#the weight of a character's decisions that can ripple throughout the world and how this is all because of what its built upon already

[petrichal]

obligatory "Oda thank you for sharing this world with us" post

[gayregis]

Honestly if you just wanted to revisit your thoughts on Eternal Flame and its homiesexual text/subtext, I would be delighted. I love that short story and I love hearing your thoughts on the stories aodnsjsjabsjx

fghjkl i just think it was a story very centered on geralt and dandelion’s friendship and it did so in a manner which exceeded the sort of generally accepted norms of “friendship” and went into “being gay for your best friend”

i mean the story literally begins by them both being dumped by their girlfriends, but not too upset about their relationship drama because they have each other for company now. they plan to spend the day and night together, and throughout the story they have the general geralt and dandelion friendship interactions - trying to get some food and drink, joking around, dandelion being overly dramatic or preoccupied with sex and geralt being mopey and unamused. when things go wrong and there is conflict in the story, they of course still are spending the day together and thinking of a way to deal with the problem. overall, the story is a look into day-to-day life of when geralt and dandelion run into each other and hang out.

another thing of note is how dandelion hypes geralt up during when they meet tellico-in-biberveldt’s-form, calling him the terror of strigas and werewolves and all, which is a nice and awarding description for a man whose job it was to kill some shit in a sewer last chapter. of course, it’s dandelion (overdramatic and flowery with language), and they’re close friends, so of course he is going to describe geralt as thus, but it’s a reminder of how positively dandelion views geralt and how he both doesn’t see him as repugnant for being a witcher (as is the case with many geralt encounters) and isn’t ashamed to have a witcher as his best friend (as would be the case with many others, who treat witchers like bad omens), and also since it’s dandelion, it’s telling that he doesn’t let his own arrogance get in the way of lauding his friend with his proud titles and descriptions. although dandelion is self-loving, he is not so overwhelmingly so that he would ever refuse to acknowledge or downplay geralt’s presence.

another thing is how, when geralt, dandelion, and biberveldt are visited by chapelle and the men of the eternal fire, dandelion begs geralt to not start a fight with them because it will end in disaster, and geralt refuses to promise him that, and when chapelle speaks to him, he is internally very aggressive and alert, very displeased. of course, he is geralt, he doesn’t love authority and he dislikes the eternal flame for their persecution of nonhumans... but the aggression he feels towards chapelle reminds me of the aggression he felt towards toruviel in edge of the world when she broke dandelion’s lute, or in season of storms when dandelion has a knife to his throat, it’s only when dandelion is afraid or hurt that geralt really gets aggressive.

but the climax of the story is geralt literally being inable to enact violence towards tellico for the compounded reasons of “i value innocent life too much” and “the embodiment of this value of life is my best friend” ... 

the fact that geralt is pretty aggressive still towards tellico when he turns into him, but once tellico turns into dandelion geralt just... stops fighting and completely rules out any physical harm from the equation. he practically “gives up” the fight, it’s like tellico changing into dandelion was all geralt needed in order to be persuaded, because it’s the only form that he would listen to. after tellico switches forms to that of dandelion, geralt listens to him, and he also is not described as making any sudden movements, he doesn’t think as if he’s in a fight anymore, the narration is not that of a “fight scene” - something i recognize from when geralt is in a fight is that the prose switches to a certain point of view of his where his actions and options are narrated (e.g., in a grain of truth when he fights vereena, the sword of destiny where he fights the dryad scalpers). he instead hears tellico’s every word out, and “reluctantly nods,” and “says nothing.” he’s practically frozen compared to what he was prepared for just a moment ago when tellico took his form, when he threatened to carry him out of the city in a handcart.

and what makes it even more suggestive is that this wasn’t a random guess from tellico that “maybe if i take dandelion’s form he’ll lay off because they’re friends!” ... no, this was strategy that he came up with from literally taking geralt’s form and reading his mind - “i took over your thoughts, only briefly, but it was sufficient, do you know what i’m going to do now?” - tellico, after being in geralt’s form, immediately makes the decision to change forms into that of dandelion, because he knew geralt’s mind while he was in his form. that means that tellico read geralt’s thoughts only briefly but from this inside view of geralt’s mind, knowing what his greatest fears, loves, dreams, hopes, passions, regrets, etc. are... he thought it would save his life to change into dandelion, because he knew from geralt’s mind that geralt would listen to him in that form.

additionally, after this occurs, geralt... doesn’t tell dandelion in the falling action of the story. he had the chance to, when dandelion drew near, he might have smirked and said something like “don’t look too closely at his boots” (tellico-in-dandelion’s-form’s cordovan boots were sticking out of the carpet that geralt rolled him up in, so dandelion could have recognized them if he paid attention, since he seems to be so caring about his footwear as in the beginning chapter)... this raises the question why geralt wouldn’t tell him about what happened, why he wouldn’t communicate to dandelion about this, maybe warning him that tellico could change into him in an effort to evoke sympathy, or to break it to dandelion that his famous persona had been stolen for a little while. dandelion literally jokes and asks geralt why vespula was so surprised to see him, asking what was wrong with her (vespula was frightened because she smacked tellico-in-dandelion’s-form with the copper pan, but then saw dandelion coming down the road... double vision). geralt could have easily explained to him then, he had the perfect opportunity to say, “oh, dudu changed into your form and so vespula was scared for she saw two of you, [insert biting sarcastic comment here about how one dandelion is certainly enough, and how he would be scared seeing two of dandelion as well].” ... but geralt doesn’t tell him, and that makes me think that tellico taking dandelion’s form was a moment of emotional vulnerability for him, something that geralt doesn’t want to share or joke about, something that was uncomfortable for him. that makes me ask the question how geralt emotionally took that confrontation in the alleyway, what he felt about his own actions (or rather, inaction), and why he might be reluctant to share about that.

i think there is also this tension of the myth of the doppler being about the physical world, changes to a physical form, a form which is tangible and real. it’s not only that tellico evoked the image of dandelion, but that he was him - and the narration from geralt’s point of view seems to... lurk on a lot of not only physical characteristics that he noticed, but mannerisms and behavior that he knew instinctively as being those of dandelion. he describes his curly hair, his smile, his laugh ... the focus on physicality, body, face, and how one exists in the physical world, intimate details like those described just seem very out of place for someone who you’d only consider a best friend, a platonic relationship. one could argue that this is just standard narration for describing the changing of a form for a doppler, but the same style of narration was not given when dudu changed into biberveldt, or when he changed into geralt. additionally, things like smile, laugh, song, and style of flirting are very close and positive details, and other more “neutral” aspects like height and weight and clothes could have been described instead. this suggests that the most striking elements about dandelion to geralt are his curly hair, his insolent smile, his rippling laugh, his blue eyes, his song, and his flirting ... which are ... intimate to say the least

and of course the story ends with them going to a brothel! which continues these themes (two themes which dandelion always invites) of the comedic and the physical. what’s also striking to me is that at the very end of the story, dandelion asks geralt if he’s coming along or what, and geralt smiles to him and says he will join him with pleasure. geralt smiling is honestly a rare event (though it does happen, in dandelion’s character debut in the voice of reason he smiles at him), so i think it’s something to pay attention to. additionally, the line translated in the UK edition is “right, very satisfactory. geralt, are you coming?” and “i’ll come with pleasure,” which focuses on the words ‘satisfactory’ and ‘pleasure’ which are also words i wouldn’t relegate to being solely platonic.

additionally, this might be a bad take but i’m going to say it anyways because i’m gay so i can say what i want regarding lgbt themes ig: the ending of the story is that chapelle is actually a doppler who has taken chapelle’s form, since the real chapelle has died. tellico beseeches geralt, in dandelion’s form, to let him live and live amongst the people of novigrad, because he’s tired of being dehumanized and persecuted, and just wants to live in peace. there is a theme surrounding the dopplers as they are shapeshifters and chameleons, having to change who they are in order to blend in with the rest of society. again, this might be a bad take, but this kind of strikes me as an analogy for being lgbt, because when you are lgbt in a homo/transphobic society, you have to hide who you are and adapt your outward appearance into something that others will accept, and you are persecuted even though you are harmless and don’t mean to cause anyone trouble. of course, this could be a wider analogy about persecution and being marginalized in general (cultural assimilation, anyone?) and compring any marginalized people to nonhumans sucks (wouldn’t be the first or only time sapkowski went there, though), but ig as a gay person i found myself relating to the plight of the dopplers. the ending message of the story is also positive, something like there is hope and life in the world despite hatred (re: tellico’s ending to dandelion’s ballad) and the dopplers, the persecuted ones, are actually everywhere in society despite appearances that they’re not (not the best execution because you know figures of authority suck but whatever)

TLDR eternal flame is a little fruity to me because

geralt and dandelion want to be in each other’s company (as always)

geralt and dandelion’s relationship is again characterized by ability to be casual and comfortable in each other’s presence, working together through difficulty and conflict, and standing up for one another/being proud on the other’s behalf

tellico strategically takes dandelion’s form to evoke kindness and respect in geralt, and it works completely

geralt’s pov focuses on dandelion’s intimate physical and behavioral traits

geralt smiles and tells dandelion “i’ll come with pleasure”

vague lgbt themes about the dopplers

[pocket-anon]

The Long Way Home (4/10)

On to Chapter 4! I'm so pleased that so many of you seem to be enjoying this story, and I deeply appreciate the time you've taken to reblog it, leave comments, and tell your friends about it! This really isn't half the fun without you. Hugs.

As always, thanks to my beta, @captainstudmuffin, and to @lifeinahole27, @clockadile, and @ladyciaramiggles for their additional feedback.  Additional thanks to my wonderful CSBB artists, @waiting-for-autumn and @giraffes-ride-swordfishes for providing some gorgeous artwork to accompany this fic!  Links to their illustrations of certain scenes (*) will be in the text - go show them some love!

Find it on AO3.  Nautical term glossary here.

Missed a chapter?  Get caught up here.

Summary:  After an unnaturally long life fraught with personal tragedy, Killian Jones has become known throughout the realms as the infamous Captain Hook, an opportunistic ne’er-do-well and one of the most formidable pirates to ride the waves.  When he crosses paths with a mysterious young woman with no memory of who she is or how she arrived there, he recognizes the chance to claim a monetary reward that will constitute his biggest score yet.  But a journey across the world to get her home leads to a series of adventures that reveal that her value lies in far more than gold and jewels.  A Captain Swan Anastasia AU - sort of.  (Captain Swan Enchanted Forest AU.  Romance, Adventure, & Eventual Smut.  Rated E.)

Warning: Brief but graphic depictions of violence, peripheral character death, and smut.

Steel whispers as Emma pulls a cutlass from a rack of swords in the Jolly’s armory and draws it from the scabbard to examine it with a narrowed eye aimed down the edge of the blade.

Hook watches her with amusement, leaned against one wall with his arms and legs crossed.  She’s wearing her hair up for the first time today, woven with a few thick braids and pulled back into a ponytail that’s already been touched by humidity and the morning breeze, and there’s something very wild and pretty about it.  “I assure you they’re all good swords, Swan,” he promises.  “I select them myself.”  

“Who says I’m not more discerning than you?” she quips, the corner of her lips pulling upward until one of her dimples appears.  She meets his incredulous grin with a chuckle.  “Kidding.”

He laughs richly.  Glorious creature.  

She moves on to a different, slightly more slender sword and looks it over before rotating it with a few turns of her wrist, the blade arcing gracefully through the air.  Emma hums with satisfaction, admiring the clean lines of the wire-wrapped grip.  “I like this one.”  

Hook nods.  “Very well.”

The blade hisses back into its sheath, and she flashes him an appreciative smile as he hands over a spare sword belt.  Standing back, he watches her thread the belt through the scabbard’s leather suspension and loop it around her waist.  Emma experiments with the best angle at which to let the sword hang for a minute before electing to just cinch the buckle snug to her middle.  The belt is overlong, but it only takes her a moment to formulate a solution, tying the remaining length off so that it hangs neatly downward and then pulling her hands back so she can survey her work.  “Does that look right?”

He hums the affirmative as she practices yanking the cutlass from the scabbard, the easy rhythm with which she slides the blade out and back home again making it seem as if she were old hand at this.  “It suits you, lass.”  He scratches behind his ear.  “As does your hair,” he adds shyly.

Emma blushes. “Thanks.”  She fingers a golden lock over the back of her ear.  “It, uh, it beats pushing it out of my eyes every other minute.”

He rumbles his agreement. “Indeed.”

Her eyes glint, and she grins, turning her attention back to her new sword.  A thoughtful look crosses her face, and she chews on her lip.

Hook eyes her knowingly. “What is it, Swan?”

Her gaze turns hopeful. “Do you have a spare a knife or a dagger?  Something small for my boot?”

His face brightens, and he cackles with approval.  “Now you’re thinking like a pirate.”  He pulls open a locker and retrieves a bound leather bundle, which he unties and lays open across the nearest bench to reveal a dozen smaller blades in various styles.  He gestures.  “Lady’s choice.”

Emma comes to his side and studies the collection.  She selects the slightest of them, a simple blade with an unadorned grip and no guard, and pulls it from the sheath, testing the weight and giving it a simple flip. “Thanks,” she says, slipping the blade back into the sheath and bending down to tuck it into her boot.

“You’re very welcome.” Hook grins with admiration.  He proceeds to bind up the remaining daggers and put them away.  “And now that you’re armed, we must be sure that you can wield that cutlass properly,” he says, pointing to her scabbard.  “It’s no longsword.  Come.”

He leads her above, throwing his crewmen cool looks of warning to behave as they make their way starboard, the shadow from the main-mast providing them some shelter from the late morning sun.  He takes the time to review the basics, making adjustments to her grip and stance and running her through a few principal cuts to let her familiarize herself with the weight of her new blade and its greater maneuverability compared to what she seems used to.

Emma proves herself to be an apt pupil despite having to take her lessons under the observation of seasoned pirates.  Her bearing is indeed noble as she forces her eyes away from them and focuses on her weapon and his words, and her face is so set with concentration he’s left with little doubt that he can turn her into a good swordsman.  

By midday, he’s completed his introduction, and he squints in the overhead sun.  “Feel up to a quick spar before lunch, Swan?”

Indecision flashes briefly over her face as she glances at her cutlass and then at men scattered around them, most of whom are doing a poor job of pretending they aren’t watching, but, true to form, the decision not to back down takes hold and she straightens and tosses her head, planting her free hand on her hip defiantly..  “If you want.”

Hook smiles and positions himself across from her.  “Aye. Let’s see what you’ve learned, shall we?”  They stare at each other for a moment, swords at the ready, and though they both know she’s no match for him, her eyes shine with a determination to try to best him that sends a thrill through his chest nonetheless.  He licks his lips with anticipation.  “Begin.”

Work around the ship halts as the clash of steel grants the crew unspoken permission to give up their ruse and gather round.  There are the expected cheers for the Captain, but he also hears a few calls of encouragement for the Lady Swan, and he hums as he parries Emma’s eighth strike. “Seems you have some admirers, love.”

Her beautifully flushed cheeks turn even rosier.  “Yeah,” she pants, grunting as their blades slice against each other again and they both spring back.

“Can’t say I blame them,” he adds with a devilish grin.  The tip of his sword traces a few lazy circles in the air, his steps mirroring hers as they circle.  “You are a far sight prettier than I.”

This earns him a little chuckle, and she feints high and slashes low, forcing him to jump back a few inches.

A ripple of excited cheers and jeers erupt from the men, and Hook crows. “Excellent!”  

He begins a light offensive, jabbing mainly toward her sides to give her a chance to practice deflecting, and when she appears to have gotten the hang of that, he follows up with a quick spin ending in a more aggressive slash.  She reverts to a two-handed grip to block it and proceeds to keep both hands on the hilt as she tries to return the assault.  

Hook tuts.  “Drop your other hand, Swan.  It’s not a longsword.”

She colors a little and complies.  A minute later, however, she falls back to her old ways.

“The hand, Swan,” he says patiently.

Emma corrects herself again, looking chagrined as she whips her blade around for another strike.  She grunts when he blocks her blow, the steel clanging hard.  “Sorry.”

They exchange a few more attacks before he finally deigns to end it, pressing her sword off to the side and twisting his blade around to force her to lose her grip.  Emma yelps indignantly as her cutlass clatters to the deck, but the men cheer, and she shakes her head and gives him a conciliatory grin.  “One of these days, you’re going to show me how to do that.”

Hook chuckles, sheathing his sword and reaching down retrieve hers.  “I suppose I could be persuaded.”  He offers the hilt up to her in gentlemanly fashion, a smirk playing on his lips.  “Very good, love.  Excellent progress today.  But keep your other hand in check,” he teases, arching a brow and gesturing toward her left arm, “or I may have to tie it behind your back.”

“Hmm.”  Emma narrows her eyes at him knowingly.  “No doubt something you would enjoy,” she comments, her face still glowing as she accepts her weapon and puts it away.

He laughs and gives her a wink as his men disperse.  “No doubt.” He motions for her to lead the way toward his quarters.  “Lunch?”

 *             *             *

 As apprehensive as Swan was about it, having the rest of the crew witness her sword fighting lesson with their Captain seems to go a long way toward earning their respect, and she notices that the men become more open to letting her observe them at their duties, even engaging her and indulging her questions as she learns more about the ship with each passing day.

She’s standing at the base of the main-mast and peering skyward one morning when Thomas swings down from the rigging to land beside her.  

“Help you, milady?”

Swan bites her lip, studying the complicated network of ropes that extend in various directions overhead.  “What’s it like up there?”

He laughs.  “Depends on how you feel about heights, I s’pose. Made my heart race the first hundred times I went up there and still does when the weather’s foul.”  He rubs the back of his neck.  “But the view from the top on a clear day?  Aye, it’s hard to beat.”

Her eyes trail along the thick lines of the shroud which arches above them.  “Can I go up?”

“Oh.”  Thomas blinks, surprised.  “Well, beggin’ your pardon, ma’am, but I don’t know if that’s wise. Cap’n says our top priority is to keep you safe,” he replies apologetically.

She rolls her eyes, remembering the royal reward money, and cranes her head up again wistfully. “Well, what if I just go up there?” she asks, pointing to the main yard.  “I don’t have to climb to the very top.  I just want to see what it’s like.”  She glances sideways at him with a hopeful expression.  “Please?”

The poor lad looks conflicted.  “I…”  His eyes dart helplessly to Roberts, who approaches from the bow.  “Sir? The Lady would like to climb the mast.”

The older pirate’s step slows, lines of disapproval and confusion creasing his face.  “What on earth for?” he demands.  “…Ma’am.”

“Just getting to know the ship, Mr. Roberts,” Swan explains.  “The Captain’s encouraged me to learn a little about sailing while I’m here, and this can’t be any riskier than sparring with him,” she reasons, glancing back up at the yard.

Roberts makes a dubious sound low in his throat.  “All due respect, milady, but the Captain’s an expert swordsman who knows how to spar without hurting you.”

“And you’re an expert sailor,” she counters sweetly.  “I’m sure you can find a safe way for me to climb the rigging.  Every member of this crew had a first time, didn’t they?”

He huffs, running a hand down his face.  “The rigging’s no place for a Lady.”

She chuckles dryly. “Yes, well, I’m already on a pirate ship, sir.  I'm pretty sure we’re past the point of arguing where I do and don’t belong.”  She fixes him with one last long look of entreaty, and her chest swells with triumph as she watches the last of the man’s resolve finally bleed away.  

His shoulders slump with a heavy sigh.  “Fine,” he grits.  “But you’ll wear a tether or else the Captain’ll have my head.”

Swan beams.  “Thank you, Mr. Roberts.”

Roberts grumbles. “Get up there and get a line around the yard for ‘er,” he growls at Thomas.  “Be quick about it.”

Thomas gulps and scrambles away.

 *             *             *

 Hook emerges on deck for his morning inspection, squinting into the easterly sun and breathing the temperate air.

“’Morning, sir.”  Smee greets him with a nervous half-bow of his head.

His first mate’s tone is an immediate red flag, and Hook aims a questioning glance over his shoulder.  “What’s the problem, Smee?”

“Um, no problem, Captain.”

He raises an eyebrow before looking around for signs of Emma.  “Where’s the Lady this morning?” he asks.  “Still below?”

“Uh...  n-no.”

Hook turns his head curiously to see Smee wearing an anxious expression and pointing.  His eyes travel upward, growing round when he glimpses the telltale green skirts and blonde ponytail whipping on the wind high above them. “Bloody hell,” he breathes.  His forehead furrows, and he bellows indignantly. “Swan?!”

Perched atop the main yard and hugging the mast with one arm while she looks aft, Emma’s face comes into view as she leans forward a bit and flashes him a breathless smile.  “Hi!” she calls back.

He backs up a few paces in order to see her better, mouth agape.  “What the devil are you doing up there?”

She laughs, her face shining.  “Flying.”

“Fly—”  He clamps his mouth shut and charges forward, veritably leaping down the ladder to the middle deck.  His frustrated glare lands on Roberts and a contrite-looking Thomas, who stand watching her at the foot of the port shroud.  “What’s the meaning of this?”

“Apologies, Captain.” Roberts holds his palms up to mollify him.  “She said you wanted ‘er to learn something of sailing and fairly begged to be allowed up, so we tied a tether to ‘er and I let Thomas show ‘er a bit about managing the sails.  We’re just letting ‘er enjoy the view a while longer ‘fore she comes back down.”  

Hook blinks at him and Thomas dumbly, the quartermaster’s words taking the sting out of his displeasure, and the anger fades from his expression as he glances upward again.

“For what it’s worth, she seems right at home up in the rigging,” Roberts notes with a rare gleam in his eye.  “Never would’ve guessed it, but the girl can climb.”

“I’ll fetch her down, Cap’n,” Thomas offers hastily.

Hook huffs and waves the younger crewman off.  “No, lad. I’ll do it.  Back to your duties.”  He reaches for the shroud and swings himself up easily as Thomas looks relieved and scuttles away.

“Will you be needing anything then?” Roberts asks, risking the barest of knowing grins.

Hook shakes his head. “Never thought you’d be the first to fall for her charms, Old Man,” he chides, narrowing his eyes.

Roberts snorts. “Fairly sure I wasn’t,” he shoots back, his expression turning droll.  He clears his throat with a shrug.  “She’ll do well enough.  She’s got guts, I’ll give ‘er that.”

Hook concedes with a hum, trying to ignore the little surge of pride in his chest as he begins his ascent.

Emma is looking down at him with amusement when he draws near.  “Coming to check on me?” she teases.

“Coming to make sure you don’t break your pretty neck,” he retorts, affecting a scowl.  He pulls himself up onto the yard beside her, taking half a second to ensure a steady footing and a good grip on one of the lines.

She smiles, seeing through his feigned gruffness.  “I didn’t mean to cause so much trouble.  In their defense, your men did insist on taking good care of me.”  She pulls one hand away from the mast to pluck at the improvised rope harness that girds her torso.

He huffs.  “As well they should.”  He relishes the way the morning sun plays upon her face, even as he forces his features to remain stern.  “You are not to come up here without supervision.  Understand?”

She nods agreeably. “It was trickier getting up here in a petticoat than I thought it would be,” she admits, wrinkling her nose.  “And not just because I have to worry about being exposed by every stiff breeze.”  Her cheeks turn crimson, and she smoothes the fabric down over her backside self-consciously.

Hook forgets his pretense and breaks out in a deep laugh, quite certain his men below would be more than happy to see a gale blow her skirt aloft.  “Aye.  Lovely as you might be in that dress, it may not be the most practical choice for climbing about.”  He juts his lower lip out thoughtfully.  “We’ll make port in about a week to shore up supplies.  Perhaps you could find something else to wear that would be better suited,” he muses.

Emma chuckles.  “No, it’s alright.  I’ll make do.  I don’t have any money anyway.”

“Consider it a gift then.”

She blinks over at him with big eyes before her expression softens and she shakes her head.  “You don’t have to do that.”

“Aye,” he concurs cheerfully, “but there’s no bringing out the sailor in you without the proper clothes, Swan.”

She looks conflicted for a moment, but at last she gives a grateful nod.  “It would be nice not to have to wear a corset,” she supposes, grimacing and arching her back slightly.

The motion causes Hook’s pulse to quicken as he eyes her gorgeous curves in profile.  He swallows and plasters on a cheeky grin.  “Then again, perhaps I should rescind the offer.”

She rolls her eyes and straightens, her cheeks flushing again, but he doesn’t miss the tiny, smug smile that hints at the corner of her mouth.  

He chuckles.  “Very well, darling.  As you like.”

“Hmph.”  Emma gives him a reproving side-eye before turning her gaze back out over the southern horizon.  They stand there enjoying the view for a few long minutes, surrounded by the sound of the wind buffeting the sails and the soft groans of the ship.  From somewhere below, the distant voices of some crewmen singing a shanty also rises to meet their ears.

“So what do you think of it?” he asks, watching a loose tendril of her hair curl backward over her brow.

She inhales the salty air contentedly.  “It’s amazing,” she murmurs.  “I’m starting to understand the appeal of a life at sea.”

Hook smiles, eyeing the endless blue expanse.  “Aye. The ocean’s an unpredictable mistress sometimes, but there’s nothing like standing on the deck of your own ship and knowing that she can take you almost anywhere.  Where else can you see so much of the world without ever leaving home?”  He taps his hook against the mast.

“How long have you lived on the water?”

“Nearly all my life,” he replies.  “Since I was a lad.  I was ten when my brother and I boarded our first ship.”

“Ten?”  Her mouth falls open.  “And you never returned to live on land?”

He looks away. “No.”  He hesitates when she waits for him to continue.  “We… we were traveling with our father.  He disappeared one night,” he explains quietly, steeling himself against his emotions and choosing the words carefully.  “Left us in the service of the ship’s captain.”

Emma squints, looking horrified.  “He left you,” she repeats.

A cheerless smile ghosts over his lips.  “Aye. Turns out he was a thief fleeing capture.  He went off the ship in a dinghy shortly after putting me to bed, I’m told.  We never saw him again.”

He doesn’t have to see her face to feel the quiet sadness that settles over her.  “And your mother?” she murmurs, clearly braced for another unpleasant revelation.

Hook dares to meet her gaze again, his expression becoming more drawn.  “Died the year before.  She’d been sick a long time.  One day she fainted.  Liam and I waited and waited for her to wake up.  She never did.”  He glances briefly at Emma’s now heartbroken face before redirecting his eyes to the tail end of their wake, staring numbly as it’s swallowed by the passing waves.  

“You’ve lost so many people,” she observes softly.

“It was a hundred and fifty years ago, Swan.”

“Does that make it easier?”

He sucks in a breath, deciding whether to acknowledge what she seems to know already, and bows his head. “No.”  He chuffs.  “Wounds that are made when we’re young tend to linger.”  Hook lifts his chin again and glowers out toward the waves.

Emma angles her head. “How have you lived so long, exactly?”

He hums, grateful for the change of topic, and his shoulders relax a hair.  “I spent a very long time in Neverland,” he says simply.  “The magic of the island makes it impossible to age there.”

Her brow wrinkles. “You went back to Neverland?  Even after what happened with your brother?”

He nods.

“Why?”  

He feels her eyes on him as he contemplates the most benign way he can describe the wrath and overwhelming desire for vengeance that fueled his decision to return to that accursed place.  “I needed information,” he answers, trying to sound nonchalant.

She arcs an eyebrow. “You spent over a hundred years looking for information?”

Hook shifts restlessly. “I spent over a hundred years in the reluctant employ of Peter Pan, who rules the island.  He was, shall we say, disinclined to let us leave.”

Emma frowns prettily as she considers this, a dozen questions writing themselves on her face.  “What kind of information were you looking for?”

He’s quiet for a beat. “The way to kill the demon who took my hand.”  His eyes dart away, and he swallows tightly, unsure why, for the first time, he feels less than comfortable telling someone about his quest to destroy the Dark One. For decades it’s been integral to his identity, as much a part of him as his hook, but now… now something about revealing himself to her as a man hell-bent on revenge makes him feel less than proud of who he is.

Silence falls between them, and he wonders whether he’s lowered her estimation of him.  Not that it should matter, he reminds himself hastily, sneaking a glance at the unreadable expression on her face as she, too, stares wordlessly out over the ocean.

At last she clears her throat.  “So, did you get the information you needed?”  Her head rotates back toward him.

Hook nods soberly, a knot forming in his stomach at the bitter memory of learning about the Dark One’s dagger – the only weapon capable of killing its malevolent owner – from Milah’s son, Baelfire, during their ill-fated encounter in Neverland.

“Have you had the chance to act on it?” she asks softly.

His gaze remains fixed on the water.  “Not yet.”

Emma bobs her head slowly and licks her lips.  “And what will you do after it’s done?”

A wrinkle appears between his eyes.  “I don’t know,” he admits.

She opens her mouth but falters, as if debating whether to say something.  “Maybe…” she starts, “if you find yourself back in the north… you could come say hello to a friend.”

He blinks, his heart leaping in his chest as she glances back at him with a solemn smile.  Friend. “Aye,” he agrees, flushing with pleasure and enjoying the hint of color that rises in her cheeks as he grins back at her.  “I’d like that.”

 *             *             *

 “Come on, Swan.  Let’s get a look.” Hook’s voice is slightly dampened by the curtain covering the doorway of the clothier’s dressing room.

A week has passed since Emma’s first climb up to the yard, and the, true to his word, Hook has put finding a more suitable set of clothes for her on the agenda for their two-night stop in this, the largest port in the Southern Isles.  And thus she finds herself in the back of this shop, half-naked, with him but a stone’s throw away.

Swan huffs as she appreciates the lightweight cotton shirt in her hands, the fabric covered in matching white embroidery that gives it a lacy, feminine quality.  “As many years as you’ve been alive,” she admonishes, slipping it on and beginning to do up the buttons leading up to the V-shaped neckline, “you’d think you’d have learned how to wait by now.”

Her ears catch his chuckle. “You need a hand, love?”

She smirks to herself. “Is that a joke?”

“No, I’m quite serious,” he calls back airily.  “I’m rather good with fastenings.”

It’s her turn to laugh. “I’m sure you are.”  Swan finishes buttoning the shirt and sweeps her ponytail free of the collar before examining her reflection in the clothier’s mirror. She smoothes the hem of the shirt down over her hips, turning this way and that to survey her appearance.  Her eyes fall to the dark blue leather trousers the clothier had chosen for her.  She may have had to suffer the mild indignity of being eyeballed and prodded and measured by the excitable wisp of a man while Hook looked on with a beguiled grin, but the result was definitely worth it, she thinks with a quirk of her lips. The trousers fit like a second skin, and while they’ll take a little getting used to, she has to admit that she loves the look of them as much as she loves the idea of no longer having her movement hindered by the voluminous fabric of a skirt.

Satisfied with her appearance, she reaches for the most indulgent piece of the ensemble – the thick cobalt jerkin with a high collar that the clothier had enthusiastically offered to go with the trousers.  She’d expressed reservations about the cost, but Hook had simply rolled his eyes and stepped forward, transferring the jerkin from the other man’s hands to hers and nudging her toward the dressing room.

“Believe me, you’ll be glad for something like this when we travel farther north,” he’d said.  “Go.”

Now that she wraps herself in the snug, buttery soft leather and links up the tiny, leaf-shaped clasps that run down one side, she can’t help but let her smile grow.  It’s perfect.

Swan tries to mute her pleased expression when she pulls aside the curtain and steps back out into the shop, her old clothes and shoes sandwiched between her hands and the soles of her new knee-high boots thumping quietly across the stone floor.  

Hook turns away from inspecting a dark red waistcoat and his jaw slackens at the sight of her, an appreciative sound sneaking past his parted lips.  “Now that’s much better,” he rumbles, his wide eyes sweeping up and down.

“You like it?” she asks coyly, giving the clothier a grateful smile when he beckons for her to hand him her old things in exchange for a pair of elbow-length leather gloves.

Hook’s face brightens with a slightly awed smile.  “You look stunning, Swan.”

Warmth creeps across her cheeks, and she allows herself to preen a little, experimentally wiggling her fingers as she finishes tugging the first glove on.  “And here I thought you’d miss the corset.”

“Well, that does have its own charms,” he chuckles, scratching behind his ear, “but I’d say this is a better fit for a woman who wields a sword and climbs the rigging.” He ducks his head a little. “Besides, you’d be lovely in anything.” His words leave her heart fluttering, and his grin widens.  He pulls out a purse heavy with coin and turns to the clothier.  “She’ll have all of it.”

They leave the shop behind a short while later, the paper-wrapped parcel containing Swan’s old clothes swinging on its twine from the Captain’s hook.  The sun shines, and the call of voices and the squawking of caged chickens greet them as they wander up the small side street and emerge back onto the port’s main thoroughfare.

“So now what?” she asks.

He hums.  “Normally I’d begin negotiating for new supplies,” he replies.  “But if you’d prefer I show you the town, I can leave the task to Roberts.  It’s usually a quartermaster’s job, anyway.”

“So why do you do it?” Swan looks up at him, puzzled.

Hook’s eyes twinkle. “Because I find merchants to be much more honest when they’re faced with this,” he says, lifting his hook, parcel and all.  He smiles mischievously, and she laughs.  “Most just want to make a decent profit, but there are always a few swindlers who need a little… inspiration.”

Swan nods, remembering the way her skin had crawled when a vintner had once tried to sell Maggie a case of wine for twice what it was worth.  A thought occurs, and she tilts her head.  “Could I come along?”

He arches a brow and gives her an amused sideways glance.  “Desperate to stay close to me, love?”

Her eyes roll skyward. “Or I could go explore the town on my own.”

“No, no.”  He grins and pulls a piece of paper from his pocket, handing it over so she can see the purchase list written on it in his neat, flowing hand.  “You’re quite welcome.  Just remember that not even I can make talk of salt pork and pickled vegetables very interesting.”

She chuckles at his hubris while she peruses the sheet.  “I’ll take my chances.”

The butcher that comes recommended to them has a very large shop and an excellent selection, but it becomes clear to Emma as she pretends to admire some hanging ham shanks and listens to him haggle with Hook over ten crates of cured meats that the burly, fast-talking man doesn’t have any qualms about charging whatever he wants, even after the Captain drops the pleasantries and pointedly sets his hook on the counter between them with a dull thunk.

Hook makes a dissatisfied noise in his chest as he eyes the new figure the butcher scribbles on a scrap of paper in lead pencil.  “Thirty-two silver.  That’s your best price?” he asks, his voice heavy with skepticism.

The man shrugs. “Afraid so, Captain.”

It’s hardly the truth. The telltale crawl of her skin makes Swan lick her lips.  She rapidly considers her options for convincing the man to be more cooperative, briefly wishing she were still wearing something that left a little more cleavage on display.  “Please?” she purrs, stepping forward to stand at Hook’s elbow and perching her fingertips on the counter.  “You can afford to do a little better.”  She looks the butcher straight in the eye.  “I know you can.”

He blinks.  “I… I really would love to, miss.  But that has me barely breaking even as it is.”

Lie.  She folds her lips in a tight smile.  “That’s a shame.  We can only spare twenty-six.  Guess we’ll have to look elsewhere.”  She slips her hands around the crook of Hook’s arm and gently pulls him toward the door.  “Sorry to waste your time.”

“You’re not going to find a better price than that!” he protests.

Lie.  Swan arcs an eyebrow over her shoulder at him.  “I don’t know.  I think we might.”

“Silly girl.  Captain, please.”  The butcher waves a doughy hand at Swan with frustration.  “You and I understand business.  Talk some sense into her.”

Much to her delight, Hook embraces her charade, canting his head to one side and allowing his eyes to flash murderously.  “I’m sorry, did you just insult my Lady’s intelligence?” he snaps, whirling so fast she loses her grip on him.  His hand finds the hilt of his cutlass.  “You must have misspoken.  Surely a smart man like you knows how unwise that would be.”  He makes a show of stubbornly refusing to move even as Emma lays a hand on his shoulder and urges him to stand down.

The butcher glances at the sword and the blood drains from his face.  He swallows hard.  “Of… of course, Captain.  My mistake, ma’am.”

Swan accepts his apologetic bow with a gracious nod, biting her tongue and doing her best to keep a straight face.

“Come, love,” Hook growls, giving the man another prize-winning glare before wrapping his hook arm around her back and reaching for the door knob.  “If he won’t do twenty-six, he won’t do twenty-six.”

“I could do twenty-nine!”

They pause, shooting him identical dry expressions before daring to look at one another, and she can’t be sure whether the thrill she’s feeling right now comes from having the man right where they want him or from the way Hook’s eyes laugh and his arm tightens around her as they silently agree to continue out the door.  

“Fine, then!  Twenty-six, twenty-six…” the butcher grouses.  He slaps a new slip of parchment on the counter. “Bleeding highway robbery,” he mutters, dashing off a purchase agreement.

Hook gives Swan the barest of winks and wanders back over to the counter, a little extra swagger in his step.  “Take it from someone who knows, mate,” he says, snatching up the slip of paper between outstretched fingers.  “If this were actual highway robbery, you’d be a lot worse for wear.”

  *             *             *

 “How did you know he’d do it?”  Hook admires the purchase agreement one more time before tucking it into the breast pocket of his coat.

Emma allows herself a self-satisfied smile as they walk down the road together.  “I just have a good feel for these things, I guess.”

“Perhaps I should make you the quartermaster.”  He throws her a grin before checking their surroundings and nodding in the direction of the grocer.

Emma follows gamely. “And where would that leave Mr. Roberts?”

Hook snorts.  “Knowing him, he’s got a secret fortune somewhere. He could take an early retirement or hire on a crew and find his own ship to captain,” he muses.  “The Dread Pirate Roberts.  Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”  He savors Emma’s dimpled cheek and dancing eyes and invites her to go first as they wander beneath the shade of the grocer’s enormous tent.  “Now, love, care to work your magic again?”

By day’s end, he and Emma manage to secure agreements for enough victuals and supplies to sustain the Jolly the rest of the voyage to Misthaven if need be.  Hook mentally tallies the sums while they sit in a local tavern awaiting the arrival of their evening meal.  He shakes his head in amazement.  “Don’t look now, Swan, but I think we make quite the team,” he informs her jovially. “This is the least it’s cost us to outfit the ship in years.”

“What is?”

They look up to see Roberts, a fresh flagon in his hand, halted on his way to rejoin some of the men at another table a few feet away.

Hook gathers the little sheaf of purchase agreements and hands them over, looking smug.

The quartermaster sets his drink down and shuffles through the papers, his bushy eyebrows leaping upward. “I’ll be,” he drawls with a toothy grin. “Those’re some pretty numbers.”

“Turns out the Lady knows how to drive a hard bargain,” Hook explains, gesturing toward Emma with his own ale and beaming.  “You should see her do it.”  He catches her eye and smiles.  “It’s a thing of beauty.”

Emma blushes hard, and Hook chuckles as Roberts hands the papers back.  

“It’s very impressive, ma’am.  You’ll have to tell us your secret.”

She lifts her cup up to her demure smile.  “It’s nothing, Mr. Roberts,” she replies, taking a sip.  “The Captain bought some things for me today, and I was just returning the favor.”

Roberts raises his flagon to her.  “Well, my hat’s off to you.  And…” The normally-gruff man eyes her new clothes and hesitates a moment, as if the words are awkward on his tongue. “You… you look very nice.”

Hook swivels his head toward his crewman in surprise, and Emma rewards Roberts with a brilliant smile before the quartermaster wanders off with his cheeks as ruddy as a schoolboy’s.

 *             *             *

 Foamy waves lap gently at the stretch of white sand that runs north of the docks, the entire landscape saturated in shades of indigo and dark blue beneath the light of an enormous full moon.  The dull roar of the ocean mixes in their ears with the intermittent rush of the evening wind that whispers along the coast, and the warm air smells faintly of brine.  Swan surveys the scene with a happy sigh as she and Hook elect to make a detour on their way back to the ship.  Behind them, the town is dotted with the glimmering light of a hundred lanterns, and the sounds of late-night merriments grow fainter as they hike several hundred yards off the path to the beach.  The ground softens beneath their feet, and Swan stops for a moment to bend over.  

Hook turns to watch as she pulls off her new boots and hitches the legs of her trousers halfway up her calves. “What are you doing?”  Even in the relative dark, the white of his amused grin is evident.

“Enjoying the sand,” she says simply, snatching up her boots and straightening.  “You said the shores up north are rocky.  Who knows when I’ll be someplace like this again?”  She shrugs and flashes him a little smile as she resumes their course, relishing the way her bare feet sink ankle-deep in the cool, dry grains.

They stroll up to the water’s edge, their parallel lines of footprints growing more distinct in the damp terrain, and she sighs happily as the perfectly tepid sea washes over her feet with every lazy surge.  Swan cranes her head upward to admire the stars which twinkle in the inky void beyond the moon’s halo.  “Does the night sky look the same in all the realms?” she wonders aloud.  She glances over to see Hook smile and nod.

“Aye.  The constellations move with location and season, but yes, it’s the same stars in every place I’ve encountered.  It’s what allows me to navigate no matter where I go.” His gaze sweeps the heavens, and he slows, turning about-face and pointing.  “See those four bright ones there?  The Southern Cross?”  He traces the perpendicular lines in the air with his finger.

Swan steps closer, squinting to try and see what he sees.  “There?”  Her voice is uncertain as she shifts her boots to her left hand and points with her right.

Hook steps around to her right side and hunches down a bit, all but lowering his chin onto her shoulder to try to approximate her line of sight.  He reaches for her outstretched hand, and her heart begins to beat erratically at the sensation of his breath on her cheek and the warmth of his palm around her wrist as he adjusts her angle.  “There.” He slowly moves her arm in a similar crisscross pattern, pausing briefly on each individual point of light.  “One, two, three, four,” he counts quietly in her ear.  “See it?”

Her lashes flutter, and she manages to nod despite the sudden fullness in her throat and the gooseflesh that seems to have erupted across her back and arms.

“Now follow the long axis,” he coaxes, drawing her hand toward the horizon at a slight angle, “about four-and-a-half lengths down.  That’s south.”  He seems to catch himself and pulls away, clearing his throat.  “Um, see?  It’s simple.” He scratches behind his ear.

Her breath feels stilted, as though none of the air around them can find its way to her lungs.  “Yeah,” she croaks, tucking a stray curl back away from her face and forcing a nervous little laugh.  “I’ll have to remember that.”

Hook diverts his gaze almost shyly and looks toward the ocean as he turns to resume their walk. Something a few paces ahead catches his eye, and he strides forward to investigate, reaching down to pluck an object from ground.  “Ah! Look at this,” he calls.

Swan trots to his side, watching curiously as he straightens, cradling a flat, round disc in his palm. “What is that?”

“A sand dollar.”  His thumb swipes across the surface a few times to clear the thin layer of wet sand that clings to it, allowing her to see the pretty, flower-like imprint in the center and the odd pattern of slits that surround it.  He motions for her to take it.  “Some people think they’re good luck.”

She chuffs and accepts, admiring the hard, milky white artifact in the moonlight as she gently brushes the last of the beach off it.  “Guess I can use all the luck I can get,” she says with a rueful smile.

He chuckles.  “Somehow I get the feeling you make your own luck, Swan.”

“Right.  Because waking up on the wrong side of the world with no memories was so lucky,” she shoots back wryly, tucking the sand dollar into her jerkin.

“Well, if you hadn’t, you might never have met me,” he points out, shrugging amiably. “I’d call that a stroke of luck, wouldn’t you?”  He offers her his arm and an impish grin.

She can’t help but laugh, and she acknowledges his point with a bob of her head, sliding her hand into the crook of his elbow and trying to ignore the pleasant quiver of her stomach as they turn to keep wandering.  “I guess so.”

Thanks for reading!  Ready for the next chapter?  Click here!

[idolapps]

into the new world - girls' generation

OOC INFO

NAME/ALIAS, PRONOUNS, TIMEZONE: EJ, female, est

RESERVATION: pristin

MEMBER PROFILE

FACECLAIM: kim mingyu (seventeen)

NAME/STAGENAME: lee taehyun

BIRTHDATE/AGE: april 6, 1994 / age 22

COMPANY/POSITION: leader, main rapper, lead dancer of 360°Z 

HEIGHT/WEIGHT: 185 cm/68 kg

TRAINING PERIOD/JOINING YEAR: training period: 3 years

INTERESTING FACTS: His fans adore him for his “tsundere” character. Having attended an elite boarding school in the States where he studied Mandarin for 6 years, Taehyun is highly skilled in English and Chinese. He’s also a skilled basketball player. He knows how to play piano and guitar, and although these skills are rarely used in performance, he finds them useful in composing.  

STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES: 

(+) RAP&DANCE – taehyun’s capacity as a rapper and dancer certainly satisfies and mostly exceeds industry standards and beyond. having first developed both skills as self-taught endeavors, his flow, style, rhythm, and choreography are individually unique and distinctly natural. although his deep register and long, lean frame were birth-given virtues, the intensive training he underwent through his time at galaxy has refined and polished his skills in these areas.

(+) COMPOSITION – besides writing his own lyrics, taehyun has produced many of his own beats, mixtapes, and songs throughout his musical career. from being a teenager pursuing a hobby, an underground artist vying for recognition, and a galaxy trainee striving to stand out, he now regularly contributes to his group’s releases to whatever extent he may. in fact, composition and producing are areas in which he seeks to improve his skills the most, especially as his career progresses.

(+) PROFESSIONALISM – despite having debuted not too long ago, taehyun is exceptionally professional, a great advantage for someone in the entertainment industry. he’s very good at maintaining a positive public image, as he regularly monitors and keenly perceives what fans, the media, and the public want from him. furthermore, he has a knack for picking up social cues and reading people, seemingly always knowing the right thing to do and say at any given time – useful for interviews, variety shows, and extricating himself from tricky situations. though he denies it, he is a bit of a perfectionist and will do a quality job with whatever is assigned to him.

  (–) VOCALS – singing has never been his standout talent, and he acknowledges it. sure, he can do the rapper-singing thing (e.g. drake), but that’s about it. he’ll gladly leave the singing to the vocals.

(–) COLD REALIST – simply put, lee taehyun is a perfect example of a boy who grew up too fast. perhaps you can blame his past, but he’s a cynic and harsh realist. some have labelled his insensitivity to others’ emotions as a symptom of some sort of psychopath, but trust me, he knows and understands very well how you’re feeling. he just doesn’t see why he should cater his behavior to your emotions and whims. there won’t be any “dreams come true!” or “I want to inspire people through my music!” cheese coming out of this mouth. he didn’t cry a single tear after his debut showcase, and although it’s been less than a year, he’s already over the rookie’s honeymoon phase of his career. he’s not heartless or mean – just a hard, cold realist. the world’s not all fluff and kittens, so should he pretend that it is?

(–) EGO-DRIVEN – though he doesn’t quite own up to it yet, lee taehyun is a creature of his ego. by nature, he’s not a bragger or show-off (probably because he’s self-confident anyways), but he does secretly enjoy when his ego is fed. he keeps it to himself, but he does have a habit of judging people against his own standards. at worst, he can be rather stubborn, overly competitive, and reckless in pursuit of something if it catches his attention. in his defense, he’s been rather successful with anything he’s wanted thus far, at least to what meets the eye. and for the demons he does truly struggle against, he shoves them under his ego to be dealt with later. after all, right now he’s young, talented, attractive, leader of one of the most popular groups in the industry, with thousands of fangirls screaming his name. he’s unbound and unobligated, and the future only promises further treasures – or at least so it seems.

  BIO/PERSONALITY:

Born in April 6th of 1994, Lee Taehyun grew up in a family that owned one of Korea’s most prominent conglomerate corporations. As expected, his early childhood was without a visible care in the world, golden spoon in hand, reporters and cameras shoved in his face. Designer clothes, top chefs, expensive private tutors, and trips around the globe – yet it wasn’t until age 12 that he learned who he truly was, what he truly was. Summoned to his father’s office one evening, he left as Lee Taehyun, of course the son of CEO Lee Hyunbae, but not of his wife. A bastard son, born to a woman he’d never met or seen, raised with siblings from another womb. It all made sense now, how different his “mother’s” gaze towards him was so starkly contrasting, depending on whether his father was in the room. After all, there he was – a living, breathing, talking reminder of her husband’s infidelity. But perhaps most importantly, there he was – a gigantic threat to the value of the family company stock.

Within the next month, he was shipped off to an elite boarding school in the States for the purposes of receiving an “elite education,” but it was clear to him that he was being shoved away for hiding across the ocean, away from nosy newspaper reporters and competitors who wished to see his father’s company stock falter. The moment he learned what his identity truly was, he was removed from his entire life as he knew it. However, he was compliant throughout middle and high school. Lee Taehyun became that one guy whom everyone envied but couldn’t bring themselves to hate – low effort, high grades, star athlete, had his fair share of adolescent “fun”, but never got caught. He was a real typical golden boy, but behind the scenes, he struggled with his own demons and fumbled with the mysteries he never had the chance to answer. He found solace in music (particularly hip-hop and rap) and dance, and increasingly so, he found himself in the school’s recording and studios, up late at night writing lyrics by the moonlight. Upon graduating from high school, he was shocked to be immediately pulled back to Korea to enroll in college, since his older half-brother was proving himself rather incapable of becoming heir. Again, his father whispered him false promises, that a Korean college degree would mean better “business connections.” But this time, Lee Taehyun wanted none of it. If his father, his family, or anyone at all thought they could push him away and call him as they wanted, they were in for an unpleasant surprise.

Reluctantly so, he enrolled in college, but his true energy was spent in Seoul’s underground hip-hop scene, as he started making ripples in the rap game and joined a dance crew. About a year in, he was casted by Galaxy Entertainment, though he had never had the slightest interest in an entertainment career, yet alone an idol career. He stuffed the scout’s business card away in his pile of books, but as the pressure for him to keep up his grades and intern in the office grew stronger, the more and more appealing the offer became. After all, the trainee contract provided him a place to stay, allowance for food, and the opportunity to deliver a vicious slap in the face of his father. He called in for an audition as a sign of rebellion and signed the contract as a declaration of secession. The day he moved into the trainee dorms was the last day he’d spoken to a family member to this very day.

Trainee life for him was strange to say the least. He’d grown up mostly emotionally alone and was accustomed to making unilateral decisions, not around dozens of other trainees whose desperation and stress he found draining. He hadn’t lived in Korea for the past 9 years, and he didn’t dare to tell anyone about his familial background. Furthermore, he was a rather intimidating character at first impression – towering height, tanned complexion, deep voice, sharp features. He was far from the super friendly, talkative, or welcoming type. He hated sucking up, hated the whole hierarchy of “seniors” and “juniors” – in his world, skill and ability were the only measures of status. Yet by some lucky strike, he managed to find some friends and colleagues amidst the crowds of peers he found mostly mundane and plain. Most importantly, it turned out that he was rather good at what an idol needed to do – rapping, dancing, composing. And most of all, surviving. After three years, the debut came, and although he couldn’t quite consider it a dream come true, it was a promising start.

---

Taehyun is generally cool, but not necessarily cold. His mannerisms are suave and charming, smooth talker and sharp tongue. He’s not your typical ray of sunshine, but knows when to smile and how to do it convincingly – but don’t expect much cuteness from him whatsoever. Off-camera, he’s reportedly not the most easily approachable. It’s not like he’s hostile or socially awkward by any means, but people often say he seems mature or serious for his age, and his towering height and dark eyes don’t help his cause. However, initiate interaction and he’s talented at holding a conversation, a little blunt, a little teasing, likes to keep people guessing of his true intentions. His closest friends get to see the more free-spirited, romantic side of him, but this is very rare. He’s slow to trust others, but gain his trust, and he’ll pay back with a strong sense of loyalty and justice. He’s not too outwardly friendly or warm, but still seems to know a lot of faces within the industry. He prefers to keep his public and private life separate, and it is generally hard to read beyond his placid façade.

Within his group, his general mantra as a leader is “you do you,” but the moment any of his members do anything to jeopardize the group’s success or test his patience, he’ll serve justice where it is due. He’s definitely not the warm and caring type of leader upfront, and when he takes care of others, it’s generally more subtle and behind the scenes. Admittedly, he can get a little hot-headed and cutthroat in rehearsal or training – he believes in “work hard, play hard.” Occasionally, he can be coldhearted and demoralizing, but only he’s allowed to do that to his members. He won’t tolerate anyone else disrespecting his group.

Regarding trainees, he’s probably indifferent. Chances are, he has no idea who you are – he doesn’t really strive to be a role model or a popular, caring senior. He generally won’t treat you any differently for being a trainee, and for god sake, he doesn’t want you to suck up to him, though he won’t tolerate disrespect. He has no specific expectations, but if you’re sincere, hard-working, and talented, then he’ll probably treat you well enough.

[harry365in2016]

Top Movies Seen in 2016 released in 2016

Hey all! This is my list for my top films that I saw in 2016 that were released in 2016. If you’re looking for a list of the top movies I saw in 2016 that WERE NOT released in 2016, click here! [Link forthcoming]

IMPORTANT NOTE: There’s a bunch, and I mean a bunch, of high profile/critically lauded movies I’ve still yet to see. That does not mean I put any of these movies on my list reluctantly. In fact, I hemmed and hawed over this list. IMHO there were a lot of great movies this year, but most of them were indie flicks instead of big budget ones. 

10) Ghostbusters

Who'd of thunk that this movie would be so polarizing and a dowsing rod for awful shitheels.

Anyway, I'd rather celebrate the movie than talk about the backlash. This movie did not surpass the original, but it can easily stand along side it. I have no serious qualms with what was put forth in this movie. I loved all the new Ghostbusters characters. I thought the ghost designs were neat. And I thought it was really funny.

This movie hits the four tenants of Ghostbusters: 1) It's funny, 2) It's about friends joining forces to defeat ghosts, 3) It has a few scary parts, and 4) It has fun with pseudo-science.

I've watched it twice now and each time I get a stupid grin on my face both because of what the movie does and how it reminds me of my childhood.

9) The Shallows

A lean and mean survival thriller. Blake Lively vs. a shark. That's it and it's great.

The brilliance of this movie is in its simplicity. There's about 10 minutes of exposition before the initial shark attack. After that it's watching Lively systematically figure out how to get out of her predicament.

Also, towards the end of the movie there was a scene featuring a particular sea creature that had me so terrified I nearly passed out. Not really. That’s a lie. But still it was gross and awful and I’m surprised more movies don’t utilize that particular sea creature. 

It's also a gorgeously shot movie. The open shots of surfers and the beach Lively goes to are spectacular.

8) Hardcore Henry

Hardcore Henry is the closest movie we're getting to Crank 3. That's why it's on this list. This movie is non-stop, chaotic, innovative action.

It also happens to be one of the best video game movies despite not being based on a video game. The whole movie is shot POV from the main character, Henry. Another character is constantly talking at, not to, Henry giving him exposition and missions much like in a video game. The bad guy looks like he's from some Japanese RPG like Final Fantasy.

7) 10 Cloverfield Lane

10 Cloverfield Lane is a sister movie to Green Room. It's a claustrophobic thriller but unlike Green Room this movie is all cerebral. It's Twilight Zone-esque. Is John Goodman's massive conspiracy nut telling the truth or just a plain old kidnapper? How will Mary Elizabeth Winstead use her noggin to escape?

These questions lead to a suspenseful and thrilling time at the movies.

6) Kill Zone 2

For the vast majority of martial arts movies the story isn’t an important part of the movie itself. Usually you judge these movie by how awesome the fight choreography is. 

But then a movie like Kill Zone 2 comes along and delivers a complex and thematically rich story embedded into the kick ass fights. In this movie's case it's a morality tale examining all sides of organ donation. What does it mean to be an organ donor? What is it like waiting for an organ? How can you justify using the black market for organ donation?

Oh and to be clear this movie does have incredible fight scenes. The finale is jaw-dropping. There’s also a prison riot sequence that is shot to look like it’s all one continuous take. I don’t think it is. I think they cheated edits somewhere, but still, it’s awesome. 

5) Green Room

No joke I spent the last 1/3 of this movie literally on the edge of my seat cradling my head in my hands horrified at what was transpiring.

You know when you watch a movie and are frustrated by decisions characters make? A lot of times the filmmakers force characters to do things just to advance the plot or put them into a position of danger? In this movie every single character acts logically to themselves. You can see why every character makes the decision they do.

The movie grabs you immediately and does not let up. It is a visceral experience watching this movie. You feel like you have to take a shower afterwards.

4) The Neon Demon

The story and theme of what's presented in The Neon Demon has been seen before. What's new and what puts it on this list is how jaw-dropping gorgeous the movie is. Since it's a movie about the L.A. fashion scene isn't that the point though?

Nicolas Winding Refn is a difficult filmmaker to engage with. His movies are not for everyone. Don’t be surprised if you watch this movie and are frustrated with it or think it’s a horrendous piece of shit. Refn is a provocateur. 

Do try to rent this on Blu Ray. Watching it over the internet on Netflix or iTunes will do it a disservice.

3) The Nice Guys

Nobody makes them like Shane Black. The Nice Guys is peak Shane Black. It's a concentrated dose of all his ticks and quirks put into a movie. Fun, unexpected action, great quips, hilarious bad guys and goons, and a healthy dose of creative swearing. 

Ryan Gosling and Russell Crowe will be your new best friends. I've seen the movie 2.5 times already. Every time I watch I'm dropped into 1970s Los Angeles and I never want to leave. Oh yeah, this movie is also hilarious.

2) Arrival

Arrival is a movie that celebrates science and togetherness. It's a movie about letting scientists do their thing. These are professionals who have dedicated their live to understanding the world around us. When you let them do their thing we can all transcend our society to the next plane of existence.

It’s also a story about navigating through grief and utilizing your grief for good rather than wallowing in it. Amy Adams puts in an all time great performance. The entire weight of the movie is on her shoulders and she makes it look weightless. 

That this movie has this message and came out in this period of our history is nothing short of miraculous.

1) Swiss Army Man

Swiss Army Man is wonderful and beautiful life-affirming movie. It's a movie that celebrates life and why it's important to indulge and all that life has to offer rather than sit it out on the sidelines. It's also deeply immature and couched in an absurd number of fart jokes and toilet humor.

Paul Dano usually plays scumbags but in this his character is so openly wounded and sad. Dano bears his soul to portray the suicidal Hank. Meanwhile, Daniel Radcliffe puts in an amazing performance of physical comedy. His character, a talking corpse, learns to regain his humanity throughout the picture. As it progresses he introduces more and more dexterity into his role. 

The combination of philosophical musings with gross out gags makes it one of the most unique movies you will ever experience.

Honorable Mentions

OJ Made in America

Is it a movie? Is it a tv show? Is it a mini-series? Whatever it is it's one of the best things I watched all year. It's a thorough examination of OJ Simpson's life and how it relates to current events. Seriously, it's shocking how much of what OJ did and what surrounded his life that has had rippled through time and still to this day affects us.

High-Rise

Technically this movie was released in 2015 but had its wide release in 2016.

This movie is the cousin to Snowpiercer. It's literally about class warfare.

Whereas Snowpiercer was an action-thriller, High-Rise is an artsy experimental movie. It's difficult, it's dense, and I don't quite understand everything that happened. All I know is that at the end I sat stunned for a good five minutes as the credits rolled.

The Invitation

Technically this movie was released in 2015 but had its wide release in 2016.

The Invitation is a tense and stomach-turning examination of grief through the lens of an awkward dinner party.

Over the course of the dinner we bounce back and forth between thinking something wrong or everything is alright and it's the neurosis of the main character.

The ending is one of those all time great gut punches that really puts a bow on the top of an already unbearably suspenseful movie.