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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

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Same River Twice (aka Time Travel Nie Bros) - part 4 - see ao3 or tumblr part 1, part 2, part 3

“You know what,” Nie Mingjue said, several shichen into the most awkward conversation he’d ever been forced to overhear in his life, “I think Wei Wuxian needs more friends.”

His father stopped contemplating the window with an expression that suggested he was considering throwing himself out of it and looked at him. “So you’ve mentioned before.”

“Yes, I know,” Nie Mingjue said, because he had in fact brought it up after Nie Huaisang’s no doubt unintentionally apt suggestion. “But on second thought, he needs them urgently. As does Huaisang. You don’t want them growing up barbaric and unsocialized, do you?”

His father mouthed the words ‘barbaric and unsocialized’ to himself, looking delighted. “By which you mean that you’d like to take them to visit the Lan sect, I assume?” he asked, not bothering to hide his amusement. “To learn good habits from them there?”

“To avoid learning bad habits here,” Nie Mingjue said. “Alternatively, you could always kick all of them out so that all of us can stop getting the loud and dramatic rendition of all the different types of bad decisions adults can make, courtesy of our friends in the Jiang sect and our new guest disciples.”

“…take Zonghui with you,” his father said. “Have a nice trip. Enjoy the quiet.”

There was a better than decent chance that he was being sarcastic, but Nie Mingjue wasn’t going to wait around long enough to find out – he saluted and turned to run away at once.

“Don’t get into too much trouble!” his father shouted after him.

That was ridiculous. What sort of trouble could Nie Mingjue get into in Gusu, of all places?

“Nie-gongzi, has anyone ever told you that you have really weird taste in rewards?” Nie Zonghui said, looking long-suffering as always.

Wei Wuxian, who was riding on his shoulders, craned his head down to look at him. “Rewards? What is Nie-da-ge getting rewarded for?”

“He performed especially well on his first ever night hunt,” Nie Zonghui told him, while Nie Mingjue flushed red and Nie Huaisang, who was riding on his shoulders, giggled. “His father wanted to reward him, and determined to do so by granting the first request he made.”

“He didn’t tell me he was planning on doing that,” Nie Mingjue hissed. If he had, he might’ve asked to visit Yunping City to collect Meng Yao – finding a reason to go there was much harder to achieve than arranging a simple visit to the Lan sect, which would’ve happened sooner or later anyway.

His thoughts hadn’t been focused on reward at all. He’d only really, truly desperately wanted to get away from any further discussion of Sect Leader Jiang’s sex life.

(Cangse Sanren was blunt and straightforward in her speech, something Nie Mingjue greatly appreciated right up until she was shouting things about size and shape and performance and also her husband…it was absolutely mortifying, even just as a spectator, except possibly Jiang Fengmian was into things like that because he just kept on arguing. In his past-future life, Nie Mingjue had had to sit across the table from Jiang Fengmian for years, and might yet have to do so again if he was not successful in adverting his father’s death, which was something he wouldn’t be able to if he kept hearing things like this! He didn’t want to know things like this!)

No, Nie Mingjue hadn’t thought about rewards at all – had already put away all thoughts of that particular night-hunt in favor of showing of his improvement with Baxia, who practically purred in his hands when he wielded her, so that he could win his independence sooner rather than later.

Even picking Gusu as their destination had been primarily motivated by seizing on the last place anyone had mentioned to him as a plausible destination that could be sold to his father.

Nie Huaisang had asked him, all big and wide-eyed and adorable, why they were going to somewhere as far away from the Unclean Realm as the Cloud Recesses, and Nie Mingjue had blamed Nie Huaisang’s suggestion of introducing Wei Wuxian to the Lan sect.

Nie Huaisang had also asked why they were going now and Nie Mingjue had explained in a rush of tangled words that sometimes grown-ups liked to talk about private things very loudly and maybe it would be better to leave them to it.

Nie Huaisang had found that dreadfully funny for some reason, giggling until both he and Wei Wuxian were rolling around on the ground laughing their heads off at the idea of going to Gusu –

Nie Mingjue didn’t care. As long as they went, and with them his excuse to go as well!

(Besides, it would be nice to see Lan Xichen.)

“Of course he didn’t tell you about it, Nie-gongzi,” Nie Zonghui said patiently. “It was meant to be a surprise. Wouldn’t have been much of a surprise if you knew about it, would it?”

Nie Mingjue sighed. Nie Zonghui was a half-generation above him – older than him by over a decade, entitling him (if only technically) to be called uncle rather than cousin, but young enough that he sometimes felt more like a peer. Certainly once Nie Mingjue himself had become sect leader, having someone like him to help figure out how to communicate with the elders had been priceless.

That didn’t mean he didn’t want to punch the man in the face on a regular basis.

Stupid sense of humor.

“Wouldn’t da-ge be happier if he could pick what he got?” Nie Huaisang asked. “What if he’d asked for something stupid, like a map?”

Nie Mingjue reached up to one of the legs currently dangling next to his ear and pinched him lightly, making his little brother squeak and then giggle again. He wasn’t sure why Nie Huaisang was still so worried about his offer to buy him a map – he hadn’t even known that the under-five age group could have a sense of financial economy, much less guilt over it, but then again he didn’t know much about kids that age anyway – but no matter what he wasn’t having any of it.

In this life, his brother would be happy for as long as Nie Mingjue could give him.

Of course, making Nie Huaisang happy would be easier if he wasn’t so picky.

“Didi, didi, it’s all right,” he said, trying to be soothing and not really remembering how. “You don’t need to be afraid - Lan Xichen is a friend…I’m sorry, Xichen, I really don’t know what’s gotten into him.”

“It’s no problem,” Lan Xichen said, looking exactly as one would expect a nine-year-old being addressed as a peer by a twelve-year-old that his guardian routinely praised as a role model would be – which was to say, a little pleased, a little uncertain, and mostly confused. The shrieking four-year-old wasn’t helping matters, either. “I don’t think I’ve done anything to offend him...?”

“You’re blind,” Nie Huaisang hissed at him, tears still streaming down his face. “Blind, blind, blind!”

“No, Huaisang,” Nie Mingjue said helplessly. He had no idea where Nie Huaisang got these ideas into his head, was it a feature of early childhood or something? “He’s not – look, the bandage is around his forehead, right? Not his eyes. And since when do you have something against blind people anyway?”

Nie Huaisang buried his face into his side. “Stupid da-ge.”

Nie Mingjue patted him on the back. “Sorry,” he said to Lan Xichen again. “This isn’t exactly the first impression I was hoping for.”

Lan Xichen abruptly grinned, looking for a moment like a regular child rather than the polite and reserved young man Nie Mingjue had known for so many years – it reminded him a little of the boy from the future timeline that he’d only seen brief glimpses of through the pieces of his soul that were attached to the pieces of his body, the loud and irreverent one called Lan Jingyi.

Back then he'd wondered abstractly how exactly such a boy could be related to the Lan clan, stately and elegant even when they acted radically, and now all of a sudden he saw that boy staring out of him from Lan Xichen’s immature face.

“Bet you thought you’d look a lot more dashing, didn’t you?” Lan Xichen asked merrily. “Flying in on your swords, jumping down for a perfect landing, and then – waaaaaaah!”

Nie Mingjue laughed, because it really had happened a bit like that.

“Don’t forget the domino effect,” he said wryly, glancing over at where Wei Wuxian was being plied with treats from a bag pulled from Nie Zonghui’s sleeve – he’d started sympathy crying when Nie Huaisang had inexplicably started wailing, and was having trouble stopping even though he admitted that nothing was actually wrong with him other than having feelings. “They’re probably just over-tired from the trip.”

“Did you really fly all the way from Qinghe?” Lan Xichen asked eagerly. “All by yourself?”

“We made a lot of stops –”

“But you were on your own sword, right? Just you?”

“It’s a saber and I was carrying Huaisang, but yes, in terms of who was in charge of propulsion, it was just me.”

Lan Xichen heaved a sigh full of obvious envy, and Nie Mingjue smiled. “If you want, I can petition your uncle that you act as my guide to the surrounding environs as well as the Cloud Recesses itself? He’d have to let you fly by yourself if that was the case.”

“Oh, would you?” Lan Xichen enthused. “That would be great! I’m not that good yet, but I’m not going to get good if I don’t have a chance to practice, except Uncle is always saying that – oh, wait, I’m not supposed to say –”

“Speaking of others behind their back is prohibited,” Nie Mingjue said solemnly, then cracked up at the dumbfounded expression on Lan Xichen’s face. “No, I’m sorry, I won’t quote your sect rules at you, I promise, it was just a joke…”

“You’d better!”

He rather liked this enthusiastic version of Lan Xichen, Nie Mingjue thought.

Even Nie Huaisang seemed to have gotten over his initial fright to start begrudgingly enjoying all of Lan Xichen’s chattering and bustling around – Nie Mingjue thought he might, given that Lan Xichen currently reminded him immensely of an extremely chatty blue-breasted quail and Nie Huaisang had always liked those. There was so much life in Lan Xichen, good humor and cheer filling him up until he was practically bursting with it; he hadn’t yet had to learn how to hold back his feelings and hide them, hadn’t yet learned that the only acceptable way to interact with others was through a carefully practiced smile.

Perhaps what was why Lan Xichen had been so drawn to Meng Yao, Nie Mingjue reflected – Meng Yao had hidden himself underneath a smile, too. Where he himself had admired Meng Yao for what he had thought was his strength of character, his ability to ignore the jibes and the slights he faced in favor of carrying on and doing what must be done, just as Nie Mingjue longed to be able to do, perhaps Lan Xichen had from the very first moment seen Meng Yao as someone in need of sympathy and affection. Perhaps it had been his own suffering projected onto Meng Yao’s open, facile face that had so tugged on his heartstrings.

It was a little odd, though.

It was a long time ago, but Nie Mingjue recalled meeting Lan Xichen when they were both quite young, and if he put his mind to thinking about it, he was pretty sure they would have met in about two years’ time – his fourteen to Lan Xichen’s eleven, with Nie Huaisang nearly six and Lan Wangji nearly seven. And yet the Lan Xichen he had met had been so very different from this, far more serious and reserved, quiet more often than not, that practiced smile already on his face and only with great reluctance melting into something real…

He wondered why there had been such a great change.

In the meantime, Nie Mingjue relieved Nie Zonghui of his duties on account of their safety – the older man had been to Gusu before for discussion conferences, and looked extremely bored – and took Nie Huaisang’s hand in one hand and Wei Wuxian’s in the other, and the three of them followed Lan Xichen around as he pointed out all the things he liked best.

Wei Wuxian broke away at one point and sped into the brush, shrieking something about a rabbit, and when they gave chase and found him again, he’d somehow bumped into Lan Wangji, who with his white clothing and solemn expression resembled nothing so much a bunny himself.

“Nie-da-ge, this is my friend!” Wei Wuxian hollered, even though they couldn’t have been talking for more than a few minutes before the rest of them caught up. “His name’s Lan Zhan! I’m keeping him forever!”

Nie Huaisang sniggered, and Nie Mingjue poked him – it was rude to laugh at other people’s earnestness.

“That’s nice, Wuxian,” he said, and formally saluted Lan Wangji, knowing how much the other boy liked rules and things being done right. “I’m pleased to meet you, Wangji. I hope we can be friends as well.”

Lan Wangji stared at him mutely for a long moment, and then his entire face slowly turned bright red as if he were boiling.

Nie Mingjue blinked, unsure about the reason for such an extreme reaction, but standing beside him Lan Xichen cackled. “Oh, oh, this is great,” he crowed. “Wait till I tell Mom!”

Lan Wangji attempted to bite him, which naturally made Wei Wuxian leap to his friend’s assistance, and somehow Nie Huaisang ended up wading into the fray with a stick that he waved around like a war-fan, seeking inexplicably to defend Lan Xichen despite having previously displayed no fondness for him at all.

Nie Mingjue waded in as well, of course, trying to separate them and somehow ending up as everyone’s target when they realized that he was strong enough to pick them all up and toss them (lightly) into the piles of soft grass that covered the meadow, even Lan Xichen, and at that point they all threw themselves at him eagerly in order to be throw back.

Nie Mingjue wasn’t really thinking about that, though. He was thinking about what Lan Xichen had said.

He was thinking about – Mom.

Not Nie Mingjue’s own, naturally. She’d been gone since he was younger than Nie Huaisang was now. Perhaps it was because Nie Mingjue had his father and his aunts and his uncles, but he had never really felt the lack of her all that much, except maybe when he needed to learn some etiquette he didn’t know or when his peers spoke fondly of their own mothers. Nor was he thinking of Nie Huaisang’s mother, who had been very nice and whose untimely death had upset him immensely; he honestly hadn’t thought of either of them in years and years by the time he’d died.

But rather, he thought about Lan Xichen’s mother – Lan Wangji’s mother –

Nie Mingjue hadn’t learned the story of her fate until much, much later in life, when he was very nearly an adult. The Lan sect had always kept their secrets very well, and he might never have learned the details if it hadn’t been for Lan Xichen willingly divulging them. He’d told him the whole awful story of how his mother had not loved his father even though he loved her, how she had killed someone dear to him, how he had married her to save her and gone into seclusion to punish himself, how the Lan sect, ever concerned with its face, had covered it all up by forcing her into permanent seclusion…

The story had never really sat right with him. A punishment was one thing, entirely justifiable; murder was murder, and life imprisonment was a valid sentence, a valid commutation of the death sentence that she probably ought to have received. It was not Nie Mingjue’s place to question how the Lan sect selected and imposed punishments…

And yet, something about it had always felt rotten.

Maybe it was only that the Nie sect didn’t believe in solitary imprisonment. Or, well, really solitary anything, with even seclusion being done in a relatively well-traveled area so that those inside could, if they wished, open a one-sided window to hear the noise and know that their family was around them. Even their tombs, their saber halls, were joined together into what was practically a necropolis – even in death, the Nie sect would rather be together than apart.

If he recalled correctly, Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji’s mother would soon be taken away from them for good. She’d died when Lan Xichen was – ten? Ten to Lan Wangji’s six, yes, that sounded right.

A year from now, then. Less, maybe.

“– xiongzhang is da-ge, not er-ge!”

“No, you don’t understand, my da-ge is older – and bigger – so he’s da-ge, and your xiongzhang is er-ge, and that means you’d be san-ge, and Wei-gege is – wait, which one of you is older?”

“Huaisang, it doesn’t work that way, we’re not the same family –”

“What are you even talking about?” Nie Mingjue asked, abruptly coming out of his thoughts. They’d continued playing while he daydreamed, and now Lan Xichen was perched on his back like a monkey, with Nie Huaisang on one of Nie Mingjue’s shoulder while Wei Wuxian hung off the other arm’s bicep and Lan Wangi clung to his neck in front like a sloth on a branch, as Nie Mingjue demonstrated that he could, in fact, keep walking with all of them attached. Every single one of them seemed to think this was the absolute height of entertainment. “Who’s related to what now? Huaisang, can’t you just call Xichen Xichen-ge or something?”

“Oh, fine. Xichen-gege! Xichen-gege!”

“Nie-didi! Nie-didi!”

“Too loud,” Lan Wangji sniffed.

“Didn’t you hear Lan Zhan?!” Wei Wuxian promptly hollered at the top of his lungs. “You’re all being too loud!”

“I’m going to throw each and every one of you into a pond,” Nie Mingjue said. “One by one, if I have to.”

“Do you promise?” Lan Xichen giggled in his ear. “That sounds like fun!”

“Actually,” Nie Mingjue said, “I had a different thought. How about we play hide-and-seek?”

The advantage of future knowledge, Nie Mingjue thought, was that he knew exactly where Madame Lan’s home was and how to get there within the time period he’d suggested for the initial hiding.

The disadvantage was that he was so focused on achieving his goal that he forgot that what implications might be taken from a twelve-year-old boy breaking into a woman’s home, especially at a time when she wasn’t expecting visitors.

“I’m so sorry!” he all but shrieked, covering his eyes even though he had already turned his back. “Please put on clothing!”

“Oh, your face –” Madame Lan was guffawing. “You’re so red – boy, you don’t have to throw yourself out the window in penance or anything. I’m still wearing my inner robe, you can’t even see anything.”

“It’s still inappropriate!”

“Could be worse. I could’ve been –”

“Please don’t finish that sentence,” he begged. “I swear I’m not actually doing this because I have a crush on you, so please, please, please don’t give me any details about what you do in the privacy of your own home, okay? And stop offering me your under-things! I don’t want them!”

“I was only doing laundry,” she said, almost crying with laughter. “I didn’t mean to throw my underwear at your face, it was really just the closest thing to hand…who are you, anyway? Shouldn’t you be introducing yourself to me?”

“I’ll introduce myself when you’re dressed and not a moment earlier.”

“Oh, all right, have it your way. Give me a moment.” There was some rustling. “All right, turn around.”

He peeked and sighed with relief: Madame Lan was, in fact, appropriately dressed in a lovely white silk dress, adorned with the typical Lan sect cloud embroidery and everything. The style was a little freer and less conservative than he might have expected to see the mistress of a Great Sect wearing, but then again he supposed she’d never actually had to do the work associated with it. It was hard to host a society party from seclusion…

“Qinghe Nie’s Nie Mingjue greets He Kexin, Madame Lan,” he said, saluting properly. “I’m a visitor to your sect.”

“I hadn’t realized that we were anticipating visitors from another Great Sect,” she remarked. “Normally there’s a great deal more hustle and bustle involved with preparing to receive a visit.”

“It’s an informal one,” Nie Mingjue explained. “Somewhat, uh, abrupt. We didn’t send word in advance. You see, we recently accepted Cangse Sanren and her husband as guest disciples, and shortly thereafter the Jiang sect paid us an unexpected visit…”

Madame Lan had clearly heard about that disaster, if the way she put her hand over her mouth in a futile attempt to stifle her chortling was any indication.

“I think I see the issue, being as I happen to remember Cangse Sanren very well,” she said, her eyes dancing. “What a troublemaker. She even shaved off Qiren-xiaoshuzi’s beard one time! I’m guessing based on the way you turned into a boiled crayfish that she scared you out of your own home?”

Nie Mingjue opened his mouth to protest, except, well, that wasn’t entirely inaccurate…

“What a charming little egg you are! You’re such a rotten liar that you can’t even do it to save face.”

“Being dishonest isn’t saving face,” Nie Mingjue said, even though his face felt like it was burning and he was probably just as red as she said he was. “The truth is what the truth is, that’s all. You’re not wrong, that’s more or less what happened – I brought Huaisang and Wuxian here so that we could get away from all the yelling.”

“You picked a good place for that,” Madame Lan said, and there was a dull look in her eye all of a sudden. Nothing like the liveliness from a few moments before. “There’s nowhere like the Cloud Recesses for quiet.”

Nie Mingjue bit his lip, not quite sure how to say what he wanted to say. Right up until that moment, she hadn’t seemed at all sick, the way he’d thought she’d be – less than a year before she died, from what he remembered of Lan Xichen’s stories. He’d assumed she’d already be ill with the early stages whatever it was that had eventually taken her from her sons.

But now, he didn’t think she was sick, not really, only…bored.

Dreadfully, horribly bored. The sort of bored that drained your life away bit by bit.

Formal training in swordsmanship and scholarship began at six at the Cloud Recesses, Nie Mingjue abruptly remembered. There were plenty of lessons prior to that, of course, but at age six they would become formalized, the children shifting over from the realm of babies to proper young-adults-to-be. Once Lan Wangji turned six, Madame Lan would have had nothing to look forward to in life.

Nothing, except for her children starting to drift further and further away from her: nothing to do, no purpose, no friends…

Just boredom.

“The Unclean Realm has a communal prison,” he blurted out, and then smacked his hands into his face to hide his shame for being such an inconsiderate ass. Why had he thought he could do this by himself?

He wasn’t even sure what he’d originally come here to accomplish, other than to let Madame Lan know that she ought to see a doctor sooner rather than later in the hopes that they would be able to catch and stymie whatever disease it had been that had killed her, except now of course Nie Mingjue understood that it was no disease at all.

“…what?” she said blankly.

It was too late to retreat, so Nie Mingjue gathered up every bit of courage he’d ever had and barreled onwards.

“I just mean,” he said, tripping over his words, “if you’d like to be – a bit less quiet. Even if your sentence is life imprisonment, surely you don’t have to necessarily serve it here, right?”

Madame Lan stared at him. His shoulders started creeping up to his ears.

“Actually,” she said abruptly, “I was never sentenced.”

He gaped at her. “You – what?”

“Qiren-xiaoshuzi pushed for it, said it was only fair that I knew the exact contours of my punishment, but the sect elders refused,” she explained. “They didn’t want to lose face by having a trial at all, not even privately.”

“But – but if you haven’t been sentenced, you can’t be imprisoned!”

“Is that so?” she asked, looking amused.

“You can’t,” Nie Mingjue insisted, horrified. “The laws of war say that someone can be executed on the spot for committing a crime, but in peacetime they have to be sentenced first even if you catch them red-handed. What if your accuser recants his accusation, whether because he was wrong or because he decided not to press charges? If they recant, you can’t be tried; if you can’t be tried, even if everyone knows you’ve done wrong, you still must be released. No trial, no sentence, no imprisonment!”

“Tell that to the Lan sect,” she said dryly. “Not even my husband could do more than he did to forestall my punishment, and he’s sect leader. Nominally, anyway.”

This did seem to be a problem of the Lan sect. Of all sects, really – he had his own share of old men causing issues and sticking their noses into things – but he’d never had anywhere near the problem with the sect elders as Lan Xichen had had with his Lan sect.

“Why should I?” Nie Mingjue asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “I don’t see why we have to tell them anything at all.”

“Why are we doing this?” Nie Huaisang asked, tugging on Nie Mingjue’s sleeve.

“I already explained,” Nie Mingjue said, which he had. He’d also explained that he’d run in there by accident while looking for a place to hide, and he’d tried to look as much like a stupid twelve-year-old as possible when he said it. “About the lack of a trial –”

Nie Huaisang tugged again. “Not that. Why are we rescuing her?”

“Because she might die if we don’t,” Nie Mingjue said. “She’s very bored in there all by herself.”

“So?”

“What do you mean, so? It’d make Xichen and Wangji sad if she died.”

“So?”

“So they shouldn’t be sad if they don’t have to be! I don’t want them to be sad because they lost a parent…don’t you remember being sad about your mom having died, Huaisang?”

“No,” Nie Huaisang said. “I had da-ge.”

Nie Mingjue sighed. He’d keep this conversation in mind for later when Nie Huaisang was old enough to actually understand the concept of death, and then he’d use it to torment him forever.

“Wouldn’t you be sad if da-ge died, then?” he asked, and felt Nie Huaisang’s hands abruptly clutch tight on his arms. “There you go. That’s why we’re doing this.”

Nie Huaisang nodded, but he was still scowling a little in his adorable childhood way, and Nie Mingjue thought for a second that he heard him murmuring something about inviting unnecessary trouble under his voice, but…whatever, it wasn’t important.

What was more important was that Lan Xichen had arrived with what Nie Mingjue had asked him to fetch for him, his cheeks bright pink with excitement. “Nie-da-ge,” he hissed even though there wasn’t anyone in the area, thrusting the package into Nie Mingjue’s arms. “I got it!”

“Good,” Nie Mingjue said, then paused. “Er, you don’t mind, do you?”

“Mind? Mind what?”

“That I’m kind of, uh, well – I mean, I’m kidnapping your mother. You won’t be able to see her as often as you do now if this works…”

“She’ll be free,” Lan Wangji, trailing behind Lan Xichen as always, said solemnly. Then he stuck his thumb in his mouth, which somewhat ruined the effect.

Wei Wuxian, who’d rushed over to stand next to him as soon as he’d seen him, hugged him tightly. “You’ll come over all the time,” he assured him. “My mom will like your mom, and we’ll all go outside and play all the time. We’ll be really happy!”

Lan Wangji sniffed and buried his face into Wei Wuxian’s shoulder.

“It’s like Wangji said,” Lan Xichen said. His eyes were intense. “She’s not happy here, she’s not free here, and we only see her once a month anyway – less, in the future, once we’re both busy with lessons all the time. If she can be free somewhere else…you will let us come visit, right?”

“As often as you’re allowed,” Nie Mingjue promised, as it was about all he could do. “I’ll talk to my father about it…”

His father would probably have a fit.

Still, this was an injustice. Even if his father disagreed, it was something he had to do. He’d justify it with reference to their sect principles, and take any punishment duty his father chose to impose.

“It doesn’t matter, he’ll agree,” he said firmly. “You’ll definitely be able to visit.”

“Can I raise an objection?” Nie Zonghui said mournfully from where he was hovering by the side of the clearing. “Possibly two – no, three objections.”

Nie Mingjue looked at him and tilted his head to the side in silent question.

“One, your father said not to get into trouble, if you’ll trouble yourself to remember back that far,” he said, raising a finger. “Two, how exactly do you plan to break the array keeping Madame Lan imprisoned? And three, even if you do break it, how do you plan to get her out?”

The first was irrelevant. The other two…

“We’re going to walk out the front gate,” Nie Mingjue said, and opened up the package Lan Xichen had gotten him – as he’d suspected, there had been spare robes for Qinghe Nie disciples left behind from the previous discussion conference, and sure enough the Lan sect had kept hold of them as a courtesy to the owners. “The Lan sect has never affirmatively stated that Madame Lan wasn’t allowed to leave; they just said she was too sickly to do so. Therefore, if we leave with a Nie sect disciple who is clearly capable of walking out, there’s nothing they can do to stop us without admitting that it’s her and that she’s a prisoner – which they won’t do, because then they’d lose face.”

“That barely counts as a plan,” Nie Zonghui said, and for some reason Nie Huaisang nodded in agreement. “But sadly I think it might actually work.”

Nie Huaisang looked betrayed.

“It will work,” Lan Xichen said. “Especially if you insist that she’s one of yours. They won’t be able to call you out without calling you a liar, and they wouldn’t want to do that. Not publicly, not about this.”

“Won’t there be a problem that she’s a girl wearing boy’s clothing?” Wei Wuxian asked, patting Lan Wangji’s head.

“No, that’s not a problem in Qinghe,” Nie Huaisang told him. “You’re new, so you’re not used to it, but it really isn’t. I mean, she could be misaligned or something, it’s not our business.”

“And we won’t be lying about her being one of ours,” Nie Mingjue said. “Since I’ve offered her sanctuary in our sect, it’s even technically true.”

Nie Zonghui sighed. “And if they ask Lan-gongzi and Lan-er-gongzi if she’s their mother?”

“Wangji won’t say anything,” Lan Xichen said at once. “And I’ll – I’ll lie if I have to.”

He was truly unbearably cute at this age.

Nie Zonghui appeared to be suffering from a similar problem, reaching over and patting him lightly on the head in helpless amusement. “Okay, okay. Let’s hope they don’t ask,” he said. “But – Nie-gongzi, we still have the second problem. How do you intend to get Madame Lan out of the imprisonment array?”

Nie Mingjue patted his cousin – who he knew from his future experience was one of the finest array breakers in their sect, a charming side-effect courtesy of his dual-wielded saber cultivation style – on the shoulder. “I intend to delegate.”

Nie Zonghui blinked, then glared. “I walked myself into that one, didn’t I?”

“You did,” Nie Mingjue said peaceably. “Can you break it? I can use Baxia, if it’ll help.”

“Hmph. Yes, it would help a great deal, but will she agree to consume an array for you? That’s fairly high-grade work, and talent or no talent, you’re still fairly new to mastering the saber.”

Nie Mingjue put his hand on Baxia’s blade, which felt warm and pleased. Practically purring. At some point he would need to investigate why she was so happy all the time – she’d never been this compliant in his first life, and he’d expected her to be more vicious, not less. “Yes, she’ll be happy to help.”

“Fine. Let’s go.” Nie Zonghui paused briefly. “Also, if your father asks, you held Baxia to my throat and made me do it. It was definitely not me being curious about whether or not I could break such a complicated array.”

“Of course it wasn’t,” Nie Mingjue said understandingly, and drew Baxia. “All right. Let’s go get ourselves banned from the Cloud Recesses.”

#mdzs #nie mingjue #nie huaisang #lan xichen #wei wuxian #lan wangji #nie zonghui #madame lan #my fic #my fics #time travel nie bros

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florrickandassociates · 3 years

Text

TGF Thoughts-- 5x07: And the fight had a detente...

This episode is a wild ride, so if you haven’t seen it yet and you aren’t spoiled, don’t read this. Just go watch it.

Ave Maria plays over a photo montage of cancelled men, including Kevin Spacey, Louie CK, and Scott Rudin. (Scott Rudin, if you don’t know the name, is a Broadway/Hollywood producer who treated his assistants like absolute shit. He’s the inspiration for the possessed producer episode of Evil—I think it’s the third episode of the series—and Robert King does not like him one bit.)

And then the episode opens with Wackner, Del, and Cord discussing the Armie Hammer cannibalism ordeal. Whew, this is not what I wanted to be thinking about first thing on a Thursday morning. I do not think I can put into words how boring I find debating whether or not someone should have been “cancelled.” Cancellation is usually about rich people facing consequences for shitty actions, and those consequences have never involved anyone’s rights being infringed upon, so why should I care about someone being cancelled? And, while I know that society/people on Twitter don’t always understand nuance, I’d like to think that when it comes to the most notable examples of cancellation... no one is losing their livelihood over false or minor allegations.

There are so, so, so many issues in the world. Cancellation affects a handful of high profile, usually white, straight, male, celebrities. Why should I give a shit about, like, Louie CK not being able to make as much money as he used to? I just do not and cannot find it interesting.

I’m not surprised David Cord and Del Cooper find this topic interesting—Del likely hates worrying that all of his comedians could get cancelled and put him in a financially tricky spot; Cord probably says things like “Woke Mob” unironically. And as for Wackner, he almost certainly has a skewed understanding of what actually happens when someone’s cancelled and sees a place where he can step in and add some order. Blah. It’s just so boring.

"People are getting canceled without a trial, no evidence presented against them,” Wackner says. This is not it, Wackner! This is such a strawman argument. We don’t need the legal system to adjudicate people being assholes to each other, and in cases where a crime is committed or a particular individual can sue for damages, that is what happens. If you act shitty and then your sponsors realize you’re toxic and drop you, like, it is what it is. You can feel free to respond via a Notes App screenshot where half of your apology is actually just whining about cancel culture and then you say “I’m sorry if anyone took offense at what I did” instead of saying “I’m sorry I said/did hurtful things” and when people don’t take that seriously, maybe it’s because you didn’t take it seriously, either.

“There are a lot of reasons these accusations never go to trial. The victims finally get to accuse the victimizer face to face,” Wackner explains. Were the victims asking for this?

Marissa shares my question, noting that if the victims don’t want to speak up, then the victimizer would have the court to himself. This raises a new question: who is even bringing these cases? Are Wackner, Cord, and Del just deciding they want to do things as cases and then getting everyone else on board? This sounds bad!

Apparently, according to Wackner, “if #MeToo relies on mob rule, it’ll exhaust itself.” What... evidence is there for this? I get why people panic about the POSSIBILITY of this happening, even though I don’t share their panic, but is there any actual evidence that #MeToo is losing steam because of false allegations because cancellation isn’t a formal process? I don’t believe there is.

The test case we have the pleasure of seeing this week is about “Louie CK two,” whom I shall refer to as LCK2 instead of learning his name.

Now, suddenly, Marissa is asking one of LCK2’s victims to testify. She doesn’t want to participate because it’s just another way for LCK2 to get his career back. Marissa decides to be idealistic and say this is a real opportunity to confront LCK2 with his crime. I suppose she isn’t wrong, and that is what happens next, but, again, meh.

Apparently David Cord is going to defend LCK2. You know what would get cancelled in five seconds? A David Cord funded show that has David Cord actually on it, railing against cancel culture! Can you IMAGINE the thinkpieces?

God, when is this episode going to move on from this extremely irritating premise?

Marissa decides she wants to be the prosecutor. Wackner says if she prosecutes LCK2, she has to prosecute the academic who used a word that sounds like the n-word and lost her job for it. Marissa thinks the academic shouldn’t have been fired, but Wackner insists she has to take both cases.

“Let’s go into court,” Wackner says, and, thank goodness, we do go into court: REAL court, where we are talking about REAL issues.

In court, Liz and Diane are suing the police over the death of a black girl who was tased by the police. Her friend is on the stand and it’s quite emotional. Also, Diane tries to pass Liz a note and Liz ignores it. Why would you have two name partners on this case if they aren’t even going to try to work together?

You can tell things are tense between two TGF characters when they talk at the same time in court but are on the same side.

Hiiiiii Abernathy! ILY!

The victim had a heart condition, which the police lawyer argues is the actual cause of death. Police lawyer also argues that since this witness posted some ACAB lyrics on Instagram, she must be biased. Eyeroll.

Liz calls the other lawyer racist; the other lawyer tries to make Liz look like she is only on her client’s side because she’s black and that Liz is being absurd.

Cancel culture court happens. We’re dealing with the academic case first. I don’t feel like talking about the cancel culture shit too much, so here is my take on this case as a whole: (1) I don’t think the actual word in question, which isn’t actually the n-word, is enough on its own to get someone fired (2) I also don’t think anyone can use that word, regardless of its meaning or history, without understanding how it will come across. (3) The teacher did not get fired for simply using this word once (4) This teacher believes that anyone who is from a group that’s been marginalized in history should have to confront that marginalization with as little sympathy and respect as possible because it will help them be more resilient. So basically, if you are from the dominant group then you don’t get challenged. She believes it is her job to do this. She is an egotistical asshole who has no business teaching.

Cord wants everyone to have to say the full word in question. He says this pretentiously (though I don’t think saying “Said word” is that pretentious, tbh) and Wackner rules against him and also makes him wear a powdered wig for using “obtuse language.”

Marissa is not trying at all with this case at first, since she doesn’t believe in it. That’s shitty, Marissa. If you want to be a lawyer at a firm like RL you’re going to have to fight for all of your clients.

Marissa makes a Latin joke and ends up in a powdered wig, too.

The prof says, in one sentence, that she didn’t know what she was doing using the word and also that the black student who took offense thinks college is supposed to be warm, cuddly, and unchallenging. So it was a challenge, then, prof?

I like this student. And I love that she calls Marissa out for obviously not trying.

“The optics matter. Racially,” Diane says to Liz, who agrees. Diane, strategically, makes it about gender first (the cop is male, some jurors may react to a woman questioning a man), then makes it about how she should be the one questioning the cop since Liz is black. It would make the jury more “comfortable” (hey, there’s that word again!) Diane says. She says she is being pragmatic.

Diane says that she could be “more dispassionate”. Be or come across as, Diane? Either way, Liz, who knows full well what the optics look like given that this isn’t her first time in court, doesn’t agree with Diane that they need to come across as dispassionate.

Then Diane just changes the subject to the firm drama. “Liz, you’re shoving me out of my name partner position because of my race.” Like that’s the issue!

“I am doing nothing. You are the one who got our racist clients to whine to STR Laurie about us,” Liz counters. “Those clients bring in a great deal of money, and they are not racists,” Diane insists. Yes. Sure. Diane just happened to choose white male clients who were “comfortable” with her to talk to. I have no doubt they’d have reacted poorly to any change in representation, but Diane was counting on those particular clients having some discomfort with their new lawyers.

Liz calls her out and Diane’s still trying to play it like she just had to inform her long-term clients and it just had to be done this way. But, when Liz asks if Diane thinks the clients would’ve had the same reaction if their new representation were to be white, Diane says that maybe her clients are worried about racial grudges. So, what you’re saying is you knew exactly what you were doing, huh, Diane?

I get why Diane doesn’t like being pushed out, because who would, but Diane, this isn’t about you. And if you didn’t want to make it about race, perhaps you shouldn’t have appeared on a panel about how great it is that your firm is majority black? You can’t have it both ways.

Liz notes that Diane felt “entitled” to her name partnership. This is accurate, though based on revenue and stature I don’t think it can be denied that Diane deserves name partner status (generally speaking). Diane went over to RBK, was like, “sure, I’ll be a junior partner, thank you so much for the opportunity, I can’t even pay my capital contribution right now but what if I were name partner in three months?” and that is both entitlement and knowing one’s own worth, but mostly entitlement.

(Liz does not act entitled, but if we want to get into who deserves their partnership more—again generally speaking, not their partnership at a black firm specifically—it is definitely Diane! Liz literally only has this job because her dad was important.)

“I think that Barbara Kolstad was shoved out because you felt entitled to her position,” Liz shouts. OMG, a mention of Barbara?!?!?!??!?!? THANK YOU, WRITERS!!!

(This is a slight bit of revisionist history but I’ll allow it, and I think it’s right in thought even if it’s not right on the details. Barbara wasn’t shoved out—Barbara chose to go to a different firm that offered her a better deal—but I don’t think Barbara would’ve been on that trajectory had it not been for Diane’s presence at the firm. Barbara was in charge of a firm that shared her values when, suddenly, her partner decided that they needed to pursue profit over all else and needed Diane to execute that strategy. Maybe no one made a move directly against her, but Adrian and Diane changed the mission of RBK until it was no longer somewhere Barbara wanted to work.

“We can’t work together if you don’t respect me,” Diane screams at Liz. “No, we can’t work together if you use race cynically,” Liz responds. Diane gets even angrier, swears a bunch, and then says “You want to come after me, you come after me with an honest argument about my lack of competence, my lack of worth.” Diane, you are fighting a completely different battle here! You can be entitled and also correct and also good at your job. This is what you used to accuse Alicia of all the time. The fact you’ve turned this into something about your skill level when it’s about the meaning of having a black firm is only proving Liz’s point.

“Your unworthiness—which you don’t seem to want to acknowledge—is that you can’t be the top dog in a black firm,” Liz says. Exactly. But Diane just storms off.

Now the cop is on the stand. He did not know the victim had a heart condition. Uh, obviously, why would he have known that?

Liz is aggressive in court; Diane thinks this is the wrong strategy. Without knowing who is on the jury, I have no idea which one of them is correct.

The next move is to get the cop’s ex-wife, who he abused, on the stand.

Goodie, it’s cancel culture court. Things go well for Marissa, but Del wants to know why Marissa wasn’t that passionate about the n-word case. Marissa says she feels like it’s not the n-word, like that is a valid reason to not represent your client to the best of your ability. “It is. It always is,” says Del.

Marissa heads back to RL, and as she walks, the camera follows her and moves through the space until we end up in Liz’s office, where she gets a news alert about the cop from the COTW. He’s been killed, seemingly in retaliation for his actions. The news is quick to suggest the trial might’ve encouraged the killing. “Oh, fuck.” Diane says as she watches the news. Aaaand credits (at 20 minutes in!)

From the promos, I thought this was going to be a Very Serious Episode about police brutality. From the opening, I thought it was going to be an insufferable episode about cancel culture. I was wrong! (Though, I suppose, some of the cancel culture stuff is still insufferable.)

Yay for Carrie Preston, who directed this episode. I read an interview with her and she talked about how there’s a “look book” for directing TGF episodes and I have never wanted to see anything as badly as I want to see this look book. (Am I exaggerating? Probably. But I might not be.)

After credits, Marissa finds Carmen and Jay to ask them if “n-word-ly" is offensive. She acknowledges she’s being annoying but they let her continue anyway. Jay finds it offensive. Carmen does not. This seems fitting with their characters, and I love that this scene acknowledges that not every black person is going to have the exact same reaction to everything.

I want Carmen to have more to do! While I’m glad the show isn’t forcing her to have a large role in every plot just because, I feel like she’s gone missing for the middle part of the season. My guess is that their priority with Carmen is setting her up to be an ongoing part of the cast who grows into being someone we want a lot from rather than forcing her plots from the start... but surely we could get a little more of her! I doubt she’s a one-season character like I assume Wackner will be.

The cop’s murder changes the vibe in court. Abernathy calls a moment of silence in his memory. “We’re fucked,” Liz whispers to Diane.

And indeed they are. The cop’s ex no longer wants to talk about how abusive he was—she wants to talk about how great he was. Whose idea was it to still put her on the stand?! Idk about legal procedures but this seems like a really avoidable mistake!

Diane argues that the cop’s death has prejudiced the jury. Abernathy decides to call a “voir dire de novo,” using an obtuse Latin phrase that would not be permitted in Wackner’s court. (Love the little parallels in this episode, like this, the transition between courts earlier, and how much of Marissa being called out on her whiteness feels like a thematic extension of everything going on with Diane.)

Cancel culture court continues. Carmen shows up.

I don’t really get how June, the victim of LCK2, potentially losing a headlining gig for a bad set instead of retaliation from LCK2, scores him a point. One, if she was a rising store, one bad set shouldn’t have damned her career. Two, isn’t it enough to prove that he masturbated in front of women who didn’t want him to do that???????

Having June perform her act with no prep in Wackner’s court so they can judge whether or not she is funny is a wildly bad idea. So now Wackner is an arbiter of humor as well as cancel culture?

This whole system is silly and I reject the whole premise but June should not lose two points for the logic that Wackner + the audience don’t find June funny --> June must’ve had her career derailed because she just isn’t funny (how’d she book the headliner gig, then?) --> LCK2 scores points??? He still masturbated in front of her without her consent!

Using cancel culture to show Wackner’s court is going too far/slipping into bad territory: I’m on board with this. Using Wackner’s court to actually comment on cancel culture: Ugh. The writers seem to be trying to do both.

Lol at Abernathy having Stacey Abrams’ book on his desk.

Marissa argues the n-word case more passionately, because these writers love to make situations that seemed clear cut seem more uncertain. It’s no coincidence they have the sexual harassment case look murkier (though, again, June being bad at comedy does not negate the sexual harassment!) right before they have the n-work case begin to tilt in favor of the professor’s cancellation.

Hahah what bullshit about trying to prepare the students for a world that won’t be kind to them. Do you seriously think your black students need YOU to prepare them?

This lady thinks history classes have to describe rapes in detail to get students to sympathize. No, no they fucking do not.

She also says she’d use the n-word if she were teaching a topic where it might come up. Um, no?

Mr. Elk (this is what I call Ted Willoughby, Idiot Reporter, after he said “things of that elk” in his first appearance) is attacking Diane and Liz on his show. Diane and Liz are, apparently, “Marxist slip-and-fall lawyers” and Mr. Elk plays a clip of Diane saying cops need to be held accountable. Obviously, this was before the cop’s death and meant to be about the legal system, but it looks like Diane’s calling for his murder. I also love how they go out of their way to only pause the clip on unflattering frames of Diane.

Liz wants to use this in court—I forgot that Liz is super sneaky but this tracks; she is always quick to use things to her advantage and we’ve known that about her since her strategy with the DNC in 2x07 (to make outlandish allegations and then drop them before presenting proof). Julius wants to get Liz and Diane security.

That security is, apparently Jay. I think they’ve shown Jay as security before when Lucca went viral. I didn’t understand it then and I don’t understand it now.

I was, briefly, worried for Liz and Diane’s safety, especially after I saw all the angry cops waiting for them in court. Then I thought, oh, well at least they’re in court, they should be safe from being shot there. Then I remembered 5x15. Then I laughed at myself.

Liz’s new strategy works and Abernathy uses more Latin. But, they can’t get any more jurors thrown. (They’re going for a mistrial.)

Oh, Carmen is back again! She did SO MUCH in that court scene where she appeared and then disappeared! She’s chatting with Marissa and spots LCK2 in the RL offices.

Apparently, LCK2 negotiated a contract with Del, with David Lee’s help. (Why would David Lee be doing entertainment law?) Suddenly everything makes sense to Marissa.

She calls Del to the stand. This—and, honestly, everything after this—makes me wonder how much of this would ever make it to air. Why would Del televise this?

What a shock—Del wants LCK2 back on his streaming service (which I don’t think has a name LOL).

Somehow Marissa’s questions become about Wackner and whether or not Wackner is an impartial judge, which doesn’t seem like the core issue. Wackner has made it pretty clear that his stance is that he doesn’t care if others are corrupt around him or try to use him; he’s going to be impartial no matter what. Why not play that up instead of making the entire show look staged and Wackner look complicit, Marissa?

Like, why is Marissa asking Wackner if he’s prejudged the case?! Why isn’t she just trying to like, get him to declare a mistrial because there is a conflict of interest? She can make a version of this argument without accusing Wackner of PREJUDGING, which she knows—I know, so she knows—will set him off. Wackner truly believe he thinks he is impartial. It’s not smart strategy to question that (even if we all know that Wackner is not impartial!)

Wackner blows up at Marissa and shouts at her. He tells her to get the fuck out of court.

This is certainly dramatic, but again, would Del ever choose to air this? I doubt it.

On her way to work, Diane notices hot pink spray paint in the elevator. When she exits the elevator, the whole firm is gathered in the lobby. Someone has painted COP KILLERS across the elevator bank. “Security doesn’t know how they got in,” Jay says. “Of course they don’t,” Diane responds. “They suggest we call the cops,” Jay says. I love this little exchange. I wasn’t exactly wondering how someone got in, but I like the show making it clear how unprotected Diane and Liz are right now and why.

Julius appears and says that Mr. Elk is saying something new. Diane and Liz sit down to watch and the tone of this episode completely shifts.

I had forgotten completely that Liz’s dad’s assault issues are out in public until Mr. Elk called him “a disgraced civil rights leader.” It doesn’t feel like they’re out in public! Also I would believe Mr. Elk calling him disgraced for no reason at all.

Y’all, when Mr. Elk said the name “Duke Roscoe,” my jaw dropped. WHAT A CALLBACK.

This scene, and really, everything in this plot from here on out, is a delight. It just keeps going and going. It is the best kind of fanservice.

1x11 has been, for no real reason, on my mind since 5x04. It popped out to me as an example of this show’s humor so I talked about it in that recap. I nearly mentioned it in my 5x06 recap when Diane laughed at Julius’s suggestion that they start a firm together. I rewatched 1x11, by complete chance, like two weeks ago. How weird that I'm somehow on the show’s wavelength about this!

Also I made a joke about Mr. Elk last week without knowing he’d be back this episode. I would like to think I conjured this.

(1x11 is a really pivotal episode for TGW, even if it isn’t one of the most notable episodes overall. It's composer David Buckley’s first episode and that ending, with Diane laughing, is one of the earliest moments of TGW showing its sense of humor and playing to its strengths.)

Mr. Elk notes that they “rarely see” Kurt, which is apparently evidence that Diane is a lesbian. Hahahahahahah. Mr. Elk also wouldn’t want to note Kurt, despite his recent controversy, because to his viewers, Kurt’s beliefs would make Diane seem more sympathetic.

GUYS, THE WRITERS DECIDED TO MAKE A CALLBACK TO AN ICONIC MOMENT FROM AN EPISODE THAT AIRED OVER A DECADE AGO AND THEN BUILD ON IT. I cannot express how fucking happy this makes me.

Now, Mr. Elk says, Diane and Liz are an item!

What’s better than Diane laughing hysterically at the original allegations? Diane doing it again, eleven years later, JOINED BY LIZ.

This also works super well to cut the tension between Diane and Liz. I assume this isn’t the end of the name partnership drama, but I think it might be the end of Diane and Liz being pissed at each other. Since the name partnership drama was never really about Diane and Liz (Liz seems to want Diane to stay on...), I’m fine with that.

Because this is an episode full of callbacks that delight me, Del asks Liz when he gets to meet her son! HER SON STILL EXISTS!

It sounds like Liz and Del still aren’t fully official, which clarifies why they don’t seem to be a couple in public.

Del brings up the Diane rumor (jokingly) and Liz jokes along. I love that we get to see this playful side of Liz.

Wackner’s watching his outburst with regret. Del calms him down and notes that this is good TV (why... would Del air this... it makes DEL look worse than anyone!). Wackner calls Marissa to apologize; she picks up and accepts his apology.

Abernathy calls Liz and Diane into chambers. He’s worried he was “insensitive”-- he's noticed the tension between Liz and Diane, but now he thinks it was a lover’s spat.

Diane puts on a poker face and leans in towards Liz. She starts nodding attentively and thanks Abernathy. Liz smiles and doubles down: she’s not just going to play along, she’s going to milk it. She gets a juror kicked for homophobia, which means a mistrial. Shameless. I love it.

Diane and Liz playing off each other as Abernathy tries to look like as much of an ally as possible is comedy gold.

Diane even calls Liz darling. Omg.

LCK2 is on the stand, being charismatic and annoying. Of course he is. This is what happens when you give someone who is known for being able to connect with a crowd... a crowd and the benefit of the doubt.

LCK2 is talking about “stupid women” in his new set. Why... is Del giving that a platform at all? See, the fact that Del thinks it is not only interesting but also somehow essential to let LCK2 make jokes about sexual harassment is why I can’t take this episode seriously. Why should I be more outraged about someone who did something shitty not getting a trial for his shitty but legal behavior than I am about powerful people continuing to offer shitty people platforms? Only one of these seems outrageous to me.

Wackner decides that the professor did something “awful but lawful” and that’s it. So you’re saying that if it isn’t illegal, it doesn’t get decided in your court, either? What was the point of this, then?

The professor says she doesn’t want that—she wants the school to know she’s being punished so she can get her job back. The student storms out, rightfully. Wackner’s job isn’t to offer someone who wants punishment some form of penance, like she can exchange community service hours for offensive remarks. It’s to... well, idk what it is to do, since this whole thing doesn’t really make sense and he makes the rules, but I don’t think his verdict has to be about giving anyone what they want. I’m disappointed that Wackner comes up with a punishment and I don’t think it’s going to get her her job back.

LCK2 loses, too, because he hasn’t made amends. Wackner doesn’t want to fine him because he’s too rich for a fine to matter. Cord argues that LCK2 deserves a second chance. I mean, sure, but is he being denied a second chance? He doesn’t deserve an easy path back to his fame just because he wants it.

Wackner mentions prison. At first I was like, oh, that’s a nice throwaway line that he mentioned prison! This ties into what I was saying a few weeks ago about how Wackner likes the institutions that already exist—he just thinks they’re imperfect! It’s fitting that he’s not a prison abolitionist!

And then the episode actually went there: Wackner, thanks to David Cord’s private prison company, actually sentences LCK2 to prison. This is deeply uncomfortable (and of questionable legality). Wackner’s system is just going to recreate prison? Worse, private prison? He’s creating an unchecked, privatized legal system?! This sounds bad! Kudos to the show for taking this to some place so dark—I knew Wackner’s system would start to show cracks, but I didn’t realize they’d go this far.

And I’m not sure what the end game is with this! All I know is I’m not on board with Wackner sending people to prison (except as a plot—I am very on board with this plot) and neither is Marissa.

I do not think viewers of the reality show will like the prison twist or the fact that Cord is financing a court and prison! Can you imagine the scandal!

And what do the contracts look like that allow Wackner to sentence someone to prison? Can LCK2 leave any time he wants? If so, then how does the prison sentence help? If not, is that legal?

Del wants it to be a 2 week sentence, not 3, because this means LCK2 will have to miss his taping in two weeks. I have many questions. (1) Is Wackner’s show airing live? If not, then why do they need to rush the taping of the special? They could push it quite easily. (2) Why can’t they push the taping? This guy is a huge deal and enough potential $$ that Del wants to rehabilitate his career... so why does the taping have to be on this particular day and time?

Is there really an Exxon Mobile case, I wonder?

I like that we spend a good amount of time watching Marissa’s reactions to this latest addition to Wackner’s court. Combined with the score, Marissa’s facial expression serves to underline that private prisons are not good here! This isn’t Wackner getting legitimate methods of enforcement... this is just opening a pandora’s box of highly questionable extrajudicial practices.

I do love that this episode ends up here: it starts out like it’s going to be about cancel culture silliness and ends up being about the escalation of Wackner’s tactics.

Funny how both of the cancelled people end up being found guilty by Wackner, huh! Almost like they actually did something wrong and faced the consequences!

Liz and Diane get called in to talk to Liz’s favorite department: HR. They’re asked to sign “love contracts” to confirm things are consensual. I find it hilarious that HR gives them the paper before even asking if it’s true.

Liz grabs a pen and signs. Diane follows her lead. They look at each other and smile politely at HR.

I am... not sure how to read this last scene! Is it a fuck-you to HR? A way of easing tensions? A way for Liz to get people to stop talking to her about removing Diane as name partner because no one will want to ask if they’re really involved? Something else? Help me understand!

Curious to see where things go next. I can see LCK2 coming back for another episode but it also wouldn’t surprise me to never see him again. Similarly, I could see some glances/discussion of Diane and Liz’s romantic relationship next week, or I could see it never being mentioned again, or I could see it being mentioned next season out of the blue.

#tgf thoughts #the good fight

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lovely-necromancy · 3 years

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A Cure for Insomnia Ch 17

Living with the Cowell's is going about as well as you'd expected it to go. In other words it's more or less a disaster for your mental health. Which is ironic considering you didn't put this much stress on yourself when you were sure a stalker was watching you.

Maybe it had something to do with the fact that the stalker didn't own your house and wasn't in your personal space at every turn.

You'd honestly been expecting Little Jo to be the biggest space invader but Dia and Nate were constantly hovering around you. Nate had taken up the other spare room, or rather his room away from home, the minute he heard you'd be staying with the Cowells. He's made it his job drive you to and from work for the past two days and you both take breaks together now closing the store when you do. Then the second you cross the threshold Dia is right by you either asking for some help cooking or rushing you off for hobby time in the sitting room. It's like living in a 1920's story book, minus the extreme prejudice you would've faced.

It's only been two days and you can't find a way to ask for more space. You tried asking to go on a walk earlier and it turned into a partial jog with Nate. You really just need a moment to yourself it's been five or six days since you last had some 'me' time. All your nerves are shot and you are just a few minor inconveniences away from snapping at someone.

And it would not be a smart idea to nap at your boss. Your boss who's been so considerate and helpful offering his support to you through this whole mess of a situation.

Nonetheless you need space and your own clothes. Nate's don't fit you properly and they're uncomfortably itchy against your skin. His detergent is also very smelly, more in the chemical sense than in a bad sense. Though it could be a bad sense considering the headache you've had the past day from the over bearing smell. You know it won't end well for you but you desperately need to go back home and grab your own clothes and maybe even your car.

Having the illusion of more freedom would put you more at ease.

After all it isn't like you want to knowingly put yourself in harms way, you just can't stand the suffocation any longer. That's why you decided to bring it up during dinner, and why you are now sat in the tensest atmosphere this table has possibly ever experienced.

“Installation ain't done yet.” is Big Jo's gruff response.

It's as if that short sentence gave everyone premission to breathe again.

“I'm not planning to stay, I just need my own clothes.” you press.

Nate glances over to you before placing his fork to the side, “Then why do you need your car?”

“I'd just feel more comfortavle if I had it.....y'know instead of just relaying on you for rides.” you gesture around to the table trying to get someone yo come to your defense.

Big Jo pinches the bridge of his nose, it's been a stressful week for him as well. You don't mean to be ungrateful in this scenario but you are Autistic and the routine you've spent months carving out for yourself is being ruined. You are wearing smelly itchy clothes and need to have something you have control over. Not to mention you're the one who actively experienced the home invasion and were sat in a hospital for two days.

Big Jo can deal with you asking to go collect your thing, as far as you're concerned anyway. You're at least entitled to that much.

Dia puts her hand on Jo's arm and he sighs, “Fine, if Nate takes you. You can go to the cottage.”

“Tio, they can't have the car.” Nate is wildly failing his arms and motioning to you as he explains that you're a known flight risk.

Great, nothing's been resolved and you are back to a tense dinner in the Cowell's home.

“Fine I won't take the car, just lemme give it to someone to watch it for the...the what's it gonna be a week?” directing the question to Big Jo who's been handling the security detail for your home.

He gestures in a so-so manner.

“Yea, just lemme give it to someone to watch for the week.” you pause before throwing your hand up, “Because let's face it none of us have any idea where those two are now, and they could've easily tampered with my car.”

That was the worst possible thing to say because the second you finish you sentence the table erupts into chaos. Dia and Little Jo voicing their concerns over you driving your car, Big Jo and Nate all but forbidding you from driving and you trying to find some sort of compromise.

“What if we had it towed to Whistle's? Nate takes me there after work and we make sure nothing's wrong with my car.” looking around the table at the mixed reactions before you.

“I'll call Lewis for a tow in the morning and you both can go after work.”

“thank you.” you say relieved that you can finally gain back control over your life. Maybe get a little bit of space a long with it.

Everyone calms down and goes back to eating. The air is still so tense you could practically cut it but without your constant stirring it seems to settle. The rest of the night goes by uneventfully, you've changed into some pajamas and are ready to lay awake staring at the ceiling for hours.

The antsy energy you've been building up these past few days have left you without sleep. Tomorrow the hallucinations will probably start up, you wonder if they'll be worse thanks to your healing concussion. Hallucinations aside, your real problem is being alone with your thoughts for the next seven or eight hours.

You have nothing to occupy your mind with and thus nothing to help block out the invasive thoughts.

You'd finished the TAZ graphic novels while you were still at the hospital. The Cowells had taken you straight to their home after you got discharged, so you hadn't been able to grab your switch or any smaller art supplies.

Ultimately knowing that all this was for your safety and benefit you understand them wanting to keep you away from your home. The sight of you attack. Even a supply run could prove dangerous. Try telling that to your restless and bored mind. Constantly feeling like one of the undead wandering around aimlessly with no real purpose has certainly not done anything good for your mental health The lack of stimulation was definitely making it harder to mask and not just explode in frustration. To just let loose and rage at everything: from the situation to your stalkers, hell even to Jo and yourself. The after the brief flash of rage it would be washed away by the overwhelming guilt you felt about being in this web and dragging everyone around you into it. Whether directly or indirectly.

Safe to say, it is not good to be alone with your thoughts right now.

And it is with that restless energy that your night of staring at the ceiling turns into a morning of staring at the ceiling. Until a knock at your door signals the start of breakfast. A routine you've recently become apart of while staying with the Cowells. Getting ready for the day you make your way to the dining room, not before steadying your nerves and static filled mind with a long and drawn out huff of air.

Not quite cathartic enough to be viewed as a sigh.

And with that you begin you day.

The morning fades into late afternoon and you find yourself in the shop a little before close, just looking through the isles. A vaguely human figure, much too tall to truly be an actual person, had brushed past Nate and into one of the isles. Honestly you're sure it's one of your hallucinations but you still have to double check the isles before you finish locking up the shop. Today had been really slow and you can only recall a handful of patrons throughout the day, though you haven't been with it enough to actually hace much accuracy on that statement.

Nevertheless you are searching for stragglers, thankfully you find none. Really hoping to get out and to Whistle's soon, then home to grab things that'll keep you occupied. Things that are finally yous; actual comfortable clothes, that smell like you too. Eyes blinking in rapid succession at your near giddy nerves.

For once your tic helps you vision, you're able to catch the book laid on its side. Its cover a deep russet nearly matching the shelf in color, you'd have missed it if it weren't for the inverted shapes that pressed themselves into your eyelids almost burning the scenery into your memory. Picking the book up you try to discern where it had come from.

Upon further inspection it appeared to be more of a journal. Half written in English with margins made out it – was that German? Yeah that was definitely German, the Eszetts is way too distinctive for it to be any other language. Poorly drawn out sketches littered several pages as you flip past them. Until you see a familiar but scrathy image. It's of a symbol a circle with an 'x' through it.

As you look at the jagged lines you can't really place where you've seen this symbol before. It's so familiar but the ringing bells do nothing to help you remember where you've seen this symbol. Flipping further in you catch sight of a drawing of a being that is slim and taller than the trees. Wasn't that the figure you'd seen moments before? Right as you were doing you check for customers? You're beginning to think this shop's haunted.

“Hey YN, coast clear?” The sound of Nate's voice stops you from inspecting the book any further.

Placing it back on the shelf and nestling it in between to larger books you turn and head out of the isle.

“Yea, no customers.”

“C'mon then, I don't want to be out all night.”

Rolling your eyes at Nate's exaggeration, Whistle's probably wouldn't take more than an hour tops and you won;t take long gathering your things from the house – you follow Nate out the door.

Waiting close behind him as he locks up. One thing about the attack is you've become hyper aware of your surroundings and are nearly always on high alert now when you're out in the open like this. Luckily in most spaces you had already noted the number of exits and where to find them. Having to plan escape routes ahead of emergencies might not be the healthiest mentality but it's kept you sane throughout this ordeal. Thank you American public school system.

When you get to the auto shop you see a familiar ticcing brunette talking to a group of mechanics as he leans on your car.

“Who the hell is that?” Nate says squinting at Toby who's practically laid out across the hood of your car.

Weird, haven't they met yet? Toby did hang out at the shop for an entire day. Had Nate not noticed him then? What about the picnic? Before you can say anything Nate's already out of the car and shouting something to the group. Most of the men standing around tense up as Nate storms up to them.

But you catch the dead look in Toby's eye, the other is still horribly out of commission. Honestly without your glasses faces blur from so far away but it's undeniable that there isn't a light reflecting in his eye. Nate seems to be directing his lecture to Toby who doesn't appear to do anything. He's like a big old house cat, tired and done with everyone's shit if they aren't actively feeding him.

Sighing you exit the car, your only real thought is defusing your Karen.

You aren't at all surprised when Toby locks onto the movement of you walking towards the group. The man perks right up and lifts himself off your car in one fluid motion. He's so agile, just like a cat. You can't help but smile a bit at the connection automatically reaffirming with yourself that Toby would totally push over a precariously placed glass of water.

“Hey, wh-mrrow-what'd you bring the car in for?” Toby asks side stepping Nate, completely ignoring the older man.

“Huh – oh, yea boss wanted it checked out to make sure it wasn't like tampered with – I guess. Y'know after the accident.” you know the mechanics probably know what happened to you, you do live in a small town after all. Gossip stops for no one. But you do have control over details and talking about the incident and you won't be letting go of that any time soon.

Toby's one good eye darkens as he nods, “Gotcha, well it's fine even had Jess take it for a drive. Drove fine. Fixed that weird clicky thing it did on left turns, you're welcome.”

Hah, during the drive through Franklin Toby lost it after two left turns. He noticed the clicking sound your car would make, oddly only on left turns, and started bitching about it to you. At the time you just thought he was being funny when he'd complained you needed to take it in to the shop to fix that. Guess he wasn't. But what's the point of fixing something so trivial?

You cross your arms and are about to sass Toby about how unnecessary that was when Nate interrupts.

“Well since the car's cleared we'd better go settle the bill with Lewis.”

“No need, no parts to replace plus my free labor.” Toby looks away from Nate and back to you “It w-w-was so sl-o-ow-w so I told the old man we were dating and I'd been wanting to fix up your car.”

Normally you'd protest a friend or anyone giving you free services but since this was on the Cowells' dime you weren't going to burden them anymore.

“That's sweet – really really stupid, but sweet.”

Nate's already moving around you two and motioning towards his car as he says, “Well thank you, now we really need to get going YN. I don't want to be out late.”

You nod to Nate, turning and saying bye to Toby from over your shoulder.

When you suddenly remember, “Wait, hey Tobias can you take care of my car for the week? I know it's probably a weird request, but I'm sorta “grounded” right now and can't drive till the cottage is set up. A little worried the battery will drain from disuse.”

If it weren't for the mask and swollen eye the confused sneer of his would be clear to everyone on the lot. He sputters for a moment before speaking up.

“Ok? I mean like that's valid – whoa – a valid concern...but your car's not that old. But I guess I'll watch it? I don't have Connor so it'll have to stay in the lot tonight, that ok?”

Oh this stupid beautiful boy just gave you an out. Probably not the one he meant to give you but you are taking it and running as fast as you can.

“Or, or, or-”

“No, no, and no. You can't be trusted to not just drive off in the dead of night.” Nate cuts in.

It took a bit of coaxing but after calling the house and getting Dia's blessing you obtained one night to yourself. Really it'd be one night spent at the lodge but it was still better than being a guest in someone else's house for the night, this way you're a guest at the lodge for the night. A little mini vacation if you will. And Toby seemed fine to go with you to the cottage while you packed a bag with your essentials, before you both go back to the lodge.

He even agreed to drop you off at the bookshop in the morning.

“Are you seriously going stir crazy after five days?” he asks as you pull up to the cottage.

“it's more their constant smothering I'm over. I know everyone's worried but I still need my own agency. Y'know?”

“Yea....I do.” he murmurs with a solemn look about him before he exits the car and makes his way to the front door.

Your steps falter as you near the cottage. A few flashing images pass through your mind before you shakily inhale. Fortunately Toby is right beside you squeezing your hand to remind you of his presence. You aren't alone this won't end like Monday night.

Opening the door the house is quiet and just as you had last seen it. Nothing was disrupted, even peeking into the bathroom where you expected a crime scene to be – only a toppled shower curtain and over turned bath mat remained.

It doesn't really feel like your house right now. A fuzzy sensation clouds your thoughts, like your brain is trying to protect you from connecting with this place after your recent trauma. Although you aren't sure how you actually feel there's a strong sense of discontentment.

Noticing how you linger in the threshold of the bathroom Toby gently guides you into your room, all without a word. Leaving you alone in your room to collect your things. You move around at a moderate pace, you aren't drawing this out but you aren't rushing to leave soon either. A handful of shirts, a set of jeans, shorts, and joggers later you are grabbing your switch. Before diving into your art supplies you hear a thud across the hall.

You freeze as if ice water had just been poured onto you keeping you in place.

“Tobias!” you call out not moving.

“Fuck – sorry I acc-ack-accidently kicked your trash can.”

When had he gone to the bathroom?

“Are you ok?” you receive a quick 'yea' in response.

Jittery and in no mood to sit and draw you pick up an embroidery kit you'd been meaning to rip into. Should keep your attention long enough, but maybe you should grab another kit just in case. Bag loaded with enough of your things so you aren't driven mad during your stay – you turn to leave but decide to grab your goat plush as an after thought before leaving your room.

Walking out and into the rest of your house you notice a lack of Toby anywhere. Going towards the front door you spot him as you pass the kitchen. He's messing with your garbage can before he takes out the bag and ties it up.

“Wha' cha doin'?” he's been a bit off since you both arrived but you don;t blame him. Not like you're fairing any better.

“I, I kicked it and a whole bunch of trash came out. So then I had to put it-it all back, but there's a lot here and you aren't gonna be here for a week....I, I ju-just thought it'd be better to tak-take it out now.”

Nodding, you're thankful to have such a good friend looking out for you. It would've sucked to come home to a toxic waste site because you'd left trash in the garbage for three weeks.

You probably just thought it came from the bathroom because of the echo or something. Paranoia's been a pain this past week. Maybe you should look into getting a roommate, they might help.

“They're not that helpful trust me.”

“Wow, did I say that out loud?” Toby nods, “Fuck I am out of it. How are you and Tim doing?” you might be deflecting/ignoring your own issues. But Toby had his own shit going on Monday night and you doubt he's talked to anyone.

“We're fine. Just fucking hate him.” the sharp jerk of his head keys you in that he's very much not fine.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Who are you, my fuck-ing therapist?”

“Fine, wanna bitch then?”

He comes off the defensive like he realizes that he's talking with you right now. His good eye down cast after he relaxes his stance a bit.

You go to grab your kettle, filling it up and placing it down on the stove to warm up.

“Any preference on tea? I've got a few.” it was very much more than a few.

A chair screeches as Toby drags it out to sit down at your small kitchen table. He doesn't respond so you get one of your special blends out. This blend has rose hips which you normally dislike anything scented or flavored with roses but the ginger and cinnamon can normally over power the slightly floral sting of this tea. Plus it's made with the intention of healing the heart and promoting self love. A spell tea of sorts. Toby could probably use a little pick me up, you always did after a fight with a friend. Getting out the honey you ready the tea infuser into the cup waiting for the kettle's whistle.

“So just wanna start talking....or should I ask questions?” you turn to face Toby as you lean against the counter.

He's taken his mask off and placed it on the table, of course you remember his deteriorating face but it still surprises you to see it after a few days of not actually seeing his face. Maybe you'll get used to it and one day won't be so fascinated by his teeth.

“Tim's just a dick who thinks he has a right to act like he's my dad. Li-ike-like I'm twenty-four he doesn't need to constantly question the things I do. He doesn't have any room to talk to me about my mistakes he literally could've fucked staying here up for us....” Toby head had been snapping to the left several times during his rant and it continued as he got very quiet suddenly.

Tim could've messed staying here up? Did he mean here as in Kepler or the lodge? Barclay did have to break up the fight maybe he didn't want any of the trio in but let Toby stay out of concern for his condition.

“Hey I'm sure it wasn't that bad, I could even talk to Barclay to get you unbanned from the lodge.”

He takes the mug you pass him and spoons some honey into it/ It's weird to see half his face drawn into concentration since the other half isn't able to emote yet. Holding the cup in his hands he stares at the swirling steam rising up as you bring your own mug over to the table taking a seat. Not once does he look up at you as you stir in a bit of honey into your own tea.

Toby's neck snaps, “Am I...is it bad that I don't want you to?”

You send him a slightly pitying smile.

“No hun, you're upset. And you're having a totally valid reaction to a falling out.”

Toby rolled his eyes, at least you thin he did. Hard to tell with just the one.

“My therapist would love you. That's the kind of bullshit she tells me like all the time.”

Not knowing what to say to that you just nod as he continues to stare at you.

You both continue to talk, well you continue to let Toby rant about how stupid and dumb Brian and Tim are as you finish your tea. You still don't know the details of the fight but it sounds like the cause was just the last straw between the men and not the actual catalyst. According to Toby the other two tend to baby him or talk over his ideas and suggestions because he's the youngest of the group. Twice Toby mentioned Tim's paranoia and how that was really the cause of the tension between them. And how Brian wasn't any help because he'd always side with Tim to make sure his boyfriend was ok.

Toby was very bitter when talking about Brian's role in this more than Tim's. As if his role of passive bystander just sent Toby over the edge. Which from the way he spoke seemed like it's been dragging on for some time. All of this was painting an even worse picture of the smug asshole. Though you didn't break your silence or series of nods and hums until Toby off handily mentioned Brian getting him in trouble with his therapist by saying he was the one who started the fight.

“He fucking snitched....wait no he lied?!” Toby had to blink a few times before he finally understood what had gotten you so upset.

“Yea I mean it's not that big a deal. I was able to tell Clarise I missed a few days of my meds and she made me set reminders in front of her on the call.”

Apparently Clarise was sure Toby suffered from Bipolar Disorder, he was very flippant when he told you like it wasn't anything big. When you mentioned ADHD he kind of blanked. He got fidgety when you mentioned the symptoms you saw and nervously told you his medication was working just fine for him. Not wanting to make him more uncomfortable you dropped the topic. Soon it was dark and you needed to leave to make it to the lodge for dinner.

“You sure you want to take the garbage out? What if Chonk is over there?” joking as you lock the door.

“Good point. Trash you live here now.” he dumps the bag onto your lawn and walks towards your kia.

“Toby!”you gasp out, which sounds weird amidst your laughter.

He stops and looks at you his expression more unclear than it's been all evening. Your heart skips a beat as you stare at each other for a moment, your laughter gone now.

“It's weird to hear you say 'Toby'.”

That's all he says before he grabs the bag and carrying it to the side of your house where your bins are.

The conversation in the car is pretty light in comparison to what it has been. Just jokes getting thrown around and sharing the gossip that you'd head in the hospital because nurses' can't keep their mouths shut. Neither of you know any of the characters in the stories but they're still pure gold. Like the man who came in after getting his hand stuck in a cookie jar. Nervous and scared his wife would find out he's been eating the new holistic dog treats. A few stories or more like vents about the auto shop got thrown in. By the time you got to the lodge both of you were in lighter spirits.

Everyone was ecstatic to see you up and about and made an extra spot for you at the table. You didn't miss how Barclay would rise an eyebrow every time you locked eyes. You just roll your eyes and continue eating. When it got time to settle in for the night you were planning to commandeer the couch but Toby offered his room.

More accurately he offered a chance to hang out with Connor which you readily accepted. The rottie was just as excited to see you, bounding over the second you stepped through the door.

“Sigh if only there was a way to see Connor everyday.” you say dramatically whistful as you hold the pup's jowls in your palms.

Toby responds in turn in a drawn out sarcastic monotone “Oh my, how sad your life must be. There's only one solution, marry me. So Connor can finally have the second parent he's always wanted” he ends with a scratch behind the pups right ear.

“I was just gonna kick you and steal your dog.”

He turns to face you, “I can't feel-”

“So if I kicked you in the back of the knee it wouldn't buckle?”

Toby goes silent before conceding to your point. A mumbled “Connor would avenge me.” is heard.

After you two settle down you both hop into bed to try and get some sleep. Toby was holding your switch hostage so you had no choice but to “sleep” now.

You really hoped he changed his sheets from the other day. You'd hate to find out you're laying in milk stained sheets. Pushing those thoughts away as your body finally starts to relax, you can feel when your mind begins to drift into the beginning stages of sleep.

“Tobes, you can crash at my place if you need to.” is the last thing you say before falling into a peaceful slumber.

Toby on the other hand wasn't able to get much sleep at all that night. He couldn't shake the feeling something bad was about to happen. And unlike Tim he didn't think it was because of you, it just had something to do with you. You were too kind to be one of The Operator's proxies, with all the clues of His presence in this town you were one of many red herrings. Looking over to you Toby only hoped you wouldn't get hurt in the crossfire. Not like Lyra did, he doesn't think he could handle something like that. Especially with how shitty Tim's been lately, he's on edge and constantly about to snap. He just needs a break from everything. Maybe then the weight in his stomach would go away.

In the morning Toby's keen to hold up his end of the deal and drive you to work. You buy him breakfast and an iced coffee from Dunkin' and a pup cup for Connor. The three of you eat in your car while you wait for Nate to arrive. When he does you say your goodbyes and head off to start your shift. Promising Toby you'd call once you've been ungrounded.

Nate's face is grim as you approach the shop, you're starting to get used to the cold sweats from these dread bearing encounters. That can't be a good thing.

Did something happen last night? Were the Cowells targeted? Was everyone alright? These thoughts and more swam through your head as Nate motioned for you to follow him into the shop quickly.

He locked the door and pushed you into the back room. His hast doing nothing to settle your fraying nerves as you stumble past the threshold.

“That Rogers kid, how well do you know him?” his eyes dart around the back looking at every shadow as if watching their movements.

“Who's Roger?” you feel out of the loop.

Was Roger one of your assailants? Had the police already found suspects so soon on what little information you had to go on?

With a groan Nate smacked his hand against his face muttering something under his breath.

“Toby, Tobias Rogers how much do you know about him?” his tone is rushed and sharp.

You didn't even know his last name until now. But maybe you had heard it before but it never clicked with you. Honestly you've known each other for a month that's not very long at all. But maybe it's long enough to learn some things?

“...ah not much?”

There's a panicked look in Nate's eyes and he does his best to control his breathing. But it's clear that Nate is either about to hyperventilate or go into an anxiety attack. You wonder what's got him so worked up as he reached into his bag and pulls out a manila folder.

He hands it to you, you can see the water marks left by his sweaty palms.

What on Earth is going on?

#a cure for insomnia #ticci toby #ticcitoby #ticci tobyx reader #ticci toby x reader #tobias erin rogers #Timothy Wright #timothy wright x reader #timothy wright x brian thomas #Brian Thomas #brian thomas x reader #creepypasta fanfic

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headcans-oneshots-and-stuff · 4 years

Text

How time flies by when you're in love

Warnings: None, only hell of a lot of fluffffff Word count: ~2024 Summary: A timeline of your time with Damian and how you became a couple...

This was requested by an immensly amazing Anon: Hiya! I was wondering if you could make a one shot of Damian Wayne x reader? Just some fluff involving him and like a time line of his and the reader's relationship?? (like friends then so on??) although I'm fine with just some fluff. Thanks! Best wishes!!! A/N: I kinda left out the friends part, but I still hope you like it 🥰

How you met: Your family has been close to the Wayne family for longer than anyone remembers. Your Grandmother and Martha Wayne had been best friends since they were born and Bruce and your Father played with each other on the playground. But when the Wayne's died that friendship was tested. Your grandparents tried to take care of Bruce but after a tragedy in your own lines, they abandoned their estate in Gotham for a later time and moved to England with their son. They never moved back to Gotham. Your father took over their business, making it even more successful and having it take new roots in Britain so that he could stay there. And then Bruce came back from his time "off" and in a weird turn of events he and your father reconnected and their childhood friendship blossomed again. It wasn't like his friendship with Clark or Diana or any other members of the league (he considered friends), but Bruce just enjoyed having a friend who wasn't involved in all the Superhero business. Someone from his "normal" life that wasn't friends with him because they want something. Even though they didn't see each other in person very often, with your dad living in England and Bruce in Gotham, they stayed in close contact. Because of that, you knew about him and his life, even though you've only seen him a few times when your dad visited him on vacation or Bruce visited your family. So, to set the scene, you knew about his family, but you didn't know his family. Then your dad decided that it was time to go back to his root and move back to Gotham. So, after you had settled into the newly renovated family Estate not far from Wayne Manor, your father took you and your mother to Wayne manor for dinner and catch-up with Bruce. Then you actually met Damian. And boy... It was the start of a wild ride. During the whole dinner, he seemed physically in pain by how much he didn't want to be there, but you being raised to be polite and follow all rules of manners there are, didn't speak of it...or at all. You answered when you were asked, laughed when something funny was said and displayed an interest in the topics, even though it was mostly faked. You knew the drill from years upon years of playing the perfect little princess that you were and making your dad happy. Other than the Wayne's who had the dark secret that connected them, your family was just as business-directed as you usually think the Wayne family is. So you played your part like you always did. But you couldn't help but sometimes gaze at Damian who sat there and, even though he was somewhat polite and followed manors, showed his rebellion against the situation and his un-comfort. The boy had something about him that made your stomach turn in confusion and excitement. You didn't notice that his behaviour mirrored yours to some parts.

He asks you out: Your interest in Damian didn't last very long, since the moment your parents and Bruce left to talk about something in his office, he turned into the entitled little brat he was for the public. It took you aback and you stayed quiet for the rest of the night, keeping your facade up and having a forced, but extremely polite conversation with Tim. When you left with your parents a sigh of relief left you. Your hope that you could forget about the boy until you were forced to go with your parents to a shared Gala or another Dinner quickly vanished when you entered your first class in Gotham academy. There he sat in the back, looking as bored as ever and staring out of the window. When your teacher introduced you to the glass you could feel his gaze on you, but tried your best to ignore it. You didn't want any trouble with him, especially with the small butterflies that still fluttered in your stomach while seeing him. You really could do without them. It took months for something between you two to actually happen. Not soon after you enrolled in the school you became quite popular thanks to your skill to fit in. Something you had also learned very early. But, even though you enjoyed hanging out with them and didn't have anything against them, none of the girls and boys you spend your lunch-breaks and free-time together were the type of people you actually wanted to be friends with. So when you had a free period you often sneaked away into the library to spend some time alone. Did was exactly what you did the day it happened, just that on that day, the corner you had made yours was occupied. And when you got close enough, you saw that it was occupied by no other than Damian Wayne himself. You stopped in your tracks, hoping he wouldn't notice you, and turned around to silently leave and search another place to be on your own. "Y/L/N!" You stopped yet again, but couldn't turn around. You had no idea what would happen now. You haven't talked to him in months for god's sake. "I wanted to talk to you," he said, quieter now, and you felt his presence behind you. Did he wait for you? Did he know about 'your place'? Slowly you turned around and caught sight of him standing only a few feet away from you, his hand buried in his pant's pockets. You forced yourself to smile at him neutrally and asked: "How can I help you?" "What is your plan here?" "Excuse me?" "Why are you acting?" The question confused you and caused you to quirk your eyebrow at him. What was he going at? "I- I don't quite think I'm catching on...What are you talking about exactly?" "Ttt," he scoffed and crossed his arms in front of his chest, "You know what I mean. You're not letting anyone know you. You're acting like a chameleon." Your breathing hitched. He had noticed. Of course he had, he did the same after all. "Who're you to talk about that?" you asked slightly defensive. "It's not like you're exactly open about you either. As far as I noticed no-one in the school knows anything real about you." "And about you they do or what?" "N-No...but that's not really any of your business is it now?" Damian opened his mouth as to answer, but couldn't. You didn't know that he had started to stay close to you, hidden in the shadow, after the first few weeks off you being in the school. You didn't know that he felt a pang off jealousy in his gut every time you talked to one of the other boys who he heard talking about you like you were a price to be claimed whenever they were out of your hearing range. You didn't know that something deep inside him wanted to get to know you, to be able to protect you. "So? What exactly do you want now?" you asked, ripping him out of his thoughts about you. What was he supposed to answer now? How had he forgotten about all the things he had planned to say, to tell you? An uncomfortable silence filled the room between you and you sigh, shaking your head, before you turned around, ready to leave yet again. Then his hand grabbed your wrist. "I want to get to know the real you," Damian said the thing he had thought this whole time but swore to himself to not let you know about.

Your first date: The next week flew by like it was only a few seconds. In the heat of him asking, you had actually managed to say yes and somehow the two of you managed to passively-aggressively organize a meet-up. Deep inside you, you had hoped it was a date, but you were too afraid to ask. The question sticking in your mind like gum, never leaving your mind. The answer came when you heard a ring of the door-bell on Saturday after. You quickly got up, sorting through your outfit for the last time, and practically ran over to open the door. There he stood in all his glory. He wore a pair of plain black pants and a white shirt with cuffed sleeves. God, they don't lie when they say boys get more attractive with cuffed sleeves... He looked at you and you could have sworn that a small blush made its way onto his cheeks, making you blush as well. Should you tell him that he looked good? Wouldn't that be to Date-y? You were questioning the sense of this meet-up again when he took something out from behind his back. You hadn't even noticed that he had hidden something. In his hands was a bundle of your favorite flowers. "They're gorgeous," you breathed out and took them, breathing in their sweet scent. If you had looked at Damian you would've literally seen the gears turn in his head. "They're not as gorgeous as you," he said before he could stop himself. The blush on your cheeks got even bigger and you really wanted to return the compliment, but you were quite literally speechless. After you had put the flowers in a vase, you rejoined Damian and almost turned into a tomato when he took your hand and lead you to the car that waited for the two of you. The way your hand was lying in his felt so extremely natural that you didn't even notice that he kept on holding it the whole way to the cafe the two of you had agreed to go to. After a while of embarrassed silence, the two of you somehow actually managed to start a conversation and not long after the two of you talked like you knew each other for ages. It was nothing like the way he acted around others (even his family) and he also noticed how you seemed to be way more natural than you acted with others. It felt like it was really meant to be.

A short summary of what followed: After the date and Damian bringing you home you couldn't stop yourself from asking him to be your boyfriend, even though you slightly feared the answer. Luckily for you, he immediately said yes. In fact, so fast that he almost stumbled over his words. For a while, you two agreed to keep it under the covers, which worked more or less good after Tim caught you making out in Damian's room under the cover of 'doing a school project together' and not very long after, all his siblings knew and teased him about. But other than you might think, he wasn't really annoyed by it, but rather shined with proudness of calling you his girlfriend and being able to show you and your relationship off. You had been dating for quite a while when Bruce and your parents found out about the two of you. The two of you were attending a Wayne/Y/L/N-Gala, both almost visible being in pain by not being able to openly being with each other when some guy started obviously flirting with you, only a few feet away from your parent's and Bruse. Damian felt his blood boiling but was able to keep his posture until the guy dared to touch your arms with his filthy hands. In seconds Damian stood between the two of you, raised fist ready to turn the guy into a pulk if you weren't clutching onto him, hugging him from behind. He managed to calm down and turned around, embracing you and giving you a small peck onto your forehead. Let's just say you had to explain your parent's quite a lot (even though they low-key shipped you). All in all, your relationship is truly something else. It was like you knew the other one better than yourselves and felt what they felt. No matter what obstacles you met, if it was you finding out about his secret identity and what followed or simple, even though seldom, fights, you got through them together.

#Damian WAyne #Damian wayne x reader #Damian x reader #robin #robin x reader #batfam x reader #dc x reader #x reader #Oneshot #love #Y/N Y/L/N #x y/N

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thedirtpreferences · 4 years

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PREFERENCE #17 - FIGHT (REQUESTED)

Vince: He had snapped on a group of fans for taking a picture of him. It had only been one picture, but Vince was in a particulary sulky mood today and the whole thing had sent him over the edge. Since then, he was snapping at everyone: his bandmates, management, interviewers, road techs, and most importantly you. And you were NOT having it. Especially when he snapped on a particularly excited fan, asking them if they ‘knew who he was and how he couldn’t possibly have time to humor them for a picture because he had bigger priorities’. That had been enough for you who had been so polite and patient all day. “Listen to yourself, you entitled prick” You growled, pushing him against the wall, your face inches from his. “This is NOT the Vince I fell in love with and I won’t sit here and watch you deteriorate and throw away your success just because you’ve grown disgustingly complacent. I love you too much to do that.” You spat, stumbling backwards as he broke free from your iron hold grasp on his arm. “You’re not my mom, Y/N.” Vince grumbled stepping forward and crossing his arms across his heaving chest. “You’re right, Vince. Absolutely right. I’m your girlfriend and I’m not arrogant enough to think that you’ll follow my orders, but I have to try. Because as your girlfriend and someone who loves you as much as I love you, I can’t stand to see you wreck your future and to let this fame consume you. You’re too important to me,” Vince dropped his head at your words, searching for something smart to retaliate with, but he had nothing. You were right. You were always so, so right. That’s why he loved you afterall; you called him on his bullshit and kept him accountable. “You’re so annoying.” Vince sighed in defeat, turning around to face you with a sheepish expression. “And you are a concieted asshole.” You quipped, refusing to make eye contact as he approached you, grabbing your small, fragile hands in his. “I’m sorry.” Vince whispered, kissing you on the forehead. His words were meek and tainted with embarrassment. Although it was a simple apology, you knew this was big for him because apologizing wasn’t one of his strong suits; really it had never been for as long as you knew him. But you knew if he was saying it, he really did mean it and that was big for Vince. “I know you are. Just try to cool it next time, yeah? Without them, there would be no you.” He nodded knowingly at your words, pressing a sweet simple kiss to your nose. “Thanks for keeping me grounded.” He murmured as his lips pressed gingerly against your own. “Always.” You mumbled, as he deepend the kiss his arms wrapping around your waist as he hoisted you up and pressed your back against the wall. It was always such a turn on when you let him know how it is.

Tommy: “Would it kill you to be a little bit more mature?” You muttered, packing his clothing for him as he downed his third shot in the last twenty minutes. “C’mon, Y/N. Lighten up, would you?” Tommy laughed, chucking a pillow at your head. Usually you would’ve laughed, but this sent you into orbit considering you were currently doing him a favor by packing HIS clothes after HE had successfully got everybody kicked out of the hotel for the night after hours of travel. “Lighten up? Tommy, I’m EXHAUSTED. I was looking forward to a decent night of sleep after the last 24 hours of complete choas and you get us thrown out before my head can even hit the pillow? You could afford to be mature, not to mention apologetic for your barbaric actions, you immature child.” You exploded, turning promptly on your heel to face him. “Honestly Y/N, if you don’t like life on the road you can always go back home. No one is making you stay, in fact it might be a little more fun if you leave anyways.” Tommy sneered standing up and sauntering over towards you. “You ungrateful son of a bitch.” You whispered shaking your head as the rage filled you to the brim. “Pack your own damn things.” Dumping everything you had neatly packed for him on the floor, you stormed from the hotel room tears in your eyes at his hateful words.

The ride to the next available hotel was silent, the air thick with malice as you and Tommy sat as far away from eachother as possible. Not even Nikki dared to utter a word on the situation as he had never seen your face so serious in his life. As soon as you had arrived to the hotel, you were the first person off the bus, going to the phone booth located by the entrance. “What are you doing?” You jumped as Tommy’s words penetrated the silent air, the hair on the back of your neck standing from the shock. “Calling to see when the soonest flight is to get me the hell out of here since I’m sucking the fun out of everything.” Hand on the phone, you gasped when Tommy snatched it out of your grasp and slammed it on the hook. “You’re not going anywhere. Look, I was thinking and I really am sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I want you here with me.” You tried to avert your eyes from his penetrating gaze knowing that the moment you locked eyes with him it would all be over. “Then why’d you say it?” You asked childishly, kicking the ground with your shoe. “Because I didn’t like that you were right. I was being selfish and unappreciative.” Tommy sighed, his thumb and forefinger lifting your chin delicately. “Forgive me?” He breathed, his sweet breath blowing against your face, dazzling you completely. “Unfortunately.” You sighed, leaning up wrap your arms around his neck, squeaking when he lifted you up bridal style. “Let’s go to bed, yeah? I promise you won’t have to move a finger for the rest of the night.” Tommy assured you peppering your face with sweet kisses. How could he not be forgiven?

Nikki: “You can’t just shut me out and expect me not to be pissed, honestly, what did you expect?” You snapped, crossing your arms across your heaving chest, your eyes dark with infuriation. “I figured you’d just leave like everyone else does,” Nikki shrugged, taking a swig of his alcohol nonchalantly. “How many times do I have to convince you that I’m not going to leave? It’s like you don’t even listen to me.” You raised an eyebrow when Nikki chuckled darkly, rolling his eyes as if you were an afterthought. “You’re right, Y/N. I don’t listen to you when you say that, you want to know why? Because just like I’m hearing it now, I’ve heard it a million times before and you know what happens everytime? People leave. It never changes. You’re no different, I’m sure.” How could he say this? Your heart felt like it had fallen completely silent as you gaped at him, desperate for anything that could surface. How could he possibly be saying that to you? To someone who loved him more than you even loved yourself. “I’m no different?” You finally whispered, tears brimming your eyes. “I try over and over again to understand you and to be there for you, but it’s no use. You’re so damaged and deprived of real love that you can’t see the good that’s right in front of your eyes. I’m exhausted, Nikki. Exhausted of trying, exhausted of being hurt, exhausted of not knowing how to help you and unfortunately I can only do so much. So, I guess this is me being like everyone else,” Gathering your things, you turned your back to him lips quivering as the tears betrayed you gushing over your cheeks and coating your features as you walked through his front door slamming it behind you.

Hours past, but you couldn’t bring yourself to physically leave him. Instead you stubbornly sat on the steps in front of his home, allowing yourself to be drenched by the persistent rain. Why couldn’t you leave? After he hurt you the way he did, why isn’t it you couldn’t walk away? Your thoughts were interrupted when you heard the front door swing open, Nikki standing there in shock as his eyes focused in on you. “What-What are you doing here?” He yelled over the rain, bewilderment coloring his features beautifully. “I’m not everyone else, Nikki Sixx. I can’t leave you no matter what you say to hurt me. No matter how hard you want to push me away.” You admitted pathetically standing to your feet with struggle as your clothes were now heavy from the rain. “You really aren’t like everyone else.” He said more to himself than to you as he stepped towards you. “I’m rotten for you. I don’t deserve this, this kindness this love.” He spoke, shaking his head, guilt coloring his features. “That’s where you’re wrong. You are deserving of all of that and more and I will show you that if it’s the last thing I do. You aren’t broken, Nik. You’ve just been through too much; too much that you didn’t deserve.” In that moment, his lips crashed down on you. Usually his kisses were controlled and gentle, but this time was different. It was rough, careless, and passionate. It left your head spinning, and your breath ragged, your heart pounding relentlessly in your chest. “I love you and I’m so so sorry.” He breathed, pressing his forehead against yours as tears filled his eyes. “I love you Nikki, you’re never gonna be without me, I promise.”

Mick: Mick was typically a quiet creature. Not very often did he raise his voice, not very often did he grow angry. That didn’t mean that it didn’t happen, however, it just meant that it took something extremely important to get him to that boiling point. And the thing that was most important to him, someone might ask? Well, it was simple: you. And when you were self destructing and you weren’t taking care of yourself, nothing infuriated Mick more. Why couldn’t you love yourself the same way he loved you? Why couldn’t you see just how important you are? What you meant to him? “Just leave me alone!” The octaves in your voice rose with each syllable as you stormed away, leaving him to follow pathetically in your tracks. “No, I won’t leave you alone. Especially when you’re acting like this!” He spit, his words venomous and filled with evident fury. “Acting like what?” You demanded, rummaging through the counters desperately searching for a wine opener. “This, Y/N. You don’t cope, you don’t allow yourself to feel emotions or to process. You just drink and do anything to not feel anything at all! Deal with your emotions like a fucking adult for once, you fucking coward!” Mick slammed his hands down on the counter, causing you to drop the unopened bottle on the ground, glass shards flying all around you, wine coating your clothing. “That-That was my last one, now what am I going to do! I-I hate you! ” You shouted through hysterics, dropping to the floor, desperately trying to scoop the liquid up with your shaking hands as the tears poured down your cheeks uncontrollably. How could you say you hated Mick? You were disgusted with yourself, with how far you had allowed yourself to spiral, with how far you were willing to take things for selfish gains. “Y/N…” Mick whispered, his arms pulling you away from the mess, collapsing against the fridge when you faced defeat and allowed your body to slump and grow limp to his touch. “I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry. I love you.” You sobbed into his arms as he consoled you, kissing the top of your head gingerly. “We’re gonna get through this, Y/N. I’m going to see it through if it’s the last thing I do,” Mick spoke with vehemence as you continued to cry into his arms. “I’m just so scared.” You whispered defeated which only made Mick hold you tighter in his arms. “I will never let you down. You’re gonna be okay, Y/N. You’re gonna be okay.”

#colson baker #daniel webber #douglas booth #iwan rheon #the dirt #nikki sixx #mick mars #tommy lee #vince neil #the dirt blurb #the dirt blurbs #the dirt motley crue #the dirt one shot #the dirt imagines #motley crue #motley crue the d

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koganphrancis · 6 years

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Camless Episode 5

All The Writers Of This Show Are Shit

We had us a brand new writer this week and all we got was the same old same old: OOC, Retconing, and Repeats of Old Story Beats.

I’ll attempt a recap, but this episode really sucked the will out of me.

(gif credit: gallavichlovies)

I’m not going to do my usual character by character recap because frankly some really awful shit went down this week that I’m just going to refer to and not go into in depth. Plus, so much of the episode was tedious repeats of shit the writer had JUST TRIED to say.

We had both Debbie and Ian go knocking on the wrong doors for advice. We had two endless Lip scenes where all that was happening was he was running and riding a motorcycle. Maybe next week he can paint a fence and we can all watch as the paint dries. Liam is sexually molested (off screen, but still) by another child who had been sexually molested. Carl and Frank both get slapped around in sexually-adjacent situations just as the show is once again trying to drive home what’s unacceptable for men to do to women-hey, Shameless, that goes for what’s unacceptable for women to do to men, women to do to other women, and men to do to other men as well. They tried to make “going Fiona” a thing-twice. There were at least four scenes where Frank tried to get an erection. There were endless retcons (more on those to come).

My notes are all over the place and the show’s such a shit pile I can’t even begin to make a smooth narrative out of them, so here’s a list of my observations, saving the Ian shit for last.

Debbie had a running thread through a big part of the episode where she’s literally bored to the point of falling asleep listening to Alex-that is exactly how I feel about their relationship/the Debbie thinks she might be gay storyline. Also, if anyone cares, Debs has completely dropped her equal rights/equal pay fight. She doesn’t even seem to go to work anymore. Later, Debbie goes to visit the lesbians in Fiona’s building (rather than, I don’t know, talking to Vee about her experiences with Svetlana, since that seems maybe more in line with feelings Debbie is experiencing?) and the scene was clearly written in lieu of Shameless ever showing sex scenes anymore.

The blond lesbian, Mel, exposes herself to Debbie in the doorway of her apartment (but sadly for the Netflix fans, her back is to the camera), without establishing if Debbie is not a minor, and then she kisses her in a sloppy slo-mo saliva string sharing close up. Debbie is supposedly stunned stupid by this, but the whole “you like what you like and you don’t have to justify your sexual orientation to anyone” message falls flat. Debbie has ALWAYS been starved for attention, and she misreads any attention she gets from anyone of any sex. Since Matty she’s always equated someone trying to be interested in her as being interested in her sexually. And that kiss wasn’t sexual at all-it too was a form of molestation-it wasn’t asked for or consented to. This show is shit.

Carl meets a young woman at a West Point mixer, the daughter of the scary military officer who is throwing the party. Hello, we’ve done this already with Dom and her scary cop dad. Yawn. Carl films them not having sex after she passes out drunk so he can prove he didn’t molest/rape her, should it ever come in question. At first the young woman is mad (and jumps on him and starts slapping him around, just like Katey Sagal will do in a scene with Frank), but then later she returns Carl’s phone and says she saw he didn’t film them having sex, but there is a recording on there of him having sex with someone else. He says that’s Kassidi, his ex, but fails to let Kelly (the new chick) know she’s dead and he’s an accessory to her murder. And how fucking creepy is it that Carl’s kept sex with his dead ex on his phone? Is that something he’s still watching? Does he get off to it? This show is shit.

Kev and Vee get stuck with Frank in a few scenes, foreshadowing the boring seasons to come, should the show get renewed (why are they still sitting on announcing that, btw?). There’s a subplot for Kev where he’s going to speak at a women’s rally in his new-found position of Vagina Safe consultant, but he wisely bows out when he hears the real hell women face on a regular basis. Why this show is trying to be socially conscious this late in the game I’ll never know. Especially since they’ll keep pulling their bullshit and defend it with “it’s Shameless!” like they’ve always done in the past. This show is shit.

There’s the weekly Fiona/Bored disagreements-this time they’re about little things like music preferences and whether or not Fiona should care about her brother going to prison for up to two decades. Bored winds up singing along to a song to Fiona at the end-it should’ve been Gus Pfender’s Fuck You, Fiona and they could’ve had a cute discussion about Gus being Fi’s ex-husband. This show is shit.

Now Ian. Sigh. Nothing makes sense. Everything’s either a lie or a retcon and we the audience still don’t know which. At breakfast he’s telling the family his plea options, and when Liam questions temporary insanity, Ian rattles off, “Bipolar, off my meds.” So is Ian saying that’s just the definition of the defense he could use, or is he saying “I was off my meds”???? WHY won’t the show give us any answers? There were two significant scenes in Season 8 where he staunchly said he was taking his meds and that he (rightly) was entitled to feel emotions and be angry at times. Are we supposed to think that right about then is when he stopped taking them and then Gay Jesus happened? But if that was the case, why did he stop taking his meds, and now how long has he been off them-or did he start taking them again and now they’re working after being off them for all the GJ stuff PLUS when he was in jail for 9 months? IF he was off his meds for any amount of time but especially a long amount of time (pretty sure an argument could be made he’d been off them since leaving Mickey/Monica dying/stalking boring Terror, blowing that old couple for money), why did his manic phase seem so different than when he was back from the army? Can the show try to explain anything?

Ian and Fiona and Geneva all go to the lawyer’s office-why? There IS such a thing as client-attorney privilege and the lawyer, at least, would ask them to wait outside once the screaming began if not sooner. But oh well. Ian finally says, “Does anyone want to hear what my lawyer has to say?” Me at home: YES!!! Lawyer starts to talk, “I know this judge-he’s under...” Geneva starts yelling again and what gets lost in her bullshit is that later on, the judge is not a he?

Outside Fi asks Ian, “Are all lesbians that dramatic?” I asked last week, I’m asking again: Is Geneva a lesbian? Is this just another retcon? Her initial interactions with Ian seemed like she was crushing on him, that she wanted him, and there’s been nothing about her being a lesbian in canon. I know it’s not important, but the lack of attention to detail on this show contributes mightily to its shittiness.

Suddenly Ian has a question, and he can think of only one place to get an answer (even though Liam was able to Google “what is cocktail attire?” and get an answer in seconds. Ian should’ve asked him to look up his question as well).

Ian goes to the Milkovich house and it’s so fucking OOC I don’t even want to think about it. For whatever reason, Ian politely says, “Hi, Mr. Milkovich,” when Terry answers the door-why would he even bother? Terry’s not big on manners, for one thing, and for another, the last time Ian saw Terry he was flipping him off as he was being carted back to prison. Don’t think Terry’s going to be warmed over by a polite greeting. Anyway, Ian asks him about being in the pen, and Terry says there’s ass and mouth rapings that Ian would probably enjoy, shitty food, and beat downs from the guards. Ian asks if Terry was mouth raped (I think he specified that, I didn’t put it in my notes) and Terry indignantly says that Milkoviches don’t “bottom”. Ian says, “Was Mickey adopted?” and I can’t tell if he was trying to piss Terry off or if he was genuinely curious, but as a joke it didn’t work-Ian knows (or the old Ian did, anyway) better than anyone that Mickey was absolutely nothing like Terry, in any way, not just in sexual preferences. Another OOC comment to just make the viewer weep thinking about the old days. Also, having Terry know, let alone USE, the term bottom was also OOC in the extreme. He might as well have said, “All Milkoviches are cishet.” It would’ve been just as believable.

But back to the scene. Ian says, “Rapings, food, guards-I can handle that shit. I just need to know...” Terry interrupts him. “Anyone can handle that shit. (Again, me at home: Really?) It’s the boredom that’ll kill ya...Start reading books, lifting weights...” (Mickey already told him that about juvie AND prison-how dense is Ian that he never got it?) “But you’re in the same place, with the same assholes, doing the same shit, every second of every minute of every hour of every day of every god damn year. If I was you I’d pack my shit and run.”

Ian’s face while he’s running down all the segments of time seems to look like Terry’s getting through to him. And Terry telling him to take off is actually the best advice Ian winds up getting-in the long run Terry seems to care about keeping Ian out of prison more than his own family. Terry easily could’ve slammed the door in Ian’s face and ignored him. Does that mean I forgive Terry at all for everything he did to Mickey, Mandy, and Ian-not to mention his other sons and Svetlana? FUCK NO. But how telling is it that this show is now so bad that a villainous piece of shit like Terry is the one character we are listening to and agreeing with?

One last thing about Terry-he just got out, but he knows Mickey’s in Mexico? How? I’m hoping this is a set up for Ian being able to find Mickey next week (or at the end of the season if we have to wait that fucking long), but this show doesn’t do continuity anymore, so I’m sure there’s no logical explanation for Terry knowing that fact.

Fi goes to the Gallagher house looking for Ian and finds an empty box of hair dye, and a towel stained with hair dye, and that Ian’s drawers are empty. I also noticed that his pillow was gone-did he pack that up too? If so, I’m hoping it’s because he and Mickey shared it and he wanted to keep some part of Mick with him always, but we know this show ain’t about that anymore. Anyway, Fi goes and tells Lip she thinks Ian skipped bail and they have to go find him. Lip says no, Ian’s an adult. This conversation also just took place with Debbie-or takes place right after, the show was so boring I couldn’t keep the repeated scenes straight if you put a gun to my head.

WHY are the siblings so uncaring about Ian going to prison-or getting caught as a fugitive and spending even more time there? WHY is everyone so stupid about whether prison is “bad” or not, especially for their apple cheeked, puppy-eyed brother who is dealing with mental illness? Who may or may not be off his meds at any given time? Ian couldn’t even handle VISITING Mickey in prison, why does he suddenly think he could do a stretch of multiple years if not decades? All those years stealing cable and watching bootleg DVDs, did none of the Gallaghers ever watch Oz? In a prior season it was established that Lip has read so much he was able to determine a Louis Vuitton purse was authentic by the stitching and the lettering-he’s never read about prisons and how they affect young men that are in them for a period of time? “Hardened criminal” is a phrase he’s never come across? Lip doesn’t realize how hard Ian’s future as a convicted felon will be when he gets out? Trying to find a job (especially one with medical benefits), a place to live, all that stuff? This show is shit.

There’s a meaningless shot of Ian at the train station (we don’t even get to know where he was planning to run to-as if we didn’t know-show us he’s at least headed south, you bastards!) and then there’s a scene where Lip comes home in the dark to find Ian at the kitchen table eating ice cream right out of the Edy’s carton. (They don’t show us the flavor-it looked like it might be chocolate chip? I didn’t see any chunks of cookie dough or anything. Again, this is only important because everything else is so boring that actually knowing what kind of ice cream Ian likes would be interesting in comparison.)

I guess the ice cream is sort of a metaphor? Ian’s last sweet taste of freedom? Or maybe I’m reading too much into it and they just came up with something for the brothers to share and it couldn’t be beer-because of Lip, not because of Ian’s meds because god knows they never cared about that, plus we STILL don’t know if he’s just magically back on them-if he is, how is he paying for them? Anyway, after Lip’s earlier attitude about Ian being an “adult” and not caring all that much about him ever, he doesn’t deserve ice cream! Here’s a snippet of their dialogue:

Lip: So you didn’t run. Ian: Oh no-I ran. I just...ran back. (well, at least that’s in character since he ran away to the army and came back, and ran away with Monica and came back, and the fucking Mexican border, but I’m not happy about that fact)

They start listing the things Ian will miss if he’s gone for the next ten years. Debbie may be married to a woman (I would think her being divorced is more likely, but whatever, I won’t be around to watch it either, I’m gone as soon as Ian’s back with Mickey), Carl will be a war criminal, Liam will be the father of a ten year old, Frank, dead. Ian asks Lip, “You?” “Still in AA, if I haven’t drunk myself to death.” Ian says, “Do me a favor? Don’t.” IAN CARES MORE ABOUT LIP THAN LIP CARES ABOUT IAN. Always has, always will. “Lip deserves to get out of the ghetto.” But Lip’s fine with Ian going off to prison because of the whole Gay Jesus thing that he never even began to try to understand or help Ian find a way out of. This show is shit.

Next there’s a scene of Ian in a suit, dressed for court and talking to his Bible that’s on his bed (still no pillow-weird). He’s asking Shim to talk to him one last time, maybe give him a hint what he should do. His voice is soft and pleading and he’s almost in tears and all I can think is he needs Mickey to talk things out with. Lip comes to the door and says something like they’re all downstairs, it’s time or whatever. Ian gives the Bible one last look and seems to do a little wink-did he hear something from Shim? Would it kill this show to let us in on some things? This show is shit.

His plea hearing was so factually inaccurate it hurt. His lawyer doesn’t say anything, and when asked what he pleads Ian launches into his entire defense. And the judge lets him. OMGJ.

Again I’m pretty sure I’m witnessing a retcon when Ian says “A young man was being forced against his will into a van to be taken to a conversion camp.” Um, as I recall (and I won’t rewatch the episodes to get all the exact details, they were too stupid), a young runaway came to the Church of Gay Jesus and claimed his parents were trying to make him get conversion therapy and they were giving him drugs so he couldn’t get erections because they didn’t like the fact that he was gay, but when Ian talked to the dad he said the kid ran away on his own because he suffered from mental illness, was off his meds, and was living on the street and prostituting himself. As I recall the dad/parents didn’t say anything about conversion, they just wanted him home. Maybe the dad sought help from the guys in the van because there was no other way to get the kid home-none of this has been established for the court, if nothing else! This show is shit.

Ian gives a speech in a voice like wimpy Jeremiah trying to convince everyone Jerome was the bad one and it was just lame. He claims his family loved him unconditionally-since when? They only gave him crap about being with Mickey, or ignored him. And then when he became “like Monica” there were definitely conditions on loving him-mainly that he be on his meds. Right up to this episode they were all going around saying it’s time to let him go-they didn’t love him enough to want to keep him at the house and try to help him!

Anyway, he then states in open court he was off his meds and in a manic state when he torched the van. Then he looks back at Fiona and starts to give a tiny smile right before the credits. Was he lying to get a lighter sentence and he’s smiling because he got away with it? Or does he look to her like that because he knows she’ll be proud of him for finally telling the truth even if it disappoints/ruins the GJ movement (that is so implausible as a concept it makes my head ache)?

By next week the show will be in another writer’s hands and I’ll never get the answer to that question either, I bet. IF this means the-fucking finally-end to the GJ storyline, I’ll have to be happy enough with that.

In conclusion let me say that once again the only “great” thing about the episode was ZERO mention of Terror!

But the rest of the show was shit.

#Recap #Season Nein Episode 5 #Nobody wants it #So much to hate in this week's episode #They keep finding new depths to sink to

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dontshootmespence · 6 years

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Broken Homes Fix Broken Hearts

Chapter 16

Thank you so much for reading and loving Derek and Juliet as much as @veroinnumera and I do. We still have a lot more to post and even more to still write! Please let us know what you think :D

-------

What if he meets some gorgeous police officer on a case? What if he gets bored of dating a librarian? What if he realizes he’s way out of your league?

The thoughts bounced around Juliet’s head with the force of a ten pound bowling ball. They were painful and heavy and becoming too much. There was no way she was getting any sleep tonight. Checking the time on her phone, she paused a second to stare at the background. It was a picture of Derek reading to the little ones, the day he’d come to help out. She’d taken under the guise of needing photos for the library’s website...but it had been so fucking adorable she had to hold onto it. Maybe...Before some terrible thought could follow, Juliet dialed his number. If she felt like shit she was allowed to share it with the man she loved. It was okay to be vulnerable. It was still terrifying though.

Thank god they’d wrapped everything up. It had been over a week and he was more than ready to go home. Derek had missed her. Everytime a text came in from a member of the team regarding the case, her picture would flash and remind him of home. He loved his job, but now that he had someone in his life that he loved just as much, it was hard being away all the time, especially on these long cases.

When the phone rang in his pocket, he hoped it was her, smiling when her name popped up. “Juliet? The case is closed. We’ll be coming home tomorrow. How are you? I’ve missed you.”

The sound of his voice put a smile on her face. “That’s great! And I’m fine. No. I’m not fine, that was a lie. Sorry. I’m still working on this open communication thing. And now I’m rambling...long story short my brain is treating me like crap, so I thought I should call you.”

Derek hated the fact that her brain did what it did to her, but he sighed happily knowing she’d called him before the thoughts had spiraled out of control - hopefully. “I’m glad you called,” he said softly, leaning back against the wall. “Your brain is an asshole and I can promise you that none of what it’s saying is true. I love you and I miss you.”

“So you haven’t met a very sexy police officer? Who for some reason my brain suggests looks like a Victoria Secret model and has a British accent, because that accent is insanely attractive?”

“Absolutely not,” Derek replied firmly but softly, putting on his best British accent as he continued. “I haven’t met any sexy police officers and even if I had, I wouldn’t pursue anything because I have a sexy librarian at home waiting for me.”

Juliet snickered on the other side of the line. Calling had been hard originally, but it was for the best. If she hadn’t called, she wouldn’t have been able to hear his absolutely horrible British accent. “Is that it? Your accent?”

“Accents aren’t my thing!” He replied mock defensively. “I’m a kid from Chicago!”

She laughed softly. “Alright. But it’s okay because you have other things, Derek Morgan.”

“And what are they?” Derek asked, half jokingly half extremely curious.

“I’m not telling you! You’re head is big enough already!” Juliet exclaimed through giggles.

“If you don’t tell me I’ll start speaking in a British accent again.” He warned teasingly.

“Okay! Okay! Fine! You win just please don’t speak in a British accent!” She pleaded.

Juliet tried to stop the blushing even though there was no one there to see it. Knowing Derek, he could hear her face flushing through the phone. “Well, as Penelope has said, you’re built like a Greek God. I have imagined many dirty things since you left. On top of that, you’re intelligent and strong and funny and kind, so basically I have the whole package.” Yea, and you-Shut up, brain!

She had to stop it in its tracks. “You going to sleep? How early are you getting up tomorrow to get back on the jet?”

Derek felt his head swell up a bit, but got himself back to earth quickly. “Seven AM. I’ll need a lot of coffee. Talk to you tomorrow on the way home?”

“Yes, and Derek? I love you.”

“I love you more.”

Somehow she didn’t think that was possible, but she wasn’t about to fight him on that either.

-------

“Actually, the cement industry is worth roughly $9.9 billion. Due to the inherently transportable nature it thrives in almost any geography, which is part of the reason there are cement mills in 34 of the 50 states. But, that’s actually pretty ironic because we still import about 10% of our cement!” Reid exclaimed, leaning back in his seat. “Morgan? Morgan are you listening to me?” He asked frowning slightly at the agent across from him who was just staring at his phone and smiling.

Derek’s head snapped up. “Sorry, Pretty Boy. I’m just excited to get home.”

“Juliet?” Reid asked, already knowing the answer. “What’s she saying that’s got you so happy? Or is it just going home?”

It could be. But it wasn’t. Juliet had decided to “come out of her shell” a bit and text him exactly what she wanted to be doing to him at the moment. Of course he was on the jet and couldn’t do anything about it. If she had done this last night? He definitely would’ve taken the situation into his own hands so to speak. “Not just going home. But I’m not giving away the details.”

Reid took a few seconds to get the gist of what Morgan was talking about, but then his eyes went wide. It was called sexting, wasn’t it? “Oh, OH! O-Okay forget I asked.”

Emily wandered over from grabbing coffee. “You’d better not screw this up Morgan, or I may just ask her out myself.”

“C’mon Prentiss! Don’t be like that.” Derek groaned.

“Like what? She’s hot and intelligent and I’m not blind.” Emily teased. “But seriously, you better not screw this up.”

JJ popped up from her seat and turned to him. “I second Emily. I mean, I have Will and I am happily taken, but she’s gorgeous and funny and smart, so don’t mess up.”

“How would I mess it up?”

Everyone within earshot (which was everyone but Hotch), turned to give him the side-eye. “Okay, so I have a bit of a reputation! This is different!”

Rossi snickered, remembering the looks well. Granted he had three ex-wives, but he remembered that lighter than air feeling of being in love. “We can see that. Any plans for when you get back?”

Derek shrugged. He hadn’t really thought about it; he was just excited to get back. “Well, she does,” Emily laughed.

“What?” Derek asked.

“JJ, Penelope and I are stealing her for a girls’ night.” He was about to put up a fight when Emily cut him off. “Deal with it!”

“Just don’t make a move on my girl.”

-------

“Well, there’s gel nails and then there’s acrylic nails. You can do those however you want - crazy colors, French tips even. You would look great with French tips. Actually you would look great with any nails because look at you, and you could go short or long, and then-”

“Oh god, Penelope stop,” Juliet laughed. “Too many options. Also, can I call you babygirl too because I’m kind of jealous that Morgan has a babygirl and I don’t?”

Garcia curtsied, her smile wide. “Absolutely. I’m the residential babygirl. When was the last time you had your nails done?”

“Ummm...does me dipping my hand into a can of paint when I was five count?”

“What?! You’ve never had them done?”

Juliet shook her head feeling like a deer in the headlights. “N-no? I mean I guess I just never really got the point?”

Penelope clutched at her chest as if experiencing pains before pulling Juliet into her arms and patting her on the back. “Oh my sweet sweet child. It’s okay, babygirl is here now. You’re safe.”

Unable to help herself Juliet burst out laughing, voice muffled by Penelope’s sweater. Unfortunately it sounded like she was crying. “Oh my god Juliet, are you okay?” Garcia asked full of distress.

All Juliet could do was nod she was laughing too hard.

JJ and Emily shared a look as if to say young people these days despite the fact they were all roughly the same age. “Okay, okay c’mon. Let’s get this show on the road.” Emily pressed gesturing to take their seats.

After much deliberation and a little convincing on Penelope’s part, Juliet decided to go with slightly longer than normal for her nails in a light turquoise color she was really drawn to. “Mmm, this feels nice,” she said in a daze as the technician was finishing up with a hand massage. “I could get used to this.”

Emily was in the same position, practically falling asleep on the hand that had already dried. “I shouldn’t get used to this or I’ll sleep all the time.”

“And the problem with that?” Juliet asked.

The french manicure looked great on JJ, as it always did. Penelope of course went with the hottest of hot pinks with a little jewel on each thumb and Emily went with one of those striking reds you associate with a seductress who could just as easily kill you as kiss you. “What should we do now?”

Juliet looked toward Penelope, the resident queen of all things pampering. “Facials. We’ll practically fall asleep in the chairs.”

“Is that really a good idea?” JJ laughed.

But none of them seemed to care. They were relaxed, talked all the girl talk (including the BAU ladies wondering what Derek was like in bed) and nearly fell asleep as they’d all been afraid of doing, but it was a great day that Juliet hoped to be repeating more than once.

They parted ways and she called an Uber. The only option available was Uber Pool which Juliet wasn’t a huge fan of. Making small talk with strangers was among her worst nightmares. But it would be a short ride and she didn’t want to bother Derek to pick her up. The app said she was looking for a girl named Kerry with short blonde hair, green eyes, and a 2010 Toyota Camry.

A few moments later a car matching the description pulled up at the top of the block. The windows were blacked out. Weird...but people are entitled to their privacy. She shrugged it off and walked over opening the backseat door. The girl looking back at her through the driver’s mirror looked like the picture but she seemed...anxious. “Hi Kerry, I’m Juliet.” She smiled, extending a hand.

And that was when everything went to hell. The left side backseat door thudded shut as another figure entered the car, immediately stabbing a needle into her extended arm. As everything went hazy Juliet only had a split second to look up and see the one thing in the world that had ever truly terrified her.

Carter.

@epiphanyys @crimeshowtrash @literallyprentissstwin @jazz91121@jennferjareau @spencer-puppies-and-stuff @fl0werb0nes18 @stunudo @spencerthepipecleaner @theofficeofsupremegenius @ultrarebelheart @lookwhatyoumademequeue @lukeassmanalvez @mentallydatingspencerreid @nobravery @criminal-anatomy @matthew-gray-reidler @remember-me-forever-silent-angel @original-criminal-fanfics @lovelukealvez @stories-you-wont-hear @speedreiding @marvelfanlife @butsomeofusarelookingatthestars @wonderboygenius @spxcxrrxid @imagines-for-criminal-minds @acespence @sweater-vest-reid @criminalmindskeepsmealive @spenncerreiid @sam-carter-in-training @parker-hopper @spencerwreid @ssahotchner @profiler-in-training @were-skye @trollitis @heyboywonder @ficrecswithcassie @janiedreams88 @gingeraleandcontemplation @cynbx @fortheloveofspencerreid @tippy06 @cleocc @bestillmystuckyheart @ssaunitchief @xxm3xxj

#derek morgan #derek morgan x oc #derek morgan x juliet hunter lewis #derek morgan fanfiction #derek morgan fanfic #derek morgan fic #dontshootmespence #veroinnumera #broken homes fix broken hearts

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aegor-bamfsteel · 6 years

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Yo man, I hear that the Blackfyres and their supporters were Conservative, sexist, brutish usurpers who couldn't stand to see a feminist king on the throne but here you are, an honest to God bra burning, women's lit thumping feminist unironically supporting the Black Dragon. In this entire fandom you're the only person I've found openly supporting them. If you don't mind me asking, why do you like them so much?

Hey dude, you’re asking me to talk about sexism, fandom hypocrisy, and my Blackfyre love in an inflammatory way that could result in getting me in trouble with the fandom? I probably shouldn’t be answering this, but ok. This has been sitting in my inbox for a week, and let no one say that I leave any ask unanswered. Wankery found under the cut:

Eyy dude, what if I told you that the perception of Blackfyres as sexist, brutish usurpers in fandom is largely due to some prominent people’s intellectual elitism and projection of neoliberal political views? Aspects of GRRM’s writing like the unreliable narrator, villains-are-heroes-from-another-side, and history is written by the “victors” are given no credibility in favor of condemning the Blackfyre supporters as racist, sexist, and ableist (?) in fandom. I’m extremely annoyed that no one seems to be asking the sort of questions or making the sort of connections that I have due to this blanket ban on Blackfyre sympathy. I’ve answered your broader question on why I supported the Blackfyres in an earlier ask (they were more honorable, less absolutist and cruel than the Targaryens, even demonstrated some meritocracy, and most died horrifically) so I will try to answer based on the sexism angle: How come I like the Blackfyres so much and support woman’s liberation at the same time?

First of all, you come into my askbox and tell me that Daeron II was a feminist king? Nah bro. A real male feminist ally in a position of power would’ve passed laws to ensure his father’s predatory behavior would be banned. He would’ve been trying to apologize for the way he and his father treated the Bracken sisters and actively sought to make amends instead of making the situation worse. He could’ve given widows a pension or granted certain protections to mothers with illegitimate children. He could’ve opened up exit shelters for prostituted women wanting to learn a trade, as Empress Theodora did back in sixth century AD Byzantium. Why does fandom think he is so Feminist™ when he did so little for women? Are they referring to him having Princess Elaena as an unofficial advisor while her husband Ronnel Penrose was Master of Coin, a man who could barely string two numbers together? (Which really undermines the claim that Daeron was a reformer who chose wise men as councilors, since he selected an incompetent based on his own family status) Might I remind everyone that Daeron arranged Elaena’s second marriage in the first place, a woman 3 years his elder who had been locked in prison for 11 years by her brother, bore illegitimate twins by her cousin, forced to wed an old man by her uncle/Aegon, and may have been forced into sleeping with the horrific Aegon IV? You’d think after enduring so much at the hands of her male relatives, the Kind™ Daeron would’ve backed off, but she has to pay for his son Aerys’ failed marriage by sacrificing her hard-won independence. How feminist. But I guess it’s OK, because after Ronnel died Daeron generously gave his blessing when she wed someone she truly loved! I can’t imagine she felt much affection for this entitled shit. But maybe the Great Fandom Minds™ are referring to how Daeron treated his wife Myriah, who is a blank slate in terms of personality and political actions? I can’t even think of any other names of women Daeron might’ve canonically “empowered”, so how exactly is he a feminist? And why does thinking he was a self-serving politician who treated all of his family members except his sons like expendable trash make me sexist? Do tell, Fandom Minds who know so much more than I.

By contrast, how does liking Daemon Blackfyre and thinking he’d be a better king than Daeron make one sexist? Eustace Osgrey said that he hung out with warriors rather than septons and women, but GRRM himself said that Daemon did have female followers (some we know even participated in the Second Blackfyre Rebellion, like Ladies Vyrwell and Smallwood. Not to mention the cause owes its continued strength after Redgrass to Queen Rohanne) who were “drawn to him.” There’s the rumors that Daemon thought that he could marry Princess Daenerys and Rohanne of Tyrosh, but even the biased Maester Yandel said that claim only developed long after the wedding from a few Blackfyre supporters, which is a few steps removed from the original source. I believe that version of the story was an attempt by the Westerosi Blackfyre supporters to acknowledge Rohanne of Tyrosh’s invaluable contributions to the cause of the exiles while still maintaining the romanticism of a Daemon/Daenerys forbidden romance. It absolutely blows my mind that Daemon gets more flak for what he might have said at fourteen than Daeron does for helping a teenaged girl and her two-week-old son get banished for something her father said. Because Daeron is called “the Good” and thus incapable of doing wrong, obviously.

But outrageously, the fandom has to headcanon abusive behavior on Daemon to make him look like a villain. Seriously, I’ve heard people claim he was an abusive father to Daemon II, cheated on or never loved Rohanne, would have killed his nephews, and tried to rape Princess Daenerys based on no canonical evidence (in fact, the evidence goes against the honorable father of at least nine presented in canon). Even a Daemon-hater like Yandel had to concede that Daemon’s love was for the mother of his children to whom he was married for 12 years. Daemon died protecting his son Aegon from the Raven’s Teeth arrows; he’d never hurt his children. As for the children of others, his faction during the First Blackfyre did not kill children (in fact, Quentyn Ball spared Lady Penrose’s youngest son, some say on Daemon’s orders), especially not those too young to fight. The fandom’s portrayal of Daemon as a vicious monster really serves to emphasize how little evidence they have that Daeron II was a truly good person; the man with grudges against two of his father’s underaged rape victims isn’t a hero, so they have to make his rival an even bigger villain despite it being complete nonsense in canon? Can I have at least a balanced depiction of a Daemon who loved his wife and kids, even if they do think he was an ambitious reactionary?

An especially infuriating piece of fandom hypocrisy is that to make Daemon sexist, they have to demonize or erase all of the female influence in his life. Example one is that for his first 12 years, he was raised as the son of Daena the Defiant, who GRRM said in an SSM raised him alone in the Red Keep. Some people in fandom claim she was an ambitious woman who wanted a son so she could be Aegon’s Queen over Naerys, which is a claim so insulting in its wrongness (Daena could’ve been Queen in her own right, having an illegitimate son actually hurt her chances of queenship and a stable future, she referred to Daemon as hers alone so she never wanted to acknowledge his father, she never agreed to wed a man after Baelor, etc) I’m shocked the people who make it can call themselves feminists with a straight face. Others are kinder toward the Daena-Daemon relationship, saying that Daena must’ve died before Daemon was four so she couldn’t pass on her ideals of honor and self-sacrifice for one’s children; this completely ignores what GRRM said about Daena “raising” Daemon alone, meaning he knew her well enough to remember her. Both these ideas about Daena either demonize one of the most beautiful mother-son pairs in Targaryen history (she loved that kid so much she put him ahead of her own reputation and chance at being Queen. I cry.) or they take away her influence in order to claim that Daemon had no female role models growing up. A mother like Daena, strong-willed, independent, a sportswoman, would’ve doubtless have shaped Daemon’s opinions on women, and especially on mothers of bastards. He may have grown up knowing a woman didn’t necessarily need a husband to be happy, that she could shoot and ride as well as a man, and that a princess could with smallfolk and minor nobles on her own. She was far away from a submissive woman and was Daemon’s sole parent until he was 12, and you mean to tell me her son was a raging misogynist? Nope, I don’t buy it.

Fandom also erases Daemon’s other important female figure: Rohanne of Tyrosh. Elite Tyroshi women are most similar to elite Dornishwomen out of all the ladies of Westeros; I say this because the Archon’s daughter was to serve as a cupbearer for Prince Doran without having been betrothed to Quentyn, indicating that they are valued as political actors for their families outside of marriage alliances. Tyrosh is a mercantile society where the elites don’t like to fight, which traditionally equalizes roles between the sexes. Rohanne was the reason the Blackfyre cause survived for so long; she didn’t need help from Bittersteel escaping to her own fucking country, rather the landless Blackfyre supporters needed her protection after they lost everything at Redgrass. Without her giving them a stable base of operations (and certainly using her dowry to pay for their accommodations), they wouldn’t have been cohesive enough for Aegor to create the Golden Company. I realize that Rohanne has very little canonical characterization, but neither do Princess Daenerys and Myriah Martell, and that doesn’t stop Fandom from writing fanfics and meta on these two while ignoring Rohanne. On a similar note, prominent meta writers claim that the Blackfyre cause is obviously based on the Jacobites (no, Daemon Blackfyre was based in part on James Scott the Duke of Monmouth, who was staunchly anti-Jacobite. Just because these writers don’t know about British history in depth doesn’t mean that they can make spurious claims), and use this comparison to make headcanons for how the Blackfyre court in exile operated. For some Unfathomable reason, these headcanons never include the invaluable contributions that the female Stuarts made to the cause; Queen Mary and Princess Louisa were much more popular than the charmless James II and the drunken womanizer Charles III, having great relations with the French court and funding the education of the daughters of Jacobite exiles (it was said that even Queen Anne wept when Princess Louisa died, for she had hoped to wed her son to him). For a fandom who loves to make headcanons about minor female asoiaf characters, and loves to show off its (rather one-dimensional) knowledge of history, I see no such fics and metas for the female Blackfyres. I guess Feminism™ can’t be wasted on the wives and daughters of “traitors.” Just ask Sansa Stark.

To conclude, Daeron II was not a feminist king who raised the status of women in Westeros; in fact, he used his power as prince and king to banish Barba Bracken and wed Princess Elaena off to an ally. Daemon Blackfyre was raised by a strong single mother and was successfully married to an older foreign woman, and enjoyed female support for his cause, so calling him a misogynist seems like a leap to me. I’d make the argument that it’s Fandom with the misogyny problem, as they ignore the suffering, contributions, and characterization of female characters they don’t like in order to prop up a “sexism” narrative that contradicts canon. Just because other people bleat about how sexist, racist, and ableist Blackfyre supporters like me are, it doesn’t mean it’s true.

#Angry #fandom critical #asoiaf #house Blackfyre #anti Daeron II

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lovehotelreservation · 7 years

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The Get Laid Cafe [1/3]

Summary: With no more fake Olympic gold medals or fancy yakuza briefcases to sell, the disbandment of the Phantom Thieves has been tough on your wallet--and your heart. Thankfully, a gig at one of Tokyo's most popular maid cafe has helped to fill the void in both.

That is, until four of your former fellow Phantom Thieves return home to attempt to convince you to consider a different occupation, if not just different clients.

Namely them.

Rating: PG-13* (Rating will go up to NC-17)

Series Pairing: Akechi/Akira/Reader/Ryuji/Yusuke

Chapter Pairing: Ryuji/Reader/Yusuke

[Part 2]

HELLO EVERYONE.

AND WELCOME TO MY MAGNUM LEWDUS.

Upon returning from a trip to Japan (and getting to marvel at P5′s irl reference for Yongenjaya), needless to say I was feeling extremely inspired to do something for the Phantom Guys--even more than when I finished the game back in spring and wrote out my “Guilty As Charged” series. With all those things considered, I ended up with what would’ve been my longest one-shot at around 18k words, which is quite a feat for me ngl!!!

To make things easier on my best friend and beta-reader and to finally have this out to you all, I decided to split the one-shot up. The entirety of this work is done, but the rest needs to be properly looked over before I go about posting. That said, I absolutely cannot wait to reveal what’s in store for this fic, which I am honestly so proud of and pleased with.

And thus, as always, I sincerely do hope you enjoy this lewd tale of mine! ₍՞◌′ᵕ‵ू◌₎♡

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"If he wants to see you again, he better fork over the yen!"

Such was the company policy of the maid cafe Sheehk Me Out~! you had the utmost pleasure of working for, as per the vision of its owner and your boss Iyayo. Your workplace was notorious for imposing a charge on every single possible action that could be done within the restaurant and beyond. However, rather than this ruin any hopes of making a profit, your cafe had been ranked number 1 in Tokyo for 5 years now.

Surprisingly, this feat wasn't achieved through extra yakuza financial support, but the mere and simple fact that your cafe consistently had the cutest maids in the city and that men were willing to pay anything to even breathe the same air as them.

Your co-workers were utterly thrilled by this desperation, as it often led to receiving a one way ticket to a lap of luxury with every thirsty businessman that came crawling through the door. Though, more often than not, you heard all of the wild, kinky tales that other maids wound up getting into, often for the sake of siphoning every and any possible wallet dry.

Not that you were belittling them for doing so. If that was the choice of your fellow co-workers, then so be it.

You just had a different approach to your job, in that you took your boss's advice to a more extreme level as compared to the other maids: namely how you easily quadrupled your prices once customers got a little too handsy and attached. With the exception of one previous customer, this was your own little standard to work by, a safeguard that weeded out those who couldn't afford you, and those who get offended and storm off.

Aside from standard maid services--referring to clients as "master," preparing omurice, decorating Polaroid pictures of yourself--sweet talk, hugs, and kisses to the cheek were fine, but once you were getting requests for your phone number and offers to join your client in bed, you were then demanding mortgage and tuition payments.

Which, as noted in cutesy handwriting on the chalkboard sign that hung above the cashier area, was completely allowed by your cafe's policies.

In the scope of things, surely times have certainly changed since your Phantom Thief days, even if you were adamant to maintain and cherish the idea of being intimate with someone you loved most.

Though, for you, “someone” came in the form of four men who were no longer in Tokyo.

You were filled with a sense of contentment at the thought of a spiky-haired blonde running track at Osaka University with a cocky grin on his face while a blue-haired young man was aweing all the art professors at Kanazawa College of Art with his outlandishly elegant masterpieces. Without question, you knew the Japanese exchange student studying Western law at Oxford University was leaving everyone charmed, whereas the one who was attending Paris-Sorbonne University was exploring cafes and coffee shops during his breaks between classes.

While you missed each of them so much, the most important aspect of their absence was that they were left unaware of the job you had taken up since starting college, your tuition the main reason you decided to don the maid uniform.

And because you needed a distraction to keep your mind off of their absences.

You could already imagine their astonished uproar should they ever find about your new job. Yusuke would probably try to reason with you while Ryuji would come bursting through the cafe entrance and make a fuss to get you to quit. Not to say that Akechi and Akira wouldn’t also attempt to persuade you to take up another job, but knowing them, they'd have some elaborate form of sabotage up their sleeves.

The only ones who knew about and who you could confide in about your newfound employment were Ann, Makoto, Haru, and Futaba, with all of them still residing and studying in Tokyo.

For the most part, you received the support of the girls. Understandably so, however, Makoto was wary of your job at first, given with what happened with Eiko. However, when you told her how strict and uncompromising you were while remaining successful--even showing off the sizeable stack of tips that you earned over a single weekend--she was eventually put at ease.

Ann was proud of your hustle while Haru was pleased by the way you had your clients begging for the privilege to even eat out of your hand. Amidst working her way through high school, Futaba was eager to be your confidant, scoping out current trends in the maid cafe scene, from what kind of themes and actions were most popular to any fluctuations in target demographics among your customers.

Though your girls were happy to support you in any way they could--whether by acting as your customers when you were expecting some unruly regulars, or hearing you vent about the entitlement that some clients had towards you--it was Futaba who regularly assisted you with being a more effective and profitable maid.

However.

Unfortunately so.

Futaba was also the person who accidentally revealed your maid gig to Akira while he was confirming his return flight back to Tokyo for summer break.

So it came to be when you were working through a slow shift that Ryuji and Yusuke came bursting through the entrance.

It was a miracle that your tray of dirty plates and glasses didn’t fall and shatter on the ground.

Since Akira--along with Akechi--wasn't due back in Japan for another couple days, there was little surprise that he would reach out to Ryuji and Yusuke to check on you, as both were a mere shinkansen ride away from Tokyo.

As horrified as you were to see them, you were quick to notice that the two's widened gazes--whether boldly intentional or shyly not--were lingering upon and ogling you while you remained fully dressed in your cutesy maid attire. Considering that it was summer and you spent most of early afternoon outside to hand out fliers, you weren't wearing your white stockings, leaving your legs exposed.

You could see redness blossom and spread across Yusuke's pale cheeks while Ryuji's mouth was agape with shock and a hint of drool.

However, remembering that they were both here on a mission that was involving you, the blonde immediately wiped at his mouth, preparing to finally demand some answers.

Which you took as the cue to request your lunch break.

Though your day up until now was slow--thus making it easier for you to suddenly step out from your shift--the way you grabbed onto both Yusuke's and Ryuji's arms to quickly drag them back outside to the quaint, little garden space that was meant to be a break area for all the maids was anything but. The cutesy decor of the patio seating seemed to emphasize the awkward tension that hung in the air, and you still wearing your uniform didn't help either.

You released their arms, taking a step ahead of them. Reluctant didn't even begin to describe how unwilling you were to face them. However, knowing they wouldn't leave without having a word with you, your heels spun as you feigned cheerful confidence.

"Ryuji, Yusuke! Long time no see!" You chirped while clasping your hands tightly together, else risk having them wring together out of nervousness. "Didn't expect to see you two so soon."

The solemn discomfort on Yusuke's face while Ryuji attempted to keep composure told you exactly how this conversation was going to proceed.

You watched as the latter's arms quickly shot out, waving around in a wild, over-the-top gesture towards your body, all while his cheeks became burning red--whether out of anger or embarrassment, you could not tell. "And we didn't expect to see you like this! What's-- What's up with the maid get-up?!"

Though you groaned internally, you sighed out loud with exasperation while you attempted to remain unfazed, even if this exact reaction was what you had been dreading to possibly face one day. "My work uniform, Ryuji. That's all."

"'That's all?!'" Ryuji repeated incredulously, his eyes wide while they stared at you with disbelief. "We leave Tokyo for a semester and suddenly you're a cutesy maid now?! And you didn't even tell us?!"

Yusuke cleared his throat, his eyebrow lifting while he shot the blonde a look. "Honestly, I'm rather surprised you're acting this way, considering how much I've heard about that--what was it--that maid stakeout you did with Akira and that Mishima fellow, no?"

Now Ryuji's ears were red while his head snapped towards Yusuke. "That was high school and with a… stranger. This is college, this is our friend--there's a lot more at stake here, dude!" Huffing, his arms immediately folded across his chest, all the while maintaining a defensive front. "And don't act like I'm being too over the top about this! You were the one who ditched the night bus to hop onto a goddamn shinkansen to get back to Tokyo! That shit ain't cheap neither!"

Yusuke's collectedness broke, soon fumbling for anything to say in response.

Your inner despair deepened. Knowing Yusuke's frugal ways, for him to be so impulsive as to buy a last minute shinkansen ticket spoke and declared volumes of how affected he was by the news of your maid gig.

If these two were worked up to this degree, you only dreaded to soon have to be confronted by Akechi and Akira.

Admittedly though, it felt nice to have them worry and be this concerned about you. It brought back memories of whenever you were injured or put in peril while in the Metaverse, with any and all of the four taking immediate action to keep you safe and protected.

"You..." Yusuke began with a sigh, while his hand pressed against the side of his face, his head lowering in defeat, "You're not wrong, Ryuji..." His voice trailed off, as did his eyes while he looked towards you once again. Your name was uttered, all while his expression was that of apprehension, "You know that, while I would usually refrain from being too invasive, I..." Eyes shutting, his eyebrows furrowed together while he recalled back to when he heard the news. "I...I must admit that I was rather taken aback to hear from Akira about your new occupation."

While it was clear that he was concerned, his eyes opened once more as he thought back to the other emotion that he felt upon that announcement, his tone admonishing yet slightly wounded, "Or rather, the occupation that you've apparently been keeping a secret since near the beginning of the school year."

The guilt currently weighing on your shoulders became more burdensome.

Still, you maintained your composure as you obliged him and Ryuji with an explanation regarding why and how you were led to this job. Your college tuition needed to be paid off in some way--while still granting you enough funds for other bills, rent, and necessities, as well as leisure purposes--and there just so happened to be a job opening at the already popular maid cafe. With the hushed, giggly murmurs you heard from female classmates who snagged a job, it seemed to be a worthwhile position to take up.

Though, by Yusuke's and Ryuji's expressions, neither looked to be at ease just yet. If anything, they--having heard similar stories from classmates from mere observation--only grew more concerned as the job testimonies they witnessed usually involved a fellow student delighting herself in unsavory activities for extra yen.

Hence was why you were quick to add and explain the benefits to working the maid cafe job, especially one with such a rigid pricing policy. With the same reasoning you provided to Makoto, you emphasized that not only were you making even more money, but you were doing so without literally getting your hands dirty--despite that you playing extremely hard to get made you more of a desired candidate.

However, you couldn't quite get yourself to confess--nor would you ever--how you took up the maid gig to fill in the void that you wished to have filled by the two of them, along with Akira and Akechi, one that only grew once the four departed Tokyo to their respective colleges.

For the time spent with them as Phantom Thieves, you were sure that you would have eventually developed a Palace. By focusing your attention and offering your affection--however feigned it may be--to others, you felt that doing so helped stave away your desires, as you were too busy being huffy and annoyed over strangers who received your 'love' rather than feel heartbroken over remaining undecided over who to give it to, let alone have it be reciprocated in the first place.

The goofball troublemaker with a wandering eye that could never settle on one person, the eccentric artist whose heart was taken by the arts, the charming Detective Prince and his army of ever devoted fans, and the quiet but mischievous former leader of the Phantom Thieves.

Somehow, you harbored an abundance of love for each of them to take, knowing fully well how foolish and greedy you were being.

It was better to simply cherish your Phantom Thief days rather than expect anything more beyond friendship.

Even if, by the end of your explanation, Ryuji and Yusuke had yet to ease their concerned expressions, both protective with one being fierce in nature while the other was anxiousness.

The former's arms were folded across his chest, his head tilted slightly to the side while his eyes squinted, still not quite convinced. "So...this is all a money thing, right? But in a totally safe way, right?" His voice became tight as he continued, the thought making his hands clench and blood boil. "There ain't any dudes that are being gross and crossing the boundaries with you, right? 'Cause I'm gonna need some fuckin' names and addresses if that's the case!"

You drew up your hands in a defensive gesture, motioning for him to calm down, matched by your reassuring tone, "Ryuji, it's fine." Cracking a reassuring smile, you added, "I intimidate too many guys with my prices anyway, especially if they're being creeps."

"But what about those fuckers that can't ever take no for an answer and have the money to back it up? What do you then?" He went on, teeth gritting the more he imagined some persistent customer trying his damnedest to have your time.

"Then I'll just keep upping the price until they think of me as too much of a hassle to have," you responded, conveying your sincerity as that usually was what occurred. However, neither Ryuji nor Yusuke looked convinced--with ease, they could foresee someone absolutely not caring about your prices and becoming more aggressive to buy you over.

With a sigh, you continued, "Listen, I...I find a way around it, okay?" Your shoulders lifted in a shrug. "I know I can't control what kind of paying customers I end up dealing with, but I still have quotas to meet every month, so I can't be denying every patron that weirds me out--not immediately, at least." A sheepish smile tugged at your mouth. "It is what it is."

The two shared a look before they processed your words on their own. Ryuji's hands fell to his hips, his eyes shutting close while he tapped his foot, his expression that of frustration. Yusuke looked far more perplexed and conflicted, his eyebrows furrowing while he rested a finger to his chin, wondering just how to go about this situation.

"I mean you're not wrong but...Can't you..." Ryuji sounded defeated as he sighed, eyes opening to stare at you pleadingly wearily, "Can't you just go for a job that pays just as well but doesn't put you in the spotlight for a bunch of gross fucks?"

You shook your head, offering him an apologetic smile. "There's nothing in Tokyo that is as flexible with my school schedule and pays off my tuition as well as this place."

"In that case, then why don't we be your customers then?"

Stunned, you and Ryuji immediately turned towards Yusuke.

"Dude, you for real?!" Ryuji exclaimed, his jaw slack for a moment before it tightened up as a wide, toothy grin broke onto his features. "That's...that's actually not the worst idea that your weird ass has ever brought up!"

Yusuke shot him a glare, the only thing he would note regarding his friend's words before he faced you with a softer and compassionate expression. "As you would know, I understand the severity of maintaining a decent livelihood with little money like nothing else. Still, I just cannot help but remain worried over you."

He breathed out your name, "I trust you, really, I do. And I cherish the bond that we've formed. However..." His gentle tone became tinged with apprehension, the look on his face twisting as he too thought of guests being unruly with you, "I cannot say the same for your patrons, however well-intentioned they may appear. If being your patron means you can still be paid while protected by someone such as myself or the others, then I will gladly oblige."

"Yu...Yusuke," you gasped, astonished by his and Ryuji's display of concern and protectiveness for you, your heart set aflutter. The sensation of desire--platonic, as you interpreted it--brought forth a sense of bliss.

And yet, you couldn't help but feel as though you must decline.

Though the smile on his face was warm and gentle, the glint that soon formed in his eyes becoming increasingly fiery with passion, his gaze emboldened as he looked you over. More than once, more than twice, as though to take in and imprint you in his memory as much as possible.

"To be quite honest with you, seeing you like this I...I feel so..." The hand on his chin moved, his fingers pressing over his lips while heat rushed to his face in dizzying excitement, "...so genuinely inspired to create a piece on sensuality--as if I could finish it in a day!"

Suddenly, the congratulatory look on Ryuji's face soured into one of exasperated annoyance. "Ugh, here we fuckin' go..."

One of your hands was taken into both of his with urgency. You wanted to admire feeling the warm softness that enveloped your skin, somehow resisting the callousness that only a life dedicated to art would cause.

Earnestly, Yusuke peered into your eyes with his, an eager yet hopeful look displayed on his features. "If you don't mind, then perhaps after your shift, you can come to my place and be my model--in your uniform, if you would. Honestly, the more I look at you, the more I feel so capable of finishing within a night--"

"Yusuke."

You found yourself uttering his name in such a quick, sharp tone that caught you and the two young men by surprise.

But considering and knowing what Yusuke was trying to propose, you had to decline.

After all, the point of your maid job was to have a means to preoccupy your thoughts in lieu of not having all four to yourself--both physically and emotionally. You spent months crafting this special 'affection' to give to your customers, based off of what you wished to freely offer to your crushes.

If the likes of Ryuji, Yusuke, Akechi, and/or Akira were to delve and interact with your other self, then you would have no remedy for the inevitable ache of them leaving again for school, a reminder of how the affection you shared was by transaction and by them supporting you as a friend.

You had to keep them at bay.

You had to keep them from seeing the secrets tucked away in your heart.

Though necessary for these reasons, your actions would be a mystifying moment in future recollection.

You didn't know if it was impulse from all the time spent working under Iyayo's money-gouging influence, or out of you trying to protect yourself from getting to attached to Yusuke while lamenting over your desires for Ryuji, Akira, and Akechi, but you soon found yourself looking directly into his eyes while blurting out the firm response of,

"Sorry Yusuke, I know we're friends and all, but if I'm going to be taking time to be posing for you, I have to get paid."

The air abruptly grew tense, with the stunned gasp let out by Yusuke and the aghast "Ooooo!" from Ryuji, whose eyes grew wide while he covered his open mouth with his fist.

While you wished to have not incited such a reaction, you refused to let yourself lose momentum. Much like you did in the Metaverse, once you exploited a weakness in your foe, you would seize the opportunity to keep forward without hesitation.

Even while your heart raced anxiously amidst your rebuttal, you lifted your shoulders in a shrug, an attempt to play off your refusal. "Not to say that I don't want to hang out, but I know at least 6 neets who'd give me their life savings if I just batted my eyelashes at them while wearing my maid outfit. My maid gig is what's keeping me going, but I prefer to keep my job and personal life separate--I just can't be doing special favors like that."

Yusuke looked paler than usual, his statuesque composure crumbling by the weighted swing of rejection. "But...my inspiration...!" He took a shaky step back, his arm half-raised in anguished disbelief.

There was suddenly a hand on his shoulder, which turn to a grinning Ryuji slinking an arm around his neck. "Yeah dude, but don't you know that money talks?"

While Yusuke's posture became slumped while sulking, Ryuji boasted a sudden air of confidence after seeing the opportunity here stood to be beneficial for both you and himself. Sweetly chirping out your name, he remarked, "Listen, help me help you, alright? Gimme a nice, little discount and I'll be happy to give you some spending money--"

"Sorry Ryuji. No discounts."

You shrugged.

Yusuke was released.

Ryuji was literally up in arms. Again.

Arms flailing about dramatically, he squawked with wide eyes, "No discounts?! Not even for friendship, former high school classmates, or old Phantom Thieves?! None?! I thought we were close!"

Smiling sheepishly, you reassured in a soft coo, "Of course we're close, Ryuji. But I just really like the money I've been getting, okay? I have at least four regulars who actually beg me to charge them more. It's quite fascinating to see."

"B-But...! That's...! All for one and one for all and that shit...!" Ryuji was at an utter loss for words, stumbling over his words more than he did on hurdles back during his track days when he and his teammates purposefully made themselves dizzy before running drills for their own stupid teenaged amusement.

Yusuke didn't have anything to say in response, still much too defeated from your rejection to even find comfort in witnessing Ryuji get denied.

As for you, your chest was still feeling tight with anxiousness, as everything seemed to be going your way, as painful as it was. However, not to fall back now, a hand moved to your hips as you hummed, "Now that I've explained everything, if you and Yusuke are done here, go along now and shoo." You gestured this with your fingers as you smiled teasingly. "Haru and Ann are planning an Ibiza trip for later this summer, and I need to get back to work and get some souvenir money!"

Ryuji wasn't having it.

"Why...Why the hell're you pushing us away all of a sudden?!" His words were bombastic, thundering in tone. As upset as he appeared, his voice also held a wounded edge. "We're just trying to help you out since you're so set on working this job! Did we do something to you because--shit...!" You noticed one of his hands curl up into a fist, which in turn moved to suddenly wipe at his flushed cheek. "And here I was all excited to see you again!"

You felt something within you twist painfully. Did you actually rile him up to the point that he was tearing up?

"That's enough, Ryuji."

So sudden, so smooth, like the blade of his katana during battle, Yusuke finally spoke up at last. Placing a hand on Ryuji's shoulder, he looked at him warningly, his eyes narrowed as though to admonish. "We must respect the decision of our friend..." Though having regained his composure, he sighed while his gaze softened with disappointment as they shifted back to you, "...even if we cannot fully comprehend the reasoning."

Your ache furthered.

"If you would excuse us," Yusuke murmured out your name while lowering his head slightly. As his eyes looked into yours yet again, he smiled gently, even if you could tell it was strained. "Until next time. I insist that we spend time together during this summer--truly, what I anticipated most upon my return was spending time with you once more."

Ryuji rubbed the back of his head, his gaze glancing to the side as he mumbled, "Yeah...see ya' around..." Ruffling his short, choppy blonde hair, he sighed before huffing, "I meant what I said, okay? I really wanna hang out with you." His lips fixing into a pout, he added, "Don't be too busy that we can't do just that, alright? Or I'm soliciting here-- Dude, wha--?!"

With Yusuke's hand clawing into his shoulder, Ryuji flailed as he was dragged along, scolded with the hushed grumble of "Do not make things worse for us! How else will we...?" Their voices trailed off as they left, leaving you alone.

Again.

Even if it was self-imposed.

Though you remained steadfast in your actions just now, it wasn't as though you felt better. But you kept Yusuke and Ryuji from getting tangled in your escapism, which was necessary for your own continued emotional wellbeing.

Albeit, it came at the cost of a reunion that left a bitter taste on your mouth. Though it had been a plausible outcome that you once thought over, it didn’t lessen the ache of actually experiencing it.

In consideration of that however...

You slumped onto one of the cutesy ornate benches, your face in your hands.

You'd certainly end up having a repeat of this once Akechi and Akira inevitably come to confront you.

And unsurprisingly, it did not take long for that to occur.

#yusuke kitagawa #ryuji sakamoto #persona 5 #reader insert #the get laid cafe #fic #management will return in a queue minutes

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aion-rsa · 4 years

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The Good Lord Bird Episode 1 Review: Meet the Lord

https://ift.tt/3leArsW

This The Good Lord Bird review contains spoilers.

Who was John Brown, really? A hero or a madman? A visionary as divinely driven as Moses in the Good Book, or a bloodthirsty zealot who participated in murderous acts of terrorism? It’s a big question that’s pestered American history for centuries, and even Brown’s lifetime. As Showtime’s new series The Good Lord Bird reminds folks in its first episode, before his failed raid on Harper’s Ferry escalated tensions to a fever pitch in the prelude to the Civil War, Brown was one of the most celebrated (or notorious) roustabouts in the Kansas territory during its “bleeding.”

In his lifetime he was seen as a militant leader for the abolitionist cause, and therefore a menace to Pro-Slavery forces in Kansas, Missouri, and the other areas that began practicing their “Border War” well before South Carolinians fired on Fort Sumter in 1861. In death, his legend was the impetus for the original version of the “Battle Hymn of the Republic” and a mural that still draws criticism in the Kansas State Capitol building, in which Brown’s depicted as holding a Bible in one hand, open at the Book of Revelations, and a rifle in the other. A bloodstained messiah.

The complicated nature of the man’s legacy is likely a key reason Hollywood has relatively steered clear of the figure—that and the Southern Revisionism “Lost Cause” myth America placated during most of the 20th century, which saw Brown as nothing more than a terrorist. Quentin Tarantino at one point mused about making a John Brown movie that would’ve probably been about as nuanced as the last half hour of Django Unchained, but told strictly from the point-of-view of a white savior. I suspect we’re lucky we finally got The Good Lord Bird instead.

Culture

Ethan Hawke and Paul Schrader Find Spiritualism Onscreen with First Reformed

By David Crow

Movies

Tesla Review: Ethan Hawke’s Spark of Madness

By David Crow

Based on James McBride’s award winning novel, which I admittedly have never read, the new Showtime miniseries charged out of the gate with a sweaty, bug nut premiere that breathes as much fire as Ethan Hawke’s tremendous approximation of Old Man Brown. McBride’s book has been compared to Mark Twain, and even from a fraction of the series it’s easy to see why. While we have yet to truly know Joshua Caleb Johnson’s Henry Shackleford—mistakenly dubbed Henrietta and then Onion by Brown—his perspective on the pistol-wielding abolitionist opens up the series to evaluate Brown in all his paradoxes and hypocrisies, with a wary sense of irony and folksy detachment.

As narrated by Johnson’s voiceover, Onion muses, “Some Black folks love him, they think trouble needed to be stirred. Some Black folks hate him for thinking he was some sort of bullshit white savior.” Framing the question of John Brown in this context is key to the success of the series’ first hour; it’s also the key for getting to know the man’s biggest legacy. For what perhaps matters most today is how he’s perceived by the oft-marginalized Black perspective he claimed to live and die for. And from this vantage, the truth is somewhat more aloof than any single mural can demonstrate.

Through the eyes of Onion, and later another liberated (and conscripted) slave named Bob (Hubert Point-Du Jour), we can view Brown as a figure of righteousness and ridiculousness, a leader and a lunatic. All of this is apparent in how he liberates of Onion with a condescending paternalism that’s as ludicrous as the dress that Onion wears.

Indeed, the opening scene of the series begins with Brown’s face totally obscured. In his mind, this is probably a moment of Robin Hood like deception and adventurism, and the way it’s crafted by Hawke and Mark Richard’s teleplay looks something closer to Clint Eastwood’s “Man with No Name” entrance in a Spaghetti Western. Yet for all of Brown’s braggadocio as he rightly condemns the wickedness of slavery and the atrocities committed by red shirted (Pro-Slavery) radicals in the territory, the scene is mostly filmed from the perspective of young Henry and his father; the latter an enslaved man who gets slaughtered in the crossfire of Brown’s antics. So how does Brown honors the old man’s memory? He frees his son, but with an extreme amount possessiveness. He doesn’t even bother to actually learn the lad’s real name… or that he’s a lad.

Unable to see the smooth lines of Johnson’s face are the countenance of youth—and perhaps not looking too closely at the Black faces he claims to view as his own kin—Brown perceives Henry as a girl, and nothing more, and further renames “her” as Onion. Because her identity or experiences before she met him is inconsequential. She should just be glad she is free to follow his riders through Bleeding Kansas.

“Whatever he believed, he believed. Doesn’t matter whether it was true or not. He was a real white man.” In this way, The Good Lord Bird implements a modern understanding of white privilege on the historic personage of John Brown without betraying the actual history, or at least the legend of the man. Because as the rest of the hour attests, the individual facts of John Brown’s life matter less than an exploration of his legend and why it still matters. The way Onion, at least for now, goes along with Brown’s insistence that he should wear a dress and be treated as a lady, as well as the way Brown forces a long knife in Bob’s hand, lightly touches on the intense entitlement of a self-appointed white savior. Yet the real appeal of The Good Lord Bird as a series is it doesn’t appear interested in evaluating these characters from a strictly modern gaze, or only wishing to dip its toe in the shallow end of the pool when it comes to diving into Brown’s psychology.

“Meet the Lord” is a guns blazing showcase for Hawke as both an actor and co-writer. Straining his voice to the point where it sounds like fingernails being drawn across the inside of his throat, and alternating his glances somewhere between dead-eyed and hellfire, Hawke’s protagonist makes for an immediately bemusing and endearing figure. His cause is just, and the more he rants about it like a broken video game NPC trapped in a dialogue loop, the more his madness flirts with likability.

During the climax of the first episode, the Battle of Black Jack, he is ranting about God protecting them because they have a woman on their side, and yet he also is taking a moment between gunshots to sift through the belongings of a dead ally, stating, “If you don’t make time for God, God will make time for you” as he pockets a gold watch. It’s not that he is a hypocrite; he’s just delightfully oblivious, unconcerned or unaware that as he approaches battle, white followers are quietly ducking out behind him as they ride into the woods.

And yet, this is contradicted by an earlier scene, in which director Albert Hughes’ usually wry direction suddenly becomes as bleakly ominous as a modern horror movie (Jason Blum is also an executive producer on the series). While as far as I’m aware, the real Brown only executed men believed to be slave hunters, such barbarism is depicted here as befalling a man who doesn’t even own slaves… he just wishes he could afford them and votes to make Kansas a slave state. A dim Red Shirt follower, whether this farmer committed any actual violence against a Black body or Free Stater is ambiguous. Even if he participated in raid on Lawrence (which he denies), that technically only led to one Pro-Slavery follower’s death.

Thus suddenly all the demented folksiness that makes Hawke’s performance inviting in other scenes is recast by the long shadows of candlelight, and the lower angled framing of a horror movie villain. And that contradiction is not hand-waved away or even grappled with. Brown is a man who lives and breathes abolition, but has no qualms about decapitating a family man whose culpability may be strictly in his own mind. It is refreshing to see modern television living in the muddy grays of humanity, as opposed to just blacks and whites, which is increasingly becoming the norm.

It’s all aided by Hawke’s performance, which could risk becoming parody if not for the actor’s absolute conviction in every grandiose rambling. In fact, it’s such a big performance the first hour’s one shortcoming is it doesn’t have a lot of room for anyone else to standout. It is only the first hour, so I’ll reserve judgment on how circumspect Onion remains despite being the narrator of the story, but Brown’s sons, and their interpersonal conflicts, felt obligatory despite taking up a fair amount of screen time. So much so that when one of Brown’s allies—a reverend who rode with Free Staters, yet took inexplicably took umbrage at being forced to ride with a Black girl—murders John’s most dim-witted son, the tragedy and significance of the slaying appears muted and papered over.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

Prior to his death, Frederick Brown (Duke Davis Roberts) introduces Onion to a Good Lord Bird, saying in so many words that the creature brings you luck. It’s currently unclear if Brown is the good luck Onion needs or if it’s the other way around, but the first hour at least established a serendipitous rapport between these two. While most of Onion’s thoughts on this real white man are kept to himself in the narration, both that voiceover’s cadence and the overall tone of the series is executed with sing-song-y appeal. Likely pulling in large chunks from McBride’s own text, the show enjoys an acuity of dialogue that paints its subject matter vividly, even when he’s pontificating some authentic frontier gibberish. All of which makes this Good Lord Bird soar fairly high in its maiden voyage.

The post The Good Lord Bird Episode 1 Review: Meet the Lord appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/34oest1

#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

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tommoholland2013 · 7 years

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Bad Boy Parker: Peter Parker

Word Count: 1.8k

Warning(s): Bad Boy!Peter Parker

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Request: Heyyy I really need a bad boy Peter Parker imagine!! I will love you to death if you write one for me :) thank you for all your amazing imagines💕 A/N: The dear anon who requested this imagine didn't give me much to work with, so I kinda just... wrote this and made Peter Parker a Bad Boy? Idk I hope you all enjoy and it’s not too bad.

Note: Reader and Peter are sixteen

Y/N was new to Midtown High School and was still learning her way around. She had only been there for a day, and was now on her second day at the school. On her first day, Y/N had met a girl named Leila who had been quick to befriend Y/N and to show her around the school along with invite Y/N to join her and her friends during lunch.

It was only her second day at the school and she had already managed to be late. Great, now she was going to end up making a grand entrance, which would do exactly what she didn't want to happen: draw attention. "God damnit, Y/N." Y/N cursed herself under her breath as she paused outside of the door to her first class. She took in a deep breath and opened the door. As expected, the teacher stopped his talking and the entire class turned to face the door.

"Ah, Ms. Y/L/N. How nice of you to finally join us. It is only your second day at this school and you’re already late."

"I know, I'm really sorry. Had a couple bumps back home and it just made thing... and you don't care. I'll just be taking my seat." Y/N said as she tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and as she walked towards her seat. She set her book bag on the floor by her desk and pulled her books out. Minutes into the class and Y/N was extremely bored. She had learned this material at her previous school. Her eyes wandered around the classroom until they landed on the most handsome boy she had ever seen. He also hadn't been there the previous day. He looked beyond disinterested in what the teacher was saying as he fiddled with the pen in his hand.

Y/N was staring shamelessly and Peter knew. He could feel her eyes on him and this pleased him immensely. His lips stretched into a small smirk as he turned his head to meet Y/N's gaze. Y/N didn't break eye contact with the mystery boy until he sent her a discreet wink. Of course, Y/N felt like she was going to melt and had to look away. The rest of the time, Y/N avoided eye contact with him in fear of saying something she would regret.

When the bell rang, Y/N didn't hesitate in the slightest to quickly shove her books in her bag and practically sprint out of the classroom. She was aware the sound of the heels of her ankle boots were loud as she sped walked away from the classroom, but she didn't care. Luckily, Y/N had her next class with Leila, who would hopefully take her mind off of whoever he was. And after this class was lunch, which would give Y/N even more time to come up with ways to avoid whoever he was.

Y/N casually snacked on her chips as she didn't have an appetite big enough for a full meal while she listened to the conversation flowing at the table she and Leila sat as. Then she saw him again, the boy from this morning. Their eyes met briefly and his lips displayed the same smirk that was present in the morning. Y/N nudged Leila.

"Yeah?" Leila answered.

"Who's that?" Y/N asked as she watched the boy walk out of the cafeteria.

"That's Peter Parker. Used to be one of the sweetest guys in the school. Then something happened six months ago and he completely changed. He's dangerous now, gets into fights a lot, almost suspended twice. Stay away from him. Though, there's nothing wrong with admiring from a far, s'what the rest of us do." Leila commented with a light laugh. Y/N's curiosity kicked in; full swing. Now she wanted to know what it was that changed Peter. What happened to him? That's all she thought about for the rest of lunch. Once lunch was over, the rest of Y/N's day went by fairly quickly.

In addition to being new to the school, Y/N also happened to be new to the city, which meant she knew little to no parts of the city. On her way home, she found that she got lost. She couldn't use her phone to call anyone for help because conveniently enough, it died before she even left the school, and she was in a part of town she wasn't even acquainted with. And to add the cherry on top of the crap-cake, her car had broken down, leaving her completely stranded. She stood out by her car as she tried to figure out a way to get home. She ran her hands through her hair as she paced in front of her car. She was trying not to panic. She didn't know her address yet, her car had broken down, and she had no way of calling her parents for help. It couldn't get worse. As soon as the thought crossed her mind, a black 1967 Chevy Impala screeched to a halt beside her car. Y/N began to panic when the window rolled down. It was... Peter?

"Peter?" Y/N voiced her question as she walked to the car and leaned over the window.

"Y/N. What's a city girl like you doing in this part of Queens? Before you answer that, answer me this, how have you not been mugged yet?"

"So, I'm assuming you were going to offer me some assistance until the stick shoved up your ass got shoved up a little farther?"

"Ah, so she's feisty too, huh?"

"Yes, she is. She also happens to need a ride, and possibly a phone."

"As much as it kills me to do this, get in. I'll give you a ride." Peter muttered the first part of his statement.

"Thank you. I was gonna get in anyway, by the way. One more thing, I have no idea what my address is." Y/N stated as she opened the door and got into the car.

"I think I know where a girl like yourself lives, rich girl." Peter commented as he turned the car around and started on his drive.

"You don't know me." Y/N laughed. "You know, before you decided to make that unnecessarily rude comment, I was gonna compliment your ride. My dad used to own a ‘67 Impala. Until he wrecked it, or course." Y/N retorted.

"I'm surprised you even know what model this is."

It was half insulting, half humorous banter between the two. Peter had admitted to himself that he really had her all wrong. Whereas he had expected Y/N to be just like the rest of the girls in Leila’s group- entitled and shallow-- she had turned out to be quite funny and could really hold her own. He appreciated that she wasn’t easily offended by his comments, and could actually give a reasonable response.

“So, what’s your deal? Why’s everyone got you labeled as the bad boy of the school?” Y/N asked with curiosity. Peter had no response. His jaw clenched and his grip on the steering wheel.

“I don’t know.” Peter said lowly. Y/N had no response. The silence that had been left due to lack of conversation was now filled with the humming of the engine of the car and the song playing quietly over the radio. What could have been one of the most interesting car rides Y/N had ever had turned into the most intense one. She didn’t say anything and neither did Peter, his grip on the wheel remained borderline deadly.

Peter pulled up at the familiar apartment building and Y/N stepped out of the car.

"Thank you." Y/N said as she leaned over the window.

"Don’t ever ask me that question again.” Peter’s voice was low and sounded quite dangerous.

“Bite me.” Y/N said boldly as she narrowed her eyes at him. She then took a step back and stood to her full height.

“A damn ‘you’re welcome’ would’ve sufficed.”

“I just did you a huge favor. Don’t fucking try me.” Peter got out of the car and stood directly in front of Y/N. He looked angry and Y/N didn’t look like she was going to back down. Peter leaned in and Y/N remained frozen. He brushed her hair out of the way.

“Don’t fuck with me, I’m not friendly.” He whispered. Y/N pulled him closer by his leather jacket.

“That’s exactly what I’m counting on.” Y/N whispered before she leaned in and connected her lips to his. Admittedly, Peter was shocked at first, but then his hands moved to rest on Y/N’s hips and he pulled her in closer. Her arms wrapped around his neck and her fingers played with the small curls at the nape of his neck.

Y/N knew she would regret kissing Peter once the kiss was over, and Peter knew he would regret the kiss too, but in the heat of the moment, the kiss just felt so... right. Running out of air, they pulled apart. Brown eyes met Y/E/C and locked in an intense gaze. Then reality hit, bursting the bubble that had sheltered them for reality in their brief moment. Without a word, Y/N unwound her arms and Peter’s hands dropped from Y/N’s hips. Peter backed away from her and turned towards his car.

Y/N’s heart thumped heavily against her chest as she watched Peter get into his car. The engine roared as Peter stepped on the gas and drove away. Y/N watched the car drive away until it was no longer in her line of sight. She let out a shaky sigh as she turned to walk into her apartment building.

In the car, Peter was completely shaken. What the hell happened? How? And why did he have such a strong urge to kiss her again? Why did he want her to be a close as she has been again? Why did he have such a hard time pulling away from her? Then it hit him.

He barely knew the girl, hell he had just met her that morning, but God, he was addicted to her already. He was hooked.

A/N: Yeah, I'm not very proud of this but you know, I'm never proud of any of my works so I guess this is no exception.

#peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker imagines #peter parker oneshot #peter parker one shot #peter parker #peter parker fanfic #peter parker fanfiction #Tom Holland fanfic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland imagine #tom holland imagines #tom holland one shot #tom holland oneshot #tom holland #tom holland x reader #Lili's masterlist

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sm00ke-rings · 5 years

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I hope I don't sound like an entitled bitch...

So this whole past week I was away on a vacation to the Dominican Republic. I was super excited and ready to relax by some beaches and go on some fun excursions. I've been to a resort before (in Mexico) and it was the best experience ever, so I was expecting similar considering there was only a small difference in rating.

So we got to the resort a bit early for check in, about 12PM, due to the timing of our flight. The person we spoke to at the front desk was very friendly and told us that even though check in is at 3:00 PM the room would be ready in about an hour. Perfectly understandable, so my fiance and I had a cigarette or two, took a short walk around and went to the snack bar for some lunch. We gave them time and even a little more than what we were initially told. At this point we're just very hot and tired, so we go to the front desk and inquire about our room again. The person we had spoken to wasnt there so we asked the other one. He was very adamant about check in being at 3pm and checkout at 12pm. We tried to explain that we knew this but were told something different. So that didnt matter and we were told to wait till 3. So we waited a total of about 2 hours just to get to our room.

This was just the first experience, and I wasnt about to let it ruin anything, so I tried remaining optimistic for both of us. It only got worse though. The staff at the resort was so fake-friendly it made me uncomfortable. The people staying at the resort were just as bad. They had the air of being very stuck up. No one smiles or gives you a nod on passing, just glaring eye contact. A few people even tried to make fun of my fiance. He's a big man, about 6'2 320lbs. Two separate occasions at two different places we went to eat a table would have one person who noticed us, turn to the rest of their table to say something, and then the rest of the people would turn and stare. It was like being the weird kid in high school.

So we tried to do our first excursion, may as well see if it's more fun off the resort. We decided to go to Saona island, which judging by the description seemed wonderful. Gorgeous beach, sailboat ride there with drinks, bbq/buffet on the beach, and a visit to a sand bar. This one started off better, the group guides were nice and so were the people in attendance. It took 2 hours to sail to Saona, and there were drinks, dancing and party music on the way. Unfortunately the island experience was a but ruined because 3 or 4 women kept trying to solicit a massage. This was no ordinary solicitation, you can say no, and then they try to massage you anyway to change your mind! We were asked every single time we saw one of them and had to avoid the beach front basically. If I wanted to say no that much I would've just stayed home and gone to work. They buffet had wonderful food but they told us on the boat "don't be shy, go up 2 or 3 times." We gladly would have, but as soon as we had finished our first small plate they packed all the food away. So on this 8 hour excursion we wound up being pretty hungry and pissed off.

It got to the point where my fiance and I were deciding to just spend the time in our suite and order room service. This worked up until the power started going out at the resort. We are on a tropical island and having no AC isnt really a good option. Not to mention we kept running out of water to drink. We suffered a bit of heat stroke/extreme dehydration and it took over 30 minutes just to request a bottle of water! Our symptoms were extreme nausea, weakness, and severe dizziness. We told them we were getting sick, so it just kind of showed us how much they cared.

The food on the resort was terrible. Most of the cheese was fake, their scrambled eggs looked suspicious, the meat was riddled with cartilage, and their yogurt smelled like yeast and had the consistency of soup.

So we spent $700 more dollars to come home early. Which wound up taking about 16 hours due to flight delays.

I'm sure this wont get any notes, but I just needed to vent about it. I missed all of you!

#horrible #disappointment #what went wrong #almost cried #thats not how vacation should be #thanks for listening

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byeoltan · 7 years

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Did You Know?

that in BTS ‘봄날 (spring day)’ MV, the train station that showed taehyung waiting in the beginning is actually a real train station, iryeong station in yangju city, gyeonggi-do, albeit an abandoned one, since they only transport cargo now.

and that the music video is one helluva train ride to a place where there stood a tall tree, the place where they got together and come in terms with grief and hardships in life because the cold winter does end at some point, and spring comes. but let’s talk about that later :) lets, lets talk about the very first lines namjoon uttered so carefully, such vulnerable words

i miss you saying it like this makes me miss you even more even looking at your photos, i miss you ain’t time so heartless i..hated us the us who now can’t even look at each other’s face even once

보고 싶어/bogoshippeo means ‘i miss you’, an informal, casual tone that you can use freely to significant others, friends, families, it literally means ‘i want to see you’ but essentially, it means, ‘i miss you’, here, though, namjoon used 보고 싶다/bogoshipda, which is also an informal word, but a non-conjugated form of 보고 싶어/bogoshippeo, it holds a slightly different meaning than just ‘i miss you’ because it’s not a verb. 보고 싶다/bogoshipda for lack of better words, is an expression of longing, and carries a deeper emotion than just i miss you, kinda like a monologue (?) cos he’s not saying it to someone in particular, the expression feels a bit colder, which is ironic cos then he went on about how cold time is for making him missing someone.

this place is all winter, even in august winter comes it’s like my heart/mind races with time the lonely ‘snowpiercer’ who travelled to the south (i want to) while holding your hands, go all the way to the other side of the earth i wish i could end this winter, i wonder, friend, how much does the longing should fall like snow for spring day to come?

설국열차 is the korean title for the movie ‘snowpiercer’, also the name of the train in the movie that holds the last remnants of humanity after an attempt at climate engineering in order to stop global warming has unintentionally created a new ice age. essentially, ppl in the train thought no life can exist outside of the train, not knowing there is (a polar bear), which showed up at the end of the movie. i thought it was brilliant how namjoon referenced this movie, it’s like he’s saying no matter how hard circumstances can be, no matter how hard you think you have it, there is always hope, there is always a way out, there’s always spring after a cold cold winter, even when it seems impossible, you can have your cake and eat it

(or not ;p)

the lyrics in this song isn’t that hard to comprehend tbh it’s quite straightforward but the way they express it is both poetry and cynicism at its best, and despite the repetitive chorus the song is atcually quick and full, leaving nothing short of amazement.

like the tiny dust that floats/flies in the air if i’m the snow that flies in the air i would’ve reached you a little faster

my heart swells a little here, because they are reiterating what namjoon says about wanting to hold hands so we can end this winter together, that they want to, if only they’re with us, doesn’t it soothe your heart a little? knowing there are people out there who knows how cold life can be, and wants to get to us quickly so we could the end it together

and when some of the members lament

the snowflakes are falling little by little bit more, they fall i miss you (i miss you) how much longer do i have to wait and how many more nights do i have to stay up, to see you? will i ever get to meet you?

the others be consoling like, well,

after we pass by the end of cold winter until spring day comes once again until the flowers blossom at that place (even when it’s cold/even when you have to wait long), for a little while, please stay please stay

but then yoongi’s part came and i sobbed a little because it’s so??

i wonder if you have changed, or if i have changed. perhaps, i’ve changed. i hate the time that’s flowing at this very moment i guess we have changed, huh i guess everyone does that, huh yeah, okay, i hated you but even when you left, there was never a day that i’ve forgotten about you and even though i actually miss you, i’m gonna erase you now cos that’ll hurt way less than blaming you

and it doesn’t help when both seokjin and jimin go on to say

i try to blow away the cold you who is like smoke, like white smoke even when i say i’m going to erase you the truth is i still can’t let you go

/crieS/ which is why the ending gets me because

you know it all you’re my best friend the morning will come again no matter what kind of darkness or (bad) seasons they can’t last forever

(and) it looks like cherry blossoms are blooming (now) and this winter too, is coming to an end i miss you if i wait just a little bit longer if i stay up just a few more nights i will come to see you i will come to take you (away)

i want to mention here that omelas referenced in the mv as we are all prob aware of by now, tells a story of how a child was kept hidden in a secluded place in the omelas city, with horrible conditions, in exchange of happiness of the entire city. and that the same tragedy also shares with children in the movie snowpiercer itself, where they were enslaved and used as replacement parts to keep the train functioning. to put it simply, children depicted in both stories were convinced to give their life for the continuation of a way of life that was totally oppressive to their own circumstances, which is extremely radical in a way that has deep resonance for our real world, like how can you stand being together in a society that is built from abuse and discrimination, entrenched inequality, and do nothing?

and it is precisely because of this, bangtan continues to voice out their opinions as they did in previous albums, and call out the perpetrators as well as the bystanders for everyhting that has gone wrong, that could go wrong, and that is going wrong in the society, especially in the events relating to their home country south korea

let me bring you back to the music video where jimin picked up the white shoes from the winter sea

the white shoes that middle-school/high school students wear in south korea

and how he carries the shoes all through out the mv

before he brought them to a tree after they all got off the train

and hang them

these scenes imo is very much referenced to the sewol ferry tragedy that took place in april, 2014, the incident that had resulted in more than 300 deaths, including 250 second-year high school students and their teachers from danwon high school who were on a field trip that day, and is recognized as one of the most devastating maritime disaster in decades, and it’s not just because of a sinking ferry itself but because of willfull negligence and corruption.

fyi when the ferry was sinking, the captain of the ship and a number of cabin crew made announcement for the passengers to stay where they were when they themselves chose to abandon the ship while hundreds of people were still trapped inside. and being good citizens they all remained at their cabin, where they waited for further orders, which never came

the members of crew who stayed to help passengers were among those who died.

and the disaster doesn’t end there. it was found out later that the ship itself was illegally modified and was carrying almost double its legal limit with inexperienced crew and a questionable relationship between the ship operators and state regulators. the investigation was also conducted behind closed doors where the families are not permitted to observe the recovery operation, these allegations as well as the way the government lacked transparency adds more to the lengthy laundry list of grievances souht koreans have against park geun hye’s administration. there were questions raised as to where she was when it happened that morning and why wasn’t the issue addressed publicly even 7 hours afterwards.

the yellow ribbons symbolize hope and solidarity with the families victims and i think it’s genius how they incorporate this knowing very well that they can be blacklisted from the government which is ridiculous at every level. the government was highly blamed for many lives lost that day, what with the lack of safety standards in the country, the families were also mostly left out of the investigation, there’s just so many dissatisfaction ppl have over park geunhye’s administration, and that itself is an understatement. and with bangtan and bighit donating 100 million won (approximately $85,000) to the sewol ferry disaster 416 family council, they are probably blacklisted already :/

the pile of clothing could also be a metaphor to ppl who left this world as exhibited by french artist christian boltanski’s work entitled ‘personnes’ as part of monumenta in 2010. i quote, “These grouped clothes may represent mass graves, or corpses arrayed for identification in the school gym, but they also constitute a kind of cemetery. For the experience is just the same: that there is nobody here and yet the place is crowded. Personnes, the piece is called: people, but at the same time no one.”

which is why even though tying shoes high on a tree branch or power lines have variation in meanings for different country and culture, there is one famous belief taht i think is what is meant here; that tying shoes high on a tree branch signifies someone has died and that the shoes belong to the dead person. that the reason they are hanging, is so when the dead person’s spirit returns, it will walk that high above the ground, that much closer to heaven

and it would’ve been fineeeee to just reference spring day like this as a remembrance to the passing of the passengers and the beautiful children because the song DOES talk about grief and hardships in life, and that no matter what kind of darkness or (bad) seasons they can’t last forever

but then bangtan had these lines that are repeatedly voiced melancholically all throughout the chorus until the very end of the song and i just–

it’s as if bangtan is throwing shade at the captain and his crew for being dishonorable, asking the children to stay where they were ‘until the rescue boats arrive’ when they themselves were up and about ready to get out of the ship,

it’s just.

when the boys say these last lines it’s as if, it’s as if the boys are saying to the children that they know it’s hard to wait, but just stay there. it’s okay to stay there, i’ll come to you instead, yeah? just you wait there till i come to you so we can end this suffering together

#bangtan #봄날 #spring day #jungkook #jimin #namjoon #yoongi #hoseok #taehyung #seokjin #i didn't plan on writing this but #TT #dilaposts #did you know?#gifs are all mine ^^#pls credit if you take out my translation TT and i'd appreciate very much if you can signal boost this so ppl can appreciate bangtan more <3

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rememberthattime · 5 years

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Chapter 44. New Zealand

Back again! It'd only been three weeks since Chelsay and I returned from New Zealand, and although the South Island was one of our best trips ever, we felt like something was missing. Did we not have enough CookieTimes? Well, duh, but it was something else... Oh. That's right! We forgot to go to the North Island.

Having missed half the country, Chels & I decided we needed a Kiwi Trip Round II, but this time, we wouldn't be exploring alone. Our friends Pete & Megan joined our journey from real-life Hobbiton to Mt Doom. And so it began: the Fellowship of (adventu)Ring

Before getting to the North Island, I want to briefly mention a work trip I’d returned from only 2 days prior. My meetings were in Atlanta, but if I’m flying 17+ hours to the US, I’m stopping in Dallas. Now, my family had been in Sydney only 6 weeks before, but I hadn’t been home since August. That meant this “house (work) money” stopover was a long-awaited oppo for home-cooked meals, QuizTime by Matt, and board games with the whole fam (Mini Monopoly was the game of choice).

It actually worked out that Chelsay wasn’t with me this trip — see, we can’t play Monopoly together. Her strategy is to buy all the property, lose all her money, not allow me to trade her cash for property, then continuously mortgage the properties until I start paying rent. It’s a ruthless, bleed-out strategy! The winner is decided in the first lap around the board, but I think she enjoys watching me slowly die over the next 6 hours.

That was a tangent... Anyway, I had a great time at home, and am actually returning for another work trip in just a few weeks.

Back to NZ now. I returned to Sydney on a Wednesday, and we were flying out to Auckland that same Friday. I basically just stayed at the airport for the day and a half in-between... Actually, this would have been a viable strategy with Megan’s ridiculous credit card benefits: her perks got us ~$200 in free food! I have to admit: we were so distracted by the free food that we nearly missed our flight. Last ones on the plane!

We arrived in Auckland fairly late, and had a 2.5 hour drive to our first destination: scuba diving at Poor Knight’s Island. I was still jet lagged from the US trip, so hardly remember any of the ride up. Actually, the only thing I remember from that night is that we needed to wake up at 7:15 for an 8:15 dive check-in.

7:15 didn’t happen. I awoke to Peter announcing to the room: “It’s 7:47!” I’m not sure why he happened to wake up, but we were so lucky he did. Our phones hadn’t switched timezones, but thank god’s Pete’s internal clock did. Sleeping any later might’ve caused us to literally “miss the boat.”

We somehow made it to the dive shop in time, but this early AM rush was just the start of the day’s excitement. See, Poor Knight’s is considered one of the most diverse, most secluded, and most best (yeah I did) dive spots in the entire world. Don’t believe me? Well, Jacques Cousteau lists Poor Knight’s in his Top 10, which is like cracking Chelsay’s favorite piece of white furniture. My point: he knows what he’s talking about.

As explained by our Welsh skipper, Poor Knight’s is a now-deserted island that was once part of a 25 km-wide caldera (!). For reference, the ring of that volcano was the same distance from Seattle to Sammamish.

As we got closer to the island, our guide Juergen prepped us for the dive. What safety checks we need to do in advance, what different hand signals meant, which animals we’d see, which animals we’d see “doing it”... Wait what? We didn’t say anything at the time, but this was the first instance of Juergen’s weird and repeated references to reproduction.

Some would say Juergen over-prepared us for the dive - we now knew too much. Anyway, we geared up into our 7 mm cold-protection wetsuits, threw on extra vests and a hood for good measure, and hopped in.

A couple things to note here. First, although normally frigid, we had really lucky weather which warmed the island’s water temp to a very reasonable 20 C. This meant our 7 mm wetsuits were overkill, though I think the extra coverage helped avoid Juergen’s objectifying eyes...

Second thing to note: the 7 mm wetsuit is FAR more buoyant than the 2 mm we’re used to wearing in Manly. After our initial dive descent, I quickly experienced this difference, nearly blacking out as the buoyant suit pulled me up from 10m to 3m in just a few seconds.

It actually took most of this first dive to adjust... and to just remember how to scuba dive. It was bizarre, but an absolute blast to be back in the water after not diving since Indonesia 7 months before. The setting lived up to its billing as well, as hundreds of species, thousands of fish, and infinite seaweed swayed back and forth with the current. Specifically, on Dive #1, we saw a sting ray, eagle ray, several camouflaged scorpion fish, a group of orange spotted nudibranch, and one especially playful wrasse.

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I felt far more prepared for the next dive, which was lucky because we spotted all of the big stuff on this trip. It turns out I’m pretty good at spotting things when (A) they’re big, and (B) I’m not blacking out like I did on the first dive. For Dive #2, we saw two eagle rays, a moray eel, and a massive sting ray. Megan, our group’s most experienced diver got pretty close, which provides reference for how big this thing was.

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A few more things I’d like to remember from our dive day:

My scuba learning curve might have been slow, but Chelsay had zero trouble. I think it’s because of her unique technique. First, I’ve never actually seen her swim. Instead, she sort-of floats around like a dead person and let’s the current do the work. Second, she takes EVERYTHING in. Through a combination of the goggle magnification and her already big eyes, it constantly looks like she’s just seen a shark.

Poor Knight’s is really a great spot for diving. Beyond the fish and swaying seaweed, the setting itself is just really cool. 20m tall pillars, underwater ocean caves, and phenomenal visibility to take it all in.

As if the diving wasn’t enough, our boat (“The No Stress Express”) came across a pod of ~15 curious dolphins on our ride back to shore.

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After reaching land, we had a five hour drive to that night’s AirBnB. This seems like a long trek (basically driving from Seattle to Couer d’Alene AFTER a full day of scuba diving), but our entire group was up for the journey. It’s rare but extremely lucky to have travel buddies equally willing to push for the perfect itinerary, but that’s exactly what Chelsay and I had with Pete and Megan: our mirror couple that prioritizes getting the absolute most out of their travels.

How else did we ensure we were maximizing our time on the North Island? Road trip Maccas and Cookie Time McFlurrys. Crumbly chocolate chip cookies coated in caramel sauce and mixed in a creamy “bucket” of soft serve. ...Juergen would’ve made an inappropriate joke about the word creamy.

Thanks to Johnathan van Ness teaching us “How to Treat Our Skin Like the Gorgeous Organ She Is” and Daniel & Jorge explaining “What is a multiverse?”, the five hour drive went quickly and we were at our AirBnB in no time. And what a unique AirBnB it was.

We pulled into the Big Bird BnB, where our lovely host Dotty stayed up late to show us our cottage. Dotty off-handedly mentioned her animals, which gradually led to us discovering she had entire petting zoo. This wasn’t just any petting zoo though... Dotty had a “collection” of MINI cats, dogs, cows, goats, rams, and horses. Note, not all of the aroused horse was tiny... Juergen would’ve been going nuts. This miniature collection went along with normal-sized animals: pigs, ostriches, emus, and snaggle-toothed alpacas. Damn Dotty, where’s the Ark!?

The exclamation mark on our bizarre but very pleasant surprise of a BnB was the breakfast: bacon and (ostrich) egg on toast, with kitten cuddles on the side.

We couldn’t have asked for a better start, but it was only the beginning of an adventurous day. Our first stop was the nearby Waitomo Caves, one of TripAdvisor’s Top 10 highest rated destinations in the world. ...between this and Jacque Cousteau’s dive spot, a lot of Top 10s in this trip already.

We’d signed up to essentially float through an underground cave on an inner tube. The catch: rather than head lamps, the caves are illuminated solely by bioluminescent glow worms.

After a brief introduction, we once again wetty’d up for cold, wet, damp, and unavoidable submersion. We followed our guides through the cave’s entrance, which was really just a crack in the ground barely bigger than my body. Once inside, the walls didn’t get much wider, though they got far taller. Navigating narrow passages towering as high as 40 feet, we sloshed through running water while descending deeper and deeper into the damp dwelling.

Now 50 feet below the surface, we’d escaped all natural light. The cave itself was wet, but we were also soaked after tubing through underground streams and leaping off several waterfalls. After a particularly splashy jump from a 6-foot ‘fall, our guide asked us to form an inner tube-train. Something was happening — we must have arrived.

The group formed a floating line, though with our headlamps on, we couldn’t really tell what the fuss was. This particular cavern looked like each room before: a long, narrow passage, framed be limestone walls and stalactite millennial (i.e. they took a millennium to develop. Not millennial like... instagrammers. No, not funny? I’ll try another millennial reference in a sec).

The guide asked us to turn our headlamps off, and the show began. The limestone walls and entitled millennial stalactites disappeared in the darkness, but the cave hadn’t quite turned pitch black.... Galaxies of tiny blue bioluminescent lights now consumed the cave’s ceiling above us. Layers and layers of overlapping blue light.

It didn’t seem real — more like an attraction at Disney. This is fake right? The rock is just hollowed plastic, and there’s a black light somewhere back there?

Nope, these lights were very real and (uh huh) very natural. See, the light is produced when underground worms create waste. Through evolution, the worm’s waste began to glow, which attracted and trapped more food. Nature!

The amazing thing is that these glow worms had been all around us, but were hidden by the light from our headlamps.

With all other lights off though, the worm’s shit shined. The sharp light from the cave’s ceiling softly reflected off the water below, illuminating the long passage of the otherwise black cave into infinity.

Shockingly, we were underground for almost 90 minutes, so our eyes had really gotten used to the dark. Exiting into the sunlight felt like leaving da clubz after an all-night bender... which I do often.

We were literally stepping out of a hole in the ground, which is a perfect transition to our next destination: Hobbiton. The fictional home to hobbits, where their homes are built directly into holes in the ground. Does a hobbit’s shit glow too?

The ride over was short but entertaining. First, the views. Having now driven through both the North and South Island, New Zealand’s landscape continues to amaze me. I don’t know how such a small country can have such diverse landscapes. It’s like the entire EU packed into a country the size of WYOMING. This particular drive reminded us of Ireland, with vibrant rolling green hills and a population of cows that far outnumbered the local humans.

Second point to note from the ride, our entertainment: Chelsay. Megan hadn’t seen the LotR’s series (c’mon Pete), but Hobbiton wouldn’t be the same experience without context. Don’t worry. There’s no one better to boil down a 9 hour film series than Chelsay. She should have her own show summarizing plot lines. I try to imagine what Tolkien would say if he’d heard Chelsay’s explanation of LotR... I’m sure he’d agree it was an Oxford-level literary lesson.

With our whole team now on the same page (book pun?) re: Hobbiton, we were ready to tour the fictional hamlet. Our guide for the day was Paul, who was truly living his best life. Describing Paul as “a big LotR guy” would be an undersell. There’s a 120% chance he dressed up as Gandalf for the movie premiers. We couldn’t have gotten a better tour guide though, as Paul’s enthusiasm was infectious.

Not only was Paul Middle Earth’s biggest cheerleader, but he clearly knew his stuff. As we perused the Green Dragon Inn or Bag-End, Paul shared insider stories from Hobbiton’s history.

Before filming started, Peter Jackson, LotR’s Oscar-winning director, had flown over this farmland and thought it would be the perfect Hobbiton. He landed his helicopter and approached the owner, asking if the farmer would allow a film set on his property.

Not hip to the fantasy fiction culture, the farmer rejected the offer and told Jackson that “he, his helicopter, and their Harry Potter magic riff raff could bugger off.” I’m paraphrasing.

That night the farmer told his family about the cooky Hollywood director. The farmer’s son (more hip to the fantasy fiction culture) saw LotR’s dollar sign potential and called his dad a “daft sod.” Dad called Jackson the next day and the rest is history.

EXCEPT NOT! After LotR finished filming, they tore the set down! The first trilogy wrapped up in 2003, and without further need for Hobbit holes, the farmer took his land back. Great. Except he was missing out on a huge tourist opportunity.

Luck again saved our fortuitous farmer friend though, as LotR was so successful that Jackson pursued a second trilogy, The Hobbit. The filmset was built back up, but this time, they didn’t tear ‘nuffin down after filming. Instead, they put up a sign that read “Nerds welcome,” and the tourist crowds came in droves. Our group included.

The set is genuinely a fairy tale. What used to be open farmland is now truly Hobbiton, with 39 (!) intricately detailed homes, each etched with hints of the occupant’s occupation. Florist, baker, village drunk. Led by fanatical Phil, we paraded through “precious” pathways (alliterative Golem reference), trying our luck at hobbit games like stilts, and quenching our thirst with brewed-on-site beverages.

The fairy tale hamlet was buzzing and jovial, but we had to get a move on because that night’s AirBnB was about two hours south.

The drive a stark contrast to Hobbiton as it included almost zero humans. I mean that in two ways: there was both a lack of civilization, and also everyone in the car fell asleep during my turn to drive. Daniel & Jorge were the only ones to keep me company, and they rambled on about small-talk-topics like whether the universe is random or chaotic.

Shockingly, we came across a small town closer to our AirBnB. Thank god because we’d finished all the car ride CookieTimes and I was hungry. There appeared to be only one restaurant in this town, and its name was Rust — not the most appealing description. With few alternatives, we shot our shot and the meal was a massive success. Massive is the key descriptor. These burgers needed a butchers knife to stay upright.

It was necessary sustenance though, as our hike the next day, the Tongariro Crossing, required all the energy we could muster (mustard? Burger pun? ...I’m tired and writing this from a 24 hr plane ride to London).

For a bit of extra energy, we slept-in the next morning and took our time with a tasty fried egg breakfast courtesy of Chef Pete. Unfortunately this slower start created a new risk. See, Tongariro is a 19 km one-way hike: you park at the trail-end, then take a shuttle up to the start. However, because it’s such a long hike, most trekkers start early so the shuttle only runs from 5 AM to 10 AM. We pulled into the lot at 10:08. Ohhhhh, pickles.

Luckily there was a man wearing an orange construction vest. He looked official, like a park ranger, but honestly he could’ve been anyone. We asked him if he knew a way to get back to the trailhead, and because he had a truck, asked if he could give us a ride. I don’t want to give this guy too much credit because I’m sure he’s perfected this with hundreds of sleepy-headed tourists, but the savvy SOB responded “You got cash?” Goodonya mate. This burly Maori man is in the middle of nowhere New Zealand, and he’s created his very own Uber for Idiots Who Slept In. I’m immediately recommending him to EY’s Entrepeneur of the Year program.

“Joe”, as he introduced himself, was actually a really nice guy. He offered to pull over for pictures, asked if we needed any sunscreen, and even told us about his family. He was proud that his eldest daughter had just shot three deer... which means he has guns... which means we weren’t pulling over for any pictures... actually we just want to get out of Joe’s truck asap.

The ride was quite long (30 minutes), so upon safe delivery, we thought we were being generous when we offered 40 AUD to Joerotorua (we were skeptical of his white person name so made up our own). Joe really had us by the balls when he responded “That’s all?” We played dumb, sheepishly smiled, and quickly exited.

Woo. I joke about Joerotorua, but he actually saved us. Our day could’ve been seriously sidetracked if he hadn’t helped-a-Hobbit out. Thanks to his entrepreneurial venture though, we ended up right where we needed to be: the Tongariro Crossing trailhead.

Now, Tongariro was actually a tough fit into our initial itinerary. When planning, we struggled to justify forcing this out-of-the-way hike into an already packed agenda... I mean, we’d already been to Poor Knight’s, Waitomo Glow Worm Caves, and Hobbiton. Was it really worth it? Let’s have a Googl-WE’RE GOING! It took about two Google images to realize this other worldly landscape was a must-do.

And so we set off, taking our first steps into the 19.4 km trek. The payoff was essentially immediate. Within the first few Ks, we were navigating towns of bizarre lava formations, trekking through Martian deltas under LotR’s Mt Doom, and conquering what we would later find out is called The Devil’s Staircase.

We were really lucky with the weather. As I write this, I’m not sure I even appreciate how lucky we were. Spoiled brat. This particular weekend, the traditionally hit or miss North Island was hit by and Aussie Heatwave (and I don’t just mean my sexy mid-length socks *wink*). But seriously, it was hot. 90 degrees. No shelter or shade. Walking on an active volcano. Like a desert mirage, the horizon shimmered into a sweltering haze.

Like Frodo and the Fellowship, we fought the dark powers of Mt Doom’s incline before reaching the trail’s saddle. From here, the 360 degree views were unbelievable. I specifically remember looking out at the perfect desolate symmetry of Mt Doom and thinking “This is crazy.” The I turned 180 degrees to see the otherworldly colors of an exploded volcanic crater and thought: “THIS is crazy!” Then I walked 100 yards to find sulfuric steam rising from emerald lakes located between Martian lava fields and I thought: “EVERYTHING is crazy!”

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We stopped for some epic-LotR journey footage on Pete & Megan’s drone (aka Charles Lindbergh), before enjoying potentially the most picturesque picnic of my life. In terms of hard grades, the views were and absolutely unbeatable A+. Our entertainment was also 10/10: a super friendly Kiwi who showed us how to quickly descend the scree via skip (we called it the “graceful little prance”... or was it “graceful little prince”. It works either way). The only F grade: a sulfuric fart smell hanging in the air.

Now, Poor Knight’s, Waitomo, and Hobbiton (+ Dotty’s animal farm) all exceeded expectations. They were dope, but it was this track, the late add to the itinerary, Tongariro Crossing, that I’ll remember most from the North Island.

Mt Doom and our 19km hike through Mordor was truly a full-day activity. Following our eight hours on the trail, we had a two hour drive to our final stop of the trip, Rotorua (yes, of “Joerotorua”). By the time we arrived, the only sensible option was a second round of Maccas. Imagine how badly Frodo and Samwise would’ve wanted a CookieTime McFlurry after their own hike through Mordor.

We passed out *herd* (Chelsay saying “hard” in her hood voice) that night, but were surprising spry the next morning. It was our last day on the North Island, and Rotorua (aka RotoVegas... that’s not a joke) had plenty to offer.

We had three options for the day. First, street luge. Yerp. Second, redwoods. Yerp. Third, geothermal hotspots. Ehhhh. We decided to pass given we’d endured enough fart smells at Tongariro (...I’m also pretty sure Joerotorua let a rage-one rip after we shorted him with 40 AUD). Anyway, we decided to focus on the first two picks.

Stop one was the famous Rotorua Street Luge. This place was another adult playground... I’m surprised Queenstown didn’t have a street luge. Oh wait, they did? Makes sense. But the Rotorua version is bigger and better!

We decided one run wouldn’t be enough, so signed up for three. For the first luge, we went conservative in the intermediate lane. It was good getting a feel for the track, but once we’d raced to the bottom, we were ready for Expert.

It was here that our group became known to the locals. They started calling us the “Bomb Squad”... (They didn’t, but I’m retroactively adding it). Our four-person havoc wreaking, hell raising, Harry Potter magic riff raff group bombed down the track as we passed far more conservative Chinese tourists and liberally braking/highly offended families. They’ll forever remember the Bomb Squad. A couple other notes from the luge:

You actually go quite fast (up to 30 mph), and the Expert track dips to help you power through turns.

My stomach flipped a little as I pulled two wheels off the ground on one particularly hard turn.

I’m not sure Chelsay applied her brakes. Like, not once.

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Like the real Vegas, RotoVegas was toasty, so our next stop was a welcomed reprieve: Rotorua’s redwood forests. After stepping out of the car to the parking lot’s sulfuric smell, we escaped from both the fart scent and the sun into the pine-y shade of the redwoods. It was here that we were able to reflect on what and action-packed four days it had been.

I’ve always said that the sign of a great trip is the ability to point to a memorable activity from each day. Well, damn. One day we went scuba diving in one of the top dive sites in the entire world, spotting horn-tailed sting rays and even hornier-tailed dive instructors. The next day we explored a seemingly fake glow worm cave, followed by a visit to a seemingly real-life Hobbiton. Then we trekked through Tongariro (aka Mordor... aka Mars... aka Joerotorua’s place of business). Finally, we wrapped up with street luge and big ass trees.

This isn’t even to mention the wonderful company Chelsay and I got to share. Sure, the itinerary delivered an amazing four days, but what made this trip truly special was spending it with our mirror couple Manly fam (aka the Bomb Squad).

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