#but i genuinely can’t tell if it was done for the aesthetic or if we’re meant to wonder if her servant mother was in fact Japanese

[joelsgreys]

weakness

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: An afternoon at Bill and Frank’s place takes one hell of an unexpected turn for you and Joel when hidden feelings start coming to the surface.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. BOSTON QZ ERA JOEL. AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is in his early 50’s). mentions of reader having longer hair/her hair gets brushed, reader wears a dress, no specific mention of reader’s size, but there is a brief mention of the dress fitting loose on her, Frank is sweet and makes her feel pretty, Bill is a grump, Joel is kind of soft, hidden feelings. dashes of angst, fluff, and an abundance of Frank being an absolute angel.

MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY. NO MENTION OF RACE OR BODY TYPE.

word count: 5.7k

“Can you stop fidgeting for just one second, please?” Frank scolds you lightly, bringing down the palm of his hand onto your shoulder in a small, quick slap in an attempt to get you to stop squirming. He then moves his hands back up to your hair, which is out of its usual braid and towel dried after a much, much needed wash. The sickeningly sweet scent of the floral shampoo you’d used in the shower earlier that afternoon lingers deliciously in the air around you, a refreshing and welcome change from what your hair normally smells like—grime and smoke from hours of work detail in the Boston QZ. After coming out all of the stubborn tangles that he can find, Frank then picks up a boar hairbrush and he carefully begins to run it through your locks. He starts from the roots of your hair and brings the natural bristles down, all the way through to your ends. He chuckles and says, “You know, I would be done a hell of a lot quicker if you would just sit still.”

You sigh softly, but impatiently, allowing yourself one final, uncomfortable little shuffle in the white wicker chair he has you perched on before finally giving into his request. “Alright, alright, I’m sorry,” you mumble You bring your knees up against your chest and exhale another small sigh. You can’t see his face, but you can picture the smug, satisfied smile on Franke’s face as he continues brushing your hair. “So, tell me again why we’re even doing this?” you question him just a minute later, as if he hasn’t already explained it to you about a hundred times—he wants to do something special for you. “It kind of seems like a complete waste of time, don’t you think so?”

“We’re doing this because you deserve to get dolled up for once in your adult life,” Frank states in a matter of fact tone. The world had ended when you’d been about seven years old, and he’d imagined that since then, you’d never done a single damn thing for your appearance—besides the occasional at home haircut you would give yourself every few months with an old pair of rusted shears. He’d have been absolutely right about that. “And besides, it’s something of a special occasion today,” he adds. “It’s the first day of spring. The weather outside is stunning, our flowers are finally in full bloom, and we have a nice outdoor lunch planned to celebrate the new season.”

You can’t help the way the corners of your mount turn upwards into a small smile. One might think it was all rather silly, given it was the end of the world and all, but you have to admit, you admire the way Frank manages to find genuine happiness and joy in the little things, like warm sunshine on the first day of spring. Or showing a friend what a proper hairbrush looks like. He has such a beautiful soul, something that very, very few people in this new world possess. 

“Your hair is so healthy,” Frank observes a few minutes later, setting the hairbrush aside. Taking two handfuls of your hair from the front, he twists them gently and brings them around to the back of your head. He then secures them with a clear, elastic band and runs his fingers through your soft locks, maneuvering your hair until it cascades perfectly around your shoulders. Frank walks around your chair to face you, fussing until he makes sure that every stand is neatly in place. He smiles. “You should wear your hair down more often, you know. It really suits you.”

“Long, loose hair and work detail are a recipe for disaster,” you laugh, shaking your head at him. “Most of the work sites in the zone require anyone who has longer hair to keep it tied back, anyway.” You push your legs out away from your chest and plant your feet firmly on the floor. “Listen, Frank. I really do appreciate what you’re trying to do for me. I really do,” you swear. “It’s incredibly sweet, but there’s really no point. In just a few hours, Joel and I are going to have to head back into Boston where my hair goes back into its braid and I have to change back into my normal clothes.”

“Exactly. So how about you just zip it and enjoy this while it lasts?” he suggests with a tiny, cheeky grin.

“But Frank—”

“Honey, this is a fight you simply aren’t going to win, so hush. Now, come with me.” He takes your hand, pulling you out of the chair and up to your feet. “Close your eyes,” he instructs, and with a reluctant sigh, you do as you’re told. Frank leads you over towards the full length mirror in the far corner of his and Bill’s bedroom. “Okay. One, two, three—open your eyes.”

Your eyes flutter open and your mouth parts slightly in surprise. 

“What the fuck,” you murmur underneath your breath, taken aback by the reflection in the mirror. The young woman staring back at you, she looks absolutely nothing like you. The hair, the hint of blush on your cheekbones—the color he’d found was one one that flatters the tone of your skin—and the thin coat of decades old mascara that he’d applied to your eyelashes; the tube had been bone fucking dry, but Frank used a few drops of water to bring it back to life, swearing up and down it was fine to put near your eyes. And then there was the dress, the goddamn dressed he’d force you into. His favorite part of the makeover and your least favorite. 

“Wait until you see what I found for you to wear,” he’d told you, giddy as if it were him who would be donning a new outfit. “You’re going to love it!”

Skeptical, you had asked, “Am I though?”

Frank had gone to the boutique and found you a dress to wear, and while it was just a tad loose on your frame, he insisted that it would look just fine on you with the help of a safety pin hidden at the back of it, pulling the fabric taut. It was simple enough, white with a subtle sweetheart neckline and thin straps that tied together at your shoulders. The delicate lace fell down in a flowing skirt to just a few inches above your knees and it itched like hell, especially at your sides. Wanting to add a finishing touch to the outfit, Frank had brought you a pair of brown, strappy sandals and he’d let you know that he had a couple of different color options for a cardigan in the event it became too chilly outside. 

“You look perfect,” he gushes. “Like a daydream!”

You look different. But that isn’t what brought on the shock. More than anything, you’re completely taken aback by how fucking normal you look. 

Sure, coming over to Bill and Frank’s always gave you a temporary sense of normalcy. They always allowed you to take a hot shower, gave you the opportunity  to properly wash your hair and change out of your dirty shirt into a new clean one. They always provided you with a warm meal presented on porcelain dishware that wasn’t stained or chipped like the shit you had back home in your crumbling apartment in Boston. You’d had several tastes of normal thanks to those two, but this drastic change to your appearance was overwhelming. Too overwhelming.

You’d never thought that you could look like this, not in this fucking lifetime. 

Frank immediately picks up on your emotions, senses how you’re feeling. Standing behind you, he places his two hands on your shoulders and leans his head forward, pressing his cheek against yours as his kind eyes meet your tearful gaze in the mirror. “You look absolutely beautiful,” he whispers, giving your shoulders a gentle squeeze. “I really hope you feel beautiful. You deserve it. You deserve so much more, but if I can at least give you this much, then my mission is accomplished.”

You open your mouth to speak, but words fall short. Afraid that you might burst into tears on the spot, you clamp your mouth shut and give him the tiniest little nod of your head accompanied by a quivering smile of gratitude. 

Frank smiles back. “Good. Now, come on, let’s go out front and have lunch.” His hands fall from your shoulders and he ushers you out into the hallway and towards the staircase. Looking over his shoulder, he gives you a wink. “I’m really eager to see what your man thinks of your new look.”

“What?” you sputter, almost tripping over your own two feet. “Who—you mean, Joel?”

Shit. You’d almost forgotten about Joel.

What the hell is he going to say when he sees you like this?

What’s he going to think?

Probably that you look utterly fucking ridiculous, that’s what.

“Who else would I be talking about? Bill?” Frank snorts. “Yes, I’m talking about Joel.”

You glare at his back. This isn’t the first time Frank has teased you about Joel Miller, and despite the countless times you’ve sworn to him that there was nothing going on between the two of you, he insists on believing otherwise, adamant that there has to be something more there. “Don’t start with this shit again. He is not my man, and you damn well know that.”

“He might as well be,” Frank shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly as he leads you down the staircase.

“Frank, I’m being serious,” you say. Normally, weren’t so uptight about it all, but today, you’re not finding his antics amusing in the slightest, not while you’re wearing goop on your face and sporting a fucking dress. “I’ve told you a million times that there is nothing going on between me and Joel. He’s my partner.” You pause briefly, realizing how that must have sounded, and add in emphasis, “He’s my work partner. We work together, Frank. We smuggle shit together. That’s it.”

Frank stops at the bottom of the staircase and turns to you, letting out a curious hum. “Hmm. And if I remember correctly, you two also live together, you sleep in the same bed together, you spend every waking moment from sunrise to fucking sunset together—I have never heard of two work partners being that close, sweetheart.”

Stubborn, you shake your head. “He’s like fifty!”

“The world ended and that’s your concern? An age gap?” he questions. “Really?”

“Frank,” you plead his name, groaning. “I swear it. We’re nothing to each other. Joel is—well, he’s Joel. He’s not exactly the type of man who does that. You know, feelings and shit.”

He throws his head back slightly, letting out a loud laugh that echoes through the foyer of his home. “Oh, trust me. I know that much. Between you and me, I have to say that he reminds me a whole lot of Bill,” he muses. He notices the horrified expression that crosses your face and laughs again, holding up his hands in defense. “Wait a minute, just hear me out. They’re polar opposites in some ways, but in most ways, they’re almost the same fucking person. Joel is just like Bill. Cranky. Grumpy. He hates everyone and everything. Kind of man who’ll stab someone if they so much as look at him the wrong way. Would you say that’s pretty accurate?”

“Yeah, sounds like Joel Miller,” you have to admit. As much as you did not want to think of Joel being the same person as Bill, Frank had a pretty good point.

“But Joel also reminds me of Bill because he’s the kind of man who means well when it comes to the people that he cares about. The kind of man who will do whatever it takes to protect what is his,” he further explains. He pauses and then asks, “Let me ask you something. You trust him, right?”

You don’t even miss a beat, answering, “Of course. With my life.”

He ticks his  index finger at you. “Aha! Exactly!” he exclaims. “You know that Joel would never let anyone lay so much as a finger on you. He’d never let anything bad happen to you. And why is that?”

You stare at him blankly, unsure of how to respond. “Is this a trick question?”

Huffing, Frank rolls his eyes and lets out a disappointed sigh, as if you’d missed the obvious. “It’s because you mean something to him, sweetheart. Whether you choose to let yourself believe it or not, you mean something to Joel Miller.”

For a moment, it feels like all the wind’s been knocked out of you. 

Could Frank actually be right? 

Do you actually mean something to Joel?

No, that was impossible. Joel Miller doesn’t give a shit about anyone or anything—all he cares about is surviving long enough to find Tommy again one day, and even then, he never speaks of his younger brother too kindly. He’s been hardened by this world, closed himself off, put up a barrier around himself that nothing can permeate. Not even you.

“Under that tough, rugged exterior, there’s a soft spot. It’s there, for you and only for you.” Frank’s eyes glimmer, speaking a truth he’s been wanting to tell you for the better part of the last several months. “You might need to do some digging to find it, but it’s there.”

“I just don’t understand why you would think that,” you confess, shaking your head. “Joel has never said anything to me to indicate that I mean something to him. More often than not, I find myself wondering if even considering us to be friends is too generous.” You cross your arms over your chest, growing uncomfortable under his knowing stare. “Yes, Joel looks out for me, but that’s only because we work together so well. I know my way around. He needs me, especially if he plans on getting to Tommy.”

Frank bites his bottom lip, stifling another laugh.

“What? What’s so funny?”

“Oh, sweetheart. You don’t even realize it, do you?”

Your eyebrows knit together, confused. “What? Realize what?”

“You are his weakness.”

He’d said it so simply, and yet there goes the rest of your air leaving your lungs, an invisible first driving itself right into your gut. 

“Of course Joel isn’t going to tell you how he feels about you. He’s afraid,” Frank remarks, sounding so sure as if he had been told that by Joel Miller himself.

“You’re wrong. Joel isn’t afraid of anything,” you counter in the steadiest voice you can muster. “You’re wrong, Frank.”

“He’s afraid because he knows how dangerous it is, having a weakness in the form of a person he cares about more than anything can be in a world like this.” Any trace of teasing or playfulness had disappeared from Frank’s expression. He speaks gently, but with purpose, with such seriousness that it makes your heart sink further and further down into the pits of your stomach.

When you speak again, your voice is strained, thick with emotions you’re trying so desperately to shove down. “Frank, you really need to put down the fucking romance novels.” Before he can say another word to you about it, you place a hand lightly on your stomach. “I’m really hungry. Can we go eat now? Please?”

Thankfully, he gets the hint to drop the subject.

“Of course. Come on” Frank takes your hand. He opens the front door and leads you outside and onto the freshly landscaped front lawn. He had been right, the flowers were in full bloom—the small, round table he’d set was positioned in a perfect spot so that no matter where anyone sat, they would have a view of the colorful roses and azaleas he and Bill had planted around the perimeter of the yard.

As soon as he sees you two approaching, Bill throws up his hands in a dramatic fashion. “It’s about goddamn time!” He grouches loudly. “Jesus Christ, Frank. I’m fucking starving!”

“Sorry, got caught up inside.” Frank tosses his partner a sweet smile as he releases your hand. “But look, I found myself something pretty!”

Heat floods your cheeks. You should have known better than to think he wasn’t going to make a fuss about your new appearance. “Frank, please. Don’t.”

“Oh come now, you know I have to show you off!”

Joel, whose back had been turned towards you, furrows his eyebrows and he glances over his shoulder, looking to see what Frank was referring to. His dark brown eyes widen just ever so slightly, the grip around his glass of red wine tightening in complete surprise at the sight of you. Frank had failed, quite miserably, to convince him to dress up for the occasion, but at the very least, he’d talked him into wearing one of the nicer shirts he'd found at the boutique, a neatly pressed, sage green button up with long sleeves that, much to Frank’s chagrin, Joel had rolled up to his elbows. His graying, dark brown curls  might have even had a comb run through them, but it;s  difficult to tell if the way his thick locks were effortlessly disheveled was natural or the result of his efforts to tame them.

“What do you think, Joel?” Frank beams proudly, as if presenting the man with one of his painted art pieces.

Joel doesn’t respond. His eyes remain glued on you, following as you walk around the table and take your usual place beside him.

“Way to put me on the spot, Frank,” you mutter, your face growing warmer and warmer with every second that ticks by. You silently urge yourself to get a grip as you reach for the crisp, white cloth napkin next to your plate and drape it over your lap. The smoked, wild rabbit Bill had cooked up for lunch  smells heavenly—Frank knows  it’s  your absolute favorite dish, and so he had made sure Bill put it on today’s menu, bless his heart. 

Joel still hasn’t uttered a single word. Part of you hopes he wouldn’t.

“Joel?” Frank prompts as he picks up his own cloth napkin. “Doesn’t she look pretty?”

You glare daggers at him from across the table and hiss, “Frank!”

Finally, Joel sets down his glass of wine and turns slowly, angling his body towards yours. When he speaks, his voice is low, but clear as day as he looks at you, “Yeah. She looks very pretty.”

His eyes flicker up to meet yours, causing your heart to skip a beat inside of your chest and a strange warmth to bloom in your belly. 

Had he actually meant that?

“You look real nice,” he adds, giving you a subtle nod of his head. He lets his sights linger on you for another moment before tearing his gaze away. He then turns back to the table, picking up his glass of wine once again, chugging what’s left of it before reaching for the bottle to pour himself another. 

Bill clears his throat roughly. “Well, if everyone’s done playing dress up, I’d really like to fucking eat now.”

Meals with Bill and Frank were always pleasant. 

Well, meals with Frank were always pleasant.

 Although Bill had gotten used to having you and Joel over as guests and didn’t see either of you as a threat anymore, he still preferred to keep you both at arm’s length, a choice you two respected. He hardly ever said much and often chose to let his partner do all the talking unless the conversation had anything to do with trading supplies. Only then would he step in. 

As you’d tucked into your meal of wild rabbit and garden vegetables, you could feel Joel throwing subtle glances your way every so often. It was half expected that he would, seeing as he’d never seen you like this before. He was so used to seeing you in tattered, dirty old clothes with dirt and grime caked onto your skin and in your hair. 

Surely, he must have felt like he was sitting next to a complete stranger, not his smuggling partner.

About an hour later, once everyone has finished eating, you offer to help Frank clear and clean up the table and wash the dishes. He settles for letting you help him bring everything inside, but shoos you away before you can even think about lifting another finger. “Don’t worry, I’ve got it,” he says, waving you away from the kitchen sink with his hands. “You and Joel are taking off in just a couple hours, so go on and get some rest,” he suggests. “Oh, by the way, we found some new books to add to the collection. Might find something you like. Go ahead and check them out.”

“But I forgot my library card at home,” you joke lamely, although it earns you a sincere laugh from your friend. You pad out of the kitchen and into the living room, straight over towards a grand oak bookshelf that is packed tightly to the brim with dozens and dozens of books of various genres. You hadn’t been all that much of a reader before, but thanks to Frank, who always sent you home with at least two or three works in your pack, reading had become one of your favorite hobbies over the last few months, a sweet little escape that took you out of your shoddy apartment in the zone and into another world. You start searching the titles for the new finds he’d mentioned. Spotting one of them, you pluck it from the shelf, a paperback titled, A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Opening it up, you begin thumbing through the pages, quickly realizing that it’s play—you’ve never read a play before. Still not convinced if it’s one you would like to take home with you, you flip back to the first page and start reading with a curious little hum. 

You had been so preoccupied with it that you hadn’t noticed Joel standing behind you, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest until he clears his throat, and asks, “Find somethin’ good?”

Startled, you whirl around, nearly dropping the book in your hands. “Jesus Christ, Joel,” you breathe out, clutching it tightly against your chest as your heart rate slows. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

“Not my fuckin’ fault you were too busy with your nose buried in a book,” he states, trying his hardest to fight the small smirk threatening to cross his lips. He uncrosses his arms and pushes himself away from the doorframe.

A chuckle escapes you, almost nervously, as he slowly starts walking over towards you, his brown boots heavy on the hardwood floor. He takes the book from your hands, humming as he reads the cover. “Shakespeare, huh?”

“You know Shakespeare?” you toss him a teeny, lopsided smile as you tease, “He from your time?”

Joel lightly smacks your arm with the worn paperback. “Yeah, I know Shakespeare and he was about four hundred fuckin’ years before my time, thank you very much.” He flips it over, eyes skimming the text on the back. “Had the world not gone to shit, you would’ve grown up and spent your entire middle school career being forced by English teachers to read all his shit and write essays tryin’ to interpret it all.” He hands it back over to you. “Here.”

“Sounds like a real fucking dream,” you deadpan. You glance down, running your index finger down the spine of the book. You’re trying, almost painfully, to ignore how Joel’s eyes glaze over you from head to toe. 

“Y’know, it’s kinda nice,” he remarks quietly, breaking the brief moment of silence that had fallen over the two of you. “Seein’ you like this.”

You keep your eyes fixed on the book and scoff. “What? In a dress?”

“When we’re here, you let your guard down. Ain’t always lookin’ over your shoulder. You smile a hell of a lot more.” He pauses, then adds, “You look happy here. Sure, this dress looks nice on you. Your smile looks even fuckin’ better, though.”

Your breath hitches in your throat. More than his words, it’s the genuine tone in which he had said them—you’d never even realized Joel noticed things like that. Whether you were happy or not, how often you smiled. Or didn’t smile.

You force a small chuckle. “It’s the only sense of normalcy that we get. Of course I look happy when we’re here. Because I am happy when we’re here.” Still refusing to meet his gaze, you turn around and walk over to the couch towards your pack. Opening the top, you quickly shove the book inside. 

When you hear Joel’s footsteps coming up behind you, you stiffen slightly.

“Frank, he adores the hell outta you,” Joel says. He seems to hesitate, but then continues, “You ever think of askin’ him to stay here?”

“You kidding?” You snort in response. “Bill wouldn’t allow that. Never.”

Joel’s hands go to his hips, knowing you had a point. “But you know Frank can convince him of almost anythin’, don’t you? And besides, believe it or not, Bill actually likes you. He loves Frank more than anythin’ and you make Frank happy.”

You finally turn around to face and find yourself caught off guard by how close he’s standing to you. “Joel, what exactly are you getting at?” You raise an eyebrow before playfully asking, “Are you trying to get rid of me or something, Miller?”

Joel quickly shakes his head. “Of course not. All I’m sayin’ is that—” He stops and lowers his voice, just in case Bill or Frank happen to be wandering nearby. “I like seein’ this side of you. The happy side. The normal side.” He shrugs his shoulders, the lean muscles of his upper body flexing with the movement against the smooth fabric of his shirt. “Seein’ you all cleaned up, well fed and content—” He trails off once again. “Shouldn’t be a rare occurrence, y’know? You’d clearly be better off here with them and you know that with Frank’s help, we could probably talk Bill into letting you stay.”

The second you realize he’s being serious, your smile fades.

“What? But what about you?”

“Darlin’, Frank’s good, but he’s not a goddamn miracle worker. Even if he tried, that’s not somethin’ Bill would ever go for,” Joel admits, lifting a hand and raking his fingers through his hair. “And even if he did, we’d fuckin’ kill each other by the end of the first week.”

Bill and Joel being neighbors?

Talk about a different kind of apocalypse, you think to yourself.

“I know that much,” you reply with a tiny eye roll. “What I mean is, do you honestly think that I would leave my life in Boston?”

“That ain’t no fuckin’ life—”

You hold up a hand, stopping him. “I know it’s not. But it’s my life with you, Joel.”

The rough creases on his forehead suddenly soften. That was the first time you’d ever seen that happen.

The scowl on his face wasn’t permanent after all.

“Yes, this is nice. This patch of town, this house, the running water, the food, the clothes—this is a decent life. More than decent. In this world that we’re living in, this place is heaven. But without you, all of it would mean absolutely nothing to me. I wouldn’t be happy here, not without you.”

Joel tilts his head back, shaking it lightly. “Think about what you’re sayin’ here.”

“I know what I’m saying.” Before your brain and your body can even make the connection, you find yourself taking a step towards him, shrinking the gap between your bodies even further. You glance up at him, somehow finally finding the courage to have your eyes meet his. “I refuse to leave your side, Joel. That’s never going to happen. Not if I can fucking help it. Do you understand that?”

Joel exhales the breath he’d been holding, his warm breath tickling your face.

“I mean it, Joel. We’re in this shitty ass fucking world, together. No little slice of heaven could ever get me to leave you behind, no matter how good it is,” you declare, silently wondering to yourself where the hell you were even finding the balls to confess all of this to him. “Okay?”

“You’d be safer here than in the QZ, with all that shit’s that been goin’ down—”

“I’m the safest when I’m with you, Joel. I know I am.”

You lift your hand to his face. At first, there’s minor hesitation on your part, but you will yourself to place it on his cheek. Although your touch is gentle, Joel can’t help but wince. Not because he doesn’t want you to touch him, but because it had been so fucking  long since anyone had ever touched him like that. 

Since he’d let anyone touch him like that. 

He closes his eyes and after a second or two of resisting, he finally allows himself to relax his tense muscles and he sinks  into your touch.

Joel lets himself savor the feeling of your hand on his face. His bottom lip gives a subtle tremble when you softly start to graze your thumb down along his jawline. His beard, which you often playfully tease him about now that it’s beginning to gray just like his hair, feels rough and scratchy, and yet somehow still soft underneath your fingertips.

“Hey,” you murmur, and he forces his eyes to snap open. “We’re in this together. That’s how it’s been and that’s how it’s going to stay,” you assure him. “My place is with you, Joel.”

Joel manages to speak through tight lips, his voice strained. “You really fuckin’ gotta stop talkin’ to me like that, darlin’.”

You carefully move your hand away from his face, letting it drop back down to your side. “Why?”

“‘Cause. Shit like that is dangerous.”

“Dangerous,” you repeat, almost laughing. “Of all the things—”

Then, Frank’s words from earlier come to mind.

He’s afraid because he knows how dangerous it is, having a weakness in the form of a person he cares about more than anything can be in a world like this.

Joel’s dark eyes flicker to the strap of your dress, noticing it had started sliding off your shoulder. Before he can even think to stop himself, he reaches out and pulls it up back into place, his rough, calloused fingers brushing against your smooth skin. “You’re so soft,” he murmurs under his breath. All those fucking years of working with you, even sharing a bed together, and he had no idea of what it was like to touch you.

“Joel…” 

Your heart had all but climbed up into your throat.

“Everythin’ you just said a minute ago, ‘bout not wanting to stay here without me,” he starts to say, “I know that it’s fuckin’ selfish of me, but I’m real glad you said it. ‘Cause no way in hell do I want a life without you. I know it’s wrong but—”

Placing your hands delicately on his shoulders, you lift yourself up on your toes and cut him off mid-sentence by pressing your lips softly against his. The clean scent of the soap Frank had given him to shower with fills your senses and you yearn to have more of him, you nearly ache to get a real taste of him—but your courage only went so far. Thankfully, Joel knows to take over from here. One of his arms snakes  its way around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest while the other reaches up, the warm palm of his hand pressing against your cheek. His tongue swipes lightly across your bottom lip, silently asking for permission to explore your mouth just a little bit further.

You eagerly grant him access, half expecting his mouth to ravage yours.

Much to your surprise, Joel remains gentle.

The way that he kisses you, the way he holds your body against his, the way his large hand—the same hand that slits throats and breaks bones—delicately cradles the side of your face like you’re made of porcelain. 

“Joel,” you nearly whimper his name when he breaks away.

His face remains just inches from yours.

“Fuck,” he mutters, leaning his forehead against yours, fighting to catch his breath. “We’ll need to get goin’ soon.”

“I know.” You nod, hoping you don’t sound as disappointed as you feel. You can sense that Joel, much like yourself, is  at war with himself over what had just happened. Not that either of you regretted it, at least you certainly don’t, but the realization that you two have just crossed a line you’ll never come back from was daunting.

Joel lifts his head, lightly pressing his lips against your forehead. He then forces himself to release you from his arms and steps back, dropping them back down at his sides. “I need to, uh, I need to go get some things from Bill. Y’know, get my pack ready before we take off.”

You nod again. “I’ll start changing and get another pack of supplies ready as well.” You pause, clearing your throat awkwardly. “Joel, about what just happened—”

He silently shakes his head before leaning down, capturing your mouth with his.

This kiss is short and quick, and when he pulls away, he says nothing. He turns on the heel of his boot and disappears, heading out to meet Bill in the garage. 

Your hand flies to your mouth, your fingers lightly touching your lips.

“Well, well, well.”

Looking over your shoulder, your throat goes dry when you see Frank standing there, hands on his hips and a knowing, smug expression on his face. 

“How long have you been standing back there?”

“Long enough.” Even from a distance, you catch the amused twinkle in his eye. “What did I tell you?”

You turn away from him, biting your lower lip.

So maybe he’d been right after all.

Maybe you were Joel’s weakness. 

But he was yours too.

[misty-caligula]

I’m so pleased with the pacing of yj, in general. If it wasn’t for that pacing I don’t think it’d hit quite so well. It’s the slow burn that really sells how they get there.

I’ve been telling my friends and people about yj that ep 1 act 1 scene 1 is a promise, not only of the level of intensity that we’re going to, but also that when we get there we’ll understand why, how we got there, we’ll have opinions on if they’re right about hunting pit girl, it’ll all make sense in the end and we’ll have the catharsis of knowing and empathy for an extreme situation.

I think that s2e8 REALLY fulfilled that promise, really put a lot of those little pieces together.

(I have no idea if this is an intentional motif, but I think it’s interesting that Walter’s GIANT puzzle featured two completely filled in chunks, two sections that were absolutely solid, amongst the noise, now that this episode really answers a lot of little questions and puts it all together in a very satisfying way for us. Hmm)

We were right about the queen, about the necklace, the system for choosing. The hunt began organically, I love that. I love that they got INTO it, I love that the doomcoming needed them to be fucked up on drugs, but now they’re in the exact same place without it. Literally, the same hunting pack, the same style, AND ONCE AGAIN NATALIE IS ON THE OUTSIDE.

The stopping to listen, the whooping and howling, the call back to Travis’ sacrifice. All cool aesthetic choices, but also I wonder...

Shauna can’t just stand there and coldly kill Nat. She can kill Lottie if her blood’s hot, she can do a lot of things when she’s psyched up. But just standing there, coldly, and holding the knife and looking into her eyes? You’ve GOTTA make it a chase, get the blood hot, hit those predator instincts. I’ve been wondering SO LONG why they chased pit girl, why they made it into a ... a game. And now it’s so clear, they do it because they HAVE to, for their own sanity.

When Javi went after Nat too I genuinely thought he was joining the hunt for a moment. I am an idiot. Oh well.

Misty!!! Misty’s SO much. She’s out here, genuinely trying so hard to solve everyone’s fucking problems. She’s in the cold attic with Lottie trying to look after a starved, internally bleeding half dead girl all on her own. She’s covering up for the adults because nobody tells her fucking ANYTHING and then she’s judged for it. She’s saving teen!Nat’s fucking LIFE... like she’s done before and will again. Misty fucking Quigley, greatest of all time.

I’m so glad the adults just fucking TALKED and got their shit aired out. I’m glad that Misty and Nat are on the same side of the table.

They’re not gonna drink the kool-aid right?

right?

....

right?

[canmom]

Animation Night 130: Hayao Miyazaki’s Aeroplane Movies

Oh that Hayao Miyazaki! We sure have a slightly complicated relationship to him here on Animation Night!

See for example...

Animation Night 70, where I talk about his early career and years as a Toei union man, up to the founding of Ghibli;

Animation Night 100 where I tell you about one of my favourite ever films Mononoke-Hime;

Animation Night 111 where we look at the fascinating My Neighbour Totoro-Grave of the Fireflies double bill of 1988.

Tonight, we’re going to look at two films, Porco Rosso and the controversial The Wind Rises, which indicate his particular arc through life in, honestly, a rather sad way. Putting them alongside each other to see what we learn...

If there’s one thing old Hayao loves, it is aeroplanes - particularly planes from the early-mid 20th century. No surprise, really: his dad Katsuji Miyazaki ran a company Miyazaki Airplane, which manufactured parts for world war II aeroplanes such as the infamous Zero fighter plane. (Put a pin in that one!) Despite working to arm the Imperial Japanese military, Katsuji was able to get out of actually serving in the war by telling his commanding officer that he didn’t want to fight when he had a wife and kid, which somehow got him discharged with just a lecture.

The young Hayao, born 1941, was therefore surrounded by planes, which were the source of his family’s comfort. He spent his earliest years fleeing from American air raids, suffering from digestive problems, and watching his stern, intellectual mother Yoshiko suffering from spinal tuberculosis (though she ultimately made it to 1983, at age 72). At school in the 50s, he took an interest in manga - which in those days naturally meant Osamu Tezuka; he also went to see drama films with Katsuji such as Meshi (1951).

In ‘58, he saw Toei’s Legend of the White Snake (白蛇伝 Hakujaden), notable as the first colour anime film, sneaking out from studying for his exams. The film had a profound effect on him. In Starting Point, he writes that he fell in love with the film’s heroine Bai-Niang, and yet gradually started to imagine how he might have done the film differently to better show the secondary characters.

Hayao went to university to study political economy with a focus on ‘Japanese Industrial Theory’, and at the same time, started drawing in earnest, cranking out thousands of pages of manga and spending a lot of time sketching and chatting politics with his middle school art teacher. The 60s and 70s were a high point of left-wing activity in Japan, the time of the Japanese New Left and the Anpo protests against the US-Japan security treaty (c.f. Toku Tuesday 33 on Nagisa Ōshima for a truly fascinating filmmaker who rose to prominence at this time!) So Miyazaki fairly naturally became a Marxist, and stayed such as he got his start working in animation, which I’ve covered in other posts.

So at this point perhaps we can see the curious contradiction that sits in so much of Miyazaki’s work: he genuinely loves aeroplanes and other kinds of military hardware on a kind of aesthetic level, and yet this sits pretty curiously against a worldview that went from Marxist to environmentalist and has no love of war or nationalism.

With all this in mind, let’s take a look at a few of Miyazaki’s early depictions of planes. First would be his work on episode 21 of Moomin (1969), by TMS entertainment. On this infamous episode, Miyazaki’s senpai Yasuo Otsuka called in his protégé to handle of all things a battle scene with planes and tanks - one which infuriated Tove Jansson, already dissatisfied with the tone of the adaptation, to the point that she pulled the show out of TMS Entertainment and A-Pro’s hands and gave it to Tezuka’s rival studio Mushi Pro instead.

(I can’t find any embeddable version, but I did get my hands on this episode eventually! Lain bless soulseek.)

This did not deter Miyazaki at all. In his work on ‘Green Jacket’ Lupin III Part I, which he co-directed with Takahata and Masaaki Ōsumi as well as animating several scenes, we start to see his love of mechanical detail shine through once more. Miyazaki’s plane obsession would shine through even more strongly with his direction of two episodes of ‘red jacket’ Lupin III Part II (1980), under the pen name “Tsutomu Teruki”, directing animators like the spectacular Kazuhide Tomonaga as @kbnet​ documents here. By that point his style had matured - the character designs and motion feel like something drawn in Ghibli’s early years, and the plane backgrounds are astonishingly dense with detail. The Castle of Cagliostro is by comparison relatively light on aeroplanes, but truly elevates Lupin’s car to a character - not to mention the film’s ridiculously elaborate finale where the characters battle through an enormous system of gears.

In between these two Lupin jackets came Future Boy Conan, where we start to see Miyazaki find more things to say about planes than “damn cool!”; a full of wonderful plane adventures, yet they also represent the sinister forces of industrialism which destroyed the world once and threaten to do it again.

In an essay from 1979 that opens the collection Starting Point, Miyazaki remarks on the qualities needed to animate a plane on Conan, giving a sense of his philosophy around animated machines - and his perfectionism:

Quite a few of toda’s younger animators plunged directly into this line of work because they were fans. But if I were to ask them to draw a picture of what they think a chaika (a flying boat in Future Boy Conan) would look like in flight, they would only be able to imagine what they had previously seen on past TV anime shows. And I wouldn’t be able to use their work as a result.

To draw a chaika flying in a truly original fashion, you would need to have read at least one book on the history of flying, and then be able to use your imagination to augment what you have read.

This is followed by an anecdote about Russian pilot, and builder of the first four-engine biplane, Igor Sikorsky - the man who for Miyazaki “symbolises the way men really fly”.

Miyazaki of 1979 seemed to have a lot on his mind about the relationship of humans to machines. He criticises the mecha shows of the time for a lack of focus on how the character creates and maintains the machine: “the protagonist should struggle to build his own machine, he should fix it when it breaks down, and he should have to operate it himself”. And true to form, when Miyazaki’s films portray machines, there is as much loving depiction of the maintenance as the actual machines in flight.

We’ll fast forward now, since I talked quite a bit about The Castle of Cagliostro, Nausicaa and Castle in the Sky back on AN 70, and Totoro back on AN 111. I haven’t covered Kiki’s Delivery Service yet, although you can trust we will before too long! No, the first film of interest to us tonight is a bit of an oddball in the Ghibli oeuvre; well known to fans of the studio but not quite as much of a household name. That’s Miyazaki’s flying pig movie, Porco Rosso (紅の豚 Kurei no Buta).

^ here’s your obligatory Yoshinori Kanada-animated background animation scene!

Porco Rosso is Miyazaki’s first movie to not just feature planes, but be truly overwhelmingly about planes. Set in a vaguely Mediterranean world, it expresses Miyazaki’s nostalgia for a lost era of flying before he was born, and yet it’s also tinged with the impending horror of the second world war and the recognition that the planes that Miyazaki loves so much are above all weapons.

Unlike many of Miyazaki’s movies, it centres on mostly adult characters and its narrative arc doesn’t really move to any sort of definite resolution; it’s more a portrait of the era, or rather, Miyazaki’s fantastical imagination of the era, in which there can be sky pirate families flying with dozens of children and, of course, a man can get transformed into a pig. The central character of the film, the eponymous Porco Rosso (so called because he’s a pig (porco) that flies a red (rosso) aeroplane), is an outcast due to his pig curse, but also perhaps because he insists on flying for himself rather than for the Italian military, a stance that is already becoming obsolete.

So Porco ends up adopting a young aircraft engineer - a bishōjo character in the spirit of The Castle of Cagliostro - who is eager to see the world. The largest conflict in the film is Porco butting heads with an arrogant American pilot over the affections of Gina, a woman who runs a bar for pilots - yet the two are clearly more similar than different.

By this point Studio Ghibli is well-established, and Miyazaki can take his pick from some of the best animators in the entire industry. So we see not just Yoshinori Kanada, but also sakuga aces Mitsuo Iso(!!!) and Shinya Ohira(!!!), and with Ghibli money they can truly go all-out. All that attention to mechanical detail, the buliding of machines, is there. Events like the testing of an aeroplane engine are accompanied by incredibly complex multi-layered shots that only a drawing demon like Ohira could accomplish. Only someone whose grasp of 3D form is as precise as Mitsuo Iso could animate some of these shots of subtle wobbles in the pre-CGI era. And on top of that, the colour design of Michyo Yasuda is there in all its beauty, Joe Hisaishi truly came into his own with a score as wistful and nostalgic as such a film demands; it’s an incredibly accomplished work of animation. 

But, planes though.

One of the film’s most memorable scenes - one which unites the two films we’re going to see tonight - sees Porco fly up high into the sky to a kind of flying graveyard of aeroplane pilots. It’s here we especially see the ambivalence that obsesses Miyazaki: he finds aeroplanes one of the most beautiful things in the world, idolises their pilots, and yet of course this period of aviation was an incredibly dangerous one, and moreover the aeroplane development was catalysed by war and soon would lead to a level of destruction never seen before in human history with the bombing campaigns of the second world war.

It would be natural to imagine that the workshop where Porco recruits Fio may in some way resemble the workshop run by Miyazaki’s parents - in spirit, as he imagines it, if not in detail. Like Miyazaki Airplane, this workshop in Italy cannot be doing anything but supplying aeroplanes to Mussolini, and indeed we see Porco utter one of the most quoted lines in the film when he tells his old air force buddy “I’d rather be a pig than a fascist.” even though this leaves him essentially a fugitive, on his own with a plane and a girl (like half his age I guess?).

^ This swarm of tadpole-like children was animated by Masashi Ando.

If you actually read Miyazaki’s comments about his dad, it seems a little different. Far from being lovingly crafted, Miyazaki writes, Katsuji would make defective parts and bribe officials to look the other way. He would go to nightclubs right into his 70s and ask Hayao if he’d started smoking yet.

At the time this film came out, Hayao Miyazaki’s father Katsuji would die only a couple of years later, in 1993. We can find a short piece that Hayao wrote about it in Starting Point (page 208-209, My Old Man’s Back):

...And after the war, he had no sense of guilt about having been involved in the military arms industry or having produced defective parts. In effect, for him war was something that only idiots engaged in. If we were going to war anyway, he was going to make money off of it. He had absolutely no interest in just causes or the fate of the state. For him the only concern was how his family would survive.

(...)

When he died two years ago, those of us who gathered together agreed that he had never once said anything particularly lofty or inspiring. If I have one regret, it is that I never discussed things seriously with my old man. From the time I was young, I always looked at him as a negative example. But it seems, after all, that I am like him. I have inherited my old man’s anarchistic feelings and his lack of concern about embracing contradictions.

So the actual reality of aeroplanes around Miyazaki had little to do with the romantic images we see in his films. But that ‘lack of concern about embracing contradictions’ seems important...

In 2013, 20 years after Katsuji’s death, Miyazaki would direct a new film, The Wind Rises (風立ちぬ Kaze Tachinu, lit. The Wind Has Written) - to date, his last film, although of course like clockwork he’s since come out of retirement to work on another one. Ostensibly, this film is a biopic of Jiro Horikoshi, the inventor of the Mitsubishi A6M Zero fighter plane so vital to the Imperial Japanese war machine.

However, if you look into the details, you soon realise that the story present in the film - particularly its central element of Jiro love interest and eventual wife Naoko Satomi - is a complete fiction. Jiro Horikoshi did marry and eventually had five children, but there is very little information about them, even in Horikoshi’s own autobiography. An article comparing the film against it remarks...

The Story of the Zero Fighter is 80% plane design ideas, measurements and stories surrounding Jiro’s career. There’s so much focus on the construction of the planes there’s a measly 20% left for autobiographical material.

According to that article, Horikoshi’s autobiography describes his initial thrill at reports of the Zero’s success in the invasion of China, then later, the psychological impact of a bomb striking nearby and his gradual realisation of what a war actually meant. It’s an arc towards increasing horror at the measures the Japanese Empire was taking to win the war with it, particularly the announcement of the Kamikaze suicide-bomber tactic:

Jiro was approached by the press to write a short essay on the Kamikaze, but he declined. He found it too emotionally difficult to think when he looked at photographs of smiling pilots boarding Zero’s, knowing they were doomed to death. Sobbing, the only sentiment that encouraged him to put pen to paper was dedicating his writings to the families who had lost their loved ones in the war. In the haunted depths of his mind he wondered why Japan had not just given up the war, and why they had gone to such measures with the Zero’s.

Very little of this arc makes it into The Wind Rises. Nationalism is glimpsed only at the margins. In one trip to Weimar Germany, Horikoshi witnesses a Jewish man being pursued; later, he meats a privately anti-Nazi German man at the hospital who talks briefly about how foolish nationalism will make a country ‘blow up’, and his final oblique conversation with the dream-ghost of his idol, Italian aircraft engineer Giovanni Cabroni, about what it means to build planes when they will be tragically be destroyed.

Instead, we find Miyazaki draw in a different source for the primary character arc of this movie: a novel by Tatsuo Hori that also has the title 風立ちぬ Kaze Tachinu. Set in a sanitarium much like the one in which Horikoshi spends the latter half of the film, it tells the story of the relationship between a nameless protagonist and a woman dying of tuberculosis.

It seems an odd connection at a glance: why would you take this seemingly entirely unrelated novel and apply it to an actual historical person? To me, the most plausible answer is that this isn’t really a film about Jiro Horikoshi. Because recall that, of Miyazaki’s parents, his mother also had spinal tuberculosis, and his dad also made planes for the war. Yet, the Horikoshi of this film hardly resembles Katsuji Miyazaki either, who we’ve seen was far from a workaholic like the film’s Jori Horikoshi. Instead, this would better resemble Hayao himself. So instead, it seems to be using this historical setting as a kind of place to explore Miyazaki’s feelings about his parents, his own craft in animation (wedded to the technical industrial world as it is)...

Inevitably that’s a pretty fraught thing to do! More so than any of Miyazaki’s other films, the film sparked a lot of controversy, mostly for how it handles the topic of the war. You could argue that like, OK, do you need a movie to moralistically lecture you on how invading most of Asia was bad? Must it rub our faces in the atrocities committed by the Imperial Japanese Army and Navy to be a worthwhile movie?

One answer is that with the amount of modern nationalism and historical revisionism out there, it might not go amiss for national hero Hayao Miyazaki to take a stand there! But honestly it’s more that, with such subject matter, seems to go out of its way to avoid showing what the Zero was actually used for. The main tragedy, as far as Horikoshi was concerned, seems to be that so many pilots of this beautiful aeroplane die; that his pursuit of engineering beauty was corrupted by worldly matters like a war.

Which isn’t necessarily a completely inaccurate portrait of the real Jori Horikoshi’s attitude to his creation. The quote that inspired the film was “All I wanted to do was to make something beautiful.” But then this film goes out of its way to emphasise Horikoshi as a caring family man, a wholly sympathetic character, when to much of the world, Jiro Hirokoshi is a symbol of....

That. (And that’s the low estimate. It could easily be four times higher.)

But let’s look at how it relates to old Hayao and the contradictions he talks about living. If not to the same degree as old Isao Takahata, Miyazaki is an infamously exacting and demanding boss, heavily correcting nearly every cut that passes his desk. He’s spent his life working at a frankly kind of insane pace and expects his employees to keep up. Studio Ghibli has at least one dead body on its hands. Yet if you look at his films, they’re all about freedom and romanticism and the importance of enjoying nature. In Totoro, the dad is pulled away from his desk to play outside by his children. Probably not a good idea at Ghibli.

Then there are all the family relationships, all the way from the panda in Panda Kopanda to the mother in Ponyo. But Hayao Miyazaki was a distant father (he writes in Starting Point that his children were basically raised by their mother), and infamously callous to his son Gorō when he attempted to direct a film that Hayao didn’t think he was ready to handle.

Can we analogise animation to an aeroplane? It is beautiful in much the same way as an aeroplane is: elegant shapes, the technical coordination of many disparate parts to achieve an effect that would perhaps otherwise sound far-fetched (a flying machine? a picture that moves?). What’s the cost of animation? Well, thankfully nothing comparable to killing millions of people. But it is not a light undertaking. It is something that does eat lives. Is that a comparison that Miyazaki would have had in mind? I doubt it, honestly, but it’s what occurs to me faced with this film.

Thus I read the film’s Jori Horikoshi is a strange emotional blend of Hayao Miyazaki himself, an idealisation of his father or perhaps the sort of man he wishes his father was, and the real man who invented an effective fighter plane which helped enable his country to pillage most of Asia. And the rest of us? Well, the person working through these contradictions is Hayao Miyazaki, at the head of one of the highest concentrations of skilled animators the world has ever seen, so it’s going to be shared with nearly everyone. Would it probably have made more sense to do this in something like a manga, instead of a high profile movie? ...Well, I think so. But that’s not what happened, so we have this movie.

Inevitably for a late Ghibli movie, this film is crazy good looking. No Yoshinori Kanada anymore since he died in 2009, but Shinya Ohira is still alive, and he is absolutely capable of handling a Kanada-like background animation sequence. One of the most breathtaking sequences is the portrayal of the Great Kantō Earthquake by Atsuko Tanaka and Taichi Furumata, which combines both brilliant multiplane shots and unbelievably complex full background animation scenes of waves rippling through houses and streets. Tanaka also handled these mindblowing shots of cloth flowing in the wind as Naoko paints that form the film’s major recurring image.

The film uses slightly more digital compositing effects than the 90s pre-digital Ghibli films. For the most part the colours are just as lush as those older films, and there’s even very effective use of CG with handpainted textures now and then; Ghibli weathered the transition to digital a lot better than many studios.

And yet, despite all of this, it is a movie that leaves me feeling pretty unsatisfied, like a lot of late Ghibli movies. Hayao Miyazaki has said that he’s attempted to move away from familiar kishōtenketsu structures and try something novel, but when I watch films like Howl’s Moving Castle, I’m left wondering like... what did all of that amount to, in the end? For all its spectacle, what is this film even saying that Porco Rosso didn’t say... honestly, say better?

Maybe I’ll find an answer on a rewatch. It’s... far later than I planned to start, but if you’re willing to join me, please hop into twitch.tv/canmom and we’ll watch Hayao Miyazaki’s two big films about planes! And I’ll show you the Moomin thing too.

[sacredpit]

👻 - How does your muse handle feeling scared? Do they enjoy horror? Do they believe in the paranormal? What calms your muse down? Do they have any scary stories?

miscellaneous symbol headcanons .

it depends on where in his timeline we’re examining ;   kak has come quite a   long   way from the person he was when he first encountered dio .   back then ,   he’d never really experienced   true fear   like that before   ━━━━   isolation aside ,   kakyoin lived a pretty normal life up until that point ,   meaning he didn’t really have much to be afraid of   (   aside from like ,   dying alone ,   but that’s an existential kind of fear   &   it’s something he could just shove to the back of his brain when he didn’t want to think about it lol   ) .   so that moment when dio approached him was the first time in his life that he had ever felt genuinely   scared ,   paralyzed with fear   &   unable to push it down anywhere ;   completely at dio’s mercy .

&   it was partially because he was feeling so many complex emotions at that time that he fell victim to the mousetrap ,   but i think that polarizing concoction of terror   &   comfort really disoriented him   &   made him completely vulnerable ;   even more so than he already was being a despondent gay teenager who’s finally met someone that can see the part of him that no one else could . 

i think it’s safe to say he didn’t really   ‘ handle ’   that situation in the best way ,   but who can blame him ??   he had to be either 16 or newly 17 at the time ,  &   beyond that ,   i don’t think   anything   could have prepared him to face dio for the first time ,   even if he wasn’t in such a dark place already .

throughout their journey to egypt ,   kakyoin spends a lot of time reflecting on that experience   &   the events that took place while he was under the influence of the fleshbud .   he   knew   that he had to face dio again   &   conquer his fear of him if he ever wanted to move on with his life   &   reach his fullest potential   (   also ,   he just wants   revenge ,   &   that in itself is an entire other   world   of motivation ,   alongside helping jotaro   &   holly   ) ,   so any spare moment he gets to psych himself up to look dio in the face   &   do everything in his power to end his literal reign of terror doesn’t go to waste .

&   let me tell you how proud of him i am for doing the damn thing .   he not only faced dio head on but didn’t buckle or yield in the slightest ,   he held his head high   &   he was fully prepared to put everything on the line to stop him .   i know i’m totally biased ,   but i get   actual chills   thinking about how courageous he was in that scene .   that moment was so liberating for him ,   &   even if it didn’t end in the way he’d hoped   (   kakyoin is not fucking dead what are you talking about   ) ,   he had never seen or known himself clearer than he did in that moment ,   never felt more dignified   &   accomplished .   the fear was gone .   &   he knew he could rely on his friends to take care of the rest .

after that ,   kakyoin is virtually fearless .   of course he’s human   &   still   feels   scared from time to time ,   but i mean that fear will never hinder or stop him ever again .   it motivates him ;   it’s another thing that gets his blood pumping   &   reminds him of everything he’s survived .   why can’t he survive this ,   too ?? 

okay i spent way too much time on the first question so let me speedrun the last four .   kakyoin likes horror aesthetics but he’s generally not all that interested in actual horror films because he finds all the gore   &   stuff very distasteful ;   he’d much rather read some horror manga that’s artfully done or read some edgar allen poe or something   &   conjure up the macabre in his own mind than have it played up for shock value .   he just thinks it’s kind of lame .   i think literally any stand user should believe in the paranormal ,   especially since they can see ghosts   &   shit .   but even before all of that was apparent to him ,   kak definitely believed in ghosts   &   ‘ the other world ’ .   beyond the water tower thing ,   he works as an agent at spw now so of   course   he has scary stories   ━━━━   man has a near - death experience at least once a week in the height of his field career lmfao .

as for what calms him down ,   he actually has an unwitting habit of hierophant wrapping its tendrils around him ;   usually his legs if he’s sitting down   &   his shoulders   &   arms if he’s standing .   this stems from not really having anyone to turn to for comfort when he was a child   ━━━━   he had his mother ,   in theory ,   but once their relationship entered its strained era ,   he didn’t really feel comfortable approaching her for something so vulnerable .   &   his dad   . . .   lmfao .

another thing that calms him is sketching   &   painting .   he has a sketchbook literally filled to the brim with random stuff he’d drawn on the way to egypt   (   it’s mostly jotaro lmfao but anyway   )    when he felt anxious or couldn’t get his mind to settle .   it’s something he carries into adulthood ,   too ;   he’s usually not the type to carry a lot of things around but he definitely makes sure his clothes have pockets big enough to fit his lil sketchbook .

[towardwhatend]

Stranger Things 4 - The Fundamentals

On the spectrum of “Peak TV” and binge-watched streaming series, I have often put myself on the jaded side of things. I challenge the notion that series-based content is best watched in extraneously long sittings, and despise even moreso the choice by creatives and power-money studios who make content that is best consumed in hours-long chunks. It feels like a missed opportunity to transform the series format into essentially 10 hour films, losing thematic cohesion for a single installment and forgoing the potential impact of a moment in the middle in favor of “where it’s all leading to.” If you want to see a series that is making incredible use of the episodic installment while continuing to tell a powerful, serialized narrative, Succession is perhaps the greatest example in recent memory. 

But we’re not talking about Succession, we’re talking Stranger Things. For the above reasons, and for what at first glance appeared to be weaponized nostalgia, I had a sour taste in my mouth toward this fantasy, sci-fi, adventure series, and avoided watching it for a long time. Couple that with the public hype toward this series, especially at a time when the previous mega-hit series that shall not be named was beginning its nose-dive into failure, and I became about as cynical as one could be toward this celebration of nerd-culture. 

Now, after the release of its 4th season, I was compelled to give it a second shot. In so small part this was due to the knowledge that its newly revealed villain was inspired by DnD’s Vecna. I am at my absolute nerdiest when it comes to Dungeons and Dragons - it combines literally every favorite thing in my life into one activity (friends, imagined spaces, emergent storytelling, fantasy, and endless potential). It may be shallow to suggest that the mere presence of Vecna in the story was the reason for my compulsion, but it is almost fundamentally true. I saw pics, he looked awesome, I figured it was time to give it a second shot. That, and several trusted people in my life told me how great this last season was. 

Now, about three weeks later, I tearfully finished its finale episode. Was I wrong to be jaded? Possibly. It is clear to me now that the Duffer Brothers put a lot of care and love into their story, in particular its characters and construction, and there is so much to love in what they’ve done. I’ll try to break down some thoughts on it here. 

I have a few primary frustrations with Stranger Things over all. Some of the simplest ones can be tied to its pulpiness - characters are constantly wounded but function no problem (looking at the ridiculously concussed brain of Steve Harrington, amongst others), or getting themselves into ridiculous danger yet always seem to find a way out of it. These are issues with fantasy, sci-fi, and adventure series as a whole, so I can’t fault Stranger Things too much, but it certainly is just as ridiculous here as it is anywhere else. 

Deeper down the frustration ice-berg comes the weaponized nostalgia. Stranger Things’ aesthetic is clearly meant to hit at your delighted nerdy funny bone for an 80s that only looks this way in our minds. The irony that this nostalgia works on my generation and below is baffling, by the way. But that nostalgia also manifests in its trope-y choices. Just about any and every high-school movie trope can be found in its writing, including ridiculously vicious bullying, good girl/bad boy dynamics, popular kids vs. nerds, etc. etc. The way situations like these have been depicted in movies and then rehashed for movies inspired by those movies has constructed a reality that these kinds of high school tropes are a genuine reflection of the public’s experience. I would love data on this subject, but I would hypothesize that this is far from the truth, and is certainly not true anecdotally. Stranger Things so often traffics in this area in ways that are so explicitly derivative that it gets away with feeling like a constant homage. This is an issue that can be found in a plethora of other Netflix series, and makes me wonder who continues to greenlight projects with such a specific emphasis on played-out high school drama. But I digress. 

In fairness to Stranger Things, it does not always remain in this territory, but it does seem to use it as the “return home” part of its hero’s journey cycles. This and its more general-feeling of nostalgia and intertextual references can feel frustrating because they know exactly what they’re doing, and it works, it does feel engaging (hell, I watched because of my excitement for an intertextual reference). However, unlike other franchises (ahem, Marvel), Stranger Things does not solely rely on weaponized intertextuality to keep the audience engaged. It is an ever-present part of the show’s dopamine rush, but there is genuine character work happening, and a woven tapestry of compelling stories that have genuine meaning to the world. But I’m getting ahead of myself - a few more gripes first. 

Then there is the streaming problem. Seasons 1-3 of Stranger Things do genuinely play out like full 8-9 hour films spliced into digestible chunks but intended to be watched between 1-3 sittings. This is, fine. In season one it feels inoffensive, and the flow of the story felt well-suited to that format. For seasons 2 and 3, episodes with singularly thematic coherence and an emphasis on a particular storyline would have been helpful - particularly in the third outing. The sometimes maligned season 3 is the most “normal” that the world ever feels, and despite the frustrations in unbelievable plots on a notable frustrating character transformation in Hopper, does provide 4 with a reason to care. If the series was more willing to focus individual stories in particular episodes, I think that season’s function would be much closer to its execution. But again I digress. The frustration is primarily that the show is masquerading as one form while actually being another, and thus the many hours of watching really only feel emotionally impactful or thematically resonant by its ending. This is not helped by a consistent problem in its first three seasons (again, particularly 2&3) - the mystery is rarely ever a mystery. The audience is privy to far more information than the characters, giving us an omniscient viewpoint that detaches us from engagement in the plot journey. Thus the overwhelming feeling is a sense of wishing for everyone to get in the same room, share what they know, and then defeat the BG. Which, of course, they inevitably do, since the structure of every season sees small groups with complementary clues developing on their own until they converge. 

That is, until Season 4. There are still three pockets of stories going on, more split than ever between the A Team in Hawkins, B Team in Russia, and C Team in the southwestern desert. Oh, and Eleven, who is maybe S Team, but off on her own for the entirety of the primary story. And these teams do, eventually, converge, even if they remain in their respective locations. And Season 4 does still feel satisfying to watch in long sittings with episodes running into the next. But the episode structure is different. Gone are the end-episode stingers in favor of more clearly defined chapter beats. There is more focus on individual members of the team in particular episodes, especially with the foregrounding of Max’s trauma and Eleven’s past, and the subtle leadership arc for Nancy.

But more importantly, a genuine sense of mystery pervades season 4. From episode 1 we see Vecna in all his foul glory (and sometimes hammy dialogue), yet all questions around him are unanswered - how is he related to what came before? Why him? Why now? How is he spreading his curse? What does he want? And these questions are far more relevant because Vecna is, for the most part, a person who can be understood, which is new territory for this show’s eldritch horrors. However, this is balanced with his particular brand of psychological torture when he kills, which is focused on tapping into his victim’s guilt, shame and trauma, which still makes him feel at home in the show’s primal evil (despite sometimes feeling a little heavy-handed). 

Unlike past seasons, the mystery of the villain is not given to us prior to our characters’ discovery. In this case the mystery is revealed to us alongside Nancy and Eleven both discovering it for themselves, aligning audience with character and making for what is truly the most jaw-dropping revelation of the show’s 50+ hours of screen time. Additionally, this alignment continues with the thread of Hawkins’ search for Eddie amidst Satanic Panic, in which the general public is functioning under a false, though partially understandable perspective, to which only our heroes know the truth. And, without the help of their telekinetic super-friend or their gruff but teddy-bear police chief, they are more down-trodden, more desperate, and thus more heroic than ever. 

Season 4 is not perfect, of course. The story focused on Russia is ridiculous and implausible, it still traffics in annoying high-school tropes, and there are still moments where the danger briefly loses its bite. But in watching, these frustrations are easily forgiven because of the masterful treatments of character and the gut-wrenching humanity that underpins the events. Both of those fall into what might be the strongest lesson of Stranger Things - fundamentals. 

The Duffer Brothers excel in this series due to their commitment to the fundamentals - what defines a character, what do they need to confront in order to move forward, how can our antagonistic forces compel them to confront it, what consequences need to be paid in order for them to become their new self? Questions like these, and so many others, make up the core of grounded, character-based drama. Which, for all its psychic monsters, saccharine nostalgia, and pulpy action, is what truly shines about this series. This is maybe best exemplified in its hero, Eleven, a psionic warrior who is simultaneously wielding unbelievable power and is ridiculously vulnerable, who needs to return to her greatest trauma, both in the past and the present, in order to understand her opponent and attempt to defeat them. But just about every character has these fundamental defining traits which are inextricably tied to their function in the story, all of which emerges into a jugsaw puzzle before a final conclusion. 

This approach is undeniably a classic structure, used to great effect many, many times in the past. But, its recognizable attributes do not detract from its effectiveness, and there are many who have tried to engage it and failed due to a lack of understanding and appreciation for its fundamentals. Could Stranger Things be more experimental? Absolutely. Should audiences be seeking out stories that challenge them? Is Stranger Things one of those? Sometimes. Is it the greatest show ever made? No and who cares. But why it shines, why it resonates, is in its commitment to the fundamentals of character, grounded in relatable, human experience that sees the hero in absolutely anyone, regardless of their past mistakes.

If Scorsese’s words are gospel in evaluating sci-fi/superhero storytelling, I would absolutely argue that Stranger Things is the cinema of human beings trying to convey complex, psychological experiences to other human beings. If you’re into that conveyance being surrounded by a celebration of nerd-dom, a fuzzy feeling of nostalgia for childhood, and a host of spooky monsters, you will probably love it. I can honestly say that I did. 

[realife-mermaid]

I bought this “Cinderella retelling during the Spanish influenza except the flu turns people into zombies” series like a full year ago and I’m finally reading it

And I always love Cinderella stories where a) Ella is friends with a servant and b) Ella is sort of friends with one of the stepsisters

I just like her having someone to lean on a bit, and I always like the idea that one of the sisters doesn’t like the way her mother treats Ella but never knows what to do about it so she just tries to be a little nicer. In real life abusive situations, you often do have one of the siblings that isn’t being abused realize something is wrong but is helpless to do anything, and the guilt and abuse that comes with Seeing someone mistreated and being unable to do anything is also a phenomenon I find interesting to read about. Plus like.

Give Cinderella Family Outside The Prince Dammit

[lovely-keii]

From Us - Terushima Yuuji

From Us Masterlist

“Welcome to From Us! A show where two past lovers come together and answer a series of questions! What happens when a pair of people who might still harbor feelings for each other come together?”

“Welcome back to From Us! Again, I am your host, Viv! Today, joining us is Terushima Yuuji and Y/N L/N!”

Terushima: <crying in beautiful> Hi, I’m hot.

Y/N: I’m Y/N and I’m done. <deadpan>

[How did you two meet?]

Terushima: I was her childhood bestfriend.

Y/N: That’s like..so Wattpad.

Terushima: Oh my god we should get married now.

Y/N: I hate this. I hate you.

Terushima: No you don’t.

Y/N: No, I don’t. I would marry you right here, right now.

Terushima: Bet.

[How did you two know you loved each other?]

Terushima: Love at first sight, duh.

Y/N: Same, except we were like 3, so no.

Terushima: Wow, that’s so rude of you.

Y/N: You’re level of hotness is rude. Like give us a chance?

Terushima: Yes, baby, hype me up! <weird lip bite>

Y/N: Just never do that again and maybe I will.

[How did the first kiss happen?]

Terushima: It was so aesthetic-

Y/N: PLEASE STOP <wheezing> YOU LITERALLY GOT PUSHED INTO ME NO.

Terushima: Okay? Then aesthetic but less pretty.

Y/N: You screamed.

Terushima: I had good reason.

Y/N: Which is..?

Terushima: Okay, imagine kissing your crush and best friend for more than a decade.

Y/N: So kissing you?

Terushima: SMOOTH.

[How did you two start dating?]

Terushima: I asked-

Y/N: I found him practicing in the mirror. <deadpan>

Terushima: <gaping> That’s why you knock, oh my god.

Y/N: THAT’S WHY YOU DON’T PRACTICE YOUR CONFESSION, LIKE, A MINUTE BEFORE YOUR CRUSH IS GOING TO ENTER.

Terushima: EXCUSES.

-in a separate room by yourself-

[What is one thing you never got to tell him?]

Y/N: I actually really enjoy messing around with him. I genuinely have fun when we’re both doing stupid things. I guess he might think it’s just a random thing but I really cherish those moments where we hang out and just let go of our worries.

[Why did you date him?]

Y/N: He was someone I could let go around. True, the relationship was thrilling but there were moments where everything was calm. I could see a future with him and that really meant everything to me.

-in a separate room by himself-

[What is one thing you never got to tell her?]

Terushima: I mean everything I say to her. We joke around a lot but when I tell her I love her, I really mean it. I mess around a lot but I’m only ever serious when it comes to her feelings and none of those hugs or kisses were ever half-assed.

[Why did you date her?]

Terushima: I was comfortable around her. She made me feel like I could be me and I wouldn’t get weird looks from her. She really matched me and we worked well together.

[What’s something the both of you always did, just the two of you?]

Terushima: Netflix dates!

Y/N: Hell yeah!

Terushima: We would open our laptops and put it on our emails with our unfinished work and we would watch movies in front of it.

Y/N: Y’know, to show the homework who’s the actual boss.

Terushima: You weren’t the actual boss that one time you were crying over a math problem.

Y/N: That one was actually really hard.

[What’s your favorite memory with them?]

Terushima: She spilled her coffee on me.

Y/N: I spilled my coffee on him.

Terushima: Oh my god, soulmate?

Y/N: Plot twist, we’re actually one brain in two bodies.

Terushima: You’re genius.

Y/N: Wait, we have to like...say what happened.

Terushima: Can’t we just let them not know?

Y/N: So basically what happened was-

Terushima: Or just ignore me.

Y/N: <clears throat> As I was saying, I spilled my coffee on him and so he forced me to buy him a cup of coffee and the whole day he was getting weird stares because he had this huge brown stain on his shirt. Keep in mind, he has extra clothes for volleyball practice and the teachers would have let it pass if he just explained, but no, he decides to wear that shirt the whole day.

[The thing you loved the most about them?]

Y/N: He’s fun.

Terushima: She’s fun but notably less fun than me.

Y/N: He also likes lying.

Terushima: Denial is the first step to acceptance.

[The thing you hated the most about them?]

Terushima: Hating her would be hating me.

Y/N: I just hate him.

Terushima: Hating me is hating you.

Y/N: Unfortunately for you, I have both a superiority and inferiority complex.

Terushima: Unfortunately for you, I’m going to ignore that and act like you’re totally devastated about insulting me.

[How did you feel about each other before this?]

Terushima: I thought she was a snooty snoot snoot.

Y/N: Jokes on you, I AM a snooty snooter.

Terushima: Ew.

Y/N: I thought he was ew and I still think he’s ew.

Terushima: You’re just jealous of my twerking.

[How do you feel now?]

Y/N: He’s stinky.

Terushima: I am not!

Y/N: You are.

Terushima: She’s creepy.

Y/N: How am I creepy?

Terushima: You’ve been smelling me.

Y/N: Exposed.

Terushima: Sorry.

Y/N: Goodbye.

[How were fights like?]

Terushima: Like crazy, but more crazy.

Y/N: Dance off.

Terushima: No, like seriously, though.

Y/N: Oh damn, we’re getting serious.

Terushima: Unfortunately.

Y/N: I don’t know, we just shout?

Terushima: Yeah, is there more to it?

Y/N: I mean, we tried to answer their question. They don’t get to complain.

[How did you break up?]

Y/N: <gets up> Yuuji, this isn’t working out.

Terushima: <gets up> No, we can fix this!

Y/N: I’m sorry. <walks off camera>

Terushima: Nooooo! <falls to ground, dramatic sobbing>

Y/N: <walking in camera> And scene! You can get up now, Yuuji.

Terushima: Help me up.

Y/N: Or you can stay there.

Terushima: You're the worst.

Y/N: I’m just a representation of your bad taste in friends and partners.

[Are you willing to try again?]

Terushima: <dancing>

Y/N: Ew. I don’t want that one. <points to Terushima>

Terushima: <more dancing>

Y/N: You should stop. Stop existing at all.

Terushima: <dancing> Stop acting as if you don’t want this.

Y/N: I don’t want it. My eyes are burning.

“It’s been two months since Terushima and Y/N’s interview here, let’s see what they’re up to now!”

[How are you guys?]

Y/N: Mentally, physically, or emotionally?

Terushima: Why are you asking, there’s only one answer to all of those.

Y/N: No.

Terushima and Y/N: <wheeze>

Taglist: [Closed]

@honeyr4ven​  @piershoesz​​​  @strawberry-mentos-dreams @hq-girl-next-door​ @nachotrash​ @erinoikawa​ @floofi-mochich1 @auror-lovie​ @crayonwriting​ @tchalameme​​​ @yatoatyourservice​ @cherry-cake-pies @crapimahuman​ @peteunderoos​ @xxsilverwingxx​ @hiraeth-z​​ @r0llingthunderr​ @admiringlove​ @infantwomanjen​ @kac-chowsballs​​ @animexholic​ @jayneisalone​ @midnightsun30 @kurhooe

[annie-mit-ie]

Glimpses: Part 14a (Kathryn Hahn x Fem!Reader)

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Part 1 // previous chapter <<< >>> next chapter

Summary: The cast goes out for dinner.

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: Well hello there again! I was scheduled for work today but my shift got cancelled, so I had some time to go on with the story. Today's story doesn't begin with a gif - but it ends with one. Additionally, I am very anxious for everyone's reaction. Please don't kill me. xxx A.

Tag List: @danvers97 @zafirosreverie @srtamercurio @wanatag @pulledbythestars17 @plantowl @spacehahn @sarahp-stan @agentbrownierso @our-blood-is-our-ink

Playlist! :)

_____________________________________________________________________________

On set has always been Kathryn’s favorite place to be. Ever since she can think, she wanted to be an actress. It’s overwhelming sometimes, that’s for sure. But watching the movies at the end, after the projects are done, is the most rewarding thing to her. 

It’s Wednesday afternoon, today was a short day because the director scheduled some night shootings at the beginning of the week and promised to give everyone off earlier on Wednesday so the cast could go out for dinner. That’s why Kathryn is sitting in her Trailer with manager Jennifer and assistant Agnes (Ben is already off for the day) as they enjoy a cup of coffee as they chat about the upcoming weeks.

Kathryn is sprawled out on the couch, propping her feet up on Jennifer’s lap who doesn’t mind to have a little less personal space. Jennifer is studying the week’s schedule on her iPad as Kathryn stares at the ceiling. 

“Do you know what you want to wear to dinner today?” Kathryn props her head up to look at Jennifer and tries to find a quick answer.

She hates questions about outfits because usually she just throws on a blazer to whatever shirt she is wearing that day and calls is a day. As if anyone cares what she is wearing. Also, with no social media she wouldn’t notice bad press anyway.

Realizing Kathryn hasn’t thought of it yet, Agnes gets up and walks towards her wardrobe. Kathryn’s eyes follow her.

“Thank you, Aggie, just a black blazer would be great. Did I bring one? I’ll just wear it with the shirt I’m wearing. No fuzz and all.” Kathryn says apologetically. She feels bad for not getting up and arranging her clothes herself, but she is completely exhausted and can’t find the strength to get up just yet.

The three woman chat for a little longer before Kathryn sits down to reapply her makeup and fix her hair. There’s a knock on the door. Once again, Agnes is the one who gets up to open it as Jennifer is on a call with a magazine who wants to interview Kathryn soon.

“Hello! Can I he-“ The redhead nearly falls out of the trailer as she is faced with one of Kathryn’s co stars. The actor smiles at her softly, offering a hand to steady her.

“Is Kathryn here?” He asks in a raspy, low voice and peeks his head into the trailer. Kathryn, who has turned around from where she is seated, makes eye contact with him and offers a slow wave to say hello.

“K! We’re slowly but surely getting ready to leave and I thought I’d give you a heads up and maybe even take you with me already.” Hearing this nickname from anyone but you makes Kathryn feel very uneasy and her whole inside flinches as she realizes that, if she doesn’t speak up about it, he will continue using it. But at the same time: what is she supposed to say? She can’t just call him out for something like that because that could make her seem extremely unfriendly right away.

Realizing an answer is long overdue, she nods and checks herself in the mirror. “Can I get… like 10 more minutes, Jeff? I’ll come find you immediately.”

He shoots her a bright smile “Don’t worry! Let’s make it 15 and I’ll pick you up again.” And with that he leaves the trailer again.

Jennifer, who ended the call just a moment ago, looks up from the tablet to grin at Kathryn. “What a gentleman.” She winks.

“Treating you just the way you deserve to be treated.” Agnes also winks at her and Kathryn wishes she could just slap both of them. Lovingly, obviously.

Jennifer gets her attention back. “So…. Are you gonna go with him?”

“IS IT GONNA BE A DATE?” The younger woman jumps in excitedly.

Kathryn turns around to actually face her two closest people again without a mirror being the transmitting point. “Guys, you know I’ve been spending time with Y/N. That would be extremely unfair to her. I couldn’t.”

Agnes starts nodding as Jennifer takes her attention off the tablet for a moment and fully faces Kathryn. “I know, but let’s face it. She is much younger than you, doesn’t know a thing about the business and she won’t be here for a long long time. And of she would be here then press would go absolutely wild and you know that!”

“But… she makes me happy.” Kathryn won’t let her manager talk for herself and over her feelings like that and smiles as she sees her assistant nod behind Jennifer’s back over the remark.

“Might be, but still. My point stands. As your manager I have to tell you that both could be an extreme distraction, but at least he is here and you don’t have to stay up extremely late to communicate.” Jennifer looks back at her tablet, where she furiously starts typing. “Also. He has a very clean record and seems genuinely nice.”

“Let’s put on the red lipstick you brought, Kathryn! I’ll help you.” Agnes smiles and gets up from where she is seated to step closer to Kathryn, pushing her red hair behind her ears.

As they look at each other in the mirror and Kathryn’s eyes meet hers, she realizes how emotional her boss seems to be over the whole situation. Realizing Agnes is about to make another remark, Kathryn slightly shakes her head as she keeps intense eye contact and reaches for the lipstick to distract herself.

Just a moment later, Jeffrey knocks on the door again.

“There she is!” He exclaims, reaching for Kathryn’s hand who is about to step out of the trailer. “The most beautiful woman on set.”

She blushes and slaps his arm that is intertwined with hers all while jokingly rolling her eyes. “Oh shush.” She laughs.

“Just spilling some facts. Let’s go, I’ll drive. The others left just a moment ago and I offered to bring you.”

It’s a short drive and the two hold a casual conversation about previous projects and the mood is good. He seems to actually be quiet the gentleman as he immediately walks around the car and opens the door for her to get out. It’s just now becomes clear that it wasn’t a smart idea to leave later than the others.

Word must have spread and paparazzi and a handful of fans are building a crowd in front of the restaurant. For aesthetic reasons, the restaurant’s entrance is made out to look like a red carpet - the perfect opportunity to shoot some pictures of the stars.

The whole cast is still outside, waiting for Jeff and Kathryn all while handing out autographs. Paparazzi line up to get the perfect shot of the whole cast. Someone from the restaurant seems to be outside already to organize and manage the situation and give the cast some space. He talks the paparazzi down to take a single picture of all of them together.

Kathryn gets seemingly uneasy. She never really does a lot of big press for her projects and events like the Grammys are so organized that she doesn’t get to experience chaos like this, especially with no security around. Jeffrey turns around to look at her. “Hold on to me, we’ll be inside in a minute.”

She smiles thankfully and intertwines their arms again on their way inside. As they are all stopped for the cast picture, the fans line up with the paparazzi to get some pictures themselves. There is a moment of silence as the hotel manager arranges everyone and clears the chaos. A random girl in the back of the people suddenly jumps up and, thereby, grabs everyone’s attention. “I LOVE YOU, KATHRYN.” She jumps again. “YOU’RE SO BEAUTIFUL, KATHRYN.” She yells, prompting Kathryn to break out into the most beautiful smile, a sight that doesn’t go unnoticed by Jeffrey who smiles back at her, creating a moment that is captured by a fan’s phone.

Dinner itself is calming and everyone has a good time. Kathryn loves to get to know everyone this way and they stay for multiple hours until the sun has long set and it seems like everyone is on their third desert, just to drag out the time.

Slightly intoxicated from all the wine she has had with the female co star next to her, Kathryn smiles at Jeffrey. “Thank you for offering a ride, by the way. I feel like I haven’t said that yet.”

“You are very welcome.” He replies and places his hand on her upper thigh for a moment as the two of them look at each other for a little too long.

“Kathryn! Another glass?” She actress next to Kathryn grabs her attention as the waiter offers to pour another one. Overthinking for a moment, Kathryn ends up declining the glass and asks for a water instead. She doesn’t want to be hungover tomorrow.

As it nears midnight, the cast slowly but surely makes their way back home and Jeff reaches out for Kathryn once again to help her up from the table. Just like before, he offers her a right back home to the hotel that she is staying in over night. They realize they are living on the same floor as they make their way back to her room. 

Kathryn, who’s red lipstick has already worn off from all the food and drinks she’s had, stumbles slightly. Not because she is drunk, but because of how tired she feels. There are no words to describe how glad she is that she doesn’t have to work early the next morning. Her first shoot isn’t until 3pm, so she will definitely be sleeping in.

Jeffrey guides her all the way to her room and watches her as she let’s herself in. He stays in the door frame, leaning against it as his eyes follow her every step. Kathryn takes off her blazer and ruffles through her hair after putting her jewelry on a plate on her table.

In her background, Jeffrey, who is still standing where she left him, clears his throat. “Come and spend the night with me.”

[unsymp-sides-content]

I wish you would write a fic where Janus was told constantly when he was younger that the light sides would never love and care for him because he's a snake by the other dark sides. So Janus grew up super self conscious about his snake traits and gets super confused when the other sides compliment them ~🥔

This took forever but I hope you enjoy it

Characters: Janus, Logan, Roman, Patton

Word Count: 1.5k

Janus couldn't remember how old he'd been when he'd first mentioned thinking that his scales were pretty around one of the others. He could remember the way they'd looked at him though, incredulous and amused. And he could remember their laughter.

"Pretty?" they had mocked. "Who in their right mind would find those disgusting things pretty?"

Janus had frowned at that, not knowing what to say and the others had gone back to their conversation. But he hadn't been able to stop thinking about it.

Later that night, he'd stood in front of his mirror, slowly running his fingers over the left side of his face. The scales felt smooth and he slowly turned his head back and forth, watching the way they changed color slightly in the light.

Before, he'd always found it mesmerizing. Now, he couldn't get the others' words out of his head.

By the next morning, he still couldn't stop thinking about it. He paused in the hall after breakfast, staring into the mirror they had there and trying to decide whether his scales were beautiful or hideous. One of the others had caught him looking and sneered at him. "Admiring yourself again? I'm surprised you can stand to look at yourself for that long."

Janus really should have stayed silent then. But he couldn't help himself. "What do you mean?

The other side rolled his eyes. "I mean, you have to know how unnatural they are. All weird and inhuman. It's kind of creepy."

"...Oh." Janus had not, in fact, known that and the words stung more than he would have expected. "You really think they're that bad?"

"We all do. That's why we avoid you so much. Makes it kinda hard to look at you or, you know, like you."

And that, that hurt so much more than Janus had ever realized something could.

All he could manage was another, mumbled "oh" before he hurried back to his room, locking the door behind him.

From that day on, Janus started avoiding mirrors.

It was already too late though. The others used every opportunity they got to remind him how awful his scales were, how unlovable they made him, and how it was hard to even look at him most days.

After a little while, he started avoiding them too. But that didn't help much either. He couldn't get their voices out of his head.

Eventually, he'd simply accepted it. He got rid of all of the mirrors in his room and avoided going out into the mindscape as much as possible. He began wearing gloves so he wouldn't have to look at the scales on his hands. And he learned to accept that none of the light sides would ever love him.

He had expected them to be a little less blunt about their hatred though.

Logan was the first one he noticed it with. Every now and then he would catch the other side looking at him, more specifically his scales, a little too closely. Logan never said anything about it though, and neither did Janus. The others had already made it clear how hideous the snake half of him was, and he didn't need to hear from anyone else.

After a little while though, he started to notice Roman and Patton doing the same thing. They were far more subtle about it than the logical side had been and they at least had the grace to look away and make an excuse when they were caught.

Janus couldn't deny that it still stung, but at least they were kind enough not to say anything to his face. It was far better than anything he'd expected and anything that he was used to. So he could handle it. Even if hurt so much more coming from people he actually cared about. He was strong enough to take it.

Until he wasn't.

He'd already been having a bad day. Thomas had desperately wanted to get out of plans with some of his family and Janus had had to construct some rather intricate lies to convince them to leave him alone. Add the amount of effort it had taken to get Thomas to move past his guilt and agree to lying in the first place, and Janus' patience was running thin.

When he was finally done, he made his way to the living room of the mind palace where the others were gathered, rewatching The Office (despite Logan's protestations). He collapsed onto the sofa with a groan and Roman raised an eyebrow at him. "That bad, huh?"

Janus groaned again in response.

The others went back to the show and after a few minutes Janus sat up, looking around at them.

Patton and Roman seemed genuinely fixed on the show, laughing and joking with each other as they watched. Logan, however, was paying far less attention. He was still watching the show, and he'd chime in with the occasional comment, but every now and then, he'd dart a glance over at Janus. They usually lasted a few seconds and Janus couldn't help but notice the way Logan's eyes slowly passed over his scales each time.

On any other day, Janus would have done his best to ignore it or perhaps made an excuse to go to his room. But today was different. Today, he was already at the end of his rope.

So the fourth time he sensed Logan looking at him, he turned to meet his gaze with a sharp glare. "If you want me to leave that fucking badly, it certainly wouldn't be easier for you to just say that." His voice came out sharper than he'd intended but he couldn't bring himself to care.

Logan frowned at him, looking more confused than genuinely hurt. "I certainly do not want you to leave and I'm not certain what gave you the impression I do."

"Oh fuck off." Janus snapped. He could feel Patton and Roman staring at him too by this point and he ignored them. "I'm not stupid, Logan! I can't see the way you all constantly stare at me! I know my scales are hideous, I know it's hard to look at me, I know you all hate me. I know I'm disgusting."

Patton opened his mouth to say something at this point, but Janus pushed on.

"So if you'd rather not have to see me, fine, just tell me to leave! I don't care. But at least have the decency to say it to my damn face!"

Janus was yelling at this point and he was ashamed to realize there were tears starting to form in the corners of his eyes. He blinked them away quickly, refusing to look at any of the others.

The television was still playing in the background, but it sounded muffled and far away. Janus stared at a spot on the carpet with startling intensity, while the other three looked at him silently.

It was Roman who finally broke the silence. "What are you talking about?" He sounded genuinely confused. "I- none of us find you hideous or want you to leave. Why would we?"

Janus almost laughed at that. "Don't lie to me."

"We're not." It was Logan who spoke this time, shifting so he was directly in front of Janus. "I'm not certain what we did to make you believe this, but none of us hate you or find you repulsive. I cannot speak for the others, but personally, I was only watching your scales out of fascination. I find them quite aesthetically pleasing to look at, but I was worried that vocalizing this might make you uncomfortable."

Janus felt at a loss for words. Logan was lying. He must have been. And yet…. Janus couldn't sense any kind of lie in what he'd said. And the way Logan was looking at him was far too genuine to be anything but honest.

Before he could even start to recover from everything Logan had just said, Roman joined in, nodding.

"Calculator watch is right. Your scales are stunning. The way they glimmer in the light. The way their color seems to change everytime you look at them. Their lovely greenish gold hue, the way they blend so seamlessly into your face…."

Roman had gotten up and slowly started moving closer as he spoke. Now, he knelt in front of Janus and looked up at him earnestly. "They're beautiful. You're beautiful."

And that was finally too much. Janus felt tears spring up in his eyes again and this time there was nothing he could do to stop them. He let out a sob and slid forward, off the sofa and into Roman and Logans' waiting arms. A moment later Patton had joined them as well. He sat on Janus's other side, one hand slowly rubbing his back as he cried.

"It's okay, kiddo, it's okay. We're all here for you, okay?"

Janus couldn't bring himself to respond, simply sobbing harder. He felt the others shift closer to him in response and he let himself relax against them.

"It's okay," Patton murmured again, his voice soft. "We love you."

For the first time in as long as he could remember, Janus actually believed that.

[classic80sand90smovieloves2]

Dwayne having a crush on you would include~

(Not my gif)(Requested by several anonymous asks)

(Just a reminder~ you can always send in a request for more specific crush hcs, like focusing on one of these scenarios or one of your own.)

- There’s two scenarios that I can see as being particularly plausible when it comes to Dwayne crushing on you for any extended length of time: 1) You have a boyfriend when the two of you first meet, or 2) You’re a friend of Stars.

- I refuse to believe that anyone would not hop on this man the minute he so much as looks at them which is why these scenarios share the same “somewhat forbidden love aspect”.

- In the Stars friend case, Star would have probably tried to keep you a secret, both for your own safety and because she wouldn’t want them to turn you; even if you wanted to be turned.

- If we’re going with the boyfriend angle, then the boys probably invited you and your boyfriend into the cave; sort of like what they did with Michael but they’re more so looking to get a delivered meal rather than a new family member.

- They hadn’t expected to like you as much though and they wound up letting you both go that night, planning on eating your boyfriend, and meeting up with you again respectively, at a later date.

- To start things off, it’s important to mention that Dwayne isn’t a big talker. He’s not really shy per say but he doesn’t outwardly flirt like the other boys in the gang which is another reason that I chose those meeting scenarios.

- If he wasn’t thrown into hanging out with you, he would; most likely, take a long time to approach you in any way; especially if you want him to approach you without the other boys.

- If he isn’t forced to approach you, then he’ll; most likely, just borderline stalk you from afar before he finally gets the perfect opportunity to talk to you/introduce himself.

- But back to the scenarios~ Dwayne’s been alive for a fairly long time and in that time he’s seen a lot of pretty girls, but you? You take the cake. He likes you the minute he sees you; though he’s pretty good at playing it cool.

- Dwayne rarely ever leaves the gang to go off on his own so you’re usually with the entire group whenever you’re together. There’s only a few instances where you’ll be completely alone together and they only happen once in a blue moon.

- He doesn’t say much but his face says everything for him. You’re either blind or in denial if you can’t see the adoration written all over his face when he looks at you.

- It’s basically a given with the boys that when you’re sitting down, the seat next to yours is his seat. He’ll literally have a stare down with one of the other boys and then act as though nothing happened, plopping down next to you and giving you a little smile.

- Girls like guys who are good with kids, right? He knew Laddie would come in handy one day! (Just kidding he loves him regardless.) Anytime you’re around, he makes a subtle show of being extra sweet with the boy and showing off his dad skills. You can’t deny that its adorable, even if kids aren’t your thing.

- He’s fairly good at keeping his composure so you probably won’t even really realize it, but he’s incredibly protective of you. Depending on the situation, he’ll either 1) just check in on you and make sure you’re okay, 2) stare someone down until they leave on their own accord, or 3) follow them as they go so that he can have a “talk” with them. Not much talking happens....

- Being your fake boyfriend is the highlight of his night, though the whole situation makes him feel; at least, twelve different emotions all at once. He loves getting to act like you’re together but he hates that it’s just that; an act. 

- You almost always have two shadows whenever you’re out at night. He always seems to find himself standing behind you, or; if you’re in a big crowd, he’ll hold your hand so that you don’t get lost and he’ll clear a path for the two of you.

- The boys constantly mess with him for his soft spot towards you and it makes him extremely uncomfortable. He usually ends up shoving them off his shoulders and tugging at his jacket awkwardly, telling them he “doesn’t have a soft spot” though they all know it’s a lie.

- Dwayne is one of the more loyal vampires of the group so regardless of how you meet, he’s going to introduce you to the rest of the gang and get David’s permission. Though, if he does introduce you, it’s because you’re sure you want to become like them and soon.

- The gentleman™. He’s always the one who hangs back and helps you down from tall places or opens doors for you.

- Mr. Hawkeyes can’t ever seem to shift his gaze from you for too long; if nothing else is distracting him. You’ll oftentimes catch him looking over at you and admiring how beautiful you are; you aren’t aware of that part but nearly everyone else is.

- Phone calls every night, or quick visits. He makes sure to check in everyday to see if you’re coming to hang out or to say goodnight or to make sure he knows where you’re going. He likes to hear your voice and make you smile before bed. And his phone voice, by the way; 10/10: truly orgasmic.

- He lives for those moments where he can brush something off your face/hair or clasp your necklace for you. Those little intimate moments are almost enough to jumpstart his heart back to life.

- Star puts in a good word for him because, if there’s anyone in the group that she genuinely likes, it’s Dwayne. She’ll drop little hints that you should be with him and tell you about the sweet things he’s done for everyone, giving you a look and feeling a swell of hope when you chuckle nervously.

- She thinks that if you’re gonna be a vampire; which is the most plausible outcome of your friendship now that the boys know about you, you should at least you’ll be with one of the good vamps.

- Model-worthy face? Check. Cool aesthetic? Check. Motorcycle? Check. Tall, dark and mysterious thing going on? Check. If you have a boyfriend when you become friends with Dwayne, then be prepared for jealousy because your boyfriend is going to take notice of his perfect …everything and his obvious interest in you.

- He’s always so smug and happy whenever you hug him, especially if he knows your boyfriend doesn’t like him. He always gives the boy a look behind your back and tightens his arms just a little bit more around you, usually causing one of the other boys to grin or chuckle.

- Yeah, you might have smashed, but I made sure she was alright after her boyfriend dumped her! Dwayne’s the sweetest. Here’s always there for you anytime you seem down or outwardly tell him that somethings wrong. He’s your shoulder to cry on even if the problems you’re telling him about make him want to yell and tear his hair out; i.e. boy troubles.

- With Dwayne, it’s not necessarily a given that he’ll confess before you do. Depending on the situation, he might hold off on telling you, thinking it isn’t his place to bring it up at that point in time. He doesn’t want to force his feelings on you, he wants to have a fair chance of you actually being able to tell him you like him back.

- He’d be perfectly fine with you confessing that you liked him first, and in some cases would prefer it. After you do so, he’d immediately tell you about his own feelings, saying how he’d liked you from the moment he saw you and all those other sweet little things people say when they’re pouring their hearts out.

- If he does tell you how he feels first, then it’s because he feels like it’s the right time and that there’s no point in holding it back any longer. He’ll usually start off by calling you beautiful before launching into a slow and sweet confession.

- He makes sure that you know you have the right to say no and that he would never hold it against you, even though the thought of you not liking him back makes him sick.

- He’d probably kiss you right then and there if you accepting his feelings, unable to hold it back any longer. Believe me when I say, it’s the start of something incredibly beautiful.

[jaskiersvalley]

Hair of the Dog

The problem with having a goat as a pet was that Eskel had a goat as a pet. It was usually wonderful, Lil Bleater was a menace and Eskel loved her for it. Alas, some days she was a little more than he bargained for. Visiting Geralt on the farm was always a delight, it was one of the few places Bleats could explore without a leash and Eskel knew she was safe.

All in all it was a great day, a rarity for the whole extended family to get together. Geralt had Yennefer and Jaskier with him, they were playing pass the parcel with Ciri, except whenever they unwrapped her, it was always a dirty nappy rather than a fun treat under her layers. How Eskel ended up with a family where both his brothers had two partners was a mystery, it was perhaps why he was still a bachelor with only Lil Bleater as his companion, Lambert and Geralt had soaked up all the appeal for themselves and left none for Eskel.

"Where are the Gremlins?" Eskel asked, looking around. The Gremlins were also known as Lambert, Aiden and Cahir. One at a time and they were manageable but the three together wreaked unknown havoc and destroyed an alarming number of clothes between them. If they ever wore safety pins through clothes, Eskel knew it wasn't for aesthetics at all.

"Last I heard they were heading for the barn. Cahir was going to see whether the new pony is ready to be worked yet." Somehow Geralt sounded resigned and they all knew that while the trio might have looked at the gelding, they were most definitely going to be making out or more in one of the empty stalls.

Rolling his eyes, Eskel nodded. "I'm not risking that. Tell them I said goodbye and that Lambert still owes me a drink next week, will you?" He clicked his tongue and watched as Lil Bleater blatantly ignored him in favour of hopping over puddles. Just because she was having too much fun and still full of energy despite a whole day of charging around didn't mean she got to keep going. Resigned to his fate of chasing his goat in order to get her home, Eskel lumbered off, trying to look like he wasn't approaching her with intent. Needless to say, it didn't work. With expert ease Lil Bleater avoided him, bounding just out of reach. Even worse, he brothers were watching and Eskel wanted to growl at them that they might as well help if they were going to watch. Thankfully he managed to grab his wayward goat, only for her to protest in the worst possible way, she threw herself onto the ground. Normally Eskel wouldn't mind but she chose to roll in a puddle, her white fur soaking in the muddy water and staining it.

"Well shit."

Dripping goat firmly leashed, Eskel stared at her. She watched him unrepentantly for a moment before trying to nibble at her leash. Eskel had learned the hard way that he needed a metal chain leash for her, nothing else survived her incessant chomping. There was no way he could take her home like that, and hosing her down wasn't going to be much good as she's just drip more water in the car and make it smell even more of wet goat.

Thankfully he always had a towel or two in the boot so Eskel could pat her mildly dry but the puddle hadn't been simple mud and water, only heightening the stench. Thinking about his poor tub, Eskel knew he wouldn't be able to give Bleats a bath. The one time he had tried, he'd needed to buy a new shower curtain and invest in some repairs to the tub. Little goat hooves were not compatible with his bathroom. Stashing her in her travel crate, Eskel pulled his phone out and searched for possible solutions. The most sensible was a pet groomer, alas the three numbers he tried all refused to deal with a goat. Some days Eskel cursed himself for not having a more traditional pet.

"You trying to get a groomer?" Cahir sidled up to him, eyes glinting with the promise of mischief.

"Yeah, but it's not like anyone wants to bathe a goat." Not that Eskel was bitter. He didn't expect Cahir to laugh.

"You just haven't asked the right one. Come on, I'll introduce you to someone who'll help. Just follow my bike."

It was easier said than done. While Eskel had heard stories from Lambert about the strange love affair Cahir had with his bike, it was a whole different thing to see it. Having witnessed it, Eskel had to wonder whether there were four in that relationship rather than three as he'd originally thought.

Hair of the Dog looked like a bit of a shithole if Eskel was honest. It was out in a small industrial park near a village, wooden cladding faded and looking in desperate need of a paint. Helmet under his arm, Cahir barged in without a care for the sign that declared the place closed.

"Scales!" He hollered, impatiently holding the door open for Eskel. "Got you a client."

Not quite knowing what to expect, Eskel's eyes widened when a man larger than him appeared, scowling at Cahir.

"What did I tell you about my opening hours? And fucking hell what is that stench?"

Cahir leaned against the wall with a shit eating grin and gestured towards Eskel and Lil Bleater knowingly.

"That's a goat." It was possibly the dumbest thing anyone could have said.

"No, I'm a human called Eskel," Eskel shot back, a little irked.

The laugh was warm and genuine as the owner of the grooming parlour caught on. "Letho. Who's your stinky companion?"

Somehow Eskel found himself charmed by the fact Letho didn't baulk at the fact he was being presented with a goat. He even invited Eskel to stay and watch the whole process of washing and drying his pet. What struck Eskel was how gentle he was through it all, talking to Bleats as much as he talked to Eskel.

"Wouldn't have clocked you as a dog groomer," Eskel admitted while Lil Bleater was enjoying her second rinse.

"Didn't peg you as a goat owner."

"Touche. You like dogs?" Which was a ridiculous thing to ask, given that Letho's work involved a lot of dogs and possibly a few cats. However, Letho shook his head.

"They're alright. But I wouldn't own one."

"Cats?"

"Guess again."

Eskel squinted at Letho. "I can't really say I can picture you with a parrot."

Another laugh and Eskel found himself quite fond of the raw honesty in it. He waited patiently for an answer though.

"Tell you what-" Letho suggested, "-let me finish up with my last client and then I can show you, if you're interested. It's a snake."

"I only inspect trouser snakes on third date," Eskel said, peering around. "If I had known you'd had other clients, I would have happily waited."

The spray of water was playfully turned on him, barely missing him. "It's you, you numpty. I'm closed on Tuesdays, that's admin day." A soft flush spread across Eskel's cheeks at that and Letho continued, "If I put Gully down my trousers, I don't think she'd ever forgive me. And I don't think she'd fit. She's a reticulated python."

"As long as she doesn't eat Bleats, I think we're good." Eskel had no idea about snakes but, given the size of Letho, he could imagine him with a large snake, no pun intended.

In the silence that fell on them, Eskel looked around again with a frown. "Did Cahir go?"

That had Letho looking up too. He left Lil Bleater to dry, quite thrilled at the prospect of having a fluffy goat stepping out of the dryer soon, and wandered out into the reception area. On the desk was a note.

"You owe me a drink. Maybe two. We told you you'll like him."

Groaning, Letho threw the note away but not before Eskel saw.

"That sounded ominous."

"The Three Fucketeers have been trying to set me up for a while. I resisted. Guess they win."

Grinning, Eskel shrugged. "They don't have to know that, do they?"

That had Letho looking up too. He left Lil Bleater to dry, and wandered out into the reception area. On the desk was a note.ion out no matter how hidden. Which led Eskel to the conclusion that if he couldn't beat them, they could join them. It was very unlikely they'd want graphic details so, with great confidence, Eskel met Letho's rather large snake. And he met Gully too.

[shesawriter39049]

|FEVER| M|

Pairing: Namjoon X Reader

About- Namjoon just has a kink for letting you do whatever the hell you want with him...Whether that be putting him in a hot pink suit shirtless! Or, telling him he’s a good boy as he fucks you into oblivion!

OR- Namjoon and yourself hooked up 5 months ago when the boys were in London on Tour, and you were the creative director for there British GQ & Harper’s Bazzar Cover! Now, months later he’s prepping to release his second mixtape “RM vs Rap Monster”. Opting to go a complete 360 from his first release Mono in all realms. So, with that being said BigHit thinks he needs someone with a little more... “umph” Take a wild guess as to who they call...

WC:1.2k (Sneak peek)

WARNINGS: Switch OC (Top & Bottom...but there's no real dom/sub tones here) Service top/power bottom Namjoon, praise kink, Fingering, Unprotected sex(Back shot), come play, dirty talk, light choking, light overstimulation, (This is lowkey a little softer than it sounds) The OC kinda leads this, but Joon isin’t the cliché “sub” he just likes letting her take control.

NOTE- Just my take on the OG cliché Artist X Stylist AU (Though she’s more of a full package, Art Director/Stylist/Photographer ETC) I have tried to add some minor elements to make it a little more realistic. I will say I typically stray from “Idol-verse” just because if we’re being real, the cultural difference alone sometimes stunts my creativity...BUT I just had a little fun with this one...so I hope you all enjoy it. Also, I don’t go into much physical details but in my mind regardless of race, aesthetic wise the OC is a huge contrast to what he’s use to which is part of her appeal. I picture a tatted Barbie of some sorts...

SIDE NOTE: No shade, but shade, I was lowkey inspired to write this bc I have very strong opinions about the creative team at BH....

*** Let me know if you guys want the full thing or not...I kidna flaked on posting because it is such a cliché lol

SONG- FEVER DUA LIPA  FT ANGELE

~~~~~~~

“Well, it’s a yes for me” Eyeing him in this Hot pink-fitted Burliti suit, which you paired with a very sheer black Arnar Mar turtle neck. The minute you saw the piece on the runway you’d been dying to get it on someone with melanated skin, and it just so happens, the boys are fresh off the US leg of their stadium tour! So, lucky for you, baby boy’s been in the sun a lot, and Namjoon’s currently a sinful shade of brown and you're totally here for it…

Then to top it off, the mesh material of the turtle neck creates the perfect silhouette around his offensively toned chest, outlining the muscles sinfully. Eternally snorting at the way the fans are gonna thank and curse you out all at the same damn time once they see the looks you’ve pulled for this man!

And yes, you had your crew bring extended shades of foundation and concealer, because his face and neck will match if your name is going to be attached to these damn photos! 

Head tilted to the side as you silently observe the way he rakes over his reflection in the mirror, it’s a sixth sense you’ve acquired as a stylist at this point. Half of your job is essentially being a hype man/self love coach, real shit, a lot of these artist aren't always as...confident as one may think!

And just like clockwork Namjoon runs his palm down his thighs, smoothing out nonexistent wrinkles on his pants for the umpteenth time in the span of oh I don’t know 30 seconds? Which in turn prompts you to say….

“You look good Joonie...” Musing over your second glass of Don, the compliment was genuine, tone warm, soothing even, not a hint flirtation insight because that wasn’t your motive. You weren’t trying to get him flustered you’re just trying to gas him up a little, you wanted to see Namjoon get alittle cocky and feel himself!

Ears perking up like an overgrown puppy, head whipping in your direction “Yeah?” The way this man’s eyes just lit up like the soul skyline. I just-goddamn, an almost bashful smile toys on those plush lips of his, and you can’t help the way your chest flutters with nothing but fondness.

“So fuckin cute” Flutters off your lips, as you hide a smile of your own behind a half empty whine glass. The delivery was so faint it almost go lost in the background music floating through the air. However the slight flush hitting his cheeks let you know Namjoon heard you whether he wanted to admit it or not!

”Mmmhmm, the color looks fuckin insane against your skin, not to mention, the way everything's going to pop once we tone your hair a little! “ Eyes drinking him in from head to toe, though there was nothing suggestive playing within your iris. Very much aware of time and place and right now your genuinely looking respectfully! Seeing if any alterations are needed, making sure you like where everything sits along his frame. Making notes in your phone of places you want to pin and adjust later...snapping a couple shots here and there. 

Licking his lips anxiously as he plays with the lapels on the blazer “But like-I mean-I- dont’-It doesn’t look like I’m... trying too hard or anything?” Brows furrowed in the center of his face, jaw tight, wincing slightly at his own words, almost as if he was afraid of your response. The vulnerability within his delivery was more than evident, and no matter how common this is with artist, it’s still just as devastating! Regardless of how much he tried to play it off as if he was just making casual conversation, you can see how blatantly uncomfortable he is . Gazing back at you wide eyed, and uncannily exposed, pointing at the outfit in question. Licking his lips anxiously as he plays with the the blazer, switching posses subtlety trying to get a better feel for the suit.  

You stayed silent for a minute, taking the time to actually process before speaking which is rare, not gonna lie. Gaze piercing as you hop off the bed, wine, and accessories in hand, swaying closer. “It’s fashion”. The baited pause almost implied that’s all you had to say, as if one-word was self-sufficient, and in your mind it was...but you knew better than to just leave it at that.

“Art at its finest Mr. Kim” You smile something a little devious, and he flushes even deeper as you slowly start to invade his space eyes locked with him meaningfully. You can physically see the shift, the closer you get, Namjoon starts fidgeting slightly under your gaze but he doesn't back down.

“It gives you room to play, create...it’s something that let’s us connect to people without saying a damn thing.” Suddenly the hand that wasn’t holding your alcohol has become a prop, flailing around haphazardly as you spoke, pointing at the various pieces hanging on clothes racks in your suite! The penthouse has essentially been transformed into your own personal walk in closet for the next 5 or so days! “It’s a statement. A opportunity to tap into a side of yourself that maybe you can’t always verbally articulate to the world around you! More importantly, it’s supposed to be fun, it’s literally something that can be removed within seconds! I mean we all have to wear clothes so why not just enjoy it?”  Head cocked to the side as you appraise him, brow quirked, eyes warm, yet there's a clear challenge playing within your gaze.

Namjoon’s watching you intently, almost as if he’s taking mental notes as you speak...the heaviness within those dangerously honed eyes of his could almost be unsettling to some, but you quite like it. Made you feel as though he actually gives a flying fuck about what you’re saying.

“In my opinion the only time it looks like someone’s “Trying too hard” Making little air bunnies with your spare hand “Is if they look uncomfortable in what they’re wearing, confidence is key, and I know you know that better than anyone RM!” You muse batting your lashes in Namjoon’s direction, and he dimples back at you, eyes sinking into tiny crescents, face rivaling the color of his suit, trying to hide said smile behind his own glass of champagne.  

“I could put you in a damn clown suit...” Words trailing off your tongue lackadaisically as you grow distracted searching the bar for a specific chain from John Hardy. “Which” Focus snapping back in his direction making the later splutter a little “Would be fire as fuck if I did by the way, but-”  Namjoon ended up cackling midsentence, almost choking on his drink in the process, fist pounding against his sternum.

Yeah..killing the leader of Bangtan wasn’t really high on your list tonight....

“Ayee, none of that shit...” Smacking him in the back a little more so just to be an ass because he wasn’t even choking anymore “Don’t die on me until we at least get this damn photoshoot done, I had to cancel my trip to Jamaica for this shit!”

Now he’s damn near choking and his laugh was contagious, it’s just.. loud, carefree so yes, your cackling, and there's nothing cute about it. But you honestly don’t care, you let yourself get lost in it! Finally able to feel the atmosphere in the room start to shift to something a little less scripted and a little more organic...

Throwing his hands in the air as If he’s waving a nonexistent white flag “I’m sorry, noona” There’s a pout playing in his lips, not exactly aegyo per say, but it’s fuckin adorable “Blame PD-nim, it’s his fault we had to do this so last minute” Wheezes from his throat, in the form of a slight whine, almost rivaling Jimin if I’m honest.

You already know he was laughing more so due to your delivery, specifically, your casual use of profanity over anything else. This is actually something you use to be self-conscious about, especially at your first shoot with the boys, at the shoot for GQ . Well aware it wasn’t as common in Asia for people especially women to use “fuck” like a comma. So you were hoping they wouldn’t be offended, or uncomfortable by your dialect, and, thankfully they didn’t seem to mind. Much like Joonie over here, they found it entertaining over anything.

“Yeah, a huh, sureee...” Eyes rolling to the back of your head playfully as you start lightly altering the suit in question with clips and pens. “Stay still babe” The pet name slipped off your tongue effortlessly, honestly, that's what you call most people in your life. However you were far too focused to notice how wide eyed and flustered the man before you became upon hearing it directed at him so casually.

A faint little “Sorry” muses off his lips as he gnaws on his inner cheek, trying to stay still as you ghetto-rig hems into place until you can get this under your sewing needle.

“ No, but real shit…” You sigh, taking on a slightly more serious tone “If you step in front of that camera like you own the bitch, regardless of what your wearing..., then they can’t tell you shit! If your comfortable there’s no such thing as trying too hard” You shrug nonchalantly like that was the simplest concept known to man, downing the rest of your drink “Alright, that’s all, thanks for coming to my Ted talk” Waving him off as if you’re about to leave the room and he pouted playfully, jokingly begging you not to leave him yet...it felt good to be able to banter like this. The shift continuous shift within the atmosphere was more than welcomed…

Hesitantly you watch his eyes find their way back to the full length mirror, which promptly smacks you back to reality!

Unfortunately you didn't fly all the way to Seoul just to drink,  and shoot shit with Namjoon for hours on end,  your actually here to work…

Sooo...

“Alright” Placing your arms on his shoulders, giving him a reassuring squeeze as you peer over his shoulder. Meeting his gaze through the glass, chin resting gently against the blade. “Back to the reason you came Mr. “I’m sooo anxiously” Shooting him a teasing little smirk in the process “The suit, yay or nay”

So, here’s the thing technically the official fitting is tomorrow, and as far as his team knows he’s in the studio with Yoongi and Hoseok finishing up a song!

Which of course raises the question as to why he’s here..alone..mind you..no staff or security in site.

Just Kim Namjoon and yourself.....

~~~~

Heyyyy, Lemme know if you guys want this or not, it will leave kinda open ended because it was supposed to kinda be a 3 part mini series initially. Part 1 ends the morning of the shoot, the full thing is set to be around 6/7k! Spoiler, the company is going to want to keep her around for more than just Namjoon’s solo project....

Also, YES...I did see that they actually put Tae in that Burliti suit (I wrote this long before that shoot was released)...I actually hated the way it was styled it though...I never thought I’d say this but MGK’s team did a better job than BH....

[dreamsmp-au-ideas]

I was going to actually post this before asks closed (didn’t get the chance), but Teddy Bear Anon, you are one of my favorite people and a magnificent creature. You get my vibe. 

About Bad canonically being Sapnap’s dad I feel like that has so much extra angst potential when we consider the rest of the found family. Like. Sapnap, Tommy, and Fundy all have dads who started with the best of intentions but for one reason or another ended up slowly becoming a danger to them. I imagine Tommy and Fundy one day showing up with a cake and telling Sapnap “We regretfully welcome you to the shit dad club” and Sapnap is torn between being upset still and laughing over the absurdity of the situation.

Bonus points if Tommy made the cake using a recipe book that Niki gave him, the last gift Niki ever gave to Tommy. Tommy was originally a really bad cook/baker but after the egg really started to take over he went full survivalist. Leaning to cook was necessary but learning to bake was something he did as a way to raise everyone’s spirits. He’s never gotten the flavor quite to match with Niki’s perfectly but everyone agrees he’s gotten pretty decent in terms of skills. He and Fundy in particular will sometimes just spend an entire day in silence baking and then quietly eat their creations while reflecting on the friends they’ve made and lost over the course of L'manberg’s lifetime. When the group got back to the past and Niki made cookies for Tommy and Fundy the pair very nearly started crying.

Tommy is in an interesting position as a character since he did commit a lot of minor crimes and acted as a general nuisance but he was also still a child. (A very traumatized one considering I canonize SMP Earth with its unlimited lives but even more wars. Including against God. Tommy fought God just let me have this.) He acknowledges the moments when he went over the line and has tried to apologize. In particular at some point before the egg fully takes over he pulls aside Jack and tells him that he’s sorry for the way he acted when he was still in exile, taking one of Jack’s lives and all. Jack and Niki in particular are an interesting subject to address and a painful one for immune!Tommy to think about when he sees younger Niki because the three never fully tossed out the hatchet but it was obvious in the eyes of someone like Sam that both of them were growing more and more hesitant to hurt Tommy. It was made worse by the fact neither were even marginally immune, and it didn’t take long for the egg to get to them.

He never stopped being chaotic. Tommy at his core is just that kind of person. He did, however, grow up enough to act in a more mature manner. Started to recognize what’s too much. In particular he became a lot less violent and willing to lash out after Sam Nook in essence reparented him. He’s still an absolute wild card of a person, which in the eyes of Sam and Sapnap is a good thing. For this au I think we should actually address Tommy having severe ptsd and during the building of his hotel/the early days of the egg before it becomes a noticeable threat it shows. He’s a lot more subdued. Shows of aggression all carry a kind of desperation and his typical jokes feel flat. Lashing out at people slowly becomes more of a defense mechanism to see if someone’s going to leave or betray him, to test the limits of how nice they’re willing to be. After all, nice people have only ever been nice to Tommy when they wanted something from him. His eyes, especially after L'manberg is blow sky high, are well and truly gray. The first time Tommy genuinely laughs after filling Sapnap’s room with chickens is considered celebration worthy to them. His pranks take on a more hermitcraft-esque feel to them which honestly makes them more funny.

By the time they get to the past Tommy has recovered, but he still carries the kind of maturity that like Teddy Bear mentioned is reminiscent of age swap Tommy. When he gets especially stressed though, Immune!Tommy will slip into moments where he acts as tired and done with the world as age swap Tommy. With that said, most of the time he just acts like a more mature Tommy. Nothing could ever completely erase his unique vibe which Ranboo has gone on record as describing “Willing to fight God deaf, blind, and backwards just to prove a point." 

Immune Fundy and Tommy get on really well once Fundy manages to catch up with the rest of the group. It gets to the point where everyone from the past is kinda shocked since smp Fundy and Tommy do not get along. At all. Literally the first night Fundy’s back someone goes to wake them up and they find Fundy asleep on top of Tommy which is a wild experience since this Tommy is a goliath who often refuses to take off his full Netherite max enchant armor. He really becomes a "looks like he could kill you but is actually a cinnamon roll” kinda mans.

Also, yeah, this is Dream’s retirement arc. He is literally just sitting in the corner watching Tommy dote on his younger self and Tubbo before completely pile driving two of the most powerful people on the server straight into the dirt. At some point Tommy sits down with past Punz. He tells this Punz that their Punz died protecting him and Tubbo and that Tommy never got to properly thank their Punz so he’s going to thank this Punz. Tommy then gives Punz an entire stack of Netherite. If we’re gonna go ahead and agree on Phoenix Tommy then Tommy is fire proof, meaning he probably spent a large amount of time in the nether to avoid the egg crew and get rare supplies. Meaning he also probably did a lot of mining just to distract himself and it resulted in him being loaded. Tommy used to have a fear of tnt and explosives but he seems like the type of mad lad to say “exposure therapy” and make a massive cavern in the underbelly of the nether.

I think it would also be really interesting to dedicate like, a couple of chapters to other people’s perspectives. I kind of want to set the time they arrive in the past partway through the Pogtopia arc since I like mildly unhinged but not completely gone Wilbur. Plus then it also makes more sense for Techno to be there. Just prefer the aesthetic really. I want to have Wilbur see this version of Tommy and come to a sudden “oh” moment. I want to have a moment where Tubbo looks between his Tommy and this new Tommy, seeing himself nowhere to be found, and has enough what the fuck moments to become aggressively protective of his own Tommy. Especially if immune!Tommy ever admits to the past Tubbo why he is the way he is, what he faced under the thumb of the people he trusted. Which, out of everyone on the server, Tubbo would be the first one from the past to actively learn. 

I am fully on board with Tommy knowing how to sew. That should just automatically be canon in literally ever AU. Tommy for all intents and purposes is still Phil’s child for me. Survival runs in the family the same way that chaos does, so he’s got a ton of basic survival skills that he just doesn’t show off because it’s still Tommy. He would have been completely fine in exile if it wasn’t for Dream. Whenever someone ruins their clothes in the Immune group they automatically go to Tommy and at first the past versions are very confused (except for past Tommy and Tubbo obviously) and then Tommy’s just “Sapnap this is beyond ruined it can’t be saved, let me make you something new” and within a couple days he makes Sapnap a completely new outfit. Like maybe Sapnap fell into a lava pool because Blaze Sapnap Supremacy and his clothes are beyond saving and everyone is beyond baffled when Tommy just acts like this is a weekly occurrence. He’s memorized Sapnap’s measurements and style tastes and already had a new outfit in the works for him that Sapnap immediately adores upon it being presented to him. It takes about a week for past Eret to learn that Tommy stress sews new clothing and he cannot think of a better model. Eret has never had such a full closet. Eret has everything from three piece suits to ball gowns now. Eret lives in terror of the days where Tommy disappears god knows where with Fundy and the two reappear with a new wardrobe for the entire god damn server. 

Speaking of disappearing I really like the idea of part phoenix and part tanuki Tommy for a couple reasons. Being a Tanuki he’d have access to enough magic to hide his hybrid traits, which if they’ve been present for long enough would be a necessity to him. Additionally think about Fundy and Tommy building a den under Church Prime that slowly turns into a maze. Think about it. It starts off simple and then they both start digging more and it gets deeper and deeper and more complicate and the two just refer to it as their den and the only ones who are fully aware of the connotations of that word are Sam, Sapnap, and Ranboo who remember the absolute hell that was trying to navigate the original. Just Fundy and Tommy bonding over the fact they are literally the only creatures on this server that have this catacomb memorized and at the end of the catacomb is their saferoom which connects to rail way that the two spent a month straight on. It goes at least 25k blocks from spawn and it’s a final emergency resort in case they can’t stop the egg and the Immunes needs to regroup and essentially try again (if they keep bringing their younger selves with them then hopefully they’ll finally get an army large enough to stop this, but everyone really hopes it doesn’t come to that.)

I’m working on the first chapter of my fic right now actually if I’m gonna be honest and phoenix Tommy is absolutely without question canon to it but I’ve still been going back and forth on if I want him to be part tanuki as well or just blessed/favored by one like Teddy Bear mentioned. I’m also tucking away the whole thing about the magma blood for later use. Phoenix Tommy just makes sense. They used to call him Zombie Kid for a reason back on SMP Earth, he just literally does not die ever unless he decides he does.

~Snapdragon & Firefly

[ohhthereuare]

cannot believe we’re back to shipping wars in the year of our lord 2021 but with the overwhelmingly stupid cancel culture and moral police on every corner making it almost impossible to simply enjoy stuff these days I had to chime in my 5 kruge cents or else I’d choke

nobody gives a flying fuck about who you ship and neither should you because this is very rarely up to you. it’s like a god-chosen enlightenment, a sudden rush of serotonin that mysteriously dictates what’s gonna rock your boat from now on. that is great. grab that wheel and get on with it.

you don’t have to justify any of that. and I wish it was clear enough but apparently it still isn’t that villains are called villains for a reason and murder is murder no matter the motive. we know. trust me we do. but I guess that’s half the charm of a work of fiction that a character can be interesting despite its flaws. hell most of the time it’s interesting thanks to its flaws. when you say you like them it doesn’t mean you run to justify their sins and therefor imply these new moral conclusions to your everyday life and real people in it. it just means that this particular fictional creature makes your brain go happy. be them a ball of sunshine or a ball of darkness. you’ll enjoy their actions in a specific media and then get on with your life as an intelligent, morally responsible member of a society that will definitely not go on a killing spree because a fictional guy in a cool cape that doesn’t even exist did so in a story.

now getting that lengthy introduction out of the way I cannot believe that people cannot engage in an intellectually stimulating critical thinking discourse (that back in the day we just called meta) without criticizing every thing or else apparently they’ll go to literal hell. the Darkling is overall a bad guy and Mal is overall a good guy. that’s what the story it built upon. then again both of them are grey to some extent as people are because they are people. they have thoughts and desires and justify themselves because they believe in a greater good that sometimes they personally created. there’s no reason to compare the Darkling who’s straight-up a millenium-old murderer who just happens to be very charismatic and sexy to Mal who’s more human and the mistakes he makes are less of the murderous nature and as it unfortunately happens he’s just more plain. I’d be happy with Alina ending with either of them, knowing full well that there would be good and bad sides to either of the endings. even if the positive outcome of Alina ending up with the bad guy was only a sense of aesthetic fulfillment. that is all. I can say I see and understand the manipulation and the toxicity and still enjoy a power couple dressed in black cloaks the same way I’d enjoy childhood sweethearts leading a safe and quite life. whatever rocks my boat.

if we look at Leigh Bardugo’s work in a simple, quite superficial way then yes it is the question of black and white, good and bad. but it’s more than that and it’s one of the many reasons why it’s one of my favorite books series ever (let’s not go all JKR on her because as I’ve seen some of you do because apart from obvious situations no creator of anything should to held to impossibly pure moral standards making their work morally flawless because it’s based on their own personal experience and it’s impossible to stop some of it from seeping into the work itself even if you personally might find it problematic but they’re human just like you and me and I cannot believe I even have to type this rn). now I’m not wasting my time writing this essay and you reading it to stir up a ship war and I am NOT here as a darklina shipper because in the end I was quite happy with malina getting their happily ever after. but I cannot STAND this sudden wave of frantic justification and of hate towards it because it’s all missing the point.

the Darkling is a villain. the Darkling is a human being (to some extent). the Darkling is the bad character but he’s more grey than black and it’s Alina’s own opinion. THAT’s what’s so interesting about their relationship. he hurt her and the people she loved and hurt people she didn’t even know only to pin the blame on her to guilt trip her to do his bidding. we know it’s toxic and manipulative. Alina knows that too. she hates him and fears him and at times would kill him without hesitation. but she also comes back to him and can’t help but marvel and his beauty and genuinely sheds a tear when he falls. it’s hard to say whether she loves him to some extent, I think even she wasn’t sure and felt quite guilty about it. there’s was a strange pull she couldn’t deny, a wicked sense of understanding that could not be matched by anyone else. despite their chemistry she couldn’t overlook the murder part and that’s who she chose. that’s also who she became because if she had accepted his offer and went down that powerful path we would have been given a completely different story with Alina being a different character. it’s that magic of fiction that lets you explore such extremes but it still is just fiction. it’s okay to type lengthy essays about it to pick it apart and examine with interest but there’s very little point to criticize something so obvious or defend the impossible.

now still on the topic of the Darkling that’s what I love about the show. how Ben Barnes looked for the human parts in him (which is also literally his job as an actor to find parts of the character that he could sympathize with idk why are y’all so surprised and scandalized and y’all better leave my man Ben alone). parts that might have been lonely and misunderstood because that’s how the Darkling saw himself. he had to justify his own actions somehow because he believed he was right. a bad villain is bad by nature. a good villain makes you question whether he’s really bad, makes you justify his villainous actions with him. showing the Darkling express real emotions towards Alina, hope for their shared future, tears in his eyes as she turns her back on him just made him that much more interesting and multidimensional as a great character should be. a great character can still be a murderer. a murderer can still be a great character. it has nothing to do with them being a good person. but it doesn’t erase the toxic behaviors just by being sexy the same way that toxic behaviors have a hard time erasing the sexy part and if you find it sexy in fiction that’s great go on reblogging passionate darklina gifsets and if you can’t stand it even on paper that’s fine too enjoy your heartwarming malina handholding posts. fill in your “rip to alina but I’m different” preferable scenario and let it bring you joy.

Leigh Bardugo is a great author. Ben Barnes is a great actor. actually all the actors are great actors and they did a marvelous job of bringing our beloved characters to life and we cannot even imagine the burden of responsibility they must have felt. let’s try to be less negative and more grateful for a really well-done book adaptation and surround ourselves with people that share our likes and dislikes in a respectful and positive manner and hopefully not foolishly trust that people can tell the good from the bad in real life and still enjoy both in a work of fiction.

[itbelillian]

deltarune ch2 spoilers

seriously I'm about to spoil the fuck out of the game and also the Alternative Route For Assholes

ok the 24 hour spoiler ban has passed but still: FINAL SPOILER WARNING. 

first: GOD this game is so. GOOD? holy sweet mother of meatball, I have been thinking about it nonstop for the past 2 days. it feels like a shitpost. I love queen dearly. the potassium gag. “what does bosom mean??” “tity.” every single interaction with her and berdly made me PISS myself laughing and especially The Statue. actually this whole game was really, really funny. the part where you and ralsei go on the swan boat, literally on acid, and battle it out with rouxls kaard. who is riding a duck. god where does toby come up with this material?? it is so weird but.... so good. his comedic chops have gotten a LOT better since undertale, and even chapter 1.

the art, music, and mechanics were SPOT ON. the recruitment thing, the implication that at some point you’re going to have to de-recruit someone for the betterment of your town, the town itself, just... good lord. toby has outdone himself. this adds so much complexity to the gameplay that was kind of lacking in undertale? I also love the way that the equipment has been done this time around, it adds an element of strategy to deciding who should get what items and when to equip different items. the team as a whole is so great, mechanics wise. fights with them are INFINITELY more entertaining than fighting alone as kris would be. and the art is WAY better than undertale. I've never been one to criticize Undertale’s graphics, and I still won’t, but it’s impossible to deny that deltarune is a step up in every way. the little animations of kris and susie entering the dark world, susie and lancer’s high-five, the attack/defend animations, just so good. the environments are super aesthetically pleasing, too. the music is great, of course. it’s Toby Fox what am I expecting?? to be honest nothing has really Hit Me the same way any tracks from undertale have, but maybe they will as I listen to them more. a big part of it is the familiarity.

also: I was never too attached to either susie or Ralsei in chapter one, but this really sold it for me. when I played Undertale I felt very invested in the characters, but not so much my friendship with them. it felt very much like we had just met each other. in deltarune I 100000 percent buy the friendship and I ADORE both of them so much? the fact that kris literally does not say anything but still has distinct dynamics with the two of them baffles me but I can’t complain because it is?? so?? amazing??? I was genuinely very upset when ralsei and susie left to do their own thing. I didn’t realize it as it was happening but I really loved having them around. I missed them. also it seems like EVERYONE except me was suspicious of ralsei, but now that it’s been pointed out... yeah. I love him to BITS so it pains me to say but something is Wrong With Him. why can he travel from dark world to dark world without turning into a statue? what are the titans, and why is he only mentioning them now? and actually, ALL of our information about the dark world is coming from him. how much is true? what else does he know that he’s not telling us? 

and what. WHAT. is up with kris? I don’t even have any theories I am just baffled. it seems like they’re the knight, right? have they been creating... all of the dark worlds, including the first one in the storage closet? does this make kris the villain? or is the creation of dark worlds a good thing... meaning ralsei is manipulating us into thinking the dark fountains are evil? Why would they slash Toriel’s tires? why are we possessing them? also I LOVE the puppet theme with the hidden bosses... and it really seems like something about that is not sitting right with kris, either. kris full on shouting that they’re not okay to ralsei after he asks... good god I am SO CURIOUS. the mystery element here is really on point. it’s so easy to settle into the comedy and fun little group dynamic, but something is always Wrong and when something reminds you it is deeply unsettling. the only group member who doesn’t seem to have something freaky and suspicious going on is susie... if she turns out to be evil too i stg im ejecting myself from the stratosphere 

also speaking of mysteries: not knowing how Undertale and deltarune connect is KILLING me. I fully buy into the theory that sans and papyrus are “from” the world of deltarune, originally. if the theory is true, then word search from icee’s pizzeria you find in UT is actually SO? brilliant. SANS GAVE YOU A WORD SEARCH FROM A RESTAURANT THAT ONLY EXISTS IN DELTARUNE. was toby thinking about this all the way back when Undertale was released??? but is deltarune an alternate... timeline? does undertale exist at ALL, if the sans and papyrus thing doesn’t turn out to be true? but if that were the case, why would sans’ grocery store be the same building as grillby’s, logo and all? does sans owning the grillby’s building indicate that sans went to the undertale world to take it?? what is going ON??? 

and just going to say it: snowgrave route in deltarune (is that what we’re calling it???) is a MILLION times freakier than the genocide route in Undertale. like ut is  depressing, it was Unfun to kill my friends, but the way you just... slowly corrupt pure, innocent Noelle and make her do your incredibly screwed up bidding is just disturbing. the way you just say “Proceed” at all the puzzles and like, gaslight her into thinking she didn’t TOTALLY MURK berdly and that ring seller guy... god it’s so messed up but also SO???? amazing??? murdering video game characters makes you feel like you’re... well, playing a video game. but forcing Noelle to do it for you??? something about that feels so much more twisted. god I feel like a sadistic bastard. 

deltarune is not undertale but it’s not trying to be. it definitely feels distinctly different, and maybe more sinister? expectations are through the roof for toby but he’s killing it. I remember being worried when deltarune ch1 was announced, because undertale doesn’t feel like the kind of game that can, or should, be followed up by anything. I think I was wrong though. I don’t know how its possible, but deltarune is the perfect thematic successor to undertale in every way I can think of. tl;dr PLAY DELTARUNE it was good 

[coffeestainsandcashmere]

Let No Man Steal Your Thyme - An Older Dramione Story, Part Two

Since folks seemed to like the first part (thank you so much for letting me know, by the way! It’s genuinely quite scary flinging stories into the dusky blue void of Tumblr, especially if you’re relatively new to contributing to a fandom...!!), here’s Part Two.

Premise:

Draco, eight months after becoming a widower, nearly loses his son too in a vicious attack at Malfoy Manor. In the aftermath, while he’s being questioned by the aurors, there’s no one to look after little Scorpius, who just won’t stop howling. In desperation, and remembering how good Hermione had been with his kids, Harry brings the baby up to her office. In the end, the only thing that will calm the child is the soft hum of Hermione’s voice as she sings to him. Of course, that would be how Draco Malfoy finds her, wouldn’t t it? And then, eleven years later, Hermione meets him again and ends up asking him to lunch at the Leaky…

(Warnings in Part One (and in any future chapters) for past Ron/Hermione, and implied infertility. No explicit Ron-bashing, but it’s implied that their relationship couldn’t take the strain and he looked elsewhere. I may develop it later, but it won’t be a Ron-bashing fic. They’re just ultimately incompatible in this universe).

Read Part One here

Part Two - Lunch for Two at the Leaky

___

Hermione, being Hermione, arrived at the Leaky Cauldron just over half an hour before she was due to meet Malfoy there. After getting a large glass of dry white wine from the bar and settling into a table with a view of the doorway, she took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and then delved into her infinite handbag of holding to draw out a book.  

Twenty nine minutes later, a soft snort made her jump, and she looked up, blinking, to find Draco Malfoy towering over her table, a tiny smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “Some things never change, do they Granger?” he said. He was still in that beautiful navy blue suit that fitted him so damned perfectly he could have strolled straight out of the glossy adverts in Witch Weekly, and it made her mouth go unexpectedly dry, and her brain rather blank too.  

Her cheeks flushed and she opened her mouth, but promptly realised she had nothing to say in rebuttal, so closed it again with a click of her teeth and shrugged. “I guess not.”

“You want another one?” he asked.  

“Another book?” she blurted, frowning.  

To her surprise, Malfoy barked a short laugh, silver eyes glinting. “No, Granger,” he said with an odd intonation. “Drink.”

She glanced down at her nearly-empty glass, and pursed her lips. Raising one eyebrow, she turned her face to look at him slightly askance and smirked. “Just what kind of degenerate do you take me for?” she parroted back at him.  

“Of course. The ex-Minister for Magic can’t be seen drinking herself into a stupor at midday with a former Death Eater now, can she?” he sneered, the humour vanishing. “I’ll be right back.”

Blowing the rising tension from her lungs, she hoped this wasn’t going to be a huge mistake and closed her eyes a moment, then returned her book to her bottomless handbag. With nothing to do until Malfoy returned — if he even returned, of course; he could have just bolted for the back door and disapparated — she cursed and fussed with her cuticles until the crisp click of dragonhide leather Oxfords rose above the low lunchtime murmur in the pub.  

“That was ungracious of me,” he said as he sat down. “I’m sorry.”

“Forgiven,” she said quickly. “I’m a touch nervous too.”

Malfoy went still at that, but instead of unleashing another snippy comment at her expense, he just twitched his lips and nodded slightly in acknowledgement. “To the most unusual of days,” he said, raising his own glass of white. 

She clinked the remnants of hers against his, and added, “And to new beginnings, I think.” She looked at her watch and smiled. “They’ll be just south of Birmingham by now, I suspect.”

“Who will?” he asked after sipping his wine. She half expected him to make some kind of remark about its inferior vintage, but he seemed happy enough with it.  

“The Express,” she said. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten dear Scorpius already?” she teased.  

He shook his head. “No. But you’re as hard to keep up with as you ever were, Granger.”

“I don’t recall you ranking too many places behind me, Malfoy. And you beat me in Potions every year bar one, though I rather suspect Snape had a hand in keeping my marks down there…”

He shrugged noncommittally.  

“Which house do you think Scorpius will find his way into?” she asked. “Slytherin like his father?”

“Probably,” Malfoy said ruefully. “He can be a cunning little shit when he wants to be.”

She had to smile at that. “Tell me about him?”

Malfoy sighed and took another sip of wine. “He’s smart,” he began, somewhat hesitantly, as if he thought he might bore Hermione if he said too much about his son.  

“No surprises there,” she scoffed playfully. “Is he a future seeker too, or do the similarities end with the brains?”

A very slight flush blossomed on Malfoy’s ice-white cheeks. “I didn’t know you even remembered I played quidditch, Granger.”

Her eyebrows rose and she tried not to snort wine out of her nostrils. Malfoy had looked devastating in his quidditch kit as he’d grown into it, not that she’d ever admitted that to anyone. He’d been a right arse too back at school, no matter how beautiful his own had looked in his flying gear, so her admiration then had been purely aesthetic. “Yes, Malfoy,” she sighed. “I do remember that. I also remember the Slytherin team being quite the thorn in our side for most of our time there…”

He hitched a lopsided smirk and took a sip of wine.  

The way he held the glass in long, steady fingers made her core heat slightly and she had to look away. The reaction took her off-guard. It had been years since she’d felt even the slightest flicker of sexual attraction for anyone.  

“Are you admitting that we were actually good, Granger?”

Hermione rolled her brown eyes and shook her head, causing a cascade of curls to tumble into her face like an avalanche set off by the merest touch. Shoving it all back out of her eyes, she said, “Much as I’d like to say it was only daddy’s money and a set of fancy brooms that gave you an edge, it wasn’t. Flint was still a dirty rotten cheater, but half of you were pretty darned good. And it doesn’t even take a quidditch player to see that. So how old was Scorpius when you had him on a broom of his own?”

A cloudy look passed over his eyes and he blinked slowly. “Four.”

“Four!”

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, Granger. I didn’t plonk him on a broom, slap the bristles, and send it racing off into the middle of Wiltshire with my son and heir alone. He rode in my lap with me until he was seven or so, and even then, I enchanted his broom not to go above five feet. He was furious about that,” he chuckled. “Naturally, he tried everything he could think of to undo the enchantment, but in the end he resorted to getting one of the house elves to undo it. She was devastated when she realised quite what she’d done and came to me immediately.”

Hermione’s lip curled involuntarily at the mention of house elves. “So long as you didn’t make her iron her own hands in punishment,” she said before she could stop herself.  

Malfoy blinked, blanching and obviously taken aback. “No, Granger,” he breathed, and after a long pause he added, “I am not my father.”

The words rang in the air between them and something unpleasantly akin to shame coiled in her belly, soured by the wine on an empty stomach. “Now it’s my turn to apologise for being ungracious,” she said. “I’m sorry. I know you’re not your father. I’ve known that for a very long time.”

Before Malfoy could open his mouth to reply, Old Tom shuffled over and stuck some menus under their noses. “You said you was stayin’ for lunch, ma’am, but neither of you’s collected a menu,” he said before disappearing.  

“Ma’am,” she repeated in a stage whisper to Malfoy. “I never got used to that at the Ministry. Makes me sound like some old frump.” A tiny, bitter snort escaped her and she added, “Well, if the shoe fits.”

“Granger, please,” Malfoy drawled. “You are anything but an ‘old frump’.”

Drawn up short by the unexpectedly open compliment, she looked at him, lips softly parted.  

“What?” he asked, looking like he thought she might hex his balls off if he moved so much as a muscle. “Surely Weasley must have told you the same thing once or twice? I know the man is about as artless as a grindylow, but…”

The sudden mention of Ron’s name nearly gave her emotional whiplash, and she huffed a tiny laugh. “We’re not together anymore. Surely you heard?”

“I hadn’t,” he said, voice flat. “I’m sorry.”

“You must be the only person in the entirety of Wizarding Britain who missed that then,” she groused, opening the menu and taking in the options without really seeing them. “Rita Skeeter’s nasty little protégée wrote an entire Prophet article on our breakup.”

“I haven’t exactly kept up to date with current affairs,” he said awkwardly, lowering his gaze to the menu.  

“Current? This was eleven years ago, Malfoy.” She fixed him with a wary stare and whispered, “Don’t tell me Ginny was right? You really are a recluse?”

“This would be my first public outing in a very long time, yes,” he said carefully without looking up. “But I do venture forth from my little fortress every so often. I was at Theo’s anniversary do a few months ago.”

“I missed that,” she said. “I was supposed to be there, but Harry had a crisis with his brood. You’d never believe it - there was a cursed photo-frame stuffed behind a piece of panelling in the drawing room at Grimmauld, and Lily managed not only to find it but to activate it. She was stuck inside it for hours and Harry was beside himself, but we got her out and she was alright in the end.”

“Grimmauld,” Malfoy murmured, and his silver eyes rose to meet hers. “My aunt’s family home?”

She nodded and then the knut dropped. “I forgot you’re a Black too by blood.”

His mouth twitched and he nodded. “I haven’t been there since I was a very small child. I’m assuming they redecorated…”

“Thoroughly.”

“Not thoroughly enough,” he quipped. “That awful tapestry still knocking around?”

“God no,” she scoffed. “That was one of the first things to go. Along with the collection of shrunken house elf heads and the troll skull that screamed at you if you got too close to it. There was even a boggart in the basement, if you can believe the cliché. Anyway,” she said, keen to change topics, “You were proving to me that you aren’t a complete hermit. Was Theo’s party really the last thing you went out for?”

He seemed a little bashful as he nodded. “I… I don’t exactly find myself welcome everywhere, even now, Granger,” he said dryly. He’d nearly finished his wine, and when Tom hobbled over to take their food order, he asked for a second glass, in which Hermione joined him.  

“Guess we are degenerates after all,” she said as she met his eyes over the empty table.  

“The people behind you certainly seem to think very little of your choice of prandial company, Granger,” he said flatly, interlacing his long fingers and arching a pale eyebrow.  

Where at Hogwarts he’d had pale, pristine hands, now she saw innumerable scars and nicks across his knuckles, and they were undoubtedly the strong, steady hands of a grown man, with none of the softness of youth. Heat bloomed across her neck and face, and to distract herself she looked over her shoulder to glower at the people shooting them scandalised looks across the dark pub.  

“Screw them,” she muttered. “They have no idea about anything anyway.”

If Malfoy was puzzled by her outburst, he didn’t show it.  

They shared their meal and spoke easily enough about Hermione’s astonishing and unprecedented rise through the ministry, and how she’d cracked one day — the details of which she chose not to divulge — and had quit and decided to open a bookshop instead. “It’s been so much more fulfilling,” she finished, slightly breathless.  

“A bookshop?” he smiled, eyes glittering.  

“I know, I know,” she growled, gesticulating with her dessert spoon in between delicious mouthfuls of Florian’s ice cream which the Leaky now sold. “Could I be any more cliché?”  

With a graceful shrug of one shoulder, Malfoy just said, “I think it suits you. And if it makes you happy, why not?”

“What makes you happy then?” she asked before her brain had caught up with the question. “I mean…” she flushed hot again. “I just wondered what you do up at the Manor all day.”

“Well,” he said evenly around a slice of apple tart, “Until this morning, I largely oversaw Scorpius general education, but I have been involved in a number of other projects here and there too.”

“Projects?”

“Mmm,” he said, but clearly wasn’t in the mood to elaborate and she didn’t press.

“Well, Theo’s having drinks at his place on Friday… you should come.”

“Which place?”  

“He has more than one place? I thought he closed Nott Manor up for good?”

Malfoy smirked. “He has a number of places, Granger.”

“Oh,” she said, feeling stupid. “Well, his usual one here in London, I suppose… He didn’t tell me anything different…” She set her spoon down and sat back. “Merlin, I’m full,” she laughed. “So, will you come?”

“Do you always invite strays to other people’s parties?”

“Do you always deflect social invitations in the hopes that they’ll go away if you ignore them long enough?” she countered with an even stare.  

Malfoy’s spine stiffened a touch at that, but the look which settled onto his face could only be chalked up to respect, and he allowed himself another flinty smile. “Touché,” he said. “Yes, it usually works well enough.”

“Not this time.”

“Evidently,” he said with crisp enunciation. “Fine. I will consider attending.”

She snickered almost childishly at that. “You make it sound like it’s some fancy black tie do that you might condescend to attend if the mood strikes…”

“I don’t know what a ‘black tie do’ is, but I am considering condescending to attend all the same.”

“Fair enough. And a black tie event is a Muggle thing. It’s like dress robes for Muggles.”

“Ah, I see. Thank you.”  

And with that, their conversation stalled for the first time all afternoon. Hermione looked down at her watch and gasped. “God, Malfoy, it’s been three and a half hours!”  

“I’m surprised you lasted five minutes if I’m honest,” he said quietly.  

She frowned and delved into her handbag again, looking for her coin purse. “You fancy taking a walk to shake all this food down?” she asked, but Malfoy was already shaking his head.  

“Unfortunately, I really should get going. Please, Granger, let me pay for this. It’s been an unexpected pleasure on a day that would otherwise have been very grey indeed.”

His sincerity struck her like a physical blow, and she could hardly respond as Tom came over as if summoned by the clink of money, and Malfoy smoothly left a handful of coins on the tray and told Tom to keep the change.  

“Very well, M’lord,” Tom said, bowing slightly as he left.  

“‘M’lord’?” Hermione asked and Malfoy immediately rolled his eyes.  

“I really wish people wouldn’t call me that. Mercifully it doesn’t happen all that often. I usually find myself on the receiving end of far less gracious epithets.”

“You are a lord though? Your father wasn’t a lord, was he?”

“No. It’s Lord Black, technically. My father had no claim to the title, being a Malfoy, but with my mother’s blood, I inherited the title. Needless to say, I don’t bandy it around if I can help it.”

“I see,” she said, rising from her seat. “Well, thank you for lunch. You really didn’t have to pay though.”

“I know,” he said shyly as he stood with the grace of a lifelong seeker. “Still, it was a pleasure.”

She smoothed her clothes out, trying to avoid feeling like that frumpy old matron beside the lean, tall figure of Draco Malfoy, and pursed her lips. “See you Friday then?”

Before he’d obviously thought about it, Malfoy nodded. “Friday,” he said, and then realised he’d committed himself and laughed softly with a knowing twinkle in his eyes. “Friday,” he said again.  

Hermione held out her hand to him and he surprised her yet again by taking it delicately in his fingers and raising her knuckles to his lips. The faintest brush of a kiss against her skin set her tingling all over and she nearly gasped, flushing a dark crimson.  

“Good day, Granger,” he said, and stalked from the pub.  

Outside on Diagon Alley’s cobbled streets, he disapparated without looking back.

___

If you liked where it’s going and want to see more, do let me know! Either by reblogging this or sending me an ask.

Part Three

writing masterlist | Ao3