her birthday. I still don’t know how to dance but we had fun.

Tim

Indeed, Bruce still regularly caught Tim stepping on his partner’s toes during charity galas and other events. But he suspected the young man of going to great lengths to not learn how to dance correctly because it usually dissuaded most people from asking him to dance with them. And god knew how much his son disliked dancing. 

That was why it had greatly surprised him when Tim had asked him for help.

“I wasn’t really the best boyfriend to her so I just… I thought I could at least be a good friend and take her dancing? She loves it when Cass takes her in the studio and they dance so I just thought… Yeah…”

Five hours later, Tim had made absolutely no progress. He had known the steps by heart at this point, had it memorized and yet, he couldn’t seem to stop stomping on Bruce’s toes. To both Dick’s and Alfred’s delight.

His eldest son probably still had videos of it, he thought as he entered the vast and empty ballroom. There was nothing out of the ordinary or out of place and Bruce almost expected for his family to sneak up on him and surprise him when he noticed one last, black origami bat on the wooden floor, right in the center of the room. 

He crouched down and unfolded it slowly, warily even, some would say.

Terrace on the second floor. You know, the one where I inelegantly asked you to marry me and you just stared for a good five minutes before laughing. (And saying yes, of course.)

It wasn’t signed and even if the message wasn’t telling enough, he would recognize that hasty scribble everywhere.

Bruce took off, climbing stairs two by two and running down hallways. His heart was pounding in his chest. 

He had been gone for six months. Six excruciatingly long months of absolutely no contact, of not having any means to make sure his husband-to-be – yes, that idiot had asked him to marry him just before leaving – was still alive and well. Six months of worrying, of his children asking nervously if he had any news of his whereabouts. 

Bruce barged through the French doors leading to the wide terrace on the second floor of the manor and, surely enough, everyone was there. Absolutely everyone. 

“Happy birthday, Spooky. Half a century, we gotta celebrate,” Hal drawled with an easy grin.

“Someone take the cake away from Hal. Right now, before they ruin it!” Bruce heard someone say distantly and, next thing he knew, he had taken the few steps still separating them and was kissing Hal, holding him close by the lapels on his jacket. 

There were groans, cheers and something that sounded a lot like someone telling them to get a room. Hal laughed against his lips, pecked him one last time before pulling away, opening his arms widely with a grin. A clear invitation for everyone to pile up on them which everyone took with great enthusiasm, barreling into them and crushing Bruce and Hal under their combined weight.

[joachimnapoleon]

Meet the Bonapartes--Louis (3/4)

I left off with Part 2 of this an embarrassingly long time ago, but I'm trying to make it a habit of finishing more of the things I start, so I don't want to leave this hanging. So, one year later, here is Part 3 of my write-up on Louis Bonaparte, and I promise Part 4 will not have a similar gap in between.

(Part 1) (Part 2)

***

Louis had been sincere in his declaration, upon accepting the throne of Holland, that he had "become Dutch." He immersed himself in Dutch culture, encouraged his Dutch courtiers to wear their traditional clothing at court balls, and tried to learn and speak Dutch--sometimes with comedic results, such as when he declared himself the Konijn (rabbit), rather than Koning (king) of Holland. His subjects appreciated his efforts nonetheless.

They also appreciated the initiative Louis showed when tragedy struck early in his reign. On 12 January 1807, a ship bearing hundreds of barrels of gunpowder exploded in the Dutch city of Leiden, blowing up hundreds of buildings and killing 150 people, and injuring thousands. Louis immediately left for Leiden and oversaw the recovery efforts, earning him the nickname "Louis the Good" from a grateful populace.

[Aftermath of the Leiden explosion, by Johannes Jelgerhuis]

Louis began his reign with a flurry of activity, writing to Napoleon to request a number of measures intended to favor his new subjects. He requested a reduction in the number of French garrisons in the kingdom, a new treaty of commerce with France, and the right to choose his own men for his Royal Guard. Napoleon granted these, but refused his brother's request for a loan, arguing that the expenses of France were so great that he was unable to give Louis any money.

The Dutch climate negatively impacted Louis's perpetually delicate health from the beginning, but he rarely left the country for much-needed stays at health resorts; this was especially true later in his reign after his relationship with Napoleon had deteriorated so badly that Louis began to fear that he might be deposed in his absence.

That deterioration did not take long to commence. Napoleon began finding fault with Louis's reign almost from the beginning. Napoleon had intended for Louis to play a key role in the 1806 campaign against Prussia, and was seriously disappointed with his brother's sluggish movements and lack of cooperation with Marshal Mortier during the campaign. When, towards the end of the campaign, Louis balked at attempting to seize Hanover in spite of his greatly superior numbers, Napoleon's displeasure with his younger brother was complete. But Napoleon still took care to preserve Louis's reputation; Louis's forfeiture of his command to Mortier and subsequent return to Holland were attributed to bad health, and further territory from Napoleon's conquests was added to Louis's kingdom. Returning to his kingdom, Louis received a hero’s welcome.

If Napoleon was irritated with Louis's conduct during the campaign, Louis, in turn, was angered by the retention of Dutch troops in Germany after the war, commanded by a French general; this, in Louis's eyes, was proof that he was to be little more than a puppet-king. His flagging health notwithstanding, Louis spent the winter working to further assert his independence by implementing public works projects, reorganizing his kingdom's administration and law code, and creating his own military orders, the Order of Union and the Order of Merit. A major point of contention arose between Louis and Napoleon when Louis announced that he intended to introduce the rank of marshal into the Dutch army and navy. Napoleon wrote to him scornfully on 2 January 1807:

Do you think a French general of division would take orders from your Dutch marshals? You are aping French organization, though your circumstances are utterly different. Why not begin by establishing the conscription and having a real army?

He followed it up more bluntly and concisely a week later: "There is nobody in Holland fit to hold such high rank." Louis viewed this as an insult and persisted in implementing the rank, until Napoleon finally ordered him to abolish it as one of numerous conditions to which Louis was forced to concede in early 1810 in order to retain his kingdom. On the subject of conscription, Louis would successfully resist its implementation, despite Napoleon's repeated demands, to the end of his reign.

Louis's relationship with his wife, meanwhile, remained fraught. Hortense had stayed with her mother, the Empress Josephine, during the campaign, and did not return to the Hague until months after her husband, prompting a quarrel. Mutual recriminations abounded: Hortense was upset over Louis's attentions to a Dutch lady at court; Louis, in turn, complained of Hortense's conduct. Napoleon became aware of the conflict and wrote reprovingly to his brother:

You have the best and most virtuous of wives, and you make her miserable. Let her dance as much as she likes; it is only right at her age. I have a wife of forty, and from the battlefield I write to her that she must go to balls; and with a wife who is only twenty and naturally wishes to live her life and has still some of the illusions of youth, you want her to live as if she were in a convent, or to be busy always like a nurse with her children? You yourself are too much shut up in your study and not about enough in public business. I would not say all this unless I thought so much of you. Make the mother of your children happy. You have only one way of doing this, and that is by showing her a great deal of esteem and confidence.

Louis was stung, and protested to Napoleon that he was being misrepresented to the Emperor by rumormongers. The domestic quarrels continued, as did the gossip they inspired at the Dutch court.

The estranged royal couple suffered a severe blow with the unexpected death of their eldest son, Napoleon Charles. The boy, who had been regarded by the still childless Napoleon as the heir to the Empire, had fallen ill in late April 1807. Louis frantically summoned numerous physicians to tend to the child; multiple remedies were attempted; but all without success. The four-year-old child died at midnight on the 5th of May. Hortense was almost insensible with grief and had to be taken away from the palace. Caroline Murat arrived soon to be at Hortense's side, followed shortly thereafter by Josephine. Hortense eventually left to take the waters in the Pyrenees, and Napoleon gave Louis permission to leave his kingdom to join her in early June. At the end of the summer, Josephine arranged for Hortense, who was still very unwell, to remain with her while Louis returned to Holland. Their younger son, Napoleon Louis, remained with Josephine at Fontainebleau as well. This tragedy drew Hortense and Louis together in their shared grief, but the reunion was short-lived.

[Queen Hortense with Napoleon Charles]

Before Louis's return to Holland, he had argued over political matters with Napoleon. The Emperor wanted more troops from Holland; Louis replied that he could not afford to raise them, due to his kingdom's economy suffering from the recently enacted Berlin Decree, which prohibited all trade with England. But Napoleon was unwilling to grant any concessions on this subject, and it would ultimately be Louis's inability--which Napoleon would interpret as unwillingness--to enforce the ban on English trade, that would spell Louis's downfall.

The 1809 war brought Louis's kingdom under threat from attack by the English, who intended for an expedition to seize Antwerp. Antwerp, however, was a French fortress, and as such, Louis was technically not allowed to interfere with it; but his warnings to Napoleon of its vulnerabilities went unheeded. Louis pleaded with Napoleon that his entire kingdom was defenseless due to Napoleon sending Dutch divisions off to Spain and Westphalia; Louis was left with fewer than 9,000 soldiers in Holland. Napoleon refused to reinforce Louis and downplayed the English threat; when the invasion actually occurred, he then blamed Louis for it. Invoking his title as Grand Constable of France in order to take command of the French troops, Louis set to work arming his fortifications and extending river defenses. On the 16th of August, he handed over command of the forces at Antwerp to Marshal Bernadotte. The English expedition ultimately floundered, out of a combination of disease and incompetence.

Napoleon, rather than thanking or lauding Louis for his efforts, blasted him in his correspondence. Louis was told that his office of Grand Constable was purely civil and honorary and gave him no right to command French troops. He questioned how Louis could expect anyone to respect Holland's independence when he refused to provide a larger army and navy for its defense. Without a larger army, his kingdom was a farce.

Louis protested that he was being treated unjustly. He had already heard whispers that Napoleon was planning to annex Holland to France, and garrison it with French troops. As he would soon learn, these were more than just whispers. By late 1809, Napoleon had not only lost faith in Louis, but had come to suspect his brother of disloyalty. In the Emperor’s mind, his brother was far too sympathetic to the Dutch nobility, whom Napoleon distrusted for their ties to the English. Nor did Napoleon appreciate Louis's attachment to the Dutch people and his insistence on promoting Dutch culture at every turn. But above all, Napoleon could not abide his brother's failure to enforce the blockade against English trade; this, in the words of biographer Michael Broers, "was the issue that turned incapacity into treason in his mind." Napoleon was determined that his Continental System be upheld at all costs; he was not oblivious to the suffering this would entail, as he made it clear to Louis in one particularly menacing letter:

Make searches and seize English goods, and [then] my customs men will respect your territory. If you don't do it, I will, as is my right.... The blockade will ruin many commercial cities, Lyon, Amsterdam, Rotterdam, but this state of anxiety must be got over; it must go on to the end.

The efforts of smugglers and corrupt/patriotic police notwithstanding, the blockade wreaked havoc on the commercial cities, just as Napoleon had anticipated. Writes Broers:

Amsterdam plunged into harrowing decline in every sense. Emigration caused by the collapse of commerce was compounded by the spread of diseases related to poverty, reducing its population from 202,000 in 1808, to little more than 180,000 by 1815. Its shipyards, which had employed 2,000 men in 1800, had barely 500 by 1808. Empty towns stood in ruins, while shanty towns along the canals swelled. Poverty was manifest in the city, and even the number of taverns declined. The local system of poor relief and charity that Louis had inherited from the old republic was stretched to the breaking point by the unprecedented speed and scale of Napoleon's manufactured crisis; it is estimated that between 30 and 40 per cent of the population of Amsterdam depended on poor relief by 1809.

And yet Napoleon remained displeased with his brother's enforcement of the blockade, and was convinced that Louis was deliberately acting to thwart him. When the entire imperial family was summoned to Paris in December 1809 for what would be the announcement of Napoleon's divorce and ensuing re-marriage plans, Louis suspected--rightly--that he might be walking into an ambush. He warned his ministers that he might be coerced into signing documents against his will, and that they were to only regard documents signed with his Dutch name--Lodewijk--as valid. In the event of an attempted French occupation of the country, his commanders were to offer a passive resistance, bringing their men inside their fortresses, closing their gates, and raising their drawbridges.

Napoleon welcomed Louis to Paris coldly; at their second meeting, he told him frankly that he intended to annex Holland, and that if Louis resisted, he would find himself at war with France. "Holland," he said, "is nothing but an English colony, more hostile to France than England herself. I mean to eat up Holland!"

In a bid to keep his kingdom, Louis pleaded for a compromise, and demonstrated a willingness to make concessions, including increased enforcement of the blockade and a ceding of territory. Napoleon sent orders to suspend Oudinot's march to occupy Holland, so that negotiations could proceed. But first, there was the issue of the divorce. Louis attempted to piggyback on his brother's divorce from Josephine by petitioning the Emperor for the arrangement of a formal separation from Hortense. Napoleon, instead, decided to have the matter decided by a family council. Though the two would not be permitted to divorce, it was decided that they might live apart; Hortense was permitted to remain in Paris and given an income of half a million francs. She also retained custody of Louis's eldest son, to Louis's bitter disappointment.

During this interim, Napoleon's mind had changed about his earlier negotiations with Louis. He predicted that Louis would not be able to meet the requirements they had agreed upon, and that the annexation would only be deferred. Harsher terms were drawn up--Louis was required to cede to France all his territory up to the left bank of the Rhine; he was forbidden to trade or communicate with England; he was required to build an army of 25,000 men and increase the size of his navy; and the rank of marshal was to be eliminated from the Dutch military. Louis was prohibited from returning to his kingdom until the agreement was signed. The treaty was finally signed on the 16th of March; Louis arrived back in Amsterdam on the 11th of April. Despite his earlier agreement to let Hortense remain in Paris, Napoleon had insisted on her returning to Holland as well. Hortense dreaded the return. "I wrote the Emperor a despairing letter," she recorded in her memoirs. "He did not answer me." Upon her arrival, Hortense writes that Louis "was overjoyed to see his son again but paid little or no attention to me."

Louis's unhappy queen leaves the following portrait of her life at court during this time, on the brink of her husband's deposition:

Word would be sent me when dinner was ready that the King was waiting for me. While we were at the table he would scarcely say a word. After the meal the King would thrum on the piano, which stood open. He would take his son on his knees, kiss him and lead him out on the balcony which overlooked the square. The crowd, catching sight of them, would give a few cheers. The King would re-enter the room, return to the piano, recite some French poetry or hum an air. I would stay in an armchair, not saying a word and watching what went on in the room. When a few hours had passed, my husband, becoming conscious of the strained situation, would ring and send for the Dutch members of our household and the ladies in waiting. Card-tables would be brought out. Sometimes I played also and at nine o'clock I returned to my apartments after having said good night, the only word we had spoken to one another. This is an exact picture of how I spent my days at Amsterdam.

Hortense did not remain in the kingdom for long. Her health suffered, and it was soon determined that it would be better for her to return to France. She left her husband for the final time on 16 May 1810.

The Sword of Damocles was not long in descending on Louis. An assault on a coachman of the French ambassador gave Napoleon all the excuse he needed to finally carry out his plan to annex Holland. Napoleon demanded that the perpetrators be arrested and hanged; Louis's ministers pointed out the impossibility of identifying them. Oudinot was ordered to march on Amsterdam.

Louis briefly considered appealing to Russia or Austria for help, but it was far too late. He had word sent to Oudinot that, though his troops would receive no welcome, they would also meet no resistance. Louis made some final, hasty financial arrangements, including selling some of the Dutch estates he had acquired and transferring his diamonds out of the country.

On 1 July 1810, Louis abdicated in favor of his second son, Napoleon Louis. The following night, he boarded a carriage accompanied by his captain of the guards, an aide-de-camp, and his favorite dog, Tiel, and headed east. In one last parting blow, Tiel was hit and killed at a horse-changing station on the road. Louis was devastated. "It was," writes biographer Atteridge, "he said, part of his bad luck, that now haunted him everywhere."

For weeks, Napoleon was unable to ascertain the whereabouts of his brother. "We don't know where he has gone, and we know nothing about this lunacy." He asked Hortense if she had any word of him. Writes Hortense in her memoirs, “Real anxiety as regards what had happened to the King was my first reaction. No one knew where he had retired. I imagined that he had left for America, alone, with no one to help him, no one to console him. His fate aroused my sympathy. I almost came to believe that I had become fond of him, now that he had known misfortune." Louis finally wrote to Madame Mère from the health resort of Toeplitz, that he was "as well as can be expected, and well out of affairs to which I will never return."

Regarding Napoleon's feelings towards Louis, Broers concludes that they were

an ill-sorted mixture of piercing truth and injustice clouded by the deepest kind of hatred, rooted in love betrayed. Yet, Napoleon worried about Louis' safety once 'the business' was over. He did not harbour the fanatical hatred that leads to murder. Even after his ill treatment of Hortense, Louis was his brother, and Bonapartes did not practise 'insular vendetta.' Nevertheless, in the world of high politics, Louis' end signaled the end of his faith in his brothers.

***

Sources:

Atteridge, A. Hillard. Napoleon’s Brothers, 1909.

Broers, Michael. Napoleon: Spirit of the Age. 2018.

De Beauharnais, Hortense. Memoirs of Queen Hortense, Vol I.

Masson, Frédéric. Napoleon et sa Famille, Vol I (1796-1802), 1907.

Roberts, Andrews. Napoleon: A Life. 2014.

[sugar-petals]

BTS Scenario: Dating a Tall Girl

a/n. inspired by anon who like me is a honorary member of the ‘taller than my bias’ assembly so let’s treat ourselves shall we 💃

warnings ⚠️  none, all fluff :)

➸ Taehyung Listen, listen. Here is the MVP. I mean think about it. Why’d you not put a model next to the shining man who embodies Gucci, Dolce, Gabbana, Versace, Armani, Prada, the Italian and French spirit! He can’t help but wanting to put designer clothes and accessories on her and show up together with her to stun at social events. That’s a lot of press and praise they’ll be getting. It’s only logical. Presents galore are on their way, she will be terribly spoiled and revered and he’ll admit he’s absolutely overdoing it. And then again, she’s also his number one cuddlebot and girl to hug in his sleep. No longer embracing pillows for this gent, and you can imagine he is in good hands. To summarize: It’s an all-round good idea.

➸ Seokjin Has been praying for a 6′2 queen for years. Being way on eye level with the number one worldwide handsome man sure is like a knighting or hitting the jackpot. Definitely knows how its like up there and will laugh at silly or embarrassing head bumping stories together with her. Tall life is like being a disoriented stormtrooper in a tiny ass spaceship, let’s be honest. Or they go on endless rants about never finding the right trousers because legs legs legs. Some Jinmoney has to solve that problem with a personal tailor am I right. As for their favorite activity: Jin will paddle out on a lake regularly to do some fishing together. Four long arms have a better chance than just two, so. It’s not the biggest ever deal to him, Seokjin doesn’t think it’s her utmost defining feature in their relationship.

➸ Yoongi Our open-minded fella (funny way to put it but you’ve heard him destroying ideal type stereotypes at fansigns a hundred times) who, despite being the smallest in the group, aims high in his usual manner. What Yoongi wants, Yoongi loves, and Yoongi gets. Or... does he date her to feel extra cute? Maybe so, maybe so! If he admits it, he’s a little bit jealous of her height, but also deeply protected. What other gf could feel like home and have such major roommate vibes. In his practical mind, and with time in particular, things get much more sorted out. If she has what he can’t have, and he himself is perky pocket size, why not fully capitalize on it. Yoongi will also draw inspiration for his songs out of her looks. 

➸ Jimin So, the sweet mochi man it is. A more difficult case. Will, as you might already suspect, take some time to get used to this when it plays out in daily life. But I think he’s gonna realize something. Just because he’s the tiny one, it doesn’t mean he’s less loved or gets overlooked because that’s what he fears, not actually being too smol. In fact, he owns his height really well once he knows he’s not ignored. Now: All the heaps of her affection arguably can’t be stored in his height but surely in his fluffy hair that can hold all the compliments in the world. So there’s that. What is gonna be immense fun to him is doing athletic activities with her. It’s always a sexy thing to do couple yoga or latin dance as a height difference pair. I think at the bottom of his heart, Jimin knows he makes the best little spoon.

➸ Hoseok What he thinks about her height? Swag! Looks up to her literally and figuratively and he enjoys it. Meanwhile, a lot of situational comedy will arise, I’m telling you. Hobi is going to tease her a bit for her occasionally lanky dancing if he dares. Maybe after a beer or two. She will simply say it’s ‘exquisitely Namjoonesque’ and call it a day. Nobody in their right mind will argue about their own jopping skills in front of Jung Hoseok. Now, in all seriousness. If his mixtape is blasting she will unlock new levels of moving her body, what did you think! He is definitely impressed by her physique and you know... the making out will be steamy out in public because this girl makes Hoseok reckless oh my god.

➸ Namjoon Talk about Joonie. We’ve heard he likes tall girls. And hey, the man is equipped with delicious logic, he got this figured out from the start. You gotta make the couple proportions work you know. So of course he won’t hesitate to ask her out once he worked out her character and if he’s her taste. Past that point, overcautious Namjoon is out the door, RM will take over from there. All of town quickly spreads the word because this double tower power simply cannot be overlooked strutting down the pavements. And, man. If Namjoon doesn’t come along with someone who can’t pinch his dimples, all that architectural efforts that God exerted when creating RM was for naught. Yeah boy, this is what a viking couple looks like. 

➸ Jungkook Frequent things he will say under his breath in reaction to her: “Just like Tyra Banks!” — “Blake Lively style!” — and even: “That was like Namjoon did it!” — Long story short, Jungkook can’t really hide his mixture of complete adoration and envy. How the world is like in her eyes is the most interesting thing to him, no wonder he’s always found by her side. So, it takes him a while to settle for a more moderate feeling about the height difference. He’s the kinda guy who formerly wished to be taller but has started to accept that he is somewhere in the middle where it’s actually a very comfortable spot as he learns. He likes to sit down with her to brush her hair or give a back massage.

art: Windflowers (1903) — by John W. Waterhouse

[venhedish]

Ven’s Masterlist of SPN Fic

I write mostly pre-series and early seasons Big Feels™ Wincest fic. There’s a lot of angst and pining here, but plenty of love and devotion mixed in with the darkness.

I always deeply, deeply appreciate likes, kudos, comments, and reblogs!

Wincest Fic

Stand-Alone

Yesterday is a Ghost I Believe In ~4.1k, Teen, Pre-series, Epistolary, Multimedia, Experimental There's an old shoebox under Sam Winchester's bed. It's been there almost as long as he can remember. He doesn't look inside it very often, but when he does, he takes his time. A multimedia collection of letters, journal entries, pictures, and other ephemera from a life on the road. .

That Monster, Love ~2k, Teen, Pre-series, POV Outsider, POV John Winchester, John Finds Out, Angst “You think you’re doing your boys any favors, raisin’ ‘em like this?” .

To Cure My Lonesome Blood ~8.8k, Explicit, Pre-series, Pining Dean, Angst, Bittersweet Ending Dean’s been sick since before either of them was born. The disease is incurable, written into his blood – the same blood he shares with his brother. If he’s not careful, the fever will spread like a fire and consume them both. .

Like Sand, Like Water, Like Sunlight ~1.7k, Gen, Pre-series, Mutual Pining, Angst, Pre-Slash Sea birds circle overhead and Dean wishes he had a camera. Sam looks so young, all of twelve years old, and exhilarated. Dean wants to hold this image in the chambers of his heart, but his pulse just carries it along; time is cruel that way. .

The Space Between Sense and Memory ~4.8k, Teen, Pre-series through Season 1, 5-and-1 Things There are a hundred unwritten rules on all the acceptable ways brothers should touch each other. There are hardly any ways at all to break them. Or; five times they follow the rules and one time they don’t. .

Every Goodbye, all at Once ~900, Teen, Pre-series, Stanford Era, Pining Dean, Angst, Epistolary "Hey, It's Sam. If you're looking for my dad, you can reach him at 866-555-9352. If you're looking for me, leave a message." A series of voicemails Dean leaves at the number Sam left behind. .

Breathe You In (Choke You Down) ~6k, Explicit, Season 01, PWP, Scent Kink, Guilty Dean Winchester Once Sam was gone, Dean missed him in a way that was all-consuming, all the way down – so deep in his bones that he shook with loneliness some nights. And it was the familiar scent of his brother’s hair where it tangled warm against the pillows, his pulse beating under his skin and sending the fear of the hunt wafting off of him in waves that Dean struggled to hold onto the hardest. Dean really likes the way Sam smells..  .

Dawn is Coming (Open Your Eyes) ~5k, Explicit, Season 01, Hurt/Comfort, Getting Back Together In which Sam and Dean suffer new wounds and stitch old ones back together. There’s an awful storm, a dead monster, an injury, and a whole lot of feelings. .

You put the Magic in Me ~9.1k, Explicit, Season 02(ish), Sex Pollen, Porn with Plot, Casefic “This is the weirdest thing we’ve ever done for a case,” Dean says under his breath, leaning into Sam and scouting the crowd gathered around a dozen tables inside the little café. “Dude, relax,” Sam says back, eyebrows raising at his brother’s nervous energy. “I thought this would be, like, your thing.” He gestures vaguely to the women milling around inside. A long, vividly red banner hangs across the open french doors that lead into the space, emblazoned with the words The Oolong Tea Room Presents: Lonely Hearts Club Speed Dating! Feb 11-14th! Or; in which Sam and Dean learn a thing or two about chemistry. .

The Stars are not Wanted Now ~2k, Teen, Season 02, Episode Tag: s02e21 All Hell Breaks Loose, Angst, Death Rituals There was a body on the bed.  It had been there long enough that the slanting light of morning crept into the room like an unwelcome invader and washed the world in a dream-shade of palest blue.   But there were no dreams here; only death, only memory. The body on the bed was all that remained of Samuel Winchester, who had died in his brother’s arms the night before. .

Demi-Gods and Hungry Ghosts ~5.8k, Explicit, Season 03, Episode Tag: s03e11 Mystery Spot, Dark, Dub-con, Hurt No Comfort This dream-state of living on pause and rewind leads to some interesting avenues of thought that Sam doesn’t mean to travel, but after a certain number of unrelenting Tuesdays, they just become inevitable. If Dean dies every day—if his memories are wiped, or if they never happen at all—what could Sam get away with, if he wanted to? Could he dare to find out?  .

In Sanguine Vita Est   ~5.2k, Explicit, Season 04, Knifeplay, Dean’s Hell Trauma, Hurt/Comfort Everything was different now. Dean was here—back from the fucking dead—but he was a stranger in his own body. Scars gone, aches from broken bones that hadn’t set right vanished back into the void as if they’d never existed at all. He’d become a stranger to the whole world. He’d become a stranger to Sam. _ Dean asks Sam to help him heal after he returns from Hell. .

All Heartless Spectres, Happiness ~5.7k, Explicit, Season 06, Episode Tag: s06e06 You Can’t Handle the Truth, POV Outsider, Angst, Soulless Sam Lisa Braeden receives an email with the subject line, "You Deserve to Know." It contains a single video file and nothing else. .

The Rungs of Me be Under You ~1.6k, Teen, Gencest, Post-Bunker, 2nd Person POV, Queerplatonic Sam and Dean, Non-Sexual Kink What they share has never been easy to define. Why should this be any different?  .

Wincest Series The Top/Bottom Discourse Series (Ongoing) [Each story is canon compliant and listed chronologically, but they can all be read as standalone works.] This series was born originally from a silly meta post I made on Tumblr as a response to some very angry top/bottom discourse I was seeing about how only Sam could truly be A Top™, or how only Dean could truly be A Top™. I personally like to kink and let kink and not drag outdated gender politics into my fandom (Dean can't be a bottom because he's too masculine? Ice cold take, bro), so I wrote a filthy little tongue-in-cheek post about all the ways I think Sam and Dean have fucked each other over the years.

 I’m Thinking About Whatever You’re Thinking About ~5.1k, Explicit, Pre-series, PWP, Bratty Sam, Exhibitionism, Fear of Discovery Sam is such a brat, sometimes. .

 Shoot to Thrill ~6.7k, Explicit, Season 02, Porn with Plot, Hustling, Getting Back Together It's just like riding a bike. .

Burn Out The Night ~4.9k, Explicit, Season 08, Porn with Plot, Car Sex, Light BDSM, Fluff What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. .

Destiel Fic

Love Made a Martyr of Me ~500, Teen, Season 05, Endverse, Past Sam/Dean, Angst Sam says yes in Detroit, and in the space of a single syllable, there's nothing left in Heaven or on Earth for Dean to love. Cas doesn't seem to care. .

The Sharp Teeth of the One You Love ~2k, Teen, Season 05, Endverse, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Pining “Quit bein’ a baby, Cas.” Dean’s hands were covered in blood, but they were steady as always while he worked to stitch Castiel back together. “I’m sorry,” Cas growled between gritted teeth. “I don’t exactly have a lot of experience feeling pain.” He hissed again when Dean slid the curved needle back through the eight-inch-long gash that ran deep and bloody down Cas’s bicep. Castiel learns something about what it means to be human. .

Wincestiel Fic

Temerate ~700, Teen, Season 05(ish), Past Sam/Dean, 2nd Person POV, First Time Your brother is sitting in the corner of the motel room. His big hands are worrying at each other; he squeezes them together, fingertips white from the pressure of his grip. He meets your eyes and his gaze is like a lightning strike. .

Dean/John Fic

Cruore ~1.1k, Mature, Pre-series, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Blood, Intrusive Thoughts Bites, Dean could deal with – claw marks and broken bones. But this- ... a bullet was a different kind of monster altogether. .

Supernatural RPF

Il Cielo in Una Stanza ~4.4k, Explicit, Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki, Getting Back Together, Prequel-Gate, Polyamory, Non-AU Jared Padalecki receives a present he wasn't expecting at all for his 39th birthday. . 

Other Supernatural Fic

Bad Things, Better Reasons ~2k, Explicit, Pre-series, Dean Does Sex Work, Angst, Brotherly Love. Dean does whatever it takes to keep the bills paid while John is gone. The kid waiting for him back at the motel room is all the justification he’ll ever need. .

No Was Her Name ~1.3k, Teen, Season 12, Dean/Mary, Light Angst, First Kiss Mary Winchester was alive. She was solid—made of skin and blood and bone—and she existed in the same world as Dean. It wasn’t a dream; she walked and talked and breathed. She ate, she slept, she wandered the halls of the bunker at odd hours. She was a ghost made flesh, and Dean was haunted by her presence. .

[miserablesme]

The Les Miserables Changelog Part 2: 1985-1986 West End

Hello, everyone! This is the latest edition in my attempt to chronicle all of the musical and lyrical changes which the show Les Miserables has undergone over the years. Today, we look at the differences between the later of the two available Barbican preview audios (more on that in Part 1) and the West End variant of the musical as it existed in 1986. Only one rather poor quality audio is available of the show's pre-Broadway, post-Barbican form (though a friend of a friend has multiple masters from the era that she apparently keeps meaning to digitize). It is known to come from 1986, but the exact date remains a mystery. As such we cannot know when exactly most of the changes might have been made.

Reportedly (according to The Complete Book of Les Miserables) the majority of these refinements were made between the closing of the Barbican show and the opening of the West End one. However, some further refinements were doubtless made during the Barbican previews, and some likely were made between the opening of the West End production and whenever the audio was recorded. With all that cleared up, let's get started!

As I mentioned in Part 1, the very early Barbican previews of the opening "Work Song" featured this chain of lyrics (no pun intended):

I’ve done no wrong

Sweet Jesus, hear my prayer

Look down, look down

Sweet Jesus doesn’t care

I killed a man

He tried to steal my wife

Look down, look down

She wasn’t worth your life

I know she’ll wait

I know that she’ll be true

Look down, look down

She’s long forgotten you

As has also been established, later previews removed one sequence of lines to create the following exchange:

I’ve done no wrong

Sweet Jesus, hear my prayer

Look down, look down

Sweet Jesus doesn’t care

I killed a man

He tried to steal my wife

Look down, look down

She wasn’t worth your life

However, by 1986 another sequence was removed and the originally removed one was added back then. Thus, the still-current lyrics as of today are as follows:

I’ve done no wrong

Sweet Jesus, hear my prayer

Look down, look down

Sweet Jesus doesn’t care

I know she’ll wait

I know that she’ll be true

Look down, look down

She’s long forgotten you

A much better choice of cuts in my opinion. The point of the opening scene is to present the prisoners sympathetically, as comparatively innocent victims of an overly brutal and elitist police system. Establishing a member of the chain gang as literally being a murderer doesn't really help send that message!

Everything stays the same until "Fantine's Arrest". The Barbican previews feature this sequence:

(FANTINE)

There's a child who sorely needs me

Please monsieur, she's but that high

Holy God! Is there no mercy?

If I go to jail she'll die

(TOWNSPEOPLE[?])

Take this harlot now this minute

Let there be a full report

Let her go back in the morning

Let her answer to the court

(FANTINE)

Gentle Jesus! Won't you save me?

Are there tears enough to cry?

(JAVERT)

It's the same pathetic story

Please monsieur, my child will die!

I have heard such protestations...

By the 1986 recording, everything between "Take this harlot" and "Please monsieur, my child will die!" has been totally removed. I have a bit of a soft spot for that sequence, though I can't earnestly say the musical lost anything by removing it. Indeed Javert comes across as unbelievably heartless there!

As Part 1 pointed out, the earlier Barbican preview had Valjean shout "You know where to find me!" at the end of "Who Am I?", while the later preview did not. The 1986 recording interestingly reinserts that line, but now Valjean speaks it much more casually, without the slightly cheesy passion of the first recording. This makes me wonder whether or not it was initially removed because it was hard to take seriously, and a calmer rendition was reinstated as a compromise? Who knows.

A subtle change occurs at the beginning of the "Confrontation" sequence. During the Barbican previews, the number opens with a few notes being played and then repeated. However, by the 1986 recording the notes do not repeat. It goes straight into Javert's announcement (which Roger Allam has now learned to sing on time!) after the notes play the first time. The sequence would stay this way for quite awhile before being further shortened - more on that in a later edition!

We now go to the subsequent number, Little Cosette's famous "Castle on a Cloud" song. The Barbican previews give her a few lines before the main number starts (sung in a similar tune to her remarks about Mme. Thenardier's arrival at the end of the song):

They’ll come back any minute

And I’m nowhere near finished

Sweeping and scrubbing and polishing the floor

It’s the same every day, oh please!

Don’t let Madame hit me again

I should be used to it, but then

I know a place where nobody has to work too hard

And where I won’t be lonely again

These lines, taken closely from the original French concept album, don't really add much to the number plot-wise that won't be stated later except for more explicit confirmation that Mme. Thenardier is abusive. Perhaps partly for this reason, by the 1986 recording these lines are removed, and after the opening instrumentals it goes straight into the number we all know.

As I previously mentioned in Part 1, the later recording I have of the Barbican previews cut out the following lines during the preamble to Master of the House. I originally mistakenly claimed that the cuts occured after Thenardier's verse, but in actuality that verse too is removed.

(THENARDIER)

My band of soaks, my den of disollutes

My dirty jokes, my always pissed as newts

My sons of whores spend their lives in my inn

Homing pigeons homing in

They fly through my doors

And their money's good as yours

(CUSTOMERS)

Ain’t got a clue what he put into his stew

Must’ve scraped it off the street

Hell, what a wine

Châteauneuf de Turpentine

Must’ve pressed it with his feet

Landlord over here

Where’s the bloody man

One more for the road

One more slug of gin

Just one more or my old man is gonna do me in

By the 1986 recording, they are back in all their glory. Indeed, as you can read in Part 1 of this series Trevor Nunn himself has confirmed that the crew decided the number didn't work as well without the full preamble (an exception being, shockingly enough, Cameron Mackintosh).

During the Barbican previews, "Master of the House" was followed by a beautiful Well Scene between Valjean and Little Cosette:

(LITTLE COSETTE)

There is a castle on a cloud

I like to go there in my sleep

Aren’t any floors for me to sweep

(A FEW SECONDS OF INSTRUMENTALS)

(VALJEAN)

Don’t be afraid of me, my dear

Tell me your name and have no fear

How cold it grows when the sun has set

(LITTLE COSETTE)

I’m not afraid

Monsieur, my name’s Cosette

(VALJEAN)

Nor will you be afraid again

I come to take you from this place

There is a better world, you’ll see

(LITTLE COSETTE)

Give me your hand, and walk with me.

This leads into the humming duet between Valjean and Cosette. However, in what I consider the biggest mistake of this era's adjustments, the Well Scene was totally excised from the West End version and "Master of the House" is following directly by the humming duet. Trevor Nunn remarked a degree of regret about this in 1990's The Complete Book of Les Miserables. I don't have the book on hand right now, but I'll put down the exact quote later.

Of course, the Well Scene would later return in a much different form, but let's not get ahead of ourselves.

Perhaps to compensate for the deleted scene, another scene is added after the "Waltz of Treachery" number. During the Barbican previews, Valjean's "It won't take you too long to forget" is followed by a lot of vamping and eventually a reprise of Valjean and Cosette's humming duet. The West End production slightly reduces the vamping from about one minute to about forty-five seconds, and adds a scene (sung in the tune of "Castle on a Cloud", specifically the "there is a lady all in white" part at first and the main chorus for "Nor will you be afraid again" onwards):

(LITTLE COSETTE)

We're going home right now, monsieur

What is your name

(VALJEAN)

Now my dear

I've names enough, I've got names to spare

But where I go, you always will be there

Nor will you be afraid again

There is a sun that's shining yet

(LITTLE COSETTE)

I'm going to call you my Papa

(VALJEAN)

I'm going to call you my Cosette

The normal humming duet follows. This is a fascinating scene which seems to be exclusive to the brief era after the Barbican previews but before Broadway. It's interesting how it incorporates elements both of the opening Well Scene and of the more well-known later closing scene to the "Waltz of Treachery". It's also intriguing how it incorporates elements not really touched upon this directly in any other version of the musical, specifically just how mysterious and secretive Valjean is to the world in general as well as the fact that Cosette, in fact, is not truly Cosette's given name.

Everything seems to be the same from this point until "The Attack on Rue Plumet". In the Barbican previews, this is how the opening goes:

(EPONINE)

'Parnasse, what are you doing

So far out of our patch?

(MONTPARNASSE)

This house, we're gonna do it!

Rich man, plenty of scratch

You remember he's the bloke wot got away the other day

Got a number on his chest, perhaps a fortune put away

Took off like a guilty man, why would he want to disappear?

Now we're gonna do him right, this time no one will interfere

Everything from "Took off like a guilty man" onwards is removed from the West End version. Later in the number, we hear approximately the following exchange in the Barbican show. Fans have debated what exactly some of the lyrics are, but this is how I hear them:

(CLAQUESOUS)

What a palaver, what an absolute treat

To watch a cat and his father pick a bone in the street

(THENARDIER)

Not a sound out of you

(EPONINE)

What do you care if things scare me

(THENARDIER)

Listen 'Ponine, there might be jewels inside

There could be something for all

There could be bruises enough

You will have your share

(EPONINE)

Well I told you I'd do it, I told you I'd do it

The West End production reduces the vamping prior to this scene. Additionally, everything between "What do you care" and "You will have your share" is removed, meaning the "I told you I'd do it" is a direct remark to "Not a sound out of you". This is a much more linear and succinct way of moving the plot in my humble opinion!

That's it for act one! Act two begins largely the same, up until the scene where Gavroche reveals Javert to be a traitor. First off, Javert's original claim that they will "play their games" is changed to "spoil their games".

Next is probably this version's biggest change in the entire musical up to this point. Originally Gavroche sung approximately the following lines (once again, the recordings aren't as clear as would be desirable) in a unique tune heard nowhere else in the musical:

Good evening, dear inspector, lovely evening my dear!

A charlie for a copper who pays a call

I know who you’re supposed to be, Inspector Javert

Who never showed no mercy to no one at all

So don’t believe a word, none of it will wash

This time you’re reckoned without Gavroche!

The West End version scrapped this sequence and replaced it with "Little People" (which originally appeared in a much longer form later in the musical). This is how it went:

Good evening dear inspector, lovely evening my dear

I know this man, my friends, his name's Inspector Javert

So don't believe a word he says 'cause none of it's true

It only goes to show what little people can do

And little people know, when little people fight

We may look easy picking but we've got some bite

So never kick a dog because he's just a pup

You'd better run for cover when the pup grows up!

This edited placement of "Little People" is often attributed to the original Broadway production, but in fact it made its debut in the West End show. I'm not sure when exactly this was, given that the original cast album uses the long version. However, by the 1986 recording this is how it goes. It should be noted that it's not quite in its Broadway form, however; most notably, "We'll fight like twenty armies and we won't give up!" is not present.

A minor difference occurs during the First Attack sequence. In the Barbican production, this is how the students respond to their victory:

(GRANTAIRE)

By God, we've won the day

(LESGLES)

See how they run away

The West End production swaps the two students' lines, allowing Grantaire's slightly incredulous spirit to have a more poignant and/or amusing effect depending on your perspective.

Consequently given the new placement of the song, the show obviously had to be edited to remove the original "Little People" number. Originally, this is the way the show transitioned between the First Attack and "Little People":

(ENJOLRAS)

Courfeyrac, you take the watch

They won't attack until it's light

Everybody stay awake

We must be ready for the fight

For the final fight

Let no one sleep tonight

(GRANTAIRE)

Only little boys may sleep

For little people need their rest

Little tucks are quickly drained

And little grapes are quickly pressed

Come on little mite

It's time to say goodnight

Cue the original "Little People" number in all of its long, silly glory (in case you somehow don't know it, here are the lyrics). The West End production (and everything afterwards) cuts Grantaire's verse, so that the scene transitions straight from Enjolras' announcement to "Drink with Me". As much as I love the full-length "Little People" number (and I really do love it), I admit removing it was definitely the right choice. It's just so sweet and optimistic, it feels out of place in a musical as tragic and cynical as Les Miserables. It doesn't help that its placement is between a high-stakes action scene and a somber, slightly drunk reflection on the nature of friendships, sex, and romance. It's a wonderful song but a terrible Les Mis song. I do love it, though, and I also love how Grantaire manages to make his pre-song metaphors alcohol-related.

In the sewers, the Barbican recordings feature a unique tune not heard anywhere elsewhere in the musical (it can be heard here) before transitioning to the final Valjean-Javert confrontation. Apparently, this music was accompanied by a short chase scene. However, by the time of the 1986 recording there is instead what is essentially one repeated note which then transitions into an instrumental version of "Look Down". This is followed by the same Valjean-Javert confrontation as before.

And that just about sums this part up! If I missed anything feel free to let me know, as my goal is to create a changelog as thorough and complete as possible. I plan on making more parts in the near future covering all the changes that have been made in the show up until this day (discounting concerts). Any feedback and constructive criticism is very much appreciated.

As a side note, both for this project and my own enjoyment, I want as complete a collection of Les Miserables audios as possible. I already have most of what’s commonly circulated, but if you have any audios or videos you know are rare, I’d love it if you DMed me!

Until the turntable puts me at the forefront again, good-bye…

[yumeka36]

The ending of Frozen 2...a year later

I try to stay away from touchy subjects like this, at least here on Tumblr. But since @greatqueenanna @the-blue-fairie and @vuelie-frost have recently written inspiring posts on this topic (which you can read here, here, and here), I wanted to give my two cents (well, more like a thousand cents because what I thought would just be a few paragraphs ended up becoming a mini-book!)

Just to be clear, my intention here is not to argue with anyone or invalidate their feelings about the end of Frozen 2. It's quite the opposite, actually. In my view, when we're presented with a beloved hobby that has disappointed us, we have a couple of options: one is to simply stop partaking in that hobby and move onto one that brings us more pleasure (no doubt some ex-Frozen fans have done that), or keep sticking around the fandom despite constant negative feelings about it which, I can't imagine, is that enjoyable. But there's another option too: when presented with something we don't like but won't divorce ourselves from and yet have no power to change – in this case, how Frozen 2 ended – what we can change is how we view it. The fact that people who disliked Frozen 2 are still part of the fandom even a year later shows just how strong the Frozen characters and their world are…that despite dissatisfaction, fans are still not willing to give up on the franchise and leave it in favor of another fandom. And if they're not willing to give up, but still can't help feeling let down about it, I'm hoping the reasoning I present in this post can possibly offer a fresh and, hopefully, more appealing perspective. My intention here is to help alleviate hard feelings, not entice arguments.

I also want to mention that I'm only discussing the ending of the movie, specifically the fact that Anna is queen of Arendelle and Elsa is living in the forest. I've addressed most other topics of theorizing and criticism in my Frozen 2 analysis book “Seek the Truth,” which you can read here. While I did discuss the ending in detail in the last chapter, I didn't expand on it nearly as much as I will in this post.

To make things easier, I'm going to address the most common griefs about the ending one at a time and offer my input:

-----

Anna and Elsa were separated for 13 years so they shouldn't be separated again.

I definitely agree that it would be tragic if they were forced apart again, unable to have a relationship like they did for most of their childhood. But the more times I watch Frozen 2, the more I just don't see that in the ending. To me, a separation is when both sides are split up against their will, unable to get together again. That's not the case for Anna and Elsa. I admit the epilogue of the movie was rushed, but out of the many loose ends it could have touched on, the filmmakers made sure to include Anna's letter to Elsa about charades night, which to me shows that they want us to know that the sisters still get together regularly (that's the feeling I get from the movie; I'm not including the questionable canon of the storybooks/comics in this, which I’ll discuss a little later). We could still infer they get together even if they didn't show the letter, because we know the forest is free again and Elsa can ride Nokk to Arendelle whenever she wants. But the filmmakers chose to show the letter to make it clear that there's nothing keeping them apart.

So then the point becomes "spending only 3 years together isn't enough." What number is enough, then? 5 years? 10 years? Any number is arbitrary for a case like this. But the length of time doesn’t matter because, to me, Frozen 1 showed how strong of a bond Anna and Elsa have despite hardly ever being in physical contact…a bond of love strong enough to thaw a frozen heart. So to think that now they could never be happy unless they're physically together 24/7 does an injustice to that bond that transcends physical boundaries. They suffered because of their separation in Frozen 1 – that was a true separation, because they wanted to have a relationship but were forced apart against their wills – and at the end of the movie, they could finally have the relationship they were yearning for. And at the end of Frozen 2, not only was their love cemented further from the epic adventure they shared, but they can continue to see each other as a family as well as live out the new roles bestowed upon them. Unlike a movie with an actual separation ending, like Toy Story 4 for example, where Woody and Buzz would never be able to see each other again except by some crazy coincidence, there is literally nothing stopping Anna and Elsa from continuing to have adventures together in future stories, while also satisfying their new duties and enjoying their lives both individually and as a family. That sounds like a very fulfilling life to me.

But the "Anna sans Elsa" book proves that they barely see each other and Anna misses Elsa a lot.

This sentiment comes down to whether you want to consider the relatively few post-movie storybooks as true canon or not. I consider them loose canon at best because no one involved with the creation of the canon Frozen movies/shorts had any involvement in their development and probably even knows they exist. There's also the fact that they're having such a minimal release – just one or two European countries have been getting them, and they're not even being released in English, which is arguably Disney's largest market. There're also conflicting implications between the stories, for example, the "Anna sans Elsa" book implies that Elsa hasn't visited for a long time, but the German comic where Elsa visits for charades implies that she does visit regularly (from @bigfrozenfan‘s translation here, she says "I wouldn't have missed an evening of charades with you for anything in the world!"). Then there's the "Explore the North Book" which shows Queen Anna visiting Elsa in the forest. Just because this book isn't a story is no reason to disregard it, especially when you consider the fact that it was the first book released to show the sisters interacting post-movie, plus it was actually released in larger markets, like the US and Japan. Even Anna's letter within the movie canon itself, telling Elsa not to be late for charades, is not written in a way that implies she hasn't seen Elsa for a long time. If anything, it implies the opposite to me…that these visits occur regularly. So what we can conclude from this is that Disney's publishing branch is releasing a few post-movie stories to limited markets to make some extra earnings, but obviously the book/comic authors are restricted with the kinds of stories they can depict; as in, they can't have stories that would affect the lore and canon, like showing Elsa's role in the forest or how Northuldra/Arendelle relationships are progressing. So they're going with safe side-stories like Anna doing familiar things in Arendelle and Elsa visiting for charades – things that can be inferred from the movie's ending but don't continue the narrative past that. This could also be why these books are having such a small release. Perhaps because the English-speaking market is so large, anything brought to that market could be seen as having relevance and clout, and Disney doesn't want that for these stories (because there's really no reason to not bring the books to other markets when children's book sales are soaring thanks to the pandemic). The "Anna sans Elsa" book is even getting a re-release with new pictures, again, only in French, which to me further illustrates the limitations on post-movie stories currently going on. So ultimately, I would not take details from these books/comics that are available to only 0000.1% of Disney's worldwide market as the "word of god," especially when they're inconsistent with each other and canon implies otherwise.

Anna isn't fit to be queen.

I'm not really sure what (canon) examples there are of Anna showing traits that would hinder her ability to be a good queen, or at least not as good a queen as Elsa. Is the reason for this because of her naivete about Hans? There's no evidence that shows she hasn't learned her lesson from that…it's not like she rushed into marrying Kristoff right away. If it's something about her personality being too reckless or something, Elsa has exhibited recklessness too, doing things without forethought like running away to live alone in an ice palace and risking her life to dive into Ahtohallan. But despite having these very human flaws, Elsa still turned out to be a good queen, so why would Anna be the opposite? Anna has proven herself to be brave, noble, and outgoing with people…all of which are great qualities for a ruler. Plus she's lived among royalty her whole life, and no doubt helped Elsa during her reign as queen, so she's not going into the position as a total novice. We barely see Elsa doing queenly activities in the Frozen canon, so how can we assume she's so much more fit to be queen than Anna? Again, I think this is another sentiment that stems from an aversion to something unfamiliar: fans want Elsa to remain queen because we've been familiar with that for years, but that doesn't mean Anna can't be a good queen, too. Canon-wise we haven't yet seen Anna do anything in the way of ruling, so why not give her the benefit of the doubt and a chance to prove herself?

The first Frozen established that Elsa shouldn't live in isolation and yet she's doing it again in Frozen 2.

In the first Frozen, Elsa isolated herself out of fear and refused to even get near anyone. What evidence is there that this is happening at the end of Frozen 2? I've heard assumptions that she's living in Ahtohallan now, but we don't know that for sure. The last scene of the movie shows her heading in that direction, but she could be visiting too. But regardless of where her actual place of dwelling is now, there's no reason to believe she's shutting herself off like she did in the first movie. The epilogue shows that she's happily interacting with the spirits, the Northuldra, and makes visits to Arendelle. Home is more than just a physical place where one dwells and sleeps; even if the forest is where Elsa does this now, Arendelle is still her home in all other regards.

An offshoot notion of Elsa living on her own in the forest is that it's somehow akin to the idea that "people who are different should live outside normal society." I don't understand this because to me it implies the person in question is being shunned; that they want to live in normal society but normal society doesn't want them. That is definitely not what's going on at the end of Frozen 2. As I'll explain in the following paragraphs, Elsa stays in the forest because she feels a newfound sense of freedom and is thrilled to explore this new world she found, but she can freely go back to Arendelle whenever she wants, and there's no indication that anyone there loves her any less (they should love her more actually because they all witnessed her save the kingdom from the tidal wave!) At the end if the movie, no one's being ostracized for being "different." Everyone's doing what makes them happy and can freely come and go as they please.

Why does Elsa need to stay in the forest? Why can't she stay in Arendelle and visit the forest?

A large majority of the hard feelings about Frozen 2's ending comes from the fact that it didn't clearly show what Elsa's role in the forest is. I definitely admit that the ending would have benefited from expanding on this, even just another line or two. But to me, it still leaves enough information for us to make reasonable inferences about what she's doing. We don't see the Northuldra or Arendellians interacting in the epilogue, which makes sense since they hated each other for decades and it'll take time to mend the relationship between them. When Elsa says to Anna "we'll continue to do this together" conveys to me that she knows they still have work to do as far as making amends between the kingdoms…she and Anna can serve as dual queen ambassadors between the two sides, a bridge, so to speak. Then there's also the fact that the spirits were angry for decades and it'll take time for them to return to the peaceful coexistent they had with the Northuldra, something Elsa can certainly help with (again, we don't see the spirits interacting with the Northuldra in the epilogue, only with Elsa).

On top of that, there's the fact that Elsa spent her whole life believing she was the only magical being in the world, and now she's discovered this whole new land of magic just waiting to be explored. As I explained in my analysis book, if we consider Elsa believing for years that her powers were a curse and no one but her possessed magic, and suddenly she's brought to a place where other magical beings exist, as well as a group of people who live in harmony with them, plus the fact that she's somehow a bridge between both magic and humans, it makes sense she'd be ecstatic and want to spend time indulging in this new land. The reason she doesn't just visit the forest while living in Arendelle is because being queen is a full time job that requires her to be present as much as possible. Trying to stay on top of all her queenly responsibilities while going back and forth to the forest all the time wouldn't amount to the kind of quality she wants for Arendelle royalty. But having someone like Anna who's already familiar with royal activities and loves Arendelle with all her heart, would be perfect for the role. Elsa never indicated it was her dream to be queen of Arendelle. She was born into the role and accepted it, and if the events of Frozen 2 never occurred, would have probably lived out her life happily in that position. But happiness isn't necessarily a final destination and sometimes things come along that alter the status quo, but also enhance what we thought was already a good life. What we can infer from Frozen 1 is that she doesn't want to live in fear and have to constantly suppress her powers and that she wants to have a relationship with her sister again. None of this is taken away from her at the end of Frozen 2: she's not living in fear but in freedom, she can use her powers without restraint and in brand new ways with the spirits and Ahtohallan, and she can not only continue to see her sister often and foster their relationship, but she can grow her relationship with herself and this new realization about the origin of her powers. And still another reason, perhaps the true purpose of the fifth spirit is more than a single task and Elsa is trying to discover what it is: what more can she do with her amazing powers now that the forest is free, both for the benefit of the Northuldra, the spirits, Arendelle…maybe even the world? There's a wealth of possibilities for future stories, and I believe this ties back to the fact that the post-movie books/comics can't touch on what her role in the forest is because it's too closely tied to continuing the canon story, and until the heads at Disney decide what direction to take it, all spin-off content will be limited.

And yes, it's true that these are just my theories, but they're theories based on many hours of rewatching, analyzing, and thinking critically about the movie, which I think is better than just dismissing the idea that Elsa has a role to play in the forest simply because it wasn't explicitly shown. Just because Elsa's new lot in life isn't spoon-fed to us doesn't mean it doesn't exist, and I think it's much more logical, and imaginative, to assume she's doing the kinds of things I just mentioned as opposed to doing nothing of significance in her life now. I prefer to be logical and imaginative, so I’m going with these reasons unless canon shows otherwise.

-----

After reading all this, you might think I'm in love with the ending of Frozen 2 and think it's perfect, but that's not the case. While I love Frozen 2 overall, I admit that the ending was rushed and it wasn't my first choice of an ending for the sequel I was anticipating for years. But at the same time, I'm open-minded, especially in regards to the fact that the story and characters I'm invested in are not my personal creations. They’re the products of someone else’s experiences, values, and beliefs, and I have to recognize that this is what makes them interesting even though I may not agree with everything. But who am I to say that my vision and headcanons for Frozen are somehow better than those of the filmmakers? I don't think so highly of myself as being more of an authority on Frozen than the creators themselves or even my fellow hardcore fans. But I have spent many hours of my life these past 7 years examining and analyzing the franchise and its characters, so I'd like to believe my words have at least some weight to them. That's the wonder of fiction…that someone's ideas can be interpreted and appreciated in a variety of ways by a variety of people. But that's also the tragedy of fictional stories that continue on with long gaps in between, like the gap between the two Frozen movies. During that long time, we can't help but build and prop up our headcanons and develop the feeling that we know these characters inside and out, what is and isn't good for them, how they would and wouldn't react in all situations, etc,. But two and a half hours (which is about the length of time of Frozen 1 plus the two shorts) is not enough time to show so much of a characters’ personality that we could really know them as much as we’d like (especially Elsa, who got relatively little screentime in the first movie). So when we're presented with the continuation of the story and find that the creators had a different view, a view that didn't return to the status quo we were familiar with, it can be very jarring. But that's the risk of falling in love with someone else's creations. And thankfully, the beauty of headcanons is that they're all our own and can be adjusted. Even though the outcome of Frozen 2 was not what I was expecting, it was a minimal effort to adjust my headcanons because I don't feel the ending was so outrageous and far removed from everything I loved previously about the franchise, for reasons I hope I explained clearly in this post.

If you still can't feel any better about the end of Frozen 2 despite all I've discussed here, I'm sorry…I really tried my best. All I can say now is that I hope future content will rekindle your appreciation for the franchise. I know it's been over a year since Frozen 2, which seems like a long time to go without any announcements of new material, but we have to remember that that's not a long time at all by Disney standards. The recent Disney investor's meeting proves how long it takes to churn out new content, especially on the animation side of things, as it took years for Princess and the Frog, Zootopia, and Moana to finally get new content. Disney immortalizes all their popular franchises and could go back to them months, years, or even decades later (The Lion Guard series came out over 20 years after The Lion King for example). Unlike other Disney franchises like Marvel and Star Wars that have their own production teams and studios, Frozen has to share resources with all of WDAS's other projects. So a year is still too early for the studio to go back to Frozen again, especially if you consider that it's technically only been a few months since we got new Frozen content in the form of Once Upon a Snowman. Patience is the key now and we don't know what the future holds. But I'm someone whose opinions will change with new information, so maybe tomorrow we could get an announcement about a new Frozen YA novel or Disney+ series that shows Anna and Elsa rarely see each other and Anna misses Elsa and Elsa's doing nothing noteworthy in the forest and everything I've said here can be tossed out the window. I don't think that will be the case though, so as long as we don't know anything for sure, I want to go with a positive outlook because, at the end of the day, your fandoms should lift you up instead of bring you down. Frozen is a juggernaut for Disney so I'd rather they take their time with the next installment for the franchise. It's not so much a question of "if" as much as "when" and "in what form"? So until we have those answers, I wish you all well…don't let the hope die out.

[youarejesting]

The Bomb

[Masterlist]

Beta: @juniethebug​ Rating: 16+  Pairing: Namjoon x Reader Genre: Mafia, enemies2lovers.  Trigger Warnings: mentions of Violence, Gore, Torture, Drinking and wetting yourself in public from fear and a full bladder during a gun fight. Character death. Words: 9.4k

Summary: The leader of a mafia should be calm collected and poised. He should live meticulously and know what he needs to do. Namjoon was that man, he had rules that kept his business running smoothly and nothing can get in the way of that. Can it?

[Part 2]

Kim Namjoon, the leader of the biggest mafia in Seoul, lived his life by many rules. His first rule, a man should only cry three times in his life. The first time is when a man loses his mother, the one who raises a man to be who they are worth mourning. 

The second when a man marries the love of his life and he shall weep tears of joy. The third and final time a man is allowed to cry is when he sees his first child born.

Pathetically sobbing against the dirty concrete while getting the life beaten out of you is not one of those three incidences. “I will ask you again, where is the payment I was promised?”

“He gave it to his daughter, used the money he was supposed to pay you, on his daughter; a beautiful emerald necklace. Something about it being her birthday and wanting to gift her with something as pretty as she is.” Yoongi scoffed, spinning the knife around his fingers a habit he had developed to keep his dexterous fingers busy.“Or at least that is what Hobi had to say after tailing the man all day. Just take the necklace from her pretty little neck; she doesn’t have to come with it.”

“The birthday party is tonight, a lavish affair for their daughter, every man, woman, and child from rich backgrounds were invited to the ball held at their Manor.” Jimin sighed, rolling some scotch in his glass.

“Be ready to leave in ten minutes.” Namjoon walked to the door, Jungkook opening it for him. A reminder of rule number fourteen; a powerful man never moves unnecessarily, which includes opening doors and stepping aside from someone.

Pulling on a black on black suit he fastened his Platinum Rolex to his wrist, in his classiest polished pair of dress shoes. Walking towards the front door, he stopped by the front door and Yoongi pulled open the suitcase, graced with the sight of two pistols both with a shiny custom nickel finish with gold filigree on the handle and barrel.

These were gifted to him by Taehyung, a man with an eye for the finest of arts. Just like the weapons he provided he was a beautiful young man with an innocent face. But he was a dangerous man and rule number ten. Never give the man who provides you with your weapons the chance to provide them for anyone else. Of course, naturally, that meant Namjoon hired him in an instant, not willing to let his enemies use his weapons dealer.

The boys were heading to the car; Seokjin was going to drive as he was the most sensible behind the wheel. Each piling in Namjoon looked at his watch and over the five individuals in the car.

“Should I tell Jimin to hurry up?” Taehyung said reaching for his phone, he was in the middle of texting when Namjoon placed his hand on the phone pushing it to his lap. 

“No need we leave without him, he knows the rules-”

“Rule number fifteen, a man is never late,” Jungkook nodded; he lived by Namjoon’s word and his rules. Knew them better than Namjoon did himself, wrote them down, and numbered them as the leader taught him each one.

The car door was shut by Seokjin who situated himself into the driver's seat and pulled away from the house. House may be a bit of an understatement even Namjoon thought so, officially titled the Kim Manor with four stories complete with east and west wings, staff quarters, elaborate gardens, and land. 

It was the picturesque home with lavish rooms headed to the front gates, a motorbike raced past and pulled up. Jimin climbed into the car with the others, grumbling about how the wind destroyed his hair. 

He ran his fingers through his hair trying to return it to its former perfection, once the gates spread open they headed on their way to the party. 

Each stepping out at the foot of the manor, fixing their hair and suits one last time before heading up the steps. “Your invitation, sir?”

Yoongi pulled out a gun and tapped it against the clipboard pushing it down so he could read it. “That's us there unchecked, sorry we are late, traffic is horrible at this time of the day,” the man swallowed thickly. 

“Of course Mr. and Mrs. Le pomme, you don’t look French?”

“It’s Ms. Actually,” Yoongi poked the man's chest with his gun. 

Namjoon turned speaking immaculate French to the young man and patted his shoulder. “Jungkook always learns a language, a man should never miss an opportunity to learn new things.”

Jungkook was writing the new rule down following behind them, Yoongi pushed the gun into his waistband and the group entered the manor. Walking the floor as a small unit they began analyzing the ballroom. 

Jimin had disappeared and Jungkook smiled gesturing to the young woman who was mingling a beautiful emerald necklace delicately nestled against her decolletage. Namjoon looked her over. She was stunning with her smooth skin and gentle curls. 

She was nothing like he expected, Namjoon thought she would have a dark tan and bleach blonde hair, with extensions and the latest trending nails and jewelry and shoes. 

But this woman. This gorgeous woman had pale skin with sun-kissed freckles, her lips were a soft velvety crimson. She wore a simple black dress but somehow managed to still be the most beautiful person in the room. He could gaze at her forever and never get tired.

You smiled feeling proud of your outfit, it was such an elegant and complicated piece, a sweetheart bodice with off the shoulder lace straps it was a thin and long dress that fell to your ankles showing off a pair of thin heels. 

It wasn’t a famous brand designer, no, you made this yourself there were many little fun hidden details. You were speaking with your friends when he approached. 

He was handsome, his profile was strong one you would remember easily he had a small scar on his eyebrow but it added so much character to his image. 

“Ladies,” he greeted the small group with a short bow, his eyes flicking up and meeting yours full of confidence and you gave a small friendly smile back. 

“Shall we dance?” He asked, and you, never to be overdone, agreed. You had never been asked to dance before. Especially not by someone this handsome.

“My name is y/n. You?”

“You may call me Namjoon,” he smiled and you blushed, looking at his dimples, he was so charming and cute. But there was something about him he took the lead and guided you through a slow waltz. Something you couldn’t put a nail on. Something… sinister..?

You gasped clutching his bicep gently. He saw the emerald necklace secure around your delicate neck. Your breasts strained against your dress with every breath. 

“You seem to be out of breath miss y/n?” His fingertips brushing gently across your décolletage. He too was breathing heavily from the physical activity of dancing. 

“A testament to your dance skills,” you tried to laugh back. 

“Perhaps we should get something to drink,” he took your hand and weaved it so your arm wrapped around his, “we can chat while you relax but I do apologize for being too enthusiastic.” 

“No, really, it is okay,” you protested, not wanting to seem too affected honestly it was embarrassing to get tired after one vigorous dance. 

“Indulge me,” Namjoon’s raspy voice reverberated so low you could have almost mistaken it for a purr, “I would very much like to steal a few extra moments with you” 

“Well then, I shan’t protest,” you gestured towards the refreshment table where he handed you a champagne flute. The two of you drank slowly his eyes locked on yours. 

“Sir,” a voice called politely, you were both pulled from your intense eye contact to see Your father flanked by two young and very handsome men. 

“Thank you for inviting me to your party tonight, sir.” Namjoon shook his hand firmly, his voice made you shiver, it wasn’t as light as it had been before, there was something clipped in his tone. Your former suspicions returned to you. Hard.

“Ah, Mr. Kim, I am glad you could make it, I didn’t think you would come to such a small affair?” Your father smiled, he was sweating a sign he was nervous but trying to hold his cool. 

“Dad is everything okay?” You took your father's pocket-handkerchief and dabbed his forehead. 

“Darling I would like for you to get some pictures with your mother. It is your birthday after all,” you looked at him curiously and almost yielded to his request when a firm hand caught your wrist. 

“Just a moment I would like to give you your birthday gift,” Namjoon smiled reaching into his pocket, his next statement seemed to cause the young man beside your father to scribble in a notebook. “A man must never come to a party empty-handed, especially not a birthday party.”

“Oh it’s okay, I don’t usually get presents anyway,” you were flustered by the prospect you always requested not to get presents to spare people the trouble of spending their money on material things. 

“That is a shame a pretty young lady like yourself should be spoiled daily,” a hot flush pinked your skin and it crept up your neck. 

He handed you a box wrapped in a small ribbon. She opened it to reveal an emerald bracelet just like the necklace she wore and he helped secure it to the wrist and smiled. 

“Emerald looks brilliant on you?”

Namjoon looked your father directly in the eyes watching the man sweat. Would he sell out his own daughter for his own safety? “Well darling, mister Kim and I are just going to do a quick spot of business”

“Okay,” you nodded, Namjoon looked over his shoulder and made a gesture to Jungkook and Yoongi to keep an eye on you. While following your weasel-like father to his study.

“I know why you are here and I am sorry, I had the money ready to give you but it was my daughter’s birthday and I couldn’t turn up empty-handed,” Your father said “I will get you the money by the end of the week.”

“You will as I will have collateral just in case your daughter will leave with me.” Namjoon threatened before adding an afterthought “tonight”.

“Please don’t hurt her, I will get you the money, I promise. Please.” He pleaded, dropping onto his knees. Namjoon felt his eye twitch in disgust. 

“You will give me the money, otherwise you will never see your daughter again.” 

You were feeling kind of awkward, the two young men accompanying you weren’t awful company, they just weren’t very talkative. 

“So you work with Namjoon?” you asked 

“Mmm…” one so graciously grunted in response

“What do you do?” you swayed from foot to foot trying to strike up some sort of conversation.

“Mister Kim is an entrepreneur,” The taller man said excitedly. You nodded; he very obviously liked his boss.

“You seem to enjoy working for him then,” You asked happily and the two nodded going back to standing around.

“Ah, you must be the birthday girl?” A sweet voice called your attention, “Wah, You are so beautiful miss y/n?”

“Have we met?” Already knowing you hadn’t met any of these men they were way too handsome for you to just forget. He had long legs accentuated by his high waisted trousers, his feet moved one in front of the other with all the grace and caution like a model in a field of landmines. He scooped your hand into his grasp and kissed your knuckle’s eyes searching your person and the room. “Park Jimin.”

Beside him was a taller young man who was boyish with big rounded ears that added so much youth to his face. “I do not believe we have ma’am and that is a shame” He also kissed your knuckles politely and threw you a grin. “Kim Taehyung at your service.”

“Tell me, miss Y/n. Do you like Painting?” Taehyung asked with a grin and you nodded 

“Though I am not good at it, yes.” You sighed while playing with your lace sleeve, you were currently surrounded by these very tall and intimidating men. “Do you like painting?”

“I enjoy it greatly my dear, would you be interested in painting with me?” He smiled brightly and you grinned feeling more relaxed.

“I would love to,” you grinned and they all got a text to their apple watches that they read and quickly dismissed from view.

“Miss y/n, we would like to hold a toast,” Jimin grinned, handing you a champagne flute. You nodded and Jimin led a toast celebrating your birthday, ending his short speech with. “You have to all drink it in one shot for the best of wishes for the birthday girl” 

You drank heartedly watching them all drink as well, the conversation continued and you were happily chatting about all different things when you started to feel rather drowsy. “I think I drank too much.” You giggled, feeling tired, a warm coat was draped over your shoulders it was super roomy and you felt yourself drift off.

There were strange sounds and lights passing over you periodically, though it stirred you it wasn’t enough to wake you fully. Only when your body had fought the immense fatigue did you wake. 

Everything was stale, the air, the room, life, for a moment you didn’t move. Your body was heavy and your head clouded. Taking a deep breath you sat up the lush blankets in their covers making noise against the soft satin sheet. 

The room wasn’t yours, the furniture was all a dark almost black lacquered wood, the bedding was also all black. It was a dark room with thick heavy curtains. 

Swinging your legs over the side of the bed you gripped the fourposter frame and stood upright nursing a slight ache behind your temples. 

The floor was a white marble, searingly cold against your feet. You looked down at the sweet emerald négligée, your jewellery was placed on the bedside table. 

Where you saw a glass of water, taking the glass you took a few sips quenching your thirst and pushing the bile rising in your throat back down. 

Crossing the room, trying to find a bathroom you opened the first set of double doors and found a walk-in wardrobe. There were many suits inside and a door caught your eye, perhaps it led to the bathroom. 

Opening the door you saw for the first time in your life real guns and weapons on display, wherever you are it mustn’t be safe. You picked up a small handgun like the ones you had seen in movies. 

You moved on to the bathroom, your bladder was urgently requesting relief. 

Opening the next doors you came across a bathroom like no other. It was all the same white marble, the feature was a round shower located in the middle of the room. With two curved sliding doors one on either side of the shower. 

Between curved glass panels were stone pillars one which had been carved into as to create shelves with built-in product dispensers. 

You saw a control panel on the outside of the shower and you wondered where the water came from but looking up at the hanging gold shower head that was almost as wide as the shower. 

You could imagine how it would feel, like warm rain falling against your skin. On your right as you stepped in was a beautiful counter with his and her basins in front of a finely detailed gold framed mirror. 

On the opposite wall to your left were shelves of fresh towels and a few cabinets and a seated area with a lady might do her makeup

Walking around the shower along the walls of towels you saw the toilet the door was made of frosted glass and you at this point didn’t care if you were quick you wouldn’t be seen. 

You flushed and paused waiting for any signs of people coming to get you but you heard nothing. 

You stepped out and circled the shower the back wall had a brilliant window and four short steps to a lifted square seating area with a cushioned window seat that lined the three of the square walls. 

There was a small coffee table in the middle and continuing on the last corner of the room just between the sitting areas and the counter was a square bath fit for perhaps four people. 

“Shit, where is she?” The sound made your pulse skyrocket, you needed to hide. You stood behind one of the big thick pillars on the outside of the shower. Hoping they would glance over the room. 

You froze the gun behind your back and you waited. “Is she in here?” A voice said, “doesn’t look like it,” another said

“Where is she?” A raspy voice spoke. 

“We don’t know, sir, Yoongi was posted outside and swears she didn’t leave so she has to be in here.” 

“Y/n?” He called, “are you okay, you are a guest here I promise.”

You snorted, “that’s funny, I don’t remember being invited.” 

“You don’t remember what happened last night do you?” He asked and you saw movement in the mirror. You grabbed the shower door and opened it stepping inside and pressing your back against a pillar. 

The problem was opening one door opened both, you used your free hand to reach beside you and slowly close the glass door. 

He smirked, grabbing the opposite glass door with his hand, stopping it from closing and pulling the door back open. “You won’t shoot me, baby, you are too gentle, hand it over and we can talk.”

You took a few heavy breaths psyching yourself up before pulling the trigger. Eyes squeezed shut only to hear a click, “shit!”

“You got some guts, I will give you that. I am proud, the weak don’t survive” He grinned, reaching outside the shower to the control panel and grinned “but you didn’t put a magazine in your gun, I could show you how?” 

He pressed a button and cold water poured down, jolting you awake. You tried to avoid the water but you were soaked, he stepped inside and shut the door with his men standing guard either side. 

“When you shoot a gun don’t close your eyes, baby otherwise how will you aim?” His chest pressed against yours and he grinned, taking your hand. “Now let’s get you dressed, and we can have a late breakfast.”

You struggled to pull your hand free, “why am I here?”

“Because your father borrowed five hundred thousand dollars from me and didn’t pay it back in time,” he gently tucked your wet hair behind your ear frowning at how it stuck to your neck, how the small négligée clung to your skin and how your body reacted to the cold. “So I took you as collateral for my money. How very gentlemanly of you.”

He took the gun from your hand and grinned, “you are spirited and I like that, but do not worry my only intentions are my money no harm will come to you, you are actually really interesting I would like to get to know you more.”

“Come let’s have breakfast baby,” he said over his shoulder

You followed him obediently your goal was to play your way out, cooperation until they let their guard down. Stepping out of the Taehyung standing there with a grin, and he held up a bag, “Hoseok and I bought you clothes?”

You nodded while taking the bag pondering a recurring thought, “who changed me last night?”

“I did, love but do not fret, I am a doctor and I assure you I did nothing inappropriate, while you were asleep. I would never, it’s too much work?” the short black-haired man spoke twirling a knife around his fingers. 

“Seriously, I don’t think Yoongi is human, we have taken him to so many brothels and he doesn’t get turned on at all,” you made eye contact with Yoongi who looked away causing you to crease your eyebrows. 

“I respect women and their professions?” Yoongi sighed, and you nodded thoughtfully walking into the bathroom and staring in the mirror. Eventually getting out of the wet garment and into a beautiful sundress. 

Processing your thoughts meticulously. He said you were here until your father paid his debt. He said he wouldn’t harm you. You had many unanswered questions but you felt a little reassured by these factors. You were still scared out of your wits but 

When you stepped out of the bathroom fully dressed you felt much better. The room was empty except Yoongi and you sighed looking at him. “I really didn’t do anything.” 

“I believe you, do not stress,” you patted his shoulder and with a deep breath in, you puffed up your chest, square your shoulders, and strode forward to the door with a firm nod. Yoongi navigated you through the halls behind you trying to keep up but you didn’t slow down. 

“Through to the end room two double doors,” he panted as you lost him down the hall, throwing the doors open, guns were drawn and all your new found confidence dwindled. 

“Ah, my apologies we usually knock.” Namjoon smiled holding his hands out to his men to stand down, “it’s polite.”

“Is kidnapping me polite?” You scoffed stomping towards him. “You said I am here till my father pays his debt and then I am free to leave correct?”

“Yes, that is—”

“So am I a prisoner?”

“You are a guest,” he said.

“So I can leave?”

“No.”

“Do you happen to know the definition of prisoner?”

“I believe you are referring to the noun of a person captured and kept confined by an enemy or criminal” he sighed “listen would you like to see a real prisoner? I can guarantee you are treated better than some of our other guests in this house”

Taken back by his words you looked away and sighed slumping into the empty seat at the other end of the table “who are you really?”

“I am Kim Namjoon, also known as RM,” he looked down the table at you. You were silent while eating, pondering this information biding your time before you could ask some more. 

“Now for business?” Namjoon gestured for his men to start talking. 

“Uh about mister Lee, I have successfully um… spoken?” The word came out as more of a question as Seokjin side-eyed you, “with him and he told me where we can find the um...”

“Hey, whatever it is you can say it, I’m not going to be scared by mere words.” You scoffed, stabbing a piece of cantaloupe. Namjoon nodded, approving Seokjin to talk freely.

“I interrogated him and we found the children he was trafficking returned them to their families,” Seokjin said “He is seriously sick in the head” 

“You are sure he has told you everything?” Namjoon ate his eggs and toast watching them over his cup of coffee. 

“I think so but to make sure I might cut off his remaining fingers and see what he has to say,” Seokjin nodded, “if he says no more well then I guess he is finished.”

“Hoseok what do you know?” Namjoon prompted the next man to speak.

“I know that Mr. y/l/n is accumulating stocks and seems to be on the way to paying his debt,” Hoseok said, your head snapped to him at the mention of your father and he cleared his throat with an awkward twitch of his head. “In other news, there is a young man named David from America is here to discuss a transaction on weapons”

“Anything else?” Namjoon pressed on, studying the man's reactions.

“A few minor gossip aspects from last nights party” you blinked turning to Hoseok who continued, “nothing serious but I will file it away for possible use in the future”

“I took out Mr Roth last night at the party.” Jimin threw the paper down and Namjoon picked it up. “Easily fooled as always.”

“Was there any complications?” Namjoon asked placing the paper down on the table and you walked around picking it up standing beside Namjoon as you read the information on the front page. 

Mob Merrymaking

On the evening of the 13th of July, Y/N was celebrating her 21st Birthday. The night was full of dancing, gifts and esteemed guests. The night which was intended to be a beautiful celebration turned sour when a Local Gang drugged and abducted the young woman. Mr Roth a nobleman of 45 had been found in the bathroom, his death was determined as substance abuse.

Mr. L/n stated “She will be fine wherever she is, she is a smart girl and too pure to get herself hurt” He further implied “...I also have no ill will towards any gangs that would warrant my daughter being taken or our family getting hurt. She is a beautiful woman and I think he must have taken a liking to her which leaves me to believe he won’t hurt her.”

Kim Industries which deals with Construction, real estate, property investments, restaurants bars and even Casinos are implied to be the gang in question. Kim Namjoon, as the owner of Kim Industries, was happy to oblige to the police investigation allowing his home to be thoroughly searched by police for the missing young woman. The residence came up empty of any incriminating evidence.

Where did the young woman go? Who is she with? If you have any information contact the police.

You were told to wait in the house while they all went to meet this American man named David, you refused saying if they left you alone you would either run away or set the place on fire. 

Namjoon grabbed you by the upper arm, “You are a young lady, start acting like one, we have treated you well and you have done nothing but act like a spoilt child.”

You had never been reprimanded so directly and harshly before, you were somewhat sheltered and sensitive to anger. You turned your head away from him as a few tears slipped.

“Sir, would you like me to stay behind with her?” Jungkook asked, watching his leader take out a pocket-handkerchief and take the young woman's chin firmly between his thumb and crooked finger tilting it up.

“She will come along, she must learn the severity of one's actions and the business we dabble in, to know the true weight of her actions,” He sighed, wiping your eyes. “Always carry a handkerchief Jungkook, women cry.”

“Of course! This way Miss,” Jungkook smiled softly, taking out his notebook to write the newest rule as he walked, “Namjoon is never late for a meeting.”

Escorted to the car as they all checked their weapons discussing their plan of attack, the trip took longer than you expected and at least an hour and a half had passed. The large juice you had at breakfast was making itself known. 

“Uh, I have to pee?” You whispered to Yoongi who frowned patting your knee in consolidation. 

“Namjoon doesn’t stop for anyone,” he sighed, “You will have to hold it,”

“What is it?” Namjoon commanded, not liking the whispering you were doing with his doctor.

“Y/n said she has to pee,” Yoongi said, “and I told her she will have to hold it.”

Namjoon nodded unphased “You should have gone before we left. Always pee before leaving the house.”

“I am not a child,” You hissed “I know when I need to pee and when I don’t, I wasn’t told the duration of this trip, to know whether I should go to the bathroom, and if I remember correctly I was ushered to the car before I had a chance to question it.”

“Keep your emotions out of your argument, you really are starting to sound like a child,” Namjoon said turning back to the conversation, there was nothing you could do.

The car pulled up, at a small furniture store, the men walked in lead by Namjoon and you were to stay outside with Yoongi and Seokjin. 

It was supposed to be a peaceful meeting, but you really had to go to the toilet. The two men were leaning on the back of the car, Yoongi smoking slowly and Seokjin complaining that it was bad for his looks to be near smoke. 

“Then fuck off,” Yoongi growled blowing large wisps of smoke purposefully at the other. The two bickered like a father of three and his bratty child. 

You really needed to go, to the point that you were eyeing a couple of bushes and hedges in the area. You, a high-class lady were contemplating urinating in public, that’s how serious this was. 

You looked at the two bickering again, Yoongi smirked, blowing more smoke at Seokjin who started coughing open-mouthed at Yoongi not bothering to cover his mouth. 

“You're nasty!” Yoongi grumbled, you rolled your eyes and snuck into the shop, there had to be an employee bathroom. 

You found a door but when you opened it you were met with men and guns, you immediately froze, all the muscles in your body tensing up.“Darling come here,” Namjoon said, gesturing you over to his side, and slipping you under his arm. “What are you doing here? I told you to wait by the car?”

“I have to pee,” you whimpered.

“Calm your expression,” he held your cheek and brought your eyes to his, “by my side, you don’t need to be scared, no one can hurt you?”

“That’s right darling we are just having a discussion, do you want to wait outside again we don’t want anything to happen to a pretty girl like you?”

You don’t know who said what but shots we fired and Namjoon pushed you across the room behind some big cabinets. When your back hit the tall boy you felt your bladder relax and you looked down warmth spreading down the inseams of your jeans. 

You were shaking in fear as the shots rang around the room, some hitting the furniture near where you hid. But worse than all that you were embarrassed and shocked never in your teen and adult life had you ever wet yourself. 

You stood sobbing, standing in a puddle of your own liquids. You took off your sneakers throwing them aside and you looked at your clothes. 

“Namjoon, we can’t find Miss Y/n?” Seokjin shouted ducking bullets, and brandishing his own gun. The distraction allowed their enemy to escape. 

“She is here you idiots, I asked you to do one job and you couldn’t even do that?” Namjoon said “Jimin, good shooting, David won’t make it home”

“That’s my job,” Jimin said proudly and you had to pluck up the courage to talk to them, but it was easier to hide climbing into a cupboard. 

“Miss Y/n, are you hurt?” Yoongi asked “huh?”

“What is it?” Namjoon said 

“Oh no darling, I am so sorry?” Yoongi’s voice was solemn. 

“If she is dead I am killing you both,” Namjoon growled his boots hitting the cement as he stomped over. 

“Stay there,” Yoongi said with authority, the footsteps stopped “Jimin take off your pants?”

“What why?” Jimin asked confused as to why the conversation shifted to him and his trousers. 

“Just do it?” Yoongi growled snapping his fingers. 

“None of you will step foot over here until I say so, if you do I will happily sedate you all and turn you into eunuchs, and that includes you Namjoon.”

“I am your leader?”

“And I am your elder, go wait outside, all of you?” They all stepped outside and Yoongi sighed walking to the cupboard holding Jimin’s trousers. 

“Come here darling,” he said, taking your hand and guiding you to the bathroom he told you to strip everything off except your bra. you sobbed. “Don’t worry I got more enjoyment out of seeing Jimin undress than redressing you last night, if you understand what I am saying.”

You realized and wiped your eyes, he pushed you to sit on the bench and he washed your legs in the sink and asked you to wash everything else yourself. 

You felt better, he apologized for not having any underwear for you and you slipped on Jimin's pants and fastened the belt. The last thing you would need is to expose everything and Yoongi gave you his undershirt. 

He walked you out and Namjoon looked relieved when he saw you emerge. “Are you okay?”

“No I am horrified, I was in the middle of a shoot out and I quite literally pissed myself,” you shouted. Your eyes stung from the crying you had done, “Never in my coherent life have I disgraced myself like that.”

“I apologize,” he said, holding his shoulder you saw blood seeping through his fingers, you immediately felt bad for yelling and making it about you when he was in pain.

Jimin stood in just his boxer briefs. “I have nothing against the no-pants but can we go home?”

The only rational thing to do after the incident at the furniture store and warehouse was to seclude yourself in your room away from everyone else. Namjoon often visited and brought you your meals talking to you about things with no real substance. Mostly about his loathing of check ups, it seemed he was hiding in your room from Yoongi.

This happened for a number of days until Hoseok got bored, he wanted to gossip with you and Taehyung came along with paints in hand. His excuse was that you had promised him you two could paint together. 

Forcibly removed from your one-person pity party you sat outside painting and chatting about random topics. 

Hoseok wanted to know if you had any suitors and who they were, he asked what type of guy you liked and you hummed. 

“Someone kind and generous who gives back to others” you gushed about your tall dark and handsome and they laughed.

That night Namjoon knocked on your door and requested you come down for dinner, you agreed much to his surprise. He stammered obviously not expecting you to consent to his plan for dinner, he nodded curtly and walked off down the hall. Tripping in his haste on a small lump in the hall carpet and catching himself on the wall.

Wearing a pretty emerald green halter dress the skirts swished as you walked and your modest heels clicked on the timber. You heard hushed talking and slowed down, being so confined the past few days you were almost starved for conversation. 

“He is having dinner tonight, they will all be in the dining hall which will leave his office free, once I get the information I will get out of here before they find out.” The man had a weird moustache and a mole above his eyebrow. 

You tiptoed past holding your skirts from ruffling and keeping your heels from clicking you headed downstairs. 

Pushing open the doors a multitude of guns were pointed at you, “Miss Y/n I was told you were from a moderately high-class family you should know how to knock.”

You raced over to Namjoon and cupped your hand around your mouth leaning down. “I heard someone talking about breaking into your office, to steal information”

“Jimin” Namjoon beckoned him over, he whispered to Jimin who nodded and went out the back door. 

“Where is he going?” You asked and Namjoon stood up and walked you to the other end of the table and you frowned, “I don’t like this?”

“Sit relax, it is time for us to enjoy dinner.”

You sat for the briefest of moments watching Namjoon cross the room and sit at the opposite end of the table before taking your chair and dragging it across the floor slowly. 

You saw his eyebrow twitch as you did so and stopped beside him. “I would prefer not to shout across the table,” you smiled softly

“You are both a blessing and a curse,” Namjoon said, “dinner is now a minute late”

Dinner was unlike anything you had ever had before, you smiled and ate happily, “this is delicious”

“You should try the steak?” Namjoon smiled, you nodded, cutting some of your chicken and stabbed it with a fork. 

“Alright, I will try some of your steak if you try some of this chicken?” You held it out to him and his eyes were wide “it’s a fair trade”

He leaned forward and ate the small piece off your fork and he cut you a piece of steak and held it out to you. 

You leaned forward and took a bite chewing slowly, your eyes going wide. “That is delicious”

Namjoon leaned over wiping your chin with a napkin his thumb, your eyes were locked in a fierce gaze and he gave you a dimpled smile.

“Jin, try some of my chicken?” Taehyung asked, holding out his fork. 

“No, thank you?” Seokjin said, continuing to eat his steak ignoring the pouting young man. 

“But they shared?” He whined. This made you aware of how intimate your action was, your cheeks flushing dark at your forwardness.

After dinner you were being escorted back to your room. Namjoon was quiet the whole time, not for lack of trying. The amount of times you saw him open and close his mouth, as if he was trying to strike up something to say. 

Standing at your door he paused looking at you searching for something, you laughed opening the door, “Would you like to come in for a drink?” 

He seemed grateful for the excuse to stay in your company, after a drink of two you started talking about your most embarrassing stories. He was actually super clumsy for someone in the mafia and a complete goofball.

“And that was my first kiss, I haven’t really had many kisses after that and the few I can remember were just as bad” Your laughter was cut off by Namjoon who had leaned over on the small couch and pressed his lips to yours. Just as you felt your heart flutter he pulled away.

“It is getting late you should sleep” He stood up and placed down the glass, you walked him to the door and he froze. “Was that okay? I hope I didn’t overstep any boundaries, did I?”

“No it was nice really nice, you can do that-” He pressed his lips to yours once more and smiled whispering good night before walking off down the hall. With a sigh you added “Anytime you like.”

You didn’t hear anything strange from anyone or see anyone but you hoped everything worked out and the man who wanted to steal information ran away. 

You were trying to find Namjoon the next day and travelled downstairs looking in random doors. 

You reached the end of the hallway and found a door you heard screaming and knocked hesitantly on the wood, Yoongi stepped out covered in blood and gun in hand. 

“Oh, y/n now isn’t a good time?” Yoongi said, stepping out and shutting the door. “What are you doing down here?”

“I was looking for Namjoon, is everything okay? What are you doing?” You asked, concerned by the amount of blood on Yoongi’s clothes. 

“We are okay, Seokjin and I are just interrogating the mole, hey good spotting by the way no one knew they had snuck in,” your stomach dropped, this blood was from that man and it was all because of you. 

“Namjoon is in his office on the third floor from the ground west wing double doors on the left-right at the end of the corridor.”

You nodded, froze in place and Yoongi sighed “I have to go back in,” he went to pat your shoulder but saw his stained gloves and sighed ripping them off. 

He turned punching in numbers into the code lock. 7276. He slipped inside and you heard screaming, which was silenced immediately as the door sealed shut, you quickly ran feeling sick.

Racing up the stairs and bumping into Jungkook and almost falling, thankfully  he caught you, “hey hey, slow down what’s wrong?”

You were wide-eyed and scared and he frowned. “Did you go downstairs?”

You nodded and he led you down the hall, “you are scared and helpless, but the way to feel better is to get stronger. You won’t feel as scared if you're not so helpless.” Jungkook opened the doors to the gym. 

“Let me teach you how to fight,” Jungkook began teaching the basics and at another point, Jimin entered the two gave you pointers, their fighting styles. Jungkook was all power and strength and Jimin’s was survival. 

“Look all you got to know is how to break free so you can run away,” Jimin instructed. “Even someone like Yoongi can break out of Jungkook's grasp.” 

“That was one time and he refused to give me a rematch,” Jungkook wined. 

You were learning so much, and it was in a sense a little empowering. The two guys were good at what they did and the more you learnt the more you wanted to learn. 

Learning to fight gave you something to take your mind off what you had seen at least for the first two weeks but when you heard them relay information at breakfast you felt sick once more. 

“He refuses to speak,” Seokjin said 

“He will eventually,” Namjoon didn’t bat an eyelash. Two weeks of torture because you outed him. 

This was all your fault. He was suffering because of you. You left the dining hall unable to stomach the thought of food. 

Heading down the stairs you opened the door with the code 7276, you almost vomited, he sat there unrestrained and unconscious. His fingernails were removed and his face broken beyond repair. 

“Hello, sir are you alive?” You asked, he groaned struggling to move his head, coughing up some blood at the effort it took to move. 

“Who are you?”

“I am no one sir,” you breathed, “I can help you.”

He lunged hands gripping your throat and you fell back under the weight of him, you were struggling against him in panic. “Die you bitch, I know who you are, you're that monster's whore. He has never tried to protect anyone in his life and yet his soft spot is you. They are coming to kill you all.”

You struggled less hearing Jimin’s words in your head, “don’t panic” his voice would smooth as he held you in this position. “You want to panic but relax and fight back”

You did what he said, “your legs are your strongest so kick them in the chest” Jungkook would coach from the side, following their instructions you kicked the man off and ducked out the door pulling it closed. 

You were gasping and you ran up the stairs and into the dining hall gasping. Namjoon flew to his seat and scooped you up, sitting you on the side of the table. 

“Yoongi.” He commanded, he gently brushed his fingers over your neck, he looked upset, angry and sad all at once. The emotions were so strong it shocked you. Grabbing his gun, you pressed it into Namjoon's hands. 

“Kill him,” You wheezed, “slowly.”

“You went back down there didn’t you?” Jungkook sighed and before Yoongi could stop him Namjoon cocked the gun and stormed off. Seokjin followed after him and they all watched you trying to help. 

“Your throat will sting for a few days try not to talk it will help it heal,” Yoongi sighed 

“You just don’t want to hear me talk,” you joked, wincing at the pain. “Got it, no talking.”

Namjoon threw the man into the dining hall and dragged him by his hair across the floor, “the lady has requested you die and slowly.” 

Namjoon shot him six times in both legs, one in each foot, calf and thigh, the blood was pooling everywhere. You felt queasy, you wanted this but you weren’t sure you could stomach it. 

“If you can make it back to your people with these wounds I will let you go?” Namjoon put his gun away and the man tried to crawl away, losing strength as he streaked blood across the ground. 

The man was making horrible noises and you didn’t like it, covering your ears and Yoongi warned Namjoon who shot the mole in the back of the head as he reached for the door handle. 

Again the only thing you deemed appropriate after witnessing that sort of horrific event was to seclude yourself in your room. Yoongi visited bringing you soups to soothe your sore throat and his persistence and gentle nature was the only thing that got you to drink some of it.

You laid there alone when it started to rain. You loved the rain, but what surprised you was your new fear of the thunder rumbling in the distance sinister as if it was coming after you. 

You had never been afraid of storms you used to stand out on the patio undercover with your father and watch the lights flash and feel the electricity in the air. But now each flash had shadows in your window and was accompanied by gunshots that shook the ground.

You were a whimpering mess and you wanted to get out, you ran from your room and raced down the stairs and out the front door. You were in the rain running down the long estate driveway and you expected to be followed by Namjoons henchmen and dragged back and punished for what you didn’t expect was for Namjoon to be running after you. 

He grabbed you and pulled you to his chest hugging you gently and he started to sing in your ear, his voice was low and soothing. You found yourself easing into his chest and your erratic sobbing calmed some.

Forever Rain, Forever Rain, Forever Rain, Forever Rain, Forever Rain,

He repeated this phrase slowly singing into your ear holding you desperately and before you knew it, you passed out in his arms.

Namjoon was sweet, you woke up beside him, you were dressed in a button-up and nothing more and he was in his trousers that looked damp, he was sleeping above the blankets holding your hand as if he hadn’t intended to fall asleep beside you but to watch over you.

You brushed his hair off of his face and covered him with a blanket before heading to his closet, taking out some sweatpants and a plain white shirt. He stirred awake when you emerged from the walk-in closet. 

“Good morning,” You said softly

“You haven’t obtained any of my weapons while I was sleeping have you?” He asked, making you laugh behind your hand.

“No, someone hasn’t taught me how to use a gun properly, something about a magazine?” you said, trying to play coy. Namjoon laughed getting out of bed and taking your hand, dragging you into the closet and he began explaining all about guns and you listened he had all these amazing facts from when they were made to how they were made and how they fired and how far.

He demonstrated how to put ammunition into the magazine and the magazine into the gun. He taught you how to take the safety on and off and how to hold the gun being new so as not to accidentally shoot anyone. 

He led you to the balcony and smiled telling you to hold the gun and he corrected your stance and hold and he told you to aim at a tree and you did. 

“Now shoot?” He smiled encouragingly. You turned to him shocked, starting to protest that you weren’t ready. 

“You are just scared I promise nothing will happen?” He smiled talking you through it all again. 

He didn’t rush you and he didn’t laugh, he spoke the whole time about what you would like for breakfast. You fired a shot and bumped into Namjoon, he chuckled, “that was a good start. Did you close your eyes? Try again.”

It took a few goes and the boys busting in the room before you were comfortable with the weapon. Each had pointers and you felt empowered once more. 

“I can make you a pretty handgun,” Taehyung smiled and the group went to breakfast. 

“We have a meeting today, so dress pretty, it’s a good meeting, nothing scary, I think you will like it.” Namjoon smiled, making you nod and run off to get dressed. 

“Something Christmassy!” Taehyung shouted. 

This wasn’t what you expected when you heard mafia, usually you would think things like guns and drugs and women and violence and sure some of those things were true. 

But giving Christmas presents to an orphanage full of children wasn’t what you had in mind. You took a present and handed it out, “are you mister Kim’s wife now?”

You giggled at the children’s naive question and began thinking about what it would be like if you really were Namjoon’s wife. 

“Well, he hasn’t asked me so, no,” you laughed with the children some of the teens heard and began teasing Namjoon. 

“Why haven’t you asked her yet she is so pretty?” They said, “I would ask her.”

“Namjoon is shy, underneath the suit he is just a boy with dimples” Jimin teased earning a wad of wrapping paper at his head from the man in question. You had stepped outside into the snow watching it fall around you, Namjoon was eyeing you through the small glass window.

Excusing himself Namjoon left the children and headed out into the snowy garden, he shrugged off his jacket as he approached and slipped it over your shoulders. Clearing his throat “you shouldn’t be out here, you might catch a cold”

“Not with you here” You elbowed him playfully, he chuckled allowing you to lean against him, he didn’t tell you he was cold but dutifully stood there and kept you company.

“Thank you so much,” The woman said, as you all stepped out the front door, the boys all headed to the car and you were left beside Namjoon who had left his arm around your waist leading you to the car. “For the presents and the donation, the children and I truly appreciate it.”

“Y/n?” Namjoon said as you walked into the dining room to find it empty, the food was set and there were candles. “I wanted to speak with you privately.”

“Okay, what did you want to talk about?” You asked curiously, what was so important that his men whom he confided everything in were not present.

“Since I met you, I have broken so many of my rules, I have been late, I have forgotten what I have wanted to say, I have spoken without purpose, I have even broken the rule to keep speeches short and sweet.” He laughed rubbing the back of the neck. “I have enjoyed your company greatly and you have made me a better man because of it. Ever since I met you, I was enraptured by your brains and beauty. You are fiery and sassy and kind and real.”

“Thank you, I haven’t done that much though.” You weren’t being modest, you hadn’t done anything special to warrant his compliments.

“I wanted to ask if you would do me the greatest honour of marrying me?” He said, “I will keep you safe, you will never go hungry or cold, I will cherish you with every fibre of my being.”

“Yes,” You said in shock, you liked him of course, you had for a while now but the fact that he could get anyone and he chose you. That was what shocked you, you weren’t on the same status level. He was very high class and you were scrapping the lower end of high class.

The celebration was to be held at the grand hotel, the hall was booked and looking spectacular you were announcing your engagement. It was a real lavish affair and you were in the most expensive gown you had ever seen, feeling like a million dollars and wearing a million and a half.

It was all real, the shoes, jewelry, hotel, engagement and you couldn’t believe it. “Is this a dream?” the stylist shook her head.

You were trying to wonder where it had all come together; it was little gestures and actions. When the two of you met and he was charming and poise when dancing with you. The more you got to know him he was meticulous and sassy and strict, he didn’t miss a chance to correct and reprimand you. 

Somewhere along your journey he started to enjoy your company, he became more clumsy, and open to new ideas. He took a chance and started approaching you with his feelings and what blossomed between you was love.

“My lady, if you are ready follow us to take some photos with your fiance on the rooftop.” You were shaken out of your daydream and guided to the elevator headed for the rooftop, the two men were talking into headsets, “Everything is secure” The man said straight-faced, and the other man helped you hold the small train of your dress.

When you stepped out the men guided you across the rooftop and told you to sit in the chair while the cameraman finished setting up. You sat drinking, you only got a short way through it before you fell asleep.

Waking it was dark, you were strapped to the chair and there was something heavy and bulky on your chest. Eyes adjusting to see the glowing numbers on your chest. You started to cry, something was wrong and almost an hour went by before, you heard someone shouting your name.

“Y/N!” it was Jimin.

“Jimin!” You shouted and he raced over to the door but you heard the clanking of chains. You were locked in. 

“Wait here, I will get the others and something to get you out.” He was gone before you could tell him.

You heard more voices and Namjoon came over, you had ten minutes written on the digital clock on your chest, the numbers flickering down consistently. “Y/N?” Namjoon said, “Don’t worry, we will get you out?”

“Namjoon,” You cried from the seat, sobs breaking through your words, “There is a bomb.”

“Where is the bomb?” Namjoon said 

“It’s here,” Hot tears falling from your eyes stinging, “It’s on me, there is only nine minutes left.”

He swore, “Break this door down now, find another way in?”

They all began struggling and trying their best, but you knew it was useless. Namjoon, go, take everyone and go, there isn’t enough time?”

“No!” Namjoon growled smashing his fists on the door and throwing his shoulder into it, “I will get you out of it.”

“Namjoon, send the boys away don’t get them hurt because of me?” You whispered, “Go!”

“Leave us,” Namjoon said, his voice defeated.

“We won’t leave without you both?” Jungkook said, the timer said three minutes and you wanted to scream at them to go but the sobs took everything out of you.

“A man will follow orders to the letter Jungkook.” Namjoon said, sending the younger man away, “Get out of here.”

“Yeah rule number twenty-two, but what about number thirty-three take a challenge or thirty-nine finish what you start.”

“Jungkook, leave now before I shoot you, your orders are to get everyone out of the building, we will be down soon.”

Jungkook hesitated before running off. You called out to Namjoon begging him to leave but he refused continuing to try to break down the door blinking away the blur in your eyes from the tears you saw the time had only a minute left.

“Namjoon, there is only a minute left, please leave.” You pleaded and you could hear him on the other side of the door. 

“I am not leaving you,” He sniffed, voice watery and shaking with the sounds of his sobs. He broke the number one rule.

[Part 2]

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[whumpingcrow]

Pt. 1 "First Impressions" (Elias Intro)

CW: foster care mention, tourettes syndrome, ticcing, drug mention, food mention, conversation about abuse, hospital setting, injury mention, discussion of poisoned food, vomit mention (let me know if i missed anything!)

Elias was nothing special, really, not in his eyes. He was taken from his deadbeat parents when he was 11, he was tossed around from foster homes to group homes and back again for an exhausting seven years, he didn’t finish high school. The most interesting thing about him was his tourettes, but even that was embarrassing and shameful, another reason to be ignored. Truth was, he was swept under the rug and forgotten for his whole life, so no one, including himself, thought he would ever amount to much, or thought he was worthy of nice things. People like him didn’t just get nice things, unless they were very lucky, and Elias had found out time after disappointing time that he was not one of the fortunate ones.

But Tyson sure as hell made him feel like he could be.

It was amusing to Elias how they met, even though Tyson claimed he wished it would’ve been more pleasant. Tyson had yet to learn that Elias repelled pleasantries. Elias had been staying with a few people he knew from high school, before he dropped out, in their cramped apartment, working part time at a diner so he could try and move out and be on his own. He was so tired of sharing small spaces with people. He would walk home from work everyday, because of course he couldn’t afford a car or even a bike. On that particular night, it was dark and raining, and Elias was in a particular rush to get to the apartment and change out of his wet clothes. Which is why he tried to rush across the street where there wasn’t a crosswalk, unaware of the fast car turning the corner until he heard the screech of tires next to him.

The man that got out of the car looked just as scared as Elias felt, rushing towards him in a flurry of apologies. “I am so sorry! Are you ok? Are you hurt?” His voice was shaking, and it made Elias uneasy, he didn’t look like he would scare easily, with his strong build and his mature face.

Elias scowled at him, shaking his head. “You shouldn’t drive so fast on this road, dickbag,” he scolded, “you could’ve fucking killed me!”

The man looked surprised, like he wasn’t expecting someone of Elias’s stature to have such a foul mouth. “I...I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t see you crossing and I...Where are you headed? Let me give you a ride.”

“What?” He squeaked in response. Logically, he knew it was his fault anyway, he wasn’t supposed to cross there, it was dark and rainy and not this stranger's fault, he was just quick to anger and too afraid to admit when he was in the wrong. “GIve me a ride?”

“Please, it’s the very least I can do. I feel awful.”

Elias knew that he shouldn’t get into a stranger's car, that it might be dangerous, that this man's kindness could be some sort of sinister facade. But he seemed so genuine, so concerned. So he slowly nodded, ducking into the passengers side door carefully. It was better than walking home in the rain. “My name’s Elias.” He heard himself saying.

“Elias,” the man repeated, “I’m Tyson.”

That was over a month ago, and the two were much more than strangers who almost had a horrible accident, by now. As Tyson was driving him home, they were talking about surface level things to fill the awkward spaces, and Tyson mentioned his ex-boyfriend, at which Elias mentioned his ex-boyfriend, and when they got to his apartment, Tyson asked for his number. They’d gotten much closer since then, Elias even stayed over at Tyson’s apartment a few days a week.

Tyson was so down to earth, so kind and forgiving and patient. He smoked weed, but he never pressured Elias into it, like other people had in the past. He was a nurse at a behavioral health hospital, he only worked nights, so they typically spent all day together. Elias was so enthralled by him and everything he did, often he would sit with Tyson as he drew sloppy, drug hazed sketches, or talk with him about the way the world worked, or things of that nature. The best part about being with Tyson was that he never felt forgotten or ignored, and he rather enjoyed the new attention. He enjoyed feeling cared about, important.

Sometimes Elias would stay at Tyson’s apartment when Tyson went to work, sleeping in his bed and waiting for him to come home in the morning. Tyson came home and crawled under the covers to catch up on sleep he’d missed at work, and after a while of holding each other while they slept, Elias got up to cook breakfast. He wasn’t a great cook, per say, but he could fry an egg alright, and maybe whip up some french toast on a good day. Today was apparently not one of the better ones, and the burnt food ended up in the trash, leaving him with scrambled eggs in the bottom of the pan. It wasn’t spectacular, but it would have to do.

“Good morning,” he called to Tyson as he came into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He always looked so nice upon waking up, his hair messy and how the late morning sun hit his beautiful dark skin as he stretched. “I made eggs. Not sure how safe they are to eat, though.”

Tyson offered a weak smile, but didn’t seem too amused at the joke. Elias wondered if he’d done something wrong, Tyson was usually so light-hearted.

“I need to talk to you about something, Eli.” He grumbled. Elias quite liked that nickname, but not when the rest of the sentence sounded so heavy. “Can we sit for a second?”

Once they were at the table, Elias took a deep breath, ready to put his defenses up, ready to be angry instead of hurt. He found himself thinking over the last few days, had he said something wrong? Was he annoying him? Overstaying his welcome at his apartment? “You’re tired of me, aren’t you?” He asked.

“No! Oh God, Eli, no!” He reached forward to take his hand as he spoke, smiling at him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to freak you out. You’re fine, we’re fine. This is about...well, it’s about my ex.”

Elias relaxed a fraction at the reassurance, so he was fine, Tyson wasn’t sick of him. Then he nodded for him to go on, listening carefully. Tyson didn’t talk about him much, but Elias knew that his name was Allen, that he had a lot of issues that were never really discussed in detail.

“You know how I told you that he had a lot going on? That he was sort of...a mess?” He paused, taking a deep breath to organize his thoughts. “Well, a while ago, he got mixed up with these really bad people, it wasn’t his fault, it should’ve never happened, and he got really hurt.” Tyson sounded nervous, and Elias squeezed his hand gently to comfort him. “Anyway, this guy he was with really hurt him, for a really long time. His name is August. I mean, this guy was a monster, he ruined his life.”

“Why are you telling me all this?” Elias asked. The subject seemed to make both of them uneasy, and he stroked his thumb mindlessly against Tyson’s knuckles.

Tyson took a deep breath then, looking like he didn’t want to answer. “Well...He got hurt again, he’s at the hospital. I guess he didn’t want to call his boyfriend so they called me instead. I have to go pick him up. And I wanted you to come with me, if you’re comfortable with that.”

Elias didn’t know why he agreed to it, really, he just knew that within an hour he was walking down the cold, sterile, hallway of a hospital, hand in hand with an obviously nervous Tyson. He wasn’t really sure what to expect, having heard very few things about Allen in the past. Allen didn’t have his shit together, Tyson had told him, so as much as they had tried to work through things, it just wasn’t possible. From what he gathered, Tyson cared a lot about this guy, even if it wasn’t in that way anymore, and he believed him. Allen had someone else anyway, so he didn’t have anything to worry about. At least he hoped he didn’t.

Elias was shocked at how horrible Allen looked, like he was seconds from keeling over right there on the hospital bed. He was bruised up every few inches from head to toe, a sick pallor to him. Tyson wasn’t lying when he’d said that the person, August, had really hurt him.

Tyson rapped gently against the door frame, causing Allen to squint up at them with a pained look on his face. His black hair fell against his jaw and a few strands over his face, like he couldn’t be bothered to push it away from his eyes. He would be very attractive, if not for the splotchy bruises on his face, Elias thought to himself. His features were striking, all sharp angles and piercing eyes, his full lips parted slightly in fear.

“Oh, Allen.” Tyson breathed, his voice disdainful, upset at the state he was in. Recognition finally fell across his face, as if he couldn’t see who it was before he spoke.

“Tyson,” he whimpered, “you ca-came.” Relief coated his words, like he was expecting Tyson to say he didn’t want to come help him. Elias knew Tyson, knew the selfless way he cared for people, and if that’s what Allen was expecting, it was completely unrealistic.

“Of course.” Tyson reached to the side and flipped on one of the lights, which made Allen flinch horribly and squeeze his eyes shut for a moment. Elias was watching on with a pitiful interest, he had never seen someone so hurt, so scared. This August guy must’ve really done a number on him.

Elias followed close behind Tyson as he went to pull up a chair next to the bed, and Allen stared at him apprehensively. As if just remembering he was there, Tyson reached for his hand again as they sat down. “I forgot to introduce you, this is my boyfriend, Elias.” He shot him a fond look, and Elias smiled brightly back. He liked the sound of that, “his boyfriend”.

“Nice to finally meet you,” he spoke softly, trying not to startle him, “I’ve heard quite a bit about you. All good things.”

Allen nodded, dropping his head to look at the blanket and picking at a loose thread there. “Nice t-to meet you, too,” he stammered. “Ty, you didn’t uh...tell Leo, right? That I was here?”

“No,” Tyson assured him. “Did you want me to?” He sounded so comforting, so kind, just like he always did.

“No, I do-don’t think I’m ready to see him.”

They fell into a heavy silence after that, no one knowing what the right thing to say was. Eventually, Allen began to ask questions about their relationship, trying to get them to talk about themselves so he didn’t feel the attention on him. It worked for a while, up until Tyson had to excuse himself to the bathroom, and then Allen looked even more frightened as he realized he would be alone with Elias, a perfect stranger.

Elias ran through ways in his head of how to make Allen know that he meant no harm, that he wasn’t going to hurt him. Before he could think about it, he blurted, “I hope you don’t still like him.” He felt bad as soon as he said it, Allen was sitting in a hospital bed, covered in aches and pains, the last thing he needed was for Elias to interrogate him in his insecurity. He was surprised when Allen let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head.

“Who, Tyson?” He replied. Elias nodded half-heartedly. “No, I haven’t for awhile. D-don’t worry.”

Elias relaxed, leaning forward in his chair. “Ok, cause I really like him.” He bit his lip, a thoughtful look on his face. “He really cares about you. Maybe not in that way, but he really does. And that’s ok, cause you look like you could use someone who cares about you.”

Allen’s face softened, and he seemed to deflate from his afraid, panicked demeanor, at least a little. “I could. Th-thank you.”

Just then, Tyson walked in, smiling softly at the two of them. “Are you talking about me?” He teased, ruffling Elias’s blond hair as he walked past him to sit down.

“Us? Oh no, we were talking about football.” Elias joked. Tyson laughed, but Allen couldn’t even smile. He seemed glad for the company, but he didn’t look like he was used to being talked to, included in conversation.

“So, if you’re not staying with Leo right now, do you have somewhere to stay?” Tyson asked. Allen didn’t answer, didn’t even look up. He seemed like he was checked out, his thoughts somewhere else, very far from the safety of the hospital room. “Allen?”

Allen flinched at his own name, then looked up at him. “Sorry...what?”

“I said do you have a place to stay?”

Allen looked thoughtful, staring back at the wall. “Oh. Uh...I hadn’t thought about it, really. I g-guess once I start talking to Leo again...if he’ll even want to talk to me again…”

“Maybe you could stay with us,” he interrupted, already seeing where the anxious thought was headed, “Would that be ok, Eli?”

Elias nodded eagerly. He didn’t even realize that they were “us” at that point, as far as living together. It was nice to hear him phrase it that way. And he could tell from looking at Allen that he really needed a safe place to stay, and Tyson could definitely provide that.

Allen thanked them, then went quiet again. After a few moments, he sighed heavily, like simply existing was extremely taxing on his well being. “I always feel so l-lost without him.” He admitted. “I know I shouldn’t, b-but I just feel like I’m doing everything wrong and just d-don’t know.”

Elias assumed he was talking about August, and he felt bad. He couldn’t imagine how shitty it must feel to miss someone who had caused so much pain, damaged him so badly. Elias had been hurt and betrayed by people who were supposed to take care of him plenty of times, but he’d never missed them after, only looking back with resentment and anger.

“Yeah,” Tyson breathed. “I know it’s really rough on you. He really messed up your view of good and bad. But you’re doing great, someone will tell you if something isn’t ok, you’re not gonna be in trouble or anything.”

It was amazing, how Tyson could talk someone out of their panic so easily, how he seemed to know just what to say to assure them. Allen merely shrugged, clearly not as amazed as Elias was. “Leo probably hates me. I’m so afraid to call him.”

“We’ll figure that out when we get back. I’m sure he doesn’t, he’s probably just worried sick. You’ve got a tendency to do that to him.” He smiled softly at him, trying to get him to relax. It didn’t work.

Allen only had to be in the hospital for about an hour and a half after that, and then Tyson drove him and Elias back to his apartment. Elias glanced back at him every now and then, frowning when he saw he had pulled his hood over his eyes and was covering his ears with his hands. He turned the music down, thinking that maybe it was too loud, but Allen stayed tucked away into his little shell the rest of the ride back.

Finally, he was sitting at the kitchen table with his hands folded in front of him obediently as Tyson cooked them lunch. Elias came and sat with him at one point, smiling at him. “I really like your hair,” he said, “really suits your face.” He hoped that if he was nice enough, Allen would stop being so afraid and get comfortable. It was sad to see him looking so worried.

“Thank you.” Allen replied, almost mechanically.

Tyson joined them minutes later, setting a plate in front of Allen, who began staring at it trivially.

“What, you don’t like it?” Tyson teased. Even though he knew he was trying to ask it in a joking way so he wouldn’t freak Allen out, Elias could tell he was genuinely concerned. He hoped Allen knew that too.

Allen only frowned up at him, like he was too afraid to speak. He was so god damn quiet, Elias gathered. He didn’t know how, because Elias had been through his fair share of hard times and they all made him loud and pissed off. He couldn’t think of a single time that someone had treated him like garbage and he decided he would be quiet. He couldn’t tell if that signified that what happened to Allen was more dreadful than he could guess, or if they just handled things differently. He hopped, for Allen’s sake, that it was the ladder.

“N-no..I just uh...just…” he trailed off, picking up his fork with shaking hands. He looked like he was going to be sick, staring at the food. Elias tasted it, out of curiosity, but it was just fine.

“You just what?” Tyson prompted.

Allen had tears in his eyes as he stabbed through the food, staring at it in fear, like it was going to hurt him itself. For a moment, he looked like he was going to try to eat it, but then he dropped the fork to the plate with a clink and covered his face. “I’m s-sorry,” he choked out, “I really am.”

“Hey, it’s ok. Why don't you tell me what’s going on? We’ll figure it out.”

“J-just...last time someone gave me f-food, it was August, and he put something in it th-that made me sick for days... I just can’t stop thinking about that.”

Tyson and Elias exchanged a disgusted frown, not wanting to believe that someone would do that. “What a dick,” Elias remarked, “seriously, who the fuck does that?”

Allen shook his head, wiping at his tears furiously. “No, he only did it because I was doing something wrong. I d-deserved it.”

“Don’t say that. You did nothing wrong, Allen.”

He nodded at that, shutting himself up. Elias suddenly wasn’t hungry. None of them were.

“I think I need to call Leo,” Allen suddenly said, standing from the table. He grabbed his phone, then went outside.

Elias stood up and began helping Tyson clean up the untouched food from the table. He wondered if what he said upset Allen, that’s why he suddenly wanted to leave. It was true though, August was a dick for it, and there was nothing Allen could have done to warrant that kind of treatment. “Did I upset him?” Elias asked Tyson, a worried look on his face. “I didn’t mean to-”

“No, love, it’s not your fault. He’s just fragile right now.” He sighed heavily as he set the plates into the sink, looking rather overwhelmed. “I know this is a lot to handle, thank you for being so cool about it.”

Before he could respond, Allen came back in, tears streaming down his face. “Leo’s coming to g-get me,” he murmured, leaning against the wall as if it was too hard to stand upright on his own, “thank you f-for everything.”

Tyson nodded at him, a look of relief slipping onto his face. “Oh, that’s good. How did talking to him go?”

Allen shrugged uselessly, not wanting to go into depth. He seemed exhausted, and no one could blame him, with what he’d been through. Tyson offered to walk him outside to meet Leo, and Elias sat inside by himself while he waited. He thought about how strange of a circumstance it was, usually when people met their partners ex, things were tense and awkward, but meeting Allen wasn’t like how he’d expect, he wasn’t jealous or insecure, he mainly just felt bad for the guy.

When Tyson came back inside, it was like they were both too afraid to talk about what happened, so they just turned on a movie instead, leaning against each other and pretending there was nothing to talk about.

[sledgefuweek]

Each year we take a close look at the prompts for Sledgefu Week, for those who may be stuck for ideas or not quite sure about what the prompts could entail. Below the readmore are all seven prompts, as well as a short write-up exploring what they mean and some ideas to help get the creative juices going. Enjoy!!

Sickfic

This is a really popular and well-known fanfic trope that I feel probably needs little explanation, but I’ll write a little bit about it anyway! It essentially covers fic where one character is ill and the other cares for them -- it could encompass any kind of illness at all, (including chronic illnesses) and there’s a lot of room to get creative with it. You can go for angst, hurt/comfort, or fluff: it’s just a really good general prompt that I think works nicely to kick the week off!

It suits for Sledgefu pretty well, considering Snafu’s canon mild hypochondria, as well as the fact that Eugene’s dad is a doctor. It could be fun to lean into it: make Eugene play doctor for an actually-sick Snafu, and it could be just as fun to subvert it! There’s really endless options for canon fic: shrapnel wounds turned bad, heat-sickness, seasickness, illness from bad food or bad water or any kind of tropical disease you can think of (malaria is a big one!). You could make one of them (or both) a medic; you could genderswap them and write the gay field nurse fic this fandom sorely needs. And of course if you choose to branch out into modern AU you can begin to think of what might afflict them outside of a war setting: has Eugene been working too much and come down with a cold? Are they hungover, and need mutual care (and lots of takeout)? A lot of the time sickfic focuses on one character doing the comforting and the other character feeling unwell, but there’s nothing to say they can’t both be feeling shitty! I think we say this every year but there’s really no rules at all, you do whatever you feel inspired to do. With Sickfic, just be mindful to tag anything that others might be affected by eg. vomiting, blood, needles, etc.

Tarot

I feel like Tarot is pretty well-known to the Sledgefu fandom, or at least to those who like to write Snafu or his family a little witchy. In case you just have a vague idea of what Tarot actually is and what its purpose or origins are, I’ll explain it as concisely as I can! Tarot decks started life in Europe as playing cards, but eventually began to be used for divination. It’s made up of four suits, or the Minor Arcana, (Wands, Cups, Swords, and Pentacles) as well as a twenty-two card Major Arcana (the imagery of which you’re probably very familiar with). Commonly, tarot decks and tarot reading is used as a means of communicating with the higher self, deities, or with the universe. They can be used as a way to see the future, answer questions, or to give/receive advice. There are different ways of reading them too, depending on how one lays out the cards: I don’t want to make this too wordy, but if you’re curious I encourage you to check out this site to learn more!

For writers, there’s a lot of places this prompt could take you! Probably the most obvious will be fortune teller fic; a classic. Lean into Snafu’s Louisiana roots and have him telling fortunes in the depths of the French Quarter, or go against the grain and have Eugene reading cards and palms and tea leaves as a practice passed down through his family. Or maybe more casual: modern AU Sledgefu flirting through amateur tarot readings with a deck picked up from a junk shop. If you read Tarot and have a connection to it, you can express that through writing! It’s a pretty open-ended prompt, especially if you consider some of the meanings of the cards; you could even write a story inspired by that! The Hermit: Snafu withdrawing, leaving Eugene on the train to spend the next few months in solitude, working through things. The Moon: Snafu and Eugene hitting a rough patch, hiding things from each other. The opportunities really become endless once you start taking the readings of the cards into account! And for visual artists, this must be such a fun prompt: I feel like it’s so a visually rich, whether you’re re-drawing the cards to encompass Snafu and Eugene within them, or making a collage based around some of the things mentioned above: fortune tellers shops, witches cottages, etc.

Trinket

Every Sledgefu Week we tend to have a couple prompts that are a little more open to interpretation, and this year’s ‘Trinket’ is one of those. It might be difficult to try and think of something to base a whole fic or piece of art around, but we really encourage you to let your imagination run wild! There’s already some great trinkets in the show itself: Eugene’s ring, the lighter that Gunny Haney gave him, Snafu’s stolen gold teeth, or their dog tags. Think of small, special objects that you might have: what imbues them with comfort or meaning? What makes you love them? You could have Eugene giving Snafu his ring, or have Eugene musing over war and death and loss while smoking a cigarette lit by his lighter. If you’re into Modern AUs, how could these objects carry through to modern day? Once you start thinking about it, the ideas start rolling in. Feel free to invent special trinkets for them: or maybe trinkets that they hate and want to get rid of, trinkets that remind them of bad times. Trinkets that remind them of each other, or family, or war. So much meaning can be held in the things we own, and I think it’s such a lovely concept to explore!

Crossover

So this prompt was born from the sheer number of suggestions we had for various movie, TV, and book AUs. We didn’t want to put them all to the poll and risk a lot of you feeling disappointed over the one you wanted not being selected, so thought it’d work best to condense them into a ‘Crossover’ prompt so everyone could do whatever they liked. So this is a very very broad one! It would be impossible for me to really go through the prompt and highlight some things that you could do for it, because you can really do anything you want to! Anything! It encompasses movies, video games, TV, books, musicals... if something tells a story, you can do a crossover. So if there’s ever been a film/book/etc. AU you wanted to do for Sledgefu Week but couldn’t quite get it to match the prompts, now is the time!

Vacation

A pretty self explanatory prompt, and one that I think can appeal to people who prefer canonverse and those who like modern AU too! Do you want to send Snafu and Eugene on the holiday of their dreams, or are they gonna be bickering in a gas station over who gets control of the map? Is Snafu gonna drive across a couple states to surprise Eugene by visiting? Is Eugene gonna do the same? There’s a lot of scenarios you can apply to the backdrop of them vacationing, and a lot of emotional journeys you can take them through! And for the canonverse crowd, you have the extra addition of letting them go have fun on an R&R, or taking a road trip post-war, visiting 1950s Paris... you can really do whatever you like!

Historical

This was another prompt like ‘Crossover’ that came from a lot of various suggestions that all boiled down to a similar thing: different historical events or periods. So like Crossover, I won’t linger too long on it (this post is long enough already) except just to say again: do whatever you’re inspired to do! There’s no rules here, you could even take everyone out of the Pacific and put them over in Germany: give them a different experience of war. In fact, you can do that with any war if you wanted to! Wanna do a M*A*S*H AU but made something else for Crossover? You could do it here! Want to put them in the 1920s? You got it. In the 1850s? Yeehaw, they’re cowboys now. 1969, Summer of Love? 1600s, make Snafu a prince? Literally the world is your oyster!

Horror

Past Sledgefu Week prompts have included things that could come under the horror umbrella (Supernatural, for example) but didn’t necessarily have to be made 'horrific’. For the ‘Horror’ prompt this year, we want to see frightening! Disquieting, uncomfortable; creations that either cross over with existing horror franchises, or lean on horrific things you come up with yourself. Horror movies, or TV shows, or books or podcasts or pieces of art all seek to elicit a sense of fear: this can be done by tapping into common phobias, or nightmares, those things which are universally and almost instinctively scary. We want to see things which lean into that, in whatever way you want to do it! 

I’m no horror media expert (not by a long shot) but the opportunities for this prompt are really vast simply because horror has so many subgenres to work with. You could go gothic horror; Dracula, Frankenstein, Wuthering Heights (a personal favourite AU -- Eugene soaked out on the moors, searching for Heathcliff-Snafu? Divine). Or you could go to the opposite end of the spectrum: Jennifer’s Body AU, Final Girl AU -- there’s no set way to do horror, in fact you could even bring horror into canonverse if you don’t like AUs. Think the Terror: some unknown beast lurking beyond the borders of their camp on Pavuvu, or Okinawa. Or you could even take the prompt entirely literally and explore the horrors of war and the toll it takes on them both. Please don’t feel stuck into needing to do Scary: horror is about fear and revulsion and dread, and these feelings don’t necessarily need to come from a haunting! (This is also a prompt ripe for monsterfucking, just FYI).

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So that’s the prompts for this year! They’re all really really great, and have a lot of potential to make some fantastic stuff :~) And to reiterate something I said right at the start, there are no rules here! I think every year we normally get at least one person unsure whether their idea will be okay for the prompt they’d like to make it for, so I just wanna say here: don’t second-guess yourself! As long as it can be linked back to the prompt in some way or another (can literally be the vaguest way possible) you’ll be absolutely fine. We don’t vet submissions at all, especially not for their content relating to the prompts. All we ask is that you remember to stay respectful in what you’re writing, and when the time comes to post it, you tag and warn appropriately :~)

On the subject of writing respectfully, we’d like to just take a moment to link the document on mindful writing re: race and gender that was made last year. Please take a look at it, even if you read it last year! It’s always good to keep these things at the front of your mind, as fandom is a community sport and we want to keep it fun and safe for everyone involved! So thank you if you’ve made it this far through this whole post, check out the doc, and enjoy the rest of the run-up to Sledgefu Week!