#handwritten notes to editable text | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lazylattedgleam · 2 months ago

Text

———————————————————————————————————

LOST AMONG THE PAGES

(A Zayne x NONMC!Reader fic)

(Word count: ~3.4k)

(Credits: All images from the net. Except for the color editing and brush strokes and writing are made by me.)

(Credits: Pinterest)

*TW: Angst, maybe not well written, NON!MC Reader, Reader has Anemia, heavy blood loss during periods, fights, shouting, feeling of betrayal and heartbreak, shaking, crying, unrequited love.

*Index: Reader speeches are white, bold and italicised.

Zayne speeches are blue, bold and italicised.

MC speeches are pink, bold and italicised.

Others are white and just italicised.

Thoughts are written inside single inverted commas and italicised, sometimes struck through.

Texts and chats have ‘Indented’ font.

Calls have double inverted commas, white and italicised. They are differentiated from other speeches. (Except for main characters like MC and Zayne, they will follow their color code as mentioned earlier and italicised.)

Actions are written inside asterisks, white and bold.

Diary entries have ‘Chat’ font.

If you’re uncomfortable with the following genre or any of the trigger warnings, then please don’t read ahead.

———————————————————————————————————

“His love for her was as pure as the flower Jasmine herself…”

Memoir: Three. Ending

———————————————————————————————————

(Credits: The Feels)

Time…12:23 a.m.

Date: 06/XX/2048

Day: Saturday

Dear diary,

I rarely do write these days, my mind is too much consumed by the void of my thoughts and feelings…my thoughts filled with them..them and them…work has been fine, sales going good, yet everything feels too gloomy…I do make him lunch everyday, barring the days they go out to eat, it hasn’t increased, but my soul feels like it did…we don’t text much, just few ‘Hi’ and ‘Hellos’, here and there…and sometimes he checks up on me over text or call…I think Zayne too has figured out I’m in need of space maybe that’s why he hasn’t once visited me in over two weeks…Although I look at their Moments posts, I didn’t know Zayne had that app…they seem happy, just like their pictures do…

Yesterday was at the park…

Few days ago at Destiny Cafe…

Couple days before that by the Lakeside…

Azure Square…

My eyes hurt watching them…it feels like I’m developing a new variant of iritis…

Fun fact: he fails to tell me that he’s going out, everytime…either I get to know it from Yvonne, or MC, or from the Moments posts…So I’ve stopped caring the need to know…if they tell me, I just hum along and let go.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀

Time…02:38 a.m.

Date: 13/XX/2048

Day: Friday

Dear diary,

I don’t feel like writing anymore, not even twice in two weeks…what happened to me? He rarely calls, all I get are mostly texts, that is also if I’m lucky enough…I’m dying to talk to him, would he even remember it’s our anniversary next week? Or maybe they have plans…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Credits: The Feels)

🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀

PRESENTLY:

Next week arrives way quicker than I ever wanted it to, every day feels like a blur recently, like I can barely remember the tasks I’ve performed…It’s our anniversary day…I will go to the hospital and drop off a flower bouquet to him in his office…

…I had a special lunch prepared for him,

‘Dice beef, rice, roast meat sauce, broccoli and white broccoli, crispy fried shredded onions, and tamagoyaki’, I��d learnt during the early stages of our relationship. It was always my plan to make our first anniversary very special, filling him with surprises…I place a six packed box of coconut macarons on the side each had a tiny milk chocolate snowman on them: orange juice, and like usual a handwritten note…within a heart shaped card. I then head out to our shop, picking out a freshly custom made jasmine-bouquet, as I add a card to it, ‘Happy 1st Year’, maybe if I wasn’t dull from the inside I’d have been more creative…

“Soooo a whole year huh?” “Mhm”, I smile softly as I pay after I was done.

…Upon reaching the hospital I was immediately greeted by Yvonne and Dr. Greyson. “Happy 1 year anniversary! Congratulations to the both of you!”, she says excitedly, hugging me. I hug back. “Congratulations”, Dr. Greyson nods as I smile at both of them, “Thank you very much you two.” “Dr. Zayne is free right now, plus it is lunch time so yeah.” “Thanks a lot Y, I’ll be off then.” “Okay! Do tell me your plans for tonight later!” “Will do!”.

Taking a deep breath in I knock on his door… “Come in”, I hear his voice, it sounded softer than usual…could he have been expecting me? I take a deep breath in as I walk inside…

“Happy 1 year (Name)!”…of course she is here…I regain my posture as I smile at her, it’s forced… “Thank you very much.” “I’ve been so excited for today, I mean Zayne, a year with someone! Now that’s a milestone!”, she jokes and laughs… “oh! I’ll go out now, you two talk…do tell me your plans for the night later bye guys!”, as she leaves…

I feel a strange sense of satisfaction and comfort at that…but the main thing still remains…Zayne…it’s been very awkward over these weeks, and ever since all that happened…I don’t know how to approach him…

I take in a breath as I walk to his table, handing out the bouquet to him…as I placed the lunch box on his table, I smile… “Happy Anniversary…”, I want to say more, pour out my heart but I don’t… He stares at the gift, soon opening his lunch, I could see a tiny glimmer in his eyes…I made him his favourite after all… “Thank you…”, he says with the similar softness he holds out for her…my heart skips a beat…but then again…it’s compulsion…

“Happy Anniversary…(Name)…”

🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀

…Maybe I still have hopes and dreams…I reach his pace, my mind at a pseudo-peaceful state for the time being…I want tonight to be ours just ours…I want to make it perfect…so perfect perfect perfect…I work hard…pacing around his living room space decorating, minutely adjusting each and every piece, so that there remains no fault…

I fill the room with golden fairy lights, some over the front door, his bedroom and hung over the mould of the balcony. Next I decorate the gaps in between with small thick bunches of Jasmines, some beside the table and chairs too, arranged in a pattern…now all I need to do is wait for his arrival for the last minute touch ups…

…The clock strikes 11:00 p.m. The lights turned off, the room illuminated by the fairy lights. Keeping the balcony door open, as a gentle soft breeze came in through greeting my features…

I’m wearing my best dress for him…it was a navy blue tube top with intricate white snowfalls patterns delicately lacing around the waist and bust area—custom made…a silver necklace with an elegant cursive ‘Z’ locket, matching silver earrings and a bracelet—custom made…maroon lip gloss, mascara and my hair let down.

The door opens, as I catch a glance of him enter…he looks too good to be true…He stares for a while… “I’ll be out after changing…” “Will you want to have dinner first?” “Yes.”.

While he goes to freshen up, I prepare the table, placing neatly each item around the table…I had starters, main course, dessert and drinks. As I light up the candle placed at the centre of the table, making sure no wind blows it out, but thankfully luck was on my side, the wind was just a gentle summer breeze… Beside the candle was a bucket with ice and a bottle of champagne, now I know he’s a lightweight and he doesn’t prefer drinking…but it’s our anniversary, I want it to be the best…

He came out after a while wearing -his nightly rendezvous outfit-, my breath hitches…I want to compliment him but what if it becomes awkward…my gestures and thoughts went back to how it used to be like at the beginning of our relationship…maybe time is a loop…

As we sit down to eat, he gets my chair put like the gentleman he is and then himself sits…Having his favorite cuisine on the table, maybe I thought he’d smile…but he didn’t…

“Champagne?” “It’s our anniversary after all, a couple glasses wouldn’t hurt.”, I chuckle hoping he’d too…but he didn’t…

He’s sending me mixed signals…which I neither comprehend nor interpret…atleast he’s here…that’s all that matters now…a part of me couldn’t wait to write about tonight in my diary again…

…we eat quietly, not much words are uttered, except for the occasional, like for passing items or ‘the food is good.’, my mind wanders back to the times before her, as I analyse them, was he always cold to me too? I used to believe that was how he showed affection, was I wrong?

I pour myself a glass and drink it…he didn’t say anything…I was a lightweight too…but he didn’t know…and another…and another…and another…

My inhibitions lowered but I still had my senses to myself…placing the glass down, I chuckle a bit…

“Not even a ‘you look beautiful tonight’??? Dr. Zayne now that’s straight up meeeeeaaaannnn! *hic* I set up soooooo much ‘fff you, dressed up ffff youuuu, surprises surprises surprises! Even made and got your favorites! But nothinggggggg!”, I pout as I slur… “Whyyyy Zayne whyyyy is it because I’m not herrrrr???? I knowwww I’m not pretty like her orrrr successful like herrrrr or know you from Adam like her! But hell I’ve been good!! I’ve done so much for you! And you don’t even giveee me minimum gratitude! That’s meeeean”, I giggle as I pace around the room…

“Please sit down you’re drunk.” “Shhhhhhhhh I speak todayyyy, I’ve been holding backkkk for tooo longggg!”, I press my finger on his lips. “These are soooo soft and plum…I was anxious whether you’d at all kisssss me toniiiightttrr! How many timesss have we evennn kisssed in our relationship?? Even forehead and cheek kisses have ceased to exist…What haveee I done wrong Zaynie??? Alll I ever yearned for is you, your affectionnn and your loveee… you know my past, my desperations, my heart, then why…why…”, my voice cracks, my eyes filling with water, becoming hazy… “I *hic* gave you a Jasmine bouquet today…you didn’t say much…at least you accepted *I giggle* they’re your favoritessss I knowwwwwww…they symbolise purityyy, looove and afftection, did you know? Of course you did…that’s what I feel forrr yewwww!” I sloppily poke at his chest with my index finger…

“I’m barely drunk…did you know I was a lightweight…? Do you know my favorite flowers or my favorite colour! No you don’t! You barely ever ask! It’s always me me me! I think of you more often than I breathe! And you don’t—” “I want the old Zayne back…I saw how you watch her…how your eyes light up…how your face embraces colours…because those are all the ways I act around you! Have you ever noticed!?”, as I sob heavily…

He was left speechless, I could see his hands clench… “You’re so much wiser than me…tell me Zayne is it all in my head?? Do you never see how I always beg for footnotes in the story of your life?! Tell me…do you…only Tolerate Me…?”, my body begs to be wrapped up in his arms…but that is just wishful thinking…

As I was a mess on the floor, he was still there…I wanted to leave, I wanted to stay…I wanna walk but I can’t, my body is shaking convulsively…

🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀

That was all I could remember, before I passed out…the next morning, I wake up in a comfortable bed…as my inhibitions come back to me…it’s his bed…

He was getting ready to go to the hospital, my head is a mess… “You should rest…I’ll get you some painkillers—” “You’re a wonderful man.”, as I get up on my own, barely…and go to the bathroom to wash up…my face is a mess, makeup all smudged together…eyes puffy and red…thank god I don’t have work today…

…I reach home, my head now better having taken the pain killers from before…I should just—

Ring! Ring! Ring! Ring!

MC was calling…not now I can’t deal with it… especially not her of all people right now…so I put my phone on silent…although she keeps on calling for a few more times…I would’ve felt bad if I didn’t hold a grudge from last night, plus I was hurt and mad at him, I cannot deal with either of them now…

…I was about to take out my diary and write when I heard the buzz at the door. I groan as I walk over to open…MC…

“(Name)! Dear lord are you alright?! I called you so many times! I was worried sick!”

“I’m alright I just—”

“This is unexpected of you (Name)! How can you be so careless!? Do you know how worried I was?! How worried Zayne was!?”

That was it that was the last straw…it ticked me off fully…

“You weren’t worried about me when you took his heart away.”, I speak sharply.

“What…”

“No don’t you dare ‘what’ me! I’m tired of this hurting! Why weren’t you there when he was available when he was single! Why why why couldn’t you come then?! First of all you come into his life and he doesn’t even tell me! He tells me nothing about his childhood, and I was fine with that, it’s his privacy his choice! Then he doesn’t tell me he’s having dinner with you! I was fine with that too! Then he starts acting completely aloof! Like I don’t even exist! I’m his girlfriend dammit!”, tears prick my eyes again… “I don’t hate you MC I don’t! I think you’re a great girl and an amazing friend to both me and Zayne…but please understand…you’re so so so nice! You’re too great! You’re too amazing at everything you do! Heck you’re even more read that me! But how the hell are you are so dumb that you can’t realise the way he looks at you! He looks at you like you’re all he sees! Like you’re his elixir of life, his honey, his will to live in this messed up world, his one and only! Have you ever ever noticed that?! No right? But I have! And I’ve tried so hard to keep it in, blaming myself for overthinking but there’s a limit a limit to each one of us, and that threshold has been crossed! So please I beg you, please let my boyfriend stay mine, please just be his friend…please!”, I breathe heavily, my body shaking convulsively, as tears stream down…

She’s left speechless…just like he was last night. O could see the tears prick at her eyes too…

“I-I am sorry I never—”

“Please just please leave…”, she doesn’t speak another word and goes…

I heave a frustrated sigh…I’m too tired, I feel dizzy…

🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀

…Later that night…

I wanted to write in my diary, but there was another buzz at the door…who’s it now…

I drag myself off the bed as I walk over then opening the door…Zayne…

He steps in, his presence carries a strong aura…he looks…his usual cold, stoic and…angry…?

“Why are you—”

“Who gave you the permission to talk to her like that?”, he utters with pure hatred in his voice…

I freeze at that…

“If that’s what you’re here for—”

“Answer.”

“Why should I Zayne? Am I answerable to you? Is it my compulsion?? But if I remember clearly you never answered to my texts whenever you’re with her. I said what I said because I’ve had enough. I put my phone on silent and she still didn’t get the hint, I had no other choice.”

“Then that’s your manners? That’s how you treat people who are genuinely worried about you and check up on you? She’s been nothing but nice to you.”

“Oh you wanna talk about manners now?! Let’s talk! Where were your manners when you didn’t even bother telling me you went out to dinner with her, or you were at the park with her, or when I poured my fucking heart out to you last night and got no fucking ass response?! Thanks for giving me the best fucking post-anniversary present by the way.”

“You’re still hung up on that.”

“Hung up?! Zayne hello? Do you need a brain doctor or another heart doctor to check if they’re functioning all well?! Do you not realise the pain, the hurt and the betrayal I went through?! Are you void of feelings for everyone except for her?! You make me wonder if you ever saw me as something valuable. I’m your fucking girlfriend Zayne! I hated having to hear from other people about my boyfriend because he wouldn’t tell me about his whereabouts! Do you know how embarrassing that feels?! Be glad they’re not gossipers or Dr. Zayne would’ve had quite the reputation by now.”, I scoff “and do you even know how many lies I have to tell often just to make you not seem like a cold hearted asshole?! But I guess for you you thought those were all my compulsions, just like yourself…I can’t believe I read into you this wrong…I’ve always cared for you, catered to your needs, tried to make myself perfect for you?! Heck I even greet you like a battle hero returning from a war, whenever you came home!! What have you done?! A nod, a word, rarely a kiss on the cheek and forehead!? Tell me Zayne, I asked you last night I’ll ask you again today! Was it all in my head? Were we a healthy couple only in my head?! Was it just me!! Or did she cast some love spell upon you and had you enamoured—”

“Watch your tone (Name)…you barely know about her…I’m her primary care physician and I know her the best, plus she’s always been with me since childhood, I cherish her…”

“Do you know how hard she works as a Hunter, wanderers everywhere…and you don’t even know about her heart’s condition…do you know she has the Protocore Syndrome, and she could, touch wood, drop dead if gone through tremendous amount of stress??? Do you even know what the Protocore Syndrome is? If you did your research you would have.”

I stand still hearing that…I’ve heard about the Protocore Syndrome, read and researched about it, heck so many people came to our shop to collect flowers for them who died from this, or they who were suffering from it! Heck I knew about it better than most!

‘It was disease caused when Protocores, that were special energy cores dropped from high-level Wanderers, negatively affecting a person's body. There are currently three types known to affect humans, and each one causes different symptoms and levels of disease progression.’

But he didn’t know that…he barely ever asked me about my day or work…whereas I…

I look up at his face, I want to scream but I don’t, there is barely a point anymore…

“Do you know that my life’s worth research is about them and how I can save my patients, how can I save from it? You say you don’t know about my childhood, well here’s a fact I will give you, I became a cardio-surgeon because of her, because she suffered from this deadly disease…because I wanted to cure her and never lose her…she is the most important person in the world to me.”

“Do you know what it’s like to have a disease like such, when you have the case of a high probability of death at any given stance if your over stressed or overworked? You should consider yourself lucky…And as her primary physician it is my duty to care the most for her, in whichever way you take it.”

That was the last straw…that broke my heart, shattering and stepping on it completely…

“Zayne…you…wow…”, I was speechless once again, but right now…I didn’t know anything it felt like I’m in a foreign place where no one knows me…I feel like a refugee of a war…

“I have Anemia Zayne…Anemia…”, I speak softly, my voice broken, eyes filled with tears once again…I could feel him stiffen, cussing under his breath, saying he’d gone too far…too far…

“I’m…I’m sorry…I…I didn’t mean to compare any disease with another, I just—”

“Maybe the next the I should just stop taking all my meds and supplements and bleed myself close to death…or maybe if I had sickle-celled anemia, with a probability of death maybe then you would’ve noticed me…if I would’ve just laid on the bed at Akso in the ER…maybe then you’ll finally notice me…”

“I know what Protocore Syndrome is Zayne…I have everyday many customers come in to collect flowers for their dear loved ones they lost or are on the verge of losing, or even for themselves…they share me their stories and I listen as my heart breaks hearing those…all I could do was give them the best of flowers and well wishes from the bottom of my heart…I know it Zayne I do…and I’m sorry…I didn’t know about MC…I’m so so sorry…I’ll apologise to her…”

“I don’t hate her…I don’t…I— *voice cracks* I just…I was hurting like anything…and it vented out like that…I’m sorry…” *I fall to the floor, crying out loud, I don’t hold back anymore…* maybe he tried to reach out for me, but I speak up before he could…

With my broken voice, my breath coming out in heavy successions… “Please just give me closure…I’m too tired…too…tired…”

He drops down and holds me tight, as I bawl to his chest…I couldn’t anymore…it feels so natural but it’s the end…I know it is…

“Please let me…have…closure…”

Maybe his voice cracked a bit too…

“I’m sorry (Name) I’m so so sorry, I couldn’t be the man who should have treated you properly…I’m sorry I should have told you earlier…I thought I was over her but I wasn’t…maybe my brain created an image of you as her, that you were her…whenever we’d sleep together, go out, or tried to kiss…all I could imagine was her face…hence I stuck to forehead and cheek kisses…I’m so so sorry…”

As I sob and sob loudly, while he kept holding me…just like that, it was over…we were over…

🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀 🥀

(Credits: Pinterest)

———————————————————————————————————

106 notes · View notes

insomniaccorner · 3 months ago

Text

Batfam on Valentine's Day

Bruce Wayne

Tries to act like Valentine's Day isn’t a big deal but always pulls off something extravagant last minute.

Prefers quiet, intimate moments over flashy events—like a candlelit dinner at home or a rooftop date overlooking Gotham.

Writes heartfelt letters that he struggles to deliver, so Alfred sneaks them into his partner’s things.

If his partner teases him about being romantic, he’ll just smirk and say, “I don’t need one day to show you how I feel.”

Dick Grayson

Goes all out—flowers, chocolates, dinner, and probably a choreographed dance if his partner asks for it.

Loves playful, flirty dates, like roller skating, amusement parks, or even dancing in the Batcave.

Sends a bunch of ridiculous text messages leading up to the date, full of heart emojis and bad puns.

If his partner doesn’t like big celebrations, he’s totally happy just cuddling and watching rom-coms.

Jason Todd

Acts like he doesn’t care but actually puts a lot of thought into his gift—probably something personal, like a book he annotated or a rare vinyl record.

Not big on public displays of affection but will hold his partner’s hand under the table or wrap an arm around them absentmindedly.

If his partner likes action, he’ll take them on a date that includes shooting practice, a motorcycle ride, or some rooftop parkour.

Ends the night by cooking a homemade meal (better than expected) and reading with his partner in comfortable silence.

Tim Drake

Completely forgets it's Valentine's Day until the last second. Scrambles to put something together but somehow pulls it off.

Workaholic tendencies mean his partner might have to drag him away from a case to celebrate.

Prefers thoughtful gifts over grand gestures—like a playlist of songs that remind him of them or a handwritten note tucked into their stuff.

His idea of a perfect Valentine’s date? Staying up late with takeout, gaming, or watching sci-fi movies with his partner curled up next to him.

Damian Wayne

Initially dismisses Valentine’s Day as “commercialized nonsense” but secretly gets his partner a handmade gift.

If his partner is artistic, he’ll paint or sketch something for them (and act like it’s no big deal).

Gets flustered if they try to be affectionate in public but secretly loves it in private.

His idea of a date is something active—sparring together, horseback riding, or visiting an art exhibit he thinks they’ll appreciate.

Barbara Gordon

Likes a balance between romance and practicality—maybe dinner at a cozy spot, followed by a late-night city patrol.

Probably hacks her partner’s devices to send them cute (and slightly embarrassing) Valentine’s messages.

If her partner is into books, she’ll gift them a first edition of something they love.

Makes sure every Batcomputer screen in the cave displays a heart-filled message just to mess with the others.

Cassandra Cain

Not big on words, but shows love through small, meaningful actions—like fixing her partner’s favorite snack or holding their hand.

Loves quiet, peaceful dates—maybe a rooftop picnic where they just enjoy each other’s presence.

Might write something sweet but struggle to say it, so she just hands her partner a note and looks away.

If her partner gets cold, she’ll silently wrap them in her own jacket and pretend it’s no big deal.

Stephanie Brown

Goes all-in on cheesy, fun Valentine’s traditions—heart-shaped pancakes, silly gifts, and matching sweaters.

Leaves random love notes and doodles in her partner’s stuff leading up to the day.

Loves spontaneous adventures, so expect a road trip or a scavenger hunt through Gotham.

Would 100% try to sneak into a fancy restaurant without a reservation, just for the thrill.

#batfam x reader #bruce wayne #jason todd #damian wayne #tim drake #dick grayson #headcanon #batfam

99 notes · View notes

disease · 10 months ago

Text

"UNTITLED" // 2007 YOSHITOMO NARA 奈良美智 [coloured pencil on coloured paper | 16 ½ x 11 5/8"]

With her short cropped hair, dark green dress and rebellious energy, the girl in Untitled (2007) emits the youthful defiance that has come to typify works by Yoshitomo Nara. [...]

"He is widely celebrated for his paintings and coloured pencil drawings of juvenile, cartoonish characters with large gazing eyes and endearing personalities. They inhabit imagined and insouciant paper worlds, brandish absurd objects and props—knives, sprouts, cigarettes, and electric guitars—and express a wide range of capricious, childlike emotion. Stern and somewhat sulky, our subject hovers in indeterminate space. She stands upon a Japanese flag with her small feet positioned perfectly over its crimson sun. Emblazoned around her miniature figure are the words ‘Up Yours!’, and, ‘All the Nations!’. As an advocate of peace, questions of nationhood, conflict and world politics weave through Nara’s art in such pithy phrases and symbols. Exhibited at the Centro de Arte Contemporáneo de Málaga—the first show of the artist’s work in Spain in 2007-2008—the present work was one of twenty coloured pencil drawings hung along the final wall of the gallery.

Born in 1959 in Japan’s rural Aomori Prefecture, Nara’s youth was marked by his country’s rapid post-war economic development and an influx of Western pop-culture, from Disney animation to punk and rock and roll. The artist expresses heartfelt nostalgia for the retro media—record-sleeves and comic books—that offered escapism from an otherwise solitary childhood. ‘Of course if you think back to the ’70s,’ he says, ‘information moved very differently. There was no Internet obviously and even the release date of albums in Japan could be delayed as much as six months … I would just sit there, listen to the music, look at the art on the cover and I think I really developed my imagination through that’ (N. Hegert, ‘Interview with Yoshitomo Nara,’ Artslant, 18 September 2010). This sensitivity to the worn, tactile quality of objects is triumphant in his art today and distinguishes him from the likes of Takashi Murakami and his Superflat movement. Untitled bears the enlivening traces of artist’s hand, present in the rough ‘outside-the-line’ scribbles that imply the girl’s messy hair. Bracketed with Nara’s unfiltered, handwritten text, the image feels distinctly personal, like a secret note exchanged between friends.

As early as his time at Aichi Prefectural University of Fine Arts in the 1980s, Nara began to draw onto envelopes, cardboard, and scraps of found paper. He continued these explorations at the prestigious Kunstakademie Düsseldorf where, under the tutorship of German Neo-Expressionist painter A. R. Penck, he was encouraged to work fluidly between painting and drawing. ‘I [loved] to draw every day and the scrawled sketches, never shown to anybody, started piling up’, Nara has said. ‘Like journal entries reflecting the events of each day, they sometimes intersected [with] memories from the past. My little everyday world became a trigger for the imagination, and I learned to develop and capture the imagery that arose’ (Y. Nara, ‘Nobody’s Fool’, in N. Miyamura and S. Suzuki (eds.), Yoshitomo Nara: The Complete Works, Volume 1: Paintings, Sculptures, Editions, Photographs 1984-2010, San Francisco 2011, p. 43). Mischievous, cute, and quietly ferocious, the present work attests to the enduring appeal of Nara’s little rebels." — via Christie's

#yoshitomo nara #pop art #faux naïf #contemporary art #punk #drawing #political #00s #japanese #art #u

152 notes · View notes

koalaflower · 3 months ago

Text

“be mine.” p1

blue lock v-day headcanons !

pair. gn!reader x multiple. separate for all characters.

includes. isagi yoichi, rin itoshi, shidou ryusei, nagi seishiro.

genre. fluff. so much fluff

synopsis. a bunch of inexperienced, lovesick boys’ attempt at valentine’s day.

a/n. happy valentine’s everyone!! enjoy these hcs cuz i’m single :’)

word count. 1.5k

isagi yoichi

“and when you go away, i still see you.”

valentine’s day? he’s already been planning a month in advance.

february 14 is CLEARED. he’s cancelling practice, postponing interviews, everything to come home to you. it’s his first, and he’s determined to make it your best.

has a mental note of all your likes and dislikes. he’s the type to have random facts about you in his notes app.

“hey, y/n, what do you think about this?” he’d ask, showing you a picture of a pretty, heart-shaped pandora ring. “not your color..? then… what about this one?”

thinks he’s being 100% subtle.

he’ll spend hours carefully crafting a bouquet of origami flowers for you. his desk is filled with crumpled wads of failed attempts. almost crashes out a few times, but your reaction will make it all worth it.

stays up late to write you a sincere, heartfelt letter and ends up with multiple drafts because his handwriting looked off or crooked.

his gifts are a combination of handmade and store bought. he’ll make you a valentine’s basket stuffed to the brim with jewelry, essentials, chocolates, and a handwritten letter.

is lectured by his mom, who sits down and helps him with flower arrangement despite his initial embarrassment.

if anyone confesses to you in front of him, he’ll look at them with a blank smile and gently take your hand. “hey, who’s this?” you do NOT want to bring out slursagi.

booked reservations two weeks before. when you answer your door, he’s there in an all-black suit, holding out a gorgeous bouquet of flowers. you’ll have to peer over it to see the flush on his face.

“happy valentine’s day, n/n. will you spend it with me?”

he’s SO nervous. his hands are clammy as he holds yours. does he look okay? is this enough? are you comfortable? he’s trying so hard to envision how the night will play out, but he can’t predict it. not like his matches.

when you exchange gifts, his nerves melt into admiration. “oh, wow… this is incredible. thank you, y/n.” if you write him a letter, he’ll read it silently, in awe by your thoughtfulness. he’s too awestruck to even reply.

“spending today with you… i must be the luckiest guy in the world.”

rin itoshi

“with sunlight on your face in my rearview.”

he doesn’t see the appeal of such a lukewarm holiday. he’s the type to side eye an overly affectionate couple with genuine disgust or disdain. but he’s also never liked, much less talked to, anyone before you.

receives a mountain of chocolates and love letters every valentine’s from random girls and fans. returns all of them with a straight face.

“i don’t eat chocolate,” he’d say before walking away. if you’re with him, he’ll stand back awkwardly and let you do the talking. you’d be much nicer than him anyway.

will search up “valentines gift ideas for partner” on google when you aren’t nearby and read it like the text is sacred. ends up with 40 tabs and even more confusion.

ends up buying you practical gifts, like a high quality hoodie or limited edition shoes. he’s hopeless with flowers and anything he doesn’t frequently buy for himself. if you don’t like the hoodie, he’ll take it.

will buy you flowers anyway after intensive researching and eyeing other couple’s bouquets. is this good enough? is it too much? he’s never one to be outdone.

eventually, his gifts are neatly wrapped and the bouquet is arranged beautifully on the countertop. will avoid eye contact with you and scoff or mutter a soft “yeah” when you thank him.

the moment you mention going out, he lets out an exasperated sigh. and then another exasperated sigh if you tell him to wear a suit or something formal.

“fine. but we’re not doing anything extravagant.” he’ll let you drag him to a fancy place anyway.

doesn’t hold your hand unless you initiate it, but he won’t pull away if you do. gentle grazes of your pinkies and lingering eye contact is his love language. if you watch closely, you’ll notice his eyes are on you the entire night, even if he looks disinterested.

he’s genuinely surprised when you give him gifts and will merely stare at them for a while. it’s different with you. you’re more than just a fan or admirer. if you wrote him a heartfelt letter, he’ll silently read it and tuck it away in his pocket.

“you didn’t have to do this,” he’d mutter, gaze soft when it lands on your face. it’ll never leave his room again.

“you look like an idiot. stop smiling at me like that. it’s just flowers.”

nagi seishiro

“this always happens to me this way.”

lowkey forgot about it until reo reminded him or one of his games dropped a promo code for valentine’s discounts.

has never celebrated or planned to until he met you. i mean, chocolates, flowers, cheesy cards, and red heart-shaped balloons? what a hassle. should this even be considered a holiday?

genuinely has no idea what to buy you. will listen in on his teammates or read reddit threads for suggestions. no one even bothers to ask if he has a date because the thought alone is perplexing.

puts it off until the week of and buys all his gifts online. if it doesn’t arrive on time, he can blame it on the shipping service.

but then he sees how excited you are and actually decides to put in effort.

shows up at your front door with traditional gifts: a stuffed animal, box of chocolates, warm hoodie, and a pretty necklace (picked out with reo’s proud expertise). despite complaining about it for an entire week, he’s glad when you thank him with a bright smile.

“oh. yeah. no problem,” he’d say with a blank, drowsy expression. if you make a big deal out of it, he’ll scratch the back of his head and sigh in embarrassment. “huh? best ever? …eh, then i guess i don’t have to try as hard next year.” he will.

prefers to stay indoors with you, playing video games, watching movies under a shared blanket, or laying his head on your lap while you feed him snacks. he doesn’t need extravagance to enjoy an evening with you.

however, if you do suggest taking him somewhere fancy, he’ll groan and ask you to carry him. he’ll most likely show up in an oversized hoodie unless you have an outfit planned out for him.

“ughhh, too much effort. can’t we just stay in?”

looks through your gifts with mild interest, murmuring a little “oh. nice. i like these.” he’s not expressive, but he’s genuinely happy that you went through the trouble of buying these for him. immediately eats any sweets you gift him, especially if they’re hand made.

“what a hassle. but i guess it’s fine if you like it.”

shidou ryusei

“recurring visions of such sweet days.”

thinks valentine’s day is for losers. lowkey the type to comment “swap phones” under a cute couple’s post.

so it’s almost ridiculous how quickly he switches up when he met you. suddenly, valentine’s day is his day, and he’s going to flaunt his love for you in the most over the top, flashy, borderline obnoxious way possible.

“be mine?” no. he’s not asking. you’re already his.

“you’re free, yeah? i have a surprise that’ll make you explode.”

handwritten letters are so boring. do people really want that? he’ll send you a shirtless mirror selfie with the caption “thinking about you” instead.

will throw together a basket of the most random expensive gifts. he has no idea if they’re actually your style, he just picked the flashiest ones and called it a day.

shows up to your place uninvited with a shit-eating grin and halfway buttoned shirt. he’s holding a bouquet or three of red roses that he snatched from random couples on his way over.

you’ll wake up to the sound of pebbles against your window and a loud speaker blasting your favorite song like a 90’s sit-com. “OPEN UP, BABY. ITS VALENTINES DAY!” totally gets the day wrong.

he doesn’t have a specific place planned. prefers spontaneity unless you already booked reservations. a rooftop dinner, rented-out club, random spot in the middle of nowhere with a view, he doesn’t care. as long as he gets to look at you under pretty lights.

surprisingly romantic and thoughtful. he’ll kiss your temple and hold your hand. if you get cold, he drapes his coat around you. no teasing, no touching, just pure devotion. today is about you, and he’ll spend it worshipping you. though, he doesn’t mind if you spoil him too.

“you’re the best thing to happen to me,” he’d say casually, but there’s genuine affection behind it. if you ask him to say it again, he’ll smirk and lean toward you. “i know you heard me. or do you prefer if i scream it?”

public enemy #1. if anyone looks at you even remotely wrong, he’ll pull you against his side and snarl at them like a rabid animal. “see somethin’ you like? too fucking bad. keep moving, bud.”

when you exchange gifts, he’s genuinely smiling. "aww, babe, you could’ve just told me you love me. no need for all this." he’ll tease you for being sappy, especially if you write him a letter, but it’ll stay on his person forever.

“this was fun, but let’s celebrate inside next year. wanna appreciate you in a different way.”

98 notes · View notes

magic-shop-stories · 3 months ago

Note

bts dad headcannon when their child comes out as gay

💌 Reply:

OMG, YES! I thought about this as well and I'm just so in love with your request - THANK YOU; THANK YOU; THANK YOU! I actually wanted to take a little writing break since I have so much to do and two major uni assignments I didnt even begin with yet (RIP) but I couldn't resist this one 🌈💜 Hope it's what you expected and you enjoy reading it Lots of Army LOVE - C -

NAMJOON

HOW HE FINDS OUT

Scenario 1

discovers a sketchbook left open on the coffee table

inside a detailed drawing of his child holding hands with someone of the same gender

labeled “Us Against the World”

his glasses fog up

he traces the lines with his thumb

carefully places the sketchbook back exactly as it was

Scenario 2

overhears his child rehearsing a conversation in their bedroom:

“Dad, I’m gay. Dad, I’m... no, that sounds too formal. Ugh.”

he lingers in the hallway

heart pounding

knocking softly

Scenario 3

his child writes him a letter and slips it into his favorite philosophy book

he finds it while annotating “The Art of Loving”

reads it under his desk lamp

tears smudging the ink

INITIAL REACTION

Physical Cues

adjusts his glasses three times in rapid succession (a nervous tic)

its cross-legged on the floor to meet their eye level

knees cracking audibly

his voice wavers but stays steady:

“This… this is sacred. Thank you for trusting me.”

First Words

“Love isn’t a debate. It’s a fact. And you’ve always been brilliant at facts.”

“Do you need me to listen, or would you prefer a Rumi quote? I’ve prepared both.”

THOUGHTS & FEELINGS

Internal Monologue

“Did I make our home a sanctuary? Or did they carry this alone?”

stares at his parenting bookshelf at 2 AM

reorganizing it by “urgency”

texts Yoongi:

“Hyung. What if I’m not enough for them?”

Yoongi replies:

“You’re their dad. That’s the job description.”

writes a poem in his journal:

“My child’s heart is a galaxy - uncharted, infinite, mine to protect.”

Guilt/Pride Duality

buys a pride flag

but hides it in his closet for a week

agonizing over “Is this supportive or performative?”

secretly researches PFLAG meetings

bookmarks “How to Advocate for LGBTQ+ Youth” on his phone

ACTIONS/COMFORT MOMENTS

Gifts with Meaning

leather-bound journal with their name embossed in gold

inside a handwritten note:

“The world will try to edit your story. Never let it.”

vintage typewriter with a half-written poem loaded:

“Chapter One: The Bravest Person I Know.”

a potted monstera plant:

“It grows wild and unapologetic. Like you.”

Rituals of Reassurance

starts a “Midnight Philosophy Club”

hot cocoa, blankets, and deep talks under the stars

“Aristotles said… actually, forget him. You teach me tonight.”

takes them to a quiet art museum

lingering at abstract paintings

“See how colors clash? That’s where the magic is.”

Defense Mode

at a family gathering someone mutters: “It’s just a phase.”

he calmly sets down his wine:

“Phases are the moon’s business. We orbit love here.”

emails their school principal a 7-point list demanding LGBTQ+ inclusivity training, cc’ing the entire PTA

DAUGHTER vs. SON DIFFERENCES

Daughter

Comfort

buys her a custom necklace with a pendant shaped like a quill

“Write your own narrative.”

takes her to a women-led bookstore for LGBTQ+ lit

Defense

interrupts a rude classmate’s parent at pickup:

“Bigotry is the real ‘phase’ here. Grow up.”

Bonding

bakes banana bread together

dissecting “The Handmaid’s Tale”

“Rebellion tastes sweet, huh?”

Son

Comfort

gifts him a vintage bomber jacket

hidden inner patch: “Proud AF.”

teaches him to fix a bike tire

"...so you always have an escape route.”

Defense

shows up to his soccer game wearing a “Free Hugs” shirt

glaring at teammates who snicker

Bonding

hikes a mountain at dawn

at the peak, Namjoon mutters:

“You’re my greatest climb.”

ARMY-EASTER EGGS

Banana Milk Spill

during a hug, he knocks over his drink

“Ah—symbolic! Growth requires… mess.”

Playlist Feels

creates a “Love Louder” playlist:

“Born This Way” (Lady Gaga) “Answer: Love Myself” (BTS) “She” (Harry Styles) / “He” (Jake Scott) depending on child’s preference

Secret Support

donates to the Trevor Project under the pseudonym “RM’s Kid”

hangs the receipt on the fridge

“Quiet change matters too.”

GROWTH ARC (ANGST ➔ FLUFF)

Angst Phase

accidentally misgenders their partner

spends hours practicing in front of the mirror:

“They. Them. They. Got it.”

writes a 10-page letter to HYBE’s legal team about “minor privacy rights”

= after paparazzi snap a photo of his child

Fluff Phase

hosts a “Family Pride Picnic” in the park

packed with rainbow sandwiches, a Bluetooth speaker blasting “Firework”, and a “Free Dad Hugs” sign

drops them off at their first date

whispering: “Text me if you need an awkward philosopher rescue mission.”

JIN

HOW HE FINDS OUT

Scenario 1

during a Mario Kart showdown, his child pauses the game mid-race

“Appa… I need to tell you something.”

Jin’s character drives off Rainbow Road as he mutters

“Oh shit, I’m losing and having a Moment™.”

Scenario 2

overhears their phone call with a friend:

“I’m gonna come out to Dad tonight. He’ll probably make a dad joke and cry.”

he pretends not to hear

then practices his response in the mirror for an hour

Scenario 3

finds a love letter in their backpack addressed to someone of the same name

instead of snooping, he leaves a note:

“Your penmanship needs work. P.S. I’m always Team You.”

INITIAL REACTION

Physical Cues

drops his controller/spoon

“Wait—let me pose dramatically.”

strikes a “Worldwide Handsome” stance to lighten the mood

pulls them into a theatrical hug

lifting them off the ground

“Group hug! Me, you, and my massive pride!”

First Words

“Cool! Does this mean I get two sons/daughters-in-law to spoil? Cha-ching!”

“You’re gay? Finally! Now we can argue over who’s hotter: Chris Evans or me.”

THOUGHTS & FEELINGS

Internal Monologue

“Did I joke too much? Do they think I’m not taking this seriously?”

texts Namjoon:

“Quick! Send me serious dad tips. EMERGENCY.”

secretly watches coming out compilations on YouTube

sobbing into a tissue:

“Why am I crying? I’m the supportive one!”

Guilt/Pride Duality

buys a rainbow “#1 Ally” pin

agonizes over wearing it:

“Is this too extra? …Wait, I’m Jin. Nothing’s too extra.”

practices “I’m proud of you” in the mirror

then cringes:

“Ugh, too basic. Need more… Jin.”

ACTIONS/COMFORT MOMENTS

Gifts with Flair

custom pink gaming headset (matching his mic) with their name in glitter:

“Now we can slay and slay together.”

“Worldwide Proud” hoodie with a cartoon

Jin winking

“Wear this when you need backup swag.”

tickets to a K-pop LGBTQ+ fan meeting & concert

“Let’s go judge everyone’s bias lists. Spoiler: Mine’s still the best.”

Rituals of Reassurance:

starts “Jin’s Joke Jar”

writes affirmations on paper slips

“Pull one when the world sucks. Guaranteed dad joke or life advice!”

examples:

“Why did the rainbow blush? Because it saw the gay agenda!” “You’re my favorite human in HD.”

hosts a family gaming marathon with LGBTQ+ themed games (“Life is Strange”, “The Last of Us”)

“If Ellie can survive zombies, you can survive high school.”

Defense Mode

a dinner party, a relative scoffs, “It’s unnatural.”

Jin deadpans:

“So is your hairline, but here we are.”

joins their school’s Discord to “accidentally” leak his own embarrassing childhood photos

diverting bullies’ attention

“Let them meme me instead.”

DAUGHTER vs. SON DIFFERENCES

Daughter

Comfort

takes her shopping for oversized hoodies “to steal later”

secretly buys her a BT21 RJ plush with a pride flag

“For emotional support and judging my dance moves.”

Bonding

hosts a makeover night with sheet masks and “RuPaul’s Drag Race”

“I’d slay as a queen. Fight me.”

Defense

crashes her school dance with a karaoke machine

singing “Born This Way” until the principal begs him to stop

Son

Comfort

teaches him self-defense moves using “dad reflexes”

“If anyone messes with you, tickle them. Works on Jungkook every time.”

Bonding

challenges him to games

then “accidentally” loses

“Oops! Guess you’re the carry now.”

Defense

shows up to his matches with a mega horn

blasting “Not Today” whenever opponents jeer

ARMY-EASTER EGGS

Pink Mic Parallel

gifts them a pink water bottle with “Hydrate or Jindrate” printed on it

Gaming Shoutouts

uses the username “Seokjin_ssi” in their multiplayer games

“Watch me Epic Victory Royal these homophobes.”

Secret Support

donates to It Gets Better Project under the alias “Mr. Worldwide Handsome”

hangs the certificate in the bathroom

“Read it while you brush! Multitasking!”

GROWTH ARC (ANGST ➔ FLUFF)

Angst Phase

accidentally calls their crush “just a friend”

spends the night baking apology cookies shaped like rainbows

“I’m learning, okay? Here’s carbs.”

sneaks into their room at 3 AM to leave a handwritten letter:

“I’m sorry if I made you feel like a joke. You’re my best punchline.”

Fluff Phase

co-hosts a charity livestream with them

playing Overwatch while raising funds for LGBTQ+ youth

“Donate or I’ll sing Super Tuna on loop!”

drops them off at prom with a “Good Luck” banner taped to the car

“Text me if you need a fake fire alarm rescue. I’ve got matches.”

YOONGI

HOW HE FINDS OUT

Scenario 1

overhears their child practicing a song they wrote in his home studio

lyrics include: “I’m tired of hiding in minor chords.”

he pauses outside the door

hand frozen on the doorknob

then texts his manager:

“Cancel my meetings. Family emergency.”

Scenario 2

finds a dog-eared notebook in his old high school box

left open to his child’s doodles: a basketball hoop with a pride flag net

stares at it

tucks it into his current work bag

Scenario 3

his child slips a note into his production notes:

“Appa, I’m gay. P.S. Your coffee’s cold.”

reads it mid-session

saves the project file as “Proud.parenting.wav”

INITIAL REACTION

Physical Cues

nods silently, jaw tightening

rolls a basketball between his palms (his stress ball)

“You’re sure?”

pauses

“Good. I’m sure too.”

if emotional: rubs his nape, avoiding eye contact

“I… need a minute.”

returns with two cans of cold brew and a high school mixtape

First Words

“Life’s already hard enough. This? This is the easy part.”

“You know I wrote gay fanfiction in high school, right? No one bullies my kid but me.”

THOUGHTS & FEELINGS

Internal Monologue

“Should I tell them I get it? No. Privacy matters.”

texts Namjoon:

“How do I… parent right now?”

late-night studio session:

creates a hidden track titled “Answer: Love Yourself (Remix)”

= their heartbeat sampled

Guilt/Pride Duality

digs out his old fanfiction (username: glossyWRITES)

considers burning it

“Nah. Growth.”

researches LGBTQ+ youth centers near his childhood Daegu home

donates anonymously

ACTIONS/COMFORT MOMENTS

Gifts with Edge

custom basketball with “Net Worth = You” printed

“Dunk on the haters. Literally.”

USB drive labeled “Track 08: Unreleased”

containing a beat made from their laugh

“For when words fail.”

black hoodie with “민윤기’s Kid” embroidered in tiny rainbow thread

“Wear it or don’t. I would.”

Rituals of Reassurance

teaches them basketball drills at dawn

“Life’s a full-court press. Swish anyway.”

invites them to his studio

hands them the aux cord

“Play me your anthem. I’ll produce it.”

Defense Mode

at a TV host asks if he’s “disappointed”

he leans into the mic:

“Next question. Or I’ll diss you in Daechwita 2.0.”

sends their school a cease-and-desist from HYBE’s lawyers over bullying

“Copyright claim on my kid’s happiness.”

DAUGHTER vs. SON DIFFERENCES

Daughter

Comfort

gifts her noise-canceling headphones:

“Block the noise. I’ll handle the mess.”

teaches her bass guitar to “channel rage into riffs.”

Bonding

late-night drives blasting “Seesaw”

“This song? Yeah, it’s about choices. Like choosing to be you.”

Defense

shows up to her art show with a hired bodyguard

“For the haters, not you. You’re the masterpiece.”

Son

Comfort

secretly enrolls him in boxing lessons

“Not to fight. To know you can.”

leaves honey butter chips on his desk post-training

Bonding

plays 1v1 basketball

“accidentally” missing shots

“Old man joints. You win.”

Defense

leans against his locker

glaring at bullies

“I’ve got time. Try me.”

ARMY-EASTER EGGS

Studio Secrets

names a synth preset “My Child’s Voice” in his DAW

uses it in BTS’s next song

Basketball Nostalgia

wears his high school jersey to their games

number 3 for “third mixtape, third chance to be better”.

Fanfiction Nod

slips an old fanfic printout into their backpack

highlighted line: “Love isn’t a subplot.”

GROWTH ARC (ANGST ➔ FLUF)

Angst Phase

overhears them crying after a breakup

stands frozen in the hallwaw

fists clenched

texts Jin:

“How do I… fix this?”

Jin replies:

“Just be there.”

writes a rap verse about fear of failure as a dad

deletes it immediately

“Too raw. Save it for them.”

Fluff Phase

surprises them with a collab with an LGBTQ+ artist they idolize

“You said you liked their vibe. I said let’s work.”

drops them off at a protest

hands them a megaphone

“Scream loud. I’ll handle the noise complaints.”

J-HOPE

HOW HE FINDS OUT

Scenario 1

notices his child borrowing his neon bucket hats and pride flag pins from his closet

instead of confronting them, he lays out a styling challenge:

“Let’s revamp my wardrobe. You pick the fits.”

midway, he grins:

“The pink hair clip? Iconic. But it’d look better on you.”

Scenario 2

overhears them teaching a friend how to paint nails in his signature style

glitter gradients with tiny hearts

peeks in, holding a bottle of rainbow holographic polish:

“Need a pro?”

Scenario 3

finds a draft text on their phone:

“Appa, I’m gay. P.S. Your dance moves are still cringe.”

leaves a sticky note on their mirror:

“Correction: Iconic cringe. P.P.S. I love you.”

INITIAL REACTION

Physical Cues

claps hands once

loud and bright

“Okay! Okay! Let’s celebrate!”

immediately plays “Chicken Noodle Soup”

does a ridiculous shoulder shimmy

tears up but blinks rapidly

fanning his face with a sequined fan from his back pocket

“Allergies! Definitely allergies!”

First Words

“You’re my kid. Of course you’d come out in style.”

“I knew you were stealing my glitter! Parent intuition!”

THOUGHTS & FEELINGS

Internal Monologue

“Did I make enough space for them? Was my ‘vibe’ too loud?”

texts Jimin:

“Am I… too much?”

Jimin replies:

“You’re enough. Now go hug your baby.”

buys every pride-themed accessory online

panics:

“Is this support or overkill? …Both. Both is good.”

Guilt/Pride Duality

rewatches their childhood dance video

wondering if he pushed his dreams onto them

creates a secret Pinterest board titled “Proud Dad Looks” with matching parent-child outfits

ACTIONS/COMFORT MOMENTS

Gifts with Glitter

customized jacket (for both of you)

“J-Hope’s #1 Fan” on the back

“#1 Dad/Child” on the front

“Wear it to the haters’ funerals.”

DIY nail art kit with his face on the lid

“For when you need sunshine on your fingertips.”

tickets to a queer dance festival

“We’re entering the parent-child duo category. Spoiler: We’ll win.”

Rituals of Reassurance

hosts a “Closet Raid Day”

style each other in outrageous outfits

then strut through the mall

“Confidence is couture, baby!”

teaches them his “Hope on the Street” moves

adapting the choreo to their comfort

“No rules. Just joy.”

Defense Mode

at a family gathering, a cousin sneers: “Isn’t this just a phase?”

hewhips out his phone, blasting “Outro: Ego”:

“Phase? This is a bop.”

floods their school’s Instagram with thirst traps to overshadow bully comments

“Let’s see them roast this jawline.”

DAUGHTER vs. SON DIFFERENCES

Daughter

Comfort

hosts a “Glow-Up Night”

face masks, karaoke

teaching her to “walk in heels like a CEO”

“Stilettos are weapons. Wield them.”

Bonding

co-designs a pride-themed dance routine for TikTok

“We’re gonna break the algorithm AND hearts.”

Defense

storms into her school in a head-to-toe rainbow tracksuit to confront a teacher

“You got a problem? Battle me.”

Son

Comfort

surprises him with gender-neutral streetwear from his favorite brand

“Swag doesn’t care about labels.”

Bonding

takes him thrifting for oversized hoodies and vintage band tees

“Distressed fabric = distressed haters.”

Defense

joins his gaming livestream with a sign:

“Proud Dad Alert! Donate to GLAAD or perish.”

ARMY-EASTER EGGS

Hope World Nods

gifts them a neon fanny pack

stuffed with peach emoji stickers and a mixtape USB titled “Hope World: Parental Guidance Edition”

Dance Legacy

sneaks their signature move into BTS’s choreography

“Look closely at Boy With Luv… That’s your flair.”

Mic Toss Energy

replaces their room’s lightswitch with a pink glitter cover

“Every time you turn it on, remember: You’re the light.”

GROWTH ARC (ANGST ➔ FLUF)

Angst Phase:

accidentally misgenders their partner

spends the night baking rainbow macarons as apology

“I’m learning. Here’s sugar and shame.”

finds them crying to “Blue Side”

sits silently

handing them his lucky bandana to wipe tears

“I’m here. Always.”

Fluff Phase

organizes a flash mob at HYBE with BTS’s/ his backup dancers

“Surprise! Your dad’s extra.”

drops them off at prom with a disco ball necklace

“If anyone’s rude, blinding them is self-defense.”

JIMIN

HOW HE FINDS OUT

Scenario 1

happens during a late-night movie marathon

they pause “Love, Simon”

whisper: “Appa… that’s me.”

Jimin freezes

then pulls them into his lap like he did when they were small

stroking their hair

Scenario 2

finds their sketchbook open to a self-portrait with a pride flag painted over their heart

he traces the lines with his finger

tears smudging the charcoal

Scenario 3

overhears them practicing “I’m gay” to a mirror

he leans against the doorframe

arms crossed, smiling softly

“Your pronunciation’s perfect. Proud.”

INITIAL REACTION

Physical Cues

eyes well up instantly

lip trembling

“Come here. Come here.”

pulls them into a back-breaking hug

swaying side-to-side

whispers into their hair:

“My baby. My brave, beautiful baby.”

voice cracks on “brave.”

First Words

“You’re my heart. Nothing changes that. Nothing.”

“Thank you. For trusting me. For… existing.”

HOUGHTS & FEELINGS

Internal Monologue

“Did I hug them enough? Did they ever feel small because of me?”

texts Taehyung:

“What if I failed them?”

Tae replies:

“You’re their safe place. Always.”

writes a letter he’ll never send:

“I spent years hating my body. Let me love yours enough for both of us.”

Guilt/Pride Duality

buys every LGBTQ+ YA novel he can find

dog-earing pages with lines he wants to discuss

secretly researches PFLAG meetings but attends virtually in a disguise

ACTIONS/COMFORT MOMENTS

Gifts with Grace:

bracelet with a charm shaped like a shield

“To remind you: I’m your armor.”

blanket embroidered with “You Are Enough” in his handwriting

“Wrap yourself in this when the world is cold.”

self-care kit with his favorite lavender oil, a Serendipity playlist, and a jade roller

“For when your heart feels heavy.”

Rituals of Reassurance:

starts “Cuddle Therapy Sundays”:

nestled on the couch

he lets them pick the movie while he braids their hair or rubs their back

“No talking. Just feel.”

teaches them breathing exercises from his trainee days

“Inhale love, exhale fear. Again.”

Defense Mode

at a school event, a parent mutters “sin.”

Jimin steps forward, smile icy

“I’d pray for you, but I’m too busy worshipping my child.”

pays for a billboard near their school:

“Proud Parent Alert! 🏳️🌈”

has his phone number on it (fake - goes straight to a LQBTQ+ donation hotline)

“Complaints? Call me.”

DAUGHTER vs. SON DIFFERENCES

Daughter

Comfort

takes her to a dance class for queer teens

“Move like nobody owns you.”

twirls her until she laughs

Bonding

co-writes a poem titled “The Language of My Body"

reads it aloud at an open mic, holding her hand

Defense

storms into a store where a clerk misgenders her

buys everything in her cart

demands the clerk apologize

Son

Comfort

gifts him a weighted blanket

sits with him during panic attacks

“Your strength is quiet. I’m here for it.”

Bonding

teaches him stretching routines to ease dysphoria

“Your body is yours. Treat it kindly.”

Defense

joins his gaming stream with a “Proud Dad” username

donating thousands to shut down trolls

ARMY-EASTER EGGS

Serendipity Symbolism

adds a butterfly charm to their bracelet

“Like the song. You are my serendipity.”

Lie Detector

recreates his “Lie” MV makeup on them for pride

“Now you’re art and truth.”

Promise Rings

wears a matching mother-of-pearl ring

“Forever connected. No take-backs.”

GROWTH ARC (ANGST ➔ FLUFF)

Angst Phase

overhears them criticizing their body in the mirror

interrupts

voice shaking:

“I see perfection. Let me… show you.”

writes a verse about his parenting fears

then burns it

“Ash to growth.”

Fluff Phase

dances with them at pride

both wearing matching crop tops

“They said ‘cover up.’ We said sparkle.”

surprises them with a custom song produced by Yoongi and him

lyrics: “You’re the chorus to my verse. Always.”

TAEHYUNG

HOW HE FINDS OUT

Scenario 1

discovers his child’s secret Instagram account

filled with self-portraits in drag-inspired makeup

Taehyung screenshots their favorite look

texts: “Need a wig consultant? Asking for a friend.”

Scenario 2

finds a crumpled note in their jacket pocket:

“I’m gay. But what if Appa hates me?”

slips it into his vintage camera case

takes them on a photo walk to “accidentally” capture rainbow graffiti

Scenario 3

overhears them humming “Sweet Night” while sketching a queer retelling of The Little Prince

leans over their shoulder:

“The rose would’ve slayed in drag.”

INITIAL REACTION

Physical Cues

gasps dramatically

clutching his chest

“You’re gay?! Finally someone to raid my glitter stash!”

pulls them into a hug

nuzzling their hair

whispers “My little Picasso” while wiping away a tear

First Words

“You’re my masterpiece. This is just another brushstroke.”

“Remember when I dressed as a mermaid for Halloween? This is way cooler.”

THOUGHTS & FEELINGS

Internal Monologue

“Do they know I get it? Should I tell them about my drag phase? No—their story first.”

texts Jimin:

“How do I glitter-parent? HELP.”

digs out his old drag king sketches from high school

smiling at the memory

“Maybe we can revamp these together.”

Guilt/Pride Duality

buys every issue of "Queer Eye"

leaves them stacked in their room

“For research. Totally not obsessed.”

practices pronouns in the mirror:

“They/them. They/them. They/them.”

ACTIONS/COMFORT MOMENTS

Gifts with Glam

vintage leather jacket from his closet

lined with a pride flag

“Wear it like armor. Or just to look cool.”

polaroid camera and a scrapbook titled “The Art of Being You”

“Document your glow-up. I’ll handle the captions.”

tickets to a drag brunch

“We’re both getting makeovers. No excuses.”

Rituals of Reassurance

hosts “Vante Vision Board Nights”:

collages of queer icons, glitter, and magazine cutouts

“Manifest your fiercest self.”

teaches them film photography in abandoned theaters

capturing their “coming out” journey in moody monochromes

Defense Mode

at a family dinner, an uncle scoffs: “Why the theatrics?”

Taehyung stands, adjusting his beret:

“Why the boredom?”

drops a pride flag on the table as a centerpiece

collaborates with a queer artist to paint a mural on their school wall

“Vandalism? No. Artistic justice.”

DAUGHTER vs. SON DIFFERENCES

Daughter

Comfort

takes her thrifting for ’70s bell-bottoms and sequined tops

“Channel your inner Bowie. I’ll be your Iman.”

Bonding

hosts a “Runway Night” in their living room

struts in his old drag king suit

she wears his CELINE heels

Defense

storms into her school play wearing a “Proud Dad of a Diva” shirt

heckles anyone who dares yawn

Son

Comfort

gifts him a saxophone (because jazz = freedom)

“Blow away the blues. I’ll dance.”

Bonding

binge-watches queer cinema classics.

cries at “Moonlight”

“This is us, baby.”

Defense

joins his matches as coach

substituting bullies with pride flag cones

“New rule: Love scores.”

ARMY-EASTER EGGS

Drag King Nods

gifts them a fake mustache as an insider joke

“For when you need mystique.”

Vante Vibes

sneaks a grayscale photo of them into his art exhibit

caption: “My Muse in Living Color.”

Jazz Soul

plays “Singularity” on loop during heart-to-hearts

“This song? Yeah, it’s about owning your shadows.”

GROWTH ARC (ANGST ➔ FLUF)

Angst Phase

overhears them crying after a date gone wrong

sits outside their door, humming “Winter Bear” until they let him in

“I’m here. Always.”

accidentally misgenders their crush

bakes apology croissants

leaves a note: “Flaky outside, soft inside. Like me and you.”

Fluff Phase

surprises them with a collab photoshoot for a queer magazine

“You’re the star. I’m just the groupie.”

drops them off at prom in a vintage convertible, blasting “Dynamite”

“If anyone’s rude, dance harder.”

JUNGKOOK

HOW HE FINDS OUT

Scenario 1

discovers bandages in their trash bin

they’ve been distant for week

his hands shake

he Googles “how to help LGBTQ+ kids” at 3 AM

texts Jin:

“Hyung. Emergency. What do I do?”

Scenario 2

paparazzi photos surface of his child holding hands with their same-gender crush

Jungkook storms out of a photoshoot

speeding to their school in his blacked-out car to shield them from cameras

Scenario 3

finds them curled up in his old BTS concert hoodie

silent for days

sits cross-legged on the floor

voice cracking:

“Talk to me. Please. I’ll learn whatever I need to.”

INITIAL REACTION

Physical Cues

Angst

paces the room

running hands through his hair

“I should’ve noticed. I should’ve...”

texts Namjoon:

“Did I fail them?”

Fluff

pulls them into a bear hug

lifting them off the ground

“You’re safe. I’ll fight the world.”

First Words

“You’re my baby. That’s the only label that matters.”

“Who hurt you? Tell me. I’ll… I’ll learn archery.”

stares at his Bulletproof tattoo

THOUGHTS & FEELINGS

Internal Monologue

“Why didn’t they tell me? Am I scary?”

calls Jimin, whispering:

“Hyung, how do I… soften?”

buys pride merch but hides it

worried it’s “too much”

Yoongi advises:

“Just be you. They’ll know it’s real.”

Guilt/Pride Duality:

practices “I’m proud of you” in sign language after learning their crush is Deaf

“They’ll feel it if I mess up.”

tattoos a semicolon behind his ear

“Your story isn’t over. I’m here.”

ACTIONS/COMFORT MOMENTS

Gifts with Meaning

custom gaming PC with a rainbow-lit keyboard

“For when words are hard. Game with me.”

matching tattoo of their initials in rainbow

“You’re my bullseye. Always.”

a rescue puppy named Hope

“Now you’ve got two golden retrievers.”

points to himself

Rituals of Reassurance

teaches them self defense at dawn

“Focus on the target. Ignore the noise.”

creates a “Safe Word” system:

if they text “Magic Shop”, he drops everything to pick them up

Defense Mode

Media Exposure

hires HYBE’s legal team to sue the paparazzi

release a vlog titled “Proud Dad” trending #1 worldwide

Bullying

shows up to their school in his MMA gear

glaring at teachers

“Protect my kid or I’ll.”

DAUGHTER vs. SON DIFFERENCES

Daughter

Comfort

takes her camping to stargaze

“The universe made you perfect. Argue with the stars.”

Bonding

bakes rainbow cake while blasting “Euphoria”

“Sweetness beats bitterness. Every time.”

Defense

buys her a self-defense ring

“Press this if anyone’s rude. I’ll handle the police.”

Son

Comfort

bonds over weightlifting

“Strength isn’t for them. It’s for you.”

Bonding

co-writes a song about resilience

Jungkook raps:

“My son’s a king. Bow down.”

Defense

joins his gaming stream

donating $10k to shut down trolls

“GG, haters. Dad’s richer.”

ARMY-EASTER EGGS

Golden Touch

gifts them a gold chain to match his own

“Wear it when you need to shine.”

Tattoo Tribute

adds a rainbow heart to his sleeve tattoo

“For you. My STAR.”

Mixtape Feels

makes them a playlist titled “My Time (But Yours)”

includes songs like “Love Myself” and “Zero O’Clock”.

GROWTH ARC (ANGST ➔ FLUF)

Angst Phase

accidentally smothers them with too much protection

texts Taehyung:

“How do I not hover?”

Tae replies:

“Breathe. Trust them.”

finds their journal entry:

“I’m a burden.”

cries into Hobi’s shoulder:

“How do I fix this?”

Fluff Phase

surprises them with a family trip to Jeju

builds a bonfire, roasting marshmallows

“You’re my light. Always.”

drops them off at college with a care package:

ramyeon, bandaids

a note: “Text ‘Magic Shop’ and I’ll fly there.”

34 notes · View notes

do-it-with-style-events · 11 days ago

Text

Our Dearest Good Omens Fandom,

As you are no doubt aware, we at Do It With Style Events have been working tirelessly since 2020 to bring you nothing but the best fandom events. It is, therefore, with great excitement that we write to you today to inform you of our latest schemes for your enjoyment…

Strongly Worded Notes celebrates the art of communication (or, as it were, miscommunication), in all the various mediums it uses. From handwritten letters on expensive parchment, to telegrams, to the digital E-mails; even pictograms and maps shrouded with secret codes! In this event we ask you to embody the spirit of that Ineffable Duo and communicate in epistolary exchanges.

Writers and Artists are invited to join this Teamed event, with sign-ups closing on May 25, 2025.

We dearly hope you’ll join us for another amazing fandom event.

Sincerely yours,

The DIWS Mods

P.S.: For clarity, we use the word “letter” throughout our instructions below to mean any kind of epistolary message, not just literal snail mail letters.

Read under the cut for more info, or check out our full information document here

How it works

Artists and Writers are all invited to participate. This is a teamed event, with each team composed of 2-3 writers and 1 artist to create epistolary fanworks (letters). Each team will be given a prompt card, with one required prompt on the front and optional, suggested prompts on the back. Prompts will include an era, a medium, as well as genres and tropes to include. Prompt cards will be built based on the team’s responses during signups.

Every writer will be responsible for creating 3-5 letters from their character(s) point of view. Letters must be long-form, meaning no text messages, DMs, or other “instant” communication tools. Think: handwritten letters, telegrams, postcards, emails and even snarky pointed warring blog posts.

In teams of 2 Writers, there will be an assigned “Crowley”-writer and an assigned “Aziraphale”-writer.

In teams of 3 Writers, the third character will be added based on signup responses and the team’s planning.

Every artist will be responsible for creating 1-3 works. These works can either be letters in themselves, or accompanying artwork to go along with a writer’s letter. Works can include: images of gifts included with the letter, maps to secret rendezvous points, newspaper clippings, postcards, and more. Artists may choose whose perspective they are creating from for each piece.

After teams are created, they will have one (1) built-in week for discussion, plotting, and pre-planning, and then eleven (11) weeks to complete their works. A detailed schedule is below! We find participants are most likely to successfully complete the event when they are members of our Discord server. Therefore, we require server membership during the length of the event. Our server includes dedicated channels for creators to share, as well as find resources and connect with Beta Readers, Brit Pickers, and more! Discord is also the fastest way to get information and connect with the mods. Join us today! https://discord.gg/MbE7d4RUeE

How to Signup

All participants can sign up starting on May 10th: https://forms.gle/k775oBAWD7uRsv7b7

Signup Deadlines:

Writers and Artists - May 25th

Pinch Hitters - Always Open!

Timeline

May 10 - Signups Open

May 25 - Signups Close

June 1 - Groups Announced

June 1-7 - Pre-planning stage

June 9 - Check In #1 (Group Plan Decided)

July 21 - Check In #2 (Progress Check)

August 18 - Check In #3 (Individual Creation Almost Done, Team Editing Begun)

August 23 - 31 - Posting!

Want to Learn More?

Check out our full information document here You can also join us on Discord and ask questions!

#do it with style events #good omens #good omens fanfiction #good omens fanart #good omens events #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands #good omens epistolary works

32 notes · View notes

ronearoundblindly · 1 year ago

Text

Time and Tines (2/3)

Reasons (see previous or series)

Steve Rogers x Villain!Reader

Summary: With the Winter Soldier on your side, Steve races against time to figure out why...and how to stop you.

Warnings for basically DARKFIC: talk of unspecified terminal illness, medical malpractice, gaslighting, revenge, gun violence, not overly graphic death but still death (not of Reader, Steve, or Bucky), and decidedly too-little editing. MINORS DNI. There's plenty for you to read on my Light Masterlist, but this isn't for you! WC 5242 (which is, yeah, way longer than it was supposed to be)

Steve will do anything to avoid a fire fight with the Winter Soldier. There are too many people involved now, and he has to approach this situation delicately from all angles.

Steve just does not understand yet.

After hours waiting with agents in the dark of Doctor Avani’s house, convinced you’ve ordered Bucky to come right over and kill the man with brute force, nothing happened. There was no sign of anyone. Steve has to try something else.

A small army protects Salvatore while he searches your apartment. If the key to activating his friend is here, he needs to find it, destroy that information, and get a handle on why this is happening.

“This can’t be right,” Steve mutters, pushing past Agent Palmer (who drove) for a better look. “It’s too clean.”

Your one-bedroom would pass a white-glove test.

There’s so little…everything. It’s a far cry from the chaos Steve woke to find in the police station. His head throbs at the memory. He forgot what it was like to have his bell good’n’rung.

“Supe says she’s been selling off furniture,” Palmer calls from the doorway, “but he thought it was replaced. Boxes kept coming.”

Steve inventories a mattress with no frame, half a dozen hanging garments, no shoes. What were you buying? Where did it all go?

The desktop is bare. You’ve taken any laptop with you, it seems. That’s a small comfort. You clearly planned contingencies for your attack andor escape; it’s fitting you had the foresight to hide your research on the Winter Soldier.

Steve is still scared, however, because he sat with Bucky many times, listening to horrible tales of being trapped in his own mind, powerless, isolated in the midst of everyone, unable to control thoughts much less actions.

This one’s gonna take a few more beers for the friends to contend with, but with any luck and quick work, they’ll get through without bloodshed. He and Bucky will decompress somewhere peaceful. It’ll be okay.

He hopes.

Steve scans the lone bookshelf. The most curious edition is a history book about WWII, a few flagged pages open to reveal passages about Bucky’s service record, an underline beneath the location where the sergeant fell from the train, and a mail receipt for an address on Forsythe Avenue keeping your page. That’s all.

It’s not even a unique read. The book isn’t any more specific than an average school text. No other notes are made in the margins, so Steve turns the book upside-down and shakes, hoping for something to fall out. He rips the other books from the shelf and shuffles their pages until a picture comes loose—a polaroid of three women.

You’re on the right, fuller faced but it’s you. On the back is scrawled “the girls” with hearts on either side.

The book is handwritten, no label on the cover or spine, only an embossed mandala design. Steve’s stomach drops, but he opens to the front flap.

Property of Faith Williams

He swallows roughly and closes it, unable to step over that line of privacy. At the moment, he needs evidence of where you could have taken Bucky, and slow-reading someone else’s diary won’t give him that.

Forsythe Avenue might, but that’s just one tiny piece of the puzzle.

Steve checks a different unlabeled book, but it, too, doesn’t have your name inside, just a ‘Z’ fancifully drawn amidst doodles.

Damnit. This is no help.

“Palmer, you finding anything?”

“No, Cap. Bills all paid. Nothing under the mattress. No mention of Barnes on any papers in the drawers. Not even a Cyrillic symbol.”

No trace, just like how you two disappeared from surveillance.

Steve shuts his eyes, head still throbbing from how hard the Soldier landed a blow to knock him out.

The agent wanders through the tiny kitchen. “Fridge is empty. Doesn’t look like she intended to come back here…if…actually, it looks like she barely ate. No condiments, no spices, nothing.”

“How long has she rented here?”

“Over two years.”

Shit. This is a dead end.

“Keep looking,” Steve orders, but he takes the two journals and heads for the car, pulling up your thin file again. You don’t hold any clearances or a government footprint. You were let go of from your last job with a severance package. Nothing overly generous. No medical leave mentioned. Benefits, including health insurance, would be intact. Based on your appearance earlier versus you in the photo, Steve chews on a few wisps of theories, but it’s not solid proof. Without more, Steve has no leads.

“Friday, any connection to properties on Forsythe?”

He adjusts to get comfortable in the back seat of the SUV alone, firing up a view screen.

There’s a low, sad sound that means the AI found nothing in your records.

"For her or him?"

Womp womp, it comes again.

Steve lets out a tense breath, “Where are we with bank statements?”

“Authorizations just came back,” F.R.I.D.A.Y chirps.

“What about medical records?”

“That one’s a lot harder, Captain Rogers. We have to—“

“Just analyze the financials first,” Steve sighs. His head throbs again, and he knows he needs sleep. There’s no time though. If he could just get answers…

Protections exist, of course, for good reason, but Steve feels the frustration of any detective. He’s trying to find a bad guy, and by 'bad guy,' he means you, not the man you’ve taken, not the man you are certainly going to order to kill for you.

Steve rests his head on the chilly glass and pinches his eyes shut. He’ll take a minute, review the money trail, and then interview the doctor. It seems a miracle that man was able to go home to his wife and sleep, even with security inside the room, down every hall, surrounding the house…Steve wouldn’t do it; he can’t even keep his eyes closed long enough for the dry sting to subside.

How could he be so stupid?

You weren’t staring at him from across the room; you were watching your mark, waiting for an opening. Sadly, it occurs to Steve that if he’d just let you inject Avani, Bucky would be fine, here by his side, and safe.

You are the threat, not his friend, but that’s a hard distinction. If anyone else sees James Barnes—who is the stealth assassin Winter Soldier, as far as they know—they’ll shoot. No questions. Steve has to find him first. He has to get to you first.

Bucky is compromised, but Steve won’t let it come to that. Buck shouldn't do anything he doesn't want to do just because some enemy hijacked his mind and body.

“Feel better?” You twirl in the chair as soon as the motel bathroom door opens, steam billowing out.

Winter’s face is shadowed, pointed to the floor.

“Or…at least, okay? Here—“ you offer the seat next to you at the tiny table “—sit. Eat. Let me—I’ve got bandages for your knuckles.”

“Heals,” he grunts, sitting easily but with stiff posture, “fast.”

You let out a heavy breath, muttering, “makes one of us.”

The soldier reaches out for the file in front of you, but your hand pins it down.

“Uh-uh. Food first, and palm up here, please.” You wait for him to flip open the takeout container then blot antiseptic on the split skin. “Does that hurt?”

He shakes his head, focused on the meal before him.

Several months ago, an article was published about Bucky Barnes’ affinity for this one particular deli in Brooklyn, a third-generation shop. It listed his usual order.

You’ve made sure the bread isn’t soggy. You kept the spicy mustard on the side.

He makes a strange face, looking around for your portion.

“Not hungry,” you assure him, “I’m rarely hungry.” You secure the bandage like boxing wraps and spin the file around.

“Eat your food—” The command is soft, encouraging. “—while I tell you the story of how we ended up here.”

Buried in the file you’ve put in front of the Soldier is several lifetimes of horror. Maybe not everyone agrees with you, maybe not everyone cares, but that bastard Avani has to atone. For the next hour, you explain what’s expected of him, glancing every so often at the fancier hotel entrance across the street from your motel room.

It’s too early; you’d be very impressed if the Captain had followed those bread crumbs yet.

You planned so carefully for every obstacle. You anticipated so many setbacks. Men like Avani go down like great stone pyramids, not houses of cards, because their lives are built with safeties. For him to fall, a thousand others have to be damaged, and each one of them will put up a fight to remain untarnished. That approach—the truth, and nothing but the truth—has gotten you nowhere. Diaries aren’t enough proof. The placebo effect is not a crime. Two women are worth far less than a functional, marketable drug.

Plus, they’re two dead women. The pyramid is now their tomb. Nothing ever changes.

No.

You alone cannot topple a pyramid. You’re too far gone. You’re just one person. For justice, you have to go straight to the top, to the man himself. One on one.

Well, one on one-plus-one. Your addition is the sharp-shooter who can get you the top, the target, Doctor Avani.

Winter’s mission is very simple, but he’s thorough, asking all the right questions, thinking of all the right options. You knew he would be perfect.

“Now,” you clap at the end of your story, rubbing boney hands together, “a rundown of my meds. Sound good?” You grab a zippered case from the foot of the motel bed. “Nothing complicated, but here—“ nudging out a syringe and one glass vial “—this is the emergency one. Use 10 milliliters of this if I pass out. Got it?”

The Soldier takes an enormous mouthful of his sandwich and nods, eyes flickering back to that single bed.

You smile sadly. “I…rarely sleep. I’m keeping watch for now. You’re safe. You’ll need the rest.”

He chews and adds more mustard before his last bite.

“Okay? Good.” Your smile fades, fatigue and restlessness swirling in your empty gut as you remove another medication. “Next is this one. Every four hours, twent—wait, no, I’m up to thirty CCs now…”

“Sir,” Steve grits out with far less patience than he intended, pinching the bridge of his nose as if it will stop the throbbing inside his head, “you realize I am trying to save your life?”

Dr. Avani purses his lips in annoyance. “And you realize I am required to keep my patients’ confidence, right?”

Yes, Steve thinks, he’s said that several times.

“Are they current or former patients?” Steve tries to clarify.

So far, Salvatore slipped up only once. When Steve showed him the photo from your apartment, the doctor muttered something about ‘Faith’ and ‘Ziva’ knowing each other, looking confused, then immediately shut down.

Steve has to switch tactics. He doesn’t have time for this.

“Ok. We found over a dozen hotel reservations made with your assailant’s credit card, so look at this list—” Steve taps the smart screen to lay out a map with the names highlighted “—and see if anything stands out.”

“What have this crazy woman’s travel plans to do with me?” Avani bites out, rattling the tea his wife hands him.

A tremor. Not unlike how your hands shook at the table last night. Steve wonders if yours was because you are ill or because you were lying to him.

“Darling, your blood pressure…”

Steve sighs sympathetically to Mrs. Avani. “Thank you, ma’am,” he whispers, taking the next cup and saucer and clearing his throat. “Doc, please. I’m just hoping you can narrow this down for me. We still have no motive.”

“Insanity. Jealousy, maybe!”

“Jealous of what? Do you know what she might want?”

No answer, but Avani chews his cheek, eyes wide, while staring northwest on the map of hotels. Steve files that away in his mind.

The doctor returns to sipping his tea. “Do you know what they call people obsessed with finding patterns in chaos?”

His wife drops the plate of biscuits unceremoniously down on the side table between the men’s chairs.

“Salvatore,” she snips with the same frustrated fatigue wrapped around Steve’s neck like an albatross, “behave.”

“No. None of these are familiar,” the doctor grunts.

Steve can’t accuse the man of lying unless he wants to risk an all-out breakdown in communication during this active threat, but he’s running out of options. He needs real information.

Usually Steve would have more respect for a man staying within the parameters of his vocation, but this is a unique and complicated situation. This is Bucky on the line. Steve’s had enough of secrets and red tape.

“Any idea why she’d mail something to Forsyth Avenue? Do you know anyone there?”

“Forsyth Avenue? No, I’ve never been in that area before, as far as I know.” Though Avani wrings his hands together, no indicates that’s a lie.

Wonderful. Steve’s never been this unsuccessful at gathering intel, and Avani’s status as the newly-appointed Avengers’ lead physician makes it tricky to push harder.

So Steve recommends Avani and his wife consider staying in a more secure location before he sets off to personally check the hotels in the northwest quadrant of the map.

He takes Agent Palmer, riding in the SUV while the two diaries sit in his lap, knowing now—as sure as he can be—that ‘Z’ is for Ziva, and she knew you and Faith Williams. Those are ‘the girls’ in the photo.

Without Ziva’s last name, he can’t do a general search, but there is a death certificate on file for Faith.

Three women. One confirmed dead. At least two ‘former’ patients of the doctor. All visibly ill in either the picture or in person. One mourning the loss of person(s) and out to kill the doctor.

The pit in his stomach grows. Something very bad is happening, yet while Steve has anything else to go on, he will not be reading another’s diary.

He can only hope that your medical records are finally available once the hotel searches are complete.

There’s even a possibility he’ll find Bucky at one of these. Maybe he won’t have to concern himself with the rest at all. Maybe he won’t have to think so hard about your motives for activating a Soviet sleeper agent.

Steve does think, however. He thinks hard enough to spiral as each reception desk is questioned, as all security footage is combed, as every building is cleared. He has to make some assumptions to make the pieces fit.

You believe Avani is responsible for your friends’ deaths—both of them, since when Steve interrogated you, you accepted his condolences—and believe their cause of death was whatever treatment Avani administered.

It’s sad, of course, but it happens everyday. Experimental treatments are just that. If you’re concerned about gross negligence, the doctor could easily be reported to the Medical Board. Considering the amount of research, forethought, and planning required, the Winter Soldier is one of the slowest possible solutions to your problem.

But…Bucky was just your contingency plan. You had an opportunity to kill Avani yourself, yet you still set other options in motion. You used a weapon theoretically deadly to only the doctor

Steve still can’t understand, and it’s driving him nuts.

Finally, after the hotel reservations prove fruitless, Steve sees no other choice. He has to read the diaries.

He combs through the pages, growing nauseous as darker and darker layers of the situation reveal themselves, disturbed by everydetail except updates from the units on Forsyth Avenue or those stationed at the doctor’s house. Nothing is unfolding save the landscape in Steve’s mind.

He asks F.R.I.D.A.Y about the disease Faith and Ziva mention. He asks about the public records of the drug trial Avani lead and its results published just six months ago, after the last entries of the diaries. He notices the treatment was a huge success…for those not in the control group. Finally, he can’t continue.

His head pounds while his stomach churns.

In the early afternoon, Steve lays down to rest his eyes and reevaluate, but he’s met with only a blank canvas and drifts to sleep instead.

He’s woken by a shrill ring of his phone.

“Yeah, Palmer, what’s—what? What do you mean he’s gone?” Steve jumps up, straps on his shield, and races to his bike. “The hell were you thinking letting him make a house call today? Where did agents—“

Steve’s foot slips right off bike for an instant.

“Avani led the driver to some suburban neighborhood. Forsythia Commons.”

It dawns of him just as the garage door squeals open.

Steve never showed Palmer the receipt. No one else saw the numbers to the address. Steve’s rattled brain finished the label with a street name he knew.

He was wrong.

Including battles in Germany way back in the day, he has rarely driven so recklessly, but Steve is nearly a half-hour behind now. He has to catch up.

Palmer tells him Avani went into the residence alone—for patient confidentiality—and after a while, agents couldn’t get an answer at the door. Upon forced entry, they found the woman who lived there bound to a chair with tape over her mouth and the doctor nowhere in sight.

Steve gets lucky.

On his way to exit the freeway, he notices a hole in the noise barrier wall past a slope of grass. He pulls over and asks Palmer what the backyard of the residence leads to, but Steve can hear the reverb of agent comms before anyone is visible through the brush.

“Friday, I need traffic camera footage from my location from thirty-five minutes ago. Were there any vehicles stopped on the side of the road?”

“Yes, Captain Rogers. A standard maintenance truck with the department’s logo shows up and leaves seven minutes later, based on ten second intervals.”

“The license plate, can you read it?”

“Quality insufficient.”

“The highway department, do they have any registered cars out here today?”

A long pause follows.

“Friday?” Steve barks.

“Negative, Captain. Inspection is slotted for the end of next week, not today.”

“Alright, follow that truck on the cameras. Tell me exactly where they went.”

He doesn’t bother to tell Palmer where he’s going because Steve doesn’t want them to know really. He needs a head start to find Bucky—to make sure it’s Bucky who is found and rescued, not the Soldier who is cornered and subdued.

The trail ends at a dilapidated office park near the river miles outside of the city. With his own, short fingernail, Steve peels away the Highway Department magnet slapped onto the white truck parked by one building.

Nobody else is in sight, and the truck cab is empty.

Across the nearest door is sun-shriveled lettering. “-alv—re Ava—, M.D” marks the third name in a list.

Steve doesn’t hesitate. He can’t. He walks right in, eyes adjusting to a cave-like darkness without electricity.

The voices are faint behind another set of double doors, but he hears them.

“I don’t owe you anything, bitch. I hope you die like they did.”

There’s a sharp slapping noise and someone spits loudly.

“Admit it. Admit what you did and you won’t die today.”

You don’t beg him to talk. You don’t plead with him. You sound weak but sure.

“Rot in hell,” Avani annunciates, and Steve flings himself through the doors, knowing what comes after such a taunt.

You give him every opportunity to come clean. He could save himself, but Avani refuses while the camera records behind you. He calls you names. He calls your friends worthless. He says they were ’whores,’ but you will still send him back to the correct authorities if he tells the truth.

He doesn’t, he won’t, and you’re honestly pleased this is how it ends.

You don’t have a choice really; you must honor Faith and Ziva somehow.

Instead of the truth, Avani curses you, though not much could be worse than your current fate, even with Winter standing a few feet away, his gun drawn.

You have readied the syringe in your unstable hand and lift it to the doctor’s throat when—crash—Captain America bursts in and scans the whole room.

“Don’t do it,” he tries plainly. “You don’t have to kill him.”

You’re impressed. That’s faster than you expected, but Steve is looking at his friend to stop, not you.

“Shoot him, you idiot,” the doctor snarls.

As if Winter thinks the order somehow applied to him, he turns toward an open palm and a raised shield.

“SHOOT HIM!”

Winter doesn’t move the gun away from you and Avani.

Steve steps closer. “Bucky,” he starts slowly, “I’m not going to do that. I’m not here to hurt you. No one has to die.”

You need to buy more time.

“Soldat, show him.”

Only then does Winter lower his pistol and reach into a pocket at his chest, revealing the tuning fork that controls his own mind. Doing this will forfeit your exit strategy, but you’ll accomplish you mission. Winter’s mission is now secondary.

Steve’s eyes flicker from the fork to you.

After a tense breath, you give the command, confident the soldier will obey, locking your focus on Steve.

“Fetch.”

Winter sprints to the other end of the room and explodes through a wall and then a window to the lawn banking the river.

Cap makes a choice, his sad blue eyes full of pity, and it’s then you realize he knows.

He read the diaries. He understands what Avani did.

Steve bolts after the Soldier.

The doctor shrieks for his Avenger to come back, to protect him from his earned fate, but the hollow thuds of a vibranium arm and a vibranium shield colliding hum through the hole in the building.

The sound of fighting continues as you return the syringe to Avani’s neck.

Enough. Enough excuses. Enough lies. Enough time has been wasted on this man already. Enough is enough.

The end is more peaceful than he deserves. It’s quick and not nearly as painful as it should be. There’s no time left for suffering.

Salvatore convulses after collapsing on the stained industrial carpet, foam gently dripping from his mouth, a symptom of his condition when mixed with a common resuscitative cocktail, one you have to take frequently, one that spiked Steve Rogers’ adrenaline and nothing more. It kills Avani. His heart nearly explodes in his chest.

If there was ever a human that medicine should fail…

You only know he’s susceptible because Ziva knew. Heart conditions and caring for them are the sort of thing one knows about a person they love.

Avani promised to marry her, to leave his wife, to be with her after the drug trial succeeded. He promised she’d live, but he told Ziva she was taking the real medicine, ensured she took the placebo, and then gaslit her until the day she died.

Ziva spent the rest of her life loving a man who would make her happy and healthy, but instead, Avani made her life as short as possible.

He was not even that kind to Faith.

In her own words, Faith wrote how dying scared her, how she begged the doctor for the actual medication, how she offered anything to get it. Avani accepted. Faith did whatever that bastard wanted for months, all the while told she was healing.

Relief never came.

Faith was bedridden when a package arrived for her—a diary willed to her by a friend she’d lost touch with once you three weren’t gathering in the same hospital suite for the old treatments. That’s when she put it together, but Ziva had passed two months prior. Faith lasted only four more days, just long enough to bequeath the two journals to you.

The victory doesn’t feel as euphoric as you expected. You thought somehow you’d know that Ziva and Faith were proud and at peace, but you’re just empty and tired.

You stare down at Adani’s body, unfazed, when the tuning fork slams against a dangling metal doorframe and Cap shuffles through the rubble.

He’s scraped and beaten which isn’t what you ever wanted, just a necessary evil to fight evil. He watches as Barnes walks in from the grass.

“It’s me, punk. You can put that thing down.”

Bucky doesn’t wait for Steve, snatching the prongs right from his hands and tucking it back in his jacket.

There’s a moment where they almost hug before Steve remembers the doctor and rushes to the man at your feet.

“Call for help! I'm starting CPR.”

Barnes simply holds your gaze.

More sad blue eyes. It brings you hope that he will complete his mission.

You step away from the others to make for a cleaner shot, nodding that it’s okay, breathing a rough but weak “please” for emphasis.

“Buck?” Steve looks up as Bucky points his gun at you again. “What are you doing? STOP. It’s over!”

“His mission was never to kill Avani,” you hiss, unable to take your eyes off the perfectly-centered muzzle directly in front of you. “He’s here to kill me.”

“The hell—“ Steve climbs to his feet “—why would you shoot her?”

“I’m not going to jail!”

“You know what they’ll do to her, Steve.”

Both men take one step closer.

“There has to be another way.”

“I did this because it’s the only—“

“—can understand doctors who taking advantage and manipulating their patients better than anyone—“

“Put the gun down!”

“Pull the trigger! It'll be—“

“—told me he could do better than me,” Bucky barks. “Doc said, to my face, that he could make a better me. He wanted to make soldiers, Steve. More soldiers. Avani didn’t give a shit about what was right.”

You jump in. “If you found the diaries, you know what he was capable of.”

“That’s not how this works. We don’t condemn a man from—“

This time you step toward Barnes. “Just do it. Shoot me now.”

Steve lunges to take your wrist in his hand, your limb comically thin and delicate beneath all his enhancements.

“She doesn’t deserve to rot while they sweep this under the rug,” Bucky adds, voice low and serious.

“This is for the best.” You look at Steve now, and something heartbreaking swims in those morose pools, something unspeakable.

His head shakes, dirty, sweaty hair falling in his face. “What if there’s another way?”

“I don’t want to be saved, Cap. Let me go.”

You offer one final, soft smile, and Steve moves just as Bucky pulls the trigger.

Steve completes his testimony before the panel opposite him. None of the questions are a surprise.

They’ve painted you as completely insane, demented, psychotic, and he can’t argue. What would he tell them? Yeah, but she had kind eyes, so, you know, remember her fondly? No, he can only remain quiet until he has something pertinent to add which is very little. Bucky had far more to offer, and he already spoke.

When Steve steps out of the counsel chambers, Maria Hill is waiting for him.

“Shame she ordered the Soldier to dispose of her body. Took the coward’s way out.”

“You make her sound like a rabid animal that had to be put down,” Steve grit out.

“No, you’re right,” Hill admits, “but it was lucky she left the sound thing for—”

“Tuning fork,” he snaps, “which I destroyed. No one should have that. No one should even know about it.”

Buck does his best to calm Steve down with a heavy hand on his shoulder. “S’okay, pal. The interrogation footage has been wiped and unless someone with perfect pitch was walking by observation--”

“You know that’s not reassuring, right?”

The two huge men look at each other.

Steve finally mutters, “what about Avani’s widow?”

“All the blackmail sent to his mistress in Forsythia Commons was removed before Gloria even knew Sal was kidnapped, and I think it’s fair to say that lady is so grateful her name wasn’t dragged through the press that she won’t be bothering the wife. Good thing the doctor put her car and house in her name, or legally, this would get ugly.”

“Yes. We’re very lucky he was such a skilled adulterer,” Steve quips dryly. He regrets handing over the diaries for evidence. They weren’t mentioned once in any of the hearings.

Bucky flashes Steve a warning glare that reads, don’t start.

Hill obliviously flips through the folder in her hands, nodding. “All in all, this report amounts to an incredibly long lead-in of ‘use that PTO, boys!’ You earned it.”

“Understatement of the century…and I would know.” Bucky is a much better liar than Steve.

Thank god, they are fleeing to the middle of nowhere indefinitely.

Hill heads back to her office. “We’ll be here when you get back. Keep in touch.”

“No,” Steve counters. “I don’t think I will.”

Bucky and Steve leave in an old truck the next morning. They can’t seem rushed or impatient to get to their destination.

Casually accumulating supplies, Steve loads their bags in the flat bed with space for all repair materials they are likely to need. The cabin needs some work; the guys need to get their hands dirty and live simply for a while.

The team is happy for Steve; it’s been so long since anyone saw him moving forward in life, and, of course, he and Bucky deserve some peace and quiet.

No one else has any idea how hard-won this vacation is.

The drive takes all day because they can’t be in a hurry.

Steve takes pictures at every scenic outlook. Bucky climbs up onto some rock ledges to take selfies which Steve is not into. This earns him being featured as a blurry grump in the background of all of them, purposefully.

Eventually, the GPS-free truck pulls up to the place, a large A-frame style cabin that should be plenty big for two super soldiers.

Parked on the gravel path, Steve is careful not to ding the other car when he swings open his door. As Bucky heaves two duffels from the trunk, he calls out, “got the meds, too” and heads inside. Steve gathers up the remaining bags and trudges over, smelling something hearty and delicious cooking, listening to the tinkling, copper-coin wind chime hanging somewhere above him.

He doesn’t stop looking at his feet until they hit the top of the porch, spotting two smaller bare feet on the welcome mat.

There you are, holding the door open, layered in warm knits, more tired before but better than expected.

“Hey,” Steve breathes finally.

“Hey,” you say, your mouth twisted to hide an excited smile.

“Yes, hello,” Bucky grumbles from the living room. “Now shut the damn door. I’m hungry.”

Steve steps inside.

[Last Part]

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

a/n: Sorry this took so long a fucking year! Tags will be in a reblog.

#steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #time and tines series #steve rogers angst #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fic #winter soldier bucky barnes #villain!reader #captain america fanfiction #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america angst #steve rogers x y/n

125 notes · View notes

thewolvesof1998 · 1 year ago

Text

untitled by me (thewolvesof1998)

I wrote this years ago but I still like the imagery so hope you enjoy.

Alt text:

The first photo contains the poem in grey text on a white background:

Hands connect. Fingers thread together like a needle through two different fabrics that seem to disconnect. But we know as we sow that the mismatched patchwork quilt will keep us warm tonight. Hands disconnect. fingers untwine like fraying threads on your favourite pair of jeans. Distance stretching out across skin yearning to reconnect. But we know that by tomorrow that our quilt will not keep us warm when daylight and frostbite gnaw at our fingers.

The second photo is of a draft of the first two stanzas of the poem above, handwritten in a notebook:

Hands connect fingers thread together like a needle through two different fabrics that seem to, disconnect clash, jar but we know as we sow that the mismatch patchwork quilt will keep us warm at night

With edits that include:

move the word 'disconnect' to the line below

tricolon needs work in reference to 'disconnect, clash and jar'

an arrow to move a line up to the one above in reference to 'patchwork quilt' moving to be along side 'that the mismatch'

circled the words 'At night' with the suggested change to tonight or full stop.

At the bottom of the page is two basic drawings of hands holding and a write note that says: "I was never good at drawing hands."

tagging some people who might be interested (feel free to ignore):

@wikiangela @wildlife4life @eddiebabygirldiaz @spotsandsocks @try-set-me-on-fire @jesuisici33 @loserdiaz @bekkachaos @buddierights @malewifediaz @911-on-abc @hippolotamus @evanito @chaoticgremlinwholikescheese @spagheddiediaz @your-catfish-friend @exhuastedpigeon @911onabc @shitouttabuck @daffi-990 @disasterbuckdiaz @bigsistersyndrome @fortheloveofbuddie @steadfastsaturnsrings @mangacat201 @theotherbuckley @hoodie-buck @eowon @rainbow-nerdss @ladydorian05 @watchyourbuck @king-buckley @buckleyobsessed @pirrusstuff @evanbegins @smilingbuckley @giddyupbuck @nmcggg @carrierofthepaperclips @jeeyuns @thosetwofirefighters @monsterrae1 @singlethread @devirnis @puppyboybuckley @diazsdimples @shortsighted-owl @ronordmann @princehattric @spaceprincessem

#poetry #thewolvesof1998 writes

149 notes · View notes

naebaetwsog · 3 months ago

Text

。「Hanjin boyfriend headcanons○

genre.fluff

warning.non

pairing.bf!hanjin x fem!reader

a/n. I feel like Hanjin would down bad like bad bad, the type to even lick the floor if asked to 😭😭

Bf!Hanjin Who Being with you makes him so happy that sometimes he just bursts into tears mid-cuddle because “I can’t believe I get to love you.”

Bf!Hanjin Who is always smiling. Even when he’s tired, even when he’s grumpy—one look at you, and boom, full-on heart eyes.

Bf!Hanjin Who needs to have something matching with you. Cute heart halves, little plushies, or even full-on custom-made keychains of tiny chibi versions of you two.

Bf!Hanjin Who is too in love to get jealous. If someone stares at you, he just nods and goes, “I mean, can you blame them?” But sometimes, late at night, he overthinks and gets emotional, wondering if he’s enough for you.

Bf!Hanjin Who nothing beats curling up together with a mountain of snacks, watching a show, and dramatically reacting to every scene. If a character does something dumb, expect him to yell at the screen.

Bf!Hanjin Who if you’re around, expect him to be attached to you in some way—holding your hand, wrapping an arm around you, or resting his head on your lap.

Bf!Hanjin Who is the type to leave little handwritten notes in your bag, pockets, anywhere—just a tiny “Have a great day, love you!!!” with a million smiley faces.

Bf!Hanjin Who sends You the Cringiest Good Morning Texts

“Good morning, my shining star, the light of my life, my eternal love!! 💖🌞”

You: “Hanjin, it’s 7 AM.”

Him: “AND I ALREADY MISS YOU.”

Bf!Hanjin Who gets so excited over the smallest things—like if you send him a heart emoji, he’ll literally do a happy dance in his chair.

Bf!Hanjin Who will tell everyone how amazing you are, even strangers. If you achieve anything, he’s already celebrating like you won an award.

Bf!Hanjin Who loves taking pictures of you—candid, posed, aesthetic—everything. He even bought a vintage camera just to capture your moments in a special way. Half of his camera roll is just you doing random things like tying your shoes or eating ice cream because he thinks you’re the cutest person alive.

Bf!Hanjin Who records little videos of you two, edits them with soft music, and randomly sends them to you with captions like “Look at us being the cutest couple ever.”

Bf!Hanjin Who every day with you feels like the best day of his life, and he makes sure you know just how much you mean to him.

#tws #tws kpop #tws headcanons #tws imagines #tws scenarios #tws hanjin #hanjin fluff #hanjin x reader #hanjin #kpopidol #kpop bg #kpop boys #kpop #kpop imagines #tws x reader

30 notes · View notes

the-penguin-of-baskervilles · 1 year ago

Text

Chapter 26

Summary: Princess makes a worrying discovery while looking through Lloyd’s briefcase. Zach and Lloyd search Copper Ridge Quarry and have an argument. Meanwhile, Princess becomes entangled in the issue of a spy operating inside of Bishop & Howard.

Word Count: 5,024

Warnings: This story contains content that is intended for those who are at least eighteen years old, such as explicit sexual content, strong language, references to spying, murder, kidnapping and criminal elements.

Masterlist

Author’s Note: I did get this chapter published today as promised but editing took a really long time because it snowed here today, which was really depressing for me (come on, it’s March, give me sunshine) so I was feeling very unmotivated and lazy.

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

Chapter Twenty-Six

As promised, you reviewed the footage of Nguyen’s interrogation. Two moments raised red flags. The first occurred when Lloyd mentioned Tate Corbin’s witness statement. From his previous interviews and court testimonies, you knew Nguyen wasn’t easily drawn into speculation, but the topic of his neighbor’s observations caused an abrupt change in his demeanor. Suddenly, he was eager to speculate. You marked the timestamp and wrote a note for Lloyd. The second red flag was more significant. As an interrogation subject, Nguyen was usually willing to answer questions, though the quality of his responses varied. That said, an outright refusal to respond was rare; in fact there was only one instance where it cropped up.

When questioned about his former colleague who testified against him at trial his evasion stood out sharply in contrast to his typical style of guarded cooperation. It caught your attention, so you annotated that spot as well. Nothing in particular jumped out at you as significant in the rest of the footage, but watching it all together, it irked you that Nguyen hesitated to challenge his colleague’s testimony. Most murder suspects protested vehemently when confronted with false accusations.

The fact that Nguyen didn’t was unsettling.

A staccato rap of knuckles on your door startled you from your musings. Landon stepped into the room and raised an eyebrow when he saw you massaging your temples.

“Headache?”

"Yeah. Re-watching Nguyen's interview is driving me nuts."

"Skip the aspirin this time."

You snorted. "Never again. What's up?"

"Jake and I have a stakeout. Need a ride home?"

"No. Lloyd's my ride, whenever he gets back."

"Text if you need us. Remember the silent alarm triggers are under the receptionist’s desk and in Zach’s office. He showed you?"

"Yeah, he did. Thanks."

- - - - -

After the guys left, the office was silent. You finished reviewing the interview footage and made an attempt at Lloyd’s strategy of listening to the interview audios alone, which proved fruitless. The audio alone was too dull to be endured. After saving your notes to the shared drive, you strolled around the office to stretch your legs. It was nearly nine o’clock, and there was still no word from Lloyd or Zach. You opened the tracking app on your phone and verified their location in the woods near Copper Ridge Quarry.

You needed a distraction, so you poked around in the share drive and read the report Lloyd had filed on his meeting with Tate Corbin. When you clicked through the attachments for his handwritten notes nothing came up. There were no attachments anywhere in his last few uploads so they hadn’t been filed mistakenly. Your gaze landed on the hazelnut leather briefcase he’d left beside your desk. After a brief debate, you decided he wouldn’t mind. It wasn’t snooping if there was a purpose, right? You lifted the briefcase to your desk and took a deep, steadying breath. As you unzipped the main compartment, your phone rang, making you almost jump out of your skin.

Jen’s face flashed on the caller ID.

You sank back against the cushioned backrest of your chair and answered. “Hey, Jen. What’s up?”

“Not much, just checking in. How’s working from home?”

"It’s different. Kind of boring, but I’m getting a lot done.”

“I haven’t seen much of Lloyd around the office lately. Is he working from home, too?”

“He’s been doing a lot of field work,” you said, ducking the question.

“Mmmhh, really throwing himself into it, is he?”

Knowing Jen as long as you had, the dry tone of her voice tipped you off that she wouldn’t let the matter of Lloyd's absence go. She’d poke and prod and side-step you down the garden path until she had an explanation. You should’ve anticipated that the cover story Bishop had spread around the office, spinning your attack as a slip and fall by the pool, wouldn’t pass the smell test with Jen.

“Yeah. Things picked up a bit in the investigation… uh, new leads….”

“I’ve always appreciated that Lloyd goes after things like a force of nature.”

“Have you?” You raised an eyebrow, reaching into the front divider of Lloyd’s briefcase and pulling out a stack of files. The third degree was coming, and you knew it.

“He takes the bull by the horns,” Jen said.

“Interesting. Are you developing a soft spot for Lloyd?”

Jen snorted. “He’s right up there with Hawaiian pizza in my book.”

You laughed, flipping through the files. None of them were related to the Harmony case, so you set them aside and searched the second pocket in the briefcase.

“Wanna know something else about Lloyd?” you teased, hoping to distract Jen.

“Hmmm?”

“I only found this out recently, but he actually was a cowboy.”

“Are you for real?”

“Would I lie to you? He called me when he was in Idaho and told me about herding cattle and roping and my ovaries almost exploded.”

“I love that for you. Did he bring you pictures? Also, does this have anything to do with his odd choice of facial hair?”

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“Right, you’re too young to remember Westerns. You know the old movies about Doc Holliday, The Sundance Kid, Wyatt Earp…? I could go on, but you get the point.”

“I’ll have to ask him,”

“How’s your neck?” Jen asked.

“A lot better.”

You cringed, waiting for the attack to begin.

“Mmmhh. Glad to hear it.”

There was a long pause and you held back, distracting yourself from the temptation of talking by opening the next compartment of Lloyd’s briefcase. There was a padfolio and a few more files. You opened one of them and found insurance paperwork for a 1971 Mercury Cougar.

“Listen, I heard about your fall by the pool from Bishop, and I know it was bullshit. Tell me what’s going on.”

“I can’t really talk about it, Jen. I’m sorry.”

“Talk about what, exactly?”

“Jen… I can’t tell you what’s going on, okay?”

“Is it personal? Professional? Does it have something to do with Lloyd?”

You blew out a breath, considering your answer. The stalking was personal, but the IP address that the stalker had used to hack your work laptop was definitely professional. If he’d hack your laptop, who was to say he hadn’t tapped Jen’s work line, too?

“I’m dealing with some personal stuff.”

“And you were in the hospital twice this past month. There was an ER visit at Georgetown University Hospital and another in Harmony.”

“How do you know about those?” you demanded.

“Your apartment building forwarded over a stack of mail. I saw the medical bills and figured they were ER visits, thanks for confirming, though. I didn’t actually open them.”

“I can’t share it yet, but me staying out of the office is what’s best for right now.”

“Why were you in the hospital?” Jen asked.

You rubbed your forehead and wondered why you chose to develop friendships with people who had the personalities of Jack Russell Terriers. “I hurt my neck, just like Bishop said. The other one was for a medication reaction, but it turned out fine.”

“Fine? But who picked you up from the hospital? Did you call your Mom? Never mind, don’t answer that, I know you didn’t. Have you told your Mom what’s going on?”

Jen meant well, and you knew that, but she’d never comprehend that your Mom didn’t take her responsibilities as a parent to heart the same way Jen did.

“I didn’t tell her I was in the hospital because it’s just not something she could handle. She’s kind of high strung,” you gently reminded her. “Lloyd drove me home both times.”

“So, Lloyd is taking care of you? Adequately?”

You rolled your eyes at her suspicious tone. “Yes, he’s shockingly good at playing nurse. And he can cook.”

“Thank goodness, I’ve been worried that you were subsisting on takeout alone.”

“I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch,” you said.

“Mmmhh. Well. I’m not trying to be pushy, honest. I just… worry about you.”

“I know that, Jen. Give me some time, okay? I’ll tell you everything when I can and hopefully I won’t seem like such an asshole then.”

“You’re not capable of being an asshole except when you’ve been provoked to it,” Jen said. “That’s why I’ve been so worried.”

“Thank you.”

You picked up another file that had been in Lloyd’s briefcase and leafed through it. Once you realized that it was a copy of Joe Hansen’s will, you snapped it shut. Jen’s voice morphed into the background as she turned the conversation to a recap of current affairs at the law firm. Why was Lloyd still carrying a copy of his father’s will? On a scale of one to ten, how much of a violation of privacy would it be to read… maybe just the first page? The first few pages? Your internal debate was interrupted by a gasp from Jen.

“I almost forgot to tell you! I met Mr. Howard the other day!”

“Mr. Howard?” You drew a blank, having been more preoccupied with the will than the conversation.

“Wilson Howard? The other half of Bishop & Howard? The infamously silent and absent founding partner of B&H…?”

“You’re kidding!”

“No, it was crazy, like stumbling on a unicorn on a jogging trail. He actually came into the office.”

“Why did he come in?”

“Because of you,” Jen said.

“What did I do?!”

“Remember the emails that you forwarded to HR? The ones from Westin Tafferty? According to the grape vine, they made their way up to Bishop, who responded by siccing Mr. Howard on Westin.”

“Oh, shit.”

Jen chuckled at your dismay. “He was here all morning and met with paralegals to get the tea on Westin before coming to visit me. He asked about you.”

“This is not good.”

“Relax,” Jen said. “He just wanted to know if Westin had harassed the whole paralegal department, or if he’d focused on you. And you’ll never guess what else I found out…”

“I’m afraid to ask,” you said.

Jen snickered. “Per Mr. Howard, there was a conversation between Mr. Bishop and Lloyd a month ago where Lloyd threatened to ‘use the Geneva Conventions as a to-do list’ if Westin kept bothering you.”

You buried your head in your hands, groaning, while Jen laughed.

“Anyways, after he’d interviewed the team he went down to HR and had a two hour chat with Westin, who denied everything, but given that it was a two hour meeting, I think we can guess how that went.”

“No one called me about this.”

“You’d already done your part by reporting him,” Jen said. “Also, according to my sources, Westin left that meeting looking very rattled.”

“I almost feel bad for him.”

“Ugh. Get a grip and cut that out, girl. You have no idea how incredibly therapeutic it was for the whole paralegal department to vent about Westin. The best part was that Mr. Howard just listened and took notes. If a man ever listened to me that attentively on a date, I’d jump his bones.”

You commiserated with her about Westin, and let the conversation drift back to the latest gossip from the office. When you finally hung up, you stood over the mess on your desk and examined the damage. It was littered with a treasure trove of mundane artifacts - five khaki file folders, a tin of mints, sticky notes, a travel tube of cologne, a power bank and phone charger, airpods, reading glasses, and three hundred dollars in cash. The files were what drew your eye.

Curiosity was killing you, especially about Joe Hansen’s last will and testament, but you forced yourself to set them aside. It would be a betrayal of trust and if the situation were reversed, you’d be offended if Lloyd went through your private documents without asking. You surveyed the items you’d strewn over the desk from Lloyd’s briefcase and sighed, dipping your hand into the last, smaller back pocket of the briefcase in search of the missing interview notes. Your fingers brushed against paper and for a moment, excitement surged, but instead of papers you pulled out an envelope.

Inside were three laminated bookmarks.

They were delicate and beautiful. One featured a bold splash of golden petals with a dark center like a miniature sun in bloom - a long stemmed Black-Eyed Susan. The other two flowers weren’t familiar. You inspected the bookmark that contained pale lavender flowers with tinges of blue, then examined the third marker, which featured pink petaled blossoms. Frustratingly, it was another flower you didn’t recognize. The pink flower reminded you of Prairie Phlox and Fire Pink, except to the best of your knowledge, no one had ever crossed those plants. There was no receipt in the envelope but when you flipped it over, the outside read: “Josephine.”

Your eyebrows raised. Josephine? Who the hell was Josephine? Why had she given Lloyd pressed flower bookmarks, and more confusingly, why had he accepted them?

It crossed your mind a second later that the floral bookmarks might be a gift for you. That was a logical enough explanation but it didn’t hold up to closer inspection. Lloyd took pride in being an excellent gift-giver. He knew your tastes, interests, and preferences. The bookmark with the Black-Eyed Susans would be the kind of gift he would give you, but the other two were decidedly not.

Using the plant identification app on your phone, you scanned the bookmarks to identify the flowers. The lavender flower was Common Camas and the pink was Elkhorn Clarkia. You didn’t recognize either name and when you checked the map of their native range, it made sense why you wouldn’t - they were native to the upper Northwest. Lloyd must have gotten these in Idaho. Frowning at the bookmarks, your mood slid from confused to suspicious, then darkened.

Your chest was tight and your heart pounded out a chorus of eighth notes, turning your skin hot. The floral bookmarks weren’t something Lloyd would keep without a good reason. On the envelope, you inspected the handwriting of the name ‘Josephine’ and confirmed it was Lloyd’s. Who was Josephine? Did she live in Idaho or had she traveled there for his father’s funeral? Did they spend time together while he was there? Was she the real reason he’d neglected to call you while he was gone? There was a horrible feeling in your gut that you couldn’t ignore.

The realization that there were parts of Lloyd that you were completely closed off from hit like a slap in the face. There were sides to him you’d never seen. He had a past that transcended the three years you’d shared. Of course that was normal, but the utter lack of awareness you had of Lloyd’s past wasn’t normal at all. If you knew who Josephine was, maybe these bookmarks wouldn’t make your heart slam against your rib cage. You’d know if she were a matronly ex-neighbor or an ex-girlfriend. That was something you ought to know, and the fact that you didn’t have a clue made your stomach churn. It seemed that beneath the veneer of trust you had in Lloyd there was an abyss of uncertainty. While your friendship had been built on healthy habits, it was painfully obvious that your romance lacked the same sturdiness. The dawning awareness that all it took was three flimsy bookmarks to fracture your relationship burned.

You took a deep breath and tucked the floral bookmarks into the envelope and returned it to the same pocket. Then you began methodically returning all the items back to their original position, careful to order them exactly how you’d found them.

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

A strange chemical scent hung in the air. Lloyd wrinkled his nose and swallowed, grimacing at the bitter taste of rotten eggs. He stood with Zach at the chain link fence that sealed off Copper Ridge from the rest of the world, looking up at the double rows of twelve-foot high razor wire topped fencing. The sight reminded him of prison.

Decorating the fence were brightly colored posters signaling danger lay ahead.

Zach coughed into his elbow. “This place smells like my grandmother’s garden, but way, way, worse.”

“What?” Lloyd asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Her garden plot had alkaline soil, so she treated it with Lime-Sulfur every spring.” Zach coughed again, then examined the warning posters. “Arsenic, sulfur, lead, benzene, radiation… What did they do? Nuke this place?”

“That probably would’ve done less environmental damage.”

“Check those security cameras,” Zach said, tilting his chin at the gate post.

“We can assume the killer isn’t just driving up to the main gate.”

“Given what they’re containing up here, those cameras probably aren’t new.”

“He must have a more discrete method of accessing the site,” Lloyd agreed.

“So, we’re hiking the perimeter?”

“It’s due diligence. The three bodies we have prove that we’re looking for an experienced hiker who isn’t afraid of moving his victims over rough terrain.”

“The perimeter is thirteen miles and the sun’s about to go down.”

“Got an extra flashlight?”

Zach smirked, and quipped, “one is none.”

Their flashlight beams were necessary under the thick canopy of vegetation, even with the sun still shining overhead. The trees cast long shadows and stretched their fingers across the forest floor. Recently fallen leaves squished under their feet as they followed the fence line, still too wet to crunch. Crisp air whipped against his neck and Lloyd flipped up the collar of his jacket.

“I hope Princess doesn’t intend on letting your genes into her bloodline. Not after this.”

“Shut up,” Lloyd muttered.

Zach snickered. “Touched a nerve, eh?”

“You’re getting exposed to this shit right along with me, asshole.”

“Not really. I had a procedure in the 90s to ensure none of my swimmers were medal contenders.”

“For the love of all that is holy, please shut up.”

“Why didn’t you bother with a vasectomy? Nervous about someone poking around down there?” Zach asked.

“Getting clipped has never been on my agenda.”

Zach stopped abruptly. “You want kids? Really?”

“Fuck no! You of all people get why.”

“I do. Hence, the vasectomy I got at twenty.”

“I don’t want kids,” Lloyd stated.

“Your actions say otherwise,” Zach said.

“No, they don’t. All my actions say is… Why are we having this conversation?”

“What about Princess?”

“What about her?”

“Does she want kids?” Zach asked.

“How should I know?!”

“You’re dating her.”

“This is what you want to talk about right now?” Lloyd demanded.

“Does she?”

“Come on, we’re in the middle of something. Now isn’t the time.”

“What are your intentions towards Princess in the long term?”

“Zach, are you giving me the shovel talk?”

“Why would I bother digging a grave when I know this place exists? Answer the question. Where is this thing with Princess going? Are you serious about her?”

“She’s important to me, of course I’m serious.”

The blond man’s eyes sharpened. “Serious is different than being serious about her. Are you going to move in together? Get married?”

“Move in where? The townhouse? Her place? She was nearly strangled in my backyard and Aiden planted a camera at her apartment.”

“Fine, sell both places, combine funds and get a house with a yard for the kids. I’m in Thursday night golf league with a couple realtors. You want me to hook you up?”

“You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“Nope,” Zach agreed cheerfully. “Look, the past three months are the happiest I’ve ever seen you. Princess, too. But I also know your track record with relationships so I need to know that you’ve got your head screwed on straight when it comes to her.”

“I appreciate that,” Lloyd said.

“Good. When are you going to talk to her about moving in together?”

“Have you always been this pushy?”

“That’s not an answer.”

“I don’t know, damn it!”

“You’ve been dating for three months. Figure it out,” Zach said.

Lloyd sighed. “Three months isn’t very long.”

“Sure, but the math is different for you two. You were friends first.”

“She’s my best friend. I don’t want to see her hurt. Not by a stalker, or anything else.”

“Look, Lloyd, Princess is a good friend to me, too. I don’t want to see her hurt either. She’s going to need a commitment from you soon and what I’m trying to ask is this: how close are you to giving her that?”

“You know my track record with relationships,” Lloyd deflected.

“I also know your track record with Princess. You’ve never disappointed her before and I’d prefer not to see you screw that up.”

“I care about her, Zach. More than I’ve ever cared about anyone, and I don’t want to lose her or hurt her.”

“But you’re afraid you will.”

“My issues with women are legendary.”

Zach snorted. “Let’s not pretend they’re just with women. You’ve got issues with everything.”

“I’m not the white picket fence happily ever after type of guy.”

Silence descended, lingering in the air, as if Zach was waiting for Lloyd to continue. He gritted his teeth and held his peace, refusing to add fuel to the conversation.

“Figure it out, man. Lay your cards on the table soon, because Princess deserves to be with someone who’s all in.”

“I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but-”

“What? You’re waiting for the right time to make up a bullshit excuse and end things with her? Once we catch her stalker, and we will, you can’t just turn around and break her heart-”

“Shut up.”

Zach sneered. “Like hell I will. Don’t tell me-”

Lloyd grabbed the Texan by the collar and covered his mouth, silencing him.

“Shut up and listen, damn it!”

Zach froze, alertness sweeping over him in an instant. They waited, silent. From somewhere ahead of them in the woods came a rustling sound.

“You heard that?” Lloyd murmured.

“Yeah.”

Lloyd reached into his jacket and pulled out a Glock 19 while Zach took a .38 pistol from his boot. The gun clicked as Zach chambered a bullet.

“Turn off your flashlight,” Zach whispered.

From ahead there was a flurry of rustling accompanied by the sounds of breaking twigs and branches.

“An animal wouldn’t make that much noise,” Lloyd muttered.

“Whatever it is, we’re not alone out here.”

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

You struggled to focus on the computer screen. It was 10:30 and your eyes stung from too much screen time. Blinking against the dryness, you watched the rapidly moving footage flashing on the monitor. You’d shut off the lights in the office and re-played Nguyen’s interview at 4 times the normal speed. The rapid fire images helped to exaggerate changes in body language, which was what you’d decided to focus on.

After attempting Lloyd’s technique of listening to the interview without visuals, you’d come to your senses and realized that while Lloyd could listen more accurately than anyone you’d ever met, you needed visuals, especially body language. Therefore, you turned off the audio and sped up the footage, watching Nguyen speak, noting his facial expressions and movements.

Your eyes watered in protest at the excessive amount of blue light they were enduring and you squeezed them shut.

When they opened again, the laptop screen wasn’t as bright. You tapped the trackpad and the screen brightened. The laptop was plugged into the wall socket next to the desk. You leaned down and double checked the connection, then looked at the icon menu on the bottom right corner of the screen. The battery was at fifty percent and the plugged-in symbol was conspicuously absent. Your eyes darted to the digital clock on the wall and found its dial frozen, displaying the time as 12:00 AM.

Your stomach dropped.

No electricity. Shit. How long? You had no illusions that the source of the electrical disruption was anything other than man-made. There was no heat wave, thunderstorm, or high winds. You moved to the window and peaked through the blinds to see that the lights were still functioning in the shopping mall. Zach’s suite appeared to be the only one without electricity.

You grabbed for your phone, only to find that the spot where it had been was bare. Goosebumps broke out on your skin. The room was eerily silent. Your heart raced as you scanned the deep shadows and debated whether to run or scream.

“Sorry to drop by after visiting hours.”

The voice from the darkness was calm, almost conversational, but laced with an undercurrent of humor that was more terrifying than malice. You lurched back, eyes focused on the barely discernible silhouette of a man standing in the corner of the room.

“Who are you?” you gasped, the catch in your breath turning your voice into a whisper.

The figure moved and you lept backwards, then screamed when your back slammed into the solid barrier of the wall. A man stepped out of the shadows, into the pool of light from the east window. He had sandy blond hair and cerulean eyes. Something about him triggered a wave of recognition, but you struggled to place him in your memory.

“Hello, Princess.”

Your muscles bunched and your nostrils flared at his casual use of your nickname. The man raised his hands in surrender. Despite his overture of peace, you didn’t relax.

“My name is Court Gentry. We met briefly in Singapore.”

“When and where?” you challenged.

“The casino bar. It was your birthday.”

The memory came flooding back. “What are you doing here?”

“I needed to talk to you. Alone.”

Hair rose on the back of your neck, but you defiantly tilted your chin.

“I know Lloyd,” Court said, taking your lack of response for confusion.

“Yeah, I’m aware. Why are you here?”

“Because Lloyd refused to help me.”

“Sorry?”

“I need someone to help me get into Bishop & Howard,” Court said.

“By ‘get in,’ I’m going to assume you actually mean ‘break in.’”

Court’s lips twitched into a split second smile that faded into seriousness.

“There’s a spy in the firm,” he said.

“And you know this, how?”

“I keep tabs on Lloyd. I assume you’re aware of why?”

“Mmmhmm.”

“A few months ago I was on a job and… came into possession of a laptop. There was a reference to Bishop & Howard on the contents of that device, so I followed up. One thing led to another and the next thing I knew, I’d uncovered a plot to steal top secret information from the U.S. military.”

“You thought Lloyd was behind it, didn’t you?”

Court inclined his head, conceding the point. “It wouldn’t be the first time he betrayed his country, Princess.”

Your eyes narrowed. “That’s why you were in Singapore.”

“Yes. Events in D.C. from the law firm proved Lloyd innocent, so I approached him and asked for help. His answer was a very vehement ‘no.’”

“He doesn’t do that sort of thing anymore.”

Court nodded. “But that puts me in a bind, because the spy is making his final transmission tonight and I need someone to help me get past security. That’s all I’m asking, Princess. If you can get me to the sixth floor of the firm-”

“Bishop is the spy?!”

“No. He’s not behind this. I already cleared him as a suspect.”

“Executives and administration are the only departments on the sixth floor. What kind of government secrets would they keep up there?”

“There’s another department on the sixth floor,” Court said. “Patents.”

“Right. I knew that, but there’s only like five people in the patent department. They keep to themselves and everyone else kind of forgets they exist.”

“Will you help me?” Court asked.

“What, exactly, am I helping you with? You never told me what these secrets I’m supposed to be protecting were.”

The blond man studied you, weighing his words, before he spoke.

“It’s a Department of Defense project called Project Prometheus. Whenever the government enlists private groups to develop top secret technology, they allow them to file patents on their inventions with a private firm. Only once the technology is de-classified do the patents become public record.”

“What’s Project Prometheus?”

Court sighed. “If I tell you, will you help me?”

“Maybe.”

“Project Prometheus is next generation jet fuel. It’s designed to power the upcoming F-37 Valkyrie fighter planes. The spy at B&H already sent information on the chemical structure of the fuel and how to synthesize it. All that’s left for him to transmit is the engineering specs of the jet’s fuel system.”

“I hate to break it to you, but I think the cat’s already out of the bag if they have all that.”

“It’d be more accurate to say that they have the cat, but no bag. Without the right bag to put the cat in… ka-boom,” Court said, illustrating an explosion with his hands.

“Why are you reaching out to me now?”

“Because the spy contacted his handler today to let him know that he’d be sending the rest of the documents at midnight tonight.”

“All I would have to do is get you past security?”

“You have access to the sixth floor,” Court said.

“What about the security around the patent department? I’ve seen their door. It looks like Fort Knox.”

“Doors, plural. I have a plan for that. All we need to do is get in, set up some equipment and hole up in your office while we wait for the spy to show.”

“Are you going to turn him in or capture him?”

“My goal tonight is only to block his transmission and learn his identity. Once I have that, I’ll go to the FBI. Confronting him on my own would be counterproductive. If the authorities can get him to flip on the Chinese, that would be the best outcome.”

Lloyd would kill you for even considering this, but at the same time, you felt compelled to help Court. He’d go after the spy with or without you and his chances of success were a lot higher if you went along.

“Okay. I’ll help you.”

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

Next - Chapter XXVII

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

Masterlist

Tag List:

@denisemarieangelina @before-we-get-started @buckysteveloki-me @patzammit @badassbaker @meetmeatyourworst @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @thiskindahotkindamusic @jesgisborne @charmingprincess @amiets2 @seitmai @elle14-blog1 @chaoticsteverogers @kaleidoscopepov @fangirl-and-doctor-help @terry2227 @jesevans @mjey12 @openup-yourmind @kandierteveilchen @adoreyouusugar @ultrasilentwhispers @awkwardgiraffe726 @pono-pura-vida @mysweetlittledesire @maylaysia109 @liecastillo @unluckyevans @marantha @literaturelove @babyevansblog @lizzzaaaaaaaaaaa @thegirlnextdoorssister @ladygrey03 @cynic-spirit @rosedpetal @roseeatta @pensieve-foryour-thoughts @jeremyrennermakesmesmile @bambamwolf87 @michalkasimp @namelesssav @yiiiikesmish @lavenderx0 @calwitch @peachiestevie @texmexdarling @here4thefanfics @rogersbarber @spikeluv84 @dear-fifi @crayongirl-linz @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @andydrysdalerogers @mrsbarnes32557038

#the princess and the lawyer #series: the princess and the lawyer #the princess & the lawyer #series: the princess & the lawyer #lloyd hansen fanfic #lloyd hansen fanfiction #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen x female reader #lloyd hansen x y/n #lloyd hansen x fem!reader #lloyd hansen fic #the gray man fanfic #the gray man fanfiction #chris evans characters #chris evans characters fanfic #chris evans character au #chris evans characters au

93 notes · View notes

itacats · 4 months ago

Text

Part 4 - A New Distraction

FT: Price x Reader (Detective AU)

Warnings: Stalking, obsessive behavior, psychological manipulation, graphic violence, and mature themes.

Word Count: 2,207

SUM: After your painful breakup with Liam, you seek a distraction through online dating and begin conversing with Mark, a seemingly perfect match. However, his attentiveness quickly turns unsettling as he begins sending gifts and messages that feel invasive. Meanwhile, you’re consumed by a serial killer case, where the killer seems to know you personally. As Mark’s behavior grows increasingly disturbing, you begin to fear that your new connection may be tied to the killer, and the lines between personal danger and professional chaos blur.

A/N: Okay, folks, this just got real. 😬💀 Can’t decide if I’m more scared for you or for us reading this. Let me know what you think—are we in too deep now?

Love Kills Masterlist

After Liam, the ache in your chest feels like an endless hollow void, sharp and unrelenting. Every corner of your life seems touched by the breakup, from the quiet of your apartment to the songs that once brought you joy. The case files piled on your desk don’t help—they’re a relentless reminder of lives shattered, of a puzzle you can’t seem to solve.

You need something—anything—to fill the void.

The decision to try online dating feels impulsive, reckless even, but you’re desperate for a distraction, and you convince yourself it’s harmless.

Creating a profile feels strangely vulnerable, like baring a piece of yourself to strangers. You agonize over the details, editing and re-editing until the words seem to form a version of you that even you don’t entirely recognize. It’s just a distraction, you remind yourself, hitting “submit.”

Days pass in a blur of monotony—swiping through profiles, exchanging half-hearted greetings, and deleting messages that don’t spark interest. Then, one evening, your phone buzzes with a notification.

Mark-ed4Luv: “Hey there! Love your taste in music. Want to talk about it?”

The message is simple, almost casual, but something about it cuts through the haze of your day. You hesitate, fingers hovering over the keyboard, before typing a reply.

Cupid’sDetective: “Sure! I’m really into indie and alternative—what about you?”

His response is quick, thoughtful, and surprisingly specific:

Mark-ed4Luv: “Those genres have so much depth! I’m into them too, but I can’t resist a good classic rock playlist. Have you ever tried journaling while listening to music? It’s surprisingly therapeutic.”

A small smile tugs at your lips despite yourself. His words are unassuming yet genuine, carrying a warmth you hadn’t realized you missed.

Mark becomes a constant presence in your days. At first, it’s harmless—friendly exchanges about books, music, and life. But as days turn into weeks, his messages take on a more personal tone, filled with thoughtful observations and surprising attentiveness.

“You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met,” he admits one evening. The words linger on the screen, their sincerity both comforting and disarming.

It’s not just his words that draw you in; it’s the way he remembers the smallest details. The novels you mentioned only in passing, your favorite coffee blend, the lilies you once said were beautiful but fleeting. His thoughtfulness feels like a balm, soothing the wounds Liam left behind.

When bouquets of lilies and handwritten notes begin arriving at your doorstep, you’re caught off guard by their sweetness. Each gift feels like a piece of him, deliberate and intentional.

But soon, the sweetness turns cloying. The attention that once felt comforting begins to weigh on you, like a coat too heavy for its season.

“How did you know about the mints?” you text him one evening, staring at the small tin he sent—your favorite flavor, no less.

Mark-ed4Luv: “I pay attention,” he replies, his words deliberate. “It’s the little things that matter most.”

His response should be reassuring, but instead, it feels calculated. A pit forms in your stomach, but you push it aside. He’s just thoughtful, you tell yourself. Nothing more.

Meanwhile, the serial killer case spirals further into chaos. Another victim is discovered, their life extinguished in the same gruesome pattern. But this time, the killer leaves something new: a note addressed directly to you.

You still haven’t caught me. You never will.

The words feel like a slap, mocking your efforts and twisting the knife of doubt already lodged in your chest.

When Price calls to relay the details, his voice is tense. “This just got personal,” he says grimly.

You meet him at the precinct, your hands trembling as you read the note for yourself. The handwriting is deliberate, almost playful.

“You’re not yourself,” Price says, studying your face. “What’s going on?”

You shake your head, your mind racing. “I’m fine,” you lie, but the strain in your voice betrays you.

“Look,” Price says gently, “this killer knows you. They’re targeting you. And whatever’s happening in your personal life? It’s bleeding into this case.”

You nod, his words barely registering. Your thoughts are elsewhere—on Mark, on his uncanny attentiveness, on the unsettling coincidences piling up around you.

Mark’s messages continue, each one more intimate than the last.

“Hey, I found this little trinket that reminded me of you. Can’t wait to share it!”

His enthusiasm should feel endearing, but it sends a chill down your spine. The gifts, the attention, the perfect timing—it’s all too much.

One evening, after a particularly long day, you decide to confront him—gently, but directly.

“How do you always seem to know what I need?” you text, your fingers trembling.

His reply is immediate:

“I just listen. Isn’t that what you wanted? Someone who truly listens?”

The words feel like a mirror, reflecting your own desires back at you. But they also feel like a trap, wrapping you in a net of your own making.

Meanwhile, the killer’s shadow looms larger. Each new victim is a message, a cruel reminder of their power. And the line between the case and your personal life blurs further.

Late one night, your phone buzzes. An unknown number flashes on the screen.

“You’re closer than you think,” a distorted voice says before the line goes dead.

Your heart pounds as you stare at the phone, the room suddenly too quiet. The call is a taunt, a game, and you’re the unwilling player.

You begin piecing together the connections late one night, your apartment a labyrinth of crime scene photos, timelines, and scribbled notes.

The killer targets people with public-facing lives—an artist, a teacher, an accountant. People whose routines were predictable, whose lives were exposed in small, seemingly innocent ways.

The next morning, Price calls you into his office. “We’ve got something,” he says, sliding a folder across the desk. Inside are surveillance photos from one of the victim’s neighborhoods.

A hooded figure lingers near the victim’s house, their face obscured.

“It’s not much,” Price admits, “but it’s a lead.”

You study the photos, the grainy images sparking a glimmer of hope, but every nerve in your body is on edge. “We need to track them. If we can figure out where they were before and after this…”

“We’re on it,” Price assures you. “I’ve already got a team on it. But you need to stay focused. Whoever this is, they’re watching you. Don’t let them get in your head.”

Easier said than done, you think, but you nod anyway.

As the days turn into weeks, the case consumes you. The notes stop, but the silence feels more ominous than the messages ever did. You can’t shake the feeling that you’re being watched, that every step is leading you closer to a trap.

And then it happens.

One evening, as you leave the precinct, your car refuses to start. Frustrated, you pop the hood, only to find a single red rose lying on the engine block.

Your blood runs cold. The killer is closer than you ever imagined, just like they said.

You call Price immediately. “They were here,” you say, your voice trembling. “They left a rose in my car.”

“We’ll handle it,” he promises, but you can hear the tension in his voice.

That night, sleep eludes you. Every creak of your apartment, every passing car outside, feels like a harbinger of danger.

You sit in the dark, your mind racing. This isn’t just about solving the case anymore—it’s about survival. And as you stare at the crime board on your wall, a chilling realization washes over you: the killer isn’t just watching. They’re waiting.

Waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

Want to see what's up next? Click here!

19 notes · View notes

soleilnmity · 2 years ago

Text

Doujinshi - [U.S.O (Tankinu Nagase/Shinshu Ueda)] Megami Ibunroku Persona/ Persona 2 dj assortment [RAW]

Titles: (Megami Ibunroku Persona) 阿頼耶DEGO (Alaya de Go), リバース (Reverse) , ゴーバッド (Go Bad) (Persona 2) BIG BAD BINGO, CARRY THAT WEIGHT!

Artist: タンキーヌ・ナガセ (Tankinu Nagase) [Shinshu Ueda's penname for doujinshi) Circle: U.S.O (For Megami Ibunroku doujinshi) ESTMA (For P2EP doujinshi) Google Drive link

Personal Notes: I always wanted to upload these doujinshi, but I usually refrain from posting pure raws because I want the translations too…Unfortunately, I cannot defeat my archenemesis </3 japanese handwriting, and Nagase/Shinshu's handwriting is very……..messy x_x. For some of these, I still want to try my hand at translating eventually, but it'll definitely take a while. I love translating little artist notes and there's a lot of those in every doujinshi so if I can't translate something absolutely fully I end up giving up orz. In any case, yes. These are doujinshi made by Shinshu Ueda under the name of Tankinu Nagase in their doujin circle U.S.O. There are 5 doujinshi attached, 3 for Megami Ibunroku Persona and 2 for Persona 2.

270823 Edit: リバース has now been fully translated! The gdrive has been updated to reflect that. Please thank @falsekaiba for the typesetting and translation! Really well made 🙏 it will also be found in Mangadex as well.

Under the cut are some small explanations for the others, but I'll go straight for the P2EP doujin for introduction, as I actually translated bits of that one.

Title: CARRY THAT WEIGHT! - Eternal Punishment focus (PG, small bits of Kandori mixed in with a Post-EP story) Original printing date: 2000/08/12

This is the only doujinshi of Tankinu that was published under a different circle than their usual "U.S.O.", called "ESTMA". I have never found any other doujinshi of them under this label, and if there were any, they might be lost to time. The first page warns about the book containing spoilers for the ending of EP, so it's advised to proceed with caution. After that, all the way up to page 7 there's small gag bits with Kandori, and an obligatory Naoya illustration (they really seems to like him so much ww). From page 8 to 23 is the actual story of the doujin, "Phantom Pain". FORTUNATELY, it was all written in computer text (not handwritten) and I thought it was such a good story, that I took the time to actually translate it at least. The pictures attached to this post are the translation of those pages. There might be some errors in some of the handwritten parts, but I hope I did well.

TL Notes: アンプ (Amplifier / Ampli), The change in fonts is supposed to represent that Eikichi is talking in english there in the original japanese (but that's hard to showcase to an english translation duh), I keep honorifics like Senpai and Aniki as-is.

I was surprised to know that these doujinshi were never talked about (nor were they ever scanned), but now they exist for all to see.

Now, for the rest of the doujinshi.

Title: Reverse/リバース - Naoya and Kandori (+misc) (PG, a bit of a general all-genre doujinshi mixing doodles for other games and a second half focusing on BAROQUE) Original printing date: 1997/12/28. 2nd reprint 1999/12/24. Has a small gag story called "Dead man's questions" about Kandori in a strange flashy outfit.

English Translated (Google Drive)

Title: Alaya de Go/ 阿頼耶DEGO - Shadow Naoya/Naoya (BL, not explicit but Naoya has (implied) sex with his shadow) Original printing date: 1997/12/28. 2nd reprint 1998/08/14. 3rd reprint 1999/05/03 Naoya is called "Isurugi Tatsuya" (岩動達弥) in this doujinshi.

Title: Go bad/ゴーバッド - Naoya/Hidehiko (BL, Naoya kisses Hidehiko. Seems to have crossover bits from BAROQUE, another ATLUS game Ueda/Nagase did doujinshi for) Original printing date: 1998/12/29. 2nd reprint 1999/05/03. Despite the cover being Naoya with a skirt, there's no crossdressing involved.

Title: BIG BAD BINGO - Innocent Sin focus (PG, done with collaboration with another artist which is Superunknown Corp's sho太郎/沢田翔) Original printing date: 1999/08/??

This doujin physically has Superunknown's side be printed downwards, so you have to flip the doujinshi to read their part which is pretty nice. Unfortunately this is the only one of U.S.O. doujinshi without an specific day of printing, just vague August 1999.

And that's pretty much what I can say for now, at least until when I get to translating some of these (and the folder will be updated accordingly when so)

Sorry, but I don't allow reposts of these scans unless it's with permission (specially not twitter gimmick accounts that are 'daily character accs', etc). However, if you want to translate these you can do that anytime even without my permission! As long as you credit me for the raws (and @ me while you're at it because I want to know...). You can also edit, crop, use them for avatars and whatnot, whatever you want, just that I specifically don't want the whole doujinshi reposted itself without my credit. Just that, sorry for what inconveniences it causes www

#megami ibunroku persona #persona 2 #p2is #p2ep #persona 2 innocent sin #persona 2 eternal punishment #revelations persona #tatsuya suou #katsuya suou #naoya toudou #takahisa kandori #hidehiko uesugi #doujinshi #doujinshi translation

191 notes · View notes

horrorfilmlesbian · 7 hours ago

Note

For Fic Writer Asks:

1, 17, 27, (and 29 if you feel like it! I hate that part!)

ty ty <3

1 - the last sentence you wrote

“And you said nothing of it?” Bashir said, and sat down beside Garak.

[from my current wip "a difference in perspective", the garashir amnesia fic I keep posting about]

technically there was something else but that's waaaay too smutty to just fling out at the top of an answer

17 - talk about your writing and editing process

Writing-wise, I am a bit chaotic. Usually, I try and start with the first scene, but sometimes it doesn't shake that way so I'll just pick the moment that has my brain buzzing the hardest and go with that first.

I am very much a write what I feel type person, so I tend to just whack in a "[More]" to the end of scenes I'm not quite done with as a note to come back later when I feel more inspired.

Usually by this point I've got a rough outline and I'll dive in further into themes and ideas I want to explore in the fic, trying to find scenes which touch on stuff I want to communicate. Other times it's like, well, how can I add more Yearning/Fluff/etc to that and just go nuts.

Since most of what I've written recently is star trek/ds9 stuff, at this point I'll also spend about a hundred hours on memory alpha and memory beta going through various pages just to make sure I'm not misremembering some minor detail, or to find random names or places I can add in for ~flavour. Sometimes it'll mean digging through scripts as well, or even totally random unrelated topics I wanna make sure I don't get wrong. It can get pretty involved but I am dedicated to making sure if there is something useful in canon, I pinch it.

Then, I move on to fleshing out background stuff if I haven't already. This is all the ancillary stuff that might not make it explicitly into exposition. I am a world building nerd so I really like to have stuff down pat before I get too deep into writing a fic bc otherwise I wing it and will contradict myself.

Lately, it's been Cardassian courtship rituals/culture and so things like this end up getting added in the form of handwritten notes (using my e-ink tablet bc otherwise I would waste so much paper) because when I'm coming up with that stuff I much prefer writing it physically. It looks like this (don't mind my weird scribbly writing, but it's just an example of how things look):

Editing-wise, previously it was just skimming the document about a hundred times to try and catch strays, but lately I've got some lovely beta readers helping me with a fic and I always love working with someone who will go through things w/ a fine tooth comb and point out not only my overuse of "quite" and "seemed" but also give me GREAT pointers on ways in which I can push scenes further.

if it's something quick, then I just go over it myself, turning the page black, text white and switching up the font. Genius tip I got from someone recently and it's been such a game changer.

27 - your favorite part of the writing process

Research, honestly. As you can tell per above, I really love doing a bunch of background research for things I want to include and then get strong ideas for how I want certain scenes to play out. I love picking through the details and as much beef as I have with beta canon trek stuff sometimes, I do really love finding some random detail that makes my brain go a little crazy and then spurs on about a hundred other ideas.

29 - how easy is it for you to come up with titles?

Sometimes I have the damn title before I even write a single sentence, other times the fic is entirely complete but it takes me extra time to just settle on something.

Like, Paris, Cardassia I had that title in like two seconds flat and kept turning it over in my head while I wrote. Meanwhile Statistical Significance took me like two weeks to settle on bc as cool as "p hacking" is as a stats concept and was kind of thematically appropriate, that is NOT a sexy fic title. I needed something snappy for that.

send me fic writer asks!

#asks #fiannaai #sorry could yap on about SO much of this stuff forever #ty for sending this!

7 notes · View notes

shredsandpatches · 23 days ago

Text

@irate-iguana asked for some followup on this post and, okay, I don't need much arm twisting to go on and on about textual choices in the final scenes of Doctor Faustus so here we go!

The edition my colleague gave me, as I mentioned in the previous post, contains a composite text drawn from both A and B, and the B-text has a lot more fire and brimstone near the end of the play. It also has a more definitive exit for Mephistopheles, whose final lines in the A text are the ones where he agrees to summon Helen of Troy ("this, or what else my Faustus shall desire / Shall be performed in twinkling of an eye").

Here's how the B-text handles the transition between Faustus' farewell to his colleagues, and his final soliloquy:

Everything in italics is omitted in the A-text: it goes directly from the exit of the scholars at line 73 to the beginning of Faustus' soliloquy at line 122. This may be partly to avoid the need for any extravagant visual effects (especially if A is a cut-down touring script), although you can certainly include the angels' speeches without the visuals (as the handwritten alterations at lines 110 and 117 indicate). I think it's interesting, though, that the people using this edition decided to cut Mephistopheles' B-text exit but retain the two angels' speeches.

I mean, I would actually cut all of the B-text material in this sequence, personally. I've never liked the angels' speeches much and I also think that Mephistopheles-B's admission that he directed Faustus' biblical reading in the opening scenes disrupts the play's careful theological ambiguity a lot more than I'm comfortable with--that question of whether Faustus has free will or not should never be resolved in the text. And I think going directly from Faustus' surprisingly tender goodbye to his distraught colleagues to his facing the abyss alone is a lot more powerful than the B-text's fireworks, which undermine the soliloquy considerably. I'm just kind of amused by the choice to keep those but leave out a more final exit for a major character. Maybe they did something cool with him onstage. There's so much you can do with Meph in those last scenes even without dialogue.

...as a side note, most of the versions I've seen in performance (other than the Burton film, which doesn't include any B-text material) retain some or all of this material but move it around. The 2011 Globe version moves the good angel's speech up so that it follows the exit of Faustus with Helen (I think the production I saw last summer did so as well), and delays the final dialogue with Mephistopheles until the entrance of the devils at the end of the soliloquy; a lot of the evil angel's speech was reassigned to him as well. The production I saw last summer kept Meph's and evil angel's speeches in their textually assigned place, and they played it as Meph being like "STEALING YOUR GIRL...IN HELL" because that's what you get for wanting to have sex with the most beautiful of all mythological women (whom the audience also knew had been the evil angel all along) instead of your loyal demon who has been with you for 24 years and has eyeliner that is ON POINT AT ALL TIMES. You know, like you do. Meph and evil angel sashayed off together at the end of the scene with their arms around each other's waists which is the most heterosexual thing done by any stage Mephistopheles ever in the history of the play. But it was obviously a very performative breakup moment so that's all right. Anyway, this is another case where stage versions can do as they please/what's most effective, but I think I'd just want to make that final sequence as claustrophobic as I could. You know, before the doomed toxic romance ending.

#doctor faustus #mephistopheles monday #hot faust summer #i genuinely don't know what i'd do with the very final moments #but in a production i would have actual actors and we would work it out together

9 notes · View notes

fdelopera · 6 months ago

Text

Welcome to the 37th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper 115 yeas ago.

In today’s installment, we have Part V of Chapter 14, “La lyre d’Apollon” (“Apollo’s Lyre”).

This section was first printed on Saturday, 20 November, 1909.

For anyone following along in David Coward's translation of the First Edition of Phantom of the Opera (either in paperback, or Kindle, or from another vendor -- the ISBN-13 is: 978-0199694570), the text starts in Chapter 13 with, “He spoke to me sharply saying that I was not presentable, though it was late,” and goes to, “Imagine the scene: me pressed back against the wall, the picture of terror, and he, the personification of all that is foul!“

In this section, we get Leroux’s description of Erik’s mask (which is different than the way it is depicted in all “official” media), as well as the initial origin of Erik’s name. This is another long post, so I am putting it under a Read More.

NOTE I: This is the section of Leroux’s text where Christine describes Erik’s mask as having a "barbe,” or a hanging piece of fabric that covered the lower half of the face. I have highlighted this section in blue in the Gaulois text above.

“Je ne pouvais voir les yeux derrière le masque et ceci n’était point pour diminuer l’étrange sentiment de malaise que l’on avait à interroger ce mystérieux carré de soie noire ; mais sous l’étoffe, à l’extrémité de la barbe du masque, apparurent une, deux, trois, quatre larmes.”

Translation:

“I could not see his eyes behind the mask and this did nothing to diminish the strange feeling of unease that came from conversing with this mysterious piece of black silk; but under the material, along the bottom edge of the mask’s hanging fabric ("la barbe du masque”), there appeared one, two, three, four tears.“

This is an example of a mask with a silk “barbe,” similar to the black silk mask that Leroux described Erik wearing:

NOTE II: In the Gaulois publication of “Apollo’s Lyre,” Erik gives Christine a different origin for his name. (See #6 below.)

Erik says to Christine about his name:

"Il me répondit qu’il n’avait ni nom ni patrie, et qu’il avait pris le nom d’Erik pour se rapprocher de moi qui étais Suédoise.”

Translation: “He replied that he had neither name nor country, and that he had taken the name of Erik to become closer to me since I am Swedish.”

In Leroux’s First Edition, this line was changed to:

"Il me répondit qu’il n’avait ni nom, ni patrie, et qu’il avait pris le nom d’Erik par hasard.”

Translation: “He replied that he had neither name, nor country, and that he had taken the name of Erik by chance.”

This was part of Leroux’s evolution of Erik’s character. As Raj Shah discovered during his research into one of Leroux’s handwritten manuscripts for Phantom (which you can read in its entirety on the Bibliothèque nationale de France website), in an earlier draft of Leroux’s novel, Erik was actually of Swedish origin, and came from Uppsala, not far from where Christine Daaé was born.

Leroux then changed his mind, instead making Erik’s birthplace a town outside of Rouen, France (the city where Leroux’s parents were married). Here is the part of Leroux’s manuscript (in the Epilogue) where he makes the decision to have Erik originate in Rouen, and not in Uppsala. I have circled “Uppsala” (“Upsal” in French) and “Christine Daaé” and have underlined “Rouen”:

By the time Leroux published the Gaulois serialization of Phantom, he had changed his mind about Erik’s Scandinavian origin, but a shade of that idea may still have remained, which could explain why Erik tells Christine that he has named himself “Erik” in an attempt to appeal to her as a Swede.

Of course, Erik was either lying to Christine, or Leroux was unwittingly creating an anachronism, because Erik called himself “Erik” during his days in Persia, since the Daroga doesn’t know him by another name. This may have been why Leroux decided in his First Edition to change Erik’s explanation of his name to him taking his name “by chance.”

Erik may have chosen the name “Erik” because it means “eternal ruler.” His birth name was most likely something typically French.

NOTE III: There is a mistranslation in David Coward’s text:

In this section, Coward wrote:

"And even if you’ve never had a terrifying nightmare in your life [this is a mistranslation], you saw his death’s head mask [also a mistranslation] that night at Perros.”

However, Leroux wrote (highlighted in blue in the Gaulois text above):

“… et peut-être, si vous n’avez pas été victime d’un affreux cauchemar, avez-vous vu sa tête de mort à lui, dans la nuit de Perros.”

This translates as:

“… and perhaps, if you were not the victim of a terrible nightmare, you saw his death’s head during that night in Perros.”

THANKS FOR YOUR ATTENTION TO THESE IMPORTANT MATTERS ABOUT MASKS AND NAMES, AND NOW BACK TO OUR REGULARLY SCHEDULED TEXTUAL ANALYSIS!

There are some differences between the Gaulois text and the First Edition. In this section, these include (highlighted in red above):

1) Chapter 14 in the Gaulois text is Chapter 13 in the First Edition, etc.

2) Compare the Gaulois text:

“une grande paire de ciseaux”

Translation:

“a large pair of scissors”

To the First Edition:

"une magnifique paire de ciseaux”

Translation:

“a magnificent pair of scissors”

3) This line (highlighted in bold) was added to the First Edition, and does not appear in the Gaulois text:

"Il se plaisait trop en ma compagnie pour s’en priver sur-le-champ comme il y avait un moment consenti la veille, devant l’expression indignée de mon effroi.”

Translation:

“He enjoyed my company too much to deprive himself of it straightaway, as he had previously agreed to do the night before, in the face of the indignant expression of my fear.”

4) Compare the Gaulois text:

“Je mangeai cependant de bon appétit quelques écrevisses, une aile de poulet arrosées d’un peu de vin de Tokay…”

Translation:

“Even so, I hungrily ate several crayfish and a chicken wing, quaffed down with a bit of Tokay wine…”

To the First Edition:

“Je mangeai cependant de bon appétit quelques écrevisses, une aile de poulet arrosée d’un peu de vin de Tokay…”

Translation:

“Even so, I hungrily ate several crayfish, as well as a chicken wing quaffed down with a bit of Tokay wine…”

NOTE: The difference here is subtle, and it can only really be indicated in English by comma placement, but the Gaulois text indicates that Christine drank the Tokay wine to wash down both the crayfish and the chicken wing, while the First Edition text indicates that she drank the Tokay to wash down only the chicken wing.

This distinction is interesting from an editorial standpoint because the change may not have been intentional on Leroux’s part, and it may indicate a typo in the First Edition, since grammatically the plural past participle “arrosées” makes more sense in this context.

5) Compare the Gaulois text:

Kœnisberg

To the First Edition:

Kœnisgberg

Both refer to the city of Königsberg.

6) Compare the Gaulois text:

“Il me répondit qu’il n’avait ni nom ni patrie, et qu’il avait pris le nom d’Erik pour se rapprocher de moi qui étais Suédoise.” **

Translation:

“He replied that he had neither name nor country, and that he had taken the name of Erik to become closer to me since I am Swedish.” **

To the First Edition:

"Il me répondit qu’il n’avait ni nom, ni patrie, et qu’il avait pris le nom d’Erik par hasard.” (The italics here is Leroux’s.)

Translation:

“He replied that he had neither name, nor country, and that he had taken the name of Erik by chance.”

** See NOTE II above.

7) Minor differences in punctuation and italicization.

Click here to see the entire edition of Le Gaulois from 20 November, 1909. This link brings you to page 3 of the newspaper — Le Fantôme is at the bottom of the page in the feuilleton section. Click on the arrow buttons at the bottom of the screen to turn the pages of the newspaper, and click on the Zoom button at the bottom left to magnify the text.

#phantom of the opera #poto #gaston leroux #le fantôme de l’opéra #le gaulois #phantom translation #apollo's lyre #barbe du masque #15 weeks of phantom #phantom 115th anniversary

13 notes · View notes