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blissfullyapillow · 2 months

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hiya :) id like to request a star rail matchup please (if your rqs aren’t open feel free to ignore)

im a straight female (she/her) and id like to not be matched with sunday

appearance: 5’7”, long blonde hair (usually in big curls or a messy bun) i do wear glasses but if I’m going out I’ve always got contacts in. my style is very girly- a mix of vintage classy (think marilyn sort of) and y2k. my makeup tends to stick to being quite simple and natural, but i do love a red glossy lip

personality: enfp, 7w6. im very outgoing and loud, but i also value my quiet time to relax. i joke around a lot, so I find it hard to converse with people who are serious *all* of the time. im definitely an emotional person, and that will usually drive my actions over logic. im academically intelligent but admittedly lacking in street smarts or common sense. creative, very much the dreamer type and i need to have my freedom.

I put a lot of effort into my appearance because I genuinely enjoy it. It can make me a bit high maintenance but I would not expect too much from a partner, especially not without reciprocating in some way. I also love doing anything artistic (im currently studying art!) travelling, music, and cooking.

my love language in a relationship would probably be physical touch, but I’m easy to impress with most efforts of romance. in a partner I look for someone strong and loyal, with a good sense of humour and ability to have long conversations with- whether that be equally contributed or lead by myself in the case of someone more quiet.

thank you if you get to meee ☺️💖

ps could I be 🍰 anon pls if u don’t have that taken? C:

Pillow Talks: Hi again 🍰! I made my own header for your request because content for Sampo is oddly lacking for some reason??? Anyway, I hope you like your matchup! I promise you it’s good hehehe.

What I think your relationship would sound like: Sampo Koski

Masterlist

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ ݁˖$ ⁺⊹ ★.ᐟ

Icon creds in header: @/faivrse on pinterest (left) & @/mintst4rss on pinterest (right)

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ ݁˖$ ⁺⊹ ★.ᐟ

Sampo would be in LOVE with your hair. Really, long blonde hair with big curls? He’s a goner, especially when you put it up into that messy bun of yours. Honestly, he was lovestruck the moment he laid eyes on you.

Oh, how you made his heart pound. Of course he had to approach you! …Only for his reputation to serve as a horrible first impression. You’ve heard the name Sampo Koski far too many times to count.

You honestly began to believe it was some legend to educate people on the crafty ways you could be scammed out of your money, but the man himself stood before you, bent down to be eye level with you as he spoke. You knew better than to make the mistake of engaging with him, so you continue walking.

If only he didn’t have such an awful reputation, maybe you would’ve stopped to hear what he had to say. Despite your apprehension, you kept walking to your destination, effectively ignoring him despite his many attempts to ask you out on a date.

You successfully escape him, only to encounter him the following day as you accidentally bump into him. You start to think it wasn’t an accident when he turns around, all too eager with that stupidly charming grin on his face.

It takes many more encounters for you to finally agree to a date, solely because you happened to see him helping a young child that was previously ignored by everyone else. You were heading over to help the child, but he swooped in to save the day before you could.

After you witness the tearful, yet happy, reunion of the child and their parents, you decide to give him a chance. Besides, you should form your own impression of him before completely writing him off…

Your decision leads to a beautiful relationship, one that far exceeds your expectations. Through conversation, you come to learn just how complex of a person Sampo is. Although he appears to be a dishonest, crooked individual, he provides remarkably wise advice whenever you approach him with your worries.

He’s also fiercely loyal, which you’ve come to realize over time. Once you two officially started dating, even before, Sampo’s eyes have always remained on you and you alone. Sampo is an attractive individual so he’s been approached while the two of you have been together.

You know you never have to worry though, because Sampo won’t even look their way! He always politely declines any offers he receives, and he’ll casually intertwine his fingers with yours as the two of you walk away.

He’s more than happy to have long conversations with you, and the tone can shift depending on the topic and your personal feelings. He’s really good at being a solid emotional support for you, and he’s quick to pick up on the little things you do that indicate how you’re feeling.

Sampo relies on you when it comes to academics, but street smarts? Oh, he’s got you. He’s helped you avoid many situations that otherwise would have escalated quickly, and other scammers trying to make a quick buck off of you.

Sampo loves to joke around with you. Your laughter is as heavenly as the sound of money in his hands, as he flips through the stack of cash he managed to make through very legal and very ethical means.

If his sneaky ways really bother you, he’ll still spoil you with gifts and fun outings, but he’ll make the effort to earn the funds through more conventional ways he knows you’d approve of. But the money he spends on other things? … not so much.

Sampo is head over heels in love with everything about you, but especially your appearance. Oh, he loves when you put on your red lip gloss, if you don’t specifically tell him to, he won't keep his hands off of you anytime you wear it around him.

Your style is very appealing to him, and he makes the effort to tell you how beautiful you are to him everyday. When he found out you wore glasses, he snuck a picture of your cute face that he can often be found admiring; it’s still his lockscreen.

He finds it adorable how much of a dreamer you can be, and he'll happily participate in any of your hobbies you’d like to share with him.

Regarding your personality, he actually admires how loud and outgoing you are! It only serves to liven him up when he’s feeling a bit down about things. When you’re feeling emotional and it’s causing you to take unwise actions, Sampo is exceptionally good at stepping in and gently talking you down. His voice takes on this soothing tone that you subconsciously calm down listening to.

Overall, you two are really cute together! He’s head over heels in love with you, and he treats you like the queen you are and nothing less; you are absolutely smitten with him in return.

✧˖°♡〃⋆.˚

His fingers lazily loop one of your curls around his finger, flashing you a saccharine sweet smile when your eyes glance in his direction.

“You look really pretty when you’re concentrating like that, you know?” His words cause your heart to flutter, but you purposefully ignore him in favor of reading the recipe laid before you.

Sampo watches intensely as you bend slightly forward to ensure you pour the correct you need into the pot. How can you focus when you can feel his gaze, and when he’s looking at you like that…

You feel your face heat up considerably. With a huff you turn around to tell Sampo to back off, only for him to immediately capture your lips.

As much as you’d love to indulge him, you’re both pretty hungry. So, with a sigh you pull away. “We can cuddle and watch movies together later-” You smile at the way his eyes immediately light up, “IF you help me finish cooking. Weren’t you complaining about being hungry earlier?” He sighs in faux annoyance, leaning in to press his lips against yours once more before he begins assisting you.

He knows you’re both looking forward to your cuddle session, after all.

Dedicated to,

.⋆.˚🍰₊˚.ᵎᵎ˖⁺. ݁

#pillow'slovelyanon's<3 #soothingmatchupsforthesoul

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the-plot-blog-thing · 2 years

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(originally published on 9/15/20)

WDAS TAGTEAM TWEET-ATHON MOVIE #58: FROZEN 2 (2019)

*sigh* Y’know, before this came out I thought, “It’s Frozen 2! How could they screw this up?” and yet...here we are...

I really do not want to hate this movie. Its got a lot of aspects that I really enjoy a lot. But it feels like it goes out of its way to piss me off most of the time.

Disney released this in theaters last year, which was a pretty crowded year for Disney movies. Bob Iger must’ve had a vision of the chaos of the following year and packed the year with a whole bunch of blockbusters.

Iger must not have had much faith in that small indie film “The Rise of Skywalker”, so he released this movie one month before probably as a failsafe in case it flopped.

Let’s start with the music. The score is ok, still good, but not as good as the original. The songs are good for the most part too, more consistent this time, but they never reach the highs of the first.

Also, I feel like the songs just exist as an obligation because the first one was a musical as well. The songs really don’t advance anything, and really only serve to make this already complicated film more confusing.

Next, the story. It’s boring and confusing. It’s really got a “Disney Sequel” vibe to it, in a bad way. Everything feels really forced, and nothing progresses in a natural way.

It feels like they made this film to address plot holes from the first film that only stupid nitpickers care about, and to make money.

At least the animation is good, the characters are all really expressive and the elemental effects look really cool. This movie’s also got a cozy autumn look which I really enjoy.

But now we get to my main issues with this movie...the characters. If you thought Ralph Breaks the Internet had character problems, you haven’t seen Frozen 2.

Anna’s role in this movie is to shout Elsa’s name, be paranoid, and be sad. Poor Kristoff is reduced to having the same arc as Bernard from Rescuers Down Under. But at least Bernard was able to kill a man by the end, Kristoff doesn’t even get that.

There are also a bunch of new characters, but I couldn’t name them if my life depended on it. Olaf is the only silver lining. He’s funnier here than he was in the first one.

The biggest problem with this movie is Elsa. She pretty much gets scammed into having character development by nature itself.

The movie tries to say that Elsa is a force of nature, and as such, she “belongs in nature”, so she ends this movie by becoming a forest hobo because I guess that can fit into her definition of being “free”.

She also turns into a statue for some reason in the second act, just so Anna can yell at some rocks to destroy a dam, and I guess that proves to Elsa that Anna is worthy of being Queen? What?

So...Elsa gets to live in the forest as some free elemental force of nature, and dumps all of her real responsibilities on Anna who had not even expressed interest or qualification for the position. Guess Elsa wasn’t the only one to get scammed in this movie...

Disney movies had this weird habit of having a main character leave their main group of friends. This movie had it, Ralph Breaks the Internet had it, and Toy Story 4 had it. Disney, were you ok? Do you want to talk about it?

It’s just so frustrating, I want to like this movie, but I feel like it goes out of its way to belittle the first movie. I don’t care about what happened to Anna and Elsa’s parents, Disney, I’m sorry but I really don’t.

I haven’t done this before, but I want to share how I would’ve made this movie differently, because this could have been good:

-Be a more significant timeskip

-Anna and Kristoff are already married with a daughter

-Anna goes on her own journey with her daughter

-She sends Elsa, Kristoff, and Olaf on their own journey

-Daughter is possibly magic?

-Elsa is lesbian, MAKE IT HAPPEN COWARDS!!!

Now of course, I’m no film writer, these were just some off the cuff ideas I had. I just really wanted to like this movie, but as it is, I just can’t.

5/10: Disney just really can’t get sequels right, can they?

#disney #WDAS #frozen 2 #ah yes the moment when I was made forever jaded by these reviews #I always forget how show yourself sounds until i hear it again like 2 years later #lost in the woods? more like lost in the plot #archive #wdas58

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cqlfeels · 3 years

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@lansplaining encouraged me to finish this random meta nobody asked for, so let's talk about Meng Yao, Meng Shi, and 孟母三遷 (mèng mǔ sān qiān), a proverb about good parenting.

A warning: this is super long (even for me!) and is less quality meta and more my ADHD brain jumping around a maze of loosely related ideas. Proceed with caution!

Let me start by briefly going through why I decided to write this, because it’s important. In haunting Meng Shi’s tag in my starvation for Meng Shi content, I’ve multiple times come across the idea that Meng Shi pushed Meng Yao too hard, that she should’ve been more careful with teaching him to seek his father’s approval at any cost, and that she was too naïve. I’ve never reblogged this kind of post because 1) I personally think it’s rude to go out of your way to ramble about how much you disagree with someone on their own post and 2) if this was an isolated incident I wouldn't care either way, so I didn’t want to direct this rant at anyone in particular. It’s more to do with a tendency, primarily (as far as I can tell) from fans who haven’t had much contact with Chinese culture, to oversimplify Meng Shi and make her relationship with Meng Yao slightly disturbing, and I think part of it is due to CQL basically cutting out her entire storyline (so fans simply don’t have info about her to assess her fairly) and part is due to misunderstanding what a good parent is supposed to act like in the context of Ancient China.

[Of course, Ancient China is not a very useful historical concept, not any more than “ye olde Europe” - things change a lot based on time and place - but you know. It’s fantasy. Extremely broad trends are okay in this case.]

Anyway, the idea behind the posts I mentioned is, basically, that Meng Shi (usually through no fault of her own) is to blame for Meng Yao’s obsession with power, since his desire for approval was inherited from lessons she taught him. Just to start with, I’d argue that Meng Yao isn’t power-hungry as much as he craves security and respect, but that’s a different meta. Let’s assume that she really did teach him to be Like That. Was she wrong to do so? I’m not looking for “does that make for a happy, well-adjusted childhood?” or “would you raise your own son as Meng Shi did?” - I’m trying to figure out, would she have been considered a bad mother in the context of the society she lived in? I don’t think she would’ve.

It is surprisingly hard to find texts about the obligations of parents in Ancient China. Their main obligation is to raise filial children, but I feel like that’s not very useful: whether or not parents are good parents, children are expected to be filial, so a child being filial really says more about the child than about the parent. Maybe the parent completely missed the mark and society at large was what taught the child to be filial!

We can assume, of course, that parents were to raise good people, and that by learning what a good person looked like, we could figure out whether the parent was successful, but once again, I feel like that’s pinning things on the outcome, not on the process - the best of parents can end up with an awful kid and vice versa.

While thinking about all this, it took me a frankly embarrassing amount of time to remember the story of Mother Meng and Meng Zi, but once I did, it wouldn’t leave my mind - in part because the Meng here is the exact same Meng of Meng Shi and Meng Yao (yay! fun if useless parallel!), and in part because this is a story about how a woman can successfully raise a son by herself.

Okay, so important note: one of the most influential ancient Chinese thinkers is Meng Zi (孟子 Mèng Zǐ), who is known in the West as Mencius. If you've never heard of him - he's perhaps second in importance only to Confucius. When Mencius was still a young child, his father died, so he was raised by his mother, who is usually known only as Mother Meng (in Chinese, 孟母 Mèng Mǔ.)

Mother Meng's story is told in Biographies of Exemplary Women (列女傳 Liènǚ Zhuàn), which for around 2000 years beginning around the 18th century BCE, was the most commonly used book used to educate women. The book is divided into sections, each one showing a different way women could be honorable and good. Mother Meng's story is told in the Maternal Models section (母儀傳 Mǔ Yí Zhuàn.) The story has a few parts, some of which I'll quote, always from Kinney's 2014 translation.

Before I go on to quote it, though, I'd like to establish that Mother Meng's story is so, so famous that even if Meng Shi had never read this particular book, I'm almost certain she would've been familiar with at least the outlines of Mother Meng's story. I'm not cherry picking a suitable chapter from the book, I'm literally going with the most famous story in it because Meng Shi would be most likely to know this one if she knew no other story.

Okay, the first part of the tale takes place when Mencius is a young boy and Mother Meng is a widow raising him.

The mother of Meng Ke of Zou [a different name for Mencius] was called Mother Meng. She lived near a graveyard. During Mencius’ youth, he enjoyed playing among the tombs, romping about pretending to prepare the ground for burials. Mother Meng said, “This is not the place to raise my son.” She therefore moved away and settled beside the marketplace. But there he liked to play at displaying and selling wares like a merchant. Again Mother Meng said, “This is not the place to raise my son,” and once more left and settled beside a school. There, however, he played at setting out sacrificial vessels, bowing, yielding, entering, and withdrawing. His mother said, “This, indeed, is where I can raise my son!” and settled there. When Mencius grew up, he studied the Six Arts, and finally became known as a great classicist. A man of discernment would say, “Mother Meng was good at gradual transformation.”

According to the translator's footnote, "gradual transformation" is "a childrearing technique, whereby a child is morally formed through daily exposure to correct models of behavior."

From this story comes the proverb 孟母三遷 (Mèng Mǔ sān qiān) - "Mother Meng moved three times." It's come to mean that a parent - especially the mother of a male child - should spare no efforts to provide an environment that will give their child a good education, paying particular attention to what models are surrounding them.

I'm sure I don't need to say if Meng Shi was at all familiar with this proverb (and she would probably be), she must have been very stressed out over literally raising her son in a brothel. (Here I must mention sex workers in ancient China were often essentially owned by the brothels, so literally "moving three times" wasn't really an option for Meng Shi even if she could miraculously pick up another trade.) Meng Shi did however at least try to surround Meng Yao with the accomplishments appropriate for the son of a cultivator:

Xiao-Meng, are you still learning those things lately? [...] The things your mom wants you to learn, things like calligraphy, etiquette, swordsmanship, meditation… How are those things going? [...] His mom’s raising him as a young master of a wealthy family. She taught him how to read and write, bought him all those swordsmanship pamphlets, and even wants to send him to school.

Meng Yao actually talks a little bit about “those swordsmanship pamphlets” in the only time in canon he directly shares memories about this mother:

Lan XiChen, “Your [guqin] skills are also considered quite fine outside of Gusu. Were they taught by your mother?”

Jin GuangYao, “No. I taught myself by watching others. She never taught me such things. She only taught me reading and writing, and bought a handful of expensive sword and cultivation guides for me to practice.”

Lan XiChen seemed surprised, “Sword and cultivation guides?”

Jin GuangYao, “Brother, you haven’t seen them before, have you? Those small booklets sold by the common folk. First jumbled sketches of human figures, then deliberately mystified captions.”

Lan XiChen shook his head, smiling. Jin GuangYao shook his head as well, “All of them are scams, especially to fool women like my mother and ignorant children. You won’t lose anything by practicing them, but you definitely won’t gain anything either.”

He sighed in a rueful way, “But how could my mother have known this? She bought them no matter how expensive they were, saying that if I returned to see my father in the future, I had to see him with as much competence as possible so that I don’t fall behind. All of the money was spent on this.”

See what’s happening? Meng Shi cannot physically take Meng Yao to cultivators, but she spares no efforts in giving him the closest thing she possibly can -- figuratively, we might say she moved three times.

Of course, these booklets don’t work, but as Meng Yao says, how could she have known this? The cultivation world is very closed off - think of how the entire Mo household gathers to see Lan juniors, and how Wei Wuxian mentions once that “Cultivation families, in the eyes of common folk, are like people favored by God, mysterious yet noble.” Not just noble, but mysterious. That tracks, too - I mean, they live in inaccessible households and mostly leave to night hunt or visit each other, neither of which is an activity that would allow commoners to get much more than an occasional glimpse of them.

Now, if Meng Shi doesn’t even know that a pearl for Jin Guangshan was just a trinket, if she doesn’t know even the wealth of a major sect, how can she read booklets and decide whether that’s genuine cultivation or not? All that she sees is a chance for Meng Yao to be surrounded by the ideas and skills of the people she wants him to emulate - cultivators - and therefore she does everything she can to get him that chance. Mother Meng moved three times.

Okay, but maybe the argument is not “Meng Shi shouldn’t have pushed Meng Yao to cultivation” but rather “she should’ve pushed him, just not too hard." To that, I present another tale from Mencius' childhood:

Once, when Mencius was young, he returned home after finishing his lessons and found his mother spinning. She asked him, “How far did you get in your studies today?” Mencius replied, “I’m in about the same place as I was before.” Mother Meng thereupon took up a knife and cut her weaving. Mencius was alarmed and asked her to explain. Mother Meng said, “Your abandoning your study is like my cutting this weaving. A man of discernment studies in order to establish a name and inquires to become broadly knowledgeable. By this means, when he is at rest, he can maintain tranquility and when he is active, he can keep trouble at a distance. If now you abandon your studies, you will not escape a life of menial servitude and will lack the means to keep yourself from misfortune. How is this different from weaving and spinning to eat? If one abandons these tasks midway, how can one clothe one’s husband and child and avoid being perpetually short of food? If a woman abandons that with which she nourishes others and a man is careless about cultivating his virtue, if they don’t become brigands or thieves, then they will end up as slaves or servants.” Mencius was afraid. Morning and evening he studied hard without ceasing. He served Zisi [a great scholar whose grandfather was Confucius] as his teacher and then became one of the most renowned classicists in the world.

Notice that Mother Meng moved three times to ensure Mencius would have the highest of aspirations - to become a scholar. But just aspiration isn’t enough. Not by any means. Now that Mencius is actually studying, Mother Meng is willing to take an extreme action to ensure he's taking it seriously. Mencius doesn't have a father to smooth his path to success. He has to learn that aspiring to greatness isn't enough. He'll have to put in the effort as if his life depended on it. And if he doesn't persist in his hard work, everything he's done thus far will be useless. Sounds like a lesson imparted on young Meng Yao, doesn’t it?

A lot of fandom rage towards Meng Shi would apply to China's Best Mom Contender, Mother Meng. She gives her son big dreams, and teaches him how to go about achieving them in a society where failing is easier than succeeding. Yes, it's fair to say that Meng Shi taught Meng Yao to refuse to settle for anything less than being “Jin Guangshan's son, a respected cultivator.” Yes, it's also fair to say that she probably didn't allow him much time to play like children his age did. But unfortunately, in the world of MDZS, poor children probably wouldn't get to play anyhow, the difference is that they'd usually be working, not studying. Studying is a privilege! It’s a privilege Meng Yao could not afford but was given to him anyway, through his mother’s many sacrifices. We can even say that while she was alive, Meng Shi was trying to ensure Meng Yao would one day have a better life, at the expense of a fun childhood - and that's very Mother Meng of her, whatever our modern Western sensibilities might have to say about that.

Finally, I’d skip other tales (which show Mother Meng and an adult Mencius) and go straight to the poem that ends the Mother Meng section:

The mother of Mencius

Was able to teach, transform, judge, and discriminate.

With skill she selected a place to raise her son,

Prompting him to accord with the great principles.

When her son’s studies did not advance,

She cut her weaving to illustrate her point.

Her son then perfected his virtue;

His achievements rank as the crowning glory of his generation.

I’d like to focus on the last verse - “His achievements rank as the crowning glory of his generation.” All that Mother Meng wanted was for Mencius to not completely ruin his life, but he became great. You can so very easily see a parallel with how Meng Shi hoped Meng Yao would be a cultivator but he became Jin Guangyao, Chief Cultivator, styled Lianfang-zun, one of the Three Venerable, hero of the Sunshot Campaign.

Of course you can say “Jin Guangyao did many Very Wrong Things to get there, though!” Which, sure, okay, fair point. How many and how wrong depends on which canon we're discussing, and your own interpretation, but there’s no version of the story in which Jin Guangyao is 100% an innocent child uwu. But blaming that on Meng Shi is just... straight up weird? I don’t see anyone going “If Jiang Fengmian hadn’t adopted Wei Wuxian, he’d never have dared become Yiling Laozu!” and that’s pretty much the same logic. Would street kid Wei Wuxian have invented a new type of cultivation if he had never been taken in by the Jiang? Probably not, but raising undead armies is very much not something Jiang Fengmian could’ve predicted. In the same way, how could Meng Shi have predicted that teaching her pre-adolescent son “You are the son of a cultivator, act like one and earn your place in society” would’ve ultimately resulted in innocent deaths? How could she predict “You’re not destined to having the same horrible life I did, you can get something better than this” was a bad thing to teach? I quite honestly don’t know.

Finally, I'd like to point towards a much flimsier evidence that Meng Shi did great as a parent. And that is Meng Yao’s love. Nie Huaisang at some point comments Meng Shi is someone who Meng Yao "cherishes more than his life," and I think his assessment is correct.

Even putting aside the fact he built a whole temple to get his mother to reincarnate into a better life, and even putting aside how he refuses to flee the country without her remains, there's still crystal clear evidence that Meng Shi must've done something right. Because a lifetime of people using his mother to bully him doesn't seem to have made Meng Yao resent her. Had their relationship not have been very strong, odds are he'd feel bitter and/or ashamed of her. That doesn't seem to be the case. He's attached to her even decades after her death.

I want to be very careful with equating mutual affection with good parenting, though. When I was a rather rebellious teenager, my mother (in typical Chinese fashion) used to say that parents and children don't have to love each other as long as they're dutiful to each other, by which she meant that a parent-child relationship isn't informed by warm and fuzzy feelings, but by whether you'd be willing to do anything for each other. Specific to my case, she meant "I don't care if it makes you hate me, you will do as you're told because that's what's best for you." (That may also be the reason why people more familiar with Chinese culture see the Jiang family less as outright abusive and more as #complicated, but that's another meta.)

Whether your kid wants to hug you every time they see you is of no consequence to traditional Chinese thought - raising them to be the best they can is all that matters, because at the end of the day, you won't be around forever, but you can definitely set up your kid's life so that it goes smoothly and virtuously. How that's accomplished varies depending on many factors, but to have the goal be "I want my child to love me" rather than "I want to raise my child right" would've been considered selfish as hell.

So even if all that Meng Shi had given Meng Yao had been stern lessons about the need to go get his birthright, she would've still have been considered a good mother!! In fact, she would've been doing everything she was supposed to do, under extremely difficult conditions! (Remember the importance of environment? That Meng Yao grew up to want to be a cultivator despite having probably never even met one speaks wonders about Meng Shi's childrearing powers!!)

But just based off how over the top Meng Yao's filal dutifulness is, I'd go a step further and say that even as she did the impossible, she was also loving enough to inspire genuine affection. This is complicated because children who have present fathers could expect their mothers to be tender with them. The first century BCE text 禮記 Lǐ Jì or The Classic of Rites says that:

Here now is the affection of a father for his sons - he loves the worthy among them, and places on a lower level those who do not show ability; but that of a mother for them is such, that while she loves the worthy, she pities those who do not show ability - the mother deals with them on the ground of affection and not of showing them honour; the father, on the ground of showing them honour and not of affection.

But when the father figure is lacking for any reason, the mother must abandon her tenderness because someone must guide the child, and without a father, the role falls to the mother. A single or widowed mother had to be very careful to not smother their children with affection and raise useless, spoiled kids, or so it was thought. (The presence of Qingheng-jun and Lan Qiren is why Madame Lan can be so affectionate with the Lan boys, by the way - if she was raising them by herself she would've been expected to be much more practical. AUs where she just gets her kids and runs away could do very cool things with this idea. But I digress!)

Where was I? Oh, okay. Because Meng Yao seems to not just respect, but actively miss her, it seems that Meng Shi somehow managed to deal with her son on the ground of both honor and affection, to paraphrase.

So basically, all things considered, it seems not only would Meng Shi have been considered a great mom (if people could look past her being a prostitute, anyway) but she also went above and beyond the bare minimum. She truly spared no efforts on any front to make sure her son had everything your average gongzi would have - someone to teach him and someone to love him, access to education and confidence in his birthright. That she couldn't actually make him a cultivator, that she couldn't actually raise him in a proper home with no one being cruel to herself or him - that's immaterial. Even Mother Meng couldn't control what her neighbors did, only what she taught her son! The key point is Meng Shi tried. She did everything she could to educate her son right. You couldn't ask more of her, and quite honestly, you should probably be asking less.

Of course we can't err on the other extreme and say she was Perfect. Given MXTX only ever writes flawed characters, we can safely assume that if we'd known more about Meng Shi, we would've seen many flaws. Indeed, just the fact she didn't teach Meng Yao the guqin when he apparently wanted to learn it might point to some conflict we don't know enough to speculate about (maybe she focused too much on cultivation when Meng Yao's interests lay elsewhere? Maybe she wasn't able to sufficiently shelter him and he felt it'd be a burden to ask her to teach him anything? Maybe maybe maybe, go wild with your fics.) Nevertheless, I would never hold a female character to a higher ideal than a male character - if the male cast of MDZS can be a hot mess and still be admirable for what they're trying to do, then so can Meng Shi.

At the end of the day, when I look at Meng Shi - and I've made myself a document with all the references to her in the novel canon so I could easily contemplate her life and character - all I see is a woman every bit as determined and resourceful as her son, willing to do everything it took to raise her little boy into the sophisticated and ambitious man he became.

Finally, here's a fun little parallel that I'm 100% sure was unintentional but I still love. I said Meng Shi couldn't have moved three times. She couldn't, but I think maybe she taught her son he was worth moving three times for. Qinghe Nie. Qishan Wen. Lanling Jin. Isn't that super fun to think about?

Alternatively, tl;dr: Oh My God I Can't Believe We're Blaming Women For The Actions Of Their Adult Children In The Year Of Our Lord 2k21, Meng Shi Was Doing Her Best, Chill!

#drinking game #take a shot every time i say 'finally'#this post refused to let me get to the end of it lol #i think because i'm extremely salty about fanon stage mom meng shi #(to not say tiger mom meng shi which crosses into outright racism. but i'm giving people the benefit of the doubt)

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read-weep-repeat · 2 years

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🍄 - okay first: IM SO HAPPY YOURE BACK I LEGIT STARTED SCREAMING WHEN I SAW THE NOTIFICATION!!! 🥰 also I’m glad you’re doing well!! You’re fantastic!! And deserve the world!!

That being said: the newest chapter?? I saw it drop and had to reread everything in your arsenal in a frantic wave. Thank god finals were over or I would’ve gone insane lol. I love love love how you portrayed Cindy and an impeccable person, slowly falling into disarray as time went on, hair falling out of her bun, sweatpants. What got me though was her calling Joon her fiancé??? Bitch where’s your ring then? ✨delusional✨

And the letter mc snippet?? I can just see hobi now going feral for stickers. He already does nail art on his nails, so I could see him sending her some nail stickers with a picture of his on so they could match 🥺 and joonie insisting on using paper so she won’t cut herself?? Sir??? I’m surprised at this point that the envelope doesn’t have tearstrips so she doesn’t have to use sharp things to open it 😭🫠

Anyways, amazing to have you back, and I hope that you take care of yourself. We love you! 🥰💕

OMG MUSH ANON HI MY LOVE!!!

ugh im so happy you liked the latest chapter! and I was a lil worried abt no one remembering any of the stories so I'm so glad you took the time to refresh, it means a lot 🥹

she is the EPITOME of delusional omfg. she's definitely in for a wake up call when mc gets to her.

OK IM SO EXCITED ABT THAT SNIPPET YOU HAVE NO IDEA

hobi would absolutely do that, and start requesting pictures of the art so he can brag to the boys and look at it when he wants to feel close to her.

I like to think that this mc would enjoy having acrylic nails, cause it makes her feel pretty and the sound of her nails against her keyboard is satisfying. SO imagine one time as a surprise she gets his initial "h" on her ring finger and sends him a picture of it.

he would LOSE HIS MIND, this would be later in the story when romantic interest is between them all and she's talking to the boys (except maybe jungkook as he's being a stubborn asshole) SIR IS GOING TO BRAG UNTIL THE NAILS ARE OFF

and then of course every other boy will want to pay for her next set to get an initial

(and her nail lady is either going to think she's a raging hoe or is a smart bitch scamming these men)

and absolutely joon needs his girl to have safe paper!!! I could even see him using those special thick cardstock envelopes with the tearstrips and decorating them for her 🥰🥰

I love you too!!! I'm so happy to be back ♥️

#🍄 anon #letter mc

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joyfulhopelox · 3 years

Text

Red Gardenia

Pairing: Park Jimin x reader (non-idol!au, ballet!au)

Genre: fluff

Warnings: none

Word count: 7k (she the biggest one yet)

rating: pg

Summary: As a minor ballet dancer in the corps du ballet, suddenly thrown into the limelight you are struggling to cope with the pressure, but when a secret admirer with a love for gardenias comes forth you realise that you may actually be able to do it

Copyrights @joyfulhopelox for both the work and the banner

I want to throw the massivest thank you to my beta the amazing and talented @rosietae she's been the rock that supported this foundation and prevented it from crumbling. I had 2 breakdowns and a couple of identity crises when I wrote this one and her help has been a major pick me up. She made this from a withering bud into a fully bloomed flower and I can't express my thanks to her enough!

This is part 2 of my Love Blossom series and the 3/25 square for the @bangtanwritingbingo event (square: Park Jimin)

As always please leave feedback and/or talk to me as i love to hear from you! Enjoy <3

Entrée

A grand pas de deux usually begins with an entrée (literally "entrance"), which serves as a short prelude to and also unequivocally denotes the beginning of the dance suite.

You could do this, you could do this. You could definitely do this. The mantra had been in your head for the past few days. You’d hoped that the psychology articles about daily affirmations you read would work, but it proved to be more difficult than you thought.

Instead you felt like you wasted 10 minutes of your practice time, to stupidly look at yourself in the mirror. For those 10 minutes you kept telling yourself that you were able to dance as the main act in the show your ballet school had signed you up for. Maybe you were not doing it right; probably because you disconnected from those positive affirmations very often. So indeed, those 10 minutes were a waste of time.

Your mouth would say ‘you can do it’ but your brain would instantly doubt you, doubt your skills. You were always a dancer in the background and no one ever complimented your dancing more than necessary. How could you believe in yourself when, for years that’s all that it had been? Was all that doubt supposed to disappear just because all of a sudden you were called by your ballet master informing you of the big role change? You had been specifically picked to dance with one of the most prominent ballet dancers that your school had produced: none other than Park Jimin himself.

Everyone knew of him. He travelled abroad multiple times to be the star of a lot of performances. From New York, to Moscow, to Hong Kong, everyone had seen him in at least one performance. This, as well as the fact that you were a couple of years his junior, and in the corps du ballet instead of a soloist, had made it impossible for you to catch more than a glimpse of him around the school. But of course you had heard of him and his stellar performance. Everyone in your school had, but very few actually had the chance to interact with him. He seemed to have a small group of friends that he mostly spent his time with, but no one else seemed to have gotten the chance to get close to him, which instantly made him a snob in your eyes. He probably had the personality of Narcissus himself. Always so high up his own, it made it difficult for him to get the reality check from the people down below. No matter how much your friends berated you for thinking this way, you were certain you were right.

So imagine your surprise when you were told you had been picked for a pas de deux and he was to be your partner. Surprised was a very mild word for how you really felt. Astonished, perplexed? Those two seemed more appropriate. Not only had you been picked to perform on the stage outside of your usual group but you had the famous wonder boy Jimin as your partner.

For the first few days your friends would only see and hear your excited smile and squeals. You had been waiting so long for this opportunity to come by and now you finally had the chance to prove yourself. No one even threw a second glance at the dancers in the corps du ballet. As a group, you were all there to tie in the loose ends that the soloists and main dancers could not. You were the background of a painting. Without it, the painting was incomplete, but no one observed it in detail. It was not as if you were thinking ill of your fellow dancers, but you had promised yourself and your parents when you chose ballet as your profession that you would make it big. You would stand on that stage and perform as a soloist, in the light, the piece de resistance. And so you worked hard to be noticed. Asking extra questions during lessons, making sure you did the movements perfectly. Staying after hours in the abandoned studio to practice until your feet hurt and bled,having to ice your muscles every night, going home late and heading back out early, the tears, the criticism. It didn’t matter to you. You had a dream. And now, all that hard work seemed to pay off. You would be there on that stage in the limelight.

Soon enough though, reality set in after the second meeting you had with the ballet master. You realised the pressure of not only having to be a main performer, but also standing on the stage with the pride of your school. Your demeanor instantly changed. Instead of exaltation, you were filled with dread and anxiety.

Heading to your locker,you grabbed your gym bag, ready for another hour of basic ballet techniques before you met up with your friends.

“Hey, Y/N, the artistic director is looking for you” they motioned to the general direction of where the offices were.

“After class?” you inquired and they nodded at you.

You gulp, what if they are going to pull you away from the show? You don’t let that thought fester in your head for too long because a red flower taped to your locker caught your attention.

“Oooooh, I see they’re at it again” your friend teased, lightly nudging you with their elbow. You smiled softly to yourself and gently peeled off the tape.

A red gardenia, secret love. Whoever had been harbouring these feelings for you, had been doing it for almost 3 months. They had yet to confess their feelings to you. At the beginning you thought it was a scam and scoffed at the flower, throwing it away whilst telling your friends your opinion of ‘poor jokes like these’. A few weeks after that the flowers kept coming in. You finally accepted that it was not a prank, and someone was expressing their genuine admiration and love for you, when one day along with the gardenia a note waited for your attention.

‘Please accept my feelings’ that was it, no name and no indication of who it may be. But it did make you realise that this person was real, and you instantly felt ashamed of the flowers that you had thrown away until then. Had they noticed you doing that? You hoped not. If they had come out and admitted who they were, you would’ve apologised to their face about your insensitivity.

Without responding to your friend’s playful teasing, you gently put the flower behind your ear and turned around. “Let’s get going, or we’ll be late.”

Unbeknownst to you, a couple of lockers down, a boy with hair the colour of sand smiled fondly to himself, watching your form retreat.

Adagio 1

The adagio or adage (meaning "slowly") part of a grand pas de deux features graceful and elaborate partnering by the dancing pair. In the adagio, the ballerina performs elegant, often slow and sustained movements while the danseur supports her.

“Y/N, thank you for coming to see me before class” your ballet master said, motioning for you to take a seat. “Now, I have told you about the performance, but seeing as things are settling and the performance schedule of Swan Lake will be ending soon, I need to update you on yours.” All you could do was sit in silence and nod once in a while, trying to not look like an excited mess and potentially ruin your chances. After all, a ballerina had to have poise and grace, and if you ruined that image, the role could have been handed over to someone else easily.

Shuffling some papers on her desk, she fished a thick folder out of them and stuck it out for you to take.

“Is this the full schedule for the performance?” your voice wavered, seeing the enormity of the folder reminded you of the enormity of the situation. You were about to perform as a main dancer. No more the quiet mouse dancing in the back or the even worse placement of being a backup for a performance.

“Ah, no dear, this is just the contract. As you know, you will be working with our school’s pride, Park Jimin.” You tried your hardest to keep a neutral face and not scoff at that. Of course the teacher would be shoving Park Jimin’s greatness into your face. “And because he is an international dancer, we cannot afford to have him exposed to any potential issues that may arise if anything were to happen.” Her tight lipped smile stopped you from inquiring what she thought may go wrong, so instead you resigned with a nod of your head. Your friends would listen to your rant later, there was no need to explode in your teacher’s office.

After that encounter, which ended up with you not only being insulted as a ‘minor’ figure in the school as opposed to the illustrious Jimin, but also having to lug a contract as big as a dictionary.

“Who needs a contract as big as this? Who does he think he is? International star my foot” you huffed as you struggled to carry the said atrocity and your gym bag down the hall. “I mean, international dancer but also how much trouble does he get into to need so much coverage for his ass? I get it, his ass is big enough to need a hefty contract….!”

Your friends, who’d tried to warn you beforehand of the situation you ended up up stumbling in, gasped. You were not paying attention to where you were headed and oh so ungracefully smacked your head into someone’s shoulder. “Oh, I’m sorry” not looking up, you bent down to pick the gym bag that fell off your shoulder on impact.

“It’s ok” a soft voice responded and you swear you can hear angels sing in your ear. You quickly glanced up, the gym bag long forgotten by now. You wanted to put a face to the melodious voice. And so the dream ended and the angel choir broke up. No longer apologetic, your face instantly dropped. It did not matter you have never interacted with him before and that for a first time meeting you were being incredibly rude. Not when the voice belonged to the one and only aforementioned Park Jimin.

“Oh, it’s you”

Smiling brightly at you he nodded, “it is me”.

His soft and plush features were enough to intimidate you. Not that he looked fierce, not by a long shot. It was the opposite, he looked so innocent it almost made you regret ever thinking he was a stuck up brat. Round cheeks, plump lips and eyes that reflected his bright smile, he looked handsome. His sand coloured hair and the blue contacts made him look princely handsome. And you hated it. “Are you Y/N by any chance?” you pondered whether or not you should have responded to him, but your friends made that decision for you before you could utter a word.

“Yes she is” they nudged you to say something. You shrugged, trying to look nonchalant.

“Yes, hi….” you trailed off. You were not close enough for you to be calling him by his name before he even got the chance to introduce himself properly to you. “Jimin” he filled you in, offering you his hand to shake. Having little faith in you and your ability to be polite, your friends nudged you again in a silent warning to not push his hand away. You had to admit the thought had crossed your mind for a couple of seconds, but your parents had not raised you that way. Glaring at the offered hand, you grabbed it in a firm shake.

Jimin faltered a bit, your intense grimace making him think he was an inconvenience. “Well, uh, nice to meet you” you glanced at him, catching the shy look he was giving you before letting go of your hand and stepping aside. “I will not keep you any longer, I will see you later” He hurriedly retreated to his friends, who were on the side waiting for him. You observed the scene silently for a few seconds whilst chewing on your bottom lip. Maybe he wasn’t as bad as you made him out to be. But when two of his friends laughed and patted his back in a congratulatory way, you instantly changed your mind.

Variation-Him

Upon completion of the adagio, the dancers separate and each dancer, in turn, takes center stage and performs a variation (1)

To say you had stopped thinking about the pretentious Park Jimin and the encounter you had would be a total lie. How could you, when you were meant to start practicing for your duet in a few days?

Not only that, but from someone who you’d barely see around the school, he turned into someone who would not leave your eyesight. Not by choice, though you would admit sometimes you would seek his form after hearing his laughter nearby. In your defence, he had a very light and airy voice, one that was instantly recognisable and so your traitorous eyes would be drawn to the sound.

Moreover, the way you treated him at the time, as well as the knowledge that you would be performing a pas de deux together, made it impossible for your peers not to gossip. And so, your name and his were strung together and uttered by everyone that would pass by you.

“It is becoming kind of annoying now,” you muttered angrily to your friends. They had tried their best to keep you level headed during the period but they were finding it more and more difficult to try to reason with you.

“Look Y/N, you are getting to perform on stage, with a great dancer” your friend raised their hand up and covered your mouth with it when you instantly tried to protest. “Nuh-uh, as much as you have a personal vendetta against him, you have to admit he is a great performer. This school does not pick talentless people'' you sighed, they were right. He was a good performer, but you were not ready to admit that yet. Not when that would have given him more rights to be prideful about it. Pushing your friends’ hand away, you whined, “He may be a great dancer, but that puts even more pressure on me to be good, otherwise any chance I may have had at a career as a main performer is gone!”

“Hey, you will be just fine! You got picked for a reason!” your friend tried to encourage you but you could only smile sadly at them, finding it hard to believe it. “Plus, your admirer seems to think so too” your friend smiled smugly at you.

Rolling your eyes at them you scoffed, “what, am I supposed to believe the words of someone who can’t even come out clean with who they are? All I know is that they could be someone who has no clue what they are talking about. I mean, they are confessing their love for me. I wouldn’t call that good taste.”

“Maybe you should,” the voice you had come to know very well over the past few weeks spoke from behind you. Confusedly, you turn around “huh?” did he happen to know something about it? Could it be him? Giving you a once over, Jimin cleared his throat. “Maybe you should, you know, hurry up. Our first practice starts in less than 10 minutes. Don’t know about you, but I would like to warm up before anything” his soft smile faltered when you glared at him. You couldn’t help it, spending so much time hating a made up version of him in your head made it impossible for you to warm up to the real version. And his last comment did grate your nerves, was he implying that you weren’t able to manage your time effectively?

You didn’t miss the slight hurt in his eyes as he passed by you, and against your better judgement your heart twinged. Saying a quick goodbye to your friends, you rushed down the corridor to catch up to him.

“Hey, Jimin” he didn’t stop. Not because he couldn’t hear you, but because the slightly panicked look on his face was not something he wanted you to witness. He had almost given himself away, but he couldn’t stand hearing you talk about his admiration and yourself in that way anymore. He tried to play it off as reminding you of the time, but then you gave him that look, a look that told him you really did not want anything to do with him. At that thought, he felt his heart drop to his stomach faster than he could say pas de chat.

“Jimin wait” he did not want to wait, but he listened to you. Why? Because even if you seemed to hate him with a passion, he would do anything for you.

You thought you had not met before, and in a way Jimin supposed you hadn’t. Not in person at least. But he was there when you had your performance for the entrance exam. To say he was entranced from the very beginning was an understatement. His eyes didn’t leave your form. Every pirouette, every arabesque, glissade, plie... you moved like silk in the wind: smooth, seamless, weightless. When your performance was finished, his heart felt weightless and completely enamoured.

He tried to talk to you after, but you disappeared as quickly as you had done your jete. All he was left with was your name from the application form and the hope that you would succeed in entering so he could see you again.

Bringing himself back to the present, he didn’t turn to face you, and you could not bring yourself to apologise, as the words got stuck in your throat. Instead, you walked a few steps ahead of him and stopped. Doing a silly turn on pointe you gave him an unsure smile, “you coming?”

Variation-Her

In general, the variations are intended to showcase spectacular, acrobatic leaps and turns, as well as the skills and athleticism of the individual dancers.

“Now, Y/N, what did I tell you? This has to be all allegro! Quick, quick, quick!” Your director clapped his hands as if to make a point of what quick meant. You nodded, your breath coming out in heavy pants. Having been practicing all the brisees and pas de chat for a good four hours, you were already tired. Your limbs felt like they were made of lead and your breath came out in shallow rasps.

“Once more” You bit your lip as you tried not to glare at them. You barely got a break and it was just the first week. You had a lot more weeks to perfect it. Indeed, it was not perfect and your insistence on not being closer to Jimin during the partnered moves made it even more awkward. The dance was just not flowing as it should have. Flower Festival in Genzano was a classical pas de deux performance, with rapt moves expressing the happiness and flirtation between two young lovers.

Yours portrayed more of a tragedy between two lovers than the blossoming of love between them. Your movements were adagio instead of alegro, and the swiftness of the intended movements were rough and unsure. Frustrated couldn’t even begin to explain how you were feeling.

Jimin, had yet to utter a word during this time , and in a way you were grateful. You didn’t think you could stand it if he’d opened his mouth to boast about his skills. His moves were graceful, quick, resembling a lark hopping through the grass. He had a lightness of movement that made you realise why he was called the wonder boy of the school. Looking as if he was as light as a feather, he breezed through his variation with ease.

“Y/N, come on, up up up!” the director clapped their hands impatiently. “Your variation from the beginning” gesturing you to get off the floor they restarted the musical accompaniment. Huffing in distress you quickly got on your feet, a sharp pain shooting up your calf. Grimacing you tried to get into position, but with the music being way ahead of your start you fumbled around to get into the right position. It only took a wrong turn of your ankle during a quicker brise for your whole leg to cramp causing you to fall into a heap on the floor.

“What are you doing? Up! From the beginning, you can’t be lazing around. Look at Jimin, he’s done his perfectly. You can’t be sullying his name like this.” Trying your hardest to hide the tears of pain and humiliation out of your eyes, you slowly got on your knees in an attempt to get off the floor.

“Uhm, maybe it would be better if we took a small break?” for the first time since you’ve started Jimin spoke up. Shooting him a stubborn scowl you pushed yourself up with great effort. Stumbling a bit from the pain in your leg you refused to give up. “No, I can do this”

“Y/N, look at you” he slowly approached you as if you were going to strike like an injured animal. And maybe that is how he viewed you. Weak and easily hurt by your lack of talent and professionalism. Before you could retort, the artistic director abruptly stopped the music.

“Yes, Y/N, look at you. You’re stiff and uncoordinated. You’re making the proverbial bull in a chinashop look like a ballerina. How can I let you perform next to Jimin? He’s an international star and he has a reputation to maintain. You’re doing your best to sully that” hurtful tears started pooling in your eyes. Maybe you should just withdraw now. Clearly, no one thought you were good enough. As if to confirm your unspoken thoughts, they carried on, “you were not my first choice by any chance. But you were asked for, specifically, so I had to comply. Please don’t treat this like you do with the corps du ballet.”

You tried your best to reign in your tears, you could not expose your feelings like that. One wrong move and they could’ve removed you from the performance.

“Sir, I think it is best we stop here for the day” Jimin suggested. Who was he to ask for such a thing? How dare he ask the artistic director to stop for the day, as if they would listen to him. “I, uh, forgot i have another meeting in half an hour and it’s best if I don’t miss it” you glanced at the two, a heavy feeling settling into your stomach when you observed the change in the director’s demeanour. Grovelling, he assured Jimin that you’d stop there for the day, flourishing his respect and admiration for how hardworking he was. With a last disappointed glance at you and a scoff, they exited the studio.

It was just you and Jimin left, the silence deafening. Pretending to be busy with tying your pointe shoes, you refused to glance at him. You felt disgraced and belittled. Even though you were aware that Jimin had said nothing against you or your performance, you couldn’t help but channel all your hurt into your behaviour towards him.

“You ok? You should go get that checked” finally gathering the courage to address you, Jimin crouched down to have a look at your leg. You retracted it instantly before his hand could touch you.

“I’m fine, don’t be late for your meeting” you snapped at him.

He observed you in silence for a few moments, and you didn’t know if it was the look on his face which screamed pity to you, his concern for your wellbeing, or the humiliation that you have faced because of him, but your anger levels increased exponentially.

“Look, you don’t need to pity me, I’m fine, just go and show the world your greatness and stop bothering with the likes of me” you huffed. “I’m clearly not good enough and need to improve” your voice softened. You knew you were angry at yourself and not at him. He’d been nothing but kind to you from the first moment you have spoken. Maybe that was why you were taking it all out on him. He was always close to perfect. And it irked you.

“I’m not pitying you. In fact, I admire you a lot.” His confession made you snap out of your thoughts and look at him in disbelief. His cheeks were tinted red and you couldn’t help but think of how cute he looked when he was bashful like that.

“You don’t mean that,” you whispered. “Why would you mean that?”

The silence that ensued, along with the uncertain look on his face, made you think that he would finally admit his joke and tell you that he didn’t mean it. He was him, and you were you. The thought made your heart ache.

“Why do you hate me so much?” he finally asked, and you were once again taken aback, not expecting the change in subject.

“I— don’t. You irritate me, but I don’t hate you,” at your words his expression instantly changed to confusion and a slither of hurt flashed across his face. You hurried to explain yourself, “look you are perfect, everyone clearly loves you, you are nice and everyone flocks around you like bees to honey. And it annoys me. But that is my shortcoming, and not your fault so forget I said that” you sat up quickly, the pain in your leg making it difficult. But a warm hand grabbed your forearm. You wanted to shake it off since you did not want his help, but the heat and support it provided was exactly what you needed. And in that moment you realised that, just like everyone else, you had fallen for him and his charms. He was definitely not what you wanted. What you wanted was to be able to perform to the best of your abilities, to stand on that stage proudly next to him. But what you actually needed was him, his soft words, and his sweet gestures that somehow managed to lift you up and nurse your pride, if only by a bit.

With that realisation, fear and determination gripped your heart. “You should go to your meeting” you nod towards the door. “I’ll be fine” seeing that he was prepared to protest, you added quietly, “please, I would like to be alone right now.”

With a heavy heart, Jimin let go of your arm and retracted slowly. Your words hurt, but they also gave him hope that he may actually stand a chance at becoming your rock. And for now that was all he wanted from you.

“Please rest and get that checked” He said, before he turned around and looked at you wistfully one last time, “I don’t really have a meeting to go to, but i will leave if you want me to”

His exit was swift and graceful, but his heart was heavy and uncertain. How could he make it better for you? How could he convince you to trust in your skills more? Suddenly, he got an idea and he prayed that it would work. It was a shot in the dark, but it was the only one he had.

Adagio 2

A few days after that, you were by your locker once again, with a red gardenia in your hands. With a letter grasped between your fingers, you decided you would read it later as you saw your partner approaching. You hadn’t practiced together since that day, left on your own with the artistic director to practice your variation. The first time you entered the studio and realised that Jimin would not be joining you had made you nervous.

As much as you’d tried to ignore it, it strengthened the realisation that you did need him. In such a short amount of time, he made it so that you saw him as comfort and protection. His soft demeanour and worried glances melted your resolve to loathe him. You were ready to admit you were wrong about him, but you did not get the chance to until now.

Approaching you, he smiled unsurely. You looked a lot better and a lot more rested. He only hoped that having a separate chat with the artistic director gave you a small break in his absence. Sparing a short glance at the flower and letter in your hand he tried his best to hide his smile. Instead he motioned to it as nonchalantly as he could, “Secret admirer?”

With the flower in your hand, forgotten at the sight of him, you quickly rushed to hide it behind your back. “Uhm, none of your business” your cheeks were dusted in pink, making him smile at you fully, his eyes crinkling in amusement. “You ready for today? We’re practicing the duet together”

“Ah, so you will be part of this one then?” You tried to make it seem like you didn’t care as to where he had disappeared in the last few days as you subtly prodded him for more information. Quickly catching onto your scheme, he smirked.

“Did you miss me?”

You scoffed, “Not by a long shot wonder boy. Let's go or we’ll be late, don’t know about you but I would like to warm up first” You turned around and started walking away from him, completely missing the lovestruck Jimin you left in your wake.

“Huh” he whispered to himself. You'd rendered him speechless once again.

Hours of practice later, everything went down better than the first time you’d worked together, as you had all the movements down to a ‘T’. Unfortunately, you were so focused on getting the technicalities right that you forgot about the freedom of the movement that went with the dance. You were stiff once again, and lacked the passion that the female lead should portray.

“No, no, no, Y/N. Once more from the top” the artistic director shooks their head in disapproval. You could feel frustration bubbling up threatening to spill in the form of tears once again. Before that could happen, Jimin instantly called for a small break, under the excuse that he needed to readjust his pointe shoes. He motioned for you to sit down next to him, and you shakily and reluctantly took a seat next to him on the floor. You couldn’t even look at him, let alone address him. Once again doubt started creeping in your thoughts.

“You need to relax more. Feel the steps, don’t think the steps” he whispered to you. Without giving you a chance to respond, he quickly got up and the artistic director immediately rushed to start the music again. You had no choice but to get into position, his words still swimming inside your mind. Feel the steps.

You tried, you swore you did. But somehow, it wasn’t working. By the time it got to the adagio, which was less slow and more of a petite allegro, with smaller and quicker movements, you were ready to give up. You felt as though you were made of wood. When it came to the partnered planche, all you did was stiffly raise your left leg to the back with your arms behind you, waiting for Jimin to grab them.

Improvising, he gripped you from the waist to support your planche, instead of grabbing just your hands from behind your back. He brought himself as close to you as he could, his warmth enveloping all of your senses. Luckily this planche was on flat— your foot planted firmly on the ground, rather than on pointe—otherwise you would’ve lost your footing and toppled over on the floor. He smelled good. Funnily enough, he smelled like gardenias in the warmth of the sun. For a second you couldn’t breathe, forgetting entirely where you were. All you could focus on was his gentle grip on your waist and his breath in your ear as he whispered, “focus on me”

As if he’d muttered a magic word, your guard fell down. All your insecurities melted away at his touch. Your brain was filled with the thought of him and as soon as you came down to pirouette in his arms, he was all you could see. Today he wasn’t wearing contacts, offering you an unobstructed view into his chocolate coloured eyes. His smile was soft and encouraging and his hands around you were strong and supportive. He was silently attempting to tell you that he had you, that you could trust him. There was something else hidden there deep in his eyes, however. As you stared at him for a second longer, trying to decipher what it was, something in you shifted. But the next move didn’t wait for either of you, so you quickly moved away from his arms and into the next position.

This time though, things were different. You feltl it in your movements. The uncertainty and stiffness was long gone. You both moved as one, even with your individual variations, you both came back together as if an unknown string was connecting the two of you.

As the end of the last note on the track rang out into the studio, so did the dream of two young lovers. Both you and Jimin finished returning to the first position in tandem, as if you were one. The two of you panted for different reasons. You, from the effort and the thrill of the closeness that you’ve both experienced. Him from performing without breathing, as his heart threatened to burst at having you so close to him. The performance gave him a snippet of what it would be like for him to be your real lover. And it was intoxicating.

The satisfied smile that the director gave you told you that you’d done it. You finally let go, and it was all thanks to Jimin. Excitedly, you turned your head to beam at him. The admiration in his eyes caused warmth to pool in your stomach. You finally saw the invisible string that tied you both together during the duet. It was affection.

Coda

A Coda is a classical ballet term that refers to the finale of a group of dancers and more often, the finale of a pas de deux.

No one spoke of what had transpired between you and Jimin that day. Completely ignoring your admittance, as well as his confession, you tried your best to act professionally. Practicing both together and apart made the days blend together. In that time you attempted to ignore the feelings that were threatening your performance (and your sanity). There was no time for any of that. You had a dream and this was your only chance to grasp it.

For weeks on end, all you did was practice, completely missing out on sleep and any social activities that your friends partook in. You avoided any social interaction that stepped over the small ‘Talk’ line. And you most definitely avoided your partner outside of your practice sessions. Whenever you would see him come from the opposite end of the corridor, you would quickly turn around and pretend you were looking for something in your gym bag. Sometimes, if you were lucky enough, you’d quickly veer to go towards the toilets. You made sure that there was no chance for the two of you to speak outside of the performance, afraid that you would blurt something out that you’d have rather kept to yourself.

The only interaction you had, if you could call it that, was with your secret admirer. And by interaction, you meant smiling at the flower he’d tape to your locker. Oddly though, for the past few weeks they would leave little notes taped next to the flower. From encouraging messages such as ‘You can do it’ to longer ones that spoke highly of your performances and your capability as a dancer. They were never consistent in length or content, but were always signed off the same way: ‘Forever yours, your secret admirer’

Weeks had passed, and with each day your confidence grew alongside your feelings for your partner. Even with little verbal interaction between the two of you, you were dancers. You did not need words to convey messages, and you certainly didn’t need words to convey feelings. Each time you would reach the finale of the dance you were breathless and dazed, craving for more.

More had to wait though. This was it, the first day of the show. You were nervous to say the least, but having worked so hard, day and night, and with the knowledge that no matter what Jimin was there to support you, you were as ready as you’d ever be.

Thinking about it, from someone you thought was a narcissist to someone you’d viewed as a rock, Jimin had managed to ground you and lift you up at the same time. You’d fallen so hard and fast for him, that you didn't even know what hit you. However, at the thought that there was still a secret admirer that had silently cheered you on, and the fact that Jimin was still a more professional dancer than you were, he probably made each one of his partners fall for him quickly. That was enough to dampen the fire in your heart. You would carry on with this performance and prove yourself to everyone. Prove that you deserved a spot on that stage as a main dancer. Show everyone that you deserved the spot standing next to Jimin, even if it was only as his dance partner.

“Hey, Y/N” your friends greeted as you were putting on the make up for the performance. “Are you nervous?” One of them asked as they all crowded around you.

Laughing, another one of your friends responded, “why would she? I bet she’s smug, now that she’s been favoured by the top star of our school. She clearly caught his eye from the beginning if she’s been personally requested by him” your friends' words left you confused, so you turned around to face them.

“What do you mean?”

They looked at each other warily. “You mean you haven’t heard?” They asked you and you shook your head, left even more confused. “The other day someone heard the artistic director discussing how they didn’t think that you’d pull through, but you did and that Jimin was correct in requesting you as his partner for the performance. Apparently…” they would have said more if not for the appearance of said man at your door. Quickly they wished you good luck and exited the room leaving the two of you alone. He looked dashing in his white shirt and tights. The shirt was made of a silky material to allow freedom of movement and the top buttons were undone, exposing his defined collarbones and the white of his skin. It was tantalizing enough to make you swallow thickly.

However, the words of your friends still buzzed in your head, and you didn’t have the time to ask him if it was true. You were both hurried by your ballet master towards the entrance to the stage. It was time.

In the last few minutes before you were supposed to exit and show the world what both of you had worked for, you expected to be nervous, yet you felt strangely calm. Taking advantage of the stillness around you, you stole a glance to your right. Jimin looked tense, more tense than you had seen him before, and you couldn’t help but wonder if it was because of the performance or because he suspected what you were about to ask him.

“Is it true?” You whispered, not holding back. You needed one last piece of information before the puzzle was complete. And you wanted him to freely offer you that piece.

His jaw muscles twitched, and you could see his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallowed. The silence between you two was even more deafening. It was as if the dancers that pitter-pattered around you, or the people chatting in the audience, did not reach the bubble around the two of you. The string that connected the two of you before, was shortening in length until there were mere inches between you two.

“You made it up to this stage on your own” He whispered, “There is nothing else bringing you up here but yourself. You may think I’m irritating, but in reality, you hate me.” He prevented you from responding by grabbing your hand. His hands were warm, while yours were clammy. “You can’t say hateful things about yourself and claim that you don’t hate me. If you hate yourself, you hate me. If you belittle yourself, you belittle me. So please don’t do that anymore. If you care even a little…” He didn’t continue, he couldn’t. He was on the verge of tears. You could hear it in his voice.

What he implied didn’t go unnoticed by you, and you were more than ready to surrender. But you needed one more thing. “And the flowers?”

Instead of offering you a straight up response he raises his right hand, the one that was hidden from you until now.

You let out a short breath. The puzzle was complete. In his hand stood a lone red gardenia. His secret love.

Well, not so secret anymore.

“Do you trust me?” He asked with a smile.

Smiling back at him with all the love you could muster, you intertwined your fingers together.

“Yes, yes I do.”

Main Masterlist

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animejanaihontounoeigasa · 2 years

Text

Swallowtail Butterfly - Shunji Iwai

For This discussion post I will be discussing Swallowtail Butterfly by Shunji Iwai. The movie is about a group of immigrants living in the immigrant slums of Tokyo. Tokyo was called Yen Town as it was seen as a place to make money at that time, but also became the name that people called the immigrants who came there in search of money (which was summed up perfectly by the movies iconic introduction). Through there struggles they open a club (which was semi-successful until it was forced to close), they make money using Ryo Ranki’s tape and scamming the atm’s, and eventually have to deal with the Chinese mafia, law enforcement, and the dangers of the slum itself.

I think the introduction setting the premise for the entire movie was a smart choice on Iwai’s part, as it helps the viewer get a feel for what to expect in the movie. The way Ageha narrates it with the text flying across the screen also makes it very memorable and is a really strong first impression for the movie.

As for the themes of the movie, it definitely feels like it delves into racism and family. Racism seems like the most obvious theme of the movie, as the main characters of the movie are mostly Chinese immigrants, and as a result face a lot of racism at the hands of the Japanese people around them. Some good examples of this would be how the music agent got Fei Hong’s club closed down and got him arrested, how it was not possible for Chinese immigrants to actually own and manage the club in their name (and they had to get a Japanese person just so they could own the property), and the brutal treatment they got from law enforcement (especially Fei Hong, who I believe was killed by the interrogators/prison guards).

The other main theme I saw was that of family. This can be seen particularly in the strong bonds she forms between Glico and Fei Hong, who act as her older sister and brother. Ageha starts off with no connections and alone, to the point where she didn’t even had her own name. This shows how isolated she was at the beginning of the movie. It is through her interactions between Glico that she is able to get a name and is introduced to the other immigrants such as Fei Hong at the car repair shop and she is able to find a place among this new family. She is also able to connect with Fei Hong by learning Chinese.

The movie is also pretty violent, as would be expected with a crime drama. It honestly felt a bit like a Grand Theft Auto game at some points by just how ridiculous the action and fight scenes were. For example, the fight between the guy with the shot gun at the auto repair shop and the Chinese mafia guy with make-up where the shotgun guy just blows up the entire army of mafia guys and their trucks. It was an explosion that would’ve made Michael Bay proud. On top of that someone walks out of the shop behind him with a LITERAL ROCKET LAUNCHER. How did they even get their hands on a rocket launcher?!? It was fun to watch, but I couldn’t help but feel it was a bit over the top at times.

Overall, I enjoyed the movie and thought it was an entertaining crime drama. There were a lot of characters that I enjoyed such as Fei Hong and Ageha and I felt invested in their struggle. I did feel that the movie dragged on a bit and was hectic at times, but I would not say that it greatly affected my enjoyment of the movie.

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cali-holland · 4 years

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Priceless- Tom Holland One Shot

Pairing: Tom Holland X Reader

Prompt: You’ve never liked people spending money on you or being at large parties, but Tom seems to forget that as he goes a bit overboard when celebrating your birthday.

Word Count: 3100

Warnings: swearing, mentions of alcohol

Masterlist Tom Holland Masterlist

*Gif is not mine*

A/N: I wrote this weeks ago and forgot to post it, my bad if it’s shit- it’s unedited; also I have no clue how much student loans are in the uk or if they even exist so i made it based off the us average and i’ll just stop rambling now oops

~~~

“Tom, this place is really nice.” You breathed out in awe of the dimly lit, but extravagant restaurant. While you felt almost embarrassed by your simple little black dress and non-designer shoes, your hands began to shake a little, thinking about how expensive this dinner must be.

“Anything for my special birthday girl.” Tom beamed, pulling out your chair for you to sit down.

“I wish you would’ve told me we were coming here. I would’ve dressed better.” You said quietly as you sat down in the chair, eyeing the women in fancy dresses at the tables surrounding you two.

“What are you talking about? You’re the best dressed person here.” He sat down across from you, adjusting his tux as he did so, and a sharply dressed waiter came up to the table, offering you two champagne immediately. Before you could kindly decline the offer, Tom insisted on the drinks.

“We’re celebrating tonight.” Tom stated, holding up his champagne flute out to you once the waiter had left. “To the best day of the year: happy birthday, Y/N.”

“Thank you.” You smiled, clinking your own glass against his before drinking the expensive liquid.

Being with Tom for the past two years, you were used to the sweet date nights and the amazing birthday gifts; today was just different though. He’d never taken you to such an expensive restaurant before, not one that is so pricey that they don’t even bother to add prices on the menu (which upset you because you couldn’t even choose the cheapest option). You loved your boyfriend very much and you were appreciative of all the romantic dates he took you on and of the incredible gifts he’d give you, but sometimes it concerned you how he’d so willingly spend his money on you. He’d give you a million dollars if you asked for it, no matter what day it was. That is exactly why he didn’t know about your student loans or any of your past due bills- you were a staunch believer in making your way on your own, and that meant not using your boyfriend’s seemingly endless cash flow to help yourself out.

Tom knew you weren’t a fan of him spending money on you, and he also knew you weren’t one for big parties or celebrating your birthday. The diamond necklace that sat on your neck from your last birthday was proof enough of how Tom used your birthday especially as an excuse to give you more expensive things.

“You know I’m paying you back for this, right?” You said as you looked over the menu. Tom laughed, shaking his head.

“You’re not paying for your birthday dinner.” He replied, taking your free hand and holding it in his.

“I’d let you pay for the full meal if we were at McDonald’s, not at some 5-star restaurant.” You stated.

“I think it’s only 4-star.” He joked, but his smile dropped when he saw your frown. Tom lightly squeezed your hand in his. “Let me spoil you tonight, please? Just for tonight.”

“You’re unbelievable, Holland.” You rolled your eyes at him, but still cracked a smile, your thumb gently tracing against the back of his hand.

“I love you, Y/N, but I’m paying for tonight.”

“I love you, too.” You smiled, and he leaned over the table to kiss you.

After a rather delicious five-course meal, you and Tom got into the car, and he took off his suit jacket. While he removed his tie, you took the opportunity to look at the dinner receipt from his jacket pocket.

“Wait, stop!” He reached to take it out of your hands, but it was too late because you had already seen the receipt.

“£400? Are you crazy?” You exclaimed, blinking to make sure you’d read the receipt right- that wasn’t even including his very generous tip (which you weren’t going to complain about that bit).

“Was it not a good meal?” Tom questioned, taking the receipt back from you and putting in his pants pocket this time.

“It was the best food I’ve ever had. I just wish you wouldn’t spend so much on me.” As he pulled out of the parking lot, you took out your phone, pulling up Venmo.

“No, you’re not allowed to pay me back.”

“Well, I said you weren’t allowed to spend that much money on me.”

“It’s your birthday, please let me spoil you a little.” Stopped at a red light, he turned to you and pouted. You sighed, locking your phone.

“For your birthday, I’m taking you to a ridiculously expensive restaurant too.” You pressed a kiss to his cheek before the light turned green and he had to start driving again. It took you a minute before you realized he was going in the wrong direction of your flat. “Where are we going?”

“I thought we could go for some drinks before going home.” Tom suggested, but something about his smile made you think it wasn’t a spontaneous thought.

“Yeah, why not?” You replied, not seeing the harm in just going with him. It’s not like you had a choice since he was already driving there anyway. You really just wanted to go home and have a nice night with him, but he was excited about whatever surprise he had planned for you and you weren’t going to ruin that for him- you already felt guilty enough about the dinner (although you did actually really enjoy it, all expenses aside).

“What are you up to?” You asked as he parked the car in front of a strange building. It was too dark for you to even try to guess what it was.

“Come on, love, you’ll see.” He smiled, getting out of the car and hurrying to open your door before you had the chance to. He held your hand, walking you up some sketchy looking stairs. It wasn’t until you got to the roof of the two story building that you really got confused. It was far too dark for you to decipher what was going on.

“Happy birthday!” A large crowd of people shouted, the lights kicking on to illuminate the roof. You smiled, speechless, seeing all the people cheering for your arrival. You weren’t even sure that you recognized a good amount of them.

“Happy birthday, darling.” Tom grinned, wrapping his arms around you. He gently kissed the top of your head, proud of his work.

“Wow, thank you.” You told him, sounding effortlessly enthusiastic about the party. Music started playing from the large speakers, and people started dancing along to the beat, getting back to their own conversations.

“Follow me.” Your boyfriend tugged on your hand, dragging you through the crowd to the far corner of the room, where a birthday cake was sitting in the middle of a large table. The cake itself was the size of a small table; in fact, you were sure it wouldn’t be able to fit on your own kitchen table. It was the most beautiful birthday cake you had ever seen for yourself. Covered in white frosting, it had your favorite flowers and lace all around it with “Happy Birthday, Y/N” written in your favorite color across the middle.

“Do you like it? I got it from the nicest bakery in town. My mum helped me with designing it, and I know we already had dessert at the restaurant, but you can’t have a birthday party without-” You cut off Tom’s nervous rambling by kissing him softly.

“It’s beautiful. Thank you.” You reassured him, giving him another kiss to calm his nerves and to calm yours as well. You already knew how expensive dinner was, and something told you this party and that cake definitely wasn’t on the inexpensive side of things. His heart was in the right place, but it was just too much for you. Needing another distraction, you spoke up again, “Drinks?”

“Right this way.” He led you over to the rooftop bar, ordering you both a couple cocktails. As the bartender worked on the drinks, Tom got a call and stepped out to the stairs for some privacy.

“If you’re the birthday girl, why are you looking so down?” The bartender asked you, a kind smile on her face.

“Is it wrong of me to say I’m not into big parties like this?” You replied with a small laugh, “I’m grateful for it, but it’s not my scene.”

“So I’ll make this extra strong for you.” She joked, but still had a heavy hand as she poured tequila into the mixture, “You know, you’ve got a pretty remarkable boyfriend there. I’ve worked here a long time and no one’s ever rented this whole place out.”

“I’m sorry?” You questioned, not sure what she meant.

“This is a rooftop bar. We don’t do individual birthday parties, but,” She trailed off whistling, “When someone offers up that much and they’re a celebrity, can’t exactly say no.”

She laughed and slid your finished cocktail over to you. You knew she meant nothing bad by her words, and yet you still felt your gut twist as you looked around the party at everyone socializing. It was a sweet gesture, yes, but did Tom really have to dent his wallet for it? With how much he was spending for today, you knew it had to have some effect on his wallet.

Just before you could take a sip from the cocktail, your phone dinged. You looked at it in confusion as a notification came through from your bank account app: “new transfer pending”. Your heart started to race, thinking someone was somehow scamming your money, but when you looked, you saw a ridiculous amount of money being transferred into your account with the memo: “happy birthday, darling”.

You shot up from your seat at the bar and marched off to find Tom. He was still at the stairs, having just gotten off the phone with a small smile on his face. He must not have processed the angry look on your face as he started, “Your birthday gift still isn’t here. I’m sorry, I really wanted it to arrive by today.”

There was a lace of sadness in his voice, clearly disappointed, but you couldn’t focus on that. Instead, you held up your phone, displaying the new transfer on your bank account. “What the hell is this?”

“That’s for your student loans.” Tom said, the happy smile returning to his face. “I don’t know how much you owe because you won’t tell me, so I just kind of guessed.”

“Tom, you can’t just give me 15,000 pounds!” You exclaimed in frustration.

“Is that not enough? I can-” He started, reaching to take out his phone again.

“No.” Tom paused at your harsh tone, “Stop giving me money. It’s suffocating me. The world already thinks I’m a golddigger just because I’m dating you and they know I can’t afford diamond necklaces.” You pointed to the shiny piece on your neck. “I know your heart’s in the right place, but I can’t keep feeling like this, like I’m your charity case first and your girlfriend second. I want to be with Tom Holland, the dorky boy from Kingston that I fell in love with, not Tom Holland, the celebrity that just flaunts his wealth every chance he gets. If you want to make me happy and make me feel special on my birthday, make me a cake yourself or something; I’d much rather have something priceless with sentimental value than have something expensive that you bought just because you could.”

It was Tom’s turn to be speechless now, completely taken aback by your words. You sighed lightly, stepping forward to give him a quick kiss.

“Thank you for tonight, but I think I’m just going to go home.” You left down the stairs quickly, calling for a cab as you did so, leaving Tom abandoned at your own birthday party as he tried to process how his genuine actions backfired so much.

You didn’t sleep well that night, too caught up in knowing you’ll have to talk to Tom about all this eventually. It wasn’t something that you wanted to break up with him over, unless it got too out of hand, like if another 15,000 pounds suddenly appeared in your bank account. As much as you needed the money and appreciated the thought, you couldn’t accept it. You loved Tom because he was so considerate and thoughtful, and you knew he was only doing this because of that loving personality of his.

It wasn’t until later that night that you started to grow worried about your relationship. Normally, if you two ever fought (which only really happened once and for some reason neither of you remembered now), it would take only a couple hours before one of you apologized, and it had been hours since you left Tom, hours since you last heard from him. You had texted him last night to let him know you got home alright, to which he replied later that he was also home, but there was no “we need to talk” text or call.

Just as you were about to go lose yourself in a pint of self-pitying ice cream, you heard a knock at the door. You were expecting Tom on the other side when you opened the door, but you weren’t expecting him to be holding a covered platter and a gift bag.

“Is it too late to celebrate your birthday properly?” Tom asked, hopefully. You smiled, stepping out of your apartment to give him a kiss.

“Come on in.” You replied softly. You opened the door further for him to step inside beside you. He placed the gift bag and the platter down on the coffee table in front of your couch.

“I’m sorry for last night. I overdid it. I just wanted you to feel special.” He said, sitting down on the couch and you sat down beside him.

“I don’t need a fancy dinner or a big party to make me feel special. You make me feel special whenever I’m with you.” You reassured him, and he picked up the platter, shakily handing it to you.

“I can’t promise it’ll be any good, but I tried.” Tom admitted sheepishly as you unwrapped the aluminum foil around the platter. You smiled in awe, looking at the two layer round chocolate cake on the glass platter, which you now recognized as Nikki’s. It was the exact opposite of the cake from last night- a messy frosting job with no flowers, lace, or letters. You could even see the cake sticking out from under the frosting when it was spread too thin.

“You- you baked me a cake?” You asked, looking over at him. You felt tears prick at your eyes and Tom let out a nervous laugh.

“You’re not supposed to cry. Does it look that bad?” There was a sense of worry in his voice, but he felt relieved as you leaned over to kiss him.

“It’s perfect. Thank you.” You set the cake aside to come back to it later.

“I didn’t make the frosting though. I tried, but it was too runny.” He stated, making you giggle.

“That’s when you add more powdered sugar.” You explained and he handed you the gift bag next. “Is this what was supposed to be here by yesterday?”

“Yes. It arrived this afternoon. There’s actually two things in there.” He replied, a smile playing on his face while he wrapped an arm around your waist. You reached your hand into the bag and felt around. You didn’t need to fully unwrap the tissue paper to know it was a jewelry box, your eyes subconsciously widened at the feeling.

“It’s not what you think it is.” Tom laughed, knowing you’d think it was a ring.

“Not like we don’t know my answer to that.” You teased as you took out the gift. You opened the small black box to see a thin silver necklace of your birthstone resting against the velvet backdrop.

“Now, if you don’t want it because of last night, I- I can take it back.” He offered, scratching the back of his neck. “I know you don’t want me spending excessively, but I saw this weeks ago-”

“Tom, I love it.” You gently took it out of the box, handing it to him so that he could put it on you.

“Okay, so the last one,” He started nervously, before rambling, “I’ve been working on it for a couple weeks, I just needed the one last thing to actually finish it though, so I couldn’t really do it until today. I can always fix it if it doesn’t look right. And, yeah, just open it.”

“Well, now, I’m intrigued.” You laughed, slowly pulling the last gift from the bag. Tom tensed beside you, but you were far too overwhelmed, holding back tears, as you looked over the blue photo album. You turned through the pages, taking in each photograph he had put in it, reading each comment he’d written under it. It was like a story of your relationship over the years, and there was still plenty of room left in the back of the book for the future.

“See, the book was late, and that kind of set me back. I didn’t mean to ignore you today, but between the book and the cake, I was preoccupied.” He laughed lightly.

“You’re by far the best boyfriend ever. I love you so much.” You turned to him, letting a few tears escape. He wiped them away, cupping your cheek and kissing you.

“Happy belated birthday, darling.” He told you softly once he’d pulled away. You quickly got up to grab a couple forks from your kitchen before sitting on his lap on the couch. You balanced the photo album in your lap, so you could continue to go through it, while Tom held the cake platter.

“Let’s see how good this cake is.” You teased, clinking your forkful of chocolate cake against his. Tom watched as you ate your forkful first. The sweet chocolatey taste you were expecting wasn’t there; instead it tasted bitter and almost like bananas. You swallowed it and smiled, trying to play it off, but Tom could tell.

“It’s shit, isn’t it?” He asked, putting a forkful in his mouth before you could respond. He groaned at the horrible taste.

“Did you store it next to bananas?” You laughed.

“Only for like a hour!” He defended.

“I think you put too much baking powder in here. It shouldn’t be that bitter.”

Tom sighed, setting the platter down on the table. You smiled at him, still laughing a little at the cake, “You tried, and I love you for that.”

“I love you too.”

~~~

Tag List: @viagracex @theamazingtomholland @harrisonosterfieldhazmyheart @joyleenl @t-o-m-holland @lonikje @sleepybesson @sunkisseddreamer @hollandsamor

Tom Tag List:@quaksonhehe @tomkindholland

#tom holland #tom holland fanfic #tom holland one shot #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland fic

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lovelyirony · 4 years

Note

sweeter than honey (redux)

Pepper Potts did not exactly mean to become a criminal. Really, she still doesn’t think she is.

But here are the facts:

1.) She has broken several laws in pursuit of funds that do not belong to her.

2.) The FBI would like to talk to her about several things and potentially put her under arrest.

3.) She can no longer go to her regular coffee shop because the barista snitched and told them her name, as well as her occupation.

Pepper broke several laws because the company she was working for (Stane International) was technically breaking laws, but laws that do not apply to corporations because corporations do this thing called “funding campaigns” and also sometimes “doing favors.”

She decided to do the same and suddenly she is a criminal. Not her fault she redistributed money back into the community, and now they can’t get any of it back.

It’s just how that worked out.

She’s been staying at a hotel that serves many questionable individuals each month, and it has an indoor pool and a three-star rating on the latest travel website.

It’s nondescript, not her style, and she’s currently in the bathroom having a crisis because she most likely needs to dye her hair.

She’s vain. Pepper knows she is, has known it since high school when she trimmed her hair and cried. Her hair, by all accounts, is gorgeous. It’s a shiny strawberry-blonde that makes her look like an ice queen in winter and a mysterious fairy queen in summer.

She does not want to dye it. But here she is with an eight dollar box of dye and thoughts in her head.

And then her hotel door opens.

Not supposed to do that, but that’s what happens when you’re in a three-star hotel.

She is also in old athletic shorts that have most definitely seen better days and a tank top that was a last-minute buy from the nearest store, and it does not suit her at all.

Facing her is a man with an odd beard, tinted sunglasses, and a graphic t-shirt over a blazer.

“So. You pissed off Stane Industries,” he drawls. “I’m impressed. Usually they just sweep their little problems under the rug.”

“I’ll sweep you under one if you’d like,” Pepper offers, wondering how quickly a blowdryer can knock someone out. She’s not sure how well-made the hotel one is. Probably not very.

“I’m not here to kill you,” the man says. He takes off his sunglasses. His eyes are a nice shade of brown, not that you’re supposed to notice that about a potential enemy. Pepper is just that skilled.

“Then what are you here to do? Make me move to Florida?”

“No, the opposite. We’re staying here. I’m offering you a job position of helping me take down Obadiah Stane and the company itself.”

“Who would I be working with?”

“Anthony Stark.”

Pepper stills.

She read the news when she was in college, same time as Tony Stark. Went missing in the car crash, no one found his body. Temperatures were freezing, he was wearing a tuxedo. The chances were that he froze to death somewhere that they didn’t find yet.

Chances were. What an odd little phrase.

“So, you made it out.”

“Not as hard as people say it seems to be, Virginia.”

“Call me Pepper, my first name disgusts me.”

“Gotcha, Pepper. Call me Tony. You in?”

“Obviously. What do I need to do?”

“Meet the team.”

There is Rhodey, who was Tony’s best friend and sobbed on national television for two weeks until they forgot all about him.

“He’ll cry at anything,” Tony says with a laugh as Rhodey sends him a dirty look. “Just made him think about neon shoes and he bawled like a baby.”

“I did not,” Rhodey hisses. “I was a good crier.”

“You looked like a seal,” Pepper intervenes. “But you played the part quite well. Nice to meet you.”

“Right back at you, Pepper.”

She meets Happy, a man who is all serious and grumpy and “did not want to break the law before forty” but he also gets to watch Downton Abbey whenever he wants, so he’s not doing too bad.

He runs security and also tells Rhodey and Tony when they’re banned from ordering pizza all the time, and Pepper is inducted into the Healthy Eating Committee.

There’s Bruce Banner, who enjoys taking over corporations for fun, and this is his second one. His first was some sort of health insurance scam, and apparently that was just to finish up his thesis for his third doctorate.

“He has seven degrees, he’s weird,” Tony says.

“Oh like you’re any better,” Bruce says with a snort. “You learned twelve languages for fun. Including French, which is useless.”

“French is not useless,” Tony says. “It got us free food in Canada.”

“We would’ve gotten it anyway if we’d done it my way.”

“Stealing?” Rhodey asks.

“Yes!”

Pepper laughs.

Their job is a bit easier than anticipated. They found out from Pepper that getting into the building is stupid easy because no one likes their job and will do anything when bribed.

Tony struts in with a badly-made-employee-ID and talks about a copying machine and coffee and seeing someone next month for dinner. Pepper just keeps her head down and pretends like she’s meeting someone for something. Like usual.

Obadiah Stane is out of the country on a meeting, and his secretary is scared to death of him, so they’re allowed to poke around the office and find some interesting information.

The problem comes when someone recognizes Bruce outside (government watchlists: the most pesky things on earth) and suddenly there’s this huge fuss.

Tony pushes Pepper into an office closet and then promptly asks her if anyone opens the door, if she’s alright with him kissing her.

“Why would you do that?”

“People don’t like watching kissing, too intimate. Also, you have a lovely face and you’re quite funny, and I think it’d be fun and delightful to kiss you.”

“How long have you thought about that?”

“Not going to talk about that, just want an answer. If you say no--and feel free to, there’s no obligation in physical contact right now--it does complicate plans A to D. I suppose we could play the divorced couple route, but I’m not a gigantic fan about that.”

“I mean, I guess? It wouldn’t be bad, and I’m not exactly opposed to it, Would it mean anything later?”

“Do you want it to?”

“Let’s figure that out after we do it.”

“If we need to do it.”

Door swings open.

Oh, there’s a need.

Tony is a particularly nice kisser, Pepper thinks. The thought runs through her head that she’s only kissed two people before Tony, and one was in high school so that doesn’t count, but the other was a secretary at an old company she used to work for.

But Tony is nice. Soft and warm and he grabs her waist and that’s nice.

“Oh my god, sorry,” the employee mutters. “I just, I thought--”

“Occupied!” Tony says, not even stopping as he kicks out his leg and practically stomps the poor other guy in the stomach.

They get out, run, and Pepper laughs as she sees a bit of pink lipstick on the side of Tony’s mouth.

“So, how’d I do?”

“Send me a survey,” Pepper remarks. “Or a ranking.”

“On a scale of one to ten?”

“Seven.”

“I was that bad?”

“How do you rank things? Do you put one as the best?”

“Obviously.”

“No, you’re an idiot. One is always the worst. You’re a nine. It would’ve been higher but we were in a corporate office and in a supply closet.”

“So what you’re saying is, I’ll have to try again?”

“Preferably over a couple glasses of wine and pizza. The good kind, though. Not the garbage Rhodey orders.”

They approach the car that Happy has, with Rhodey and Bruce already leading others on a goose chase.

“You two have too much fun,” Happy mutters. “Boss, you got lipstick on your side. Did you get the drives?”

“Transferred and set to release to every major news outlet tomorrow morning at six a.m.,” Tony says. “Interns are going to curse my name as they’re forced to rewrite articles.”

Pepper smiles.

That night, they have a couple of glasses of wine and Tony orders the good pizza, the kind that costs a little bit too much for what it is, but it’s all worth it in the end.

When Tony takes over the company after about six months of legal battles that would probably have drawn on for well over a decade if not for the fact that Tony is one of the most in-your-face-let’s-talk men she’s ever met, Pepper was kind of expecting things to slow down.

Of course not. That’s not her style nor is it Tony’s, although arguably a vacation or a nice spa day would have been nice beforehand.

“We have shit to do,” Tony says. “Rhodey, you need to help me revamp R&D. Pepper, I need to talk to you in the office.”

They’ve already hired a company to completely redesign the entire building and refocus the company’s outlook, starting with getting rid of the disgusting 1970s carpet and chairs. God, it’s ugly. Pepper cried when she saw the office chairs.

But she’s in Tony’s office, and she’s wondering if this is going to be directly related to workplace relationships or not. She’s already prepared an argument as to why she still wants a relationship and just how much professionalism she can exhibit in the face of hardship.

(That hardship being the fact that Tony looks quite good in suits but also has arms that are made for tank tops.)

“I have a problem with you,” Tony says. “And it’s that I want to make you CEO, but I don’t want people to think that you got it just because we’re dating. So we have an issue to cross.”

Pepper was not expecting this. She was expecting maybe head accountant, or head of the PR team. But CEO? That was something that was...wow. Pepper had had a fifteen year plan for working up from wherever it was that she would be at.

She also didn’t know they were dating.

“We’re dating?”

“Did I read the kiss wrong? Oh shit, was the seven secretly the bad seven?”

“No!” Pepper says. “You just never told me that we were dating, we didn’t have a communicative conversation about it.”

“Oh. Well, would you like to go on dates and things?”

“What’s ‘and things’?”

“You know. Sexy times. But I wanted to be a professional about it. But I am not that professional.”

“No, no you’re not. Which is why you offered me the CEO position and why I am accepting it. But I will also date you...and things.”

“Excellent. Have a dinner tonight while we discuss how to do Microsoft Excel?”

“I already know how to use it.”

“Pepper, you are the only woman for me in this lifetime and the next.”

“And the one after that?”

“I’m assuming you’ll get bored of me and marry someone who’s seven feet tall.”

“Seven feet tall? What, am I going to attend every NBA game for the next husband?”

“Maybe, I don’t know what you’ll do. I’ll probably be halfway into a grave over despair.”

Pepper chuckles, dropping a short kiss onto his temple.

“Well, I hope I don’t have to witness that. You want me to make some salad for tonight then?”

“Yes please! We also need to review the decor and see what chairs to order.”

Pepper nods.

“We need to ask Rhodey, he has opinions about design of those.”

“Of course he does, he hates standing too long. We’ll send him some of our options.”

She waves as she leaves the office.

What Tony misses:

Pepper pumps her fist as she leaves the office, nearly stumbles, and is quite glad that no security cameras were installed that day.

What Pepper misses:

Tony spins so hard in his office chair as a celebration that it topples over.

Yeah, they’re made for each other.

#pepperony #tony stark #pepper potts #love this one #i love writing pepper and i don't do enough of it #i really like it when it's clear that they both love each other #bc with a lot of fics it's like pepper being like 'well i guess :/' or she's cool about it #BUT I WANT PEPPER TO BE A NERD!#rhodey #lovelyirony writes

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glass-es-say · 4 years

Text

Are Ya Winning, Gos?

“Just don’t get hit by rocks this time, okay?”

“Gee, I never would’ve thought of that.”

“I know,” Gosalyn says solemnly. “That’s why you keep getting anvils and junk dropped on you. We really need to get you a helmet.”

Gosalyn tries to teach Drake how to play Legend of Legends Quest.

Here on Ao3

“Uhg, are you kidding me!”

Drake blinks and looks away from patching his costume back together—again. He’d had no idea how many buttons Darkwing should’ve lost when he’d watched the show as a kid. He’s already had to put in a bulk order for them.

“Ahh!” Gosalyn drops her game in her lap and scrubs her hands over her face.

“Having fun?”

Gosalyn glares at him then slouches somehow further down into the couch. Drake makes a mental note to include some more stretches in their training routine. “I’m trying to level up my character so I can play with Launchpad and one of the Dewey’s brothers whose character is super OP but this stupid Routerrock monster just! Keeps! Killing me!”

Huh. He can honestly say he hadn’t been expecting that. “Sounds annoying.” He frowns. “They want you to level up before you can join them?”

“No, uhg, they’re both super nice about it obviously but I haven’t really had time to play since before—you know. And I don’t want to be carried!” She punches the back cushion of the couch. “I want to kill stuff myself!”

“Just what every superhero wants to hear from his sidekick,” he responds wryly, standing up and wandering over to where she’s sprawled across the couch.

Gosalyn sits up just enough to roll her eyes at him. “It’s video game, you—uhg, whatever, you probably have no idea what I’m talking about.”

“Oh?” he asks mildly, leaning his arms on the back of the couch and looking down at her. “You sure?”

“I mean, it’s—whatever, you don’t have to pretend to care, um, but. Basically, I’m trying to beat this big rock monster so my character can get stronger but there’s like, this trick to it that I just haven’t figured out yet. And it’s frustrating me. That’s all.”

“Sounds tough,” Drake says. “You must really enjoy playing to keep going after something so frustrating.”

She shrugs, looking away from him and down at the couch cushions. “I mean, it’s fun still, so.”

“Must be. Cool graphics, too. I like that ridiculously huge sword you’ve got.”

Gosalyn snorts. “Thanks. It was a quest reward.” She’s still pointedly not looking at him when she quietly says, “Do you—um, do you want to play?”

Drake blinks. “Really?”

“Well,” she starts, louder and brasher and attempting at blasé, “I’ve already died to this guy so many times not even you could screw up my character’s stats more, so.”

Drake rolls his eyes. “How reassuring.”

“But yeah, I mean. If you wanted to. I don’t mind.”

“Sure, okay,” Drake says, hurdling the couch and landing on the cushion next to Gosalyn. “Sounds like fun.”

She gives him a particular smile he’s been seeing more and more often as they get used to being around each other and he and Launchpad get to know her. It makes something warm and happy squeeze at his heart—he’s beginning to think he’d do pretty much anything to see her smile like that.

“Okay, so this is how you move around and stuff.” She makes her character spin around in a tight circle. “And these are the block and attack buttons. You can get the menu with this one, but please don’t use all my items or I’ll be very, very sad.”

“So you’re saying I should definitely use all those glowing potion things right now.”

“No!” She pushes at him. “God, you’re so annoying.”

Drake laughs and takes the controller from her. “Alright, alright, I promise not to touch them.”

She huffs and throws herself back on the couch then immediately leans back up again. “I’m out of PvP mode right now so if anyone else shows up you can just, like, ignore them. Do not chat with anyone, I—you know what, I’ll just disable that too.” She takes the controller back and navigates through the menu to toggle the chat function off.

“The amount of trust here is heartwarming,” Drake deadpans.

Gosalyn tabs down a few more rows and hesitates, then says, “I’m gonna set the camera on auto too, that’s probably a bit beyond you right now.” She clicks around, then hands the controller back over. “Okay! All set for what I’m sure is going to be a very entertaining fight.”

“Trust and confidence. I’m so touched.”

Gosalyn has left her character in a dark, narrow stone hallway. A line of torches dots the walls, dragging the player’s attention toward the glowing block of light at the end of the hall.

“So,” he asks. “Where am I going?

Gosalyn lets out a long breath. “Oh my god,” she mutters to herself. Drake makes a heroic effort and stops himself from laughing. “Okay, just keep going down the hallway. No—that’s the wrong way. Toward the light, Drake, please. This is already so painful.”

Drake does not snicker. He simply walks the character forward to the light and triggers the loading screen for the next area.

“Okay, so,” Gosalyn says as the shape of a large stone chamber renders onscreen. “There’s gonna be this big rock monster in this room—that’s who you’re fighting. He doesn’t have any minions so you can literally just focus on him and try not to get crushed.” She tilts her head. “I hope you’re better at that than you are in real life.”

“Are the continued insults really necessary?”

“Yes. Okay, see him? That’s the guy. Don’t let him—”

A giant rock fist crushes him immediately. It isn’t exactly what Drake had in mind when Gosalyn asked him if he wanted to play. He huffs.

Gosalyn hisses in sympathy. “See that—that’s not what I meant by don’t get crushed.”

Drake levels her with a glare. “I kind of gathered that, thank you.”

He taps through the character respawn loading page until it drops them back in the corridor before the monster.

“Oh, yeah, try again. Just don’t get hit by rocks this time, okay?”

“Gee, I never would’ve thought of that.”

“I know,” Gosalyn says. “That’s why you keep getting anvils and junk dropped on you.”

“That was one—that was tw—that doesn’t happen to me that often!”

“Oh, it super does,” she nods solemnly. “We really need to get you a helmet.”

“Now she’s all about helmets,” he says, moving the character forward into the battle area again. This time he darts away from the monster a couple times—but within a minute the character gets hit by not one, but two giant rock fists and the death screen pops back up.

“Yikes,” Gosalyn says. “This is just getting a little sad, actually, so maybe you can stop—"

“Wait,” Drake says, navigating his way back to the starting point. “Let me try one last time.”

“Uh, sure,” Gosalyn says. “But please don’t break my controller when you die again.”

“I won’t!” Die or break the controller, hopefully. “Look, I’ll make a bet with you. If I can beat this guy, you have to start helping me sew the buttons back on my costume.”

“And when you can’t?”

He makes a show of sighing. “We’ll get Hamburger Hippo for dinner tonight.”

She just looks at him, eyes narrowed.

“What?”

“I’m trying to decide if it would be unheroic to let you make a bet you can’t possibly win.” She squints. “Eh, I want Hamburger Hippo more than I care about that. You’re on.”

Drake restarts the character and runs forward to the boss area. Right. No item run with a mid-level character that isn’t his. Now that he’s got a handle on Gosalyn’s specific build a single Routerrock won’t pose too much of a problem. He won’t hit speed-run times, but that’s just fine.

His heart beats quickly in his chest. The payoff for pulling this off is going to be so good.

Gosalyn shifts beside him. “You know, this is kind of a hard boss so you don’t need to like, feel bad if you can’t beat it or anything. I mean, I haven’t quite managed it yet—”

The room loads and Drake immediately scales the wall. Gosalyn stills beside him.

Three minutes later and the monster is dead, stone figure dissolving away into pixels. Gosalyn’s character punches the air and starts counting up new XP.

“What.”

Drake finally lets his grin break through. “Probably would’ve been faster with those power ups you’ve got banked, but eh. Your ranged damage is actually pretty good, though, how come you haven’t tried sniping it while dodging out of its melee distance?”

“Buh—Because that’s no fun,” she says distantly. “Wait—what just happened!?”

Gosalyn’s staring between him and the game with a flat look of shock. Drake sets the controller back in her lap and leans back. “I’m a nerdy kid from the ‘90s, Gos. I’ve put more hours into Legend of Legends Quest than you’ve been alive.” He stands and stretches his arms above him. “Hope you’re excited to start sewing buttons.”

“You tricked me!” She cries, vaulting off the couch and throwing herself at his upper back. It knocks the wind out of him and they both go tumbling to the floor.

Drake groans into the rug. Ow. At least Gosalyn had something to cushion her fall.

“You Legend Quest sharked me! Liar!”

Drake wheezes face down onto the floor. “Oh my god, Gos, I’m not LP you can’t just —”

“Stop whining, you’re fine,” she says, but she jumps off of his back and scurries around to kneel by his head instead. “Or you will be until it gets out that Darkwing Duck himself is a scam artist. A con man. A frivolous fraud who lies to innocent children—”

Drake sits up with a groan, rotating his shoulder. “You really want that burger, huh.”

She sniffs. “What I want is for my hero to be a good role model. And yet,” she sighs dramatically, “I am let down. Literally.”

“Again,” Drake says, “I am neither LP nor a climbing wall.”

Gosalyn rolls her eyes and drops down to sit beside him. She doesn’t look at him, just bites her lip and fiddles with the string of her sweatshirt. Drake rubs shoulder and watches her with growing curiosity.

“Uh, you know, there’s a local multiplayer now,” she half-mumbles to the floor. “If you wanted to play again, or whatever.”

Drake swallows around the warmth spreading through his chest. “Would you—do you want to?”

Gosalyn gives a kind of half-shrug. “You know. It could be fun.”

He can’t help the stupid smile that spreads across his face. “I’d like that a lot,” he says, rolling to his feet and reaching down to help Gosalyn back upright. “Let me get my account code so I can log in as my main.”

She gasps and punches his arm. “You have a main? You know what main means? You are such a cheater!” She shakes her head with mock solemnity. “You’re a terrible influence on a growing young mind.”

Drake chuckles and rubs his arm. “Alright, we’ll get Hamburger Hippo. But only tonight! And you still have to help me resew buttons.”

She narrows her eyes at him. “Do you know how to get the Lightning Longbow?”

“Yeah?”

“Alright. Deal accepted.”

"...Your character is basically just Darkwing."

"I don't know why you're in any way surprised."

“God, you’re the lamest superhero ever. Even Gizmoduck is cooler.”

“Hey!”

Friend request received from GosaWin

Friend request accepted

#yes i don't write fic for a year yes i come back with ducktales family bonding #i just love them #ducktales #darkwing duck #drake mallard #gosalyn mallard #this one's mine kids

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strangeinternetwasteland · 4 years

Text

Shattered Reality - Chapter 3

A/N: I decided to add some text convos in this chapter.

WARNINGS: Alcohol, Swearing, Violence,

Word Count: 2.5k

You awoke to the shrill scream on your alarm at 4 am. You really wish that you didn’t need to work for a living. The memories of yesterday felt so distant. You pulled yourself out of bed and got ready for your morning shift at the coffee shop. You groaned inwardly to yourself. The heat of the sun, lack of hydration, and the two nights worth of alcohol all came down on you. You weren’t normally a drinker, but Kioko always had that effect, not just on you, but on everybody. You slowly made your way around your small apartment to gather your uniform. You brushed your hair and put it up in a messy bun, quickly coated your lashes, and headed out the door.

Your walk to work was quiet as usual, but you felt as if someone were watching you the whole way to work. You tried not to panic, but couldn’t ever shake the feeling. As you walked into work, the feeling faded. You shift was over quickly, it had flown by. You still felt tired, but the group of people you worked with always made it better.

The walk back home you didn’t have the same feelings from earlier. You decided it was probably just the early morning jitters. You walk into your apartment and spot a business card on the night stand. You pick it up and look it over. You smile when you realized it was the same card Gojo had given you yesterday. You take the card and place it in your wallet for ‘safe keeping’. At least that is what you told yourself. You checked your phone for any text messages, and realized that it was too early for anyone to be awake.

You rummaged through your fridge to eat something quick before starting your next job, which was babysitting. The family you babysat for was pretty well off, and always paid well. The kids weren’t brats which was amazing. You loved the twins, they were so adorable to you. The family needed you for the first night as they usually did every summer break. They always took their eldest daughter out to celebrate a job well done with school. You decided that you’d try to grab a quick nap before having to play with the rambunctious six year old twins.

As you laid down, your mind wandered to the last conversation you had with Geto. You dreamt of blue eyes, abs, and flashes of an angry Geto. You awoke a few hours later feeling more tired than you did when you went to sleep. You glanced at your phone and saw a missed phone call from an unknown number that left a voicemail. ‘Probably a scam.’ You thought. There was a text from Kioko and another from a different unknown number.

You smiled a bit. You decided that you’d definitely forgive Kioko, and maybe you should tease Gojo a bit, but that could be done after babysitting. You got ready for your next job and called a ride. Within an hour you had arrived. The twins came running with exuberant expressions on their faces “Y/N!” They chimed together. “We missed you! Mom and dad said that you’ll be here until after we go to bed!” Emi, one of the twins said.

The twins were identical in their looks with black hair, and green eyes. Emi was sweet, kind, and loving. Her favorite color was pink, and she loved kitties. Eito was loud, rough, and standoffish. His favorite color was green, and he loved foxes. While the two were opposites in so many ways, you knew they loved each other.

“Y/N. Here is the restaurant we’ll be at tonight. If you need us feel free to call my phone. We’ll be home later than usual today, since you know, Aki has finished her final year in high school.” The twin’s mother, Chika said to you.

“Oh, it’s not a problem. I love these two, please enjoy your night with Aki. Tell her congratulations for me!” You replied. Chika nodded and walked out the door. You settled down on the couch as the twins were playing with their favorite toys. You watched them for a few minutes, before deciding on figuring out what to make them for dinner.

As you looked through the fridge and freezer, you heard the kids playing roughly with each other. Knowing Eito started whatever tiff the two were having, you walked back to the living room and saw them fighting. You imagined what it would’ve been like growing up with a sibling. Would you fight? Would you get along? Would you be like Geto and Gojo?

As you separated the two, your mind wandered back to the text from Gojo and you grew giddy. The next few hours were filled with cooking dinner for the twins, playing a few games of hide and seek, and bathing the twins before bed. You decided to text Gojo and Kioko back after you had put the two into bed.

You felt lighter than air after your text exchange with Gojo. Sure you didn’t really want to admit to Kioko that you liked him, but how could you not when those beautiful eyes that you’d never be able to look away from. You could barely stop staring at the picture he’d sent. You felt the urge to text Gojo back. You really wanted to get to know him better.

Kioko was enraged to learn Gojo had lied to get Kioko’s number. She also knew that if he’d ask straight out, she would’ve said no. She went straight to texting Gojo.

Back at the house, you kept yourself busy from texting Gojo. You decided to clean up the mess the twins had made. You hand washed the dishes from dinner, dried and put them away. You even tried to watch a few episodes of your favorite show, but nothing could take your mind off of Gojo. Eventually, you fell asleep on the couch. After a few hours, you were awoken by Chika and Aik coming back from the night out.

Chika was red-faced and laughing so loudly you thought she’d awaken the twins. Aki gave you a sympathetic look. Following them was Shun, Chika’s husband. You didn’t see much of him, since he was usually working.

“Hey, Y/N. How was everything? Were the twins good for you?” Shun asked you.

“They’re always great. Two of the sweetest kids.” You replied.

“That is great to hear. Sorry about Chika, she got a little excited and celebrated a little too much. I didn’t realize we’d be home so late. Do you need a ride home? I could take you, or if you’d rather, you can just sleep in the guest room. It’s your call.” He replied looking a little embarrassed about his wife. You glanced at your phone. It was 2 am. You groaned internally you’d have to be awake for work in two hours, and you didn’t have your work uniform.

“Oh, Mr. Lin it’s fine. I’ll just go. Don’t worry about a ride. I can just walk. It’s not that far.” You replied not wanting to impose on the family.

“Oh, okay, well. Here’s the money for watching the twins.” He handed you your cash. You gathered your things and walked out the door. You weren’t more than a block away when you decided that maybe if you had to walk home you could enjoy the walk a little bit.

Within five minutes a black SUV stopped next to you.

“Can I give you a ride home?” The driver said as he was rolling his window down. You honestly, weren’t sure who would be pulling up, but whoever it was it couldn’t have been good.

“Uh. No I am okay.” You said sternly. You heard a familiar chuckle.

“Okay, but it’s going to look really weird when I am driving slow next to you while you walk home.” Gojo said. You laughed at the image.

“Oh! Sorry Gojo, I thought you were some creep.” You replied to him. His smile faded rather quickly.

“Has there been a problem around here? Shun should be on top of it.” He told you. You just kind of stared at him.

“What the hell are you even talking about? Are you sure you’re not drunk? Are you even allowed to be driving?” You asked.

“Oh, nothing. Come on, don’t make me wait for you.” He told you.

“Oh what happened to the ‘I’ll gladly wait for you’?” You shot at him. He just laughed.

“You’re something.” He gave you an easy smile. Your stomach fluttered at the sight of it. You walked to the passenger’s side and slid into the seat.

“Thank you for the ride. I would’ve walked you know.” You said without knowing what else to say.

“It is very late, and this city is dangerous. I couldn’t allow a beautiful woman like you, walk around by yourself. Even Kioko isn’t allowed.” He admitted to you. Your face grew warm at his compliment. You tried to look everywhere but at him

“So, Y/N, if you put your address in the GPS, I can take you home. Unless, you’d like to go out and get some breakfast?” Gojo offered you. The moment he mentioned food your stomach grumbled. “I guess food it is. I’ll take you to this diner I go to all the time.” He continued and he started the car. The ride to the diner was quiet, but comforting. A few blocks later, Gojo stopped the SUV outside the 24 hour diner. It was definitely a popular spot for all those who were out late in the evening drinking or teenagers who didn’t want to be home. You weren’t even sure if you’d be able to find a table at all.

Walking in behind Gojo was a sight, not just for the obvious reasons, but when he walked into the diner, he was greeted by almost everyone. The man sure was well known. Even some of the younger patrons recognized him. Everyone seemed genuinely happy or excited to see him. He waved hello and smiled to everyone while heading to a booth in the corner.

You felt a little bit jealous of the attention he was getting. When you both arrived at the booth you slid into the right hand side, and he in the left hand side.

“Hello, Gojo, sweetie. Here’s your coffee, can I get you anything else?” The waitress asked him, ignoring you.

“Thank you, ma’am. I’ll have my usual. As for my date here, Whatever her pretty heart chooses would be fine.” Gojo definetly was charming. The waitress gave you an annoyed look.

“I will have some pancakes, please, and I’ll also have a coffee, with extra cream and sugar. Thank you.” You tried to give your best forced smile. The waitress just rolled her eyes and walked away.

“I don’t think she likes me very much, but she seems to adore you.” You teased him. He smiled while taking a drink of his coffee, keeping and eye out around the diner. You noticed that he always seemed to be on guard. You saw him straighten up slightly and his eyes narrowed as he watched the person walk through the door.

As you turned your head and you saw Geto walking toward you two. He slid in the booth sitting right next to you.

“Hello, Y/N. I didn’t see you at the club tonight. What are you doing here with Gojo?” You didn’t miss the jealousy in his voice or the way his eyes narrowed when he spoke Gojo’s name.

“Oh, I was just walking home after babysitting, Gojo was in the neighborhood and saw me I guess.” You told him wearily. You couldn’t help but feel like there was something really off about the two of them tonight.

“You were walking home alone at this time of night?” Geto interrogated you. You felt yourself shrinking. “How irresponsible of you! Do you know what could’ve happened if the wrong person saw you? Do you have no care for yourself? I can’t believe this.” He started chastising you, just as if you were Kioko. The waitress came and placed food down before you and Gojo.

“I am sorry, but I don’t know if you noticed. I am not weak. I am not a little girl, and I can take care of myself. I am not afraid to fight if I have to, and I sure as hell do not need some annoying man looking over my shoulder telling me what to do!” You shouted at Geto poking him in his chest so he’d back up. You stormed out of the diner. ‘Who the fuck did Geto think he was acting like he was my father’ you thought.

Geto and Gojo just looked at one another as you left. Gojo was not sure how to approach you, and Geto felt like a fool, and a little intrigued by your actions.

“I better go apologize to her. We will discuss this later.” Geto told Gojo with a stern warning in his voice.

“Y/N, wait!” Geto called from behind you. Honestly, you didn’t want to hear anything he said. You didn’t care not at all about an apology.

“No!” You shouted back at him.

“Y/N! Don’t move another muscle!” Geto shouted more angrily than before. You were so upset, and angry. All you could see was red. You were ready to explode, you weren’t sure if it was for Kioko or for yourself. You were starting to see who Geto really was as a person. All the interactions you had with him, he had all his walls up. He made sure he got his way no matter what. He had caught up to where you were standing. He grabbed your wrist and spun you around.

“You don’t get to walk away from me.” He hissed, the anger dripping from his voice. His face scrunched up with agony, his demeanor changed completely. You were absolutely terrified. All color drained from your face. He took his other hand and wrapped it around your throat, choking you. You tried clawing at his arms to let you free. You tried kicking and hitting him anyway you could. ‘Why isn't anyone doing anything? Why didn’t anyone care?’ You thought. You felt your world fading. Out of your darkening eyes, you saw a blur running toward you. The last thing you heard before blacking out was the smack of skin against bone.

“What the FUCK?!?” Geto seethed at the person who punched him. He didn’t think twice and swung back in the direction of the punch.

“WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?” Geto continued to yell.

“The only person who can stop you in this rage.” Gojo said in the coldest, most calm voice Geto had ever heard. Chills ran down Geto’s spine. Geto had only heard Gojo speak in this manner one other time, and then it was paired with a death glare.

“Now, I am taking Y/N somewhere you can’t lay a hand on her. If you so much as look at her wrong, I will not hesitate to slit your throat while you’re sleeping. Are we clear?” Gojo stated with his calm and even tone. Gojo lifted you up and gingerly placed you in the back seat, trying to make you as comfortable as possible. He peeled out of the parking lot not looking back at his ‘Best Friend’.

<<Previous Next>>

#Gojo x reader #mafia au #modern au #jjk

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lupin-the-3rd-case-files · 3 years

Photo

Seven Days Rhapsody

Target: Goddess’s Tear Diamond / Manhattan Stakes Bets

This one wasn’t nearly as bad as Angel’s Tactics but man it still wasn’t great if I’m being honest. There’s just way too much happening in this special and I struggled to follow all of it. It has some good stuff going for it but it’s bogged down by the overall plot that causes it to drag significantly especially in the middle.

There’s like four different villains in this special each with their own goals and story going on. I at some point got so confused over who they were talking about at some point that I had to pause and rewind just to figure out who was who. I can handle complicated stories, but only if they’re good. I found Ghost in the Shell and Akira both hard to follow my first time watching them too but those were actually good movies so I enjoyed trying to understand them better. Seven Days Rhapsody isn’t that great so it just comes off as convoluted.

That being said there are still some good elements of this special. For starters I just absolutely love Goemon this go around. He’s torn between helping Lupin and Fujiko and acts more akin to his part 2 depiction being an absolute goof ball. The gag with him and the cell phone cracked me up. In fact the whole part where Goemon and Lupin travel together alone was fantastic and I would’ve loved more of that. I love Jigen and Fujiko but I feel like we never get to see Lupin and Goemon bond like this, so it was a nice change of pace.

Jigen’s story is alright. He meets an old friend who gets him hooked onto a job opposite of Lupin and it forces the two to confront each other. It’s not the first time this has been done, but I feel like it’s the weakest. Their rivalry in the Fujiko tv series and Episode 0 is much better.

So once again I feel like my biggest complaints come from the one-off characters. The little girl (I can’t even remember her name I didn’t like her enough) just came off as kind of bratty and spoiled. She also spends most of the special kidnapped which bores the daylights out of me.

So the target through most of the runtime is the Goddess’s Tear Diamond. But there’s like three different versions of it. It’s unrealistically big, and it doesn’t have a fun backstory. To top it all off, Lupin drops it on the Statue of Liberty. If only he knew, he could just steal it again.

The other target is the pot at the Manhattan Stakes horse race. Their plan is to scam the race and the mafia out of a significant chunk of cash. In Lupin’s dream at the beginning he estimates it to be about $500 million. Sadly when the time comes for the real race it gets rained out, leaving Lupin high and...well not dry. Wet I suppose.

Lupin’s Reward: $0 and he lost his pants too. Sad.

I definitely won’t be revisiting this special, it feels pretty weak though I don’t regret watching it like I did Angel’s Tactics. It has some good stuff going for it but the convoluted nature of the plot bogs it down way too much.

Next up would but Elusiveness of Fog, however the villain of that special is actually a returning character from Part 1. As I did with Return of the Magician, I’m going to skip this one for now and come back after we meet the character in my Part 1 watchalong. Instead the next entry will be Green vs Red, one I saw back in college and remember loving but not much else about it. I’m excited to revisit it.

#lupin the 3rd #lupin iii #anime #tv special #seven days rhapsody #discotek media

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eryiss · 4 years

Text

Chapter Four - The Voicemail

Summary: Freed and Laxus live incredibly different lives. Freed is a corporate lawyer in the capital city, and Laxus works as a handyman in a countryside hotel. Despite their differences, their lives collide when Freed inherits a house in Laxus’ village, and hires him to make the derelict building liveable. But the closer they get, the more they seem to offer each other. [Fraxus Multi-Chapter]

This was written as my admission for Fraxus Day 2020, hosted by @fuckyeahfraxus. Hope you enjoy it.

You can read this under the cut, on Fanfiction, or on Archive of Our Own. You can find the chapter masterpost here.

Chapter Four – The Voicemail

It hadn't occurred to Laxus how much he liked having a daily routine until he got one again. The last time he had every day of the week planned out was when he was in high school, as his university schedule was fluid to say the least. The lack of a routine had been a gradual thing, slowly allowing his days merge into a mess of passing the time and occasionally working on things around the hotel. He had been bored for a while now, but hadn't allowed himself to admit it.

Though now, with a day of work always available, Laxus didn't know how he had managed to pass so much time. Although Freed hadn't given him a strict schedule of when he should be working on the house and when he shouldn't – he claimed he knew a man like Laxus wouldn't waste his time, and Laxus was glad of the observation – Laxus had decided on dedicated work hours, planning out his whole day.

At seven, he woke up. At seven thirty, he'd do his daily workout at the gym. At nine, he'd make his rounds around the hotel to see if anything needed fixing or work. At ten, he'd go to the house and do whatever he had planned for the day.

He felt like an adult. It was a good feeling.

Climbing off the leg press and reaching for his towel, Laxus let out a satisfied groan. Morning workouts were new to him, having previously entered the gym in the afternoon for something, anything, to fill the time. He liked it, it was a good start to the day, got his blood pumping, and the cool morning air was refreshing on his still sweating skin on the walk back home.

He patted down the sweat from his face and stood up, walking to a matted area to do his warm-down stretches. He grinned a little at the feeling of burning on his legs, having upped the weights recently. As he walked, he pulled out his phone and flicked it on to see the time. He frowned at his lock screen.

One Missed Call – Freed Justine.

One Voicemail – Freed Justine.

Freed was back in Era now, as they had planned. He would spend the weekdays in the city, working in his office and meeting with his friends, while he would return for the weekend to oversee Laxus' work, offer his suggestions on what he was doing, and help out whenever he could; something that was happening more often now that Laxus had taught him a skill or two. This had been working for a few weeks, and they'd gotten it down to a fine art.

Laxus could understand what Freed wanted without much difficulty. Sometimes there was a few issues – where Freed might not know the technical terminology for something and couldn't articulate his wants immediately – but they always quickly got over them. They were a good team, and work on the house was happening fast.

Though, Laxus did miss Freed sometimes. Plumbing was better with company.

Freed was good company.

They had fun.

At least Laxus did, anyway. Freed was somewhat enigmatic at times, but seemed to be enjoying himself. He was private with his emotions, and only smiled – really smiled – when he thought Laxus wasn't looking. Laxus had caught it a few times, and seeing the uncynical expression on the mans usually slightly stifled face was something Laxus was quickly coming to desire more often. He looked good like that.

As he said, they had fun…

Throughout their time working together only on the weekends, Freed had rarely called him. It had only been for specific things, like when a member of the preservation society visited to see their work wasn't destructive. So to see not only a missed call, but a voicemail, was unusual. Freed was a texter more than a caller, in Laxus' admittedly limited experience.

Laxus slightly rushed through his stretches, and once he was done, he walked towards the changing room and lifted his phone to his ear.

"Sorry if I've woken you," Freed began. "But could you perhaps see if I've left something in my room from Sunday."

As he listened and walked towards his locker, Laxus frowned. There was a sort of clipped attitude to Freed's words, and it confused Laxus. He'd always seen Freed as a relaxed man, even though it wasn't obvious. Freed was clearly smart, Laxus wouldn't be shocked if he was a literal genius, and with that there was a level of comfort in his skin. He never second guessed himself because he always thought he was right.

Maybe that was Laxus overthinking things, but that was what he'd concluded. But in his words, Laxus had heard just a hint of panic. It was unlike the man he had known while giving swift demands about what was to happen with his house.

"I brought some of my work over the weekend, you see," Freed continued. "And part of that was a contract that I've been working on. I seem to have left it in my hotel room, and I need to be sure that it's safe. It's confidential, as you can imagine, and I've made a rather large amounts of notes. So if you could call me back, please do."

Laxus ran his towel over his body, blasted himself with a thick layer of deodorant, and picked up his bag. Normally he'd shower and change into something other than his exercise clothes, but the fact that Freed had left a voicemail rather than just requesting a return call via a text meant this was something urgent. Laxus didn't know anything about the law – well, no more than anyone else – but leaving a confidential contract wasn't good. He trusted the people in Fairy Tail not to look at things that weren't for them, but Freed didn't.

As he rushed out of the gym, bag slung over his shoulder, he dialled Freed's number and listened to it ring. After a few moments, Freed answered.

"Laxus," He said in greeting.

"Hey," Laxus replied. "Sorry I missed your call, was at the gym and wasn't paying attention to my phone."

"Oh, that's a coincidence," Freed said with a small, forced laugh. "I just finished my PT session today."

Laxus didn't know Freed went to a personal trainer.

It made sense, he supposed. He was clearly fit, if the contract in width between his shoulders and his waist was telling. And when, two weeks ago, he rolled up his sleeves and showed off his veiny, strong forearms, Laxus might have been distracted to the point of nearly dropping a plank of wood onto his toes. He'd also gotten a glimpse of his biceps, and the plank had nearly splintered in Laxus' grasp.

Well, that was an exaggeration, but it was certainly a distraction.

"Small world," Laxus shrugged, then spoke again in a light, joking tone. Hopefully, he could lighten Freed's mood. "But you know they're a scam right, personal trainers. If you're trying to change your body type they're fine, but if you wanna keep yourself as you are then you don't need one."

"I suppose not," Freed mused, and Laxus grinned a little. When stressed, Freed could be distracted easily, apparently. "I work with him for status, honestly. He's the trainer for the elite, I like that."

"Makes sense, rich boy," Laxus teased with a grin. "I can write you up an exercise list if you want, it'll save you a couple grand."

"That'd be good, thank you," Freed agreed. "Wait, no. Stop distracting me. Have you found it?"

"Saw through that, huh?" Laxus grinned, but continued. "I'm a minute away from the hotel. But, if you did leave it here, the staff ain't gonna do anything with it. They would've handed it in to gramps," Freed made a placating noise. He didn't believe Laxus, clearly. "They're not gonna risk pissing you off Freed, you're basically keeping the place open being here every weekend. We lose you; they lose their jobs."

Freed did let out a laugh, and Laxus grinned at that. "You shouldn't give me that much power, Laxus. I'll misuse it."

"Don't doubt it," Laxus smirked, entering the warmth of Fairy Tail's lobby. He ignored the slight stiffness in Freed's joke, wondering if he had done it just for Laxus' sake. He nodded to Mirajane, who was at the front desk, still speaking into the phone. "Give me a second."

"Of course."

Lowering his phone slightly, Laxus walked to the front desk and leant on it. Mirajane looked the dishevelled man up and down, and her nose twitched at the smell of sweat and deodorant that hit her. She opened her mouth to speak, but Laxus put a hand up to interrupt her. Hopefully, she's understood by the state he was in that he was in a rush.

"You know if Freed left anything in his room? Some paperwork or something?" He asked. "Lisanna cleaned it, right?"

"She mentioned something being left, I think," Mirajane said after a moment thought. "Brown folder, she handed it to Makarov for safety. I think he wanted to let Freed know, but didn't know his number so was waiting for you to come in."

"It'll be in his office, right?" He asked, pushing himself from the desk.

"Yeah, but it's locked. He'll be here in an hour I think."

"Don't worry, I cut a key when I was sixteen," Laxus shrugged, grinning at Mirajane as he walked away, ignoring her when she said that he definitely shouldn't have a key. He brought his phone to his ear as he walked towards his grandfather's office. "They found it. It's locked in Gramp's office. I can look after it if you'd like."

"Well, I suppose I should have mentioned, that I need a copy of it here. Ideally with the notes I've made," Freed explained with a resigned sigh. Laxus bit his lip absently as he rummaged through his grandfather's desk draw, finding a brown folder.

"I could take a picture of each page, if you want," Laxus suggested, flicking open the folder. "'The Merging of Lamia Scale Designs and Mermaid Heel.' That the right contract?"

"That's it, thank you," Freed agreed, still sounding worried. "And you won't be able to send pictures, it's under data protection. If I get found out I'll be taken off the case at least, perhaps demoted for it. And our side will be immediately lose the case because of it."

"Best to avoid that then," Laxus nodded to himself. "I could scan it and email it to you, or is that the same issue? Or I could send it through the post if you can wait that long."

"I need it today," Freed sighed. "And yes, the email is the same issue."

Laxus sighed, running a hand through his hair. He knew that it wasn't really his place to be worried about the situation, but the fact that Freed wasn't as composed as he normally was had a disconcerting effect on Laxus. And, the two men were friends, and nobody would want their friend to feel stressed about potentially losing their job. Especially for something anybody could do; forgetting something at a hotel room was something most people did at some point. Any good friend would try to help.

"Well," Laxus said, clicking his tongue. "What time d'you need it? I can get the train and go to your office. If you don't mind me taking the day off from the house."

Maybe most friends wouldn't go that far. Maybe they would.

"Don't be absurd," Freed almost definitely shook his head as he spoke. "It's a long journey, it would be evening by the time you got home. I couldn't ask you to do that."

"If you need it, then you need it. And I ain't been to Era, so it'll give me an excuse…" Laxus' words trailed off. "What about fax? My grandad is one of like five people to actually have a fax machine for some reason."

"That actually might work," Freed said hesitantly. "The law states we can't replicate documents in a digital format, technically we wouldn't be doing that. So it should be fine."

"Great," Laxus grinned. "You have any idea on how to use the thing, 'cause I don't."

"They're quite simple, really," Freed said, a genuine chuckle entering his voice. Laxus grinned at it. "A child could use it without much explanation."

"You can drop that patronising tone, asshole," Laxus smirked as he spoke, switching on the machine. "And the only kind of child that'd know how to use this piece of shit is a kid from the Victorian years or some crap."

"Implying I'm from the Victorian era?" Freed questioned.

"You'd fit in there, I can imagine you with a stupid top hat and one of those big coats, walking with a cane," Laxus shrugged, squinting at the instructions on the machine's faded screen, absently thinking about just how good Freed would look in period specific clothing. "Think it might suit ya, actually. You'd look pretty s-swish."

Laxus paused. Swish. Swish!

Admittedly there wasn't many words to describe someone appearance that began with the letter 'S', but where the hell had 'swish' come from. Laxus had never said swish in his life, nobody this side of the damn millennium had said the word swish. Sure, he'd gotten away from his immediate reaction to thinking about his boss in old fashioned clothing, but why the hell had he covered it with the word swish. Swish!

At least he was distracted from the fact he almost readily admitted he thought Freed was sexy.

It was both a good and a bad thing, really. It was good, because the fact that Laxus wasn't worried about finding men attractive meant his time in therapy years prior was still hadn't left him, and he hadn't been kidding himself about the comfort he felt for his own sexuality. However, the fact he so nearly blurted out his attraction for Freed – his boss – was something he would have to be careful about.

"Of course I would," Freed said after a moment, voice a little distracted now. He didn't know what Laxus had meant to say, did he? He couldn't. "How are you doing with the fax machine."

"Yeah, you're gonna need to patronise me again, because this fucker ain't easy."

So, with a minimal amount of patronising, Freed walked Laxus through what he needed to do with the machine. It was a relatively easy process, made harder by the fact the screen showing the different options was almost impossible to see. But they'd made it through, and Freed had managed to get a copy of the contract into his office's fax machine without much trouble.

Laxus turned from the machine, only to see his grandfather looking at him, leaning on the doorframe. He hadn't heard the other man, too busy having been focused on the machine and Freed's instructions. How long his grandfather had been there, Laxus didn't know. Nor did he know exactly why the old man was looking at him with a raised eyebrow and an expression that was almost smug. Just as Laxus was about to make a motion to voice his confusion, Freed spoke though his speakers again.

"Thank you for this, Laxus," The mans voice echoed through the room, as Laxus had put him on speaker. It took Laxus a second to realise he had to reply.

"Ain't a problem," Laxus responded, a little self-conscious now. Makarov didn't change his expression. "So, you're fine now, right?"

"For today anyway," Freed sounded tired as he spoke, and the slight shuffling might have been Freed rubbing his eye with the palm of his hand; he'd done that a few times since they'd met. "I'm sure tomorrow will bring a further onslaught of problems."

"Guess that's what it's like being a lawyer," Laxus said with a forced chuckle, glaring at his unmoving grandfather to tell him to leave.

"I suppose so. I'm looking forward to seeing you when I get back at the weekend," Freed sighed tiredly again, and Laxus' gaze flickered over to his phone. "I should go, I have a meeting in fifteen minutes, and I should do at least some preparation for it. I'll talk to you later, I'm sure."

"Yeah, talk later," Laxus parroted, and the line went dead.

For a moment, Laxus and Makarov looked at one another. Laxus still couldn't identify exactly what the expression on his grandfather's face was, and he also couldn't help but feel angry that the older man hadn't left when he saw that Laxus was on a call that was private. But he knew that if he voiced this anger, his grandfather would annoyingly explain that Laxus was in his office, and that he had more a right to be there than Laxus did.

"So," Makarov eventually spoke. "Mirajane said that you came in early."

"You shouldn't have listened into my conversation," Laxus spoke in an annoyingly petulant tone.

"You shouldn't be in my office without my permission," Makarov retorted predicably, and Laxus rolled his eyes. "But I'll forgive you since you clearly needed to use my fax machine for your little phone date."

Laxus stood up – he needed to sit because the machine was tucked under Makarov's desk – and started to walk out of the office. The two of them had a good grandfather and grandson relationship, but Laxus often found the older man to be obnoxious. He made jokes about things that Laxus didn't find funny, with the intent of getting a rise out of Laxus, and the blonde knew that it was best not to give into it. Fucker.

He went to walk past the old man, but Makarov grabbed hold of Laxus' clothing and stopped him from leaving. He stopped, even though he could easily overpower Makarov, and looked down at his grandfather with an expression that clearly stated he didn't want to joke about his relationship with Freed.

"Don't get huffy," Makarov said, no longer teasing. "It just sounded like you were getting on. It was nice to hear you laughing."

"Great," Laxus said, again in a slightly petulant tone.

"You don't need to get defensive," Makarov said, walking into his office. "I was just happy. Most of the people you know live here and have lived here all their lives. And most of your friends are women. It's just nice to see you talking with another man and having fun with him."

"I can know a guy and not want to fuck him," Laxus grunted.

"You can. I was just a little shocked to see you like that. Laughing and joking with him. Especially since he was telling you what to do, you'd get pissy if it were me," Makarov grinned. "But if you say it's platonic, I believe you. I just enjoyed seeing you like that. Give an old man his fancies."

"Can I go?" Laxus muttered.

"If you want," Makarov smiled. "I like him though."

Laxus let out a small huff as Makarov removed his clutch on his clothing. The blonde found himself riled by Makarov's words. Not only had he intentionally tried to make Laxus feel self-conscious about his call with Freed, but he had also given some weird kind of blessing for a relationship between him and Freed. A blessing that Laxus neither wanted, nor needed. Laxus was an adult, not a kid who needed to be told what to do.

And Makarov didn't even know Freed! He was more complex than a call dammit.

But, as he walked away, his mind wondered to the end of his conversation with Freed. He hadn't fully registered it when Freed had said it, but now he thought back Freed's parting words were… interesting.

'I'm looking forward to seeing you.'

Not 'I'm looking forward to getting back to Magnolia.' Not 'I'm looking forward to getting to the weekend, so I don't have to worry about work.' Not even 'I'm looking forward to seeing what you've done on the house.' He had very clearly stated that he was looking forward to seeing Laxus. Which was certainly interesting.

And if Laxus found his annoyance at his grandfather dissipating slightly, replaced by a weird fizzy feeling in his stomach, then that was his business and nobody else's.

#Fraxus Day 2020 #Fraxus Day #Fraxus #Freed Justine #Laxus Dreyar #Fairy Tail #Fanfic #Writing #Event #Multichapter #Word Count 3.4k #Fuckyeahfraxus

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jimmymcgools · 4 years

Note

maybe a bit risque for the writing ask meme, so feel free to ignore, but: the first love scene (or part of it) between jimmy and kim during their trip out of town?

hell yes, i’ll do this scene!! for sure! thank you ❤️❤️❤️

fic commentary meme and my answers

this is just a reminder before we go on that jimmy’s still wearing his damn bugs bunny t-shirt

Inside their room, Jimmy stares out through the slats of the blinds at the glowing highway sign, listening to Kim have a stilted conversation with her roommate over the phone.

photo edited by @unremarkable-house ♥️♥️♥️

He tips his head to the side. “Hmm. I could maybe get behind a dead space chimp.” ah, the dead space chimp. they were originally gonna visit the world’s largest pistachio but then i discovered it wasn’t there in 1992, so we went with the dead space chimp. the pistachio is so tragic though, you should definitely google it. send me reacts if you do. it’s a bummer.

He exhales and gives a winning smile, but his next question comes out a little breathier and a little more strangled than he would like: “Wanna make out again, then?” i always liked the idea of jimmy just out and asking this. famously not the greatest at communicating, these two, but i really wanted there to be more of a “hey, so do you want to do that again?” “hm, yeah, i do actually” vibe at the top of this scene rather than just them getting completely swept up in emotions

and it’s like a jolt rushing through him, like everything he’s been holding back for the past week comes smashing up through a frozen surface and he can breathe again. kind of blending two different images i’ve used before. way back in chapter 2 when jimmy does his little coffee spill scam: “it feels like bursting up through the water’s surface and breathing again”. and then kim right before their first kiss: “an enormous grin shatters over her face, like an ice sheet cracking”.

he shifts his weight back to his knees and reaches for her hair again, this time gathering it up gently and tucking it up on the pillow as best he can, running the soft threads through his fingers. jimmy’s boner for kim’s hair really just grows and grows huh

“Why are we doing this?” he gasps, and then he shakes his head. “I mean—why aren’t we doing this?” oh man the like, foggy-brained gibberish of this. “why are we doing this--no wait why aren’t we doing this--ok wait i know we’re literally making out right now but why aren’t we doing it for real kim?”

“To start with?” she asks softly, and she gives him a small smile. “Because you woke up and looked terrified.” “I what?” Jimmy asks. i was always curious how people took this. we’re in jimmy’s pov for that wake-up scene, and he doesn’t exactly think he’s terrified of a relationship with kim in that moment, but he does have a bunch of big messy thoughts that i hoped could seem like hesitation or fear in how they appeared on his face, and how kim interpreted them.

“No,” she says, eventually. Her eyes meet his. Words coming slowly, she says, “Jimmy, you’re not…” —and he thinks, what? what? pulse humming in his ears— —and, voice so careful, she says, “… part of the plan.” Jimmy lets out his breath in a rush of air. “Yeah,” he says lightly. He stares into her eyes. Hers are gentle, and he sighs again. oh man another thing i was curious about the response to. on the surface these words from kim are so horrible. they’re still not exactly nice but i really wanted to give them a specific kind of softness/honesty that makes them land okay. there’s maybe shades of howard’s “we want the case. we do not want... the case is all we want” that i really wanted to avoid. they are, though, probably the sort of words that jimmy filters away in the little bank he stores things like “the kind of lawyer guilty people hire” and “roll around in the dirt with me” and the lyrics to a certain ABBA song.

He tightens his fingers. “Wanna tell me about the plan, then?” but in the moment i wanted him to just be forgiving, and curious (and maybe already bracing to game the plan like he ends up doing, but hey)

“Make something of myself,” she says. kim’s ambition is so interesting to me!! her “plan” here as she tells it to jimmy is so vague, but i always feel like at the core there’s two elements: self-preservation/escape, and then ambition. “what did you want?” “more.” the ambition part i think about a lot, and i want to do more with it, tbh. because i think in some ways it’s the more interesting part. there’s a bit of a leap from just escaping a difficult situation to relentlessly gunning to get ahead in a field that gives you the power to determine right from wrong. kimberly wexler you fascinate me.

“We’re not in Albuquerque now,” he says. “No,” Kim says, smile edging her expression. “No, I guess not.” “Seems like the plan’s already gone off the rails,” Jimmy says, and he shrugs. “Hm,” Kim says, mouth twitching. forgive me for the chandler-and-monica-in-london of this. i do think kim and jimmy would’ve kept going in this moment without the dumb excuse, but i liked the idea that they both enjoyed having the dumb excuse. and then it ends up being more significant once they do get back to abq and kim actually does walk the relationship back.

She opens it and rifles through, then lets out a snort of laughter. “I forgot about this haircut,” she says, and she turns his wallet to face him. disgusted to discover i didn’t describe the velcro cronch of jimmy’s wallet here. how long do licences last in the US anyway? i hope he had to show people that slippin’ jimmy mullet for a long time. that important question aside, i really wanted to keep that easy humour and laughter they've had since the beginning going through this scene. and any time i can shift a fun/gently-ribbing joke into a slightly more emotional beat i’m happy, and i liked that shift here. “you guys didn’t know what hit you” “no, we did not.”

She leans back a little and runs a finger through the vee of his hips then holds it up to him. It’s covered in a fine layer of white dust. i got so attached to this dumb idea even though it’s the shittiest thing, sorry you two, fanfic rules, sorry, you’re covered in gypsum i guess, good luck bet it feels great 👀it’s just really hard to, you know. shake off white sands after you’ve been there once, y’know. 👀#metaphors

“Hmm, that wasn’t the first time,” Kim says, moving their joined hands around so that she’s resting her weight down on them. “I seem to remember you coming back to the mailroom one day soaked with coffee…” kim-wexler-is-horny-for-a-scam... but also, hey, a chance to talk more about this! kim remembers jimmy (who from the outside might’ve still seemed like he was one platinum platter away from joining howard on the third floor) helping a lowly assistant when he didn’t need to. and not only did he help clara in that scene, he did it in an outside-the-box way that put all the blame on himself and made clara look good in front of everyone upstairs.

there’s a scene break in that chapter from when jimmy starts explaining the plan, to when jimmy’s about to put it into action, and i always think that, after his explanation and after he and clara leave, kim stands there thinking that there’s no fucking way this mcgill brother is going to go upstairs and put on this whole performance just because one printer fucked up and vernon is a picky asshole.

and then he comes back down drenched in coffee. kim: 🙂

“Covered in coffee, huh?” he says, a few moments later. “I can arrange that again.” jimmy: kim wants a coffee-soaked striptease i’ll GIVE her a coffee-soaked striptease! kim: um

so he stops talking and listens—and it’s his name, over and over, hummed to his lips. jimmy and names is so... aahh. when i wrote this i was thinking about that moment in chapter one when he stands in front of the elevators and tries out different ways of introducing himself. “yeah, just jimmy. like, you know... cher.” just jimmy. it kills me to think about how, certainly by bcs s5 times, kim is the only one he’s just-jimmy to. 💔

letting Kim swallow it until there’s no sound left between them at all, no sound or words or names, just—light. echoes of them driving up into white sands, and it’s quiet, like after a snowfall, when jimmy wonders if the white itself that makes things noiseless.

thank you so much for requesting this scene!!! ♥️

#commentary ask meme #asks #better call saul #a controlled burn #♥️

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