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catherinetheprincessofwales · 2 months ago

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James Middleton: Kate, William and the dog that saved my life. The younger brother of the Princess of Wales was so depressed he came close to killing himself. Then Ella, his faithful cocker spaniel, stepped in — and even found him a wife. He tells Matt Rudd about his ‘waste of money’ education, family therapy and the help Prince William gave him. The Sunday Times, 22 Sep 2024.

I’m in a cottage on a farm with the brother of the Princess of Wales and his eyes are filling with tears. He has a cocker spaniel called Luna on his lap and I have a cocker spaniel called Inka on my lap. Both dogs are looking anxiously at their owner as he tries to tell me about the death of their mother, Ella. It could be a bit awkward when a man you’ve only just met starts getting very emotional about a dog that died nearly two years ago. Instead it’s the moment I realise James Middleton isn’t exaggerating. A dog really did save his life.

On a winter’s night in late 2017, Middleton climbed a ladder to the roof above his parents’ flat in Chelsea and contemplated suicide. Overwhelmed by feelings of failure, he had decided that the labour of living was no longer worth the effort. As his thoughts spiralled, it was only the sight of Ella, watching him carefully through the skylight, that gave him pause. How could he leave her, he wondered.

Over weeks and months Middleton had isolated himself from family and friends, ignoring increasingly desperate phone calls and texts. When his sister Pippa came to the door, he would hide in his room. When he tried to go to work, he got as far as the car park and then drove home again.

“I couldn’t focus, I couldn’t sleep, I was constantly agitated,” he says. “If I sat down I had to stand up again immediately. I couldn’t eat because I felt constantly as if I were about to throw up. What was most challenging was that I couldn’t pinpoint what was wrong. It wasn’t living, it was just existing in this awful state of anxiety.”

As his mental health crisis deepened, it was only Ella and the routine of looking after her that kept him going. “I was never alone in a time when I felt very lonely,” he says, stroking Inka’s ears. “I’m surprised there weren’t marks on the carpet from the laps I was doing, but she would sort of get in the way. It was a silent interruption, but for a fraction of a second it would stop the spiralling. “Something was taking over my mind, but not knowing what it was made it very difficult to talk about. And I didn’t feel as though I had a right to be depressed because I’ve had everything, because I am privileged.”

We are meeting today, I should mention, at Bucklebury Farm Park, a genteel sheep-petting outfit plus farm shop (excellent organic pesto) at the more desirable end of Berkshire. It is owned by his sister Pippa Matthews née Middleton and her hedgie husband, James, who is, among other things, the next laird of Glen Affric. Carole and Michael Middleton, parents to James, Pippa and Catherine, live in a manor house a stone’s throw away and Middleton’s own farm, which he bought from the parents of a prep school friend mid-pandemic, is a mile over there. It’s quite the empire.

Now married to the French financier Alizée Thevenet and father to 11-month-old Inigo, Middleton is happy to talk about his annus horribilis and his dog-assisted recovery. He does so at book-length in Meet Ella: The Dog Who Saved My Life. But it’s a good question: what does someone born into such wealth and privilege have to be depressed about?

The roots of his 2017 crisis can be found, like most roots of crises, in childhood. Born in 1987, the same year his mother set up the mail-order company Party Pieces, he followed his two older sisters to Marlborough. If the prestigious boarding school demanded academic excellence and his parents expected it, both were to be disappointed. Diagnosed with dyslexia then, and with attention deficit disorder when he finally sought help in 2017, he struggled where his sisters had excelled.

“School is about comparing yourself to others,” he says, recalling how he would avoid friends phoning to compare exam results in the summer holidays. “I didn’t feel despair when I failed because it happened so often, but I was embarrassed. I felt let down because I didn’t think that those results properly represented me.”

In the early chapters of the book he charts his struggles with expectation — his mother is frequently in tears, his father just as frequently exasperated. Even without VAT, it must have taken a large chunk of the trust fund established by Michael’s grandmother, the heiress Olive Middleton, to put his son through Marlborough. When that son had to spend a gap year retaking his A-level chemistry four times, a “humiliating record” for the school, he tells him his education was “a waste of money”.

Although today Middleton studiously avoids criticising his school or his beloved parents — he learnt valuable survival skills at Marlborough, he tells me, and “Mum and Dad just wanted the best for me” — the pressure was clearly intense. He sought escape from that pressure in nature and in dogs. “I was an outcast … alienated from my classmates,” he writes. “But dogs never judged me. Mum asked repeatedly if I wanted to bring friends home to stay at weekends. But truthfully all I wanted to do was to see Tilly.”

Tilly was the family’s golden retriever, but from an early age Middleton was desperate for his own dog. His parents, on the other hand, continued to be desperate for him to succeed. And so, after that long summer of resits, he squeaked into Edinburgh University, choosing criminology, environmental studies and geography modules because he was “pretty certain they would all be multiple choice”. They weren’t, of course, and he failed his first-year exams. More crying from Mum, more exasperation from Dad, more solace from a dog, this time his own.

“For all my reservations, I shall be eternally grateful for the time I spent in Edinburgh because it is thanks to Ben, a university friend, that I find my adored dog Ella,” he writes, introducing us to the dog that saved his life. Despite his best efforts, puppies and student life are not compatible, and when he was banned from bringing Ella to lectures he finally abandoned his studies. “I knew that if I left university I’d be responsible for that decision,” he says. “It was a big step, but I had Ella with me, as my companion and my responsibility.”

Middleton’s story is not exactly Angela’s Ashes. When he announces that he is ditching his degree to become an entrepreneur in London, he is cut off, he tells us, from the Bank of Mum and Dad, but he can still move in with his sisters at the family’s flat in Chelsea. His uncle Gary Goldsmith, he of Celebrity Big Brother 2024 notoriety, is also on hand to invest in his cake kit start-up. Nobody in this story is going to find themselves on the street.

But cynics desist! Don’t underestimate the impact of parental expectation, nor of not conforming to the traditional model of success. Middleton, anxious and increasingly socially uncomfortable, had left his friends in Edinburgh and washed up in London with his dog.

“She was my shield,” he says. “Through her I could enjoy things. I could take her for a walk and see what she was seeing. I process a lot of things in my mind and that can be overwhelming, but she helped me open my eyes and realise everything was OK.”

There are, I’m sure, many advantages to being royal adjacent, but when his sister Catherine started dating Prince William in 2004, Middleton found the level of media interest “shocking”. A young man who used his dog as an excuse to leave parties early was not equipped for the spotlight, for stepping out of the flat into a sea of flashing cameras.

“I’d never seen a royal wedding,” he says, rather sweetly. “There hadn’t been one in my lifetime. Not a big one anyway. I wasn’t aware of the scale or the global interest. I just felt privileged that my sister was asking me to do it, and it meant something to her. I wanted to make sure I did it.”

His description of the intense amount of practice he put in to the reading is like a potted version of The King’s Speech — he stutters, he stumbles, he takes lessons with the voice coach Anthony Gordon Lennox, he reads nervously and then more confidently to an audience of one dog — Ella, of course — in Chelsea Old Church. And then it’s the big day. “Really, the build-up to Catherine’s wedding was no different to Pippa’s or other friends’ weddings,” he says, unbelievably. Just the family, 1,900 guests, Her Majesty, an archbishop and a few world leaders. Watching the recording back today, there’s no hint of nerves — Middleton, 24 at the time, gives a bravura performance. Afterwards an American production company wrote to ask if he’d like to star in his own film — their opening offer was $1 million.

“They even ventured,” he writes wryly, “that members of my wider family might like to take part.” Middleton is not unaware of how everything is distorted by his proximity to royalty.

On the surface the next few years of Middleton’s life read like a Hello! magazine special — parties, holidays on Mustique, holidays in the Alps, a blossoming relationship with a glamorous older woman (the actress Donna Air, about whom his parents were hesitant because of the eight-year age gap), weekends at Sandringham (“Did you get my message, James?” the Queen asked the first time he visited. “Ella is welcome to stay in your room.”) But then came the night of despair in pyjamas on a Chelsea rooftop. Long sessions of cognitive behavioural therapy followed with a psychiatrist who was happy for Ella to attend too. She was, Middleton says, the only reason he kept going.

In December 2017, his mental health still fragile, he left London without telling anyone and holed up in a remote cottage in the Lake District. While his family grew frantic with worry, much to his irritation (“I’m a grown man”), he describes three days of elemental existence — fetching firewood and water, heating soup, walking Ella and her two pups. For the first time in a year he enjoyed a deep sleep and, in front of the fire after a wild swim with his dogs, he felt fleetingly happy.

“Dogs are amazing,” he says and all five of the dogs in the cottage with us — three spaniels and two beautiful golden retrievers — look delighted. “They do just sense things. Ella had been with me in every therapy session, she was always with me. I think we can learn from dogs. They’re not thinking about yesterday or tomorrow. They’re not even thinking about the next couple of hours. They’re thinking about right now. I’m here, they’re here, in the moment.”

As Middleton’s recovery continued, he says his sisters understood — they both had friends who had depression — but his parents struggled. “They were uncomfortable with the fact that I’d been labelled ‘clinically depressed’,” he writes. “To people of their generation, I can understand why it was concerning. Society was only just starting to break through the stigma.”

The solution, in the end, was to invite the family to the therapy sessions. “I felt guilty because I knew they were worried,” he says. “They felt guilty because it’s really hard if you’re not able to help the people you love the most. I was finally understanding how I felt but I got nervous trying to translate that to my family without the help of an interpreter. When they came into the sessions they had the opportunity to ask questions that I couldn’t necessarily answer.”

In the 13 years since Catherine’s wedding Middleton’s hair has receded a little, but he now has a beard for balance — a little twirl of his moustaches and he could be a not-too-distant cousin of Tsar Nicholas II. He probably is — this generation of Middletons is not the first to hang out with royalty. He looks less bright and bushy-tailed than he did in 2011, but that might be fatherhood or the weekend with friends he has just returned from in Norfolk. Or it might simply be the passing of enough eventful years.

Whatever it is, he tells me he is now happy, which, given the depths of his depression, he still finds extraordinary. His idea of what constitutes success has changed — he is no longer motivated by money but by the things in life about which he is passionate. He doesn’t even like the word entrepreneur any more.

Having stepped away from Boomf, a marshmallow delivery company (Boomf is the sound a marshmallow makes falling from a letterbox), he started James & Ella, a “premium freeze-dried raw dog food” company in 2020. He clearly finds it easier to be passionate about dogs than marshmallows. But it’s in his personal life that the change has been most dramatic.

“I remember sitting in the therapist’s chair with Ella’s head on my lap, wondering how long it was going to take to get better,” he says. “But within a year I had met my future wife. And we’re now here with an 11-month-old son, living on a farm with six dogs. If someone had told me that would happen, I’d have been annoyed. It would have just seemed so ridiculous.”

He met Thevenet, 34, at a members club in South Kensington, west London, in 2018. Ella, having actively disapproved of several previous girlfriends, broke the ice by going over to her table. They married in the south of France in 2021 (a Hello! magazine world exclusive, naturally) and Ella was a flower girl. And everyone lived happily ever after.

Except, alas, the dog. It is one of life’s cruelties that man’s best friend has a much shorter life expectancy than man. Just asking Middleton about the death of Ella, early one Saturday in January 2023, makes him emotional. Despite being given two weeks to live the previous September, she had made it through Christmas, perhaps buoyed by the thought of one final week in the Alps. Of course Middleton was with her when she took her last breath at 3am. The whole family, including William and Catherine, gathered in his parents’ garden for what sounds like an extensive memorial on the Sunday.

“Saying goodbye to Ella was not just saying goodbye to her as a dog,” Middleton says. “It was everything I’d been through with her. She had arrived just as I was starting out in my twenties and she was leaving as I’d finally figured things out in my mid-thirties. She put me on the right path and I didn’t want another day from her. I didn’t want another hour. I would have loved it but I didn’t need it. “She was sent to me before I even knew I needed her, but she chose me. She was able to transform my life better than any human could have done and then she put me in the capable hands of someone and together we’re now raising our own family.”

Eight days after Ella was buried in her favourite sheepskin, Alizée interrupted Middleton’s mourning to announce that she was pregnant. He is convinced Ella knew and that her death was a kind of passing of the torch. His son, Inigo, was born last autumn. “I hope there’s an Ella who will find Inigo, if there’s a time in his life when he needs it,” he says, as one of the golden retrievers has a long stretch.

If you’re not a dog person, you might find this cosmic canine intervention a bit much. Whether Ella was the ultimate therapist or a very effective placebo, it worked for Middleton. His sisters’ families are also fully invested in the joys of cocker spaniels — Pippa has one of Ella’s sons and Catherine, whose announcement of the end of her chemotherapy treatment comes a few days after this interview, now has one of Ella’s granddaughters — no corgis to date. Middleton himself now regards his mental health crisis as a blessing. “Although I would never wish it on anybody and I would never want to go through it again, I’m pleased it happened. It was an opportunity to recalibrate and to re-evaluate what matters.” Happiness, he says, is what matters. Happiness and lots of dogs. Meet Ella: The Dog Who Saved My Life by James Middleton (Radar £22).

#ktd #middleton family #James middleton #meet ella #mental health #mental heath support #mental heath awareness #Sunday times #Dogs #dog #doggo #dogs of tumblr #dogblr #puppy

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serpentface · 1 month ago

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First Goose of Spring: What was it like living in Cynozepal?

"...I haven't actually seen much of it, but the kingslek had the most stunning view of the mountains. They rise higher than anything you've ever seen, I'm sure, all the way up to the clouds. And our serfs actually live up there! It must be awful, braving the heights and fending off those little qilik barbarians. But we are a very strong people, so they manage just fine.

But the kingslek was the very best place in Cynozepal. It had everything you could possibly want. There was a garden with a little herd of horses living in it, and a spring to bathe in, and musicians and singers, and plenty of good food and wine, and the finest cushions to sleep on, and a HUGE library that had every book in the civilized world, probably? And there were always tons of servants around to care for us. My handmaid, Gray Gull Comes Home Wealthy With Fish - may her next birth be prosperous - lived in the kingslek too. Because she used to be a concubine, I guess? And she was the best of all. I never learned to read like my older sisters did - may their next births be prosperous -, but she would read to me whenever I wanted so it was okay.

So obviously I never wanted to leave. But my sisters and I had to leave the kingslek sometimes. Like when our mothers and father had very, very important guests, or when there was an execution, or for the solstice songs. And this was always a dreadful bore. But Gray Gull Comes Home Wealthy With Fish would always bring my favorite books along, so it wasn't TOO bad. And she would always, ALWAYS carry me there on her back. Until I got too big, but we have litters for that.

And now, I am expected to walk everywhere. EVERYWHERE! Or fly like a serf, sun be swallowed. I hate it here."

---

Notes:

-Goose is the absolute worst source to to ask about life in Cynozepal. First and foremost, she's a young child and hasn't been on this earth all that long (she's cognitively equivalent to a human preteen, and is 5 years old). As the third youngest princess among 39 daughters, Goose spent the vast majority of her life both cloistered in the kingslek (which is a privilege) while experiencing little to no pressure to excel and being minimally educated (as she was exceptionally unlikely to be married into an important political role). She would leave this space only infrequently, and never once stepped foot outside of the palace grounds prior to her dynasty's fall.

...And she LOVED it. Now she’s out seeing the world firsthand, breathing the fresh air and feeling the ground beneath her feet, and it fucking suuuuuckkkkkssssss, man.

-The kingslek refers both to the collective women in a royal family (wives, concubines, daughters, all of whom will typically outnumber the men at LEAST 20:1) and the domestic space in which they live. This is a massive section of the palace (as it houses most of the members) complete with its own amenities, gardens, etc. It is functionally the center of power and politics within the palace (the culture itself is not outright matriarchal, but the institution of the kingslek effectively has more political power than the king, and tremendous sway on his actions).

-Honeythief is translating for her. He frequently manipulates his translations to make her sound a little more down to earth (but still regal and far, far more important than you) and less like an exceptionally ignorant, spoiled child, but his translation here is accurate.

-Crown Cynozepali language is (and a majority of caelin and delkhin languages are) predominantly tonal in nature, supplemented with rapid clicks and deep booming 'drum' beats (it is these aspects that are physically impossible for humans to accurately reproduce). To a human ear, these languages often sound like vaguely musical but discordant barrage of sounds. I'm attempting to represent this visually with dots and squiggles.

-'Little qilik barbarians' is not referring to qilik of the region as a whole. She is referring disparagingly to the Cu-Chukka, which are a people that traditionally inhabit the higher reaches of the Azure Mountains, and do not frequently interact with the Crown Cynozepali sphere outside of land conflicts with serfs (who build their homes at high altitudes and often encroach on Cu-Chukka territory). 'Barbarian' in this context is a racist and xenophobic insult that groups together all qilik, caelin, and delkhin peoples that do not speak Crown.

Honeythief is Chit-Sut-Susit (a nationality native to parts of eastern Cynozepal and the Ch'Chen plateau, most of whom exist within the Crown cultural sphere), and is not receiving a microaggression in this particular context.

-Crown Cynozepali personal names are descriptive phrases. Song and poetry is of central cultural import, and naming conventions are rooted in these poetic traditions, designed to be beautiful and evocative turns of phrase. This is often lost in translation, and the names take substantially longer to speak when translated into most human languages.

-There are taboos surrounding speech that evokes the recently dead (defined as within a solar year), that require additions of placating phrases that will dissuade the dead from attaching to the speaker and direct them towards a good rebirth. "May her next birth be prosperous" is one example. Goose's handmaid and most if not all of her sisters (among other relations) were killed in the coup.

-The 'solstice songs' refer to traditional 'boomsinging' performed at the summer and winter equinox to call down the Solar Dragon. (boomsinging is an artform utilizing the deep, thunderous vocalizations caelin and delkhin can produce- sounds like a combination of throat singing, drum beats, and a noise kind of like a sage grouse display but deeper. The sound can travel for miles)

-'Sun be swallowed' is a translation of a phrase used to (often hyperbolically) emphasize the horror and depravity of a situation. Kind of saying 'what's next? the end of the world?'.

-Kingslek members and royalty as a whole are transported from place to place in litters and carriages, but they aren't carried literally Everywhere (they do like, walk). Goose recalling constantly riding on the back of her handmaid is describing a time where she was a tiny 5 lb child (a phase in life where most caelin and delkhin children will ride on their mother's backs).

#I was only going to do the whitecalf characters for this ask meme because I haven't touched basically any of the other OCs in ages but #I will make an allowance because I like goose #Goose

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yongility · 8 months ago

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NEO TV # I LIKE ME BETTER WHEN I'M WITH YOU. (jaehyun x reader) 1/? [next]

genre: angst, suggestive, gang au, rich kid au, enemies to lovers (kinda), a lil of fluffy stuff.

warnings: drug use mentions, gangs, fights, use of weapons, adult language, illegal activities, cheating (not on the main couple), toxic family environment, addictions, manipulation, insecurities, illegal street racing, death mentions. jeno is jaehyun's younger brother, angst, smut and if I slip something my bad haha.

word count: 10k?

a/n: I’m a sucker for cliche stuff so as soon as this fic popped in my mind I had to write it down, english isn’t my first language tho.

if you want to be in the taglist, just lemme know;) enjoy!

At SM City, things were simple.

Either you were born on the North side of the city where everything was filled with luxuries, privileges, incredible status, and the newest and most expensive things in the world, or you were born on the South side, where your childhood and adolescence could never be enjoyed because you would live surrounded by illegal businesses, in which eventually you would end up being a part of even if you didn't want to.

There was no third option.

There never was, and it wasn't expected that there would be.

SM City was radiant and beautiful... as long as you were in the Kwangya area because as soon as you set foot in the Neo Zone; things turned completely dark. Things were not always like this precisely; at some point in the past, despite the notorious differences between these two areas, Kwangya and Neo Zone had a synchrony that created an almost perfect balance and kept the city in maximum beauty.

But it was impossible to keep things that way.

Being part of the North side had its advantages: wealth, privilege, extravagant parties, designer clothes, and everything anyone could want, it would be in their hands as soon as they asked for it. Did you want a trip to the other side of the world? Done. Did you want the latest Louis Vuitton outfit? Of course. Did you want the newest car? Okay. Having it was as easy as asking for it.

They only followed one rule: do not approach Neo Zone unless your life depended on it... which would never happen.

While growing up on the South side was something peculiar. It didn't matter what you dreamed of, it didn't matter your future aspirations or your talents. Just by being born in Neo Zone; your life was already prescribed.

You would end up becoming a drug dealer, a hitman, or anything that involved ilegal businesses. Those were your only options. There were no others.

Did you want to get out of Neo Zone? Yeah, good luck with that.

On the South side, bad moves, riots, and problems were so common now that residents were accustomed to it. They began to accept their life and what destiny had prepared for them, even if it wasn't what they wanted.

Your age didn't matter, nothing mattered; as soon as you turned fourteen years old, you started your initiation into the Neo Zone gang. Each person had a different initiation and they had to complete it if they wanted the support and respect of the other inhabitants of Neo Zone, if not... you would end up fighting for your life alone. Without anyone's help, without anyone's support, and ending up being a nobody.

Welcome to Neo Zone, where there is an area as bright and welcoming as day and another as cold and dark as night.

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SM City was a small city, which meant there had to be at least one place where the inhabitants of Kwangya and Neo Zone had to mix and live together, and that place was none other than the high school. They shared the hallways, shared classes, the cafeteria, and that was not pleasant for either side.

Despite the always existing differences between the south side and the north side, the one thing the Mayor couldn't deny Neo Zone was education for its youth, and even though there were protests from Kwangya's parents about that abrupt mix, the mayor's idea would never change.

Because deep inside, he believed that the power of education would change his students and turn those Neo Zone vandals into good and promising individuals.

However, this opportunity served a completely different purpose for the youth of Neo Zone.

Because... What better place to do their business when it was Friday and many were looking to have a bit of fun on their weekend? It was no secret that the youth of Kwangya would take any opportunity to squander their millions of wones on some party made every new weekend. A party surrounded by the most expensive alcohol, the most relaxing and crazy drugs, and surrounded by hormonal teenagers who spent their time having sex whenever possible.

Jung Jaehyun wished that his business was different.

The boy let out a heavy sigh, frustration evident as he rubbed the bridge of his nose, quickly glancing at his friend before returning his gaze to the slender boy in front of him, who had his head bowed, hands and lips trembling and sweat drops were running down his forehead from fear.

Anyone facing Lucas Wong and Jung Jaehyun would feel fear.

"Look dude, this is the third time this week that I've come to look for you" Jaehyun said with a deep voice.

"I know, I know. It's just that..."

"I don't want to hear another lame excuse, you've given me enough of those already" he interrupted, dangerously approaching and grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, clenching his fists in it "look, I'll make things clear to you; you owe money to my boss, that shit you asked for is expensive, do you get it? He gave you a week and a half to pay for it, and guess what? The deadline ended... how long ago, Lucas?"

"Five days ago" Lucas, who was standing just behind his friend with his arms crossed over his chest, answered, flexing his muscles.

"Right, five days ago" Jaehyun affirmed, then looked to the side where the boy's Tesla was parked. He huffed with a sideways smile and returned his gaze to him, shaking his head slightly. "Those drugs won't pay for themselves, and you know it. You had a deadline to give us the money, and my boss was kind enough to wait for your little delay, and guess what? He's not very happy about it" he continued explaining without releasing his grip. The boy in front of him swallowed hard and nodded. "Daeho, you're surrounded by money, how hard can it be for someone like you to pay a few wones for the drugs you enjoy so much at those damn parties you throw?" he received no response, only seeing fear in Daeho's eyes and the fact that he couldn't give a good answer was starting to bother him.

He pushed him slightly with the collar still in his hands. Jaehyun clenched his jaw, and Daehyun closed his eyes momentarily.

"Jaehyun, let him go, I think he gets it" Lucas intervened when he saw his friend's white knuckles from the tight grip and knowing that if Jaehyun's patience was pushed further, things wouldn't end well.

"Sorry, I'm really sorry" Daehyun nervously apologized.

— Being sorry won't do a shit... your car is new, isn't it?"

At Jaehyun's unexpected question, Daeho furrowed his brow and shifted his gaze to Lucas, who simply nodded, then looked back at Jaehyun and swallowed hard.

"Yes, it is."

"Hmm, I see" Jaehyun examined the car meticulously, then scoffed and looked back at Daehyun with a smirk. "It's incredible to know that you can afford a damn car that costs much, much more wones than the money you owe us."

"My... my dad paid for the car. The money... the money is from my parents" Daeho stammered "I can't ask my dad for money for drugs, he would kill me" Daeho explained, avoiding Jaehyun's gaze and receiving a stern look from him.

"You should have thought about that before asking for them, you shitty addict" Jaehyun muttered, and Lucas placed his hand on his friend's shoulder, trying to calm him down.

"Let me talk to him" he requested, and Jaehyun, looking back at Daeho, finally released his grip, stepping back a bit, allowing his friend to continue. "Alright, Daeho, here's how it is: you owe us, your deadline ended a while ago, we've come to look for you three times already, and no matter the excuses you keep making up, you still haven't paid us. We want the money tomorrow, or the next visit won't be us, but our boss personally. And if you fear an angry Jaehyun, you should fear our boss more" he clarified while giving some not-so-gentle pats on his back.

"Tomorrow, at eight sharp, we want the money" Jaehyun announced, getting closer to the boy again.

"Tomorrow is Saturday, there's no school. Where am I supposed to give you the money?" Daeho asked, confused.

"We've looked for you several times, haven't we?" he questioned, not getting a response. "Haven't we?

"Yes."

"Good, tomorrow we have a race. Go to Neo Zone's main street and find us, we want the money with you" he requested, still smiling.

"Jaehyun..." Lucas called, and he shook his head.

"No Yukhei, we've given him many chances" he declared, approaching Daeho "Next time, you should think twice before asking us for more drugs if you won't pay on time.

Jaehyun turned around to walk away from the boy with Lucas by his side, but suddenly he stopped and chuckled. Returning to Daeho, he gave him a smile that made him even more nervous. Jaehyun looked around, making sure they were the only three people in the parking lot, and before Lucas could say or do anything, Jaehyun's fist hit Daeho's stomach, making him cough and place his hands on his abdomen, letting out groans of pain.

"Next time, don't play with us, you little brat" Jaehyun patted his back and winked.

Lucas hurried to take his friend by the arm and lead him away while muttering curses. They walked together to Jaehyun's car, and once they arrived, they got in. Lucas let out a heavy sigh as he shook his head, looking at his friend.

"I don't want to listen to you" Jaehyun spoke as he leaned back in his seat.

"We came to give him a little scare so he'd pay up, not for you to beat him up and ask for the money at tomorrow's race. Are you nuts?" Lucas asked, looking at him with disdain. "If Daeho goes to Neo Zone, they'll tear him apart, and you know it. As soon as he sets foot there, they'll know he's from Kwangya, and he won't be welcomed with flowers and claps."

"I gave him plenty of chances, and he didn't take them. Whatever happens to him next is not my problem," murmured Jaehyun as he tapped the steering wheel with his thumb. "Look, Lucas, I sold him the stuff, I asked the boss to give him a week and a half to pay, and now that he hasn't, the boss is getting on my nerves. He either pays or I make him pay. It's that simple."

His friend sighed and scratched his head as he looked out the window.

"At least make sure he doesn't have a rough time tomorrow."

Jaehyun scoffed. "Whatever. I couldn't care less about that rich boy"

____________________________________________

(Y/N) opened the large door of her house, and before she could say anything, Daeho took her by the arm and started walking with her trailing behind him. (Y/N) furrowed her brows and followed the confused boy, who began to climb the stairs and she almost stumbled trying to keep up with his pace. Her cousin continued the journey, then entered her room and locked the door. (Y/N) sat on her bed, breathing heavily, and gave a disapproving look to the boy in front of her.

"Could you stop acting like a damn paranoid and tell me what's going on?"

Just over half an hour ago, when she had arrived home from school, Daeho had called her sounding a bit nervous and asking if her parents were home. (Y/N) asked for the reason for his state, but he simply replied saying that he would come to her house and explain everything in there.

And not knowing what was going on was also making her nervous.

"Okay, it may sound strange, but I really need your help," Daeho pleaded, looking at his cousin with a plea in his eyes.

She looked at him confused and tilted her head, trying to decipher the look of the boy in front of her.

"What did you do this time, Daeho?" (Y/N) asked. "I'm not going to lie to your parents again if that's what you want."

"No, that's not it," he hurriedly replied.

"Then what is it?" she asked, crossing her arms.

They had grown up together, sharing everything from an early age. Wherever Daeho did... (Y/N) would also. Did she enroll in music lessons? Well, Daeho did too. Did he want to go to a summer camp? (Y/N) did too. They did everything together, they were always there for each other, and that's why they knew each other so well, too well, and every time Daeho said he needed help, (Y/N) couldn't help but to feel anxious. Her cousin always found a way to get into trouble, and the person who was always there to get him out of trouble was none other than his dear cousin.

"Hmm," Daeho scratched his head. "I need you to lend me some money," he said almost in a whisper, but loud enough for her to hear.

(Y/N) burst out laughing, and Daeho looked at her seriously, which made her realize that her cousin was not joking, and she furrowed her brow in confusion.

Of all the things she expected her cousin to ask for, money was the last thing on her mind.

Both families were among the wealthiest in the area. Their parents, being siblings, shared the same royalties in the family company. The same company that would soon be in their hands. Their parents were known for the international business they conducted, for the galas they organized to donate money to the city, and for the luxuries everyone knew they had. Money was never a problem for the Hwang families, so why was her cousin asking her for a loan?

"Money? Isn't it easier to borrow from your parents than from me?" she asked with a smirk.

"I can't ask them for money; I exceeded the limit for this week and now I'm grounded, they blocked my bank account for two weeks" he explained with frustration.

"Well then, how much money do you need?" she asked again.

"A few wones," he replied without looking at her.

"How much is 'a few wones'?"

Daeho sighed and nervously scratched his head before looking at her again. He closed his eyes for a moment and, without opening them, he replied, "545,000 wones."

(T/N) widened her eyes and then shook her head.

"545,000 wones?" she repeated, and he nodded. "What do you need that for?"

"It doesn't matter what it's for," he hurried to say.

"Well, it matters if you're asking me for a loan," she said simply.

The girl knew he could have expensive tastes, but she didn't know how he had exceeded his weekly money limit when the week wasn't even over yet, and he still needed more money. The same money he didn't want to ask his parents for.

So no, her cousin wasn't acting normal, and that worried her. First, he called her nervously asking if he could come to her house, then he took her to his room while asking if his parents weren't home, and now he asked her for money without intending to tell her what it was for.

What trouble did you get into, Hwang Daeho?

"If you don't tell me what you need the money for, I won't lend it to you," she warned him, and seeing that she didn't get a response, she got up from her seat and stood in front of her cousin, pointing a finger at his chest. "Fine, I won't give it to you, and I'll also tell my uncle that you asked me for money."

Daeho widened his eyes and shook his head hastily, taking his cousin's hands and looking at her with pleading eyes, pouting, and speaking, "Please, don't tell Dad, I don't need a lecture right now," she looked neutral, "(Y/N), please."

"Tell me what you need the money for, I won't tell anyone, and I'll lend you as much as you need. Even more, but be honest."

He sighed for the thousandth time that day and finally relented.

"It may or may not be that I asked for drugs..."

"What?" she interrupted. "Daeho, you told me you wouldn't use anymore," she said angrily.

"I'm sorry, okay?" he said, raising his hands defensively, "but we had that party two weeks ago, and I couldn't bear to spend a whole night with my parents and all those people asking me about my future, when I don't even know if I want to keep getting up every day!"

(Y/N) knew the pressure her cousin felt about his future because she felt the same pressure. Being the next in line for an international company left many people wishing, and every chance they got, they bombarded them with the same questions about it. Making both of them wonder if they were good enough to fill the big shoes their parents would leave behind. If they were capable enough to be the leaders their parents were. They knew they had carried that weight since they were little, that their lives were already determined from the moment they were in the womb. (Y/N) knew her place and her responsibilities. She was aware that any mistake she made would affect her future. She couldn't make any mistakes, not even one, or it would be the next topic at their father's business meetings.

Just like Daeho was.

She had always been like that; upright, responsible, making sure things went as they should. Almost perfect. The pressure was even greater on her, after all, many didn't trust her just because she was a woman. They believed that really the only one who could take over the company in the future was Daeho, and that hurt her pride because she tried. Really, she did. She put all her effort into that company, even when she was still in high school and didn't have time for her university career yet. However, from an early age, she was involved in the business world, she wanted to do more and be more. Because she needed to be the pride of her family. Her father's pride. There was nothing else she wanted more.

She wished she could shut people up.

And Daeho, on the other hand, was different. All eyes were on him, expecting him to be the only leader in the future, but Daeho hated everyone's attention.

Everyone's attention except his parents.

If there was one thing different between (Y/N) and Daeho's families, it was their parents. Daeho's parents were absent. They were always away on business trips, in the office, or anywhere but home. That was part of the reason why he was so close to (Y/N); during his childhood, he spent more time with his aunt and cousin than with his own parents. And that led him to do things that would catch their attention. Daeho was known as the rebel, yet people still expected a lot from him. He always threw parties whenever his parents were away on trips in the hope that they would return soon and spend time with him. He spent money on unnecessary things so that his parents would call him when they were away, and among all his needs to get their attention, it led him to drugs.

"(Y/N), I know I said I would quit it," the boy spoke again. "But believe me, right now it's the least of my worries. I need to pay for that stuff tomorrow, and I can't ask my parents," he explained impatiently.

"God, Daeho," she sighed. "Okay, I'll give it to you," she rolled her eyes and went to her bag, opened it, took out her wallet, took all the bills she had in there, then went to her desk and took a little more from one of her boxes. "Who do you owe the money to?"

Daeho swallowed hard at the question and looked at her guiltily.

"To... Jaehyun," he murmured, and she slapped her forehead with her hand.

Jung Yoonoh, or as many knew him: Jaehyun. If someone described him in simple words, it would be: leather jackets, tattoos, cigarettes, gangs, and drug deals. If she described Jaehyun, it would be with a single word: danger.

He wasn't just a drug dealer. Jaehyun was always in fights and in bad situations. Jaehyun participated in illegal races. He was the one who showed up to first period with bruised knuckles, a split lip, and a cigarette in his mouth. He was the one teachers respected – or rather feared – and never messed with him. He was the one you wouldn't look at for more than five seconds for fear that it might bother him, and things would end badly. Jaehyun screamed danger at its finest, and that caught the attention of many people.

However, if you wanted good stuff to have a good time, to escape your worries, or simply to annoy your parents, Jaehyun was the person you should go to. It wasn't a secret that he was one of the dealers at the high school. Hell, even the principal knew. Everyone did. He and his group of friends were the people you should stay away from if you wanted to be okay, the only reason you could or should communicate with them was to make a deal. Nothing else.

Being from Neo Zone, he was the last person you wanted to associate with, and there was Daeho, buying stuff from him, then owing him money, and asking her to lend it to him.

"Of all the people you could have asked for your damn drugs and then stay in debt, did it really have to be Jaehyun?" she asked with frustration, hitting him on the head. "You could have gone to that guy Taeyong. At least he has a bit more manners," Daeho lowered his gaze, and she sighed, "Okay, take the money and promise me... promise me that you'll never buy drugs again, much less from Jaehyun," she asked.

Daeho took the money from her hands and nodded with a smirk.

His cousin really was his savior.

"When do you have to give him the money?"

"Tomorrow," he replied as he put it in his wallet, looked at his cousin, and swallowed hard. "I might have to go to..."

"Please don't say Neo Zone, please don't say Neo Zone," she begged in whispers.

"Neo Zone," Daeho said again, lowering his gaze. His cousin covered her face with her hands while shaking her head vigorously. She sighed; why did her cousin always find a way to get into trouble? Revealing her face, she walked straight to her bed, where she threw herself onto it, grabbed her pillow, and put it on her own face before letting out a frustrated scream.

Daeho sat on the small couch in the room, looking at the money in his hands while thinking about all the possible scenarios that could happen the next day.

Of all the places her cousin could go, it had to be there... it had to be Neo Zone. She imagined what could happen as soon as he set foot there, and the thought that maybe her cousin wouldn't come out of there scared her. They had never set foot there; they didn't know for sure how things were done, but it was enough to hear the rumors about that area to fear it.

Now Daeho would go and get involved there.

And she would have to do something to make sure he came out with all his limbs intact.

She removed the pillow from her face and let out a heavy sigh, got up from the bed, and sat on it. She looked at her hands for a moment and anxiously played with her fingers. She thought about the words that would come out of her mouth: would she regret saying them? Possibly, could something go wrong? Maybe, but that's who she was. She would take care of her loved ones' lives before her own, because that's (Y/N) for you.

"I... I'll go with you," she said almost in a whisper. Daeho raised his eyes extremely quickly, almost panicked, looking at his cousin. He couldn't risk her, he couldn't put her in danger.

"(Y/N), you won't go. You'll stay here; we won't even argue about this," Daeho spoke, standing up and looking at her defiantly.

"It's my money you're carrying with you; I'm involved in this, and I'll go with you because I need to know that you'll be okay," she also said, standing up.

"Listen, me going to Neo Zone is already stupid and dangerous, you going with me is even more so I don't want to put you in danger; if something happens to me? Fine, it's under my responsibility, but I couldn't bear the guilt if you get hurt."

"Daeho, I won't let you go alone. We've always done things together. If you're in trouble, I want to help you. Just like you would if it was me," she explained, raising her voice.

"(Y/N), I really don't want to argue about this. You're not going..." he was interrupted.

"In one way or another, I'll go with you. Whether you want it or not ," she finished, crossing her arms.

Daeho looked at his cousin for a moment, analyzing her face. He knew that once she had made up her mind about something, there was no turning back. She was stubborn and determined, and if she had said she would go with him, she would.

He sighed and nodded.

"Fine, but I swear to you, (Y/N), if something happens to you, I'll never forgive myself," he said sincerely.

"Don't worry about me; worry about not making me regret going with you," she replied with a small smirk.

Daeho rolled his eyes and shook his head with a small smile.

Of course, his cousin was like that.

"You'll have to wear something less conspicuous," Daehyun spoke, breaking the moment.

"What do you mean by less conspicuous?" she asked, tilting her head.

He approached his cousin and put his hands on her shoulders, then looked her straight in the eyes.

"(Y/N), you can't go dressed like a rich girl. You'll attract too much attention, and it won't be good for you," he explained.

(Y/N) narrowed her eyes and shook her head, removing her cousin's hands from her shoulders.

"And what do you suggest?l she asked sarcastically.

Daeho smirked and shrugged.

"Just wear something that doesn't look like it costed you millions" he replied.

(Y/N) looked at her cousin incredulously and sighed.

What was she getting herself into now?

______________________________________________

(Y/N) took a quick look at the large mirror in her room and observed the clothes she had put on. Nothing extravagant, nothing expensive, nothing that screamed her social status. If she could keep a low profile, she would, and she hoped it would work.

She didn't know how to feel. Fear and nerves were running through her body and could be seen reflected in her eyes; her hands were sweating, and she had to wipe them on her pants, letting out a long, heavy sigh, trying to erase all the negative thoughts that came to her mind.

Would something happen to Daeho and her while they were in Neo Zone? She hoped not; she hoped they would just hand over the money and leave that place as soon as they could.

She grabbed her bag with her belongings inside and left her room as quietly as possible. She walked almost on tiptoe along the long hallway, passing her parents' room with great care and approaching the stairs. She checked the time on her wristwatch; it was seven thirty in the evening. The way to Neo Zone would take them about fifteen minutes, and hopefully, they would be there by the agreed time.

She cursed Jaehyun with all her being for getting them into this, but she cursed her own cousin even more for getting involved in these situations.

She began to descend the stairs, one by one and carefully. Her cousin was at the main entrance of the house, waiting for her, and the last thing she wanted right now was to run into one of her parents.

And it seemed that was exactly what she asked for.

"(Y/N)," her mother's voice was heard behind her from afar. "Where are you going?"

The girl closed her eyes for a brief moment and cursed under her breath. She adjusted her posture and turned around to see her mom leaning on the second-floor railing.

"Um, I'm going out with Daeho," she replied, moving her head slightly.

"Oh, has Daeho come?" her mother asked.

"Hmm yes, he's waiting for me outside," she replied.

"Well, where are you and Daeho going?" her mother asked again, this time getting closer to her daughter, descending the stairs and stopping before her.

(Y/N) swallowed hard. Lying to Daehyun's parents when he got into trouble was easy... lying to her own parents was something different. Very different. She tried not to move her hands anxiously as she always did, a movement that everyone in her family knew, something that betrayed her every time something happened.

She clenched one of her fists at her sides to avoid doing it and cleared her throat.

"Daeho said something about seeing a new movie and then going out to dinner. You know that my uncles are traveling this week, and you know how lonely Dae feels when they're not around," (Y/N) murmured the last part.

Her mother looked at her from above and squinted her eyes for a few seconds, then smiled as she nodded. She raised her hand and brought it to her daughter's cheek to stroke it slowly, causing her to hold her breath.

"Of course, dear. Keep your cousin company, offer to spend the night here so he doesn't feel lonely until your uncles arrive," she said, then pushed one of her hair strands behind her ear. She then gave her daughter a quick once-over and wrinkled her nose a bit. "Poor choice of clothing, dear. Too casual. Remember who you are; you can't go around like that... looking like a homeless. What will our associates say if they see you like this?" She put her hand on the girl's shoulder, feeling the fabric's material and wrinkled her nose.

(T/N) fought with herself not to roll her eyes right there and push her mother's hand away abruptly. She hated it when her mother told her what to do, what to wear, or what to say. She hated the phrase she always used against her, "remember who you are." It made her feel so small, as if her status or her way of acting were more special than what she thought. Than her own thoughts.

"Of course, mother," she replied simply, as she always did. No matter how many times she tried to gather the courage and say everything she felt... it never worked. Her mother's gaze would always manage to intimidate her, and she was tired of it.

She turned around to continue her way and walked through the entire place from the stairs to the main door. She left her house after a while, crossed the main yard until she reached the entrance. She greeted the security men with a simple nod, and they opened the doors for her to finally exit. Her cousin's Tesla was in front of her; as she got in, she saw Daeho tapping lightly on the steering wheel with one of his fingers.

"Why did you take so long?" Daeho asked impatiently.

"My mother stopped me as I was leaving my room," she replied, taking a deep breath.

Her cousin didn't reply; instead, he started the car and drove off. None of them spoke throughout the journey, possibly because of the anxiety it caused them. The city looked increasingly different as they approached the Neo Zone area. The streets were now darker and lonelier; (Y/N) could feel her chest pounding strongly. Her hands were sweating, and she felt a slight pressure on her chest.

May nothing go wrong tonight.

She shifted her gaze forward and finally could see the lights of Neo Zone in the distance. A few more minutes, and they would enter what would determine whether they would continue to live or not.

Was she being dramatic? It was just a part of the city. It couldn't be as bad as they painted it, right? Maybe everything they had heard from their parents or older people about that place was just an exaggeration.

Right?

She didn't even notice it. She didn't even feel when her cousin's car stopped. Daeho let out a sigh and lightly tapped the steering wheel in frustration.

"Well, we arrived on time," her cousin murmured, (Y/N) nodded, and they both got out of the car.

A few meters away from them, they could see a bunch of people. Some drinking, others smoking, others dancing, and others having passionate sessions with others. The music volume was loud, too loud for a public place. However, the car engines could be heard over it. Loud and clean. (Y/N) remembered Daeho mentioning that there would be a race... one that surely wouldn't be legal.

Daeho stood beside her, and they looked at each other. He nodded slightly, and together they began to blend in with the crowd. For a moment, they thought they had gone unnoticed. It seemed that many people were busy with their own business to even notice them.

Or so they thought.

(Y/N) stayed close to her cousin, who was leading the way for both of them. She bumped into some people from time to time, but none bothered to turn and look at them. It wasn't until Daeho felt a hand on his chest stopping him and causing (Y/N) stopped abruptly, colliding with her cousin's body.

"Oh, well," a deep voice spoke. "Who are you?" asked the broad-shouldered man. His arm muscles were large and with a particular tattoo. The Neo Zone one.

The girl swallowed fearfully and stayed behind her cousin.

Great. Just great.

"Excuse us," Daehyun spoke, trying to keep walking, but again the man stopped him.

"I hadn't seen you around here before," the man spoke again. "I repeat, who are you?"

(T/N) looked around, now seeing more people cornering them. The difference between them could be noticed. It was clear that neither she nor Daehyun fit in there. It was clear they weren't part of Neo Zone.

That had been a bad idea. A very bad idea.

Someone took her by the arm and separated her a bit from her cousin. They did the same with him. Placing him right in front of the big man, who impatiently awaited an answer.

"Aren't you the Hwangs?" someone asked from afar. Upon hearing her last name, (Y/N) turned her head to see who had spoken, seeing one of her schoolmates among the crowd.

She forgot that several people there attended the same school.

"Oh, the Hwangs?" the man questioned. "As the kids of Hwang Inc’s owners?”

Before anyone could even say anything. The crowd parted, and the tall figures of Jung Jaehyun along with Lucas Wong appeared. Jaehyun stood between the man and Daeho and smiled slightly, patting him on the shoulder.

"Calm down, Hanseok. They're with me," Jaehyun said firmly. He turned to look over his shoulder at the Hwang cousins and clicked his tongue.

"Hmm," the man, now known as Hanseok, looked at each boy and then at Jaehyun. "What are you doing associating with someone from Kwangya?" Hanseok approached the girl, and before he could get too close to her body, Jaehyun stopped him by placing his hand on his chest and Lucas slipping in front of her.

"Business," the boy replied. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to take him... take them to the boss," Jaehyun stopped looking at Hanseok and changed his gaze to the Hwang cousins. "Let's go."

Neither Daeho nor (Y/N) uttered a word. They both followed Jaehyun and Lucas, who were heading towards what seemed to be a garage, which was surrounded by cars and was dimly lit. (Y/N) swallowed hard and kept walking. Thanks to Hanseok, all eyes were on them. They could feel each of them staring at their bodies, watching them meticulously. Waiting for a wrong move to pounce on them and tear them apart.

The air was tense, and Jaehyun knew it.

Now he was having second thoughts about bringing Daeho here.

But screw it. Daeho had let him down. He owed money to his boss, and his boss was being a painful nuisance in his balls.

He glanced back to see the Hwang cousins; Daeho walking cautiously and (Y/N) behind him trying to look calm, although she actually looked like a scared little mouse.

He clicked his tongue and shook his head. The idea was to bring only one Hwang. Just Daeho, why did he bring his cousin along? Something wouldn't end well tonight.

“I don’t remember telling you that you could bring someone with you” Jaehyun said without looking back at them. “The deal was only you coming, not your cousin as well” they both could hear the anger in his voice”

And before Daeho could answer, she spoke “I tagged myself along” (Y/N) said. “It wasn’t Daeho’s idea”

“I thought someone like you would know better” he gave them a side smile and scoff”.

Lucas stood beside him, and both stopped when they reached the entrance of the garage. Two of his boss's bodyguards were guarding it and looked at them with superiority.

"Cheol Uk, the boss is waiting for us," Jaehyun explained, looking neutral.

"Only two people can enter," Cheol Uk replied nonchalantly. Jaehyun and Lucas looked at each other, and the former sighed. He nodded and turned to the Hwang cousins with no expression on his face.

"You brought the money with you, right?" he asked Daeho, who nodded eagerly. Jaehyun clicked his tongue and looked at Cheol Uk. "The boy and I will enter."

Daeho quickly turned to look at his cousin, and she could see a bit of panic in his eyes at the thought of leaving her alone, but she straightened up and smiled slightly, mouthing a "I'll be fine."

"Lucas will stay with her," Jaehyun told Daeho, who turned to look at the mentioned.

"I'll take care of her," he assured, approaching the girl and nodding at her.

Jaehyun gave Daeho a little push, and they both approached the entrance even more, the bodyguards inspected Daeho, making sure he didn't have any weapons with him, and once they saw he was clean, they allowed them to enter.

(Y/N) swallowed when she saw her cousin's body disappear through the entrance.

Everything will be fine. Everything will be fine.

She felt Lucas Wong's presence beside her. Both standing side by side, saying nothing, and the atmosphere was weird. (Y/N) began to play with her fingers unknowingly and moved one of her feet slightly. Lucas looked everywhere except at the girl. He didn't know what to say because the situation wasn't really the best. His boss was angry, and he knew what his boss was like when he was in that state, so he didn't want to make (Y/N) panic right there because he wouldn't know how to calm her down.

It had been a bad idea of Daeho to bring her here.

The brunette straightened her back and with a little curiosity, she looked around. The night had completely fallen by then, the full moon reflected on them, and the lights of the city and the place created a contrast. The music could still be heard even from where they were. And from there, in her position, she could be a perfect spectator of what that scenario was.

The car engines roared, the girls in mini skirts stood in the middle of the highway to announce the start of the race. The young people, who were also (Y/N)'s classmates, drank effusively as they moved their bodies to the rhythm of the music. Some had a cigarette between their lips, others brought their nostrils to what seemed to be a key and inhaled strongly from it, and their eyes widened when the substance was inside them.

Lucas let out a sigh that (Y/N) could perfectly hear, looking at him, she noticed how the boy put his hand in his jacket pocket and from there took out a small bag and some papers to roll. He placed the substance on the paper and rolled it carefully, then after a moment, brought it to his mouth and lit it. He inhaled deeply, furrowing his brow slightly, and slowly released the smoke from his lungs, causing it to reach the girl, who coughed when she smelled the smell of that substance reach her nostrils.

"Do you participate?" she asked, trying to break the ice.

"In what?"

"In the races."

"Sometimes," Lucas replied. "Not right now because I'm fixing my car, the last race didn't end well," he continued.

"Oh..."

"Jaehyun does it," the boy said as he took another drag of his cigarette, then offered it to the girl, who quickly declined. "He's one of the best in the area."

"Is it fun?... racing like that?" she questioned, looking at the highway.

"Yes, it is," he replied simply, bringing the cigarette to his lips, sucking slightly, and holding the smoke in his lungs. "It's really a stress reliever, and it's even more fun when you get the final prize," he released the smoke, and this time, he didn't receive a response from the girl, but she remained silent and continued to watch the show in front of her.

A few minutes passed... (Y/N) lost track of time, but it really seemed like many minutes had passed, but finally, the garage door opened, and she looked up with shining eyes to see her cousin. However, she found only Jaehyun arriving at the place. (Y/N) frowned and looked behind Jaehyun's shoulder, searching for Daehyun, but the door closed, and he never came out.

A pressure in her chest became present, and she walked to the door to try to open it, but she was stopped by Cheol Uk himself. She tapped her chest a bit to let her go. Mumbling a couple of nonsensical things and kicking before feeling the pressure of a hand on her arm, holding her back. Cheol Uk sure had strength and was beginning to hurt her arm.

Where's Daeho? Where's Daeho? Where's Daeho?

If something happened to Daeho, she wouldn't know what to do. She wouldn't know how to react.

She didn't know at what point, but someone’s hands took her from behind and separated her from Cheol Uk. They moved her away from the door a bit, and then she slightly felt her feet touch the ground. She couldn't focus on what was happening.

(Y/N) always used to worry, and maybe that was her weakness. Thinking that something could happen to one of her loved ones drove her crazy in every imaginable way, and now there was Daeho, on his own, inside a garage with some mobsters. What if it ended badly? What if he got shot? What if he got stabbed?

"(Y/N)," she heard a voice calling her, and after shaking her head, her attention focused on the boy in front of her. On Jaehyun. Who looked at her with one of his eyebrows raised and without any emotion on his face.

"Where's Daeho? Why didn't he come with you?" she asked hurriedly.

Jaehyun glanced quickly at Lucas and then returned his gaze to the girl.

"My boss wanted to talk to him alone," he explained.

"Why?"

"He owed money, his deadline expired almost a week ago. It wasn't just a few wones he owed, and my boss wanted to make a few things clear to him," he explained again, staying neutral.

She swallowed and then squeezed her eyes shut.

It was now or never.

She had never imagined in her life trying to do business with someone from Neo Zone, much less with someone like Jaehyun, but as they said somewhere, "desperate times call for desperate measures." So there she was, on a Saturday night at an illegal race, with her cousin inside a garage with other mobsters, Jung Jaehyun in front of her, and her hands sweating like they had never done before.

So, to protect her cousin from future problems, she would have to do it.

"Jaehyun?" she called softly. Jaehyun looked up at that, his name, his nickname, sounded so different coming from the lips of that girl that it almost sent a chill down his spine. How weird that felt. "Can I talk to you?" she asked, and Jaehyun looked at her with confusion, then glanced at Lucas, who was in a similar state, and nodded. (Y/N) cleared her throat and smiled sideways. "Alone."

Again, a look of confusion crossed his face, and he glanced at his best friend, who was already moving away from both of them. He looked at the girl and noticed how she lightly played with her fingers. Then, she followed his gaze and immediately stopped her hand movements, embarrassed and feeling her cheeks heat up a bit.

"What do you need?" he asked, looking into her eyes, and before she could say a word, he spoke again. "I won't sell you drugs if that's what you want."

(Y/N) frowned and quickly shook her head.

"Hey! I'm not Daeho, I don't put that stuff in my body, and that definitely wasn't what I wanted to talk about," she replied, pointing at him with one of her fingers.

Jaehyun thought she looked cute with her annoyed face.

"Well, then enlighten me," he asked with a sideways smile.

She cleared her throat again and unconsciously started playing with her fingers again.

Yes, that was definitely a tic.

"I... wanted to ask you something," she murmured, and when she didn't receive a response from the boy, she continued. "Could you... could you stop selling to Daeho?" she asked without looking him in the eyes. Why couldn't she meet his gaze?

He chuckled softly and then received a glare from her.

"Oh, are you serious?"

Jaehyun looked at her in surprise for a few seconds. He observed every detail about her. From her slightly furrowed eyebrows to her lips that were almost pouting. Then to her hands that played with each other, and then to her clothes, which were very different from what he usually saw her wearing at school. This was more casual; it didn't scream 'look at me, I'm the heir to a billion-dollar company.' This felt more like her, it suited her very well.

But he shouldn't get distracted. Especially not by someone like Hwang (T/N). So he scoffed and gave her a sarcastic smile.

"I'm sorry, Angel, but business are business. I can't stop selling to Daeho just because you ask me to. He's my client, after all, not you" he said, crossing his arms.

"You know my name, Yoonoh," she snapped, mirroring Jaehyun's movement and crossing her arms.

"You know not everyone is allowed to call me Yoonoh," he approached her with a furious look.

His name was something different. Only his family and very close friends called him that, and no one outside that circle could or should call him that. It just wasn't allowed.

So now she was coming and doing it?

"Don't sell anything to Daeho," she asked again, this time with firmness.

"Business. Are. Business," he repeated, emphasizing each word.

"Let's negotiate then," (Y/N) challenged. "How much money do you want?" Without hesitation, Jaehyun burst into laughter and shook his head slightly, making the girl look at him with annoyance and clench her jaw.

Was Jung Jaehyun really laughing at her? Who did he think he was?

"Angel, things don't work like that," Jaehyun teased, running his tongue over his lips. "You won't just come here and tell me what to do or not do, who to sell my shit to and who not to. That's just how things are," he explained with some gestures.

"Listen, Yoonoh," she placed her index finger on the boy's chest and tried to push him, although it was in vain. Jaehyun was stronger and managed to stay in place, not even moving an inch. Jaehyun lowered his gaze a bit to see her eyes and narrowed them, but at that moment, it didn't intimidate her. "Daeho promised not to use again, but I know him. As soon as his parents leave the city again and he feels lonely, he'll come looking for you to buy more stuff. One of the times he did, it ended badly. They punish him every two weeks because he's overspending, and I don't want him to be late with his payment again, because now he's there," she pointed to the garage. "With your boss, who's angry, and I don't know what he's capable of. Daeho has changed a bit since he started using. I'm afraid it might become an addiction and end badly. He lost weight. He's sleeping less. I don't want his habits to change and harm him. If my uncles find out about this, they're capable of anything, even sending him away until he changes those thoughts," she sighed and moved away from Jaehyun a bit. "Daeho is like a brother to me. We've always been together, and I'm afraid something will happen to him, either because of an addiction, a late payment, or whatever. I promised myself I would always take care of him, but I'm failing, and if I can do something to change that now, I will. Just... just stop selling to him."

She murmured the last part, and after a few seconds, she looked into Jaehyun's eyes, hoping to find a response in them, but she saw nothing. Not even an emotion. Nothing. They were flat. Empty.

Why did she think that was a good idea?

Everyone thought that the great Jung Jaehyun had no weaknesses. Or at least that's what he always showed. That was his facade. A tough guy, a dealer who had been through so much that nothing scared him. That was his life, or at least that's what others believed. His body was covered in scars, possible results of the many fights he had had throughout his life. His character was cold, a result of all the hard things he had been through. Of everything that being and belonging to Neo Zone meant.

Of everything that being Jung Jaehyun meant.

Of course, he wouldn't accept the deal with (Y/N) just because of her sentimentalism.

Of course not.

"Ugh, forget it. I shouldn't have even thought about asking you that," (Y/N) murmured as she walked away from him and let out a small sarcastic laugh. Had she forgotten who the boy in front of her was?

But Jung Jaehyun did have weaknesses. Deep down inside him. Amidst everything he presented to the world, they existed, and although no one might know them, they lived with him; and Jeno, his little brother, was one of his weaknesses. He had spent his whole life trying to take care of his brother, trying to prevent him from ending up like him. Trying to keep him away from anything that could hurt him, and if taking on a great responsibility within Neo Zone, even if he hated it, to take care of him, it was necessary... he would do it.

His family would always come first.

Then, the image of a Sicheng came to his mind, causing his throat to dry up and his eyes to close for a moment. Listening to (Y/N) talk about her cousin and how she felt the responsibility for him fell on her somehow shook him. Maybe there was something similar between them.

Something small but significant.

He sighed, debating internally.

“Do you want to negotiate? Then let's negotiate” his voice came out thick and a bit hoarse, (Y/N) turned slightly, surprised by the words that had come out of Jaehyun's mouth. “So, what do you have to offer me?” he prompted, raising his eyebrows.

(Y/N) moved her bag hanging from one of her arms to the front and began searching for her wallet. When she opened it, she remembered something: she didn't have any cash with her.

“Hmm, I don't have cash, but we can go to a nearby ATM and I can give you whatever you want” she said hurriedly, then Jaehyun laughed.

“So, you're offering me money, angel?”

“Well, yes, what do you need?”

Jaehyun made a pensive gesture and placed one of his hands on his chin. Then he looked at the girl and smiled slightly.

“Are you doing well in school?” he asked. Of course, she was doing well in school; she was the top of her class. (Y/N) nodded without understanding. “Alright, do my homework for the rest of the year.”

She frowned and looked at him incredulously.

“Of all the things you could ask for, you want... me... to do your homework?” she asked, confused.

“Look, I'm not doing well in some classes, and the principal warned me that if I didn't improve or maintain my grades, I'd have to drop out. And do you know what that means? That's right, no school, no clients. No clients, no money. No money, angry boss. Do you understand what I'm saying?” he asked, and she nodded “so do my homework, give me your notes, and let's make a deal.”

“You want my notes too?” she asked incredulously “besides, wouldn't it be easier if I gave you money? With whatever you ask from me, you could surely quit working. You wouldn't have to sell drugs anymore.”

Jaehyun scoffed and shook his head. “Do you really think it's that simple?”

“I mean… yes” she replied simply “I give you money, then you won't have to work on your own and stop selling. See? We both win” she said triumphantly.

However, he laughed. “Things don't work like that here, sweet cheeks. It's not just selling and that's it, there are other things, and things aren't that simple. Maybe where you live, it is. But not here. I can't just quit the business like that.”

(Y/N) sighed and looked into Jaehyun's eyes, trying to find something in them. Can't quit the business? She was sure that if Jaehyun was smart enough and asked for enough money, he could survive a few months without needing to continue his drug deliveries and without getting into trouble. So why would he pass up an opportunity like this?

“Jaehyun, just give me a number and I'll write you a check.”

“It's not just about the money for me!” he exclaimed annoyed “look, I'm not here for this... it's not something you'll understand, and it's not something I'll bother explaining to you. It was nice talking to you, Hwang, but I don't want your money” Jaehyun finished, turning around and walking away from the girl without saying anything else.

She closed her eyes and cursed under her breath.

“Wait... do you want my notes and for me to do your homework?”

He smiled slightly and turned around to face her again. Looking at her cynically.

“And a coffee every Monday, like those rich kids drink you have… Oh! And also, if I ever ask you for something, you'll have to do it” Jaehyun spoke playfully.

“What? Will I be your maid or something?”

“Deal?”

“Jaehyun...”

“Deal?” he emphasized this time, raising one of his eyebrows and giving her a hard look. Extending one of his hands, and she looked at him hesitantly.

Was it really necessary to shake hands?

Moreover, of all the things she could give him; money, clothes, jewelry... damn, she could even buy him a plane ticket to an island and a free vacation if she wanted to... did he decide that she would do his homework for the rest of the year, in addition to treating her like his servant whenever he pleased?

Jaehyun sure was interesting.

“Is there any catch?” she asked hesitantly, looking at the boy's hand.

“Take it or leave it. I can continue selling to your cousin, it’s up to you if you want to close the deal or not” he shrugged. (Y/N) gave him one last look and without saying anything else, she took Jaehyun's hand in hers and shook it.

“Deal” she murmured, looking at him directly.

Jaehyun gave her a sideways smile while still shaking her hand and nodded cynically. (Y/N) swallowed hard and quickly let go of the boy's hand.

She hoped he would keep his word, because as soon as he broke it, she would forget who he was, and she herself would kick his ass if necessary.

“It was nice doing business with you, Hwang (Y/N).”

Hopefully, she wouldn't regret doing business with Jung Jaehyun.

What could go wrong?

“You know that Daeho can go to any other dealer, right? I'm not the only one he can call” he questioned a bit obviously.

“I know” she replied, letting out a sigh “You take care of making your part of the deal, and I'll take care of the rest” he looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

“Do you know that you also can't go around offering deals or money to other dealers just because your cousin keeps getting into trouble?”

“I know, Jaehyun! I know..”

“The deal I made with you has been innocent. Believe me, another dealer won't ask you for homework and class notes. They'll take advantage of your vulnerability” Jaehyun commented “I'm just saying, be careful with who you talk to and who you get involved with. This is not your zone, you had never set foot here before, you have no idea how things are handled in business here, and nobody... nobody will spare a thought for your little story of the protective cousin who wants to save her cousin from an overdose.”

“You did it though” (Y/N) retorted defiantly.

Jaehyun sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumbs: “Look, I'll stop selling to Daehyun because I keep my word, but you can't make every dealer in Neo Zone do the same. Much less by offering deals to anyone who crosses your path, because money won't be the only thing they'll ask for in return” he continued, this time looking her up and down, making her feel small under his intense gaze. (Y/N) bit her cheek inwardly and then cleared her throat.

“I can take care of myself, thanks for your concern, Yoonoh” she replied with a fake smile.

“I'm not concerned” Jaehyun responded with a smile as he turned around “And (Y/N)?” he saw her over his shoulder “don't call me Yoonoh again. Good luck with your mission of taking care of your cousin as if he is a child, you can leave or stay, maybe you want to see me run.”

When Jaehyun was far enough from her sight, the garage door opened and a Daeho was pushed by Cheol Uk, until his cousin fell to the ground, letting out a groan and placing his hand on his abdomen as he writhed in pain, causing (Y/N) to run towards him with panic evident on her face. She knelt beside him and took his face to examine it, identifying the bruise on his cheek, the cuts on his eyebrow and lip, and the blood running from the latter.

Daeho smiled slightly and after coughing, spoke weakly: “The debt has been paid”.

You're an idiot, Hwang Daeho.

a/n: taglist is open! thank you for reading! wait 4 the next chapter!

next part

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weirdly-specific-but-ok · 10 months ago

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Why the fight for queer rights isn't over (it should be obvious, but to some people it isn't)

TW: transphobia and homophobia

Hi, Tumblr, this is Asmi. If you know me, it's probably as the Good Omens Mascot, which is flattering. I've found so much love and queer positivity in the good omens fandom, and the beautiful thing is how it's canon. Many people outside the queer community don't realise how crucial media and communities like this are. Right now since I'm on break from education, I'm on tumblr for most of the time I'm awake (which is not a lot, I nap more than Crowley). It's wild how different it is from the real world, that I live in at least.

I'm sure a lot of you might have had a similar experience to this: Basically, two people in my life, my bio father and my ex, both told me to my face that queer people needed to stop calling themselves oppressed and how now it's queer people who hold all the power and are oppressing other people. With all due respect, what the fuck.

I live in India, and being a trans guy who is bi and aspec, it's a cesspit. While I'm gendered correctly on Tumblr, and people are so loving and supportive, in real life even my friends who say they support me misgender me 90% of the time. Same with my family. In my previous college which I had to leave because of bullying by both the students and admin, even the queer students would misgender me (I told them I used they/them pronouns, because he/him would have been too unsafe, but even that they didn't manage). In the college I'll join next, it won't be safe for me to be out at all, at risk of losing opportunities and safety. Gay marriage is still illegal. Homophobia and transphobia is the norm. This doesn't even cover all the daily indignities like queerphobic jokes, casual discourse on whether or not we deserve rights, etc. Discrimination against aroace-spec people is rampant even within the queer community, worldwide.

And I live in an urban area, one of the largest cities in India known for its progressiveness and for being relatively safe for queer people. I am privileged compared to other queer people here. The story in other cities, in rural areas which make up most of the country, is far more horrifying. I'm unqualified to speak about anything other than my own experience, but if you can (if you are in a stable and calm enough mental state to handle the information, please put your mental health first) I'm sure there are first person accounts on the many forums.

The fight for equality is not over. It doesn't end with laws riddled with loopholes, it doesn't end even with laws that genuinely help the queer community. Aside from the huge problems of living safely and with access to equal opportunities and resources for people, we deserve dignity, peace, and the right to feel accepted and that we're not an abnormality. And so much more.

I haven't said anything that hasn't been said before, but it can't be said enough. To the queer people reading this, take all my love. We need to stand together, eliminate discourse over who is queer enough to be queer, and be the safe space that the world will not provide for us.

It's not over, and it hasn't been won by a long shot, but what matters is that we're fighting. Even existing as ourselves in a world that tells us it is a crime, is defiance and a step towards making this right.

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belowheavenrpg · 5 months ago

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Good morning, students!

Welcome to your first day at Paradiso Boarding School! I'm Ms. Adler, here to make sure all of you new arrivals can have a smooth transition into what will become your new home for - hopefully! - the next 8 years of your life.

As you are no doubt aware, Paradiso is the premier institution of middle and high level education in the Kingdom of Heaven. You, dear students, are privileged among the privileged. Here you will learn all you need in order to perform your role during adulthood.

Now, most of you were probably homeschooled all your life, and the idea of getting out from under your parents' wings seems very scary! But rest assured - it's an important part in the development of any elf. Your life away from home and your contact with other students and the faculty will teach you self-discipline and how to live harmoniously in society.

In addition to learning about history and the natural sciences, you will be taught a variety of subjects like art and music, as well as combat-oriented skills. Among these is the manipulation of our world's most important resource: Aether.

Aether is the very life force of the world. As descendants of the divine, we elves are attuned to it, and thus are able to manipulate it with training. Aether lingers in the air but cannot be propagated through it, so each student will be tasked with developing their own Aether Focus in order to better make use of it. Your focus is personal and speaks a lot about you as a person - so choose your design carefully.

You have certainly taken notice of the armband on your uniforms. These are personalized and must be worn at all times. The color on the armband identifies your grade, with the ones you all have right now - red - representing grade 1. Further grades will move along the spectrum of visible light - orange for grade 2, yellow for grade 3, and so on. Grade 8, your final year here, is represented by white.

As a safety measure, you must wear your uniforms both inside and outside the school grounds. While you have access to the entire colony, your uniforms will serve as a means of identifying you as students of Paradiso even in other Sectors, and the barcode inside the armband will help others identify you should there be any issue.

That is all for now! Please head back to your dorms and familiarize yourselves with your new dorm-mates. Good relations to those around you are paramount to a healthy life. Classes start later today, so please refer to your personal schedules and don't be late! If you have any further questions, do not hesitate to consult one of the many BN-UU7 units roaming the school grounds. They exist to serve.

We hope this is the start of a fruitful period in your lives. I'll see you all soon. Have a nice day!

#game dev #indie dev #worldbuilding

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haveawish · 10 months ago

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Miller's Girl Review/Recap

Spoilers for the full movie!!!

No seriously...I spoil the full movie, so if you've not seen it, turn back!!

Cairo is 18 years old bibliophile and inspiring author, who is extremely intelligent, lonely and bored of her life in Tennessee, Cairo's rich lawyer parents completely abandon her, leaving her to dwell in their mansion like a ghost left behind. Cairo seems convinced they don't care about her. That dynamic isn't explored any further sadly.

Cairo is striving to escape to Yale but struggling with her entry essay. To write about her greatest accomplishment. Cairo realizes she has none, as she’s been insulated in the bubble of her privilege or as best friend Winnie calls her “just another run-of-the-mill generationally wealthy gal living in a haunted ancestral mansion,”

The college essay is actually the catalyst for the movie. Cairo needing inspiration and along comes failed writer Jonathan Miller.

Miller is stuck in his mundane life as a literature teacher, his writing career amounting in a poorly received book and a wife who is more focused on her own career and any available alcohol than placating her husband.It’s unsurprising that Jonathan becomes drawn to Cairo — though his wife exudes sexuality, a good portion of the movie she's in her lingerie, it seems to be no match for Cairos charms.

Cairo is like a breath of fresh air to Jonathan, a young attractive girl who intellectually seems to be on the same wavelength as him and appreciates his opinion and wisdom. He thinks he finds in her a willing protégé into whom he can pour his own unrealized ambitions as a novelist.

Jonathan lets himself be seduced by Cairo’s Intelligence in literacy and flattery. Her being complimentary of his own book strokes his ego, not to mention her receptiveness to his attention.

Somewhere along the line Miller forgets himself and his boundaries as an educator, treating Cairo not as a student under his care but as a peer and fellow writer.

The movie throws in moments of mutual attraction and showcases Miller's descent into crossing the line of appropriately, keeping on pushing his own choice of college on her even after she said she was dead set on yale, sharing a cigarette multiple times, inviting the girl to an event after school filled with Miller's friends, looking like a first date as they squeeze next to one another during the reading.

With midterms looming, Jonathan gives Cairo a special assignment: write an essay in the style of an author she admires. An assignment that will soon prove fatal to his career and possibly his freedom.

A mix-up in the classroom lands Cairo’s cell phone in his possession and he breaks another unspoken boundary, he drives to his student house who he is aware lives alone to return it to her.

What follows is completely up to interpretation of the audience whether or not the two of them confront their mutual attraction. Whether the pair actually shared a forbidden kiss or if they even went further is up for debate. Something may have actually happened between them at her house. I wouldn’t be surprised if his ‘fantasy’ is actually him recalling their night together when he reads her story.

Cairo delivers her midterm essay inspired by Henry Miller, sent with the note ‘love, Cairo’.

Feeling underappreciated by his wife as usual Jonathan lurks to his man cave where he proceeds to read and masterbate to Cairo’s essay, whether Jonathan is recalling the night or imagining this would've happened between the two is never stated.

The story in which she thinly disguises Jonathan and herself as her subject and proceeds to write a smutty story almost fanfiction-like of a liaison between the two protagonists.

This finally shakes out Jonathan of his lust filled head to put a stop to things, but unfortunately for him he's already gone too far. He's toyed with Cairos growing feelings much less (potentially) with her body. As the two of them try to navigate the repercussions of their inappropriate intimacy.

Jonathan tells Cairo to scrap the essay and write a new one; the complete turn around shocks Cairo.

One day he was this cool teacher who's her friend and potentially her lover, he gives her attention and flirts with her and then next day he threatens her of failing the class. threatening to fail Cairo over the story is the worst thing he could have done in Cairos mind. If he had done it, she would've not been able to go to the college of her choice, Something extremely important to her, which he's well aware of, maybe restricting her to go to any college at all. Leaving her stranded in Tennessee would have been her worst nightmare.

What follows is the complete ruin of any type of relationship the pair had, Cairo is angry and vengeful. Jonathan's betrayal blindsighted her and as the intelligent girl she is feels that blow to her pride and her feelings. Cairo let's rip at Miller, all his insecurities laid bare, Miller eventually calls Cairo a child and she calls him a coward.

Him acknowledging her as a child is sickening now that the viewer has seen his actions throughout the movie. To him she's a femme fatale, a fantasy when he wants her to be but when things get real and serious, she's just a naive child and he knows better.

Cairo for all her scheming is still a teenage girl who for the first time has her heartbroken, and that heartbreak turns to cold rage and to get her revenge not even her best friend Winnie is safe from her plans.

Winnie is an interesting character throughout the movie that doesn't get the screen time and depth she deserves.

Winnie is a known lesbian according to Cairo, though Winnie playfully disagrees, claiming to like both as she tells Cairo of her flirtations with high school coach and Jonathan's friend Boris. Although Winnie claims to be interested in Boris, it is obvious to both the viewer and Cairo that Winnie has unrequited love or lust for Cairo.

Cairo offers to make out with Winnie and send a picture to Boris to try to get the coach jealous, perhaps getting her revenge at that moment at the coach rather than her desired revenge against Jonathan. Cairo manages to manipulate Winnie's obvious feelings for her, kissing surprisingly lustfully and hard since it was a supposed ruse, however that moment soon breaks and Cairo dismisses Winnie coldly.

Boris is shown to be a complete hypocrite. His boundaries with students are just as bad as Jonathan despite his denial. The first meeting we see of him and Jonathan is Boris stealing Cairo's erotic novel she had left behind and reading it aloud, completely ignoring any decency of Cairo's privacy. His relationship to our knowledge doesn't go as far as Cairo's and Miller's. However texting a student's personal cell at night is a violation in itself. At the end of the movie he tells Jonathan that he “never crossed the line” in complete denial of how close he could have been in the same boat as Jonathan if Winnie didn't protect him from Cairo's threats. Winnie and Cairo's friendship becomes a casualty as Cairo blackmails her silence by threatening to out Winnies situation with Boris.

His ‘survival’ for Jonathan's public fall from Grace.

The telling thing is that Cairo didn't lie when talking to the Dean.

The fact that Cairo told the total truth to the dean leads me to believe that the kiss we saw wasn't real, she was all set to ruin his life and mentioning the kiss would've been the sure way to do that, however she didn't mention it once.

I believe Cairo is many things..but I don't believe she is a liar.

Honestly kiss or no kiss, it doesn't really matter.

Even more confirmation that Miller is not the victim of this story. The dean was asking all the right questions to find out if he did anything inappropriate. The fact that every answer she gave was the truth and the dean looked disgusted is proof in itself. She had a meeting with Cairo first, and Jonathan confirmed everything that Cairo said but was trying to excuse his actions the entire time. The dean thankfully didn't buy into his excuses.

Jonathan Miller is the Villain of this story, his choices were what lead him on this path, he could have done what any respectable teacher would have done and shut Cairo's flirtations down, but his ego and attraction won over his common sense.

Cairo’s actions do not cancel out her victimhood.

The Ending however was a bit too ambiguous for my taste. Through it all, Jenna Ortega is captivating enough to keep me watching. Freeman is completely overshadowed by not only Ortega’s performance, but most of the supporting cast. “like imitation crab in gas station sushi” is a very accurate description to his portrayal of the very one note character.

Cairo Sweet may be the character I will defend absolutely. A morally grey protagonist who deserved better.

#millers girl #miller's girl #millers girl spoilers #miller's girl spoilers #movie review #movie recap #cairo sweet #jonathan miller #jenna ortega #martin freeman

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paperultra · 11 months ago

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le festin.

Pairing: OPLA!Vinsmoke Sanji x Fem!Reader Word Count: 3,842 words Warnings: Swearing, alcohol use, toxic family [A/N: yes this is partially inspired by ratatouille. inspiration comes from many places and i am not one to question it. happy new year <3]

cingulomania (noun): a strong desire to hold a person in your arms nemesism (noun): frustration, anger or aggression directed inward, toward oneself and one's way of living

Thunk.

“Murfus.”

“Yes, Miss?”

“Get me more darts.”

Murfus wrings his hands, glancing between you and the wall a few feet away. “I … I’m afraid I can’t get you more darts,” he replies tentatively, “on account of us being out at sea, Miss.”

“Then fetch the ones I’ve already thrown,” you snap, pointing at said darts. “Idiot.”

“Of course. So sorry, Miss.”

He scampers over to the wall and hurriedly pulls each dart out of it, rushing back to you with sweat on his brow. You snatch them out of his white-gloved palms.

Pinching the blue dart between your fingers, you hold it up to your eye and aim. With a sharp snap of your wrist, the dart flies forward and into the paper tacked onto the wood panel.

Murfus winces.

Crumpled, smudged, and pitted with pin-sized holes, one would have a hard time reading the article on the wall. But you know what it says. You’ve memorized its structure, can land a dart onto each line mentioning that damned restaurant by name. And you do.

“Murfus.”

“Yes, Miss?”

“Read the menu to me again.”

“Of course, Miss.” You hear the crinkle of paper and the sound of him clearing his throat. “The appetizers are as follows …”

You only half-listen as the man continues, the other half occupied by the wall in front of you and the starting paragraph steadily being destroyed by your hand. Your tongue draws across your teeth.

“In all our years as food critics, scouring the East Blue for any semblance of palatable cuisine in a region brimming with endless possibilities, no other restaurant has come as close to unlocking the flavor of the seas as the Baratie.”

—

You had, by all accounts, a privileged upbringing.

The Nouveau Blue Guide is not royalty, nobility, or military – but it is an empire in its own right, a name that’s afforded you many opportunities and comforts since you were young: a fine education, luxurious business trips, a roof over your head and plenty of food to eat. Your family’s reputation as food critics, built by your great-grandfather and painstakingly maintained up to this very day, is unmatched in the East Blue.

Such is your birthright. A birthright that, despite your toil and travels and countless, countless hours spent writing reviews, your parents say you do not deserve.

“You call this an article?” Your mother brandishes the draft you’d submitted in hopes of some constructive criticism, her voice climbing high. “It’s a mess!”

“I haven’t polished it up yet –”

“There’s nothing worth polishing. Frankly, it’s embarrassing that a child of mine has written something like this.” She passes the article over to your father. “Darling, throw this away. I’m already stressed as it is.”

Your father takes it. Gives it a cursory once-over. Your tentative anticipation dissolves in the pit of your stomach when he sighs, shaking his head at you. “You’re not cut out for this career, dear,” he tells you, folding your article in half and then quarters and dropping it into the bin by your mother’s desk. “Claudie is already taking over the Guide. Your time is better spent improving your etiquette.”

You breathe in. Keep your hands relaxed, square your shoulders. Nod obediently with clenched teeth.

“I’m sorry for wasting your time.”

You know that your family means well. They want you to live a successful life, find a successful spouse, and raise successful children. They don’t want you to waste your time because your time is valuable.

Well, today, you’re going to prove that you are not wasting anything.

“We’re ready to disembark, Miss.”

“Good.”

Standing up, you put on your gloves and hat, picking your notebook and pen up from the table before walking with Murfus down to the dock.

He accompanies you to the entrance of the Baratie, then falls back so you may walk in alone. The maître d’hôtel welcomes you and promptly gets you seated at a booth on the ground floor, not too close to the stairs to distract you from the ambience of the restaurant and not too close to the kitchen to hear the ruckus of the cooks.

In the brief space of time before your waiter arrives, you take everything in. Dim, cozy lighting. High ceiling. Few windows. Sitting in the Baratie is like sitting in the belly of a whale. Perhaps you can make a point about it being a bit too enclosed, but given that its main customers are seafarers looking for reprieve from the elements, you don’t think many would find that damning.

You make a few half-hearted but detailed notes.

“Hello, madam.” A voice from above interrupts your writing.

You look up, irritated.

The waiter before you is a handsome man, blond-haired and broad-shouldered. He flashes you a charming smile upon meeting your eyes as he sets a plate of bread rolls down, standing close enough that you can smell cigarette smoke mixed with spices and just the barest remnants of cologne.

You recognize him immediately.

“My name is Sanji, and I have the immense pleasure of being your waiter this evening. Shall we start with drinks?”

Stifling your confusion with a sneer, you place your pen down.

“Is the Baratie so short-staffed that they have their sous chef waiting tables?”

Sanji’s smile freezes for just a moment. He seems to recover quickly, though, shaking his head and chuckling at your query.

“I’m flattered you recognize me!” he replies. “No, I occasionally wait tables when the owner requests it, that’s all.”

You do not buy it.

“Then, Sanji, I will have a glass of Ithürzburger Stein to start,” you say.

He nods. “Excellent choice. I will get that for you straight away.”

His eyes dart shamelessly to your open notebook before settling back on your face. To your utter surprise and dismay, he winks at you before heading off.

Your cheeks warm without warning.

Nobody, let alone a waiter (even if he really is the sous chef), has ever winked at you before. They had the good sense not to. It’s incredibly crude, and surely, you’re more offended than anything else – handsome or not, such behavior deserves a scathing call-out –

But … what if you’re overthinking things? What if it isn’t a big deal because it doesn’t affect the quality of the food? Your parents always take context into consideration – the Baratie is beloved for its rough-and-tumble personality under the guise of upscale dining, so perhaps this is part of the experience. He may not have even winked at you at all.

“Tch.”

You release the tablecloth from your grip, grabbing a bread roll instead and sinking your teeth into it. It’s light, sweet, and perfect. You chew quickly and swallow hard.

The sous chef comes back soon after, your requested bottle of wine in one hand and a polished glass in the other.

“Your Ithürzburger Stein, madam,” he says, opening the bottle and pouring you a glass with practiced ease.

He watches intently as you pick the glass up and bring it to your lips. The aroma reaches your nose, and it takes an immense effort not to wrinkle it as you take a sip. You’ve never particularly liked alcohol. This one is sour and dry.

“It’s alright,” you say, wishing you could rinse the taste out with juice. “I’m ready to order my appetizers and entrées.”

“Of course.”

You rattle off a few items, having memorized the menu after listening to Murfus read it so many times. For the appetizers, wakame salad with sesame-ginger dressing, Sea King croquettes, and grilled plums with goat cheese. For the entrees, Sambasian crab-stuffed salmon with roasted potatoes and chickpea stew. They’re nothing particularly unique or outstanding, but you feel that they are worth evaluating.

Sanji takes your order and leaves you with another dazzling smile, and you make the excuse of drinking more of the wine to avoid it. Maybe you will be a better writer drunk than sober.

Probably not.

Alone once again, you occupy yourself by exploring different ways to describe the wine, the bread, and the atmosphere. When you tire of that, you eavesdrop on the booth next to yours. It seems to be occupied by a group of marines, each attempting to one-up the others in the world’s shortest dick-measuring contest. You tire of that much more quickly.

When your appetizers arrive, you’re examining the arrangement of the silverware and the quality of their polish.

“Is the table set to your liking?” Sanji asks while lining up the plates. He takes more time doing so than is necessary, in your opinion.

“How it’s set doesn’t matter as much as whether it’s clean and accessible,” you reply, eyeing the croquettes with interest. “Tell me, where do you get your Sea King meat?”

“The Gourmet Hunter Guild supplies us with most of the rarer meats we serve here. The Sea King meat in your croquettes was just delivered this morning, so I’d say you’re quite lucky, madam.”

“What species is it?”

“Baron of the Tides.”

“Barons of the Tides tend to have a strong taste and tough flesh. Not many people are fond of it.”

Sanji’s eye glints as he rests a hand on the table, leaning in. “You know your food,” he says. “I expected no less from the Nouveau Blue Guide, and yet I’m still impressed.”

“It must not take much to impress you, then.”

“It takes a lot, actually.” He winks at you, and this time, you’re sure of it – and it’s strange because you don’t feel leered at, not at all, and your cheeks warm yet again. “Regarding the meat, no matter what it is, a good chef can make anything into a delicious meal. You won’t be disappointed.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

“Of course, madam. You’re the expert, after all.”

You are glad when he finally leaves, if only because you have no idea what to make of him. It’s difficult to tell if he’s being patronizing, and you can usually tell.

You sweep your gaze over your appetizers and take a deep breath.

Starting with the wakame salad, you inspect its presentation – a round pile of rich green seaweed in a smooth black bowl – and take a small portion to chew on.

The seaweed strikes a perfect balance between tender and firm, and the seasoning is perfect.

Fine. Whatever.

Next, the grilled plums with goat cheese. You take one bite; the creamy earthiness of the cheese complements the tender sweetness of the plums, and the caramelization is obnoxiously fantastic. You eat an entire half to make sure.

It looks like your last hope for this round is the Sea King croquettes.

Plucking one up with your fingers, you cut your teeth through the crispy, golden breading. The meaty interior strikes your tongue and your intake of breath is sudden, your free hand curling into a tight fist underneath the table.

It tastes good.

All three of them are really good.

This is horrible.

When Sanji drops off your entrées, you hardly realize that he’s there, too engrossed in the scent and the sight and the taste of the food.

“I hope the appetizers were to your liking?”

Sanji somehow gets the hint when you stab your fork into the Sambasian crab-stuffed salmon. He clears his throat and leaves you to your own devices.

You eat, and with each bite, your frustration mounts.

The Sambasian crab-stuffed salmon is flaky and succulent, the potatoes roasted to crisp skin and creamy flesh. The chickpea stew sits hot in your mouth and fills your nose with a parade of fragrant spices. It tastes amazing soaked into the bread rolls. Nothing is undercooked, or overcooked, or sloppily presented. Everything is just right. Just perfect.

You spend what feels like hours in the mouth of the booth, tasting, writing, crossing out, agonizing. The sounds of the Baratie die out until all you can hear is the scratching of pen against paper and your own breathing and pulse.

No, no, no, no.

It’s … it’s impossible. Any complaint you have is simply an expression of your own personal preferences, and your personal preferences don’t mean shit.

Your writing utensil is nearly buckling under the pressure by the time Sanji comes around for the nth time, and you’re just about ready to skewer him with it along with whoever else has the luck to wander too close.

“Are you interested in dessert, madam?”

“Of course I am,” you grit out.

All you’re met with is that damned smile of his. “Wonderful. Here’s our dessert menu.” He holds it out and you snatch it from him. “Someone with such a sweet face deserves something just as sweet.”

You snap the menu shut.

“Surprise me.”

Sanji blinks while you glare up at him, handing the menu back.

“… Pardon, madam?”

“I want the famed sous chef of the Baratie to prepare a dessert for me,” you say evenly. “I don’t care what it is or how long it takes. Surprise me.”

“I … of course.” He straightens up, the most serious you’ve ever seen him this entire evening. “Whatever you want.”

—

You wait.

The sous chef returns, not even an hour later, with a white ceramic bowl in hand and none other than the owner of the Baratie stomping after him.

“Your dessert, madam,” Sanji says, though a bit hurriedly. “Rice pudding with mango –”

He’s interrupted by Zeff, who grabs him by the back of his collar much like one would do to an errant cat. You raise your eyebrows, watching Sanji’s expression immediately wrinkle into one of annoyance.

“Little eggplant, you stop and listen when I’m talking to you.”

“Are you serious, old man? I’m in the middle of –”

“I told you that you’re off the line. No customer can change that, no matter who they are.” Zeff casts you a wayward glance and frowns before dragging Sanji back towards the kitchen. “We’re gonna have a little chat, you and me.”

Despite his bitter protesting, Sanji leaves your table with Zeff, and you’re left with your final course and the curious eyes of several diners.

“What are you looking at?” you bark at them, and they quickly go back to their meals.

You look down at your dessert. There’s a sprinkling of cinnamon on the surface, and it’s crowned with bright, paper-thin slices of mango, but rice pudding is so … simple. You’re almost insulted. But you are also surprised, and that is what you asked for.

Scooping up a bit of the pudding, you place it into your mouth, closing your eyes.

Two seconds later, you slam your spoon onto the table and stand up.

You can feel the sturdiness of the kitchen’s doors when you fling them open, your gaze immediately falling upon a mop of blond hair in the corner.

Heading straight towards him, you seize the front of Sanji’s well-pressed shirt and drag his face close to yours.

“What did you put in it?!”

Your shriek explodes through the noise of the kitchen staff. Sanji stares at you with wide eyes and oddly reddening cheeks.

“In the pudding?” he asks, bewildered. “Not much, really. Glutinous rice, coconut milk, salt –”

“Goddammit.” You shove him away and dig your nails into the back of your neck, chest and throat tightening. You can feel your breaths beginning to quicken and your eyes starting to sting. “Shit. Shit.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa”—Sanji puts a hand on your shoulder and it burns—“sweetheart, what’s wrong –”

“Where does that back door lead to?”

“Er, a dock? We take smoke breaks –”

“Excuse me.”

Shaking him off and pushing past him, you head straight to the door, open it, and close it behind you.

And then you scream.

Gods, you’re fucking ruined. You’re a fucking failure. Your parents were right, Claudie was right, you can’t do this and you could never do this and now you’re at the back of the East Blue’s only five-fucking-star restaurant having an emotional breakdown over eating food.

You scream until your voice breaks, until you’re left kneeling and gasping for breath on the filthy, wet dock.

You cough. Cinnamon lingers in the back of your throat, and you start crying.

Behind you, the door creaks open.

"[Y/n]?"

“Please don’t let my family hear about this,” you burst out without even turning to look at Sanji. “I’ll pay whatever amount you want.”

“Nobody’s going to be saying anything.” You feel him approaching, and then he drops down to sit next to you. “However, I’m very concerned about you. What’s got you so upset?”

“Why do you care?”

“A lovely lady such as yourself shouldn’t have to suffer alone.”

“Oh, please.” You hug your knees to your chest. But Sanji doesn’t leave, and after a few minutes, the words fall unbidden from your mouth, having nowhere else to go. “… I wasn’t assigned to come here.”

“Hm?”

“My family”—you swallow the lump in your throat—“they don’t know I’m here. I came here to write a review on the Baratie and get a … get a star taken away.”

Gods. That sounds so fucking stupid now. What is wrong with you?

“You did?” Sanji sounds baffled. “How come?”

A wet laugh crawls out between your teeth. “You’re the only restaurant my parents have ever given five stars to, you know that, right? So I figured – I-I figured if I could find out something wrong with the Baratie, they’d realize how good I can be at this job. I’m good at finding flaws. I’m good at details. This should’ve been … I should’ve found something.” You glare down at your lap. “But I couldn’t. Not even in the stupid dessert you made.”

“Oh.” A moment of silence occurs in which you can practically hear him gather his thoughts. “… I suppose I can take that as a compliment,” he says slowly, crossing his legs. “But is that really how you see food? Something to find fault in?”

“It’s something to evaluate. I’m a critic. It’s what I’ve always wanted to be.”

“But do you enjoy it?”

You frown, sniffling. Your brow furrows.

You want to tell him that it’s a stupid question. Why would you need to enjoy food? It’s work. You feel accomplished after finding the right words for a dish’s unique flavor, feel determined when you comb through the items on a menu. You feel delighted when you find something wrong with it.

But you …

“No,” you realize. “I … don’t.”

“I see. Well, I’m not one to tell you how to think,” Sanji says, “but as a cook, I believe that food’s one of the pleasures and privileges of being alive. As a critic, why deny yourself of its full potential?”

“I … I don’t know,” you whisper.

And the thought occurs to you, like a bottle that had been floating out at sea for years finally washing ashore, that you hate what your life has become.

“I don’t know.”

You can’t help it. You let out a loud sob, your head hanging down and bumping against Sanji’s arm. He doesn’t hesitate to wrap you in a tight hug.

It’s the first hug you’ve had in a very, very long time.

“I’m so sick of this,” you croak, face hot with shame and humiliation. “I’ll never be good enough for them. Ever.”

“They don’t deserve you.”

“But they’re my family.”

He rests his chin on your head. “A family who hurts you this much isn’t much of a family at all,” he murmurs.

His words are like a hot knife to the throat. What follows is cold, awful, bitter relief.

You force your eyes shut. Your arms tighten desperately around him, and you curl up, a pathetic excuse of a person in a crumpled heap on a dirty dock.

So this is you, you think. A purposeless silver spoon, miserable and starved for affection, clinging to a complete stranger outside the best restaurant in the East Blue.

It feels better to lay everything bare, actually.

“I can’t go back,” you tell him hoarsely.

“We won’t let anything get out.”

“The staff won’t, but you can’t do anything about the customers.” Reluctantly, you pull away, taking a deep breath and wiping your eyes. Clarity comes with it, hard and heavy. “But you know what? I don’t care anymore. I quit.”

“Quit?”

“Yeah.”

Reaching up, you close your hand around the small family crest resting just below your collarbone. You hesitate for just a moment, then tug sharply, and the thin chain around your neck snaps. Beads of gold glint in the sunlight as you look at it.

Yeah. Fuck it.

Winding your arm up, you fling the necklace as far as you can into the dark sea. It barely makes a splash as it hits the surface and disappears from sight.

“Good throw,” Sanji compliments.

“Thank you.”

He grins at you crookedly, and you finally return it, the last of your tears squeezing out from the motion and dripping down your cheeks.

Gentle fingers touch your chin. You let Sanji turn your face towards him, and the corner of his mouth tilts up as he takes a handkerchief out of his pocket and wipes the rest of the wetness from your cheeks and nose.

“There,” he says once he’s finished. “Now I can see your pretty face better.”

(You wonder how the world ever produced someone so kind.)

“I’m sorry, Sanji,” you say, “for being such an ass to you earlier.”

“Please don’t worry about it. It was my pleasure to serve you.”

“No, really. I grabbed you. I’ve never done anything like that before, and I feel awful about it.”

“I really didn’t –”

“Please,” you plead.

Sanji bites his lip, holding your gaze for a moment, then sighs. “All right. If it’ll make you feel better, I accept your apology,” he acquiesces. His expression softens. “And if you really have nowhere to go,” he offers more quietly, “the Baratie will gladly welcome you.”

Your lungs feel a bit emptier than usual.

“Thank you,” you somehow manage to say. “I’ll consider your offer.”

Your sudden formality seems to amuse him. He raises an eyebrow. “Oh, consider it? Anything I can do to sweeten the deal?”

His voice dips at the end, a sort of low and raspy thing, and you learn that it is much, much worse than being winked at.

You swallow and turn your head away. “T-Tell me the rest of the ingredients for your rice pudding,” you mutter.

“Join the Baratie and I’ll show you how to make it.”

“What? You’re turning it around on me.”

Sanji merely laughs in response, the corners of his eyes crinkling. Despite your embarrassment, you eventually find yourself chuckling along, and the sounds bloom together, so different yet so complementary. It’s nice, laughing with someone. You enjoy it.

Perhaps this is what food is supposed to bring, you think, this same, small, strange moment of peace and satisfaction.

You hope so.

#aesthetic words prompt list #opla #one piece #sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji #sanji #opla sanji #one piece live action #opla fanfiction #one piece fanfiction #reader insert #fem!reader #pleas. don't ask who inspired this reader character (it was ego and chef skinner i'm sorry)#and carmen from sanji's loguetown filler episode #i was reading the english lyrics for le festin and got emotional ok #poor murfus he's been on the ship waiting and now he gotta bring back a letter saying reader's leaving the guide

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