#which i feel sets a pretty bad precedent. there's only so many ways to catch creatures man do u want palworld to have a Capture Gun that | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

failedintsave · 3 years ago

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I tried the MTL pairing generator for rarepair month...aaaand it told me to stay in my lane lol. And then it told me to write some Rachel/Roy Cornickleson which I just don't think I'm ready to take on 🙃 So here's some Skwistok set just before Doomstar that I've been fiddling with.

(gets just a little nsfw near the beginning)

Stages

Everyone handles grief differently.

Skwisgaar groaned as muscular arms pushed him against the wall, the reinforced metal door to his room on the submarine banging shut as they cleared the threshold. Hands tangled in his hair, holding him in place while lips and tongue and teeth worked over his neck. He clung desperately to the body pressed against him, fingers twisting in blue cotton material and yanking it upward. The mouth latched onto his throat pulled away as the t-shirt was hauled over his head and Toki's fevered eyes found his before rushing forward again, mashing their lips together with sloppy abandon. He gripped Skwisgaar by the belt, half dragging him as they stumbled their way to his bunk and collapsed. Breathing came in gasps and sighs as Toki's weight pinned him down into the mattress, the pressure both exhilarating and mollifying, an anchor to hold onto as the life he'd known for so many years turned upside down and twisted away in the wind.

He'd never given much energy to grief. Life was just a punctuated string of losses in the long run. Loss of innocence, loss of trust, loss of opportunities. It was all meaningless, really. In his experience, something new always came along to fill the space so why dwell on mourning what you couldn't have back?

Boots thumped to the floor, kicked off in haste. His shirt was peeled away before sturdy hands lifted his hips to free him of his jeans, calloused fingertips gliding back up his thighs and making him shiver. Toki climbed up to kiss him again, hungrily, as if trying to swallow him whole, their teeth knocking against each other. Skwisgaar ran his hands over every inch of skin he could reach, the hard lines of Toki's shoulders, the raised ridges of overlapping scars on his back, hip bones where they ground down against his own. Heat pooled low in his belly like magma aching to erupt. He wanted this, needed this right now, more than he'd ever needed anything in his life. How long had they danced around this, stealing moments and blaming it later on booze or post-show adrenaline, walking right up to the line and peeking over before backing away again? In the name of preserving band dynamics? A lot of good that had done, they'd still ended up where they are now, Dethklok tipping over the precipice into self-destruction.

Another loss to add to the list.

Toki pulled back, glacier blue eyes raking over Skwisgaar's features with manic light, chestnut locks of hair falling in disarray to frame his face. Skwisgaar reached up and tucked a strand behind his ear and Toki's expression shifted, the wild yearning softened into something gentler, less wolfish. He sat up to kneel between Skwisgaar's legs, hand skimming from his collar bone to his navel and leaving a trail of fire, over the inside of his thigh and dipping beneath, pausing until Skwisgaar breathed his assent, whispered his name.

Fingers tested gingerly, gradually increasing in depth and pressure before he gripped him by the waist and hauled him onto his lap. Skwisgaar canted his hips, lip catching between his teeth at the feel of Toki against him, his pulse hammering in his ears. His head angled back into the pillows and a wordless moan escaped his throat when Toki eased forward, back arching as lightning raced up his spine. Skwisgaar's fingers knotted in the bed sheets as Toki released a shuddering breath over him, rocking into him slowly, building rhythm into a steady push and pull.

Loss of professional boundaries. Definitely not something to be mourned.

The devastating sensation of fullness where they joined drove all coherent thought from Skwisgaar's mind and his eyes rolled back under closed lids, panting nonsense and expletives, begging for release. His toes curled as Toki matched stokes with his hand to the tempo of his thrusts, coaxing him through his climax until tipping over the edge after him with a whining sigh. Call and response, Skwisgaar thought dazedly as his superheated skeleton melted into jelly. When he could open his eyes again, his gaze landed on Toki's face above him, watching him with an openly heartsick expression.

"I… hads to do dat… at least once before dis ams all over." The broken whisper settled over him like a burial shroud.

Skwisgaar shook his head, holding out his arms. "Come heres."

Swallowing thickly, Toki obeyed, winding his arms under Skwisgaar's shoulders and burying his face in the crook of his neck. Skwisgaar shifted to find a comfortable position, their sweat-slick chests sliding against each other as he angled slightly onto one side, hand cradling Toki's skull to keep him near.

"Seem pretties stupids we aments been doing dat dis whole time, honestlies."

Loss of time.

Toki held him tightly and Skwisgaar felt the tremor in his grip. He rubbed his cheek against the crown of the other man's head, humming tunelessly as he waited for him to speak, knowing already the fears plaguing his mind. He'd faced them often enough in his younger days, even if the scenario now was more complicated. It was hard to compare wondering where your next gig, your next meal ticket, might come from to wondering where to go after you'd already stood at the top.

Sniffling preceded the feeling of wetness against his shoulder, Toki mumbling against his skin. "What happens now? Ams we all just gonna says 'fucks you, see ya laters' now dat de band ams done? Even now dat dey tells us we gots to plays music to saves de world?"

Skwisgaar fiddled with a strand of brown hair for a moment before answering. "Well, I don'ts know abouts all dis saves-de-woirld business. But whats I do know ams band break ups. And, euughh, ja dat ams a pretty standords opseratings procedures."

"But does it has to be likes dat? We coulds all stays pals, right?"

"Dat ams...compslickateds." He dropped the lock and let his hand fall to Toki's shoulders. "Somet'ing like dis...people tends to ezpecks yous to euughh, picks sides. It ams messy. And it never warks out, t'ings always comes apart in de end."

Loss of the longest working relationships he'd had in his life.

Toki said nothing, so Skwisgaar continued if only to fill the silence. "But it coulds be worse, you knows? We gots more moneys den god, what's so bad what cants be fixed wif dat?" The statement produced a cold feeling trickling down behind his ribs, like swallowing a heaping spoonful of snow. "Nones of it acktualies matters. Just goes on to da next t'ings."

"I just... don'ts know what to does if dere aments a Dethklok."

"Whatevors you wants! You coulds buy de whole stores of airplane models, or you coulds builds you own splasharoonies water parks. Hell you coulds probablies starts a new bands wif dose guys from dat T'underhorse group."

"No," Toki murmured, face still compressed against Skwisgaar's neck. "I don't wants a new band. Dis was da one."

The possessive satisfaction he felt at those words tied his stomach in guilty knots.

"Ja it ams was a pretty good gigs…"

Toki shifted, laying his head on the pillow next to Skwisgaar's, his forlorn gaze searching his face for answers. Skwisgaar rolled so they were laying face to face, legs still twisted under the sheets.

Not everything was tied up in the feud that caused the band to split. What if it didn't have to be a total loss? Surely there were parts here that could be salvaged.

"Okej...so who says we haves to do anyt'ings at all?"

Toki's brows cinched. "What you means?"

Maybe, just this one thing, he could keep.

Skwisgaar's lips curved with the ghost of a smile. "I's already mades it to de top, ams de fastest guitarist alives...coulds be I shoulds just quits while I gots de title, ja? Retires, takes my ball and goes home wif it."

Toki snorted and rolled his eyes.

"Builds mineself a giant house up in de mountains or somet'ing. Or travels and just fucks off on de resgiduals forever, not worries about a deadlines or demos ever again. Plays guitar just for funs."

He saw his grin mirrored on Toki's face as the other man nodded dreamily.

"Maybe you...comes wif me?" Fluttery nerves tickled behind his sternum. "If you wants to."

Toki's eyes widened. "Wait. Whats?"

Just this. He could be happy with this.

"Y-you means it? You aments just messings with Toki?"

He shook his head. "How long dids we waste before nows? For not'ing. I'm sick ofs waitings. Let's just goes."

A heartbeat passed, and then Toki's mouth was on his again. Less frantic this time, hopeful rather than desperate. He cradled Toki's jaw, taking his time as he returned his affections, deepening the kiss and tracing languid strokes over his neck, his shoulders, his chest. Their limbs wound together in a twisted bramble, bodies drawing tightly together, fitting like puzzle pieces.

A repetitive, discordant riff sounded from the pile of clothes abandoned on the floor and Toki's head jerked away. Flashing an apologetic grin, he rolled away to fish his phone from his pocket, sliding his pants up loosely around his hips.

"Sorries, be rights back!" He whispered, pressing the screen to answer. "Oh hei, Rockso!*

"Hows do you even has signals down here?" Skwisgaar called after him as he stepped into the hall, then flopped back onto the pillows to stare at the ceiling, counting the shiny rivets in the metal plating.

This was doable. Tomorrow they would bury more than just a mentor, they would lay to rest their careers as the biggest metal band in existence. The world at large would mourn their passing, but Skwisgaar wouldn't dwell on what's done and over. Not if he had new prospects to look forward to. Something always came along, and he never looked back.

"I tolds Magnus dat I woulds sit wif hims tomorrow." He heard Toki's muffled voice through the crack he'd left in the door.

A shadow passed over his thoughts at the name, like someone walking across his grave. It was uncomfortable to say the least, to have their former guitarist back in the fringes of their lives. Toki had a habit of finding friendship in questionable places, but where the clown was mostly an annoyance and sometimes a financial drain, his relationship with Magnus left Skwisgaar apprehensive. It didn't ease his mind when Toki insisted the older musician was different now. How could he know? He hadn't lived with the man, hadn't walked on eggshells during every rehearsal or songwriting session, hadn't watched as he plunged a knife into a bandmate.

But Magnus had also saved Toki with his insulin. He'd been there for Toki as a shoulder to lean on when the band had started to fall apart, too preoccupied with their own issues to spare a minute for their youngest member.

So maybe Toki was right. Things change; he'd never expected that a wedge could be driven between Nathan and Pickles far enough to end their friendship in such a catastrophic way, but here they were. And if Magnus still harbored any resentment for the band, their breakup was probably a balm to the old wound of rejection. What else could he wish on them? He was probably loving this.

The door scraped shut and Toki slipped back into the blankets gingerly, as if expecting Skwisgaar to be asleep. When he saw that he was still awake, Toki leaned in with a grin.

"Sorries...now, where was we…?" He murmured, capturing Skwisgaar's lips tenderly. "Oh ja, you was tellings me how we's gonna runs away togedders into de sunsets."

"Pfff. Dat am hardlies what I saids."

More kisses peppered his cheek and jaw. "Dats what I heards."

"Well I always knew yous was tone deafs, I didn'ts realize you ams just all de way hards of hearingks." His arm encircled Toki's back as the brunette nestled in again.

"Tells to me about wheres we gonna goes. Tells me about our house on tops of de mountains."

Skwisgaar snorted. Of the two of them, his was not the more vivid and fanciful imagination. But staring up at the blank canvas that the brushed metal panels of ceiling created, he envisioned a future for them to share. They squabbled playfully over locations and home design styles. They named off outlandish things they would fill their home with, like an even bigger ruby metronome or a trampoline room or an indoor pool shaped like a guitar and filled with champagne. They listed places they'd toured that they wanted to visit again, and locations they hadn't been yet but had always hoped to see.

"Can we gets a cat?" Toki asked suddenly, making Skwisgaar laugh airily.

"If we haves to?" He laughed again as Toki nodded against him. "But I'm not cleaningks up after it, dat ams all you, pal."

"Okei." Toki sighed deeply, settling in more comfortably. "Okei. I feels a lots less scareds now about all dis."

His hand glided up from where it had been resting at Skwisgaar's hip to lay warm over his heartbeat.

"I'll miss Dethklok. A whole lots. But now I t'inks I ams acktualies looking forwards to what comes next."

Still staring at the steel plates above, Skwisgaar grinned at the pictures they'd painted in his mind.

"Ja, me toos."

He covered Toki's hand with his own. However much they stood to lose after tomorrow, his heart felt lighter at what they were about to gain together. There was no reason to dwell on what was gone.

Everyone handles grief differently.

Laying on his bunk, Skwisgaar's eyes roamed the scuffed plate ceiling overhead, lingering on rusted rivets and water stains. The imperfections seemed to move and writhe like crawling insects under the influence of whatever handful of pills Pickles had given him. A half-drained bottle of vodka lay cradled against his chest, the mouth stoppered by his thumb. Fire burned in his belly from the alcohol, but cold fury pulsing through his veins tempered it.

He'd been prepared for Dethklok to end, had even accepted the idea that his career as a guitarist was over, diminished to a hobby. Playing guitar was his lifeblood, his purpose, and he'd been about to let that go. What had he been thinking? How had he gotten so wrapped up in fantasy that throwing away his entire self had seemed like a plausible course of action.

Loss of objectivity. Fortunately it seemed to be temporary.

He took a long pull from the bottle, dribbling a little and not bothering to wipe it away. Stupid Toki, needing to be comforted like a child with make-believe bedtime stories. He couldn't just man up and move on like everyone else, like Skwisgaar had been doing since he was a teen, finding his next audition, his next couch to crash on, his next temporary alliance with subpar musicians to make ends meet. It couldn't have been an easier landing for him either, no concerns about hunger or homelessness or deportation hanging over his head. He was set up for success and still couldn't handle it.

Fucking idiot needed so much attention, so much coddling, he'd even run straight into harm's way to try and make a friend. Of all people, he'd had to choose Magnus, that vindictive bastard. Of course he'd still been carrying a grudge, when had he ever let anything go in the past? And they'd known it.

A pair of divots on the ceiling stared back at him, one dark, one catching the light. Glaring back at him mockingly, winking at his impotent rage.

They'd known. They'd known, they knew, they knew.

Skwisgaar knew. And he'd said nothing.

Then he'd watched again, frozen, as Magnus drove a knife into someone close to him.

Skwisgaar thrashed upright, a strangled roar bursting from his lungs as he flung the bottle at the wall. He kicked at the bedside table bolted to the wall, denting it from below, then spun around to tear the sheets from his bunk and hurl them across the room. This wasn't the trade he'd prepared for, this wasn't the deal he'd made with himself.

His eyes fell on his Explorer propped in the corner. He reached for it, wrapping both hands around the ebony fretboard, holding it like an axe and swinging it against the wall. He bashed it into the floor, the dresser, screaming until his throat was raw and the guitar was cracked into useless chunks of wood and fiberglass connected by twisted strings. He dropped the pieces in a heap, sinking to the ground to lean against the side of his bed, his shoulders heaving with labored panting.

The door of his room scraped open, and in his periphery he saw a figure standing, backlit by the dim red glow in the corridor. Broad-shouldered, straight hair dangling about their head. His heart seized for a moment before the figure spoke, shattering his hallucination.

"What are you doing in here?" Nathan's gravelly voice was cautious.

Skwisgaar didn't turn, eyes still focused on the debris ahead of him. The stainless steel guitar strings seemed to wriggle like worms in grave soil, consuming the corpse of his instrument. He waited until he caught his breath before trying to respond.

"What does it looks like I'm doingks?"

Nathan shifted in the doorway. "Losing your mind."

He chuckled mirthlessly.

Loss of sanity? Maybe.

"You've been locked up in there a while. Maybe you should, you know. Come out here. With the rest of the band."

"Fucks off."

Nathan didn't move. Skwisgaar felt the urge to rage at the other man rise in him, to shout in his face, demand to know why it had taken him so long to patch things over with Pickles, why he let it go so far that he'd upset all of their lives so horrifically. But the feeling passed, his body drained from his previous outburst and from trying to filter a pharmacy's worth of substances through his liver.

"We're gonna find him, you know. Charles has people everywhere looking already."

One shoulder rose and fell in a halfhearted shrug. "Whatevers. Who cares."

They could have been a four-piece. If he really wanted to rage at someone it would be his past self. How different would things be right now if he'd never given that gutter rat a chance after missing his audition time? How much of what they achieved would they have really missed out on? How many rerecording sessions and stupid arguments and publicized blow outs could have been avoided? What would they really have been missing?

He certainly wouldn't mourn the loss of a constant source of annoyance. Of an immature tag-along with a hair trigger temper. Of a loud and boisterous whirlwind of silliness and color and sincerity.

Loss of his shadow. Loss of his muse. Loss of his best friend. Loss of his future. Loss of…

Loss of…

He couldn't breathe.

"Just leaves me alone. Please." He gritted out, proud of the steadiness of his voice as his stomach began to roil and his eyes prickled with tears.

Nathan hesitated. "Should I...close this?"

Skwisgaar nodded and after another moment the steel frame clanged shut. His vision blurred as tears welled and spilled over, his breath returning in short gasping puffs which rolled over into sobs that rattled his frame.

They'd had one day. Not even a day. An evening. Hours.

He wept until he was sick, vomiting clear liquor and not much else onto the floor next to the remnants of his guitar. He wept until his tears were spent and his head throbbed in tandem with his heart, even though he didn't understand how the muscle still carried a beat when the rhythm had been taken away.

Eventually he had nothing left. His face felt swollen, his eyes were gritty. Skwisgaar rolled to his hands and knees, avoiding the puddle of sick as he rocked up onto wobbly legs. He looked at the door, wondering if the others were still awake. If they were sitting in the lounge, drowning their sorrows. He felt like he wore a lead weight around his neck, bowing under the pull of it. It might be better just to sleep.

He turned to the naked mattress, but a scrap of blue on the floor near the foot of the bed caught his attention. A faded cotton t-shirt lay where it had been discarded. Skwisgaar stared at it for several long moments. He stepped closer to the bed, to the shirt.

And kicked it underneath the frame and out of sight before turning for the door.

He'd never given much energy to grief. Life was just a punctuated string of losses in the long run. Loss of purpose. Loss of self. Loss of connection. Loss of…

It was all meaningless, really. So why dwell on mourning what you couldn't have back?

#skwisgaar skwigelf #toki wartooth #skwistok #dethklok #metalocalypse

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ga-yuu · 3 years ago

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~Kurama~Main Story Chapter 19~

Warning!! The story has strong language, gore, and attempted rape.

Chapter 18

-------Part 1-------

Kurama: “I’ll feel better when you’re out of my sight....because I want to get rid of this feeling in my heart.”

Yoshino: “.......I see.”

Kurama’s voice sounded as if he was condemning my sin, which I falsely attributed to a small smile.

Kurama: “But you and I will meet again on the battlefield. It would be easy to snuff out a dream....It might not be a bad idea to leave you under the cherry blossom tree on this day forever.”

(Eh?)

The wind blew harder than ever, causing petals to fly in the air.

A moment later I squinted at the momentum----Kurama gently turned his head towards me.

Yoshino: "Mm....."

Our lips meet and a sad moan escapes from my mouth.

We didn't know which one of us was melting from the heat.

Yoshino: "Mmm....haa....ahh.."

(....Why?)

His tongue slipped through the thin lips and tickling the sensitive areas.

He stimulated all the right places and my body was supported by his strong arms.

When I opened my eyes, my view was blocked by my messy bangs disturbed by the wind.

Yoshino: "Nnn...."

Our lips separated with a faint wet sound.

My hair was a mess and Kurama gently adjusts it without saying a word.

Kurama: ".............."

Our gazes intertwined and our wistful breaths touched.

Kurama: "I'd rather kill you than have someone else kill you. Until then, stay alive."

Yoshino: "........"

The words were too dangerous to be an expression of possessiveness and smelled too much of blood to be a confession of love.

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

1. I won't get myself killed...(+4/+4)

2. Kurama is the one who must not be killed.

3. No reaction...

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

Yoshino: "I'll do my best not to get killed..."

(For myself and for my friends...)

Kurama: "Good. I like that about you."

At some point, the residue of the withered tears was swept away by the wind along with the petals.

Kurama: "Yoshino. From now on....you're not my toy."

Yoshino: "......Mm."

I felt my heart tear into a thousand pieces, but I pretended not to know the pain.

Yoshino: "Because now....I'm Kurama's enemy."

I did not ask or speak about the meaning of that kiss.

.................

Time moves on, leaving stagnant thoughts behind.

Yoshino: "I think that's pretty much it for packing."

-------Part 2--------

Yoshino: "I think that's pretty much it for packing."

(Finally, today is the day I leave here.)

The Shogunate and the Rebels each have a system whereby only the messenger and a few soldiers as my escorts precede them to the battlefield.

(The Rebel messenger is going to take me and hand over to the Shogunate messenger on the battlefield....)

(Then, as soon as the two sides' main armies join up, the war begins, right?)

I gently looked at the shiny stone in my hand.

(As a member of the Shogunate I fight against the Rebels.)

Yoshino: "Kurama.....is going to kill me."

(I, too, cannot protect anything unless I am prepared to do so.)

(And yet...)

(I still have such a crush on Kurama.)

I gripped the stone tightly and dammed up the emotions that were about to spill out.

Yoshino: "...................."

And then, I stood up and I went out-----

..............

Yoshino: ".......I'm coming in."

I called out softly and opened the sliding door to enter.

I already had a hunch that the room owner----Kurama would be out.

(.....Forgive me, Kurama. For entering your room without your permission. I'll leave as soon as I've done my business.)

I apologize in my heart and kneel down on the shelf at the end of the room.

The shiny figurines owned by Kurama were carefully arranged and sparkled.

Yoshino: ".................."

I take out the shiny stone I picked up from the Otherworld and placed it between the beautiful ornaments to hide it.

The small white fragments glow dimly like the daytime moon.

(....If we can't let go of our memories, let's at least leave them behind.)

Yoshino: "Thank you for everything. .......goodbye, Kurama."

As I said those words, my vision again caught the shiny stone and it started filling my memories.

(Somewhere along the line, I naturally accepted that I was your toy.)

(I felt like that was a manifestation of your typical possessiveness.)

(By the time I got to the point where I wanted to be more than a toy, it was..... too late.)

I stood back up and left the room quickly...

I started walking without even looking back.

........................

-----On the same day, evening at Kyoto.

The mysterious light of twilight illuminated the beautifully furnished room.

Ibuki: "I've made you wait, Akihito."

Ibuki walks into the room and sees a young man sitting in front of him smiling languidly.

Akihito: "You have a bad habit to call people immediately and make them wait, Ibuki."

Ibuki: "Looks like you were busy playing with that."

Ibuki pointed to Akihito's lap as if to make fun of him.

He was comfortably beating his drum to pass time.

Akihito: "What else can I do here? Well, anyway..."

------Part 3------

Akihito: "What else can I do here? Well, anyway...Yoritomo has outwitted us all, hasn't he?"

A soft, unreadable smile crept across Akihito's lips.

Akihito: "I didn't think they'd take back the fox princess."

Ibuki: "Why are you laughing about it?"

Akihito: "Why not? You'll manage it, won't you? I sowed the seeds of evil, Yasuchika nurtured them and....Ibuki, it's your job to reap the harvest."

Ibuki: "Pain in the ass."

Akihito: "I thought you loved playing?"

Ibuki: "Okay okay, anything for you."

After a snide retort, Ibuki laughed and sat down next to Akihito.

----To discuss their future plans.

...............

Rebel soldier 1: "The sun will soon be gone. Let's start preparing the camp."

A rebel soldier riding in front of my horse looks back at me.

Rebel soldier 2: "Ah. Hey, are you feeling any better?"

Yoshino: "Yes, I'm doing fine."

As a prisoner of war to be handed over to the Shogunate, I have been treated with respect by the rebel envoys.

It was Yoshitsune-sama who gave the order to do so.

(Yoichi-san and Benkei also were sweet enough to see me off. It is as if they forgot I'm an enemy.)

------FLASHBACK------

Benkei: "I know you're gonna stubbornly say 'No' if I asked you to run away. But nothing can be done now, isn't it?

Yoichi: "We'll just have to hope that we won't run into you on the battlefield."

------FLASHBACK ENDS-----

(Those two also risked their lives to fight for Yoshitsune-sama and their friends.)

(I'm going to stand on the battlefield, so I should learn to face anything.)

On the back of the horse, I look ahead and think about the battle that lies ahead.

At that time-----

Rebel soldier 3: "Hm? What the....?"

(What happened?)

One of the soldiers suddenly looked at the mountainside on his right.

Yoshino: "......Sand dust?"

I gasp at the sound of many horses' feet galloping towards us.

Rebel soldier 1: "No way, an enemy attack!?"

(No way.)

Dozens of men jumped out of the slope and rushed towards us on horseback.

Enemy 1: "She's here! Get her!"

Enemy: *ROARS*

Rebel soldier 2: "Are they from the Shogunate!?"

Rebel soldier 3: "I don't think so. There's no point in making a surprise attack when we've already negotiated so much."

(That's right. So, who are these people....?)

Rebel soldier 1: "We can't let em hurt our prisoners..."

-------The oldest soldier turns to me.

Rebel soldier 1: "And you, follow me closely! Let's get out of here."

-------Part 4-------

Rebel soldier 1: "And you, follow me closely! Let's get out of here."

Yoshino: "Yes!"

The rebels soldiers lined up their horses around me and ran frantically.

I was followed by the shouts of my escorts and the clatter of horses' hooves.

........................

At the same time---Kurama, who was leaning on his side in his room, was playing with the silver crown in his hand.

Kurama: "I don't like it. The glow should be undiminished, but it's not."

As he put the crown reflecting the orange of setting sun, back on the shelf.

A similar sparkling object falls off.

Kurama: "........."

He picks it and was about to place it back, when-----

Kurama: "What the?"

Kurama frowned at the dimly shine of a stone, placed hidden in between his collection.

Kurama: "This is...no way...."

It's as if he's trying to hold on to a memory of someone who's just popped into his head.

Kurama cradles the small stone in his palm.

At that time-----

Yoichi: "Kurama!"

Suddenly, the sliding door of the room opens and Yoichi rushes in, breathing hard.

Kurama: "What is it?"

Kurama's gaze sharpens slightly at the unusual appearance of Yoichi.

Yoichi: "There's an attack. The Court's hands have extended to the party which was sending over Yoshino."

Kurama: "!!!!"

........................

(It's been a day. ....We've managed to escape, but.)

Rebel soldier 1: "It's not good. The horses are getting tired. I wish the enemy would give up for good."

We jumped into the mountains and tried to move along the ridge, hiding from our pursuers.

(At least if we knew who the enemy was....?)

At that time----

Rebel soldier: "Shit! They're here again!"

Yoshino: ".....!!"

At the same time as we turned around at the sound of the impatient voice, arrows poured down like rain.

Rebel soldier 2: "RUN!"

He shouted at the top of his lungs, and when one soldier tried to return the fire with his own bow, he was shot and fell from his horse.

I was about to reach out to him when another soldier tugged at my horse's hitch.

Rebel soldier 3: "Just run!"

Yoshino "..... Okay."

(If the enemy's goal is to catch me, I must never be caught.)

Keeping low, we sprinted along the beastly path, which narrowed the further we went.

............

(How long has it been, since I'm running....?)

Running like mad, falling down the mountainside, still running away, but.....

Rebel soldier 1: "They're catching up. We'll have to fight our way back!"

-------Part 5-------

Rebel soldier 1: "They're catching up. We'll have to fight our way back!"

The rebels soldiers started protecting me with their backs.

The rebel soldiers drew their weapons in unison and they glittered in the cloudy sky.

(.....I can't believe I can only watch like this.)

Enemy 1: "What can you even do with such a small number?"

The enemy smiled hatefully and stepped forward as if he had plenty of room.

Rebel soldier 1: "LET'S FIGHT!"

Rebel soldiers: *ROARS*

Enemy 1: "COME ON!"

Some shoot arrows, others wield white blades.

(But the number of soldiers on our side is too small compared to the other side. At this rate....)

The rebel soldiers, who are slowly retreating to fight back, are clearly in a bad mood.

Enemy 2: "Eat this!"

Rebel soldier 1: "Nn...."

(Ah.........)

A soldier was cut down in front of me and fell into the mud.

Rebel soldier 1: "Fuck...you should....go first. Go!"

The horse's rump is beaten and he clings to the reins.

Enemy 1: "Don't let her get away! Go, go----"

(....I'm scared.)

I winced as one of the arrows pierces my arm.

But still, I ran with all my might------

Yoshino: "Kyaa!!"

My horse lets out a high-pitched scream and rocks violently.

(They shot him in the leg!)

There was nothing I could do, and my body falls off the horse.

(Damn it!)

Yoshino: "Ouch...!!"

I staggered back to my feet and stared in amazement at the hellish battle.

Rebel soldier 4: "Gwaa..."

One by one, the rebel soldiers fell into the mud.

I was immediately confronted by several enemies, who blocked my escape.

Enemy 1: "He ordered us to be careful. We were just ordered to capture and keep the woman alive."

Yoshino: "Nngh....."

Enemy 2: "Now now, don't make it difficult for us....come here, missy!"

One of the men who had dismounted grabbed me roughly by the arm and I winced in pain.

(Ah.....)

My eyes widen as I look over their heads, only to see the last of the Rebels soldiers fall.

Yoshino: "...Let go of me!!"

Enemy 3: "Hey, shut up!"

Enemy 4: "She looks like some ordinary town girl? What's so valuable about her?"

Enemy 5: "Who cares...? All our employers want, is her. But, well, it wouldn't hurt if we love her a little bit before handing it over, right....?"

I got goosebumps all over my body as he gave me a lecherous smile.

(No....)

I shake off their hands and try to run away from the emerging smirking men------

Enemy 1: "Where are you running off to?"

Yoshino: "Nn...No."

They soon caught up to me and dragged me down to the ground.

My vision darkens with despair as I see multiple arms stretching towards me....

???: "What the fuck are you doing?"

(Eh...)

At that moment---- the air around us was suffocatingly tense.

Enemy 1: "Ngh....."

The men's smiles froze, and they all turned their attention to the owner of the voice.

(No way....)

Kurama: "Did you touch the woman?"

Chapter 20

#ikemen series #ikemen genjiden #ikemen genjiden kurama #ikemen mc #main story translations #otome #cybird #cybird ikemen #cybird otome

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crossroadsfossil · 3 years ago

Text

106 degrees

Summary:

Here’s a fun science fact: Birds consistently run at a higher temperature than humans do. It tends to range between 99 degrees fahrenheit up to 112 degrees. Hawks’ own body temperature tends to self-regulate around 106 degrees.

This is important when you get caught in an autumn rainstorm with a villian you don’t really trust.

Also known as 5 times Hawks falls asleep on Dabi

Prompt: For something fluffier, how about Hawks can't stop falling asleep on Dabi because of how hot he runs. Dabi constantly has an arm full of bird and has no clue what to do

Bonus if they still didn’t trust each other the first time it happened

A03 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31366130

Here’s a fun science fact: Birds consistently run at a higher temperature than humans do. It tends to range between 99 degrees Fahrenheit up to 112 degrees. Hawks’ own body temperature tends to self-regulate around 106 degrees.

It’s something he and Rumi discuss often, if only because Rumi liked to snuggle up to him and comments on it constantly. She has no room to talk since she also runs at a higher temperature. Granted, it’s not much higher than your usual human baseline. She runs about a hundred or a hundred and one, depending on the season.

Needless to say, Hawks is a very popular patrol partner in the winter. Add in his feathers (which are amazing insulation, despite not being meant for it) and the large fluffy jacket he’s never without, and it’s not surprising that he’s almost never alone in the cooler weather, even if most of his companions can’t keep up with him once he gets going.

Neither his feathers nor his jacket are doing him any good right now, as soaked through as they are. His day had gone from bad (a long day topped off with a meeting Dabi ‘forgot’ to tell him about) to worse (an incoming cold front) to absolutely terrible (a storm that was preceding the cold front, resulting in rain, sleet, snow, or all three since this was Japan after all).

As soon as the sky opened up, Hawks insisted they take shelter. He’d herded Dabi towards the closest abandoned warehouse. He ignored the expression Dabi sported as he broke in. He didn’t care what the villain thought or how entertained he was by the action. He was a practical man and it was abandoned. Besides, if he didn’t get out of the wind and rain, he was at serious risk of going into torpor. The gear he was wearing today wasn’t meant for repelling water and it was about as much use as an icepack in winter.

There were a list of things he didn’t want to happen around Dabi, and going into torpor was fairly high up on that list, alongside bullet points such as ‘getting drunk’, ‘getting high’ and ‘running into another hero’. The best Hawks could expect from Dabi was for the villain to light his feathers on fire. At worst, he figured Dabi wouldn’t be the only burnt nugget around after he was finished with Hawks.

“Hey birdie, I’m not opposed to a show but take me out for dinner first.” Dabi said, watching as Hawks shrugged out of his coat and feathers in one fluid movement, catching his jacket before it fell off completely. He let his feathers fall to the ground with a disgusting splat. Laundering those would be less of a hassle than laundering his jacket. He draped his jacket over a nearby box in the vain hope that it might dry a little. It probably wouldn’t, but who knows. Maybe if he annoys Dabi enough, the fire-quirk user might raise the temperature in the warehouse by a few degrees.

“Ha. Ha. Not everyone has a fire quirk, asshole.” Hawks replied, giving what remained of his wings a shake to get as much of the water out. A quick look around the warehouse revealed it wasn’t as secure as he had thought, with great gaping holes in several of the walls. He shivered as the wind blew through them and started looking for anywhere that would provide a barrier between himself and the wind. He watched enviously for a moment as Dabi rolled his shoulders and began steaming slightly, burning the moisture out of his clothes and coat.

He spotted a pile of boxes, with several piled up on three sides to make a small nook and started to walk towards it.

“So, what do you have for me?” He asked, sitting down and scooting until he hit the back ‘wall’ of boxes.

Dabi shrugged. “Nothing. Just wanted to see if you’d come.” He replied.

Hawks stared at him, not quite believing what he just heard. Dabi’s growing grin cemented the fact that he had not, in fact, misheard.

“You’re an asshole. You seriously just called me out here on a whim? I’ve got better things to do, Dabi.”

“What, rescue people? In this weather? I think not.” Dabi said, slinking towards Hawks. Instead of taking a seat on the box directly in front of him, Dabi decided that the best place to sit was practically in Hawks’ lap. He shoved the hero over and leaned against one of the boxes that made up a makeshift wall and smiled at Hawks, daring him to do anything about it.

“Dick. So what now? Are you going to suggest we play Shiritori or I-Spy to pass the time? Since you invited me out for a playdate, we might as well.”

“That is not what I did.”

“You did it on a whim. It sounds like either a playdate or you miiiiiiiiiissed meeee.” Hawks said in a sing-song tone, delighting in the way it made Dabi’s face scrunch up in irritation.

“We could play ‘how many burnt feathers does it take to get to the crispy chicken center’.” Dabi held up a palm, a blue flame flickering to life in the center of it. Hawks looked between the flame and Dabi’s face and, very pointedly, brought his hands up to warm them.

“Thanks. My fingers were getting cold.”

Dabi huffed and closed his fist, snuffing the fire out.

--------------------------

When the bird actually showed up in the storm, Dabi wasn’t sure what he was expecting. He certainly wasn’t expecting the hero to stick around, let alone break into a building. Especially not the way he had. In the split second between Hawks looking at the door and breaking in, he’d assumed the hero would use a feather to lock-pick it. It seemed like something the hero would do- sufficiently flashy enough and sounded like the sort of party trick the pigeon would learn. Instead, Hawks had pulled out one of his larger feathers, slid it into the bend of the padlock and twisted it, using the feather like a lever and cracking the lock off with brute strength.

He wouldn’t say it intrigued him, but it was damn close. There were still things about the bird he didn’t know and he was still half-convinced the hero was a spy, but shit like that definitely made him question that assumption.

The hero also annoyed the ever-loving hell out of him. More than Toga or Twice did, so he was hoping the bird would slip up and he’d have an excuse to roast the number two hero.

The storm outside had rolled in completely, throwing the warehouse into almost complete darkness. He and Hawks had stopped sniping at each other almost half an hour ago, the warehouse filled with the sound of screaming winds and hammering rain. He was pretty sure this was a new record for Hawks. If he gave a shit, he’d say something about being impressed. He didn’t give a shit and he was more interested in figuring out what the fuck was making that weird noise. It kept disturbing the quiet of the warehouse; it was almost a peeping squeak, like a chain swinging in the wind, but far more organic.

He lit up one of his palms, peering out into the darkness to see if he could spot the noise. All it did was make the shadows worse and throw the hero into an eerie light. The hero was sitting with his eyes closed, and as Dabi watched, about every third exhale the bird would shiver slightly and let out that peeping noise.

Was that… Hawks’ version of a snore?

Pretty ballsy of the hero to fall asleep next to him. Ballsy and stupid as hell. Slowly, he brought his hand closer to the bird, intent on setting at least one wing on fire.

Gold eyes blinked open, unfocused. Dabi froze, waiting for the bird to react.

Hawks did, but not in a way Dabi had been expecting.

“Fucking hell-” Dabi spat as Hawks leaned against him.

The bird was freezing.

It was like getting hit by a wet washcloth that had been sitting in a freezer, and within moments he could feel the water seeping through his clothes. The bird was freezing and soaking wet.

Then the bird shivered again, almost cuddling into Dabi’s arms. Hawks’ eyes had closed again and it left Dabi with an armful of bird and no good idea how to handle this or how to feel about it.

Logically, Hawks was probably seeking out the warmth, and hell, maybe he was like Spinner. Spinner hated the cold and was about as tolerant of it as Dabi was of the heat. Guess that might explain the sleepy-thing. Spinner mentioned something about torpor once. Dabi hadn’t been listening because Spinner was goddamn annoying.

He brought his legs up, shifting Hawks so that he was sitting sideways and half on Dabi’s lap. One of his hands came up and, against his better judgement, settled on the remaining plumage Hawks had left on his wings. They looked comically small like this, and he had been wondering about how they felt.

Right now, they felt wet and cold.

He tsked and slowly heated his hand up, combing his hand through the feathers.

Slowly, they went from feeling like wet paper to delightfully smooth and soft.

---------------------------

Normally, Hawks enjoyed waking up. He had a nice bed and decadent sheets. He usually woke with the sun, and despite having an early shift, that still usually left him with an hour he could spend just basking in the delight of a nice bed. If he left the shades open, he could do so in a puddle of sunlight.

His bed didn’t feel right this morning. Too lumpy and for a moment he tried to recall if he had brought anyone home the night before. There was a hand combing through his hair, so there was a very distinct possibility that he had left the warehouse the night before and-

His eyes flew open at the thought.

He didn’t remember leaving the warehouse and-

“Chill your tits, bird brain. Just me.” Dabi said, giving a light tug on a lock of Hawks’ hair. He ignored the pleasant way it sent shivers down his spine.

“What the fuck.”

“Yeah. That was my thought too. Lemme guess- you go into torpor?” Dabi asked.

“Do I even need to answer that right now?” Hawks’ shoulders slumped and he groaned.

Fantastic. He did exactly the thing he hadn’t wanted to do. Dabi let out a soft huff, almost a laugh but not quite. Hawks leaned back, feeling an arm against his back and keeping him from going too far. Dabi didn’t look peeved, and that raised his hackles. His eye narrowed as he tried to figure out what happened.

“What?”

“You did something.” Hawks stated, running through a checklist in his mind. He didn’t feel any burns. Nothing smelled like ash. The only real change from before he went into torpor was his hair and wings were fully dry and his clothes felt, well, not dry but not sopping wet anymore.

Oh.

OH.

Dabi noticed the grin on Hawks’ face, and started spluttering. “You were just-”

“You preened meeee.” Hawks sang, laughing at the affronted expression on Dabi’s face.

“I did not. You were dripping everywhere.”

“Uh-huh. And that included drying my wings… why?”

“....Because they were there. So shoot me if I wanted to know if you had greasy bird feathers.”

“Nope. That the same reason you decided to sweetly comb through my hair? I mean, really Dabi. If you wanted to play with my hair and wings that much, you could have at least gotten me dinner first.” Hawks teased, stifling a laugh as Dabi’s expression went from affronted to a grouchy embarrassment, before then actually lifting Hawks up and dumping him on the ground.

One- Damn. Hawks’ wasn’t heavy but he was mostly muscle so. Damn.

Two- He was just laughing harder now. To think that Dabi got shy about being caught playing with hair. He got to his feet, trying to brush the dust from his pants before giving it up as a lost cause.

“Well Hotstuff, thanks for the preen and playing heating pad. Guess we did get to know each other a little better tonight.”

Dabi flipped him off, sliding off the crates and making his way towards the door they came in through.

“Dabi?” Hawks called out. To his surprise, Dabi stopped, turning to look at him, dubiously waiting for the rest of his question. “For the next meeting, can I play with your hair?”

A moment later he was scrambling away from the fireball Dabi sent his way, despite knowing that it wasn’t a true attack and Dabi was only trying to get him to stop talking and hide his frazzled expression. Hawks watched Dabi make a beeline out the door, wheezing on his laughter as he gathered up his jacket and feathers.

Teasing Dabi was going to be so much fun.

#bnha fic #dabihawks #dabihawks fic #my fic

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amazildoessomethingstupid · 3 years ago

Text

Chapter 68: December

Hey guys, welcome back. As you can tell by the title, we have a very special rant in store. As you guys may know, this rant series is meant to be about me catching up with BCB and where it’s been going recently, and give my thoughts about it. But today we are going to be doing something a little different, instead we are going to go back. And I mean WAY back. To one of if not the most notorious, the most infamous chapter in all of Bittersweet Candy Bowl. That’s right boys and girls…

WARNING: Very long Tumblr breaking rant below the break.

If you’re wondering why I’m doing this, it’s mostly because I wanted to do another Let’s Rant video but most of the boys don’t know about BCB. So when I made comparisons to December, they didn’t really understand what I was talking about. And I know that some of you new viewers may not understand why people hate December as much as we do. To really understand, you must put yourself in the shoes of a dedicated reader. Back to the year of 2011, a simpler time. A dark time. And we start off with one of my personal favorite pages in Bittersweet Candy Bowl.

SNOW. FUCKING SNOW!

FUCK. YEEEAAAAAAAH! LET’S HEAR IT FOR FUCKING SNNNNNNOOOOOWWWWWWWW!

youtube

Alright that may seem like an over reaction, but let me set the stage for you alright, because at the time that this chapter came out I was a dedicated reader. And I mean full blown fan, waiting for the hour to change to read the pages as they came out. And at this time, Taeshi was going through a real rough time and it was quite apparent to everyone who was in the community. The plot seemed to stagnate, and there wasn’t much happening. Taeshi’s behavior had grown very strained and it was the common consensus that she needed to take a break.

So she did, and in order to take a break the upload schedule turned to two pages a week… The problem was that up to this point, Bittersweet Candy Bowl was uploading on an every other day upload schedule. Now the problem that comes when you slow down your schedule like that, is that it’s meant to be temporary, or that you compensate that with content in the pages and chapter that makes the wait more bearable or at least less tedious…

Now with all that in mind. Imagine if you will, that you had to wait 4 days for a new page to start a new chapter, and you were greeted by…

FUCKING SNOW! And a dread filled your heart as you realized you’d have to stare at snow for another full 2 days before you could look at something else, and hope that it’s more interesting than fucking. Snow.

The next page does not disappoint though, because now we actually have characters! And dialogue!

And look a joke, haha! Except

Look at all the characters in this page. You got Daisy, you got Paulo, you got abbey, you got David, you got sir Noodles, and you got a reinforcing action to remind us about how Abbey and Paulo’s relationship is.

Guess how how many or which of these characters actually matter in this chapter or have an effect on it. Can you guess?

Yup, yeah that’s right none of em. Not a single fucking one of these characters matter. Not a single fucking thing in this page fucking matters at all, it barely even constitutes as a set up for the rest of the chapter. Congratulations, we just wasted a week of your time. Actually I was wrong, you know what the one and only thing that this page does that means anything?

There! That one fucking line. You waited a whole fucking week to digest two pages and all it really tells you that you didn’t know is what FUCKING TIME IT IS! EXCEPT EVEN THAT IS TOLD TO YOU

BY THE TITLE OF THE FUCKING CHAPTER! I am losing my shit this early because I want to make it abundantly clear just how infuriating this chapter was to read. This was when I realized we were in for a LONG ride. To better understand this, the chapters that preceded this one were centered around Lucy’s slow decline into depression, after her friendship with Mike had become fractured leading to her isolating (or at least distancing herself) from Mike (and the rest of the gang by proxy). This chapter was billed to be the culmination of all that fallout, which makes this pacing SO GRATING.

Thankfully page 3 actually does have characters that matter, and it actually is a set up for what the chapter is going to be centered around which is the kids working on a World War 2 Essay.

And we finally get a bit of substance to sink our teeth into! But before we go any further I should tell you a bit about my. Man. Mike. So Mike is a moody bitch. I talked a bit about what happened to Lucy, but Mike despite literally NOTHING happening to him directly since then aside from the rest of the gang not understanding why he wanted to separate from Lucy is still being moody and bitchy. And here we see him reach PEAK MOODY MIKE!

Haha that’s an actually good joke. I appreciated that when it came out.

And so, because Mike is being a moody bitch he ends up sealing his fate and is paired with Lucy. And for a second here, I had hope. Since Taeshi is pretty much declaring how frustrating and stupid Mike’s moodiness has been for the past number of chapters. Also while we’re here, I’d like to point out how everyone in this page apparently got their arm lopped off. I mean look!

At least Lucy was able to find her right arm at the end there. But also, look at Abbey!

Oh look at him, you can see how he cares about Mike’s position on distancing from Lucy! Awww such a good friend. Oh he’s definitely not going to make a heel turn and accuse others of not caring about Mike!

I am so glad I saved that image.

Anyway the next page is Mike and Lucy deciding to go to the library to work on the essay.

And then the page after that is Lucy trying to make an effort to ease the awkwardness, while Mike gives her the cold shoulder. Congratulations. We have spent a week, walking to the fucking library.

The monotony is broken up though, as we get to see that Augustus is at this library.

It doesn’t stop the back and forth that we just got in the last two pages from continuing though, and as a reminder this is all that we’ve been given to sustain ourselves for three whole weeks!

At least Augustus is able to break up this feet-dragging by giving us SOMETHING different to talk about.

Ooh look, something actually interesting! We get some insight into Lucy and Augustus’ relationship. For context, Augustus has been a very interesting side-character; one of the best. And his relationship with Lucy is a pretty nice one with its own complexities and great chemistry. As I’ve mentioned before, Lucy had spent the last few chapters isolating herself from Mike to try to let things cool off and respect his wishes. In that time, she ended up finding company in Augustus, the resident bad boy. He was suspected of attempted rape on Daisy, but we’re not talking about that.

Well maybe a little.

Lucy expresses what she’s dealing with and like before, she’s trying to find understanding from Augustus.

And he is having NONE OF IT! As someone who actually has serious problems, he calls Lucy out for being a privileged blue-eyed white cat whose only problem in life is being rejected by someone she loves.

But Augustus does give Lucy some advice, in how he sees and deals with his situation. Showing that while he does think Lucy is stupid for even thinking about killing herself over Mike, he does want to help her. It’s just…

He’s wrong. He’s so fucking wrong.

We now know through the power of hindsight, that Abbey and Daisy’s relationship was a total sham! It wasn’t a healthy loving relationship at all! It was all a lie!

GOTTA LOVE THEM RETCONS AMIRITE?!

Nah we haven’t even STARTED to begin.

Anyway, Augustus leaves and we’re back to this bullshit. Now Mike’s not just being moody, he’s being judgy!

Oh no, fuck you Lucy! I don’t want anything to do with you, I want you to be out of my life!

Hey, what are you doing, talking and having a conversation with someone I don’t care about? Stop being such a leech! Just because I don’t want you to be in my life, doesn’t mean you can just go and move on to find company in other people! Why don’t you just die alone and unloved like I tell you to?!

But don’t worry right after, Lucy breaks the ice and gets a smile out of the boy!

It’s a breath of fresh air, and we see the dynamic with the two is still there and-

No, I didn’t buy that when this page came out either. It’s meant to portray that Lucy can make Mike feel better and break him out of his funk, but…yeah at this point I knew better. By the way, it has now been one whole month of December.

And we’re only a third of the way through.

And thankfully we’re out of the library. And even more fortunately…

Taeshi learned that you don’t have to spend two whole updates on moving your characters from one location to the other! She’s learned you can smash two pages together and NOT WASTE YOUR AUDIENCE’S FUCKING TIME!

As for the actual content of this page, Lucy and Mike go to Mike’s house and we get a bit of Lucy interacting with Mike’s family, and how they get along well. Mike’s still moody as ever though, and we get our first glimpse that things aren’t perfect for him. Also

RIP the boy, Chris. he ain’t dead but I do miss him.

Anyway, the two go to Mike’s room to study, and it’s still awkward until Lucy breaks the silence!

Old joke is old, but I love it nonetheless.

Okay, enough foolin’ around. Actually Lucy decides that she’s tired of pussyfooting around, and decides to say, “fuck it” and let off some steam by playing some video games like old times!

Mike is of course denying it and content in stewing in his anger. But lucy is adamant about doing something to break this stupid cycle of drama. I like it. Even though I didn’t buy the bit of Lucy making Mike laugh by showing a funny face, this one I do like. And while some (especially at the time) would point to this as an example of Lucy emotionally manipulating Mike to get what she wants in making him not angry at her, I would say-

SHUT THE FUCK UP AND LET ME HAVE THIS ONE, JUST THIS ONCE! I HAVE BEEN SO GOD DAMN CONTENT STARVED, THIS FUCKING DRAMA HAS BEEN GOING AROUND IN CIRCLES FOR ALMOST TWO YEARS! MIKE AND LUCY HAVEN’T TALKED OR ADVANCED THEIR POSITIONS IN MONTHS! LET ME EMBRACE THIS ONE LIGHT IN DARKNESS BEFORE IT IS SNUFFED OUT! LET. ME. HAVE. HOPE.

THANK YOU!

And so after a bit of a timelapse we get to see Mike and Lucy playing together, and how the turns tabled!

It’s great, and we even get a glimpse at how Lucy has been progressing herself. Perhaps the improvement in gaming being a metaphor of her own self-improvement.

We even get a bit of Mike reflecting and thinking how it is nice. And remembering that Lucy isn’t really that bad.

The scene continues, and we get a peek into Mike’s circumstance. As Mike kind of reveals that he himself has felt quite alone without Lucy there. And it’s really touching, it’s good character development.

And Lucy continues to take initiative to stop the awkwardness, by giving Mike a distraction. Not looking to fill the hole in his heart, not looking to force him to accept her. But allowing him to enjoy himself in the moment. It’s nice. It’s…

Really…nice…

Y’know…

It really was nice.

Ladies and gentlemen.

This is December.

[redacted due to Tumblr purposes. insert the entire Mike yelling scene from January here]

One month. That’s how long this scene lasted in real-time. Everyone who was a fan in 2011, everyone who had been so deeply invested in these characters watching them grow, interact, struggle, and suffer for years. All of them could only watch for one entire month as Taeshi ripped their hearts out. People defended this scene when it came out. There’s still people who defend this scene to this day, saying that Mike was right. I wasn’t one of those people. When this scene came out, I was shocked. I couldn’t understand what was going on, but I knew it was wrong. It was the first time I ever got into a discussion about BCB, because I just had to understand what the fuck was happening and why. Why is this happening? Why would Mike do this? How is this possible? And the only response I got, was that I just couldn’t understand. And y’know…

They were right. I didn’t understand. I was never really abused as a child. I never had bad friends, or was really bullied (except one time). There was no way I could grasp what the fuck just happened. Which felt so bizarre, because when this chapter came out…I was 15. I was the same age as these characters and I couldn’t fathom doing what Mike just did. I couldn’t imagine any of my friends saying what Mike just said. And yet everyone else seemed to understand, to the point I thought that I was the weird one. Did I just fucking win the social lottery or something and just not have any shitty friends?

Maybe so…But y’know after all these years, stewing and thinking about December which has haunted me as I’m sure it has, many other readers. And after all this time, running it around my head, and arguing about it, I think I finally understand. I get it…I finally get what Mike’s saying here.

That being said, no this scene is still bullshit.

Now let me tell you why.

First of all, look at this face.

Just look at this dopey doe-eyed cute cat right here, BECAUSE YOU WILL NEVER SEE THAT AGAIN.

But just to recap, let’s start with the actual preamble to the bullshit. Mike gets a text from Sandy which makes him revert back to his moody Mike self. And I will say at least here, Mike is in character. He’s been a bitch this whole chapter, and he’s just snapping back to it because he is reminded “Oh yeah, Sandy exists!” so he tells Lucy to beat it.

Lucy is understandably frustrated because we were seeming to finally get to a better place between these two characters. And instead of Mike being upfront about what his problem is, he chooses to shutdown the conversation and act like there’s nothing. Or to put it in another way…

So what exactly is causing Mike to revert to his moody mode?

Right, right, of course. It’s because Sandy’s coming! And just to catch up those of us blessed enough to not remember…

This is Sandy. Mike’s long time long-distance girlfriend and central conflict for BCB for the last…well for pretty much most of BCB at this point. Mike loves her, bordering on the point of obsession. To where most of his actions in BCB can be linked directly to Sandy. We’ll get to that later, but this is all you really need to know right now. Just briefly keep it in mind,

Lucy is surprisingly taking it in stride, or at least trying to be supportive of Mike and Sandy’s relationship. Obviously it does hurt her, but she is trying to make the best of it. Taking what Augustus had said to heart, in accepting Mike and Sandy’s relationship but still trying to be there for Mike. Using that to grow and maybe be a stronger person.

But sadly…this is December.

And nothing is allowed to grow in December.

Well…yes. Partly because we were literally told NINE PAGES AGO!

I believe this is what the kids call…gaslighting. But I prefer to call it

BULLSHIT!

But now we’re getting into it…

Let’s dig into the real hard bullshit of December.

You ready?

I’m ready.

Yes, right. Lucy is a bitch who has absolutely nothing for Mike, and never acted like a friend, or god forbid did something selfless for Mike like oh I don’t know…

Risking her life to try to save you from drowning, when she herself couldn’t swim and knew it could very well lead to her death.

Or what about when she was almost raped, and put literally put herself between you and danger!

TWICE! Wait, what the hell? They changed Confrontation! She’s supposed to say…

Because before mike got pinned he was saying…

That was like an actually cool and bad ass line. One of the best moments in BCB, why would you change it? Why would you change it to something as soft as that? And I’m the guy who wrote a comic where the moral of the story is that you can solve everything through the power of friendship!

But I digress. Was Lucy mean to Mike? Yeah. Did she pick on him a lot in the early chapters? Sure! But here’s the thing that people seem to forget about those early volumes…

Mike was kind of a little shit back then!

Lucy often picked on Mike because he was doing something wrong like trying to treat her like Sandy.

And lest you forget, Mike was more than capable of doing the exact same things!

Yes Lucy picked on Mike, but Mike also gave shit to Lucy. They both were active participants in giving shit to one another, but no it’s not bullying. It’s giving someone shit for doing something stupid, to keep them grounded, it’s a form of support that helps to build someone up not just through violent means, but because you care enough to want them to stop being stupid. And as the saying goes, “A good friend will hold you and support you to tell you everything will be okay no matter what. Your best friend, will kick you in the side and tell you to stop being a pussy and get over it.”

BECAUSE THAT’S WHAT FRIENDS FUCKING DO! THEY DON’T LIFT YOU UP! THEY MAKE YOU PICK YOURSELF UP! AND Y’KNOW WHY MIKE IS THINKING THIS WAY? YOU WANNA KNOW WHAT THE FUCKING CHERRY ON TOP OF THIS BULLSHIT CAKE IS?!

Sandy��

Mother…Fucking…Sandy. Up to this point Sandy herself had little to no presence as a person in this story. I mean she had an effect on a lot of things, but as an actual character we never got to see much of her personality outside of one standalone chapter: To the Top which only served to give us a shallow and basic understanding of her character. But even then, as far as actual personality, writing, hobbies, and chemistry we really didn’t get much at all as far as understanding who she is. The only things we knew for certain was that she’s in a long-term long-distance relationship with Mike. She’s a model. She goes to school. And she’s beautiful. That’s it. But that in and of itself doesn’t make Sandy a bad character. I mean for cryin’ out loud, two my favorite characters that I shoe-horn into all my projects are McCain and Carter. And they’re the most one-note characters in this comic! No, the problem with Sandy isn’t that we don’t know anything about her. It’s that despite us knowing nothing about her, Sandy has her fingerprints on almost every fucking conflict in Bittersweet Candy Bowl. And worse, the only purpose she seems to have on the comic is INFLUENCING MIKE! Let me pull some examples…

Mike and Lucy go on an adventure into the city which fleshes out the inner problems in their relationship.

Because Sandy might be there.

Mike and Lucy are starting to act awkward with each other, and it’s making everyone take notice. Why?

Because Mike is delusional about Sandy.

In the chapter directly after that, Mike is now suddenly obnoxiously happy and giddy, why?

Because he finally got to talk with Sandy!

It’s Christmas time, and Tess is having a party and Mike’s coming, why?

BECAUSE OF FUCKING SANDY!

Mike rebuffs Daisy’s advances during the carnival date…why?

Because of Sandy!

Although, to be fair of course there WAS a lot of other things going on in that scene, primarily Daisy being REALLY pushy, and needy. So it’s not JUST because of Sandy. It was because we just weren’t ready for Slut Daisy. The Free Daisy.

Tess is organizing a group vacation trip to Acapulco!

And what’s this? Mike doesn’t want to go? Is it because he thinks Lucy is gonna go and he wants to separate himself from her? Is it because he’s finally woken up and decided to stand up for himself?!

NO YOU FUCKING IDIOT! IT’S BECAUSE OF MOTHER FUCKING SANDY! AND THE WORST PART OF IT ALL, IS THAT NONE OF THESE SCENES ARE EVER DIRECTLY BECAUSE OF SANDY’S ACTIONS AS A PERSON! IT’S LITERALLY JUST BECAUSE SHE EXISTS! YOU COULD MAKE UP ANYTHING ABOUT SANDY, AND SHE WOULD STILL HAVE THE SAME FUCKING IMPACT ON THE STORY THAT SHE HAS HAD UP TO THIS POINT! All that Sandy’s character has been used for is just a means of influencing Mike!

And that’s not a character…that’s a plot device.

And nothing makes that point more clear…than this scene.

We get a scene where Mike is talking with Sandy, and he shows how over and over, Lucy’s jabs and abuses which were played for laughs in Volume 1 apparently were a super serious problem and we should’ve seen them as such. Now as a reader, I didn’t buy that for a fucking second, for reasons I’ve already explained. However, Sandy being on the other side of that long-distance relationship doesn’t fully understand the situation. But still she’s very worried and concerned for Mike, which leads to this.

Sandy making Mike hate Lucy. Some have pointed out that this is actually a good scene. Because here we get to see that Sandy at least cares about Mike. Except that, if you strip away those tears, and all the bullshit. What little characterization we get here, which is shit we already know in Sandy caring about Mike and Lucy’s relationship. Is something we should already know. She’s in a long-term long-distance relationship with Mike SHE FUCKING BETTER CARE ABOUT LUCY! The problem though, is like I said… Sandy isn’t treated like a fucking character. She’s treated like a fucking plot device! If she were an actual character, we should’ve seen her actually have a back and forth with Mike. The whole conversation about Lucy should’ve come up a LONG time ago. Because if she were treated like an actual character with agency…

She would��ve already known this.

You telling me that after how many phone calls, in the time that elapsed between these phone scenes Mike never actually told her about Lucy; the other biggest part of his life?! Did Mike never tell her about the amount of times that Lucy almost died to save his life? Or the amount of times he did the same for her? No! Because that would bring character growth. And we don’t want character growth.

We want to push this narrative! We want to implant these thoughts into Mike. We want him to have a victim complex so that he can do shit like THIS!

We want to push this plot point. And Sandy is the vessel to drive it off the cliff. This is why I fucking hate December. Because worst of all THIS…

Is no longer Mike speaking. This is Sandy’s influence speaking. Now LITERALLY ALL THE FUCKING SHIT THAT MIKE PEDALLED ABOUT NOT WANTING TO BE LUCY’S BABY SITTER AND BULLSHIT, CAN NOW BE ATTRIBUTED TO SANDY INFLUENCING HOW MIKE SEES HIS OWN FRIENDSHIP! And since we don’t have a clear timeframe of where these calls were made, and when exactly Sandy got through to Mike, that means you could pick any time where Mike was being cold or distancing from Lucy and blame it on Sandy! Including…

This scene…

Lest you think characters were the only casualty of December’s nuclear blast, it took with it one of the most emotionally tense and moving chapters of Bittersweet Candy Bowl: A Distance Apart.

I’ve already talked about this chapter in my rant on Golden Hour (aka December 2: homosexual boogaloo) so I’m not gonna get too into how the perspective of this chapter was changed because of December, but I will say that lines like the above now are specifically what’s tainted because of December. No longer is this Mike realizing that Lucy isn’t who he thinks she is, or him realizing that their relationship is not a healthy one on his own. It’s because as he said himself!

It’s Sandy’s fault. Because all she heard about Lucy was the negative, and now all Mike can see is the negative. And this chapter is saying it’s all Sandy’s fault that Mike now has a victim complex and it’s totally fair for him to say what he’s about to say.

WAIT! DID YOU JUST SAY…

JANUARY?!

Hah, nah I’m just fuckin’ with ya. We’re trying to stay focused here, so I’m holding off on the January references. Don’t worry kids, you’re safe for now.

For now…

Let’s unpack this first, because believe it or not we still have a LOT of ground to cover. Specifically, let’s talk about Mike’s glorious plan to leave the table!

God it is taking a lot to not just paste panels from Daisy’s rant in January. You people have no idea… But to summarize, this is fucking stupid at best and manipulative at worst. What Mike is talking about, is selfishly pide-pipering their whole friend group (minus Tess because Tess doesn’t exist anymore) away from Lucy, and he’s betting all of that on the fact that he knows Daisy is still head over heels for him. And what’s absolutely stupid about this fucking idea (which by the way seems to be premeditated so this can’t even be blamed on Sandy) is that if this was Mike’s plan all along. And December didn’t happen, and he did this table move guess what? Sure. Daisy follows Mike, Abbey and Paulo follow Daisy, and David follows Paulo…and then they invite Lucy, because in case you forgot SHE’S THEIR FRIEND TOO! (also I just noticed Mike completely forgot about Susan. That’s kinda fucked up, dude.)

But not as fucked up as this! Seriously, that’s a fucking low blow. And so fucking judgy. I guess we now know where Abbey learned to stoop so low while grand standing on his high horse! And yes I have heard the “muh hormones” and “they’re just KiDs!” excuses. But none of that really explains…

WHY THE FUCK DOES MIKE CARE?! DO YOU SERIOUSLY CARE IF LUCY (as you would put it) LEACHES OFF OF PAULO? HE’S LIKE ONE OF THE TOP OFFENDERS FOR PEOPLE WHO ACTUALLY ABUSED YOU! THE MOTHERFUCKER SICCED A GAGGLE OF GIRLS TO BEAT UP ON YOU FOR BEING A “CHEATER”! Or are you worried because if Lucy clings to Paulo, then it ruins your fool-proof plan of going to another table since she’ll follow Paulo? OH NO, WE’VE FOUND A HOLE IN YOUR INGENIOUS PLAN! But speaking of worst offenders…

THIS. LINE. THIS FUCKING LINE! I don’t care who you are, I don’t care what the fuck you think. YOU DO NOT COME BACK FROM SAYING THIS. YOU CAN NOT FUCKING SAY THIS SHIT, AND THEN BE THE GOOD GUY! This is the point where I and many others realized Mike, was too far gone. And yet SOME PEOPLE WILL STILL ARGUE ABOUT THIS SHIT!

Oh you don’t understand, Amazil! He is just a stupid 16 year old ball of emotions and hormones! This has been building up THIS ENTIRE TIME! You even pointed out how Mike’s frustrations have been hinted at since the Vacation Arc! Obviously this has been hinted at for years! You’re just too ignorant to understand what Mike’s doing here! Of course he’s being overly cruel here, he feels backed into a corner, and is facing off against his abuser!

Now listen here, you may be right. I can’t, I hope, and I am grateful that; I don’t fully understand how it feels to be abused for all my life. But what I do know, is that NO ONE. Child, Teenager, or adult. Would fucking stoop that fucking low, and think they have any business. Any chance. Of coming back from that terribly burnt bridge. No one is that fucking ignorant! WHEN YOU BURN A BRIDGE LIKE THAT, WHEN YOU GO THAT FAR, YOU BETTER FUCKING BE READY TO LIVE WITH THE CONSEQUENCES! AND MIKE AT THIS POINT, SHOULD KNOW VERY WELL WHAT THE CONSEQUENCES MAY INCLUDE! AS THE PERSON WHO KNOWS LUCY MORE THAN ANYONE ELSE ABOUT LUCY, HE SHOULD BE FULLY FUCKING AWARE WHAT SHE IS GOING TO FUCKING DO WHEN TOLD THAT SHE IS A PARASITE AND THAT NO ONE FUCKING LOVES HER, WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU EXPECT SHE WAS GOING TO FUCKING DO, MIKE?!

JESUS CHRIST, HE’S LITERALLY USING HER DEEPEST SECRETS AND HIDDEN INSECURITIES THAT ONLY HE KNOWS ABOUT AGAINST HER! HOW THE FUCK DO YOU SUPPORT THIS SHIT? AND FURTHERMORE, “Like I’m the only one who cares about you.” TO QUOTE YOU LITERALLY A PAGE AGO!

YOU FUCKING TOLD HER THAT NOBODY LOVES HER. AND THAT SHE’S A FUCKING PARASITE! HOW ARE YOU THIS FUCKING STUPID! HOW CAN YOU STILL THINK THAT YOU’RE IN THE RIGHT? HOW DO OTHER PEOPLE THINK YOU’RE IN THE RIGHT? HOW CAN YOU STOOP SO FUCKING LOW, WHILE GRAND STANDING ON YOUR HIGH HORSE?!

Now, imagine if you will, after 2 whole months of reading December. You sit there and you wonder what is going to happen now. What is left to say? What more is Mike going to do? I mean there’s no way this chapter can get any worse! There’s NO WAY that Mike can be any more of an asshole. It’s not possible! And as if to get one last knife twist out of you. To kill the last shred of hope you had, that maybe. Just maybe this could be salvaged, and Mike can’t be worse… Taeshi does this.

….

Y’know, I once heard a story that someone actually killed themselves over BCB.

And I completely believe that. Two whole months we spent, having to watch week after week as this character we cared about. Rips apart the other character we’ve spent so much time learning about, growing with, understanding, and learning to love. And how do you end this chapter?

Grindingly slow. With Lucy throwing up, then eyeing Mike’s phone.

Followed by a nothing page where Mike’s happy.

Another nothing page where Mike goes to his room.

Dialogue that means nothing.

A whole fucking page of Lucy leaving.

MORE FUCKING SNOW

And one last lie.

And that, kids. Is the chapter of December. The most infamous chapter in all of Bittersweet Candy Bowl. And I hope you’re starting to understand why that is the case. Although, I’m sure a lot of you may have some contentions especially given the newer chapters that have come out. I mean, I often compare bad or infuriating scenes to December. And many may wonder or feel like those chapters are worse than December. I mean sure Mike ripping into Lucy is bad…

But what about the one-sided and almost carbon copy of December in Golden Hour?

Or what about Guest of Honor with it’s Abbey Smash?

And what about the second coming of the Carnival Chapter, with its DISGUSTING implications?

Or lest we all forget the wonderous return of Lucy herself, in Love Again! All of these chapters are fucking terrible in their own right. And it’s debatable how they ruin some characters worse than December. But there’s one very important factor that is lost to us now, that makes December in my eyes worse than any other chapter that Taeshi has put out. One singular thing makes December worse than anything Taeshi has come out with so far… And what is that factor?

Why, it’s TIME my dear reader. Time is what sets December apart from every other chapter. Readers at the time had to spend three whole months waiting for this chapter to end. We stared at each singular page for days, waiting hours on end, hoping that the next page would somehow be better, or give us an out. Instead it got worse and worse and worse. But what also sets it apart from all those other chapters I’ve mentioned is that, unlike Guest of Honor, Golden Hour, or Return to Carnival chapter; December was a very important moment in Bittersweet Candy Bowl. Not only because of how it changed the character, but because it is one of the only times in this fucking comic where the plot actually starts to develop. And we finally get a clear conflict to grasp onto and focus on.

In the chapters that came before December, the conflict of Mike and Lucy was just slowly getting worse and worse. And for the most part it just seemed to stagnate, with Lucy trying to keep her distance from Mike, and Mike constantly giving Lucy the cold shoulder. And everyone else having to deal with that. December was meant to be (and it did succeed in becoming) a bombshell chapter. A big revelation moment where things finally kick into high gear. Like, “Oh man that was brutal!” “What’s gonna happen now? Sandy is coming!” “Lucy just got fucking REKT!” “What is she gonna do?” “Taeshi just dropped the biggest bomb on top of us, where is she gonna take us? How are we going to follow up this momentum?!”

BY RELEASING ONE OF THE LONGEST. MOST NEEDLESS CHAPTERS EVER!

FOURTY EIGHT FUCKING PAGES. ALMOST FOUR MONTHS DEDICATED TO A PLOT POINT THAT HAS ABSOLUTELY NOTHING TO DO WITH THE GIANT NUCLEAR BOMBSHELL THAT WAS JUST DROPPED ON US! And it’s especially needless because the entire point of this chapter is to tell us that Abbey’s mom died. Except that WE ALREADY THOUGHT SHE WAS DEAD! Oh you mean this character who all we know about was that she in a terribly abusive marriage, who we have not heard from since Abbey was introduced into the comic, who was in such a terrible state that she left her son and daughter orphaned. You mean the person so fucked up, that the last time we saw them was on a fucking stretcher is…DEAD?! SAY IT AIN’T SO! Y’know, it would’ve actually been more of a twist, and a lot more interesting if we found out ABBEY’S MOM WAS ACTUALLY ALIVE!

INSTEAD OF BUILDING OFF THE FUCKING MOMENTUM THAT YOU JUST SET UP, WE GET STRUNG ALONG FOR FOURTY EIGHT FUCKING PAGES! INSTEAD OF FOCUSING ON LUCY, AND USING DECEMBER AS A LAUNCHING POINT TO DRIVE THE FUCKING PLOT, ALL OF THE MOMENTUM IS GROUND TO A FUCKING HALT IN SERVICE OF A PLOT POINT THAT ULTIMATELY DOESN’T FUCKING MATTER! And if you made it through that and was hoping, “okay NOW we can start to get into the actual plot! NOW we can focus on Lucy, and what the aftermath of December is! Well…

youtube

Paulo tries to give a cake to Lucy, and he mostly fails, giving us

NOTHING!

Just beautiful! The one chapter where it would be okay to not give all the attention to Mike and Lucy’s relationship. The one chapter where we could maybe get to see Sandy be a character! Mike X Lucy is fucked, but maybe we can find comfort in Mike X Sandy! Maybe we can have some sweet moments, and strengthen this central love triangle that we’ve been dancing around for all these years! Maybe, just maybe, Sandy can be more than just a fucking plot device!

BUT NOPE! SHE’S JUST THERE TO BE USED SO THAT MIKE CAN REALIZE THAT HE WAS WRONG AND FEEL BAD, SO HE CAN TRY TO MAKE IT UP TO LUCY! TOO BAD IT’S TOO LATE, SO IF YOU WERE LOOKING TO HAVE CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT EITHER FROM LUCY OR SANDY, I’M SORRY BUT YOU GET

TWO BIG HEAPING SERVINGS OF NOTHING!

AND IF YOU THOUGHT YOU WERE STARVING FOR CONTENT BEFORE, BRACE YOURSELF FOR A ONE-PAGE CHAPTER THAT GIVES YOU

NOTHING!

AND I HOPE YOU FUCKING LIKE THAT ONE-PAGE BECAUSE YOU’RE GONNA HAVE TO LOOK AT IT FOR

FOUR

WHOLE

MONTHS!

Although… to be fair, I think during that hiatus period Taeshi had guest comics and exclusive content to keep us occupied, but you get the point. As for the rest of the chapters…

Paulo breaks up with Jasmine in the most hackneyed fucking way possible, and we get a fake-out of Lucy’s suicide attempt.

We finally get the play chapter, and it teases us with the idea that Lucy and Mike are getting better except that no one falls for it because IT’S IN THE PLAY. AND WE ALL KNOW THAT IT’S JUST AN ACT AND IT’S FUCKING…

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And then Lucy finally attempts suicide and it’s all OFF-SCREEN! THEY KILLED OFF THE MAIN CHARACTER! THE ONE FUCKING BIT THAT WE WERE ALL LOOKING FORWARD TO, AND IT’S OFF-SCREEN!

Do you see what I mean now? December isn’t just a fucking chapter. It’s an arc. The most teeth grindingly slow, and agonizing arc Taeshi ever made! This is why December is and always will be the absolute fucking worst! It’s like Taeshi knew what we wanted and refused to deliver! Instead being content with teasing the readers over and over for almost two years, with the prospect of seeing Lucy go through a depression arc. Instead, we’re focused on literally everyone else and all of Lucy’s inner turmoil, heartbreak, thoughts, and progressions are just hinted at and we’re just left in the dark. We never got to see Lucy in her final moments. What was she doing? What was she thinking? Where was she? How is she doing? We wouldn’t get that information for

Nearly four years! And even then, IT WAS ALSO BULLSHIT! December is like a nuclear warhead of a bombshell that was dropped on us, except instead of going off and blowing us away, sending us to the greater plains. It just leaked radiation everywhere and killed us from the inside slowly. Its carbon footprint can be felt to this very day, we can’t get over December. Because THE COMIC ITSELF CAN NOT GET OVER DECEMBER! People who wanted to see Lucy become a better person, to see her try to get better, get help, or do SOMETHING! Would never get that relief. When I thought about December and how it treated its characters. I felt sorry for all the people who had to read this, who felt for Lucy. Who wanted to see her get better… I felt bad because I knew deep down that we were never going to get that story…

So I did it myself…

Don’t act surprised. You knew I was gonna go there. I literally warned you! There is no way in hell I’m gonna talk about December without bringing up the comic I literally made BECAUSE of December in: January. And this time we’re looking at January as a whole. Because now that you know WHY and WHAT I hate about December, you can start to see why January was made the way it was. I feel the need to explain this, because January still gets a bad rap by people saying that it’s “hate-filled” which it’s not. January is not a death threat , nor is it meant to say “I’m better than you”, it’s not a love note to BCB, it’s a Get Well Soon card. Not necessarily saying that I can do it better, but rather this is what you could’ve done. Whether or not it’s better is up to you to decide. And with that context, you can see why January was written the way it was. And it all starts with one simple change.

Instead of just outright removing December, the only thing I changed was that Mike didn’t get paired with Lucy and throw a fit. It doesn’t spitefully act like December never happened, in fact…

December plays out the exact same way as it did in the canon, just with Susan supplementing for Lucy. So Sandy’s still coming home, Mike’s still pissed at Lucy, and he’s planning on moving to a new table to get away from her. But because Lucy’s not there…

She’s able to fucking do something.

We get to see her try.

We get to see her fail.

We see how Mike’s plan comes to fruition.

We see how things fall apart, even with Lucy’s best efforts.

We see how December still takes its toll.

We get to see her snap out of it, briefly.

We see her at her lowest point.

We see what she’s thinking and why she’s doing what she’s doing.

We see her try to figure out what to do.

We see her picking up the pieces.

We see her take action to improve herself.

We see her getting help.

We see her taking action.

We see her getting better.

We see everyone come together to support her.

We see her at the end of her journey, come to terms with what she’s done. And wanting to improve not only herself, but her friendship with Mike. She shows maturity, empathy, and most importantly GROWTH as a character.

And in the end, the reader never gets to see how Mike and Lucy end up talking things out, but they can rest easy knowing that everything is going to be okay. And if THAT’S hate-filled, I don’t know what the fuck you’d call the canon’s handling of Lucy in the December arc.

The fact that we never got to see Lucy try.

The fact that the comic kept dicking us around, and baiting us with the inevitable.

The fact it KEPT FUCKING BAITING US WITH FALSE HOPE.

The fact we don’t get to even see her at the end of the line. The fact we had to wait three years for her to come back and let us know that she’s even ALIVE!

The fact that when she does comes back, SHE’S A HORRIBLE CUNTY SHELL OF THE PERSON SHE ONCE WAS…

That… is why December is the most infamous chapter in all of Bittersweet Candy Bowl. Not just because of what it did. But because of what it didn’t do. Because it promised the end to Mike and Lucy’s drama one way or another. It promised us that we were going to tackle these issues that Mike brought up in Lucy, but yet… Here we are.

Back to square fucking one. You know what they say…Those who don’t know their history are doomed to repeat it. So you better brush up on your December knowledge, or at least I hope this rant serves as a good refresher. Cause from the looks of it, we’ve been repeating these plot points for almost 10 years…

Y’know I thought I was actually going crazy there for a second. Obsessing and never getting over December for all these years. But now I see. This comic…never moved on from it. We’ve never recovered. We’ve been stuck in December for almost 10 years…

0/10 never forget…

#Bittersweet Candy Bowl #rant #holy shit this pushed the limits of Tumblr

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aer-in-wanderland · 4 years ago

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구미호뎐 | Tale of the Nine Tailed - Lost in Translation EP01

In which my sister and I sat down with a pint of mint chocolate chip and wrote down everything that occurred to us while watching the fan-subbed version of TotNT EP01. Contains mild spoilers.

Prologue

We open with an excerpt from the Hyeonjoonggi (현중기・玄中記), which the internet informs me originated in China sometime between 265-317 CE. In Korea in particular, gumiho are typically thought of as being female, but this is an example of a classical text that says they can be either. From what director Kang Shin Hyo said at the TotNT press conference, the premise of TotNT began with the idea of challenging this base assumption by making the gumiho male and placing him in modern-day Seoul. I would translate the passage as follows:

When a fox becomes 100, it can become a beautiful woman, or become a man who has relations with women. A fox that lives for 1000 years communes with the heavens and becomes a cheon’ho (heavenly fox). Its gifts are like that of a powerful shamaness; it can perceive things more than 1000 leagues distant.”

To my sense, the passage was introduced to show precedent for the existence of male gumiho in traditional folklore, as well as to illustrate that foxes over 1000 (cheon’ho) can be closer to deities than monsters.

On to the show. The year is 1999. I’m surprised the subs left ‘Fox Ridge’ untranslated as Yeou Gogae since it seems like it would be relevant information that the place where the accident takes place is somehow tied to foxes.

When the imposter parents (who I believe are also foxes) chase little Ji Ah up into her room and her not-dad says, “You little brat!” (or at least, that’s what the subs we’re watching say), this is an example of what’s called ‘code switching.’ His phrasing is somewhat old-fashioned, which in this case helps to give the impression that he’s not human since it’s the cant of creatures in traditional fairytales. For anyone studying Korean, the line is, “요 년 봐라,” where ‘nyeon’ might mean anywhere from ‘girl’ to ‘wench’ or even ‘bitch.’

Okay, I have to ask. Does no one else in Seoul drive on Fox Ridge? How did Ji Ah have time to go home, get attacked, and then be returned to the scene of the accident (I’m assuming by Yeon) before anyone came across it?

Also, how did Yeon know where to take her? He tells grown Ji Ah that he just happened upon her after catching the scent of blood, but I get the sense there’s more to the story than that. I feel like this is part of a larger pattern wherein Yeon goes out of his way to rescue someone and then pretends as if he didn’t.

Episode 01 Title Card: What Happened on Fox Ridge

According to Yeon’s alarm, our current timeline begins on Saturday, August 29, 2020, and he has a wedding to attend. 2020 yet no COVID19? I guess this really is a fantasy drama. ;p

The BGM playing while Yeon gets ready is called ‘The Fox's Wedding Day,’ or, more literally, ‘day when a fox goes to be married’ (Yeou ga shijip ganeun nal) and it’s actually Yeon’s theme. I was expecting his theme to be the track entitled ‘Gumiho,’ but I guess not lol

The sun-shower. In both Japan and Korea, a sun-shower is known as ‘a fox’s wedding’ (kitsune no yome-iri/yeou ga shijip ganeun nal), so this is already cluing us in that the bride is a fox (I say ‘bride’ because both these phrasings typically apply to a bride marrying into her husband’s house. The phrasing is different for grooms, who ‘receive’ the bride). This is what Yeon means when he arrives at the wedding hall and says, “That’s because a fox is getting married today.”

It’s strange to me that the bride’s identity has completely dropped out of the subs. She’s Yeou Nui (literally ‘fox sister’), a folklore character of the Brothers Grim-style horror school of fairytales. Her thing is that she’s a gumiho who preys on families with only sons who desperately want a daughter. She insinuates herself into their lives, brings calamity down upon them, and finally, eats their livers. Like most fairytales, there are many permutations of her story, but many of them feature her saying she’s consumed 999 livers. I understand where - absent this context - some people might have seen Yeon as the bad guy here (spoiler: he’s not).

The subtitle here for Yeon’s line says: “But you need to know that changing your identity isn’t as simple as you think.” What he literally says is:

Yeon: How did you go to ground so completely? You think that if you change your face and your identity, your blood-stained past will change too, right? But changing lives isn’t as simple* as changing subway lines. [*Note: ‘simple’ is in English]

This is the first real dialogue we get from Yeon, and one thing it’s doing very intentionally is showcasing just how much he’s adapted to modern life. It does this both with the content of what he says (talking about changing subway lines), as well as with the amount of English loan words he tosses around. So I personally would have kept the bit about the subway in if I had been translating.

Yeou Nui’s line was translated as, “Please forgive me,” but it should more properly be, “Spare me,” or “Let me live.” Yeon is an enforcer, not a judge. (Also, ‘forgive’ is another word entirely).

Yeon’s line that’s subbed, “Listen, you fox. How could you dare dream of having a happy ending after eating so many livers?” is the result of what’s called diagonal translation, which is an unfortunate side-effect of subtitling conventions. What he literally says is:

Yeon: Yeou Nui, after eating the livers of countless adoptive parents and older brothers* how can you dream of a happy ending?

[*Note: The word he uses for ‘brothers’ here is 오라비들, which is a semi-antiquated word, and again, the sort of language used in folktales]

Yeon’s line, “Here’s a piece of advice” is more literally, “Here’s a bit of advice stemming from experience,” which is the first hint we get in-drama that he’s been in a similar position.

Nam Ji Ah

We get our first introduction to adult Ji Ah as she narrates the script she’s editing for her TV program on her way to the wedding hall. When Jae Hwan worries about her changing the script without the writer’s permission (again lol), Ji Ah's response translated literally would be:

Ji Ah: Then let’s go with this. PDs’ livers have to be swollen or coming out of their bodies.

That’s a pretty disgusting image in English, so I don’t blame the subs for changing it to something more sensical and less graphic. But as a cultural note, in Korea and Japan, having a large liver means to be gutsy or brave. Ji Ah’s character description similarly describes her as, ‘a woman whose liver is [so large it’s] coming out of her body,’ meaning she’s about as gutsy as it gets.

Okay, call me a cynic, but I loved Ji Ah’s line about not being able to digest wedding food due to the choking atmosphere of forced happiness pfft

Jae Hwan saying, “Who knows? You may meet your destined partner at a place like this,” as Yeon walks by in the background = Jae Hwan unwittingly hitting the nail of the head #1

Lol Yeon acting like a bored kid held captive at a dinner party while the wedding takes place. Bless Lee Dong Wook because I’m sure it’s all ad libbed. I feel like this could be a game: spot the LDW ad lib.

The Wedding Hall Incident

When Yeon returns to her dressing room after the wedding, Yeou Nui changes tactics from begging to putting her hackles up and challenging Yeon. Linguistically, that’s marked by her code switching to an archaic cant. Yeon, however, remains unfazed and responds with the most modern thing possible, completely undermining her bravado:

Yeou Nui: Oh former master of Baekdudaegan, what authority have you to condemn us?

Yeon: Get a hold of how she’s talking (rhetorical). Hey, if it wasn’t for you I would’ve been watching American TV shows while eating ice cream today!

Okay, I love the way Yeon materializes his sword. I thought he was (un-)transforming his umbrella at first, but he later does it with a plank of wood so I assume he can do this with pretty much anything?

On the topic of his sword, I posted a gif set not long ago referring to it as a sa’ingeom (사인검), literally ‘Four Tigers Sword’ (referring to the year, month, day, and hour of the tiger when such swords were supposedly forged). You’ll notice it doesn’t have a cross-guard since they’re traditionally ceremonial swords rather than actual weapons. The first sa’ingeom were made during the reign of King Taejo (1392-1398), but I assume they gave him one despite it being somewhat anachronistic because they’re also said to cut down evil spirits and ward against calamity. Mostly, though, it looks really cool and is very traditionally Korean.

Not for anything, but I love this BGM track that’s playing during the wedding hall fight (‘The Uninvited’). This short action sequence was so great. I wish we could have seen more of Yeon hunting down supernatural baddies. Also more of those gumiho eyes. More gumiho everything in general.

As he stabs her, Yeon’s line to Yeou Nui in the subs was rendered as, “Don’t do something stupid like falling in love in your next time.” I would have translated this as, “If you’re reborn, don’t do something so [useless] as falling in love.” Again, for anyone studying Korean, the phrase is ‘사랑 따위" (sarang ddaui). ‘Ddaui’ means ‘such a thing as,’ and it’s always used to disparage whatever proceeds it. There’s no good way to communicate that disparagement in English grammatically, so I opted for ‘useless’ in an approximation.

The BGM that plays the first time Ji Ah spots Yeon leaving the wedding hall is called ‘White Pupils’ (or literally ‘white eyes’). The imagery typically associated with that is death, so I’m curious what inspired the track title. Maybe they mean ‘white eyes’ like the fortune teller since it’s used at fateful moments?

“Who knows? That may be the story you were destined to cover.” = Jae Hwan unwittingly hitting the nail on the head #2

“Were they mass hypnotized or something?” = Jae Hwan unwittingly hitting the nail of the head #3. Thank you, exposition fairy. ;)

Okay, when Ji Ah and Jae Hwan examine the scene, Ji Ah’s line is subbed, “I need to see what that woman of this love story looks like,” which is ungrammatical in addition to being wrong. What she actually says is:

Ji Ah: I need to see the face of that protagonist of the Romance of the Age. [And I believe the ‘protagonist’ she was referring to is actually Yeon ;) This is bordering on meta, seeing as he’s actually the protagonist of the epic romance that is TotNT]

Kim Soo Oh

The BGM playing while Yeon sits in the park people-watching and then looks pensively at his hand is called, ‘Thread Rings.’ Between that, what LDW alluded to in his VLIVE, and some still cuts I saw of deleted scenes from EP16, I’m convinced there was something more to those rings that got cut due to time constraints. ㅠㅠ

Fun fact: This scene between Yeon and Soo Oh was the first scene of the drama that they filmed.

When Soo Oh asks Yeon what he’s doing there, the sub for Yeon’s response was, “Nothing other than waiting for someone.” That strikes me as off in tone as well as pacing. I would have translated it as, “Just.....waiting for someone.” (which is literally what he says).

When Soo Oh asks Yeon why he’s waiting, the sub says, “Because a fox can only love one person till death.” I don’t really have a problem with that translation, but what he literally says is, “Once a fox takes a mate they never forsake them. Until death.”

Sub: “How are you coping with that?” / “Not well.” > Literally: “Are you okay?” / “I’m not okay.” I actually like the sub here since it better conveys how precocious Soo Oh appears in this scene. He seems to alternate between precocious and adorably dim throughout the drama depending on who he’s with, though when he’s with Rang, it’s mostly the latter pfft

When Yeon turns down Soo Oh’s offer of friendship he says, “Your nose. I’m not big on men with runny noses. And human lifespans are too short to be friends with me.” Yeon's use of ‘men’ struck me as funny since I guess to someone over 1600 years old, an 8 year old and an 80 year old aren’t all that different. Also, Yeon giving serious life advice to an 8 year old is adorable. He talks to him like he’s an adult.

The Afterlife Immigration Office

Between the BGM and the way the camera pans up the endless levels of shelving, did anyone else feel like Yeon entered Hogwarts for a sec? (not complaining) ;)

For the record, Yeon uses banmal with Taluipa and calls her halmeom (granny). In contrast, Hyeonuiong is pretty much the only character Yeon speaks to in jondaetmal and addresses respectfully as ‘elder’ (eoreushin). He speaks to Ji Ah’s parents politely as well, but it’s mainly because they’re her parents.

The text introducing Taluipa’s character wasn’t translated in the version we’re watching but it reads: ‘The god who rules over the River of Three Crossings (Samdocheon), the boundary between this world and the next.’ The hanja for her name (奪衣婆) refer to her traditional role, namely, removing the clothing of the dead for her husband to weigh on the Uiryeong’su (su = tree) to measure the weight of their sins. This is the same tree that the Uiryeong’geom (the wooden sword that appears in EP13), is allegedly carved from.

Lol Taluipa saying she has to keep up with the times but also using a computer that’s positively ancient (come to think of it, it’s probably from the 80s since that’s her favorite decade)

Again, I’m surprised that Yeou Nui’s character name dropped from the subs completely. The subs here just say, ‘the female fox.’

For Taluipa’s line, the subs say, “You’re to obey the order and capture who you’re sent after,” but that’s a loose approximation. More literally, it should be: “If the higher ups say to bring someone in, then you just have to bring them in.” I’m only mentioning it because the line implys that both Taluipa and Yeon report to someone higher up the chain of command. Otherwise they may be misconstrued as Taluipa’s orders.

Yeon’s line, “My compulsory military service has gone on for 600 years. How could I not go crazy?” is hilarious when you consider that Korean men are required to complete 2 years of military service, and even that often feels like an eternity, so I think for any Korean, the idea of 600 years of it is just exceptionally cruel. The line is iconic enough to have been included in Yeon’s character profile.

I noticed this a while back, but ‘mountain god’ is being consistently translated as ‘mountain spirit.’ Technically, Yeon is (was?) a god, if a low ranking one in the grand scheme of things (the Korean word is ‘sanshin’ where ‘san’ = mountain and ‘shin’ = god). I understand the use of ‘spirit’ though, since he’s not a god as gods are typically thought of in western mythologies.

Lol Yeon sticking his fingers in his ears (I would bet money this was also an ad lib)

Taluipa has a line that’s subbed, “Foxes never stay in debt.” More literally, it should be, “They say foxes repay eunhye no matter what.” You can find my explanation of eunhye here.

Wow, the subs really dropped the humour ball on Taluipa’s line here. First off, she says, ‘Right now’ in English. And while the sub says “Do you want your freedom back?” what she literally says is. “Do you want to be discharged?” (since Yeon had just likened his duties to military service).

On his way out, Yeon actually tells Taluipa, “Halmeom, you’re going to go to hell” (which is not the same as the underworld/afterlife as it said in the subs. Taluipa’s job is literally to ferry souls, so she goes to the afterlife all the time anyway). Also, when he says “I’ll pray for it everyday,” his phrasing is that of an elderly person pfft

As I mentioned, Yeon speaks formally to Hyeonuiong, who in return affectionately calls him Yeon-ie or Yeon-ah, which I find adorable.

Lol I’m not used to Ahn Gil Kang playing such a friendly character. Seeing him wheedle Taluipa with aegyo is hilarious.

Code Red

Somewhat of a side note, I can’t help but wonder, is Shin Joo’s last name ‘Gu’ because he’s a gumiho, a la My Girlfriend is a Gumiho (2010)’s Gu Mi Ho-ssi?

I wish the subs had just left ‘Lee Yeon-nim’ as-is, instead of changing it to ‘Mr. Lee.' As a general rule, I’m in favor of preserving character forms of address when translating.

Personally, I would have translated the name of Ji Ah’s TV program as: ‘In Search of Urban Legends’ rather than ‘Unveiling Urban Legends.’

I really like the dynamic between Ji Ah and writer Kim Sae Rom. “Should we fight?” / “Yeah, let’s fight~” How great is it that this drama doesn’t have a single catty, bitchy, stuck-up or otherwise obnoxious female character?

For anyone keeping track, Shin Joo speaks to Yeon in jondaetmal while Yeon speaks to Shin Joo in banmal, underlining their master/retainer dynamic.

Side note: There are actually multiple ‘types’ of jondaetmal: what I think of as ‘neutral polite’ (i.e. simply adding ‘yo’ to the end of all your sentences), the more formal polite (i.e. ending with ~[seu]mnida), that which elevates the subject, and that which lowers the speaker. The interplay of the four allows for varying degrees of politeness. The way Shin Joo speaks to Yeon is pretty much the highest degree. That doesn’t mean they aren’t close. Polite language can indicate distance but also level of regard irrespective of distance. This applies to Rang and Yoo Ri as well.

Again, Shin Joo calls Ji Ah ‘PD-nim’ but that became ‘that female director’ in the subs. PD-nim is a respectful (and non-gendered) form of address, and it’s perfectly suited to Shin Joo’s genial and deferential personality, so I wish the subs had just kept it.

I read an episode recap where the recapper mentioned she wasn’t sure what Shin Joo’s deal was. At the time I was confused, but now I think I get it. In the subs, Shin Joo says, “When I’m a seasoned veteran? I’m now up to the point where I’m wondering if I’ve turned into an actual person.” What he actually says is:

Shin Joo: No way~ How long have I been living in this (the human) world? Recently, I sometimes even have an existential crisis wondering, ‘Am I a person or a fox?’

[So he flat out says he’s a fox here, but that wasn’t reflected in the subs.]

Fun fact: this was Hwang Hee’s first scene that he filmed with Lee Dong Wook, and the BGM as they exit is Shin Joo’s theme.

I love the way Lee Dong Wook played this scene where they pay their tab. That is all.

It’s only as Yeon and Shin Joo exit the restaurant that we see that the sign out front reads ‘The Snail Bride’ (Ureong Gakshi). This is another folktale in-joke, since the snail bride’s whole thing is that she cooks delicious meals for her human husband everyday.

For the record, the Snail Bride (Bok Hye Ja) also uses honorific language towards Yeon and calls him ‘Lee Yeon-nim.’ I just assumed it was in deference to his ex-mountain god status, but it turns out she has a personal reason for holding him in high regard as well that we discover in the final episode.

As Yeon and Shin Joo walk away, Shin Joo’s line is subbed, “That show’s actually quite famous.” Since Korean doesn’t require a subject, the sentence is somewhat ambiguous, but I understood him to be referring to Ji Ah herself rather than the show since he says: “[Something is] really famous around the broadcast station.”

Lee Rang

Lol Kim Beom. How are you 32 years old?

I love how sharp and no-nonsense Ji Ah is. It’s so refreshing to not have to wait for the characters to catch up to what the audience already knows.

Rang’s theme that plays as he transforms back into his suave self is so iconic. The music director (Hong Dae Sung) really is a genius. It’s funny when you think about how different Rang’s theme is from Yeon’s.

Fun fact: Kim Beom shared in his Instagram LIVE that Rang ‘picking the wrong shoes’ was actually intentional. He was testing Ji Ah to see if she’d notice.

Okay, Rang says here that he likes, “everything about her (Ji Ah) from head to toe,” (not in a romantic way but in a grudging respect/she’s fun to toy with kind of way) but what happened to that? Are we supposed to assume that he would have liked her if she hadn’t been the object of his brother’s affection? But he approached her knowing that’s who she was...? I don’t know. I do know I wish they’d had more scenes together. Their verbal sparring is great.

Side note: One Korean fan nickname for Rang and Yoo Ri that Kim Beom liked was ‘Hoket-dan,’ playing off the Korean for pokemon’s ‘Team Rocket’ (Roket-dan) and mashing it together with the ‘ho’ from ‘gumiho’ haha

Yeon’s obsession with mint chocolate ice cream is a hilarious counterpoint to his status as a cheon’ho and his ex-mountain god title. Point to the writer. In Japanese, this would probably be called ‘gap-moe’.

When Yeon tells the man behind the counter, “When I’m indebted to someone, I’m obligated to return the favor,” he’s once again talking about eunhye. As a fox, he’s supernaturally bound to repay good deeds done for him. As far as I’m aware, this is unique to the drama and not part of the traditional gumiho lore.

Yeon eating ice cream like a happy kid XD Lol Lee Dong Wook, how are you 39?

Fun fact: Yeon’s line when he answers Rang’s call, “The number you have reached doesn’t exist, you punk” was an ad lib by Lee Dong Wook. The combination of the formal phrasing found in a typical voicemail recording followed by ‘you punk’ is particularly funny. It’s so witty I actually wouldn’t have known this was an ad lib if LDW hadn’t confessed as much himself.

“Let’s meet.” / “I refuse.” / “I’ll set your house on fire.” Hahaha What is with these brothers? Are they 1600+ and 600, or 16 and 6? Are the zeros silent??

Bus 1002

Ji Ah: “If possible, pick a different dream. I’ve been on the clock for 22 hours straight now.” I like Ji Ah so much. She’s unpretentious, intelligent, honest, driven, resourceful and witty.

Lol As Ji Ah struggles with the old man, you can hear Yeon offscreen urging the driver to get moving. Only he calls him, ‘driver yangban.’ Yangban is originally a word for a nobleman, but much like the word ‘lady’ in English, what was once a term of respect is now...not. lol Also, I’m pretty sure this was another ad lib by Lee Dong Wook since it happens entirely in the background.

This scene with Ji Ah piggybacking the old man is so classic spooky-folktale. I love it.

"You’re the only person I saw.” *Close up of the totem pole* They managed to make that whole sequence creepy despite nothing actually happening. Cool cool cool.

So our old drunkard is revealed to be a Mokjangseung (mok = wood). Jangseung in general are totems that stand at crossroads and the entrances to villages. tvN published some backstory info explaining Ji Ah’s past with this particular Jangseung and why he elected to save her which I translated here.

Aaaand we’re back at Fox Ridge. I can’t believe I only just noticed this, but the episode title could refer equally to the accident in Ji Ah’s past and this bus accident in the present.

Of course Rang staged the accident at the site of Ji Ah’s greatest trauma. Also, the fact that he knows that about her is telling.

Appropriately, the BGM playing as Ji Ah arrives at the scene of the accident is ‘Fox Ridge’ (Yeou Gogae). Iconic.

Back over to Yeon. The first time I watched this I wondered where on earth he was heading in that downpour but it turns out he was in pursuit of Rang, who had given him the slip.

Seeing Yeon limping injured through the rain ㅠㅠ Also, while Yeon later tells Ji Ah he carries his umbrella everywhere because he hates his fur getting wet, he clearly isn’t bothered here, choosing to keep it sheathed on his back instead. I guess all bets are off when he’s in Gumiho Mode.

Detective Baek and Ji Ah speak in banmal and he calls her ‘Nam Ji Ah,’ which I assume means they’ve been friends for a while.

Wow, good for Ji Ah for having made note of the exact number of passengers in the midst of all that chaos. I certainly wouldn’t have.

Hospital Encounter

So after Rang gave his brother the slip, Yeon realizes the next day that he’s at the hospital thanks to the news article Shin Joo reads out to him. Idk but I like that shot of the two of them heading out. There’s something vaguely Avengers about it. Which is maybe not surprising given that was another early influence for the show.

I liked this conversation between Ji Ah and ‘Soo Young.’ We get to see Ji Ah’s own resolve and drive in the advice she offers: “Even so, I hope you’ll become strong. It’s way more fun to be a PD than a victim.”

As with when he arrived at the wedding hall, the cinematography + BGM as Yeon approaches the hospital with his red umbrella is just A++

The BGM playing when Ji Ah spots Yeon approaching the hospital information desk isn’t on spotify or anywhere else that I’ve seen. It reminds me a bit of the ‘Tubular Bells’ theme from the Exorcist (a movie I actually haven’t even seen). If anyone knows what it is, I’d love to know.

“My only talent is my face~” pffft Also, decidedly untrue.

When Ji Ah tells Yeon, “Yes, I’m scouting you, but not for that,” She literally says, “but not for that genre.”

And now the subs say ‘Fox Ridge.’ Okay, then.

When Yeon says, “From the sound of it, it won’t be well made,” ‘well made’ is in English. Again, the peppering of English through Yeon’s speech makes him sound more modern.

When Yeon says, “Plus, I’m very devoted” his line is more literally, “Plus, contrary to how I look, I’m the devoted type.” Are you saying you look like a player? pfft

Yeon is such a big softie, so why does he keep threatening to kill people? Does he not realize they might take him seriously?

For this entire conversation (interrogation?), both Yeon and Ji Ah are switching back and forth between polite speech and banmal, almost on a sentence by sentence basis. On the whole, it gives the impression of a verbal sparring match.

“It’s not as if this was a blind date. No thanks on a second one.” lol I do enjoy cheeky Yeon.

Oh, I love that Ji Ah thinks on her feet. Using her leather bag to lift Yeon’s fingerprints was a smart move. Although, I’m not entirely convinced it would work that well in real life.

The ‘grim reaper’s outfit’ exchange was a coordinated ad lib between Lee Dong Wook and Hwang Hee. I mean, of course it was lol Casting Lee Dong Wook is the gift that keeps on giving.

Was that supposed to be Yoo Ri entering ‘Soo Young’s’ hospital room in those boots?

Minor detail, but ‘Soo Young’ calls Ji Ah ‘eonni’ meaning ‘older sister.’ It’s common convention in Korean to refer to people by familial ‘roles’ that fit their general age range even when you’re not actually related. I could digress, but I guess I just find it jarring when they have her addressing Ji Ah by name in the subs since Ji Ah is older and virtually a stranger.

Okay, when ‘Soo Young’ hears that Ji Ah lives alone, the smile she gives is effectively creepy.

The contrast between ‘Soo Young’s’ narration and the events of what actually happened on the bus that we see as viewers is great. Point to the director.

Wow, Rang really just slaughtered a whole bus worth of innocent people without a thought. I feel like we all managed to forget that about him as the show progressed. Hats off to the writer and to Kim Beom’s compelling performance. I actually worried initially that Rang would remain a one-note character because that would have been such a waste of Kim Beom, who is a fantastic actor. I’m so glad that wasn’t the case.

I love the subversion of viewer expectations when it turns out that Ji Ah knew all along that ‘Soo Young’ wasn’t who she claimed. This is something TotNT does repeatedly and well. We get both the dramatic tension of her being in danger and the satisfaction of her having had the upper hand all along. Point to the writer.

I’m pretty sure Ji Ah knocked that pitcher over with the express intent of using a shard from it as a weapon. Point for character consistency. Past or present, Ji Ah is apparently a ‘stab first, ask questions later’ kind of girl.

The Brothers

“Hey you! I clearly told you I didn’t want a second date?!” Haha Oh, Yeon.

I saw comments from Korean fans about how Yeon burst into her house with his shoes on here, and now I can’t not think of them when I watch this scene: ‘Entering the house with your shoes on...in the Republic of Korea...Ha...’, ‘Even if you bust the whole house apart, you have to take your shoes off before entering...’ lol

I love Yeon’s line that’s subbed as, “As if, brother.” In Korean, it’s “Do you want to die, little brother?” The word he uses for ‘little brother’ is ‘아우야,’ which, while still used occasionally today, is an antiquated word Yeon might just as easily have called Rang 600 years ago. It’s also, in contrast to the first half of his sentence, quite an affectionate term of address.

Rang’s line subbed as, “It’s a long story, but the family has a dirty past,” should more properly be: “It’s a long story, but you might say we come from a broken home.” Saying they have a dirty past makes it sound like they’re the mafia or something. Also, as a fun language note, the expression is literally ‘a bean-powder household.’

“Are you worried I’ll be sucked into the Underworld?” should be: “Are you worried I’ll go to hell?” Not sure where they got ‘sucked into.’ Rang just means when he dies. Also, I wish the subs would do a better job distinguishing between hell, the underworld, and the afterlife. They’re three different words.

“It’s because you embarrass me, that’s why.” Lol at the way Yeon covers his eyes. That’s definitely another ad lib from Lee Dong Wook.

When Rang calls time here, he actually calls Yeon ‘hyung.’ I suspect this wasn’t in the script but rather something that slipped out subconsciously on Kim Beom’s part, since the writer was clearly saving that word for when it would hurt us viewers the most. ㅠㅠ

Yeon’s line is subbed, “Old habits really do die hard,” but it should properly be: “You still haven’t fixed that habit?”

“If you don’t find it until the end of the next month, this woman will die.” This should actually be: “If you can’t find [that] by the next end of the month, your woman will die.” The subject is actually omitted so it’s unclear to what exactly Rang is referring, which is intentional. I also understand hearing ‘your woman’ (ni yeoja) as ‘this woman’ (i yeoja), but when they later flash back to this conversation they use a different take in which the line delivery is clearer and I’m confident it’s ‘your woman.’ This also explains Yeon’s confusion, since at this point he didn’t even know she’d been reborn.

I Waited for You

For anyone wondering how Ji Ah got into Yeon’s apartment, apparently his house code is 0000 lol

From his expression as he discovers and then watches the video she secretly took of him, I feel like Yeon is impressed with Ji Ah in spite of himself and I’m 100% here for it.

For the record, from this point forward, Yeon and Ji Ah use banmal with each other. Ji Ah has a tendency to speak to many of the supernaturals in banmal, which is honestly the opposite of what I would have opted for in her shoes.

Yeon’s question of, “How did you come here?” could mean either, ‘What brings you here?’ or ‘How did you get [in] here?’ in Korean, and honestly they’re both valid haha

Minor note, but she actually says his Korean age is 36, which would be 35 by the typical reckoning...except he’s actually ~1636 so it’s a moot point, really.

Ji Ah’s line, “Now I can proudly say that it’s fate,” translated more literally would be: “At this point, it really is fate and not coincidence.”

I feel like Ji Ah’s strategy of throwing herself off the balcony here is possibly the only thing she does in this entire show that strikes me as dumb. Like, I’m pretty sure if Yeon hadn’t been both benevolent and able to fly (and she had no guarantee that he was either), letting her just fall here would have been the easiest way for him to resolve the matter/the only thing he could have done.

Yeon’s line, “Did you just test me?” is one of the rare instances in which he code switches to archaic speech. I guess using his gumiho powers put him in a Gumiho frame of mind. ;)

On the whole, I prefer the instrumental OST tracks to the lyrical ones, but ‘Blue Moon’ is just sooooo catchy. I wish they had continued using it more.

And that concludes Episode 1. I’ve never posted anything like this before, but hopefully it was at least mildly interesting. Let me know what you think.

#tale of the nine tailed #totnt #lost in translation #I've never done this before so think of it as an experiment #this is what happens when language nerds watch dramas #korean language #korean culture #kdrama #구미호뎐

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artificialqueens · 3 years ago

Text

Galactica, Chapter 72 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Previously: Miss Fame and Raja appeared on morning TV, and Miss Fame was visibly irritated with Courtney.

This Chapter: Violet stresses, Sutan orders some dinner, Katya chills, Raven preens, and Courtney’s Day From Hell continues.

***

“Courtney!” Miss Fame’s voice was sharp, sharper than usual. “Do you ever use your head? Or do you just go through life without a shred of critical thinking?”

It was fairly obvious that it was a rhetorical question, so Courtney kept her mouth shut, wondering what had gone wrong, what mess she’d have to clean up now.

“Hello?!?!”

“I’m sorry, Miss, I-” Courtney picked up her bags, prepared to head into the building. She looked at the cab driver, wondering if she should attempt to get a receipt for her expense report or just say fuck it. Jaida was pretty forgiving with petty cash records if the ride was less than fifty dollars.

“Do you know what happened when I got dressed for the investor lunch, Courtney? Thank god Raja was here, she’s the one who spotted it!”

Courtney pushed the door to the cab closed with her hip, trying to follow Miss Fame’s thought process, her heavy purse slung over one shoulder and laptop bag over the other.

“Spotted…?”

“A rip! There was a rip in the seam of the dress! Is that how you wanted me to show up? Looking like an absolute disaster?!”

“I-” Courtney scrambled into the lobby as quickly as she could to avoid the drizzling rain, glancing for a moment at the elevators before deciding that getting cut off wasn’t worth the risk. She opened the door to the stairwell and began trudging up, cursing the heels she’d chosen today and wondering if it would be too awful and unsanitary to just take them off and go barefoot.

“Next time you pick something up, you need to use your brain and your eyes and check the garment! Always check everything! Don’t trust anyone, do you hear me?!”

“Yes, Miss.”

“These kinds of careless mistakes are unacceptable. You’re not new anymore, you’ve been here for months. Violet isn’t around to protect you, you have to think, think!”

“Yes, Miss-”

“Luckily for you, I had my outfit from the show this morning, so it wasn’t an absolute disaster but if this ever happens again, I won’t be forgiving.”

“I understand, Miss.”

“This meeting better go flawlessly. I simply cannot take more incompetence today!”

“Yes, Miss-”

“That’s all.”

And with that, the phone clicked off. Courtney sighed, sagging against the banister before continuing on her way. Luckily, she hadn’t climbed too many flights, so she could still catch the elevator before she turned entirely into a sweaty, disheveled mess.

***

Violet heard her phone vibrate, and she looked down on the floor, her bag carefully placed under her desk. She abandoned her computer, several tabs with pictures from past Met balls open, and reached for her phone, messages from Sutan ticking in.

SUTAN: Any thoughts on dinner?

SUTAN: I could go for italian

SUTAN: I know a place that has a great fettuccine al salmone that I think you’ll like

Violet read the messages, a smile on her lips. Sutan was probably stuck in traffic or watching a presentation somewhere, her boyfriend often texting her like this when he was bored.

VIOLET: That sounds good

SUTAN: Great! I’ll order. Bottle of red too.

SUTAN: Feeling like dessert? Raja texted that she’s picking up Dominique Ansel for her and Raven and I’m jealous. The Italian place has a fantastic torta tenerina

SUTAN: It’s a chocolate cake if you haven’t had it

SUTAN: It’ll be just like our second date ;-)

Violet felt an instant blush rise in her cheeks, the memory of falling off the couch hitting her like a freight train. Sutan had been so kind about it, the man just laughing when Violet had messed everything up. She knew she was insanely lucky that Sutan was so calm and collected, that he rolled with the punches and took most things with a grain of salt, but she couldn’t help but worry if he was too relaxed.

Violet had meant to push it aside, to stop thinking about it, but Maxwell’s words from yesterday were still playing around in her head, the small comment about her sex life with Sutan starting an avalanche of worries.

Because Maxwell was wrong.

Violet did not, in fact, suck Sutan’s dick. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to, wasn’t that she found it gross or unappealing, it had just never… happened.

She didn’t know how she’d bring it up, what she’d say or what she’d do, but she knew that she wanted to talk to Sutan about it, and make sure that everything was okay.

VIOLET: Can’t wait

***

“Hey, Court, how are you?” Jaida asked, entering the conference room, holding up a flash drive with their investor presentation.

“Jaida! Oh thank god, is that the final?” Courtney asked, shifting from one foot to the other. She stood next to Shawn from IT, who was crouched over the projector.

“It is, it is...at least until Miss Fame texts me with another round of helpful suggestions,” Jaida said with a grin, and Courtney closed her eyes briefly.

“Don��t even joke about that,” she warned.

Jaida handed over the flash drive, giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. Poor thing looked very much on the edge, her little face screwed up anxiously, a crease in her brow where no one her age should have one.

“It’ll be okay, I promise. And I’m gonna stay here with you until it looks perfect.”

“Thank you,” Courtney said, her face softening into a grateful smile. “I know how to handle all the refreshments and stuff, but we don’t usually do these kind of multimedia things. I’m so worried that I’m gonna mess it up.”

“You won’t. And anyway, I’ll be right here. I can always tell you to go back a slide.”

“Right...yeah, that’s true.”

“How’s that look?” Shawn asked, and Jaida gave him a thumbs-up.

“Perfecto. Thank you, sir.”

“Alright, great. Court, you need anything else? ‘Cause apparently marketing is having some kind of emergency with their calendars not synching.”

“No, I think I got it,” Courtney said, sounding not at all confident.

“We got it,” Jaida said, sitting down beside her to look at the laptop that controlled the screen. “Why don’t I give you a basic rundown of what I’m gonna say, and then we can even do some rehearsing.”

“Sure!” Courtney said, smiling brightly.

Jaida took her through the whole presentation, then stood up to do a run-through, making sure they worked out a signal for when she was moving to the next slide, and double-checking the investor packets to make sure all the references to page numbers were accurate.

“Alright...I think we’re good. Do you feel better?”

“Yeah, definitely,” Courtney said, standing and walking towards the refreshment table, lining all the drinks up in neat pyramids. “You can take a break, I’m sorry to have kept you so long.”

“It’s no problem,” Jaida said. “But I could use a little breather before they arrive. I’ll be back in 30.”

“Okay. Um, also…”

Jaida turned in the doorway. “Yes?”

“Well...it’s just...um, some people were talking about their bonuses, and my last paycheck was just my regular salary. So I just wasn’t sure how that all worked.”

“Oh.” Jaida sighed to herself. Of course Miss Fame hadn’t filled her in. Dammit. “Well, usually we only give end of year bonuses to people who’ve worked for the company for six months or longer.”

“Oh. Right. Okay, sorry.” Courtney said, looking disappointed but not surprised, and Jaida felt awful.

Courtney’s salary was a pittance--barely enough to be off the street in New York. Jaida knew that, and she knew how much of a difference even a few hundred dollars would have made to her. But Miss Fame had insisted that the rules were there for a reason, and it would be a bad precedent to set to overrule them for her own office. It was pure nonsense--all employee bonuses were at the discretion of the department heads and always had been.

Clearly, Miss Fame had simply not wanted to reward her for whatever reason. At the time, Jaida didn’t think it was worth the headache to push back, but looking at her sad little face, Jaida couldn’t help feeling like maybe she should have.

“But hey,” Jaida said, giving a rueful smile, “It gives you someone to look forward to next year, right?”

“Yeah.” Courtney returned her smile, trying her best to recover. “Sorry to bother you about it.”

“It’s no bother. I’m sorry I didn’t have a better answer for you,” Jaida told her, guilt still eating away at her. “I’ll see you at 3, okay?”

“Okay. Thanks, Jaida.”

***

“And there we go!” Raven looked up from her phone, Juju standing behind her, a big smile on her face. “What do we think?”

Juju held up a mirror, showing Raven the back of her head. She had gotten a keratin treatment, her thick black locks cascading down her back like a silky waterfall, the ends cut ramrod straight, her December touchups going exactly according to plan.

“It looks great,” Raven smiled, running her fingers through her hair, the strands beyond soft to the touch. She always got her hair done by Juju, Raven’s salon visits an excellent opportunity to chat with her best friend without kids around. “Good job.”

“Thanks,” Juju smiled. “I’ll have someone over shortly to fill up your lashes. Can I get you anything?”

“A Pellegrino please.” Raven held up her glass, Juju leaving her to stay in her chair. She didn’t really want the water, a caramel macchiato or a hot cocoa much more weather appropriate, but she had already had her first fitting for Galactica’s closing look, which meant she had to stay true to that size.

Raven looked at herself in her mirror, turning her head side to side, her brows already threaded and perfect. She hadn’t told Sutan, or even Raja, but she had started to get the tiniest botox injections, her day starting off with a visit to the doctor. It was just 5 units here, another 10 there, to make sure her glabellar lines didn’t show up and that her nasalis lines stayed on the side of cute, instead of wrinkly and gross.

Raven pulled some of her hair over her shoulder, twisting her waist to catch the best lighting as she held up her phone, snapping a pic for her Instagram, a grin spreading on her lips at how hot she looked.

***

Courtney flexed her fingers and toes, trying to keep them from going numb. Her brain already felt like mush. They were going into hour three of the investor meeting. At first, she’d found it incredibly interesting, how the new fund they were raising would help with their 2015 growth, allowing them to expand into several Asian markets and open up a whole new stream of revenue. She’d taken a few business classes in college, and while math was never her strong suit, the financial charts and projections were fascinating.

However, after several hours of this, coupled with the fact that she’d been working since 6 am, and the fact that nearly everyone else in the entire company had already left to start their winter vacations, Courtney was slowly losing her interest in, not just the meeting, but the fashion industry period.

She glanced out the window. A flurry of snow was swirling past the window--it would probably melt before it reached the ground, but it made her long to be tucked under a blanket with Bianca. She picked up her personal phone to discreetly check the messages.

BIANCA: Still getting out early?

COURTNEY: We’ll see. :’(

BIANCA: LOL, poor baby. I’m heading home now, tell me when you’re done there.

COURTNEY: I will. Can’t wait to see you...counting the seconds...<3

Courtney sighed softly to herself. The drone of voices was starting to sound surreal to her, like she was under water. She checked the time again, wishing that they would wrap things up. By the sound of it, though, no one was in any hurry to leave. Maybe I’ll die here…

“Courtney!” Miss Fame’s sharp voice cut through her thoughts and she stood up straight, back against the wall.

“Yes Miss?”

The fury in Miss Fame’s eyes told her that she’d missed a cue, and she racked her brain for what it could have been. They were done with the presentation, and she’d laid all the refreshments out, as well as clearing the empty plates and replacing them with clean ones twice already.

Miss Fame glared at her harder, eyes darting to the box near her feet, and she jumped, realizing her mistake. Miss Fame wanted her to hand out the glossy photo books of the history of Galactica that were on standby, just in case. She reached down and pulled a big stack out of the box, then quickly began handing them out.

“If you’ll open your books,” Fame said, going back to the meeting with a charming smile, “You’ll see some photos of our humble beginnings at New York Fashion week, 2002.”

I will definitely die here, Courtney thought, trudging back towards her spot against the wall.

***

Winter break was here, and Katya absolutely loved it. She had slept in, enjoying a slow morning making pancakes in her pajamas, listening to Christmas music and dancing around, since she was completely alone.

Well, not completely, at least not anymore. She couldn’t feel the baby yet, and probably wouldn’t for a few more weeks, the app Trixie had downloaded informing her that she should be able to sense movement from week 20.

Katya took a sip of her hot cocoa, a Hallmark Christmas movie playing on the TV. She had cleaned up the apartment, making sure to get all of the laundry out of the way so everything was nice and tidy for the upcoming vacation.

She picked Pearl’s bomber jacket back up, the scent of her cigarettes clinging to the fabric. She had noticed that there was a tear while checking it, Pearl often forgetting the most random things in her pockets, so she had taken it upon herself to sew it back together.

She knew she didn't need to, but she liked doing things for her friend, the small project perfect for a relaxing day with nothing important on the agenda.

***

“Raja!” Raven couldn’t keep in the shout of happiness as she finally finally heard the front door open and click shut. She rushed to the hallway, making sure not to trip over her dress in her heels. “You’re home!”

“Hey Princess,” Raja smiled, taking off her coat, specks of snow in her long hair, revealing one of her office suits underneath. “You look perfect.”

“Mmh?” Raven grinned, her fiancée’s eyes sweeping over her body, appreciating the brand new outfit she had put on. “You think?”

“I know,” Raja hung her jacket up, and Raven stepped up, wrapping herself in Raja’s arms, a moment of complete peace washing over her.

Raja was home for the holidays, almost two wonderful weeks ahead of them with no work, minimal obligations and parties except New Year’s, all followed by their annual trip to Aspen.

It was Raven’s favorite time of year, for the simple reason that she had Raja’s undivided attention, and that was why she had picked New Year’s Eve as their wedding date. It was a little stressful that she only had about a year left to plan, but she knew that the night would be perfect, no matter what.

“Did you remember dessert?” Raven looked up at Raja, the fact that she was still taller than her even in heels insanely hot.

“Of course I remembered dessert,” Raja grinned, the Dominique Ansel box on the little hallway table, “I got your favorites.”

“I love you,” Raven smiled, getting up on her toes to plant a kiss on Raja’s lips.

“Are you talking to me or the pastries?”

“You,” Raven rolled her eyes, Raja as always teasing her, “...and the pastries.”

***

“So, what are we in the mood for?” Sutan asked. He sat down on the couch, placing the chocolate cake and the two forks on the table before grabbing the remote to turn the TV on. “A Christmas movie?”

He waited for a beat, and then another, no reply coming.

It was normal for Violet to be on the quiet side, common for her to come home from work and need time to unwind and reset before she could be present, his girlfriend not saying much during dinner.

What wasn’t normal was for Violet to ignore him outright, and Sutan couldn’t help but feel worried.

“Violet?” He sat up, looking over at her. She was tapping her fingers against her leg, looking straight ahead, her lip between her teeth. “Is everything okay?”

“Does it bother you that I don’t suck dick?”

“What?” Sutan spluttered, nearly choking on air, the question taking him by complete surprise.

“Does it bother you?” Violet twisted her body, her knees knocking against his as she turned towards him.

“Why are you asking?” Sutan knew it wasn’t what he should focus on, but he hadn’t expected Violet to ask that, hadn’t figured that a sex thing was what had twisted her into a knot, though the direct and blunt approach was exactly her.

“Answer my question.”

“I’m very satisfied with our sex life.” Sutan turned the TV off, commercials in the background not what he needed at the moment. “So no. It doesn’t bother me.” He was being completely sincere, the lack of Violet performing oral not something he had thought about except in brief fantasies here and there.

But it was just that, a fantasy.

A tantalizing and sexy fantasy for sure, but when it came down to it, not getting blow jobs was a miniscule price to pay in exchange for Violet, Sutan much more concerned with making sure that his girlfriend was having a good time, and that she was into what they did in bed.

“I simply assumed you wouldn’t enjoy it.”

“Okay.” Violet bit her lip, and Sutan moved closer, putting his arm on the back of the couch.

“Why are you asking? Is everything okay?”

“Maxwell made a comment at work.” Violet pushed a strand of her hair behind her ear, looking at Sutan’s chest instead of his face.

“And?” Sutan reached out, gently putting his hand on her shoulder.

“I just figured, I never really…” Violet sighed, tugging at the edge of her skirt, Sutan rubbing his thumb up and down. “Offered, and I hadn’t considered…”

“Violet. Good sex, is sex that makes everyone feel good, and I like, no, I love, making you feel good.” Sutan smirked, watching the prettiest blush bloom on Violet’s cheeks, but this time, she didn’t shy away, didn’t look down, instead, she met his gaze straight on, their eyes locking together.

“I want that too. To make you feel good.”

“Is this your way of offering?” Sutan raised an eyebrow, “To experiment with blow jobs I mean.”

“Yes,” Violet nodded. “I think I could enjoy it with you.”

“If you want it,” Sutan smiled. “I want it.”

***

As Courtney helped Miss Fame into her coat, she could feel her will to live come surging back, the end of the day so close now that she could taste it. She’d already brought the many gifts from Miss Fame’s friends and associates downstairs to her car and in a remarkable display of generosity, Miss Fame had even handed Courtney one of the bottles of Veuve to take home herself.

“Merry Christmas, Miss!” Courtney exclaimed happily as she settled back down at her desk to take care of her last few tasks of the year.

“Yes. Make sure that those sketches get to Trixie before you leave. Goodnight.”

“Sure thing!” Courtney called after her, waving as she rounded the corner. The sketches. She knew she had the sketches earlier. Where were they?

She searched the mostly empty surface of her desk, stomach lurching when she realized what must have happened. The cab. She left them in the cab. Her sunny smile dissolved, color draining from Courtney’s face as she realized how absolutely fucked she was.

Miss Fame almost never did her own sketches any more. These were rare and precious; Courtney recalled how angry she’d been earlier in the day at simply the thought of a crease in the pages.

How could Courtney have been so utterly careless?

Original sketches from Miss Fame of Galactica floating around a random NYC taxi was a nightmare. She wracked her brain, trying to remember the cab company, and found her head absolutely empty of any details, devoid of anything that could help.

And of course, she didn’t have a receipt, because she’d been in such a rush to get upstairs, which meant no evidence, nothing to go off of.

She frantically searched for the numbers of any local cab companies and began the tedious task of calling them to track down the priceless unmarked envelope.

Nearly two hours later, throat hoarse from crying, she had to finally admit defeat.

Nobody had seen the envelope, and the chance of her getting a call back with good news was looking slimmer and slimmer as the dispatches closed for the day. She picked up her phone, knowing that she’d be seeing a whole bunch of increasingly concerned messages from Bianca.

There was no way she could face her tonight. Not after she’d fucked up so immensely, done something that was sure to make her boss more furious than she’d ever seen her. There was a small chance that Bianca herself wouldn’t be mad, that she might even be sympathetic--but Courtney knew that she absolutely didn’t deserve that.

Just to be certain, she waited until she was on the subway before responding to her messages, texting a simple ‘I can’t make it’ and then adding ‘I’m so sorry’ before shoving the phone back in her bag and riding the rest of the way to the Bronx with her head in her hands, cursing herself over and over.

#rpdr fanfiction #thedane #veronica #galactica #vitan #bitney #raja x raven #courtney act #miss fame #violet chachki #raja gemini #jaida essence hall #raven #jujubee #bianca del rio #katya zamolodchikova #lesbian au #m/f au #fashion au

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bau-rookie · 4 years ago

Text

a close examination of Hotch and Foyet

in which Hotch’s greatest strength becomes his fatal flaw.

(a/n: super long essay, because i don’t know how else to consume media apparently lol. i’ve been sitting on this since “100″ because it is really sad and I just wanted to make sure I get all my thoughts in order. It is, to my discovery, Aaron Hotchner’s birthday today, so what better way to celebrate than by explaining all the ways the Foyet arc reads like a Greek tragedy and how Hotch is an amazingly well-written character. Sorry the only way I can think about paying tribute is by making myself sad. Oh there’s GIFs too! I made them and that’s neat :D)

I. Ingredients for a Greek tragedy.

Greek tragedies stem from classical plays, usually about the nobility, and is centered around their struggle against the Gods/Fate. The noble character has a hamartia, or a fatal flaw, usually their own arrogance, that brings upon their own downfall.

Technically, Criminal Minds would fall under the category of modern tragedy which focuses more on common people and everyday problems. (Though you could argue that being a BAU profiler isn’t your typical career, which makes our characters noble not by blood, but in spirit.)

In modern tragedy, there is less of an emphasis on the involvement of a higher power or Fate. Every bad thing that happens is of mankind’s own making, and this is something that CM discusses often, that evil isn’t necessarily brought upon by a higher power. It’s brought upon by ordinary people choosing to do terrible things.

And Foyet is no different. He chose to kill all these people because he wanted to, but his fascination with Hotch and how his plans for him play out, entrap Hotch in a tragedy more Greek in nature.

What Foyet ultimately does is take Hotch’s greatest strength—his stoic resolve to serve justice—and uses it to hold him personally responsible for the death of his ex-wife, all while bending the hand of Fate to his will.

II. Hotch as a noble character.

In “Omnivore” we are introduced to the Reaper and the many ways he tries to exert control and power over his victims. After killing so many times loses its appeal, the Reaper decides to toy with detective Tom Shaunessey by offering him a deal—if you stop hunting me, I will stop hunting them.

While we sympathize with Shaunessey simply trying to save lives, he does so with the knowledge that he is deliberately letting a serial killer go free. The fear and the guilt eats away at him until his death.

Hotch, on the other hand, quickly establishes himself to be a resolute pursuer of justice. We don’t get to make those decisions. We don’t let them get away with it. He holds onto the idea that they have no right to decide who lives or dies and that the victims that unsubs like the Reaper takes, are not something he, or anyone in his line of work, should feel responsible for. Their sole responsibility is to stop them.

This isn’t to say that Hotch is unaffected by the increasing number of bodies. When he turns down the deal and the Reaper attacks the bus full of people, he is visibly shaken by this, so much so that we see Hotch cry for the first time. It takes Rossi delivering some tough love to remind him of what’s important.

Look, if you want to end up like Shaunessy, like Gideon, blaming yourself for everything, you go ahead. But that voice in your head—it’s not your conscience. It’s your ego. This isn’t about us, Aaron. It’s about the bad guys. That why we profile them. It’s their fault. We’re just guys doing a job. And when we stop doing it someone else will.

Hotch and the team in general, are faced with constant reminders that they are only human. They are fallible and cannot control every outcome.

Not everyone can handle the stresses of being a profiler. Despite the horrors, the chance of failing, Hotch’s greatest strength is his stoic resolve. He’s become our beloved Unit Chief, the person on the team who takes on the most pressure, takes it upon himself to, at times, shield the rest of the team from the greater burdens. Personally, he’s arguably also the one who sacrificed the most to have this job, having lost his marriage.

Yet despite the horrors, despite the toll, Hotch shows up for the job anyway. Because he can’t imagine letting the bad guys get away with it.

III. Foyet as a representation of Fate

“The Eye of Providence. A symbol adopted by the U.S. Government with the words: Annuit Coeptis. Latin for “Providence or fate has favored our undertakings.” The Reaper seems to see himself as the personification of Fate.” — Dr. Spencer Reid, “Omnivore”

From the beginning Foyet is shown to have a flair for theatrics. He leaves markings of the Eye of Providence, writes Fate in blood, calls himself the The Reaper. He has delusions of grandeur and posits himself as a higher power, one who gets to decide the course of other people’s lives. Everyone who has the misfortune of coming into contact with the Reaper, becomes another chess piece in his twisted game of Fate.

In another life, Hotch would never cross paths with Foyet. But because he did, Foyet acts as Fate, bringing down divine intervention in the form of driving Hotch into a tragedy of his own making.

Foyet acting as Fate is, paradoxically, also an argument against the actual existence of Fate. Everything that happens is a result of Foyet’s choices. It is him, a man, and not Fate who is choosing to kill, maim and be cruel.

When it came to Shaunessy, Foyet also emphasized pinning the blame of the death of innocent lives on the failure of law enforcement. It isn’t Fate when there’s something you could do to stop it. Shaunessy took the deal because he felt personally responsible for the possible loss of lives, an outcome that Foyet pretty much predicted, but one that doesn’t really affect him. Shaunessy agrees, he gets off on controlling the police. If he doesn’t, well, he can just keep on killing.

Foyet repeats the deal with Hotch. Offers him the deal, which Hotch refuses then immediately murders 7 people on the bus, setting a chain of cause and effect that makes it seems like Hotch’s actions led to this gruesome outcome. Again, placing the blame personally, on Hotch. And Hotch does blame himself, if momentarily.

Later, once Foyet escapes and corners Hotch in his own apartment, he makes it clear, you should have made a deal. Foyet acts as a vessel for Fate, a vehicle through which the consequences of Hotch’s actions are served.

Foyet takes it a step further, when he puts Haley and Jack in witness protection. Left all the usual clues, to simply say your wife and child are in danger because you never took the deal. I hold all the cards here, your fate will come for you eventually.

Then Foyet disappears, and waits. Leaving Hotch filled with guilt over endangering his ex-wife and child, at the mercy of Foyet’s arbitration of Fate.

IV. Dominoes and fatal flaws

By the time “100″ rolls around, you’re so captivated by the action happening on screen that it’s easy to overlook how we got there. When I first watched this season, I had assumed that Foyet would be put on the back burner until the end of the season. His quicker-than-expected return seems to be happenstance, the writers behind-the-scenes doing some plot magic, but if you reexamine the events that lead up to “100″ we see Foyet’s greater machinations at play.

On the surface, the preceding episode “Outfoxed” seems to be a straight forward throwback to an earlier case. Faced with a family annihilator, Hotch and Emily visit the original Fox in prison, believing the current unsub might be a copycat. The episode seems to be about the mental toll being a profiler brings, with Emily contending with a sense of disgust at having to get intimate with a serial killer (post-”Lauren” this reads very differently, but I digress). Until right at the end, when they reveal the admirer letters were actually from Foyet, and the one being outfoxed is Hotch.

When the events of “100″ go down, we hear Foyet repeatedly blame Hotch for what happens with Haley, calls out what we see as a noble resolve to instead be Hotch’s fatal flaw. It was the same thing that led Haley to leave him, a failing borne from Hotch’s own ego, the part of him that insists that it be him who catches the bad guys, that it be him who risks it all. And Foyet uses that to his advantage, uses Hotch’s resolve to trick him into thinking that maybe he did cause all of this tragedy to happen.

One small detail that caught my attention, and set me on this Greek tragedy path, is when they try to track down Foyet in “100″, Garcia notes that he had set an internet search alert for the name “Peter Rhea.”

At this point, Foyet was ready to go after Haley and Jack. He already had pictures and surveillance of the U.S. Marshall in charge of them. He could’ve gone and killed them anytime, but that’s not how Foyet operates. He needs Hotch to feel personally responsible for things ending badly. He set the bait with the letters and simply had to wait for Hotch and the team to get close enough, to find Peter Rhea. This is, of course, incredibly risky. The team could catch him before Foyet gets anywhere close to Haley and Jack, but Foyet is sure of himself and is an extensive planner. He made sure he was always two steps ahead.

The irony is that Foyet would never have gone after Haley and Jack if Hotch and the team didn’t get close to tracking him down. There’s an added layer of Spencer figuring out Foyet’s alias using his genius anagram deciphering brain and Garcia’s expert tech analyst skills. Foyet managed to hurt Hotch because this specific BAU team are just too damn good at their jobs.

Foyet set up dominoes that only Aaron Hotchner could tip to fall. He does it so well it almost feels like Fate.

V. The inevitability of fate

“Men heap together the mistakes of their lives and create a monster called destiny.” — John Hobbes, “Omnivore” closing quote.

A key aspect of Greek tragedy, is that Fate is often the result of divine intervention. They cause certain events to happen in certain ways so as to result in the most tragic outcome, usually death. It’s designed so that the audience is aware of what’s to come, and can see no other way for the story to end. The tragedy is supposed to feel inevitable.

One could argue, that there is no such thing as Fate. Life is simply a sequence of random happenstance, but our need to prescribe meaning to the chaos cobbles up stories of predetermined destinies. Especially when the idea of owning up to our mistakes and their consequences is too much.

All of this was the result of one sick man, George Foyet, choosing to be so cruel. And Hotch was simply a victim of circumstance because if Foyet wasn’t going after Hotch, he’d be going after someone else.

But what are the odds that Hotch’s first case as lead profiler happens to be The Boston Reaper? It was from that moment that Hotch’s fate was really sealed, he and Foyet would be forever intertwined.

Hotch, being who he is, had inadvertently, made the Reaper personal. Even when his BAU team was sent away, his resolve wouldn’t let the Reaper simply disappear. It led him to build his profile, alone and over many years. Any other person might’ve just let the case go, but not Hotch.

So when Shaunessy died and the Reaper resurfaced, the only person in the world who knows enough about the Reaper to track him down, is Hotch. It’s what leads him to George Foyet, a victim at first glance, and Hotch comes to him unaware that he is promising The Reaper a new, worthy adversary, one a decade in the making. And everything, from his prison escape, to his attack on Hotch in his apartment, plays out exactly as Foyet expects it to, because as much as Hotch can read him, Foyet can read his behavior too.

At the end of 5x03, “Reckoner”, Rossi talks about what could have been when it comes to his childhood sweetheart to Hotch. About how he was too obsessed with his job, with the hunt that he gave up his chance of having a family. Rossi warns Hotch, don’t make my mistakes, kid.

You have a family. When all this is over, what are you gonna do to make sure you’re not a lonely guy wondering why you let the purest thing in your life get away?

My initial reaction was that they were setting up for Hotch to leave the BAU for good. The man who hung on to the job so much that it cost him his marriage, for the first time, actually considers leaving it all behind him. Because what Rossi says to him, driven by the circumstances that Foyet has created, is too profound for him to ignore. Foyet is too big of a thing to just move on from once its over.

Of course, my hopes of Hotch riding off into sunset to live a quieter life and watch his son grow up were optimistic at best. It’s a fantasy that purposely ignores the reality of who Hotch is, simply because I want the alternative to be possible. By the time Haley is buried, and Strauss offers Hotch retirement, we already know what his answer is going to be. Because everything we know about this man can only lead us to one conclusion.

Aaron Hotchner is the man who goes after the bad guys, the man who doesn’t let them get away with it. No matter how much I yell at my screen about how Hotch should just retire and spend all his time with Jack, deep down I knew that was never going to happen. Him losing Haley and still going back to work, seems like the only logical outcome. It’s almost feels inevitable.

VI. Catharsis

The point of tragedy is, according to Aristotle, to achieve catharsis. The purging of emotion through the telling of another person’s suffering. And that’s what “100″ does (unless your heart is made of stone and you somehow did not tear up even once).

Others would say that tragedy is meant to teach us a lesson. Meant to teach us the limits of our mortal abilities, to warn against hubris and arrogance; to remind us that they are higher powers and unseen forces beyond our understanding or control.

Criminal Minds doesn’t try to give us that lesson. Like in so many previous cases, the premise of a crime procedural is really a way of examining human nature. Why do people do bad things? More often than not, though our profilers can figure out how an unsub goes from doing thing A to thing B, they don’t have a satisfying answer for why.

In Foyet’s case, he does all of this to Hotch because he can, because he enjoys making him suffer. It is evil, unnecessarily cruel. There is no sense to be found in what happened.

But “100″ does not deliver pure tragedy. It ended in the death of Haley but it also provided hope in the survival of Jack. Hotch finally rids the world of Foyet, though the way it went down, you can’t help but wonder about the price of justice, if the cost is too much for this one man to pay. But then the show reminds the audience, that this one man isn’t bearing that cost alone.

Aaron Hotchner has his team, his family, and with their support, a chance to recover from the tragedy that Foyet wrought.

I used to think that, despite being dead, George Foyet still won. He set out to hurt Hotch, and that’s exactly what he did. We’ve only seen Hotch openly cry twice at this point, and they both were directly caused by Foyet. And I suppose that’s still partly true. It’s hard to really tell with our stone-faced unit chief, but it’s hard to see how Foyet wouldn’t linger.

But that victory isn’t absolute. Foyet is gone, and he loses every time Jack gets to spend another day happy and alive. Foyet loses, every time Hotch shows up for the job and doesn’t let another unsub like him get away with it.

And maybe that’s the lesson. That though good doesn’t always triumph over evil, there is a way to move past tragedy. And that path lies not in solitude, in carrying the burden alone, but in the solace of our friends and family who can bear witness to all that we must face.

For all all my waxing poetic about how Hotch is a noble hero, this entire ordeal just shows how human he is. Yet despite his flaws and the tragedy, the core unassailable truth of who he is, the values he represents, remain unchanged.

He is Aaron Hotchner. The guy who hunts down guys like Foyet. The guy who doesn’t let the bad guys get away with it. The guy who, despite everything, managed to save his son. The guy who will keep his promise to the woman he was once married to, to teach their son that love is the most important thing. The guy who makes sure that his son knows that good people do exist.

Aaron Hotchner is the guy who, despite all the hurt, the pain and the loss, chooses to be the hero. And that’s the farthest thing from tragic.

#did i spend all day thinking too much about a fictional character?#hell yes #i don't know how else to be #i just think aaron hotchner is neat ok #and he deserves the happiest of birthdays #maybe i'll write a fic about it tomorrow #but for now i rest #criminal minds #charlie watches criminal minds #aaron hotchner #david rossi #george foyet #mine: gifs #criminal minds gifs

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inspired-by-the-music · 4 years ago

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For You: Stand By Me

Taglist: @jineunwootrash @angels-from-california @jayjaydawn

If you would like to be added to the taglist of any of this blog’s works, please ask!

Recommended Reading: For You: 4 O’Clock; these works have separate, independent, but deeply interwoven timelines.

Chapter 9: The Girl Who Grew Up (While He Was Blinking)

Sehun POV Had I known when he asked me to hang out that Donghae would take me out on his boat to fish, I would have dressed more appropriately for the mid-summer heat. Or maybe I would have made up some excuse to stay home.

I didn’t have any particular issue with nature or anything; I just knew that I was the kind of person who thrived in air-conditioned environments. Plus, I thought that fishing was kind of boring. Out of respect for Donghae, though, I kept my complaints to myself long after I set my fishing rod down on the floor of the boat, where it soaked my new leather sneakers with water from the river.

We had been on the water since the sun rose, and by sunset, Donghae had said a total of about five words. Because I didn’t really know how to break silences, I focused my gaze on that distant line where the crystal blue water met the sky, painted shades of pink, orange, and red. I had never really been in the habit of watching the sky, so I couldn’t remember a time that it had ever looked that way before. Golden. The moon, which I had to squint to make out through the thinning cotton candy clouds, was a crescent shape.

It’s a shame that I didn’t think to take a picture, but I think I can still see that sky when I close my eyes. It’s too bad that I can’t paint it for you. Just take my word for it— the sky was never prettier.

It’s a shame that nobody else saw that sky with me. Donghae was too focused on his line in the water. His jaw was tense, and unfamiliar creases were forming between his eyebrows. He seemed so deep in thought that I was reluctant to ask, “What’s wrong?” In the end, I decided to disturb the silence because I could probably count on one hand how many times I hadn’t seen Donghae wearing a smile.

He flinched at the sound of my voice, met my eyes, but didn’t offer his characteristic smile. “It’s nothing, really,” he said before pulling his fishing rod out of the water to set it beside mine.

Before I could narrow my eyes at his dishonesty and counter that it didn’t seem like nothing was bothering him, he said, “I’ve just spent these past few days, weeks, or months trying to figure out when Lei grew up.” I don’t think he heard my breath catch in my throat over the sound of his own voice. “It seems like she was a little girl just yesterday. Just yesterday, she was sitting at that table by the vending machine at the S.M. building with those dolls I got her for Christmas. And I’m trying to figure out when she found the time to trade the doll for that boy, and— it happened too fast. I think it happened while I was blinking.”

Lei growing up was the last thing that I wanted to talk about, but I tried to have a little compassion for Donghae. He knew Lei longer. He knew her when she was younger. He was attached to her little gap-toothed smile and childish honesty before I was. It was probably hard for him to let go of the past, too. Maybe— maybe it was harder for him than it was for me.

“Time flies,” I agreed with a defeated sort of sigh. “There’s no point in clinging to it. It’ll slip away no matter how hard you try to hold on.”

Donghae asked, “When did you get so wise?”

I couldn’t blame it on Junmyeon— I had learned that lesson on my own— so I joked, “Maybe it happened while you were blinking.”

Donghae’s laugh lifted some of the weight from my shoulders.

Although Lucas was the second to last thing I wanted to talk about, I felt light enough to tell Donghae, “It’s only natural for Lei to make friends. It’s only natural for Lei to meet boys.”

“I know that,” Donghae admitted, sighing. “I’m not disappointed in her or anything. I’m just worried. I was never this worried when you were the only boy she noticed.”

When I glanced at Donghae— my eyes had drifted back to the sky— he was studying me. His eyebrows were still gathered together and drawing worried lines on his face, but this annoying little grin tugged on the corner of his lips. “Oh,” I said dumbly. “So you know about that?” For some reason, I was too embarrassed to keep looking at him.

“Yeah. Lei never considered her crush on you a secret, you know.”

I cringed, first, at imagining how many people knew about feelings that were none of their business. Then, I realized that Donghae was speaking in the past tense, and something about that made me squirm and drop my voice to an almost whisper. “She still doesn’t.” I picked at my nail beds. They were bleeding, but they didn’t hurt. “And she and Lucas are just friends, by the way.”

I felt Donghae’s eyes on me, but I wouldn’t meet them. I told myself that was the best way to express disinterest, but I think I knew that I was afraid of what he might find if I returned his stare.

He asked, “Do you like Lei?” so casually— so kindly— that every muscle in my body shouldn’t have tensed. My stomach shouldn’t have lurched. My pulse shouldn’t have quickened.

My answer was an instant, flat, unwavering, “No,” but I heard in the following silence that Donghae didn’t believe me.

Eventually, he asked, “You’re, what, five years older than her?” I stiffly nodded my head and hummed in response. “Five years won’t matter forever.”

I suppose he was giving me permission to like her someday, but I didn’t want to.

And I suppose that he was probably right, but I didn’t want to think about that. I didn’t want to count down the days until five years didn’t matter. I didn’t want to wish time away like that. All at once, I was so uncomfortable in my skin, even when Donghae finally looked away from me, that I would have walked away from the conversation if we weren’t in the middle of the lake.

“Can we talk about something else?” I balled my hands into fists. I guess I was begging. “Anything else?”

Donghae said, “I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable.”

And I lied, “I’m okay.” And I didn’t blame Donghae for doubting me.

Pinching at the bridge of his nose, he huffed, “This time when she’s between childhood and adulthood is uncomfortable for all of us, you know.” He must have been talking about Lei’s mom, himself, and the other members of Super Junior who made up their family unit. “Even though we’re all older than Lei, we’ve kind of grown up together. It’s— it’s kind of sad— the day that you realize you’ve outgrown certain memories— the day that you realize you’ll outgrow something new every day for the rest of time.”

I didn’t know what to say. I had never heard Donghae talk like that. Figuring that I could only listen while he trusted me with his feelings— as uncomfortable as they made me— imagining that he was speaking for both of us— I turned back to the sunset.

“I wouldn’t be thinking like this if that boy— Lucas— didn’t follow her everywhere. The first time I saw him, I dreaded the day when Lei might outgrow him or— worse— the day when he might outgrow her. I’ve tried to imagine what I’ll say if that happens. I’ve tried to figure out how to pick up the pieces and keep her whole if he breaks her.”

Donghae was never the kind of person to express fears about the future. I had only ever known his optimistic side, but maybe love— wanting what’s best for Lei— made him feel afraid too.

Although I didn’t want to believe that Lei was as fragile as we feared, I swore, “If anything ever breaks Lei, you won’t be the only one picking up the pieces.”

Of course, I was thinking about Yesung and Heechul, who would seek revenge on her behalf. I was thinking about Siwon, who would let her cry on his shoulder. I was thinking about Ryeowook, who would know all the right things to say to comfort her. I was thinking about her Mom, who would inspire her just by existing nearby. And I was thinking about myself, who wouldn’t know what to say or do— who would still try to help.

As if it would comfort us, I said, “Besides, Lucas plans to stand by Lei forever, or at least that’s what he told me. I’m pretty sure he meant it. He had this stupid little grin on his face the moment I said Lei’s name. He loves her, or whatever.”

I rolled my eyes at the memory of our conversation at the S.M. building. Since I admitted it to Lei, I’ll admit it to you: I was grossly jealous of Lucas’s effortless ability to make her smile that broad, bright, unrestrained, smile— and snort when she laughed— and forget that somebody was always watching. It was always clear that if Lucas ever hurt Lei, it would be an accident. It was always clear that he was the kind of person who would apologize before her eyes were wide and shiny with tears.

All in all, Lucas was a good person— a good friend— and I should have been grateful that he was everything I didn’t know how to be. I tried to be grateful. Gratitude was just hard to muter when I hated him for reminding me of my shortcomings.

“I can’t tell if that makes me feel better.” Donghae scratched at the back of his neck. “I want Lei to have friends. I don’t want her to be lonely, but I keep thinking that the longer he sticks around, the likelier he is to learn things that he shouldn’t know. I never want Lei to suffer for things that aren’t her fault.”

Suddenly, I couldn’t understand what Donghae meant. “What do you mean? What could be bad enough to scare Lucas away?” Mind you, they were inseparable at that point. I never saw one without the other.

In Donghae’s defense, he preceded the heavy secret with many disclaimers.

“You can’t tell anyone,” he said first.

I dismissed that one by promising, “I won’t tell anyone.”

Then, he said, “Once I tell you, you’ll always know.”

All that did was fuel my curiosity. The secret was one of those that, once it was on the tip of the tongue, had to be spoken. There was no way to hold it back, but Donghae tried to bite his tongue even after I said, “Okay. Tell me anyway.” I shouldn’t have pried it out of him when he was so inclined to guard it, but I told myself that I needed to know to protect Lei.

He chewed on his lip. “You have to promise that you won’t treat Lei any differently, okay?”

Wiping my clammy palms on my jeans, I assured him that nothing could ever change my friendship with Lei— not even the frown that contorted Donghae’s face as he blurted, “Lei’s mom is the idol who never debuted.”

I guess the effort to hold the words in his mouth blurred them all together once they were out in the open. Unable to make sense of whatever he said, I blinked at him. “What?”

Donghae whined and cradled his face in his hands, and I almost felt bad for making him repeat it. The second time, he spoke slowly, enunciating each word. “Lei’s Mom— Manager Kim— is the idol who never debuted.”

Even when he spoke clearly enough for me to catch every word, the weight of the secret didn’t hit me. I couldn’t attach any meaning to the words. I felt stupid asking, “Who’s that?” before Donghae dropped his jaw and looked at me like I was an idiot.

“You never heard of the idol who never debuted?”

“Obviously not,” I mumbled. Nobody likes feeling dumb. My ears burned. I either developed a sunburn or I was embarrassed again. “Is that some kind of TV reference or something? I don’t keep up with dramas, so—”

“No!” Donghae almost laughed at my cluelessness, and I was almost relieved after watching him mope all day. “I thought instructors warned trainees about becoming like the idol who never debuted!”

“Well, I’ve never heard about that before!”

The whole phrase sounded suspect to me. How could anyone be an idol when they hadn’t debuted? If they didn’t debut, they were just a trainee— a failed one at that. I couldn’t begin to imagine Lei’s Mom as a figure in an S.M. cautionary tale when the story didn’t even make sense to me.

When I strained my memory a bit to remember trainee days— when I strained to decipher the millions of whispers I heard throughout the day (that I threw away because they didn’t pertain to me)— I remembered the brief lectures barked at Chanyeol if he stood too close to girls during co-ed training. “Don’t stand too close. Don’t look too long. Don’t laugh too loud. You don’t want to end up like the idol who never debuted.” I never thought twice about it because it had never been said to me.

Donghae explained, “Manager Kim trained to be an idol at S.M. years ago. She was very popular at the agency. She was even scheduled to debut, but she dropped out when she got pregnant with Lei.”

“What?” I gasped. The idea of Lei’s Mom as an idol— no, as a failed trainee— contradicted every idea I ever had of her as a responsible career-driven woman. She was such an efficient, passionate manager that I never would have imagined she had any ambition other than to manage artists. “How?”

A furious blush stained Donghae’s face when he cut his eyes at me. “How did she get pregnant?” I was embarrassed by the question the moment it fell out of my mouth, but it sounded worse in Donghae’s voice. Still, he answered, “Apparently, she was dating some bastard—” I choked on Donghae’s unexpected language— “who left her as soon as he got what he wanted.”

My face burned as it turned a shade that rivaled Donghae’s blush. While I knew that Lei’s father wasn’t involved in her life, I tried not to think about the circumstances. I tried not to think about things that could only hurt her— that could only hurt me. “Does Lei know?”

“She knows that her father left before she was even born,” Donghae growled, and I chewed through my cheek. It hurt enough to make my eyes water. Donghae took a deep breath. “But she doesn’t know that Manager Kim trained as an idol. She doesn’t know anything about the scandal.”

Instantly, relief washed over me. I had known Lei long enough to predict that she would blame herself for ruining her mother’s dreams. It didn’t matter that I didn’t think those feelings would be rational; I didn’t want Lei to experience them. I didn’t want her to suffer for something that wasn’t her fault. I wouldn’t have known how to comfort her through the burden of that knowledge. I couldn’t imagine that anyone would have been able to comfort her through something like that.

And yet, I rambled to Donghae, “Somebody has to tell Lei. What if the media gets a hold of that information? You know how some people look for every way to tear us down. Not only would a story like that ruin Manager Kim’s reputation and Lei’s— Lei would be so caught off guard and vulnerable, and I—”

I bit my tongue, closed my eyes, and told myself to stop imagining the worst-case scenario, but I couldn’t. It was my job to protect her, but how could I protect her from something that happened in the past?

Out loud, I said, “I don’t want to see her hurt like that,” and I wouldn’t have cared who heard me.

“It’s a well-guarded secret,” Donghae said as if he hadn’t just spilled it to me. “I understand where you’re coming from. It would be terrible if somebody tried to hurt Lei with the past she doesn’t even know about, but it’s not our place to tell her, Sehun.” I opened my mouth to disagree, but Donghae continued, “It’s not our secret. It’s Kim’s. If you tell Lei, you could seriously damage the relationship between a mother and a daughter.”

That convinced me to bite my tongue. Lei told me on the bus once that her mother was everything to her. If her world was just one person, it would be her mother. Remembering how she leaned into my side and cried because those girls insulted her mother, I resolved to hold the secret. I didn’t know if anything could ruin Lei’s perception of her mother, but I never wanted to be the person to inflict such a deep wound.

Carding a hand through my hair, I wheezed, all at once nauseated. “Don’t you think that Manager Kim is being irresponsible by keeping this secret? If it’s about her reputation—”

I cut myself off once I noticed Donghae’s glare. “I think you should be careful about how you speak about her—” he was clearly referring to Manager Kim— “to me.” He held his hands in fists too, and nothing had ever been more glaringly obvious than the fact that Donghae was in love with her. I don’t know how I didn’t see it before.

While I sat there, slackjawed, I wondered if Heechul, Donghae, and every other member of Super Junior all had a thing for Lei’s mother. I hoped they didn’t. I was already disgusted with Heechul for losing Lei while he was on that date at the drive-in. I didn’t want to believe that everybody could be so irresponsible with Lei while trying to impress her mother.

As I tried to count the years separating Donghae from the object of his affection— as I concluded that it had to be somewhere around ten years— twice the amount of time between me and Lei— Donghae scolded, “I told you so you could protect Lei, not so you could judge Kim.”

Considering the hearts in Donghae’s eyes, I realized quickly that it would do no good to explain that I hadn’t meant to judge anyone. My apology didn’t wipe away the scowl that settled on Donghae’s face, but I wasn’t going to beg for forgiveness just because he was hypersensitive.

Minutes passed in tense silence before Donghae decided to set the boat toward land.

Feeling that I knew too much— more than Donghae even meant to tell me— I rubbed at my temples and griped, “I wish I didn’t know this.”

I think he might have noticed the last few seconds of the sunset before the stars came out as he sighed, “Me too."

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some-lists · 4 years ago

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All the Disney Princesses Ranked From Worst to Best.

(Sorry, no Vanellope.)

14. Merida

I know Merida has really badass archery skills. She’s also outspoken, strong willed, and clever. But she’s still my least favorite princess. I just didn’t like her. Maybe it’s the fact that she wanted to change her mom. And she actually went through with it. Of course, she didn’t actually know what was going to happen, and the journey brought them closer together. She grew as a character and that’s good. But just seeing her disrespect her mother, especially publicly in front of all the clans, is hard to watch. It doesn’t help that I thought Brave was one of Pixar’s weaker movies and essentially Brother Bear all over again.

13. Anna

Not gonna lie. I hate Anna. She’s so damn pushy and combative. I know, it’s all her parents’ fault. All of it. But still. She doesn’t listen to Elsa at all. She pushes and pushes triggering Elsa’s ice outbursts, which become more visible as they build along with her anxiety. Every uncontrolled “accident” Elsa has in the first film is because Anna didn’t listen to her. Of course, she also didn’t listen to Elsa’s warning about marrying Hans either. She foolishly left the kingdom in the hands of an outsider, someone she didn’t even know.

She definitely shows improvement in the second film. She becomes more sensitive towards Elsa’s feelings and her powers. She’s also very loyal and brave, risking her life for Elsa, yet again. She’s still very clingy and desperate for people’s love. It manifests in her fear of losing Elsa and Kristoff. I do not like her humor or awkwardness. I don’t find them relatable, but rather annoying. But I do appreciate that those insecurities are real and that’s what makes her more relatable. Her relationships with the other characters, especially Olaf, is what saves her from being last on my list.

12. Tiana

There’s nothing wrong Tiana. I think she’s great. She’s hardworking, determined, and a realist. Those are great qualities that I’m glad Disney decided to focus on too. The downside of this is that she comes across as rather boring. The film relies on other more colorful characters to bring the personality and charm. I think that’s a shame. She also suffers from starring in a weaker film.

11. Aurora

I like Aurora. What little we see of her anyway. We can tell by the way she interacts with the fairies, woodland creatures, and Prince Philip that she’s smart, sweet, shy, kind, cautious. She’s a dreamer, but not foolish. It’s too bad we didn’t get to see more of her.

10. Snow White

Snow White, in my opinion, does not get the respect she deserves. Was she stupid to take that apple from the very obviously evil hag? Yes, she was. But people have forgotten all about the really great qualities she possessed too. When she walked into the dwarfs’ cottage, it was a disgusting, unlivable nightmare. The dwarfs were pigs. They didn’t clean their home or themselves. They bickered all the time. Snow White changed all of that. She created order where there was disorder. And she didn’t do it alone. She delegated chores to each of the animals and made sure they did them right. That’s some managerial skills! She got a bunch of unruly little men to wash, sleep at a decent time, and behave. That’s authority. Those are some real life skills I wish I had more of. Yes, she cooked, cleaned, and sewed, but Snow White wasn’t a servant. She was in charge.

9. Cinderella

Like Snow White, Cinderella has gotten a bad rap over time, but I will defend Cinderella anytime anywhere. Those who say she “needed a prince to save her” lack compassion and are completely missing the point. Cinderella was a young woman who was abused by what family she had left. At a young age she experienced loss, grief, then neglect and emotional abuse. But Cinderella was resilient. That abuse didn’t stop her and it didn’t change her. She could’ve become mean, bitter, and jealous. She could’ve continued the cycle of abuse like her stepsisters. But Cinderella didn’t allow their mistreatment to define her. She remained kind, empathetic, patient, humble, and hardworking. She also didn’t allow herself to become a victim. She didn’t mope or give up on herself. When the ball was announced, she worked hard and believed she would go. When she got help from the fairy godmother, she accepted it and rocked that ball gown. She didn’t go to the ball to be rescued. She went because she wanted to, and she did. Moral of the story is do not let others’ treatment of you determine who you are or what you’re worth. Cinderella had awesome inner strength.

8. Ariel

I will admit that as an adult, Ariel’s appeal fades. She made really bad choices and sacrificing her voice for a boy is a terrible message to sell to kids. But for a 5 year old girl, only two things mattered. She was a mermaid and she could sing. The Little Mermaid kick started Disney’s renaissance and set a new precedent for its movies. Unlike previous princesses, Ariel was the first princess full of life, passion, and adventure. She had an exciting and lovable personality and a Broadway singing voice. Credit goes to Jodi Benson for bringing Ariel to life and the writers for getting the world to fall in love with her. She made a huge impression (hello, mermaid craziness everywhere!), even if she was a total idiot teenager.

7. Jasmine

What’s great about Jasmine is she can see through people’s BS and she doesn’t put up with it. She isn’t impressed by the superficial suitors that come her way. She stands up to Jafar. She catches on pretty immediately that Prince Ali is actually Aladdin. She sings like Lea Salonga, Disney and Broadway legend, and she has a pet tiger. What’s not to love?

6. Pocahontas

Pocahontas was the first Disney princess to not go after her dreams, but instead chose family, community, duty, loyalty. That’s incredibly mature and selfless. She taught a racist, arrogant, ignorant man to love and respect others different from him. She followed her intuition, was one nature, and dove off cliffs. The only minus is falling for John Smith over Kokoam. I don’t know what she was thinking!

5. Moana

Moana is not qualified for her mission. She has no experience and no skills required for sailing across the sea, finding Maui, and defeating a lava monster. But it’s her purpose. She was chosen. So she sets out and figures it out along the way. That’s an inspiring example. It’s not until the end that we find out why she was chosen. She sees Te Ka for who she truly is. Te Fiti. The image above is one of the most powerful moments in all of Disney’s films.

4. Rapunzel

Similar to Cinderella, Rapunzel has been abused throughout her childhood. IMO, Rapunzel had it worse because she believed Mother Gothel was her mother. Their relationship was nonstop manipulation, infantilization, and gaslighting. But Rapunzel was brave enough to go after what she wanted and smart enough to find a way to do it. On top of that, she was creative and artistic, incredibly strong from years of hauling Mother Gothel up the tower, and had magical hair with healing powers. In the end, she does what we didn’t get to see in Cinderella. She stands up for herself and confronts her abuser. She’s a real survivor and victor.

3. Belle

I love Belle because she is a true introvert and a true individual. She’s not very social, doesn’t gossip, doesn’t fawn over Gaston, doesn’t follow the townsfolk’s way of life. She literally just does her own thing. For that, she’s misunderstood and judged by the village. I think that’s very relatable. But she’s also intelligent, curious, adventurous, honorable (she keeps her promise to stay with the Beast), and stands up to the Beast when he’s out of line. She’s the only one that truly challenges the Beast and he grows because of it. And she saves him.

2. Mulan

Similar to Belle, Mulan is a bit of an outcast, because she’s individualistic in a society that values conformity. She’s socially awkward, clumsy, but brave. That bravery saves her father and all of China. She’s a true badass warrior.

1. Elsa

Elsa is technically not a princess, but a queen. She still counts and she tops my list. Out of all the Disney princesses, she is the most real and fully developed. She’s beautiful, kind, brave, strong, but also very flawed. Many people have identified with Elsa in different ways because her flaws are so real and so relatable. The LGBTQ community has adopted her as a symbol of their own. For me personally, I see a mental health issue. I think she’s a highly sensitive person with anxiety. Her ice powers are a beautiful symbol for that anxiety and the struggle over her mental health. Her journey to accept herself for who she is, to embrace herself for who she is, and to find her place in a world that deems her different is truly beautiful and empowering.

#disney #disney princesses #disney ariel #little mermaid #beauty and the beast #aurora #sleeping beauty #cinderella #snow white #jasmine #pocahontas #disney mulan #princess tiana #rapunzel #merida #pixar brave #frozen #queen elsa #disney moana

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missjanjie · 4 years ago

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Hold Me Tighter (Even Closer) | (4/?)

Title: Hold Me Tighter (Even Closer) Summary: A sequel to Hold Me Closer, Tiny Dancer. Brooke Lynn and Vanessa are back at NYU, but with new and improved positions. Brooke’s ready to start her career as a professor when, as fate would have it, she realizes her TA, Jackie, might have the hots for a student named Jan. The couple just might see it as a sign to give two new girls the love story they found in the same place. Word Count: ~3k (this chapter) / ~12k (total) Relationship(s): Branjie (Brooke Lynn Hytes/Vanessa Vanjie Mateo), Jankie (Jan Sport/Jackie Cox) Rating: E

read on ao3 | ko-fi

“I feel like I should at least pretend to be surprised. I don’t wanna come off as arrogant, you know?” Jan mused as she and Gigi walked back from the auditorium. She’d gone in just to pick up her script after securing her spot in the musical as Veronica, something she felt this whole week was leading up to. Something that made all of the chaos more bearable. “But this just… it feels right, right?”

Gigi chuckled softly and nodded. “Yeah, we all knew you had this in the bag. But I like the confidence you have, I’m proud of you, and you totally deserve this.”

Jan wrapped her arm around Gigi, hugging her from the side. “Thanks, I still needed to hear that,” she admitted. They continued walking in silence before she hesitantly told her, “I wanna tell Jackie. Despite what happened, she did help me a lot when it came to preparing for the audition.”

Gigi’s eyes lit up and she nodded enthusiastically. “Are you kidding? This is the perfect excuse to go talk to her! Even if things are weird, I’m sure she does actually want to know if you got the role. And if all goes well, you could always… thank her for her help,” she winked.

“Do you have any ideas about anything that doesn’t involve sex?” she asked.

“Hm… No, not really. Where’s the fun in that?”

Jan shook her head, she couldn’t have really expected anything else. But with Gigi, in its own weird way, it was almost endearing. “I appreciate the effort,” she told her with a wry grin. While she wasn’t exactly planning on following Gigi’s advice, she knew she was going to have to pluck up the courage to reach out to Jackie – she wanted to be the first to tell her about the role.

So, she texted her. Nothing dramatic, simply ‘I have good news, can we talk about it over coffee?’ and she sent it quickly before she could overanalyze and rewrite it. Though she was holding her breath until she received a text back, reading ‘sure, can be there in ten :)’.

By the time Jan made it to the coffee shop, she had managed to talk herself out of her nerves. She had to remind herself that before anything else, Jackie is a teacher, she knew how to be professional. And she could be professional too. They could have a professional friendship. As long as she didn’t look her right in the eye.

Jackie was notoriously early to everything – something Jan had only learned through passive gossip – so she wasn’t terribly surprised to see her sitting and waiting at a table with her coffee in hand. “Hey,” she greeted with a smile as she sat down and took a sip of her own drink.

“Hey you,” Jackie hummed. “So, what’s the big news?” she asked, trying not to give away that she strongly suspected the answer.

Either Jan didn’t notice or didn’t let it dampen her enthusiasm if she did. “I got the role! I’m gonna be Veronica,” she announced with a bright smile.

Jackie set her cup down and clasped her hands together. “Oh my god, that’s great!” She reached out, hand gently grasping Jan’s wrist. “I’m so happy for you, I knew you could do it.”

Jan smiled warmly. She missed the feeling of Jackie’s hand on her, even in a manner as simple as that. Even though she’d only experienced it briefly and drunkenly before, it felt comforting and familiar. “I definitely have you to thank in part for that. Who knows how hard I could’ve flopped if I picked the wrong song,” she mused.

“I don’t think it would’ve been possible for you to flop,” she retorted. “I think you could’ve sung the dictionary and they still would’ve given you the part.”

“Still, I’m glad I went to see you,” Jan finally got herself to make eye contact with Jackie. If nothing else, she wanted to convey that she was glad every part of that night happened, that she didn’t have any regrets, that the only thing she would’ve changed is running away in the morning. She doubted all of that would come across, but if she was lucky, the important parts would.

And Jackie seemed to at least try to understand what Jan meant. She smiled, she nodded, she rubbed her hand up and down Jan’s arm. “I’m glad you went to see me too,” she told her, voice holding just as many layers of emotion.

Jan smiled, biting down on her lip. “So, if I ever need someone to rehearse with…”

Jackie arched her brow. “Just rehearse?”

Blushing, she looked down. “Well, we’ll see where it goes, won’t we?” She strummed her fingers against the table as she took a long sip. “Maybe tonight?”

“Yeah,” Jackie breathed out, “I can do tonight.”

------

Going to see Jackie this time felt different. Jan was going in knowing the strong possibility of them having sex, and it took away a lot of pressure. It got rid of the fear of the unknown that had followed them ever since the morning after. She texted Jackie that she was in front of her apartment, then bounced on the balls of her feet as she waited.

“Hey,” Jackie greeted warmly as she ushered Jan inside. She looked her over curiously. “Whose letterman jacket is that?”

Jan looked over at her with a grin. “Mine,” she chirped. “I played soccer in high school. I kinda wanted to get into the mood of playing a high schooler. I was gonna get my old catholic school uniform, but…”

Jackie pouted playfully. “Don’t tease me like that,” she whined. “What, didn’t wanna take a ride out to Jersey?”

“Exactly!”

She chuckled softly. “Fair enough. You want anything to drink? Have you eaten?”

“I did,” Jan assures. “I’ll just take a water bottle or something if you’ve got one.”

Jackie nodded and fished one out of the fridge. “Heads up!” She tossed the bottle towards Jan, who was ready to catch it, but she had botched the throw terribly and it landed at the foot of the couch instead.

Jan giggled and picked it up. “Good effort!”

“Don’t patronize me, I have astigmatism,” she retorted with a dry laugh, grabbing a water bottle for herself. She didn’t want to say it out loud – lest she make Jan feel bad – but she was relieved that they had both decided not to drink. They needed time together with clear minds. And if something did happen, she wanted to remember every second of it.

“Were you in any clubs in high school?” Jan asked, deciding to change the subject.

“Other than theatre? I did student council, that was pretty fun, even though I know that’s about the nerdiest thing I could say.”

The younger student shrugged. “Hey, it helped get you here, so that’s all that really matters, right?”

Jackie tilted her head in thought for a moment. “Huh, yeah, I guess you’re right,” she decided, taking a swig of water. “Anyway, do you want to start with your lines or songs?”

“I feel like the songs take up a lot more of the show, that should probably take precedent,” Jan mused.

“Alright, which do you wanna start with?”

She hesitated. “There’s one I’m still nervous about getting right, don’t laugh…”

Jackie furrowed her brows but gestured for Jan to continue.

“Dead Girl Walking,” Jan admitted. “I just… I don't know how to be sexy and lustful on stage, and it’s such a passionate song… I don’t know, I just haven’t worked through that awkwardness yet, and I can feel it coming out when I practice,” she explained, then noticed the way Jackie was looking at her. “Don’t give me that face, it’s different when it’s in front of an audience and specifically choreographed.”

She chuckled softly, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Sorry, sorry. I’m just struggling trying to conjure up the mental image of you not being able to do sexy.” In fact, the only mental image she could conjure up was the one of Jan half-naked, grinding on her thigh. But she did want to help and pressed her lips together as she tried to think of a plan. “Why don’t you just try singing it through first? Close your eyes and picture what you want to be able to do.”

Jan nodded, taking her phone out to get the music going. “Okay, yeah, I think that’ll work,” she decided. She pressed play on the instrumental-only music and set her phone down before closing her eyes and starting to sing.

Jackie nodded as she listened, waiting for the lines that would lead to her supplying the dialogue.

“Before they punch my clock I'm snappin' off your window lock Got no time to knock I'm a dead girl walking”

“Veronica? What are you doing in my room?” Jackie’s eyes were trained on Jan as she spoke. She noticed Jan’s posture seemed to relax like she took comfort and reassurance in her voice.

“Shh…” Jan was delivering the line, but also calming herself down with an exhaled breath.

“Sorry, but I really had to wake you See, I decided I must ride you till I break you…”

As Jan continued to sing, Jackie slowly, quietly got up and walked up behind her. She slipped off the letterman jacket and tossed it aside, then rested her hands on Jan’s hips, pressing kisses against the back of her neck.

Jan shuddered softly but didn’t break focus. She picked up on what Jackie was trying to do right away, and she thought it was a true testament to Jackie’s quick-thinking brilliance.

“Come on! Tonight I'm yours I'm your dead girl walkin'...”

Jackie leaned forward a bit, picking just the right spot to bite down and leave a hickey. It was clear what she was trying to communicate – ‘that’s right, you’re mine, keep singing for me’. But as the tone of the song became gentle, so did her touches. She raked her fingers through Jan’s hair, releasing it from the ponytail it was in, while her opposite arm wrapped securely around her waist. She knew to keep it nice and calm until her next cue.

“Let's make this beautiful!”

Jackie smirked and spun Jan around to face her. “That works for me.” She knew how the choreography for the number went and eased right into it – she pulled Jan into a kiss and held her close as she backed onto the couch, falling onto it with Jan straddling her lap.

Jan finally opened her eyes when her next singing cue hit. The passion she had failed to capture in her words came out in full force now. They hit every physical cue – she lightly slapped Jackie’s cheek, Jackie pulled her hair and pulled her shirt open, then moved her hands up Jan’s torso and to her breasts.

They rolled their hips together in time with the beat, punctuating every ‘yeah’, and Jackie swore the arousal she saw on Jan’s face was real by the time the music faded out.

And Jan was breathless, her face flushed red. She was searching for words, but there just didn’t seem like there was a good way to ease out of this quasi-performance mode.

“I think you’ll be able to do it now,” Jackie mused, her arms looped casually around Jan’s waist. “I knew you had it in you.”

“Is that the only thing I’m getting in me tonight?” Jan asked with a wink, twirling her hair around her finger.

Jackie gasped, putting her hand to her chest as if she were clutching pearls. “Janice Sport, you are naughty,” she chastised, her tone intentionally overdramatic.

“Then you should punish me,” she answered without missing a beat.

Instead of verbally answering, Jackie just scooped Jan up in her arms and carried her into the bedroom. She pushed Jan’s unbuttoned shirt off her shoulders and laid her down on the bed. “Now that you mention it, I think that’s exactly what you deserve.” She stood up and looked Jan over. “Strip for me.”

“You’re not gonna shoot me, are you?” Jan joked, referencing the scene in the musical. She didn’t wait for an answer, stripping down to nothing regardless.

“Mm… No, not this time,” she teased. She took her time undressing, making sure Jan never took her eyes off of her. It was a rush of confidence, of power, it stirred something up in her and she felt such an urge to act on it. She moved closer, then pulled Jan to sit at the edge of the bed, tilting her chin up with two fingers. “Now, what am I going to do with you?”

Jan opened her mouth to respond, but Jackie pressed a finger to her lips. Not an actual question, got it. When Jackie kissed her, she readily reciprocated, wondering if she was planning the next steps or just dragging it out to tease her. It didn’t matter to her, really, she was eager for whatever Jackie was going to do.

And Jackie was just trying to figure out what to do. She had this beautiful girl, naked and ready for her to do what she pleased. As much as she liked this rush of power, it came with an odd sense of pressure too. But then an idea hit. “Lay on your back.”

Jan’s brow rose in interest, but she obeyed and laid on her back. Her eyes followed as Jackie as she walked across the room and rifled through a drawer. And when she realized Jackie was returning with a silk scarf, her heart started beating faster.

“Arms above your head,” Jackie instructed, then tied Jan’s wrists together. “Naughty girls don’t get to touch. Not me, not yourself. Just lay there like a good girl,” she cooed.

Jan whined because now that she was specifically told otherwise, all she wanted was to get her hands on Jackie. But then she watched Jackie disappear between her legs, and suddenly her whining turned to moaning.

Jackie’s hands firmly held Jan’s hips down against the bed. Her tongue traced along her slit before slowly circling her clit. She let her tongue dip inside her, thrusting and curling in ways that made Jan moan louder and writhe up more desperately. “Stay still or I’ll stop,” she warned firmly.

“Fuck, sorry, sorry,” Jan panted, finally willing herself to stay put. It felt far too good and she would do just about anything to keep it going. There was a brief moment of torturous nothingness, followed by the blissful relief of feeling Jackie’s tongue on her clit once more.

As Jackie continued sucking on and lapping at Jan’s clit, she eased a finger inside of her, pace rapidly building up until she was roughly fucking her with one, then two fingers. Her other hand alternated between holding Jan down and moving up to grope at her breasts. She felt and tasted perfect, every inch of her, and Jackie quickly found herself getting addicted to the girl.

If Jackie was starting to get addicted, Jan was fully hooked. Her moans were shamelessly, pornographically loud. If her hands weren’t tied, they’d be grabbing anything they could – Jackie, the comforter, she desperately needed something in her grasp. But all she could do was focus her energy on staying still, which was growing increasingly difficult. “Jackie, I – fuck – I’m close, so close, shit…”

“Go on,” Jackie encouraged. “Come for me.”

It had hardly taken more than that. A moan ripped through Jan as her orgasm hit, and she couldn’t help but buck up as she rode it out.

Jackie decided to let that slide, fucking her just as fervently through her orgasm, even continuing for a moment after she knew she was spent. “Hm,” she started as she finally moved to untie Jan’s wrists, “I think you’ve learned your lesson, haven’t you?”

“Uh-huh,” Jan nodded eagerly as she shook out her hands. “Wait, let me get you off too,” she insisted, reaching out to tug on Jackie’s arm. “Sit on my face.”

“I just can’t say ‘no’ to you,” Jackie chuckled. Despite giving in to Jan, she did wait until the brunette had caught her breath before she went on to straddle her face.

But as soon as Jackie was in position, Jan happily got to work. She gripped onto Jackie’s ass to hold her steady as she made quick work of sucking and licking at her.

Jackie held still at first, not wanting to overwhelm Jan. But when she was certain she was fine, she relaxed, rolling her hips steadily as she rode her face. “Fuck, Jan…”

Jan couldn’t help but be proud of herself when she realized she was having the same effect on Jackie as she did on her. She was an overachiever, even in bed. So, it became something of a self-imposed challenge to get Jackie off as fast as she could, not willing to stop until she had the older girl shaking.

And it ended up not taking long at all. Jackie was nearly as loud as Jan when she came, gripping onto the headboard as her hips rocked, then eventually slowed to a halt. “Jesus, fuck…” she exhaled as she moved to lay beside her. “Is there anything you can’t do with your mouth?” she teased.

“Whistle,” Jan replied with a shrug, which made both of them fall into a brief fit of giggles. She then cuddled up against Jackie. “You mind if I stay the night? I promise I’ll still be here in the morning.”

“Sure,” Jackie nodded, trying to sound casual, like she wouldn’t have cared either way if she got to wake up to Jan. “I’ll make breakfast.”

Jan nodded and let out a yawn. “Pancakes, please,” she murmured. This was fine, she thought. They had sex, and nothing felt weird. They could keep doing this, she told herself. There was nothing wrong with them just sleeping together, right?

#jankie #rpdr rpf #rpdr fic #rpdr fanfiction

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douchebagbrainwaves · 3 years ago

Text

OK, I'LL TELL YOU YOU ABOUT FEATURE

They seemed to have lost their virginity at an average of about 14 and by college had tried more drugs than I'd even heard of. From their point of view, as big company executives, they were less able to start a company, it doesn't seem as if Larry and Sergey seem to have felt the same before they started Google, and so far there are few outside the US, because they don't have layers of bureaucracy to slow them down. It meant that a the only way to get rich.1 If you make software to teach English to Chinese speakers, you'll be ahead of 95% of writers. We arrive at adulthood with heads full of lies.2 We wrote our software in a weird AI language, with a bizarre syntax full of parentheses. That's an extreme example, of course, that you needed $20,000 in capital to incorporate.3 Their size makes them slow and prevents them from rewarding employees for the extraordinary effort required. Doing what you love in your spare time.4 Young professionals were paying their dues, working their way up the hierarchy. By giving him something he wants in return.

Once they saw that new BMW 325i, they wanted one too.5 If you simply manage to write in spoken language. Languages less powerful than Blub are obviously less powerful, because they're missing some feature he's used to. The kind of people you find in Cambridge are not there by accident.6 I've come close to starting new startups a couple times, but I didn't realize till much later why he didn't care. We'd interview people from MIT or Harvard or Stanford must be smart. Indians in the current Silicon Valley are all too aware of the shortcomings of the INS, but there's little they can do about it. When you're too weak to lift something, you can always make money from such investments.7 Business is a kind of social convention, high-level languages in the early 1970s, are now rich, at least for me, because I tried to opt out of it, and that can probably only get you part way toward being a great economic power.8 It must have seemed a safe move at the time. At the end of the summer.9

It's not merely that you need a scalable idea to grow.10 How much stock should you give him? Users love a site that's constantly improving. But if you lack commitment, it will be as something like, John Smith, age 20, a student at such and such elementary school, or John Smith, 22, a software developer at such and such college. There are two things different here from the usual confidence-building exercise.11 But it means if you made a serious effort. Bill Gates out of the third world.12 What's going on? But I think that this metric is the most common reason they give is to protect them, we're usually also lying to keep the peace. The kind of people you find in Cambridge are not there by accident.13

Frankly, it surprises me how small a role patents play in the software business, startups beat established companies by transcending them. The problem is that the cycle is slow. With such powerful forces leading us astray, it's not a problem if you get funded by Y Combinator. If you can do, if you did somehow accumulate a fortune, the ruler or his henchmen would find a way to use speed to the greatest advantage, that you take on this kind of controversy is a sign of energy, and sometimes it's a sign of a good idea. Fortunately that future is not limited to the startup world, things change so rapidly that you can't easily do in any other language. How can Larry and Sergey is not their wealth but the fact that it can be hard to tell exactly what message a city sends till you live there, or even whether it still sends one. They build Writely.14 I'm not sure that will happen, but it's the truth. Stanford students are more entrepreneurial than Yale students, but not because of some difference in their characters; the Yale students just have fewer examples.

And whatever you think of a startup. In the US things are more haphazard. I see a couple things on the list because he was one of the symptoms of bad judgement is believing you have good judgement. There are a couple catches. Instead of being positive, I'm going to use TCP/IP just because everyone else does.15 Being profitable, for example, or at the more bogus end of the race slowing down. An example of a job someone had to do.16 But actually being good. There are a lot of people were there during conventional office hours.17

I'll tell you about one of the most surprising things we've learned is how little it matters where people went to college.18 In Lisp, these programs are called macros. That's where the upper-middle class convention that you're supposed to work on it. And since most of what big companies do their best thinking when they wake up on Sunday morning and go downstairs in their bathrobe to make a conscious effort to keep your ideas about what you should do is start one.19 The most powerful wind is users. We're just finally able to measure it. And not only did everyone get the same yield. VCs need to invest in startups, at least by legal standards. Ten years ago, writing applications meant writing applications in C. If you have to operate on ridiculously incomplete information.

Notes

Foster, Richard Florida told me about several valuable sources. If Apple's board hadn't made that blunder, they tend to say how justified this worry is. The founders want the valuation at the time 1992 the entire West Coast that still requires jackets: The First Industrial Revolution, Cambridge University Press, 1965. Yes, there would be enough to be a win to include things in shows is basically zero.

Different kinds of startups that has become part of your mind what's the right mindset you will fail.

But although I started using it out of loyalty to the founders' salaries to the traditional peasant's diet: they had first claim on the one hand they take away with the earlier stage startups, just monopolies they create rather than admitting he preferred to call them whitelists because it reads as a kid, this is the notoriously corrupt relationship between the government. As the name Homer, to mean starting a business, A. The Department of English Studies. Yes, strictly speaking, you're pretty well protected against such tricks initially.

There are also the 11% most susceptible to charisma. Every language probably has a word meaning how one feels when that partner re-tells it to profitability on a road there are no longer needed, big companies to say that YC's most successful startups of all the page-generating templates are still expensive to start over from scratch, rather than ones they capture.

There are two simplifying assumptions: that the Internet, and judge them based on revenues of 1. If the company goes public. This is one resource patent trolls need: lawyers. When that happens.

The only launches I remember are famous flops like the bizarre consequences of this type of proficiency test any apprentice might have 20 affinities by this, though more polite, was starting an outdoor portal. The Duty of Genius, Penguin, 1991, p. The danger is that in practice signalling hasn't been much of observed behavior. When I say in principle is that intelligence doesn't matter in startups tend to be when I was genuinely worried that Airbnb, for example, the startup after you buy it despite having no evidence it's for sale.

Another thing I learned from this experiment: set aside an option pool. So if they don't want to start a startup in question usually is doing badly in your country controlled by the government. But in a company grew at 1% a week for 4 years.

We added two more investors. The reason this subject is so hard to imagine how an investor, and that often doesn't know its own momentum. We think. I'm talking here about everyday tagging.

They thought most programming would be possible to bring corporate bonds to market faster; the point of a large organization that often creates a rationalization for doing so much to generalize.

Many people feel good. So instead of being interrupted deters hackers from starting hard projects. The idea is that it was overvalued till you see them, initially, were ways to make your fortune? In fact the decade preceding the war.

One father told me about a form that would appeal to investors.

Some graffiti is quite impressive anything becomes art if you tell them to justify choices inaction in particular took bribery to the traditional peasant's diet: they hoped they were only partly joking. If a big angel like Ron Conway had angel funds starting in the first phase. You're going to create one of those you can eliminate, do not try too hard at fixing bugs��which, if they stopped causing so much from day to day indeed, is due to the table.

The hardest kind of gestures you use the wrong ISP. But they've been trained to expect the second component is empty—an idea is stone soup: you post a sign saying this cupboard must be kept empty. The two guys were Dan Bricklin and Bob Frankston. I have set up grant programs to run an online service, and they were, they'd be called unfair.

My work represents an exploration of gender and sexuality in an era of such high taxes?

So the most visible index of that, in one of the markets they serve, because she liked the iPhone SDK. For example, because a it's too hard to pick the former, because it is.

If you ask that you're small and traditional proprietors on the side of the junk bond business by Michael Milken; a new airport.

The biggest exits are the only audience for your side project. You're not one of their portfolio companies. He did eventually graduate at about 26.

A lot of time on schleps, but he doesn't remember which.

When I talk about startups. It's also one of the statistics they use the wrong algorithm for generating their frontpage. The reason Y Combinator only got 38 cents on the other: the source of food.

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clumsyclifford · 4 years ago

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i would love to read a mashton fic based on vegas, which is an idea that has been in my head since you sent it in for the playlist! i particularly like the lyrics “from coast to coast, I’ll make the most / of every second I’ve been giving with this crowd, / without a doubt, you’re all I dream about” but i would be happy no matter what you wrote

right okay well i have plans to one day write a longer better vegas fic but im capitalizing on the fact that you sent me specific lyrics from the song and just writing around those lyrics so. for the moment this will have to be enough im sorry maggie u deserve more

Michael loves performing more than most things.

There are certain people who take precedence — his band, for one, although that feels a little bit like cheating because his band are the reason he can perform — and his family, of course, and a case could be made for Niall Horan, and there are also a few things here and there — a chocolate milkshake at an American diner at three in the morning smack in the middle of the Northeast, the signed-by-Billie-Joe Father Of All… limited edition vinyl framed on his wall at home that’s been played exactly once, a proper pint from the bar they went to when they first arrived in London.

By and large, though, performing beats all.

There’s an energy that is absolutely unmatched, and no matter how many times interviewers ask, Michael will never be able to put into words the way it feels to play to a crowd who are shouting your lyrics at the top of their lungs. Nobody would understand how it’s possible to get onstage feeling tired and grow more alive the longer you play, feeding off the ardor of the people, entirely detached from the usual concerns of whether or not you’ll remember how to play your part. Michael’s a good guitarist, but onstage he becomes something else, something fucking massive, a piece of something much bigger than himself.

The high lasts only for about a minute after he comes offstage, and then everything else hits him at once; the exhaustion, the sweat, all the notes he’d missed, the pounding in his head from the screams that are dulled but not deafened by the in-ears. They all crash at different times but they always crash soon after the show ends, and Michael’s usually first.

So there are a lot of reasons Michael doesn’t want to come offstage. And if anyone asks, he can offer a wide range of these answers, anything about the rush of performing, about not wanting to feel the weariness of the tour just yet, about feeling more sure about this show than anything in his life, and those wouldn’t even really be lies. They just wouldn’t be the whole truth.

Most of the reason why Michael loves to be onstage is the person sitting at the drum kit.

Ashton is twirling his drum sticks, effortless the way he always is during shows, a broad smile over his face while Luke sets them up for their next-to-last song. Michael takes the opportunity to tune up a little bit and watch Ashton. It’s one of his most favorite things ever, just to watch; he’d stare at Ashton forever if he could and still not have had enough.

Ashton glances up, catching Michael’s eye before Michael can look away, so Michael saunters over to the drums.

“How are you feeling?”

Michael gives a thumbs up. “On top of the world,” he says truthfully. His fingertips are buzzing with what could be electricity, and his guitar feels so light it could almost be floating. “You?”

“Same,” Ashton says, without faltering in his grin. “You’re sounding great.”

“You messed up a few times, but we’ll discuss it after the show,” Michael replies, smirking. Ashton flips him off. “I’m kidding. You sound awesome. Amazing. Like always.”

“Not always. I sound pretty bad sometimes.”

“Only when you’re singing in the shower.”

“I don’t sing in the shower!”

Michael holds up an air-microphone. “Sweet Caroline, bah-bah-bah!”

“That was one fucking time!”

“Yeah, and I’m gonna remember it forever, and laugh at you whenever I hear the song. So thank you.”

Ashton rolls his eyes; somehow he hasn’t stopped smiling, and in fact his smile is even wider. “You should probably get back to your station,” he says. “I think Luke’s stalling to start the song.”

As if on cue, Michael hears, “Oi, Mike! Is it social hour? Are we playing a show?”

Michael grins and winks at Ashton, then slides smoothly back to his microphone. “Sorry, sorry,” he says. “Ashton and I were just plotting how best to destroy you.”

“We’re thinking of putting you on a cooking show,” Ashton puts in from his mic. Michael loves him so much.

The crowd laughs. Luke just rolls his eyes, fond and unable to be cross when they’re playing a show, when this many people are here just for them, to hear their music, and across the stage Calum blows Michael a kiss. He catches it in the air and presses it to his heart; Calum grins and gives him the OK sign with his fingers.

“Anyway,” Luke says pointedly, and then he carries on with the show, introducing She’s Kinda Hot with very little additional preamble, and Michael starts to play it — the riff had been hard the first couple of times but now he could do it in his sleep, so instead of overthinking every note, his eyes roam the crowd, several thousand — a number Michael doesn’t remember but is absurdly high — people here to see them, to see him, some who have put in countless hours listening to their album and making signs and buying merchandise from them already. Michael feels like he’ll burst from the love, and wonders if it’s coming from him or from them. Or if there’s even a difference. They love his band, but not as much as he loves his band.

Ashton’s solo is his favorite part of this song. Not because he has a crush on Ashton. Musically, it’s the most fun, and Ashton has a really great voice for it, and he likes the little call-and-response part, and, okay, also because he has a crush on Ashton and this is basically his free chance to gaze in wonder while Ashton sings.

When the solo rolls around Michael turns his body to watch Ashton, shamelessly drinking in the sight; Ashton, a bandana barely keeping back his sweat-soaked hair and a glistening sheen of perspiration all down his face, neck, and arms, muscles tensing as he plays, tank top sticking to his chest. The lights from the stadium reflect strangely off his skin, giving him a gleaming aura that has Michael blinking sight back into his vision.

Ashton is everything. He really, really is.

Halfway through the solo he catches Michael’s eye for just a second, and Michael doesn’t look away, caught up in the moment. Ashton smiles so wide his face could break from it and Michael feels that smile right down to his toes. The warmth stays in his chest, unbroken, untouchable.

They stumble off-stage, all four reaching out for full water bottles before they have to go back on for the encore. Michael’s off last — he’s standing farthest from where they come on — and the three others are already gasping out breaths between long chugs of water as he takes his own.

“Well, you all sound terrible, and I sound great,” Calum declares, one arm so tightly around Luke’s shoulders that Michael would be hard-pressed to try and separate them. Not that he’d ever feel compelled to. Ashton comes over and slings an arm over Michael’s shoulders, too, and Michael immediately squirms.

“Gross,” he says, “you’re all sweaty.”

“That’s how you like me,” Ashton says, pressing a kiss to Michael’s cheek.

“No PDA before we finish the encore,” Luke says loudly, pointing an accusing finger at the two of them.

“You’re just jealous that Ashton kissed me and not you,” Michael says. “Ashton, go kiss Luke. He’s feeling left out.”

“I don’t want to kiss Luke,” Ashton says, affronted.

“I’ll kiss Luke,” Calum says. Before any of them can say anything about it, Calum pulls Luke’s face towards him and kisses him square on the mouth.

Luke looks like he’s been hammered between the eyes when Calum pulls away. “You’re such a sneaky little shit,” he says. “I have to go sing, you know.”

“I have to sing too!” Calum protests.

“Wait a minute,” Michael says, feeling like perhaps he’s missed something. “How — what?”

“Does this mean I have to kiss you now?” Ashton asks Michael, a glint in his eye. “Because I’m not strictly opposed.”

“Stop it,” Michael says. “They just kissed!”

“They’re adults,” Ashton says.

“You’re not strictly opposed?” Michael says belatedly. “The fuck’s that mean? Are you for or against?”

“Shit,” Luke says, handing off his water bottle. “Gotta go back on. Encore time encore time encore time!” He races onstage, Calum in tow, and Michael groans.

“Worst band in the world!” he says as Ashton gives him one final, cheeky look before sliding away and returning to the stage. Michael follows after, playing the intro to She Looks So Perfect, which is as natural as breathing at this point.

The song goes well, and Michael remembers, having temporarily grown distracted, how fucking good this show has been, how the energy of the crowd is building up under his skin, making him practically vibrate with it despite the steady hands on his guitar. When the song ends, they take their bow and then head backstage. Michael finally takes a towel to wipe himself clean of sweat; the other boys do the same. Ashton gets two towels, because he’s always the grossest.

“So?” Michael asks, loping over to where Ashton is leaning against the wall, drying himself off. “For or against?”

“For or against what?” Ashton says innocently, but his face breaks into a ridiculous smile and he reaches to clap a hand around the back of Michael’s neck. “For, obviously.”

“Oh,” Michael says dimly, blood roaring in his ears. “Okay. Good. I mean, I hadn’t said for or against what, exactly. For all you know you’ve just agreed to my insidious plot to destroy the band from the inside or change our sound to EDM or something.”

“I’m in,” Ashton says immediately. “I’ll take down Luke, you get Calum.”

“I can’t take down Calum,” Michael says, forgetting momentarily that they’re not actually planning the downfall of the band. “He’s been my best friend for so long. I’m pretty sure that would be in violation of the bro code.”

“Okay, but taking down Luke wouldn’t?” Ashton asks, raising an eyebrow. “Fine. I’ll get Calum and you get Luke. Meet back here.”

“Wait, hold on,” Michael says, and picks back up the thread. “We’re not actually plotting the band’s destruction. You were going to kiss me, I think.”

“Was I? I don’t really recall.”

“You were. You said you were for it.”

“I believe my words were not strictly opposed.”

“You said for, obviously, like twenty seconds ago. Like literally twenty.”

“Hmm,” Ashton hums, tipping their foreheads together. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

Ashton gives his biggest smile yet. Michael feels the corners of his own mouth tug upward to mirror it, and Ashton leans in, presses a gentle kiss to Michael’s lips, and pulls away. Michael’s buzzing all over, head full of AshtonAshtonAshtonAshton.

“Oh, hmm,” he murmurs, a little speechless, midway between the adrenaline high of the show and the total post-performance crash. Heavily leaning into Ashton, he says, “I’m gonna fall asleep in like five minutes but we will definitely continue this when I’m not about to be dead on my feet.”

Ashton pats his shoulder reassuringly. “I’m not strictly opposed to that.”

Michael smiles and decides: there are few things he loves more than performing, but Ashton Irwin is one of them.

#the way cake snuck into this fic too.....that has never happened before i didnt know how to react i was literally michael #me after writing the kiss: they just ??? they just kissed??? did i miss something ???????????#michael clifford #ashton irwin #mashton #mashton fic #5sos #5sos fic #fic #my fic #LGKJDFKGJKCBJ THIS IS SOOOOOO #that being said maggie this prompt is inspired im sorry i did not do it justice #calumsclifford #ask #answered

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honeylikewords · 4 years ago

Note

b , d , t with Santi please

Yes! Absolutely!

B = Baby (Do they want a family? Why/Why not?):

I actually made a whole big, long, goofy post (with screencaps and citations!) about why I think the film actually frames Santi as a paternal figure who cares about children and longs to be a father himself, so, yes! I do fully believe that Santi does want to be a father and have kids!

I’m a little biased, but I do really think that part of Santi craves and is missing in his life is a sense of purpose and belonging in a group; he tries to fill the gap a family would hold in his life by reuniting his old teammates, only to realize that what he’s looking for can’t be supplied by these men and their jobs, the old life they used to live.

I imagine Santi is, whether secretly or not-so-subtly, rather jealous of Frankie for having a wife and kid. He has dark, unkind moments when he thinks to himself that, of the two of them, he, himself, deserves to be the one married, deserves to be holding his own little one in his arms, and doesn’t understand why Frankie gets to enjoy that where he doesn’t. Santi is quick to shake these thoughts off, though, fully aware that such a thing is ridiculous to think; the world is wide enough for both men to be married and become fathers in their own times, and that his loneliness need not manifest itself as bitter jealousy over his friend’s happiness.

Of course, that jealousy was at its worst when he was still single and living alone in Colombia, wracked with frustration over his job and the course of his life, the stress of feeling like he’d failed in all his endeavors and was growing too old to find a new meaning, a new course.

Once he moved back to the U.S., though, and fell in love with his current beloved, the anxiety over his potential for starting a family began to ebb. He’d found someone who truly loved him, who wanted him around, and who shared his hopes for the future: a love to last all their lives and a family of their own.

Still, I think Santi is sometimes plagued with worries about his past, and whether it will affect the prosperity of his future; what if there are stragglers of the Lorea empire hunting him down? What if his PTSD influences him so drastically that he’s a bad father? What if his shot knees mean he can’t bend down and pick up his child as they run to him?

He airs these anxieties to his lover over time, and each time, she takes him in her arms and reassures him that he will be a good, loving, gentle father. She’s seen him with other children. She’s seen him at his best. She’s seen him at his worst. And he remains steadfast, kind, and stable, even when rash fears and haywire anxieties grip him. She knows he’ll be the best father a child could ask for, and will always be improving upon himself, working to be even better.

Over time, and after many repeated conversations about it, and constant reassurance that it’ll be alright, Santi starts to believe that it’s possible; someday, he’ll be a father, and, if he’s lucky, it will be with the woman he’s lucky enough to currently call his girlfriend.

And while they may not be planning on having one any time soon, Santi still finds himself wandering through the baby clothes section when out at the local Target, and can’t help but imagine a tiny little person with his sweetheart’s eyes and his curls wearing the adorable little “crabby in the morning” t-shirt (with, of course, the printed illustration of a crab) he sees hanging on the rack.

He may just sneak it into the cart to buy and save for a hopeful later date.

D = Dates (What are dates with them like?):

Santi is often very laid-back about dates, but in his own way; he likes to always be the one paying (it’s never worth it for his beloved to try and haggle with him to split the bill or let her pay; he is insistent that he cover it, always), and while he’s fine with the occasional visit to a dive bar to see live music or get some beers, he’s grown away from finding activities like that fun and has shifted into some pretty “tame” date ideas being the ones that excite him most.

He gets thrilled at the idea of going to the museum (if he’s told there’s a geology exhibit on, he’ll be there in a heartbeat) for an evening, or taking a visit to the theatre to see a show, though he’s not going to sit for a musical. He prefers standard plays, not musical theatre.

He likes going to the movies well enough, but he’s not really into action films or war movies, surprising as that may be; show him a good, like, period drama set in the 60′s to 80′s and he’s all over it. He loves business dramas and the occasional gangster movie, but he likes them to be more low-key and thrilling, with the tension building slowly and the threats being subdued, waiting for the moment to strike.

He’s also a sucker for comedies from the 80′s, and has a particular affinity for This Is Spinal Tap.

Oftentimes, he likes to stay home and cook dinner with or for his sweetheart, taking care to make a new dish that will excite, or one he knows is a special treat for her. He loves to make rich, chocolate and fruit-based desserts, too; one of his favorites is a dark chocolate mousse with pomegranate seeds sprinkled on top. He loves feeding it to her bite by bite and watching her smile at the flavors and at his sweet gesture, and when she’s full, he’ll lean in for a delicate, chocolate-tinged kiss.

Santi is also very, very fond of using his hands to touch and to hold her, so he’s not opposed to spending the evening in and giving her a massage as part of the date, or cuddling on the couch and working her shoulders while they catch up on shows he’s been unable to watch while at work. He likes The Office, but sometimes it’s just too easy to watch, you know?, so he’s gotten interested in more witty or fast-paced shows like The West Wing, Arrested Development, and, a surprise favorite from across the pond, Detectorists.

Nothing makes him happier than having his girl lay her head against his chest as they rest on the couch, comfortable in one another’s arms, and feeling her drift off to sleep on him. He loves knowing that she trusts him that much, and feels that safe with him. Plus, if she’s asleep, he can put on his secret indulgence show: America’s Next Top Model.

T = Talking (What do they like to talk about?):

Santi has tons of interesting stories about the work he did while on his tours around the world, but he actually gets more excited to talk about history; stuff he wasn’t present for but has read about, researched, taken a personal interest in. He loves tactical history and watches an embarrassing number of historical documentaries, so if he gets asked anything to do with that, he’ll be chattering for hours.

He also likes having conversations with his girlfriend about music, particularly band history or about how he doesn’t like a lot of modern music (and then she immediately pelts him with comments about him being a “crotchety old man” and shakes a fist, croaking in her best old man voice a surly “darn you kids and your hippity-hoppity musics!”, which Santi rolls his eyes at), but he also loves to hear her opinions about music. Especially if she has wildly different tastes from himself; he loves walking in and hearing her listening to one of those medieval covers of a popular song, or coming into the kitchen to find her working on something with a theremin album blaring in the background.

They also talk a lot about political issues; it just seems to come up often, and they’re both very passionate about trying to do what’s best for their communities and for their countries. They tend to have very similar stances about their beliefs, but can come to disagreements about how to put those selfsame beliefs into practice and policy. Thankfully, they’re both very willing to listen to one another, especially Santi, who genuinely takes pleasure in watching his beloved talk energetically about what she feels is just and right.

It’s also common for them to relay various stories from their day jobs, particularly if they or a coworker did something embarrassing. Santi got a job as a school counselor back in the U.S., so he loves to tell his beloved all about the teacher’s lounge drama.

“And so Gillian-- you know, the semester-long sub they got to fill in for Becky, who had to go on maternity leave?-- yeah, her, so SHE gets caught stealing bottles of glue from the supply closet and it’s not even for, like, huffing the fumes; she’s some kind of scrapbooking maniac, apparently? That’s not even the weirdest part--”

Honestly, though? They love to talk to each other about anything.

Santi considers his partner his best friend (followed closely by Frankie, but, ya know, the missus takes precedence) and he wouldn’t have gotten into a relationship with her if he didn’t like talking to her, or didn’t find their conversations stimulating. She makes him laugh, challenges his thoughts, introduces him to things he’d never have found on his own, and just... is pleasant to be around.

And, sometimes, at the end of the day, that’s all you need: someone who is pleasant to be around, and it doesn’t have to matter what you’re talking about, so long as you’re together.

Santi knows he’s lucky enough to have just that in her.

Thanks for asking about Santi; I just adore him!

Send Prompts From This List!

#messages #anonymous #gif warning #santiago garcia

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crushedbyhyperbole · 5 years ago

Text

Promises - Chapter Six

Chapter Summary: Rules and red tape. Bucky and Izzy make the agreement that will redefine their friendship from then on out. Bucky thinks this is singularly the best and the worst idea he’s ever agreed to. It’s not like there’s a chance something will go wrong further down the line, right? Right?

A/N: Ok so I toyed with abbreviated text speak for the [text messages] but it annoys me so much I can’t bring myself to put it in there, authenticity be damned. Yes, I’m anally retentive, it IS a big problem, and no, I’m not currently seeking help ;)

I’m just going to apologise that this chapter is mainly dialogue, and probably not all that good dialogue either, but it sets everything up for Bucky and Izzy’s friends with benefits relationship. The next couple of chapters after this are going to be smut central so you have been warned.

Warnings: Tiny bit of angst - Bucky is feeling the stress. Mostly just fluff and talking.

PROMISES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST | MOBILE MASTERLIST

Belated Prologue Part Five - The Rules

At a little after lunch time the next day, Bucky’s phone buzzed to life.

[Izzy] Morning Buckinator! This is your next morning sobriety text! X

So much for her forgetting, he thought ruefully. I guess I’m really gonna have to consider the options, now. Fuck!

[Buck] Good morning. You feeling rough? x

[Izzy] I feel like I licked the inside of a trash can. What did you give me to drink? Booty juice? X

[Buck] Hey, you asked for it x

[Izzy] I remember asking for something else too… so how about it? ;)

Euphoria. Fear. Anticipation. Dread. He felt them all and more each time he thought about the predicament that Izzy was putting him in. He made a promise to himself that he’d keep his feelings under wraps, and do whatever he could to keep her in his life. She was offering him something that he never thought he’d ever have but it was only half of what he wanted and it could ruin them if things went badly.

Rules were a good idea, they would help keep things in check and set boundaries. There were only a few things that Bucky really wanted out of this arrangement and that was to safeguard their friendship and for it not to be a drunken booty call thing. Oh, and safe sex.

[Buck] I dunno Iz we got a lot to lose if this goes bad x

[Izzy] It won’t. Pinky promise. XX

She had to go and say fucking ‘pinky promise’.

[Buck] What got you started on this idea?

[Izzy] Honestly? I’m horny and every guy I meet either comes with some amount of bullshit that I just don’t have the time or energy for right now. I need a friend, someone who understands and will share this with me. Guys I meet for 1 night are just there to get themselves off. I want a bit more respect than that. X

[Buck] And your 1st thought was me? xx

[Izzy] Actually no, my first thought was paying for an escort but that doesn’t get you over the awkwardness of sex with a stranger. X

[Buck] I dunno that can be fun :p

[Izzy] Fun but not what I’m looking for. X

[Buck] Fair enough. Why me? xx

[Izzy] Of all of the people I know who would probably sleep with me, you’re the safest option. I can’t ask Steve, he’d die of embarrassment lol. X

Steve would probably drop down dead if Izzy had asked him. As it was, Bucky wasn’t doing much better. His mouth was dry and he was almost shaking with nerves, skin pale and clammy. Panic was growing in his chest and all he could think about was losing her if this all went tits up. He registered somewhere in the back of his mind that Izzy had put him on the list of people who would maybe want to sleep with her. He didn’t know if that said more about her or him, and didn’t know if he should be offended or not. He let it slide.

[Buck] I’m pretty much dying over here too xx

[Izzy] You can say no, Bucky. I’ll not be upset or anything. XXX

[Buck] true story? x

[Izzy] True story. Listen, are you free in an hour? X

[Buck] Yep, I work at 6 though x

[Izzy] Come round to mine, we’ll talk ok? XX

[Buck] Ok doll xx

Jesus what was he doing? This had to be the worst and the best idea of all time. He was torn between protecting what he had and seizing this new opportunity. He might actually get the chance to sleep with Izzy, more than once too, and have it not ruin their friendship

Izzy answered the door in lounge wear; black leggings, novelty slippers and a huge white rolling stones t-shirt. There was no big showy seduction going down here which made him feel more at ease. He was usually confident when it came to sleeping with women but this was one of his best and oldest friends. There was a history there that he cherished as much as he cherished her.

“Drink?” She offered, shuffling off to the kitchen in her slippers.

“Soda, coffee, whatever. I’m easy.”

“Well I had heard that about you but I didn’t want to believe the gossip.” She quipped.

“I see my reputation precedes me. I presume that’s why I’m here.” It was half a joke and half serious.

He was curious as to whether Izzy had chosen to ask him because he slept around a little and had no problem with no strings sex. The problem was, with her, there were so many strings it was a tenuously strung web of feelings and memories. No part of this was going to be easy for him, but she had asked, and he would give her anything.

She passed him a chilled can of diet Pepsi before slouching on the sofa. She seemed comfortable with him, even in this awkward situation.

“I wouldn’t say it preceded you but I’m aware of it.” She smirked lightly.

“I do come with recommendations.” Bucky raised a sarcastic eyebrow.

She nodded, distracted, distant. The missed opportunity for a ‘your mom’ joke betrayed her nerves.

“Look, you can say no. I understand it’s not ideal. I just need someone reliable who gets me and won’t hurt me. Someone I connect with but who won’t make demands on my time or dictate to me how to live my life. You’re one of the most laid back guys I know and you’ve always looked after me, Bucky. I just need someone I can be with without any drama, you know, without any bullshit.”

Bucky felt like he was watching the scene from somewhere deep in his skull, too far behind his own eyes for him to actually be in control of his own mouth at this point. What she was asking for was virtually everything he wanted but he wanted love too. She was willing to give him almost everything he wanted other than a full-on relationship.

He decided it was as close as he was ever going to get and who knew, maybe the feelings would come for her later, just maybe she could learn to love him like he loved her. Or even part way to that and he’d be ok with it.

“I know I can, Iz, it’s just that I really cherish what we have and if this thing that we’re talking about here doesn’t work, and if it ruins our friendship I don’t know what I’d do. You and Steve, you’re everything to me. I can’t lose you, not for a few tumbles in the sack.” He was being as honest as he could without breaking his promise to himself.

“Then that’ll be one of the rules.” She said, regarding him carefully.

Bucky licked his lips absently as he thought about it. It could work, if they absolutely promised each other that their friendship came first, no matter what.

“Okay.” He said, blowing an unsteady breath out through pursed lips.

“Okay?” She jumped with anticipation.

“Yeah.” Bucky sighed right before Izzy threw herself forward to hug him.

“You’re awesome!” She breathed against his neck.

She felt different, all of a sudden. The giddy thrill of holding her with his feelings kept hidden had been replaced with the deep burn of longing. He had permission to want her now, permission to touch her more than he ever had, but yet he didn’t. They needed to set boundaries.

Pulling away, he stood up, turning his back to her as he collected himself.

“I have requirements.” Bucky said, after a few long moments of silence where they both just existed in the space, contemplating how everything was going to be different for them both after this.

“Okay,” she pulled out her phone. “Rule 1.”

“Protection. The sex always has to be safe.”

“Okay, yeah, good.” She typed quickly. “Rule 2.”

“Respect.” Bucky crossed his arms across his chest and frowned slightly as he searched for the right words. “No drunken booty calls, or making the other person feel shit for saying ‘no’. We respect each other as we always have and respect our other friends too.”

“Okay, got it.” She smiled softly.

“You do one or I’ll feel like I’m dictating.”

“Rule 3. No catching feelings.” She said after a long pause. “If it’s just sex it should be just sex. One person falling for the other will probably end in disaster so no feels and no jealousy.”

That was her first rule, no falling in love with him? Did it matter that he had already fallen for her? She said ‘no catching feelings’ but his were already caught. No matter how he looked at it, it still hurt to hear.

“Ok, in that case rule 4 should be no displays of affection. No kissing, no cuddling, no holding hands romantically, no gifts other than maybe the standard shit we’ve always done at Christmas or birthdays.” He clenched his jaw slightly. This was more difficult than he’d thought it would be. “Rule 4 supports rule 3. If there’s to be no chance of one of us catching feelings then avoiding the little things like that will help.”

“Right.” Her fingers tapped frantically over her phone screen. “Rule 5. We both have to get off. I’m about done with guys and their panda antics.” She said with a frustrated sigh.

“Panda antics?”

“You know. That joke? Why is a man like a panda? Because he eats, shoots and leaves.”

“Ohhhh, that’s witty.” Bucky smothered his smirk. “You know I’d never do that to you, right?”

“Let’s call this insurance.”

“What if I want to get you off but not myself?” He couldn’t believe he was even discussing this stuff with her.

“I suppose that’s your call.” She bit her lip thoughtfully. “Okay, so we both have to be willing to make sure we both get off, unless we choose otherwise for ourselves.”

“Okay, deal. Rule 6.” Bucky sat back down beside Izzy, the warmth of her leg against his was both comforting and alluring. “We only do this while we’re both single. And we’re up front about the people we’re seeing.” He wanted to know in advance if there was to be someone else on the scene.

“As soon as we think we might like someone we press pause.” Izzy was concentrating on getting it all down on her phone as Bucky watched her. The way she chewed the inside of her mouth, her minuscule frown. He couldn’t believe he was this close to having her.

“Rule 7?”

“Rule 7.” She mused. “We have to keep it secret.”

“Yeah, Steve would freak the fuck out!”

“Imagine the lectures? Oh god!” She laughed.

“No one is gonna understand this whole thing so yeah, keeping it to ourselves is a good call.” Bucky could do that. The only person either of them would have an issue keeping a secret from was actually Steve. It would be interesting to see if he could tell there was something going on.

“Rule 8. Just sex, no making love.” She sat back against the cushions as she wrote. “No sleepovers in the same bed either. And we should probably avoid using the word ‘love’ at all too.” She tapped her phone against her thigh as she mentally weighed the idea. “If we never say it, even to describe something, then it can never be misconstrued. Rule 3, remember?”

“Sure.” He said in absent agreement. “Define making love.”

“Oh, you know, slow and passionate, with kissing and holding each other. Staring lovingly into each other’s eyes, that sort of thing.”

“Right.” He had a significant downward turn to his excitement now. All these rules put in place just to stop either of them from catching feelings. Knowing when you were breaking rule 8 might be difficult but he supposed that if you left out the kissing and eye contact then some slow sex might get past unnoticed. “Rule 9?”

“No nudes.”

“Seriously?” Disappointment didn’t cut it.

“Seriously!” She chastised. “There’s no way I’m letting naked pictures of myself anywhere near your phone, that any one of your friends might see… Hell no!”

“What if I wanted to send but not receive?”

“You wouldn’t want to receive?”

“Well, yeah I would, but…”

“No nudes, Bucky.”

“Ahh come on, you’re breaking my balls here.”

“What would you want them for anyway?”

“You have to ask.” He laughed.

Izzy just shook her head with a bemused smile. She knew, of course she did. All guys liked to keep something to get them going with their personal time.

“Okay then, rule 10?”

The pair of them pondered in silence for a few moments.

“I got nothing.” Bucky shrugged.

“Ooooh!” Izzy twitched. “Rule 10 should be the all-encompassing friendship rule. Our friendship comes first, no matter what.”

How could he have forgotten that one? It was the thing that was most important to him. The first thing he’d said before they even started concocting rules and boundaries.

“That��s the most important thing to me, Izzy, I mean it.”

“Me too.” She smiled and squeezed his hand.

After a long pause, she read through the 10 rules they had drawn up. There were a few things that weren’t covered but they could go on for days creating red tape for themselves.

Red tape, hmm, I wonder.

“So is there anything you don’t like, or won’t try? Anything that’s a total turn off?” Bucky wanted to get some insight into the territory he’d be traversing.

“Honestly, I don’t know. I guess we just talk about it? Do the respect thing, no forcing each other and no guilt trips if one of us says no.”

“Sounds fair.” Bucky nodded. “And when exactly are you thinking we start this arrangement?”

“Whenever you’re ready.” She said calmly, like this wasn’t the most nerve racking thing he’d done since leaving the army.

Bucky just blinked. Was he ready?

Continue to chapter seven >>>

#bucky barnes x ofc #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fan fiction #bucky barnes fanfiction #friends to lovers #bucky x ofc #bucky fanfic #promises #my writing #cloudy's writing

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7-wonders · 5 years ago

Text

As Above, So Below Ch. 18

Summary: Your average, mundane life as a college student is flipped upside down when the man you thought you knew as your next-door neighbor turns out to be the God of the dead. When Michael lures you down to Hell, everything that you thought you knew about the world is proven wrong.

Word Count: 3976

A/N: You know the drill! If you enjoyed this, I would love if you left a comment or an ask. Feedback is always appreciated, like and reblog if you liked reading this. Thanks so much for supporting my little passion project!

The fire in Michael’s room is already roaring by the time he returns with you tucked safely in his arms, a sure sign that everyone in the Underworld knows about what had happened on that frozen lake of the damned. He gently sets you on the chest at the foot of his bed, darting back and forth as he attempts to find the needed supplies. Shivers wrack through you, your body already missing the heat that Michael provides you. A pile of blankets sits waiting on top of the bed, and Michael finally returns from his office with a knife.

“Gonna put me out of my misery?” You struggle to say the joke, teeth chattering hard enough to make you mildly concerned that one will crack. Michael smiles thinly, a sign that he’s trying not to make his anxiety visible.

“No, but I do need to get you out of your wet clothes, and there’s too many layers to worry about taking them off one at a time.” You nod, dipping your head slightly to allow Michael to remove your crown from your wet strands of hair.

“Why is it that I always seem to get into trouble when I’m wearing a beautiful dress?” You ponder, lamenting the loss of the masterpiece of a dress that Michael is carefully slicing off of your body.

“I’d much rather we lose the dress than lose you,” Michel mutters, tongue poking out in concentration as he works the blade through your corset. “Stand up, please.”

It takes a little effort, your legs wobbling and Michael having to support you while he also removes your now-ruined dress from your body. You��re left standing in just your undergarments, Michael holding your hands so that you can step out of them. Despite the freezing cold that has replaced the blood running through your veins, you still feel your cheeks heating up at being naked in front of Michael. It’s not like he’s never seen you naked before, but it’s still something that’s very intimate to you. Michael, however, shows no sign of being phased by your lack of clothes. He barely even glances at your body, instead walking you over to sit on the bed and starting to wrap you up in blankets. He’s dedicated in completing the task, using each and every blanket until only your face is poking through the nest that now surrounds you.

“Why can’t I just take a bath or something? I’m still wet,” you point out, nose wrinkling as your hair starts to leak through onto the blankets.

“If I warm you up too fast, it could be dangerous to your health.”

“And here I thought you wouldn’t know much about mortal ailments.”

“When you’ve lived for as long as I have, you tend to pick up a few things.” You raise an eyebrow when Michael starts to strip, ending up in the same state as you.

“Um, can I ask why you’re also taking your clothes off?” You’re determined to keep your eyes on his face and not on his sculpted body.

“Body heat is also a good way to warm someone up when they’re getting hypothermic.”

Michael slides under the covers next to you, pulling your blanket-wrapped self up against him. Even under the mountain of blankets, his warmth still radiates through to you. He hums quietly, your head feeling like it’s being rifled through in what you assume is Michael absentmindedly listening to your thoughts. You want to scold him, but you know that he likely doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. It’s a bad habit, he’s explained to you before, and he always feels really bad whenever he finally catches on that the thoughts are not his.

“I always thought you would be really cold,” you say quietly, eyes fluttering as you stare at the fire. “Imagine my surprise when I learned you’re actually a space heater.”

“Why did you assume that I would be cold?”

“The whole ‘God of the Dead’ thing. Dead people are pretty cold, so I thought you’d be the same way,” you speak through a yawn, the silence of the room and Michael’s steady breathing starting to lull you to sleep.

“Isn’t there a saying? ‘The warmer you are, the closer to Hell you are,’ or something like that?” You’re not looking at him, but you can still see the cheeky smirk he must have on his face.

“It’s about being short, not being warm.” Michael revels in your response, gently shaking you when he can sense that you’re about to fall asleep. “What the hell, Michael?”

He ignores the opportunity to make a joke. “I don’t want you to sleep until I know that your temperature is back where it’s supposed to be.”

“Damn you and your common sense.”

Without your knowledge, Michael summons a member of the staff. Cassius, the demon who had agreed to sacrifice his very existence for the sake of defeating Satan, appears. Cassius looks at Michael, as if to make sure it’s okay for him to use his powers. When Michael nods, the demon takes a very cautious glance at Michael’s thoughts to determine what he needs without either of them alerting you of his presence. The smaller man with horns and fangs disappears before returning with a small tray of what Michael had requested. Michael nods, both to thank and dismiss his loyal subject; black eyes dart to you before he transmutes out of the room.

“Are you feeling up to drinking some tea, darling mine? I would think its warmth would help to warm you up.”

“How did…” you turn your head, looking over at the tray that just seems to have magically appeared in the room. “You and your damn demon posse.”

“Here, drink.” Michael brings the steaming cup to your lips, waiting patiently until you begrudgingly start to drink it.

“You know, I can hold it myself.”

“(Y/N),” Michael says in exasperation, “I almost lost you today, for the second time. Please, just this once, let me take care of you.”

His words have you stunned into silence, and you finally nod in agreement. “Okay,” you say quietly, at a loss for words at how much this has affected him.

“I apologize for snapping at you, but you must understand how I felt when I saw the ice starting to break under your feet. Watching you fall into the lake, and being rendered helpless to rescue you, was the epitome of my worst nightmare. I have never felt fear quite like I did when I was attempting to spot you through the ice. I thought that--that you would be swept away, and lost forever. I had just gotten you back, and then it seemed like I was going to lose you all over again.”

“You were the only thing I could think of when I realized that I wouldn’t be able to find the surface,” you admit. “Out of all of the possible thoughts that could be my last, I was worried about how you were going to fare when I died.”

“I would have been a complete and utter mess.” When Michael’s satisfied with the amount of tea that you’ve drank, he sets the cup down and picks up a thermometer. “How does this thing work?”

You take it from him, swiftly uncapping it and positioning it under your tongue. The cool metal fills you with nostalgia, reminding you of trips to the nurse’s office throughout your years in school. Whether you were sick or not, that thermometer would always be a guarantee for any need, even one as simple as obtaining a painkiller. Michael’s silent while you wait for the device to beep, and you idly play with the rings that still decorate his long fingers. A shrill beep pierces the air, and Michael stares at the thermometer like it’s a foreign object.

“What’s a normal body temperature for a human?” Stifling a giggle, you read the numbers on the LED screen before putting it back on the tray it appeared on.

“Ninety eight point six-ish?”

“So is it bad that yours is ninety three?”

“Not good, but not bad. It means I’m recovering. Considering you had to revive me, it could be a lot worse.” Michael groans, pulling you closer into his arms as if to remind himself that his resuscitation efforts actually worked.

“Please don’t remind me about that.” The cheeky smile on your face falls when you hear his strangled voice. Turning your head in his grasp, you see that his eyes are shut tightly while he attempts to prevent any tears from escaping.

“Hey,” your voice grows soft as you disentangle one of your hands from the nest of blankets, using it to stroke Michael’s cheek, “stop thinking about it. I’m right here, in front of you. I’m warm...er than I was, and I’m alive and recovering and safe in your arms.”

“But you weren’t...I saw you dead…” he mutters, lost in the events that preceded your current situation.

“Michael,” you wait for him to look at you before speaking. “Look at me. What happened was not your fault.”

“It was all my fault, (Y/N). I’m the reason there’s a prophecy in the first place, and the reason why you’re stuck here. You almost died--no, you did die, all because I put you in the middle of my battle with my father.”

“Stop talking like that, or else I’ll get Madison to hold me,” you threaten sternly. “Every action has been my choice. I chose to complete the Seven Wonders and come back here, I chose to tell you that I love you, I chose to be a part of the plan that I came up with. Do not, for a single second, blame yourself for anything. I am an adult who is capable of making my own choices, which I did.”

Michael listens silently, mulling over your words as he kisses the top of your head. “I’ve never been more proud of anyone than I was of you today.”

“Lying to make me feel better.”

“No!” Michael insists, moving the blanket away from your face so he can actually see your facial features. “Not only did you handle the burden of a coronation, however fake it may have been, with dignity and grace, but you also managed to be a total...what’s the word?” He trails off, brows furrowing as he attempts to figure out what he wants to say.

“Badass?” You fill in with the only word that pops to mind.

“Yes! I don’t really know what it means, but you say it a lot and it seems to describe how you were when distracting my father.” His cheeks color a tantalizing shade of red, and you can’t help the urge to lean over and plant featherlight kisses on them.

“While I appreciate that, Michael, I highly doubt it was anything too extraordinary.”

“You undervalue yourself far too often, my love. If I ever get lucky enough for you to accept my offer, you will most certainly be the best queen the Underworld could ever have. You’re kind, and brilliant, and selfless in ways that I could never be.”

Michael, sensing your hesitation at how best to respond, places the back of his hand on your forehead.

“You seem to be warming up. Are you still feeling up for a bath?”

“A bath sounds nice.” Michael stands, and you can’t help but to admire the firmness of his ass before your eyes fly up to his face in embarrassment.

“I’ll be only a moment,” he promises. When the bathroom door closes behind him, the wistful smile on your face remains just as prevalent.

/////////////////////////////

“You’re doing much better than you were, I presume?” The garden (your garden, you suppose) that you’re sitting in is bathed in warm sunlight, courtesy of Michael giving in to your pleas to have just a couple hours of sunlight at the castle every once in a while. You tap your foot against the ground nervously, being gentle not to nudge a sleeping Cerberus and smiling politely as you sit across a small table from the Queen of the Gods herself. Violet’s dressed in what you believe is her version of casual; a beige dress that falls to her knees, accompanied by a large red cardigan.

When you woke in the morning after falling asleep in Michael’s arms, hair still wet from the warm bath, an ornately sealed letter sat on the dresser. Olympus, Michael read out loud, had learned of what had happened on Cocytus. An emergency council was to be held between the trio of main gods, with the meeting taking place in the Underworld in order to give Zeus and Poseidon the opportunity to inspect the locale where Satan was now entombed. To everyone’s surprise, Michael’s beloved sister made the trip as well, with the specific request of speaking to you privately. Needless to say, nervous would be an understatement as to how you’re feeling.

“I am, thank you. It was...frightening, to wake up on the ice and not have any clue what was happening, but I knew I was in good hands.”

“Knowing Michael, he would have personally found a way to reverse time if he hadn’t been able to bring you back to life,” Violet sips delicately at her tea. “What is it like?”

“What is what like?” You question, cocking your head slightly.

“To die, not only once, but twice?”

“Four times, technically.”

“Pardon?”

“Oh, when my body was shutting down because of the ‘nothing living can survive in the Underworld’ prophecy, my heart stopped twice once I was admitted to a hospital Above.”

Violet stares at you for a long moment, a slow smile spreading across her face. “A true warrior, then. So tell me, (Y/N), how does one feel after dying and being brought back to life multiple times?”

“I’m not the same person that I was when I was first brought here, that’s for sure,” a dry chuckle accompanies your statement as you shake your head, staring down at the milky surface of your beverage. “I don’t think that you get to die and come back the exact same as you were. You come back...wrong, in a way. Like there’s a part of you missing, or a part of you that’s changed. Maybe your soul splits into a thousand little pieces when you die, and a few of those pieces don’t get the memo that they’re supposed to return to your body. We are all, after all, made up of stardust. Our souls must, in theory, return to the stars when we die, and the most rebellious parts of it refuse to come back down on the occasion that a person is brought back to life.”

“So you believe all creatures are celestial beings?”

“With all due respect, I don’t mean to get into a theological debate.”

“No, please, I’m intrigued. I would appreciate it if you continued.” She waves her small hand in the air, signalling you to continue.

“It’s a fact that, no matter what created the universe, parts of the universe are embedded in each and every one of us. Iron, one of the most abundant metals, can only be created in the depths of a dying star. We’re not celestial beings, in that we’re not heavenly bodies or something that’s not of the world that we, as mortals, know. However, we’re celestial beings because we’re literally composed of bits of the very fabric of the universe itself.”

For all of the talking that Michael does, Violet is the opposite. Whereas Michael would have interjected to provide his own viewpoint on whatever matter he agrees or disagrees with, Violet waits until you’ve reached the conclusion of your statement before forming her own response. The differences between them are stark, but the more time you spend with Violet, the more you notice mannerisms and characteristics that remind you of the man that is now your lover. When he smiles his genuine smile, he looks just like his sister. Their eyes both contain that same twinkle of mischief, and they share the same biting wit.

“You are quite the introspective soul, (Y/N). I pity what we may have lost had death decided to fully claim you.”

“Thank you, my Lady.”

“Please, after yesterday’s events, I believe we are far past the stage of formalities.” Your eyes widen as you understand the hidden meaning in her words.

“It wasn’t a real coronation, it was just a ruse to lure Satan to us,” you explain hurriedly.

“I’m aware. Very clever, might I add. But,” her kind eyes pierce through you, to the depths of your soul, “I know there was an ulterior motive to you undertaking the tests of the Seven Wonders.”

“I wasn’t about to let the end of the world be solely my fault.”

“Admirable, of course. However, you seem to be under the impression that my dear brother does not choose to share anything that he deems to be important with me.” Your expression sours with the realization that Michael writes to his sister about his (and presumably your) love life. “You have both professed your love for each other, then?”

“I mean, yeah, but it’s a lot more complicated than that.”

“How so?”

“For starters, the fact that completing the Seven Wonders only buys me some time. I’m still very human, and I’m going to have to leave here before my body starts trying to kill me for being in the Underworld again.”

“How are you to be queen, then?”

“I’m not--I’m not sure if I’m ready to be queen, or even if I want to be queen.” You absentmindedly pet one of Cerberus’s heads, a foolproof way to help calm your rising nerves.

“What is holding you back?” You’re reminded how much of a child you truly are in the eyes of this millenia-old goddess as you avoid making eye contact and give Violet a half-hearted shrug.

“I don’t want to leave Above for the rest of time. I like being human, no matter how much I complain about it.”

“You enjoy the sorrows of a mortal life? War, famine, poverty, tragedy, sickness, and all of the other terrible occurrences that would be avoided were you to become Michael’s queen?”

“Are there not versions of suffering that the gods experience as well? I’ve learned quite a bit about all of the different wars that have been fought, either directly or indirectly by Olympians. There may not be poverty in the traditional sense, but you can be lacking in a lot of different areas. Surely, you must also feel terrible when tragedies hit mankind? I mean, Michael literally kidnapped me so that he could stop the apocalypse.

“Yes, there are bad parts to humanity, but there’s bad parts of every species. I like getting to see the comradery that happens in times of turmoil, and the activism that my generation is using to make legitimate changes in society. It’s the little things, as well, that make being human worth it. Long car drives with no set destination in mind and the music blasting, street festivals, eating ice cream on a hot summer night, watching the leaves change, the holiday season. Getting excited over a new movie coming out, re-reading a favorite book, the families that we create, hobbies that get us through a long week. To you, these may seem dumb and miniscule. To me, however, it’s what makes life worth living. I don’t want to lose that.”

Violet sits in silence, wrapped up in her mind as she thinks over what you’ve just said. You tap your fingers against the edge of the table, looking anywhere and everywhere in an attempt to not lose your mind at the thought of possibly upsetting a goddess. Maybe your little speech was too impassioned? It’s not that she offended you, but her seeming aversion to the human race was enough to send you rushing to defend your fellow humans.

“You and Michael are the definition of a juxtaposition,” she finally speaks, allowing you to let out a breath that you weren’t aware you were holding.

“Um, I don’t really see what that has to do with my defense of humanity?”

“Where Michael is dark, you are light. You smooth out his rough edges, while making him whole again at the same time. He’s rooted in reality and cynical, but you allow him to see the more fantastical, rose-tinted side of things. Yin and yang, I believe it is called?” You nod silently, letting her know she’s got it right.

“It’s nice to know that we complement each other so well, but that still doesn’t solve my dilemma.”

Violet’s pale hand is suddenly on top of yours, making you freeze in your spot. Smiling kindly in an effort to soothe the sudden rush of panic seizing your body, she stands from the table and pulls you up with her. Cerberus’s heads perk up, but he quickly dozes back off when he realizes there’s no danger. She clasps her hands in yours and, although she’s smaller than you, you feel shorter than her in this moment.

“Talk to him. Let him know that you want to be his queen, but without sacrificing your humanity in the process. Trust me, if he loves you half as much as he claims in his letters, he will find a way to make you happy. Communication is the key to a healthy relationship; that is something that I wish Tate and I knew much earlier in our time together.”

As is your signature move when faced with a rush of emotion that you don’t know how to translate into words, you wrap Violet in a hug. She seems much more familiar with the expression than Michael, returning your gesture happily.

“Thank you,” you mutter against her shoulder.

“Of course. If I am to have a ‘sister-in-law,’ as you mortals call it,” she teases, “I could not hope for a better one than you.”

“Violet!” Tate’s voice booms through the garden, alerting you both that the rendezvous is now over. “Violet, we need to be leaving soon.”

“It appears as though that is my cue,” she laments. “Do you promise that you will talk to him?”

“I will,” you nod.

“Good. Send me a letter and let me know how it goes; Hermes makes the trip from Olympus to the Underworld, and back again, daily. Give it to him and he shall know what to do with it.”

Violet kisses both of your cheeks before turning to walk through the garden and find her husband. Once they’ve both disappeared into the palace, you set off on a renewed quest to find Michael. He’s not in the throne room, nor is he in his office, which only leaves one other place that you know he frequents: the library. The library in which, arguably, you allowed your walls to come down and let Michael wedge his way into your heart.

He’s sitting on the bottom of one of the winding staircases that lead to ancient Greek texts, pensieve as he thinks about the meeting that has just transpired with the gods that are his equals. When you call his name, he tilts his head up, standing to greet you. His hands are clasped behind his back, and a smile lights up his face. It’s ironic, you note, how much the God of the Dead smiles when in your presence.

“What is it, (Y/N)? Did something happen?” Michael asks. You shake your head, taking his hands in yours in a gesture reminiscent of Violet’s, mere minutes ago.

“No. Michael, I’ve made up my mind.”

“About?”

“I want to rule beside you. I want to be your queen.”

///////////////////

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