#I am not interested in being convinced to like it again and am simply curating my space

[mewkwota]

To keep something very clear:

My Castlevania works are not related to Netflixvania at all.

I strongly dislike that adaptation, and am very uncomfortable with the thought of what I draw for this series being grouped alongside it. Moreso, I am not interested in any discussion on NFCV period, please keep that topic to your own spaces and away from mine.

While I cannot stop you from interpreting my work as you wish, I can keep you from looking at it if I were to find out.

Thanks for your understanding.

[violetasteracademic]

Hello!! I absolutely adore your posts and how well you've researched and thought everything out. I am curious what you think about Mor being Azriel's mate. I go back and forth on the question - it's a lot to tackle with Mor's sexuality and how mates are chosen etc. I feel like there's some language that could indicate they're mates, but I know it's not a popular theory in the Elriel bubble and ACOTAR fandom as a whole. It would also solve the question of "what would Azriel do if him and Elain aren't mates, but he found his mate later on?" Just curious if you have any thoughts on the matter. :)

Hello my love! First of all, I want to genuinely thank you for your kind words. I have quite a few days in this fandom where I wonder if I fit in here, but my deep enjoyment for writing theory posts and fanfics keeps me going! You caught me on a day I was sort of in my feels about it, so it was really lovely to see a kind word attached to the ask!

I am 100% a Morrigan and Azriel are Cauldron breeding mates just like L/ucien and Elain truther, and I have soooo much to get into about it and am bringing my usual receipts. I'm pretty convinced that even if she ultimately opts not to go that direction, she for sure was thinking heavily about it.

This post is EXCEPTIONALLY long (as usual) because I think Morrigan is a character that receives unjust hate in every microcosm of the fandom and some things need to be noted, and I hope you all will give it a chance even if you dislike Mor or hate this theory!

It is important to remember that every character is in fact *not* a real person, but the author. And sometimes character flaws are not intentionally curated for arcs and development, but they are author flaws. I believe this is partly the case with Morrigan. I don't spend a lot of time critiquing SJM. This is not because she is above reproach, it's simply because there are plenty of people out there doing it and there are valid spaces for that. That being said, I cannot address the Morrigan situation without addressing the very real issue of SJM and her blind spots when it comes to representation. This is something that SJM and Bloomsbury have addressed and made necessary steps to improve:

Time article published January 30th 2024, found here.

SJM has fallen into a lot of bad tropes and stereotypes when it comes to her BIPOC and LGBTQ representation, to the point where she has hired sensitivity readers to ensure she does not continue to so do. This is a great thing, and personally I think sensitivity readers should be the bare minimum and the absolute norm and not solely employed in response to criticism. Alas, it is a new addition and her past mistakes live on.

Sexuality is a spectrum, and while some people might identify with the way SJM has represented it, she had a pattern that she did not break until recently: Tokenizing sexual representation as bi characters interested in having sex with all genders and orientations without experiencing emotional attraction outside of their preferred gender.

*TOG spoiler* The Aedion bi reveal in the second to last book served literally no purpose other than- look! More representation! He had no romantic or emotionally intimate experiences with men throughout the series, but very suddenly and randomly reveals he has sex with men. It is mentioned once, then never again, because he is pursuing a heterosexual relationship. That is a valid experience with sexuality but in the context of ToG it was a brow-raising and unearned attempt to throw in an extra queer character because she was being criticized. That's a hey you tried but maybe do better next time.

But then it happened again with Helion- freely having sex and experiencing physical attraction with both men and women but only suggestions of having fallen in love with a woman, and will likely only persue a hetero relationship.

Then it happened again with Morrigan (with a slightly flipped script), who only experiences love and romance with women but freely has sex with men. Now we see a *pattern* and at this point its like, mmkay, skill issue. Even if it does feel authentic and representative to *some* readers, it is also a reflection of the authors limitations exploring emotional intimacy with her bi characters and just treating them as wanting/willing to have sex with anyone while only like liking just boys or just girls.

I bring all of this up because I am going to bring in my usual methods of comparisons, themes, development, ect- but I am typically talking about things SJM did exceptionally well. When it comes to Morrigan, I don't necessarily think she has done things all that well. But the threads are still there, and my love for Morrigan and experience with her themes live beyond an irritating skill issue on the authors part. Lets get into it.

I've made quite a few posts about the usage of the mating bond as a plot device and the development of theme. The best one to catch up on if you'd like is probably this one here.

The biggest indicators to me that Morrigan is Azriel's corrupted Cauldron (aka breeding) mate are twofold: parallel behavior between Mor and Lucien as well as the development of Morrigan's theme of her value being tied to her breeding in ACOWAR alongside the introduction of the mating bond being nothing less than a tool for powerful breeding, also for the first time in ACOWAR.

With the confirmation that the Asteri corrupted the Cauldron, along with the conversation regarding the Asteri forcing mated pairs outside of sexual orientations and not caring (*HOSAB), SJM doubled down on all of this. The Asteri need powerful offspring. They will force queer women to mate with men to do it.

Spoiler alert: Celestina does *not* prefer males. And the Asteri do not care.

CC also, in my opinion, cemented the two-bond theory. The Mother Bond (also known as Urd or Wyrd) the true soul-mated pairs, and Breeding Bond- created at the behest of the Asteri.

With breeding bonds, you can experience a sense of ownership and possessiveness over someone you are not even remotely romantically interested in:

Both Mor and L/ucien go stiff during representations of their *alleged mates interacting romantically with someone else even when there is no attraction or emotional intimacy. For L/ucien, he doesn't even know Elain. He doesn't automatically assume they will even be together, because he wants to know more about her personality and decide if they are a good fit. Honestly? Super healthy and valid.

Morrigan is having her moment during ACOFAS. She is very much out as queer (again, with some confusion of whether or not she is bi due to a skill issue on the author's end, but 100% confirmed to not be romantically interested in men) so why is she going tense at the sight of Azriel acting like a BDE husband to Elain? The unjustified and unsympathetic take (imo) is that she is being weird and jealous and wants Azriel's attention even though she doesn't want him. This makes no sense. She has actually only ever acted positively towards Elain, and before this dinner mused on Azriel giving Elain truth-teller without a shred of jealousy. But then to see them together, even though she does not want Azriel and only wishes for his happiness, she tenses, then recovers quickly. To me, both of these moments indicate a jerk reaction to the breeding bond at work.

There is also this idea of feel a pull to explore their *alleged mate just once:

L/ucien actually has already seen Elain, and although he had some immediate instinctive reactions, it didn't leave him immediately feeling like this was the woman he was supposed to be with. Alternatively, Morrigan deeply loves Azriel, just not in that way. She loves him so much that sometimes she wonders if she should try, just once, just to know for sure, even though she is not capable of falling in love with men. Both of these scenes are from ACOWAR, and tie into the way mating bonds are finally described, and how most mates feel like they should try:

Even though neither Mor or L/ucien experience romantic feelings for their mates, they feel a pull to try. They think about giving things a chance just to be sure. This is not something any of our other mates have experienced.

This passage also leads me to another important note- which is the severity of mating bond rejections. Again, all of this is in ACOWAR and thematically connects. Both Elain and Mor have very good reason to be afraid of a mating bond rejection. It can drive a male mad and make them go violently insane. We can criticize both women all day long about how they should just reject their mates and have the conversation so everyone can move on, but when this is what is on the table for them? A man possibly killing because of the power of the mating bond? That is no joke.

The only reason Morrigan slept with Helion is because she was sick and terrified over Azriel handing Eris his ass because he called her a slut. Mor has already seen Azriel act in an uncontrolled and violent manner that could not easily be stopped on her behalf. If she is afraid of what a mating bond rejection will do to Azriel, the depth and complexity of her decision, and her behavior to try to distance and avoid the conversation is a lot more sympathetic. I also believe that Morrigan, Azriel, and Elain will be doing some work together in Vallahan, and the issue of the Cauldron being wrong for both Azriel and Elain will resolve during that storyline. You can read more about that here.

And then of course, there is this:

Rhys only brings up Mor when Azriel brings up the Cauldron. That feels extremely intentional to me. I think Rhys either knows or assumes that Azriel and Mor have a mating bond. I think both Az and Mor know (I also think Azriel absolutely knows Mor is queer, and their weirdness and his constant confusion and staring at her has more to do with that than being in love with her, because he doesn't understand why she is sleeping with men at all.) Crack theory, but I think Eris knows. What happened between Mor and Eris isn't a secret, it was all revealed in ACOFAS. But I think somehow, for some reason, Eris is also aware of the mating bond between Az and Mor, which is why Morrigan gets so pissed when Eris needles her about not telling the whole truth. She isn't trying to hide what Eris did to make herself look better (he didn't do much, really, still left her to die even though he did her a solid by not accepting her as his wife) but he also knew that a Blood Duel could be called by Az over her.

Here's the thing: ACOWAR states that some courts allow men to kill each other over their mate choosing or having other partners. The bonus chapter clarifies that violence as the Blood Duel. I do not believe the Blood Duel can be called over anyone over any situation- it is specific to mates. I could be wrong, but it seems strange that Rhys would talk about outlawed violent practices that is not allowed in his court but is in others, and then we would see the Blood Duel brought up as the Autumn Court tradition, and not see them as one in the same:

Ultimately, all of these characters are grappling with their choices being affected by deeply held cultural beliefs about the mating bond.

If Azriel and Mor are breeding mates, she is struggling with genuine love for him but being unable to love him romantically. She thematically is dealing with hiding her sexuality because there is no greater dishonor to the culture of her family than a woman not being used for sale and breeding. If Azriel and Mor are mates, so much of her behavior and her themes and experiences make so much more sense. Rhysand's response to Azriel thinking the Cauldron was wrong when he has a mate in the Inner Circle whom he already loves makes more sense. Azriel knowing Mor is queer and not understanding why she sleeps with men but also not pushing her to have a conversation about their bond makes more sense.

Everything makes more sense if Az and Mor are mates.

If they are not, well, skill issue, I guess.

Either way, I truly hope Mor gets her HEA and SJM's employed sensitivity writers will help her do it justice.

How did we do? Did anyone stick with me on this one? Have I won you over? I can't wait to see what happens, however it pans out! And I'm grateful for the addition of sensitivity readers to Sarah's work. I hope she does her best to represent as well as she can!

[simplydnp]

I actually started crying when I read your recent post about unlearning shame. I'm so proud of you and happy that you're doing this 💗 I on the other hand am not as brave and unfortunately still present as a caricature of myself, or just another "cooler"person entirely. I'm in law school and I did fuckin modeling for like 3 years, I did fencing I'm so cool!! Except all those things I'm doing trying to be. Except the sport I actually love fencing. But still these are things that don't always feel authentic to me, sometimes they do - for example I am vain at times so whatever, I like academics and uni in general but don't know if I wanna do anything with law really. We'll see. None of my friends know about some of my real interests or thoughts (I don't think they would judge me I genuinely don't want to ruin my "image" or whatever I've created). Now that I'm typing it, I realize how sad that sounds. Anyway I'm not going to the dnp show, because none of my friends know I like them or would want to go. I don't,have online friends because I'm just a lurker from my carefully curated artsy blog where i dont post dnp lmao. Still, I wish you a great time and thank you for posting that! If I'm more brave in the future, I might go to another tour they might do in a few years

oh anon 🫂 god its brutal out here isn't it

the unfortunate part about all of this is that i Really care how i'm perceived. i'm very careful about how i present myself because i have this fear of being too much. that once people see enough of me, they'll leave. and it'll be my fault. so i simply have to walk that line. the loneliness of no one ever truly knowing. or them finding out too much and being left. because, historically, that's always what's happened.

it's especially hard when you have qualities that you think are neat and fun and special. and yet. you don't get to share them. you don't get to exist as if you are neat and fun and special. instead, you have to live up to this image of yourself that you've created. i've found in a lot of ways it's easier to slide into the mask of only being surface level deep. of molding myself into the 'expectation' laid upon me. goody two shoes. overachiever. loud. but it's just that, a mask. it's not real. but the part that hurts the most is that you keep waiting for someone to notice. and then they don't. and you convince yourself that you're just so good at it. but you can't make yourself the mask. even though i've tried.

you don't have to do law if you don't want to. i know it's easy for me to say, not having put money into a law degree. but i know what it's like to feel like your degree isn't really yours. you've got time. it's okay.

you're not alone in your struggle anon. i think fencing is hella cool and i hope you can find someone who you can chat with about it.

in terms of the shows, i told myself i was going. no matter what. and i knew i'd likely be going on my own. and then some of my lovely mutuals & friends here were like 👀. and i said ykw. fuck it. i have to travel anyway, why not do it across the ocean. and on top of that, some jokes turned real and now i'm going to iceland too. i understand waiting. but i know there's lots of people like you who are going to go to these shows and probably not know anyone. so if it's something you think you can handle, and it's financially possible, maybe think a little about going. i'm not sure when dnp are touring close to you, but you still have time. doing things for yourself is important. i think you'd have a lovely time. (and if you're stressed about the internal perception, no one needs to know you went, and no one there will know you. so it doesn't matter--at least, that's what i usually tell myself. they'll never see you again. so fuck it!)

best of luck, i hope we both can grow and thrive

[mister-eames]

1/? I was thinking about the whole dreamshare business & how interesting it is cos while you have the likes of Arthur & Cobb who would consider themselves “gentlemen thieves” & believe in things like “honor amongst thieves” etc, obvs not everyone in the industry is gonna be like that. They’re criminals, after all, so you’re gonna have people with a complete lack of morals, people who are power hungry, or jealous of competition or who are simply willing to screw others over for the right price...

2/? So I was like: how do you even navigate an industry like that? ESP when you’re starting off. It's gotta be a whole lot of trial & error when it comes to finding out who's trustworthy, who you’d be willing to work with again & who you’re gonna avoid like the plague. & then I was like how fun would it be if when you didn't know your other teammates well you literally just went by your role. Noone would know the others' names; you'd literally just be The Extractor, The Chemist, The Architect 3/? And then i was thinking the dreamshare business is DEFINITELY a gossipy lot. Because there's gotta be so much secrecy, rumours have gotta run abound (especially if you start making a name for yourself...whether in a good capacity or a bad one.) And then I was like how do I make this about Arthur and Eames? Imagine before you met your Pointman for the first time all you know about them are these rumours you've heard: "A buzzkill," "part ninja", "quiet", "he's like medusa, one look and you're 5/5 walls the other has built around them and form their own opinions... Idk, i just love the idea of them being constantly surprised by one another. And also! Yes! I stan the idea of Arthur as having a great sense of humour too!

------

Nonnie, my darling, it appears that tumblr ate the 4th part of your ask :( :( im so sorry about that, and just as I was getting so SO into it too, damn you tumblr!!! I think I can extrapolate a little where you were going with it though <3 --- I am OBSESSED with the idea of dreamsharers being a gossipy, busybody bunch - personal knowledge must be worth a lot, anything from someones real name down to their favourite colour or preferred detergent. And the rumours that must get born and mutated through the proverbial phone tree. Not just from other dreamsharers, but little white lies Arthur and Eames must have told about themselves a) to muddy the waters on any truth about them and b) to weed out who can and who can't be trusted with 'sensitive' information. And the idea that their love story is obtaining pieces and putting each other together like a jigsaw puzzle is beautiful, never having the most complete picture, but delighted by every piece they find.

Also "like Medusa" lmaoooo oh my god I want a fic of Arthurian tall tales

Arthurs having a great sense of humour, no matter how it's written, is my favourite thing. I mean, in canon we only ever get to see him 'at work', right, where it's his job to sort of curate the fun and dose out the reality checks, but even then we sort of see a couple of cracks - the most notable being 'worth a shot' aha. And outside of work? Arthur is a fucking hoot. Under that serious facade is a playful man with a face made for smiling, for silliness. It's what makes him balanced, as a character and I cannot be paid any sum to be convinced otherwise. I think one of my fave illustrations of this, of many, is HGTV verse where Eames legitimately finds Arthur breathtakingly hilarious and no one else in their work life 'gets' why. That's how I think of Arthur and Eames in canon - as having a language of inside jokes and wry, odd, weirdo sense of humour that you have to untangle and decode to begin to 'get', as with any good relationship and/or friendship. "Merry chase" is an old joke, the words so specific I can't help but believe they're born of history and hilarity, recycled between them so often throughout the years it still makes them grin.

[isbraveandwild]

A lot of words to say, in short, that I’m a bad friend.

After what must’ve been some good year and a half, I checked into my Avistaz account again. I wanted to watch a Japanese movie based on a book I read earlier this month and couldn’t find it anywhere (legally) so I had to crumble to my old piracy habits. Nice movie, nice book. Some things I wasn’t a big fan of, but overall, nice watch.

That was not the only thing I did for the first time in some good year and a half this week. Just two days before I had a dream with an old internet friend of mine. I woke up and thought ‘holy shit, I should check into her’ and so I did. Had to download discord again, and after some struggle figuring out my login and password, there I was. First thing I did back in that hell of a .. whatever it is .. was leaving all my servers and deleting all the messages sent in the time I was not around. Did not concern me in the year I was away, does not concern me now. I looked for the server my friend and I had and that was gone too, before I could get my hands in it. I get it, I dipped, no one was using it, but it made me sad.

Whatever. So, I messaged that friend I dreamed with. It took maybe 15 minutes for her to reply. That was nice. Maybe I should check into all the internet friends I ghosted, huh? Logged into twitter for the first time in almost 2 years. My timeline looked like a fever dream.

I couldn’t recognize a single one of them. Different profile pictures, different interests, different names. I didn’t say anything. Took the first hour or so to go through all of their accounts trying to pick up on cues of their old selves in the haze of their new personas. Some I could link to my old friends; some I had no clue. It was a fruitless task, so at some point I gave up and just tweeted it out. Does any store have ‘sorry I disappeared for 2 years and no longer recognize any of you, how are you guys doing?’ cards?

Some reintroduced themselves to me so I could figure out the rest too. I can’t pinpoint who’s missing, but I also don’t think they’re all there. But I’m sorry to repeat myself and also to sound this cold: did not concern me in the (2) year(s) I was away, does not concern me now.

That friend, the dream one, was my closest friend for some two years. Talking to her again was natural, but it felt different. We changed a lot on the course of our friendship (we were 17 when we met and we’re 23 now) but we were together to witness those changes as it happened. With me deciding on taking an impromptu sabbatical year off of the internet, there’s a lot I missed. When we’re talking and the conversation nears a dead end, I panic. Come up with the first thing I can possibly think off. Preferably related to one of her interests so it gets her to talk and me to simply answer. I’m afraid she notices I’m having a hard time talking and thinks I’m sucking up to her or not being genuine. Maybe I am not. But I do want to talk to her. I do want to listen to her. I just am trying to figure out how.

When I was 3, or maybe 4, I befriended a girl at school. She was the sun of my solar system, and I revolved around her for almost 20 years Carefully crafted my personality so she’d like me, curated all my interests so she’d think I’m col, heck, I even convinced my parents to send me to the same super expensive high school she was going to attend once we graduated middle school. In return, I was maybe her closest friend for a while, and of course I was, because who wouldn’t want around someone whose personality is basically adoring you? She liked having her ego stroked, and I had no self-respect, so I was the ideal sidekick.

One day she said something... bad. I was sleeping over at her house. We had just started uni together (of course). I was still revolving around her clueless and careless of anything else. Then she blurted out something I would not dare to repeat and could not bother to explain the context of, but imagine something along the lines ‘but Palpatine isn’t that bad’ if you were a jedi or ‘Voldemort isn’t even that fascist!’ if you were Hermione (sorry for the Harry Potter ref in god damned 2023, couldn’t think of anything else). I couldn’t argue with her because I was so taken aback, and so surprised too. I laughed it off and said I was tired so I was gonna go sleep already. We turned off the lights. I cried myself to sleep.

You see, I was obsessed with this girl. So that was hard to deal with. I thought maybe I had misheard it. Maybe I was going insane. Maybe she didn’t mean it like that. But for the next few years, every now and then she would say something of the sorts - and it was always when it was just the two of us. One day she slipped in in front of another of our friends. When I went out with this specific girl again, just us two, she brought up the incident. So you heard that too?!

It took 4 years between that first comment until we last talked for the last time (her birthday, last year), so when the fall out came around, I was already over it. It was like saying goodbye to something already long gone. Totally over it, yeah, but just this month I cried in the middle of the night because the thought of that kid I loved so much thinking I’d grow up to leave her behind without a care for it made me feel like my heart was ripped out of my chest. She was once an extension of my own self as much as I was her shadow. Now she is nothing. I don’t miss her current self, wouldn’t change a thing about our friendship going sour. And I am well aware our relationship dynamics was never great. But, gods, I miss that little girl. Maybe as much as I miss the little girl I was.

Tomorrow is my last break day before the term starts and on the very first day of this break, I told myself I would talk with two other friends about why the actual hell things were so weird between us. Of course, I did not do that. I had been wanting too for longer than the break, but I did not need the added stress, so I waited until my classes were over. Then they were, but my friends weren’t, so I thought out of respect I should wait for them as well. Then theirs were, but stuff was heavy for them in other areas, and I did not want to bother, then....

At what point consideration stops being that and starts being excuses?

I have tomorrow still. Maybe I will text them. Maybe I won’t. Regardless of what I do, I will regret it. Life for me is none but a bunch of regrets piled up on top of the other and I’m fine with that. Or whatever.

[snifflesthemouse]

Those reports about the body guards and background reports...

Before I get started... prepare yourself for story time! I first must tell you this story for you to understand why I am saying what I am going to say. Please read the story first... here goes.

When you are in active addiction, you will do whatever it takes to keep well. Your entire life goes from being somewhat normal to being entirely consumed by the habit of using drugs. The thing is, however, is the routine becomes just as addictive.

And sometimes, you will find yourself thinking of scenarios that bring you closer to your goals. One day, my ex decided we could get entirely new prescriptions for my mom (decades ago) if we could prove the pre-written scripts and medications were destroyed. My ex came up with an idea.

He took the lock box that kept my mother's medications outside and burned the entire box in a fire pit. He knew that wouldn't be enough to prove a fire, so he set the rest of the room on fire. Then, he called the cops.

You see, the ex knew the house I grew up in was very old and a bit ran down. My dad worked every day of his life, and he did his best. I am grateful for what he provided, even if my ex tried to torch it. This isn't about that, though.

Where my dad worked out of the same exact location as the local police department, they knew my father's character. They didn't know much of my ex - other than him being a felon.

The combination of the house being ran down and the police knowing my father allowed for the ruse to work.

My ex managed to convince everyone that an electrical fire took place. DId it? No. DId anyone really investigate it? No. That's why the plan even worked.

I tell you all of that to tell you all of this.

Nothing, and I mean nothing, is what it seems with people like that. People like my ex - people like Harry and Meghan- do not operate in the realm of transparency. It's always on purpose.

If you are reading a story about something, it is because they want and need you to be reading it. There is hardly anything out there that is out of their control. If you are reading it from the media, it was curated for your consumption.

Which begs the question...

Why are we now reading about the issues in their own security?

The answer could be surprising. But, I suspect it has to do with money or trying to persuade a reunification of sorts.

My honest opinion is they'll start slowly throwing HMTQ under the bus more and more to deflect from PC flubbing his future role. Then, they'll try to wiggle back into the entire fold as a supporting role once Nan is gone. They'll need the BRF more in the future than they do now.

Time reduccs the relevancy quotient. People have short attention spans. They plan on it.

Just like how they use these authors of Funding Freebies to say things about the birth of Archie.

They never can keep their stories straight, can they?

Then again, if the only thing I had to keep me rich and famous to fuel my addiction to power and greed was to fake using the services of surrogates... I would be a bit messy, too.

The more time goes on, the more it seems like every single thing about those children were fabricated to make it look like they were fabricated. They knew they'd leave the BRF before she joined it, so they secured relevancy by keeping us all chatting.

Think about it. What better way to keep everyone interested by pulling a Bey? Even that isn't original.

Imitation is the best form of flattery. Look at the people being copied, and you can see who the person really is.

You see, it's not that they are copying others. It is they see themselves in others instead. So, to them, they aren't copying the Obamas, the Obamas are simply on the same page as they are.

Catch the drift?

My ex didn't simply burn the lock box. He had to make it look real to get what he wanted back then. He had to scorch the whole house.

We have to stop looking at things in a causal way with them because they're not regular people.

So think about what Meghan really wants. What Harry really wants.

They want people to fawn over them and copy them. Just like they fawn over and copy those people they obsess over. But remember, they're on the same page now.

BUT, it's not enough to have one trajectory. Anything can happen. Therefore, you stick several stokes in several fires, remember?

So, expect and anticipate several pieces in the press that suggest Harry's paranoia led to bad decisions regarding the security. Which brings me back to the whole point of this post and why I told you the story of the fire.

They are lining up their story. They are setting the crime scene. Therefore, we can see what they want the outcome to be. UN meetings, showing up places, popping in with Oprah (Even as her dad is now gone)... they're trying to send a message to the BRF that people will still pay for them. Yet, that isn't it still.

The answer for what crime scene is being staged goes back to what they really want. If they want to be the Obamas, it would seem that everything they've done so far makes sense. But if MM wanted to be president, why would she marry a Prince and not an American political family member?

No, Meghan wants something more than all that. Attention. Fame. Good or bad, it's what she's addicted to. That duper's delight. That scam pulling in broad day light. Her success is outsmarting people, and her endgame is getting enough power to blot out her critics.

Her endgoal is her.

If it were anything else, she'd already be making money for those things by now.

If you want to see what really matters to someone, see where they spend the most money.

Harry is his wife in male form, people.

So, expect more threat pieces. More slanderous pieces about H and his past. H being racist trending was no accident. She is fire stoking. I even expect a piece reminding us of his volatile nature and anger issues.

I fear the War of the Sussexes is fastly approaching us... they're already torching the lock box.

[realcube]

The Maid Café || Saiki K x Reader

summary: nendou and kaidou keep pestering saiki to visit their favourite maid café but he shuts them down every time. however, after a bit of prying they manage to convince him to give the place a try and while they are there, you just so happen to be on shift. 

tw// cussing, maid café, (she/her) reader

key:

“non italicised text” = somebody besides Saiki speaking

“italicised text” = Saiki telepathically communicating

‘italised text’ = Saiki’s thought

‘Of course Nendou and Kaidou would be into maid cafés of all things — not cat cafés, not internet cafés — it just had to be maid cafés.’  

Saiki’s internal monologue began as Kaidou continued gushing on about the cute lady he met at the café a few days ago as an argument to why Saiki should join them next time they go. Not to say Saiki wasn’t listening as he felt extremely sorry for whatever lady had to tolerate Kaidou’s advances and his prayer went out to her but besides that, he really couldn’t care less about the maids or the café. 

Until, his attention was involuntarily aroused at the vocalisation of his name from Nendou, “Saiki’s definitely in for Friday, I’m pretty sure I sold him when I told him that the sandwiches there are almost as good as the ramen we usually get.”

‘No, you didn’t. I won’t be coming to join you on Friday. I’d much rather stay--’ 

Somehow Kaidou managed to cut off Saiki’s internal monologue with his annoying voice, “Don’t be silly, Nendou. You’re not going to win Saiki over with such a ridiculous comparison, one that he clearly doesn’t care about.” 

‘Am I delusional? Is this a hallucination? Or did Kaidou just say something logical and based in reality?’

Kaidou’s aura immediately changed to dark and sinister as a mischievous smirk crossed his face, the background squawks of the crows suddenly became much louder for some unknown reason. “Instead, you must locate your opponent's weak point before you can recognise the crucially important moment to exploit it. The process takes patience but it is one I have learned from my many years rebelling against Dark Reunion. Now, young Nendou, watch and learn.” He finished with a dramatic flip of his school jacket which was slung over his shoulders as a cape.

‘What was all that about?’

Saiki wondered before Kaidou turned to him, much less brooding than he was a few seconds ago, and said casually, “Your loss if you don’t come, Saiki — you’ll be the one missing out on some of the best desserts in our whole town — not to mention the coffee jelly.”

✿✿✿✿✿

‘How do I always end up losing to these people? I am a psychic for god’s sake!’

Saiki mentally cursed himself out as he stood shamefully in front of the maid café, wearing a carefully curated outfit — including his germanium ring  — created especially to hide his identity from anyone from his school that might pass by the café and spot him in there through the window or something. Honestly, he wouldn’t be caught dead in a maid café, or so he thought.

However, all the reviews he read along with both Nendou and Kaidou’s thoughts helped him conclude that this place’s coffee jelly and general dessert selection is nothing to sneeze at. In fact, his favourite Tumblr blog - DeadlyDesserts11037 - visited the place and gave it a 5 star review, recommending everybody who happens to pass by the town to definitely check the place out. After that, he was sold.

Saiki looked over at his friends and couldn’t help but facepalm in response to their bright red, thrilled expressions. “Good grief, please don’t tell me you are both that excited over ladies in maid outfits.” As you might’ve guessed, Saiki didn’t really understand the concept of a ‘maid café’, so he simply assumed the male obsession with maids had something to do with the objectification of women hence he obviously did not want to take part.

“Saiki, you’re seriously just built different if this doesn’t touch your soul.” They both brushed the pink-haired boy’s comment off, completely mesmerised by the sight of a particularly pretty maid-lady walking by the window — probably on her way to serve a table — carrying a notepad in one hand and a plate with a scrumptious-looking coffee jelly on top. 

Saiki followed their gaze, his breath hitching at the sight. He was speechless; no sarcastic comment, no running commentary, nothing. Just..woah! If he had known that the girls that work at this place were so gorgeous and the food looked so delicious, he would’ve came a long time ago.

He wasn’t even sure which one he wanted more; the girl or the jelly. In a way, one wasn’t complete without the other because the coffee jelly which she held high next to her head brought out her (E/C) eyes while her shapely figure highlighted the defined curves of the jelly. Drool was quick to start forming at the corners of his lips but he was even quicker to wipe it away; he was starving.

“We’re going in.”

✿✿✿✿✿

To Saiki’s dismay, it was not the stunning (H/C)-haired girl who he had caught a glimpse of through the glass that ushered them to their table. Rather, it was a slightly less gorgeous maid-lady who had long, bright purple hair which was clearly a wig. 

Fortunately for him, after she left Kadiou, Nendou and himself to take their seats, she rushed off saying that someone will come take their orders whenever they are ready.

Even with his psychic abilities, there wasn’t much he could think of to alter fate so the pretty coffee-jelly lady would end up serving their table, and besides that, he was way too caught up in gawking at all the mouth-watering desserts they had pictured on the menu. 

Simply glancing over the menu brought a stupid grin to his face, he wanted to try every delectable treat presented in front of him. However, he knew he must exhibit restraint, which was fairly simple as he knew deep down there was only one thing on the menu that he was truly after. You guessed it  — coffee jelly.

Usually, he couldn’t care less about what his friends comrades were going to order but in this case, he was tempted to try convince both Kaidou and Nendou to order something he liked so he could take a bite of whatever they were having, “What are you two going to order?”

Yet again though, he was ignored as Nendou and Kaidou were both too busy checking out other types of snacks to care about the ones on the menu. 

Then, a movement out of the corner of his eyes caught his attention so his head jolted from the menu to his new target, the beautiful girl he had saw through the window earlier. Previously, she was holding a coffee jelly but now she was basically empty handed, until she approached the table and pulled out a notepad and pen, “May I take your orders?” She asked in the most calming, melodious voice Saiki had ever heard, the sounds that left her mouth were nothing short of angelic. Which made sense since her serving their table must’ve been god’s gift to Saiki for all his hard work.

Chills, Saiki got literal chills before he mused, “A coffee jelly, and two brownies for the pair of clowns.” His blood ran cold; curse his smooth sarcastic comments! Most of the time, he was able to filter himself but due to the nerves that arose while talking to you, he probably shouldn’t be surprised that he had a little slip of the tongue. But now, you probably think he is a bitch that insults people on the regular; which he is, but not usually aloud! Plus, he couldn’t even tell what you were thinking due to his germanium ring and your distant expression, awful combo!

While he was in the middle of feeling bad for himself and considering teleporting away home, a miracle happened, you burst out laughing. And somehow, your laughter was even more silvery than your voice. 

Saiki had zoned-out from pure shock for a moment before coming back to reality, noticing that you had started jotting down something in your notepad, a sweet smile still lingering on your face despite the fact you had stopped laughing. “Alright, so one coffee jelly and two brownies. Anything else?” You asked, glancing back and forth between the three equally unique and strange men sitting at the table. 

“That’ll be all, thank you.” Saiki telepathically communicated as he usually did, considering actually using his mouth to speak for a change so he didn’t seem weird but in all honesty, he couldn’t be bothered. In any other situation, he would’ve gotten a drink of water or perhaps hot cocoa but right now he was way too afraid of making another error in his speech to request something else. 

Silently, he extended his arm to hand you the menu he was given when he entered the café, along with the ones Kaidou and Nendou were given too. His actions single-handedly shooting down your plan of leaning across the table to ‘take the menus’ but in reality it is just a subtle way of showing-off how nice your torso looked in this maid outfit, a trick you learned from your supervisor. 

You nodded, closing over your notepad and making your way over to the kitchen, being sure to swing your hips just a little bit extra to impress the pink-haired megane at the table you just took an order from. You mentally cursed your stupid brain though for always crushing on guys/gals who don’t seem the least bit interested in you. In this case, the guy’s attention was divided between his star-struck friends and the desserts on the menu, rather than you which was an unusual sight in a maid café considering that most people would only come to ogle at the waitresses. 

✿✿✿✿✿

“So, Saiki.” Kaidou finally landed back into reality after a large chunk of the waitresses roaming around were now in the kitchen which he didn’t have viewing access to, “What did you order us?”

‘So, he was fully aware that the waitress came to take his order, he just chose to ignore her and left me to order his food. What a child, it must be a side-effect of his eighth grade syndrome.’

Saiki couldn’t help but sigh, “I ordered you both brownies.”

Kaidou stuck out his bottom lip to form a pout as he crossed his arm over his chest like a toddler, “I hate brownies.” He muttered to himself, realising that if he wanted something done right, he’d have to do it himself.

An amused smirk tugged at Saiki’s lips but he resisted the urge to laugh, ‘I know.’ He thought, his masterplan to eat more food without looking greedy falling into place. “Oh well, more for me then.”

Suddenly, Nendou spun his head around to abruptly join the conversation, “Hey guys, did you see the hottie that was serving our table?” He inquired with starry eyes, as if he was a kid in a candy store.

Saiki nodded, ‘Obviously I did, you moron. I was the one who ordered the food for goodness’ sake!’

Kaidou shook his head, his eyes lighting up as he leaned in close to Nendou, “Nope! I was busy looking at the other girls, but tell us!” 

Nendou chuckled at Kaidou’s enthusiastic reaction before glancing to the side, outstretching his arm and pointing at the waitress that was now approaching the table with the food in her hands. “There she is!”

‘Don’t point at her, you idiot!’ Saiki mentally insulted his friend but instinctively followed the guidance of the tip of his finger until his eyes landed on your shapely figure — accentuated by the nature of the maid outfit  — slowly heading toward his table, holding the coffee jelly and the plate of brownies in the same graceful way you did when he saw you through the window. 

The gleam of your gorgeous hair, the movement of your luscious lashes, the gentle bounce of your upper body, how your perfectly manicured nails clutched the base of the jelly glass; everything about what he was seeing made him believe that if/when he were to die, this would be his ideal first sight as he passed through the gates of heaven. 

Before he knew it, you had reached the table and placed his jelly down on the table, gently nudging it towards him, “One coffee jelly for the cute boy with antennas.” You mused, making Saiki’s heart flutter in a way he was unfamiliar with. Then, you placed the brownies in front of Kaidou and Nednou who sat opposite from Saiki, “And two brownies for the clowns.” 

If it wasn’t for the fact the pair of clowns were too busy leching over you in your maid outfit, they’d probably be curious as to your choice of words but luckily for both you and Saiki, they were way to entranced by your visible bra strap to care about the little nickname.

Saiki felt a light blush creep onto his face, which only got worse as you discretely sent him a playful wink before turning on your heels to stroll back to the kitchen, “If you need anything else, just give me a wave.” 

All of them hummed agreement in unison until the waitress was out of sight, giving Saiki a moment to process the events that had just went down. Not only did you refer to him as ‘the cute boy with antennas’ but you also winked at him, if that wasn’t a clear sign you were interested, what was? However, Saiki still had his doubts since this was a maid café after all, perhaps you were just trained to do that with all your customers.

Luckily, the had the foresight to slip off his germanium ring to read your mind and that helped him come to the conclusion that you were either interested in him or you were just very competitive as the whole time you were serving the table your thoughts were along the lines of;

‘I’ll adjust my skirt- Ha! You looked! Try resist falling for me now, you hot lil’ megane! Your heart is mine and I know it! See, I’ll fidget with my corset too-- just make a move already, pinkie!’

Although he didn’t appreciate being called ‘pinkie’, he had no right to judge what was going on in your brain. All he could do is be thankful that you didn’t say that aloud.

✿✿✿✿✿

You sighed as you noticed the pink-haired boy and his little posy exit the establishment without so much as a goodbye, or even a wave! 

It was disappointing as you had already mentally planned your future with this guy and he had the audacity to do the real life equivalent of leaving you on read. But oh well, it would be approximately a week until you developed a crush on a random customer that lasts for around 30 minutes and for the time being, you can focus on doing your job.

You glumly shuffled over to their table to gather their plates to be washed, then a piece of colourful paper attached to the empty jelly glass caught your eye. As you held up the glass to inspect it further, you realised that it was a sticky note with a message written on it in black ink and neat, cursive handwriting. It read:

‘Dearest waitress,

Thank you for the excellent service, we (myself) tipped accordingly.’

You hadn’t finished reading yet but you were curious as to what he meant by that, and apparently you service must’ve been exceptional as the writer had left a whole ¥2000 tip. That’s a huge addition to the demonia fund.  

Followed by this charming little message was an extra tip for you; the writer’s phone number! Meaning that this little sticky note was something you had to protect with your life..so you shoved it in your bra for safe-keeping. 

But not before taking a moment to giggle with delight at who the note was signed by, 

‘Sincerely, the hot lil’ megane (aka Kusuo Saiki)’ 

[alpaca-writes]

I have this habit of being very detailed in writing- hopefully not too much that it bores anyone to death. Personally, I love detailing OC's and as many aspects of them as I can before exposing these poor things to pain- almost like a slow-burn for torture, I suppose?

But then it occurs to me as well that maybe I'm just writing a normal story, with villians and heroes and anti-heroes but with more emphasis on the pains they go through.

Oh well, here is my newest creation-

CW: None quite yet. Some strong language, I suppose

MYSTICS

CHAPTER ONE: A NEW JOB

Lyrem Nomadus busied himself, flipping through resumes that bored him half to death and then a little more. Usually, he wouldn’t dare to look for anyone to share his space with. The business of curating, refurbishing and selling occultic items was dreadfully interesting to the general public and the last thing he was looking for was someone new to devalue it with their own useless knowledge and presumed ‘psychic’ abilities. The last two days were full of just that. He pinched the bridge of his wide nose as a mild headache came on- the last interview was a particularly painful thought.

A young man, with a heavily freckled, pale face, and round framed glasses poured over his collection of rocks near the front entrance, started spouting nonsense that Lyrem had little patience for.

“Ooh, malachite. I heard that stuff’s toxic, y’know,” he spoke with little regard for Lyrem standing near the cash register- an old charcoal grey thing with large buttons and made a noise like a classic ‘ka-ching’ just before the receipts printed out and the drawer popped open.

“Hm,” Lyrem hummed unamused, hoping it would prompt some style of professionalism from his prospective interviewee. It did not.

The young man continued to look around the store, finding one hematite pendulum specifically fascinating. Then he found his attention drawn to a display of elegantly designed tarot cards. The young man picked one of them up, studying the hierophant with mild interest.

“Please do not touch the merchandise.” Lyrem cut in.

The young man placed the card back down on the glass shelf, slightly askew to the rest on display. He cleared his throat and approached the register, finally.

“Did you bring a copy of your resume?” Lyrem asked him, knowing what the answer likely was, as there was nothing in his hands. He wore a long black trench coat over ratted, torn jeans and a plain tee shirt. There was one chain dangling from a pocket somewhere.

“Yessir,” he answered.

Oh, perhaps this boy had a hope after all.

After reaching into his back pants pocket with effort, the resume was presented, folded into six sections as a single piece of paper. A folded and clearly used napkin fell out onto the floor. Lyrem breathed deeply, took the folded resume, and smiled.

“Thank you for applying, but I am afraid you are not quite the right fit for this position,” Lyrem didn’t bother opening the paper, and instead tossed it over his own shoulder. It landed directly into the bin behind him.

“I-I’m sorry? You haven’t interviewed me yet”- his eyes widened with the confusion of the sudden rejection.

“Hm. I have interviewed you plenty, and I tell you now, I’d have a mangey dog run my store before you.” He didn’t mean for his tone to be so casual. Lyrem blinked.

The poor boy took a moment to process the insult before glaring across at the owner of Mystics ruthlessly. Suddenly, his fist pounded the desk, sending a short tremor through the wood.

“Anybody with half a brain could do this job! For fuck sake’s, man!”

Lyrem looked at him with a simple eyebrow raised and cocked his head toward the door. He was tired these days. The less he chose to care about children’s tantrums, the better. The boy left in a huff, and clearly, he tried slamming the jingling door behind him as he stepped out onto the street, but the spring against the top disallowed such havoc, and bounced slowly back. It closed finally with a light click, and the young man was gone.

Releasing the pinch from his nose, Lyrem sighed. He didn’t know which one was worse, that boy who left a trail of disrespect in his wake, or the woman from the previous day who was convinced that she could speak with his mother in the afterlife. The sullen woman wore gems aplenty on her fingers and hanging from ropes and chains around her neck. The wire wrapped amethysts in particular, caused her to look like an easter egg more than a living person. She didn’t take it too kindly when he explained that the stones around her finger were not a genuine turquoise either. By the end of it all, she was rather happy to be finished.

He shuddered, remembering the strong scent of patchouli she left that seemed to linger within his store, even now.. He didn’t have an aversion to patchouli, or to amethyst or turquoise, or even easter eggs… at least he hadn’t one before two days ago.

The rest of the applicants were all the same. Wanted a job, wanted something easy, and for experience- and all the time, Lyrem would ask himself: “experience for what, exactly?” Instead of asking the question aloud, he’d thank the person, and politely send them on their way out, with a promise to call them when he had made a decision.

He wasn’t planning to call anyone.

It was a Tuesday afternoon. The streets would be bustling past four, and if he wanted to avoid it and give himself a break from the eye strain, he would need to go for his coffee now, or not have one until after six. The horror.

He flipped over the sign on the door. It was one of those apologetic ones- as though it would stop a person from throwing a brick through a window for being closed on a weekday. Lyrem locked the door and turned to his right. There was a small local place not far from the corner of the intersection that he had grown accustomed to. If they had the raspberry scones today, he decided he may take one of those as a treat. Lost in thought, he crossed in front of a small white car making its left turn. The car stopped, though no horn was sounded as the engine suddenly died inexplicably next to him.

Lyrem walked around the car and poked his head through the passenger-side window which was open for the cool breeze. The driver looked back at him, his hands gripping the wheel too tightly.

“Pedestrians have the right of way, you know,” he mentioned calmly. Then, he tapped the top of the car twice. It restarted. “Drive a little safer, now.”

The driver suddenly remembered that the car was still in gear, and he moved along, crossing the intersection and left Lyrem behind like everything he had just done was part of some fever dream. He chuckled lightly and turned back down the block.

It was a sun-filled day, without a cloud in the sky, and it was a warm one too. Despite the fact that it was still early April, and the city had only just started waking from its hibernation from the cold, the streets were filling quickly with people.

His coffee took a while, which he forgave only because the end result was quite often a perfection, but he was nearly pouting at the counter as the spot for raspberry scones were replaced with one with blueberries instead. Losing his appetite, his eyes drifted around the rustic establishment. The sounds of a classical guitar filled the room with the unmistakable talents of the virtuoso, Andrés Segovia. It was a nice change from the sounds of folk rock and boy bands. The coffee shop was only getting better and better with age, it seemed.

Against the wall, a cork board was decorated in haphazardly placed notes. Some notes were simply inspirational or funny, some were searching for students for taekwondo or guitar, advertisements for plays and musicals at the local theatre were spread along the outer edges begging to be noticed, and there were a few job postings as well from other nearby establishments, restaurants, including one from a pet store.

He shouldn’t have tried putting an ad on Kijiji at all- not when the perfect people were right here all along. Like Icarus, Lyrem flew too close to the sun, and was burned by the troubling rays of stupidity that came through his door from delving into the ruddy depths of online job hunting. Never again would he make such a mistake.

“Lyre!”

Nodding, he retrieved his cup, and turned back toward the door. He nearly collided with another person, standing close up to the cork board and huffed, not spilling a drop.

“Excuse me,” he muttered.

“Apologies.” The person gave him little notice, but moved off to the side with ease to allow him through.

He furrowed his brows. What was it that was causing him to pause just before reaching the door? There was just… something… off.

It took him a moment before hearing it- the faintest humming to Segovia’s España, Spanish Dance No.10 in G coming from the person who apologized to him for being in the way. Each note timed perfectly to the sound from the speakers in the corner. He turned his head, to a particularly high note, the humming stopped to be replaced with fingers tapping in unison to the notes against their thigh.

“Guitar?” He asked, suddenly beside them. He studied the board also.

“No,” they replied. “Just looking for a job.”

He nodded, grimacing. Raising his hopes one final time, he ventured.

“I have potential work for you. I am hiring at my store’s location down the street. If you are interested.”

“That seems coincidental.” They replied unemphatically sifting through the other job postings there, knowing they were not currently dressed for success. “What store?”

“Mystics. It’s along twenty-third and”-

“-seventeenth, yes, I know the place.”

“Then you’re hired.”

They stopped, and brought their hands down from the board, and turned to stare their deep brown eyes into his of deep hazel- to finally spare a glance to the person wanting their attention.

“I don’t have time for practical jokes- or human trafficking, for that matter,” they said with insistence.

“I’m not joking, and I am definitely not in the business of human trafficking”- Lyrem stuttered incredulously. “I thought you said you knew the place.”

“I do.” They replied. “I’ve just never been in. It’s just one of those ridiculous shops for people to waste their money on colourful rocks. There’s literally a river just under the bridge half a mile from here- infinite supply for none of the coin.”

Taking them by surprise, he laughed.

“You will be the worst salesperson.” He said. More seriously, he added, “look, I really am in need of a person to take care of a few evening shifts and the weekends, I pay well above the average rate for any local retail store, and I’d be able to supply you with health benefits.”

This sudden bargain seemed to be interesting enough for the person to distance themselves from the cork board.

“I’m still finishing high school- under eighteen- is that a problem?” They asked. “It’s been a problem everywhere else”-

“Not a problem.”

They nodded.

“When do I start?”

[cockasinthebird]

ahhh grats on the milestone!! also holy shit youve got 500 prompts stored away somewhere??? im gonna go with my favourite number combo..... 317 👀 im super excited to see what you come up with!! 💖 -bbsitterpng

@babysitterpng  Thank you so much!!! And yes, 500 goddamn prompts, all carefully curated, only the best for my beloved mutuals and followers!!

I got SO ELATED when I saw that you sent me a mystery prompt request!!!! ❤️💕 I would have finished it yesterday, but I got uhhh distracted 😏😏😏

317. “I think you’ll be happy to know I’m not wearing any underwear.”

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again and again and again; I knew exactly what I wanted to write for this immediately, and while I worry the exposition seems too rushed, I am very satisfied with the rest, all near 4k words!

So please, enjoy~

-

Today has been a long day that started when the sun had barely found its place in the sky.

Neil was beating at his bedroom door, asking why it’s locked, threatening to kick it down, demanding that Billy get up right now to mow the lawn, just to complain about what a shitty job he did after, shouting about how he has to do everything himself.

Billy would beat his pillows, lift weights till his muscles hurt, and smoke like a chimney, all to alleviate stress in one way or another.

At 12 Max was leaving to go play DnD with her little loser friends, ready to skate her way over there, but Billy needed to get out of the house, have a valid excuse, and it doesn’t get better than “watching out for his little sister.”

They’re on good terms now, after they had gotten in an intense fight and she screamed at him to just leave her and her friends alone, and after not spending every waking hour hating and antagonizing her, she’s not as annoying anymore, and Billy thinks that perhaps his anger was the issue here, not her being a little shit.

That realisation helped him a lot in general. It’s around that time he “apologised” to Harrington the best he could, but when Steve was nice and understanding of his issues, it only made him angry again. Billy doesn’t believe he deserves to be forgiven so easily, no, Harrington should have hit him, defended himself, gotten pissed and told Billy to fuck off.

Instead they wound up at Benny’s diner, sharing a giant plate of fries and a milkshake each.

“My treat,” Steve insisted.

And that’s when old issues resurfaced; the same exact issues that meant they had to leave California. The same exact issues that brought Billy’s wrath upon this pretty boy. The same exact issues that led one thing to another, and now Billy knows the route from his house to the Harrington Mansion like the back of his hand; could drive it with his eyes closed now.

But he doesn’t want to seem needy or clingy. Doesn’t want to be what he is - the way he is.

So after dropping Max off at the Wheeler’s house, the fiery redhead even going as far as to offer him a bit of a smile, he didn’t go home. Didn’t drive to Steve’s house either no matter how much he wanted to.

Don’t be needy, don’t be clingy. You’ll see him later.

So for four hours he drove around town, smoked by the quarry, got admired at a gas station when he refilled, passed Steve’s street far too many times, went to the empty pool that’s closed for the year and sat with his feet over the edge and smoked some more, restlessly kicking the tiling. Over the course of this time he checked his watch at least a billion times.

When it was finally 4pm, he drove to pick up his sister and El - the gang having managed to convince both Steve and Billy to take them to the movies to watch the last screening of The Neverending Story, which doesn’t exactly sound like something he wants to watch, but knowing Steve will be there, he agreed all too readily.

And as he pulls back up to the Wheeler’s again, he sees the brown BMW, Steve leaning against the door as he waits for the boys to pile into his car. Billy’s heart is beating like a painful drum in his aching chest, and when Steve sees him sitting and waiting for the girls, he smiles at him and waves.

Billy is as always astounded and breathless by the way Steve smiles, the way Steve looks at him now, like he’s happy to see him. He can’t smile back, he wants to, but his face feels dull and incapacitated. He wants to just kick open his car door, stomp up to Steve and fucking kiss him. Instead he simply waves back.

Then Max breaks the trance as she pulls open the door and crawls in to sit in the back with El.

“What the hell took you guys so long, I’m starving,” Billy complains as he looks over his shoulder at them.

Max is smart and doesn’t answer, and Billy is smart and doesn’t ask again. No he remains quiet as they follow the beemer, Max and El laughing loud and joyous behind him like girls their age do, talking about shit he doesn’t care for, just focuses on the car in front as they drive to Benny’s diner for early dinner before going to wolf down popcorn at the cinema.

-

The gang is eager and excited, like kids should be, running to the diner as they talk all too frantically about whatever it is kids talk about, Billy is really not paying attention, when Steve is right there.

“Find a booth where we can all sit!” Steve shouts after them, and Billy’s not sure if they heard him at all. “Hey Hargrove, got a smoke?” his voice kinder and friendly, too friendly, as he addresses Billy.

Steve leans against the hood of the camaro, smiling all too wide. He’s dressed in high waisted jeans and a red crop top that shows just enough of a midriff for it to be too much for Billy.

He takes up a spot next to Steve, just far away enough for it to not be suspicious, but absolutely too far away for it to not be enough, yet even from here he can smell the floral soap and honey shampoo. Can’t help but think of how soft Steve’s skin is, how silky his hair is, all newly washed and clean of him. Wonders if the purple hickeys are still visible across his chest, up his thighs.

Even though Steve is trying his best to meet Billy’s gaze, he refuses to look at him just in case it would be too obvious what he’s thinking about, as he unwraps a fresh pack of Marlboro and offers one up.

When Billy ignites his lighter and reaches forth, Steve touches his hand, holds it steady as he leans in to bring his cigarette to the flame. There’s a burning sensation where his pale, soft hand connects them, and when Steve dares rub Billy’s wrist with his fingers, there’s a pain shooting through his heart, a sharp wanting for more. No, a need for more. He’s caught staring at those pretty, pink lips when Steve pulls away and exhales a cloud.

“What’s wrong?” he asks with a wry smile, clearly aware.

“You know damn well ‘what’s wrong’,” Billy snaps a bit harsher than intended as he continues to force himself to look away.

Thankfully Steve takes it well and huffs a laugh filled with smoke.

They end up in silence after that; the comfortable kind that comes from being at peace together, easy and relaxed and pleasant, one where they don’t need words because there’s no longer any doubt between them. Perhaps that’s what love is, as cheesy and gross as that may be, Billy ponders. To be able to just exist together without it being awkward or stilted. Perhaps he’s fallen a bit in love with his ex-rival. Or perhaps he’s just in love with how he feels when he’s with Steve, both physical and not.

It isn’t till Steve finishes his cigarette, drops it on the asphalt and stomps it out, that he speaks,

“Oh, I almost forgot, I wanted to tell you something.” He’s smiling like the cat that got the cream, licking his lips a bit too slowly as he goes to whisper in Billy’s ear, “I think you’ll be happy to know I’m not wearing any underwear.”

Billy’s heart skips several beats at that, before then going too fast - rapidly pumping blood through him, and there’s a certain rush of it going straight to his dick. He stares too long into those deep, dark eyes, mischievous and satisfied with the response as Billy short circuits.

“What?”

Steve shrugs and tips his head to the side a bit, acting all innocent and oblivious, lips drawn tight in a smile that goes from ear to ear. He opens his mouth and takes a long inhale, insinuating that he’s about to say something, then simply turns around, hands in his pockets as he walks towards the diner.

Leaving Billy behind, baffled, astonished, dumbfounded.

-

The next two hours feels like days.

They sit in the diner, Billy and Steve across from one another.

The kids are still as energetic as before, their voices a jumble of words and phrases and retellings of DnD from today’s session. Steve chews on his straw as he tries to follow along with whatever they’re talking about, laughing when they laugh, nodding on occasions. Whenever he looks over at Billy, blue eyes flee to stare out the window instead, finding great interest in the pattern of how one street light flickers.

Before the movie starts, they go to let out water by the urinals of the cinema, Billy standing right next to Steve, having hoped to catch a glimpse, see if he’s telling the truth, the urge near irresistible to just take a quick look, but the other men around them might not take too kindly to something like that.

And during the movie they sit together at the end of the row.

Steve, Billy, Max, El, Mike, Will, Dustin, Lucas.

He didn’t care for the movie before, only going along as a sign of friendliness and to have an excuse to not be home, but now. Now he’s almost hating having to sit here, next to Steve, shoulders nearly touching, shoes pressed together on the dark floor, only an armrest between them.

For the first twenty arduous minutes, Steve doesn’t do anything, doesn’t say anything, showing no sign of registering how near they are, just watches the movie in silence with a smile, while Billy is sat next to him, burning up despite his shirt being unbuttoned as always, mind racing with thoughts and images of Steve Steve Steve.

So distracted by all of that, that he nearly jumps when Steve touches his hand. Same softness and tenderness from earlier on the parking lot, the way Steve always touches him with just a hint of hesitance when they’re not completely alone.

But the cinema is dark, the kids are entranced, and there’s barely a handful of people besides them, so maybe it’s safe enough.

Billy raises his fingers into the touch, thinking that Steve wants to hold hands, intertwine them, any of that stupid romantic shit that he loves and Billy pretends to only barely tolerate, but the touch moves past that, a feather across the back of his hand, up to gently and carefully grab him by the wrist.

At that, Billy finally looks down, keeps facing the big screen but pays acute attention to what Steve is doing, where he’s leading his hand, placing it on his knee, Billy’s fingers in between spread legs. He continues to guide the hand further up, towards the heat of where his thighs meet, effectively sending Billy’s heart rate sky high.

When he finally turns his head, he finds Steve staring right back, a small and restrained smile, and in that moment, Billy feels like he can read Steve’s thoughts, knows exactly what’s on his mind, never doubts it for a second, and is proved right when Steve stands up and climbs over the seat to walk along the empty row behind them.

Billy whips around to Max, and hisses out, “We’re going for a smoke, don’t fucking go anywhere.”

“Yeah yeah,” she groans all indifferent and waves him away, eyes big and caught in the movie.

-

The bathroom at the Hawk is as clean as it ever gets, and perhaps not too shockingly, empty. Movies are running and people are seated.

Steve stands looking at himself in the mirror, fixing his hair, not that it looks any different to Billy now than before.

He takes heavy steps towards the brunette, announcing himself and catches Steve’s eyes in the mirror, watching as Billy approaches and steps behind him. Billy leans in to run his nose up Steve’s neck, inhaling deeply and humming out pleasantly, blinking slowly as he keeps pressing his face into the crook there, not quite kissing yet.

Eyes dart back to the mirror where heavenly blue meets chocolate brown, a feverish intensity there as Steve stares back. Gently, but with no hesitation, Billy snakes his arms around Steve’s waist, past the belt and up to touch where skin shows between jeans and the top.

When there’s no ‘stop’, he keeps going, curls his fingers around the red fabric and lifts up, exposing Steve’s chest to the both of them in the mirror. Bitten and marked, purple and red, Billy eyes his masterwork with an appreciative gaze, and with one hand keeping the shirt away, he moves the other up to graze his fingers across each little bruise his lips left just two days ago.

Steve hums a bit, erotic and turned on, and if more were to happen now, it wouldn’t be the first time they’d found their way together in public. And perhaps that thought strikes Steve just as it does Billy, for he pushes back into him, rubbing his soft ass against where he finds a slight bulge already.

“Fuck, Stevie…” Billy huffs and breathes against Steve’s neck, eyes closed as he relishes in the slow friction, kissing sloppy and half-minded against pale skin. “You really wanna do this here? Where the kids could just walk in any moment?”

“I would have maybe pushed you into a stall first,” Steve laughs, a slight stutter to it. “But I was thinking your car? The movie is like two hours, we could find an alley, park there, let me ride your cock?”

A growl escapes by the enchantment of those words, and Billy bites into Steve’s neck, earning him an illicit little hiss and smirk.

“How am I supposed to say no when you put it like that?”

-

Neither of them feel particularly bad for just abandoning the gang like that, but they’ll be quick, hidden in this alleyway, not too far away from the theatre, a bit of fun while the others gawk and gape at the magic of movies.

But it’s hard to be remorseful, when Steve is moaning like this, Billy two fingers deep in him in the driver's seat of the camaro.

Steve didn't lie about going commando today; told Billy, “When I found out you were tagging along, I hoped I’d get to have you alone like this.”

It took Steve less than two seconds to start getting undressed when Billy turned off the engine, whereafter he crawled right onto his lap, hard and bottomless, knees over Billy’s shoulders, feet locked behind the headrest, back against the steering wheel. 

“Ah-h, mmh, fuck, Billy-” he whines, hands placed firm on Billy’s legs for support as he lifts and angles his ass to allow Billy access with lubed up fingers.

His other hand squeezes Steve’s leaking prick, using the precum to slick up the flesh, keeping him hard and crying like that. His own lonesome cock aches where it lies full against his stomach; the button down having been opened completely to avoid staining it, and giving Steve something to admire.

“Billy, please, just- oh- just fuck me already!” Steve’s voice pitched high with lust and impatience, brows drawn together, his arms shaking underneath his own weight.

“Just don’t wanna hurt you, baby,” Billy purrs.

He watches with great interest as he pumps two fingers in and out of Steve’s wet hole, making a scissoring motion to stretch him properly.

“Mmh, we don’t exactly have time for that, and I need you so bad,” Steve says with the sweetest, most alluring tone he can.

And God if that doesn’t go straight to Billy’s twitching dick.

“You sure?” He wants to double check anyways.

“Yes- yes! Just- get a condom, I don’t wanna ruin my favourite pants.”

Billy chuckles lightly at that thought as he leans to reach for the glovebox, absolutely turned on by the idea of Steve walking around brimming with him, his cum dripping out and running down his thighs. Perhaps another time.

The condom rolls on with ease, Billy having become quite the expert with one through time, but he has been getting a lot of practice lately what with Steve and his more adventurous side, and wearing a rubber when fucking in public makes for an easy and quick cleanup. He gives himself a few good strokes to lube up good and nice, ensuring that Steve gets a smooth ride as he aligns himself with the hole that flutters eagerly to suck him in.

Greedy, starved, zealous, Steve sits himself on that veiny dick, ass fully flush with Billy’s hips, breathlessly gasping and cursing around his name, “Fuck Billy…”

“Mmmh,” Billy hums and licks his lips, staring down with adoration at how he’s buried deep inside of Steve’s ass, tight with lack of preparation, but- “You feel so good baby, taking my cock so well.”

He brings his hands to grab Steve by the hips and guide him in a circular motion, muscles clenching around him that can only be described as beautiful, eliciting groans and causing him to dig in his nails.

Steve’s panting, bangs sticking to his forehead from sweat, the windows fogged up, telling anyone that would walk by exactly what was going on, and when he lifts up to fuck himself on Billy’s fat erection, they shake the entire car with his fervor; each time he sinks down he moans more; moans with less and less self control.

“Take off your shirt, pretty boy,” Billy drawls out and swipes his tongue across shiny and sharp teeth. “Wanna see you.”

It’s a hurried motion that takes less than three seconds for Steve to yank off the crop top and grab on to Billy’s knees again, refusing to wait even one moment in the haze of his neediness. 

Billy, however, faced with marks of his own making, takes time to appreciate how perfectly purple suits Steve’s pale skin, blooming across his pecs, his tits, near nipples that strut now, begging to be touched. And who is he not to oblige. Hands travel up from hips, past the waist, to Steve’s chest - the brunette seemingly lost in chasing his own high, that he doesn’t notice where Billy is going till he presses hard against the sensitive buds.

“A-ah! Fuck, Billy!” And he throws his head back.

Steve’s entire body tenses at that, each muscle flexing and twitching, contracting around Billy’s steely cock, and he can’t help himself but to thrust into the clenching hole, the rim taking a chokehold on the base of his prick. Steve has to bring up a hand against the roof of the car to keep himself from hitting his head, while also giving him the ideal leverage to push down hard, bodies colliding, skin slapping together in a lascivious and erotic rhythm.

“God, you’re such a little slut for my cock, huh baby?” Billy growls like a ravenous wolf as he pounds into Steve, forcing out every little cry and moan, telling him that he’s hitting just the right spot.

“Billy- Billy, ah-a, fuck- fuck-” Steve whimpers and looks down to watch one hand on his hip that pulls him down, another rubbing hard against his nipple. 

“Yeah, harrh, listen to yourself,” and Billy pauses to listen to how Steve mewls, revelling in the fact that he’s the cause of that. “So loud and lewd, baby, calling out my name like that.”

“Billy.”

He’s a confident guy, Keg King and lady killer, and while shit like emotions and feelings stuns him, this brings him alive, lust coiling in his gut, burning hot and white, ramping up to a fever pitch as he fucks with wild abandon into Steve’s wet cunt.

Billy hasn’t bothered masturbating in a good while, no, he saves all of that pent up energy for Steve, to fill him up; desire blinding him to anyone else but his princess.

“Mmhnn- ahh, fuck, Stevie, can’t wait to get you alone tonight,” he says, voice fucked out and perverted, Steve looking at him as he speaks, “Drop off all the little shits and then fuck you into your mattress till you’re a mess, pump you full of my cum.”

Steve’s eyes screws shut tight, mouth wide open as he moans, “Yes, oh God, Billy-”

“Yeah? You want that?”

“Yes! Please! Fuck-” He nods the best he can, hair bouncing.

“You’re such a good little whore for me, princess, so needy for my cock.”

“Billy- Billy please,” Steve croons, all pathetic and close.

“Anything,” Billy responds with fast devotion, a promise that he gladly lives up to, knowing well what it is Steve is begging for, wants to hear him say it anyways.

“Touch me, please, ah-h- I’m so so close, fuck…”

Billy grins wide, so self satisfied it’s nearly disgusting, and he closes his fingers firm around Steve’s slick erection; he gets so fucking wet, leaking profusely, swears it only happens when he’s with Billy like this.

“Just like that, yes! Oh fuck, I’m- ah-”

“Yeah, cum for me baby, wanna watch you- show me what I do to you.”

Billy jerks him off quick and crude, knows how Steve likes it, how he needs it; loves being manhandled, talks about that whenever he’s with Billy he feels small and light.

And Steve cums with a loud and unadulterated moan, stilling his entire body in a tense pose as Billy fucks him fast; slamming quickly against his prostate, hand milking him good till he’s emptied out on his own chest.

It is a glorious thing to watch, a masterpiece of performance only for him, a grand show for a one man audience that Billy gets to relive again and again and again. Steve’s jaw drops as he continues to cry out like he’s a goddamn porn star, overstimulated and loving it.

Billy’s own orgasm is far less showy; a few shallow, brutish thrusts, grunting through gritted teeth, he shoves Steve down onto him hard as his hips stutter through completion, waves of impossible heat pouring out and leaving him a puddle of bliss and euphoria.

Time is lost to them, as they sit like that; Steve’s one leg having fallen between the seats as he went limp with exhaustion, still firmly planted in Billy’s lap, who’s soft and complacent and fucking tired, both of them breathing heavy.

“We should… we should go back…” Steve mumbles with closed eyes.

Billy’s watching the way Steve’s cum slowly slips down his chest, running over his abs and nearing his pubic hair.

“Do we have to?” he eventually manages to ask.

And Steve chuckles at that, the vibrations through his body clenching around Billy’s spent cock and he can’t help the sore “ooh”s and “ahh”s as he tries to pull away from it.

“Sadly we do. Can’t have the kids walk home alone in the dark, besides…” Steve grinds his ass onto Billy’s lap, making him wince in not quite pain, not quite pleasure, but definitely too much. “Think you promised to… fuck me into my mattress?”

[lillupon]

thoughts on kmg situation

Hi everyone, your friendly neighbourhood minwon writer here! I apologise to those of you who were hoping for an update this weekend. In light of recent events, I found it very difficult to get excited about Achieving Escape Velocity. Before I can resume posting, I feel it is necessary for me to work through my own thoughts. 

I am not trying to persuade people into believing a particular side. I share this with the hope that it will help others who are struggling to reconcile feelings similar to my own. I also see this as an opportunity to—with your guidance—become more passionate, and to learn how to be a decent human being, if that’s what I need to do. I recognise that I come barreling in here with my own cultural and environmental biases. Thus, anyone who understands the nuances of this situation better should feel free to educate me on the matter. If this is of no interest to you, kindly scroll on; I hope to see you when I next update. Otherwise, please join me for a few minutes. 

TL;DR

I support both Mingyu and the victim/OP

I believe that people change as they grow older and become more educated and informed

I am conflicted and have my misgivings about the additional allegations (group chat screenshots + bullying a student with special needs—which has now been resolved, yay!)

I will not unstan Mingyu

I will continue to write and update Achieving Escape Velocity

I want to start by saying that I am an older fan in my twenties, and that I have been a fan of Seventeen since 2015. I have found great joy and comfort in them for many years. As much as I have tried to remain impartial, I have likely fallen short of that ideal. The truth is, I adore this boy! I admire his talents as an artist. I am charmed by the persona of him that we get to see in the media; I see parts of myself reflected in this curated persona. That being said, I tried to remain critical of the stance I am taking. I asked myself, “If this situation was not about Mingyu, and was about my local weatherman instead, would I still feel the same way?” And the answer to that was: hell fucking yeah! Don’t worry, Local Weatherman, I got your back… 

Lastly, I want to say that I am approaching this from a Western point of view. I grew up in Canada, albeit with the traditions and beliefs inherited from fairly strict and conservative Asian parents. As an international fan, there will inevitably be some cultural disconnects in this thought piece. 

There are three main parts to my admittedly rough and disjointed thoughts. The first part addresses the original accusations. The second part addresses additional accusations that were made against Mingyu. The final part is about the future of my minwon stories.

You may agree with all of this, part of this, or none of this. These are simply the thoughts I am trying to work through. 

Thoughts on original allegations (therapy records OP)

How do I describe opening up Twitter on Thursday morning? One moment, I was reading about Mingyu drawing pubes on the classroom whiteboard. The next moment, I was reading about how serious allegations against Mingyu were. People were unstanning him and Seventeen, calling Mingyu a rapist, sending him death threats, etc. I truly did not understand how the situation escalated so quickly, and I nearly gave myself whiplash trying to follow jumps in logic. 

One side of Twitter was convinced that the Original Poster (OP) was lying and doing all of this for attention; they said victims could not be believed 100%. The other side of Twitter declared that Mingyu should be cancelled, and bashed anyone who supported Mingyu or remained neutral. People were sending Mingyu death threats despite the history of k-pop artists committing suicide. All of this reminded me why I avoided Twitter for so many years: Purity and cancel culture run rampant; the mobs want blood penance for every wrongdoing without first considering the nuances of the situation. People blindly defend their ults and set aside their morals to do so.

Here is what I got out of my initial reading of the translated (version 1, version 2) accusations:

OP was shy, timid, and isolated from her classmates. When she tried to speak up in class, Mingyu would tell her to shut up. This happened enough times that, eventually, OP stopped talking in class at all.

Mingyu and his friends told sexual jokes while OP was in the vicinity. These comments made OP uncomfortable and triggered her. However, they were not directed at OP.

The sexual jokes and comments did not escalate to sexual assault or violence. OP explicitly states there was no violence or physical contact.

Mingyu and his friends drew and laughed at inappropriate pictures of body parts/hair on the board. OP is not actually sure if it was Mingyu who drew the pictures, only that he was up there laughing with the others.

OP struggles with anxiety and depression; Mingyu was not the sole reason why she attended therapy. OP mentioned that she brought Mingyu up only briefly with her therapist.

Could I believe all of this being true? Yes, because I personally adhere to two Me Too philosophies: 

The first is that women almost never lie about sexual harassment, abuse, or assault. I absolutely believe that Mingyu is capable of making sexual jokes and comments. Teenage boys and girls alike are notoriously emotional and hormonal between the ages of 12 and 14. I can also imagine Mingyu drawing penises on whiteboards, complete with elaborate pubic hair. These are the antics of a typical middle school boy. For some reason, teenage boys—at least in North America—are very fascinated by their own genitalia and like to announce they have one by drawing pictures of dicks on any available surface. 

The second philosophy I abide by is that men and boys in power are likely to abuse it. All men—even k-pop idols—benefit from patriarchy. They are in a position to abuse, degrade, and humiliate women (obviously, I hope none of these things happen, but I also have to acknowledge the possibility that they do). This is especially true in patriarchal Asian societies. Someone as popular and attractive as Mingyu holds great influence and power in his peer groups. Can I see a young Mingyu being a dick to a girl who is quiet and timid and isolated from her peers? Yes.

But also… Who wasn’t a dick in middle school? I feel like my classmates and I were colossal idiots back then. Was it just my school where classmates told each other to shut up all the time? Was it just my school where kids put their thumb and forefinger in an “L” shape to their foreheads and called each other losers? Everyone has a different threshold for what they consider bullying, but for me, these gestures and comments were so commonplace that I merely accepted them as part of the elementary and middle school experience. These things are mean and insensitive, yes, but it’s possible to grow out of these antics.

It is difficult for me to form an opinion about these sexual jokes Mingyu made for two reasons: (1) cultural differences, and thus my own internal biases, and (2) we don’t know about the nature of these jokes. It’s hard to determine whether these comments constitute as sexual harassment without this context. Even then, people have different thresholds of what they are comfortable with, and what they are not comfortable with.

We don’t know whether these comments were along the lines of “That’s what she said” or “You know what else is big?” or “I grow hair down there...on my toes!” ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) Or if they were jokes about sexual experience/performance, speculation about what someone looks like naked, the colour of their underwear, or raping a person (I’ve often seen these “jokes” directed at female streamers and influencers). In my opinion, there’s a big difference between the two. 

The former, while crude and immature, is not generally said with ill-intent, nor is it generally directed at a specific person. These are jokes that teens, both male and female, commonly make in North America. (Perhaps this is part of the problem: the fact that I consider this to be standard teenage behaviour...) I would hesitate to call it harassment unless the victim made it known that she was uncomfortable, and the boys continued anyway. I also understand that the victim may not have felt able to speak out against Mingyu and his friends. In this case, the boys might not have been aware of her discomfort. Teenage boys are not particularly well-known for being sensitive. 

The latter, however, objectifies and diminishes a person, and is disgusting and reprehensible. The latter is, without contest, sexual harassment. Absolutely no one should have to tolerate comments of this nature. Anyone who makes such jokes should be educated on why these so-called jokes are damaging, and how they perpetuate rape culture, as well as the sexualisation and dehumanisation of women, as well as men. Anyone who makes comments of this nature should be called out (and here I emphasise called out as opposed to cancelled) for their behaviour. It is imperative that they are educated, given the opportunity to reflect, apologise, and make amends. This is with the hope they know better in the future and do not make the same mistake again. 

Now, based on what OP said, the jokes Mingyu made seem more like the first case: he made a pun about body hair. I am pretty sure if Mingyu made “jokes” of the second nature, OP would have chosen to highlight that instead of a pun. However, this is something that needs to be clarified. The content of these jokes drastically changes the severity of the allegations.

Currently, I interpret this through the lens of my uncouth Western sensibilities: what OP described sounds like typical Western teen behaviour. There are many actions, events, and experiences that take place during our formative and adolescent years that come to define who we are as adults. Personally, I don’t think that drawing hairy penises on the whiteboard—inappropriate as it is—or being an asshole in middle school are these things.

But who am I to say, “Yeah, what OP went through was not that bad”? I can’t be the judge of that, and that’s absolutely not what I’m trying to do here. I don’t know the whole story, and even then, it doesn’t matter. I am an outsider in all of this. I’m not trying to diminish the years of suffering and torment the victim went through, and I apologise if that’s how I came off. Nothing I said previously changes the fact that these jokes negatively affected the victim. Nothing I said changes the fact that this girl’s voice was silenced because of some thoughtless middle school boy’s comments. These are wounds that people carry from childhood through to adulthood.

Impact matters just as much as intent. I might argue that in cases such as these, impact matters even more than intent. Mingyu might have done all these things without ill-intent, but OP’s trauma is very much real. (As a side note: This is one of the reasons why I am very happy with Pledis’ official statement. Their focus on healing and reparation—without absolving Mingyu or throwing him under the bus (yet)—is the right move.)

I’ve just been seeing so many death threats and demands for Mingyu to leave the group that I cannot help but wish people would extend him the empathy that they themselves would appreciate.

People are condemning a 12-14 year old Mingyu for making sexual puns and being an asshole. People are measuring a middle school aged-Mingyu against the ethical and moral standards they hold as adults, and they are finding that this young Mingyu fell short. This should not be surprising. I know if I judged younger-me by the standards I have today, I would be left wanting. 

I remember the kind of person I was as a teenager. I was hormonal. I made “That’s what she said” jokes, among others. While I never intentionally set out to hurt anyone, I know I have said crude and unkind things. As a teenager, I didn’t possess the tact I do now; I didn’t know how to self-regulate. I could be a mean and horny kid (not necessarily at the same time, haha!), but I also had parts of me that were deeply sensitive and caring and thoughtful of others. Teenagers and adults are multi-faceted. I would not want anyone to dig up these past receipts and use it as the basis to judge the person I am now. I would not want people to pick out the worst of my past actions and words, and use it to invalidate my success today. 

It varies case by case, but for the most part, I don’t think people should be punished for what they did or said as children; I would have been cancelled long ago if this were the case, as would many others. People change as they grow older and become more educated and informed. It is different if these behaviours and actions persist into adulthood. Then, yes: there should absolutely be consequences. I am not saying we can just sweep all our childhood wrongdoings under the rug. It is still important for us to acknowledge and reflect upon the wrongs of past words and actions, and to offer apologies and reparations where they are due.  

Should these allegations prove true, can I support both OP and Mingyu, or is that cheating? I do believe OP and my heart goes out to her. I understand why she chose to speak out. I know it must have been difficult to do so against someone who is a man, famous, well-loved, wealthy, and successful. I know it must hurt to see the whole world adore a man who has caused you pain. South Korea has a culture of enduring silently; this results in great mental strain and suffering. In speaking out, she relived past and present power imbalances. This is not easy for a victim to do, especially when you are a woman in a patriarchal society and your bully is a male celebrity.

I hope I am not invalidating her feelings when I reiterate that Mingyu was a young teenager, and teenagers can be mean and crude—intentionally or not. Mingyu is a public figure, so naturally, he is held to higher moral standards. But he is also human. He can and will make mistakes. He can and will continue to grow. I feel a lot of empathy for Mingyu, both now as he is forced to confront his past immaturities, and as he moves forward in his career. 

Thoughts on additional allegations (KakaoTalk group chat + ableism)

I will not be addressing allegations of Mingyu bullying a classmate with autism now that the issue has been resolved. (Again, I commend Pledis for their response, and for recognising that the ableism needed to be addressed first. Of the three l accusations, this was the one that Mingyu would not be able to recover from. Even now, he will not emerge from this unscathed). I will only be sharing my initial misgivings about these additional allegations.

First off, this is a very nuanced and precarious topic. I don’t want to diminish a potential victim’s experience, yet I hope people understand why I am so skeptical about accepting screenshots of chat rooms as hard proof. Here are a few reasons why:

(1) Bullying scandals have been erupting left and right, especially as of late. Some of these accusations have been proved true. Others have been proved false. Regardless, there seems to be a trend of digging up past receipts—fabricated or not—of celebrities with the aim of cancelling them or undermining their success. 

(2) Screenshots and chat rooms are easily manipulated and fabricated. This is different from a victim with a face speaking out against past incidents of bullying. They could be someone with malicious intent, or they could be a genuine victim. We just don’t know. And in the case of the chat rooms, it wasn’t even the victims who were speaking out.

(3) I wondered if these were antis who jumped on the coattails of the initial OP to stir the pot. These allegations (particularly the case of ableism, which has thankfully been cleared up now) are far more serious than original claims—why wait until now to bring them up?

(4) I find it difficult to trust even yearbook proof because people can and will sell yearbooks if they went to school with idols. In addition, yearbooks cannot prove interaction, and therefore, cannot prove bullying. At the same time, how do you prove bullying incidents from ten years ago? How do you disprove it? Cases of bullying aren’t often well-documented. It essentially becomes a game of my-word-against-yours. 

(5) There is a pretty well-known article from 2016 where Mingyu defended a classmate with a disability. It doesn’t necessarily disprove the current claim, but the timing is important here. The classmate shared their account back in 2016; it did not just surface after recent allegations. However, if I want to believe that the KKT screenshots are false, then I must also be willing to believe that this 2016 article may have been fabricated as well.

(6) As someone in their 20s, the thought of being in a group chat with a bunch of my middle school classmates is baffling to me. Personally, I don’t want anything to do with my middle school classmates.

There is not much more to say on this; I will patiently wait for Pledis’ statement on the remaining allegations.

Achieving Escape Velocity and other MinWon stories

In a previous blog post, I stated that when I write and talk about AEV-Mingyu and Wonwoo—or other variations of Mingyu and Wonwoo—they are strictly characters that I have made up in my head, and they are separate from the real Mingyu and Wonwoo. At the same time, I do absolutely draw inspiration from the real Mingyu and Wonwoo in the creation of these story characters. It is their faces, bodies, and voices that I imagine. Thus, my current anxieties surrounding this situation make it difficult for me to write and enjoy AEV.

However, I still love this story a lot, and I love sharing it with everyone! There’s so much more to this fic that I want to show. As I mentioned in the initial author’s note, this is the first time I’m posting something of this length and I worked really hard on it. For these reasons, I have every intention of continuing to write and update Achieving Escape Velocity. Regular weekly updates will resume this coming weekend.

[kitsoa]

So, about your Theory ...

So, we talked on Reddit a while ago, Kitsoa, and I have some more thoughts about your theory. It’s more rambling and longer than what I previously intended – my apologies for this.

Kitsoa- Hello again! I’ll reply in brief through quotes though I’m not interested in doing a solid defense of my theory. Mostly it’s a lot of creative stretching using the crumbs of the narrative and I’m not feeling particularly impassioned to bring out the counter citations nor do I think it necessary.

Also: I have written and re-iterated upon this meta theory of mine multiple times so if I am not referencing the correct Original Post in question that’s probably because I never bothered to do a big manifesto and I will take the fall for that confusion.

It’s certainly very interesting but parts of it seem to not only be unsupported but outright contradicted by the games. For instance, take your surmise that Xehanort’s villainy is motivated by his knowledge of the KH world as fictional and his self-knowledge that he has to play the role of the villain to create a conflict and thus sustain the universe. His actual speech in Re:Mind after Dark Road’s world tour points to something else:

“All around the world people live seemingly peaceful lives. They believe themselves to be moral and virtuous, but it’s all an act. Darkness lurks in the pit of everyone’s heart. Their light is a total farce. Those who are weak, and who desire greater power, simply strip the strong of their power, and convince themselves they’ve earned it. That’s how people become tainted by darkness. They believe what they want them to believe, using hollow reasons as justification. They repeat this cycle, and their darkness grows. No, its better they be ruled by darkness. People carry delusions of having power, but it’s a lie. They are but sheep pretending to be wolves. Though I can admit, I can understand why.”

This edgy little diatribe isn’t about the nature of the universe or Xehanort’s own origin … it’s about his view of human (or talking animal, w/e) nature. It’s a similar theme to his final speech in KH3, and ends not with him concluding that he needs to play the role of a villain to create conflict ,,, but that to prevent the KH universe collapsing into chaos, he needs to become its absolute godlike ruler. Which is what sets up the conflict, yes, but his goal isn’t explicitly to create conflict to keep the universe going.

Re: Xehanorts motive aligning with a meta-awareness on his ‘role’ as a villain. This is a theme I was definitely playing with. Xehanort is clearly symbolic of the corrupting pursuit of knowledge and we have a god-like encounter spark stranger behavior yet. It’s a fascinating trope yes? Corrupted by the Truth. Saving the world by sacrificing the world. That was my angle. The World Tour from Re:mind had him summarizing his villainous disdain and I’ll agree that it gives him no direction towards a ‘role’. But I also take note of the fact that this enlightenment comes directly from the actions of the chessmaster MoM who could feasibly manipulate Xehanort towards a conflict-sparking war. If Xehanort isn’t directly and consciously responsible for fulfilling the metacontextual requirements for a ‘story’ then MoM is. And as I’ve stated it probably comes from a more experimental god-mode type motive.

And again, your argument that time doesn’t really exist in the Disney worlds until Sora arrives and this is related to them literally being stories that he’s diving into. I don’t know where you get this from, at all. We go into Disney worlds and experience plots unrelated to the films (KH1 Olympus, Halloween Town); we go into Disney worlds in medias res (too many to count); we go into Disney worlds before the movie’s events take place (BBS Deep Space, Neverland); we even go into Disney worlds in-between or after the movies’ events (KH3 Toy Box, San Fransokyo). Which rather gets in the way of a simplistic “Sora arrives in the Disney world, time starts flowing forward and the movie starts” look at things. You’d previously characterized this as “every world has its unique story” which IMO would be a more reasonable way to look at things rather than the stronger “the worlds literally are the stories and nothing else”.

I’ll defend this a little. The entire concept of the Worlds as Stories demands only that we recognize a higher reality. A reader/audience/ creator relationship with the happenings. When I say ‘time doesn’t exist’ I’m saying it doesn’t matter. The only thing that does matter is the time spent there by Sora (or his subsidiaries). Time is going to move between visits but not at a pace that runs independently of Sora (and co). And all of the events within those worlds are unique to the source material-- on the virtue of having Sora. But when I say the worlds are the stories, I mean it... metaphysically. The relationship between the greater kh multi-verse (and no greater) and these literal planet world island things is that of stories given form. Most all of my KH musings come from the very simple concept that formless metaphysical concepts like love, bonds, imagination, memories etc are literal, tangible things. Tangible. In this, Worlds are not so much another universe equal to other universes. They are a story, fictional and potentially subservient to a greater reality. It’s only from that understanding that I add the extra layer upon KH (and Quadratum by later extension) itself. 

The exact logic behind this reasoning is cyclic. KH is a fictional story to the literal higher reality (us) and seeing how there's a parallel within the narrative, I just applied that logic within the universe and used my understanding of the ‘literal metaphysics’ theme going on with other lore concepts.

Power of Waking ejecting Sora into “real reality”: This analysis is based on the idea that Sora is “waking himself up” out of dream states until he “wakes up” out of KH reality into “real reality”. But YMX tells him (and implicitly us, via the conventions of this kind of villainous exposition) that Sora is repeating the same error he made in 3D and sending himself into the abyss at the bottom of the Realm of Darkness, not doing the opposite thing and “waking himself up” out of KH reality.

I’ll just punt Power of Waking stuff. There is a lot of stuff with the power but I take most of the speculation from the name and the results. There’s a big interweave of darkness that can support or deny my thoughts within the next sentence and I’m electing now to wait and see. Sora abuses the power of waking-- ends up in another reality. Waking--> realities--> dreams--> sleep. Run with the word association. I like to think the ambiguity with sleep and the darkness of abyss has more to say about the nature of reality as a whole ergo: “everything is a dream” concepts that are hard to swallow. What is waking up, if you find yourself deeper in sleep? Nonesense stuff like that.

MoM as Creator of the KH universe/Quadratum as the “higher reality”: Not only is he presented as a clear villain figure; given that the rest of the Foretellers are based on the Seven Deadly Sins, MoM as their leader would clearly represent the sin of pride. We also have him saying in Back Cover that he “might” disappear from the KH world, suggesting that it was beyond his control; and Luxu’s report suggests that the KH3 Keyblade War was engineered to open a means for him to return to the KH universe, presumably via Sora going to where he is in Quadratum/”unreality”.

I believe strongly in this still. MoM can be a villainous figure and at the mercy of universal laws while still being the Creator and denizen of a higher plane. I try not to dig into scenarios too much but follow me here: Creator of the world, literally self-inserts himself into a world of his own creation. He’s a verified Mad Scientist who of course likes to experiment and test his creations and he does so directly, physically, to them. There, he put them on auto-pilot and is watching Characterization carry on. I am not claiming that he is breaking the rules of his own universe and traveling in and out with ease. Nor am I saying if he is exercising any sort of Creator-granted power over their will. He’s there, he’s interacting with them, and he’s watching them. I find it to be an intentional obstaining of power. Self imposed limitations OR an understood sacrifice for this meddling (think, giving up ‘divine’ form to live amongst his ‘mortal’ creations in divine parallel. he is at the will of his universe but not out of control.)

When he says he ‘might’ disappear not only is he being vague on purpose to terrorize his high-strung apprentices but he’s made no indication that it’s something against his intention. And the actions taken by Luxu in formulating his return mean nothing to his plan or his ability or his potential Creator status. I can’t stress how Long Game I perceive MoM’s actions to be. All in the effort to observe, toy, and curate the perfect... something. And since I am talking about the literal nature of stories, I mean the ‘perfect’ story.

Also, we may note that if it was truly a “higher reality”, Quadratum wouldn’t be noted as the fictional Verum Rex video game in KH3 – there’d be no explicit sign at all of its existence, as it would be the higher reality generating the lower one. Which suggests that what may actually be the case, if the series is going meta, is that KH-verse and Quadratum view each other as fictional – in which case MoM would be somebody falsely claiming or believing to be the Creator, which makes sense in relation to the sin he represents.

Not that I’m saying KH-verse isn’t generated by a higher reality/being; but I don’t feel that the higher reality is Quadratum or that the higher being is MoM. There was a fairly interesting post on Reddit comparing KH to Plato’s world of the forms; in which case Kingdom Hearts would be the higher reality from which both regular KH-verse and Quadratum are generated. Or “unreality” really is a “lower reality” than the regular KH-verse, which TBF seems a bit less likely than “’reg. KH-verse’ and ‘unreality’ view each other as mutually fictional but are actually ontologically equal”.

I think my theory posts predate most of the Quadratum reveal so the details of the reveal haven’t been accounted for in my words but I did call it when breaking down Remind’s Yozora scenario. That said yes, I think there is a higher reality and I feel like you mentioned it outright. I see KH and Quadratum as equal fictional realities, segregated but connected through creator. Some of my earlier meta posts before re:mind saw Quadratum as the “higher reality” (or like “host reality”) until the presence of an author between them became apparent enough. We can potentially consider MoM=the author as a separate subject in this respect as it’s not entirely dependant on that reveal. Ultimately, my point in this caveat of the theory is that the relationship between KH and Quadratum strikes an intentionally meta-referential parallel to the actual creator Nomura. That’s an angle that is very audacious and I have full understanding in the denial but it’s my supporting evidence to a higher power within the re:mind secret episode alone.  As for the ‘unreality’ I literally think that is just a way for them to say ‘fictional’ without saying the word, not necessarily an indication of ‘rank’ (for lack of a better word). I use a little reverse logic on the reveal in Melody of Memory when I claim they are ‘equal fictional realities’. No one thinks to assume that they themselves are also “fake” so it;s not a stretch to believe that the reverse assumption could be true. This putting KH and Quadratum on the same level and almost guaranteeing a connection through a mutual creator. 

Now, you also talk about the Whispers in FF7R, but in that they’re in-universe contextualised as “guardians of destiny”, essentially manifestations of the Will of the Planet. Which just goes to show what I talked about earlier – the meta-level of a story can’t exist without a surface-level narrative. We know that the Whispers out-of-universe represent fan anger at changes to the plotline; but they’re presented as something in-universe, which can be defeated by in-universe forces (another reason I doubt it as it seems to leave no room for our heroes’ victory in the confrontation with MoM that’s being teased as the next saga).

I bring up the Whispers to note a synonymous use of the words ‘destiny’ and ‘fate’ to ‘story and ‘narrative’ Not explicitly of course, that would break the 4th wall, but its a subtext that's easier seen in a ‘remake’ because of direct references and deviations being drawn. I think the same synonymous use can be applied when brought up in KH because of their common creative entity.

Finally: How do you see this “metapocalypse” of yours playing out as an actual KH game? We know the conventions well enough by now – a trip through Disney worlds fighting monsters and villains in flashy shonen-style combat, being stalked and looked over ominously from afar by a council of villains with mysterious schemes. Then an invasion of the villains’ lair by the heroes with a final serving of flashy, SFX-heavy boss battles, a number of dramatic plot twists and arc resolutions, and an ending with the villains’ schemes having been at least forestalled. Then we get the ending credits; with an epilogue, a superboss and a secret ending all hinting at more to come.

Well I’m glad you asked! Honestly, I’m basically writing a fanfiction about it. I’m writing the story in part to engage some of these theories/speculations into a serviceable game narrative. So I’ll be vague:

Thematically: This breaking the 4th wall has the power to thematically drive home concepts of free will, defining your personhood and defying expectations. Furthermore, you have questions like... what makes something real? What makes it matter and what’s important? With growing up and the sanctity of youth being a constant struggle as the series and the characters age, the reverence in imagination and growing connections to things that aren’t stereotypically ‘real’ is a strong concept. If I were to break down the big message simply: As long as it’s real in your heart it doesn’t matter.

Overall, the reveal doesn’t really have to impact the basic formula. You can have Disney World Hopping and Villainous characters scheming and manipulating a greater force. I personally think the world-hopping parallel can become more direct with the context of it being movies/stories adding a different understanding of the process of visiting those worlds and meeting those characters. The episodes can be more about fate and predestination and can speak directly to the importance of the connections to those worlds. And the dramatic stakes are the literal threads of reality and godhood! 

If I am to be more detailed and imaginative (without substantial evidence)  I might say... MoM’s experiments in manipulating his own created world(s) are aiming to shape Sora (or 2nd favorite son Yozora) into some kind of perfect conduit for the marraige of reality and fiction and the success or failure of that process might weaponize his ability to connect with other hearts... real and not, all to the greater ascention of one chessmaster. 

(That’s not even mentioning how I have a personal reason to dislike it as it reminds me of an old theory that the KH plot was actually SRK imagining it all up in their childhood games or to put a darker twist on that idea, Sora dreaming it all up in a coma or while dying. I hated reading those ideas when I was younger and still do.)

I’m gonna sympathize hard with this. I hate ‘it was all just a dream’ theories. They are cheap and they trivialize the journey. That is not what this theory is saying. There is a higher reality in this concept and that is used as a proxy for our relationship with the series. The imagery of dreams is only a small facet of the reality/unreality theme so there is no ‘waking up’ or ‘end of story, goodbye’ attitude. The commentary is broader and it can potentially speak on the power of dreams and reality. The ‘realness’ of fake things. I’m sort of calling out KH for what it is: an imaginative story that expands upon what it means to truly experience stories.  Anyway, I rambled more than I thought. I haven’t written anything about KH in months so this was a little caffine shot for me. I’m not gonna be too stuck in the details and nor do I care exactly. I’m a story teller first and I just so happened to have predicted some things not so much because of the hints being dropped but because I understand some of the thematic intent behind the lore and certain narrative beats. The rest is just me having fun and finding the best reading. Sometimes I’m right. 

[hecohansen31]

God Bless You and God Bless Me

Oleg The Prophet+Reader (Modern AU)

(A/N): Hello there, lovelies!

Since you seemed to like ‘Like I Never Needed Anyone’, I thought I’d give you more info on what out favorite Russian prince and art curator are doing!

I also wanted to partecipate with this small piece to the writing challenge made by @lisinfleur​ (thank you for creating such a lovely thing!).

Just stay inside and write!

As always: any feedback is welcome, it helps me a lot with writing faster and know where I can get better and what you’d like to see more!

I hope you’ll enjoy this!

Have a nice reading!

SUMMARY:  When you find yourself quarantined with Oleg, some things are brought up, more importantly: the state of your relationship

WORDS: 5,8 K

WARNINGS: Mention of Sex/ Cheating/ Covid-19/ Jealousy/ Insecure! Reader.

You had been secretly hoping of not having to go back home.

So when the entire Covid-19 thing hit your life you thought that maybe… you should have hoped a bit less, because right now you were stuck in Russia for an undetermined time, with no home anymore, since you had cancelled the rent of your apartment, a few weeks prior.

And now you were stuck with finding a new one in these times of need.

You were trying to browse through some options, starting with hotels and B&B, in order to have a roof over your head by tonight, and not have to lean anymore on Oleg.

He had been working in his home office when the news had been given so you weren’t surprised when, a few minutes later, he wandered in your own ‘office’, asking you what was happening, because you were supposed to be up and gone, waiting at the airport for your flight.

‘You should catch up on the news’ you had mumbled softly ‘… apparently due to the latest cases and spreading of the Covid-19 we are in quarantine till further notice and because of this, I am not allowed to leave the country’.

He had seemed surprised as he had moved to lightly bow his head to try to understand fully the length of those news.

‘… and where do you stay?’ he had then proceeded to ask, although an amused glint shone in his eyes ‘… didn’t you cut off the apartment a week ago?’.

It had actually been an idea of Oleg who had pushed you to stay for a week more than you were supposed to, giving you access to a private room in his ‘castle’ as you took a few trips around Russia’s best places, which because of your job you hadn’t been able to visit, previously.

And although that week had you stuck in Russia till the end of this awful epidemic, it had been one of the best week of your life, passed through turning around in bed with a furnace of warmth and through the best Russia could offer, because Oleg wanted desperately to give you ‘the best of the best’.

‘I am checking a few places, tonight I’ll probably stay in a hotel, and then see’ although you had to admit that you weren’t particularly hopeful.

‘You could stay here, dorogaya’ two strong arms, came to gently set around your waist, as he hugged you tight to his chest, gently brushing a few strands of hair away from your shoulder to drop there a small kiss and he lowered your sweater, in a way that made everything fuzzy already.

But you needed to be lucid.

And you pushed him away lightly.

“I do think that I have already taken too much advantage of your hospitality” you mumbled, as you turned to face him, taking in his strong features and before you could properly stop yourself from doing it, you gently pushed an hand to bruise those features and immediately his lips found your palm “… I don’t think it’d be proper”.

“Well, Cristina hasn’t a problem taking advantage of my hospitality” he laughed lightly, as he brought you again closer, this time gently delving in the crook of your neck and he gently lingered his lips against the soft column of your neck “…but seriously, I won’t have a problem hosting you for as long as it takes for this thing to solve”.

“I don’t think that it is a good idea” you mumbled, but this time you didn’t push him away, completely enthralled with the way his lips brushed against your throat “… what will people think?”.

“We are in the 21st century, printsessa” he muttered, as he pushed himself in to face you “… you can stay in a man’s house without a chaperone, and in case you’d need that… you can always ask Cristina to chaperone us”.

“Oh she’d be delighted” you giggled softly as he smirked at you, his hands moving under your chin to make you come face to face with him, as he tried to get your attention meanwhile you loved nothing more than to shift the subject of the conversation.

Life with Oleg was fucking amazing.

It was much more intense than whatever you had had going on with Peter.

And you were falling hard.

Which wasn’t a good thing.

Even more if you were to seriously accept his ‘scandalous proposal’ of living together.

Oleg acted as if you were a couple, but he hadn’t ever uttered anything that might resemble a ‘you are my girlfriend’ or ‘we are together’ and you didn’t want to confuse what was a simple ‘fuckbuddy’ situation for a relationship.

With Oleg anything was so sexual and deeply passionate that whenever serious feelings were involved you’d both fall in each other’s bed, not matter how much resistance you’d put, you’d just be again in his arms waiting for the sun to rise and his lips to grace again your neck.

And his cock to swell against your ass.

“… but seriously…” Oleg’s voice suddenly seemed pained, as if what he was trying to say was difficult “… you don’t have to stay in here, if you are uncomfortable but… I’d just… I wouldn’t feel calm knowing you outside with all this shit going on, kisa”.

And he seemed sincere as he brought your eyes to meet his, and you lost yourself in those inky pearls, eventually nodding your way through what looked like a death sentence for your heart.

“… I am doing this just because I’m taking pity on leaving you and Ivar with Cristina” you mumbled trying to make the intense tension between you disappear, and he was more than happy to lightly indulge you in this laughing softly.

“Oh Gosh, I don’t know whether he likes her or hates her” he retorted as he gently brought you settled more comfortably on him and you shifted on his laps, setting your laptop aside.

“… could be both” you mumbled, gently stabilizing yourself with your arms around his neck as he set his onto your waist “… I am not sure whether Cristina just wants to tease the shit out of him or is just trying to use her ‘charms’ to make him fall in love”.

“And aren’t we lucky that we’ll be the witnesses of this love story?” joked your lover, as he didn’t seem in the slightest interested into knowing it.

He kept looking at your mouth, probably lightly rosy and plump due to your stressed attitude of biting your lips.

“They are just so oblivious with each other” you muttered laughing lightly as Oleg shot you a sarcastic look.

“Says the same girl who thought I was simply ‘ a nice boss’ all the time I was flirting with her” he retorted, making you blush as he dove in for a kiss on your lips, being rejected by your embarrassed face as you swiftly ducked to the side “… c’mon, krasotka, I was very very much flirting with you”.

“… I mean… no you weren’t…” you tried to back away, as you hid your face in your hands, but still you weren’t shielded by Oleg’s deep laugh as his grip onto your hips became definitely stronger “… Gosh was it that obvious?”.

He nodded, before adding.

“Yeah I was pretty obnoxious, Cristina said that if I kept it on I’d scare you…” he mumbled as his mouth started softly teasing your fingers to get you to release your hold on your face “… and believe me at a certain point I just thought that you simply were immune to my charms”.

You laughed softly, finally releasing your hands from your face, allowing him to kiss softly your lips, nothing more than the promise of a better kiss, that came a few minutes later, completely stealing your breath as Oleg’s tongue searched yours.

“… I was just shy, and you were a bit…”.

“… coming off a bit too strong?” he joked, as he laid another kiss on your lips.

“… intense” you completed, as he freed your lips, but not your hand as he undid them behind his neck to hold them, in a way that made you tremble and think that maybe… he did want more.

“Oh” he seemed pretty taken aback, as if he hadn’t expected it “… nobody had ever told me that”.

“It isn’t an insult” you tried to research what that clouded expression on his face meant “… it is just that I haven’t ever been treated the way you treat me, it is just so passionate and…”.

“Because you deserve this, zolotse” he replied softly, as his confused expression turned into a tender one, before he brought your hands to his lips kissing them softly, as he held you tight against him “… you deserved to be treated as a ‘printsesa’ each night and day”.

And you couldn’t help but be choked with the way he looked convinced of what he had just said.

And you were more than happy to let him lead you back to your bed and fuck you the entire morning.

You were barely finished for lunch time, when you met a bored Cristina teasing mercilessly Ivar, Oleg’s friend who had joined you a week ago, due to some familiar troubles.

And since then Cristina had been on his tail like a cat teasing a big and burly dog.

“… oh c’mon, wouldn’t you seriously like some salsa lessons?” you heard Cristina asking Ivar, as she lightly swashed her hips from side to side, a glimpse of happiness in her eyes, which became even more evident as you appeared from the kitchen.

Oleg being in need of a shower would have joined you later.

“… (Y/N)! We have finally all the time in the world for those salsa lessons!”.

Ivar sent you a look as if to say sarcastically ‘aren’t we lucky?’.

“Yeah, I’d wait to say that” you mumbled, trying to save the poor Ivar from further embarrassment “… they’ll probably put us to work on digitalizing the collection”.

“Yeah that is if Oleg wants you to work” joked Cristina, sending you a suggestive side-eye as she come closer to you, and taking in the obnoxious hickey on your neck, as you tried to shield it with your hair “… where is our big man?”.

“Shower” you mumbled, trying to avoid Ivar’s eyes.

One thing was talking about sex with Oleg to Cristina, another to a very flushed Ivar who told you both that he’d be having his lunch in his chamber, since his legs were hurting.

‘.. have a nice chat, girls’ he had concluded with one last look to Cristina and he couldn’t hide the light infatuation, which made you smirk as your friend backed up tiredly till a chair, huffing down on it.

“Gosh why is he such an asshole?” she mumbled, as you sat down in front of her.

“… your constant teasing certainly doesn’t help” you replied, with a reprimanding look.

“I just want to have my fun” she complained, but her look was reflective “… does Oleg know if he has slight crush on me?”.

“Ask him yourself, I am not his secretary” you commented, as one hand darted out to grab on a piece of cheese from the pretty display of meals on the table.

“Gosh, I do understand why he is obsessed with you” she joked, stealing your piece of cheese, as she straight up bit onto it “… you keep him grounded, wow, I love one power couple”.

“We are not a couple” you whispered, as you came to the knot of it all “… he has asked me to stay for the quarantine”.

“Well are you seriously surprised?” she retorted, sending you a look that meant that she knew much more than you “… he is a little dog flapping his tail to you, of course he’d like to have you here”.

“I just…” you tried to reply “… I don’t want to understand one thing when he means another”

“I don’t want to be too forward…” mumbled softly Cristina, understanding the entity of your thoughts “… but he’d literally marry you, if you needed a visa to stay here”.

You both were unable to stop yourself from laughing loud, gaining a quick look from Oleg, who had just appeared on the threshold and you were unable to hide a light blush on your cheeks, as Cristina got up, collecting a small plate of everything and excusing herself.

‘I have an idiot to bother’ she mumbled before exiting dramatically, making you and Oleg giggle, stupidly as he set onto Cristina’s place, in front of you.

“Were you girls having a conversation about us guys?” he asked, a tender light of teasing in his dark eyes.

“My lips are sealed” you muttered, before starting to eat with those ‘sealed lips’.

And Oleg just smiled as if that had been a confirmation of it all.

Five days had passed.

And your relationship with Oleg had lasted.

Which was surprising.

But even more surprising was the way that you had set up a routine.

You’d wake up in Oleg’s arms and you’d start getting ready, being probably interrupted by Oleg in need for attention, refusing to go back to bed and refusing to get fully up.

He’d sometimes succeed in distracting you and sometimes you’d have your own fun in leaving Oleg with blue balls, just for him to find you on your lunch break, fucking you in the first closeted alley he could find, as you tried to keep quiet.

You’d work into digitalizing the collection and taking care of a few local museums’ networks, coordinating you with your American university.

Cristina sometimes helped you and sometimes she’d follow Ivar around like a lost puppy, trying to convince him to step outside of his comfort zone and so far she hadn’t convinced him into doing any salsa, but you’d see the way he had started verbally contrasting her.

That was definitely a sign he was interested.

You just hoped he’d understand it before Cristina finally drove him crazy.

You’d finish work and you’d have dinner, all together, listening to the news as you tried your best to think positively although they weren’t improving and many times you were more than happy to invent some idiotic excuse for Oleg to lead you back to his bedroom and have you there for the rest of the night.

And then you’d love nothing more than to convince yourself that this would last.

And that Oleg wasn’t with you simply for your body or because he felt some kind of obligation to you.

But good things never lasted.

And that Saturday had been the proof.

Although it had started well since you had caught Cristina and Ivar having fallen asleep the previous night, shoulder against shoulder.

You had thought of being the one to do the first move with Oleg for once, and had brought him breakfast in bed, just to be surprised that he wasn’t there.

You had caught him in his office and when you had tried to come in, he had quickly ushered you out, in a way that you’d have used with your dog, a simple gesture but that got irritation flowing through you and you had recklessly slammed the tray of food in the trash bin as you had tried to calm yourself.

Oleg wasn’t your boyfriend he was allowed to have his free time.

But not to treat you like you weren’t there.

Exercising had helped you and you had even tried Cristina’s salsa moves, but Oleg had kept himself stuffed in his office for past the lunch hour and in the afternoon not even the company of a good book and of an interesting art documentary had distracted you.

You should have honestly understood before that the honeymoon period wouldn’t have lasted.

And that it was simply nice sex.

But what got through you honestly, with flashbacks to your relationship with Peter, was the hushed tone you heard him speaking with over the phone, as you faked being asleep on the couch, but secretly heard him speaking Russian.

You hadn’t learned much, but you could distinguish a few phrases from the ‘easy Russian’, you had been learning.

‘It’ll be a nice surprise’ you heard him say ‘… can’t wait to see you, Katya… I honestly am counting down the minutes. This quarantine is awful…’.

And although you had tried your best not to overreact, because Oleg had made you no promises, the way he spoke made you uneasy.

He had found his own ‘beautiful giraffe’.

And you were again broken apart and left behind.

For the entire night you had avoided him, excusing yourself from anything with a terrible headache as Cristina slipped in after you in your room, managing to get to you right as you were closing the door in her face, but she held a bottle of wine, with the promise of a ‘girl talk’.

“I hope that you have some succulent gossip, because all I could grasp is that our chief Mrs. Kravitzok has had a liaison with the gardener” you mumbled, as Cristina approached you with an excited expression, before she blurted out about how her and Ivar had kissed last night.

‘… the couple was kissing on the screen and you know… I was… I was teasing him as usual and then… he leaned in and kissed me to ‘shut me up’’ and you couldn’t help but smile lightly at her excited expression.

“That’s wonderful, Cristina!” you mumbled softly, hugging her tight, as she almost lost her grip on your wine glasses “… Gosh, finally you stopped playing around, and got straight into it! It was getting so so so annoying!”.

“Don’t even dare talk!” she retorted, pushing an accusing look at you “… I literally had to deal with you and Oleg dancing around each other like idiots”.

You couldn’t help but bite nervously your lips, before you ducked your head down to hide your nervousness, but Cristina had seen it from the start.

“… what has happened?” she asked, gently clutching one of your hands.

“I think…” you tried to speak but before you could, a sudden sob let your chest and you were unable to control the one that followed and Cristina tried to move closer “… the honeymoon phase is finished”.

“No no, I know Oleg!” she tried to protest “… he isn’t the type not to go for dramatic, when he can”.

“This morning he shut me off” you mumbled lightly “… and I mean… I guessed it was just work and then he didn’t search me, but Gosh… we aren’t together”.

“You are” retorted Cristina “… you are honestly by Oleg’s standard”.

“… and then I heard him speaking on the phone with another woman, some… Katja” you mumbled, nervously fidgeting with your hand as you tried to calm yourself, but to no avail and Cristina’s slight glance of defeat didn’t pass unnoticed by you.

“It might not be what you think” she tried replying.

“… no no, it should have happened” you replied fatalistically “… I wasn’t already enough for Peter, think for somebody like Oleg? Gosh, how fucking stupid could I be?”.

“You aren’t stupid” replied sweetly Cristina, tenderly enveloping you in an hug, as you let out tightly all your frustrations and insecurities against her, clearly in need of a good talk between you two “… and I’ll fucking gut Oleg if he does have a side-…”.

You just nodded sadly not fully convinced, but you tried your best to fake a smile and a soft nodding, before you cried your heart out on her shoulder, the wine and her gentle consolation eventually getting you to fall in a dark sleep, which left you almost disoriented as you woke up, till the memories all came back.

You were glad to hadn’t slept in Oleg’s room, as you busied your mind with a few things and tried to understand whether you could seriously book a B&B room to distance yourself even further from Oleg.

He certainly wasn’t a gentleman, he wouldn’t have simply thrown out, because he now had understood you weren’t worth it, but you, yourself, couldn’t stand it much longer, if not for your own self-respect, definitely for your self-esteem issues.

But every hotel or place would simply just reply that it wasn’t safe, because of the easy way the virus could spread, preferring to avoid infecting any of their guests.

Which you understood.

But at the same time, you hid all the morning in your room simply to avoid Oleg.

You had been so freaking stupid to think this all would work, too much of a daydreamer and too little of a realist to see that a man like Oleg could go for you

But eventually reality broke through your shelter, and you felt a knock on the door, before Oleg’s face appeared, as he sent you a worried look, taking in your disheveled appearance, as you wore your pajama with your hair up in a messy bun.

No sign of make-up on your tired face.

“Hey…” he tried to mumble, being welcomed by a light ‘grunt’ from you “… is everything alright? How is your head?”.

“Just needed a bit of sleep” you replied, wanting to cut it short, as you busied yourself through some paperwork, which you had already finished everything to do.

“… well I am happy to hear that” he still moved inside, gently closing the door behind him “… we could, if you feel better, join Cristina’s salsa lesson, I don’t know how but she convinced Ivar to join”.

“Oh that’s awesome to hear” your voice spoke true, because you were honestly amazed that Cristina had roped in Ivar “… but I think I’ll have to pass, I have some… work to do, and I don’t think that it’d be good for my…”.

“Don’t bullshit me” the harsh tone of Oleg’s reply made you choke the rest of the phrase and tighten your entire posture which was enough for him to immediately apologize “… I didn’t mean to sound so harsh, it’s just that… this situation is unnerving, dorogaya”.

“What situation?” you tried to relax yourself, to appear unbothered, but you didn’t turn around till he gently put a hand on your shoulder.

“The one where you don’t speak to me eye-to-eye and avoid me” although he tried to humorize it all, he was evidently at unease “… and Cristina has glared me daggers all this morning, this usually means that I have fucked up”.

“I don’t…” you tried to push yourself away, but now that Oleg’s eyes stared at you, you weren’t able to properly reply “… you are the one who started acting weirdly, you shut me off and I heard you on the phone…”.

“I thought you were asleep!” he tried to protest but you just shot me a harsh look.

“Does that allow you to cheat on me?” you replied, letting out a bit of the hanger you had been holding on since yesterday “… does it allow you to shut me off?”.

“I wasn’t cheating on you” he replied, as he pointed every word, his grip onto your shoulder tightening to keep you in place, well aware of the fact that you wanted to do nothing more than to run away “… I didn’t cheat on you, kisa”.

“Don’t fucking use those petnames when I am angry with you!” you retorted as he shot you an amused look through a light smirk “… and don’t fucking smirk at me like you knew better than me!”.

“I wasn’t cheating on you” he protested “… if you just let me explain…”.

“No, I don’t think I will” you replied harshly, as he set you a pleading look “… I was stupid once, but I learned better from Peter, I learned that I fucking should stop thinking that simply because we fuck we are together”.

“Don’t compare me to Peter” again that rageful tone, but this time it was directed to you.

And it made liquid heat drop between your legs.

“… I am not a little fucker who likes to play around, I am fucking committed to you!” and as you were making to reply to him, he shouted again “… the only reason why I didn’t call you my girlfriend, is because I knew that you needed time after Peter, and that you’d be leaving, and I didn’t want this to make you feel uncomfortable!”.

You took a light step back, as Oleg left his grip onto you, his eyes lowering lightly to his own feet.

“I had a small meeting with my ex-wife, yesterday, she has had some problems with the monthly allowance, because of the entire corona shit, last morning… I didn’t want you there because she doesn’t put me in a good mood, she…”.

He lightly messed up his gelled hairstyle, before he continued.

“… and then I talked with Katja, she is a friend… she takes care of a small museum in St. Petersburg, I asked her some questions about whether they were hiring, because…”.

He seemed clumsy and embarrassed.

And you gently pushed him to go on with a small look.

“… because I thought that if you had a job, you might stay… which is stupid and idiotic, but I want you to stay here, even after the entire quarantine shit and everything”.

And you were taken aback, as you linked this newfound knowledge with the fact that he had said he wanted to be committed to you.

And for all this time you had just been too insecure to see it.

“…  and then the entire quarantine happened and I wanted to thank her and be kept in her graces, but I swear on whatever I hold in my heart, I wasn’t… cheating on you” he mumbled as you gently allowed him to come closer “… I love you, even if I know it’s premature and you don’t believe it, I …”.

“I love you, too” it was just a whisper, but Oleg immediately caught it and brought you closer, tightening his grip as his lips found themselves onto the crown of your head.

“… you do?” he asked, almost as a child who wasn’t sure he’d be given or not his Christmas present “… because I have been in love and it was shit, because she didn’t love…”.

“I do” you shut him off “… and I am sorry for being an idiot and ruining everything”.

You felt your tears lightly staining Oleg’s expensive shirt, as he proceeded to coo at you to comfort you as he caressed your hair, in a tender way that just made you feel more awfully of the way you had reacted to it all.

“… not an idiot, solnishko” he mumbled, against you, as one hand came to softly caress your back “…we just need to communicate better, ok?”.

And you nodded lightly, meeting his dark eyes staring back at you, as he brought lightly an hand around your slender neck, caressing it as it followed a path to your face, where it settled bringing you closer, in a tender kiss.

In which you leaned in completely, wanting to shut off and out that envy and insecurities that had brought you down, as Oleg softly moaned against you, an adoration in his gaze that made you blush.

“… you don’t have to… be my girlfriend, if you aren’t…” he tried to mumble, but you just ushered with a quick look, as you joined the hand onto your cheeks, as you moved to kiss his forehead, your body completely entangling with his.

“… I want to be your girlfriend, Oleg, more than anything else” you softly whispered in his ear, nipping it lightly.

“Moya devushka” he mumbled lightly as he peppered your face with kisses, making you giggle as you tried to calm him down, eventually just ending up settled on your bed, a bit too small to hold you both, but Oleg kept you so close to his chest that you definitely saved up space.

“I… I thought about staying” you mumbled, as Oleg immediately shot you a surprised look “… I wanted to ask for another internship in Russia after I came back, maybe try to find a job and…”.

Before you could finish Oleg, smashed an excited kiss on your lips, making you giggle.

“Are you serious?” he asked, practically getting on top of you, and proceeding to look at you as if you were the best thing he had.

And how could you feel insecure with all of that?

“… yes” you mumbled gently, as your arms shot up to gently cradle his head closer ‘… if you don’t mind, I could talk with Katja to ensure that…”.

“Admit it: you don’t want me to talk with her”.

And it was true.

As much as Oleg was allowed to have female friends, you didn’t like Katja since it was linked to your ‘middle breakdown’.

And preferred to handle your life on your own.

“… maybe” you muttered, and Oleg went in with a tickle attack, as he made you laugh till your belly hurt and you admitted “Yes! Ok! I am slightly jealous!”.

“… but I love only you” he mumbled, as he leaned down to softly bit the column of your neck, moving to your ear “… you know it, no need to be jealous, sweetie”.

“I’ll stop when you stop glaring at Ivar for simply looking my way” you reprimanded him, making him lightly growl as he kissed languidly down your neck.

“I am sorry, but you, kisa, are solely and utterly mine to look at” he replied, as he brought a light kiss on your lips, the entire mood of the room quickly shifting to a more sensual one, as he dragged up his lips against yours, teasing in a way that brought you to blush under him, as his hands went lower “… we should really join the others in theirs salsa lessons”.

“My headache is still bothering me” you lied, as you shot him a malicious glance and he didn’t mind indulging you as he raised an eyebrow unconvinced “… and you know what helps with headaches?”.

“Medicines?”.

“… orgasms”.

“Oh” now he definitely looked convinced, tickling lightly your sides as you giggled “… I can do that for you”.

“How was the salsa lesson?” you asked to a very very ‘disheveled’ Cristina as she escaped the laundry room where you were entering.

As much as you loved having an entire staff for this kind of things, there were some things that had to be done on your own, and you’d hate for them to see the way Oleg reduced your underwear.

“… very very intense” she smirked, and you understood the innuendo behind it.

“I don’t know whether I am glad that you finally ‘solved’ all your issues or for the fact that I’ll probably catch you somewhere and be traumatized for the rest of my days” you mumbled, lightly laughing at the way Cristina blushed.

“Don’t even start talking!” she replied, sending you an accusatory look “… I thought you were having a headache and instead all that moaning… I hope that you solved what you had to solve with Oleg too, because if you haven’t… I’ll get myself some earplugs…”.

“We solved” you mumbled with a small smile, blushing lightly “… but thank you for threatening him, he said that you he was worried you’d gut him in sleep”.

“Oh I like having that effect on men” she joked lightly “… but seriously… if he doesn’t propose to you by the end of this quarantine, I’ii be very disappointed, I’d look amazing as your bridesmaid…”.

And before she could sputter more rubbish, Ivar exited the laundry room, immediately surprised of your presence, as he and Cristina blushed lightly, and your mind slowly connected what had happened.

“… we have to make some rules for a peaceful quarantine” you mumbled once you got over the initial shock “… let’s start with ‘don’t fuck in place where other people have to clean their fucking clothes’ ”.

Two couples and not much to do, in quarantine, was definitely the receipt for a disaster.

---

Solnichko=Little Sun.

Malishka=Babygirl.

Krasotka=Gorgeous.

Printsessa=Princess.

Dorogaya=Dear.

Zaika=Bunny.

Kroshka=Little One.

Kiska/KIsa=Kitten.

Сволочь=Asshole.

Мудак=Prick.

Shluha=BItch/Whore.

@ rainycloudstarlight @alyssa23145678910 @ squids-for-knees @youbloodymadgenius @queenboosha @barnzbucky​ @ itsleeshanotlouise @ confusedgirlyy @the–insignificant–one @roury12 @justsomestuffiguessman

[docholligay]

Perfection, Oil on Linen, Date Unknown

My sparklee was @everybodyknows-everybodydies! Thank you s much for letting me write to your prompt. I picked “Love is just a softer way to die” and this is set about a week before Episode 110. I hope you enjoy, and happy sparkling!! 

Michiru had been a primed canvas from birth.

She was the masterpiece of all her parents’ accomplishments, not a brush stroke out of place, not a misapplied color, perfectly framed in the wealth and privilege she had been born into, a museum piece under glass, never to be touched. Under those presentation lights, she shone, the lights against the darks, the soul of expression, as if this masterpiece was almost human itself.

Almost human, not quite.

As the years had made her more beautiful, more pedigreed, her value grew higher, and she grew further and further from the simple crowd, and she learned that she was not made to be touched, only to be gazed upon, for things lose their value when you touch them, when you use them. The oil from your fingertips will dissolve a painting, her mother once said, and she laid a sheet of plexiglass over what Michiru Kaioh might have been, a smooth surface that could be easily wiped of any grime the world came to commit.

Her destiny lay in choices were not hers, art galleries and museums and parties where she was whirled around the floor. See how beautifully she goes with the decor? Her worth extends into the millions. She will be attending the ball at the end of the season, of course.

When the rod had been slipped into her hand, another destiny that she had no hand in, it was hardly a surprise.

But Michiru was strong, and Michiru was preserved, and Michiru was under glass. She would not die for the sake of some princess she had never heard of, and though they could perhaps one day, force her to kneel, they could never force her to give herself over. She would stubbornly survive against all enemies and against all allies, an island to herself, fortified at all sides.

Michiru looked out the window, all of Tokyo laid out like jewels in a case, sparkling below her as if she merely needed to select one for a party. She had made promises to herself, when she had picked up the henshin rod, that she would continue on as she always had, and be this thing as well. Nothing would change.

She had lied. She had lied and now she would die.

She hadn’t known she was lying. Michiru lied to everyone except herself, and she knew herself well at a young age, and though she was petty and cold and self-interested and the thousand other sins, both small and large, that she assigned herself, she did not consider herself to be delusional.

I only wanted her, Michiru told the blinking lights, the Milky Way of mankind, stretched to the horizon, to possess her. I am owed something, am I not?

You would pass the cost to her? The lights replied.

“Haruka.” She mouthed quietly, not to lights this time, but simply as one might recite a prayer by rote, for the comfort of hearing it on the lips.

Of course, she might have said, before. She might have said that all of life is unfair, and there is no reason she alone should bear the weight of destiny. She might have protested that it was unlikely Michiru could have saved her from fate, anyhow. Michiru was unable to save herself, so why her?

She might have. Before. But now she held no answer.

Michiru wandered out of the living room with its barren and spare decor, down the small short hallway that held the door Haruka slept behind. She put her hand to it, knowing what lay beyond there. Haruka’s duffel bag that she brought to the house, stuffed with the handful of clothes she owned, the few hanging uniforms to Mugen, purchased by Michiru. A small collection of model cars Haruka had built. A threadbare quilt, tucked under her pillow.

And Haruka herself, curled into a tight pile, blonde hair going this way and that against the pillow like weeds in a garden. She would be in an old t-shirt and her boxers, snoring softly, her hand wound around the quilt under her pillow. Michiru often wondered what she dreamed, wishing that some aspect of her Sight could reach into Haruka’s mind and pull out the secrets that lay therein.

She felt a chip of pigment flake away inside her, another casualty of the girl that lay behind the door, whose fingertips dissolved everything Michiru had been, the perfect paint, preserved and hardened over the years, chipping and flaking and falling to the floor.

Let destruction come. Let decay and death and all of its horrors, all of the darkness come for her.

But not for the girl behind the door.

Michiru Kaioh would die in less than a week. She would be killed, in some grey and drafty building, and she had seen this play out over and over again, and she had seen the moves that could be made, playing out chess strategies in her mind, and in the end, she was the queen that must be sacrificed to protect the king. She would die, but she would die protecting Haruka, and for the first time in her life, sacrifice felt like a gift she was being given.

She would die because she loved her.

Love. Was it even fair to call it that? Would she know if it was? A painting represents the world and reflects it, but it does not create it, it does not live in it. Could she do anything but pantomime the acts in dripping oils and thick acrylics?

The wind rustled outside, and Michiru smiled at the thought of Haruka’s imagined whispers. She often pretended to her own sort of Sight, quickly adding to Michiru’s visions that she had seen the same, that the wind had told her one thing or another, eyes filled with the jealous desire to know the things Michiru knew.

To know was a burden, and she had laid enough on Haruka’s shoulders.

Michiru quietly turned the doorhandle and let a small ray of light spray into the small room Haruka called her own. There she lay, just Michiru had seen her in her mind’s eye, lips parted slightly in sleep, looking so much softer and younger than she tried to play herself, the armor she put on every morning stored away as she dozed, more elegant than any jewel Tokyo had offered only moments before. 

Sometimes, when one painting fell away, it revealed another underneath. Something hidden. The masters painted over their own works, hiding the painting underneath, the one that touched to near to heart hidden away, covered with some disconnected masterpiece until a careless art student or curator chips at the edge of it and sees the soul beneath.

She saw a glimpse of who she might have been, in the empty space next to Haruka on the bed, and dipped a toe into the room.

The boldness of it. The impropriety.

And yet she found she did not care, her footsteps soft as church whispers as she crept toward where Haruka slept, grateful for the newness of the floor in this charmless box of a monument to wealth, a friend to her own charmless self, not betraying her steps as Haruka slept on. She was close now, closer than she’d ever dared to come before, every inch of her pulling with longing to reach out, to touch her, to no longer be seen but to be felt by someone, to be a thing to be used and loved.

She knelt by Haruka’s bedside, expecting any moment that Haruka would awake and see her for the ugly thing that she was, not the prince that came to rescue this sleeping beauty but the witch who had enchanted her.

Haruka was beautiful. Perhaps someone might have insisted she was instead handsome or attractive, but they were all the more wrong and all the more swayed by the simple shortness of her hair, the masculine cut of her clothes. She was beautiful, and the moonlight streamed through the window fell across the lean musculature of her arms, tree limbs with their elegant waves and bends. The soft gold of her hair gleamed against the dark pillow and fell gently across her brow. Her features were cut like marble, still an unfinished and imprecise nature to her, rough at the edges,  but Michiru was both art and  artist, and could see what a work would become.

She glanced at Haruka’s hand, so tantalizingly near and so very far away. She shied away from Michiru’s touch. The was because she was not used to affection, to care, to gentleness, Michiru told herself, and nearly convinced herself was true, save for the times she looked in the mirror and heard it say to her that Haruka was good and noble, and could sense the bad in Michiru, and it burned her like a fairy to iron.

She swallowed the thought bitterly, turpentine filling her mouth. Love changed the taste of things.

Haruka had been terribly ill, a month ago, feverish and coughing, propped up quietly in bed as some podcast on the nature of cars droned on, Haruka slipping in and out of consciousness. Michiru had touched her, and she had not pulled away. Michiru hand slipped her long, delicate fingers around Haruka’s wrist and made a show of checking her pulse, and Haruka had slept on, each beat echoing through Michiru’s fingertips.

Michiru remembered it with pleasure, crouched in the darkness, and swiped away the bangs from Haruka’s forehead, even as she felt her own heart beat like a drum of war. You are a danger to me, as I was to you. And now you are a soldier, and I am the damned. Socrates with the hemlock he chose.

A little girl with dark teal hair and eyes the sparkled like the surface of the sea had once wished for love, the all-embracing kind that came like a wind from the seas and wrapped around, something that would take her far away and to something new in the movement of that adoration. An older girl with the same hair, but whose eyes had dulled from years of looking without seeing, had made a similar wish as she tuned her violin, but wishing instead that her heart could feel love. That it could be a living thing.

They were both fools, those girls. Wishing for things they didn’t understand, thinking they could take these things into their bodies and survive them, that love was some sweet and soft rain instead of the tsunami that crashed against everything Michiru had been.

Love is just a softer way to die, my loves, she might have said, if those girls would listen, and it will fool you praying for its embrace.

Michiru would die for Haruka, and the last bit of protection Michiru had would fall away, and whatever came after, they would see what had been painted there first, before she knew what would sell.

Michiru kissed Haruka’s forehead, and the poison tasted sweet.

[drognucwi772]

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[femmesfollesnebraska]

Artist Feature: Jane Barthès

Jane Barthès shares with LFF about her journey with art, her recent work and projects, feminism and much more...all images (c)  Jane Barthès.

Magical Forms and Spaces #2, 2018, 48x48″, charcoal and acrylic on canvas

Where are you from?

Born in Nigeria, to a Catalan French father and an English mother. Raised in London. As an adult in my 30s, I went to live near my southern French roots for 10 years before moving to New Mexico in the USA in 2004 where I lived for 5 years. When the big recession set in and the galleries closed, I headed for Chicago in 2009 (10 years ago) where I continue to live and work as an artist.

Molecular Model C6H807 (citric acid),  2018, 48x48″, charcoal and acrylic on canvas

Jane Barthès - About me and the work: Some perspective

My journey with art has been intensely personal. It began with a comic strip in the 80s. I was forbidden to go to art school so attended much later in the 90s. Nothing could ultimately stop the eternal need to draw! To this day, I consider myself primarily a draughtswoman, forever looking to exploit the illusion of space in new ways. Drawing is at the root of everything I do and making art has been the vehicle through which I have created a personal language to describe, digest and make sense of everything I encounter in my life. Grounded in an intuitive approach I have developed over many years. I seek to share a distilled space that invites people to briefly see and feel how I experience life. Underlying everything is my obsession with the intangible energy that mysteriously propels me through my existence. I’m guided by the goose-bumps factor as I sense the esoteric connection between all things.

Molecular Patters #7, 2016,  48x48″, charcoal, graphite and acrylic on canvas

A little more information: Balancing the inherited duality of a fiery Catalan French father and a reserved English mother is fundamental to the work and probably sheds light on my love of Eastern philosophies, particularly Zen. I am intrigued by the idea that beauty can result from chaos; opposing concepts such as poetry, math and physics are utterly interconnected. Energy can be contained. My use of color is both bold and yet restrained. The use of negative space is also required to do much of the work. Contrary to what we might imagine, emptiness is full and everything seems to spring from nothing. The resulting visual distillation flirts with Minimalism at times, but not in the way that a rigid movement favors the cool over the dramatic; it is a passion and a product of my search for what is essential.

Molecular Star, 2019, 60x132″, acrylic and charcoal on canvas

Just as my obsessions with energy and duality are constant, there is a sustained dialogue with art history which includes my formative love of European Expressionism and a fascination with Arabic patterns in architecture. My curiosity has led me to travel and live around the world and each port of call has been an opportunity to explore and integrate the unique arts and culture. Since being in the USA, I have become increasingly drawn to Abstract Expressionism, particularly the work of Robert Motherwell and the energy inherent in his unique composition of shapes. I also gravitate to the stringent rigors of American Hard-Edged Abstraction with artists such as Frederick Hammersley, Lorser Feitelson and Helen Lundeberg. All contemporary contributors to the discipline interest me and I hope I can bring my own, perhaps more expressive journey to the discussion.

Molecular Patterns #2, 48x36″, 2016, acrylic, charcoal and graphite on canvas

Presently, I am intrigued to see how my work has come to reflect both the urban architecture that surrounds me in Chicago and my preoccupation with societal problems. I am convinced, as Gaston Bachlelard’s writings on “The Poetics of Space” point out, that all architectural spaces are created with both the physical and moral energy of humanity. I am particularly sensitive to the stunning, lyrical beauty of the urban origami that surrounds me in Chicago. The geometric patterns and shapes in the work have become a language and a metaphor through which I explore this growing dissonance. The cracks, leaks and spaces that appear between the solid pristine forms in my work speak of an underlying fragility and warn of possible future chaos and the ultimate risk of implosion. I’m also beginning a series of large paper wall sculptures that question the same fragility. The fragility and tatty qualities of paper offer a perfect medium through which to explore the subject too.

Molecular Patterns #12, 2016, 48x48″, charcoal, graphite and acrylic on canvas

It’s perhaps important to note that I had launched into this new body of work before the current pandemic! It feels eerily prescient, as if life has caught up with my work faster than I would have ever imagined. Then again, I have always considered my work to be far cleverer than I am!

Molecules of Urban Design Revisited #3, 2019, 30” x 22”,  charcoal, acrylic and wool yarn on paper

Owing to our unprecedented current situation, all shows and projects in the pipeline are sadly cancelled or on hold! However, this might predispose people to consider the work with more urgency. For the future: I wish to fill large public spaces with my sometimes enormous narrative paintings and sculptures to create an environment and therefore an experience into which people enter to contemplate all at once the powerful building blocks of energy that we as people and society are created and built upon juxtaposed with our inherent fragility. I want to prompt thought about how we might build a better, more equal and inclusive society for everyone.

Molecules of Urban Design Revisited #4, 2019, 30” x 22”,  charcoal, acrylic and wool yarn on fabric

Does feminism play a role in your work?:  Not overtly discussed in my work, although I think completely relevant to all women artists. I admit I have been reluctant to engage this question because it can be difficult to separate the problems my more unusual path outside the more conventional art institutions might have engendered…but my experiences lead me to believe that sexism is very alive and well! I am likely to be criticized for being angry, aggressive or bitter. I know I can feel very frustrated sometimes but I learned to observe and not speak up because whatever one says in self-defense simply gets twisted to prove the point. I work hard never to be bitter. That would be a complete waste of time and energy. I hope my work speaks truth to power rather than my words. Although, I admit, as I mature, I grow less ‘ladylike’ and more inclined to say what I really think. Perhaps that’s liberating?  I know I have been ignored and passed over many times and presently probably for being a ‘middle-aged’ woman, not young enough, or perhaps old enough to be taken seriously.

Fragile City #1, 2020, 66x216″, acrylic, charcoal and graphite on canvas

Advice to aspiring artists?: Go to work every day. Never give up. Success is measured by the fact that you’re lucky enough to still be making work, not your bank account.

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https://www.jbarthes.com/

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Les Femmes Folles is a volunteer organization founded in 2011 with the mission to support and promote women in all forms, styles and levels of art from around the world with the online journal, print annuals, exhibitions and events; originally inspired by artist Wanda Ewing and her curated exhibit by the name Les Femmes Folles (Wild Women). LFF was created and is curated by Sally Deskins.  LFF Booksis a micro-feminist press that publishes 1-2 books per year by the creators of Les Femmes Folles including the award-winning Intimates & Fools (Laura Madeline Wiseman, 2014) , The Hunger of the Cheeky Sisters: Ten Tales (Laura Madeline Wiseman/Lauren Rinaldi, 2015 and Mes Predices (catalog of art/writing by Marie Peter Toltz, 2017).Other titles include Les Femmes Folles: The Women 2011, 2012, 2013, 2014, 2015 and 2016 available on blurb.com, including art, poetry and interview excerpts from women artists. A portion of the proceeds from LFF books and products benefit the University of Nebraska-Omaha’s Wanda Ewing Scholarship Fund.

Current prompt: Home Studios: Show us where you create!

https://femmesfollesnebraska.tumblr.com/post/614036096689504256/new-series-call-home-studio

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Can you see the way online shopping has changed?

Now, you are never again constrained to spend hours on online shopping sites—you can simply click through a brand’s Instagram and effectively buy that shirt updated in a post. Social media is capable of boosting the growth of any business, which is the impact of ecommerce.

Considering everything, both social media and online shopping turn out to be an integral part of our lives. Their collaboration is making it significant and influential ideation for businesses to actualize their dream idea.

Here’s the reason.

Quality in Numbers

What is one thing that isolates social from other marketing channels? NUMBERS! Holy yes! Would you be able to envision that Facebook alone has 2 billion dynamic month to month clients? That is two trailed by I-don’t-know-what number of zeroes long. Furthermore, even though Facebook is the father of social media, there are different powerful platforms to be dealt with, like Twitter, Instagram, YouTube, and the rundown goes on and on.

Is Socila Media empowering ecommerce or Ecommerce empowering Social media?

This is the part where ecommerce organizations can literally have clashes. One essential requirement for an ecommerce site is Sales! Who triggers these deals? People or site guests as they are named in the online marketing language. Subsequently, social media ticks all the privilege boxes here by allowing ecommerce site owners to exhibit their items and services to the world; honestly, truth be told.

Am I not persuaded at this point?

We should dismember this a little bit at a time and see how social media and ecommerce are bound to go inseparably:

Revealing to People Your Brand is Alive

How would you anticipate that individuals should realize that the image of your business exists? Can’t shout and yell till everybody gets the message currently, can you?

All you have to do is start via social media and present yourself before the world. The world that remains online seven days per week, 365 days per year.

This is the pre-imperative of all marketing endeavors.

Storytelling Is A Must!

Gone are those days when individuals like to scan through long entries and sections of content. Nobody has saved time any longer!

This is the time of visual creativity, about relating to a story instead of merely advertising your items with a single site connect.

Tell the story of your brand, how it came to the realization, what’s the motivation, early-day battles, about its legacy. Hence, people connect with the brand itself and build a stable relationship.

Building Your Brand

How would you need your ecommerce brand to be depicted as? What hues do you see your group wearing? How would you need your clients to resemble? Who’s the one to be focused in the crowd? What sort of a client would you say you are serving? What’s the age band you need to target? Each one of these inquiries can be replied with the strength of social media.

You need to make a brand around your ecommerce site with the goal that clients don’t simply run in for deals; however, for the contact too.

Hi Customers!

This is somewhat of an easy decision! Social media ensures numbers. What can be another place where you can get a canvas of conceivably millions basically by signing in?

This is a one-stop answer for potential people who are simply standing by to purchase what you’re selling.

The best thing about being present via social media is that it’s pretty much free! This is the sort of ROI that you find in paradise.

Amazing Customer Service

Businesses are continually progressing in the direction of improving relations with clients, and social media gives a superior approach to do so. Companies can improve how they can satisfy clients’ needs through a value-based web approach. This encourages you to better draw in with your clients and the market.

The instantaneous response is a significant component in web-based life, giving temporary access to what you’re doing. Social media gives you ease, as a business to rapidly react to real client questions, while at the same time making it simpler to see and respond to those disagreeable remarks. This gives you get a prompt response to support your clients, and you can build up techniques to react through these stages.

At the point when everybody’s utilizing these objectives, it bodes well to react and arrive at clients along these lines. Shoppers will adore that you’ve adopted this strategy to draw in with the brand.

Drive Visitors To Your Website

Make social media the channel through which people arrive at your site, which is the whole ballgame by the day’s end. You need deals, and this is how you’ll get them.

Social media is an effective tool loaded down with natural traffic; no big surprise why organizations burn through millions for genuine leads.

Helps Your SEO Efforts

You probably won’t know this yet; however, having a decent social media presence supports your site’s SEO remainder primarily. Indeed, even the best SEO company out there will recommend a similar immediately.

Just as the significance of SEO for e-commerce is mammoth, social media isn’t excessively a long way behind.

These are two powers if functioning couple admirably can soar your deals in only months.

Google considers how you’re contacting your crowd, how you’re interfacing with them, what they’re stating about your brand, the rating, and the criticism you’re getting while at the same time choosing search engine ranking positions, makes a successful situation for your business.

Making Community

Your customers and clients are something beyond that—they’re a piece of your locale. Your customers have discovered something in your image they identify with. This is the reason they like you.

You need to develop that network, notwithstanding building reliability inside it. Strategize how you can build your followers and guarantee every one of your posts is much increasingly viable and locks in. Offer fun, astonishing, and helpful substance that your crowd identifies with. Start discussions, regardless of whether it’s by commenting on the post or identifying a companion.

Social media enables your image to pick up trust and assemble credibility. Think of your social profile as your retail facade. Reliably present connecting with the content to develop your business and keep the network that cherishes all that you do.

Impact Buying Decisions

We just said how clients interact with social media, is an impacting factor in their buying choices. On the off chance that your profile needs content—or you aren’t even on the stage—you’re on a difficult task with regards to persuading your crowd to purchase from you. You need compelling content for each phase of the shoppers.

In the advanced age, you need to go on the web. Online networking impacts brand notoriety, to such an extent that it impacts the purchasing choice. An incredible online life nearness is vital for unmistakable ecommerce results.

Solid Brand Image

A functional social media presence enhances how individuals see your brand. Positive client surveys, input, and recognition help in ecommerce conversion. Make it a piece of your system to incorporate item surveys and client created content. This gold-mine strategy is how a client exceptionally acknowledge because they perceive themselves in the matter.

Individuals are as of now discussing you. Internet-based life places you as an in-charge of your brand’s account. Utilize this to grow your potential benefit to design the full picture. At the point when your crowd sees a strong reaction, they are forced to discover progressively about you. Customers account for validity, and this ultimately grows their trust upon you and your business.

It’s About More Than Selling

We know that the sole reason for your social presence is to sell, but if you follow through this approach, your followers and clients will quickly catch it. So, try to be contributing to the community. Social media is more than a gateway to a web-based business. You need to draw in with clients on another level, one that isn’t just about purchasing.

Individuals use Instagram, Pinterest, and different platforms for interest and human touch. Offer your image, its advantage, and relatable substance that is in line with your clients. Think about internet-based life past its selling potential: It’s a new method to draw in with your crowd and an instrument to hype the best material that shows off your image. You don’t need to do everything solo either—curation is staggeringly accommodating.

You’re constructing an association with clients, and you need to cultivate a sound association with them. Try not to be dynamic just when you’re attempting to sell.

Platform Purchasing Techniques

Utilizing an assortment of systems is significant because everyone is made with various ultimate objectives. Amplify your effort’s potential and take advantage of every stage. Not exclusively would it be able to facilitate the business procedure and permit an increasingly successful connection with clients, utilizing every step enables you to change your methodologies and complete deals in various ways.

Facebook, for instance, remembers worked for instruments for occasion advancements and is incredible for profoundly focused on broadcasting. Instagram is, to a great extent, considered the millennial go-to, with its convincing invitations to take action and high-caliber visual substance. Every stage has its very own advantages that engage your clients to purchase.

Exploit the trendy things inside every interpersonal company activity, such as hashtags, live video, join fastens. A significant piece of social networking includes the following patterns, and these subtleties help to flourish your business’s perception.

Conclusion

As observed above, Social media marketing isn’t a choice with to do or not to do; however, an impulse for each brand, be it a little developing one or effectively settled. Making social media channels the key idea of communication, the companies can connect with a more extensive unbiased crowd and convert them into a client base. Being embraced by numerous online business organizations now, social media marketing has just demonstrated its value.

Remember, the quantity of social media clients is required to arrive at 2.5 billion by 2018, and it is a major open door for all organizations. Is it safe to say that it isn’t?