#She interrupted the story to ask an innocuous question: ‘What is that?’

[canichangemyblogname]

Do y’all know anyone who doesn’t actually know how to have a conversation, all they know is how to interrupt or derail a conversation? Like they keep talking over you to tell you their opinion on something (often unrelated), even though the conversation doesn’t call for an opinion. There was no, “What do y’all think,” but they still gotta interrupt, speak very loudly over you and tell you some very wrong opinion. Or you’ll be talking and then they just start up a different topic. And when you call them out on that the response is, “I’m not interested in that.”

[thecameronchronicles]

Pure

TW: Loss of virginity (both male and female). Smut. Language. 

SUMMARY: You and John B lose your virginity to each other. 

REQUESTED

Hi I just found your account I absolutely love it! Can I request a John b fan fic 

Back story: Yn and John b both losing their virginities to each other in the back of the Twinkie  

Pure

You couldn't help but think about it whenever you two were alone. And whenever you weren't, JJ was certain to remind you both of the proverbial elephant in the room. His crass remark to how you both managed to wait this long and how it bewildered him had once been a joke. But now, you couldn't help but wonder the answer for yourself. 

You'd known John B long before his signature locks became a staple to his identity. Even before he had become friends with JJ in the third grade or Pope a few years later. But even if you knew each other's most embarrassing secrets and wildest of dreams, communication in regards to this topic was anything but exercised. 

"Kie is worried the storm will-" He began as you pulled yourself up from his chest once reclined on the floor of The Twinkie. Your movements interrupted him while you set yourself into a straddle. The instant your fingers came to this rest, everything about his easy going persona darkened into patient lust. His touch fell softly at your hips as he ached to feel the skin beneath. To know what color panties you wore for him. If you were wearing any at all, as he caught your sporadic amnesia from time to time.

"I don't want to talk about the weather, John B..." He swallowed hard. But at the mention of it, he couldn't help but notice how the flurries had turned into sheets of snow. The storm in question has found them and focused on their location, leaving them in a snow globe aesthetic that only accentuated the romance you felt in this moment. 

"You want to play a game or-" He attempted to sit up, playing coy as it tested your nerves. A faulty set of moments forced your foreheads to collide as you pulled back for analysis. Kissing the potential wound, you moved your lips even lower to tease your intentions. 

A cute peck on the very edge of his nose reminded him of the innocence he adored in you. The calm to the chaos that often swallowed him whole. The same thing he was terrified to taint. 

"I don't want to play any more games, John B...I don't want to beat around the bush or wait for some apparent storybook moment that you always find an excuse not to see with me-"

"You think I don't see it? Every time I'm with you I feel that..."

"Then why haven't we? I feel like you don't want this-" He surprised you with the hold he made in your face. Two desperate palms pulling you impossibly close as his head came to a rest at yours. 

"I want this. Believe me."

"Then why aren't you like JJ is with Kie? He's always hitting on her and she's-" 

"Because I don't want to screw this up with you. You're...So...good." The puff of breath that came from behind your lightly glossed lips has made his eyes widen. 

"So you don't want to sleep with me because-"

"It changes things. Believe me, I've seen it. With JJ..."

"I didn't realize you two were THAT close..." You teased as he shook his head for a moment before feeling your hands reset over his torso as you adjusted in his lap. Such innocuous motions leaving behind such sinful motivations.

"So this was never gonna happen?" You asked in defeat as he let out a deep breath. 

"I don't want to be..." He paused, embarrassment forcing his eyes to evade yours that had become desperate for an explanation. 

"Tell me!" The interaction became lighthearted from this. Gentle jabs of your kind fingers rivaled his with the intent to keep you at a distance to win this impromptu but flirtatious wrestling match as you smirked. 

"Bad! I don't want to be bad...I just see you in a bikini and I could..." He stopped as you smirked, "Or even when you just kiss me and I can feel how badly I want this...How easily could just throw you down and-" You bit your bottom lip at the thought. Every sensual and erotic thought taking hold of you with conviction. 

"Maybe we could just start with a kiss then? See what happens?"

"I don't think that's-" In the attempt made to speak, he was interrupted with your lips. A smirk forced you to remain dominant and return to him, but he was quick to submit and eventually set to rule over the moment. Tender kisses left you breathless as he pulled you closer against his chest. The pattern of his heart now as manic as your own as your fingers gripped the crazy design of his shirt as a means of confession of needing more. 

"Please, John B...I want this..." You explained as he'd retreated once your hands pulled towards his buttons. The smooth skin beneath chilled to your touch. 

"You're worried It'll change us...or me...but I'm not innocent, John B..." Your eyes became plagued with proof of this. This light irises fading to sensual need as your fingers ran over his tensed pectoral muscles and to the line of his pants. You did this only for a tease to strengthen the seduction that your lips made at his neck. 

"If you knew all of the thoughts I had of us...all the things I wanted you to do to me..."

"Tell me..." He became greedy, fingers harder at your hips and a jaw clenched to restrain from acting on his own vivid constructions he'd made of the two of you. 

"I'll only tell you if you make them come true..." He swallowed hard. Nervousness sending his reservations from making his own a reality. 

"Because once I tell you..." Your lips came to his ear, "all the ways you kissed me...touched me...made me moan your name...I won't be able to wait anymore..." Before you finished talking, he had begun nodding. 

"Show me..." You kissed him sweetly before those tender busses quickly crafted into something more erotic. Those explorative hands traveled from your face to the curves of your rear before stationing at your breasts. 

"You kissed me like that...and touched me here..." You used his fingers at the buttons of your sweater.

 "And kissed here..." He moved to your chest, kissing the exposed skin as you were relieved of the heavy material. But before you could guide him of your fantasy, he had taken your breast completely. Hungrily, his tongue feasted on your apexed nipples. Your teeth clenched at the same his as you moaned his name as you grinded over him. 

"You're sure you want this?" He asked as your breast fall from his lips, his hand which to intercept it. 

"Yes..." You were suddenly spun into your back until you were flat, joining the makeshift bed he'd made to convert the rigid floor of the vintage Volkswagen into one of comfort. But once doing so, he was at your lips again. Passion behind each collision of this sporadic and winded connection. 

"You can stop me whenever-"

"Don't stop...please don't ever stop touching me..." You whined as he teased the perimeter of your shirt before you led the charge to make it even. Lines were drawn into his chest of your desperate nails to bring him closer, before he kissed down your lips and jaw before resting at your chest. 

"I mean it. Anything hurts-" You silenced him by reaching into his pants, his zipper and button left undone by your other hand as he stilled in surprise. Reminded of Kiara's experience with the mysterious thief of her virtue you knew how to please him without pain. Pulling back your hand, you spat on your palms, before setting it back. 

"More..." He asked as he collected your wrist. But as you collected further lubrication behind your lips, he wrapped your hair within his grasp. 

"Just enough to make it easier for you...okay? You don't have to do it long." But where most girls he knew would have stuck their nose up to the idea, you lowered with excitement. Taking hold of his shaft to the base, you offered one final drizzle of spit, before taking him fully behind your smirk. 

Prior to now, you'd teased this in words and hands. But in contrast to most teenagers your age, you were geriatric in having surrendered this wavering virtue. The same virtue you intend to gift one another on this Christmas Eve. 

"Sweet Jesus!" He bellowed, words struggling to be expressed as he flexed into you. 

"Lay down...lay back down..." He ordered as you were quick to oblige. But as he took your legs over his shoulders as he prepared the position to return the favor, you collected him by his hair. 

"Your fingers too , please...I want to be so wet for you that you can slide ride in..." He growled before moving to devour you. Legs pulled apart as he was an animal to feast on his meal. You were quick to make a mess against him, his cheeks and chin proudly to wear the evidence of this interaction. 

"John B!"

"Do you want to come like this? I don't know if I can make you the other way..." 

To this, you pulled him to your face. 

"Then we'll do it twice..." You grinned, taking hold of his cock before he reached to his jeans. 

"Safety first." He reminded as you kissed his neck. 

"Fuck." He fumbled with focus as you wickend your hand around him. 

"I could come in your fucking hand, baby..."

"Maybe I want you to..." He took your hand above your head to helping it flat as the other finalized the condom to his root. 

"Spit on it?" You chuckled to his uncertainty. 

"I'm wet enough, John B-" When you rejected his idea, he parted your legs and spat between them. You gasped at how erotic this had been for you until he alined himself to you. 

"Stop me if it-" You brought him into you roughly, regretting it immediately as the pain made you shake. 

"Breathe with me." He guided as he was allowed only the pleasure of how you wrapped around him. It was the sacrifice you'd taken to be with him. And if was his motivation to prolong the release he could already feel in a tease at his cock's head. 

"Slowly..."

You winced. 

"I can pull out if it-"

"Don't. It's just-" You gasped as he kissed you softly. 

"Keep going!" He pleaded as he obeyed in slow thrusts. That seering burn only began to fade once he found comfort within your perseverance of the pain. He silenced your winded with his tongue wrapped around yours as if two rival colors of one candy cane. He mended the pull of your inner walls by redirecting the sensations to your nipples and the sensitive bundle between your lower lips. All until the ache altered to pleasure. 

"More..." Your nails are into his shoulders. 

"Fuck..." 

"Please, John B-" 

"You feel so good for me baby...It's...shit!" He gripped into the sheets beneath you as you tightened your legs around his own. 

"Baby!"

"You can come-" But he slowed. 

"Ladies first..." He withdrew, pumping himself slowly before he returned between your lower lips. Your left hiked before you could object as he drove his fingers even deeper inside of you. The tension of the unknown simmered to silenced as you had been virtuous by sentiment alone. 

"Get closer for me, baby. I want us to come together..." 

"I'm close! I'm-" he smirked, proud of himself for the ability to bring you to it this quickly. You brought him against you with a kiss as he returned his cock to your dripping sex. 

"This time, I'm not stopping until you come for me sweetheart." He groaned, returning himself to his own edge, you alongside him this time. With slightly narrowed eyes that eventually closed to the arrival of ecstasy, your body arched beneath him as he kept you flat with his weight. The grip of your hips mimicked the grip you made through his hair as you kept the moment silent to bask in the exchange. 

"Are you...do you regret it? Wasn't it too quick? Shit it was, wasn't it-" You took his hands into your own. 

"It was perfect." 

"You don't have to-"

"When can we do it again?" His lips pulled to a grin as yours governed your bottom lip. 

"Merry Christmas, John B..."

"Best gift ever..."

TAGLIST: @hopebaker @iovdrew @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4starkey @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @camilynn @sweetestdesire @onmykneesforrafe @drews1love @phildunphyisadilf @mashdan0916

MASTERLIST

JOHN B ROUTLEDGE MASTERLIST 

CHRISTMAS MASTERLIST

[ironychan]

Scary Monsters

Because what I need right now is another unfinished fanfic.  This is for @sweatersexual​ and @dysphoria-sweatshirt​.

Part 1/? - Rocco’s Closet

Things began, as they often do, innocuously enough.

It was a cool, overcast June day in Portorosso, and Luca and Giulia had gotten home from school only a week earlier.  Luca had spent most of his time so far with his family in the water, but was eager to catch up on what had been happening in town as well.  He was sitting with his friends on the edge of the sea wall, watching the tide roll in and listening to Alberto tell the definitely true story of how he had saved Massimo from a giant shark, when Signora Marsigliese approached them.

“Ciao!” Giulia greeted her.

“Buongiorno, bambini,” the woman replied. “Ah... may I have a word?”

This was not the way people normally began conversations with adolescents, and Luca's first reaction was to wonder if they were in trouble. It didn't seem likely – he and Giulia hadn't had time yet to get into mischief, and if it were just Alberto she wouldn't have wanted to talk to all three of them. Still, he was cautious as he asked, “is something wrong, Madame?”

“No, not exactly,” she replied. “I wanted to ask you a favour, on behalf of Rocco. He's convinced there's a monster in his closet.”

Giulia scoffed. “There's no such thing as...”

“As what?” Alberto interrupted.

Luca and Giulia both looked at him, and found him grinning.

“No such thing as what?” he repeated. “As monsters?”

Luca snickered.

“Not in little kids' closets, there's not,” Giulia said.

“I've tried to tell him that,” Signora Marsigliese sighed.  “He says he knows it's there because he's seen it, and he insists he wasn't dreaming.  He wants me to ask if you boys would stay the night and scare it away.”  She gave Luca and Alberto an apologetic smile.  “He figures since you're monsters too, of a sort, maybe you can at least talk to it.  I'm ready to try anything if it'll get him to sleep through the night again.”

“I think we can do that,” said Luca.  It was always fun to sleep over in a new place.  They'd been in Signora Marsigliese's grocery shop plenty of times, but their only glimpse of her home was through the front door when Alberto delivered fresh fish. “Right, Alberto?”

“Yeah, sure,” Alberto nodded.  “We'll yell a bunch in the middle of the night, and tell him we killed it.”

“I'd rather not the yelling,” Signora Marsigliese observed, “but yes, please.  Tell him it's gone, and we'll all sleep better.  Thank you.”

It was now Giulia's turn to giggle as the woman walked away, and Luca gave her a questioning look.

“What's so funny?” asked Alberto.

“I was just picturing this giant scary monster, like Godzilla, coming out of the closet, and you two trying to look mean and frighten it away,” she snickered.

“We can be scary!” Alberto said indignantly.  “The first time I transformed in front of you, you were scared to death.”

“Only because you surprised me,” Giulia scoffed.  “If Luca hadn't pretended to freak out, I'd've figured it out in about five seconds. You are the least scary monster I've ever met.”

“Who's the scariest, then?” Alberto wanted to know.

Giulia replied without hesitation: “Luca's mom.”

Alberto turned to Luca to see what he thought of that.

Luca shrugged.  “She can be pretty terrifying.  Anyway, there's not gonna be any monster, so we don't need to worry about whether we can scare it.”  He thought for a moment, then glanced warily at Giulia.  “Right?”

“Of course there isn't,” she said.  “Why would there be a monster in Rocco's closet?  What's it doing in there, besides scaring him?”

The boys had no answer for that, and so it seemed settled.  That evening, with the permission of their families, Luca and Alberto knocked on Signora Marsigliese's door.  She let them in, and called out to her son.

“Rocco!” she said.  “They're here!”

Rocco came hurrying down the narrow steps and into the tiny front hall, most of which was taken up by the large ficus plant under the front window.  Signora Marsigliese's son was well-known around Portorosso and everybody agreed he was a very strange child, though not in a bad way.  He preferred to watch group activities like football games or the Portorosso Cup race, rather than participating, and even in the winter he liked to have gelato to lick.  The oddest thing about him, though, was that despite being around eight years old, he never seemed to speak.  He must have done so occasionally, since he'd clearly spoken to his mother about his monster, but Luca couldn't remember ever hearing a word from him.

He did not speak now, either.  Instead, he took Luca's hand and led the boys up the stairway to his room.

Like all indoor living spaces in town, this was tiny.  The doorway looked in from the foot of the bed towards a window above its head, with just barely enough space for a person to walk around.  If they were sleeping in here, Luca and Alberto would have to be on the floor on either side of the bed.  Next to the door that led to the hallway was the door to the closet.  This was closed, and a chair had been wedged under the handle.

“That's where your monster lives, huh?” Alberto asked.

Rocco offered a piece of paper with a drawing he'd done.  It showed a rotund, furry creature with black and yellow stripes like a bumblebee.  Its head was decked out with crooked horns, red eyes, and a mouthful of sharp teeth.  Two arms each ended in three clawed fingers, and it walked on three legs.  It did not resemble Godzilla, or anything else Luca could think of, but it still wasn't anything anyone would want to run into in the dark.

“I think we can take him,” said Alberto confidently.

“Yeah, you'll be safe with us here,” Luca agreed.  “We'll just tell it that it'll have to find a different closet to live in.”

“And if it doesn't want to, there'll be trouble!” Alberto said firmly.

Rocco smiled.

Signora Marsigliese served pasta for supper – trofie with tocco de funzi – and then laid out blankets and pillows for the boys on the floor. They settled down with their heads towards the closet so they would see the monster before it woke Rocco.  Rocco himself filled a bucket and a pitcher with water and placed them within easy reach so Alberto and Luca could transform quickly.

“Sleep tight, boys,” Signora Marsigliese said as she turned out the light.  “Let me know if you need anything.”

Luca wiggled deeper into his sleeping bag and shut his eyes.  It was a little strange to think of trying to sleep with a bucket of water right next to his head.  He hoped he wouldn't roll into it and knock it over in his sleep – Signora Marsigliese wouldn't appreciate having to clean that up.

“Does this monster usually show up right as you're going to sleep, Rocco?” asked Alberto.

Rocco, peering over the edge of the bed, shook his head.

“When you wake up in the middle of the night, then?” Luca guessed.

Rocco nodded.

“All right.  You go to sleep.  We'll keep watch.”

The younger boy smiled and lay his head down on his pillow.  He looked very happy with the arrangement.

Luca hoped it would be a peaceful night.  If Rocco had another nightmare he might be angry that Luca and Alberto hadn't been able to stop the monster coming in.  Maybe just having somebody there guarding him would be enough to prevent that.

Signora Marsigliese had a large clock in her upstairs hall, and through the thin walls the ticking seemed very loud.  This didn't bother Luca, who was used to hearing clocks in the buildings in Genova.  The only clocks in Massimo's house, however, were quiet, and Luca could hear Alberto tossing and turning and pulling the pillow over his head in an attempt to muffle it.  Then, just when it seemed like Alberto had finally fallen asleep, the clock began to chime midnight.

“Ugh!” groaned Alberto from under his pillow.  “Why does she have that thing?”

Luca held a finger to his lips.  “Sssh!  You're gonna wake Rocco up.”

“How can he be asleep with all that noise going on?” Alberto whined.

“He grew up in this house,” said Luca.  “He probably...”

Luca stopped there as a different sound intruded – a gentle creak of hinges that seemed terribly loud in the quiet house.  Alberto heard it, too, and the boys sat there very still for a moment in the dark before turning their heads towards the closet.

It looked the same as it had before.

Luca breathed out.  “Probably the house settling,” he decided.  That was what Giulia's mother always said when their house in Genova made strange noises in the middle of the night.

“Yeah,” said Alberto, and started to lie down again.

Then they heard it again, longer this time – creeeeeeeeak – and as they watched, the door opened just a centimetre or so, before it gently bumped against the chair that had been set up to keep it shut.  There was a pause, and then it opened a hair further, the legs of the chair making a scraping sound as they were pushed across the floor.  Luca's eyes were riveted on it as it inched towards his face.  He wondered if it would keep going until it hit him, and whether he'd be able to wiggle back out of the way quietly enough for whatever was in the closet not to notice him.  What if it stepped on him?

The chair stopped moving.  Luca kept his eyes on it, barely daring to blink – and to his utter horror, a clawed hand reached out of the closet and moved the chair to the side.

At last Luca was able to tear his gaze away and look at Alberto.  He found his friend looking back at him with huge eyes.  For a moment neither had any idea what to do, but then Alberto seemed to make up his mind.  He grabbed the bucket Rocco had left him, and poured the water over his head to transform.  Luca did the same, and as the creature stepped into the room, both boys jumped up and did their best monster shrieks.

The three-legged, bumblebee-striped beast that had just emerged from the closet screamed right back.  Rocco sat up straight in bed and squealed.  For a long moment, everybody just stood there yelling, and then silence fell again.

The closet monster's glowing red eyes were huge, and it had its clawed hands on his furry chest as it panted in terror.  Then it seemed to get a handle on itself and demanded, in the voice of a middle-aged woman, “what are you doing in here?”

Neither of the boys had expected that, and neither was capable of a response.

“Are you with that school group?” the creature wanted to know.  “You're not supposed to be on the scare floor!”  It – she – looked at Rocco, sitting bolt-upright in bed with his blanket clutched under his chin, and held up her hands.  “I'm sorry.  This is very irregular,” she told him.  “I'll get these two back where they belong, and hopefully we can resume normal operations tomorrow. Very sorry.”  She grabbed Luca and Alberto each by a wrist, and dragged them into the closet.

Except it wasn't a closet anymore.  Rocco had showed them the inside earlier – it was not very deep, and contained mostly clothes organized by colour and shoes neatly lined up in the bottom, with a few toys and books on the top shelf.  Now the creature escorted the boys through that same door into an enormous, dimly-lit room that seemed to stretch away forever on both sides.  The door slammed shut behind them, and the being that had closed it hurried forward to see what was going on.

This second creature seemed to consist mostly of a mass of shaggy grey fur, with knobby-kneed legs sticking out the bottom and two eyes on stalks emerging from the top.  It was wearing a hard hat, and had short arms, one of which was holding a clipboard.

“Louise!” it exclaimed.  “Louise, what happened?”

“These two were hiding in there waiting for me!” the yellow and black creature replied, holding up her arms and almost lifting the two boys off their feet.  “Did you see them get in, Curtis?”

One of the moplike thing's eyes looked Alberto over, while the other inspected Luca, and then the mop below them wagged from side to side as if the creature were shaking its head.  “I've never seen these kids before in my life.”

There was the sound of murmuring from all around them.  Alberto and Luca peered into the darkness and found it was full of creatures of every possible description.  A big hulking apelike one had shaggy green fur like moss growing all over it.  A red one had three eyes and crab claws.  A third had multiple tentacles that it was using to hold on to half a dozen mugs of coffee.  The boys inched closer together.  No matter what Giulia had said earlier, there was no word for these things except monsters, and not the kind of monster that people meant when they said 'land monsters' or 'sea monsters'.  These were monsters in the sense of something scary and unnatural, and they were all looking at Luca and Alberto with annoyed or disapproving expressions.

“They must be with that class that was touring the place,” sighed the creature called Louise.  “I'll find the rest of them while you reset the station – we're gonna have to give that one a few days off, at least.”

“Yes, Ma'am,” said Curtis.  He pulled a lever, and pieces of machinery on either side of Rocco's door disengaged.  “I'll file the report!”

Louise gave her prisoners a shake.  “You boys hear that?  Your antics might have cost us a door!  What have you got to say for yourselves?”

“Um,” said Alberto.  He was rarely speechless, but this situation had done it.

“Sorry, Ma'am,” said Luca meekly.

“You'd better be,” Louise declared.  “Now, let's go find your teacher.”

A metal door at the far end of the room rolled open, and Louise half-led, half-dragged the two boys through it and into the hallway beyond.  The light was much better here, almost painfully bright in comparison with the bigger room they'd just left, but there was much less to see – just neutral beige walls and a hard, charcoal-grey carpet.  More monsters were moving around here, going every which way, carrying objects both recognizable and not.  Some of these stopped and stared as Louise and the boys passed by, but most were absorbed in their own tasks.

“I didn't need this today, you know,” Louise said conversationally. “I have a performance review coming up.  In this business you have to be twice as good as a man to get half the respect, and there's this jerk in management who...”

“Louise?” asked a voice.

Her furry shoulders slumped.  “Yes, Steve?”

Alberto and Luca looked back over their shoulders to see what they had to assume was the creature named Steve, which had just stepped out of a washroom.  It was teal blue, and shaped roughly like a human except that it had no head – just a roughly spherical torso with eyes, a mouth, and a moustache in the middle of it.  It was wearing a striped tie around what might have been either its neck or its waist depending on how one felt about its unorthodox anatomy, and had a trilby hat sitting on its shoulders.

“Are these two yours?” this creature asked, seemingly startled by the idea.

“No,” said Louise.  “They were causing trouble on the scare floor.  I'm taking them back to their tour, and then I have to get back to work, so...”

Steve clucked his tongue.  “Oh, that's right!  Big performance review coming up.”

“Yes, and I want to go into it on a strong week,” Louise said firmly.  “I'm all about consistency.”

Luca felt a familiar tingling sensation in his toes.  He was drying off, and his feet were starting to transform.  He looked over at Alberto, and sucked in a breath through his teeth as he saw the fins on his friend's head vanishing into curls of sandy-brown hair.  Luca started trying to pull his hand free, but Louise tightened her grip, all while still glaring at Steve.

“I have things I need to be doing, too,” Steve said, “so why don't we discuss this over dinner?  How about Winsor's Chophouse?  You look like a girl who enjoys a good steak.”

Louise was not tempted.  “Will the rest of the board be there?”

“Nope!”  Steve smiled at her.  “Just the two of us.”

Luca could see his vision changing and feel his hair growing in.  Four green fingers became five pink ones, and he had to stand up straighter to balance against the disappearance of his tail.  Alberto was struggling, trying to free himself from Louise's paw before she could realize that the boys were a very different kind of monster than she was.

“I keep telling you,” Steve went on, “if you really want to advance in your career, you need to make connections.  You've got to...” he glanced at Luca, probably intending to tell him to stop squirming, but if so the words never came out.  His eyes went wide, and he screamed like a frightened child.

This startled Louise so badly she let go of the boys and took a step back, and Luca and Alberto seized the opportunity.

“Bathroom!” Luca grabbed his friend by the shoulders, and they fled into the washrom Steve had come out of.

“She'll follow us!” Alberto protested.

“She can't!  It's the men's!” Luca told him.

Safely inside, they leaned on the sinks and panted for air.  They hadn't run very far, but both were on the verge of utter panic.

“Where are we?” Luca asked. “How is all this in Rocco's closet?”

“Do I look like I know?” Alberto demanded.

Luca felt sick.  If Alberto wasn't even going to pretend he knew the answer, then they were really in trouble.

There was a sound that Luca recognized as the crackle of a public address system, and a woman's voice began making an announcement.  “Ladies and gentlemonsters, we need you to evacuate the building in an orderly fashion.  Please do not... hey!”

Some scuffling followed, and the next voice they heard was Steve's.  “Code black!  Code black!” He shouted.  “Containment breach!  There are human children in the... ow!”

The first voice spoke again.  “There is no need to panic,” she declared.  “Remain calm, go to your designated emergency gathering points, and let the exterminators do their jobs.”

“Exterminators?” Luca whispered, terrified.

Both of them had the same thought at the same time: Louise had assumed they belonged here as long as they looked like sea monsters. Hopefully everybody else would, too.  They needed water.

Luca turned the sink taps on full blast and began splashing himself. Alberto did the same and stuck his head under the flow.  Face, hands, feet... Luca scooped water up in handfuls and poured it down his collar, and then he and Alberto did each other's backs to bring out their tails and dorsal fins.

“We got this,” said Alberto.  “We got this.  We're just two totally normal closet monsters.”

“Right.” Luca checked his feet and grabbed his tail to make sure it was all there.

They heard the door open.

“I think they went in here,” said the voice of Louise.  “I heard one of them shout bathroom, and I... oh.”  She saw them standing there, huddled nervously close to each other, and blinked in confusion.

Behind her, three more figures entered the room.  These were a variety of shapes and sizes, including one that was barely thirty centimetres tall and sitting on a larger colleague's shoulder.  All were dressed in yellow plastic suits from head to whatever they had for toes, with reflective visors and a breathing apparatus.

“Didn't you boys hear the order to evacuate?” the tiny one demanded in a squeaky voice.

“We were scared.  We hid in here, um...” Luca tried to decide whether the creature who'd spoken was a Sir or a Madame, couldn't, and was forced to leave the end of the sentence hanging there with no vocative at all.

“There's an emergency exit just at the end of the hall,” the tiny creature told them, shaking what must have been its head.  “Somebody take them outside and let's finish searching the area.  If this is another false alarm, I swear...”

“Come on, boys,” said Louise, gesturing for them to follow her.  Her hands were now covered in bandages.

Alberto and Luca didn't like the idea of going with Louise, but staying here was no good, either.  They joined her, dripping on the floor as they went.

“Why are you wet?” Louise asked.

“We're sea monsters,” Alberto replied.

“It's not good for us to dry off,” Luca agreed.

Louise looked skeptical, but she said nothing more and led them out into the car park.  Dozens of bizarre creatures were milling around there, talking to each other or smoking cigarettes while waiting for the all clear to go back inside.  The one called Steve was sitting on the hood of a car, pouring out his heart to a one-eyed, egg-shaped creature in a floral dress.

“... and then I realized the kids weren't monsters at all!  They were human!”

“That must have been terrifying,” the egg said.

“It was!  They were awful and hairless and pink!” said Steve.

The egg hesitated.  She was bubblegum pink in colour herself, with no hair on a head that sloped right into her shoulders without stopping for a neck.

Steve seemed to realize he'd made a mistake.  “Horrid things with big goggling eyes and too many fingers,” he added.

The egg narrowed her own gigantic eye, and put her seven-fingered hands on her hips.

Louise, meanwhile, was looking around for something, and seemed to spot it when she found a being with two heads sitting on top of long necks that extended from a very round body.  This creature, with a powder-blue cardigan on, was counting a crowd of smaller beasts that Luca wanted to think represented kids a little younger than him and Alberto... but really, who could say?

“Excuse me!” Louise called.

One of the heads turned, while the other continued counting.  “Yes?”

“I think these are yours.”  Louise pushed the boys forward.

The head examined them.  “Marie,” she said.

The other head kept counting.

“Marie!” the first head repeated.

The second one sighed.  “Yes, Jeanne?”

“Do we know these boys?”

The Marie head finally turned to look.  “Oh... no, I don't think we do.”

Luca was really scared now. What were the monsters going to do when they realized the boys didn't belong here?

“What are you talking about?” asked Alberto.  “Of course you do.  I'm Alberto and this is Luca.”

Luca nodded eagerly.

Marie and Jeanne looked at each other doubtfully.

“I know them,” said a voice.

This speaker was one of the apparent children.  It was a squat little creature with several crab-like legs and a few too many eyes.  He was wearing the top half of a sailor suit, with the cap on his head, and holding a large swirling lollipop.

“They're friends of mine,” he announced.  “My father said they could come.”

Marie and Jeanne looked taken aback by this pronouncement, but the boy just licked his lollipop and waited, confident that the teachers would have to do what he said.  Apparently, he was right.

“Oh,” said Marie.  “Well, then.”

“I guess that's all right,” said Jeanne.  “Come along, then.”

Louise shooed the boys towards the teacher as if glad to be rid of them – probably an accurate assessment – and Marie-Jeanne herded them into the rest of the group of children.  “All right,” Jeanne said, “now that we've got everybody and then some, I suppose we'd better head back.  I don't think we're getting the rest of our factory tour.”

“Are your friends coming with us back to school?” Marie asked the grey crab boy.

“Yes,” he replied firmly.

“All right,” Marie said, “everybody onto the bus.”

The kids formed a line to a bright yellow bus, and climbed up the steps into the vehicle one by one.  Luca looked back over his shoulder for Louise, and found her watching as the mop-like creature came running up.

“Louise! There you are!” Curtis exclaimed.  “Can you believe this?”

“I'm not sure I can,” she replied, and then thought for a moment. “Those two boys I found... do you remember what they looked like?”

“Uh... I couldn't describe them to a sketch artist,” Curtis said, “but there was a purple one and a green one.  Lots of fins, long tails, scaly skin.  Why do you ask?”

Marie-Jeanne put a hand on Luca's shoulder to urge him along.  “If you're coming, you have to keep up,” said Jeanne.

“Sorry, Madame,” Luca replied, and followed Alberto and the crab boy onto the big yellow bus.

The driver was wearing a uniform like a human bus driver might have, but he was green and had a row of spikes down his back like a cartoon dragon.  The name Vasquez was embroidered on one of his pockets, and a bottle of water was sitting within reach on the dashboard.  As they passed, Alberto snatched the bottle and poured the contents over himself and Luca.

“Hey!” exclaimed Vasquez.

“We're sea monsters,” Alberto told him, handing the empty bottle back.  “We're not supposed to dry out.”

“Hey, now, you ought to ask!” said Marie, as she and Jeanne brought up the rear.  “Even if you are Harry's guests, you need to remember your manners!”

“Sorry, Madame,” Luca repeated.

“We're Miss Lavigne,” Jeanne told him.

Alberto and Luca followed the crab-like boy named Harry to the very back of the bus, and sat down on either side of him there as the vehicle coughed to life.  Vasquez pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road.  It turned out to be a very rough ride, and Luca quickly began feeling carsick.  He tried to look out the window to keep his stomach calm, but Harry grabbed his arm and pulled him and Alberto in for a private conversation.

“Did you see them?” the crab boy whispered excitedly.

“See who?” asked Alberto.

“The humans,” said Harry. “That's what the announcement said: there were humans in the factory!”

Alberto and Luca exchanged a worried glance.  “We didn't see any,” said Luca.

“No humans where we were,” Alberto agreed.

“Oh.” Harry let go of them and scowled in disappointment.  “Wait, so why did you wanna come with us so bad?”

“We just didn't want anybody to realize we weren't where we're supposed to be,” Luca explained.

“Where are you supposed to be?” Harry wanted to know.

The boys exchanged another glance, and silently agreed to change the subject.  Alberto offered a hand.

“Alberto Scorfano,” he said.

“Luca Paguro.”  Luca did likewise.

Harry shook each of their hands in turn.  “Henry Jeroboam Waternoose the Third.  My father owns the factory,” he added proudly.  “We supply all the scream power to Monstropolis and the surrounding countryside as far as the River Panic.”

Alberto nodded as if that made sense.  “Uh-huh.  So... are you scared of humans, Harry?”

“My father says it would be foolish not to be,” Harry replied, “but fear is healthy when tempered with reason.”

“Right,” Alberto said.  “Have you ever seen one?”

“I've seen pictures,” Harry replied.

Luca realized he knew where Alberto was going with this, and his stomach sank – he knew in his bones it was a terrible idea.

Sure enough: “you wanna see a real one?” Alberto asked.

“Alberto, no,” said Luca.  “We didn't see any humans, remember?”

“Yeah, you said you didn't see them,” Harry agreed.

“We didn't see them today,” Alberto replied, ignoring Luca's wild head-shaking, “but we've seen them before.  In fact, we see them all the time!  If you can help us stay good and wet and convince the grownups we belong here, we'll show you two humans!”

Harry looked suspicious.  “You guys are in trouble, aren't you?”

“Of course not!” scoffed Alberto.

“Maybe a little,” Luca admitted.  They were going to have to get out of this place somehow, but they had no idea how to do that.  Somehow they would have to stay safe until they could figure it out, and it was going to be a lot harder to stay wet here than it was to stay dry in Portorosso.  They were going to need help, but he still felt like this was not the best way to get it.

“But you know where to find two humans?” Harry asked.  “Real humans, not just pictures or people in Hallowe'en costumes?”

“Of course we do,” Alberto said.  “Cross our hearts.  Right, Luca?”

“Yeah,” said Luca, with less enthusiasm.  “Promise.”

“Okay,” said Harry, “but if you can't deliver, I'm gonna tell my father you were sneaking around in his factory.  Then you'll be in real trouble.”

Luca swallowed hard, but Alberto patted Harry on the back.

“Don't worry,” Alberto said.  “You won't be disappointed.”

[weichei-stubentiger]

Silver Moon Ch. 7

Fandom: 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS      Relationship: Jeon Jungkook/OC

Words: 4462     Chapters: 7/__      Language: English      Rating: Explicit      Warnings: Past trauma, violence, slow burn but the smut will hit hard, corny hybrid tropes (I will probably add to this list as I write)      Category: M/F

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/37537594/chapters/93691681

Story Summary:  Hybrids are hardly the biggest part of Alina’s life. In fact, she tries her best to ignore anything hybrid-related. She is content to study for her entrance exam to grad school and try to live as innocuously as possible. But the events of her past will com back to haunt her when she becomes indebted to a hybrid named Jungkook. Their lives have become inextricably intertwined, but will they be able to trust each other? Will they be able to stand with each other in order to survive? 

prev / next 

materslist

Alina walked through the political science wing of Courtney’s university to take her to lunch. It was a beautiful building, but the office that the teaching assistants shared was tucked into the darkest part of the basement. 

Knocking on the door, she poked her head into the office. 

“Hey Court, you ready to go?” She asked. “Mina had to cancel. Something came up at work.”

“Oh too bad. I guess we’ll take the train. I’m just finishing something up. Do you mind sitting for a few minutes?”  

“No that’s fine,” Alina smiled. They had time, but she’d need to keep an eye on the clock. They were going to meet Jungkook and Yoongi at Jin’s restaurant, and Alina didn’t want to give Yoongi any more reasons to dislike her. She took a seat at the empty desk next to Courtney and got out her phone to text Jungkook.

She was debating whether to tell him they might be late when another teaching assistant walked into the room, causing Courtney to turn around. 

“Oh hey Robert, this is Alina,” she said upon recognizing him. “She’s the one who had to register a hybrid a month and a half ago.” Alina realized this must be one of the friends Courtney had asked about registering Jungkook. 

“I thought she was trying to pass him off to someone else,” Robert said, pausing to stand in front of them.

Alina was a little taken aback at how accusatory the statement sounded. Courtney seemed a little surprised, too.

“Yeah, she doesn’t have a lot of choice, though…she’d not really equipped or interested in having a hybrid around. It’s not like she wanted to be a hybrid owner,” Courtney said defensively.

“‘I mean I’m just saying. The truth of it is: his freedom has been take away. So no matter where you send him, it won’t make up for what happened,” Robert responded, taking a seat at one of the desks.

Courtney was clearly annoyed by how confrontational he was being. She tried to smooth the situation over, insisting that Alina hadn’t even known JK was a hybrid when she called 911. But the thing was, Alina knew he was right. Nothing would make up for Jungkook’s lack of freedom. 

She’d heard Courtney talk about Robert before. He was one of the most radical of Courtney’s friends. It made Alina wonder - 

“Actually, maybe you can help me,” she said, accidentally interrupting Courtney. But honestly, Alina didn’t feel she deserved to be defended anyway, and now she felt a sense of urgency about her question, so she continued. “I’ve heard that there are people who can take off the collars. Do you know anything about that?”

Robert looked kind of startled at that. Then he scoffed. “No one around here would know anybody like that. That’s the problem,” he lectured. “It’s so risky to have anything to do with those people, who are, by the way, usually involved with other criminal activity. That’s why we need to systematically de-criminalize practices that can help with the freedom of hybrids. Frankly you really shouldn’t go around asking people that question. It will get you and them in trouble.”

Alina didn’t disagree with anything he was saying, it’s just that he was being really unhelpful. The flicker of hope she’d begun to feel, the hope that Jungkook might regain what he’d lost on her account, was already being doused with disappointment. 

“You know what. I’m gonna finish this later. Let’s get going Alina,” Courtney said.

Robert, seemingly satisfied with what he said, simply turned around and started getting out papers from his desk. Alina didn’t pay him any more mind, absorbed in her own thoughts as she followed Courtney out of the room.

“Just ignore him. He get’s too into hearing himself talk sometimes,” Courtney said as they exited the building.

Alina hummed in acknowledgment, but she was still thinking about Jungkook. She had presumed that the best option for him was finding a well-off pro-hybrid owner. But for a moment she thought she’d found something better.

“Courtney. Is what he said true? About no one around here having anything do with the collars? Or do you know anyone who might have some connection to it,” Alina asked. She saw Courtney purse her lips and look down. “It’s fine if it’s a distant connection,” Alina insisted, “just someone who knows someone who can put me in contact with one of these people who can get rid of the collars.”

“I’m sorry Alina, but Robert is right. Or at least, I don’t know anyone who is involved with that stuff. It’s really pretty dangerous.” Courtney hesitated for a moment. “Even if you found someone like that, even if they took the collar off, if anyone ever found out, you would be arrested. All the other fines and penalties for hybrid owners are really light, but not this one. It’s a really big deal.”

Alina didn’t say anything. 

“Alina. You won’t be able to find someone to get the collar off him. The whole thing about ‘engineers’ taking off the collars is propaganda. At best you’ll get yourself arrested. It worst you’ll get yourself killed.”

“I understand,” Alina said, nodding. “And thank you,” she said after a moment. “I haven’t said that enough. You and Mina have helped me so much, not just with this stuff about Jungkook. I would be really lost without you.”

Courtney smiled. “You don’t have to thank me. You’ve helped me through my hard times, too. And we’ll figure out how to help Jungkook. I just want to make sure you’re both safe. And really, forget about Robert. You haven’t done anything wrong, he was just being an asshole. Let’s try to shrug it off and have a good lunch.”

All of this had sort of ruined Alina’s appetite, but she nodded and tried to stay upbeat as they headed to Jin’s restaurant. 

Almost as soon as they stepped in the door, Alina heard Jin call out to them, coming over. “Leni! Courtney! So glad you could make it - the food is almost ready,” Jin said. He’d heard Mina call Alina by her nick name a while back and had seemingly taken a liking to it. “Let me show you to the back room. VIP’s only of course,” he said with his big smile.

They followed him to one of the private rooms, sectioned off with traditional-looking screen walls. Jungkook greeted them, already setting up the table. 

“Can we help?” Alina asked.

“No no, the food’s almost done. Yoongi will be here in a minute, too,” Jungkook said, offering Alina a seat. Courtney came to sit down next to her, expressing her excitement about the meal. Jungkook helped Jin bring in the food, which looked and smelled fantastic. Everyone was sitting down and ready to eat when Yoongi entered.

“Hey sorry I’m late,” he said, taking a seat next to Jin.

“No harm done,” Jin said, unbothered, “food’s still hot, isn’t it.”

Yoongi took a seat next to Jin and they all dug in, quickly complimenting Jin on his work. 

They had all been chatting about their days, letting conversation flow easily. Jin had a very social sense of of humor, which made him an especially easy person to be around. Alina suspected Yoongi was easy to be around, too, if he didn’t make you as nervous as he made her. He was never outwardly rude to her, but he had made it clear he was not overly interested in being friendly. Which was why she was surprised when he addressed her. 

“Alina,” Yoongi said, “I’ve never been told where you grew up. Are you from around here.”

“Oh, yeah I grew up in this city,” Alina said. It was sort of true. She grew up in foster care in this city. Before that, this was the closest city to her home. 

“Where are your parents,” Yoongi asked bluntly.

“Hey come on Yoongi. Not everybody likes talking about their family,” Jin said, keeping his voice light but clearly pointed. Jungkook on the other hand, was now looking at Alina, seemingly interested in her answer. He was probably realizing he knew nothing about her upbringing. 

She couldn’t tell them the truth, but she didn’t want to alienate Yoongi more.

“That’s ok. My parents passed away when I was young. I didn’t have any other family so I grew up in foster care,” she said.

Yoongi was still watching her, and didn’t offer anything else. Thankfully Jin was there to make sure things didn’t get more tense.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said sincerely. “Is there any reason you stayed in this city?”

Alina smiled at him, thankful for the opportunity to turn the conversation elsewhere. “I guess I wouldn’t know where to go. And anyway, I like it here. I’ve never been that adventures, really. But I suppose that’s not very hard to notice,” she said, laughing a little.

“If you’re referring to the hike, I take full responsibility. I brought us bad luck by trying to take part in an instagram trend,” Courtney said with a laugh.

Conversation resumed after that, and they all enjoyed their lunch. But Alina was still left a little shaken. A part of her wondered if Yoongi knew something. She didn’t think Jungkook had told them about his past, but maybe he had. Maybe Yoongi had somehow pieced things together. 

She knew she was being paranoid. That didn’t even make sense, and it still wouldn’t explain why he didn’t like her. Not to mention it would be very difficult to figure out who she was. After the attack, the police decided to change her last name and said the record wold be sealed.  They thought it might help her get adopted, maybe protect her if the pack decided to target her again. It hadn’t helped her get adopted, but no one had ever come after her. 

She needed to relax and just try to enjoy the meal. Yoongi didn’t have to like her if he didn’t want to.

 *****

It was a Sunday night when Alina finally decided to bring up Stella to Jungkook.

She didn’t know why she was nervous. He would probably be relieved to finally discuss a better living situation for him. At the very least, he must be tired of sleeping on the floor. 

She’d let the idea of removing his collar push her off course for too long. She’d spent the last two weeks trying to find anyone with any connections. She was getting the impression that these collar removers, these ‘engineers,’ were a myth. At the very least, they were ghosts, only to be found in some underground world she had zero access to.  

The closest she’d come was the address to a clinic in the basement of a building in the worst part of town. When she’d gone to check it out, it turned out not to be a clinic at all. As best she could tell, it looked like a hotel. Actually she got the distinct impression that it was a brothel. And when she tried to get information, the people had thrown her out, threatening to call the police on her. 

She hadn’t told JK any of this because she was embarrassed that she’d failed him like this. 

She shook her head to herself. Enough was enough. She had to at least give him the option of living somewhere better. 

She was still figuring out how to bring it up when Jungkook joined her in the kitchen. He came up to her, eying the bowl of cut up strawberries she’d made. She pushed it closer to him, inviting him to take some. He smiled at her and helped himself. 

She looked at him for a moment longer, while he dug into the strawberries, before looking away. She had to ask now.

“Uhm Jungkook. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something. I’m sorry I’ve been putting it off.”

He looked up at her with big eyes, still chewing, giving her his attention. It was weird, he’d been wearing his hat less and less, but his hair had stopped bothering her. She didn’t think about it much now. She’d come to like seeing him without his hat, actually. She liked watching his ears, which would often give some clue as to how he was feeling.

“I’ve been trying to keep a list of people you might like to register under. Courtney has this friend you might want to meet. Her name is Stella, she’s nice. Her family’s very well off. Good people from what I’ve heard. I think they’d be nice to live with. I can set something up where she comes over. We won’t rush anything, of course. Not if you don’t want to. You’ll have plenty of time to see if you like her.”

Jungkook had dropped his gaze and stopped eating while she talked.

“There’s other people, too…” Alina said when Jungkook remained silent. “I just thought we’d start with Stella, since she seems like one of the best options.”

When he still didn’t say anything, Alina hesitated, not sure what to do.

“You don’t want me here anymore?” Jungkook finally said, still looking at the floor.

Alina just looked at him. She didn’t know what to say. Want him? Neither of them had wanted to live together…well not at the beginning at least. “That - this was the plan…wasn’t it?” She asked dumbly.

“Well if you want me to go then I’ll go. I don’t care where. It won’t matter anyway.”

He was mad. Alina could tell. His eyebrows were drawn together and he still wasn’t looking at her. His wolf ears were set back against his head. They never did that. But she didn’t know what to do to make it better.

“You keep saying you want me to go somewhere better, Alina!” He continued, volume increasing, finally looking her in the eyes. “A nicer bed, a nicer room, a nicer house, none of that matters to me! And none of it matters when I have this collar!” He shouted at her. “If you don’t want me here, then just say that. Don’t act like you’re doing me a favor.”

She couldn’t help it. She felt her eyes water.

“Hey, hey I didn’t mean to-“ Jungkook started, softer, coming towards her.

“No, no you’re right” Alina said, furiously wiping at her tears. “I’m sorry. I - it was all I felt I could do, trying to find somewhere nice. Everything else —,” she broke down in tears. She should have tried harder to find a collar engineer. He was right. Robert was right. She was passing him off.

He put her his hand on her arm hesitantly, trying to catch her gaze. He seemed like he wasn’t sure what to do.

“Alina,” he said after a moment, “please be honest. Does this mean you don’t dislike me living here? You really just wanted me to find somewhere I liked?”

“Of course I don’t dislike you living here. I’d miss you if you left,” she found herself saying through hiccups. It was true. Honestly it was hard to imagine going back to a time when Jungkook wasn’t in her life like this. 

They were both quiet for a few seconds, save for Alina’s sniffling. Then she felt arms go around her, slowly, like he was giving her time to protest.

Her body let out another sob. He shouldn’t have to comfort her. Maybe it was this conversation. Maybe it was the fear and disappointment and frustration of the past two weeks. Maybe it was the general emotional turmoil she’d been sent through since the mugging. She just couldn’t hold it back now. 

He held her for a while, Alina wasn’t sure for how long. Her crying had subsided. Now they were standing in the kitchen, Alina’s head on his shoulder. She’d wrapped her arms around him loosely, more out of instinct at first, but now she kept them there. It was comforting to her, to be held like this, even if she didn’t deserve it.

Jungkook slowly pulled away, so she let her hands drop. 

He looked at her carefully. He was being more gentle now. His ears were back up. “Is it ok, then,” he asked, “if I want to stay here? Can I stay here? You don’t have to spend anymore money on me.”

That almost set off her crying again. “Please don’t say that. I don’t mind - it’s not about the money. I was, I am, happy to spend as much as I can on the both of us. That’s just not very much.”

He walked over to the other counter to get her some tissues. After handing them to her, he said, “I trust you Alina. More than I can trust other people…and I like it here…more than I thought I would. I know it’s a lot to ask, that it’s more than we agreed to, letting me stay. But I promise, I won’t disrupt your life anymore than I already have. And I can help pitch in. Namjoon has talked about hiring me as a part time trainer.”

She wished he’d tell her that some other time, when she could properly congratulate him. All she could do now was shake her head, “You don’t owe me anything. I’m happy, though, that you could work with Namjoon, really,” she said, wiping at her eyes with the tissues.

Jungkook kept his eyes on her, probably trying to anticipate another potential break down from her. “I’m sorry I made you cry, Alina,” he said softly, looking down. “You didn’t deserve that. Thank you for letting me stay.”

“Please don’t apologize. It wasn’t you.” She wanted to tell him not to thank her, either, but she decided to let things rest. “And I’m glad you’re staying, for however long you want, that is,’ she said, looking up at him. 

He nodded at her, giving her a small smile. “It’s getting kind of late. Do you want to turn in? I’ll take a shower. That’ll give you some time to yourself if you want.”

“I think I will go to bed. Only take a shower if you want to. I know I look worse for wear but I promise I’m fine. Just a long day I guess,” she said.

“Ok,” he said simply, giving her one last look before heading towards their room.

*****

After that night, the two of them seemed to settle into one another’s lives more naturally. It seemed like they were even approaching friendship. Alina found herself laughing more and more when she was around him, talking easily with him. She noticed that JK chose to spend an increasing amount of time with her. If she was on the couch reading or watching TV, more often than not he would join her. If she was studying in her room, Jungkook would lay on his bed reading or listening to music. If he was home - that is. 

Namjoon had indeed hired him as a trainer, so Jungkook spent more time at the gym than before. He was naturally gifted, more than the average hybrid, in terms of fitness, but he took the job seriously. He had been researching and training to broaden he abilities and knowledge. He was also hanging out with the other boys from the gym regularly, even starting to bring them over to the apartment. Alina was happy to have them around, and she found herself socializing more and more with his friends from the gym. Although apparently Tae had an especially good video game set up at his place, so they often went there.  

Life was getting easier. Her past didn’t haunt her like it had when he’d first come to stay with them. It was already mid-November. Her entrance exam would be in just a few weeks, but she felt like she was ready. She was finally feeling like she could deal with what life threw her at her again.  

*****

Jungkook was under the bench press, letting the burn in his arms drown everything else out. It wasn’t a busy time, so the gym didn’t have too many people in it.

“Hey, Jungkook.” Jungkook could tell from the voice that it was Yoongi.   

He sat up, breathing hard. He liked Yoongi. He was a bit distant at first, but he seemed to warm up to Jungkook pretty fast. He wasn’t as physically affectionate as the other guys, well expect when he was with Jin, and even then it was pretty chaste, but he was a very genuine guy. It bothered JK a little that Yoongi still wasn’t very welcoming to Alina, but since he was never outwardly rude, Jungkook didn’t feel at liberty to criticize him. 

Yoongi came over to him. “You busy? It’s alright if you are.”

“Nah I’m just finishing up. Why?”

“I’ve got an errand to run for Jin and could use some help.”

“Sure. Let me take a quick shower and change.”

Jungkook stepped out of the gym 15 minutes later, spotting Yoongi leaned against Namjoon’s pick-up truck.

“We’re picking up a load of new chairs for the restaurant, so Namjoon is lending us his truck,” Yoongi said. 

“Cool,” Jungkook said, opening up the door to the cab and throwing in his bag.

Yoongi got in the driver’s seat, Jungkook got in the passenger seat, and they peeled out onto the street.

“So where are we picking the stuff up?” 

“It’s at a wholesaler about an hour north of here.” 

That was pretty far. Jungkook decided he should probably tell Alina that he’d be back late. He got out his phone and started typing out a quick text.

Yoongi watched him out of the corner of his eye.

“Checking with Alina?”

Jungkook looked at him. “Uh sort of. I just wanted to let her know I was gonna be home a little late.”

“Is that gonna be alright?”

Jungkook was a little confused by the question. But he was getting the sense that Yoongi was trying to say something without saying it.

“Yeah of course,” Jungkook replied, not sure what else to say.

“Hm,” was all Yoongi said.

Jungkook sat for a while, but all of a sudden he felt like he needed to defend Alina. Eventually couldn’t stop himself from asking. 

“You don’t like her. Why?”

“I never said that,” Yoongi said, more passive than usual.

“You don’t. I can tell. You know she doesn’t make me check in with her. Why are you trying to suggest she does.”

“Actually I don’t know what she makes you do. I only know the little I see and what you choose to tell us.”

“What? Why are you acting like Alina must secretly be some kind of monster? Do the others feel like this as well? Are they just pretending to be nice to her?” Jungkook asked, starting to get worked up.

“Wait a minute. I haven’t said any of that.” Jungkook saw Yoongi hesitate for a minute, like he couldn’t decide exactly how to continue. “The others like her, to answer your question. And I don’t dislike her, I just -” Yoongi cut himself off, shaking his head. “Look this isn’t how I wanted to do this. I’m sorry. In my experience, it’s always smart to be wary of humans. I just wanted to make sure you felt safe, and that she treats you well. Sometimes we feel embarrassed, or unable to confide in people if something is wrong. I want you to know you can talk to me if you want to. After all, you spent at least some time without a collar. It’s hard to accept living under such new and restrictive conditions. And she’s the one that wears the bracelet,” Yoongi said.

Jungkook was grateful for Yoongi’s concern, but he still felt like he needed to defend Alina. Truth be told, Jungkook had given up on getting his collar off a long time ago. Living with Alina had made it easier to accept that, he supposed. He had started to like his life with her. He trusted her. She had many opportunities to let him down or hurt him, and she had never taken them, never even seemed like she considered it an option. For a while he thought maybe he should get registered under someone else’s name, someone who he didn’t mind screwing over by running away. But when Alina had finally made a real offer to send him to someone else, he’d panicked. He knew in his heart the collar would stay on, and he couldn’t trust anyone else. On top of that, he hadn’t really wanted to leave. He didn’t want to be alone again. Maybe if he was really honest, he didn’t want to loose Alina. Nor did he want to risk loosing all the other people he’d started to care for - her roommates, all the guys he met through Namjoon and Hobi. 

And besides, it had been hard at first, but Alina herself never made him feel imprisoned or subservient. Ever. He had practically forgotten she wore the disciplinary bracelet attached to his collar.  

“I like my life with her Yoongi. It’s not like she wanted me to be her hybrid. She did it to save my life. And if you’re worried about the bracelet, she’s never used it. I don’t think she ever will,” Jungkook said. “And anyway, Jin has a bracelet connected to your collar, and you trust him.”

Yoongi kept his eyes on the road, staying quiet for longer than Jungkook liked. 

“I’ve known Jin for a long time. Much longer than you’ve known Alina,” Yoongi said.

Jungkook turned to look at the road ahead. He knew Yoongi was right. Time was an important part of earning trust. But to dismiss everything else Alina had done for him was wrong.

“Look. I really don’t mean to suggest you have bad judgement. I don’t think that at all. I will stop being so hard on Alina. You’re right. She hasn’t done anything to deserve that. I just want to be someone you can go to, no matter what happens. No matter what you need. Ok?” Yoongi said.

Jungkook cast his eyes down into his lap. At the end of the day Yoongi was right. No matter how much he was coming to like Alina, as long as he had the collar, he was in a very vulnerable position. It was meaningful - what Yoongi was offering him.

“Thank you, Yoongi. I appreciate it, really, that I can depend on you. I don’t know what I did to deserve so many good people in my life all of a sudden.”

“Everybody deserves it Jungkookie,” Yoongi said. 

[atlabeth]

neighborly things - sokka x fem!reader

summary: reader can’t make things for shit. thankfully, she has a cute and crafty neighbor willing to help her. 

a/n: im so sorry lmao. i have requests and i have 2 series that havent been updated in like a month but sometimes i just need to write a stupid little oneshot to get back in the writing mood. i did this in an hour 

im not a screwdriver expert so dont come at me if some of this info is wrong lmao 

wc: 1.6k 

warning(s): some cursing but otherwise pure fluff. also i didnt proofread im SORRY im pretty sure they laugh grin and smile like 200 times 

-

“Dammit!” 

 Anyone unfortunate enough to have a place near you during this time would have heard the phrase on more than twenty occasions, and it wasn’t even noon yet. You had gotten the parts in the mail to put together a new dresser a couple days ago, and had finally decided to take on the task. You didn’t know if it was because you were inexperienced with furniture or just lacked basic comprehension skills, but it was proving to be no less than Herculean. 

 You threw the screwdriver at the wall and fell back to the floor as you let your arms sprawl out above you. You had been trying to screw in a part for no less than thirty minutes, and if a miracle didn’t happen right about now, you were going to lose your mind. 

Your head snapped towards the door when she heard a knock, and your brows creased. “God?” You muttered as you got up, wondering if you had actually thought a miracle into existence. 

 You weren’t greeted by a deity when you opened the door, but the man standing in front of you was pretty damn close. With ocean blue eyes, hair pulled back in a ponytail with shaved sides, and toned arms, he was a sight to behold. But you had no idea why he was in front of your door. 

 “Hey, are you okay?” He questioned, genuine concern in his tone. 

 “Um, yeah, why?” You were trying to rack your brain for any memory of this guy — because you knew you would remember him if you had seen him before — but to no avail. “Also, who are you and why are you here?”

 “Right,” he chuckled. “My name’s Sokka. I’m your neighbor; I live—” he gestured at the door just next to your place, “—over there. Moved in a couple weeks ago, so that’s probably why you don’t know me. I’ve just been hearing a lot of cursing and loud noises coming from your place, so I figured I would stop in and see what was going on.” 

 “Oh. That’s.. very considerate of you, Sokka. I’m just…” you sighed and chuckled at the ridiculousness of it all. “I’m just trying to put together a dresser, and it’s not going well at all. That latest sound you heard was the culmination of my rage. I threw a screwdriver at the wall.” 

 “Yeah, that’ll do it,” he laughed. “Listen. I don’t wanna intrude on you or anything, but I happen to be pretty good at putting things together. I had to do a lot of furniture construction when I first moved in, plus I’m the one all my friends call when they need help with putting anything together. I could probably help you with whatever’s troubling you.”  

 “Are you serious?” 

 “Oh, no. I just go door to door joking around with people, asking if they need help with their furniture, sometimes I ask if their refrigerator is running? It really gets a kick out of them.” 

 You rolled your eyes goodnaturedly and stepped aside so he could enter your apartment. “Thank you so much, Sokka. I’ve read the instructions a million times, I seriously don’t know what I’m doing wrong.” 

 He crouched down and picked up the manual, turning to a dog-eared page and skimming over the instructions. He pointed at the screwdriver you had thrown against the wall and glanced back at you. “Is that the one you’ve been using?” 

 You closed and locked the door behind him then walked over to the wall, picking up the unfortunate victim of your anger and spinning it in your hands. “Yeah, why?” 

 “Do you know what kind it is?” 

 “Um.. maybe? God, I don’t know. I think it’s a Phillip’s head?” 

 Sokka laughed and shook his head, holding up the manual so you could see it. “That’s where you’re going wrong. You need a Pozidriv for these screws — they’re similar enough that anyone can make a mistake.”

 You stared at Sokka in complete amazement — apparently, your savior lived next door, and he came in the form of a handsome guy with basic knowledge on putting furniture together. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” you said as you walked over and took the booklet from himl. You flipped through it a couple times and read over the part, shaking your head in disbelief. 

 “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me!” you repeated, louder this time. “Do you know how long I’ve been trying to get that thing to- to work, to screw, to— whatever you call it?” 

 “It’s actually to—”

 “Thirty minutes!” You interrupted, earning a small chuckle from Sokka. “Thirty damn minutes that I have been trying to get that screw in, and it’s all because I was using the wrong screwdriver. Why would they make screwdrivers that are so similar but aren’t interchangeable?!” 

 He shrugged and held up his hands. “Don’t ask me — I don’t make the rules, I just follow them. But like I said; this dresser might fall apart if you keep using this thing. I actually have a Pozidriv back at my place, I can go get it and we can finish this up together.” 

 “God, that would be the biggest help,” you admitted. “But I don’t wanna take up your time — I don’t know how I would even repay you.” 

 “I’m doing this because I want to help you,” he said. “You don’t have to repay me. Think of it as… as a neighborly thing.” 

 “A neighborly thing?” you repeated with a laugh. “Well, if you’re offering, I’m definitely not going to refuse.” 

 “I am offering,” Sokka winked. “And unless you want to be at this for another three days, I think you should take that offer.” 

 You pretended to deliberate over it before letting out an exaggerated sigh. “I guess I’ll let you help me. I mean, really you should be thanking me for this brilliant opportunity to, um.. hone your skills.” 

 He laughed, a brilliant sound that made your heart sing, and nodded as he went back to the door. “Thank you so much for letting me put together this dresser. Truly, it’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

 “Then I’m happy to be of assistance.” 

 Sokka grinned then unlocked and opened the door. “I’ll be right back, then we can get started.”

 -

 Once he got back, the two of you got to work. The next three hours passed so quickly as you and Sokka talked about everything from the work you did to people in your lives (no girlfriend, thankfully), to exchanging stories — even the silence, though rare, was comfortable. 

 Sokka pushed the last drawer into its place then clapped his hands as he stood up, admiring the fruits of your labor. “And that’s it! We’re done.”

 “Wait, we’re done? Already?” You set down the instruction manual and stood up as well, backing up to Sokka’s position to see what he saw. “Wow, that looks.. that looks just like the picture. We are good at this! Well, you’re really good at this, I’m good at keeping you entertained. But still!” 

 You held your hand up for a high five and he laughed, but not without meeting it with a satisfying clap. 

 “It does look pretty good,” he admitted. “And not only do you have a brand new, fully functioning dresser, you also had the priceless experience of spending three hours with the neighbor you know nothing about.” 

 “That’s not true,” you countered. “I know that you’re really good at putting things together, you’re a genius when it comes to anything math or science, and you hate blueberries.” 

 Sokka snickered and brushed his hands off on his jeans. “That’s everything there is to know.” 

 “I dunno, Sokka. You seem like a pretty interesting guy.”

 “Really?”

 “Yeah. It’s not every day that someone offers to put together a whole dresser just because they feel bad.”

 “Well—” he tore off a blank part of the instruction manual and picked up a spare pen from the counter, then put it up against the wall as he scribbled something on it. Sokka put the pen down and handed the slip of paper to you with a smile. “If you ever need any more help with furniture, then call me.” 

 You could feel your cheeks heat up as you took the paper. Your fingers brushed ever so slightly as you took the slip of paper, and you decided to just go for it. You bit back a grin and tried to sound as innocuous as possible. “And if I want to get to know you beyond the blueberries?” 

 Sokka laughed and leaned against the doorframe. “Definitely call me.”  

 “Great.” 

 The two of you smiled at each other like idiots for way too long before a notification from his phone broke the silence. He jumped from the sudden noise and dug his phone out of his pocket, giving you an apologetic look. “Sorry, my sister just texted me and I gotta get over to her place.” Sokka started towards the door then paused and turned around. “I actually had a lot of fun doing this, though. I’ll see you around, yeah?” 

 “Yeah.” You knew you had that same smile on your face, but it just wouldn’t go away. His energy was contagious. “Definitely.” 

 “Great.” He winked at you one last time then left, closing the door behind him, and finally snapping you out of your spell. 

 You leaned against the dresser and stared at the slip of paper in your hands, committing the number to memory. 

 You were definitely going to take him up on that offer. 

-

perm tag list: @dv0412 @siriuslyslyslytherin​

[knifefather]

Hello guys! Uploading this chapter of Tutor Me for yall on tumblr! Only one more chapter to go before the story is complete. It’s been so fun to write this and I hope you enjoy this emotional train wreck of a chapter! Don’t worry though, I plan to finish Reader and Diego’s story with a bang, if you know what I mean! Anyway, I bring to you, chapter 5~

➼ Title: Tutor Me, Chapter 5 ➼ Pairing(s): Diego Brando/Reader, Johnny Joestar/Reader, Johnny Joestar/Gyro Zeppeli ➼ Fandom: JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure ➼ Word Count: 4.3k ➼ Rating: Explicit, 18+ ➼ Contains: Chubby AFAB!Reader, college AU, angst, alcoholism, parental abuse, hurt and comfort. Grab your tissues!

ミ★ View this on ao3! ★彡

ミ★ Ko-Fi | Commissions Info ★彡

Preview

“This wasn’t supposed to happen...” he proclaimed, his tone growing more grave the more that he talked.

I wasn’t supposed to fall for you, he thought to himself, a crease settling into his brow. You were supposed to be a quick fuck. An experiment. That was all. But now look at where we are...

A soft look passed over his eyes before his expression contorted back to agitation. He angrily wiped the tears from his face and a bit of snot from his nose. When he moved his hand away, his expression was more determined than ever.

“Now get out of my way.”

Diego clasped the buckle on his helmet, straightening his posture and squaring his shoulders, before walking away from you yet again.

You stood behind him, mouth open, unable to even begin to form words. The dirt of the track whipped around you as a breeze passed through the stadium. The dust swirled around Diego as if it parted for him and only him, leading him towards victory.

The brightly lit stadium was packed to the brim with jockeys, paparazzi, and audience members when you arrived. You drew in a deep breath to calm your nerves, causing the thick, hot air to catch in your lungs. The atmosphere was almost oppressive as you made your way towards the admission line. Johnny, Gyro, and Hot Pants were already down on the track, having practiced for several hours before the actual tournament began. You were excited to see your friends but anxious about seeing Diego. Being around him tonight was a certainty that you had to deal with. Your throat grew dry at the realization, and you fleetingly thought about hitting the concession stand after you said hi to your friends.

You waited in line with the other attendees for God knows how long before the worker behind the counter took your ticket, allowing you entry. Quickly, you zipped past the stands and pushed through the crowds, heading down to the track before one of the staff members could stop you. As you made your way across the dirt, Johnny and the crew noticed you approaching and waved you closer. Your face broke out in a large smile as you neared them.

They all looked amazing: Hot Pants was dressed in her signature pink riding outfit and Johnny in his starry blue one. He looked cuter than you wanted to admit, and you adverted your eyes before you could be caught staring. Gyro looked more or less the same, but something about him seemed a bit more put together than usual. He gave you a distrustful look as you approached.

“Y/n! I’m so glad you made it!” Johnny said happily, wheeling over to you. His bright blue lips were tugged in a warm smile that made you forget about your anxiety for a moment.

“Of course. I wouldn’t miss it for anything in the world,” you replied.

In the distance, you could see the flashes of the paparazzi’s cameras aimed at the racers. There was a group of them nearby, snapping photos of a rider that was posing with their star racehorse. You knew it was a matter of time before the hoard would come to pester Johnny and the rest of the gang with photos and questions. You were correct in your assumptions: After a few moments of chatting amongst yourselves, the paparazzi interrupted your conversation with the crew by tapping Johnny on the shoulder and pushing a camera into his face. The interviewer flashed a too-white smile before looking into a camera that was held by another paparazzi. “And here we have racer number 7, Johnny Joestar! Johnny, tell us a little bit about your horse and hopes for the race,” they finished, whipping the microphone in his direction. His blue eyes went wide for a moment before clearing his throat. “Well…” He answered as swiftly as he could before he was hit with another barrage of questions.

As Johnny was being interviewed, several cameras snapped at Hot Pants, her outfit being praised by the rest of the team. She knew how to pose, too, and struck a different one every few seconds. Meanwhile, you had been more or less been pushed to the side and out of the cameras’ view. You looked at the scene, not envying your friends at all. Strangely enough, you noticed Gyro was standing off to the side as well, a pleased smile on his face. Unsure of how he would respond, you edged closer to him in hopes of making conversation, especially after the strange look he gave you earlier.

“What are you smiling about?” you asked innocuously, raising your voice a bit over the busy sounds of the stadium.

Gyro met your gaze, his expression shifting through a few different emotions before replying to you. “They don’t really like me,” he said.

You cocked a brow. “Why not? You’re a pretty good jockey.”

Gyro’s line of sight shifted from you to a paparazzi that was approaching him, presumably one that was new to the job. “Are you Gyro Zeppeli? Could you tell us a bit about yourself and your horse?” the young man asked, giving him the same treatment as Johnny. His cameraman pointed the filming instrument at Gyro’s face, getting way too close.

“Actually, my name is Inigo Montoya.” Gyro grinned, his gold teeth glinting in the bright lights.

“Oh,” the young paparazzi sputtered. He checked the roster in his pocket again, shaking his head before turning his attention back to him. “Sorry. Inigo. Where are you from? Why are you confident your horse will win the race?” the young man tried again.

“I hail from a land far, far away in the south. Super cold. You’ve probably never heard of it,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I came to Britain to win the championship with my horse, Ligma,” he answered, deepening his voice to sound more important than he was.

“Ligma?” the young man asked, his brow furrowing.

“You know, Ligma. Like--”

Just then, one of the more experienced paparazzi intervened, grabbing the microphone away from Gyro before he could crack his dirty joke. The other paparazzi harshly whispered to the younger one, and they exchanged glances before giving Gyro a distasteful look and walking away. All the while, Gyro was barely containing his laughter, his stomach and chest trembling with the effort. Once they were finally out of earshot, Gyro wouldn't contain himself and erupted into laughter.

You were taken aback by the scene, but you also found it hard to contain your giggles. You waited until the pair had fully adverted their attention from you and Gyro before speaking. “So, was that why they don’t like you?” you asked, still giggling.

“Yep. I always give them bullshit answers. They don’t really care about where you’re from or who you are, you know,” Gyro explained, his tone becoming more somber. “They just want a good show. To be entertained. That’s it.”

The smile had fallen from your face at his explanation. His green eyes scanned over your face before flickering away, his lips pressed into a thin line.

“Is that why you’re here? Do you care, or do you want to be entertained?” he asked, still looking away from you.

You were surprised at the boldness of his question. “Of course, I care. I want to see you guys do well--”

“Even Johnny?”

You furrowed your brow at this. His eyes met yours, his gaze accusatory as he looked you over. “What does that mean? Are you implying that I don’t care about him?” you shot back, your tone growing more defensive with every word. Gyro had always been aloof around you, but never like this. You wracked your brain trying to figure out the reason.

Gyro ignored your response. “You should get back to the stands. The race is gonna start soon, and the coaches aren’t going to be happy that you’re down here.” He fixed his hat while he spoke, the brim coming down to cast a shadow over his face.

Then it hit you as if the thought were a speeding train. Gyro... liked Johnny.

The cogs in your head were whirring a mile a minute, piecing together all of the times that he was unusually protective of Johnny. You thought back to the soft way that he looked at Johnny during riding practice, or the way Gyro ignored you after Johnny had flirted with you. You were going to argue the point, but he was right. The staff members that had initially spied you were now giving you harsh glances, some pointing now. At this point, the paparazzi had released Hot Pants and Johnny from being their hostages and were retreating to other parts of the stadium. You wished all of them good luck before making your way towards the stands, leaving them behind. Gyro’s words still rang in your ears, making your already complicated emotions about the event even more complicated.

You were still quite a bit away from the stands, but you could see Diego entering the stadium as clear as day. The swarm of paparazzi that obscured your view was a good indicator. From the looks of it, he was just arriving. It’s just like him to be fashionably late, you thought to yourself, making a sour face. Cameras began to flash again and interviewers animatedly asked him questions, trying to fit everything in before the tournament began.

“I’m going to come in first place. Just watch me,” you heard him boldly claim, quite loudly at that. This seemed to please the crowd of interviewers, because the volume of their voices increased as they wrapped up the interview. With only minutes before the jockeys had to take their places, the paparazzi finally dispersed. You were much closer now, able to see Diego clearly. His turquoise outfit was as pristine as ever, every detail carefully planned out. The letters on his equestrian helmet shined when he turned his head.

Before he was able to notice you approaching, a short, fat man hobbled out from the stands and down to the track. Diego’s big, showy smile disappeared and was replaced with a solemn look once he laid eyes on him. He froze in his spot. The man was clearly drunk, his hair unkempt and his clothes disheveled. The look of surprise on Diego’s face graduated to boiling anger, his mouth contorting into a sneer. You couldn’t quite hear what was being said, but you knew how his face looked when he was saying something aggressive. The old man responded with twice as much venom, yelling and shaking his fist at the rider. Diego shrunk under his words, but hatred still twisted his face.

Now, you were curious. You stopped just out of earshot from the scene, only close enough to hear the exchange of words.

“God damn it, I’m your father, Diego! A son does what his father tells him to!” the man slurred. Diego cringed, the alcohol on his father’s breath almost too much for him to handle.

“You’re no father of mine. Fuck off, Dario,” he spat.

This pissed off the old man, because he began to howl in rage at his son. “You’re a fucking disgrace, Diego! You’ve always been a disappointment to me and the rest of the family...It’s a damn shame that you don’t give every pound to help your dying mother in the hospital. A real damn shame,” the man--Dario--rambled, parts of his sentence nearly unintelligible from the slurring.

Though, Diego understood every word. The jockey snapped, his fist shooting out and curling into the man’s shirt. He shook the old man, his lips pulled back in a snarl, teeth bared like an animal. “Don’t you FUCKING dare say that! I send everything I have to support her, and you spend it on BOOZE! If there’s anyone here who is a disgrace, it’s you!” Diego shouted, pushing the man away before the violence could escalate any further.

Your mouth was gaping at the scene, unable to believe that the foul-mouthed drunkard was Diego’s father. He was the complete opposite of his son physically, bearing little to no resemblance to him. You couldn’t imagine his dull grey hair being the same shade as Diego’s blond locks. Though, they both had the same burning look of passion behind their eyes. Nonetheless, you continued to listen in.

“It’s no surprise that I smell booze on your breath. Like always,” Diego growled, his voice much calmer now. His blazing anger had turned cold, his words mechanical in quality.

“You’re a horrible child. A worthless waste of space. Win that money and bring it home to me, or you’ll never see your mum again. You hear me?” Dario said, waving a finger in the jockey’s face. Diego bit his lower lip, looking at the ground defeatedly before nodding his head yes. All of the fight left him, his frame deflating significantly. He understood the implications of his father’s words: The little money that Dario did use to help his mother would stop altogether. And then, she would be gone.

“Good. And after this is over, be useful and bring me a pint,” the old man said, taking a swig from the bottle in his hand before hobbling back off towards the stands.

You were completely at a loss. You blinked slowly, unable to believe the horrible sight that you witnessed. Diego was still staring at the ground, the fist that was once in his father’s shirt now clenched at his side. He was still biting his lip, hard, a small trickle of blood flowing down his chin. You felt horrible that he was clearly being abused by his father, but you were on a mission: You had to get to the bottom of why he was mistreating you, why he had ghosted you and threw you to the side like nothing. You had a sneaking suspicion that the treatment from his father was a part of the reason, but you had to know for sure. You decided to be the bigger person and put your thoughts of confrontation on pause. It could wait until after the race.

You approached him uneasily, taking light steps on the dirt like if you stepped too hard, he’d be disturbed. As you approached him, his eyes slowly rose from the ground and met your form. You were wearing a crop top and high-waisted shorts, along with matching shoes. You were beautiful, glowing, so much more confident than the first time he saw you. You proudly allowed your belly to show with your shirt, and the shorts showed off your legs and hugged the curves of your hips perfectly. It was faint, but a bit of makeup dusted your cheeks and kissed your lashes. You were the same, but different somehow. Something had changed in you along the way. If Diego weren’t devastated, he would be enamored by you. Part of him was, despite his pain.

When your gazes locked, you saw a look that you had never seen on Diego before. His eyes were those of a completely broken, desperate person. You had heard enough to know his secrets, and the both of you knew this while you stared silently at each other.

You flub, not sure what to say for a moment. “I… I had no idea,” you said, your voice small and full of hurt.

“I know.” Diego’s jaw was clenched. He didn’t want you to see him like this, so vulnerable and weak. His first instinct was to hide, to get away from you. Your empathetic gaze made feelings rise in him that he didn’t want to be feeling.

“I’m sorry that you have to deal with that…” you said, feeling stuck. “Is that the reason why you wanted to stay away? What your dad said about your mom?” you asked softly, as if you were comforting a child.

The gentle, caring look in your eyes only frustrated Diego further. He looked away, blinking hard and trying to restrain his emotion. He already made the mistake of arguing with Dario in public, which the paparazzi more than certainly saw him do. He wasn’t going to get emotional and have another scene with you, not when he had a race to win and a mother to save. Diego opted for silence, not giving a response and just looking away.

You sighed sadly before taking a step toward him, your hand outstretched. “Please. I need to know. You don’t have to tell me now, but I want to talk about this,” you tried, setting your hand on his shoulder. He promptly shrugged you off with an exasperated noise.

“I don’t want them to see,” Diego said, already turning on his heel and walking away from you. Your feet were moving before you had time to think about it, making you follow him across the dirt.

“That’s fine. But at least tell me after the race,” you implored, your tone growing more desperate. You swallowed, hard, and tried to get yourself together.

He was quiet again, worrying his lip between his teeth as he struggled to hold back all of the things he wanted to say. Diego tried to keep his eye on the ball, focusing on an image of him holding a 10,000 pound sterling check in his hand. Except, the image grew fuzzy in his mind’s eye, and he saw you instead. Your smile. Your eyes. You, choking on cigarette smoke. You, in the back of his car, blushing and looking at him like the most important person in the world.

You sped up, jogging next to his side. He walked faster, leaving you in the dust.

“Why? Why do you keep walking away from me? Every time? You always deflect and you never want to talk about anything. It’s not healthy, Diego,” you said, your voice breaking. “I’ll leave you alone forever if that’s what you want. If you want to talk about this later, just tell me. Communicate with me, please.”

This got Diego’s attention, and he stopped in his tracks.

“Diego, what’s going on? What are we?” you tried one more time before giving up for good. You were well aware that you were crossing the line, but you needed something. Your hand went to his arm, your thumb gently caressing him.

You didn’t expect the furious expression on his face when he whipped around to look at you. Surprised, you took a step back from him, watching his hands curl around nothing at his sides.

“I don’t know!” Diego yelled, ripping his sleeve from your grasp. His eyes were smoldering with anger and fear in their basest forms. He sniffled a bit at the end of his sentence.

You stopped in your tracks, frozen by disbelief. Tears were now freely flowing down Diego’s cheeks, hot and wet and dripping onto the dirt below his feet. “You saw Dario. What an absolutely disgusting, no-good, drunk fucking swine he is,” he said through gritted teeth. “What’s what I deal with. That’s what my mother deals with. He doesn’t love her, doesn’t care if she dies young. That’s why I have to win this race. I have to have that money in my pocket; failure isn’t an option. I don’t know what we are. This wasn’t supposed to happen...” he proclaimed, his tone growing more grave the more that he talked.

I wasn’t supposed to fall for you, he thought to himself, a crease settling into his brow. You were supposed to be a quick fuck. An experiment. That was all. But now look at where we are...

A soft look passed over his eyes before his expression contorted back to agitation. He angrily wiped the tears from his face and a bit of snot from his nose. When he moved his hand away, his expression was more determined than ever.

“Now get out of my way.”

Diego clasped the buckle on his helmet, straightening his posture and squaring his shoulders, before walking away from you yet again.

You stood behind him, mouth open, unable to even begin to form words. The dirt of the track whipped around you as a breeze passed through the stadium. The dust swirled around Diego as if it parted for him and only him, leading him towards victory.

Where you thought you would feel disappointment, you felt numb. You didn’t know what exactly to feel. You turned around and walked towards the stands, the scene below catching the attention of a few audience members. They looked at you curiously as you made your way towards your seat, but you paid no mind to them. Something in your gut told you that this wasn’t over. And, despite everything, you knew who you would be cheering for once the tournament began.

★・・・・・・★

The thundering of hooves on the dirt and the roar of the crowd reverberated in your ears. You watched as the riders were approaching the last lap, many of them bracing themselves for one last push of speed. Many of the jockeys who started in first place had sunk to the back, and others who had restrained themselves were rising to the occasion. Such was the case for your friends and Diego.

Gyro was currently sitting in 5th place, Hot Pants in 4th, Johnny in 2nd, and, surprisingly, Diego in 6th. You nervously watched as Diego bided his time in the back. A shadow was cast over his face from his helmet, and you and the onlookers alike struggled to read his expression. The announcer was going crazy with play-by-plays, calling out so quickly that the words lost their meaning to you. You wanted your friends to win, but you couldn’t help but cheer for Diego on the inside.

Johnny’s horse was speeding ahead of the contender in first place, the red-headed woman yelling a profanity at him and shooting him a dirty look. She maneuvered her horse to the side, trying to throw him off balance, but Johnny was quick. He swerved, avoiding the collision, and zipped past her into first place.

“Johnny Joestar has taken the lead! Can he keep this up? Do we have the winner?!” the announcer boomed, riling up the crowd. They all clapped and shouted, the sounds making your head buzz. The smell of alcohol was also heavy in the air and it didn’t help the knot that settled in your stomach. You hoped that Dario wasn't sitting nearby.

What are you doing, Diego? You thought to yourself, making a “tsk” sound under your breath.

Hot Pants surprised you next, overtaking the 3rd place racer and claiming their place. There were only a few meters left, and you began to sweat as the end of the race approached.

Suddenly, you heard a gasp from the audience. You flicked your eyes over to the back riders and saw what the audience had seen. Diego was jetting past the other racers, taking 5th, 4th, and 3rd like nothing. You found yourself scooting to the edge of your seat, your hands gripping the edge of the stands hard enough to make your palms white.

Diego was steady for a moment, riding next to Hot Pants, almost as if he was taunting her. Down on the track, he flashed her a cocky grin before snatching 2nd place away from her. Now, he was right behind Johnny, the two riders only a few feet away from each other. The announcer was hollering his head off, but silence settled over your ears. You watched them, side by side, sweat flying off of the both of them.

Johnny looked to his side, his brow furrowed, his upper lip curled in concentration. Diego’s eyes flashed as they locked gazes, a thousand words being exchanged from one intense look. Johnny pressed on, encouraging Slow Dancer to give everything that she had. Diego’s own horse still had a bit left in her, and, with an expert maneuver from her rider, Diego cut perfectly in front of Johnny, making Slow Dancer falter.

You gasped, you hands gripping the metal edge of the stands even harder. For a split second, Johnny’s horse lost her balance, stumbling, but he pulled hard on her reigns and recentered her. By then, it was too late, and Diego was several paces ahead of him, the finish line within his reach. Your heart raced as you watched him, you jumped to your feet and leaned in as close as you could, unable to look away.

“AND THERE HE GOES!” the announcer howled, the entire stadium screaming at the top of their lungs. The moment that Silver Bullet crossed the finish line happened almost in slow-motion. You could see the exact moment that her hoof touched the dirt right over the line, how the beast’s muscles ripped under her hide as she carried them both to victory. Diego was almost standing, braced so forwardly that he almost flew off the horse when they passed the finish line. You could feel the breeze ruffling your hair as he jetted past you.

And just like that, it was all over. Johnny wasn’t far behind him, and neither were Hot Pants and Gyro. Your heart was beating at a million miles a minute, and you couldn’t help but break into a huge smile and join the crowd in their cheering. You cheered until your throat grew hoarse and scratchy, until you couldn’t produce sound any longer.

Diego’s face was broken out in a toothy smile as his horse slowed. “We have our winner! Give it up for Diego Brando!” Everyone did accordingly, many whooping and hollerings taking place. Cheers still sounded off for the rest of the participants, and even though they were dejected, many were still happy to have made it in the top ten. Diego did a victory lap around the stadium, cameras going off like crazy and admirers reaching over the barrier for a chance to be close to the celebrity. He waved, a grin still dancing on his lips while he rode the high of being the winner. You could see from your seat the rise and fall of his chest as he drew in ragged breaths, trying to calm himself down from the excitement.

Slowly, you sat down, your hands stilling from the abundance of clapping. Even as you sat, you were still beaming uncontrollably. You couldn’t help but feel proud of him, to be happy for him at this moment, even though you knew that the happiness was only temporary.

[hb-writes]

My Person

Some people have been asking for some Clara and Isiah and a little something came to me while listening to ‘Why’d You Only Call Me When You’re High?’ by Arctic Monkeys. Once I started writing, it strayed from that a bit and I’d still consider this very much platonic but I hope you like it!

Summary: From the Little Lady Blinder universe. It’s 1925. Clara and Isiah haven’t talked in weeks but after a drunken night filled with a break up and scrapping in Small Heath, Isiah insists on going out to Arrow House to see her. 

Featuring: Clara Shelby, Isiah Jesus, Tommy Shelby, Finn Shelby, Charles Shelby

-----

Because Clara was awake far later than was wise, reading by the light of the small lamp on her bedside table when she should have been asleep, she heard the rumble of a car engine out on the front-drive, the sound distinct and seemingly louder because of the quiet that descended upon Warwickshire at this time of night.

She’d made it down only two steps when Tommy crossed the foyer, giving her a quick glance as he kept moving to the door, Clara’s eyes drawn to the gun in his hands.

“Go back to bed.” 

“Who’s—?”

“Clara, get up the fucking stairs,” he answered, the words inching towards a shout. 

Tommy kept walking, turning his head towards Clara once again, this time only long enough to see her lift her foot, finding enough satisfaction in that small movement that his sister would cooperate with his command.

Clara couldn’t see anything from the foyer, the hall leading to the front door much too dark, and in Tommy’s absence, she drifted down a few more steps, leaning over the rail for a better look.

She started when the front door slammed against the wall and Tommy stalked back into the room, locking eyes with Clara for a moment, shaking his head as he went to put the gun away. Clara took a few more steps before Tommy came to the bottom of the staircase.

“Who’s—?” she started.

“Is that upstairs, then?” Tommy asked, hand extended to gesture towards the spot where she stood.

Clara glanced at the placement of her feet and then back to him, shrugging. “I’m up the stairs from you.”

Their eyes pulled from one another to the boys, to Finn and Isiah, as they came through to the hall, stumbling a little, the both of them clearly a bit drunk.

“See, Finn, told ya she’d be awake,” Isiah said, pointing up to her and leaning an arm over Finn’s shoulder. “Put us off for a night with your stories, eh Clara?” 

They were the first words Isiah had directed at her in weeks and Clara wasn’t sure how to respond. She had indeed passed the evening after her nephew was asleep alone in her bedroom with a book, that much was true, but it wasn’t why she’d declined Finn and Michael's invitations in the first place.

Clara cleared her throat and settled her eyes on Finn, decided on speaking to him rather than Isiah. “You two idiots had a cup too much an—”

“Enough. Charles is asleep. Get the fuck to bed,” Tommy said. “All of you.” 

“We came for dinner, Tom,” Finn said. “We’re fucking starving.”

Tommy raised an eyebrow as he glanced at his younger brother. “Well now, you’ve missed that by about nine hours, Finn.”

“Chef’s probably left something,” Clara answered Tommy, taking a step. “At the very least there’s a bit of chocolate cake. I could—” 

“They boys can feed themselves,” Tommy waved them on before turning to his sister. “You go back to bed. And actually do it this time, eh?”

“Why have I got to go to sleep if they haven’t?”

Tommy was growing impatient with the kids, impatient with this particular interruption to his evening because even being as close as it was to two in the morning, and regardless of whether he was usually awake at this time or not, these hours were the hours he filled with distractions entirely of his choosing. And he’d certainly not chosen to be dealing with his sister’s smart mouth and the boys’ whiskey addled brains. 

He was about to give her an answer, ready to tell her that his giving an order didn’t require her to ask any questions, but they were saved from the shouting match it would have quickly devolved into by Charles’s arrival at the top of the stairs. 

“Dad?”

Tommy took a deep breath, rubbing his face with one hand as he beckoned the boy forward with his other. “C’mere, my boy.”

Charles came down a few steps but never made it to his father, stopping to hug Clara’s side, her arm fitting over his shoulders.

“Who’s here?” Charles mumbled as he settled his head against her.

“It’s just Uncle Finn and Isiah,” she answered.

Charles glanced around her looking for the older boys. “Why?”

“Well, my sweet sleepy boy,” Clara squeezed him a bit as he yawned. “They came to spend the night because they want to play with you bright and early tomorrow morning,” she said. “You should wake them extra early. Lots of shouting and jumping, eh?” 

Charles grinned as he looked up to her. “You think they’ll want to ride horses?”

“Hmmm, you know, I think they’d love that, Charlie. A brilliant idea.” 

Charles looked to Tommy. “Can we, Dad?” 

Tommy glanced at his sister, snorting a bit at her smirk, the small bit of devilment she’d shown in planting the seed in her nephew’s head, the seed which would result in a bit of hell for the boys in the morning when Charles called on them. 

“We’ll see about that in the morning,” Tommy answered. “Let’s get you back off to bed.” 

“Can Aunt Clara come for a story?” Charles asked. 

“One story,” Tommy answered, grateful his sister didn’t fight when Charles tugged on her hand, grateful she left her arguments and defiance on the staircase. 

-----

It had taken two stories to get Charles back to sleep and though Clara wasn’t tired, she hadn’t gone back to her book, instead electing to lie awake in her bed and stare at the small sliver of moonlight passing through her windows while she listened to the boys come down the hall, finally finding their way to their rooms after several moments of hushed chatter.

She was unsurprised when her door was pushed open though it was nearly an hour later. It was why she was so intent on resisting sleep, because she wasn’t just lying there with no purpose. She was waiting. 

“You shouldn’t be in here,” she said as Isiah came through, his eyes immediately finding hers in the dim room.

He didn’t seem so drunk now, the couple of hours and the food he’d probably consumed settling him a bit, the effects showing on his composed features.

“I want to talk.”

Clara snorted. “You came all the way out to Warwickshire for a chat?” she said. “Doesn’t your girl talk to you, Isiah?”

“She’s not my girl,” he answered. 

Oh. The word was only a thought in Clara’s mind but Isiah read the understanding in her face, her lips subconsciously taking the shape needed if she were to voice it, and he twisted the knob before pushing the door closed, nothing more than a soft click sounding off as he did it.

“Well, I’m sorry to hea—”

“You’re not,” he answered. “You never even tried to like this one.” 

Clara shrugged. “Either way, no reason for you and Finn to drive out here drunk. We could’ve waited, chatted about your woes with the girls of Small Heath without endangering your life and risking one of you getting arrested.” 

Isiah sat down on the edge of her bed. “One of the new boys drove us.” 

“Well, good. I’m glad to hear it.” Clara nodded, pulling her robe tighter. “But you really shouldn’t be in here. Tommy’ll kill you.” 

“Will he?” Isiah asked. 

Tommy hadn’t yet, though he hadn’t ever really come across Isiah and his sister together in quite that way either, every instance of them being caught together someplace her family would probably kill any other boy for being had been so innocuous that the Shelbys had nearly come to believe what the pair consistently insisted, that there was little more than a close friendship between them. 

“Why is it whenever you can’t find a girl to bring home from the pub, you come find me?” 

“We needed to talk.” 

Clara met his eye and took a deep breath. It had been a long couple of weeks without talking to Isiah. She slid across the bed, offering him some space by the headboard. Slipping off his boots and dropping them to the floor with a solid thump, he joined her at the head of the bed, picking up the book on her nightstand and glancing at the title in the small bit of light through the window. 

“So this is why you couldn’t come out with us, then?” 

Clara shrugged, focused on the braid over her shoulder as she sat cross legged facing him. “Didn’t think you’d really want me there.” 

Even before they’d rowed, Clara hadn’t wanted to be around the boys so much, not when all they wanted was to go out with the girls from the factory, with Millie and her friends. She’d been avoiding Isiah in general, claiming an extra bit of school work and Tommy’s insistence that she spend more time with Charles was keeping her home at Arrow House when in truth, she just wasn’t feeling up to facing him. 

Clara wasn’t often like that after an argument with him, wasn’t often distant or aloof after the initial flare of emotion subsided, but then again, she was often the one who did the shouting, the one who left the other person a bit peeved or hurt, the one who needed to take the first step and do the apologizing. 

And though she’d done her fair share of shouting the last time they spoke, it was Isiah’s words that stung and it was Isiah’s tone that left Clara’s heart a bit melancholy. 

“You were right.” Isiah glanced at her. “What you said about Millie.” 

The tightness in Clara’s chest released a bit as she took a breath. 

“You won’t believe me but I am sorry, Isiah,” she said. “I know you liked this one.” 

Isiah shrugged.

“Not like it’s your fault,” he said. “You tried to warn me off of her. I should have listened when you told me there was someone else. Would’ve saved myself from this.”

Isiah flexed his hand and Clara caught sight of his knuckles. 

“Christ, Siah.” She leaned over him to switch on the lamp and pulled his hand into hers, looking it over.

“They’re just bruised,” he said, nonchalant, his hand left there, the fingers of his right hand draped over her palms though he flinched when she drew her thumb over the tender skin. “You should see him.” 

Clara glanced up and saw the red mark on his cheek. “I hope he looks worse than you.”

“Of course he looks worse than me.” 

“You shouldn’t go picking figh—”

“I didn’t,” he said. “Not that it wouldn’t have been deserved, but it was actually Millie who brought it all about. I was ready to let it be.” 

“It’s good I didn’t come, then.” 

Isiah raised an eyebrow. 

“We’d both have bruised knuckles,” Clara answered. “I don’t know I’d have been able to stop myself.” 

A light snort escaped before Isiah sucked in his bottom lip, tilting his head a bit as he met Clara’s eye. “You know, I didn’t mean what I said that day, right? I was just mad.” 

“You did mean it,” Clara answered, looking away from his face, down to the hand she was still cradling in her lap. “And you were right, I suppose… Well, half right, at least. I said what I said because it was true and I didn’t want you hurt but...”

Isiah smiled. “Miss Clara Shelby, are you in love with me?”

Clara pushed his hand away and glanced up to him at the end of her eye roll. She’d wanted to say something clever in return but instead found herself just missing the warmth of his hand as she mumbled. “Siah, you’re my…”

They both struggled to find a word to describe what they were to one another, even after all this time, a decade or so of various labels unable to do them any proper justice because nothing seemed to catch all of the different elements, all of the moments, all of the meaning. 

“Person?” Isiah finally said and Clara gave him a small smile. 

“I suppose,” she answered, because she did suppose that was it. Isiah was her person, a little bit of everything to her, as he always had been, a bit beyond her best friend, not quite like a brother though she considered him family in every way that mattered. “Even when you’re so infuriating I’d like to have one of my brothers chuck you in the cut.”

“You’d miss me if you did,” Isiah said. “Just like I miss you when you decide to hole yourself up all the way out here.” 

“You were avoiding me too.” 

Isiah shrugged. “I shouldn’t have said it. Shouldn’t have yelled at you.” 

“I was jealous though,” she answered. “Always am when you find yourself a new girl, a new...” 

Clara focused on picking at the covers of her bed.

“Person?” he said, guessing again. “You really think one of those girls could push you out?” 

Clara shrugged. 

“I imagine someday one of them will,” she said. “I just hope it’ll be the right one when it happens. Someone I can get on with well enough. A nice girl who’ll help keep you in line and let us stay friends.” 

“Christ, Clara,” he answered, grabbing for her hand, squeezing once despite the pain it caused. “Don’t be worried about that.”

He had been annoyed when he called her jealous, put off by her constant derogatory nagging about Millie Clarke, a bit triggered by her telling him she was seeing someone behind his back.

“I never should’ve said it.” Isiah tugged on her hand. “Come here.”

Clara shifted so she was sitting beside Isiah against the pillows, her cheek resting against his chest as his arm fit over her shoulders. 

“It will happen someday, Siah,” Clara said. “And it should. You’ll fall in love and things’ll change.” 

“Yeah, well, whatever happens with that doesn’t change this,” he answered. “It’d be a bit of a waste, yeah? To let some girl push you out after all the nagging and sassing and trouble you’ve put me through?” 

Clara elbowed him. “Don’t be a prat, Siah.” 

“See what I mean?” he continued. “Why would I just toss out ten years of elbows to the stomach for a girl who doesn’t even know how to properly push me about?” 

Clara glared up at him but took thing no further, settling against his chest once again. 

“And I can’t imagine there’s another person on the face of this earth who looks at me like you do.”

“Like you’re an imbecile I can’t believe has made it to the age of nineteen on his own?” she answered, though that wasn’t right, not nearly close to being it, because the way Clara and Isiah looked at each other, whether it was a glare or accompanied by a laugh through crinkled eyes or with a pooling wave of tears, was something different altogether. It communicated something that no one really ever put words to, something neither of them ever really tried to describe. 

“Like you’re my person,” he said. “A right pain in my arse, but my person, nonetheless. and I’m sorry for shouting at you and for not properly hearing what you were trying to tell me.” 

Clara didn’t answer him right away, thinking over his words, contemplating the relief she was feeling for the first time in weeks.

“I think I’m meant to be comforting you,” she finally mumbled, her head still there against his chest. “You’re the one who’s been dumped.” 

Isiah’s body rose and fell beneath her as he took a slow, deep breath and Clara looked up to watch his face though he was deliberately looking to the ceiling. Isiah played at being the cheeky womanizer, played at wanting nothing more than fun and chaos and lust but Clara knew there was a bit more to Isiah than that.

“I’m alright, Clara,” he said.

“You’re not. You’re upset. You want to talk about it?” 

Isiah finally met her eye and shook his head. “Not right now. How about we just read a bit?” He reached for the book on her nightstand, holding it open between the two of them. “You can go first.” 

“I don’t think you’ll like this one,” she offered. “It’s a bit romantic.”

“What’s wrong with a little romance?”

“Nothing. I just thought what with Millie and all, it might not be the best choice of material,” she said. “Seeing as you’re a bit-”

“Enough deduction. Just read to me, eh?” 

“Fine, but you’ll let me know if you want to talk about it?” she asked. 

Isiah nodded, shifting a bit to get more comfortable against the pillows. Isiah closed his eyes as he settled, resting them for a moment, and Clara still studied his face, continuing with her investigation in peace now that he’d closed his eyes.

Isiah squinted an eye open at her. “You gonna read that book or just sit there staring at my beautiful face all night?” 

He coughed as her elbow once again found his side.

“So much for you comforting me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you liked me throwing elbows and pushing you about.” 

“I never said I liked it, just that I’m too invested at this point to go tossing you out.” Isiah sighed, rolling his eyes. “Though maybe I should reconsider, let Mickey and Finn fight it out to be my best mate. Michael’s probably as good of a reader as you, probably got more better taste in books anyway.”

“Give me that.” Clara snatched the book from him and started reading without offering a rebuttal, the two of them falling asleep atop the covers before the chapter came to a close.

-----

Read more Little Lady Blinder here.

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@cecii22me

@lovemissyhoneybee

@midnight-dreams-23

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@unicorndetective22

[path-of-my-childhood]

Taylor Swift: Pop Star of the Year

By: Jonathan Dean for The Sunday Times Date: December 27th 2020

Rather than hunker down, the singer put out two albums in 2020 and won over new audiences. She’s the pop star of the year.

Taylor Swift met Paul McCartney in the autumn for a big interview in Rolling Stone. The two would have headlined Glastonbury this summer. Who knows if they will do that next year. Anyway, both recorded albums in lockdown, working from home like the rest of us. When they spoke, though, Swift had a secret. As well as Folklore, released in July, she had a follow-up record in the pipeline — Evermore, which was released this month.

Swift noted that the former Beatle was still so full of joy. “Well, we’re just so lucky, aren’t we?” he said. “We’re really lucky,” Swift replied. “I can’t believe it’s my job.” And she is right. Being a pop star is an extraordinary way to earn the living she does. But rather than accepting luxury and letting this tough year tumble on, Swift is also keenly aware what music means. Sad songs soothe, happy songs make us dance, but as fans of most artists waited for something — anything — this year, this 31-year-old released two albums that broke chart records, were critically adored and introduced her to people who once thought that she wasn’t for them.

“I’m so exhausted!” she said to the American chat show host Jimmy Kimmel, laughing, a few weeks ago, when asked if she had a third new album planned. “I have nothing left.” In addition to Folklore and Evermore, she filmed a TV special and even started rerecording her back catalogue, after a volatile dispute over who owns her work. By October I’d just about cobbled together my first sourdough loaf.

A decade ago Swift moved firmly into the limelight thanks to a squabble with Kanye West entirely of the rapper’s own making. In 2009, when Swift — then a nascent country music star — won the best female video award at the VMAs, West stormed on stage, grabbed her microphone and said that Beyoncé should have won. Swift was 19 — West was 32 — and she looked scared. This wasn’t just about her biggest moment yet being stolen, but also about her position in the pop hierarchy being questioned, very publicly, from the off. She stood there as that man bullied her. Apparently she left the stage in tears.

Years later West released Famous, with its infamous lyric “I feel like me and Taylor might still have sex/ Why? I made that bitch famous.” The alt-folk singer Father John Misty also wrote about sleeping with her. Every time that sort of thing happened, a powerful man in Swift’s industry was reducing a successful, talented, younger female to the level of a sex object. It was back-in-your-box belittling — as it was when a TV host groped her. (She successfully sued him.) While Swift herself would retort to West, as her music became less country, more slick pop, such retorts felt forced and gave the rapper too much of her oxygen. A nod to him on Folklore comes with the “Clowns to the West” line, but it is a sideshow now, not a headline.

Not that Swift’s life is entirely her own. She’s been one of the world’s bestselling female artists for a decade, coupled with curiosities such as a well-orchestrated relationship with Tom Hiddleston that kept her in the spotlight. Like many twentysomethings, Swift spent her youth apolitically, only to receive flak for staying silent during the 2016 US election. This year she endorsed Joe Biden, but what if she had wanted to stay quiet? Would the media have let her? She is under so much scrutiny that, after she made an innocuous hand gesture in a recent TV interview, similar to one women make to draw attention to domestic abuse, this headline ran: “Some people think Taylor Swift is secretly asking for help in her latest interview.”

Like many at the start of the pandemic she felt listless. The world we were used to was a wasteland, and we could only find the energy to watch Normal People. Swift’s ennui, though, was, well, swift. Stuck in LA, she emailed Aaron Dessner of the beloved beardy indie band the National to see if he fancied writing with her. No fool, Dessner said yes and, mere weeks later, the duo — with help from Swift’s regular collaborator Jack Antonoff as well as Justin Vernon, from the beloved beardy indie band Bon Iver — released Folklore. The gang just carried on working and, five months later, gave us Evermore.

Creativity is not on tap. Indeed, this year is not one for judging what others may or not have achieved. However, the silence of many big pop stars is striking because they know that even a single would make someone’s day; distract for a while.

Everyone needed to adjust to working from home, but Swift was one of the only musicians who did and, by eschewing the arena pop of recent albums for something more subdued, organic and folky, she gave the sense that she was letting fans in more than ever. She was at home, like us. This is who she is, and the first single from these sessions was so cosy, it was even called Cardigan.

“I just thought, ‘There are no rules any more,’” she told McCartney. “Because I used to put all these parameters on myself, like, ‘How will this song sound in a stadium?’ If you take away the parameters, what do you make? I guess Folklore.”

Maybe it is tedious, for a deft writer with a career of varied, brilliant songs — Love Story, I Knew You Were Trouble, Blank Space — to find respect from some people only when artists who appeal to middle-aged men start to work with her. On the other hand, pop has never been particularly welcoming to many until it sounds like something you are used to and, with delicate acoustics and gossamer-like piano, Swift’s two new albums recall, sonically, Nick Drake or Kate Bush. Thematically, lyrics seem to come from anywhere. Daphne du Maurier, for one. Even the Lake District and its poets.

Some songs are personal. She is dating British actor Joe Alwyn, and on one track she sings, “I want to give you a child.” Make of that what you will. But these records’ highlights are not about herself, but others. “There was a point,” she told Zane Lowe on Apple Music, “that I had got to as a writer, [where I was only writing] diaristic songs. That felt unsustainable.” Instead, she does what the best writers do and mixes subjective with objective. The Last American Dynasty is a terrific piece of writing about the socialite Rebekah Harkness, who lived in a Rhode Island house that Swift bought and was, by all accounts, a bit scandalous. Swift tells her story almost with envy. Imagine, she seems to say, that freedom.

“In my anxieties,” she said in Rolling Stone, “I can often control how I am as a person and how normal I act. But I cannot control if there are 20 photographers outside in the bushes and if they follow our car and interrupt our lives.”

Then there is Epiphany. The first verse is about her grandfather, who fought in the Second World War; the second about frontline workers in hospitals now. Sung in a high register, it is suitably choral. Marjorie, on Evermore, is even better. It is about her grandmother, an opera singer who died in 2003. “What died didn’t stay dead” is the repeated line, and it is eerie, gorgeous. Swift sings how she thinks Marjorie is singing to her, at which point some vocals from the latter’s recordings waft in. Touching, but the real power is in Swift writing about vague memories of a relative who died when she was young. “I complained the whole way there,” she sings. “I should’ve asked you questions.”

In person she is warm like this, and funny. When Kimmel told her there were far more swearwords on Folklore and Evermore than previous records, she replied: “It’s just been that kind of year.” She is also odder than people realise. In the way pop stars should be. Obsessed by numerology, she wrote, on the eve of her birthday when announcing Evermore: “Ever since I was 13, I’ve been excited about turning 31 because it’s my lucky number backwards.” When I turned 31 I just wished to be 13 again, with all that youth, but then, maybe, she is just joking. “Yes, so until I turn 113 or 131, this will be the highlight of my life,” she said. “The numerology thing? I sort of force it to happen.”

Swift, of course, is far from the first pop star to become public property, or have a close bond with fans. This year, however, she was one of the few to show that such adoration is not one-way. She is, simply, a fan of her fans — from planting secrets in her artwork and lyrics, to recording two albums of new music as a balm for them when real life became too deafening.

“One good thing about music,” sang Bob Marley. “When it hits you, you feel no pain.” The 80.6 million who streamed Folklore on its first day will attest to that idea. So will the four million who bought it. Swift is pop star of the year, no doubt — leaving her peers in her wake, on their sofas, rewatching The Sopranos.

[shurisneakers]

espresso [13]

Summary: In which your best friend’s brother begins to set you up on dates when you mention that you haven’t been in a relationship in years, but things don’t go as expected.

Warning:  angst, pining 

Word count: 2.1k (???)

A/N: hi !  all my love to @samingtonwilson​ for making me not sound like a 6 year old when i write this never-ending series and for being a true queen ! we stan an icon

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous part- Part 12 || Espresso Masterlist

To Bucky:

Can we talk?

From Bucky:

Coffee shop at 7?

To Bucky:

Okay.

It almost felt like déjà vu. But this time you were nervous, and not nearly as much as you were confused– a stark contrast to the meeting you had at this very location months ago to start this deal.

It was deserted– for now.

You knew the crowd would pick up gradually as students filtered in for their daily dose of caffeine, so you didn’t have much time.

You took a deep breath, pushed open the door, and let the bell above you jingle. A joyous sound for something so… jumbled up.

Bucky perked up at the noise, pausing momentarily from cleaning the counter.

I got this. I got this.

“Hey.” He sent a tiny lopsided smile your way as you took your place at one of the stools before the counter.

I don’t got this.

“Hey.” The confidence you’d felt just outside was beginning to slip away.

Fuck.

“Can I get you something to drink?” he asked politely, gesturing around to the menus in front of you. It was almost eerie how uncharacteristically silent your surroundings were.  

“No, I’m good. Thank you though.”

He nodded as he pulled a stool towards him to sit. The counter separated the two of you. “We have about thirty minutes before the usuals start coming in.”

“Okay.”

Be brave. Be brave. Be brave.

“Did you read it? The letter?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

And it scared the shit out of me.

“Fucking hell,” you cursed, sighing lightly. “I’m so confused, James. It was so fucking confusing.”

“Why?”

“Because of the dates. Every time I thought there may be a hint of something more, you’d set me up on another date with some other guy who I didn’t even like. Did you do it on purpose?”

“No. Not consciously at least. I would never,” his voice slowly trailed off.

“But?” you pressed.

“But I did spend time thinking about it and… reflecting, I guess. And I think my defense mechanism or insecurities or whatever did have a role in it, but I never noticed until you pointed it out.”

“That’s a fucking dick move, you know.”

“I know,” he swallowed, tired eyes on the counter flitting up to meet yours. “I’m sorry. Truly. ”

“And what is it with these?” You pointed to the cups in front of you. “Why is everyone so obsessed with these?”

He leaned forward on his forearms. “I used to write little pieces of poetry whenever you came in. Or messages when you didn’t look like you were having a good day. Just innocuous stuff.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I thought you saw them but didn’t care. A bunch of times you threw them away pretty quickly so I kinda figured you were doing it to save me from humiliation. So I just stopped after a while.”

“I didn’t see them.”

“Yes, I know that now.”

“Do you remember some of the stuff you wrote?” you asked hopefully. “Do I get to read it now?”

“All of it.” He laughed and pulled away from the counter. “But you’re not going to see it again. It’s too embarrassing.”

“Why do you hate everything you write so much?”

He shrugged. “I tend to get dramatic a lot. And emotional.”

“That isn’t a bad thing.”

Wordless, he just picked up a cloth to wipe at some glasses he knew were already clean. Until, “Any more questions?”

“Why didn’t you like Rumlow?”

“Oh, come on.” He looked at you like you were kidding, disbelieving. His expression fell when he realized you weren’t.  “Really?”

“Really. We’re getting all the skeletons out now.”

“Because-” a disgruntled sigh, “because he was absolute garbage! He was a fucking dick and I already hated him, but then he went and did that whole thing with Dot-“ he gestured wildly to make up for unfound words.

“-And after that I literally couldn’t look at his face without wanting to punch the living shit out of him.”

If it wasn’t clear by now, you could tell by the clench of his jaw that talking about Rumlow triggered something in Bucky.

Deciding to spare his anger before it spiraled through less important explanations, you pointed at the bandage wrapped around his knuckles. “What happened here?”

“Punched a wall.” That was a lie, you could tell. But you didn’t push it any further. “Pulled a Kyle.”

You rolled your eyes at his outdated joke, but he didn’t seem to mind, going back to wiping at the mugs in silence.

You just watched him breathe through it, his shoulders dropping tight tension as seconds passed.

“You know, you never actually told me what happened at the bar,” he spoke up, attempting to change the topic smoothly, but it didn’t go unnoticed.

“How much do you know?”

“Only what Dot told me, honestly.”

Fucking Dolores.

You groaned. “Dot? Fucking Dot knows about what happened?”

“She doesn’t know anything,” he interrupted before you had the chance to whine more.

You looked at him quizzically.

“It wasn’t my story to tell. She just said that your reaction made her realize there was some kind of history between you and Rumlow because no one leaves so suddenly in the middle of a conversation.”

You were gonna regret this but-

“Why was she in your room that day?”

He titled his head in confusion. “Which day?”

“Your birthday. I came to give you your present and she was wearing your shirt.”

It was like you couldn’t help yourself.

You cleared your throat after a beat, straightening your posture. “Actually, I’m sorry it’s none of my business. I didn’t-“

“Becca spilled her drink on her,” he explained coolly. Not defensive in the least. “I just gave her a shirt so that she didn’t have to stay in that for the rest of the night. Nothing happened between us.”

Oh. Becca had mentioned that she’d spilt her drink on fucking Dolores. Okay, maybe you didn’t connect the story. In anger. Maybe a little jealousy.

“I’m sorry, it wasn’t my place to ask.”

“It’s alright. I was going to clear it up that day but you left so suddenly.” You almost snorted as he continued, “She asked about you after the bar. She was a little worried.”

Slowly, the guilt of disliking her so badly was starting to creep into your mind. You’d always known there was no real reason to.

You owed her an apology basket.

Maybe two.

“What’s going on in your head? I can feel you thinking too much all the way here.”

“Who the hell writes people rejection letters, Bucky?” The thought was absurd enough to warrant a smile from you and a small laugh from him.

“Told you it was dorky.”

“Didn’t realize it was to this degree.”

“Yeah, well.” He shrugged, not saying anything to defend himself.

You glanced at the clock above the register. You had only ten minutes to go, and almost all the questions you had thought of had been answered.

Almost.

The one thing you wanted to know itched at you, aching to get out but you weren’t sure you had the confidence to just fucking ask-

“You good? Sure I can’t get you a-“

“Do you have feelings for me?” you asked directly. A straight shot.

His eyes widened slightly in surprise. To be honest, you were almost shocked yourself at how blunt you’d just been, but you were so tired. So tired. You wanted it done, out in the open. Clear air for once.

“Like, right now. This instant.”

“Y/N, I-” A sigh. A slow comb of his hands through his hair. A glance to the side.

“The letter, James.” You didn’t break your stare. Didn’t dare. Your heart felt two seconds from bursting through your chest. “You wrote it in the letter that you used to.”

No movement aside from a shift of his gaze downward, focusing on restless fingers. He pursed his lips, another sigh. But he said nothing.

Seconds of silence passed.

It almost felt suffocating.

Your eyebrows were knit together. “Bucky-”

“Yes.” You fell silent as his eyes met yours with little hesitation. “Yes. I do.”

You didn’t know what you were expecting him to say, but you froze. You opened your mouth but shut it again, unable to form any words. Well fuck.

His shrug was nonchalant, but the fall of his shoulders to a defeated slump was anything but. “Y/N, you have to know that our friendship means the world to me, and if this is going to change everything, then please, please stop me right now.” “I-”

“You’re my Mario,” his voice cracked but the corner of his lips tugged upwards. “I can’t afford to lose that.”

You didn’t know what to say. Of course everything it would change things between you. How could it not?

It’s not like you wanted to give up what you had with him. You didn’t know if you were being selfish, but the intensity of whatever it is that you were feeling was there and it hurt.

“Don’t-” he interrupted your train of thought with a restrained, almost forced smile. An attempt at confidence, perhaps. “Don’t overthink this. You really don’t have to say anything.”

“I just-” Bucky continued, another dramatic gesturing of his hands when words fell short. “Figured it was ‘bout time you knew. Properly.”

“Since when?” you sounded unsure.  

“How long? Oh, man.” He laughed softly and shook his head. “Shits, I think it’s been a good couple of years now.”

Silently, you mulled it all over. Sat with it all for a minute.

He smiled, genuine now. No longer forced and tight, but relieved at the loss of the weight on his chest.

He set down the glass he was holding and swung the rag over his shoulder.

“I’m… fuckin’ shit at communication, Y/N,” he admitted as your lips pursed. “You know that. I couldn’t tell you, I couldn’t tell Dot. I couldn’t talk to Becca, forget anyone else. It’s so fucking hard for me to talk about-”

“Feelings?”

“Feelings,” he confirmed, nodding. “Emotions. It’s almost like I can’t. It’s easier just shut up and listen to others talk all the time.”

It made sense.

Even though he asked you not to overthink, everything he did was thought over, and then thought over again, and again and million more times just out of selfless concern.

“It feels selfish. And I hate feeling that way.”

You knew he wasn’t very open but this-

This was new to you. It didn’t shock you like you’d thought it would, but it was still… a little difficult to hear.

“What you feel is important too, you know. Not that you should feel that way, but it’s okay to be a little selfish,” you replied, voice soft.

“Yeah well-“ He paused before shaking his head. “Communicating is just something I have to work on, I guess.”

“Me too, apparently,” was your mumbled response.

All of this could have been avoided if you’d just had this conversation months ago. Like proper adults. Mature adults.

“We both have some serious issues,” he said lightly, cracking a smile at you.

You didn’t respond. You just played with the hem of your scarf, unraveling a piece of thread from the rest of it.

You could hear the sound of cars pulling up to the shop. A glance at the clock confirmed an incoming crowd.

But something felt incomplete.

You felt uneasy.

“Ah fuck, here they come,” he cursed, a quick smoothening his hair before pulling on his barista cap.

You took it as your sign to leave, gathering your few belongings that sat scattered before you.

“I’ll see you around Buck-”

“Y/N.”

You lifted your head to meet his stare.

“I know I shouldn’t really be asking this, but are we- We’re good, right?”

You stopped your own restless fidgeting.

You couldn’t tell him you weren’t sure, could you? Could you tell him that and that you were relieved?

Relieved that it hadn’t been in your head, that there were feelings on his end. Angry, though, that even if his intentions with the dates had been pure, what he did kinda sucked. That misunderstandings which could’ve been solved with a little maturity and a little communication lingered for so long, caused so many sleepless nights.

Could you tell him all of that and how it all hurt?

You knew he wasn’t looking for reciprocation. You knew he didn’t deem himself worthy of it. Even though he was good. Through it all, he was still good. Probably always would be. Too scared to hurt others, too scared to put the weight of his feelings on anyone else.

Maybe that’s why it was so confusing.

It was so fucking confusing.

His stare didn’t waver even as the bell above the door rang, signaling a new customer. Never a lapse in intensity.

“Yeah. I think we’re good.”

[elsanna-shenanigans]

August Contest Submission #17: A Perfectly Normal Prom Night

Words: ca. 2,500 Setting: mAU Lemon: No CW: None

The whole thing started rather innocuously. It was the middle of summer when Elsa and Anna’s parents had dragged them to an outdoor concert for one of those old timer bands. The girls, having just finished eleventh and tenth grade respectively, were not exactly thrilled about their parents’ choice of music, and so pretty soon they wandered off together, eventually finding some relative peace and quiet in a patch of grass and flowers off at the opposite edge of the wide field from where the concert was taking place, where they talked for a while about the things teenage girls typically talk about.

Anna, who was prone to being consumed by nervous energy, busied her hands by picking the nearby flowers and weaving the stems together. When she’d woven enough of them to form a small flower crown, she interrupted whatever Elsa was saying at that particular moment then leaned forward and placed the crown on Elsa’s head.

“Um, thanks?” Elsa said, with a light blush on her cheeks. She was, as ever, rather self-conscious. “It looks silly doesn’t it?”

But Anna shook her head. “No, actually, it looks really pretty.”

The blush on Elsa’s face only deepened.

Elsa wore the flower crown on the car ride home. She wore it around the house for the rest of the weekend. Come Monday morning, by which time some of the stems had started to wither and unravel, she presented the remains to Anna, who salvaged what she could and wove the remaining bits into Elsa’s braid, her facing beaming with pride.

And so it became a ritual for the sisters: Anna gathering flowers and braiding them into various formations, and then placing them in Elsa’s hair until she blushed. Elsa, presenting herself each day for her floral adornment. It was a curious sort of reversal of their usual big sister/little sister roles, and Anna found she rather enjoyed it. In fact, she enjoyed it rather a lot.

The school year started up with no interruption to their ritual. If anything, it brought them closer. It was not uncommon to find Anna fussing with the placement of the flowers in Elsa’s hair during their shared lunch break. Or on their walk home from school. Or while watching TV together on the couch after dinner. And maybe they started inviting each other to hangouts with their respective friend groups more than they had before. All in all, it was a pretty good year.

They were eating two dollar burgers on a picnic bench at the local park when Elsa casually asked Anna to go to prom with her.

“You don’t have someone you’d prefer to go with?” Anna asked, trying to play it cool but feeling a little bewildered.

“I do, silly. I just asked you,” Elsa said before taking a large bite of her hamburger.

“Okay. Sure.” A casual answer for a casual question.

In truth, the prom talk reminded Anna of a fact that she’d done a rather good job not thinking about for the past year, which was that Elsa was going to be going off to college in the fall. Like the flowers in Elsa’s hair, their lives had become woven closer together in the past nine months, and Anna wasn’t looking forward to Elsa being gone.

And so, rather than wallowing in self-pity, Anna resolved to go all out for this prom thing.

The first item was the dress. Some quick internet searching turned up several options online; she went with a long green dress with floral embellishments on the bodice. It wasn’t egregiously expensive, but it would be shipped from overseas and so she had to cross her fingers that it wouldn’t look horribly cheap in person. Luckily it was long enough that she didn’t really have to splurge on shoes, as they would go mostly unseen.

Second was the ride. It took some horse trading with her father, but she managed to get him to shell out for a limo—don’t you want Elsa’s night to be special, Dad?—even if it meant she’d be the one mowing the lawn all summer.

The third, which came together in the last few days before the dance, was the corsage. She’d had to scour every flower shop across town before she found one that would make a corsage of Elsa’s favorite flower, the crocus.

And then there was the last thing, which was stupid and foolish, and conveniently fully refundable if she chickened out at the last minute. Anna wasn’t fully sure which of the two outcomes she would prefer.

When the day came, Anna even did the little ritual of going around to the front door once she was all dressed up and ringing the doorbell. Her father answered the door and gave her a little wink, then turned to call for Elsa to come downstairs, thankfully before he could spot the light blush rising on her face. When Elsa came around the upstairs hallway and descended the stairs, there was no more hope of Anna hiding the bright crimson blush on her face from anyone.

Elsa’s dress was a gorgeous lavender color and surprisingly a bit short, for a prom dress. The bodice was all floral lace, and below that were several tiers of tulle skirts which came down to just below her knees. Her hair was done up in a fancy braid, and woven into it Anna spotted a few of the flowers she’d left on Elsa’s dresser that morning.

Anna thought she had never seen someone so pretty in her life.

If time had seemed to slow for that first glance of Elsa on the stairs, it definitely sped up after that. Anna presented the corsage and pinned it to Elsa’s dress, earning her a dazzled look when Elsa recognized her favorite flowers. Her father took the requisite ‘prom couple’ photos before the limo showed up to take them to their destination. Anna had to repeat several yes really’s to Elsa’s did you really?’s as their parents ushered them into the waiting vehicle.

At the venue they met up with their friends and generally just had a blast. When the slow songs came on they would find each other and catch up on whatever hijinks the other had missed, or poke fun at their coupled friends being sappy with each other. Anna didn’t even mind when they spent the last ‘dance’ snacking on chocolates at the refreshments table instead of on the dance floor.

After the dance came the after parties. Neither of the girls was much of a wild partier, but it seemed apropos to at least see what all the fuss was about. All in all, they had a good time. At one point Anna actually did sneak a shot of tequila when she was offered, for courage. Or tried to sneak; Elsa had somehow noticed and gave her a very judgy older-sister look which Anna only managed to disarm by fussing somewhat dramatically over the state of the flowers in Elsa’s braid.

The night dragged on. At about one in the morning the two sisters found themselves at an all-night diner with Rapunzel and Eugene, sharing a basket of french fries. They’d lost Kristoff when the group had briefly stopped in front of the local gay bar. When the fries ran out, Eugene and Rapunzel excused themselves; Eugene mentioned that it was time to take his girlfriend home, with a very big wink when he said the word home. Anna just rolled her eyes at him. But hey, that was part of the whole prom night thing too, right?

Anna couldn’t help but notice that Elsa looked a bit down when they left the diner. The limo was long gone at that point, so Anna hailed a cab with the app on her phone. Once they were underway, she broached the topic of what was making Elsa glum in that moment.

“We had an amazing night, right Elsa? I didn’t screw anything up?”

Elsa, who had been gazing out the car window, turned to face Anna, eyes wet around the edges but not crying exactly. “Oh, Anna, of course not. You were perfect, everything was perfect. It’s just that—well, I told myself I didn’t want any… entanglements before going off to college, but seeing Eugene and Punz going off to have some, um, special time together—” Elsa stopped abruptly and composed herself a little. “I just kinda don’t want the night to be over yet.”

“So um, about that,” Anna started to say, just as the driver pulled up to their destination.

Anna got out of the car as Elsa scooched across the back seats and then joined her on the sidewalk, just as the taxi pulled away. The sidewalk which was definitely not the driveway of their house.

“I got us a hotel!” Anna announced excitedly, before she could choke on the words. They were in fact, standing in front of a fairly nice hotel near the edge of downtown.

“You didn’t,” Elsa replied, deadpan, though her eyes were wandering up the side of the glass building to the bright blue sign near the roof many stories up.

“We can still go home if you want, I haven’t actually paid anything yet,” Anna offered, but Elsa’s answer was to head towards the front door and into the lobby.

Anna trailed after her, managed to wrangle Elsa along with her to the check-in desk in order to procure the room key. The process of which was somewhat elaborated by the fact that Anna could barely get her words out, suffering a bit of shock at the part where Elsa hadn’t just called up another taxi to take them home. It was definitely the tequila talking when, in the elevator, she grabbed hold of Elsa’s hand. Elsa shot her an indecipherable look, but didn’t let go.

They were still holding hands when Anna keyed the door lock with her free hand, opened the door slightly, popped her foot in the gap to hold it open, and then promptly spun around to face Elsa.

“Turn around,” Anna ordered, and was surprised when her sister complied.

“Anna,” Elsa whined, and the tone in her voice gave Anna a curious boost in confidence.

“Close your eyes,” Anna half-whispered, as she pulled her hand loose from Elsa’s and then raised both hands up to cover Elsa’s eyes. With a bit of an awkward shuffle, Anna managed to guide them both backwards through the doorway, before turning them both in place so that she could guide Elsa forward into the center of the room. And then, with a deep breath, she dropped her hands and let Elsa see.

It wasn’t just that Anna had gotten them a hotel room. That could have been excused as just a fun place to hang out to cap the night off. Anna, god help her, wanted her message to be clear. Which was why the hotel room had only the one king-size bed, completely covered in white rose petals.

Elsa stepped forward tentatively, ran a hand along the edge of the bed, disturbing some of the flower petals. She glanced at Anna briefly, and then back at the bed and around the room. After a long moment that felt like an eternity to Anna, Elsa turned around, kicked off her heels, and sat on the edge of bed with a look on her face that heavily implied that Anna should start talking.

Here, at the crux of all the plans she had orchestrated for this night, Anna found that she didn’t need really need that tequila courage to say what she needed to say.

“I think I’m in love with you,” she confessed. It was a lot easier to breathe like a normal person now that she’d said the hardest part. “I know it sounds absurd, but that’s the only way I can make sense of the way you make me feel. It was just little things at first, and then I started having thoughts and I wasn’t sure—I’m still not sure sure to be honest. When you asked me to go to prom with you, I thought that maybe, maybe you felt something like I do?” Anna paused, hoping the Elsa might respond, but the expression on the blonde girl’s face remained enigmatic. With a bit of resignation, Anna sat down on the bed next to Elsa. “I got this hotel room so that we could—so that I could tell you how I felt. In private.”

Elsa just looked at her for rather a long time, and Anna felt like she could see the various thoughts she must be having go to and fro in her sister’s head.

“And what did you think we would do in this hotel room,” Elsa inquired eventually, with a curious tone in her voice, “now that you’ve told me, if I felt the same way?”

“W-whatever we’re both, um, comfortable with?” Anna responded hesitantly, taking Elsa’s hand in hers once again. “Which could totally be nothing at all, I mean, if you don’t feel that—”

“Can I kiss you?” Elsa asked immediately, before Anna had finished speaking.

Whoa what?

“Uh, yes?”

How was she so unprepared for the very thing she had been hoping would happen?

She felt a little bit like her spirit had left her body when Elsa quickly lifted her free hand to caress Anna’s cheek, and then leaned in until their lips pressed together. Anna wasn’t exactly an experienced kisser; she’d kissed a few girls (and yes, boys), but mostly in the hesitant, high-school way where neither person knows what they’re doing. And still, this kiss with Elsa felt a little odd. It felt, somehow, like Elsa was asking a question, only… Anna didn’t think she was the one who was supposed to answer it. And just like that, the sense of elation from just moments before dropped out of her chest and curdled in her stomach.

Elsa, perhaps sensing the shift, pulled away. Looked away. But their hands were still clasped, and Anna took that as a sign of something. After a moment, she gave Elsa’s hand a brief squeeze of reassurance. I’m still here, she endeavored to say without saying.

“I don’t think I’m in love with you,” Elsa said, and before Anna could fall to pieces, Elsa finally looked back at her and there was something bright in her blue eyes. “But. Maybe you’ve just figured it out sooner than me? Because I do want to kiss you some more. I wanted to kiss you so bad when you gave me the corsage earlier tonight. Wouldn’t that have caused a scene!”

Elsa laughed then, and the sight of it transmuted all of Anna’s mixed up emotions into her own burst of laughter because yeah, Elsa surprise kissing her in front of their parents would have been a whole damn fiasco and who knows if they would have even been allowed to leave the house in that case? And Anna was really glad they had gotten to spend this time together.

“Is that okay? That I don’t feel, um, quite the same thing as you?” Elsa asked, when Anna had mostly collected herself.

“I think so?” Anna replied, rubbing away the streaks from tears that had escaped during her fit of laughter. “We just have to communicate, right? If something changes, it has to be okay for either of us to say something.”

“Of course,” Elsa confirmed. And then she got a particularly mischievous smile on her pretty face.

“What? Elsa, what!” Anna pressed, when her sister still didn’t say anything.

“Well, I did say I want to kiss you some more, didn’t I?” Elsa scooted back on the bed until she was sitting in the center of it, then trailed her hands through the rose petals that still blanketed the sheets. “Your plan worked. You’ve got me all alone in this romantic hotel room with you. What are you going to do with me?”

Anna never once complained about mowing the lawn that summer.

[ducktracy]

182. little red walking hood (1937)

release date: november 6th, 1937

series: merrie melodies

director: tex avery

starring: elvia allman (little red walking hood, granny), tedd pierce (wolf), mel blanc (elmer)

buckle up! this is a “lengthy prologue” piece!

perhaps one of tex avery’s most formative cartoons in his career. little red walking hood serves as the first fairy tale spoof of his, a genre that would pop up time and time again in his warner bros. cartoons and even over at MGM (perhaps most famously the red hot riding hood series). not only that, but it’s the first cartoon to debut a purely comic villain—villains in previous pictures had comedic touches, of course, but the wolf (voiced by story man tedd pierce, whose vocals are quite underrated—you may recognize him as tom dover from the dover boys at pimento university) is purely made out to be a rather pathetic, unscrupulous adversary from the very beginning.

even more interesting is that the bulk of the cartoon’s backgrounds are done entirely in colored pencils, by avery background artist johnny johnson, who moved with him to MGM when tex left WB in 1941. the handling on the backgrounds are nothing short of stellar! they truly accentuate the “fairy tale” look and feel of the piece.

maybe the most notable, however, is the debut of tex’s third character of 1937: elmer fudd. i covered this in my review of egghead rides again, and you can read more into the differences between egghead (another 1937 avery character) and elmer here, but the bulbous nosed, derby hat donning little man traipsing around with his guitar case is our favorite befuddled hunter. many have labeled this guy as egghead, and understandably so—they’re eerily similar in more ways than one, and “prototype elmer fudd” is much more monotonous than “egghead”, but this is indeed our favorite little hunter! humble beginnings for sure.

the film burlesques the age-old story of little red riding hood, complete with katherine hepburn little red riding hoods, gin guzzling grannies, nonthreatening wolves, fourth wall breaks, and mysterious whistling men.

already, the cartoon marks an intriguing open, with the title card playing into the action itself: the title card serves as the title of a book, opening to divulge the fractured fairy-tale before us. a cliche, sure, and it was one even by 1937, but with tex avery at the helm, audiences can be reassured that it’s all tongue in cheek. “the mean old wolf was lurking in a nearby pool hall” asserts as such.

indeed, the mean old wolf was lurking in a nearby pool hall--or, rather, cheating. he pulls the lever of a pinball machine, lifting up the machine and tilting it so as to guide the ball in the right hole. the animation of the wolf is spaced and timed nicely, with just enough urgency to convey his commitment to cheating. sticking his tongue out in concentration is a nice plus as well. the drawings themselves aren’t the most pleasing, consisting primarily of mathematically proportioned circles and spheres, but such is life. 

close up on the pinball itself circling around the jackpot hole, teetering away to the “OUT” hole at the last second. a minute in, and we already see that this villain is far removed from the mustache twirling, cape-hugging villains that dominated earlier cartoons. instead, we know that this wolf is a loser. carl stalling’s constipated rendition of “old king cole” adds a nice level of sardonic commentary to the wolf’s authority (or lack thereof).

little red riding hood strolling outside the pool hall easily distracts the wolf from his oncoming tantrum. like red hot riding hood 6 years later, the wolf here is instantly charmed, catcalling and preparing to pounce. off-putting as this may seem at first glance, considering little red riding hood is, well, a child, the kicker is that here, she serves as an imitation of katherine hepburn, in both mannerisms and dialect. so, rather than dealing with a naive, innocent girl on her way to grandma’s house, we’ve instead got a hollywood star with her nose in the air, haughtily avoiding the wolf’s advances. (of course, catcalling grown women isn’t any better, but just as a note to dispel any confusion.)

the wolf drives alongside snooty little red in his pompous jaundice-stricken limo, his advances getting nowhere. time to pull out the big guns:

his license plate, reading 0-7734, flips upside down to spell “hello”, with the taillight opening and closing to simulate a wink. clever indeed! it’s some interesting food for thought to imagine how much more exaggerated in speed and tone this gag would have been had this cartoon been made at mgm, though  i suppose red hot riding hood answers that question.

ignored once more, the wolf opts to halt the car and hassle red himself. “hello, pretty girl! going my way, babe?”

irv spence’s animation is the most appealing all throughout the picture, and his scenes of red here are no exception. the underrated elvia allman provides red’s katherine hepburn impression--tex LOVED his hepburn impressions, and they would bubble up in his cartoons time and time again. the gag itself would have been much more riotous 83 years ago than it is now, but even then, the idea of little red riding hood speaking with such a sophisticated and haughty tone is enough to be funny. 

the contrast between the wolf’s sneering vocals and red’s lengthy speech couldn’t be better. red instantly puts the wolf in his place: “rea-lly, in this modern age of flaming youth, the girl has to put up with such embarrassing situations. rea-lly, we do, don’t we, girls? two thirds of you girls out there have gone through just what i’m going through now. you know how it is, don’t you, girls?” amen to that, sister! (bob clampett would play off of this in his swan song, the big snooze, as an elmer fudd in drag asks the girls in the audience how they deal with such harassment.) spence’s animation is visually appealing in design and also just plain funny.

despite red’s blatant dismissal of his advances, the wolf continues to persue her, tipping his hat as he approaches a stoplight. the stoplight opts to give him a good dose of karma as the light turns from green to red, the “STOP” flag popping out and giving the wolf a nice whack in the face.

however, the wolf has more important matters than glaring at a pesky stoplight—offscreen whistling catches his ears.

irv spence animates the stupendous, colossal, magnificent debut of elmer fudd as he struts across the street, blatantly interrupting the flow of the picture. his slow, carefree movements, the wolf’s visual contempt, and the exclusion of background music altogether accentuate elmer’s interruption. purposeful innocuousness and tastefully so!

back to the wolf at the stoplight, the “GO” sign providing one more whack in the face for good measure. wolf speeds off to hassle his victim even more.

as we’ve seen before, the song portion of merrie melodies has largely been dropped around this time, with little blurbs of songs serving as loose substitutes. here, said substitute is “gee, but you’re swell,” sung in a talk-songy drawl by tedd pierce as he relentlessly struggles to charm red. pierce’s vocals are hilarious, especially contrasted with the closeup of red blatantly ignoring his egotistical remarks. she gives him the cold shoulder, icicles logically forming to accentuate the metaphor. a standard gag, but it juxtaposes so well against the wolf’s inane dribble in the background that it’s hard to roll your eyes too strongly at it.

so caught up in inflating his own ego, the wolf fails to notice the approaching mailbox on the sidewalk, which delivers a hearty reality check as he konks his head against it. red urges him to leave her alone, bidding him goodbye with a haughty “scram, romeo, scram!”

our beloved hero, the whistling, intrusive elmer fudd conveniently pops out of the mailbox, toting a sign pointing directly to grandma’s house. the malice from before at fudd’s presence is gone, replaced by gratitude from the wolf. he peels off down the alley, his limo snaking around every curve. both this and the random appearance of elmer are precursors to tex avery staple gags, especially his time at MGM. amazing how formative a single cartoon can be!

at the beginning, i said that “the bulk of” the cartoon’s backgrounds are done in colored pencil. the pan of backgrounds while the wolf is driving to grandma’s house, whizzing past a hitchhiker elmer in the process, are done in paint. the backgrounds are still just as gorgeous! yet the change does serve as a little food for thought.

like always in a tex avery cartoon, his comedic timing is succint: wolf finally pulls up to grandma’s house, elmer nonchalantly chilling on the back tire--despite the wolf’s purposeful disregard for him on the street, making a point to gun the car past him. the matter of factness of the gag is solid. the cartoon’s main priority is breaking the fourth wall rather than telling a story, yet in this case, that’s a good thing. it’s done well and with awareness.

mr. wolf approaches the doorstep of grandma’s abode, knocking on the door many more times than necessary with a hilariously inflated level of sophistication. he breaks his smooth, cool façade to guffaw a radio catchphrase (this time from the al pearce show): “i hope ol’ grandma’s home, i hope, i hope, i hope, i hope, i hope...” this catchphrase would be found in more short than one, bubbling up in a number of bob clampett porky cartoons as well.

an elderly “who’s there?” answers the wolf’s knocks from behind the door. the wolf puts on his best falsetto, cooing “it’s me! little red riding habit!”

we get a glimpse of granny from behind the door, who opens the little door window to see her guest. realizing that she’s met face to face with the wolf, who jabs his mug through the window, granny is quick to slam the door shut, bursting out into an impromptu rendition of “river, stay ‘way from the door” (sung as “wolf, stay ‘way from my door”.) the random song intervention clues us in that granny is in on the fourth wall-breaking as well--the delivery of the gag is quite similar to the mama parrot from i wanna be a sailor bursting into a rendition of “old black joe”.

irv spence takes over as the wolf struggles to pry the door open. suddenly, he freezes in his tracks at the sound of the telltale, offscreen whistling--elmer has arrived. the befuddled stare from the wolf as he watches elmer nonchalantly strut into granny’s house, opening the door without any hint of struggle, is priceless, as is his face-gripping agony. irv spence is tex’s best animator for a reason!

as a last resort, the wolf body slams himself into the door. little red riding hood has now turned into a tale of the three little pigs. he overestimates his own strength, and ends up darting inside, yet he stumbles backwards from the impact and trips backwards throughout the entire layout of the house. the gag is reminiscent of a similar gag from i only have eyes for you, an early 1937 avery entry--another elvia allman voiced elderly woman chases a hapless victim through the house, both of them gliding along a vertical pan set up exactly like this one. this is funny already here, but imagine the speed and lengths this gag would have been inflated to had tex completed this cartoon at MGM! 

granny is on the offense. the wolf barrels through the kitchen, where she’s standing on guard with the kitchen door. she opens the door, allows the wolf to barrel on out, and locks it shut. granny: 1, wolf: 0. 

cue a tired gag that’s been around since the bosko days (and beyond): wolf rams into a tree, shrinking up into his bowler hat. bowler hat runs around aimlessly with big ol’ shoes sticking out until he finally manages to free himself. the animation of the wolf being freed from the bowler hat IS rather nice--the accordion style wrinkles and folds serve as a precursor to some wild animation later on. it reminds me particularly of rod scribner’s animation in bob clampett’s cartoons.  

on the topic of gags old and new, the wolf engages in a gag that would be reused in a number of cartoons, including avery’s thugs with dirty mugs just two years later. the wolf grabs the doorknob, physically pulling it back and letting it shoot up against the door. the window panes thusly light up in a flurry of changing, rapid light squares: four yellow diagonal squares align, and the wolf is granted entrance into the house, triumphant fanfare and all. seems the wolf doesn’t need to cheat to win at pinball (doorknob-ball?) after all! if you look closely, you’ll see that the double exposures still linger as the wolf darts past the door and into the house.

cue the great fight: wolf v. granny. wolf aimlessly chases granny through the kitchen, both of them climbing on the furniture, granny whooping and hollering all the way. the phone rings, delaying their chase--granny hops on the chair to answer the phone, taunting the wolf: “ah-ah,” she chides, displaying her crossed fingers of immunity, “king’s x!” the deliberate time-out and show-stopping is great. this cartoon is filled to the brim with interruptions and halts, yet they don’t at all feel overused or banal. tex was a master of his craft.

granny takes the call while the wolf glowers on impatiently. more fourth-wall breaking as granny begs the audience for forgiveness: “will you people pardon me just a minute? let me see now, one dozen eggs... it’s the grocer, folks...” elvia allman’s vocals are excellent, conveying that comedic awkwardness with a great balance of authenticity and cheekiness. the head tilt indicating the phone as she talks to the audience is another plus.

tedd pierce’s vocals aren’t to be overlooked, either. his “AW, C’MON, GRANDMA!!!” is the perfect topper as granny rambles on the phone. she ends her call by sneering “and a case of gin!” to the grocer before hanging up and telling the audience the chase is back on (”heeeere we go again!”)

granny seeks refuge in the closet, the wolf greeted by elmer again as he opens the door. instead of fighting it, the wolf just heaves a dubious shrug towards the audience. irv spence animation once again--he draws the wolf’s eyes in a comparatively distinct manner. the irises are much smaller than the work of the other animators.

the wolf darts inside the closet, where he finds a conveniently placed nightgown hanging near the door. he looks under the skirt, prompting a disembodied hand to smack him in the face for such uncouth behavior. now confused, the wolf opts to peer into one of the sleeves, where granny’s hand pops out to squeeze and honk his nose daffy duck style.

their game of cat and mouse (or is it wolf and granny?) is interrupted by knocking on the front door, and the telltale, floaty voice of “it is i, red riding hood, grandmother!”

cue panic mode. the wolf hurriedly asks granny to give him “the stuff”, and she offers her bonnet, glasses, and shawl with a sense of camaraderie. this is entirely a performance, not a retelling of a story. these characters are hyper-aware actors who are not what they portray. 

tex’s speed, from the wolf finding granny to her offering her clothes to him diving in granny’s bed, flows incredibly well. everything happens all at once! there’s hardly any time to breathe. the urgency of the situation is very much alive and real, but also playfully so. the whole cartoon feels like a game of hide and seek in a way.

thus, we’re treated to the old routine that everyone knows, with red inquiring about the wolf’s “large optics” and “large schnozzola”. even she understands the overplayed nature of her performance, halting midsentence to quip at the audience “rather childish and a bit silly, don’t you think?” while the scene does drag, it’s purposeful and successful at doing so. there’s a noticeable contrast between the pacing of this scene and the scenes prior.

yet, in no-time, we’re back to the adrenaline rush, with the wolf lunging out of the bed and chasing a shrieking red. tedd pierce’s vocal talents are not to go undermined--he’s genuinely fun to listen to. interestingly, he didn’t write this cartoon--cal howard did. who, i may add, dabbled in a little bit of voice acting himself, voicing gabby goat in get rich quick porky!

irv spence takes over for the remainder of the cartoon, and his animation is gorgeous all the way. the wolf corners red, who swings haymakers at him, stopping only to gloat towards the audience “silly way to make a living, don’t you think?” such a stark contrast at the drop of a hat! predictable, perhaps, but who can be mad at it? this is a very likable cartoon. while all of the warner bros. directors of this period are quite talented, it most certainly belongs under tex avery’s name--think of how different in demeanor and timing this would be as a frank tashlin cartoon (who DID rival tex in terms of speed), a friz freleng cartoon, and a bob clampett cartoon. with tex, it’s in good hands.

the brawl continues, only to be halted by another interruption. no, it’s not because of offscreen whistling! signaling for red to stop, the wolf casts a steely glower at the figure of two silhouettes moving across the screen, sneering snide remarks--late moviegoers who interrupt the flow of the cartoon. provided my memory serves me correctly, this is the first WB cartoon to integrate rotoscoping. it was a technique invented by max flesicher in 1915, where animators would trace over live action footage, frame by frame.

tex would use this countless times, both at WB and MGM. his efforts pay off even now, watching this on a laptop screen, but just IMAGINE the impact this would have in a packed, dark theater, where even the CARTOON CHARACTERS stop to ridicule the audience! imagine just how revolutionary that was the first time this was showed! what an absolute riot! tex was a genius. the characters truly feel alive and with us. this was a very real problem, too, and a timeless one--someone scooching past you in the all too narrow row, bumping your knees, spilling their popcorn on you in the process... the characters on screen connect with the audience, bonding over a universal occurrence. imagine just how much of an uproar this would cause back then in theaters. genius!

after the wolf is done guilt-tripping his latecomers, the fight continues for a few seconds more, halted once again by the fudd himself, strolling across the screen. finally, the wolf reaches his breaking point: “hey BUD! hey, just a minute, bud! now, who the HECK are you, anyway?”

mr. fudd guffaws his first words in a stereotypical dopey drawl: “who, me?” note how his eyes open for a change! he opens his guitar case, where a mallet is carefully stored inside. not a beat is wasted as he knocks the wolf over the head with the mallet, elmer remarking in his hayseed voice “huh huh huh huh, i’m the HERO in this picture!”

iris out...

or so we think.

what a game changing piece of animation. this isn’t the tex avery cartoon to beat all cartoons by any means, but it packs a lot of weight. it’s extremely formative in tex’s career. numerous gags--such as the rotoscoped silhouettes, the stretching limo hugging the curves on the street, the constant wall-breaking and interruptions--and even story structures (think of all of the countless fairy tale parodies that came after this!) would be used not just by tex, but by his friends and colleagues, whether at WB or elsewhere. 

in the grand scheme of things, the plot is barebones. the wolf goes to grandma’s house. the wolf chases little red riding hood. that’s really all it is. yet it’s the details what give it substance, and the purposeful delivery of such. this isn’t a faithful retelling of a beloved story, that’s out the window. these characters are hyper-aware characters essentially massacring an old fairy tale. yet its the conviction of such that makes it so strong. it’s not really a “haha, look, i broke the fourth wall, i’m instantly funny! show’s over” deal--it’s just riding that momentum and expanding the picture on it. “oh, the story keeps getting interrupted. okay. let’s continue to interrupt it and make the characters increasingly aware of such, with the reasons for interruption growing more and more bizarre.”

while this isn’t nearly as bizarre as tex’s later pieces at MGM, it’s a great start. WB wasn’t completely free of its disney influence. pieces like these further remove the disney influence for sure, but 1937 is still very early on. this is such a game-changer in comparison to previous cartoons. 

tex’s dry-spell is over, and cartoons are on the upswing from here. things are going to get real funny and real loony. i definitely urge you to go watch this cartoon--it’s not the most revolutionary piece of animation on the planet, but it’s a wonderfully funny cartoon that still holds up today, and it serves as an interesting comparison point for future cartoons.

you can go watch it on HBO max, or you can check it out right here! enjoy!

[andrewmoocow]

Steven Universe Alternate Future chapter 8: Black and White (originally published on January 25, 2021)

Author's Note: At long last, the long-awaited conclusion to Part 1 of Steven Universe: Alternate Future is upon us! This may seem like an innocuous love letter to the mockumentary genre (I even watched This is Spinal Tap on HBO Max for inspiration), but the ending will change everything you will see in this chapter! But I'm through being dramatic, let's boogie!

Synopsis: A Black Rutile and her partner White Topaz want to get answers from Steven.

Cast:

Zach Callison as Steven, Onion

Estelle as Garnet

Michaela Dietz as Amethyst, Ocean Jasper

Deedee Magno-Hall as Pearl, Black Rutile’s Pearls

Uzo Aduba as Bismuth

Jennifer Paz as Lapis Lazuli, Zuli, Mean Lapis

Shelby Rabara as Peridot

Kimberly Brooks as Cherry Quartz, Jasper

Ian Jones-Quartey as Snowflake Obsidian

Michelle Maryk as Little Larimar

Amy Sedaris as Teal Zircon

Aparna Nancherla as Nephrite

Grace Rolek as Connie

Crispin Freeman as Doug

Mary Elizabeth McGlynn as Priyanka

Tom Scharpling as Greg

Zach Steel as Ronaldo

Eugene Cordero as Jamie

Joel Hodgson as Mr. Dewey

Reagan Gomez Preston as Jenny, Kiki

Brian Posehn as Sour Cream

Lamar Abrams as Buck

Matthew Moy as Lars

Kate Micucci as Sadie

Alastair James as Rainbow Quartz 2.0

Shoniqua Shondai as Sunstone

Della Saba as Aquamarine

Charlyne Yi as Eyeball

Jinkx Monsoon as Emerald

Christine Pedi as Holly Blue Agate

Hayley Kiyoko as Morganite

Olivia Olson as Black Rutile's Citrines

Featuring Noël Wells as Black Rutile

And Lauren Ash as White Topaz

--

"Is the camera ready, Topaz?"

"It's ready, my Rutile!"

"You idiot, you forgot to turn on the lens!"

"Oh my goodness, I am so sorry, my Rutile, let me fix that!"

A camera was turned on inside a black-colored dropship, where a matching-colored Rutile in a green visor and white cape sat down in a captain's chair, confident and charming. "Hello, universe!" the Rutile greeted. "My name is Black Rutile, and welcome to Eye on Era 3, the special interview show where we discuss with Gems about the changes a certain Steven Universe brought to our proud culture!"

"And I'm White Topaz!" the Topaz operating Black Rutile's camera turned the lens to herself and cheerfully waved to the audience.

"Uh, Topaz, over here." Black Rutile ordered.

"Oh, sorry!" White Topaz muttered and turned the camera back to her superior.

"Anyways, we've traveled across the stars to chat it up with all sorts of Gems." The Rutile continued ecstatically. "From Pearls free from slavery, to proud Emerald pilots! Agates with no one to order around, Lapis Lazulis thinking they're lost in the world, and even a few fusions here and there! But today, we're gonna get answers straight from the mouth of this so-called "new Pink Diamond" himself!" she stated, making air-quotes while calling Steven the new Pink Diamond.

"My Rutile, we are closing in on Earth." A Citrine piloting Black Rutile's ship announced. "Is there any good spot you'd like to land?"

"Let's try that Little Homeworld place I've heard so much about." Black Rutile suggested. "We're bound to get tons of special guests there."

"Yes, your clarity." The Citrine complied, and she returned to her station.

"In case you were stuck in a Kindergarten for the past couple hundred years, Little Homeworld is where tons of Gems formerly corrupted by the Diamonds at the end of the Rebellion have made their home." Black Rutile narrated over footage of Little Homeschool. "The number one hotspot of this little bit of home is Little Homeschool, where Gems from all over come to learn how to mingle with the life on Earth and let go of the old ways."

"Hey, you think maybe we could go to that place, BR?" White Topaz grinned eagerly.

"Don't forget about our plans." Black Rutile said under her breath to her Topaz bodyguard. "I mean, we should be nearing Little Homeworld any minute now, so stay tuned!"

--

Gems began to gather when Black Rutile's ship made its landing in Little Homeworld, and the landing door opened to reveal its owner and her sidekick strolling out.

"Oh my, we already have quite a crowd here!" Black Rutile laughed into a microphone. "Now then, I'll pick a few lucky Gems from our audience here to answer some questions about their experiences on Earth." Looking around, Black Rutile managed to pick out Bismuth, Peridot, and Lapis Lazuli from the huddling Gems. "Ah, you three, over there!"

"Us?" Lapis asked.

"Could you care to tell us how life has been on Earth for you?" Black Rutile asked, sticking her microphone out to the trio.

"I've actually been on Earth about as long as Lapis here." Bismuth answered, gesturing to Lapis. "I was one of the original Crystal Gems under Rose Quartz, chosen because I wanted to build whatever I wanted, with no uppercrusts to order me around! But my methods of dealing with the enemy was a bit more extreme than what she was used to, so Rose took one in particular a bit personally and had me poofed & bubbled. In hindsight, maybe Rose was worried that her cover would've been blown."

"As Bismuth said, I was on Earth for a very long time." Lapis began speaking into the mic. "I was supposed to be there for only a little bit to assist in terraforming, but then I got caught in the war and was poofed before being confused for a Crystal Gem. I was interrogated while my gem was stuck in a mirror, but that kind of got cut short when the Diamonds unleashed their final attack and forced everyone to flee. I was left behind by accident, and someone cracked my gem by stepping on it, and years later, I was found by Pearl, who kept me in her gem until Steven freed me."

"Aw, what a happy ending!" White Topaz cooed.

"Yeah, no." Lapis sardonically corrected White Topaz. "After I was freed from the mirror, I nearly drowned tons of people because I wanted to get home, but then home turned out to be a lot different from when I left it. I was once again made a prisoner by Peridot and Jasper, who then invaded Earth because I met the Crystal Gems that everyone thought were defeated in the Rebellion, then I fused with Jasper to protect Steven, which took a number on both of our mental states, I was freed yet again, then I left Earth because I was told the Diamonds might be coming, before coming back only to get poofed by Yellow Diamond."

"Much like Lapis, I was only supposed to be on Earth for a short while to perform my duties." Peridot began telling her story. "I was supposed to check up on the old Galaxy Warp, but then the Crystal Gems kept getting in my way no matter what. Before I knew it, I was without help, without any working technology, and then without my limb enhancers. I don't think I even bothered to ask where the Gems put them."

"A Lapis, a Bismuth and a Peridot. What an unlikely trio." Black Rutile mused. "Tell me, what was it that made you three decide to work alongside each other in the first place."

"Well, it all began when Steven and the Crystal Gems left Earth to convince White Diamond to help them cure corruption." Bismuth said. "I elected to stay behind on Earth to watch over these two."

"Ooh, ooh, can I do a reenactment?!" White Topaz asked, to which Black Rutile responded with a sigh.

"Proceed." Black Rutile muttered, tapping on her camera to produce a light shining on the surface of the dropship. White Topaz began to shapeshift her fingers into various characters, and started a shadow puppet show.

"Bye Bismuth, I'm gonna go to Homeworld and hope we can convince White Diamond to help us save the corrupted Gems." White Topaz said, imitating Steven. "You do you kid. I'm gonna watch over those other Gems while you're away." She continued, now impersonating Bismuth. "Have fun!"

Steven's shadow puppet was raised into the air as White Topaz made rocket sounds, followed by turning more of her fingers into Peridot and Lapis. Black Rutile just gave an annoyed glare to the camera.

"Hey, where's Steven?" White Topaz's impression of Lapis asked. "Oh, him? He ran off to Homeworld with the Diamonds." Her mimicry of Bismuth answered. "Oh my stars, are we too late?!" an aping of Peridot cried out.

"Do I really sound like that?" Peridot muttered as the shadow play went on.

"No little guy, he's fine!" White Topaz's impression of Bismuth continued. "Just something about corruption or whatever."

"Okay, I think we've seen enough!" Black Rutile laughed awkwardly as she interrupted the puppet show.

"Aw, but I was getting to the good part!" White Topaz moaned sadly.

"To be fair, you were almost spot on." Bismuth stated. "When Steven told us through some weird watermelon creature that looked just like him that trouble was indeed brewing on Homeworld, Peridot and Lapis reformed not too long after and we came together out of a desire to help him out."

"United by a common goal, how quaint." Black Rutile smiled and folded her hands behind her back, trying to hide their fidgeting. "Now then, would anyone else like to come up and chat?"

"I would, I would, I would!" Teal Zircon cried as she pushed her way through the crowd. "Hi, name's Teal Zircon, nice to meet you!" she greeted Black Rutile while rapidly shaking her hand. "So, you wanted to learn about my time here on Earth?"

"You're awfully excitable." Black Rutile pushed up her visor by the bridge with a grin. "More to the point, I'd like to hear your story Ms. Zircon."

"Gladly!" Teal Zircon exclaimed. "Like many of the Gems here, I was once corrupted by the Diamonds and became a long-tongued speedster that Peridot tried to capture no matter what, through hell or high water. Eventually, she did succeed, and I was stuck in the barn she and Lapis called home, until the Crystal Gems took me to their place. One day, I was healed by Steven along with a Cherry Quartz and shown around Little Homeschool. That same day, Steven took me along to see a Jasper who didn't want to go to school, and I was willing to become her friend, but I'm pretty sure she hates my guts."

"I'll have to check up on this Jasper sometime." Black Rutile commented. "Now then, anyone else care to share?"

"I'd like to." Zuli answered as she flew up and touched down next to Black Rutile. "I only came here a few weeks ago after Steven recommended the place to a former friend of mine and me. We were terraforming this moon called Aozul 2, but Steven and this other Lapis that we were buddies with back in our terraforming days told us that wasn't cool anymore, so they taught us new ways to express ourselves. I was a lot more accepting, but my ex-friend didn't want to change. To this day, I still don't know where she's at."

"May I go next?" Cherry Quartz asked Black Rutile.

"Sure, go ahead." Black Rutile answered, passing the mic to the Quartz.

"I was an average Quartz soldier made to fight in the war, but then I got corrupted, of course." Cherry began. "Then Steven came along and healed me along with TZ, and introduced us to Little Homeschool. I was a little nervous at first, but while Steven was away, I met up with some fellow Quartzes who told me all about how great it was here."

"I was the first corrupted Gem Steven helped defeat." Nephrite said, taking the mic from Cherry Quartz. "I was actually brought back out a few times, the first was a complete accident & I was poofed soon after, but the second time was when Steven thought he could try to heal me, but instead he reunited me with my old crew."

"Okay, we're running out of time here folks, I got other people to interview, and I haven't got all day!" Black Rutile yelled. "Which one wants to cap off this part?!"

"Little Larimar and I wanna talk." Snowflake Obsidian answered. "Hi, I'm Snowflake Obsidian. This is my buddy Little Larimar."

"We were corrupted Gems too." Larimar said. "I remember when Steven dropped us into that fountain, and we were all right as rain. Then years later, he helped us all find jobs that he thought were right for us, but then hilarity ensued."

"Wow, pretty much everyone here has such nice things to say about Steven." Black Rutile commented while putting on an eerie fake smile. "Isn't there anyone on this planet that doesn't love him?"

"Well, there is Jasper, kind of." Bismuth answered. "I say kind of because I have no idea what's even up with her ever since she was uncorrupted. I mean, she does express a teeny bit of gratitude for it, but she still would rather stay as far away from us as possible."

"To be frank, I wouldn't blame her." Lapis agreed. "Anyway, if you want to interview her, she's in a cave in the woods nearby."

"Good to know, Lapis." Black Rutile thanked Lapis. "I do hope we can see each other again sometime." She laughed as she and White Topaz began leaving Little Homeworld. "Perhaps even sooner than you think."

--

"We've all had our fun in Little Homeworld, but there's still a Gem we've yet to cover as we move on with our tour of Earth." Black Rutile continued narrating while walking in the woods. "This Gem, in particular, has been living in the woods ever since she was cured of an unfortunate case of corruption, and refuses to join her fellow Gems at Little Homeschool! Well, let's see if she can tell us why."

"Is that where she's living over there?" White Topaz asked as she pointed the camera to a cave with a tarp over the entrance.

"I think you might be right!" Black Rutile exclaimed as she raced over to the cave. "Excuse me, does Jasper live here?!"

"No she doesn't, now get out." Jasper's voice grumbled from within the cave.

"If Jasper isn't here, then who are you?" White Topaz asked, forcing Jasper to emerge from her cave.

"Someone who's going to pulverize you if you don't leave me alone." Jasper snarled.

"But we just wanted to ask about your time here on Earth!" Black Rutile nervously explained.

"Guess what, I'm not interested." Jasper added. "Now let me repeat myself, beat it, or I'm gonna beat you!"

"I think we should do as she says, my Rutile!" White Topaz began sweating nervously and slowly stepping away from Jasper.

"Righto." Black Rutile agreed before they ran away from Jasper. "But trust me, I think she might be useful to us."

--

"Well, that went horribly." White Topaz commented the farther she and Black Rutile got from Jasper. "Now where are we?"

"I'm not sure." Black Rutile answered while gazing at a terraced house. "But I do believe we have our next interviewee!"

"Which is?" White Topaz asked her superior.

"The residence of one Connie," Black Rutile declared, bringing up data on Connie on her visor, but then stopped at her last name. "Moo-hee-swear-ann. Seriously, how do you pronounce that?" The reporter decided to brush that off with a shrug and proceeded to knock on the door. "Good day Ms. Moo-hee-swear-ann, my name is Black Rutile, here to interview you about your experiences on Earth."

"It's Maheswaran, in case you're struggling to pronounce it." Connie's mother Priyanka corrected the Rutile. "Now, can I help you?"

"Oh, my apologies." Black Rutile said. "You look a lot taller than my data says."

"I believe you have me confused for my daughter, I'm her mother." Priyanka stated. "If you wish to speak with Connie, she's busy with college preparations, so you can only speak for 15 minutes."

"Uh, question!" White Topaz raised her hand. "What's college?"

--

"So you're doing all this for a TV show?" Connie asked Black Rutile moments later in the living room.

"You could say that." Black Rutile answered with a grin. "I'm working on an investigative report chronicling everyone's experiences with Era 3, and I'm working towards interviewing all the Crystal Gems and their allies, you included little girl. Now tell me, how did you first meet little Steven?"

"Well, it all started a few years ago." Connie began retelling her first meeting with Steven. "I was minding my own business, Steven was trying to get my attention because he wanted to be my friend, but one thing led to another, and we were stuck in a bubble together."

"Not how I'd expect your species to make new friends, but you do you." White Topaz commented with a grin.

"Anyways, it's all thanks to him that I was able to get out of my comfort zone a bit over the years." Connie continued. "I learned sword fighting from Pearl, became able to fend for myself, and we even fused!"

"Yeah, we still find that a little strange." Her father Doug interjected.

"Fusing with humans, just like they said." Black Rutile whispered to herself.

"Did you say something, miss?" Priyanka asked.

"Oh, nothing." Black Rutile covered up what she just said before moving back to Connie. "It seems like you two are just inseparable!"

"Well, mostly." Connie stated. "When Steven let himself get captured by Aquamarine to save everyone, we were all so worried sick for him. And even when he came back perfectly fine, I still felt like this all could've been avoided if we fought together."

"Oh, poor little girl." Black Rutile comforted Connie, though with a secret hint of condescendence in her voice. "It must be hard to lose someone so dear only for them to come back and disregard your feelings by acting like everything's fine."

"It's okay." Connie said. "We did get back together eventually, and now our bond is stronger than ever!"

"Woo, love wins!" White Topaz cheered, inciting yet another angry glare from her boss. "Um, can I do the shadow puppets again?"

"Go ahead." Black Rutile frowned in embarrassment.

"Wait, your documentary has shadow plays?" Priyanka wondered aloud.

"Don't ask me; this was all her idea!" Black Rutile replied grumpily. "What a childish clod."

"Hey Connie, I'm back from Homeworld! Hope no one missed me." White Topaz began another puppet show, this time of Steven and Connie's brief falling out, while trying her best to mimic Steven. "We did kinda miss you, you could've died!" she continued while imitating Connie's voice. "I don't see what the problem is, I'm standing right here!" the Steven puppet replied carelessly. "Well, we could've stopped Aquamarine together, but you gotta make everything about you!" the Connie puppet declared. "So screw you Steven, I'm going home!"

"Wait, I didn't say anything like that!" the real Connie said nervously.

"Sorry kid, I'm just making this up as I go." White Topaz apologized, and just as she was about to continue her show, Black Rutile cut it short. "Aw man!"

"Well, I think we've just about wrapped up here, friends!" Black Rutile announced. "We've got places to be, people to meet, and more opportunities for me to be humiliated by you, Topaz."

"Well, it was nice to see you." Doug said goodbye as the two Gems left the Maheswarans' house. "Hope your documentary is a big hit!"

"Thank you; you're too kind!" Black Rutile waved back and closed the door, allowing some privacy as she scolded White Topaz. "Was it really necessary for you to go all "love wins" on us, you softhearted fool?" she scowled as they began walking away from the house.

"I'm sorry, I just think they're so adorable together!" White Topaz tried to justify her actions, before Black Rutile pulled her down by her collar.

"We have no time for sappy romances!" the Rutile yelled in her bodyguard's face. "We are here to gather information, and that's final! Are we clear?!"

"Yes, your clarity." White Topaz bowed her head in shame.

"Good, now where were we?" Black Rutile tapped on the side of her visor and pulled up a map of the surrounding area. "Ah, yes! Beach City!" she declared while the map began pointing to the little seaside town.

"Ooh, that place sounds fun." White Topaz commented. "Think maybe we could take a vacation there some time, just you and me?"

"Apologies, but we're on a mission." Black Rutile declared as she put the map away. "We'll have time for fun later, but it'll be my choice of fun. Understand?"

"Yes, boss!" White Topaz gave a comical salute, and the two began setting off for Beach City.

--

"Now then, this place should be full of Steven stories!" Black Rutile announced as the duo strolled into town. "And maybe we could find some of his weaknesses too."

"Hey, check out this funny sign!" White Topaz said while gazing at the sign for It's A Wash. "What do you think is a wash?"

"Hey new Gems, welcome." They heard Greg greet them. "If you came here to sign up for Little Homeschool, you should take it up with the Gems first."

"Oh no sir, we already saw that school." Black Rutile said. "It's all part of a series of interviews I'm doing for my show, Eye on Era 3. Which reminds me, how would you describe your experiences with the Crystal Gems?"

"My experiences?" Greg wondered. "Well, it all started one night when I was just a young rocker on tour. I had arrived in Beach City for a show, and Rose Quartz was the only one who showed up."

"Ah yes, Pink Diamond always had a fascination with humans," Black Rutile interjected. "often at the expense of her own kind."

"Yeah yeah, Pink kinda stunk, but don't we all sometimes?" Greg philosophized. "Like I was saying, Rose was the only one who came to my concert at Beach City, and from then onward, I felt like it was destiny. I even wrote a song about it!" He then walked to his van to search for his guitar, and began to play. "Do you believe in destiny? Close your eyes and leave the rest to-"

"I'm sorry, we have no time for a song." Greg's interviewer cut him off. "Could you please continue, sir?"

"Sorry if I was any trouble." Greg apologized, putting away his guitar. "The Gems didn't have a very high opinion of me when we first met, especially Pearl, but we were still able to get along with each other. Amethyst in particular took a liking to me."

"Speaking of which, are the Gems in town today, or are they off on some magical mission or something?" Black Rutile asked Greg.

"Oh, they kinda retired from going on missions now that everything's at peace." Greg answered. "But, Steven's still at home over there." He then pointed over to the Crystal Temple not too far away from Beach City itself.

"Yes, pay-dirt!" Black Rutile grinned eagerly. "Come along Topaz, we shall hit ratings dynamite!"

"Coming!" White Topaz cried as she raced after her master. "Hey, maybe we can chat with some of the people here along the way! They might give us some good info!"

--

"It was kinda thanks to Steven that I died and came back to life." Lars admitted to Black Rutile. "But also thanks to him, I came back as a completely new man with my own awesome spaceship, a serious attitude adjustment, and ever since I came back to Earth, I've taken up some combat training in case I ever go back to space and fight new threats, like I learned musti-yuddha from Connie's dad for example!"

--

"Lars's disappearance got me kind of depressed for a while." Sadie said while her band prepared for practice. "But I found a new way of expressing it with horror-themed rock music!"

"We had trouble finding our sound before Sadie became our frontman." Buck Dewey stated.

"And since then, we became an overnight hit!" Jenny Pizza exclaimed.

"But I have a feeling our differing paths might cause a break-up." Sour Cream admitted.

--

"Steven had good intentions when he helped me run for re-election," ex-Mayor Dewey said. "but ultimately I lost. But hey, I did find a new calling at the Big Donut!"

--

"I was having stress dreams about my sister making me do her work, which took the form of a giant pizza monster, until Steven used his crazy dream powers to help me out." Kiki Pizza said.

--

"I'll admit, I had a crush on Garnet once upon a time." Jamie declared. "But really, can you blame me?! She was just so stoic and radiant and-"

"Get to the point!" Black Rutile sternly ordered.

"I'm sorry, got a little distracted." Jamie apologized. "But I had since moved onto better things, like my future career in the theater!"

--

"Okay, that should be all." Black Rutile sighed in exhaustion. "Now then, let's not waste any more ti-"

"Wait, I want to talk to you!" Ronaldo cried out as he raced to the Gems with a notebook in hand.

"What do you want?" the reporter grumbled. "We're wasting daylight here!"

"You've been going around asking people questions about Gems, but this time I want to ask you for a change." Ronaldo declared.

"Okay then, fire away little guy." White Topaz said with a smile.

"There are still tons of unanswered questions about your kind that I must inquire about!" Ronaldo said while flipping through his notebook. "Like, for example, do you know who created the Gems in the first place? How was Homeworld first colonized? When did they start colonizing other planets?"

"I don't believe we have time for your questions." Black Rutile snidely shut Ronaldo's questions down before making her way to the Crystal Temple. "Come Topaz, we have work to do."

"Yes, my Rutile!" White Topaz obeyed and followed behind, leaving Ronaldo in the dust.

"You can run, but I will get my answers!" Ronaldo declared loudly, but he was too late. "And they're gone."

--

"Okay, Topaz, we have to make a good first impression here, so no silly games or shadow puppet shows." Black Rutile commanded as they ascended the beach house's front steps and reached the front door.

"Aw man." White Topaz moaned in disappointment.

"Quit being such a child you moron." Black Rutile exhaled in disgust as she knocked on the door. "Hello, is anyone home?"

"Just a minute!" a voice the two Gems were eager to hear answered as its owner raced downstairs.

"Oh my stars, the moment has come; he's finally here!" White Topaz squealed happily before she received a slap to the face.

"Hello, what brings you here?" Steven greeted Black Rutile.

"Steven Universe, at long last!" BR exclaimed. "I'm Black Rutile, host of Eye on Era 3, and this is my camera-Gem/bodyguard White Topaz! We're here for an investigative report on the state of Earth in this new era, and have been interviewing many of your family and friends."

"You're a bit shorter than I expected." White Topaz commented.

"I see my reputation precedes me." Steven declared. "Come on in."

"Nice place you got here." White Topaz complimented the house as she and her boss were shown inside.

"Thanks, the Gems helped build this place." Steven accepted the compliment. "Hey, I got a question. I've met a Topaz and a Rutile before, but they sound nothing like you. Why is that?"

"We're just special Gems. Comes with being former members of White Diamond's court." Black Rutile answered while sitting down on the couch. "But enough about us, let's talk you! Could you give us a little life story first?"

"If you want." Steven answered while sitting across from the Rutile. "I remember first discovering my powers like it was yesterday. I was super bummed that my favorite brand of ice cream was discontinued, but then the Gems told me they got tons of it from other stores, and taking a bite out of one coincided with me summoning my shield for the first time, which led me to believe I could do so by eating Cookie Cat."

"Hahaha, oh the innocence of youth!" Black Rutile chuckled nostalgically. "I remember when I first emerged for White Diamond. A real young hotshot, a little arrogant even. Could you tell us more about these powers, kid?"

"Over time, I learned tons of Gem powers." Steven regaled. "Like shapeshifting, control over plant life, making bubbles, telepathy, sticking my mind in others' bodies, but fusion gave me tons of new abilities. This reminds me of a story."

"Ooh, shadow time!" White Topaz exclaimed, but her happiness was immediately put to rest.

"What did I tell you?! No shadows!" Black Rutile yelled strictly at her sidekick, and then immediately changed her mood. "Please continue."

"All right." Steven was a little taken aback by Black Rutile's cold behavior towards White Topaz before he began his story. "Anyways, it all started when I had to take care of Onion for the day, and Pearl helped out."

--

"Thank you Explorer Gal for saving us from that dastardly Bandit Guy!" Rainbow Quartz 2.0 said, taking the role of one of Onion's toys. Onion was playing with Explorer Gal, who thanked the other toy in Onion's unintelligible matter.

"For your heroic efforts, please accept money." Rainbow continued while handing Onion a dollar bill. "Our city was a mess before you came along, but now…." Rainbow then began to break character as they took notice of Onion's messy room. "Well, I suppose it's still a mess." They commented. "It's been so much fun playing, but now we have to clean, which is also fun!" they declared while making a rainbow with their hands. "Are you ready to tidy up?"

Onion stared blankly while slowly sticking a piece of broccoli out of his mouth.

"Oh Onion, don't you be that way." Rainbow 2.0 chuckled. "Your best friend Rainbow will help you tidy up!" Just then, they pulled a parasol out of Pearl's gem. "Let's make things a little more animated in here!"

With that, Rainbow made Onion's toys come to life, and they began marching to their proper places in his room while Rainbow started a song. "Stick by stick, the little blackbird makes a nest." They began singing while making Onion's clothes fly into his dresser. "A mess to some, but the little blackbird isn't stressed."

Rainbow then allowed Onion to give the umbrella a try, making one of the boy's toy cars come to life and race away. "Stick by stick, the little blackbird makes a nest." The fusion continued while Onion marveled at the parasol's powers. "And then he naps, cause even blackbirds need to rest. The fun won't stop if you have a friend around. The fun won't stop if you have a friend around."

As Rainbow began to finish the song, Onion kept playing with the umbrella, making more of his toys come alive, along with a Venus flytrap. "And when you laugh, it is my favorite sound." Onion then discovered some darts in his drawer, and used the parasol to make them fly. "And that's what life is all about."

"What the?!" Rainbow stuttered before dodging the darts, making them land on a dartboard. With that, they finally decided to take their weapon back from Onion while noticing a stack of dirty dishes. "Next time, please wash your dishes." They instructed before sending the dishes off to be cleaned, and then taking notice of a stuffed toy in Steven's image hidden near Onion's bed, eerily waving to them. "And could you please explain what this is?"

Onion didn't answer, aside from blowing Rainbow a few kisses.

"Alright, thank you for the kisses." Rainbow thanked Onion before Steven's phone began to ring. "Just give me five or so minutes."

Rainbow un-fused into Steven and Pearl, and Steven answered his phone. Garnet was on the other end, holding her cellphone extremely close to her face. "Steven, you're late." Garnet said. "I need you for the Sunstone Safety Geminar."

"Oh no, that was today?!" Steven began panicking. "But Rainbow Quartz promised to hang out with Onion today!"

"Don't worry; I'll handle the Geminar." Garnet stated confidently. "I'll explain every possible future where they could get hurt around the house."

"I don't know if that'll be a good idea, I'll be right there." Steven responded before hanging up and turning to Pearl. "Pearl, I'll be back as soon as I can." He promised. "Could you watch over Onion for me while I'm away?"

"Of course." Pearl agreed. "Onion loves Rainbow, I'm sure he'll love me as much."

--

"In hindsight, that wasn't my best idea." Steven took a break from his tale to confess. "Onion can be a real handful."

"Like, how much of a handful?" White Topaz asked.

"Let's just say, he's a real oddball who loves causing trouble." Steven stated. "I can never really get a read on that guy, no matter how much of a good friend he is. Heck, he doesn't even seem to age normally!"

"So, about this Geminar." Black Rutile began. "You said Rainbow Quartz is a fusion between you and Pearl, but who is this Sunstone running that event?"

"Oh, Sunstone is the fusion of Garnet and I." Steven answered. "They're all hip and radical and like giving important life lessons, kind of like those old PSA characters from the 90s. Speaking of which…"

--

"I slip on the stairs?" Ocean Jasper wondered while watching a television screen with Garnet, the Heaven & Earth Beetles, and a Nephrite.

"Indeed, and you shatter on impact too." Garnet bluntly replied, causing Ocean and the Nephrite to scream and hug each other in fright.

"Garnet, I'm here!" Steven called as he entered the house.

"Thanks for coming, Steven, but I need help." Garnet stated. "I think I'm scaring our guests."

"It's okay; we got this." Steven assured. "Let's get this safety Geminar started with a very special guest!"

Garnet got up from the couch, and the two began to dance, eventually forming the totally cool fusion Sunstone.

"Your rockin' pal Sunstone's here to shine!" Sunstone announced merrily.

"Watch out Sunstone, it's dangerous here!" Ocean Jasper cautioned Sunstone.

"Not unless you guys practice home safety." Sunstone assured the scared Gems. "Don't slip up. Clear objects off the stairs." They instructed by taking a water bottle off the steps to Steven's bedroom and throwing it like a ball. "Foul shot!"

The bottle landed in a trash can near Lion, which prompted another tip. "Be sure to cover up your trash, or else you'll attract bugs or hungry animals." Sunstone demonstrated as they shooed Lion away from the garbage. "Come on, let's go!" they declared. "Don't waste water. Turn off any faucet still running." Sunstone then shut off the sink. "Put protective covers over your electrical outlets, especially when kids are around." They added while doing just that. "And don't even think about sticking a fork in there! But most importantly, turn off motion smoothing on the TV."

Sunstone then used the remote to operate the television, allowing clearer picture and sound for everyone. "Okay, hold tight gang, gotta take a phone call." They said. "In the meantime, check out this commercial."

--

"Well, seems like you had things handled." White Topaz remarked.

"Famous last words White Topaz." Steven gravely informed. "Pearl later called me on my phone because Onion was giving her a serious headache, so I came back to her to calm Onion down. Then Garnet was trying to do a home safety obstacle course, but that went horribly wrong."

"Okay, color me wrong." The Topaz guard said. "I suppose hilarity must've ensued?"

"Oh so much." Steven declared. "I tried merging both the Geminar with playing with Onion, but one thing led to another."

--

"It's important to keep in mind that all of these horrible things did happen to you in alternate timelines." Garnet instructed her seminar attendees near the lighthouse. "Safety rules."

"Hey, Garnet." An exhausted Rainbow 2.0 called for their fellow fusion as they flew in via umbrella, with Onion in front. "Would you mind taking on another student?" they asked as Onion was let off the umbrella. "I'm feeling a mite PLPBBT."

With one last raspberry noise, Rainbow un-fused into Steven and Pearl. Steven just groaned tiredly.

"You shouldn't have brought him here Steven." Garnet forebodingly scolded the boy as Onion took a seat in front of her with the Gems.

"No, no, it's fine. It's good." Steven stuttered, having had enough of the stressful day he had. "No one needs safety training more than Onion! I'm combining all of my responsibilities into one responsibility! It's brilliant, it's brilliant! It's fine. I'm fine. Really, it's fine. I'm fine. I'm fine."

Onion wasn't paying attention the whole time, and instead picked up a blade of grass to play like a musical instrument, hypnotically commanding the other Gems to follow him. And Steven was too busy assuring Garnet and Pearl that he was fine to notice too late what had just happened.

A madcap chase soon ensued, with the three Crystal Gems following Onion and the Little Homeschoolers throughout Beach City, into the woods, and finally to a hill, where Onion let go of the leaf. Despite that, Ocean Jasper, the Beetles, and the Nephrite continued marching to the point of falling over the edge.

"Oh no!" Pearl cried as the Gems fell off the hill.

"Steven, we need Sunstone to save them!" Garnet urged Steven.

"Okay!" Steven yelped, and they fused into Sunstone.

"No, we need Rainbow to save them!" Pearl began arguing with her de-facto superior as she swiped Steven away to form Rainbow Quartz.

"I'll catch them with this!" Rainbow declared as they presented their umbrella.

"Can't all three of us fuse to save them?" Garnet wondered just as Amethyst raced up to them.

"Hey wait!" Amethyst cried. "I need Steven!"

Rainbow un-fused so Steven could speak. "What is it Amethyst?!"

"I miss you, man!" Amethyst yelled. "I haven't seen you in like, eleven minutes! But it felt like even longer!"

Steven couldn't take it anymore, and without a single word, he collapsed to the ground in exhaustion.

"STEVEN!" Pearl screamed as she raced to Steven's side.

"I shouldn't have overbooked my schedule." Steven groaned one last time before passing out from exhaustion.

"Nooooooooo." Garnet unemotionally cried out in despair.

--

"Oh-hohohohoho, I know what it's like!" Black Rutile cackled as Steven finished his story. "Must be so hard to be so overworked at such a young age."

"Guess that's what happens when you're running a whole school." Steven chuckled in reply. "So, guess that should be it, right?"

"No, I'd like to speak with Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl first before we wrap up for today." Black Rutile answered, just as the Warp pad began glowing. "Oh, and look who should show up now!"

The core Crystal Gems stood at the Warp Pad, ready to kick back after the long day they had today. "Good thing it was so easy to get that crowd under control." Pearl exhaled. "Still, who was that interviewer they were talking about?"

"I believe that would be me." Black Rutile answered as she stood up from the couch to meet the Gems. "Hi, Black Rutile, intelligence officer of White Diamond turned news reporter. Pleased to meet you."

"I wasn't aware White had a court." Garnet said as the Rutile shook each of their hands. "Pleased to meet you too."

"I just got done interviewing Steven, and he told me the most hilarious story about his troubles with balancing two things at once." Black Rutile said.

"Yeah, things went kinda crazy that day." Amethyst reminisced. "But thankfully, everything went back to normal after that."

"Oh good, the way Steven ended things left me on the edge of my seat!" White Topaz exclaimed while positioning the camera to face the Gems. "One more question before we go, what would you say are your greatest strengths and weaknesses?"

"A little oddly specific, but okay." Pearl remarked. "I pride myself on orderliness, swordsmanship, and intelligence. But I can be a bit doting and perfectionist at times."

"I can be kinda foolish and impulsive, but I'm pretty much past that." Amethyst added. "I'm also more street smart than book smart, and super tough too!"

"I'm a very stable fusion, which especially helps in battle." Garnet said. "My future vision is also seldom wrong, unless the current timeline becomes too unpredictable."

"Well, that should be enough for now." Black Rutile said as she entered all of her data into her visor. "Apologies if we couldn't talk anymore, but I've got places to be and missions to go on, so toodles!"

"Hope we can see each other again, Black Rutile!" Steven said goodbye as the two visiting Gems took the Warp Pad back to Little Homeworld.

"Maybe sooner than you think." Black Rutile smirked before they disappeared.

"She's right, we'll be seeing her again many times." Garnet predicted with an adjustment of her glasses. "But none of them will be friendly."

Steven, Amethyst, and Pearl just laughed at Garnet's prediction, ignorant at what could be to come.

--

Upon returning to Little Homeworld and boarding their ship, Black Rutile and White Topaz finally left Earth and launched into hyperspace.

"Wow, those Crystal Gems really are swell!" White Topaz commented while her superior sat down in her chair. "I don't see why we're plotting against them."

"It's because they've become far too powerful." Black Rutile answered gravely, a far cry from the persona she put up on Earth. "Does Steven really think he can change our entire society with just hugging, crying, singing, and a cheeky one-liner? Bah, I've done so much better without any of those!"

"My Rutile, we should be exiting hyperspace above Revanche 666 in approximately 15 seconds." One of the Rutile's Citrines confirmed. "Would you like to inform your allies of your coming?"

"Bring Emerald up." Black Rutile commanded, cuing a video screen to appear, showing the tall, green Gem pilot on the other side. "Hello there, Emerald."

"Your clarity, has your reconnaissance ended well?" Emerald asked with a bow.

"Indeed it has." Black Rutile answered with a grin. "Those clods never suspected a thing!"

"And we got it all on video too!" White Topaz added.

"Excellent, we'll soon have everything we need." Emerald declared. "We're all waiting for you at the base, hoping you won't disappoint."

"Oh, don't worry, Emerald, I won't." Black Rutile replied. "That will be all." With a clap, the screen disappeared, and the ship exited hyperspace to reveal the skull-like planet of Revanche 666 before them. "Prepare for landing."

--

When the dropship finally landed at Black Rutile's headquarters, two rows of Pearls patiently awaited their master's return.

"Ah, my Pearls." Black Rutile announced as she disembarked. "When I ordered Shell to create all of you, I knew it wouldn't disappoint."

"Thank you, my Rutile." The Pearls thanked in unison while one of them took the camera from White Topaz. "Your minions await."

"Perfect." Black Rutile purred before beginning her stroll to her meeting room. "Come Topaz, we have much to do."

--

"Geez, what's taking her so long?" Lapis Lazuli 1J9G-5KL complained as she, Holly Blue Agate, Morganite, Emerald, Aquamarine, and Eyeball kept on waiting for their boss while seated around a round, white table.

"Patience Lapis." Aquamarine soothed her fellow Gem's annoyance. "She did say that she'd be arriving soon."

"The sooner, the better!" Eyeball yelled, pounding her fist on the table. "I want revenge on Steven for making me a pariah, and I want it now!"

"You're awfully eager." Emerald muttered to her fellow eye Gem before turning to Holly Blue and Morganite. "So, how goes that Zircon's democratic campaign?"

"That navel gem Ruby we planted as her campaign manager has been feeding her lies, and the Zircon doesn't suspect a thing!" Holly Blue answered excitedly.

"More and more Gems have been unknowingly swayed to our cause." Morganite stated. "Soon, we shall have an army strong enough to topple even the Diamonds."

Just then, Black Rutile and White Topaz finally arrived in the meeting room, causing everyone to stop what they were doing and salute her. "Welcome, your clarity."

"You're all too kind." Black Rutile thanked them sarcastically as she took a seat between Aquamarine and White Topaz. "I suspect your missions have been going well too, no?"

"Indeed it has my Rutile." Holly Blue revealed.

"That brat has been controlling us all for too long." Aquamarine declared. "Now it's time we take back our planet from those tyrannical pacifists."

"Are you all sure this is a good idea?" White Topaz asked the other Era 3 insurgents. "I mean, the Crystal Gems have become far too powerful to be challenged, and the Diamonds will no doubt come for our gems if they find out!"

"The Diamonds are yesterday's news!" Black Rutile roared, forcing her Topaz into silence. "And speaking of which, Steven may not realize this, but he's no better than his brat of a mother! Thinking he can force all of Homeworld to obey him by being a controlling twerp! Thankfully, he doesn't do so by throwing tantrums left and right until the Diamonds do what he says to shut him up. For now at least."

A Black Pearl entered the meeting room with White Topaz's camera in her hands, and she set it down on the table.

"Thank you my Pearl." Black Rutile thanked the Pearl before turning it on to reveal all the information that she collected on Earth.

"Is this all we need to know about the Gems in time for Phase 2?" Morganite asked her black-colored superior.

"You bet it is." Black Rutile declared with a sociopathic grin as she gazed at one of the holograms of Steven and plucked it out to hold in her hands. "You can have your happily ever after as much as you like, Steven." She declared evilly. "Cause your little Universe will soon be mine."

END OF PART 1: LITTLE HOMESCHOOL

TO BE CONTINUED IN PART 2: GRADUATION

--

At last, Part 1 is finally complete! And here, unfortunately, is where I must go on hiatus. Second semester of college and all that, and I think my classes might be harder than last semester. But hopefully, this cliffhanger should tide you over until we come back. Anyways, Black Rutile is finally upon us! A character that I think I'll have fun writing since I consider her to be like the Lex Luthor to Steven's Superman, the Frieza to his Goku, the Megatron to his Optimus Prime, the Aku to his Samurai Jack, etc etc. In other words, Steven's got a new archenemy coming and he doesn't even know it yet. Stay tuned! (evil laughter)

[little-dragon-stories]

King Chap 7

Your life changed completely when from a slave, you became a spy for the king. Will you be able to help him in his fight against slavery before it’s too late and the threat hanging over him comes true?

In this society where love comes after fortune, will your mutual affection be able to flourish?

Royal au fic pairing female reader and Kwon JiYong

Feat: YoungBae, TaeHyung, MinHo and SeoJoon (just because I had their face in mind when I pictured their character)

W.C: 2423

Warnings: angst, panic attack, main character dissociating

Disclaimer: Everything in this story is fictional. There is no research to be politically accurate or to fit a certain period of time or place. In one word, it’s all invented.

Chapter 7

You spend a couple of days, translating law documents with the king. Seo and sometimes Tae were following you everywhere, now. They seemed to be waiting for you and walked along with you from one place to another. It was now evident that the king had ordered them to protect you each time you were not in his presence. Tae had no choice but to agree when you confronted him with all your questions.You knew too well that questioning Seo on the subject would give no result. When he had to keep a secret, his lips were sealed. Tae for his part, it was easy to make him spill the bean.

“Y/n… you changed!” Seo exclaimed, stopping in the middle of the path, his arms crossed on his chest to observe you.

“Oppa… why would you say something like that to me? I didn’t change at all!” you pout.

He looked at you tenderly.

“You didn’t smile as much, before. You didn’t talk as much either, now you can’t stop. I even caught you singing this morning…”

“Yaa, stop teasing me” you blushed, hiding your face behind your hands.

“Don’t ‘ya’ me little miss! I ain’t teasing you. I just observed that happiness suits you well” he remarked before he patted your hair and pulled you for a hug.

“Thank you oppa. I am, indeed, happy here. And also, I’m happy to be here with you and Tae. You are family to me.”

“Yeah! Yeah! I’m stuck with an annoying little sister”

“Annoying? Me? I’m gonna show you what annoying means if I catch you and beat your ass” you said before teasingly poke his side.

The shadow of Mina and HyunSa hovered over you. Your happiness will be complete only when they will come and join you but time flies and they are nowhere to be seen. You will ask the king about his promise, you wanna know if something happened about it.

“I love you, annoying sister!”

“You… what?” you asked him, dazzled.

“Yaa, don’t make a big deal out of this. I just realised that we should tell people that we love them, when we can. That’s all. You are my family, Y/n. Thank you for never giving up on me, even if I put you in a lot of strange situations throughout the years”.

Big tears were rolling down your eyes. You tiptoed and you pulled on his face to kiss his nose, encircling him with your arms as soon as it was done. A guard walking around began to whistle "marry the girl, for God’s sake". Both of you chose to ignore such a stupid comment.

“I love you too, SeoJoon” you whispered before you finally let go. You and him never hugged before, but things were different now. You were closer than ever, spending so much time together.

“I shall go, I have to work in the king’s garden. Have a good day oppa”

“Aren’t you too pretty to be gardening, today”?

Suddenly, it hit him. When he looked at your pretty white dress belted with a pink silk ribbon, your elegantly combed hair cascading down your back and the new shoes you just bought at the village, he realized that something was wrong. You were much too nicely dressed to spend the day kneeling and digging up dirt. Now that he thought about it, you never had soil under your nails or on your shoes when he walked you back home at night after a supposedly day working in the king’s garden. Suspicious, he looked at you and frowned.

“Y/n, what’s going on? Are you in danger? Is everything okay? Is the king treating you well? Are you…” He asked, shaking your shoulders.

“Ya! Stop it, SeoJoon. Please, lower your voice, don’t put attention on me like that in the middle of the street. Ask the king if you have any questions, please oppa”

“Is he treating you with the respect you deserve?” He lowered his voice.

“What does that even mean? Of course, he’s treating me well. I promise you SeoJoon oppa, I’m fine. I’ve never been happier in my entire life. You have to trust me on that”.

Scratching the back of his neck, he seemed relieved.

“I guess I have no choice, I just mentioned how bubbly you were recently. Ooooh… I get it now. Okay, okay!” A teasing smirk curved his lips.

“ I don’t think you see things as they really are but trust me, I am doing fine. On that, see you tonight”

Turning to face the steps that lead to the palace executive room, you were welcomed by the king himself standing in front of the opened door. He was waiting for you with his arms behind his back, an impassive look on his face, stoic as always when you were in public. Did he catch your conversation with Seo?

“Thanks for bringing her safely, SeoJoon” he told him but he kept gazing at you.

“It’s my pleasure majesty. Take care of her, she’s my annoying little sister” he beamed with joy.

At these words you showed your annoyance by letting out a feigned sigh. The king looked at SeoJoon when the latter called out for him. A message passed between them, silent but they seemed to understand each other as the king nodded to a non-verbal question from Seo.

“Good afternoon, sir!” you said as you walked in front of him and confidently led the way to the study room. You knew the way, now.

“After you, my lady” he laughed and bowed teasingly as soon as the door was closed. He followed you.

The servants had placed tea and cut fruit on a tray. Filled chocolate, a delicacy that you had never tasted before yesterday, generously stacked between the fruits. They had left everything at the entrance on the middle shelf bookcase, as the king asked them to do.

Little by little, you have found your pace, you’ve developed your own personal routine with him. You were using his study to work, side by side on his table but as soon as someone came in, he would hide the book you were working on under his journal. Sometimes, you stayed by his side, sometimes you went in the background, depending on who was announced. He hired someone from the village to have some gardening work done during the night, your official reason to be here, covered.

He gave you a key to lock yourself inside the study when he had to leave to conduct state affairs. The whole situation started to make a lot of noise among the staff but you didn’t really care how they would look at you. They multiplied their visits to catch a glimpse on the king and you. It was irritating but JiYong was always collected. You had to admit that he made you see authority in a better light.

He was determined to discover the flaw in the documents but did not lose patience or show anger towards you even though the process took more time than he expected, that also was new to you. He always offered you to take care of yourself and take a break if you felt the need to rest. But you didn’t want to stop.

“You see here? There is a difference in the transcription. I don’t think it’s significant, but I’d rather tell you” you told him as soon as he arrived from god knows where. He was so busy during the day.

“Still not the one I’m looking for” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose while sitting next to you. “What if I am wrong… what if I misinterpreted it all, what if...”

He was not confident anymore. He was scared that he didn’t read the whole situation correctly. After spending a few days by his side, you were now able to read him, to interpret his non verbal attitude. He was doubting himself, the reason why you were looking for evidence in the first place.

“Oh no, sir! Let’s stay positive. I’m sorry if I don’t work fast enough, I will try to…”

He stopped you from speaking a little abruptly but not aggressively. He seemed irritated by the situation but not particularly by you. Despite the fact that you felt safe with him, at the slightest manifestation of impatience on his part, your hands began to tremble. He noticed it and was internally swearing against the man who had traumatized you so much.

“Y/n… Y/n…” He put his hand on your arm to get your attention before you lost yourself in explanations.

“Yes, sir?”

“Yes, JiYong… you never address me like I want you to” He smiled at you, a dazzling grin on his face.

“I’m sorry…” You lower your head.

“No, don’t be sorry. You did nothing wrong. Also, don’t be scared of me, I would never harm you. I hope you know that”.

“I feel it sir, I know” you timidly answered.

You were interrupted by 3 little knocks on the door.

“The Queen demands to see you, Cheon Ha” the maid said.

Hearing that, you froze. You never met the Queen, you only heard about her. She apparently was a beautiful woman with a generous and caring personality. What is she gonna say, if it came to her hearing that her husband is spending so much time alone with another woman, in his quarters?

“Sir, it’s your wife” your eyes were round in shock and you looked mortified.

“I know who the queen is Y/n, please, go to the back room right now, she cannot find out what we are doing” In a split second, he was cold and seemed irritated again.

It’s always in times when you have to hurry that you become the most clumsy. When you got up, you hung a jar on the table and the ink poured all over the king’s diary and dress. A real disaster, if any. You had no choice but to go and hide in the back room because the door opened on the queen and you were not to be seen. What happened between the queen and the king, what they said to each other, you heard nothing at all.

This accident, so innocuous it seemed to the king, put you in a second state of mind. You suddenly remembered all the times when you awkwardly and despite your best efforts, made a mistake with Master Minho. Your punishment was always the same, always violent. Your primal instinct from the long years on the plantation came back immediately. Sweat poured down your forehead, your hands trembled and your face turned white. Alone in the back room, you were no longer at the palace. You were a slave, waiting for Master MinHo to punish you. For what seems like an eternity, you waited.

When the king called out your name, you didn't hear him, even less recognize his voice.

“Y/n? Where are you? Come back, she left already. She just informed me about…. What the hell are you doing?” he exclaimed as he entered the room.

You were completely naked, kneeling with your forehead on the floor and hands joined on your back in this awful position you were taken the first time he met you. Trembling with fear and cold, you were not able to stop crying.

“I’m sorry Master MinHo. I’m sorry for the mess I made on your clothes. I accept my punishment because I’m just a stupid slave, Master. No… Please, I beg you… Please… Can you please spare me this one time? Please I’m begging you, I can’t take it anymore… Please spare me just for once”

In your head, even though you knew that begging for MinHo’s forgiveness would just make it worse, you had no choice but to try. Normally you never tried to make him spare you, it only made him more angry and more violent. But today, you felt weak.

“Y/n… Y/n… it’s me…What the hell is going on? You are not in the plantation anymore…” His words didn’t reach you. You kept begging, flooding the floor with your tears. The sound of your teeth snapping together was breaking the silence when no one was talking.

He took off the coat covering his robe and placed it on you while thinking about how to make you come back to reality.

“Y/n, look at me” he begged, making sure not to touch you.

You lifted up your gaze but were unable to lock eyes with him, too far away in your awakened nightmare. He was shocked by the paleness of your face. Your lips were blue and your eyes empty. It seemed like life had left you and a ghost from the past was haunting you.

“I’m cold, I’m so cold” you whispered, your lips trembling and your teeth chattering. He had an idea.

“Y/n, wait, I’m coming back, hold on please, hold on!”

He went to the corridor, ordered the 4 servants stationed there to have a hot bath prepared with towels for his room, immediately and without the presence of his courtesans. He told them to prepare hot tea and some food as well.

“Cheon Ha, it’s unusual…”

“I said, right now. It’s an order” for the first time ever, he yelled at them.

He went back to the library and hid the documents you were working on. Even though he left for only 30 seconds, he feared the state you would be in when he returned. You were in the exact same position you were. He knelt in front of you and cupped your face gently. He made sure to close the coat in front of you to preserve your nudity.

“Y/n, look at me, please… you are with me, JiYong. I will never let anything happen to you. I won’t punish you either, it was an accident. You poured ink by accident”

At the word ‘punish’, you start shaking more if it is possible. Your chest grew tight as bile rose in your throat. You were so scared and cold.

“Y/n…” the voice that managed to reach you was far away, almost like through the thick mist of dawn. “Look at me”

You lift your eyes to meet his this time. In front of you was not your Master MinHo, but your king, the kind and thoughtful man that became your friend. When you realised what you just had done, you fainted.

[hb-writes]

Name Your Price

Written in response to Hauntober prompt #4: Candy Apples.

Summary: From the Little Lady Blinder universe! Shelby sister negotiates to go to the fair with Isiah and Finn.

Characters Featured: John Shelby, Esme Shelby, Finn Shelby, Clara Shelby (Shelby!Sister), Isiah Jesus is sitting outside in the car. 

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“The kids are asleep,” Clara told her brother as she came down the stairs. 

John was relaxing on the couch, watching the fire, and he nodded, glancing to his sister for just a moment before returning his gaze to the flame. It was early for his kids to be asleep, especially the older ones, but Clara had a special way with them, always had. She possessed some mysterious bargaining chip that came along with being close in age to them. John had never really questioned it, and at the prospect of a quiet night, he wouldn’t question it now either. 

“So, since the kids are in bed, I thought, maybe, it might be nice for you and Esme to have an evening to yourselves...?” 

John turned and took a longer look at her. She’d let her hair down, pulled on her coat. “Where are you off to?” 

“Just going out,” Clara answered as she stepped in front of the decorative mirror in the front hall and began applying her lipstick, her back to him. “I won’t be out too late.” 

“I thought you came by to spend some time with me but here you are all dolled up like you’ve got a date.” 

Clara rolled her eyes as she stuck the lipstick tube in her bag.

“We’re just going to the fair,” she answered as she took one last look at her face and turned to him.

“Who’s we?”

“Finn and Siah. And I’m sure some of Esme’s family wil--”

“And you need to wear red lipstick for them?” John asked.

“The lipstick’s not for them, John. It’s ‘cause I like it.”

John scoffed. “Well, where’d you get something like that anyway?”

“Ada sent it.”

“Of course, a gift from our bloody Americanized sister.”

“Oi! Will you leave your sister be?” Esme stepped in the room, hands on her hips as she looked at her husband. “She bathed and put your rowdy kids to bed, so you’d best be nothing but grateful to her.” 

“Esme, I’m supposed to be grateful that she uses us to skirt Tommy’s rules? She’ll get all our asses kicked.” 

“Yeah, by who?” Esme asked as she joined them to sit. 

“Tom, for one, and Aunt Pol,” he answered.

“You’re really still scared of them, John?” Clara asked.

“Hey, you shut it!” John answered. “You are, too, or you would’ve just left from Tom’s.”

“Yeah, well, I likely wouldn’t have made it through his front door, now, would I?” 

“I haven’t decided yet if you’ll be making it through mine,” he answered.

Clara groaned, collapsing on the couch beside her brother and taking a moment to compose herself before wrapping her arm around one of his.

“Please, John?” she asked. “I’ll be in your debt.”

John peeled his arm out of her grasp, settling it on the back of the couch. “You’re already in my fucking debt. Using me and Es like this every other week. Why didn’t you just ask him to go? Unless there’s a reason he’d have said no?”

“This was just easier. Your house is closer. And I don’t use you. I come for supper, spend some time with the kids,” she offered.

John crossed his arms over his chest. “Yeah, and you go out on the town for dessert.” 

Clara grabbed his arm again. “Alright, how about this? I’ll watch the kids next weekend so you and Es can go out. Or whatever you want. Just let me go to the fair and don’t tell our brother I went and you can name your price.” 

John didn’t get to answer as they all drowned in the incessant honking coming from the front of the house. 

“If those boys wake the kids, I’ll kill the lot of you,” Esme warned, her glare on the door as Finn came through. 

"What’s the hold up?” he asked. “We’re late.”

“John’s decided on being difficult,” Clara answered.

“Imagine being married to him,” Esme said from across the room. 

“Oi, what have you got to be unhappy about? You’ve got your land and your precious fucking chickens.”

“Yeah, and I’ve got you making trouble for your sister just for the sake of it. Just let them--”

He cut her off. “If there’s anyone causing trouble, it’s those three. Been up to nothing but mischief since they were kids, always trying to bring me into it.”

“We’re just going to the bloody fair, John!” Clara dropped his arm and leaned back into the couch. “It’s not like we’re robbing a bank.” 

“And it’s not like you never caused a bit of mischief,” Finn said.

“See, Esme, they admit--”

“Oh, christ!” Clara folded her arms over her chest. “Nice fucking job, Finn.” 

“What?” Finn asked. “It’s true. They all did worse than we’ve ever done. We’d never get away with half of what they did.”

“As it should be,” John said to Finn before turning to his sister. “And you’re a lady, we hold you to a different standard.” 

Clara rolled her eyes. 

“Right, because girls are supposed to do as they’re told while boys get to do as they please?” Esme said.

“That’s not what I meant,” John answered.

“It is what you meant, you just don’t like how I’ve said it,” Esme offered. “But if one of them can go, they both should be allowed... or not allowed, if that’s where you’re leaning.” 

Esme picked up her drink, taking an innocuous sip and both twins glared at her.

John met his wife’s eye. “Enough, Esme.” 

“The only person who decides when I’ve said enough is me, John Shelby.”

The two stared at each other across the room and Clara met Finn’s eye over John’s head, a silent discourse over who would do the interrupting passing between them. 

Finn drew the metaphoric short straw and finally cleared his throat. “So, uh, are you letting her come or...?”

John’s eyes remained locked on his wife and Finn’s words dissolved into silence.

Clara raised an eyebrow at Finn’s attempt before refocusing on John, scooting closer to him on the couch. “I’ll uh… I could bring you back an apple,” Clara offered.

John turned his head and met her eye, the corner of his mouth turning up in a half smile. 

“Might as well bring enough for the lot of them, don’t want to be listening to their hollering for going without,” John answered as he reached into his pocket, seeking out a few bank notes. “And one for your sister-in-law, though I’m sure it won’t keep her from hollering at me.”

“Not being a sexist idiot would keep me from hollering at you,” Esme answered as she left the room, the door slamming after her exit.

“Right,” Clara said, cringing as she turned back to John. “So, eight candy apples? That’s your price?”

John rubbed his chin before pulling another note from his pocket. “Ehhh, better make it nine.”

“Nine?” Finn asked. “What for?” 

“Did you not see how angry she is, mate? I don’t think one apple will do it.” 

“Maybe try not being a sexist idiot, like she said,” Clara answered as she tucked the money away in her purse. 

“Oi! Finn, take her out before I change my mind.”

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Read more Little Lady Blinder stories here.

[roisinspencer]

Research Essay on Hauntology & other concepts of memory

Question 10: The concept of hauntology (see online required reading for Week 11) was first coined by Jacques Derrida as a philosophical concept. However, it has been subsequently used to describe a style and genre of music and sound art (including vaporwave) by theorists such as Simon Reynolds and Mark Fisher. First describe the relevance of memory to the notion of hauntology both as a genre of music and as a philosophical concept, and then pick one or more sound works or music pieces that belong within the genre. How does the sound work(s) engage with the notion of memory and what could the work(s) be commenting on?

Hauntology’s inception as a philosophical concept was first conceived in the writings of Jacques Derridawhere he elucidates elements of the past as haunting the present through reconfigurations of dead ideas and figures. Derrida’s Hauntology concurs a logic that surpasses sanctioned logic, where there is a perturbed collusion between “actuality” and “ideality,” or most recently “virtuality.”[1]In Derrida’s denotation of Hauntology, virtuality largely consists of unconscious convulsions of embodied past traumas surfacing to actuality and confuting our understanding of the present. These ruptures of past subconscious repressions can be related to notionsof Freud’sInvoluntary memories which are crypted deep within us and materialise in an unmediated manner. Hauntology in the form of Involuntary memories is prevalent inGrimes’Oblivion, Blank Banshee’sTeenage Pregnancyand the Caretaker’sYou and the Nightas they each employ musicology to reconnoitre differing mnemonic theories. Constructing off Derrida’s definition of Hauntology, Mark Fisher, Simon Reynolds and other theorists have extended its meaning into modernity’s memory market. Fisher in particular ascribes the term to embody the concepts of Lost Futures and Capitalist Realism, interrogating the cyclic nature of our capitalist nostalgia and yearning for what could have been. The musical genre of Vaporwave proselytises this lust for the promises of capitalism in its most illustrious stages during the 80’s and 90’s. Grimes’Oblivion, Blank Banshee’sTeenage Pregnancyand the Caretaker’sYou and the Nighteach employ the characteristics of Vaporwave reconstruct the neo-liberalist vitality that once clad capitalist consumerism, appropriating audio techniques from the 80s/90s to invoke a thirst for past possibilities that never came to fruition.

Canadian born musician Clare Boucher (born March 17, 1988), professionally known by her stage alias Grimes[2], released pop phenomenonOblivionin 2012, alluding to Derrida’s Hauntology through distinctly layered developments and Vaporwave quintessence. Derrida portends Hauntology as a resurfacing of elements of the past which permeate into the present in an alternate, abstruse manner. The title of the song,Oblivion, denotes a state of incognizance where memory of a particular event or person has been effaced. This is conveyed in the introduction of the main riff as interjections of disjointedness via lagging and glitching project and air of inconsistency and disquietude. The song embodies a confused catharsis as the artist reinvokes the acutely traumatic experience of a past sexual assault and reconfigures it “as something really welcoming and nice.”[3]The melody bestows an anxious effervescence through major tonality and upbeat melodic mechanisms, exacerbated by the breathy, high pitched, ethereal vocals. Grimes speaks of this memory sporadically infiltrating her actuality, leaving her “terrified of men for a while.”[4]These reflexive outplays of mnemonic trauma are emblematic of Derrida’s “logic of the ghost”[5]as although the memory is an encapsulation of a past foreboding, it oscillates from virtuality to actuality and invokes physical repercussions out of fear. The bass line incessantly drives the song and is played by a heavily distorted and incredibly low synthesizer, allaying a murky yet omnipresent undercurrent of trauma. The bass line is so astonishingly low it is on the precipice of being inaudible to the human ear, suggesting just how far the depth of memory are and how deeply trauma can be imbedded within. This impetuous occurrence of memory intimates Freud’s theories on Involuntary memory and its convulsive manifestations of trauma which are often “crypted comments” which arise “with no identifiable cues.”[6]By rendering her involuntary memory “as positive”[7]Grimes has employed tenets of Freud’s Screen memory in aims of a “possibility for counter-memories to emerge”[8]in a bid to conceal tormenting truths. This convulsive delirium is evident through perpetual lyrical repetitions, most notably the phrase ‘see you on a dark night”[9](2:26) where the artist directly addresses the present physical space that remits her past trauma. The cyclic nature of this phrase portends the interminable haunting of this memory. In the bridge she accosts the resurrection of her memory by starting to ask it “To look into my eyes and tell me” (1:34) which is then abruptly interrupted by nonsensical interjections of “la la la la la”[10]as though to override and screen out the existing traumatic memory with an innocuous, unburdened one sung in a child-like, high-pitched naivety. Through evocations of the philosophical concept of Hauntology,Oblivionevinces how past trauma intermittently ruptures through to the present and the cyclic nightmare of attempted repressions along with unwanted regressions.

Patrick Driscoll, known professionally as Blank Banshee[11], (born June 28, 1987) is another Canadian artist who efficaciously employs Vaporwave tendencies in his songTeenage Pregnancy(2012)to conjure Hauntological notions of resurfaced trauma. Similarly to Grimes’Oblivion,Teenage Pregnancyalso imbues its digitised cadences with Involuntary memory by employing similar methods of repetition and recrudesce interjections. Although the two pieces share Hauntological notions of Involuntary memory, the artists execute the resolution of these ruptures in processes considered completely disparate from one another. As Grimes aspires to skew the traumatic crux of her past memory and purport it as “positive” via Screen Memory tactics, Blank Banshee aims to exploit the shared trauma of our conscripted nostalgia for origins and its circuitous fissuring into adulthood. Derrida’s writings on Hauntology partially elicit its inspiration from Freud’s theory on mourning where “one internalises or introjects the dead” assimilating them within an eternal idealisation of the “deceased.”[12]However when this mourning is not resolved, according to conventional “psychoanalytic theory, there is no true introjection,” only “an incorporation of the phantom.”[13]This concept of the phantom presents itself inTeenage Pregnancynot only in the title but also as a vocal schism which endeavours to interrogate our nostalgia for origins. The songbegins with a motif consisting of sustained, sporadically placed notes which make no sense out of the context of the future layers of sound. This relates to Derrida’s idea of the past and future being omnipresent in our understanding of present. Along with persistent crescendos and diminuendos, the drumbeat oscillates from one ear to the other destabilising the foundations of the song, allaying an insecurity in the linguistic information soon to occur. Layers of varying digitised motifs build up and establish the repetitious undulations“of traumatic and/or stressful events” that “are often poorly integrated into the life-story and identity of the person and for the same reason tend to intrude repeatedly upon consciousness.”[14]The cacophony of litanydrops out to expose the crux of the trauma, that being the disruption of childhood innocence and accosting of our romanticised mourning of childhood. In his writings about the Uncanny,Nicholas Royle, entails “another thinking of the beginning: the beginning as already haunted.”[15]This is illuminated in the recapitulation of the phrases “I’m just a kid”(1:52) and “It was only a mistake”(2:22) as the tonality of the verbiage starts at a high pitch but glissandos in glitches to a low, disturbingly distorted articulation affronting our mourning for the fictitious public memory of childhood. The timbre of the voice purports the dismay of this disarrayed experience of childhood through a cybernated vibrato, crackling in a manner that mimics the tremolo of vocals on the cusp of crying. As heard inOblivion, Blank Banshee effectively elucidates the spectral persistence of trauma associated with Derrida’s definition of Hauntology, yet strays from projecting a positive manufacturing of memory to mask the said trauma and instead aspires to exploit the negations of childhood nostalgia.

WhilstOblivionandTeenage Pregnancyanalyse humanist, embodied experiences ofHauntology, English artist/producer Leyland James Kirby (Born May 9, 1974), professionally known as The Caretaker, released the trackYou and the Night(1991) which is emblematic of notions of the Uncanny and its reconstruction of space and time from remnants the past. Convictions of the phantom in Derrida’s ideas of hauntology amalgamate with the Uncanny to permeate unease and construe a contorted understanding of time, space and our standing within this misshapen memory. The sentiment of the phantom is evoked as elements of the past present themselves in fragments rather than in their historical totality, evident in the preternatural patina that filters the obfuscated layers of music. The crackle and grainy effect that filter the vexing remnants of music tacit an antiquity, yet this nostalgia prompted for the past is later accosted by its own decay and overlay with elements of the future. “The Uncanny involves feelings of uncertainty,” in particular “what is being experienced”[16]which is explicit in underscoring this Hauntological eclipsing of time. The pieceopens with low, prodigiously distorted instruments playing a minor, perturbed melody of acute, atonal nonsense, manifesting this uncertainty of the Uncanny. The eerie instruments have been slowed down to an acute largo, lending this uncertainty to our understanding of time and its disequilibrium in the extraction of memories. The layers of ominous instruments further destabilises time as each section of the orchestra are playing at augmented 4thintervals. These augmented 4thintervals were historically classed as the devil in music and its use was periodically forbade in sacred songs.[17]As well as underscoring the inconsonance of time in memory, similarly to the Involuntary memories present inOblivionandTeenage Pregnancy, the devil in music is also remnant of the dissonant re-evocations of trauma which Freud concurs “were a manifestation of death instincts.”[18]The high pitch strings confute notions of nostalgia as all though they are recognisable to the listener’s ear yet, their esoteric distortion detaches them from recognition in our memory. The dislocation of time in memory and Uncanny trauma in Hauntology is made audible inYou and the Nightthrough The Caretaker’s utilisation of cryptic chromaticism and deep decay.

Similarly toYou and the Night, Hauntological time is deeply confounded in Grimes’Oblivionthrough predilections of the Vaporwave genre to expound the circuitous capitalist purgatory of the present. Simon Reynolds discusses Vaporwave as “a kind of aural or musical detritus” which adopts “dead media sound production from the 80s and earlier”[19]to concoct a nostalgia for the inception of capitalist fruition and also futures that never came to fruition. Vaporwave can also present itself as “a kind of memory play that is produced through representations of repressed trauma or loss” which can be “expressed through musical form as a process of catharsis.” Grimes herself proclaimed that she “took one of the most shattering experiences of my life and turned it into something I can build a career on”[20]and capitalise off. Gerhardt Richter first coined the term “Capitalist Realism” in 1963, which Mark Fisher later adopted in his writings to presage why “We remain trapped in the 20th century.”[21] Fisher denotes that due to the “reliance of current artists on styles that were established long ago” our “current moment is in the grip of a formal nostalgia.”[22]This formal nostalgia is immediately connoted inOblivionthrough the opening motif allayed by a synth sentimental of “dead media”[23]of the 80s/90s. The motif imbues a sense of nostalgia via its upbeat major melody, playing into the romanticism of the 80s when capitalism harnessed new offerings. The ethereal yet heavily digitised female vocals reverberate with efficaciousness, yet the echo also illuminates an ebb in these capitalist expiations as the words lag past their initial debut. This reminiscence for a time with fresh bearings can be heard in thesporadic piano (1:50) bridge which doesn’t abide by typical methodologies of music, alluding to a time in Capitalism where everything being produced was new and experimental. Although it contrives an air of excitement, the notes echo and envelope itself by its own ghostly refractions and further confound our capitalist nostalgia and sense of time concurrent with it.Old riff comes back into play followed by the other infinite loops, speaking not only to incessant haunting of past coming to present but also the incapacity to cultivate anything new under capitalism. The song ends on an interrupted cadence, sounding unfinished by nature and insinuating that these loops and our wistfulness for the past could continue on for an eternity.

Simon Reynolds discusses Vaporwave as a musical genre of “Retromania,” defining it as “Pop culture’s addiction to its own past,”[24]which is epitomised in Blank Banshee’sTeenage Pregnancy. As alluded to prior,Vaporwave music “plays with the idea of nostalgia for something that never happened”[25]which Mark Fisher concurs is the haunting of Lost Futures. This reworking of the past is conceived out of utopian visions of the 80s which were “co-opted by capitalism and repackaged for consumption”[26]and now haunt the present tense with past visions of the future. In consonance with Grimes’Oblivion,Teenage Pregnancymanifests the sound production of the 80s/90s, but instead of manufacturing its nostalgic utopianism, Blank Banshee appropriates a riff directly from a musical relic of 1982, beingGrand Master Flash and the Furious Five’s hit The Message.[27](0:27)The Message accosted the structured cultural divides under capitalism in the 80s and exhibits capitalism’s sedentary nature as the song aids a message about class and race that is just as culturally significant today. The sampled riff is profoundly manipulated through an increase in duration, pitch altering, lingering reverberations and interrupted cuts followed by repeated interjections of the same phrase which disallows the riff to resolve. This disseverance of the riff communicates a Lost Future desired by the original song which has been pervasively and ironically stifled and stultified by capitalism, betokeningElizabeth Guffy’sunderstanding ofRetro-Futurismas the message “remains a sensibility, rather than a plan of action.”[28]This asphyxiation of rebuttal to capitalism is furthered by the unchanging layers of hypnotic digitised motifs which add to a sense of being directionless. These invariable layers underscore how under capitalism “cultural time has folded back on itself, and the impression of linear development has given way to a strange simultaneity.”[29]This stunting of linear development is also exteriorized through the repeated phrase “I’m just a kid” which evinces capitalism’s stilted eternality in its past days of prophecy.

Both Blank Banshee’sTeenage Pregnancyand The Caretaker’sYou and the Nightutilise Vaporwave’s appropriation to incarnate the past, forming memory through the depletion and decay of their audio relics. Even though there is a subordinate amount of time between the Romanticism movement and the conception of Hauntology, there is a distinct convergence of concepts as through absence we derive definitions of past. Sophie Thomas writes of the affiliations of ruins in Romanticism and how in their “state of decay, ruins signify loss and absence”, furthermore “a visible evocation of the invisible, the appearance of disappearance.”[30]Fisher denotes the extent to which “cultural artifacts” in the form of music “can historicize the human condition”[31]as audio ruins an “absent whole.”[32]The caretaker has appropriated Eddie Higgins’ 1934 hitYou and the Nightand the Music and represented it with a patina of an embellished state of deterioration and distortion. Linking back to a Vaporwave idiosyncrasy, due to the levels of decay and dissonance each segment of the orchestra is isolated to a layer of its own presenting as a relic rather than a unified body of noise.You and the Nightdiffers from Blank Banshee as its appropriation predates the vitality of capitalism in the 80s and instead samples from the 1930’s, where the Industrial revolution and turbulent international relations were yet to meet the capitalism Francis Fukuyama called “the endpoint of history that would replace human conflict with universal peace.”[33]This notion is evident in melodramatic undulations in dynamics as the persistent adjusting between disturbed diminuendos and climactic crescendos prevails a volatility to the past before “accepting of contemporary capitalism as the only viable social structure.”[34]Apex of discomfort when the orchestra plays in a unison vivace, yet instead of playing in a congenial harmony the decaying layers play in disillusioning quartertones. The vocals are then discerningly doubled, a low voice more representational of the original track yet is still acutely diluted, the doubled voice at a higher pitch, filtered through an alienesque, digitised tremolo multiple octaves higher. This digitised doubling in an almost extraterrestrial tone depicts a duplicity to the past, acting as a fissure to an alternative future to contemporary capitalism. The Caretaker’sYou and the Nighthas employed the “technological advances and special effects”[35]of Vaporwave and the conceptual preface of Romantic ruins to recreate visions of the past and offer insight into Lost Futures.

Through imbuing connotations of Involuntary memory with Derrida’s definition of Hauntology,Grimes’Oblivion, Blank Banshee’sTeenage Pregnancyand the Caretaker’sYou and the Nightinvestigate the resurfacing and rupturing of past trauma into the present tense. Each artist conveys the spectrality of trauma and its recurrent Hauntological embodiment which pervades into the present. The three songs concurrently apply the musical genre of Vaporwave to elucidate contemporary nostalgia for the vitality of the consumerist contingencies of capitalism in the 80s/90s. The three pieces interrogate the cyclic idealisation of Capitalist Realism and the Lost Futures as a result of this societal sedentary.

[taylorroger-s]

𝔢𝔵 𝔫𝔦𝔥𝔦𝔩𝔬 // a six underground story

----- ｐｒｏｌｏｇｕｅ -----

a/n i don’t want to preface this too much but this isn’t really a fanfic? there’s no pairing at the focus, and it’s really just a story in the 6u world because there is no way i’m letting micheal bay waste the potential of 6u. I worked extremely hard on this and the later missions and i’m really proud of it! so i hope you enjoy, there is much more to come! so here’s my masterlist, and no warnings except for swearing. enjoy :)

‎

𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚞𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚖 𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚞𝚖, 𝙽𝚈𝙲 ----------

‎

“nine, you have to get out of there.” one hisses into his headset, drawing the attention of the waiting driver. she rolls her eyes, anxiously scanning the block for any law enforcement or her team. 

“you think i don’t fucking know that? but y’all better get your asses over here. feds are swarming even on the other side of the park.” nine gritts her teeth at every police cruiser slithering by, their flashing lights only adding to her growing anxiety. 

“my hands are kinda full right now!” four shouts, breathing heavily into his microphone. things went south fast, and even their planned escape had been shaky at best. the mission failed and they need to get out of the city fast. 

“get over here, and i’ll get you out. remember, i’m on columbus and west 92nd in front of the party city. ten minutes. now make like ghosts and disappear.”

‎

𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚑 & 𝚏𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚛, 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚗 𝚗𝚎𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚜𝚔𝚊 

‎

tires squealed against the beat-up asphalt as two early model corvettes shot down an empty stretch of highway 75. bitter cold nebraska winter winds cut through to the bone as the pair curved around a rough bend of road surrounded on both sides by sprawling fields. the sun hung low on the horizon, struggling to light up the endless farmland. the only sound within ten miles was the roar of combustion engines mingling with crickets chirping as they passed by. 

“cmon,” a woman muttered to her car, eyes narrowed as she scanned the makeshift racetrack. she couldn’t make out the taunt called out to her from the other driver, responding only with a raised middle finger and a sharp push on the accelerator. her car’s heavily modified engine purred under her touch, advancing on her opponent’s ride. 

a window of opportunity finally appeared before her. she was no more than a foot behind him, another bend visible in her peripheral vision. exhaling slowly, she brought her left foot from hovering over the clutch to the brake. the turn came closer, wrapping around a hill. she could just about hear the squeal of her opponent’s brakes, pressing on her brake at the same time. they hurtled around the bend at dangerous speeds. coming out of the turn, her opponent switched his right foot from the brake to the gas pedal to accelerate out of the turn. but her foot was already there, giving her just a fraction of a second edge over his car. her ride edged up on his, a devilish grin spreading across her lips. 

just as her dark red car was about to overtake his, the flash of distant headlights made them both freeze. she wanted to scream in frustration, but there was no time to think, lest she wanted to risk a head on collision. she very reluctantly pulled in behind his car, various scenarios for vengeance cycling through her head. their race was over. she had lost. 

the semi truck passed them by without a second look, and after a few minutes the pair pulled into a decades old rest stop. the woman ran her fingers across the smooth dashboard of her car, thumb brushing over a small mark right by the unused radio. they made it fifteen miles before their race was rudely interrupted. a sudden knock on the windshield stirred her from her thoughts. 

“too slow once again darling.” the man cooed, poisonous edge to his words. that was the third race she’d lost to him in six weeks. it was starting to damage her reputation as a notorious street racer in an innocuous corner of small-town america. the mechanics shop she worked for was the not-so-clever front of their racing circle - essentially the only friends she had - wherein she was the best. at least until that start up showed his face in gretna, nebraska- of all places. 

“oh fuck off.” she grumbled, keeping her eyes trained on the last rays of the sun sinking below the horizon, plunging the rest stop into a chilling darkness. the sky was just beginning to show the shimmer of distant stars, rolling across the countryside in a thick blanket of night. constellations blinked into existence against the dark. a saying from her latin classes in college came to mind: natura non constristatur. nature doesn’t give a shit about you.  

“as you wish. same time next week?” her rival called, already waltzing back to his car, hood shimmering silver in the burgeoning moonlight, a small rosary and fuzzy dice hanging from his rear view mirror. it was about ten years newer than hers, but not nearly as slick. at least in her opinion. 

“one week and i’m gonna destroy your ass.” she responded, words almost drowned out by the subsequent start of his decades old engine. he loudly revved it a few times, overtaking any words she could possibly try to curse him with. there were a few choice latin phrases she had stored up.

“in your dreams!” he shouted, pulling onto the road and heading north, back to her hometown. and so she was left alone with her thoughts, only finding company in the infinite sky and hum of wildlife. the cold winter night started to pick away at her fading adrenaline, causing her teeth to quietly chatter as her eyes stayed focused on the heavens. what was she doing? she would never get out of nebraska, and her life would all be for nothing. but before she could fully spiral into existentialism, the allure of her bed came to mind; an area much more comfortable than the freezing drivers seat of her 1986 corvette. 

she tore her eyes away from the nighttime sky with a huff, hand drifting to the gearshift. she started the engine, slowly moving the car into reverse. she didn’t think to check in the rearview mirror until a shout rang out over the hum. she slammed her foot on the brake, just before hitting whoever decided to fucking walk behind a moving car. the anger slowly simmering below the skin after her loss decided to boil over. she hopped out of the car before she even turned off the engine to tell off the prick who decided to ruin her moping. 

"what the fuck man?” she was fuming so much the mystery figure could probably see the smoke pouring from her ears. she couldn’t quite make out their face since the only lamp within five miles lit them from behind. crossing her arms over her chest, she leaned against the trunk of the car, glaring at the intruder while she waited for an answer. 

“wasn’t expecting that reaction. hello-” okay so definitely a guy, she thought, squinting harder to try and make out his face. he brushed off his pants before looking up at her, face obscured by shadow and sunglasses. at night. the tone of his voice irked her; infuriatingly playful even in the weird circumstances. 

“what the hell are you doing out here?” she growled, bracing her hands on the burnished metal of her car. her nails tapped rhythmically against it, shifting her expression to appear as calm and intimidating as possible. there wasn’t another car visible in the parking lot as far as she could tell, and the man certainly didn’t appear to be a fallen angel. how and why was he there? but there was another, more concerning question picking at her mind: if he was there for her, how did he find her?

“is that how you always greet strangers?” the man quipped, still avoiding her question. a stranger was exactly what he was. general knowledge suggested to not talk to strangers, especially in an empty rest stop parking lot. in the middle of nowhere. fear crept up on her as the man smiled, whispering worries in her ear the longer he dodged her questions. 

“what do you want?” she gritted her teeth, fingers slowly curling into fists. her instincts kicked into high gear as he took a few steps closer. his hands were tucked into his back pockets, and he looked disturbingly nonchalant as he approached her. 

"heard about your racing. pretty good from what i’ve heard." now that threw her for a loop. why did he want to hear about her racing? however, logic was soon overshadowed by a wave of pride and she lifted her chin, looking straight into the man’s eyes through his sunglasses. it was too dark to glean anything from his expression, but she didn’t waver. she was better than pretty good. 

"the best. now who's asking?" she nearly spat the last words out through gritted teeth, pushing off the car and taking a step forward. the man smiled at her bravado, crossing his arms over his chest. 

"i have a job for you." she scoffed, shaking her head. it suddenly popped into her mind that he could be a criminal looking for a getaway driver or a scapegoat. but the seed of curiosity burrowing inside her brain won out. 

"so you mind going into specifics?" she questioned him with heavy doubt in her voice. 

"not here cupcake. but i need a driver.” the illegal path seemed more and more likely. ‘not here’ oh yeah, not suspicious at all. she was tempted to shut the conversation straight down and run, but there was nothing she could really lose by hearing more. worst case scenario, she gets frostbite and maybe put on a hit list. best case? there was no way of knowing.

"and why me?"

"like you said, you’re the best. and you have next to nothing tying you here. your skill is being wasted, but i can fix that. i can give you a cause to believe in. so how would you like a chance to actually change the world?" that stopped her. she hadn’t done anything worthwhile in a very, very long time. and believing in something? that was a distant memory. she didn’t believe in this man either. 

"aquila non capit muscas. i’m not here for your nonsense.” she was aware that quoting her latin professor would earn herself an eye roll from the mystery man, but she wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries nor dreamy exaggerations. she was starting to think he was insane. and yet, something in his words tugged at her heart. he sounded suddenly sincere. it was like he had read her mind. 

“okay shakespeare, there certainly is some nonsense in this offer, sure. but it’s your best shot to get out of here. i am offering you freedom from everything holding you back.” five seconds passed. ten. fifteen. thirty. she mulled over his words over and over again, quickly disregarding how horribly vague they were. there really was no reason to take him seriously, and he had provided no details into this “job” which was starting to sound more and more illegal. 

still. she turned to look at her car, scanning all its dents and imperfections. so many memories, so much history that had slowly made her jaded and cynical. so much to break free from. even though there was no evidence that this job was worth it, or that his promise of freedom rang true, she was tired of the bullshit. 

“i’m listening.” a sharp smile spread across his lips, and he nodded. 

"good. but there's one thing i need you to do before we get started. i need you to die"

-----

hey mary, and whoever else is reading. i guess this is goodbye. sorry you had to find out this way. 

it doesn’t matter what i once wanted to be. i didn’t get it. but this is what i want. i promise. i’m sorry to ghost you. but this is what’s right for me. see you on the flip side. 

faking her death was almost disturbingly simple. a burning car at the base of a ravine, suicide note found just outside the melted frame. no reason to pursue an investigation. attending her funeral was the most surreal part. until then, the weight of her decision hadn't felt real. she watched as her sister, her coworkers, and even her racing rival said their last goodbyes at what they thought was her final resting place. she couldn’t watch anymore when her sister began to sob, and the man, who had identified himself as one, dragged her away before she had a chance to break down

the night before she faked her death, she sat on her bedroom floor, chopping off locks of hair and silently contemplating what she was about to do. the rules that one gave her were simple in theory, but horribly complicated in reality. 

cities you have never been to. people you have never met. numbers instead of names. only talk to your fellow ghosts. plural. she was about to be thrown in with a band of hungry revolutionaries with similar shady pasts. at least, she assumed that's who she would find once one took her to the last home she would ever know. last home. she cycled through the pros and cons for the hundredth time, weighing them over and over.

no more taxes. no more criminal background. no crazy ex chasing her. no expectations to leave behind. pure freedom, if she followed the rules of course. the homegrown american girl she once was would die, and in her place: nine. 

cons? those were a little more iffy. her sister mary was a senior in highschool and just turned 18. mary was all she had left, and vice versa. even though mary was technically an adult and could fend for herself, she still felt guilty. more of her hair fluttered to the ground. if she was going to have a new name, she might as well get new hair. it was rough around the edges, horribly uneven, and made it look as though she had lost a fight with a weed whacker. fitting. 

not too long after, she was in a plane on her way to nowhere. she was completely alone in the cabin, one piloting from the cockpit. nine was mesmerized by the sprawling land thousands of feet below as they moved west. it was her first, but definitely not her last time on a plane. 

was it insane? yes. was it almost a certain ticket to an actual early grave? definitely. and yet, every time she finished looking through her list, there was only one outcome that came out of it all. a death with more meaning than her life would ever bring. she would miss her sister, and the few friends left behind, but for the first time in a long time, the apathy faded away. 

‎

𝚏𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚊 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚝 ----------

‎

“alright motherfuckers, i finally got our asses a driver.” one called out into the dark belly of the old aircraft, lit only by a few glowing screens. nine followed him in, holding tight to her small duffel bag full of the only possessions one let her take, the logo of her high school plastered on the side.

“wow, only took you six months.” one flipped on a light switch, turning on a few lightbulbs in the center of the room, illuminating six figures gathered around a rusted metal table. each one looked like they were from a completely different planet. 

“thank you for the attitude four, i hate it.” one cheerfully pointed to a chiseled blond man wearing a worn blue hoodie. she assumed rightly that he was four, and based on the accent, also british. she idly wondered how he ended up in the same place she was, or in the same place as the rest of one’s mismatched crew. a crew that she was now a part of. 

“six was already too fucking much. then seven. and now eight.” a slightly scary, tall blonde woman spoke, thick french accent coating her words. despite the venom, it almost looked like she had never moved her lips, an eerily blank expression stuck on her face. nine suddenly felt extraordinarily childish with her “gretna dragons” bag, the faded green fabric full of pulled strings and various stains. just the way she stood make nine feel in over her head. one took it all in stride. 

“well i don’t see you volunteering to give up your handguns and get in the driver's seat, and eventually you agreed to eight for the same reason, so shush.” nine looked between one and two, and their silent standoff. two rolled her eyes, essentially surrendering to nine’s presence. nine let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. she had a feeling it would be a shit idea to be on that woman’s bad side. 

“this is nine. nine, this is two, three, four, five, seven, and eight.” one pointed to them each in turn: the tall blonde woman, a hispanic man with a full beard, the startlingly attractive blond man, a woman with aviator sunglasses hanging from her shirt, a tall dark-skinned man who seemed much less stony than the others, and a tall girl wearing an excessive amount of leather. but there was something else that worried her more than the mismatched group one presented. a number was skipped. 

“wait, could i get a quick rundown of who does what?” nine assumed there was a reason for each person to be there.

“i’m a billionaire and…”

“i’m blaine. that’s camille, javier, billy, amelia, and sofia” seven - blaine - cut one off. nine was caught off guard; it seemed one declined to mention that ‘numbers instead of names’ were more of a formality for the rest of the team. the rules she was told must have been one’s original vision.

“seven-” one tried to silence blaine, but was stopped with a glare. apparently one was equally against the names as seven was with numbers. it was intriguing, but nine wasn’t willing to dig further into his mind, nor was she okay with sharing her name. she wanted to leave everything behind. 

“nope, she’s part of the team now. numbers are for missions. what’s your name?” she seized up, eyes moving to each person to identify names with faces, something she had never been good at. numbers just seemed so much simpler. 

“no.” nine responded flatly, crossing her arms over her chest. seven froze, but held his hands up in surrender. one nodded approvingly to nine, and continued with his explanation of everyone’s roles. 

“she knows what’s up. now, two is the spy, three is the hitman, four is the skywalker…” though one’s titles didn’t give extraordinary detail, having ‘the skywalker’ as a job description was simply puzzling.

“the hell does that mean?” she asked, eyes flicking just for a moment over to four before returning to one. 

“he does parkour, five is the doctor, seven is the sniper, eight is the scout, and you are…” one continued without missing a breath, and nine suspected he predicted that question. four caught her eye and winked. 

“the driver?” the sly smiles suddenly slipped from the ghost’s faces as they exchanged guarded looks. nine had a sinking feeling as to why. 

“that was six, our last driver. let’s hope you avoid the same fate.” his grim words carried a little-too-lighthearted tone. well that’s reassuring, she thought. not worrying at all. one rubbed his hands together, walking over to one of the walls in their airplane shell meeting room. nine pieces of paper were on the wall, eight of them with roman numerals going up from two, and one with a photo of a man who had a giant red x on his face. his face tugged at nine’s memory. he must have been on the news. this operation might just be bigger than she expected. 

“gather around the fire, cleavers, target two. corporate mogul noah kenneth carpenter,” one took down the page labeled “ii” and behind it hung a photo of the titular capitalistic businessman. nine felt like she was about to hurl. she knew that face. any guilt for leaving faded away in one fell swoop; this was the vengeance she yearned for. her sister mourned her loss, but nine could now strike back stronger than the girl she was could ever dream of. 

“been accused of fraud, sexual harassment, shady international dealings, labor abuse. textbook scumbag, yet rich enough to keep himself in the clear. and we’re going to take him down. there are three simple steps, except there’s more than three and they’re not simple.” there was a beat of silence after that, which nine used to take a closer look at her new teammates. three had his feet propped up on the table, two standing behind his chair with her hand on his shoulder. four leaned forward on his elbows, green eyes focused on one. five had her arms crossed over her chest, and seven had his attention focused on one’s presentation, posture perfectly straight. 

“what’s the first of these not-so-simple steps?” eight asked, picking at the thin blade of a small knife in her hands. she was a step behind the others, on the other side of seven. no longer the newest on the team, but still separate from what nine could tell. she couldn’t help but feel for the other girl. 

“glad you asked kiddo,” one grinned, a dangerous edge to his expression. “nine, i’m assuming you heard of the major disruption of the peace in florence eight months ago, and the subsequent coup in turgistan?” there was something bordering pride in his voice. nine could see small, sharp smiles from the ghosts as they glanced to each other. 

“vaguely, not much international shit made its way to me.” that was true. local news stations only showed things like county fairs and local robberies on the rare occasions nine would turn on the tv, and she didn’t care enough to go in search of global issues that didn’t concern her. 

“well that was us, and this is about to be on a similar scale. except for the unstable geopolitical aftermath. probably.” nine raised her eyebrows. it was difficult to wrap her head around these six underground vigilantes rocking the boat with nothing but varying, potentially deadly, specializations. it made her even more curious as to what she could do with them, and what she could do to noah carpenter. 

“anyway, the mission. the ultimate goal is to get him locked away, preferably not dead so he can rot in federal prison, but you can never tell with two and three on the squad,” two and three glared at one in unison, three miming slitting someone’s throat, but one just smiled. nine was starting to catch on to the group dynamics. 

“but before kenny can get a messy prison tat, we have to dig up some major dirt on him. something to destroy his legacy, drag his company through the mud, take away everything he took from the people.” nine could feel a dark smile spreading across her lips. a cause to believe in indeed. 

“so, there’s a big tech meeting thing in new york next month, and we are going to be there, along with mister exploitation over here,” one gestured crudely to the photo of carpenter pinned roughly to the thin wall. the sneer on the businessman’s face made nine’s blood boil. she was already on board with whatever the plan was going to be, and couldn’t wait to lend her driving skills to take him down. 

“what skyscraper am i crawling up now?” four sounded uninterested, cocking his head to the side. 

“it’s the guggenheim, and you’re not exactly crawling, more like sneaking. step one is going to be infiltrating. i have gotten intel saying that some shady deal is going down between him and a foreign mogul guy. we need to hear it all. the following missions are a little more iffy, and if we don’t find any dirt or evidence… well this is gonna take longer than anticipated.” 

“this is almost as vague as our last plan.” three quipped, idly invested in the small pistol in his palm. he aimed it at various spots around the room with disinterest, to which everyone responded by ducking and dodging his aim. 

“and that’s how i like it. no logical order means no one will expect what is coming.” nine just blinked at one in astonishment. her fantasies of justice tilted towards the farfetched with one’s confident admission of having no foolproof evidence to jump off of. 

“doesn’t that make it harder for us?” nine asked, unsettled by how calm everyone else seemed to be. her initial worries about one’s offer being vague came back to the forefront of nine’s mind. her instincts on the night she met one might have been more accurate than she realized, but she was in much too deep to change her mind.  

“you get used to it,” two admitted. nine almost flinched when she heard the slightly scary blonde woman speak. the comfort caught nine off guard more than two’s words. 

“now here is what our first mission is gonna play out…” one pulled out blueprints from a box under the table. pens and sharpies in hand, he started to draw out how their mission would go. he was about to start talking when he looked over his shoulder to see nine still standing a few feet from the group. he flashed her a winning smile and beckoned nine forward. the rest of the group was facing her, softening towards their newest ghost. here goes nothing.

nine took a deep breath in, then out, and took a step forward, officially leaving the past behind and entering her new death. 

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yaydyfyaydfyasoudfhasode it’s posted!!! I have the first chapter underway and way too many ideas for how this is going to go. but here’s some hints for the future: a sparring scene, city traffic, hiding in a castle and much tension to come! stay tuned :)

lmk if you want to be on the taglist!