#Its was left right center white elephant

[mrmushroom1031]

I have this lobster that I won at a white elephant gift exchange last year and I named him Gerry and after listening to The Magnus Archives I can't see him the same w/o thinking of Gerard

[newstfionline]

Monday, August 5, 2024

Hurricane Debby to bring heavy rains and flooding to Florida, Georgia and S. Carolina (AP) The center of Hurricane Debby is expected to reach the Big Bend coast of Florida early Monday bringing potential record-setting rains, catastrophic flooding and life-threatening storm surge as it moves slowly across the northern part of the state before stalling over the coastal regions of Georgia and South Carolina. Debby was located about 100 miles (161 kilometers) west of Tampa, Florida, with maximum sustained winds of 75 mph (120 kph). Forecasters warned heavy amounts of rain from Debby could spawn catastrophic flooding in Florida, South Carolina and Georgia.

Mexican army acknowledges some of its soldiers have been killed by cartel bomb-dropping drones (AP) The Mexican army acknowledged for the first time Friday that some of its soldiers have been killed by bomb-dropping drones operated by drug cartels. Defense Secretary Gen. Luis Cresencio Sandoval did not provide exact figures on the number of casualties suffered in the attacks, almost all of which occurred in the western state of Michoacan. The army had previously acknowledged that soldiers had been wounded in Michoacan by improvised explosive devices, or IEDs. Sandoval did not say when the attacks took place, but suggested they targeted patrol units. He said the army was acquiring anti-drone systems to combat the threat.

Maduro victory sparks fears of new exodus of Venezuelans (AFP) A despondent Jose Vasquez, 31, has decided to join a mass exodus of Venezuelans seeking a better life elsewhere, having lost all hope in his future with the contested reelection of President Nicolas Maduro. “There is no light at the end of the tunnel. I’m leaving,” the 31-year-old told AFP. Some 7.5 million people have already left the country in the last decade to escape the oil-rich nation’s grave economic crisis, according to the United Nations refugee agency (UNHCR). And surrounding nations are bracing for another exodus after Maduro was declared the victor of Sunday’s election. The opposition claims it was the rightful winner and the dispute has sparked deadly protests, leaving at least 16 dead. Vasquez studied to be a teacher, but now works as a salesman, as salaries in his chosen profession were so low “that they are useless.” Ahead of the vote, pollster ORC Consultores had found that 18 percent of Venezuelans were considering emigrating within six months if Maduro remained in power.

The ‘cheaper’ Paris Olympics (Yahoo News) There are very few cases where something that costs nearly $9 billion can be called “cheap.” The Paris Olympics is one of them. While the 2024 Summer Games do carry an enormous price tag, it is significantly lower than other recent editions of the event. The numbers can vary wildly based on what’s counted as an Olympic expense, but the most recent high-quality estimate puts the cost of Tokyo’s 2021 Games at $13.7 billion, Rio in 2016 at $23.6 billion and London in 2012 at $16.8 billion. Recent Winter Olympics have also come with staggering price tags, with estimates for the 2022 Games in Beijing running as high as $35 billion. So relative to those examples, Paris really can argue that it hosted its Games on the cheap. The primary way the Paris organizing committee kept costs down was by relying on existing venues for the competition, rather than building a series of brand-new arenas as previous hosts have done. Roughly 95% of the competition will take place in venues that already exist or in temporary ones that are much more affordable than the permanent locations that other hosts have built—which often become little-used “white elephants” after the Games are completed.

Ukraine hits airfield, fuel depots, sub in overnight drone attacks on Russian regions (New York Post) A massive drone attack walloped the military command center Russia is using to wage its war against Ukraine on Saturday. The overnight barrage destroyed ammunition plants and fuel depots in Russia’s Belgorod, Kursk, and Rostov regions. Among the successful targets was the Morozovsk airfield, where Russia keeps its fighter-bomber jets. The Russian airfield has played a crucial role in the Kremlin’s operations against Ukraine. Russia also lost its B-237 Rostov-on-Don attack submarine, which was sunk Saturday outside Sevastopol in Ukrainian bomb strikes. Ukraine’s Ministry of Defense noted on X the sub was now resting at “the bottom of the Black Sea.”

Dozens killed as anti-government protests resume in Bangladesh (Washington Post) Violence erupted between Bangladeshi security forces and anti-government protesters Sunday, killing at least 57 people, according to a Washington Post tally of reports from hospitals and police. Local media placed the toll even higher, saying nearly 100 people had died. At least 14 police officers were among the dead, Enamul Haque, a police spokesperson, said in a statement. Hospital officials in several districts, including Magura and Sirajsganj, said many of the victims they received had bullet wounds. Sunday’s protests are the latest bout of unrest in the South Asian country—where some 200 people were killed last month in clashes between security forces and student protesters.

Bombs Rain Down in Myanmar as Junta Evades Sanctions to Buy Jet Fuel (NYT) The family ducked for cover when junta jets roared over their home in central Myanmar. U Har San and his wife crawled under a table, and their daughter, eight months pregnant, hid under a bed. Bombs rained down, he said, even though no rebel fighters were in their village. Their daughter died. The attack last month on the village of Lat Pan Hla is a feature of Myanmar’s brutal war strategy. Unable to defeat the rebels on the ground, it has increased its indiscriminate bombing of civilian targets to terrorize the population. The airstrikes have also taken a heavy toll on resistance fighters. But the resistance fighters continue to make gains on the ground. In recent weeks, rebel armies seized a prison in Shan State, freeing hundreds of political prisoners, and on the opposite side of the country, another rebel army captured a civilian airport in Rakhine State. The escalating attacks on civilians have made it clear that Myanmar is evading sanctions aimed at blocking the flow of jet fuel that the regime needs to keep its bombers, fighter jets and helicopter gunships in the air. In separate attacks, the junta recently bombed a wedding and a monastery, killing some 60 people.

With Smugglers and Front Companies, China Is Skirting American A.I. Bans (NYT) In the southern Chinese city of Shenzhen, a mazelike market stretches for a half-mile, packed with stalls selling every type of electronic imaginable. It’s an open secret that vendors here are offering one of the world’s most sought-after technologies: the microchips that create artificial intelligence, which the United States is battling to keep out of Chinese hands. One vendor said he could order the chips for delivery in two weeks. Another said companies came to the market ordering 200 or 300 chips from him at a time. A third business owner said he recently shipped a big batch of servers with more than 2,000 of the most advanced chips made by Nvidia, the U.S. tech company, from Hong Kong to mainland China. As evidence, he showed photos and a message with his supplier arranging the April delivery for $103 million. The United States, with some success, has tried to control the export of these chips. Still, The New York Times has found an active trade in restricted A.I. technology—part of a global effort to help China circumvent U.S. restrictions amid the countries’ growing military rivalry.

Countries urge nationals to leave Lebanon as Mid-East war fears grow (BBC) The US has urged its citizens to leave Lebanon on “any ticket available”, amid worries of a wider conflict in the Middle East. An increasing number of countries issue similar warnings, including the UK. Iran has vowed “severe” retaliation against Israel, which it blames for the death of Hamas chief Ismail Haniyeh in Tehran on Wednesday. His assassination came hours after Israel killed Hezbollah senior commander Fuad Shukr in Beirut. Western officials fear that Hezbollah, an Iran-backed militia and political movement based in Lebanon, could play a heavy role in any such retaliation, which in turn could spark a serious Israeli response. The UK, Sweden, France, Canada and Jordan have urged their citizens to leave Lebanon, as a growing number of flights are cancelled or suspended at the country’s only commercial airport, in Beirut.

In Gaza, Even Poetry and Toilets Aren’t Safe From Thieves (NYT) As he perused a market selling everything from stolen children’s shoes to battered plumbing pipes, Mahmoud al-Jabri was surprised to find something familiar: his own book collection. Among the collection was his first published work of poems, with his handwriting scrawled along the margins. Even more shocking than seeing the book he had toiled for years to create was that the vendor wanted a paltry 5 shekels, or about $1, for it. The salesman suggested using the pages for kindling. “I was torn between two feelings,” he said, “laughter and bitterness.” In Gaza, even poetry books can become a source of profit for enterprising thieves. A pervasive lawlessness has emerged from the rubble of cities obliterated since Israel launched its all-out offensive on the enclave in retaliation for the Hamas-led attacks of Oct. 7. “Thieves’ markets,” as they are called by locals, have proliferated across Gaza, selling loot plundered from homes, businesses and even hospitals. With Israel blocking the flow of most goods into Gaza, the markets have become important places for finding household necessities. And visits to the markets have become a weary ritual for Gazans seeking to reclaim stolen pieces of their lives.

Israeli raids in West Bank cities help fuel militant violence (Washington Post) Israeli raids targeting Palestinian militants in the West Bank are taking an enormous toll on daily life in the territory, leaving hundreds dead and neighborhoods destroyed, tactics residents and local fighters say are feeding resentment and causing more unrest. Since the Oct. 7 attacks, Israeli forces have killed 554 Palestinians in the West Bank, according to the United Nations, which is higher than any annual total since the United Nations began counting in 2005. Thousands more have been arrested or wounded, in sweeping operations backed by drones, warplanes and helicopter gunships. Israel, which occupies the West Bank, says the firepower is necessary to prevent attacks on Israeli citizens. But the forays into Palestinian cities and refugee camps have done little to subdue the militants. Instead, the violence is helping grow their ranks, furnishing new recruits angered by the conflict. “They are destroying all the infrastructure, the electricity, the shops,” Ashraf Jaradat, 42, said just hours after Israeli forces withdrew following a raid on Jenin on July 5. An airstrike targeting five militants that day shattered Jaradat’s windows and cracked the water tank on his roof. “We get sick and tired of this,” he said. “The children are traumatized.”

[asherlockstudy]

How to do perfect staging: a lesson from Italy

I mentioned at some point I might actually make a post drooling over Italy's Måneskin performance and staging. I was kinda bored to be honest and decided against it but then all those trashy rumours that try to bring the winners down seemed so disgraceful and embarrassing to me that I decided again to do it. Now, the truth is that their performance was a little better in the semi-final introduction act. Perhaps this was due to the anxiety of the Grand Final. This is why I am going to use photos and gifs from that act and perhaps this will show to some that the perfect package might need a little bit of everything, and not just slap your language on the audience's ears with the expectation that this alone is always enough. *Did I make this too personal?*

Anyway, I digress. And I don’t mean that the Grand Final performance wasn’t still the best of the night, I just mean it wasn’t at the same God Tier level as the semifinal one.

Here's why the Italians took advantage of the Dutch stage until its very last millimeter and way more cleverly than any other country.

This is the only act that starts from the back of the stage, where the singer Damiano David waits for us alone.

Even with the rest of the 25 competing countries, this intro makes you forget that you are watching a contest with 26 countries as guests. Unlike anyone else, Italy looks like the host, like this place belongs to them and the frontman waits for you to show you around and possibly drag you to the world of Måneskin. In fact, you almost forget it’s Eurovision - this now looks like a Måneskin concert or, even better, a more private space of theirs with an ominous industrial feel. One of the most impactful things now is the lighting. Take a look at it. Almost all contestants throw all the lights on themselves or on some important prop they have prepared. The Italians are the only ones who chose to just light the stage itself. The simple white lights on the black stage give the impression of depth and it is the only act which shows emphatically the size of the stage. Why this? Well, we already established that in the first seconds the viewers feel they are in a new space belonging exclusively to Måneskin - the lights make us feel that their area is vast and dark and we are about to be drawn to its depths.

Damiano indeed guides us to the front as he sings, where the rest of the band are on the top of a platform. The other members won’t come down and join Damiano until he sings the appropriate verse “Buona sera, signore e signori” (=Good evening, ladies and gentlemen) and accompany it with a theatrical flamboyant bow (that feels very Italian). That’s when, technically introduced to the audience after the official greeting, bassist Victoria de Angelis and guitarist Thomas Raggi come off the platform and join Damiano.

There’s nothing excessive about the visual effects. Only the use of white lights that give the perception of depth and in the background the big shadows of the group’s silhouettes. They are in the front and they cast their shadows in the back; they create to you a feeling of being trapped by them but do you really want to escape?

When the second verse starts, Victoria and Thomas take the paths left and right of the stage and leave Damiano alone. They take even more advantage of the stage and in a typical classic rock band way. These two play with the side cameras but the focus is more on Damiano, whose verse sounds more like a tongue-twister. Since the cameras are rightfully on Damiano, I must now address the elephant in the room. Damiano is particularly attractive. In fact, the whole band is almost mind-bogglingly attractive and they clearly take a lot of care about how exactly they are going to look but Damiano, as the frontman, does especially so. So let’s talk about the outfit. They all have essentially the same outfit, however it is cut differently for each based on the person’s looks and personality. Isn’t it fantastic?

Damiano, who oozes confidence and sex appeal, has accordingly the most “provocative” outfit of the four. His chest and arms are bare so that his many tattoos can be seen. I’ll talk about the other outfits later as they all have their place in the... uh... white lights.

During the second chorus Victoria and Thomas return at the center and after the chorus it is time for the first solo; Victoria’s. The cameras are now on her but the lighting remains modest to accentuate the dark beat of her bass.

Victoria is the only girl of the group and the most dressed of them all - how refreshing! Her outfit is more similar to Thomas but she is buttoned up in the front. How does she wish to underscore her uniqueness as the woman of the band? But of course, with long flamboyant girly sleeves that come to delicious contrast with her aggressive stomping and her wide strides. Both her hairstyle and her outfit is inspired or basically just outright 70′s classic rock look.

It’s time for the bridge of the song right after her solo and Damiano has his attention on her and also draws the viewer’s attention to her some more. This part of the song is lower and softer - in relative terms - that’s why Damiano “chooses” her to sing it to. The lights now turn red, the intensity rises but there’s light flirtatiousness between them, with many smiles to each other and the camera that turns around them as they launch at each other playfully.

Then the song gets darker, more intense, the guitar stronger than the bass and Damiano’s voice turns to a scream. For this part, he turns to his bro, guitarist Thomas and he now draws the attention to him.

He grabs Thomas by the neck in an intense, intimate way (that doesn’t mean sexual, just intimate. His interaction with Victoria wasn’t sexual either). It is clear that through different ways Måneskin want to stress how good and close their relations are and that their singer, who is apparently a show stealer by birth, wants to ensure that they all get equal amount of attention from their audience. I love this.

True enough, nobody is left behind! The last chorus starts with a drums solo and Damiano goes up to the platform to now meet and introduce to us Ethan Torchio. Ethan stands up and his giant shadow is on the now blue background: this is the moment for the - so I hear - somewhat shy drummer to shine in his own aesthetic. The Italians leave none of their assets to fall down and Ethan’s impressive hair rightfully steals the show.

Just like Victoria and Thomas look alike, so do Ethan and Damiano, that’s why their costumes are the most similar. Ethan has a vest that covers him more than Damiano but leaves his arms bare. Because whose else the arms do you need to see if not the drummer’s?

This song has something peculiar because it was not a song originally written for Eurovision; it slows down in the end and  does not end on some impressive note from the singer as usual but with the last solo we expect, that of the guitarist, because everything is fair in Måneskin! The focus has to leave Damiano, so now it’s the time for the visual effects to finally catch fire, literally,  because nobody is allowed to take their eyes off them! Måneskin use a huge amount of pyro that however feels appropriate for the intense chorus and the ending guitar solo.

Thomas steps up for his solo and I forget we are in 2021. This is the most 70s thing I would ever hope to see.

In a hell of pyro, Thomas looks like he was tranferred right from a 70s rock ‘n roll concert. His outfit would be gladly taken by Keith Richards of the Rolling Stones. The unbuttoned jacket with this boho tie, such a classic 70s fashion touch. His haircut and even his FACE are the epitome of the 70s - what an ending sequence!

But hey we reached the end and this is Eurovision, the song slows down dangerously. Like I said, the Italians forbid us to get distracted. The attention must return to Damiano ASAP. Damiano says one last line and takes the audience with him to the very end with a death drop.

There you have it. Måneskin had me holding my breath for the full three minutes and I did not want to take my eyes off my TV. There are countless shows that are awesome - in this very Eurovision as well - but I was impressed by how they seemed to have found the perfect balance for everything in every single moment. They found the perfect stage concept for the song, they relied on visual effects only when they needed them and they stressed every twist and turn of their sound with a perfectly fitting move or interaction. They also all effortlessly could hold your attention and they made sure that they all would, with members often helping bring out other members. This performance was beautiful and, above all, clever which is why it was undoubtedly the worthiest of the win.  

[shimbongulus]

Day 19: Mettaton

(The Robot! It’s him! This is from my Fanfic, Flowey Comes Home. Read the rest of Chapter 13 here.)

Frisk had been focusing on the flare that their hand controlled. Up, down, left, right. They were getting more firm control over moving it around.

“Try to make it into something else,” thought Chara. Frisk tried to make it into an elephant, but struggled - the flare refused to budge its borders.

“Ugh, let me take it,” thought the dead child who took the flare and turned it into a hand again. Frisk turned back around to read the book. “So,” they thought, “as this book goes, that might be why you can manipulate it like that.”

Chara eagerly thought, “Maybe I could make more than a hand. Maybe I could-”

Thwop, thwop, thwop, thwop began to beat against the windows and roof. Frisk’s curiosity took over and they shut the book as they ran to the porch, and looked out over Royal Street, with an eye to the sky.

It took a moment to come into view, but it went above the houses, just low enough to make out; A white helicopter with a pink circle on the doors, and an M in the center of the circles.

Frisk’s mind couldn’t help but scream, “Mettaton!” Chara spoke up, annoyed, “I can’t understand why you like that blowhard box - he’s always such a spotlight hog.” Frisk retorted, “But that’s what’s so cool about him! He’s just so glamorous, and so confident. He makes things so interesting!”

Chara rode unwillingly with the eager human as Frisk sprinted up the streets, past the orphanage, past the water features, towards the park which Mettaton’s helicopter began to lower itself. Frisk shot past the hard-pressed trees being battered by the wind beaten by the helicopter’s blades and just ahead of the gathering crowd which raptly stared at the helicopter.

Frisk’s eyes joined theirs, staring eagerly at the M-marked doors for the slightest sign of life from within. Quickly showing up were a very winded Alphys and a very enthused Papyrus, who beat Alphys by a good few seconds.

The tension hung in the air as the crowd seemed to stare deeply into the dark-tinted windows of the helicopter.

Suddenly, it was cut, as a deep-throated call came out from a great, red monster, “LOOK!” The form of Mettaton was visible as an outline through the helicopter’s window. Even through the darkness of its tint, they could see him striking poses.

The speakers on the helicopter began to rev up with lively electronic beats, a simple progression that was rather like a drumroll. Frisk remembered it as being practically the same song they heard blaring through the CORE.

Suddenly, the doors flung open, and Mettaton came whirling out like a top, full of energy and vivacity. He whirled his legs and arms in a circle as he hovered in the air, their motion so rapid that the naked eye simply saw a blur of spinning. Perfectly synchronizing with his bombastic entrance was the helicopter’s sound music, which played Mettaton’s theme now in electric guitar.

All the while, the crowd screamed in ecstasy as the payoff to the wait had finally come. “MET-TA-TON! MET-TA-TON!” rang throughout the park and against the buildings as monsters and humans chanted the robot’s name like that of a conquering hero.

The chants continued even as Mettaton’s theme coincided with his descent to the ground in a graceful, playful pose as he landed on his left foot, crooking the right at the knee and crossing it over his left. His arms formed a great S, as he stuck his tongue out playfully and winked at the crowd through his left hand and let his right arm form the lower end of the S at his hips.

The crowd stood starstruck as they continued cheering. Several rushed forward to try to embrace the robot, though the emerging security team of both humans and various monsters intercepted them, including poor Monster Kid, who wound up slamming face-first into a bulky bouncer.

Another one who was intercepted that Mettaton tenderly turned his head towards was Alphys. Frisk beamed as Mettaton’s suave robotic voice called, “Let her through, Edward. She’s a VIP.” Alphys surged to Mettaton as she called, “Mettaton!” The robot embraced her with his gloved mechanical arms as he intoned, barely audible over the crowd, “Alphys, darling, so wonderful to see you all again!”

The bot strode towards Frisk as he called, “And speaking of darlings, Frisk!” The child reached up and hugged at the Robot’s waist, able to reach a good bit taller than they could in the Underground. Frisk wanted to speak, but the first sound out of their mouth was drowned out by the sounds of the helicopter and the crowd. Mettaton spoke up, “Let’s take this somewhere more personal, darlings.” He turned to the security team and called, “Thank you, my buff beaus! Take the helicopter off, will you?” They obliged as the crew jumped into the helicopter and the beating of the blades drew off with the craft itself. The security remained, keeping the crowd at bay while Mettaton led his three friends out and towards Alphys’ house.

The robot, Papyrus, Frisk, and Alphys all walked along the way, the noise of the park finally becoming more bearable, with the occasional fan dotting the way chanting Mettaton’s name. It was in this quiet interval that Chara spoke up again. “I am getting a little worried about Flowey, Frisk.” “Oh, he’ll be fine,” the child dismissively thought, “He can handle himself at home until Toriel gets back.” “That’s not what I’m talking about. I think your little slip-up the other night was noticed, and I’m worried he might learn about me.” Frisk pondered for a moment as Papyrus kicked up an indistinct conversation, but Chara shot down a stray thought, “And no, he’s still not azzy. I know Azzy, and that’s still not him. I don’t care how much he may have reformed.”

The throng came to Alphys’ house and approached various positions, Mettaton going to lounge on the piano, Papyrus standing between him and Alphys and Frisk, who sat on the couch off to the right.

“SO!” spoke Papyrus, “HOW WAS YOUR GLOBAL ADVENTURE? DID YOU FIND ANY OTHER COOL SKELETONS?”

“Oh, the tour was a wonderful little shindig, Papyrus. So many human locales! Europe, Brazil, China…��� The robot turned his head to Alphys, “They’re all so very different, each place has such a unique little feeling! And so many types of dumplings!”

Frisk chirped up, “Didja have a favorite place?”

“Oh, my dear, that would have to be either France or the Land.” Alphys puzzled for a moment. “Uhh.. Mettaton, do you mean England?” Papyrus stuck a finger in the air and proclaimed, “THE ROBOT KNOWS WHAT HE MEANS TO SAY! HE LOVES THE LAND OF ENG!”

Mettaton continued, “I even managed to have a concert under the Eiffel Tower, and it was glamorous. We had fireworks, strobe lighting, and Burgerpants playing an accordion!”

The robot’s face turned sour, briefly, “We WOULD have had a chainsaw-giveaway, but the police wouldn’t let us throw them to the audience while they were running. The only ‘hazard’ in that is how boring it would be to give them away otherwise!”

His face lit up again, “And then there was London! I tried to see their Queen - but they had me evicted when I tried to sit in a chair while waiting for her, claiming that it was “the royal throne.”

Alphys couldn’t help but sigh as Frisk giggled. “Mettaton, we’ve got to work on your protocol for royalty. Just because Asgore let you do it doesn’t mean other monarchs will.”

“A task for another day, Alphys,” said Mettaton. “I have enjoyed my little vacay, but there’s nowhere like home. Even if it’s named something terribly gauche.’ He got a sudden perk and interest in his voice as he spoke, sitting up from his lounging position and looking intently at Frisk.

“For now, I’d love to hear how things have gone around here. I’d heard so many rumors! They say that Toriel and Asgore are dating again!”

“Well,” started Frisk, “Not dating. They’re friends again, though!” Alphys blushed at something, and Chara immediately spoke up, “Oh, god, I hope she didn’t write that slash fic starring mom and dad.”

“Also!” spoke Frisk, “That flower - I managed to convince everyone, and Flowey is down in town now.” Mettaton seemed to light up before Frisk spoke up, “He’s set some ground rules though, including no cameras on him.”

“Oh, drat, darling - I’d have loved to make him the star of his own reality show. Imagine the ratings! Very well, then - I suppose each star has their own standards. Let me know when he’d like to see moi.”

Frisk raised a brow. “You’re definitely interested in talking to Flowey, huh?” “Oh, without a doubt! I’ve talked to most everyone in the underground before we got out, but Flowey is someone I only met once. When the barrier broke, remember.”

Mettaton returned to lounging on the piano, “New faces in these parts are always so interesting - even IF I can’t film them, they can inspire me.”

Alphys suddenly stood up as her eyes shot open. “Uh, Mettaton! Lemme check your batteries.” “Certainly, though I’ll need some grapes to prepare me for such an undertaking..” Papyrus strode to Alphys’ fridge and retrieved, from a baggie, a bundle of grapes. He fed them to the robot who rolled sideways as Alphys inspected a panel on his back.

“Ahhh. Good for now,” noted the lizard, “But you’ll need recharging in 11 hours, 2 minutes.”

“Time enough to ask about something else I’d heard,” spoke Mettaton as his eyes panned back to Frisk, who was perusing Alphys’ comprehensive stack of anime DVD’s, next to the T.V. “Frisk, darling, is it true that you can use magic?”

Frisk nodded and then pointed into the air, channelling their potential to form two flares. They made them circle each other as they spoke, “Yup! So far I can make these, and a shield. These, I can make at will - but I can’t do the same with the shield, just yet.”

“DON’T WORRY, FRISK!” intoned Papyrus, “UNDYNE WILL HAVE YOU TRAINED UP IN NO TIME! SPEAKING OF WHICH! SATURDAY MORNING!” “No prob, Paps. Just hope Undyne will be a bit more, uh, gentle then.”

“Ooh, la, la! Sounds like things got tough between you and her,” chirped the robot from his throne of ivory.

“Oh yeah. Had an argument, and after we made up, figured the best thing for it was some sparring. Messed up and accidentally summoned my shield!”

Alphys chimed in, “S-She was so hyped up after that, though. She could barely go to sleep that night, she was practically wired up the whole night.”

As Frisk’s flare continued, Mettaton was audibly awed, “Darling, it’s wonderful for someone so new to it. If you ever want to show it off, we’ve got a spot on Metta Magic Moments next month.”

Frisk felt their cheeks flush with enthusiasm at the praise. An audible gasp filled the room as all 3 monsters regarded Frisk’s flare grow brighter and brighter with confidence.

Eventually, though, Frisk’s magic show had to come to an end as the four settled in to watch some Gun Princess Seikokoru Season 6. They were able to spend the better part of the day watching Princess Seikokoru battle the vicious Baron Recoil. They were only able to get to her narrow escape from his Resight Recketeers before Mettaton’s batteries began to beep.

“No worries, Alphys, darling - I can see myself to the charger. Ta-ta, all!” The robot disappeared downstairs as the Skeleton spoke, “THANK YOU FOR HOSTING US, ALPHYS! HOWEVER, I MUST GO PREPARE SOME MORE CAR PUZZLES! THOSE TILE-PUZZLES WON’T GENERATE THEMSELVES!”

He then flew towards the nearby window, which beeped and automatically detected the presence of Papyrus’ soul as it flung itself open. The skeleton flew out through the window, which then shut itself again, before beeping a hearty, “PAPYRUS HAS LEFT THE BUILDING!”

[travelers-encore-zine]

Meet the Contributors of the OWTE Fanzine!

[Image Description: A digital recreation of the Outer Wilds ship log screen with a single log opened in the center and its corresponding message box at the bottom of the screen. The log's denotation color is a bright orange reminiscent of the Outer Wilds title card and it is labeled "Helvetica" with artwork provided by the named contributor centered in the log box. There is a sublog connected to the central log labeled "Artist" with an Outer Wilds stock icon representing the contributor centered in the sublog box. In the top right corner of the screen is a pixel art recreation of the Outer Wilds Ventures logo with the words "Outer Wilds Travelers' Encore Fanzine" written below, and to the left and top are two logs currently obscured off-screen, the one at the top connected to the opened log by a lined arrow pointed towards the obscured log.

Text within the message box is written as follows:

"Tumblr: helveticaoftheyears

Hey, I’m Helvetica! I’ve been doing digital art for a good few years now, traditional for longer, and I mostly do fanart of shows, games, and podcasts I love. I’m truly excited to be part of this zine, to hopefully show how important this game has been for me."

Image Description of art within the log box: A man in a pink elephant mask carrying another man over his shoulders with long hair. “Syd Get!” Is written in bubble letters above both figures.

Image Description of the Outer Wilds stock icon within the sublog box: A simple black and white decal of the player character's helmet, as seen used in the game to represent the character in a significant moment.

End Image Description.]

[dragonoffantasyandreality]

Kamen Rider Thunderbirds Chapter 4: The Egoistic Genius - Prologue

Been a while since I posted anything about this series lol. I should thank to @katblu42 and @myladykayo for some help in this X3

Tagging others @cg29 @uniwolfcorn @janetm74 @dreamycloud @teapotteringabout @mothmandalore @willow-salix @gumnut-logic @the-lady-razorsharp

-0-0-0-

Within the depths of the Malaysian Jungle, a temple lay within its lush foliage and big trees. But life was nowhere to be seen. No tropical birds fly above the temple, no monkeys swinging in the branches, no snakes slither through the leaves, no black leopards stalking through the grass, not even rhinos or elephants passing by.

But one look to the ruins, light radiated from its open windows and entrance. To walk up the stairs made of old carved rocks, pass by the large columns and through the giant wooden gate, one finds a hall filled with statues of old, walls made of all kinds of colored stones and the rooms were filled with precious decor and treasures.

But evil rules the place. Shadows roam and lurk within the cracks. Lights from the candles satisfy their growth.

Standing in front of the altar in the center of the room, was a man, in clothes of red and gold decorated with precious gems. Waiting. Along with him, strange humanoid figures were hidden in the darkness behind him, next to a huge curtain made of white marble pearls.

Tongues of flames slipped through the tiny opening of the gate, slithering on the shimmering floor and upon the altar.

Swirling, twisting, merging. The Master of Flames appeared. He bowed honourably to the man and figures.

“Well? Have you killed International Rescue, Pyrohimera?” asked the man.

The said Master shook his lion head, “I am afraid I have not.”

The man slammed his fist on the altar, but Pyrohimera barely flinched, “How!? You supposed to take them out so easily!”

“There was one problem. Just as victory was at the clutches of my minions, those damned Kamen Riders appeared and destroyed all of them! And International Rescue has escaped,” explained the Master of Fire.

“Kamen Riders?!” gapped the man.

“Urgh, these disgusting bugmen!” a female, figure of water huffed in annoyance.

“Whaaaa~, why do they have to come to ruin our fun~?” whined a bulky earth one.

“Hmm. Interesting…” a rather cloaked, humanoid of air rubbed his chin.

“Then why didn’t you kill the men yourself?!” the man’s thick eyebrows furrowed to the point they covered his narrow eyes.

“That would be too easy,” admitted, “I’d rather see them try to fight back… before they die…”

“Yes! Yes! I want to see them suffer! I want to join!” hopped the bulky humanoid of rock.

“Not today, Terratroll!” growled Pyrohimera, in which the Master of Earth pouted.

The man at this point groaned under his breath. Why did he summon those things again? Oh right, to destroy International Rescue. Too late to reseal them now, he had to think.

“Do you have any plans, sir?” asked the cloaked figure of air.

The man thought for a bit. He began to walk left and right, cursing at the obvious obstacle, growling at the thought of IR escaping again.

“I wonder what he was planning?” asked the Mistress of Water.

“Let our summoner do his thing, Aquarien,” eased the Master of Air. Although through the tattered hoodie, one could see an amused little smug.

The said summoner shuffled his feet. Wracking his brain around his head makes even the biggest asshole office boss shed a tear. Ah no, he shouldn’t compare himself to the low lives of these “office plankton”! He furrowed his thick eyebrows and groaned.

Kamen Riders… These “heroes” of justice. Fighting for the “greater” world and “fairness”. Bah, nonsense! They cause more property damage with their otherworldly powers, from what he had seen. And like cockroaches, they always crawl into places where they shouldn’t be and ruin everything as soon as victory were at his very fingertips. Oh, how he wished to squish them like the bugs they are! If only they weren’t so big and human-like.

He was so caught up in his angry rambling thoughts that he nearly tripped over something. Terratroll laughed hysterically at his mishap, only for Pyrohimera slapping the back of his head to shut him up.

The man looked down at the object that nearly took his foot out. It was a piece of iron.

Suddenly, a lightbulb flickered on in his egg head.

“You know… I have a plan.”

He went to pick up a briefcase and opened it to rummage in. A bit of searching, he found it. Pulled up a big roll of paper. It was a map of Australia. Covered in markers and scribbles of that indicated the careful plans of a madman.

Oh, these bugmen will certainly not save them there! he thought as he smiled menacingly.

He pointed at a location, somewhere in the Pilbara region of Western Australia. A certain iron mine operated in that spot. And it seemed a little far away from civilization…

“Pyrohimera, you send your minions to attack this iron mine. Then when International Rescue comes, they can finish the job well without interruptions.

The said monster leaned over, looking and listening carefully to what his summoner had said,

“The red desert… Certainly my favourite place!” grinned the Master of Fire, brushing his flaming beard. And then, with a swing of his dragon arm, fires swirled.

Twisting, burning, forming. Five horrid humanoid warriors of flames appeared. Two warrior cats, two shield goat guards and a commander dragon. At their Master’s command, they transformed into red glowing orbs and flew to their designated target, the evil leaders watched as they disappeared into the distance.

“Are you certain the Kamen Riders won’t be there… Hood?” asked the cloaked Master of Air.

The bald man turned to him, and a predatory smile formed on his face as his eyes glowed an eerie amber light, “In the red hot desert, no one will hear them scream…”

tbc...

[seacottons]

sir kiss me ; — c. san x reader

pairing: choi san x reader

wc: 4.7k

synopsis: if only you knew how much of a monster your soulmate was, you would've never went out of your way to look for him.

notes: circus!au, soulmate!au, magician!san, supernatural beings, violence, drugging, kidnapping, brief unconsented touching.

Nobody knows why or how, but everyone is born with an intangible red string tied around one of their fingers. It's said that the string is connected to one's heart, a figurative extension of the aorta. No one can see any other thread but their own.

It stretches for a few yards and suddenly cuts off, fading away into nothingness.

On the other end of every string is a person's soulmate, and only when the two meet, the other half of the red thread becomes visible.

The red string symbolizes the unification of two intertwined destinies; it is a force so powerful that no one can comprehend the mechanisms of it.

 Every one in this world will meet their soulmate eventually, and when they do, their string becomes as taut as guitar strings, and they have a longing tug in their hearts towards their partner.

You've noticed lately that your red string doesn't dangle in the air as much as it used to before, nor does it pool into a mess when you sit idle. It's become a bit stiff, and you have no idea why. 

You've been living alone in this fairly large town for years, and never has your string come this close to being taut and rigid. 

Not much has changed. Life took its usual mundane path.

The wind undressed all the trees of their gold and red leaves. Wagons in the town's markets were filled with heavy goards and pumpkins, and the scent of fresh bread and roasting chestnuts continued to fill the air.

For that reason, you had a small assumption that maybe it had to do with the sudden, traveling circus appearing in town. Their steam train was parked behind the eastern part of town, the colorful logo of Circus Wonderland standing out amongst the earthy terrain. Advertisements were plastered onto the town's stucco buildings, and no one could miss the the immensely large chapiteau the workers have been setting up for days now. 

You were quick to snag a pass, knowing they'd run out quick with how much the townsfolk craved amusement and entertainment. The opening night was flocked with a large and impressive crowd, but thankfully, you arrived in time to have a seat right up front. 

With the influx of people around and lack of breeze, you felt yourself heating up quite uncomfortably. A whisper of autumn's breeze danced your way with every flap of the tent's curtains as new spectators walked in.

Swallowing nervously, you peered down to your lap, gaze trained on the taut, red string tied around your finger. Your instincts had been right after all. A sudden feeling of uneasiness washed over you.

You hadn't mentally prepared yourself to meet your soulmate. What will you tell them? Will they like you? What if they end up not wanting to be with you? What if you end up not even finding your soulmate in the first place?

A round of applause and cheers filling the arena ripped you from your thoughts. You perked up to see a young ringmaster welcoming the crowd with a charming smile and sweet words, a few strands of blue hair framing his face. 

His voice blared over the microphone in his hand, introducing himself and announcing the next few acts to come, the very first being equestrian demonstrations.

A wave of gasps rushed from the spectators as a sudden herd of horses rushed in from the back of large big top, their braided and bejeweled manes bouncing in the process. Colorful headdresses, bridles, and feather plumes adorned each horse as they all trotted in a uniformed circle around the ring curb with such precision, it left everyone in awe. 

The equestrian master, Mingi- if you recalled the ringmaster's words, stepped onto the center of the ring, beaming quite proudly at all of the horses who bowed their heads to the crowds. He tipped his leather hat at the band in the back to signal the start of his performance, and the dozens of horses instantly snapped into motion. Some galloped with the beat of the drums, while others performed tricks and posed for the starstruck spectators.

The performance came to an end too quickly for your liking, and you subconsciously found yourself clapping enthusiastically at the bowing master and his horses, your jaw slack with wonder and amusement.

Uniformists rushed out to clear the ring of the props and prepare for the next act. You quite enjoyed the ringmaster's charming ways of exciting the crowd. Despite his small stature and pretty face, you can practically feel the waves of authority he exuded. One sharp look to the band and they cease their music instantly. One snap of his fingers and the uniformists quicken their pace even more so.

The circus was filled with amazing entertainers and performers. Clowns and elephants were a light-hearted, comedic act, but the ventriloquests, jugglers, escape artists, and contortionists were just as entertaining. A few performers that stood out were the death-defying, trio acrobats who went by the name YunWooSang. 

The white safety netting proved useless as the three seemed to fly in the air as they jumped excitedly onto the trampolines and swung from trapeze to trapeze. One of them even daringly made it across the tightrope whilst blindfolded. 

The red haired man with inhumane strength was also one of the highlights of the show. Metal, wood, and cement bent to his will and strength. For comedic relief, the ringmaster gave the unamused man a sack of freshly waxed apples, whispering in his ear and gesturing to the crowd. The other merely rolled his eyes and nodded, turning his attention to the red fruit. The crowd cheered as the ringmaster bought the microphone to the man's stoic face as he belted out graceful notes, all the while snapping the defenseless fruit in half and throwing the pieces into the frenzied audience.

The tall, black haired tiger tamer bowed to the applauding crowd before exiting the arena after others quickly moved the three large felines to the back. The crowd grew deafly silent as the white suit-tailed ringmaster made his way towards the illuminated center. With just a shot of his hand in the air, the music ceased abruptly. Even through the dark, you can make out the uniformists rushing to settle new props around the ring's perimeter.

"Did you all enjoy Seonghwa's act?" He threw a smirk to the restless crowd, shaking his head in amusement at the wave of enthusiastic cries, "Alright, then. We saved our best and biggest act for last," a roaring drum roll suddenly erupted from the band in the back, and the lights dimmed considerably, "For the grand finale tonight, ladies and gentlemen- please give a warm welcome to our very own illusionist and magician, San!"

Within an instant, after the lights above illuminated the entire arena, your breath caught into your throat. The deafening applause now suddenly seemed miles away and underwater, your own heartbeat dominating every audible sound around you. 

The past performances were so entertaining, that you completely forgot about the initial reason you came here in the first place. 

Raising your hand up ever so slightly, your eyes trained onto the taut string tied to your finger. It had become as stiff as a guitar's and no longer sagged like power lines. Your eyes roamed from past the metal bars, onto the arena, and finally stopping to the man in all red attire standing proudly in the center ring. He raised his hand in greeting, the string between the two of your forms rising with every movement of his hands. Behind him stood several of his assistants.

You suddenly shrunk into your seat, stuffing your hand into your coat's pockets and holding your breath. You couldn't even decipher the words escaping his mouth, the gears in your mind suddenly reeling to a halt. All you knew was that he had the smoothest voice you've ever heard, and your stomach flipped just as much as the acrobats did.

If he noticed the completed string stretching into the crowd, he didn't show it, instead going on with the show. He performed several jaw-dropping acts with the help of his assistants. 

You were too mesmerized by the acts that you failed to notice the magician's red eyes lingering on your form.

The crowd laughed light-heartedly when the magician gave one spectator a scare with one of his tricks. He smiled and tipped his head down apologetically.

"For the next act, I'd like to have one of the spectators come down and volunteer," San's rich voice boomed within the arena. Several hands shot out in excitement, the majority wanting to jump at the opportunity to witness the illusionist's tricks first hand. 

San's eyes flickered onto numerous spectators, before his traveling eyes stop at your form. Your heart rate spikes instantly, breath ceasing in your throat at the smile he shoots you. A red gloved hand reaches out to point at you, and you notice it's the same finger with your string tied onto it. The excited shouts slowly come to a dying halt, and San waits patiently for the crowd to cease their talking.

"You," he drawls out, making you sink a little further in your seat. Was it possible he was pointing to the person behind you?

"The one with the red string," his words only affirmed your suspicions, "Please come down here."

The people shuffle in their seats, hushed murmurs traveling like waves within the crowd. Many wide eyes ogle at your form, while a few people from the crowd congratulated you in regards to your completed red string. 

You gulped thickly, quickly shaking your head at the magician, who in turn rolled his eyes at your meek reaction. With a snap of his fingers, you're engulfed in a puff of smoke before finding yourself standing in front of him in the center arena. Your stomach lurched at the sudden change of gravity, knees wobbling and arms desperately reaching out to grab at the man's velvet coat to stop yourself from falling. You swallowed down the sensation of wanting to vomit your innards and took a deep breath before the magician helped stabilize your form upright with a light-hearted laugh, "I apologize for that, my dear."

"How did you do that?" you ask weakly. He gives you a look of amusement.

"A magician never reveals his secrets," he murmurs as he gazes down at you speculatively, brow quirking up as he takes ahold of your hand, where the string barely stretched an inch between the two of you now. He was so much more handsome up close. You felt the tips of your ears warm at the sudden realization of the close proximity between your frames. A feeling of self-consciousness washed over you, and you could only wish such a moment like this occurred without hundreds of eyes watching you, "If I had known I were to meet my soulmate today, I would've put on a much better show for you."

He spoke into his microphone headpiece, voice echoing within the arena. You hadn't noticed the way the ringmaster's gaze darkened from the back of the arena, eyes suddenly watching your form quizzically. A few heads popped from the back curtain, and hasty whispers were exchanged between the other performers and the ringmaster. The scattered applause around you startled you, and you smiled in embarrassment at the magician, who in return brushed a strand of your hair behind your ear, "Your name, beautiful?"

"Y/n," you shoot him a small smile, eyeing the red and black triangles painted onto his eyelids.

He grips your wrist, pulling your arm upwards before announcing to the crowd that you'll be a part of the final act of the show. He maneuvers the microphone from his face to lean down and whisper into your ear, "How well do you do with heights?"

You drew in a fortifying breath in an attempt to calm your erratic heartbeat, "Not so well, actu-"

He brings a cup to your lips, and you wonder where on earth he had managed to obtain it seemingly out of the blue, "Here. This'll help with the nausea in case." You eye the liquid contents warily, and he notices with a simple quirk of his brow, "Don't worry. It's just some of our liquid magic. A befitting name, right? Nothing harmful."

You down the liquid and wince at the burning sensation in your throat, and you assume that it's only some type of alcohol. You listen intently to the magician's instructions, eyes trained onto his red eyes that shined like rubies. You feel his breath ghost your face as he points up towards the thin tightrope up above. You hardly concentrate on his words, too preoccupied with dazing at his chiseled face. He was absolutely breathtaking with wide shoulders and black tresses framing his face.

"Is there a word I can say if things get too overwhelming?" 

He casts you a look of amusement, lips quirking up, "A word?"

He gives it some thought, before snapping his fingers, "I've got it. Three words actually. Say them anytime, and I'll stop the act," a glint of mischief flashes within his eyes as he faintly brushes the pad of his thumb across your lower lip, "The magic words are: Sir Kiss Me."

You want to smile at the play on words, but your nerve-wrecking thoughts left no room for humor.

He gives a simple nod to the band and they begin playing.

 Two of the three acrobats suddenly joined the two of you, the men running into the arena with nothing but tight fitting trapeze pants, their broad shoulders and chiseled muscles on full display. One of them eyes your form up and down with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"San, you're one lucky bastard if that's your soulmate," the raven haired male shoots you a flirtatious wink, ignoring the daggers the other shot at him.

"Shut up and get to it, Woo," San ushered one of the acrobats to begin performing their previous act. The black haired trapeze artist ran a hand through his long, inky locks, throwing the magician a mischievous grin. While jumping from the trampoline up to the trapeze, the sound of a loud bang startled you and the spectators. A puff of smoke erupted around the acrobat, and when it cleared, he was nowhere to be seen. 

The magician snapped his red leathered fingers once more, another bang following afterwards. The lights suddenly directed towards the back, where the very same artist waved enthusiastically to the crowd. 

The crowd grew silent when another bang sounded from up above. The drums and suspenseful music filled the arena as a puff of smoke caught everyone's attention, and from it emerged the third acrobat standing gracefully still on the tightrope above. Your eyes widened considerably. The male literally appeared out of thin air. San's head suddenly snapped to peer at you, and before you had the chance to blink, you were suddenly engulfed in another plume of smoke, before finding yourself in the arms of the blonde acrobat meters above the ground. 

Your frame tensed considerably, arms hastily wrapping around the male's neck with a loud cry of fear. You didn't dare look down, your eyes scrunching shut in fear. Laughing at your frightened expression, he clicked his tongue in dismay, arms reaching to unwrap your limbs from his frame before tipping you down the tightrope, "Don't give me that look. You're in good hands."

Before your frame succumbed to gravity, you felt your heart drop almost immediately. A silent scream caught into your throat as you plummeted down to the safety net. Just before you reached it, two hands shot out and grabbed at your frame, gripping your frightened form with so much precision and care. You were met with the sight of the tallest of the three acrobats swinging onto the trapeze with the back of knees. Your trembling pupils took in the sight of his lips quirking up mischievously as he suddenly threw your frame like a rag doll towards the raven haired man, who in return held you in his arms whilst standing as still as a statue on the swinging trapeze bar. Within the entirety of it, your eyes had remained squeezed shut tightly.

"Don't be afraid, sweetheart," he cooed mockingly, lips outstretched into a coy smile, "Wooyoung's got ya."

The fast paced performance left no room or time for anyone to observe exactly how it was done, and even the most rational spectator experienced a moment of doubt when watching the act.

With a wave of the magician's hands, four more bangs and puffs of smoke followed suit, and the three acrobats found themselves standing in front of San, their hands intertwined as they bowed gracefully to the cheering crowd. You jolted upon realizing you were held in the magician's awaiting arms, your frame scrambling to stand. San placed a hand onto the small of your back, urging you to bow along with him towards the cheering crowd. 

"You never did say the words, hm? I knew you could do it." Regardless of the many eyes watching you attentively, he turns to you, hand cupping the side of your face whilst thumbing the apple of your cheek with a small smile, "Stay after the show. We have a lot to talk about."

You can only nod faintly, head light from the adrenaline coursing through your veins. A man came to escort you back to your seat, and your turned back to glance at San's retreating figure. You hasten your pace as a wolf-whistle and degrading comment thrown your way reached your ears, and you gave the spectator a quick glare before making yourself to your seat. 

A few minutes tick by, and you notice your vision grows a tad bit blurry. The blue haired ringmaster enters the center once more, large grin plastered onto his face. He tips his head in gratitude at the cheering audience, before raising the mic to his face, "Ladies and gentlemen, on behalf of Circus Wonderland, we want to thank you all for your splendid patronage and love you've given us tonight. We hope we've scared the life out of you."

You noticed his eyes flash in your direction momentarily, but you dismiss the thought.

"Unforeseen circumstances beyond my control have taken place tonight. Unfortunately, we will not be able to give you another night of performances."

His words seemed to blend together, and you furrowed your brows, shaking your head in an attempt to clear your head. Just what did that magician really have in that concoction to make you this dazed?

A sudden wicked smile taking over his features made your heart stop for a second. The ringmaster's dark orbs illuminated a bright red as he chuckled at the confused spectators, "You will all go back home and forget the events of today," a gloved hand reached up to point a finger at you and ruby eyes trained on your confused expression, "except you."

You watched in bewilderment as the crowd quietly made themselves down the platform and out of the tent. The spectators all shared the same empty, mindless gaze as they trudged robotically back home. Blue wisps of light swayed around their bodies like halos and stretched into the ringmaster's waiting palm, and the overhead lights began flickering repeatedly.

"Inform the others that I want everything loaded into the train this instant," the man snapped to an assistant to his right, "Leave no sign we were here, or I will personally tie you to the train tracks."

 Voices from the back sounded out, and you noticed the abandoned tickets on the floor burned, the ashes dancing  into the air as nothing more than dust. Your head snapped back to give the ringmaster a wary look, body instinctively jolting up to blend in with the crowd. A sudden wave of dizziness hit you like a tidal wave, and your knees wobbled whilst you attempted to regain your footing. 

"Where do you think you're going?" an amused chuckle rang from the blue haired male as he suddenly vanished from the center arena and beside you. Before you had the chance to jump from his prying hands, he leaned in close, eyes glowing like rubies in sunlight, "It's a shame we can't have your life-source like everyone else here. After all, you've cost us a whole 'nother night of regaining our energy from you humans."

Fear yelled at you to escape, hide, run away; hell, to even fight back, but your drugged state made it impossible for your body to cooperate properly. You didn't want anything to do with your soulmate anymore. You made a pathetic attempt to crawl away, only to have the ringmaster grip you by the back of your coat. You clawed at his arm harshly, desperately wanting to escape his claws.

"Shouldn't you be in the back making sure everyone's packing," a familiar voice called from thin air. The blue-haired male's annoyed face vanished as a puff of smoke enshrouded your figure. You found yourself on the dirt ground behind the curtains of the arena, stomach flipping at the shift in gravity.

Peering up dazedly, you give the magician a confused glance, your figure stumbling to stand up to walk away. The sound of a few thuds caught your attention, and your breath suddenly came to a halt upon noticing the very same man from the crowd tied onto the wooden frame the knife thrower previously used. A thick ribbon gagged his mouth, and his wild, tear-filled eyes shot at you desperately for help when another knife was flung carelessly above his head, lodging into the wood. Splinters flew out upon impact, and the man quivered in fright, tears streaming down his face. The harsh winds of autumn nipped at your face, and you shrunk into yourself to find some warmth. Your surroundings spun and you began seeing double.

"Ah, Y/n. Nice of you to join us back here," San drawled simply, ignoring the rushing uniformists and other artists in the back, "Care to help me gut this man like the animal he is?"

This man was a monster.

The set of gleaming knives floated dangerously above his head, their sharp tips pointing into the direction of the constricted male. You shook your head as quickly as you could, instantly regretting it as you felt the onslaught of a mind-splitting headache. You desperately attempted to form words, wanting to ask what was going on, what he was, and to let the traumatized man go, but everything felt too heavy, and you couldn't properly think or hold your weight upright. No, you didn't care about any of that. You only wanted to flee from this nightmare.

"No worries, sweetheart," his sweet voice chimed like bells, juxtaposed by the ravenous, menacing look in his dark eyes, "I wouldn't want to soil you with this filth's blood anyway."

You turn your head away, a voice in your mind telling you the next scenes will plague your thoughts far beyond many sleepless nights.

To San, there was something so oddly satisfying about seeing the man's limbs outstretched and cuffed, awaiting the knives threatening to rip him into shreds. With a shrug of his shoulders and a flick of his finger, the knives surged forward, lodging into the man's chest and joints. He cried out in anguish, veins on his neck prominent as he struggled in his confines, desperate to flee the monster in front of him, "Oh, don't worry. You'll have the privilege of forgetting this night like the others," his brows shot up as a condescending smile crossed his features, "and you're also going to forget how it feels to speak as well."

Without an ounce of hesitation or empathy, San ripped the scarf from the man's mouth, and watched in amusement as one of the floating knives reached down harshly to rip past the seam of the man's lips, only to carve out his tongue. The muscle dangled limply by a thread of tissue, and San drank in the sounds of the man's clear cries of agony, his frame convulsing in pain.

"Mm, I guess our bloodsuckers can clean this mess up," he hummed lowly to himself, eyes watching as streams of blood dripped down the man's chin, patches of blood blooming on his other wounds as well, "Jongho! Seonghwa, he's all yours now. I think I might've killed him."

He peered down at your slumped figure onto the floor, chuckling to himself at your blown pupils and unfocused, dazed look overtaking your features, "Go to sleep now, y/n. It's going to be a long ride."

His mouth moved to form more words, but it was as if the audio somehow became distorted and disconnected from reality. A dark mist fogged your vision, the glowing red of his eyes and satisfied smile blurring and melting with all of the other colors around you, and you felt as light as a feather. You were aware of the sensation of falling. 

You were falling.

And then, nothing.

You awoke in a progression of steps that seemed to take an onslaught of hours. It felt like you had awoken from a drunken stupor. Your arms and legs felt much heavier than usual, and you had no energy to lift your head up, as if your neck could hardly sustain the weight. Disoriented thoughts filled your mind to the brim. A strange taste lingered at the back of your throat, and your mind drew blank as you attempted to process the events of last night. Was it last night? You had trouble recalling the sense of time.

As the thick fog of sleep slowly seeped away, you realize there's an odd, cold sensation around your wrists, and upon shifting them slightly, you realize they're bound with metal. A feeling of dread and fear overtook your expression. Despite the racing thoughts plaguing your mind, your body just felt too heavy and disconnected from your mind. 

Lolling your head to the side, you make out a small bedroom and a few windows. Trees and greenery rushed past the windows, the moon shining brightly in the night sky. You listen to the sound of a train moving steadily on railway tracks. Slowly, you come to the realization the events you thought were a dream were indeed reality, and this must've been one of the sleeping cars of the steam train.

Panic struck you like lightning, and you struggled to rip your confined wrists from the metallic headboard. The clanging of metal caught the other person's attention, and a chill travelled down your spine at sound of footsteps, before catching the sight of the magician looming over your frame with a smile playing on his lips.

The moonlight casts a silver glow around his dark silhouette, and his ruby eyes darkened with a predatory gleam as you gave him a wary and confused look, body stiffening in fear. You attempted to scoot away when the mattress dipped as the man settled beside you, hand reaching forward to cup your face. From your peripheral vision, you can see the crimson thread tying the two of you together. Your head snapped away from his touch with a soft whimper of fear, making him chuckle to himself.

"Where are you taking me?" you slurred, thrashing when he made another attempt to touch you. Unshed tears pooled like diamonds in your eyes, and among the melting colors of your vision, you still could clearly make out the glowing red of his orbs. You wanted to ask a million more questions, but your tongue felt too heavy and mind too slow.

"Wherever I'm going, my dear. You're mine whether you like it or not. You're going to spend the rest of your life with me, whether you want to or not, " his eyes glinted red as he leaned in to nuzzle the junction of your jaw, hand gripping a fistful of your hair to keep you in place as his lips pressed tender kisses against the column of your neck, "Welcome to Circus Wonderland."

[lucky-dreamfisher]

Queer Subtext in The Illusion of Living - Part 5/5

It’s time to address the elephant in the room: Henry.

Joey tries very, very hard to ‘no homo’ his relationship with the man:

“His presence was helpful, I can happily admit, but his absence was even more so. Not having him at the studio ended up being one of the best things that could have happened to it. Of course, the funny thing is, I couldn't have not had him without having him in the first place. Just like you can't appreciate the light if you haven't spent time in the dark, so too does a person's absence become clear only if he has been around.” TIOL, page 154

“A letter from Henry. You might not think I'd keep such a thing, but I do. I have no ill will toward the man as you know. Him leaving, as I said, was the best thing that could have happened to the studio. His letter reminds me of that.” TIOL, page 218

The lady doth protest too much, methinks.

The only hint we get regarding Joey’s true feelings for Henry is the following note by Nathan:

“NateA: Joey has always been a professional person, far more so in many ways than me. That is why this section of the book is so forgiving of the man who abandoned the studio he helped create. Joey can't help but see the good in people. That being said, as a good friend of Joey's, I know that Henry's departure was a great upheaval for him and a great personal betrayal. Joey never truly forgave Henry, and I don't think he should have felt obligated to. The fact that Joey is so gracious in this part of the book is a reflection of his incredible generosity in allowing Henry Stein to be stainless in the eyes of history. I think, had he lived longer, Joey might have in later years called it his greatest illusion.” TIOL, page 155

I’m very surprised by the harshness in Nathan’s tone here. Especially since Henry appears to believe that he and Joey have parted on good terms, and Joey admits that they have continued to exchange letters for a while after Henry’s departure. We’ve also seen Henry’s note to Joey in the game, and it comes across as warm and supportive:

It really doesn’t sound like anything ugly happened between him and Joey. So then why are both Joey and Nathan convinced that Henry is a monster?

While I can believe that Joey is pathetic enough to consider anyone who slights him his worst enemy, Nathan comes across as a more level-headed person. So for him to voice his approval for Joey’s petty grudge must mean that he knows something that we don’t. But what could it be?

Honestly, nothing else comes to mind except for romantic heartbreak. It’s the only thing that could justify a man holding such a deep grudge for so many years. This isn’t Joey’s first friendship that grew apart over the years - his army friends have moved on with their life as well. It’s a normal part of life and there’s nothing in TIOL that would suggest Joey is unable to cope with that. We also know that the studio did fine for quite some time after Henry’s departure, so it’s not like Henry left Joey deep in debt. Henry wasn’t even the only animator at the studio:

“When the studio opened I surrounded him with artists of all skill levels, and the Writing Department had its own de facto leader in Mr. Hemmings, and so the whole of Creative was well managed for that first year of the company before I had to part ways with Henry.“ TIOL, page 155

And so we’re left with only one rational explanation: that Joey isn’t so much hurt by Henry leaving his job, as by the fact that Henry left specifically for the sake of his marriage.

Try as I might, I found no reference to Linda in TIOL. Even though Joey claims to have been friends with Henry for many years, he makes zero mention of ever having met Linda. While there are some hints that Henry wasn’t yet married to her at the time when he and Joey opened the studio together (such as the fact that he claims he hasn’t seen her in “days” even though he presumably slept at home, implying that he and Linda weren’t living together at the time. A shopping list among his notes in the Handbook also suggests that he cooked his own meals, which would be unusual for a married man with a demanding job), the two were already a couple by then, and must have known each other for a while already. Surely, as Henry’s friend, Joey would have met her?

Even when talking about Henry leaving, Joey uses a cryptic language:

“Henry left for his own reasons, and the correspondence between us became less and less. To be honest, it was almost like a weight off when he left. He had grown more sensitive as the studio became more successful and giving him pep talks had become exhausting for me. All the good qualities he brought, the hard work and diligence, were being undermined by a restless need for something different. Something that wasn't Bendy. I will never understand that drive. Bendy was and is perfection.“ TIOL, page 177

In DCTL Norman claims that Henry left to spend time with his wife. Why doesn’t Joey say that? It doesn’t make him look bad to admit that an employee left to enjoy a quiet family life. It’s almost like he refuses to acknowledge Linda’s existence at all. Like it’s too painful for him to speak of her.

Perhaps the “personal betrayal” that Nathan is referring to is related to Henry choosing a real family, over the “studio family”, and the possibility of having a real child, as opposed to a fictional one?

The symbolic image of Bendy as a child shows up multiple times in the game: for example the drawing from Henry appears to depict Bendy, Alice and Boris as a happy family, with Bendy holding onto their hands like a child would:

There’s also Alice using a womb imagery to describe the ink machine:

And of course, the final monologue is centered on Henry’s choice to pursue a family:

That monologue is very interesting if we assume Joey to be gay. Because a gay man would never have been able to follow Henry’s road. Gay!Joey could never choose to have a real family with a man he loved, because that option was denied to him by the homophobic society he was living in. The studio is the closest thing to a family that gay!Joey could ever hope to have. 

And evidently, that was not enough for Henry.

If Joey’s indeed gay, that must have felt incredibly unfair to him - knowing that he had no chance of happiness in marital bliss from the start, through no fault of his own. This would explain his desire to create a real, living, breathing Bendy, no matter the cost, just to prove to Henry that Joey’s “child” can be just as real as the one Linda could give him.

“Bendy was Joey's child, and he felt just as strongly about Bendy as I feel about my flesh-and-blood son.“ TIOL, page 2

This idea of an illusory choice very much resembles the choice between the Angel Path and the Devil Path in Chapter 3. It’s the only choice that Henry ever gets to make in the game, yet no matter which way he chooses, he still ends up in the same corridor. Some of the golden messages highlight his helplessness:

The symbolic meaning of the choice between the Angel and the Devil also shows up TIOL. There’s a scene in the book, where Joey writes a play about an Angel and a Devil fighting over the soul of a human man. Eventually, the Devil confesses that he doesn’t want the human to make his choice, because then one of them would have to leave. The play was supposed to end with the man making his choice, but according to Joey they lacked a third actor, so the ending was never played out.

I believe that the play is symbolic of the relationship between Henry and Joey, specifically with regards to Henry choosing a relationship with Linda over his friendship with Joey.

There are several reasons that lead me to believe this:

The human in the play making a choice between the Angel and the Devil is reminiscent of Henry choosing between Devil Path and Angel path in BATIM.

The play highlights that the Devil is on the left side of the human, while the Angel is on his right side:

“ANGEL: Spending my time with a devil has been an enlightening experience. Working with you over these years with you sitting on that left shoulder, so far and yet so near, all our debates, they were invigorating for the spirit. 

DEVIL: I won't miss you! Fighting all the time, trying to trick you into agreeing with me, trying to push you off that right shoulder of yours. The violence and the anger. I won't miss it at all!”, TIOL page 89

Much like the Devil Path is on the left side in the game, while the Angel path is on the right side:

The Devil is obviously a stand-in for Bendy. Joey even dances on the stage at one point, and one of Bendy’s nicknames is “The Dancing Demon”. Joey also claims that the Devil from the play was an inspiration for Bendy:

“Let's start with the basic idea of a cartoon.You need a main character. Someone who has adventures and who the audience relates to." I did. I needed that. I needed a character who didn't just reflect the general population back to itself, but a more exciting version. I had no interest in moralizing, besides I didn't think moralizing was particularly realistic. People don't see the world as one populated by do-gooders. I thought of the angel in my play. She could never be a lead character. The devil on the other hand…” TIOL, 165

The fact that Joey claims the ending was never played out is strongly reminiscent of the missing ending of the Tombstone Picnic

It’s possible that Joey is lying about the ending not having been played out, to hide Henry’s role in the success of the play, much like he removed his part in Tombstone Picnic. After all, what would be the point of writing a play for 3 actors, when you only have 2? Why not ask someone to play the 3rd?

Although the play itself is centered more on the relationship between the Devil and the Angel, rather than their relationship with the human, there is still a strong queer symbolism in the play:

“Abby shifted nervously next to me the whole evening. She was in a dress for the first time in a long time, white and soft. I was pleased she'd come in character. For my part the only red thing I owned was a garish bow tie, so that was all I was able to contribute visually.” TIOL, page 82

The angel is played by a woman, who usually wears men’s clothing, but of course, the Angel being a symbol of Christian values couldn’t possibly be portrayed breaking the gender norms. She had to wear a dress, though Abby is clearly uncomfortable in it. She’s essentially performing heteronormative feminity. Next to her we have Joey as the Devil, dressed in a red bow tie, which as I’ve mentioned in the first part of this analysis, used to be a symbol of homosexuality. 

This contrast between the uncomfortably heteronormative Angel and flamboyantly queer Devil is striking. It’s also very much in line with the views of the society in the 1920s. For something to be the symbol of purity and goodness, it has to be heterosexual, and the Devil is queer, because he’s also the symbol of sin.

That symbolism could be indicative of Joey’s own internalized homophobia. Back in his army days, his friends used to bully him for breaking gender norms. Joey likes to present himself as the hero, who was easily able to outsmart the bullies, but many of his later remarks in the book and in DCTL show that some of that attitude has left a deep mark on him.

The symbolism could also be intentional. Joey boasts about having personal ties to Noel Coward, a real life gay playwright, who was known for his many affairs with men, and for putting an ungodly amount of queer symbolism in his works:

“The old woman took a liking to me, and she was nice enough. Besides, her connections were incredible. She knew everyone, she even had the playwright Noel Coward come to stay with her whenever he was in town.” TIOL, page 144

There’s a lot of evidence pointing to the play being symbolic of Henry’s choice between his relationship with Linda and with Joey. But it’s also symbolic of Henry’s choice between Bendy, and a real child. The studio family, and a traditional family. Heteronormative relationship vs a queer relationship. 

Although there’s no indication in canon that Henry might be bisexual, he doesn’t need to be. The game has beaten into our heads that the “choice” is an illusion. Henry was never going to choose the Devil, or at least that’s what Joey believes. Although we’re never told what choice the human in the play was going to make, we’re told that he was supposed to be dressed in white, which suggests that he chose the Angel. 

“(The door stage right opens. A man all in white enters calmly and chooses a seat, brushes it off carefully and sits. He takes his hat off and holds it gingerly in his lap.) (Quiet.) (Curtain.) THE END” TIOL, page 91

That might be why the Devil in the play confesses that he doesn’t want the human to make his choice, fearing that one of them will have to leave once such a choice is made:

“DEVIL: You think he has made a choice? 

ANGEL: It is possible. 

DEVIL: Do you think he might be all bad? 

ANGEL: I hope he is all good. 

DEVIL: If he is all bad, my job here is done. If he is all good, you can go home. 

DEVIL: Strange. If we win we also lose. You would think that would be something I would find delightful. 

ANGEL: You would think I would love to make such a personal sacrifice.” TIOL, page 89

The line about a “personal sacrifice” is very interesting in this context. The Angel and the Devil clearly care for each other and for the human, and don’t want their relationship to come to an end. Though the Devil in the play seems to make gestures that the audience interprets as romantic in nature, Joey insists that it isn’t the case:

“I leaned in and placed a hand on Abby's knee. There was a gasp from someone in the audience, but I knew Abby wouldn't be flustered by it. That wasn't the nature of our relationship.” TIOL, page 89 

It makes me wonder if perhaps Linda and Joey used to be friends at some point, and both competed over Henry’s attention.

There’s a much overused trope in fiction where two men compete over a woman, which ends up ruining their friendship. It would be really interesting and subversive to see a man and a woman competing over a man instead.

EDIT: I can’t believe I forgot to add this part:

"Joey, thanks for coming," said Henry, approaching from behind us. I turned to look at him He had dressed up for the event but every item of clothing looked slightly wrong. The sleeves of his shirt a bit short, his vest a bit long, his tie askew. He smiled, though, with such confidence that I couldn't help admire him. I still do.” TIOL, page 160

Joey fell for Henry’s smile, how romantic!

“We watched in silence as he worked. Despite his lack of genius, to this day, I will always say that watching Henry work was a real pleasure.“ TIOL, page 173

“It's fascinating. Henry was never the showman like I was. He didn't tend to be easily remembered by those who met him when we did business. I was invariably the face of the company, the one introduced first at a gala, the one to whom people slipped their business cards.Yet in the end he ended up setting up camp in this small corner of my memory. I can't deny that he is tied to the creation of Bendy, to the creation of the studio itself. That at one time, in one small apartment, one too warm evening, we had shaken hands. That once upon a time we had been partners. He'll always be there, in the dark recesses of my mind. Always linked to me that way. Funny how the forgettable man is now forever in my mind” TIOL, page 177

[makbarnes]

Chapter 7

Bucky set his duffel bag next to your door in the hall and slowly knocked. Bucky was leaving for a mission and hated every detail about it. He would be gone for a month and he didn’t want to leave. You opened your door and saw a sad Bucky standing in the hall. You opened your door and Tatum rushed up to him. Grabbing his leg, he picked her up and shut your door behind him.

“Are you leaving now?” You walked up to Bucky.

“Sadly. I am, Baby.” You hugged Bucky tightly as he stroked you hair.

“Can I give you something?” Tatum pointed to the floor and Bucky sat her down. Tatum looked through her toys and Bucky gripped the back of your head. Pulling your lips into his you moaned quietly and held his hips. Bucky’s teeth nipped at your bottom lip, asking you for an entrance. Letting his tongue pass into your mouth he leaned you back a bit. His tongue moved over your own and went over the little cracks in your teeth. His hand on your lower back, he pulled you against him, feeling his hard abs under his plain shirt you pressed your hands against him.

“We should stop or I am never gonna let you leave.” Bucky kissed you powerfully one last time before gripping your hand.

“Here.” Tatum held up a little gray elephant to Bucky and he took it from her hands.

“I can’t take your elephant.”

“But what if you forget me?” Bucky hugged her tightly.

“How could I forget you, Doll? You’re my favorite girl.” Bucky kissed her forehead before taking the small elephant, standing up to you and giving you one last kiss.

“You too.” Bucky rubbed Tatum’s head before reaching for the doorknob.

“Keep this locked, and there is a you know in your cabinet.”

“Bucky, I don’t want that near Tatum.”

“Its for your protection. She can’t even reach it.” You crossed your arms, and motioned toward the cabinet. Bucky sighed and walked over taking a small handgun from your cabinet. Tucking it into his duffel bag he picked it up from the ground.

“Better?”

“Much. Thank you.” Pecking his lips you shoved him slightly down the hall and he smiled back at you before leaving.

____________________________________________________________________________

Felicity walked into Sam’s house and her hands were shaking.

“What’s wrong, Kitten?” Sam took her hands and he tucked her face into his chest. Her breathing was heavy and she felt a few tears escape her eyes.

“I’m pregnant, Sam.”

“That’s amazing news. Why are you crying?” Your best friend Felicity. You had known her since the eighth grade but she went to college and moved to Brooklyn. You knew she was there but you had started law school. After moving to Brooklyn after college, Felicity went into the peace corps and that is where she met Sam Wilson. She had been there for two years, helping the victims of a natural disaster in Wakanda. While they were fighting HYDRA, Sam got shot down and crashed into a building Felicity was in. Sam grabbed her by the waist and threw her to safety before the building crumbled. SHe spent months helping him recover, falling in love. He stayed there for the two years Felicity was assigned until Steve needed his help. Getting married in secret, and after trying to have a baby but failing. They decided to move with him to help, heading back to Brooklyn she joined SHIELD. Before Felicity got on a case her and Sam were having fertility problems it finally had worked two months ago and she was losing it. The case SHIELD had been assigned on, was watching Loki, while the Avengers were watching you and Tatum. Felicity seduced Loki after he left you and she kept her marriage from you but still tried with Sam for a baby. Yes Loki and Felicity did have sex but only with a condom, saying he didn’t want a {Y/N} repeat. But after finding out she was pregnant she knew it was only a matter of time before he found out.

“I ruined the case...I’m such a fuck up.” Felicity sniffled a little while Sam wiped away her tears.

“You are not, You did not ruin the case either. It’s falling apart as is. Bucky is too involved to try and keep it from her any longer. We can just pretend it’s Loki for the meantime. Say the condom broke.” Sam kissed her powerfully, she moaned a little while Sam picked her up on his hips. Moving her over to his bed he stopped kissing her and grabbed a small silver band off of the table and slipped it on Felicity's ring finger.

“Still feels like I’m marrying you every time I put it on you.” Sam kissed her neck and she pulled off his forest green shirt. His chiseled abs made her chew her lip, hearing her phone ring in her back pocket she sighed and picked it up.

“Hello?” Felicity’s voice sounding impatient as ever.

"Are you alright, love? You sound...distracted." Loki’s voice pierced through the phone. Seeing Sam roll his eyes and grit his teeth, he rested his head on Felicity's chest.” “I’m just on break. Why?” You held onto the back of Sam’s head and smiled.

“Hm. Well I was phoning to tell you to meet me at Zenkichi for lunch. We are having Anago & Cream Cheese Tempura and I want you here at six. Oh and wear that skimpy red number, would you? It's ravishing on you.” Felicity sighed heavily and hung up her phone. “I have to go babe.” Sam lifted her shirt and kissed up her center. Moaning in the back of her throat she pushed Sam away. Sitting up she sat down her phone and went over to her closet.

“Why does he get all the fun?”

“Blame Fury, he assigned me on this.” She grabbed a red dress from the closet and stripped off her regular clothes. Slipping on the dress Felicity adjusted the low v-neck and fluffed her hair a bit.

“Take it off.”

“He told me to wear this, Sam.”

“I don’t give a shit, You only get to wear that with me. When we are out together. Not for that douchebag.”

“What am I supposed to do, He is so controlling.” “I am your husband and he does not own you.” Sam picked out a white dress with black lace down the side. Taking the red dress off of her Sam slipped the white one on.

“There, go tame the reindeer.” Felicity kissed him hard and slipped off her ring, giving it back to Sam.

“I hate having to leave you.”

“I know, But soon Felicity.” Sam kissed her hungrily before moving her out of the door. She waved Sam goodbye and went to Loki.

___________________________________________________________________________

You had made yourself comfortable on the couches with your caseload as Tatum played on her mat behind you. You had her kid music playing and found yourself tapping your foot as you read the information in the files. Tatum came up and grabbed your foot, laughing.

“What is it baby?”

“Dance, Mommy!” You smiled as you picked her up and spun in circles along with the music. You took her small hand into your own and swung her around as you hummed the beat. Tatum had a permanent smile on her face as you twirled around the room with her. She moved her hands to hold the sides of your face and kissed your cheek.

“I love you Mommy.”

“I love you too, baby.”

“And I love Bucky and Thor, and Steve.”

“I know you do baby.”

“Do you love Bucky, Mommy?”

“I do.”

“Does that mean he’s gonna be my new Daddy?”

“Maybe, you’d have to ask him that Tatum.”

“He said to ask you.” Tatum giggled as she wanted down and she rushed to her room. You pushed back your hair as you made your way to grab your phone and thought about texting Bucky. Before you could type out anything your phone dinged and a smile grew over your face as you noticed it was from Bucky.

“Hey Doll. Just checking in.”

“Hey, Everything is fine here. But uhm, we need to talk to Tatum. She’s asking a lot of questions and I think it would be better if we were both there. I’m not saying we need to do it right now but maybe in the next coming weeks as we get more serious.” You fiddled with your hands and worried he would block your number.

“We can do that. Whenever you think the time is right.” Bucky quickly responded and a warm feeling came over you as you settled down with your phone in your lap and worked on your cases and continued texting Bucky.

NEXT CHAPTER

SERIES CHAPTER

[touchmycoat]

on Promising Young Woman

i was hesitant to watch bc i knew a spoiler, but @trixree convinced me to watch it and i’m very glad i did. all things aside, it’s just damn well-written—pacing’s top-notch, every act shift was action-driven with a female lead, and it balanced the pleasure of a revenge fantasy against the soul of the story SO well.

thoughts & spoilers below

elephant in the room: yeah I hesitated to watch the movie because I know Cassie gets murdered in the end. After watching the scenes that followed, I...have a better understanding of why that was the choice. I still hated that it happened, period. I literally said “fuck you” out loud to the morning after shot, with the sunlight pouring down on her in the white outfit and she had her arms outstretched—yes, she’s a martyr, yes, she’s the “morning angel,” but fuck that, I didn’t need her to be a martyr. I so desperately wanted the movie to give her more than that.

Like Jenna and Wesley said, it was a superhero movie. That lasted until the choice to kill her.

Thoughts on why they did it: for the ironic morning after, where the audience sees not-Zac Efron sob and whine about how he’s going to lose his marriage and family and job after he just knowingly murdered a woman. Where we get to see Schmidt (fnjdnfjdnf what a casting choice, i lost my mind) say the words to Al Monroe that women like Nina needed to hear—it’s not your fault. None of it was your fault. We get to see the violent and continuous forgiveness of men that dead girls have and continue to pay for.

But my question is, what part of the movie managed to give the audience comfort that legal authority is the solution to this problem? The ending felt squeaky clean wrapped-up, yes, but the anxiety that ran deepest for me throughout this entire film was the fact that Cassie was leaving these men alive. All the men she’s found in the clubs, the man whose car she smashed, the entire law firm that specializes in burying rape cases—to me, every man she left alive was one more factor that could come back and bite her. That was my concern, and it was by no means alleviated by the scene with Bo Burnham and the detective right before the wedding.

I guess that circles back to the question of what the film is trying to be, though. It’s a different take on a revenge thriller. It isn’t meant to deliver a smash-burn-kill catharsis. Rather, it operates on a realer level. Which I love, actually! When she told the fedora guy that she’s not the only one who does it, it felt like a very enticing call-to-action lmao, and like a moment that ought to haunt the “good guys” that watch this film. The movie did so well to manifest and deliver the “enough is fucking enough” attitude that everybody ought to have about sexual assault under the influence.

More on why they killed Cassie: to really lean into the specter of Nina who has so haunted the entire narrative. Even handcuffed to the bed, Al Monroe never said the word “rape.” Nobody wants to, they keep skirting around it and refusing to acknowledge it for what it is. That’s why the movie does it for us, the audience. Instead of saying it, the movie gives its thesis on what rape actually is—a murder. A squeezing-out of a woman’s existence. Al Monroe rapes and kills Nina Fisher before the start of the movie, and the movie ends with Al Monroe killing Cassie. It ends with the violent burning of Cassie’s body, and fucking Schmidt kicking her hand with the childishly painted nails back into the bonfire. The parallel destruction of women is evident.

Did the ending feel like enough of a resurrection?

On a fandom level, I am happy to do the work of seeing the Romance in it. Cassie evidently anticipated her own death, perhaps even sought it—it’s easy to picture a fic focused on Cassie’s thoughts pre-bachelor party, where she’s just so happy to finally be joining Nina again. Where she gets to sign a text Love, Cassie & Nina. I fucking adore how much of an agent she was in the action throughout the entire movie, and the ending definitely did some work in resurrecting that agency.

On a real life level though, I’m so, so fucking sad she essentially had to commit suicide to get the justice she sought. She really is a martyr, but no part of the story indicated she was happy to be. There’s no relief in what she chose—it was simply what had to be done, because nobody else would do a goddamn thing.

Oh boy, the movie did so well to play Ryan as a good guy up until the very end. When time came for him to own up to his mistakes, he flipped like a fucking dime. Suck it #NotAllMen.

The evocations of childhood were interesting. We have the notebook, the scrunchie, the pink bedroom, the childhood photos, the juice box, the friendship necklaces, the painted nails. What is that doing?

- It’s a visual touch point for the arc words “we were just kids!” used as a protestation by rapists and assaulters to excuse their actions. Men get to be “kids” who made mistakes, women get repeated insistence that their actions have consequences, that they shouldn’t have gotten that drunk.

- It signifies Cassie’s vulnerability, her childhood best friend that she’s never been able to move on from. Functionally, I thought it was a brilliant way of grounding how tender the center of her story is, that she’s actually operating from a very simplistic point of pain and loss, considering how cool and violent she gets to be throughout most of the movie.

- It becomes a symbol for destroyed innocence when it’s the last bit of Cassie we see before her body’s burned. The movie re-positioned the meaning of this word “innocence,” I think. It’s not about women being ruined after rape, it’s about these women being people. Cassie’s last monologue about Nina does so much work to hammer that home—Nina’s value was never about innocence before or after her assault, it was never diminished. She was loved because of who she was as a person, but Al Monroe squeezed the life out of her anyways. Childhood and innocence become about the happiness that existed before men attacked, and the men get to symbolically destroy it one more time with a kick into the pyre. But then comes the resurrection, and in a way, the movie returns Cassie to that happiness with the last texts she got to sign with her best friend and a winky face.

The penitent lawyer was a hell of a narrative choice. I did accept it, and I like it mainly for what it showed of Cassie—that she is capable of forgiveness. By putting the scene with Nina’s mother right after, it transitions Cassie into a spot of hope pretty damn effectively. I also like that it didn’t take Cassie’s emotional labor to get the lawyer to that place, and that he was already self-flagellating (the dead plants behind Cassie in that apartment were a great touch) before she got there. I like the possibility that Cassie could have forgiven herself for not being there for Nina.

That’s why I’m so damn mad she’s dead!!!! She recognized how destructive her pattern of behavior is, and put an effort to stop that for herself and for her relationship with people she cares about. Yeah, Ryan proved an asshole, but it wasn’t even about him!! She laid it clean out for that guy!! No forgiveness. He was not an innocent bystander. He does not get to get away with anything, and all the ways he chose to behave after the fact just further proves it!

Cassie was stunning, and dangerous, and incredible. Narratively, she really could have gotten away with it. I don’t want to buy this finale, that it takes the destruction of another woman to bring justice to the first. I don’t care how neatly framed it was, that was not a happy ending.

[stxrrywildflower]

carolina (2)

pairing - emily prentiss x reader

summary - you meet emily in a bar, she doesn’t realize who you are until she hears a song about her on the radio

warnings - none

series masterlist

emily felt like she couldn’t breath.

the profiler tried to go on with her life, she really did. except, your song was already extremely popular. it was topping the charts, people were constantly talking about it, and it was played on most radio stations. it was incredibly difficult to avoid the song, nonetheless you.

an entire week went by of emily trying to escape the song. the details of your hookup were never released, emily was starting to regret not admitting it to j.j. and garcia. the tech analyst loved the song, always gushing about the lyrics. all emily wanted to do was yell that it was about her.

but she couldn’t for multiple reasons; your privacy and the reaction from others. sure the team knew of her partner preference but how would they react if they knew emily had hooked up with one of the most famous singers at the moment.

news articles were another issue too. drama outlets were pestering you with questions about who the song was about. each time, you would remain stubern and not open up. it made her want to scream.

emily decided to just move on, work becoming her main priority for the next few days. j.j. and penelope didn’t let up on their questions, though they did learn to be more subtle about it.

no new cases were presented which was more than suprising. the team was fairly thankful for it, paperwork and 9 to 5’s were usually uncommon. being able to actually work and be home in time for dinner was one of their simple pleasures.

walking into work, emily was focused on one thing; coffee.

she couldn’t have been in the main floor for more than a few seconds before penelope was rushing over to the elevators.

“hey em,” penelope greeted. “there was a package dropped off for you this morning. i told the delivery guy to just leave it at your desk.”

though emily nodded, her mind was already formulating theories as she hasn’t ordered anything recently. being a profiler will make you that paranoid.

just like penelope had said, a smile white box with a small gold ribbon sat on her desk. emily narrowed her eyes slightly, having even less of a clue on what it could be.

“well, are you going to open it?”

emily ignored the remarks from the team, taking a seat and placing her bag at the base of her desk.

with only slightly shaky hands, she reached out to untie the ribbon. the sides of the box fell away as the strings were released, leaving the top on. after pulling the final piece off, she froze.

inside was an envelope, another piece of paper under it. the note was in your handwriting, edges crisp and extremely neat. in cursive letters was ‘emily prentiss.’ all thoughts of it being a mix up went right out of the door.

she refrained from opening it yet, wanting to see the other contents in the box before reading. emily next put the note on her desk, now focused on what was under it.

of all things, it was a plane ticket. ‘washington dulles international airport (IAD) to los angeles international airport (LAX). 9:30 am.’ it was set for the following morning, first class and already paid.

emily opened the note, seeing a five letter offer scribbled down.

‘meet me in los angeles?’ -y/n

emily’s never taken time off quicker.

____

touching down in the warm city of los angeles, emily was a bundle of nerves. she was already begining to regret wearing joggers and a t-shirt.

she had no clue how to feel about dropping everything or just the situation as a whole  

it was only when emily grabbed her luggage that she realized just how much of an idiot she was. she had just flow across the country with no clue where to go, who to talk to, or where you were. she was acting on pure adrenaline and impulse. her luggage finally came around, emily picking it up and extending the handle to grab.

a tap on emily’s shoulder caused her to jump. she turned around, now in front of a man in a clean black suit. he was holding a name card and a small index card.

“emily prentiss?” he asked.

“yeah?” emily replied, not quite sure what else to say. “this is for you,” he added, handing over the small piece of paper.

‘if you’re reading this, i assume you arrived with no issue. i sent leo to pick you up at the airport, hope he didn’t freak you out. he’ll take you back to mine. xx - y/n’

emily picked up her luggage once more, ready to follow leo out. “just letting you know, it’s a bit of a drive,” leo offered, getting in the drivers side while emily took the back. she nodded, letting out a sigh with it. at least she could think for awhile.

pulling up to your house, scratch that, it was pretty much a mansion, emily didn’t know if she had guessed completely correct on what it would look like or was just flat out wrong.

the house was in hollywood on one of the steep hills. after passing through the gates, a heavy security measure, she finally got view of the home. the outside was pretty modern, made up of mostly white and grey colors as well as many windows. a garden with a fountain in the center greeted her as they pulled into the circular driveway.

“well this is where i let you out. just head up the stairs and ring the doorbell. y/n should be down to greet you soon,” leo spoke. “i really hope everything works out. i’ve never seen y/n happier then when she came back from washington d.c.”

emily thanked him quietly, still processing the final piece of information he had spoke.

dragging her bags behind her, emily headed up the series of steps and to the door. just like leo had instructed, she pushed the doorbell button and stood back.

you didn’t greet her at the door, the lock on the door clicking signaling emily that it was now unlocked. she twisted the knob, pushing the door open and stepping inside.

the foyer may have been more impressive than the outside. a grand chandelier hug from the ceiling, a curved staircase leading up to the top floor. her heels clicked around the floor as she twirled around, looking up at the decor.

you heard the front door of your house open, the alarm alerting you just moments before. you were currently making lunch, just a simple sandwich and then fruit on the side

after putting your lunch on hold, abandoning your knife you were using as well as your now finished meal, you left the kitchen to meet your guest.

emily stood only slightly awkwardly in your open foyer. her bags were by her side, eyes darting around the room. half the stuff in there was probably worth more than she could think.

footsteps broke the profiler out of her observation.

you were finally in her eyesight a moment later, a small smile on your face as you walked down the hallway. what captivated emily once again was just your overall appearance. a sharp breath escaped her lips before she would realize that.

a loose oversized tan cardigan hung of your body, a white tank top underneath that with leggings as your pants. your hair was down, relaxed in its natural style. no makeup was on either, not even lipstick like you had on when she first met you.

“hey em,” god just the way you said her name made her blush.

“hi,” emily greeted, thankful her voice didn’t crack.

“i can take your bags upstairs,” you offered. “i’ll put them in my favorite guest room, it has the best views. you can go into the kitchen if you want, it’s just down the hall. the rooms open, there’s no way you can miss it.”

the two of you went your separate ways, you upstairs and her to the kitchen.

out of pure habit, emily ran her hand across the marble countertops, looking around at the details you had strewn about.

“sorry about the mess, i was just making,” emily jumped at your voice. she wasn’t expecting you back so soon. “it’s totally okay, honestly.”

another wave of awkward silence fell over you two, neither quite sure what to say. “look emily-” you started. “we do need to talk about what happened.”

“do we?” emily spoke. you laughed, “yes we do.”

while you took a seat at one of the counter seats, emily stood up. she was obviously holding back, reluctant how to go with the situation.

“come on emily. you’ve been all i’ve thought about for the past two weeks. hell, i even wrote a song about you. and we do need to talk about the elephant in the room,” you pleaded. “have you even heard it?”

emily nodded, “yes i have. my friend penelope sent me the link. listed it it then and didn’t really know how to react. it was kinda difficult to avoid, it’s playing everywhere. your doing amazing by the way. figured i could throw in a complement there.”

a blush passed across your cheeks. “thank you,” you whispered.

emily then looked down, fiddling with the hem of her shirt. you figured you might ask well just dive into the heavy stuff.

“all i’m saying is that you came here for a reason. there has to be some part of you that’s been thinking about me too. i would like to think you aren’t the person to just drop everything and meet in a whole different state for just anyone,” you commented.

you did get her there. emily did really just leave work without explanation to come see you.

emily didn’t respond, choosing to step forward to connect your lips. you hooked your legs around her, holding her cheek and arm in your hand.

the kiss was incredibly different than the one at the bar, that one being sloppy and rushed. you two were in a hurry, wanting to feel as much of the other as you could.

this one, you could actually take your time. very little could interrupt the two of you. you could actually savor the feeling of her body against yours.

“let’s give us a try,” you mumbled against her lips.

emily nodded, holding your waist a little tighter. “let’s give us a try.”

☆ ☆ ☆

tags - @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto @kissessforharryyy @garcias-batcave @zoseph @kissessfordraco @ogmilkis @cm-is-kinda-cool @matthewgublerswife @guessthatswhyiliveinhell @spencerslatte @babyangellee @agentshortstacc

[just-a-fangirl13]

MacGyver fanfic

So this is my attempt at a MacGyver fanfic based on the spoiler we got from the MacGyver writers about Mac and Riley getting unexpectedly linked in season 5. (No this does not have anything to do with handcuffs this is just something I would like to see play out.😂)

I know it's kinda long but I hope you like it anyways.

I WOULD RECOMMEND LISTENING TO ARMOUR BY LANDON AUSTIN in the background for added effect...(I am weird I know😂)

(P.S. please ignore any typos...)

spoilers for. season 1-4.

*this takes place a six months after Mac and Desi have broken up. Bozer and Mac are spending time with each other playing video games at Mac’s flat after a long mission. They hadnt got a call from Matty about a new one just yet. So they were making the most of it after ages.*

“So Mac when are you getting back to dating?” Bozer asked. He was happy that Mac was finally doing better emotionally but he was worried Mac was going to spend the rest of his life building carbon scrubbers and car engines out of blenders, alone. He knew Riley and Mac would be perfect together but saying anything upfront would just end with Mac closing up like a clam shell and not dealing with his feelings. He knew better than to try and get involved.

He did have a plan though. He was going to convince Mac to try out this new dating app called Link’d. It was basically like every other dating app only difference..? It narrowed matches down by people you might have crossed paths with and you also have no idea who your date is until you get to a restaurant the app picked for you. The app reduced any possibility of being stood up or judged because you had no idea what the other person looked like and so no one ever lied. Bozer had already told Riley to try it out but he wasn’t sure if she would.

Bozer had hoped that maybe Mac and Riley would see each other going on dates and the fear of losing the other might kick in and maybe, just maybe they would deal with their feelings.

“Bozer come on, I am not ready yet besides I thought we talked about this. It’s only been a few months since Desi and I broke up.” said Mac. 

“A few? Mac, its been six months and even Desi has moved on. All I’m saying is go on a date or two. You deserve to be happy too you know. Its time to get all that weight off your shoulders and live a little man.”

“Yeah I know.” Mac seemed to be considering the idea. A date sounded like fun and he could use a distraction from everything going on at Phoenix. 

“Fine, then show me your phone.” said Bozer putting his hand out. Mac raised his eyebrow. “Why do you need it? I know I’ve broken a lot of your phones, is this your version of payback?", said Mac laughing nervously, "You'll won't hold my phone hostage until I agree will you?"

Bozer laughed, Mac was really never going to change. He cautiously handed over the phone and Bozer got to setting up Mac’s profile while Mac tried to get a look at what Bozer was doing secretly worried he was going to put him in some ridiculous situation.

When Bozer was done he handed the phone back to Mac.

“There you go. I installed a dating app called Link’d that will set you up on a blind date. Just hit that button and the algorithm will find you your perfect match.” Bozer left out the part where Riley might also use the app. But then again the possibility of them getting Link’d was slim since LA itself had about a few hundred thousand other users.

“A blind date?” Mac was confused. “Boze I dont know if this is such a good idea.” Bozer could tell every worst case scenario was going through Mac’s head right now.

“I haven't hit the button yet. Think about it and press it whenever you want. No pressure Mac. Whoever you end up with will be lucky to know you.”

“Thanks Boze. Ill think about it. Now can we get back to the game so I can kick your ass again?” said Mac with a smile on his face. He really would think about it. After all a blind date meant no pressure right?

*A few days later*

Riley had decided to use the app after all. It was just a date right? It didn't have to mean anything. She wouldn't even have to call the person back if it was a disaster.

Riley’s phone had pinged with an alert last night. She had got a match and had it yes without thinking twice. She was a bit nervous about going on a date with some random guy but Bozer had a lot of faith in the app. She only knew the guy would have a white rose with him so she could identify him. nothing else

She was very tempted to hack into the apps mainframe and find out who the guy was but she remembered her promise to Bozer. No hacking. 

She had looked up the restaurant however. It was a nice romantic place in the heart of the city. Yes she could enjoy herself. No worrying about Mac or Phoenix or Codex or anything else.

She could do this. She could go on this one date, no strings attached and maybe just maybe she would be able to forget about her feelings for Mac for a night.

She decided to wear the new black knee-length dress she had bought a few weeks ago, but hadn't had the chance to wear yet. It felt good to dress up for a change. She could totally do this. After all what could even go wrong. No one at Phoenix knew about this date and she would fill Bozer and Desi in later if it went well.

********

Meanwhile, Mac was at the restaurant at a corner table. It was a nice cozy booth that meant they were away from the hustle and bustle of the 3 star restaurant. He had to admit the app was pretty cool. Not only did it pick a restaurant but it had pre booked a table too. It did help alleviate the stress of picking a place. 

Mac still fidgeted though:- with the candle in the center of the table, the tablecloth, his suit jacket and even the white rose he had to carry so his date would recognise him. He checked the time for the 10th time in the last five minutes. He was always a little late so he didn't want to take any chances and had ended up 10 minutes early instead.

********

Riley’s cab pulled up at the restaurant. She was walking past the huge front window in a hurry. She was just on time.

She walked into the restaurant and gave her name to the host. As she was being led to her table and praying she wasn’t late, her phone started ringing. It was Bozer. Filled with guilt she put her phone on silent. Stupid button wouldn't work and she fidgeted with it while walking. She promised herself she would fill Bozer in once the date was over.

“Riles?” 

Riley looked up from her phone at the sound of Mac’s voice. Was she hearing things now? But nope there he was, with a white rose, sitting at the table where the host had pulled up a chair intended for her.

“Mac? What are you doing here?”

Mac looked handsome as always. He had on a dark blue jacket, with his hair in his usual short and mess style. He had a look that bordered on confusion and amusement.

Surely there was some mistake. Maybe it was a joke. Or maybe there was an emergency mission and Mac was here to pick her up for the mission. That had to be it. Right?

“I was supposed to be here on a date with a girl I have never met before. You?” Mac smiled. Riley’s stomach flipped. Things had just got so much more complicated.

*****

Riley looked stunning. Mac knew that of course but she managed to catch him by surprise all the same.

She was just as surprised as him but now the doubt was creeping in. What if Riley was disappointed that it was him? What if she was really excited to meet someone new and him being here would ruin her night?

Riley had seemed a bit distant lately maybe this was the universes way of giving them a chance to figure things out after all.

“Well I came here thinking i was on blind date too. The Universe has a weird sense of humour." Riley broke into a smile and sat down. Mac was relieved and even more nervous at the same time. 

What was wrong with him? It was just Riles. They would have a nice meal, figure things out and then laugh about this story later right?

Riley picked up the menu and a few seconds of complete silence ticked by. Mac couldn’t handle it and broke the silence.

“So” he said. “We should probably talk right?”

*****

“Something on your mind?” asked Riley. A million thoughts ran through her head as she put down the menu. This was the part she wasn't looking forward to. She had hoped he wouldnt bring it up until later in the night but it was the elephant in the room. What was she thinking sitting down, pretending everything was fine?

“I was going to ask you the same thing.” said Mac. “You know about how you’ve been avoiding me ever since we almost died in that Codex compound from the missile. Then you moved out suddenly without much of a reason. If it was the drilling sounds I would have stopped you know.”

“It wasn't the drilling sounds or anything you did Mac. I just moved out to give you and Desi the space you deserved.” said Riley.

Her thoughts ran back to the moment he held her hand. Why did he have to do that? Why did he have to bring that up right now. The truth was Riley had been distancing herself from Mac. 

Desi was her friend and she was never going to tell Mac about her feelings. It would ruin everything. Even after he and Desi broke up, Riley knew that she and Mac would never happen. She wouldn't be selfish and risk their friendship.

“Come on Riles. You’re my best friend. Whatever is going on then, you can tell me. I know its probably my fault but I need you to talk to me so I can fix it.” 

How could she tell him? There would just be a cloak of awkwardness between them that would never go away and it wouldnt be something he could fix. She had to end this. Now.

“I have to go. I'm not feeling too great. I'm sorry Mac.”, said Riley getting up from her chair. Saying those words broke her heart but she had to put space between her and Mac, otherwise he would know. He would see right through the lies.

“Riles wait!”

Stupid heels she thought and walked out the door of the restaurant as fast as she could only to find it had begun raining. Oh great. This night could not be a bigger train wreck.

She turned around to find Mac right behind her at the door. A sad expression on his face. She prayed he would forgive her for this eventually.

“At least let me give you a ride home. You dont have to say anything if you dont want to.”

Riley considered her options. She really didnt want to. But she was not going to get a cab on a Friday night in this rain. She silently nodded and followed Mac to his truck.

******

Mac was wracking his brains to figure what he could have possibly done to upset Riley this much. They had almost been hit by the Reaper drone and then almost burnt alive in that warehouse, the guilt for putting Riley through that had been eating at him ever since.

He was thinking of all the things he had done in the past month, while Riley sat silently peering out the window not even looking at him. 

He could always fix things right? That was what he did best. What was the use of all his skills if he couldn’t even fix things with Riles.

The woman who knew him better then he knew himself. She had trusted him even when everyone thought he was an enemy of the state. Even when he thought he had lost himself. She was always there. He told her things he had never told anyone before. 

Suddenly his mind went back to the moment he held her hand in that Codex compound. He had thought about that many times. Why had he done it? He was sure he was going to die and he had just put Riley at risk too. He wanted her to know he was sorry right? What other reason could there have been?

Before he knew it he had pulled up at Riley's apartment entrance. 

Riley mumbled, “Thanks for the ride Mac. I'm sorry I ruined your night”, she barely met his eye as she open the door and stepped out. 

Suddenly it struck him.

He didn't want to lose Riley. The thought hit him so suddenly it almost sucked the air right out of him. How had he not realised sooner?

It was Riles. It had always been her.

He got out the car in the pouring rain,“Riles wait.” he pleaded, “I'm so sorry.”

Riley turned around to face him.

“You dont have anything to be sorry about Mac. This isn't your fault. I just have a lot on my mind right now.” she said. 

“I do Riles. I have so much to be sorry for.” said Mac walking around the car and towards her. 

“I’m sorry it took me so long to see what was right in front of me. I’m sorry i didnt realise sooner. I thought back to that day on the truck. The moment I held your hand, I realise it now, it was the first time I wasn't afraid of dying alone. I never let myself think about it. But the truth is Riles, I dont want to lose you.”

Riley had tears streaming down her face. 

Oh no. He had made a mistake hadn't he. He had completely misread the situation. Riley had never felt that way at all. He had just made things worse and now they would never be able to go back to the way things were. 

But deep down he didn't regret telling her. He had these feelings for so long. The idea of losing her had brought everything back to the surface.

“Riles, please say something.”

All these thoughts were running through his head when suddenly, Riley kissed him. He was taken aback for a second but he kissed her back. He could have stayed there in the rain forever. Just him and Riley. She wrapped her arms around him.

“I am so sorry Mac. You were right.. The truth is I was avoiding you. I thought if I distanced myself I would be able to move on and I would never have to risk our friendship. You’re my best friend too Mac and I just...” she was crying again.

Mac took her face in his hands tenderly and wiped the tears away. “Hey, hey its okay. I think we can both agree for two very smart people we can be pretty dumb”

Riley smiled. It made Mac’s heart do sommersalts.

They just stood there in the rain holding each other.

“So are we doing this then?” asked Riley breaking their embrace.

"I mean I guess your bed is big enough" said Mac with a mischievous grin. Riley smacked him, laughing and rolling her eyes.

"Not that. I meant us, dating and all that." She was blushing now.

“if you want to give this a shot? 100% Should we tell everyone though?” asked Mac. He wasn’t sure how everyone would react. A part of him wanted to just keep this between him and Riley.

“I do want to give us a shot. Maybe we should keep this to ourselves for a bit? Phoenix and relationships never seem to mix too well.” said Riley.

Mac nodded and smiled,”Yeah I like the sound of that. And if they get suspicious I guess we’ll just..”

“Improvise.” said Riley, completing Mac’s sentence. They laughed and kissed, standing there in the rain for what felt like forever.

[antoine-roquentin]

The Fed said that the 2 percent target was symmetric. But in practice, the Fed’s reaction function was asymmetric. The asymmetry of the Fed’s response  was so strong that it generated a systematic bias in the Fed’s forecast and actual inflation. While the technocrats at the Fed have persistently expected long-run inflation to be 2 percent, actual inflation has undershot the target in 80 percent of all quarters since 1995. But the problem went even deeper than the asymmetric response function of the Federal Reserve.

Long after its demise, the technocrats continued to believe and rely on the Phillips curve model of inflation which said that we should expect inflation to rise whenever labor markets tighten sufficiently enough. This theory of the inflation process was baked into every single quantitative model of the economy ever considered by the central bankers. But the inflation process had transformed out of recognition by the system-wide buildup of overcapacity and the rise of global value chains. What has determined inflation since at least the mid-1990s is not the tightness of domestic labor markets, even in the world’s largest economy, but the degree of slack in the global production system as a whole:

Where there should’ve been a new theory of the inflation process, there remained a mental rigidity acquired when the central bankers had been in graduate school at Berkeley and MIT in the 1970s.

These three rigidities of the mind structured the Fed’s reaction function, the logic of financial discipline to which all economic actors were subjected, and the possibility space contemplated by political authorities. This was the process of structuration that generated the secular downward cycle of the past fifty years. What has happened since the financial crisis is the process of destructuration whereby these intellectual rigidities have been abandoned one by one.

The first to go was the belief in the wisdom of financial markets. This was a direct consequence of the global financial crisis. Wall Street’s pretenses of being the smartest guys in the room were irredeemably destroyed when the market-based credit system erected by the dealers endogenously generated the greatest risk to economic fortunes world-wide since the 1930s. Despite suspicions that nothing much had changed at all, the megabanks were, in fact, tied down with a whole series of regulations that gave the Fed authority to directly control their capital ratios, liquidity ratios, and even decisions on whether and how to reward their shareholders. Anyone who doesn’t understand the scale of the transformation of the goings-on at the banks has not been paying attention. What we had in 2006 was unfettered global finance; what we have now is global finance closely supervised and controlled by technocrats at the Fed, whose authority has increased in leaps and bounds. We are very far indeed from high neoliberal global financial intermediation. So a central structural feature of neoliberal political economy was unmade quite early on after the financial crisis.

For a few years, this seemed to be enough. The political authorities and the technocrats came to believe that the Band-Aid was enough to restabilize the system. This was the ‘false dawn’ of the 2012 election that Adam Tooze wrote of in Crashed. In reality, the process of destructuration was far from complete. This was the risk of writing contemporary history for Tooze. Just as he began writing the conclusion to Crashed, the stable world that the Obama-era elites believed they had achieved began to unravel at the hands of forces that they were completely unaware of.

They knew that the neoliberal institutions had destroyed the working-class. The New Economy that obtained with the capitulation of social democracy had led to the rise of an overbearing class of prestige-schooled meritocrats who began to claim a larger and larger share of the income, esteem and even work. What obtained then was an ‘hourglass’ occupational structure where most of the new jobs created were either for the highly-skilled meritocrats who run everything from the New York Times to Goldman and Google, or for unskilled day laborers at fast-food chains and grocery stores. This dual economy echoed the Lewisian model in monstrous reverse: instead of workers leaving the traditional low-productivity sector for the modern high-productivity sector, working-class breadwinners were pushed out of middle-skilled occupations that vanished from the industrial sector and into either the low-productivity sector or to the margins of employment and a life of dependence and indolence.

The New ‘Hourglass’ Economy undermined the reproduction of the working class family, even as the middle class family was restabilized with divorce rates and child out of wedlock-rates falling for the latter but not the former. The unraveling of working-class families and communities led to an epidemic of ‘deaths of despair’ starting in 2000. Yet, for 15 years no one even noticed. It was only in 2015 that Case and Deaton would document the wholly exceptional rise in ‘deaths of despair’ among whites without college degrees — the bulk of the American populace.

Elite-mass relations began to break down almost immediately as anger among ‘the losers of neoliberal globalization’ began to grow. The blame was not placed on the owners of capital and corporate power of the Marxian imaginary, but rather on the new class of meritocrats who began to dominate the airwaves over ‘flyover country’ in a one-way traffic of symbolic production emanating from the coasts. The hated ‘coastal elites’ in turn began thinking of working class whites as stupid racist bigots who didn’t know what was good for them — this was the development that Thomas Frank described in his 2004 polemic, What’s the Matter With Kansas?  

Even as working class whites increasingly abandoned the Dems for the GOP, the latter continued to espouse free-market orthodoxy and cultural hot-button issues that did nothing at all to address the elephant in the room — the decline of working-class families and communities with the vanishing of broad-based growth. The brutal process of downward mobility was accompanied by the demise of institutions that intermediated between the working-class and the political and economic elites, that Putnam has documented. All organic connections between elites and masses were thus severed with ‘the big sort’ whereby the social classes became geographically segregated from each other over time.

These developments left late-neoliberal elites completely clueless about was happening to the middling bulk of American society far from New York and San Fransisco. So when Donald Trump came down that escalator, he was simply dismissed as a buffoon. No one among the elites saw the threat in real time. But Trump had inadvertently tapped into something altogether bigger than electoral politics. To mix metaphors, Trump was carried along the tide of history by the tectonic forces of class politics. The masses had simply had enough of the fucking technocrats from Harvard and Yale. By 2015, they were ready to burn the world constructed by the elites to the ground.

Even after the shock of 2016, elite resistance to the recognition of political realities remained in place. But the process of destructuration began to accelerate. Elites became more and more convinced that something — anything — had to be done to re-stabilize the system and contain ‘the threat from below’ revealed by 2016 [Richard F. Hamilton, 1972]. Yet, metal rigidities continued to thwart real solutions. Stuck with the old habits of thought, the Yellen Fed began hiking in anticipation of inflation as labor markets tightened in 2016. Democratic primary voters threw their weight behind the equivalent of a safety school despite a charismatic cast of pretenders.

The first intimations of a structural break with the old ways of thinking began to emerge in the discourse of the New American Left. Although it would later be taken over by antiracist activists unconcerned with the fortunes of the working-class, Bernie’s revolution was initially focused on bread and butter issues of everyday people. While Democratic primary voters could not be persuaded to cast their lot with the radicals, the ideas that emerged on the left of the party would strongly condition what was to come later, after the pandemic. What was truly pathbreaking about the new intellectual movement afoot was the complete abandonment of any commitment to fiscal discipline. MMT was only the tip of that iceberg. The general idea gaining adherents on the left was that power was to be taken back from the technocrats by political authority and the state’s capabilities to improve the lives of people was to be reconstructed.

Before the pandemic, this idea of breaking completely with the neoliberal playbook was contained. A half asleep old white guy would be put in the White House by the risk-averse Democratic majority. So it seemed for a while that neoliberalism was to be resurrected. But the Schmittian emergency of the pandemic brought these ideas back to the center of the policy discussion. Power was to be taken back from the technocrats after all. The intellectual revolution within political circles was accelerated by the constraints of the electoral clock. After winning the Senate runoffs in Georgia, the Dems now owned all federal policy. And they had two years to show their work — otherwise they’d lose control of Congress. The idea thus began to emerge among Democrat political strategists that you had go in heavy with all guns brazing right from the start. This is how we got the $1.9 trillion package.

Meanwhile, frustration had been building among the technocrats themselves. With the policy rate close to the zero lower bound, they had been pushing on a string with bond purchases which stimulated asset prices but have only a weak effect on economic activity because the rich refused to spend their capital gains. The desire to effect a handover to fiscal policy thus began to grow. The Fed responded to the pandemic by pulling out the bazooka. But that was not nearly good enough. The desire to handover control over economic affairs to the politicians became all-consuming in 2020.

With the Biden White House contemplating a $1.9 trillion fiscal package, the only question was whether the Fed would play along. Would they start hiking in anticipation and kill the party before it got started? The answer became crystal clear yesterday.

Lael Brainard, the real hero of the story, had been the lone voice at the Federal Open Market Committee (FOMC) arguing for abandoning the old way of thinking about the inflation process in the mid-2010s. Her idea got a shot in the arm when, in 2017, Bernanke presented a proposal to target the level of prices over the cycle instead of the rate of inflation. The proposal contained an implicit but damning critique of Fed policy. What it showed was that the Fed had been wrong to hike in anticipation of inflation — Fed policy, including and especially forward guidance, had been way too tight. Thus began a major rethink among the central banking technocrats. Brainard’s new way of thinking about inflation, supported by research from the Bank of International Settlements and a host of younger economists, began to gain influence within the FOMC.

Even before the pandemic, the Powell Fed had been moving to an empirical stance — actually waiting for inflation to overshoot instead of relying on model predictions ultimately based on the defunct Phillips curve. With the shock of 2016, the technocrats began to pay more careful attention to how their policies affected the fortunes of the working-class. They realized that containing ‘the threat from below’ actually required making progress on broad-based growth — the objective that had been abandoned in 1979. As the evidence began to come in after 2016 that one could run very tight labor markets without inflation reappearing, Brainard’s way of thinking became more and more compelling.

The central bankers had come to realize that the only way to achieve broad-based growth was to run the economy really hot. Only when labor markets get very tight (unemployment below, say, 5 percent) do working-class wages and the wages of minorities start growing as fast as middle class salaries. This idea of running the economy really hot to deliver broad-based growth could only work because, while inflation does not respond to excess demand in the way they had thought it would (the Phillips curve is dead), wages do (the Wage Curve is alive and kicking). That is, they could have their cake and eat it too: they realized that they could run the economy really hot and generate broad-based growth without unnecessarily running the risk of high inflation.

“The key to the whole thing,” as Chair Powell put it yesterday, is that almost no one believes that the Fed can’t tame inflation if it were to reappear — inflation expectations are firmly anchored on target. So they can afford to be very generous in bad times because everyone knows the Fed won’t let inflation expectations get de-anchored ever again — the great lesson of the 1970s’ stagflation crisis. In other words, they had come to realize that we live in the best of all possible worlds. And the systematic policy mistake of the past decade or decades was that they had been unnecessarily pessimistic and cautious.

So when Summers and Blanchard reached for the old ways of thinking, something entirely unexpected happened. Where there should’ve been a loud debate structured by the idea of fiscal discipline, there was one big yawn. The doyens were largely ignored or dismissed by both the technocrats and the politicians. This surprising development revealed that the intellectual revolution among elites, triggered by the Polanyian counter-movement from below that Trump rode to power, had been consummated. Yesterday’s press conference confirmed that the process of intellectual conversion of the technocrats is now complete.

Such were the makings of the perfect storm. With fiscal policy not only revived but virtually on steroids and with monetary policy accommodative for the foreseeable future, we’re now looking at the greatest economic boom in living memory. The Fed now reckons that the US economy will grow at 6.5 percent in 2021. Goldman is more bullish. The 38th floor at 200 West believes that the US economy will grow at 8 percent instead. The strategists are probably closer to the mark.

But this is the short-term conjuncture. Why would I call the turning point of the secular cycle?? The coming economic boom is not enough. The turning points of the secular cycle need not just the destructuation of features that generated the secular downcycle but also  restructuration with features that generate the secular upcycle. What has created the conditions for new features to emerge and consolidate is the climate crisis. The success of climate activism has convinced elites that a solution must be found to the planetary impasse. Moreover, elites have come to believe that any solution to the climate crisis cannot come at the cost of the working-class — otherwise the threat from below will threaten the stability of the system as a whole. So the way is now open for at least a decade-long great green boom. The plan is now for the technocrats to handover control over economic affairs to the politicians, and for direct fiscal stimulus to give way to an infrastructure and green tech investment-driven economy. This is probably the only way out of the impasse of American class relations. Even those who don’t get it now will get it eventually.

quibbles with parts, but it’s a good narrative

[shattered-mirror-fanfic]

Took way too long but it’s here, enjoy!

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32206135/chapters/82349017

Chapter below the cut for my readers who don’t prefer Ao3

Henry walked back onto the campgrounds, books in hand with Frisk following close behind. It was close to becoming 1 o’clock to their surprise. 

“Guess we spent longer in the library than we thought, guess we gotta apologise to Toriel about being almost a half hour late home” Henry spoke, knowing he was in trouble for keeping Frisk away for so long.

“Mom most likely won’t mind if she knows that you were keeping me safe Mr. Henry” Frisk replied smiling. Henry nodded and the two entered the camp that was their temporary home.

“Hey kid, I’m gonna pop your books in your tent ok? Why don’t you got snatch us some lunch?” Henry asked. Frisk nodded and hurried over to the camps center to see if Toriel had any leftover pie for them. After Henry left Frisk’s books in their tent he made his way over to the medical tent, only to see Right Hand Man inside, sitting on a chair next to the table where a large container was, holding the fragments of their chief’s soul. 

“Hey ‘enry” The man said, in a surprisingly soft tone. Heny set the book down on the table and pulled out a chair, sitting on it a tad awkwardly with it’s back in front of him. 

“What’s up boss? Is the chief’s death really hitting that hard?” Henry questioned.

“He’s not-! No, he’s not dead.” The Right Hand Man argued. Henry frowned, knowing something was off.

“Well if he’s not dead, then how come his prized medallion is draped over the tank with his broken soul?” The white-haired man asked, tilting his head to the side.

“You shut your damned mouth or ah swear…” Right spoke with his thick australian accent adding an extra layer of intimidation. 

“Okaaay, you’re going through some stuff, I’ll let you be.” Henry quickly responded. He sat up and walked out of the tent quickly to avoid getting Right Hand Man in more of a huff, just to bump into a familiar short yellow lizard. “Oh hey Doc, sorry ‘bout that.” 

“I-it’s fine, have you seen the Right Hand Man? I meant to talk to him about your boss's soul.” She asked. 

“Mister five stages of grief is in there.” Henry answered, pointing a thumb back to the tent he was just in. “Actually, have you seen Ellie? Meant to ask her something.”

The scientist twiddled her thumbs a bit before answering. “No, but she did leave a note saying she would be back by dinner, I have no idea where she is though”

“Damnit Ellie, be more specific next time.” Henry muttered.

~~~

Ellie wasn’t too fond of her soul trait. PERSEVERANCE had the lamest magic in her opinion, DETERMINATION could bend time, BRAVERY could teleport, JUSTICE could make people tell the truth, KINDNESS could heal and make shields, PATIENCE could freeze in place to avoid damage, INTEGRITY could change gravity, but PERSEVERANCE...it could only make plans based on a few minutes of worth of events. It sounds ok at first but in practice it’s not that great. Luckily, this came in handy for plotting a surprise sneak attack against your local government camp after they killed your boss. 

The red-head was positioned behind a bush up on a short cliff only a bit away from said government camp. She pulled out her walkie talkie and leaned in.

“Hey Svensson, you got the coordinates for the government rats?” She asked, in response she got a groan.

“Yes I did, and I am still your superior, so it’s Mr. Svensson to you.” He complained on his end. 

“Well Mr. Pain in the ass, ready to beam down the rocket launcher?”

“For the third time, you aren’t getting a rocket launcher. I’m sending down Burt, Carol and a few others.”

“Man, do you not trust me with explosives?”

“Not after the ‘Me and Henry are going to rob a chuck e cheese’ incident.”

“It was fun and it was one time!” She all but shouted into the device. She turned it off and looked back at the camp. So maybe exploding it isn’t a great idea. Ellie glanced over at one of the tents that was larger than the rest, and had a large red medical cross. Bingo.

~~~

“Hey Chara, can I ask you something? Do you know what happened to Asr-” Frisk started.

“No, we don’t mention him.” Chara said, cutting them off. Frisk set down their fork on the plate. 

“Okaaay, then what about Flowey?” Frisk reiterated. 

“Didn’t he want to stay behind? I mean, he thought he wouldn’t survive out here without a soul.” 

“Well what if he was wrong Chara?”

“Don’t tell me you actually cared about that little bugger! He tried to kill you, Frisk!” 

The child sighed and stared up at their ghost companion. 

“He can change, he’s done it before, and he can do it again.”

~~~

The flower in question sat among his non-sentient copies in the beginning of the underground. Or was it the end? He didn’t know, and didn’t care. Flowey sighed, and stared up at the entrance to the underground. No one ever visited him, after all, he tried to kill everyone and steal their souls to become a god. That was only the second time. How would anyone forgive him? No one would. Why would anyone care about him though? He only hurts, it’s all he’s good for. 

No. He won’t hurt again. The golden flower promised himself this, He pondered to himself about how to get out easily. Through personal research he deemed he could only travel for five minutes under the earth before needing to pop back out for at least another minute, as well as, it was difficult staying on the side of a wall without some proper hold. Thinking, Flowey noticed a vine that had fallen some time after the barrier broke. That’ll do. 

Flowey popped down under the ground then resurfaced under the vine. He wrapped one of his own vines on it and slid up it like a snake, reaching the top in under a few minutes. He looked out at the mid afternoon sun, basking in the potential photosynthesis he would gain if he just gave up and stayed a flower forever. But no, he had to keep going. 

After scanning the area a bit he noticed a camp in the distance that took up a hidden clearing. So that's where they went. He thought to himself. But hey, the worst case scenario is that it was a human camp, but he could blend in as some of the natural buttercups that grew around the mountain. It would take a while until he got there, but he knew it would be the start of his redemption.

~~~

“Ok would you rather fight an elephant sized axolotl or a hundred axolotl sized elephants? Honestly, either would do for me.” Chara asked, smiling.

“Am I allowed to spare either? If not then an elephant sized axolotl, it would give up to get to water.” Frisk answered. Henry laughed and leaned back.

“Nah, a hundred axolotl sized elephants, that way they won’t crush you on the way to the water.” He spoke. “Plus, I ain’t a pacifist, I won’t have a burden on my shoulder.” 

“But those are innocent elephants!” Frisked shouted. 

“What if they had caused the deaths of thousands? Then would you reconsider?”

“You’re cruel sometimes Chara.” Henry chuckled. Frisk smiled and knew, maybe more humans were like the toppats, they didn’t seem that bad. 

“Gasp, I, the dead child sharing a soul with another child, is cruel.”

“Ok, ok, you two, reel it in, we’re meant to have a nice picnic, minus the food.” Frisk laughed. It was nice after most of their life living by themself as an orphan, to finally have a family. Sure, they didn’t have an exact father figure, but they had a mom in Toriel, a sibling in Chara, and now an older brother in Henry. It was everything they could ever dream of. 

“Sorry Frisk.” Chara apologized sarcastically. 

“Sorry kid, plus Chara isn’t as cruel as another demon I know.” Henry apologized, gazing at the air next to him like he was gesturing towards someone. But no, player was off minding their own weird business off somewhere that Henry didn’t care. They couldn’t do anything with Henry being there as a physical form. With this, they were most likely trying to chase a squirrel up a tree to find it’s home to (attempt to) destroy it. 

“Speaking of whom, you said you’re in a similar boat to us, yeah? Well, haven’t seen your little soul buddy, where are they?” The red ghost asked, folding their arms. “Seriously, the fact you can see me means you aren’t lying, are you just in stage one?”

“No, they just don’t like people, and people don’t like them. They also much prefer tormenting squirrels than answering questions about elephants and axolotls.” Henry addressed. Chara scrunched their face while Henry just smiled. 

That’s when the two humans felt something off, Frisk in specific heard dirt churning. Chara looked at them oddly as they weren’t sitting to feel the disturbance. That’s when a golden buttercup popped out of the ground. 

“Well, that’s not normal, or I’ve been on the orbital station for too long.” The adult said, questioning himself. That’s when the flower turned its head, showing its face.

“That damned flower got out!” 

“Nice to see you too Chara.” The flower spoke. “Anyways, Howdy! I’m Flowey, Flowey the Flower!” 

“I can tell.” Henry sarcastically responded. 

“Oh goodie goodie, the smiley trashbag comedian has a human twin.” Flowey spoke with a caustic remark, while Chara proceeded to lose their mind laughing at the realization of the similarities. “Anywho, I actually came here to say something.”

“What is it Flowey?” Frisk asked.

“Well…..” He paused. Why couldn’t he do it? He recited what he wanted to say on the way over, he knew he wanted to apologise, but the words wouldn’t form. He couldn’t say sorry, he couldn’t tell them the promise he made to himself...

He just was incapable of feeling true remorse. 

“Of course, typical unfeeling flower. Will want everyone’s attention, then goes silent. Typical.”

“Chara! That was rude!” Frisk scolded. Flowey sighed, and popped back into the ground. Maybe it wasn’t time to repair that burnt bridge.

When Flowey popped back up, he moved himself next to a large tent near the edge of the clearing (as indicated by the large trees next to the tent). Chara was right, I have no soul, I can’t feel… Thoughts like that raced through his mind, he wanted to be better, but without a soul it was useless.

He stared around for something to do when he saw a tall man, leaning against a tree with a cigarette in his hand. 

“Hey, Smokey! Y’know you’re gonna get yourself killed with that!” Flowey snarked loudly at the man. Right Hand Man looked down at the flower with a cold gaze. 

“Wow Einstein, you’ve cracked the code and can leave the simulation now, hurray.” He laughed. Flowey was not amused. Instead he slid up the tree Right was leaning on and sat on one of the low branches. “And hey, ‘anks for the concern, but ah don’t get cigarettes that have tar in ‘em. So I’m lung cancer safe.”

“Huh, didn’t know those existed, anyways, I’m Flowey!” The buttercup had returned to his normal jovial mood.

“Nice to meet ya Flowey, I’m Right Hand Man.” 

“What kind of name is that?”

“What kind of name is Flowey?”

“Touché” The two chuckled a bit, then Flowey asked the question that he completely forgot about in favor of introductions. “Say, why are you smoking in the first place?” 

“Everytime I light a new one, ah ask myself the same thing. Then I remember my best friend is dead, there’s no HOPE left for anyone, and no amount of what if’s are gonna bring him back!” RIght started before going off into a tangent and yelling to himself. 

“Hey big guy, calm down, there’s got to be some way to bring him back, yeah? Do you have his soul?” 

~~~

Honestly, Flowey didn’t expect a yes, and he especially didn’t expect it to be stuck in such disrepair. 

“Holy mother of asgore! What’d you do to him?!” He exclaimed. 

“Only managed to get ‘im in by the time he was like this.” Right answered truthfully. He put a hand on the tank, rubbing it thoughtfully while the flower starred from his new-found perch on the Right Hand Man’s shoulder. 

“Man, rough timing, eh? Anyways, do you perchance have a pot I could dip into? Soil is much more comfortable.” Flowey requested. Right sighed and kneeled down and grabbed a clay pot from under the table that had been left, he went outside and scooped a bit of dirt in before planting Flowey in it. He went back inside and set the pot next to Reginald’s soul tank before sitting onto the chair still left out from the events of earlier today.

“So, did you know that most likely if his being still exists somewhere, like the void, he would be in complete agony? I mean, I myself wouldn’t know as I have no soul, plus I’m a monster, but probably a broken soul would mean a world of pain?” The plant addressed, looking up at the top of the tent before facing the Aussie with the last point. 

“Reg is strong, he can take it, he’s been through worse.” Right replied sternly.

“I’m just saying, if you really cared, you would be working your butt off trying to get him out of this state.”

“Shut it flower boy, Ah don’t need to hear how much of a failure I am.” 

“I didn’t mean it like that!” Flowey retorted, managing to bounce his pot closer to the tank. Two vines shot out of the pot, waving about frantically, acting like arms to demonstrate his frustration. Damn his subconscious want of misery in others, he would definitely need to work on that later. “I’m not saying you failed! I’m just saying you’re lounging around crying about your problems instead of fixing them! There’s plenty of things you could do!” 

“Well do YOU have any smart ideas? Or are ya just goin’ to be a thorn in mah side?!” The toppat argued back. Flowey stewed for a moment before spotting a leather book on the other end of the table, noticing a keyword, soul. He reached for it with a vine.

“Correction, buttercups don’t have thorns. Plus, this book here may do the trick!” He pulled the book to him with immense speed. Too immense in fact that it hit the glass of the soul preserving tank. It wobbled for a moment before tilting off the table. 

Smash!

[sweetestlamb]

Make Me Crescendo

Summary: Song-ah ponders if there is truly any space left in Joon Young's life for her. Joon Young shows her exactly where her place is.

Author's Note: I didn't expect to enjoy this show as much as I do honestly, I love the dynamic and chemistry between the leads. Most of the other characters could choke for all I care, but I love Song-ah and Joonie, they are goals and they deserve to just run away and be happy. Anyway, I was inspired so this happened. (Please don't leave comments asking about when I'll write more, I'll do it when I can and when I'm inspired for all of my stories. If you are going to leave a comment, you can tell me what you liked or what I could do better, appreciate that more!) Happy reading, please ignore all my lame music puns! 😂😈 

Music filters through the doors as she watches on her heart thumping erratically, a metronome expelling the staccatos of her fear. The gaggle of female students outside the door white noise in the background, their coos and awes stabbing her paper thin heart that is wavering in her chest.

They sound so good together!

Omg, don't they look perfect?

I think they would be a much better couple!

Taking a step back her violin bangs into the wall suddenly alerting them to her presence, her eyes dart wildly like a cornered animal as they look at her with pity and sneering apologetic eyes as if saying: you brought this on yourself, how could you ever think you could have him?

With a wet gasp, she scurries off avoiding their looks clutching her hands tightly as she bursts through the doors. The cool Spring air whips her hair around her face temporarily blocking her face from onlookers, the moisture on her cheeks causes strands to stick before she pushes them back.

Seeing them play in such perfect harmony has only cemented the doubts that already fill her mind, how can see ever measure how to Jung-kyung? A woman that he has not only loved for years but who also plays her instrument far better than she ever will? If she is meant to be a replacement, she stands no chance; they are worlds apart maybe it's time she accepted that.

I'll cherish our moments today, it was an honor.

She knows what she has to do, her heart whines but she blinks away her tears. He deserves better.

His missed calls and messages taunt her as she peers down despondently at her phone, she hasn't been able to bring herself to sever their bond. Every time she starts to type out a message to set him free, his smile flashes in her mind and she's rendered comatose. Instead flinging the cursed object far away and punishing her fingers as shrill notes screech from her violin.

Avoiding him isn't as simple as she'd hoped with everyone knowing about their ill-fated relationship and constantly inquiring about his whereabouts, it becomes sickening obvious that most "friends" who approach her with their shrieking calls of "unnie" could care less about her and are instead hoping to catch a glimpse of him.

As soon as they realized he was absent and had no plans of suddenly materializing, they bombarded her with excuses of why they needed to take their leave, immediately. She vaguely wondered if they cared at all about how little they made her feel, their treatment further emphasizing how insignificant others viewed her.

She was always disposable to others. She didn't even have a best friend to turn to for advice, someone else who has decided that she simply wasn't worth the trouble of staying and fighting.

Nobody had ever deigned her worthy of fighting for.

With a forlorn sigh, she grips her purse tighter better climbing the stairs to the school entrance. She only has one class to get through today, before she could escape to her room and ruminate on how to inform Joon-young that she couldn't do this anymore.

Arriving a few minutes early to class, she takes her seat closer to her front away from the gossiping girls who had been waving her over. She had no desire to listen to their backhanded comments on her lack of talent or unbelievable relationship, their words only added fuel to the vicious thoughts already cycling in her brain.

Pretending not to hear them beckoning her over, she looks at the professor with more focus than she's currently capable of, turning a blind eye to her surroundings.

Time crawls by like molasses poured from a jar, before the professor dismisses the class causing students to bolt from their seats, she being one of the first. He typically waits for her after this class and she has very little time to flee without him catching her, ignoring the calls of her name once more she takes her leave, violin thumping a dull pain on her back.

Cracking the door open she peeks outside, a sliver of her head breaching the opening, a sigh of relief falling from her lips when she meets a vacant spot. Stepping out further she glances around, but he is nowhere to be seen, the hallways empty besides students trekking to their next classes.

Her chest aches traitorously but she internally berates herself, this is good I don't want to see him, her heart ripples at the lie, refusing to engage in this façade that she's forcing. Clutching at her chest she takes one trembling step, then another before finding her resolve and racing to the door.

So close, almost there, come on.

Hand reaching for the handle, she twists it pushing it open seconds away from freedom.

"Song-ah!" Her skin prickles from his deep baritone, his tone wrapping her in a honeyed cocoon. She hesitates, fingers twitching on the cold smooth metal.

"Song-ah, wait!" The desperation in his voice halts her escape, unable to abandon him when his voice reveals so much about how he's feeling. She loathes the mere concept of being someone who hurts him.

Reinforcing her now wavering resolve she slowly spins around, their eyes meeting in a clash, his own shining brightly as he peers into her soul. Her breath hitches as she watches him step closer to her, suddenly there isn't enough oxygen in the room, her lungs wheeze at the atmospheric change.

His beautiful hands gradually elevate, millimeters from her skin, as he begs for permission with his smoldering dark eyes.

She almost accepts defeat, before Jung-kyung's smug sour face flashes in her mind. Dousing her with icy cold realization, they just aren't meant to be.

She draws away from his searching fingers, stepping just out of his reach.

Hurt blazes across his handsome face, hardening in his eyes.

"Why have you been ignoring my calls and messages?"

He goes straight for the jugular, not pussyfooting around the elephant in the room.

"I've been busy practicing." She responds weakly, recoiling under his hard glint.

He steps forward once more, instinctively she retreats, the demure mouse to his assertive cat.

He sighs, stepping back his shoulder sagging in disappointment.

"What's wrong? Why won't you even let me come close to you? Why are you ignoring me?"

This is the moment, the one she's been yearning and waiting for, the perfect opportunity to put this sham to an end. Her mouth opens and closes as she pushes herself to be courageous for once, do the right thing and put both of them out of their misery.

You look better with her. I don't deserve you. I'm not good enough. Not strong enough. Leave. Leave me.

Please.

But, she can't. Can't get her mouth to say any of those truths. Fear and heartbreak render her immobile and cowardice takes center stage instead, ready for its solo.

"I...I...." He looks at her with warm eyes, pleading with her to finish her sentence, hope settled in the lines of his skin.

"I have to go."

"Song-ah!"

Her breath doesn't return until she's shaking on her seat at the bus stop. He hadn't chased her. Maybe he had just learned that she wasn't worthy the trouble.

Her days lapse by as she moves through life resembling a zombie, obsessively looking at her phone only to feel her heart fracture each time no notifications await her hungry eyes.

She goes to class as normal, no longer having to avoid her classmates as they have moved on to something more entertaining than her relationship. Their piteous looks make her skin crawl, her fight with Joon-young the talk of the town. Now they can freely gossip about her and how they knew it would never last, the pure glee on their faces is grotesque.

She sees him in passing in the hallway but he keeps his distance, never maintaining eye contact for too long. She's getting exactly what she wanted. Yet she feels sick to her stomach, her skin clammy and cool.

The irony isn't lost on her, how appropriate that this would be the one thing she's able to do successfully. Ruin her own life and sabotage her own happiness.

There are nights when her control falters and she stares at the illuminated screen of her phone, writing a message only to erase it with a sigh before crashing into her mattress. Her limps are heavy and uncoordinated as she flails upon the surface.

"Why does this have to be so hard?" Her question goes unanswered in the stillness of the night, as she ultimately falls into a fitful slumber.

Finally pulling herself together after days of quiet anguish, she goes back to her mission to find an accompanist.

She closes her phone as she says her final good byes to the team leader, thanking her for allowing her to use the rehearsal room in the Kyungoo building.

The winds blows the wispy ends of her skirt, dragging the material across the smooth skin of her knee. Subconsciously she tugs at the material, its a bit shorter than her usual ensemble she'd ordered it online not expecting it to hit inches above her knee. It seemed longer in the photos. 

A voice shouting her name drags her from her self-conscious inklings, as she spins around to see her potential accompanist.

A welcoming smile tugs her lips up, dimples sinking into her skin with familiarity.

Raising her hand in a small wave, bowing while calling out, "Hello! Nice to meet you, I'm Chae Song-ah, chae not choi, like the vegetable." Explaining before the inevitable questioning and confusion can sour their interaction with awkwardness. 

The sheepish grin informs her that she did the right thing, a hand is extended into her space and she grasps it in her own.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Park Min-jae." His warm smiles immediately puts her at ease. Together they enter the building amicable conversation flowing easily.

Hours pass as the music ricochets around the room, her bow light in her hands as she drags it across the strings, flabbergasted as harmonious sounds permeate the air. His fingers move in a flurry across black and white keys, shoulders bouncing in rhythmically as the song nears it end. Their last notes swirling around each other in a perfect crescendo.

"Wow, that was fun! You did great!" He breaks the silence, and his words leave her breathless.

She's been prepared for insults and sharpened words, his praise disorient her.

His wide grin leaves little room for argument so she merely nods, not quite believing him.

He starts to gather his belongings before turning to her, "I have to head out but I mean it, I think we sounded pretty good together. What do you think? Was I good enough for you?"

His innocent question plummets her into a sea of memories, his face at the forefront of her thoughts.

Shaking herself free she quietly replies, "Yes, it was good. You were good."

He lifts an eyebrow but says nothing else at her words.

"Okay, I'm free this weekend. Give me a call if you want to practice some more."

She nods finally collecting her own belongings, then turning off the lights and exiting the room.

The air is charged as the walk side by side and it's doesn't make sense until she turns the corner. Park Min-jae's excited voice never falters as she stands still, eyes locked on the new arrival.

Joon-young stands before her, eyes scouring her face before darting to the unknown man standing beside her. She watches his Adam's apple bob distractedly, as his eyes darken minutely.

"And I think we should..." Park Min-jae's voice peters off as he notices her unmoving figure before noticing that there is someone new. 

All three of them stand there wordlessly before park Min-jae cracks the uncomfortable silence.

"Hi, I'm Park Min-jae. A friend of Song-ah, nice to meet you." The and you are? lingers in the air.

Her brain stutters at the possibilities and she rushes to provide an answer.

"Oh! This is Joon-young, he's just a fri-"

"Her boyfriend." He extends a hand but his eyes never leave her face, she feels as if she's being challenged and she doesn't know how to respond.

"Nice to meet you! I didn't know you had a boyfriend, you should have let me know before flashing those pretty dimples at me." Park Min-jae's teasing smile unsettles her causing her to shift under his gaze, unbeknownst to her Joon-young's grip tightens ever so slightly in their handshake.

Suddenly her potential accompanist winces and jumps, apologetic look on his face before he retracts his hand to put them up in acquiesce.

"Sorry."

Joon-young looks at him, the seconds dragging before he nods looking away from again. Eyes for her only.

"Um..so I'll talk to you later? It was nice to meet you." Park Min-jae bows once more, glancing between them both before shaking his head and all but running away.

She feels pinned under his look and rubs her own arm simply to have something else to focus on. Feigning distraction, she looks at the ground; heart clattering frantically at his sudden appearance.

Mumbling under her breathe she finally speaks, "What are you doing here?"

She's completely unprepared for his hands to slide into hers with ease, her fingers curling around his before her brain can register what is occurring.

"Come with me." The please is unsaid but loud as a high C and she nods, helplessly following his lead as he drags her back into the rehearsal room.

The click of the door closing is harsh in the quiet of the room, as he stops in the center of the room. Large hand still wrapped around her own, his warmth drift into her brittle bones.

"Who was that?"

Glancing up at him from under dark lashes she swallows, "Park Min-jae, a pianist. I wanted to see if we could play together. My teacher recommended him."

Humming in response he stares her dead in her eyes, it takes every fiber of her being to maintain the contact.

"Why were you going to tell him I was just a friend?"

Sputtering, she chokes on nothing pulling her hand away to cover her mouth as small coughs escape.

Concern flashes on his face before it's driven away with anger.

She quivers under his hard stare, "I thought....I didn't know...we haven't spoken in days."

Pressing forward he invades her space, jaw tight.

"Do you think it's that easy?"

Mouth falling open in a perfect o, she looks at him in confusion. Lost at his meaning and wondering what is going through his mind, it's difficult to read his body language.

"What?"

"Do you think our relationship is that... trivial? Do you think a few days without conversing is all it takes to end it?"

Anger and hurt color the words as they fall from his lips and land like daggers in her stomach.

But he's not finished, not by a long shot.

"You can't just push me away and replace me with someone else!"

His cry echoes around the room and she stands in shock, contemplating picking her jaw up off the ground. When he says nothing more, simply pushes out harsh breaths and squeezes his fists by his side she finds her voice.

"What are you talking about? I'm not doing...that."

"Then what are you doing? You don't answer my calls or call me for days and now you're here with someone else, who flirts with you right in my face." She collapses guiltily. "How can you not have time for me? I'm your boyfriend, why can't you make space for me?"

Is there any room for me?

Like a wave, all her emotions and pain and insecurities and fears come surging out, his question the blow that broke the dam.

"You're the one who has no space for me. I saw you two that day, you looked like you fit. Two musical prodigies, it made sense. More sense than you and I. I can't do it, I can't pretend that I don't see everyone looking at us. Nobody understands why you'd want me. You should be with someone like her, she's from a good family and she plays the violin better than I'll ever--"

His hands latch onto her shaking shoulders, pushing her backwards until her violin collides with a click into the piano.

She whimpers as he gazes down at her, frustration streaming off him in waves.

"You don't understand how I could want you? I'll explain it, in detail. Listen closely because I don’t want to ever need to this again"

She gulps.

He swaggers closer, arms reaching over her shoulders to rest on the smooth surface of the piano. Brushing against her shoulder before gently gripping the straps of her violin, he removes them before placing the instrument carefully on the ground. Taking the weight from her shoulders.

His warm breath caresses her skin before he cups her face, hands tender on her hot cheeks. Air catches in her throat as she shyly looks up at him.

Almost instantly he smiles in return, dimples greeting her as his smile warms her to her core.

"I like how you make me smile, whenever I see you my heart feels at ease and I feel like everything will be okay. I like how you smile at me, you look prettiest when smiling at me."

Her cheeks flush from his compliments and she turns away embarrassed only to feel his sure fingers on the point of her chin, dragging her back into the penetrating line of his eyes; refusing to let her push him away again.

"I like how hard you work to be better, I like how you never stoop to others level you're kind to everyone despite how they treat you. I like your dimples, I always want to touch then. I like how you listen to me and want to hear about my life. I like that you don't treat me like I'm breakable and you tell me when you don't like something."

Then the air crackles as his hands smooth down her skin before settling on her neck, tugging her closer, she reaches out to grab his waist for balance.

"I like kissing you, I like how your lips feel on mine. I like how you open up for me. I like the little sounds you make."

Like a manifestation, a small shocked gasps tumbles from her lips and his eyes meander down to look at them in response. His own cheeks are scorching, red and flushed too but he doesn't seem like he has any intentions of stopping. Fearlessly pushing past his comfort zones.

Pulling her against his body now, his fingers twisted in the dark material of his button down shirt, he gazes at her adoration pouring from his eyes.

"I like you Song-ah. I like you so much. I don't want anyone else, there's space for you. In my heart there's so much space just for you."

He brushes her hair out of her face, his face open and vulnerable.

"Do you want it?"

Do you want me?

She looks at him as he awaits her answer and wonders what she ever did to deserve this? It seems too good to be true, she has never won anything in her life coming in last at everything that has counted. So how can this be true, how can she possibly deserve something has precious and valuable as his heart?

Smiling in defeat she nods at him, "I want you."

His joy is contagious as he grabs her, strong arms wrapping her in a warm embrace. She returns the hug, face smashed into the soft cotton of his shirt.

Slowly they draw away from each other, smiles not fading and then she catches his incessant gaze on her lips.

"Can I?"

Blushing she bites her lip nervously, tingling under his close appraisal. At the merest nod of her head he's on her, his lips crashing into her own as his hands tighten on their new location on her hips.

Tilting onto the tips of her toes she presses back, moaning as his tongue teases the seams of her closed mouth, her arms reaching up to wrap around his neck.

His taste explodes on her buds as his slick muscle swipes around her moist cavern, he delicately sucks on her tongue enticing her to join him in his explorations. She trips as she attempts to press even closer to him, breaking their deep embrace.

Embarrassed at her lack of grace and coordination she opens her mouth, apology on the tip of her tongue. Before his next move steals her breath.

Easy as pie, he grips tightens on her waist as he hoists her up until she's sitting on the edge of the grand piano.

Her blush is now painful as it rages on her exhausted cheeks.

He smiles at her, disarming her before he steps forward her new position bringing their lips in perfect proximity.

"You looks pretty when you blush too." He teases and she slaps his chest in reprimand but he catches the appendages, trapping them between their body as he descends on her mouth again.

Kisses deeper and slower this time, largo as their tongues roll and plunder. His hands stroke her hair, his fingers traipsing across the soft skin of neck. He suddenly grabs her hips dragging her across the smooth surface until their groins collide and she gasps loudly at the hardness that jabs into her.

They both bolt back, frenzied eyes meeting as they take in this moment.

She's never gone this far before, never even kissed anyone. He is the owner of so many of her first, it's terrifying.

Looking down she sees his straining erection, a long line tenting the satin smoothness of his dress paints. Blushing she forces her eyes from the tempting sight, to look at his face. Momentarily frozen under his look, first time seeing them set ablaze with desire. All for her. 

"Are you okay?" His voice rumbles making her skin pebble with anticipation.

Is she okay? She can't quite answer such a big question, her head spinning from everything that has happened. She feels like her skin is going to burst apart and he's the only thing keeping her together, both her destruction and her resurrection.

Wrapping her legs around his waist she boldly yanks him back into her orbit, kissing the question off his mouth. He stills for a moment before responding, devouring her mouth as she opens up for him, slick noises loud to her ears.

Her lips are raw and tender as they kiss making up for all their time apart, then she feels her world tilting as he presses her back onto the piano, lips still swallowing her own until her back meets the cool material and their lips disengage.

He looks at her, her body spread across the instrument like an offering. She feels naked under his gaze.

Then his eyes shift to her skirt, high on her thigh from her sprawled position and she starts to sit up but he's faster to react, catching the edge of her skirt and fingering the material that trails across her thigh.

After thick moments of silence, he gazes up at her slowly drawing her skirt up her thighs, the cool air rushes across her hot skin and she gasps and squirms under his steady hands.

He stops at her movement glancing at her, she bites her lip, opening her legs ever so slightly and that's all the answer that he needs. Tugging the material slowly, slowly, adagio up her skin pushing it over her hips and his groan causes wetness to pool between her legs, she looks away in shame.

He fingers at her stark white panties, she jumps at his first touch on the skin above her undergarment. Peering down to watch his eyes locked on her in awe, his long fingers running across her skin before he stops to tug at the cute little bow on the top of her underwear.

Eyes never leaving hers, he drags the thin material down pausing to give her a chance to stop him, one word from her and this will all come to an end she has no doubts.

Tacet.

He pulls the material down, down before dragging it off her feet and folding it neatly in a square before placing it on a chair to the side.

"Beautiful."

His eyes are smoldering on her skin as she eagerly awaiting his next move, equal parts excitement and anxiety.

Clutching her eyes shut she grips futilely for purchase, before he knocks the breath from her lungs with his first slow drag on her opening, his tongue swiping through the moisture dripping from her. A gasp is punched from her chest, as he licks at her again, deeper the second time almost slurping at her and she cries out from the foreign sensation, pleasure ravaging her body.

"Ah! Joon-young ah!"

He surges at her cry and subsequent proclamation of his name, nimble fingers soon joining his tongue and pushing knuckle deep into her wet bud playing her as expertly as his beloved piano, her whines and whimpers serving as music to his ears.

Using two fingers he pries her lips open, exposing her further to his hungry eyes and mouth. His tongue stiffen into a point he jabs into her drenched hole, collecting her sweet nectar as he swipes across her walls.

She pants loudly, grabbing his hair in warning as she feels a ball tightening in the pits of her stomach, another first as he thrusts into her over and over, her skin puckering up in anticipation.

"Please, I, I...."

As her body nears its crescendo, release blinding her as pleasure flashes blinding white, suddenly he pulls away, she whines from the emptiness crying out for him.

When she opens her eyes in a weak glare, she finds him bent over the piano his bangs sweaty as they stick to his forehead. Gathering herself she sits up, eyes widening in surprise and arousal when she sees his erection jutting from his own fly and his fist wrapped around the rigid ruddy flesh.

He'd been touching himself while tasting her. That had been enough to hurl him dangerously close to the edge. Something like pride bubbles in her chest.

Clamoring off the piano, her heels clicks when she lands on the floor and that catches his attention.

He looks up at her with dazed eyes, looking younger with his bangs skewed and messy, his lips shiny with her condensation.

Taking the lead she grasps his hands tugging him until he snaps out of his stupor, within two steps they reach the piano bench and he looks at it and then her, puzzled before she gently presses his shoulders and seats him on the bench.

It's his turn to gasp as she climbs into his lap, her face scarlet red as his erection brushes against her sacred flower.

"Are you sure?" He asks, using every last bit of control to keep his hips still even as his body aches to plunge into her wet hole, mere inches away the heat wafting off all too tempting.

"Yes." She watches as he grips himself by the base, rubbing the head through her juices and her head falls back from the sensation and then his tip is at her entrance and she holds her breath.

He reaches up to hold her face, forcing her to meet his eye, "Breathe." He commands and as she inhales he slides into her, breaching her tight opening with one long smooth thrust upwards.

Her arms tighten around the wide stretch of his shoulders as gravity drags her further down his impressive length, pain and pleasure warring for dominance.

"Just a minute." She pleads and instantly he stops, rubbing soothing circles on her back as she loosens around him. When she can breathe again, she lifts herself up before sliding back down pleasure knocking pain back on its ass.

Immediately she needs more, lifting up again before slamming down onto his hard cock, wet sounds echoing off the walls and at first he is motionless, simply letting himself be used by her. But then he grips her tight cheeks, using them as leverage as he plants his feet and viciously pistons into her, her shriek deafening in this room made for acoustics.

They crash into each other, as they chase their release, his fingers easily unbuttoning her shirt and pushing it off her skin before catching her pebbled nipples through the thin lace of her bra. Her soft breasts jiggle as she bounces in his lap, his hard length driving into her, over and over and over.

At a particularly brutal thrust of his hips, she loses her precarious balance and falls back, instantly he grips her waist slowing her descent and lessening the blow, her back crashes into the piano keys and jarring dissonance filling the air.

They both glance at each other before smiling, recalling their last mishap with the piano after their first kiss.

Her sprawled position on the piano opens her wider and without pause he thrusts up into her again, tugging her back to meet his movement.

Light flashes behind her eyelids as he fucks into her, the piano crying out underneath their onslaught. She's too close to care and his frenzied thrusts make it clear he's not far behind.

He pries her eyes open once more, before kissing her. The gentle press of his lips in complete opposition to the hard hits of his hips. 

"Please, come." He whispers, begging her and simultaneously informing her of his plans.

She feels every molecule in her body burst apart as she vibrates on the piano, walls tightening around his length as he struggles to thrust through the vicelike grip she has on him before a hot stream fills her up, sticky and leaking, and he melts under her his head falling onto her belly.

It feels..... weird. Not nearly as sexy as it's depicted in videos. But a piece of her is giddy to be so full of him, her blush permanently stained on her cheek at this point.

Gently he drags himself out of her, she shudders as she feels his release leaking out without him there to keep it in. When she glances down pearly white substance is smeared across the keys of the piano.

She immediately feels filthy, complete disbelief at what exactly they'd done and where they'd done it. She covers her face in shame.

Something brushes against her sensitive skin and her eyes pop openly only to shriek as she watches in horror as Joon-young, cleans up the mess between her legs and the piano keys with a handkerchief.

Her handkerchief to be exact.

Grinning bashfully at her he shrugs, shoulders now light as his hair flops on his face.

"I'll wash it later."

Too embarrassed to answer she merely stands up, small smile tugging at her lips as she picks up her neatly folder panty before stepping back into it.

"Do you see now?" Do you see how much I want you? How much space there is, just for you?"

She's fighting losing battle. The irony isn't lost on her, the one time she loses it's the best thing that's ever happened to her.

In the hallway Jung-kyung pounds her fist into the wall, arriving minutes ago to practice with Joon-young for her recital only to hear the loud crashes of a piano keys. She'd been worried about him, was he angry because she was late? Missing her terribly?

She'd rushed to open the door only to stop frozen as she heard moans following the clash of the piano, soft feminine moans followed by a voice she knew all too well. Jealous and rage consumed her at the thought of that...nobody touching her Joon-young.

Taking as deep breath she turns around walking away, she will not give up on him but staying right now is impossible she can't bear the thought of seeing him glowing from being with someone else. This was probably how he felt watching her all these years.

She will be patient and wait for him.

They are destined and his time with Song-ah is fleeting, she knows he wants her. There isn't space for anyone else.

[ladyideal]

Ficmas~ Day 22

Pairing: John Kennex x Detective!Reader

Word Count: 1365

Warnings: Uh. Mild jealousy.

Summary: You and John go to a party hosted by the Captain.

Requested By: @writerdee1701

A/n: wow 22nd already. December really flies by fast.

"So how was Angry 101?" You asked, greeting John as he stepped out of  his group therapy session. 

"I feel good, better. All thanks to you," The detective planted an affectionate kiss on your cheek. 

You grinned, avoiding Dorian's curious glance. "Come on. We've only got half an hour to change, and get our ass over to the Captain's party."

"Thirty seven minutes and forty two seconds," Your MX piped up. 

"Thanks Sofia, but you might want to shut it. John here is known for blowing up MXs," You shook your head, trying not to laugh. "Your suit's in the back. We can change at my place."

"You've thought of everything."

John was like that. After losing his girlfriend and betrayed, you understood he was a lot more careful with romantic relationships. So it was quite a surprise when he came up to you with a gift: 

His phone number and a piece of bubblegum.

No one said that in the precinct that co workers couldn't date one another. Clearly, the Captain didn't mind either. Secretly, you wondered if she too was rooting for you and Kennex. But he took it slow at first like you wanted. 

"So how do I look?" You finished the last of your makeup and hair. 

"Beautiful," John adjusted his tie one more time before putting on his blazer. "You sure this isn't a casual event?"

"Yes, I'm sure," You nodded. "I don't think the captain would appreciate us going there with jeans and a t-shirt."

"Correct," Dorian emerged, looking the same as he's always been. "We should get going, John."

"Don't forget the wine!"

"Can I take a sip from it before we leave?"

"Don't you dare, John."

The car ride was mostly silent. It had been a great eight months together, and you honestly hoped that he would be the one. Yet despite all the honesty and transparency within the relationship, something was being held back. Understandably so, John was very reluctant in talking about the day when his team went down, and he himself rounded up in a seventeen month coma.

You wanted to help him as much as you could, as a partner and now significant other would. However, you trusted him. There must be something deeper connected to the attacks that he was keeping you in the dark. 

To protect you? Probably. 

Children sleeping

Snow is softly falling

Dreams are calling

Likes bells in the distance

We were dreamers

Not so long ago

But one by one

We all had to grow up

"Have you always wanted to join the force as a kid?" You asked, shutting the car door behind you and bundling your scarf tighter around your neck. 

"Fight the bad guys," John nodded, stepping in front of the front door. 

Knock knock. 

"Detectives! So glad you could make it. Come in, come in. It's freezing out there," An unfamiliar man opened the door. 

With a round of thanks, you and the group trudged in, making sure to keep the snow out and not into the house. Once within, you rubbed your hands together, taking in the grandeur of the entryway and the chatters from within. 

"Detectives, Dorian, Sofia, hope the drive wasn't too bad," A rather proud looking Captain Maldonado appeared by her husband. 

"Happy holiday, Captain. Thank you for inviting us," You greeted as your boyfriend handed over the bottle of red wine. 

"Oh! A present, you shouldn't have," Her husband turned it over in his hands. "Look at this, sweetie, pinot noir. Perfect with finger food and snacks."

"Please make yourselves at home," Maldonado smiled, thanking you for the gift and leaving to greet the next set of guests that walked in from behind. 

"Wow, look at that. At least half of the precinct is here," You mumbled. 

People and their MXs milled about, most with a glass of alcohol in hand. With a glance, you recognized some. The Christmas tree stood in the distant corner, quietly flickering through its light sequence. The dining table was filled with snacks of all sorts from crackers to fruit. Furthermore, you swore you could smell hot chocolate, eggnog, and an assortment of other festivity drinks. 

"Want something to drink?" John darkly spoke, frowning when he saw Richard among the crowd.

"Yeah. A hard apple cider if they have some. If not, hot chocolate works too," You mumbled, greeting some of those that waved at you.

"Oh Y/L/N, I didn't know you got invited too. Come here by yourself?" Richard swaggered up to you.

Taking a step back, you shook your head. "Not quite. John came with me."

"Kennex?" He laughed. "Did you not hear? His whole team got killed, while he survived.  Don't you think something fishy happened there? You could do so much better. What do you say we go, fish some fish?"

"No thanks. I'm here with my boyfriend. Enjoy the party, Paul," You roughly brushed past him, ignoring his surprised squawk. "And maybe grow a pair, jerk."

He was interested in you, way before John did. Despite his good standing as an officer, his personality was nowhere near as nice. When John returned to the force, his jealousy inflated his ego. You didn't quite like him. He was just a dick.

"Paul giving you troubles?" Your boyfriend reemerged by your side, handing over your mug of cider and eyeing the other detective.

"No more than usual. He's been crabby ever since you started taking interest in me. Didn't help that Stahl started giving me the stink eye every time I mention you in anything." You snorted, taking a long draught.

"And speak of the devil, here she comes," He indicated at the detective approaching. 

"Detective Kennex," She smiled, then falling slightly at you. "Detective Y/L/N. Good to see you two here. How's the eggnog?"

"Bland, rum could be stronger," John answered.

Before the blonde could answer, the White Elephant gift exchange was starting. Politely excusing you and himself, John practically dragged you away from her after watching you give her death daggers.

"Jealous much?"

"Hmph. Being a Chrome, genetically modified won't give her all the upper hand," You grumbled, placing your presents into the center and drawing two numbers. 

Fourth and ninth.

"Let's see what's in store this year." 

As more people gathered around, Maldonado cleared her throat. "White Elephant rules are still the same. 3 steals, and the present is out. Understood?"

All heads nodded. 

"If you may start, Jenks."

You watched with a smug grin as the first person chose yours, before being stolen by the second, and then stolen again by John who went fourth. Good thing you bought the present while on a grocery run, or he would've known what it was. When it was your turn, you gave everyone a death glare, clinging onto your present, daring anyone to challenge you.

Wisely, no one did.

"Not giving it up?" He teased as you teared it open, revealing an advent calendar full of chocolates. 

"Fuck no."

He laughed. "Save some for me alright?"

"No promises."

As the party dwindled and people left, you and John thank the Captain once more before heading home. "That was fun."

"Sure was."

As you got out of the car, you realized that you forgot to grab John's gift on the way out. "John?"

"Yeah?"

"Did you grab your advent on the way out? I can't find-. Oh here it is," You fished out the gift and frowned at the lack of chocolates within. "Who ate all the advent calendar chocolates?"

In the silence, you turned to him, jaw dropping at the sight in front. 

"What chocolate?" The detective quickly swiped away the last remnant of chocolate on the edges of his mouth. "I didn't see any chocolate."

You rose an eyebrow, and grinned. "So you, Detective Kennex, is saying that despite the incriminating evidence on your hand and face, that you've not seen nor tasted any chocolate."

"Yes, Detective Y/L/N. That is correct."

"And that you are knowingly lying to an officer of the law."

"Sounds right," And before you could retort a smart ass reply, pulled you in for a kiss. "Happy Holidays."

Believe in what you feel inside

And give your dreams the wings to fly

You have everything you need

If you just believe

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